#just a little and barely visible but still

[nanamiscocksleeve]

ok, so I'm really thirsty about the new quadbanner like everyone else, and I really don't know how to request this, but can you write something about Zayne's how he pulling down his zipper, telling us how it would be enough.. tysmm 😔

I think we've all been thirsty since the quad banner came out. I'm like what am I doing with my life, can it just be the 31st already 😩😩😩

Just The Tip

You're struggling. You loved being called a good girl but Zayne made it so hard to be worthy of receiving that praise. Even now. His instructions were simple. Lay naked on the bed and do nothing. No restraints, no punishments. He was trying to make it easy for you. But at the moment it felt like even the simplest things he was doing were making you dangerously close to snapping.

You'd lain there as he'd teased your nipples, working the little buds into aching peaks, and you'd gasped and tried not move as he'd gathered slick from your dripping core and stroked it onto your delicate, swollen, clit, his smoldering eyes darkening as you'd tried to control the building need rising within you. The promise of an orgasm hung in the air but you became careless; one tiny miscalculated action of bucking your hips, and Zayne had stopped, leaving you tingling and bereft.

You'd watched with desperate eyes as he circled around the bed, coming to a halt near your head, wearing a sexy smirk that sent a rush of arousal into your core. "Tch. You make it so hard to praise you, you know? I gave you the most basic of instructions. It appears lying still and doing nothing is too much to ask of you."

Devastated by his lack of approval, you give him your most rueful look, trying to appear apologetic, then whimper as he forcefully grasps your chin, his mouth covering yours as his tongue sensually enters. The wet slip of it against your tongue has you melting, becoming heady from the taste of him as your pussy throbs almost painfully from the lack of stimulation.

Withdrawing, he pushes away hair from your face, cupping your cheek almost tenderly. "Well since it appears you're doing the bare minimum, unfortunately, that's all I can give back to you."

You watch with wide eyes as Zayne opens the zipper of his slacks, and tugs them down along with his underwear, letting his cock spring free, thick and already swollen with arousal, a bead of precum visible in the slit. You almost groan at the sight, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you into the mattress, his hot meat stroking your slippery inner walls. You almost forgot that Zayne was not rewarding you at this moment.

He huffs, then positions himself between your spread legs. "Did you really think I was going to let you have all of this?" You let out a small gasp as you feel his tip breach your entrance, pushing in slowly, each minor inch moved making you feel like you might lose your sanity. You try to stay still, letting him do as he pleases, then let out a noise of disappointment as he withdraws. He repeats the process over and over until your arousal has dribbled onto the sheets, making an absolute mess, your mind in a sexual fog.

Zayne's tip is covered with your fluids that have leaked over his velvety column, and he prepares himself to enter again, and the pathetic look of helplessness on your face almost makes him laugh.

"What're you looking at me like that for hmm? Did you think you'd get more with your poor behavior?" He rests his tip halfway inside your canal and stops, feeling the hopeless little clenches of your walls on his cock, as though it eas trying to suck him in further.

"I think that's enough for now." Zayne pulls out completely and you give up, crying out in protest. He chuckles as your reaction before tucking himself back neatly into his pants, fixing his shirt and running his fingers thorough his barely disheveled hair. He offers his hand to you, and you take it, perplexed, and let him help you sit up.

"Get your clothes back on. Yvonne will help you make another appointment. Use that time to work on your discipline and maybe I'll reward that behavior."

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[yandere-romanticaa]

Gawking at Kamisato Ayato became one of your favorite secret past time hobbies.

The man must be an angel, surely. It was the only thing that made sense - how else could one man be so perfect, so ethereal? Noticing any little detail about him started to become second nature to you. The way he'd grip his pen in concentration, the subtle hold of his sword when he was ready to strike, the delicious bicep of his arm which was just barely visible underneath all those fine white layers he was so keen on wearing...

Frankly, it was humiliating how far you were willing to go for just a simple peek. Days and nights were lost into the void of time, all wasted on fantasies about Ayato.

It was all so hard to contain. Your fascination with him, your growing affections started to consume your very being, so much so that others had started to notice. Every duty you had to perform on the daily had started to take a toll and it was impossible to have a normal conversation with you if you were anywhere near the Kamisato estate, let alone if the head of said estate was close.

You had been so blinded by the beauty of the angel that you had failed to notice the inklings of darkness which loomed over him. As the absolute King of Subtlety, Ayato knew how to play you like the world's most lovesick guitar. It was so entertaining to watch you from the corner of his eye, to admire your determination to stay concealed in the shadows but he knew better.

He allowed your little crush to blossom for a while, thinking it to be amusing and harmless. He never could have foreseen that the feeling would end up becoming mutual.

It was a massive ego boost to him, knowing that he had you on the hook. Ayato decided to take his time, to play this game of cat and mouse as safe as he can, to ensure that all would go well.

He was not sure when exactly you would fall into his lap but it was bound to happen, and you would do it all willingly too.

And that fact made this game so much more sweet.

Ayato wondered how you would react to his cheekier side, if you would still want him despite his more dark desires and thoughts. He seldom called himself a freak out loud but it had a ring of truth to it.

Were you an even bigger freak than him?

It would be a fun thing to discover.

[nxsturn]

license ( c.s )

warnings: nsfw! (car sex, rough sex, stomach bulg kink, overstimulation, praising — dirty and clean).

the night feels like it belongs to you and him, the air warm and alive, humming with something you can’t name. the engine of his car is soft and steady beneath you, a quiet heartbeat as the road stretches ahead, endless and dark. you’re not sure where you’re going, and you’re even less sure if it matters.

he has one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, his fingers warm and steady against the fabric of your skirt. the weight of his touch is casual, almost absent-minded, but there’s something deliberate about the way his thumb brushes idly over your leg, a slow, unconscious rhythm that makes it impossible for you to focus on anything else.

you glance down, caught in the sight of his hand there, the way it looks — strong, sure, like it belongs. the faint glow from passing streetlights catches on his knuckles, and you’re staring before you realize it, heat rising in your chest.

“you good?” he glances at you, half a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. it’s not the first time he’s caught you staring tonight.

“yeah,” you answer, but your voice is quieter than you mean for it to be, and you can feel the way it hangs between you, the weight of something unsaid.

his smile deepens for a moment, like he knows something you don’t, before his eyes slide back to the road. the streetlights blur as they pass, gold and soft, and the scent of him — faint cologne, leather, and something warm, something him, lingers in the air.

you shift in your seat, trying to focus on the faint music from the radio, the rhythmic push and pull of the tires against the pavement, anything but the heat of his palm still pressed against your thigh. but it’s impossible when the glow of the dashboard catches his profile just right, the sharp line of his jaw, the concentration in his brow.

it’s new, this version of him. Chris behind the wheel. him with this quiet, unspoken confidence. and it’s attractive in a way you hadn’t expected, in a way you’re not entirely sure how to handle.

“you’re quiet,” he says, breaking through your thoughts. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s something underneath it, a thread of curiosity.

“just thinking,” you say, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

he hums in response, and the sound is low, thoughtful. his thumb moves against your thigh again, just once, absent but enough to send a shiver through you. the road opens up ahead, empty and inviting, and he presses the gas just a little harder. the car hums like it’s alive, like it feels the same electric pull you do, and you’re struck with the thought that this moment, this night, could go anywhere.

as the car speeds down the empty road, the night air rushes past, a soothing melody that blends with the hum of the engine. you find yourself leaning into his touch, your leg pressing against his hand as if seeking more contact.

the car slows as he steers it off the main road, the tires crunching on gravel as he pulls into an empty parking lot. the sudden stillness is a stark contrast to the rush of speed and wind just moments before. he brings the car to a smooth stop, the engine idling quietly.

the dashboards glow dims, casting long shadows across his face. without the road's distraction, everything feels more intense, the way your heart beats a little faster in the silence. he turns towards you slightly, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

his fingers curl around your thigh, a gentle tug that turns you towards him. the movement feels slow, charged with unspoken possibility. his face is barely visible in the moonlit interior, all angular shadows and dark eyes that seem to glitter with hidden intentions.

his hand moves higher on your thigh, his fingers splaying out possessively. he pulls you closer, so that you're sitting sideways in the seat, facing him. he unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing it to retract slowly, the clicking sound punctuating the heavy silence.

his seat creaks as he leans back, giving himself more room. the command "c'mere," falls from his lips like a gentle demand, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. his hand moves from your thigh to grip your hip, urging you to move, to straddle him in the confined space of the car.

you shift your weight, lifting yourself onto his lap so that you're sitting astride him. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as his head rests against the headrest. his hands splay out on your lower back, holding you securely against him.

the leather of the seat creaks under the new position as you settle against him. his breath catches slightly at the feeling of you above him, his fingers pressing slightly harder against your back. in the dark, his eyes seem to burn with intensity, studying your face.

as you shift your position, your skirt hikes up your waist, bunched around your hips. you can feel the thin lace of your underwear and his sweats doing little to hide his growing hardness prodding against you. his hands give you a little squeeze, his hips bucking upward slightly.

he presses himself more snugly between your thighs. he can feel the lace of your damp underwear, and it makes him ache. his hands slide down to your thighs, urging them wider so that he can fit himself better between them.

with his hands on your thighs, he uses his leverage to push his sweatpants down just enough for his erection to spring free. the cool night air hits his sensitive skin, making him hiss softly. he chews on his bottom lip as he begins to rub himself against you.

his eyes meet yours in the dark, watching your face as he reaches to pull aside your underwear, giving himself better access. "god, you're so wet.." he groans softly, pressing against you.

a shiver runs through you as the cool air hits your newly exposed skin. you gasp softly, your fingers tightening on his shoulders as you feel the heat of him pressing insistently against your entrance. "mmm.." escapes your lips as you wiggle slightly, coating him with your arousal.

he swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he looks down between your bodies. he hooks his arms under your thighs, lifting your legs higher around his waist. he rubs himself against you again, teasingly, "last chance to stop,"

with his hands under your thighs, you don't have much leverage, but you push down onto him as best you can, your entrance parting slightly around the head of his length. he groans at the sensation as he bottoms out to meet you. "jesus christ," he growls softly in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck. he uses his grip on you to lift you back up — just enough to line himself up properly, then lowers you slowly down his dick. you both groan at the tight fit, your bodies finally joined completely.

he pants heavily against your neck, his body shaking as he tries to hold back from thrusting up too hard whilst you adjust. his fingers digging into your soft skin possessively.

after a moment of stillness, he unhooks his arms from under your thighs, letting your legs rest on either side of him. he grabs your hips instead, his large hands spanning your waist as he begins to move you up and down, setting a steady pace.

you let out a soft moan as he starts moving you, the new position allowing him to thrust up into you more forcefully. each upward motion sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, your walls clenching around him tightly. "oh," you breathe out, your head falling against his shoulder.

he watches you intently, his eyes burning with a possessive fire as he listens to your moans and feels your body responding to his touch. a smug smirk spreads across his face and he lets out a mocking "yeah?" under his breath, clearly loving the effect he has on you.

"like that, don't you?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he adjusts his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder and faster onto him. he moves a hand to press on the bulge he was making in your lower tummy.

"look at you taking me so well," he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to where you're connected, watching as his thick shaft disappears inside of your gummy walls only to reappear coated in your wetness.

you can't help but let out a desperate whine at his words, feeling so full and used by him. the pressure on your stomach makes you clench around him, your inner walls fluttering as he continues to whisper dirty nothings to you.

"so, so tight," he growls approvingly, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving his length deeper inside you. "i can feel you pulsing around me, ma,"

your cheeks flush deep scarlet at his vulgar praise, embarrassment and arousal warring within you. you try to roll your hips, seeking more friction, but he maintains his dominant rhythm, pinning you in place.

"nah, let me handle it," he chuckles darkly, giving your hip a sharp smack. "keep them pretty noises coming though," his commanding pace becomes relentless, each powerful thrust pushing you closer to the brink as he takes what he wants from your willing body.

your voice is lost in a string of incoherent moans and whimpers as he pounds into you, the sound of your slick filling the car and mixing with your desperate cries. tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable level inside you.

"fuck, you're close," he grunts, feeling your pussy begin to quiver and tighten around him. he leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "cum for me, baby,"

the vulgar command proves too much, shattering the last threads of your self-control. your back arches dramatically as ecstasy crashes through you, your pussy clamping down viciously on him in rhythm with your racing heart.

"there it is," he growls triumphantly, slamming into you through your orgasm, making it last longer as he hits that sensitive spot inside you. "look at you falling apart," he adds darkly, reaching around to tease your clit as you ride out your climax.

as you come down from the intense high, he continues to move inside you, his touch gentle yet insistent. "again," he murmurs, his fingers rubbing slow circles around your swollen bud, "i want another one before I finish,"

"mm.. no, I can't.." you protest weakly, but your body betrays you as your hips shift slightly, allowing him deeper. you bury your face against his shoulder once more, muffling your moans as the stimulation reignites the fire in your lower belly. "y-you're insatiable,"

he chuckles, his breath warm against your hair. "you love it," he corrects, his fingers never ceasing their gentle torture. another orgasm eventually crashes over you, this one just as intense as the last, your vision blurring as you sob against his shoulder.

he knows your body all too well.

©nxsturn

[vrystalius]

Hello! How was your weekend? I hope you enjoyed it. Anyway, can I have the upper moon trio (Kokushibo, Douma and Akaza) plus Muzan reacting to having a girlfriend that’s just like or similar to Mitsuri? If it isn’t too much that is.

Upper Moon trio + Muzan having a Mitsuri-like S/O

Bubbly, energetic, sweet and strong— how will the Upper Moon trio and their king react to having such an adorable S/O?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Muzan x gn!human!reader

Kokushibo

He is slightly perplexed by your sunshine-like personality since it differs so greatly from his, and yet, Kokushibo found himself falling head over heels for you for that exact reason. You express your emotions so freely and openly wich makes reading your thoughts so simple. One glance at your flustered face and he immediately knows what is going on in that pretty mind of yours. Your cheerful and bubbly nature counters his silent and cold demeanour, wich is stirring a protector instinct in him.

Holding you on his lap while you speak about as festival you visited and the different snacks you got to try out, Kokushibo quietly worries about how your stomach must be either about to implode or your organs about to shut down on you by the sheer amount of food you are able to eat in one sitting.

Also, whenever you compliment, coo or admire him, Upper Moon One feels like he could confront Yorichii in a fistfight and easily win. Your praises pride him immensely, even if the only visible reaction on him to your praise could be a microscopic smile or his eyes slightly softening. Although your cooing and fussing over him makes him want to curl up in your lap and let you coddle and cradle him for the whole day and night. Even the strongest samurai sometimes need to be loved properly every now and then.

“You are a very odd human. I like it.”

Douma

He absolutely loves your personality! You greatly amuse him with how easily you get flustered and how sweet you are to anything and everyone, unaware of some people’s intentions. Your naivety and innocence is a factor on how Douma fell for you. He thought about how he should charm you, but you simply smiling and batting your lashes cutely at him blanks his mind and he immediately forgets everything he wanted to say to you.

Your strength also greatly impresses him. Although he’s an Upper Moon, Upper Two nonetheless, you can still easily pin him down or do some emotional damage by rejecting his pleads for a cuddle or kiss, even though Douma kind of holds back during play-fights so you can feel even stronger and more confident. Anything to make his little lotus happier!

Sometimes Douma gets too annoyed or tired to keep his mask of emotions on for longer, so he retreats to his private chambers and recharges by having you shower him in affection. “Love transfer” or “Energy transfer” he calls it. With every kiss you plant on his face and lips, his smile keeps growing and growing, until Douma is finally satisfied.

“You’re so adorable, I could eat you right up! No, not literally— unless you’re into that?”

Akaza

First and foremost, Akaza admires your strength and durability, although you do get scared and intimidated easily. He just has to flex his arms a little and you already get discouraged to keep your playfight or training going. Outside of training though, he does get embarrassed when you squish his soft muscle and keep complimenting on his build. Whenever you worry about how could he must be getting due to his barely-covering clothes and his icy blood demon art, Akaza gets extremely flustered and shy about how you seem to care to much about his health, although demons cannot get sick. As far as he knows.

Your bubbly personality confuses him. How can anyone can be this naive and happy? Akaza wonders how you managed to survive in this cruel world on your own, despite knowing you can give out some good ass-kicking. He just thinks that you’re too trusting and good for your own good, especially since you fell for a demon like him. He doesn’t deserve your kindness and love at all but is eternally thankful for it anyway.

Another thing Akaza really loves to do is to watch you eat. It’s comforting to him to share such a human activity with you, even if he himself can’t participate (he tried once before, he got a really horrible stomach ache from just one bite and you had to hold him for the rest of the night), he likes bringing you massive amounts of snacks from all over Japan and sit next to you while you try them all out and describe the flavours to him. He sits there and listens to your animated explanations with a smile.

“How can you be so… soft? You’re too sweet for your own good, do you know that?”

Muzan Kibutsuji

You were quite easy to persuade into marriage it was almost sad to him. Although you are a fragile and rather pathetic human, Muzan found himself falling more and more for your bubbly and sweet nature. You’re incredibly caring, something he usually thinks of as a weakness and way to get extorted by others like him, and it makes him feel at ease whenever you talk to him about literally anything.

Usually he’d shoo his previous wives away or simply execute them when they get too annoying, but with you, Muzan wants to have you near him at all times. He even revealed his demon nature to you and you accepted him with a smile. A nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He likes playing with your emotions in order to get a certain reaction out of you. Muzan’ll bring you beautiful flowers and shower you in the most thoughtful compliments just to see you blush and cover your face in embarrassment. It’s funny to him how easily you get embarrassed by him simply pointing out the obvious: that you are the most perfect being that was blessed to walk the earth at the same time as he did. For once in his life, Muzan thanked the gods for something that was gifted upon him.

Muzan barely shows it, but he does really appreciate the amount of warmness and energy you brought into his life. Surprisingly, with you around, he is much more merciful. Barely targeting and punishing Akaza for failing to murder a random child, more patience for Douma’s antics and Daki’s whining. He does demand some kind of reward for it afterwards.

“Must you always be so cheerful?— It’s distracting.”

(Despite his harsh tone, Muzan is trying to save his imagine of being cold and harsh. Don’t be confused, please continue be as cheerful as you like. It’s like an antidepressant for him.)

💠

I missed writing for my favourite demons </3 I hoped you enjoyed this one! I’m sorry that it took so long :,) I had a lot of fun writing this since I really love Mitsuri and am planning on cosplaying her after Douma!! I hoped I incorporated her traits well.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <3

Take care of yourselves!!

[deterioratingpisces]

Daniel Molloy, marriage councillor from hell.

He’s got a 98% divorce rate. The other 2%? They’re probably staying together out of sheer spite—or fear of returning to his office.

Instead of fixing his clients’ problems, he digs up some more. Forget “working on communication.” He’s a master at uncovering your worst secrets and weaponizing them like a teenager in a text fight.

He gets a little spark in his eyes whenever he finds something new to grill his clients about. It’s the closest he gets to joy: that glint that says, “Oh, you thought that wasn’t going to come up?”

Don’t worry about him playing favourites; he’s being a little shit to everyone equally. Even the mildest disagreements become battlefields under his gaze. You’ll go in debating how to load the dishwasher and come out wondering if love is even real.

Also, don’t be gleeful when your partner is on the receiving end of his judgement. Your turn is just around the corner. The moment he catches a whiff of smugness, he redirects like a hawk zeroing in on fresh prey.

Passive-aggressiveness just gasses him up more. Every eye roll, every groan, every passive-aggressive “are we done here?”—it’s all fuel for the fire. You think you’re breaking him down, but really, you’re just feeding the beast.

The only way of coming out of his therapy still married is through fraternizing against him. But good luck. Before you can say “teamwork,” he’s found the one thing you can’t agree on and driven a wedge so deep, you’ll forget you were ever on the same side.

Probably one of the biggest mistakes you could make is trying to weaponize his own two failed marriages against him. Oh, sweet summer child. You think that’s a trump card? He’ll shrug it off like lint on his blazer and hit you with, “That’s adorable, but let’s talk about why you brought this up.” Cue emotional bloodbath.

Thinking you can charm him by mentioning you’ve read his work and thought it was brilliant? Big mistake. He doesn’t take compliments; he takes ammunition. “Oh, you read my book? Fascinating. Let’s talk about why you felt the need to bring that up. Seeking validation, perhaps?” Now you’re defending yourself for being polite.

He’s written exactly one book, and it’s the kind of thing only masochists or grad students read. Titled “Irreconcilable: Why Most Marriages Were Doomed Before They Began,” it’s a scathing 600-page manifesto on why love is an illusion and compromise is a scam.

He’ll be going off on you for one hour, and the second the time is up he’s his perfectly composed self. Nothing like hearing, “Same time next week? We’re really cracking this open!” after you’ve spent an hour sobbing and accusing your spouse of crimes you didn’t even know you cared about.

He’s immensely motionless and visibly dissatisfied every time a couple does make it out of his counseling still together. No congratulations. No “job well done.” Just a flat, “Wow. Guess miracles do happen.” The closest thing to an endorsement you’ll ever get.

If you somehow survive his sessions intact, you’ll leave with a list of issues you didn’t even know you had. Trust issues? Check. Miscommunication? Check. A sudden, inexplicable need to google “how to file a restraining order”? Double check.

His office décor is clinically neutral—beige walls, minimal art—because the real carnage happens in your emotional landscape. There’s no place for comfort here. Just two chairs, a box of tissues, and the sharp glare of his judgment.

He’s the kind of counselor who will literally pause a heated argument to correct your grammar. “Actually, it’s ‘my partner and I,’ not ‘me and my partner.’ But please, go on about how they never support you.”

He’s got a poker face so strong, even the most unhinged confession barely raises an eyebrow. You could admit to orchestrating a fake kidnapping to test your partner’s loyalty, and he’d just scribble something in his notebook with a bored, “Huh. Interesting.”

Somehow, he remembers everything. That tiny detail you offhandedly mentioned in week one? He’ll bring it back 15 sessions later, weaponized and sharper than your spouse’s passive-aggressive tone during your last fight.

His motto? “Honesty isn’t always the best policy—it’s just the most fun for me.” Because nothing says therapy like watching couples tear each other apart under the guise of “truth.”

Every session is like playing emotional Minesweeper. You think you’re navigating safely until—BOOM—he hits you with a “So when are you planning to tell them about the credit card debt?”

He’s probably got a closet full of tissue boxes because he goes through multiple ones a day. Not that he’s offering comfort, mind you. He’s just emotionally eviscerating people left and right, leaving them to weep into piles of Kleenex while he sits there scribbling in his notebook like “Another one bites the dust.”

On the rare occasion he does favour one client over their partner, he’ll join in with them to gaslight the other. If you thought your gaslighting was bad, wait until he tags in. “Honestly, that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I don’t know why your partner’s making such a big deal about it.” Next thing you know, you’re doubting your grip on reality.

You know he’s in a good mood when he starts with, ‘So, let’s revisit that thing you were hoping I’d forget.’ His version of ‘good vibes’ is a merciless callback to the worst fight you’ve ever had. Bonus points if it involves a completely trivial topic like a burnt casserole.

He once accidentally helped save/improve a marriage, and he still brings it up as his greatest failure. “It wasn’t my fault. They blindsided me by… actually communicating. Ugh.”

He doesn’t just break you down emotionally; he’ll dismantle your hobbies too. “So you knit to ‘relax’? Interesting. Is that why your partner feels neglected every time you pick up the needles?”

Every now and then, he’ll throw in a “fun” hypothetical just to spice things up. “So, if your spouse did start an affair with their coworker, how do you think you’d react? No, seriously, let’s explore that.” And just like that, he’s set your relationship on fire.

If you’re brave enough to call him out for being biased, he’ll hit you with a “Why do you think you feel that way?” Congratulations, you just fell into his trap. Now you’re the one who needs to “explore your insecurities.”

He’s got a way of twisting even the smallest compliment into a passive-aggressive critique. “So you think they’re a good parent? Interesting that you don’t mention them being a good partner.”

No argument is off-limits to him, no matter how petty. You could be fighting over the remote, and he’ll somehow turn it into a deep dive on your inability to compromise. “Is it really about the TV? Or is it about the control you feel you’re losing in this relationship?”

He has the audacity to send you home with homework. Nothing says fun date night like sitting down to answer questions like, “What’s the worst thing your partner’s ever said to you, and why do you think they meant it?”

He signs off every session with, ‘It’s not my job to fix you. It’s my job to show you what’s broken.’ Thanks, Daniel. Really uplifting. Can’t wait for next week.

He keeps a tally on how many digs it takes for both of his clients to start sobbing. He’s like an emotional sniper, except instead of bullets, it’s a well-placed “So, how did your mother influence your relationship dynamic?”

He also keeps a separate count of how many clients had a full-on mental breakdown that week. At the end of the week, he probably leans back in his chair, reviewing the numbers with a satisfied, “Another record-breaking performance. Good job, me.”

He gets a twisted sense of joy from the whole thing. Every time someone cries, he casually slides the tissue box closer with a little smirk, like “That’s the spirit.”

He claims he doesn’t enjoy making people cry, but the smug look on his face says otherwise. You swear you caught him jotting “two-for-one cry deal” in the corner of his notebook after both you and your partner lost it in the same session.

If you call him out on the tally, he’ll act surprised. “Tally? Oh no, that’s just... uh... my grocery list. Don’t mind that.” Meanwhile, you can see “MENTY B TOTAL: 12” written in huge letters.

He has a "Hall of Fame" in his mind for the fastest emotional breakdowns. “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Impressive, really. Most people hold out until the ten-minute mark.”

His biggest letdown of the week is a session where nobody cries. He’ll sigh heavily, jot something in his notebook, and mutter, “Well, we all have off days.”The week his tally hits zero? He might as well shut the whole office down. He’d sit at his desk, staring out the window, whispering, “Have I lost my touch? No... it’s them. They’re just repressing better.”

The reason his Google ratings are still up? It’s either fear—because who wants Daniel Molloy coming after them in a vengeful Yelp tirade—or gratitude, but of the gaslit variety. His clients walk away thinking, “Wow, our marriage was doomed from the start. Thank you, Mr. Molloy, for showing us the truth.”

There’s a rumor that he has a celebratory bell he rings in his private office for every milestone. After every couple that leaves his office divorced. Ding-ding-ding! “Another happy ending.”

Sometimes he drops subtle hints about the bell mid-session. “You know, not every couple makes it through therapy. But that’s okay. There’s… closure in accepting the truth.” And you know he’s thinking about that bell.

If he had his way, the bell would be a centerpiece of his practice. Displayed proudly behind his desk, polished to a shine, with an engraving: “In honor of irreconcilable differences.”

Please feel free to add anything I have missed. 💀

[treacheryinblue]

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter one

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, eventual smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 6.2k

“Goddamn. This apartment just got so much better.”

Your mouth fell agape after you followed your best friend’s gaze until you were both staring across to the window opposite of yours. With only a narrow walkway separating the two apartment buildings, it gave you a perfect view into the curtainless home. 

A man stood in the living room, shirtless, his torso of tattoos on display for you to gawk at. Your eyes trailed the bits of bare skin slowly, pausing just where his black athletic shorts sat low on his hips. He was doing some stretches that you immediately recognized as yoga poses. Not your workout of choice but who were you to judge when your breakfast that morning had been a stale bag of Doritos? 

“Fuck…I didn't know yoga could be so hot.” 

Both you and Melinda - Mel - took synchronized steps closer before kneeling onto your couch, elbows resting on the back ledge for comfort. 

“Should we be watching him like this? I mean…doesn't it make us kinda creepy?”

Mel shrugged, her palms shifting to cradle her chin as she stared adoringly at your way too hot neighbor. “Nah, it's fine. It would only be creepy if he was watching you work out.”

“Sounds a little hypocritical.” 

“He's the one half naked in front of an open window!” She motioned dramatically to the lack of coverings on the floor to ceiling windows of his apartment. “He's asking to be watched.” 

With a roll of your eyes you could only laugh, head shaking at your friend. You weren't going to touch on that specific topic with her because Mel could be rather sensitive at times. The last thing you needed after enduring the stress of moving was to have a petty argument break out. 

“Shit, I gotta go. I'd love to sit and watch this absolutely stunning show all day, but Madam Roslyn needs her brat’s dry cleaning.”

Your nose scrunched at the mention of Mel's boss. She used the term ‘Madam’ in mockery towards the horrid woman, although that's how Roslyn preferred to be addressed. She clearly didn't view it as laughable as the rest of the city did when referring to a millionaire with two ridiculously evil twins. 

“Tell Satan and Lucifer ‘hi’ for me.” 

“You do know that's pretty redundant, right?”

“Yeah, but I don't care. It gets my point across.” You waved her off with a motion of your hand before bringing the same hand to your lips to blow a kiss in her direction. 

“Bye, bitch! Let me know if you go fuck your neighbor!” 

The request didn't even warrant a response because of how unlikely that scenario actually was. Mel knew this too. She had begged you on many occasions to go out and 'stretch your legs' again aka spread them for whatever guy looked your way at a bar, and each time you did exactly the opposite. That wasn't a mistake you were going to make again. Too many scars still lingered from last time – physical and mental. 

After Mel securely closed your front door you allowed your attention to shift back out the window. Although this time when you looked out a pair of eyes were staring back at you. His hands were on his hips, his breathing slightly labored, both of you holding the other's gaze for a beat too long. Your eyes widened and you froze as you were caught in the act, but the guy only did what you could assume was a laugh from so far away, his hand then lifting in a slight wave. 

You dropped down to your couch suddenly so you were no longer visible. Your heart hammering away violently within your chest. Dammit. How fucking awkward. 

X X X 

Days were long and the nights even longer. You had managed to pick up a couple of jobs to help ease the financial burden of moving despite the hefty amount of cash stashed away beneath a pried up floorboard in your closet. It wasn't the greatest hiding place but you didn't want to risk such a large sum of money randomly going into your bank account. You feared it would trigger an alert of sorts to those you were better off without. The feeling of having to hide was exhausting and you wished more than anything that things didn't have to be this way. 

If only you had been smarter. Less naive. Not so gullible. 

You yawned as you kicked your shoes off after a tiring day of being a personal errand girl for an old man that simply went by Red. Mel had helped you get the job through her connections with Madam Roslyn and the man reminded you of your grandfather when he had been alive and well. It was an opportunity you hadn't been able to pass up. The pay was decent and he was kind enough to give you the main holidays and most weekends off. What more could you ask for in the bustling city? 

Unfortunately, his generous pay still wasn't enough to keep you afloat and comfortable in your new life. Never would you go back to skipping meals or clinging to someone because of the way they ‘took care’ of you. You were determined to do it on your own. 

“Shauna said you can get a job with her!” 

There was a fury of noise in the background of wherever Mel was, leading you to believe she had agreed to stay later with Madam Roslyn’s little terrors. Thank god you had gotten a better deal with Red’s assistant gig. Mouthy children were not your forte. 

“The Shauna who works at that one club? The one with black velvet walls?” 

“Wait…how big are your tits?” 

You paused from tugging your shirt off to look at the phone as if your best friend could see your expression from across the city. Your unamused face was from both her knack of ignoring your questions and also asking some ridiculous ones of her own. 

“Okay, whatever, doesn't matter. You're hot and have a nice ass.” Mel quickly covered as if her question hadn't caused hundreds of others to arise. 

“What the hell kind of job is this? But I can't leave Red anyway, not after he talked to me all day today about how his grandkids never visit anymore. Shit is depressing.” You scurried around your room while changing into your comfortable attire for the evening. Oversized tee, pajama shorts, and fuzzy socks. It didn't matter what time of the year it was because your feet were always freezing. 

“That's the beauty of it!” Mel squealed in delight from the other end of the call. “It's a nighttime gig. I think she said she goes in around eight and gets off at two –”

“In the morning?!” 

“I know you aren't worried about getting your beauty rest. I've seen you party all night and rally for work with fifteen minutes of sleep on the bus.” 

Okay, she had you there. You were the queen of functioning with little to no sleep. It was both a blessing and a curse. 

“Maybe. I guess. I'll have to see what kind of availability I'd be able to give.” 

With one hand carrying your phone and the other clutching a box of crackers, a pack of cheese tucked into your elbow, you came to an abrupt halt in front of your couch. Right across the currently empty sidewalk was your hot neighbor…naked…with a girl pressed against the glass. Her back was to you and her legs wrapped securely around his hips, that of which were currently ricocheting between her thighs at a rapid pace. Your eyes widened, the words you had been about to speak to Mel dying on your tongue to leave nothing but the sound of her trying to grab your attention. 

“Hello? Helloooo?” 

“He's fucking a girl right now.”

“What? Who? Oh my god! Hot neighbor?!” 

You nodded, and even though Mel couldn't see you she still erupted in excitement as if she was standing right beside you and witnessing the act as well. 

“What does she look like? Is she hot too? I bet he bags all the tattooed baddies.” 

“All I can see is the back of her head and her ass, Mel. I don't know.” 

The phone in your hand was set down after you switched it to speaker, your “girl dinner” also dropping to the couch to be tended to in a few. You were frantically trying to close your curtains to give him some privacy whether he wanted it or not, but your sudden movements must've somehow garnered his attention. 

Just as you were about to fully close your curtains his head tilted in your direction, your eyes meeting again just as they had a few days prior, but this time over the unaware girl’s shoulder. And just like then, you froze. His thrusts slowed to a pace that you just knew had to be agonizingly torturous, though you could tell by the rippling of the girl's ass that he was still being rather rough. A faint smirk tugged at his lips…or what you assumed was a smirk due to the distance between your windows. No, you were pretty sure he was smirking at you. Had he even been waiting for you to appear and see the show? 

Okay, so hot neighbor was smug as hell. You couldn't say you were surprised by that. Just the eye contact you two held was enough to drive a warmth through the entirety of your body, more specifically right between your thighs. A chill even radiated down your spine despite your flushed skin and you briefly found yourself wondering what it was like to currently be that girl pressed against his window. 

“Flash your tits! Maybe he’ll invite you over to join!” 

“Melinda!” You hissed, the screech of the curtains finally coming together to block out the scene interrupting your scolding. 

“Fuck. This guy has got to get some blinds or something.” 

Later that night while in bed, your hand had drifted down between your thighs to help ease the tension that had grown rather quickly all thanks to that damned smirk. 

X X X 

There were times when you were alone that you let your thoughts get the best of you. Your overthinking had become less and less controlled until it ate you up, leaving your cuticles in tatters and the constant sound of your foot tapping against the hardwood floor had become the soundtrack of your life. You were terrified constantly. There were so many things that could go wrong that you were truly just waiting for the pin to drop because you knew it would eventually, it was just a matter of when. 

When would you be found? When would you make the single dumb decision that would change your life forever? When would you end up six feet under at the hands of the people you were once involved with? 

Living with these thoughts day to day wasn't healthy. You knew this. You didn't need to pay some $500 an hour specialist to recite the obvious, nor did you need to sit around in a circle and reveal your deepest thoughts to strangers in a support group that only had fake sympathies to offer. This was something you could handle on your own, or so you liked to constantly remind yourself. If your past had told you anything, it was that you couldn't rely on anyone but yourself anyway. 

You took in a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled while counting backwards from ten. The trick didn't work as well as it used to but you were still hopeful with every attempt. It was your first day off in over a week and while your body desperately needed the rest, your brain was still going a million miles a minute. There was a bottle of overpriced wine you had yet to touch that was living in your fridge, that of which could easily take the worries away, but you resisted. That was only a temporary fix. 

As you shifted your position on the couch for the first time in two hours, you couldn't stop your gaze from drifting out the window. Most of the time he was never there, obviously off living his life to the fullest and unconcerned about you, the strange woman who creepily watched him. But much to your surprise, there he sat. He appeared to be alone from the glimpse you took, his long body spread out on his couch in a mimic of your own. Maybe he felt your eyes on him or maybe he had been curious about you as well because after only a couple of seconds his head lifted and angled perfectly for where you sat.

Like every time before, he didn't shy away from your stare. You decided to follow his lead and not look elsewhere either. You could even feel the faintest smile appearing over your lips, a friendly acknowledgement that you saw him and also saw him seeing you.

Hot neighbor’s eyebrows pulled together slightly and his head nodded upwards, a curious expression working over his features. You figured he wanted to know what you were doing, so you promptly lifted your book so he could see the spread pages. It wasn't like he had to know that you hadn't flipped a single one in a good hour. He nodded, his face now reading as impressed. A brief moment later and he was exchanging the same information with you, allowing you to see the notebook and pen held within his hands. A writer? How interesting. 

It was amazing what could be communicated without words. 

Long, drawn out seconds later, you both returned to your own lives, but you still occasionally found yourself glancing to his curtainless window. 

X X X 

“H-O-T-T-O-G-O! You can take me hot to go!” You loudly sang with the group crowded into your apartment, all of you tossing your hands up along with the lyrics in the way Chappell Roan had bestowed upon you. 

Surely you would get a fine for being so loud but you and Captain Morgan couldn't care less. At that moment you were having the time of your life for the first time in months and that's what was important to you. Not work. Not the dark cloud looming over your head. Nothing but having the best fucking time before reality set in. 

Mel danced up against you as you ground your hips into Dean, one of your other friends who always had the best manicures and didn't know what a “full length shirt” was. If he wasn't showing off his abs then what was the point of life? All his words. 

“Order up, I'm hot to goooo!” You tossed your hair around and dragged your hands along the length of your body, paying special attention to your chest and hips - both of which were accentuated in the dress you wore. 

How had you ever thought throwing a “house warming” party would be a bad idea? God, sober you was such a fucking drag sometimes. Parties were fun as hell and you made a silent pledge to yourself right then to have them more. 

As your fingertips dragged along your thighs, hiking the hem of your dress up a bit in the process, you felt your body becoming abnormally warm. Alcohol always made you flush but this was a different sensation, one that had only recently become known to you. You wanted to look around your apartment because you would've sworn he was in the same room as you, simply watching you dance and have a good time. No way could his stare be this powerful from all the way in the apartment building opposite of yours. 

But alas, you were wrong. 

Your glitter dusted eyes drifted to your window where twinkling lights had been hung. You could just barely make out the image of his silhouette across the walkway, one hand in his pocket as the other arm rested against the glass above his head. Thanks to his eyes acting like actual fingers, you didn't need to question the possibility of what he was focused on. You could feel every trace along your heated skin.

Although he was a distance away, you were imagining that he was right across the room. Watching you. Devouring you. Dean wandered off to join a duo he excitedly greeted as they walked in, leaving the front of your body on full display for hot neighbor. Your hips continued to sway while your hands trailed along your body, one paying special attention to your breasts as the other slowly lowered back down to where the short hem of your dress rested at the top of your thighs. You imagined him licking his lips and raising his eyebrows for you to continue, silently challenging you to put on more of a show for him. 

It didn’t matter how many people were in your apartment and could see you because everything you did in that moment was for him and only him. 

Ever so slowly your fingers dipped beneath your dress to trace along your inner thigh to tease him, and also yourself in the process. You didn't think it was possible for his gaze to become even heavier but you swore it drank you in and swallowed you up. The hand on your chest pushed up against your breast and your fingers dug into the ample flesh, threatening to tug the fabric down and bare yourself to him. Every inch of your body was aflame, your nerves screaming to be touched by his heavily tattooed hands you had daydreamed of on more than one occasion. 

You had no idea what it was about this man that had you in such a chokehold. Everything about him was unknown to you, yet you still craved him. Maybe even more than you had ever desired anyone before. 

The sound of your name being repeated pulled you from your trance until you had no choice but to rip your gaze from his. The music blasting through your apartment came flooding back in and you were suddenly aware of where you were again, as well as all the people surrounding you. Thankfully it didn't seem as if anyone had noticed your little bout of hypnosis. 

“We need towels!” Mel was calling to you from over the music, motioning towards the kitchen where an obnoxiously drunk guy appeared to have knocked over an entire bottle of Tito’s Vodka. The liquor was puddled on the floor, shards of glass glistening in the liquid it previously housed. 

“Son of a bitch,” you grumbled before yelling back to Mel an explanation of where she could find some spare towels. Maybe you should've gone to clean it up yourself since you were the host but you were eager to get back to the eye fucking you had been participating in with hot neighbor. Unfortunately, when you looked back through the large windows, his apartment was empty. 

X X X

“I feel so ridiculous,” you murmured to yourself beneath your breath, following the statement up with a heavy sigh. For the tenth time you tugged at the tiny black skirt you had been provided to wear, the hem riding up your ass and cupping your cheeks in a suggestive yet desirable way. Maybe Mel had been right when she said you had a nice ass. Too bad it had taken your physical discomfort for you to realize this. 

A blonde woman that appeared to be a few years older than you glanced your way with a snarky grimace, her eyes then rolling after taking you in. You tried not to pay any attention to her as you adjusted the straps of your top, as well as your breasts that were popping out. You had been told to wear your best bra, which you had, and now you could see why the request had been made. The uniforms at Nocturnal left very little to the imagination, but at least you were still wearing clothes. 

You couldn't say as much for the red head that was sauntering around the dressing room with her tits out without a care in the world. Damn. How were you supposed to get that amount of confidence? It wasn't that you were insecure, but being in the sort of relationship you had previously had definitely done a number on your mental state. You had been conditioned to believe that showing your body for anyone but him was one of the biggest sins. Amongst many other things but you had been trying very hard not to allow your thoughts to drift to those dark places. Something as simple as a v-neck t-shirt had earned you a reprimand on more than one occasion. 

“You're the new girl, yeah?” The attitude-filled blonde questioned while swiping eyeliner along her lower lash line. You glanced at her through the mirror you stood before, responding with only a slight nod. Her eyes looked you up and down again, a throaty laugh following her heavy gaze. “They're just going to looove you. New meat.” 

“Shut the hell up, Charlotte. Why do you always have to be so catty with the new ones?”

Shauna came strutting into the room at just the right time to prevent you from making an enemy on day one. She stood at your side, one hand on her curvy hip, the other resting upon your bare shoulder. The snarky blonde that you now knew as Charlotte simply rolled her eyes in the same exaggerated fashion again, a manicured hand waving in dismissal to Shauna. 

“Don't mind her,” Shauna leaned in a bit closer to you as if she was telling a secret but the volume of her voice never lowered. “She's just bitter because she doesn't get good tips anymore after her botched boob job. She's scared you'll take all of King’s attention. Not like she ever really had it to begin with.” 

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing despite your attempt to stifle it. Charlotte shot a glare at you, her fist tightening around her curling iron that she was using to touch up portions of her hair. 

“Oh, please. She's clearly not experienced enough to draw his eye. I'm not worried.” 

“Who's King?” You looked back and forth between the two women, your confusion beyond evident. Charlotte again chuckled, her tongue swiping over her plump lips while giving Shauna a look that read as 'seriously?’. 

“As I said, I'm not worried.” 

“So grouchy,” Shauna whispered while giving your shoulder a squeeze. You couldn't help but to notice how they both ignored your question. “But you look amazing! I knew you'd fit right in around here.” 

“What did she mean by all of that? Who's going to love me?” As far you knew, this was supposed to be a simple waitressing gig at a club. Sure, there was a room towards the back that housed the nude dancers but you had made it very clear that wasn't going to be your area. 

Shauna smiled kindly at you, soft laughter emitting from her. “She probably just meant the regulars,” she explained as she took your hand and began to lead you out of the dressing room. “They're the best tippers and are always on a first name basis with the girls. A few can get a little handsy but they know the servers are off limits. They have to go to the back rooms for that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in further confusion but you didn't dare voice your questions. While you weren't naive when it came to this sort of “scene”, you also weren't well versed in it. All you really knew was what you had seen from movies and read in your books, as well as the conversations you'd eavesdrop in on between your ex and his pals. Never did you think you'd actually be a part of any of it. 

Shauna dragged you along to the bar off to the side. The music was loud enough that you couldn't even hear yourself think, so you had no idea how you were supposed to take drink orders in this place. Bodies were already piled in, all of them dancing and swaying to the music, tabletops filled with those enjoying the scenery and atmosphere. Nothing too out of the ordinary so far in comparison to waitressing jobs in the past. Those had been at family friendly restaurants, but how different could it really be? 

“I'm going to start you off with a couple of lower tables, okay? Only until you get the hang of it.” Shauna had her mouth close to your ear as she explained things, aiding in your inability to read her lips well enough. 

“I'm just taking drink orders, right? It can't be too bad.” You shrugged, a notepad and pen now in your grasp that she had passed your way. Shauna side eyed you with a smile and a slow nod of her head, silently communicating that she wasn't too sure about that. 

“Only thing you really need to know is that you've gotta smile and be friendly! These guys aren't dropping hundreds of dollars to be served by a witch with a stick up her ass. No matter how nice it may be. They like attention and thinking they have a shot with you, even though they have zero chances.” Shauna’s laughter continued as her eyes traveled along what appeared to be business men along the opposite side where the more private booths were located. “But like you said, it can't be too bad, yeah?” 

Oh, how wrong you had been. Only a couple of hours in and your feet were already aching, your black top damp and chest sticky from the drink you had recently spilled on yourself, and your frustrations were rising by the minute. It didn't help that Charlotte had decided to steal one of your main tables, leaving you with only one, as well as a couple of small bar tops. Despite your overwhelmed demeanor, the club never stopped filling. More and more bodies pressed together and you swore the music had also been cranked higher, the lights dimmed red to further set the vibe. Fuck, you were going to crash and burn on only your first night. 

“Hey!” A whistle garnered your attention, your head quickly turning to the bartender whose name you still hadn't caught. “Can you take these to VIP?” He slid a couple of glasses your way and then began to take the order of another patron before you could even reply. Your mouth opened and closed in an attempt to explain that you weren't serving VIP that night. You didn't even know where the hell VIP was. 

“Up those steps and to the right!” The same red head from the dressing rooms earlier sauntered by you while carrying a tray of empty glasses that she quickly disposed of and replaced with fresh drinks. She was no longer naked, instead adorned in the same uniform as every other waitress. 

“I…Shauna told me to stay on the lower levels,” you tossed back nervously, shaking your head. 

“Look, we're swamped! Just take the drinks up and then I'll take VIP again after I drop these off. Easy!” Then, just like the bartender, the red head was disappearing before you could respond. 

You looked at the drinks, the winding stairs that lead to the VIP level, and then back to the drinks. The glasses were already starting to sweat so you knew you had a narrow window before they became too watered down. With a deep breath, you snatched up the drinks and strutted towards the steps with as much confidence as your exhausted limbs could muster. Which, honestly, wasn't much. 

One step was cautiously taken after another, the music fading the higher you ascended. You sighed in relief when your ability to hear just yourself again resurfaced and you suddenly realized why VIP was so sought after by all the waitresses. You knew it couldn't be solely because of the tips you were likely to secure. It was also the peace of mind. 

VIP was darker than the lower levels because the lights shifting through the space never angled correctly to douse it in much color. You figured this was done with a purpose. The back perimeter was lined with black leather sectionals, glass tables centered in front of each one, and there was a railing that allowed patrons to overlook the lower level. Since this wasn't a very party-heavy area, you couldn't help but to assume it's where business took place. You had been in spaces like this many times before finding your way to this city. The thought made you uneasy because “business” sometimes meant paperwork and meetings, but it could also mean something more violent. 

Three men sat off to the right, two of them smoking cigars while the other fidgeted with something in his hand. A coin, by the looks of it. Silence overtook them when one noticed you, his eyes immediately raking over your body. It felt nothing like it did when hot neighbor did the same. Both were strangers but there was something about this particular unknown man you didn't care for. He was older, which wasn't the problem, it was more so the dead look in his eyes. 

“My sincerest apologies for the delay, gentleman,” you smiled while laying it on thick. 

“Where's Dana?” 

The man to the right spoke up, his disdain towards you quite obvious. You figured Dana was the red head you had spoken to at the bar, or so you were going to safely assume. “She’s briefly tied up with another table. She'll be right back with you. Until then, can I get you anything else?” You forced a smile, the sweetest possible in the moment. 

“Yeah,” the same rude man took a swallow from his drink and then motioned for you to step closer. “Come here. I haven't seen you before. I'd remember.” 

There was no hesitation in your motions as you closed the space between yourself and the man, no matter how uneasy he made you. Nothing had happened to make you believe he was outwardly dangerous, although you could see right through him. You knew he was the type that liked to destroy others. It was written in his eyes and the $20,000 watch hanging from his wrist. 

“What's your name?” 

Shit. Shauna had told you earlier to make up an alias for yourself and you had been too caught up with actually working that you had forgotten. She explained it was for safety but also because it could be fun to play someone else. You didn't tell her you were already doing as much and it wasn't nearly as fun as the club assumed. 

“Genevieve,” you slowly drawled. The name of your late grandmother. Oh how she’d get a kick out of this. 

The man smirked through a cloud of smoke, his lifeless eyes again looking you up and down. “Genevieve. How beautiful.” He was suddenly reaching out for you, his hand grasping your wrist to pull you closer. Keeping a hold of your wrist, he set his drink aside to free the other so he could grope along your hip and down the side of your exposed thigh. You softly gasped in shock but you didn't jerk away like your mind was screaming at you to do. Instead you stood frozen, fear shuddering through your veins. 

“Hasn't the boss and his right hand already warned you about touching the servers?” One of the other men laughed as if you were nothing more than an object for their enjoyment. In their eyes that's exactly what you were. 

Dead Eyes kept his focus on you, his rough fingertips still trailing your thigh. “Fuck the boss and his little bitch boy. What's his name? King? Kid thinks he runs this place.” 

Tears threatened to well in your eyes but you refused to let your fear show. That's what men like these wanted. They craved to feel the power they held over others, but especially women. It made them feel special in their minuscule lives. In reality, it made them weak. 

The man you stood before halted the motion of his hand just as it grazed the back of your thigh and threatened to disappear beneath your already barely-there skirt. His eyes were now looking past you, annoyance showing in his hollow gaze before his hand fell from your body. He dropped your wrist with a force while simultaneously pushing you back an inch. 

“You were already given a warning, Marcus. Two, if I remember correctly.” A new voice greeted your ears, yet you were still too frozen to turn and see who it belonged to. You could feel his eyes, though. It was so familiar. Heavy. “But here you are, still harassing the staff.” 

A figure stepped around you, gently nudging you back a few more steps. He was much taller than you with dark hair, his outfit black on black, at least from what you could tell from behind. There was something about him that commanded the attention of the room and you were more than willing to give it to him. So much that you hadn't even noticed the way he was leaning closer to the man now known as Marcus, his body slightly bent and an extended hand holding something to the repulsive man's neck. A peek to the left and you could just barely see the black splotches of ink that covered his own hand. 

“Why do you insist on touching what doesn't belong to you?” His voice lowered, the words being hissed in a threatening manner. “Don't make me remind you again just who here is the real bitch boy.” 

Marcus murmured something that sounded like an agreement, maybe an apology, which was apparently enough for the man because he stood back to his full height and then closed the knife you hadn't previously realized he was in possession of. As he turned to the side you could see the bright red line of blood that was sliced into Marcus' neck - his punishment. The wound was shallow, definitely not deadly, but you figured it got his point across. 

The man was then facing you and you slowly raised your attention to him. Your breath caught in your throat and recognition flared in your eyes. You were sure the brief shock you saw in his gaze mimicked your own, though his was fleeting and quickly returned back to the hardened glare. 

Hot neighbor. 

“I'll be sure to mention to the boss that we had a talk tonight, gentlemen.” The man spoke to the small group without so much as a glance back to them. His attention was too focused on you, his hand placed on the middle of your back to help guide you around and towards the spiral staircase. You assumed he was going to leave you once you began your descent but he was right on your heels for the entirety of the trek, only pausing once you nearly reached the lower level. 

Lightly grasping your arm, he gave a gentle tug to bring you closer before you could scurry away. “I think a 'thank you’ is in order.” You could hear the smile in his voice, as if this situation was amusing to him. Maybe it was. You knew next to nothing about him so it wasn't as if you could truly gauge his reaction. 

“I didn't need your help,” you fired back. You didn't like to be told what to do by men on a power trip. Not anymore. “I could've handled it myself.”

“Really?” His smile widened and his posture dipped so your eyes could better meet through the darkness. “Because it looked to me like you were a frightened deer caught in the headlights. Very consistent for you.” 

At least he was admitting that he knew who you were without truly saying it. You had given him the same look from your apartment window on multiple occasions now. 

You remained silent, your eyes burrowing into his instead of trailing along his face like you desperately felt the need to. For reasons unknown you wanted to memorize every little detail and carry the memory with you forever. It didn't matter that you knew you should be somewhat afraid of him after the physical threat he placed upon Marcus. The idea of him doing the same to you never even crossed your naive mind. 

When you still didn’t respond, but also refused to back down, he returned to his full towering height over you and dropped his smile. It was like he had pulled a mask over his face to be whoever it was Nocturnal expected. But what did you know? This could be the true version of himself instead of the one you had been witnessing from your window for over a month. 

“Run along, little deer,” he gently spoke, his tone condescending, just before disappearing back up the spiral staircase. 

[vhstown]

ain't no love; epilogue

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 5 / EPILOGUE

chapter summary: You and Miles share a few months of normalcy. And maybe something new, too.

content/warnings: depictions of miles (whipped) morales

word count: 1.5k

a/n: wahoo we did it guys thank u to @/qiuweyballs forever for proofreading LETS FREAKING GO MAN

"You sure it's five dollars?"

"Four dollars, ninety-nine," the man behind the counter replied, grinning until his eyes were barely visible behind his tinted glasses. "Completely positive, young man."

"Aight, sure. Here."

While Miles was sure the man had definitely stuck another price on top of the original one, he didn't really want to stay in this rickety old comic book store any longer. Miles' hand had gotten kind of sweaty from holding yours by now — not that he minded. It was totally fine that he was also sweaty everywhere else he had skin. When had he gotten this sweaty? He was done with puberty. He was a man. He was your… Uh…

"Are we going?"

Your voice broke his trail of thoughts as his eyes jump from the counter to you. Right. You'd agreed to go out with him. And at the end of this, if he would just stop sweating, maybe you'd go out with him again. And it wouldn't be to Marge's like the first thing he suggested when he was totally out of it before realising that probably wasn't the best place for a date.

"Miles?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. My bad."

He snatched up the comic book, the man's squinted eyes never leaving him. That head of silvery hair had once been closer to brown, maybe when comic books didn't go for five whole dollars. "NO REFUNDS. EVER." passed him by as he left the store, his hand still in yours, trying so hard to not move but also to get into a less sweaty position. This was the last comic book he'd ever buy, damn it.

It was coming to the start of spring, and that meant the day was a little more ideal for a date. Visions did like to run things a lot more intensely, but you'd finally managed to make it to your next break. The two of you had more time to spend together now that most exams were over, and you'd spent the whole of today going to places that Miles had wanted to show you for a while.

In-between that, there had been a lot of explaining too — to both you and Uncle Aaron. He'd told you everything from the start, even if piece by piece on lunch breaks, or texts, or late night phone calls that you somehow managed to pick up regardless of the time. He told you how he'd gotten into Visions, why he was "so good at math" it annoyed you. He told you what happened to his dad, who his uncle was, what his Prowler gig was. He told you about college, and about his mom. Thank God you and his mom got along. It had been pretty tense when she'd found out he'd tried to quit school.

Being back in Visions, Miles had also told you all about his new roommate, Ganke. Devising ways to get out of school was particularly annoying, with Ganke staying up all night to work on some thesis. Ultra-smart. Way too good at video games. Maybe a little better at physics than him. What type of high-schooler has a thesis to work on anyway? He didn't mind the guy, though. It was nice to kick back and play games with someone again.

The most recent thing he'd told you, however, had been rather short. One word and one action he'd decided on in a split second while you were working on math homework together. He'd taken some… advice. Usually his uncle's advice would be good and thoughtful, but this little incident had been chipping away at his mind all week.

"Hey." That god-damned shoulder touch.

"…Hey yourself?"

The silence. It was the loudest thing he'd ever heard.

"You gonna… ask me out now?"

"What?" His voice had shot up about nineteen octaves. The highest thing he'd ever heard.

"I mean, what is this?"

"I didn't say… Wait—"

"What?"

"Wait, wait, no— Yes—"

"Miles?"

"Can I take you out? Please?"

You laughed, and his face had gotten stuck. It was one of your cute laughs. No, every one of your laughs was cute. No, wait, yes—

"Hey, look, it's the superhero you like."

MIles turned to see what you're looking at, and nearly spins himself around 360 degrees in the process. Totally on purpose, because he was cool. Not because he was still sweating.

"Oh, yeah," he commented, squinting at the cosplayer. "Huh."

"There's tons of people dressed up…"

"Probably Comic-Con, or something."

You just nodded thoughtfully, looking around at all the cosplayers passing by. Maybe the Prowler thing would pay eventually, or he could get an actual part-time job. He could take you both.

Miles let out a sigh, before feeling your hand squeeze his.

"We've been out for a while." There you were again, the bustle of the city muffling behind the sound of your voice. There was a little smile on your face, and he found the corners of his mouth were trying to lift up without his knowledge. "You wanna go back to yours?"

And so he was back in his room. That walk had been way too short to think of ways to be cool. You'd been in here a few times by now, studying, playing video games, peeking at the figurines he'd put away to potentially sell. Reading the comics he liked, even if their price was starting to make him wince a little. You seemed to like it, though, even if his room was starting to become barren of things he might as well have grown out of by now.

"The food was good," you started, as the two of you settled down in his room.

"Hope that place stays open," he muttered, trying to reel in the sense of weariness in his voice.

"Why wouldn't they? It looks like they're doing well."

"Exactly. They get bought out as soon as they do."

"Oh."

Way to sour the mood, Morales. How is that even relevant?

"You're right, though," you contemplated, frowning a little. "It feels like everything's getting bought up recently. Even Vision's cafeteria changed companies."

"Eugh, don't remind me," he replied, rolling his shoulders to make a show. "That food is lethal."

"You'd think Visions of all places would have decent lunch."

"Exactly. At least they've still got vending machines." He couldn't believe he didn't know you could cheat them until you showed him. This vending machine business was lucrative.

"True."

Miles tried looking at you, but only got to looking at your knee. His heart stops when he feels your arm around him, and he finally meets your expression. That little gleam in your eye doesn't go unnoticed.

"Thanks for the date," you start.

"Anyti—" Your lips pressed against his cheek before he could finish.

Miles fought valiantly, but the grin that formed on his face fought harder.

"Did you uh… did you miss?" he muttered, without thinking. Did you miss…? Did I miss all fifteen years my mom raised me?!

"No…?" you replied, laughing awkwardly. God, he totally just bombed it. "Do you… want to?"

Okay, he didn't just totally bomb it. He had a chance. Did he even really wanna kiss you yet? No, yeah, he really did. Why can't I move?!

"I don't know how to… how to… you know."

He had only planned so far ahead. Miles had no idea how to kiss someone.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it."

He closed his eyes, feeling your hand give his a little squeeze, before he felt the faint brush of breath against his lips. And then he felt warmth. The taste of lip balm he'd let you borrow. He was kissing you.

Miles kept his eyes closed, but his hand had found the small of your back anyway, pulling you closer. The kiss had only lasted for a few moments, but when he finally opened his eyes, the world was a lot brighter than he remembered. Your smile was a lot brighter than he remembered. His face was a lot hotter than he remembered.

"The next one's on you," you murmured, simply. He could feel the words against his skin, tickling his face. You were insanely good-looking this close.

"Cool." His voice came out in a slightly breathless mumble.

His lips found yours again, and his eyes fell shut. He felt his shoulders relax. His heart had finally started to slow from its pounding. He wasn't sweating anymore.

And he was kissing you. You were his. He sure as hell was yours.

"Stay," he murmured against your mouth, his eyes on yours.

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Forever?" The two of your quiet laughs are muffled with another kiss.

"Yeah," Miles replied, as his hand went up to cup your cheek. "I got so much more to tell you."

my lovely jubly taglist: @noetophat @sakura-onesan @bakugouswaif @phoenixinthefiles @daydreaming-en-pointe @sp1derw1re @kvvrc @spookyscaryskeletrans @kirishimasproteinpowder  @spam-1 @playboifenty @hobiebrownismygod @kissingkzuha @nyumeii @uwukiity @itzmeme @shittingonyourgrave @theyluvbix @kezibear @theseustimes

thank you so much for reading aint no love! could not appreciate all of the love (haha) on this series 💗💗💗 this was so crazy but so fun i never thought id be able to complete a longer thing of writing like this but here we are!

a big thank you to my friend chewy too who had to listen to me rant about this series at pretty unethical times of the day and also read through all my not so lovely drafts 🫡🫡🫡

if you have any questions about this universe or series or anything in general my inbox is open!

reblogs and replies are much appreciated as always, and you can find my atsv masterlist here!

[starst0nes]

Gojo x Reader "Sake and Shenanigans"

Warning: [This story contains humor, drunken antics, embarrassing flirtations, suggestive comments, chaotic shenanigans, playful teasing, and a lighthearted portrayal of alcohol consumption]

Materialist

Hold on tight as Gojo and a tipsy Y/N turn Nobara's birthday into a comedy of chaos, with flirty banter, embarrassing moments, and a whole lot of drunken fun!

Author’s POV

It was a night to remember or perhaps forget, depending on how much alcohol you’d consumed. The setting? Jujutsu High. The occasion? Nobara Kugisaki’s birthday bash.

The celebration was extravagant by Nobara’s standards: cake, music, and the pièce de résistance alcohol. The first-years and second-years were all invited, but the real shocker was that Yuji managed to drag Nanami and even Ijichi into attending.

Nanami, with the look of a man regretting every life decision that led him to this moment, sat stiffly in the corner, sipping water.

“Y/N-sensei, pleaaaase!” Nobara whined dramatically, clasping her hands together like a theater actress. “Let us drink! We’re responsible! And honestly, this isn’t my first time!”

Behind her, a chorus of students cheered in agreement.

Y/N crossed her arms, skeptical. “You’re all underage. What kind of teacher would I be if I allowed this?”

Gojo, lounging nearby with his signature mischievous grin, interjected, “Come on, Kikufuku, let them have a little fun. And hey” he leaned closer, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “you and I can ditch them later. Just you, me, and a bottle of sake, huh?”

The students collectively groaned in disgust.

Maki scowled, waving a hand in front of her face. “Nasty.”

“Hey! I’m on your side here!” he pouted, dramatically clinging to her arm while the students heckled him mercilessly.

Y/N laughed, shoving Gojo off her. “Satoru, stop embarrassing me.”

In the end, Nobara got her way alcohol was allowed, though only within Jujutsu High’s grounds. Ijichi reluctantly provided the drinks, mumbling about how he’d probably lose his job over this.

Y/N, as the responsible adult she claimed to be, sat at a table with Nanami, chatting soberly. That lasted approximately ten minutes before Gojo, who’d been cracking corny jokes loudly enough to make Nanami visibly twitch, plopped down beside them.

Without warning, he leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips.

Nanami stood up immediately, straightening his tie. “I’ll be going now. It’s late.”

“Nanami, don’t leave! I just got here!” Gojo protested, though he was grinning.

Y/N smacked his arm. “Satoru, stop it!”

“What? It’s not my fault I can’t resist you, sweetheart.”

The table groaned collectively.

As the night wore on, the students steadily got drunker. Y/N, determined to stay sober, busied herself playing caretaker. That is, until Yuji barely able to stand offered her a drink.

“Y/N-sensei, here, have this! It’s really good!” he slurred, nearly spilling the contents.

Before the cup could tip over, Y/N took it, laughing at his wobbly stance. She told herself it was just one drink.

1:00 AM

The party was still going strong, with Yuji and Panda now the only visibly drunk ones. Gojo, amused, was recording the chaos on his phone while munching on Nobara’s birthday cake.

But something felt off.

“Where’s Y/N?” he muttered, glancing around. Normally, she’d be nagging him to end the party by now.

Then, from the center of the courtyard, a shout:

“LET’S DO THIS!!!”

Gojo whipped his head around to see Y/N, holding a bottle of beer and dancing no, vibing to the music blasting from Nobara’s speakers.

The students froze mid-conversation.

Maki blinked. “Is she... drunk?”

“She’s definitely drunk,” Megumi muttered, his face already buried in his hands.

“Y/N-sensei!!!” Nobara screamed in excitement, her phone out to record the spectacle.

Y/N twirled on the table, nearly losing her balance before catching herself dramatically. “Why won’t anyone dance with me?!” she whined, pouting.

“Maybe because this is terrifying,” Megumi deadpanned.

Y/N ignored him, throwing her arms in the air. “Where’s Satoru?! I miss my honeybunch!”

Gojo, who had been too stunned to move, finally snapped out of it. “Did she just call me... honeybunch?” he whispered to himself, a grin creeping onto his face.

Flirty Drunk Y/N Takes Over

Y/N spotted Gojo and hopped down from the table with surprising grace well, almost. She stumbled the last step, landing in his arms.

“There you are!” she said, poking his chest. “My big, strong, handsome boyfriend.”

Gojo chuckled, steadying her. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” she argued, poking his chest again. “I’m just happy. Happyyy to see you, my beautiful white-haired prince.”

Maki groaned loudly. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh, shush, Maki!” Y/N said, pointing a wobbly finger at her. “You don’t understand! He’s perfection! Look at him!” She turned back to Gojo, her eyes sparkling. “You’re like... like a snow angel that learned how to flirt.”

Gojo’s laugh was so loud it startled the birds in the nearby trees.

The chaos escalated when Y/N started running her fingers through Gojo’s hair.

“It’s so soft!” she exclaimed. “How do you do it? Do you use, like, a magic shampoo?”

“Nope,” Gojo said smugly. “Just genetics, babe.”

She gasped dramatically. “You’re lying! Teach me your ways, you beautiful, perfect man!”

At this point, even Megumi couldn’t suppress a snort.

Gojo leaned in closer, smirking. “I’ll tell you all my secrets later. But right now, you’re embarrassing yourself, sweetheart.”

A Kiss To Make It Right

Y/N’s face suddenly fell, and her eyes began to water. “So you think I’m embarrassing?” she asked, her voice wobbling as she pouted. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Gojo blinked, completely thrown off guard by the sudden shift. “What? No, no! I didn’t mean it like that!”

But it was too late—Y/N's lip quivered, and she dramatically wiped at her eyes, making the entire scene even more exaggerated than it already was. “You think I’m embarrassing? After everything we’ve been through? This is how you see me?”

The students around them looked horrified, unsure whether to laugh or intervene.

Gojo immediately pulled her into a tight hug. “I swear, I didn’t mean it like that, I-”

Y/N sniffled, her arms wrapped around him, still making it clear that her feelings were hurt. “You think I’m just some... embarrassing drunk?!”

Gojo, now fully panicking, pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes. “You’re not embarrassing! You’re adorable and funny and”

She stared at him, not buying it for a second. “Uh-huh. Sure, sure,” she sniffled, still clearly playing the drama queen.

Gojo, now realizing he needed to dig himself out of this hole, smiled nervously. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was just a little... amused by how cute you look when you’re all flustered, okay?”

Y/N blinked up at him, her pout softening just a little. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Gojo said, grinning wide, his hands resting on her shoulders. “You’re my adorable, messy, perfectly embarrassing girlfriend.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and a tiny smile played at the corner of her lips. “Well... when you put it like that...”

She wrapped her arms around him again, this time with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “But if I’m embarrassing... then maybe you should kiss me to make it better.”

Gojo couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

But without hesitation, he leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her lips, making all the chaos of the night feel a little bit sweeter.

More Flirty Chaos

Y/N grabbed the hem of Gojo’s shirt and tugged it upward.

“Hey!” he said, startled. “What are you doing?”

“Checking out your abs, duh,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sensei, please stop!” Nobara screeched, covering her eyes.

“You’re such a tease, Satoru,” Y/N said with a fake pout, letting go of his shirt. “You flaunt your good looks, but you never let me see the goods.”

Gojo’s face turned an alarming shade of pink, and for once, he was speechless.

“That’s it,” Maki declared, standing up. “I’m leaving.”

“NOOO, don’t go!” Y/N wailed, reaching out dramatically. “Stay and witness our love story!”

Gojo Joins the Chaos

Deciding to lean into the madness, Gojo picked up Y/N bridal-style.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you some water before you declare your love to the moon,” he said, laughing.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in close. “Why would I declare my love to the moon when I have you?” she whispered flirtatiously, her lips brushing against his ear.

Gojo nearly dropped her.

The students collectively screamed.

“TAKE HER AWAY!” Nobara yelled.

The Walk of Chaos

Dragging a drunken Y/N back to their quarters proved to be an adventure. Along the way, they bumped into Yaga, who was returning from a mission.

“Y/N?” Yaga asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, big boss man!” Y/N slurred, stumbling forward and poking his chest. “You’re so grumpy all the time. You need to loosen up! Maybe wear a hat! Or shave that scruffy beard!”

Gojo bit his lip, trying not to laugh. “She’s drunk. Ignore her.”

“Am not!” Y/N declared, turning to Gojo and cupping his face. “You’re so handsome, Toru. How’d I get so lucky?”

Gojo smirked. “I ask myself the same thing every day, babe.”

Yaga sighed. “Take her home. Now.”

“Will do, boss!” Gojo saluted, slinging Y/N over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The Morning After

When Y/N woke up the next day, her head pounding and her memory fuzzy, she groaned loudly.

“What happened?” she mumbled, sitting up.

Gojo, sitting at the edge of the bed, smirked and held up his phone. “Oh, nothing much. Just this.”

He hit play, and Y/N was greeted by the sound of her own voice shouting, “TORUUUUUU, I MISS YOUUUU!”

Her groan could probably be heard in Tokyo. She buried her face in her hands. “I’m never drinking again.”

Gojo chuckled, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It was the best night of my life.”

She groaned again. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, honeybunch.”

[gaykarstaagforever]

No I CAN'T get over the spacesuits from TOS "The Tholian Web".

Glitter paint. I would love a short story about the gay Starfleet engineer who got this design into production on the serious space exploration ships.

The chunks are either plastic or wood. It's hard to tell because the paint is so thick. My guess is its jigsaw-cut wood that they just sanded down and painted. I don't know enough about how easy it was to cast plastic props in the 1960s, and looking that up isn't a good use of my time. They could be Latex too, I guess, but they seem to be pretty solid pieces since everyone keeps touching the front orange one to talk.

The little engraved bronze name plates on the front are adorable. Yes, the suits all look identical. But you put the nameplate right under the visible face, so...no one would need it there. Why wouldn't you just make a variety of suit colors and then assign them to specific away team members? It's such a useless solution to a non-problem that they spent real time and resources making. So wonderful.

Back to these lumpy colored things with random tubes - why? What are these possibly doing? Why these colors? It is glorious and totally nonsensical. They touch the orange one to talk, but it also has a tube that goes down to one of the feet? The purple one looks like it might be a heart monitor, but has an arm and leg tube. As does the blue one, which is very specifically and awkwardly shaped. What the hell is that doing? Injecting liquids? From where? There are no visible tanks of any kind. The black one is along the helmet and also has a tube so...air? Maybe? But, again, no tanks. None of the tubes seem to go to the groin or butt, so this can't be any kind of waste-processing. Unless it's extracting waste from the blood, like a dialysis machine. But, ONCE AGAIN, no tanks. And that seems a bit extreme for what is clearly barely more than a glittery wetsuit with a stupid helmet.

A helmet that is clearly bug mesh between two struts. And the struts are on the sides. So the front and back are open, but not the sides. ...So you have no peripheral vision, and can't possibly turn your head 180º to see out the back. WHY would the back be open? So people can see the distinctive back of your head? Close that off and put the nameplate back here! Why not mount the black (maybe) air-supply blob on a solid back, and leave the sides open so people can look around?

I get that in the 60s, no one but NASA knew about spacesuits until the moon landing, and deep diving suits were still pretty archaic. But

Look at all the viewports for light. And those tubes for air and pressure were attached to the boat. Like...if you're going to copy this, understand why it looks like this and what all that stuff is doing.

Special shout-out to Tumblr for limited formatting options with images.

[r-1-der]

warnings: threesome, oral (reader recieving), fingering (reader recieving), age gap, short but might add on more later, also written within 10 minutes or so, not proof-read

they finally got her.

valeria had been hunted for as long as she could remember. were it not her parents, her peers, her old boyfriends, men, or now the authorities. it was someone, which was all she bothered to think of.

when some pretty girl entered one of her bars, she thought little of it. a foreigner, sure. but what else?

first she came alone, then with company. valeria wasnt there of course, she was busy, and not idiotic. she knew a stickup when she saw one. though her men funneled every bit of information straight into her ear.

she was a young thing, with an older woman, visibly older. she had no business touching up on her like thst, but she was. both of them.

they were both their own versions of entertaining. valeria went down to see them for herself. the older woman commanding and, upon later notice from valeria, so deeply demeaning.

the girl, willing into her bones. did she have any shame? valeria pressed her boobs into the girls chest, her lips suffocating the girls. a set of hands pried their way between them.

"lick her, she loves it," laswell said, ordering lightly. but valeria was in a favourable mood and did so. laswell stayed behind the young woman, groping and squeezing, whispering whatever filthy thing came to mind into her ear, as valeria got down to make her own mouth useful.

"everything you want, and you still whine and complain?" was muttered against the girls neck, a tongue bullying its way between the girls lips to have her quivering between them both.

you moaned, torn between focusing on laswells words and valerias mouth. you only vaguely knew who valeria was, at least that she was dangerous and had a 'shoot-on-sight' order, something you couldnt believe as she delved into your cunt making your mouth hang open wihout means, and your back arch into the feeling.

laswell wasnt much sweeter, god her mouth was filthy and her hands mean. they pinched at your tits as her voice mocked your every reaction, urged valeria on too.

valeria licked and sucked any sense you had through your pussy, and with you barely hanging on to any of them laswell bullied her fingers into you.

"sh sh shhh, baby... be good for us," kate muttered into your heated neck, her lips brushing the soft skin along with her words.

they wrung an orgasm through you, shortly thereafter leaning over your shoulder for valeria to push your cum into kates mouth, moaning into each others pressing tongues.

rotting in a cell or not, valeria kept thinking about the girl and the older woman, despite them being her downfall. they all fell asleep in a heap, naked and sweaty nestled between each other. valeria barely had time to dress herself upon hearing some commotion ring out through her mansion.

of course the girl came to see her. unsure and nervous in her ways. she couldnt help a sly smile, she already had her wrapped around her finger.

"miss me already?"

"...i just came to see."

"you havent seen enough? i could tell you were greedy."

"..."

"youre uncharacteristically quiet, mija..."

not many more words were exchanged that night. but more were upon valerias predicted escape, and another stakeout in one of her bars, another useless arrest...

wherever valeria was, kate and her girl wasnt far behind.

[felineverdure]

Wrote a little something to accompany this doodle for this prompt. 🥹 @reijeanweek Summary: Stranded in a snowed-in cabin, Reiner and Jean find themselves stuck with more than just the cold… or at least, that’s what Reiner thinks."

Side Note: Reiner is down bad & Porco Galliard mentioned. Warning: Floch Forster mentioned.

______________________________________________________________ The wind howled outside, fierce and relentless, as Reiner slumped against the wall of the small, decrepit cabin. His fingers still tingle painfully from the cold, though the fire Jean had started earlier had done its best to stave off the worst of it. If Porco was here, Reiner thought, he’d be pacing by now, complaining about the cold, the wind, the cabin, or anything else that came to mind. But Jean? Jean worked in silence, methodical and efficient. 

Reiner remembered the scowl Jean had worn when their assignments were shuffled. Floch’s broken legs had left Jean partnerless, forcing him to team up with Reiner instead. Jean hadn’t bothered to hide his displeasure, and Reiner had heard the grumbling loud and clear. He wasn’t sure if it was directed at him specifically or just the inconvenience of it all. Either way, it stung. Jean had taken the lead from the moment they found the cabin. He’d secured the door, built the fire, and sent a radio message to HQ, all without much input from Reiner. It wasn’t that Reiner wasn’t capable, he just hadn’t had the chance. By the time he thought to suggest something, Jean was already doing it. It left Reiner feeling like a useless extra, sitting in the corner and waiting for instructions that never came. The silence between them had stretched heavy and awkward until Reiner finally broke it. “Pretty ironic, huh?” he said quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Two search-and-rescue guys waiting to be rescued.” Jean didn’t even look up from the fire. “Yeah, well, the blizzard doesn’t care about irony.” 

Reiner blinked at the sharp response, caught off guard. Huh. So he can joke around.

He hadn’t expected Jean to be sarcastic or even remotely funny. He’d always thought of Jean as serious and efficient, but now Reiner found himself wondering if there was more beneath the surface. “Right,” Reiner replied, chuckling awkwardly, though the sound didn’t land the way he hoped. Jean didn’t bother responding to his attempt to lighten the mood. Instead, he grunted and tossed another log into the fire with practiced ease. “You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with Floch,” he muttered. “That guy never stops whining about the cold, the work, you name it. And, somehow, he always manages to make things worse.” Reiner grinned despite himself. “Floch sounds like a nightmare.”

Jean paused his work and looked over at Reiner. “A nightmare you don’t have to babysit.” He shot Reiner a side glance, “So, yeah, lucky you.” Reiner opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “Lucky, huh? You sure about that?” Jean’s lips twitched into a smirk as he poked at the fire. “Oh, definitely. You’d be begging to switch partners after a day with him.” Reiner snorted, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, and you’re such a treat.” Jean’s smirk deepened, his tone completely deadpan. “Hey, I’m a delight. You should be grateful.” Reiner let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. Okay, maybe Jean was more than just the serious guy who gets things done. The realization settled in his chest, unexpected but not unwelcome.  Eventually, Reiner drifted off, the warmth of the fire lulling him into an uneasy sleep. But it didn’t last long. 

He woke to the sound of unintelligible cursing and the sharp chill of the cabin. Blinking groggily, he sat up, his breath puffing visibly in the frigid air. The fire had dwindled to a faint flicker, barely alive. Jean was crouched by the hearth, angrily prodding the embers. “Damn thing won’t catch,” Jean mumbled, his gloved hands fumbling with damp kindling. Reiner shifted, the cold biting into his muscles. “What happened?” Jean shot him a glare. “Wood’s wet. I should’ve noticed…” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep.” 

“It’s not fine,” Reiner protested, hugging his arms around himself. “It’s freezing in here.” 

“No kidding,” Jean snapped, his teeth chattering slightly. He struck the flint again, but the sparks fizzled out uselessly. Reiner frowned, watching him struggle. “Maybe we should just conserve what’s left and wait it out. If we burn through everything, we won’t last the night.” Jean hesitated, then sighed, clearly frustrated. “Yeah, you’re right” The cabin grew quieter as Jean abandoned the fire, letting it die completely. The cold pressed in from all sides. Even with their insulated gear, it felt futile.. Reiner could see Jean shivering now, his movements stiff and slow. “You’re not gonna last like that,” Reiner said finally, his voice quieter than before. Jean glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Reiner teased, noting the slight tremble in Jean’s hands as he hugged himself tighter. “Look, we’re not making it through the night like this unless we do something. Body heat. It’s basic survival.” Jean stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Reiner’s own breath hitched as the silence stretched, wondering if Jean would snap back with some biting remark. But when he spoke, it was more resigned than anything. “Fine. But if you make this weird, I’m kicking your ass.” Reiner snorted, more surprised than anything. “Yeah, you’re not my first choice either.” “Charming,” Jean retorted, but he didn’t resist as Reiner shifted closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

They adjusted awkwardly, eventually settling into a position that was almost comfortable. Jean tucked against Reiner’s side, their legs overlapping slightly. “Warmer already,” Reiner laughs nervously, though he couldn’t ignore the awkward heat creeping into his face. Jean didn’t respond, just let out a slow exhale, his breath ghosting across Reiner’s collarbone. Reiner’s eyes fluttered shut, but the silence between them felt different now. The weight of their shared body heat, the quiet of the cabin, and the howling wind outside made everything feel oddly… intimate. The thought of what people would say if they found out about this was enough to make him flush.

Jean, seeming to sense Reiner’s discomfort, let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “This is gonna be embarrassing if HQ finds out.” Reiner snorted quietly. “Porco will never let me live this down. He’ll never stop bringing it up.” Jean chuckled dryly, the sound muffled against Reiner’s side. “Yeah, well, at least you won’t have to deal with Floch laughing at you or giving you stupid names.” Reiner felt the corner of his lips twitch upward. “Yeah, I guess there’s that. I don’t know which would be worse, honestly.” Jean shifted slightly, his breath warm against Reiner’s skin. “Probably Floch. Trust me.”

The moment stretched, and for a second, neither of them said anything, just listening to the wind howl outside. Then, Jean spoke again, his voice low and firm. “Alright, enough talking. We’ll deal with this together in the morning. Go to sleep.”

Together. Reiner’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden command, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t anything special, but for some reason, it sent a strange warmth spreading through him. Maybe it was the way Jean said it; unbothered, confident. But Reiner didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a slight nod and shifted, settling back into their makeshift position. Jean’s words lingered in his mind, and something about it felt… right. Maybe it was the beginning of a new friendship. Or maybe it was something else entirely.  The soft rhythm of their breathing lulled him into sleep. Reiner sighs, closing his eyes. The soft rhythm of their breathing lulls him into sleep, and before he knows it, exhaustion finally pulls him under.

Snowed In.

[cradle-of-darkness]

au for funsies where sylvie joins bliss ocean and gets a little too into it (to the point of basically acting like a supervillain) (definitely not an excuse to think about evil sylvie)

[sanasanakun]

I get why JimCurly is popular cause hot yaoi and Jimmy is the MC but it's annoying how Curlya gets villainized as some ungodly immoral ship when JimCurly is far worse in terms of morality. In my opinion, Anya and Curly have the most interesting connection/relationship in the story. There's so much potential for depth, angst, understanding, resentment (on both sides), healing, etc. between them. Easily my favorite duo in the game to study with my microscope lol

[piningpercussionist]

idk why I thought of this cute drawing crossover idea for pride month but fuck it ! and it’s understandable if you can’t do it but pls take care of ya self !

Kim Pine swimming underwater in a blue aquatic doodle background alongside the Bull Shark Pup aka the shark protagonist from the game Maneater and Kim be casually normally petting its snout while sneakily finding it cute as it nuzzles intelligently back with its snout.

and the Bull Shark Pup has cute waterproof lgbt lesbian flag blanket wrapped around its dorsal fin

and be equally nuzzling it’s snout against Ramona Flower while she was scuba diving allowing her to gently feel the bull shark pup’s. damaged scarred dorsal fin and sneakily use a underwater camera to take picture of its cute unknown existence.

Details: the ref images I sent were to help show what Kim Pine and Ramona Flowers wear while underwater and the in game design of the Bull Shark Pup.

Kim Pine be casually holding her breath underwater cause she can and secretly skilled at it. While wearing a green teal style long sleeved zip swimsuit and red diving mask on her face with a snorkel mouthpiece attached to it. and wearing pair of black red diving flippers.

Ramona Flowers would also secretly dye her hair in the Bull Shark Pup’s unique red blue colour pattern after finding out about its existence and it surviving in a public swimming pool due to Kim Pine discovering it first normally.

While Ramona be wearing a black blue short sleeved zip wetsuit diving flippers and diving mask on her face with a scuba tank on her back

while Ramona breaths from the scuba regulator oxygen mouthpiece in her mouth while holding gently onto a underwater waterproof camera.

i still don’t know why I came up with this and sorry for bothering with this cute idea but pls remember to take care of yourself and have safe day or night !🦈🤿🪸🏳️‍🌈🫧🎸

wow you came prepared

Yeah, bit too much detail/elaboration for me to really do- especially given I haven't played or seen much gameplay for Maneater just yet- BUT! I did do some sketches based on/around what you've given me here!

+bonus Scott doodle because that's genuinely how I think he'd react to the hair colors shfkshdkfhe

(And here's just the shark, in case anyone wants it- although I will note that it's blown up to fit the canvas, so sorry if that nerfed the quality.)

[lynxfrost13]

Maybe I’ll finally Wanze post soon

[weepylucifer]

You know what, actually? Why stop at antlers? Let's have the boys fully shapeshift, but only in the most inconvenient of moments and they can't really control it. Steban just has a deer form now, and it randomly asserts itself sometimes, and he has to figure out how to write an essay with these deer hooves. It's due tomorrow