#like it was subtle at first with just a character or two wandering past

[timey-fandom-stuff]

you ever have a dream so unbelievably cool that when you wake up you just about screech in rage that it ended too early...

[screampied]

#CANDY-CRUS(H)ER! t. fushiguro + s. kong

ৎ୭ sum. so, you unlocked a new hot character who just so happens to be toji’s best friend. greaaat! what’s not so great, you might ask? you thinking you can take both of them at the same time . . *digital side eye*

wc. 8.2k

warnings. fem! reader, rent-a-dilf! au, thręesomes, dilf! toji, loser girl reader, unprotected, shiu is sassy for no reason, size differences, spít-roasting, double pęnetration, overstim, praise, ōral (both), dry humping, spanks, manhandling, cowgirl dp, rubbing tips, dirty talk, shiu has a dick piercing, bręeding, bromance? LOL idk, tummy bulges, implied multiple rounds.

an. hi this literally picks up after the first fic! (/ε＼*)

“i feeeeeel like . . i just walked into a bad porno.”

as you’re snuggled up against toji with a burly arm of his wrapped around you, your eyes gradually enlarge. instantly, you couldn’t help but allow your curious eyes to wander at the brand new character who toji apparently already knows.

shiu fuckin’ kong . .

with a lit pink cigarette (that you personally customized for him while dressing him up) sticking from the corner of his lips, your eyes take in his naturally suave appearance—he’s fashionably dripped in a business suit just like how he appeared in the game. it’s a dirty jet-black color, and his hands were already buried in his pockets. he’s tall too, very verrrry lean, you’d guess around the same height as toji.

shiu’s got a demeanor that just screams raunchy respect. as you continued to stare, you heard toji smack his lips from behind your ear . . and oh was he already irritated.

“tch. out of all people, you match with him?” toji grumbles, still feeling the soreness in his calves.

shiu snickers, walking up to the two of you before he grabs your hand. softly, he brings it up to his lips, caressing a thumb over your skin so lovingly. “glad we finally get ‘ta meet, pretty doll,” and shiu’s got a thick husky voice that’s got such an attractive smoky rasp. you could feel your heart fluttering just from that simple gesture, and then shiu’s eyes fell toward toji.

“ah, and… toji? i didn’t know the game allowed bums on the roster. how.. cute.”

narrowing leafy eyes straight back at him, toji lets out a snarling grouse. “anywaaays,” and he turns toward you, a near pout on his lips. “sugar, you can like to delete him now . . or whatever.”

you giggle. “i can’t do that, i wished for him, silly.” and you could already tell toji was getting jealous.

he practically reeked of it, but that’s probably what happens when you get too attached to fictional characters…. oops!

toji huffs at your answer and within a blink of an eye, your attention is already wholly fixated on shiu.

just …. like …… thaaat.

you’re still nude with the fluffed covers shielding your bare chest before your eyes start to rove and wander yet again. shiu hunches over the side of the bed with the same cigarette sticking between his teeth.

in a way, now that you think about it.. he actually resembles toji.

they both had dark black hair — growing, ruff facial hair with strong, citrusy cologne scents.

shiu’s was far much louder though, even louder than toji’s whose you’d always be able to smell from a mile away.

however - you’re so kept up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize he is now cupping your chin.

“my my, girl. look ‘atcha,” shiu’s low voice pitches naturally, taking a subtle glance at a very annoyed toji before tittering. “mhm, mhm. gorgeous face with an even more gorgeous body, my kinda woman,” and as he continued to speak, brushing a thumb over your pursed spit-glossed lips, shiu tilted his head. “toji couldn’t handle a fine girl like you, pretty doll.”

“like you could.” toji cockily crosses his arms, bulgy veins in his arms protruding within each confident flex.

“oh i can, sweetheart,” shiu looks at toji while he’s still caressing your chin.

you held back a giggle, hearing toji’s ‘weirdo…’ of a mumble slip past his lips at the little petname shiu gave him.

the air felt substantially thick, and you had to repeatedly blink again, and again and again..

this still didn’t even feel real.

the more the soft pad of shiu’s thumb smears alluring circles over your lips, the more you can already feel butterflies bubbling up inside of your tummy. looking down back at you, shiu hums hoarsely. “tell me, dove. what do you want, hm?”

“i…” you timidly croak, nearly gasping once you can feel yourself throbbing underneath the thick covers.

fuck- you just couldn’t think straight. but if you were being completely honest though, you stopped thinking with your brain a long time ago..

you were now thinking between your legs, because as the throbbing above your thighs started to quickly accelerate, you whined out a pretty, “i want you both.”

“oh, please.” toji scoffs, the mental image of having to share you nearly making him gag.

not that long ago, he had one night with you after you wished for him - just one night, and he wanted you all to himself.

he still couldn’t get over how good you rode him, milking him until he was whining for more.

“you heard her, toji,” shiu pried his finger back away from your wet lips, giving his best friend a teasing pat on the shoulder. “the pretty girl wants us both.”

“technically, she wants me. you weren’t even here in the last fic-”

“the… what?”

they started to bicker right before your eyes and you couldn’t help but eye roll.

they were practically arguing like an old married couple.

arguing over . . well, you.

you laid back against the plump pillow as you watched the two broad beefy men before you talked each others ears off. toji was still shirtless, and your eyes landed on his back sometimes expose his entire ripped physique every time he turned to his side.

countless, lightning-shaped scratches ran down his back like stripes, and you felt a bit sheepish knowing you did that.

toji rubs a hand over his neck before hearing a slight ‘crack!’ and groans from the release of tight muscles. you didn’t know why, but the simple action alone made the throbbing from earlier pick up again.

“finee,” toji ends the argument, a pout still displayed on his lips. “whoever makes her cum the most wins.”

shiu smiles to himself—sexily positioning his tie with a single hand before they’re both now turning their gazes toward you.

this was your cue to dramatically gulp, and you did before feeling a cool heat of air starting to wash between your thighs.

as the two men stood before you, you already knew one thing for sure. .

you were about to absolutely crushed - literally.

it didn’t take long at all before you found yourself bent over - arched on all fours with your tongue already rolling its way out your wide open mouth.

your hands, as wobbly as they were, pierced deeply into the rickety mattress. the second shiu lays his tongue flat against your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but mewl out a cute ‘ooooooh!’

he’s positioned behind you, his rosé-colored cigarette tossed in your nearby trash can as he holds your hips in place. meanwhile, toji’s in front of you with a hand placed on top of your raised chin.

“sugaaar, eyes up here,” he grunts, feeling your hands quickly claw their way at his freely nude cock.

toji was still tender from earlier and oh - you knew that entirely.

it’s probably only been about a few hours and he was already missing your pretty tight throat wrapped around his dick. he also couldn’t help but miss how warm you felt from the inside, how good you always clamped on his achingly needy shaft.

“ ‘m gonna need ‘ta see you work that mouth again for me, can you do that?”

“mhm-” you moan, caught off guard once you hear a wind of spit loudly preparing itself in shiu’s mouth.

thick, stubby fingers vertically swipe down your clit before with a messy ‘spat!’ - shiu ends up creating a sticky mess right against your entrance. you’re shivering, starting to lose your train of thought the second his crooked lips invade your folds with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses.

shiu’s messy - and he knew right away how to put his tongue to good use.

two, large hands cup your rocky hips before his pointed nose starts to zigzag its way down the sopping slot of your pussy. “yeaaah, girl, arch more against… mmph- my fuckin’ face,” he grunts, and you’re whimpering before wrapping a hand around toji’s veiny length.

like always, it stands tall before you—his tip a pearly flashing pink with remnants of dried cum dribbling from each stout side.

shiu could feel your hips frantically raising and spotting that cute, adorable arch of yours grow higher from each twisting curl of his tongue inside of you.

as his parched tongue reaches even deeper angles, he flicks his tip against toji’s cum that still lived inside of you. remnants of it still plugged into you, and he didn’t bat a single lash at all once he started to ‘clean’ you up.

“hah- such a sweet taste.” he purrs, using a thumb to spread the right cheek of your ass wider.

shiu lays his tongue fully flat, starting his way from the very top of your hole before slurping down. each loud squelch echoed through your ears, bouncing through each of your thinly made walls.

you honestly felt bad for your neighbors . . then again—this entire time, you sort of forgot about their sheer existence.

oh well! fuck them!

girl, not actually..

but toji and shiu were the exception though!

with shiu still devouring your cunt, you feel toji shuddering once you start to glue a few sloppy kisses against the tender head of his cock.

it’s poorly swollen still, with a blushing pink as a few veins decorate the sides. your hand that wraps around his shaft starts to give it a few pumps, feeling him already melting like wax near the wick of a candle.

“mhm-” his hand grips onto your hair, tightening by the very second. you couldn’t think straight with shiu repeatedly fucking his tongue in and out of your dripping cunt though.

every time his stubbled mustache would brush against your entrance, you’d holler out countless pretty moans. “sooo . . fuckin’ pretty,” toji rasps, cupping a big hand underneath your relaxed jaw.

you’re still stroking him, hearing the wet sloshes of your palm against his skin pitch louder before he groans. with ravened bangs running through his halfway-open eyes, toji brings his angry red tip towards your glossy puckered lips. “ ‘y gonna open for me? f- fuck, that cute throat of yours looks a bit empty.”

instantaneously, your tongue sticks itself out and you moan once toji starts to play with you again.

smack! after smack! - and he’s just softly hitting the teary cream-coated tip of his dick against your needy, sobbing tastebuds continuously..

a curving smirk starts to run across his lips as he watches that pout slowly marinating against your saddened features. “aww, look at that ‘lil frown, so cute,” he teases, your tongue still perfectly rolled out of your lips. shiu’s still eating you from behind, nibbling every few seconds against your nub just to earn a whine out of you. “manners, princess. y’know this.”

“please,” you’d spat, mentally cringing each time his hardened cock slapped itself against the tip of your tongue. you wanted more than just a cheap millisecond of a taste. so so bad..

whiteish strings of pre-cum and your saliva mixed from every time he’d pull his length away from your poor twitching lips. toji hears the wretched whine cutely gargle its way out of your voicebox, and he hums in amusement. letting off an irritated grunt, you poutingly correct yourself. “pretty.. please.”

“atta fuckin’ girl,” toji praises with a slight grumble, greeting your spit-glossed lips with yet another kiss.

he was feral, the sounds of teeth clashing only grew louder by the second as you started to pulse again.

shiu grunts, feeling you sneak a hand near the hem of his slacks. as your wet lips were still being tackled by toji’s, your thumb ghosted against his cottony boxers. the waistband folds from your touch and shiu breathes sharply, inching closer toward your face.

“aw, don’t hog her, toji,” shiu whispers, bringing his pursed lips to yours.

now - they were both kissing you, fighting over who could make your lips swollen first.

you moaned, tasting treacly slings of saliva depart from all sets of lips. toji tsks silently, poking his tongue inside your mouth while shiu playfully nibbles against the bottom of your lip.

you felt so hot - both of them started to put their hands on you, feeling all over your body and you couldn’t help but arch from all the burning touches.

“f- fuuuck.” you’d whimper, your tummy tucking inward in excitement at the feeling of shiu’s fingers skipping down your tummy.

they both had one thing in common for sure. they were fuckin’ handsy..

shiu’s feeling down your chest and toji’s got one hand holding the back of your head, another caressing down your thigh.

“hah- still a messy girl.” toji utters, squeezing your cum-glossed lips together before leaning up close, bringing you into a very hot kiss. you’re moaning, feeling toji’s callused open palms explore their way down your body - pulling your hips up oh-so eagerly.

his knee finds its way between your legs and you pout again. instinctively, that’s when your body starts to hump against his meaty limb.

“heh- she’s so excited,” shiu observes in a smoky whisper, getting up and pressing himself behind you. his lips were still slickly coated with your juices and he licked it clean - his tongue flirtatiously sliding around every damp spot.

with him being the one that was only fully clothed, you whined, feeling shiu’s hardened bulge of a tent press up against your bare ass.

he’s brick-hard, and shiu lets off a guttural groan once you playfully buck your ass back against him before rubbing against toji’s thigh once more. toji’s fat thumbs create a sensual path down your body, locating each pretty curve before grabbing your hips.

cocking his head slightly, his tongue dips inside your mouth before he starts to suck against your slippery wet tongue.

it’s a slow…..intimate action and with peeking flapping eyelids gradually opening, you could see his hooded green eyes already eyeing you.

he’s basically eye fucking you - intently locking eyes with you whilst his tongue battles yours in such a wet yet competitive way.

whenever toji kisses you - he’s just so greedy.

barely even giving you any time to breathe, he sloppily maneuvers his tongue against yours, groaning at each wet share of slaps! that resounds from both smacking lips.

his tongue even slithers its way out of your mouth for a split second, licking down your chin just to get it a bit wet.

shiu rolls his eyes, feeling the bulging tent in his slacks grow the more he stares at you and toji hungrily make out with each other.

“my turn,” shiu grumbles, softly pulling you away. gasping for breaths of fresh air, your lashes flap open for a second and you face shiu.

darkened brown eyes meet yours before he leans in, giving the left side of your neck a nice quick whiff. “mhmm, dove’s already startin’ ‘ta smell like me too, toji..” he whispers lowly, starting to suckle his lips against numerous tender spots of your skin.

you moaned, feeling toji nibble at your other shoulder with his hands meeting your rickety hips.

shiu’s touch was a bit softer, and more gentle while toji was more firm and hungry..

shiu’s painfully slow kisses (that almost felt like the entire world was pausing in the process) made you tingle the deeper he sucks against your tilted neck.

once he finally gets up to your face, shiu cunningly grins once he sees you cutely closing your eyes.

“ah, what’s this? were you expectin’ another kiss?” and your pout was your answer. a sweet, pouty frown tugs at each corner of your lips before shiu kisses the side of your mouth. “aw, poor thing. don’t pout, ‘m just messin’ with ya,” and within milliseconds, shiu’s lips finally slam against yours.

you felt a cool rush jolt down your body, moaning at the grasping, rough hands of both men touching each part of your body.

you’re still grinding against toji’s bulky thigh while whimpering against shiu’s lips - relishing in the faint fresh leavings of smoke on his tongue.

shiu’s got a bittersweet taste to him, and he brings a hand toward the back of your head, softly tilting it to a certain degree. “so needy for more.”

toji starts to breathe heavily, and he’s holding your hips in place, making you stay still. with airy pants leaving out of your wheezing lungs, you couldn’t help but circle your cunt around the center part of his thigh with your hips by shimmying yourself just a bit.

a candied whimper cuts out from your larynx at the sudden tenderness between your legs and you can feel shiu slowly smiling against your lips. “mhm? gonna make a mess on my thigh, girl? ‘s that why you can’t stop humpin’ on me?”

“mmph-” you’d moan as an inaudible response, your noises muffled due to how shiu’s tongue was still shoved down your throat.

you felt so tender. your entire body, it felt like you were on fire - between your legs, specifically.

you couldn’t help but wind your hips back against toji’s thick thigh, your hands finding their way toward your breasts to touch yourself while grinding against his leg.

“mhm, tryna give us a show, too?” toji grunts, verdant squinting eyes roving down your pretty chest.

your grinding doesn’t stop - in fact, you were only starting to get quicker.

shiu’s taking your breath away, literally, and he now starts to lap up the drool that drips down the crevices and corners of your chin. “such a diiiirty girl, didn’t know you get off ‘ta humpin’ my damn thigh, baby.”

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna hah- ohmygoddd!” you’d break away from shiu’s lips abruptly, your back arching as your hips finally come to an overwhelming halt.

you’re cumming - hard, and your cute battle cry of an orgasm was always music to their ears.

you’re feeling hot all over, and you’re steadily whimpering as you shamefully bury your face into the crook of shiu’s neck.

toji’s thigh was still propped up underneath you, slowly soaking with your slick wet mess as your ass continued to pathetically rock back ‘n forth against his veiny leg. “u- ugh, fuuuuck fuck!”

shiu reaches between your legs, giving your overstimulated cunt a niiiice squeeze before raising a brow. “y’er actin’ like this ‘n we haven’t even been inside ‘cha, yet.” you shivered, gasping once you felt the silvery band of shiu’s watch rub against your cunt.

slow - deep, thorough circles..

he’s smearing the front-protected part of the jewelry against your folds, feeling you cutely pulse against the protected glass.

it steams up right away from your wetness, and shiu could even hear just how wet you were.

your pussy was quite vocal—it was loud, sobbing and crying out little wet squelches of its own and you were still so so sensitive..

it’s cold the more he rubs it against the entrance of your pussy and he snickers at your reaction. shiu then starts nipping kisses near your neck once your body starts to shudder from the touch alone.

again, so sensitive..

the watch band instantly gets wet due to the syrupy stickiness that ran between your thighs, rubbing against the leathery strip. “she’s a wet girl today,” toji grunts, sliding his thigh from underneath you.

for some reason though . . you still couldn’t fathom that this was actually real.

toji fushiguro and shiu kong.

both sandwiched between you, sharing you- treating you like a mere rag doll.

then again, maybe this was a sign for you to stop reading so much fanfiction in your spare time and maybe…not get your back blown by literal fictional fuckin’ characters!

but fuck that.

why even bother to care when you can just be delusional right here…right now?

you’re interrupted from your thoughts once more once shiu pulls you into him. “dove- just a bit ago, you did say you wanted us both, yeah?” and you gulped, meeting toji’s eyes as he was on the bottom.

he’s laid out, beefy legs spread with his arms tucked behind his head. cocky cocky cocky.

you held back a moan once your eyes trailed down his overly hairy chest. so much of it too…

dark black bushes decorate down parts of his chest with his tummy a bit round ‘n plump at all angles. you’d probably melt if toji sank all of his weight on you. just putting you in a perfect mating pres-

“hey, focus, pretty,” shiu cups your face. you look at him, leaning into his gingerly soft touch and his body heat practically radiates against your exposed chest. “didya hear what i said?”

“y- yeah,” you sheepishly clear your throat, feeling his hands help you straddle over toji. “i can.. i can take you both.”

humming, shiu easily unbuckles his pants and his pants fall to the floor with a loud thuuud!

toji holds onto your hips tight, groaning before starting to give his cock a few solid beginning strokes.

the anticipation merely killed you - you couldn’t help but turn around, eyes nearly the size of table saucers once you see a glimpse of shiu’s cock.

he’s thick, and to top it all off, of course, he had that pretty ‘lil piercing through his dark pinkish frenulum.

prince fuckin’ albert..

you’d almost forgotten- that was yet another detail you decided to customize while toying with him on the game.

you requested for shiu kong to specifically have a dick piercing along with some of the other … vulgar things you arranged on his character.

you’ve heard about dick piercings but it’s hotter and different once you’re up close.

it’s somewhat pretty in a way - perfectly highlighting his tip as the steel piercing hooks over his frenulum.

it’s tucked right in, all the way in… and yet, for some reason… the more you stared, the more you started to feel yourself salivating.

you gulped so loud that you were almost positive one of them heard you.

shiu’s got a plethora of prominent veins running down each side of his shaft and it proudly stands tall, creamily tearing from each pinkish-tan corner with tears of milky precum.

“heh- i told toji ‘ta get a piercing like this but of course, he chickened out. me personally, man-”

“oh, fuck you,” toji grumbles, narrowing his eyes straight at shiu.

you hover over toji’s length which was also sheeny from the very top. it’s almost cute how his entire tip was so mushroomy and angrily flashing with various blushing colors of reddish pink.

they were both super super thick, and the mere thought of feeling them both stretching you out from the inside had your metaphoric panties in a twist. “i gotcha, sugar. look at me.” toji continues.

“oh, f- fuuuck,” you’d inhale deeply, your cunt immediately opening up at the welcoming gradual stretch of toji’s swollen cockhead.

you’re so tender, slowly sinking your way while your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip.

you’ve already felt toji - but shiu…

your heart’s pulse dramatically quickened by the second as you sank sank sank on toji’s fat cock.

“mhm,” shiu presses his chest against you, helping you secure yourself over toji’s lap.

with toji laid back comfortably, shiu’s right behind you with an arm snaking around your torso. a big hand meets its way between your legs, dragging a stubby thumb down your cunt that’s being stuffed with only about a good half of toji’s length so far. “let us hear that extra stretch, girl,” shiu hoarsely coos against your ear, aligning his leaking tip against your hole.

as a soft ‘mmngh!’ comes out from your lips, you land flat on toji’s hairy chest and he catches you with a smug grin, kissing your forehead.

but god - shiu’s stretch was simply out of this world. your eyes widened even larger than they already were as your lips pathetically spread apart, shaping into a surprised ‘o’ shape.

shiu’s stretching you out in every way possible. he’s groaning once he hears the pretty harmony of squelches leaving from both slick orifices.

his hand remains between your trembling thighs before his fingers start to rub against your pussy.

“there it is. that pretty stretch. ugh- there she fuckin’ iiiiis,” shiu reaches for the wooden headboard, nearly in awe at how perfect you were taking them both. your cunt squawks wetly, and your jaw just couldn’t stop itself from hanging.

the metal ring that glues on top of his tip immediately introduces itself against your puckering hole, giving it a sloppy frigid kiss of its own. with both stout shafts leisurely making their way into you, you were already panting like a dog.

“f.. fuck, so fuckin’ nghhh- big.” you’d moan, a sweaty palm of yours instinctively gripping a part of your ass.

with a tiny ‘lil shake of your hips, you started to grasp your bearings—attempting to start up a pace but cutely failing. saying that they were both big though was purely an understatement.

toji and shiu both had girth for days.

every inch drove its way into your gummy walls deeply, easily locating every possible opening they could rummage through.

you probably looked a mess already as your mouth remained open, dribbling from the corners of your parted sheeny lips with globs of drool..

you honestly couldn’t even compare them though.

inch after fuckin’ inch.. they were each huge in their respective ways - rightfully so!

slowly yet surely, they’re both making their way through your clenching insides as you finally start to rock your pathetic hips forward.

riiiight as toji’s cock sloppily plops! its way against your cunt, he’s fatally bottoming out. while he’s made his way past the tight ring of your barrier, you’re shaking against his chest with your mouth cutely agape the entire time.

“good…hah- girl. clampin’ down on us so good,” toji wheezes, already starting to break a sweat. he’s got your hips glued to his clammy palms, lowly grunting each time he feels your body’s grinding against them trying to quicken. “f.. fuck, shiu. she’s…hah- perfect, ain’t she shiu.”

“mngh- yeah, she is,” shiu groans, slowly starting to thrust forward.

you looked so pretty. from this view, he’s seeing all of your pornographically twisting, facial expressions at once.

you’re whimpering, nearly drooling yet again the more both of them fill each hole like it was nothing. you were sooo slick too - too slick, sloshes and squelches singing out of your pussy every time you rockily slide up ‘n down..

you’re damn near full - and your eyes rolled way back at the delicious stretch that curves through every end inside of you.

shiu’s piercing was the very cherry on top—the icing on the cake.

he’s tickling you in your most sensitive spots on purpose, making you whine out continuous wails of his name until your voice grows raw.

“s.. shiu, f- fuck, uugh-” and toji playfully flicks your forehead, hungry for more attention. “ow!”

“i’m inside you too, y’know.”

you rolled your eyes, nearly forgetting you were being double stuffed for a moment before you leaned in to kiss toji.

he grumbles against your lips, a hand creeping toward your ass before leaning into your sweetly-tasting embrace.

toji’s swallowing every individual moan that trickles away from your wet lips - savoring the saliva that lingers on the flat of your parched tongue.

“mmngh,” he’d then grunt, swatting a hand against your ass. shiu’s groaning while still behind you. his hips strenuously started to buck at a much more bumpy pace.

right then though, his waist snaps! right into your throbbing core, causing a single vigorous thrust to make you squeal.

right there-

your pussy clenches…then clamps…then clenches again and you’re feeling them both reach deep deep deep!

each targeted hit was sloppy - wet, sobbing out squelches every time your ass softly bounces back against toji’s warm lap.

your skin flawlessly ricochets against both bodies that were glued against you. “f- fuuuck, harder.” you’d pant, breathlessly whispering between kisses.

toji grunts, watching as you friskily swipe your tongue across the scar that slashes down his lip.

“mm- arch a bit more f’ me, pretty doll,” shiu roughly murmurs, his abs underneath his dress shirt tightening from each pivotal thrust forward.

oh, his hips were just nasty though. shiu’s literally drilling into you now - acting as if his hips had the occupation of a construction worker.

your sweet, sweet whines that were never-ending, filled the room with the addition of your bed’s creaking cries of mercy. lifting your hips, shiu presses a wet kiss against the inside of your neck. “hah- atta girl, stay like that. juuuust like- that.”

right at the end of his gravelly sentence, shiu’s cock punctuates your core so good that you’re just speechless..

dumbfounded.

entirely stupid.

your lips leave toji’s as you’re whimpering, weakly rocking against his chiseled frame that reclined underneath you. “o- oooh my god, ‘m gonna c.. cum… gonna.. -ngh!” you’d gasp, your left leg already starting to shake.

you’re salivating immensely from both corners of your mouth, taking a second to swallow once you feel toji’s scarred palm slide its way underneath your tummy.

there!

as his hand rubs around the spot, he’s pressing his palm over. a bulge starts to form before disappearing . . then forming again.

“mhm, look at thaaat,” he rasps, sliding a finger around the outline that faintly molds a shape.

they’re in so deep - so fuckin’ deep that you’re barely able to formulate words, let alone coherent sentences as you’re just whimpering out the same three syllables of their names combined.

it’s the same wiiiide stretch occurring after each sloppy thrust and you never get over it. you’re still moaning despite your voice already turning a bit raw..

as you’re still rotating your ass around each cocks that stuffed you full, you’re feeling shiu’s hands spread your ass apart juuuust to see your full puckering hole.

he can’t help but pull out every few seconds, poking a thumb inside just to feel you cutely slump back. every surprised ‘ooooh!’ you’d make always made shiu’s dick twitch - and fuck, did you feel it every time.

occasionally, you felt the bushy hair of toji’s base tickle against your skin. you’re steadily arching, feeling every nerve in your body shiver.

“ ‘m gonna..f- fuckin’ cum too,” toji falls back against your sage velveteen cushioned pillows. you almost forgot how he was still sensitive from before. all because of you.

you’re laid right up against his chest, studying how every few seconds, his expressions would twist.

his hazed, green eyes nearly resembled a color of an emerald—toji’s gruffly groaning, maintaining a solid grip on your hips before huffing out an abrupt. “s.. sugar, ‘y gonna milk me again, f- fuck.”

“always such a baby,” shiu murmurs, snickering once he sees toji’s glare from a blurred side glance. your cunt was so slick, covering them both from the veiny shafts down as you rock rock rocked against them each.

sweet yelping ‘ah’ ‘s would yelp out of you as the pressure continues to build.

their mashing tips were competitive—harshly smearing gluey kisses all around your cervix.

you’re moaning, leaning back against shiu’s chest as he gives your pussy a soft spank. “mhm- pretty doll, cum with toji,” he leans into your ear, his voice a hushed dirty whisper. “make him whine for us, can you do that f’ me, pretty girl?”

“y- yeaaah, shiu,” you’d reply, grabbing his wrist and making him cup onto your jiggling breasts. they were just so pretty - loosely springing free as you bounced, grinding your entire weight against toji’s lap. “fuck, f- fuck.”

meanwhile, shiu’s hands continue to explore your body with them both still puncturing each of your wet orifices.

that same cruel stretch that would occur every few wet split seconds had your back arching, toes submissively curling, jaw idly dangling.

you swore that these types of scenarios only happened in the fanfictions you read, sort of like like this one—i mean, the ones you’d randomly stumble upon in your spare time.

now that it was actually happening though, you never wanted this moment to end.

“fuck, ‘m cummin, - hah,” toji groans, his breath catching in his throat once your hand wraps around his neck. exactly as your fingers snaked around his thick throat, you felt toji’s dick twitch inside of you.

you were both reaching delirious peaks at the same time, moaning together at the sprinkles of elation that spiked through each vein and axon of your body and his. “u- uuugh, take it all, girl. better take it..”

“s.. shit,” you’d whine, your release forcing you to subtly slow down the speed of your hips as the two of you end up finishing.

it’s a slow rush.. and shiu’s still behind you. his hand that was gripping your breast slowly trails its way down your sweaty chest.

as you’re riding him again - toji’s life flashes before his eyes… at least in a video game sense.

it’s almost as if you could see the little pixelated hearts floating above his head, and one suddenly disappears the moment he comes inside of you.

two lives remaining left ! ! !

“g.. god,” he whimpers huskily, clammy sticky black bangs gluing to his forehead. toji’s washboard abs clench as he’s shooting blanks, shooting said blanks deep into your womb. it’s hot, bubbling into your cunt as you writhe around each dick that is stuffed inside of you. “ ‘m gonna marry y’er pussy one day, baby. sooo . . fuckin’ good.”

“hah-” shiu pants, a hand resting on your back, tracing a few imaginary lines down your skin. “like he can even afford a marriage license anyway. i’d have to be the sugar daddy for you both.. heh. not that i’d mind.”

“shut … up.” toji grumbles, wrapping his arms around your torso. you’re still moaning, feeling the gooey masses of cum creaming all down your slit, creating a pearly sheet of slick that eventually coats shiu’s cock also.

it’s a mess-

that much was apparent, but toji could tell by the feral little look in your eyes that you wanted more..

greedy girl.

and more did you get - because once it’s your turn to ride shiu, you felt a feeling of butterflies you’ve never felt with toji.

shiu’s got a different kind of aura to him, an aura that is a liiiitle bit different than toji.

like it was mentioned earlier… just a single glance at shiu kong and you just know that he’s the type of guy who demands respect.

“tch. guess i’ll just go fuck myself,” toji rolls his eyes dramatically, a pout fully displayed on his grim face.

he was obviously kidding and, it was cute to see toji so jealous. he’s had a sweet taste of you for one time and he already wanted more - more of you, and all for himself.

but you did summon shiu from the game also, so double the fun . . right?

you couldn’t help but giggle, watching how toji’s eyes would darken a bit at seeing shiu starting to align you on his wet tip. “shiu- make sure she’s nice ‘n we-”

“toji sweetheart, thank you- but i know how to please a lady,” shiu sassily replies with a tone of suggestive jest, one hand already gripping your waist. “up up, pretty doll. raise those hips f’ me real quick, yeah.. good girl-” he instructs in a raspy voice, feeling your slick cunt gush a bit.

it’s a loud ‘pssssh!’ that squeaks right between your legs, and you’ve seen gnawing on your lip as his pierced cock’s starting to rub circles around your drooling entrance.

“mmh- fuck, shiu,” you’d moan, trying to position yourself right. he’s slouched back with his tie all ruffled, messily about to pull itself out of his suit before he grunts. the coldness of the dick ring makes you shiver, gasping once his hand sharply smacks your ass. “spank me h- harder.”

“mhm- i planned on it, gorgeous,” shiu gravelly whispers against your ear, bringing the center of his palm against your backside once more.

swat! swat! swat!

and your skin jiggles upon impact, pitchy whines leaving from your dried-out throat each second. “ooh, good girl. y’er spoilin’ me with allllll this perfect ass, ‘m afraid, dove.”

toji gets behind you, and you feel his callused fingertips run down your spine once shiu starts to finally lower you down.

it all happens in agonizing slow motion, and your lashes flutter at his wet lips painting even wetter kisses down your spine. you were always a sucker for his touch—frowning at each wet peck that glues against your skin like paste.

“how’s it feel, sugar?” toji murmurs, rough textured hands dragging further down your skin.

your entire body rocks back against his chest, whining loudly once the crude stretch starts to commence again.

shiu grunts, feeling you start to move - seductively swerving your whole ass around in all kinds of circles and shapes.

gasping for each languid breath you possibly could, you whine out a sweet little, “good- mmh, fuck so good,” and you could feel your mouth watering at each millisecond that passes.

his thickness… oh- you’d probably never ever get used to it.

shiu’s fat tip doesn’t take long to disappear inside of you, inviting itself inside of your walls before you give him a loving tight grip.

the pierced crown of his cock massages its way around your cunt, moving its way around before its shimmies into your slobbering core. “s- sooo good, shiu. don’t stop.”

“hah- can see why ya like her, toji.” shiu grits through his teeth, combing a hand through his dampened black tresses.

with his right hand damn near glued to the left jittering cheek of your ass, shiu gives you another hard swat. you’re fully riding him now, the bed’s sudden creaking supporting that very apparent fact before he groans.

“she fits reeeeal nice, mmh- her pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous,” and as he starts to fan himself, slumping back, shiu starts to lie slouch, letting you take over. “…phewww.”

“told you.” toji grouses, a hand finding its way around his cock that’s pulsing with exciting veins. he watched how you were just perfect - effortlessly working your hips on shiu.

you’ve got a grip like shiu’s never felt before.

each time your ass violently slaps back against his meaty thighs, he’s getting whiplash.

shiu’s entirely taken aback too. his grip on your ass lessens as he stares at you with bleary, hooded eyes struggling to open. “mmhhh, work it, girl. fuck me.. f- fuck me,” he’s lowly grunting, feeling his cock already tightening from the inside.

toji’s next to you, flicking his tongue against your neck before sucking on it deeply.

he’s making sure to savor your taste - and oh did you taste sweet.

sweet like candy, and toji fushiguro’s always been one for an occasional sweet tooth; a sugar rush.

the real rush though, was the way your scent drove him crazy.

toji couldn’t help but briefly break his lips away from your skin, trailing his nose down your neck before groaning.

you tasted sweet but fuck was your scent far far sweeter. it was a mixture of your scent along with the manly concoction of them both. both colognes that were so loud in the air, rubbing off across every single part of your body as you moved.

“atta girl, use those hips,” toji huffs, a hand returning on his cock. while giving his cock a few strokes, he’s pressing himself against your back. “f.. fuck, doin’ so good for us. make shiu cum, baby.”

“ugh- damn, she knows how ‘ta fuckin’ ride.. s.. shiiit-” shiu swallows thickly, taking occasional glances at your ass that merrily bounces right back against his cock.

his pierced cockhead plummets its way deep inside of your pussy, tickling against every sensitive spot it could. “yeah, y- yeah.. yeah… look at me, pretty doll. look at me while you ride this dick like a fuckin’ hah- champ.”

“f- fuck,” you’d moan, leaning forward into shiu. that causes your arch to make an arch and it’s a sexy arch that makes toji groan just spotting it. you’re inwardly dipping your hips whilst his sticky fingertips probe all against the near heart shape of your rotating ass. “ ‘m gonna cum again, shiu.”

with a hand softly going around your neck, shiu pulls you in close for a filthy, hot kiss that makes your cunt pulse almost right away.

toji’s rubbing a hand against your stuffed full entrance and you’re whimpering against shiu’s lips. your body’s still rocking at such a speed that even shiu could barely keep up. as your dripping tongue swirls its way around him, he opens his mouth to give you better access.

teeth fiercely clash into each other as both lips smack continuously. shiu’s starting to thrust into you now, slightly raising his hips just so he could pound into you and it makes you gasp.

“mmph-” you’d moan, taking toji’s hand and making him squeeze against your cunt. a thumb of his swipes down your soddened nub and you shudder, still tongue-tied with shiu.

“f- fuck, ‘m cummin’.” he groans, breaking away from the kiss with your damp lips landing on his stubble.

shiu’s sloppily raising his honed-structured hips into you and he’s hitting you good from the inside. his tip’s greeting your cervix like it’s no tomorrow, and you’re whining once your release smoothly follows.

blanks - the two of you shoot blanks, each cumming hard with both jaws dangling like an earring.

you’re holding onto shiu as sweet little yelps shriek out of your throat. “fuck, f.. fuck!” you’d whimper, toji’s hand still maneuvering circles around your convulsing cunt.

shiu’s eyelids were drooped all the way low - he was exhausted, and yet he’s still got that sleazy grin on his face as he’s pouring pasty stripes into your overflowed pussy.

it’s sticky ‘n slimy, two perfect words to describe the mess that was a reoccurring thing for the two of them when it came to you. he pops a feverish miry knot inside of you before it bubbles its way out, sloppily dribbling down the twinned valley of your cracked open thighs.

“g.. goddaaaamn, girl,” shiu spanks your ass one last time, tears and tears of sweat racing all sides of his forehead.

he’s overly glossed in sweat - fanning himself yet again before falling back against your pillow. “hah.. toji,” he looks up at his friend who’s still pouty, stroking his cock and desperately wishing he was inside of you once more.

you looked so hot though - your arms wrapped around shiu as your ass slightly raised.

your neck slightly cranes to see the mess cascading down your sopping clit and you finally see it. creamy fresh clumps and it’s all flowing down your opening live a river - a more lewd version though. its in such a carnal way at how slickly it drizzles down the slot of your sopping pussy that’s overly coated with such amounts that it makes them both grunt.

“mmh.. such a nasty girl,” shiu continued, gently pulling you off of him before playfully rolling you over. “with hips like those, i… hah- might have to keep her,” snickering once he sees toji’s scowl, he corrects himself. “geez, i mean we..”

♡ ♡ ♡

as you’re still trying to get after release after release, you're seeing nothing but a galaxy full of stars.

it’s probably been many many, various…hell- a plethora of positions and you could barely think straight.

toji and shiu each took turns ‘sharing’ you, which mainly consisted of them constantly fighting over you.

you honestly lost count of how many orgasms they snatched out of your left and right. you were almost entirely sure they’d both forgotten about their little bet - seeing just who’d be able to make you cum more.

“f.. fuck,” you’d moan, flopping back against the bed. you’re out of breath, struggling to catch your breath as they both depart. toji’s flustered and shiu’s reaching for a lighter in his wrinkled pants that laid flat across your bed.

“tooooji,” shiu murmurs, pushing the the second pink cigarette between his teeth. “mmph- be a doll ‘n light this for me.”

“die,” toji glares - but despite his insult, he does it anyway.

you’re just laying flat on your pillow, watching the oddly brief intimate moment between the two as your chest heaves in and out.

with green eyes glaring straight at shiu, he leans in close, flicking a thumb over the lighter’s rusty turning wheel.

with a sudden click! the incandescent glowing flame flashes for a split second, burning into the dry butt of the cigarette.

shiu hoarsely hums, inhaling before lowly purring. “thank you, sweetheart,” and before he could even care what toji’s next response was, shiu gets between your legs.

shiu’s hands were so warm… they spread your slick-dripping thighs apart perfectly, getting a nice view of the mess they both created.

with the cigarette still tucked firmly between his teeth, he swipes a thumb down your buttery-coated clit that’s glittering from the entrance with wads ‘n wads of freshly hot cum. “such a…messy girl,” and he’s so close that his balmy breath wafts against the opening of your pussy.

you moaned, seeing toji licking his lips through your peripherals. tilting his head, shiu pulls out the stick for a moment, breathing out a cloudy puff of air. “toji, c’mere. our girl needs a proper cleanin’.”

“tsk. shiu, don’t tell me what to do,” toji grouses under his breath, already inching his face closer between the sprawled-out arc of your thighs.

so, so pretty -

they each filled you to the very brim. every single orifice was stuffed, oozing with such syrupy amounts. lanky strips of velvety cum plugged deep into your full womb, making you feel warmer than you’ve ever felt.

your toes curled as you sweetly whimpered, feeling both of their tongues create tender strokes against your pussy.

they ‘ahhh’ lowly, sloppily slurping their messes as you’re writhing on each twitching muscle that laps against your runny folds.

“mmnh- don’t stop,” you’d whine, pawing both hands at the crowns of their jerking heads.

instantly, your fingers get tangled with every ravened hair that silky runs through your fingertips.

gawking down with blurred irises, they’re both lewdly eating you out at the same time. shiu’s eyes were closed and he was all calm, a small tiny smile creasing against his lips . .

meanwhile, toji, he’s just glaring at shiu. a vein nearly bulges out of the side of his forehead as he cups his lips around your cunt. he’s eating you out like his life depended on it.

of course- everything with him just had to be a competition.

not that you were one to complain though.

two of the men that you wished for on this stupid dating app… game… whatever it was had you living every girl’s dream.

eventually though, as they’re lapping hot tongues up ‘n down your sticky cunt that’s painting each of their chiseled chins with a glittery wet stream of slick, you lean back moaning.

with your back submissively arching, your toes shrivel into a cute curl once more. they roll their tongues all the way flat, dragging and fucking its entire length inside of you just to hear you squeal.

toji’s dipping his tongue in and out while shiu’s thoroughly licking around every area - and eventually, their tongues end up touching.

but as you’re moaning, you suddenly feel them stop.

panting, you look down, muttering out a quiet, “w- what happene.. oh.”

and much to your surprise (not really), you glance down and see the two of them making out.

making out and eating you out at the same time. shiu snickers, cupping toji’s face with one hand, his cigarette gripped with his extra remaining fingers.

your pussy the third wheel- literally, and their lips mash against each other and your folds as they compete even still at devouring your twitching heat.

toji’s kisses back, grunting once he feels shiu reach between his legs—wrapping a hand around his friend’s length.

you grow meek, watching the two as you started to pulse—they were tongue deep, and toji’s veiny shaft was tender from shiu’s touch alone.

shiu grabbed his dick, rubbing his pierced tip against toji’s and they both groaned upon contact.

the plush textures of both swollen cockheads were so tender - as they rubbed against each other, you heard them both quietly groaning.

toji whined though, it was faint but you definitely heard it.

“i’m…literally….still here guys,” you force a grin, your lashes flickering within each blink.

“yes, girl. we know,” shiu murmurs with slight sass in his tone, reluctantly prying away from toji.

they’re both panting like untamed animals—tasting remnants of you on each of their sticky tongues before finally departing. shiu then turns toward you, leaning in, and gives you a head pat. “i think we’ll take it from here.”

with confusion aching near the left lobe of your brain - your brows furrow, staring at the pair and how toji suddenly bends over.

what in the...

“hm, toji. let’s see if your arch is as good as i remember.” shiu cocks his head, rubbing a finger underneath his chin.

toji grumbles before cockily snickering. “it’s better than hers, that’s for damn sure.”

“excuse m-”

“quiet, pretty doll,” shiu interrupts you with a warm smile. he gives you a kiss on the forehead, seeing the invisible question marks pop all around your head before turning back to toji.

“but, oh yeah? let’s see it then, big guy. show the pretty girl how it’s really done.”

[unreleasedwrites]

Caught You, Again

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you?

summary: You and Gun have been in the same class since the eight grade, and you developed a little crush on him that same year. Once the ninth grade started and you two had been paired as seat mates, you started to drop subtle hints here and there with the idea of your little crush on him for the past year. Gun notices this and takes it as an opportunity to constantly tease you about it jokingly— until, he was no longer joking, and made a move by asking you out which then ended with you becoming his first and last girlfriend, because he made you into his first and forever wife. Yet, he never fails to see you in the not so hidden act of admiring him, which has him calling you a “simp,” and he continues to tease you for it.

character(s) included: Park Jonggun x fem!reader

cw: fluff, teasing, playful and flirtatious gun, gun is nice, swearing, use of Y/N, mentions of physical fights gun gets into, mentions of blood/bleeding/bruises, couple nicknames, kissing, established relationship, idk much about weddings, VERY SUGGESTIVE TOWARDS THE END!! this is really long tbh 😭😭

unwrapped on: Saturday Night, December 03 2023

wrapped up on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

published on: Sunday Evening, April 28 2024

“Need something?” Your seat mate suddenly questioned you as he shrugged a brow at you, who was blankly staring at him, obviously lost in your thoughts.

“O-uh— No!” You quickly replied and zoned back into reality, “Sorry, I was just thinking, I didn’t notice tha-” You added before he cut you off and said,

“If you like me, you could just say so’ You wouldn’t be the first girl to confess to me this school year.”

“Wha-! Talk about confident, also it’s literally the second week of the ninth grade..” You scoffed, a little nervous considering you have liked him since the eight grade so he technically wasn’t wrong.

“That isn’t a no~” He replied with a tint of his usual smirk.

“Wel-” You tried to speak right before he interrupted you once more “Enough with the excuses already, it’s boring.”

…

“Well?” He added and you responded with, “Well.. What I was trying to sa-” Ding, Ding, Ding— You were interrupted once again, but this time, by the bell. And it was now lunch time, so you two went your separate ways.

That was one of the occasional conversations you had with Gun, it just so happens that you two have been paired as seatmates since the eight grade and therefore, had to have spoken to one another atleast a number of times by now. They were just meaningless and short interactions that was just another way to kill time for him, yet those little conversations and interactions meant the world to you.

Fast forward into the school year and currently, it’s almost the fourth month of school— all of your classmates along with the new/transfer students have gotten to know each other, and it just so happens that you and Gun have started to talk more aswell. From little “Hey, about the homework-”, “Since were the next pair who’ll discuss, how about we-”, and “Could I borrow an extra pen, if you’ve got one?” To “What did you get for this number..?”, “Let’s hang out at my place, we could also plan our discussion for english tomorrow.”, which also turned to him simply grabbing things out of your bag when he pleases.

The formal little questions he’d usually ask you were starting to turn casual and friendly, not only his words but his tone is shifting as well.

You never thought you’d be invited to his place so casually and he’d lend you his jacket whenever you two are hanging out. Although, he insists you keep all of them since he loves the way it looks on you. It was weird. It was all so weird. So many girls like him, he’s constantly got girls dreaming to be around him as much as you get to be. Now, if you think about it— you never actually see ANY girls approaching him or hanging around him at all, aside from you, that is. People are constantly telling you about how you two must be dating, well you aren’t, but he’s never actually denied it either. He continues to tease you almost everyday and it just has you falling for him even more.

“Y/N?” Gun suddenly called out to you while you were walking out of the classroom to go home.

“Hm?”

“Dinner, just you and me. This Friday at 7 o’clock, how’s that sound?”

“Wait, what?” You rose a brow at his sudden invitation, “What do you mean, by dinner with just you and me?” You briefly added.

“A dinner date, with just the two of us.”

“That was a little, out of nowhere.. Don’t you think?”

“..Yeah.” He responded, “My bad. Maybe it was a little too soon, never mind about what I sai-” He added before you cut him off, “Wai- wait! it wasn’t too soon at all! Sorry, I was just taken a back— since I really wasn’t expecting this from you.” You said, visibly happy.

“Well then..?” He nervously asked and you responded with, “Are you kidding? That’s all I’ve ever wanted!! I’d love to, Gun.” It was evident just how excited you were. Suddenly all bubbly and red in the cheeks, Gun found that to so adorable. “I wasn’t expecting such enthusiasm from you,” Gun said as he laughed, “You’re probably in love with me, aren’t you?” to which you replied, “You asked, I answered! And would you have wanted a no for an answer?” “A no from the girl who’s head over heals in love with me? I highly doubted that response.”

Gun might’ve said those words so casually and care free but he really was surprised with how quick it took for you to say yes. Throughout the course of your friendship, it did become obvious that the two of you do like each other. But it was much more evident on your side, with how much people knew you like Gun and how you spoke about him and how you were whenever you were with him, versus how you were when you were with some other boys that were rumored to like you. Of course, Gun was slightly taken aback when he learned about all this— how could someone like you, a beautiful and simple sweet heart who doesn’t even like contact with people or going out that much, like him, a guy whose name is insanely problematic and all the rumors spreading about him are mostly true and have something to do with his violent side and the things he does outside of school, a guy who people quite literally fear.

But Gun didn’t really like thinking about any of that. All that mattered to him was how you felt and the adorable reactions that come out of you whenever he teases you about apparently liking him so much.

A few months passed since your first date and the two of you started dating after a while, even more time has passed since then because you two were now in your final year of high school. Despite going further into your friendship to turn it into a relationship, nothing much has really changed.

You guys were at your place this one time and you begged him to do skin care with you. He was reluctant at first but with your puppy dog eyes and some touchy convincing, he finally agreed.

“Stay Still!!” You scolded your boyfriend who kept moving when you were trying to apply a full mask onto his face.

“How am I supposed to? It’s so wet and slimy, kinda reminds me of something..” Gun replied.

“Oh shut it, I finally finished applying it, now we have matching masks on!! Come look at the mirror!” You exclaimed, “Tada~!”

He looked at the mirror blankly and slowly turned to you, who was overflowing with joy.

“Awh, don’t you like it?”

“It’s.. something, that’s for sure..”

You looked at Gun with your usual pout, to which he caved in and finally went along with the whole thing, saying it’s not that bad.

“Hehe, my baby looks so handsome, just as he always does~” You said as you admired Gun while squeezing his cheeks.

“You’re such a simp, you know that, right? Gun said, slightly muffled as he looked down at you with his usual smirk.

“Hmph! If you don’t want my love then you could just say so!” You said as you let go off his cheeks and crossed your arms with a grouchier pout on your face.

“Baby, there’s no need to be a brat.” He then grabbed your chin to kiss your lips (you were tiptoe-ing). Gun always knew how to deal with the unpredictable pace of your mood, given how you can go from absolutely simping over him to a pouting girl who doesn’t wanna talk about it at all with him.

“Your eyes sure as hell love to wander, dont they?” Gun teased. You went all pouty again so he coated you in some more kisses to make up for the teasing about you being a complete simp.

Those were the moments that ultimately led to the situation you’re currently in. Beneath the sunset in your favorite place, dressed in an astonishing wedding dress, paired with an elegant pair of heels, just the right amount of steepness for you to walk in, given your veil and dress that was trailing on your back. Holding an extravagant boquet with all of your favorite flowers wrapped in such delicate material.

It was all so ethereal. Gun, your soon to be husband hasn’t seen you. You were queued to walk down the aisle so very soon, which had you shaking in both excitement and fear. It’s finally the day you’ve been waiting for so very long. You knew you really liked Gun the moment you two became closer, yet you’re still stuck in the point where you were admiring him from technically— not afar because he was right beside you the entire time. But still, you were just an admirer in awe. And now you have the same last name as him and do tons of things together— cooking? hell yes, shopping? without a doubt. hopping in the shower and bathtub together? you don’t even notice him coming in until you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around you and start to wander across your body.

Another thing is that Gun may seem like a “cold” or reserved person on the outside, but he really does care about people that matters to him and knows how to observe. One of the things he observed about your “infatuation” with him was how you looked at him. He really saw right through the eyes you looked at him with— they only expressed one thing. That one thing was actual love, and it was not at all short-lived as people say what infatuation is.

It truly surprised him to see how your eyes never got gloomy or even got tired of looking at him that way even when time passed.

If anything, they became brighter and loving with every moment that passed with you looking at Gun’s dark eyes, wondering why he would ever want to have anything to do with a girl who’s had a huge crush on him for so very long.

He realized just how much importance those little details hold. As they say, the eyes don’t lie. And he sure as hell was able to experience that for himself.

He may not have wanted to admit it at first, but he slowly fell for you, in the way where you fell first but he fell harder. His entire mood and demeanor would change the exact moment that you’re around him. He could be beating up people and see that you’ve come to check up on him because he specifically told you that he was just going out to get something from Goo, but ended up taking way too long— hence, why you went to find him. He changed in an instant. Leaving behind the scene and making sure you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about it. And according to Goo, the way he talks about you is just “agitating”— which pretty much translates to “amazing” in your vocabulary, given that Goo doesn’t care about these types of things.

You’ve heard from various of his friends that he really does love you, because he doesn’t prolong any of his fights due to the very fact that he wants to make sure that he can get home to you asap. Especially when it’s late at night, he knows you like to sleep but he wants to be the one to tuck you in and cuddle and place gentle kisses on you to sleep. So even though he loves fighting worthy opponents that gets him turned on, no one can top you— he just loves that matching pj’s set that you tend to wear, with the small pink lace ribbons and the silk fabric, the short and small shorts with the sleeveless top.

Gun told you all about what he does for Charles Choi when he fully trusted you and you guys were already dating, and he didn’t expect you to stay. He was scared to tell you with there being a big chance that you’d freak out and leave him, call the cops, and do other things he wouldn’t have ever wanted you of all people to do to him.

Despite all of his fears and bad expectations of what you might do when you learn of the “bad” side of his, he still has you and always will. He really cant believe that you stayed after everything and still look at him the exact same way you did when you first met him. You somehow still retained the same feelings and love you have for him despite everything— and he is insanely in love with you for that. He loves teasing you about it though.

Going back to the present situation you’re in, you were now walking down the aisle as Gun absolutely stared at you in awe. Enthralled by how amazing you looked in white and how such a gorgeous woman was walking down the aisle to meet eye to eye with him and to hold him hand in hand.

The ceremony was breathtakingly beautiful, flowers of all sorts were surrounding the venue with just the right amount of lights that have been set upon with candles and dim lighting. The details in fabrics, decorations, covers, and even the architecture of the venue was simply incredible.

All of this “extraness” as Gun would call it, was for you. Gun wasn’t the type of person to have such a big wedding despite the small number in guests, but he knew you loved all of the things he had made to be included for the special day.

And even though Gun was relatively smart with his money, he was more than willing to go all out on this short event.

After all the agreements and words that the officiator had asked the two of you, you guys finally reached the most important part of the day, the one you have been dreaming of for who knows how long.

The officiator spoke once again, “Do you, Y/N, take Park Jonggun to be your lawfully wedded husband— To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

You looked deeply into Gun’s eyes, “I do.”

The officiator turned over to Gun, “Park Jonggun, do you take this woman to be your wife— to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?

Gun held eye contact with you with a subtle yet sincere smile, “I do.”

He then carefully placed the beautiful ring on your finger, which was followed with you doing the same with his. Just after that was the unity ceremony which was such a bliss.

Of course, once that had passed, came the pronouncement— After more words and hundreds more that you didn’t pay much mind to, the officiator finally looked at the two of you deeply and stated, “I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And so you guys did kiss, for a pretty long time— With Gun’s hands placed on your waist and one of your hands on his shoulder, and the other nestled against his face. The crowd cheered for the two of you as it all happened.

It was all so, so, so, incredibly divine.

Once the ceremony has ended and the after party was finally about to begin, you kept chatting with the guests, more particularly your closest friends who were also your bridesmaids. It genuinely made them wonder how you could be so in love with someone. The way you talked about him was absolutely adorable considering they’ve met Gun before, and think of him as the luckiest guy on earth, and you as the blindest girl.

And despite not knowing many of Gun’s friends that he invited, they were still so kind to chat with you. They told Gun when he came by that he really was one hell of a lucky guy to have someone so head over heals for him. To which he only agreed with them before he went to attend to the other guests.

“I don’t understand how you could like him so much, he’s garbage..” Goo said as the other guys were talking amongst themselves at the same table you and Goo were at.

“Maybe to you he is— but he is just the sweetest to me, and he’s hot as hell too.” You replied, obviously lost in your thoughts, imagining Gun once again.

“Woman, what the hell do you see in him for him to be considered as sweet? Do you have any idea how much people he’s arranged the organs of?” Goo questioned.

“Oh please, how much have you?”

“Hey. I don’t like getting my hands dirty as much as Gun does.”

“Rightttt..”

Goo came closer to you and whispered in your ear, “Did you know that Gun has liked you before you even attended the same school together..?”

“..What?”

“Yup. You may have been led to believe that you were the first to like him all these years, but he’s just never told you that he’s actually a creepy stalker deep down.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Nope! And you could figure it out for yourself!” Goo exclaimed.

“Oh please! If he hasn’t told me all this time then he wont tell me now, why don’t you just tell me more about it?”

“Fine, buttt! You can’t tell Gun or even give him hints that I was the one to tell you all this, alright?”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that,” you replied.

“Alright-y then! I’m guessing you know Gun as someone you became classmates with in the eight grade, and became friends with in the ninth. Butttt, he actually first heard of you in the seventh grade, and although he wasn’t in your school that time, he transferred the next year so that you two could be classmates. He first saw you walking out of that school and he told me all about how pretty you were and how he’d like to be friends with you,” Goo explained.

“I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not..”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, just know that I am telling you the truth and it’s up to you to take it or not.” He said with a smile spread across his face.

Like all things, the wedding eventually came to an end, it may have been short-lived but it was truly memorable. Of course, what comes after the wedding is the honeymoon.

You guys went on a trip to somewhere tropical for your honeymoon, which resulted in Gun wearing almost nothing most of the time, and if he was wearing something, it’d be boxers or swim trunks, or a more formal outfit that just looked sooooo good on him.

There was this one instance where you guys were about to go to bed, and Gun would usually have on some loose pants or shorts, but this time.. He was wearing absolutely nothing, not even boxers or briefs of some sort. He casually walked over to your shared bed while you stared at him.

“Need something, babe?” Gun asked he tucked himself into the blanket you were also tucked in, but you were both still sitting up.

“Well.. No, but um…” You replied nervously, obviously pent up from the view you had right in front of you.

Gun looks at your eyes then down to his naked body (and mind you, you were wearing a cute yet small and slightly revealing matching- sleepwear set), “Hm? You’ve seen me naked countless times before, and it’s not like you’re a virgin.” He teased as he brushed some of your hair to the side.

“Yeah b-but..” You managed to utter as you were still straight up staring at his body, fresh from the shower.

“But what? Does my wife need help with her words?” Gun teased as he leaned in closer to you and slowly lifted up your top to place his hand on your chest. To which you got very tense and nervous.

I’m sure you already know what followed in the next moments..

But moving forward with a few more days that passed, Gun caught you staring— maybe even admiring one of the pictures that you took together recently, specifically zoomed in on him. You hadn’t realized or even noticed his presence so you were just looking at the picture like some teenage girl, obviously crushing on him.. As if you didn’t just get married to him to him last week.

You were cheekily smiling at the picture, even giggling to yourself at some point when you swiped through some of the other pictures of him and you. You just loved him so bad, that even though you had him right with you, you still resorted to pictures. Gun thought that was adorable. The woman he fell in love with, sat on a chair facing away from where he was sneakily stood at, was swiping away at pictures of him when you didn’t even know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

“What’s my dear wife up to this evening?” He spoke out of nowhere, suddenly startling you. This caused you to have the phone slip out of your hands, but he swiftly caught it and took a closer look at the photos you were staring at.

“What are you doing with pictures that you can’t already to with the real deal right beside you?” He asked as you got increasingly nervous by the seconds passed and you were starting to fidget.

“I was just looking at what photos I wanted to keep.. And what I didn’t want to keep, y’know what I mean..?” You replied.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my dear oh dearest husband,” you said mockingly— “Why are you interrogating me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Little miss stalker,” Gun said as he sat on the chair across from you, obviously enjoying himself.

“Stalke—? Oh wait-! That reminds me,” your husband’s brow rose at your sudden statement, “Your close friend, Jonggoo, told me a little something when him and I were talking during the after party.” You added.

“And that is..?” Gun asked, skeptical of what you might’ve learned, knowing Goo very well.

“Well,” you shuffled around as you tilted your head and finally spoke, “Is it true that you only came to the school I go to in the first place because you saw me walking out there one time and.. yeah—?”

“That bastard— But, yeah. That is true.” He said without a change in expression and emotion.

You gave him a teasing smile and a soft “hehe” as you looked at him. For some reason, finding out that was true only seemed to make you fall in love even more.

“Oh hush, I don’t understand how much a person could like someone—” He said and he stood up to lift you into his arms for teasing him.

“Hey! Why are you carrying me?” You suddenly yelped. He dropped you gently on to the bed and he climbed on top of you.

“Woman, it’s not good to start something you can’t finish.”

“Tsk! My nickname is now woman?” You pouted.

“My apologies then, my wife.” He said somewhat mockingly to which you pouted even more, so he finally said it in a more sincere manner and gave you a kiss.

“Well?” He asked you as you were still in the same position, with him on top you.

“Well what?” You clarified while your eyes shamelessly wandered through his body, flustered with the position you were in and the teasing he was doing to you.

“You’re eyes seem to be wandering yet again, and your cheeks are redder than rubies.. You just never get tired of me, do you? Gun said in a teasing tone as he leaned in closer.

This honeymoon sure as hell will be going on for a long time.

notes: I think ill prolly put out a masterlist and about me post in like a month or two who knows, also this request has been with me for so long 😭 I am so so so sorry to this anon, please forgive me 😵‍💫 Also, I really hope that this wasn’t too bad and can live up to what you were expecting and requesting, I am so sorry if it doesn’t, I really tried 😭 ANDDD I accidentally deleted the actual request because I got a little lost with trying to navigate tumblr because I accidentally clicked the Queue button and yeah.. I don’t think I really proofread this tbh

- With or without proper credits, please don't try to steal or claim any of my works as your own

I genuinely appreciate opinions, feedback, likes, and reblogs

Once again, I hope this isn't too bad for a request, and I'll be doing more characters in lookism so feel free to request!!

[devildom-moss]

LOVE your works !!!!!! i adore how everytime u write, it just kind of turns into a very subtle character study (at least that's what i'm getting) it's vvv nice and the kind of writing im into <33

it's gmt for me so idk if i'm way past the cut off and this might be an odd request btw but a reader refusing lucifer and belphie's offer of a pact after yk... everything lol. it's up to u if the reader eventually accepts but i want it to hurt 🤌🏻

Thank you so much, that's so sweet. I hope you will see your request since I'm taking so long, and I hope you like it. I hope its got enough angst and hurt. I think they have two different types of hurt in it. Lucifer's has more of his pain and Belphie's has more of the reader's pain.

Rejecting their pact offers

(Lucifer x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC)

(Slightly suggestive for Belphegor) (angst) (hurt; pain; implied physical and emotion harm to reader; slight yandere!Belphegor; Belphie is really creepy in this with some non-consent elements regarding touching/kissing)

Word Count: +2,000

Lucifer

You dreaded spending time alone with Lucifer, so you were displeased to receive a message from him – and even more unhappy that it had arrived, coincidentally, just as you had finished your assignment, when you were looking forward to being able to unwind. Your hopeful plans were crushed by an arrogant invite:

Lucifer: Meet me in my study once you’re free. Alone. Don’t keep me waiting.

Your first instinct was to pretend that you were busy all night and didn’t have time for whatever he wanted, but you knew you wouldn’t enjoy your night if you were constantly on guard and worried about your leisure being interrupted. You could pretend you didn’t read it – after all, you turned your read receipts off specifically because of Lucifer. You could wash up and head straight to bed, sacrificing your free time for the sake of avoiding Lucifer. But avoiding him would only result in his nagging the following morning, and he had already ruined your night, so you might as well safeguard your morning peace by appeasing him. Hopefully whatever he wanted would be quick and painless. With a sigh, you reluctantly dragged yourself in the direction of his study.

You knocked at the door despite it being open ajar.

“MC, please enter,” Lucifer spoke up. He knew it was you; his brothers never knocked. You heard the shuffling of paper and the creaking of his desk chair as you opened the door fully. “You’re slightly earlier than I expected. I’m glad to know that your studies are not giving you any trouble – or at least, I suspect that’s why you’re here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you answered him shortly. He seemed flustered by your presence – which would be entertaining outside of the current situation. You stood in the doorway, watching Lucifer collect his papers and tidy his workspace before walking over. His looming figure inched closer, but you stood your ground. “Did you need something from me, Lucifer?”

“Right. Please take a seat. Can I pour you a glass of Demonus? I’ve acquired a new bottle from Diavolo, and I’ve been looking forward to trying it. I’d like to open it with you.” Lucifer walked over to his bar; pulled a bottle from the very back of the top shelf, hidden behind a taxidermy raven; and grabbed two clean glasses.

“No thank you. I’m fine.”

“Oh.” The sound left him so quietly, you weren’t certain he had intended for you to hear it. He put one of the glasses back, hoping you wouldn’t notice, and poured himself a drink. “Suit yourself.”

“Was that all?” Your eyes wandered the room. You hadn’t been in here for a while, and the last time was not particularly ideal.

“Of course not!” Lucifer looked away indignantly. “I wouldn’t call you to my study just for a drink. I have something important to discuss.”

“Alright.”

Lucifer took a sip of his drink before speaking again; his subtle delays – the slow draining of your time and patience – annoyed you. “You’ve impressed me over the last few months, and you’ve managed to make pacts with each of my brothers. I believe you’ve proven yourself worthy of a pact with me. That is, so long as we make one thing clear: if we form a pact, I own you. I don’t care who else you’re entangled with, you’ll be mine.”

“No. I’m good.” You shook your head to accentuate your response.

“What?” Every muscle in Lucifer’s body tightened, and the glass in his hand formed a superficial crack. His eyes widened. Shock and anger fed off each other as Lucifer sat there speechless.

“I don’t trust you,” you admitted. Somehow, you were thrilled to finally have the opportunity to tell Lucifer how you truly felt.

“After everything we’ve been through together?” Lucifer scoffed. He thought he had proven himself to you. He’d come so far since the last time he had tried to hurt you. He thought you were both past this – that you meant more to each other by now.

“No, Lucifer, after everything you did to me.” You sat up from the chair, rage rising with you. You had done nothing but try to help him and his family, and he had done nothing but hurt you. Even when he had saved you, it was usually for his own selfish reasons. By the time he had developed this strange infatuation with you, you had no trust left to give him. You had no foreseeable interest in furthering a relationship with him – especially not after the pompous way he asked you.

“MC, please, be reasonable. You know very well why I reacted the way I did at the time. You’re a part of my family now,” Lucifer pleaded with you desperately, trying to show you his version of reason. He grabbed your wrist and clung to you tightly, afraid to let you leave. “I won’t hurt you like that again. I promise. I adore you much too much.”

“Lucifer,” you half-sighed, half-winced, “let go. You’re hurting me right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer apologized. He quickly let go of you and brought his hand back to his chest, wide-eyed and terrified. “Please. . . I’ve never offered this to a human before.”

You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, it trembled on his vocal cords and shook his breath. It was his last resort to persuade you: to show you that he had never been this vulnerable, and he didn’t know how to handle your rejection. You knew he needed you to accept his offer – or at least consider it. Anything except rejection would be survivable.

“Please?” Lucifer begged softly; his cheeks flushed with shame.

“Just because I’m your first and you might have changed, it doesn’t mean I have to accept your offer.”

Belphegor

You could have sworn that you had locked your door before heading to bed last night – and no one could blame you for still feeling a bit cautious after the events that occurred a few weeks ago. Yet, you were disturbed by the creaking of your bedroom door – if it hadn’t been unlocked before, it certainly was now. The soft shuffle of exhausted demon feet creeped towards your bed. You gulped and inched closer to the wall, hoping your eyes would adjust, and you would see Mammon. Maybe he had a nightmare. Or maybe it was Asmo, and he was lonely. Maybe Beel got lost on his way back from the kitchen – and hopefully not on his way towards the kitchen.

“Sleepy,” a soft voice muttered, and your hope plummeted. Fear spiked, prickling up your spine as you felt Belphegor crawl into bed next to you. His hands pat the bed gently, searching for your body, feeling for your warmth. He whined, “MC, hold me.”

“Sleep in your own bed, please.” You tried to sound firm, but your voice trembled at the last word. Maybe it was fear, but maybe your own lips could hardly stomach the thought of begging a demon like Belphegor to let you sleep in peace. After everything he did, why did he think he had the right to break into your room in the middle of the night and crawl into your bed?

“Too far now, and I want to sleep with you.”

Against your will, Belphie wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, resting his head on your shoulder. He nuzzled into you, taking in your scent with a deep, calm inhale. A gentle hum left him.

It was infuriating, the way he relaxed against you while your body tensed with an overflow of negative emotions: anger, annoyance, anxiety. It wasn’t fair that he could drift peacefully to sleep, clinging to you, after everything he did. You wished he would stop – that he would let you go and return to his room, shutting the door on his way out. You’d make sure it was locked this time; you’d double check it and put a curse on it if you had to.

“I was thinking,” Belphegor hummed mindlessly without even opening his eyes. He practically sounded happy. “We should make a pact.”

Your blood boiled, and you stared at his restful form in the dark. “No, Belphegor. I don’t want a pact with you.”

“Why not?” he started, eyes shooting open to stare at you in disbelief for a brief moment before he remembered. He lowered his eyes and attempted to bury his face against your arm. “Don’t answer that.”

“You know why.” There was spite in your words – so bitter that Belphegor couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to.

Suddenly he felt he had to do something, and before you could understand what was happening, Belphie had tackled you, pinning your hands down at your sides and straddling your lap. The dim glow of his amethyst eyes soaked up all the light in the room when he stared down at you. His grip on your hands wasn’t tight, but a familiar fear clawed at your throat, cutting back your desire to protest.

“Hush. Relax. I’m not a threat anymore. I love you. I want you. For fuck’s sake, if I was going to hurt you again, I would have done it already, so please, please don’t be scared. I need you. Come on, accept a pact with me, please?” The light from his eyes disappeared from your sight as he dipped down. You felt him kiss up your neck lazily, his warm breath tickling your skin. From anyone else, this might have felt loving and affectionate, but from Belphegor, it seemed cruel – as if he was kissing where his hands might have bruised like some panacea that came too late. “Please? Don’t make me keep begging.”

“Get off!” Your voice came back to you in a frightened yelp, still hushed in the dark of night. You struggled and writhed beneath him. The panic was setting in.

“You’re scared?” Belphie questioned, almost surprised by his effect on you. He pulled back to meet your eyes, but you had them shut tight. “Hey, look at me. I told you I loved you. Don’t be scared.”

“Let me go, Belphegor.” You lifted your arms slightly, only for him to force them back down.

“Form a pact with me,” he insisted. He kissed just above your collarbone, allowing his lips to linger on your skin. “If we had a pact, you could control me. I can feel your pulse pounding; I know you’re scared, but if we make a pact, you’ll never have to be afraid of me again.”

“I’ll scream, Belphegor. I swear,” you warned.

“Shh,” Belphegor let go of one of your hands to cover your mouth. He held your gaze with a delusional sweetness. You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, praying for someone to barge into your room and end this. Belphegor cooed, “I promise I won’t ever hurt you again. I know that will take time to prove, but I need you now. I need that connection to you. I crave it, and I can’t let my brothers be the only ones to stake their claim on you. And until you want me and trust me, a pact will give you reassurance. You’ll never have to worry about being alone with me. If I act out, I’ll be under your spell – in more ways than one. I just want to keep you safe. Can’t you understand that? Make me yours.”

You knew he had a point about control, but it didn’t make you want him. Still, when he removed his hand from your mouth, the fear and anxiety that remained spoke for you. “. . . Fine.”

“Yay.” Belphie giggled and kissed you sleepily, caressing along your cheek and neck. He hummed and stared down at you, trapped beneath him. With your eyes finally more accustomed to the darkness, you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks as he bit his lower lip. “You know, I’m not so tired anymore. Let’s stay up all night and make the pact more official. I’ll even let you mark me.”

[amethystarachnid]

FEAR

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony "Tony" Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, fluff, a little spicy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): spicy kisses, reader is insecure

ᯓ★ Request: Hii, tony stark x reader + friends to lovers, please? 😁 with smut if possible 😁😁 ( @ts-rdj-reader)

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ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language, feel free to correct me kindly please

You’re sitting in the lab at Stark Tower, watching Tony work, and that’s when it hits you. It’s not like some dramatic, slow-motion moment where everything clicks into place with fireworks in the background. No, it’s quieter than that. Subtle. Almost sneaky. It’s just Tony, as he always is: focused, slightly manic, throwing out sarcastic comments that make you roll your eyes, but secretly smile.

“Y/N,” Tony calls out, not even looking up from the holographic display in front of him. “Are you going to just stare at me all day, or are you going to actually help me with this? You know, contribute something to society?”

You blink, startled out of your thoughts, and immediately feel your cheeks heat up. God, were you really just staring? What is wrong with you? You’ve never been this… distracted by him before. Not like this.

“Sorry, I was...uh...thinking,” you lie, trying to shake off whatever weird realization is buzzing in your brain.

Tony doesn’t even glance your way. “Thinking? That’s dangerous. Especially in here. I’m trying to build a reactor, not accidentally blow us up because your mind is somewhere else. Come on, get your head in the game, Y/L/N.”

You force a laugh, hoping it sounds casual, but it feels strained. “Right. Reactor. I’m on it.”

As you move to join him, you do your best to shove down the sudden burst of awareness that’s decided to rear its head today. You and Tony? No. That’s ridiculous. He’s your best friend, your boss, and, let’s be real, way out of your league. He’s Tony freaking Stark, billionaire genius, walking chaos, with charm and charisma that have landed him just about any person he’s ever wanted. He doesn’t do serious relationships, and he definitely wouldn’t look at you like that.

Would he?

No. Don’t even go there. You can’t afford to let your mind wander down that path. It’s dangerous. It’s… stupid.

Still, as you work side by side with him, your eyes can’t help but flicker to the way his hands move, quick and precise, always in control, always tinkering. You think about the way he makes you laugh, even on your worst days, or how he checks in on you when he thinks no one’s looking, dropping off coffee at your desk without saying a word. There are the little things too, the inside jokes, the quiet moments after long days of saving the world, when it’s just the two of you, sitting in companionable silence.

It’s all those things that have started to pile up, one after the other, until suddenly you’re drowning in this feeling you can’t quite name...Or rather, one you don’t want to name. Because if you name it, if you admit it, it becomes real. And once it’s real, it’s going to wreck everything.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice cuts through the thick fog of your thoughts, and this time, he’s looking right at you, his sharp brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been weird for the past hour.”

You freeze, panic rising in your chest. He’s too perceptive for his own good. Damn it. “I’m not being weird.”

“Yeah, you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head. “You’re quiet. You’re never this quiet. Spill it. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You flinch, knowing if anyone could see through your defenses, it’s him. He always has. That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? He knows you too well. He’ll see right through any lie you come up with, any excuse you make. And once he does… what then? He’ll realize how you feel, and you’ll become just another awkward footnote in the complicated history of Tony Stark’s relationships. Except this time, you’ll lose the best friend you’ve ever had.

You clear your throat, scrambling for something to say. “It’s just… work stuff. I’m fine, Tony.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his gaze heavy, as if he doesn’t believe you. And why would he? He knows you better than anyone. But finally, he relents, letting out a sigh and turning back to the reactor prototype in front of him. “Whatever you say, Y/N. But just so you know, your poker face? It sucks.”

You swallow hard, laughing a little too loudly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, but there’s an undercurrent of concern there too, one that makes your heart tighten in your chest.

It’s not fair, how easily he can make you feel like this. How just being near him makes your pulse race and your stomach twist. You’ve always known Tony had a way of getting under your skin, but this? This is different. This is worse. Because now, you’ve fallen for him, and there’s no coming back from that.

But you can’t let him know. You won’t.

For the rest of the day, you force yourself to be as normal as possible. You joke with him, laugh at his ridiculous quips, and do your best to avoid those moments when his gaze lingers on you for just a second too long. It’s torture, but you manage to keep your cool...Barely. By the time you leave the lab, you’re exhausted, both mentally and emotionally.

As you step into the elevator, your mind is still spinning, replaying every little interaction with Tony, overanalyzing every look, every word. Did he notice? Does he know? God, if he figures it out…

Just as the doors begin to close, Tony’s voice calls out from the hallway. “Y/N, hold up.”

Your heart jumps into your throat as he slips into the elevator with you, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just presses the button for your floor and leans back against the wall, arms crossed, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

The silence between you feels thick, heavy with unspoken things. You want to say something, anything, to break it, but your mind is blank. For once, you can’t find the words, and it terrifies you.

Finally, Tony speaks, his voice quieter than usual, a hint of something serious lurking beneath the sarcasm. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He shifts his weight, turning to face you fully. “Whatever’s going on with you...It’s not just work. I know when you’re stressed about work, and this… this isn’t that. So, what’s really going on?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. He’s giving you an opening, a chance to tell him the truth. But you can’t. You can’t risk it. Not when there’s so much at stake.

“I’m fine, Tony,” you say, your voice a little too firm. “I promise.”

He watches you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, and for a second, you think he’s going to push further. But then he just sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. Fine. Be mysterious. But if you ever decide to stop being a stubborn ass, you know where to find me.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to your floor. You step out, feeling like you’ve just dodged a bullet, but as the doors close behind you, you realize something else: this isn’t over. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s only going to get worse.

Because no matter how hard you try to hide it, you’re already falling for Tony Stark. And it’s only a matter of time before everything falls apart.

Tony Stark isn’t exactly known for being emotionally in tune. Sure, he’s brilliant — genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and all that — but when it comes to feelings, he’s about as clueless as they come. That’s probably why it takes him a while to notice that something’s been off between you two lately. Not off in a bad way, just… different.

For weeks now, he’s felt a strange tension hanging in the air whenever you’re around. You’ll be sitting side by side in the lab, working together like always, and suddenly, there’ll be this silence that feels loaded with something neither of you are acknowledging. He’ll make some sarcastic comment, and instead of your usual sharp comeback, you’ll just give him this soft, lingering look that makes his chest tighten.

At first, he brushes it off. Maybe you’re just distracted. Maybe it’s stress. Hell, maybe you’re sick of his company. But then, one night, it hits him.

It’s after midnight, and the two of you are still in the lab, burning the midnight oil as usual. You’re both tired, but you don’t want to leave until the project you’re working on is at least somewhat functional. Tony’s sitting on one of the stools, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper, while you’re across the room tinkering with one of the prototypes. He glances up to ask you something, but the words freeze in his throat.

You’re standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the workshop lights, your hair slightly tousled from hours of working, your brow furrowed in concentration as you carefully adjust the wires on the circuit board in front of you. There’s a faint smudge of grease on your cheek, and the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up to your elbows. It’s nothing new, he’s seen you like this a thousand times before, but something about the moment feels different.

His breath catches in his throat, and for the first time, he really sees you. Not just his best friend, not just his partner in crime, but you, funny, brilliant, stubborn, always ready to challenge him, always pushing him to be better. His mind races back over the past few months, and suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The long nights spent together, the easy banter, the way his heart seems to race when you’re close to him, how he finds excuses to hang out with you even when he doesn’t need to… and the way he misses you when you’re not around.

Oh, no.

He’s in love with you.

Tony almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. The great Tony Stark, falling for his best friend? The same man who’s spent years avoiding anything remotely close to a serious relationship, and here he is, head over heels for the one person he can’t afford to screw things up with.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you for a moment longer, his heart pounding in his chest. You look up, catching him staring, and for a brief second, something flickers in your eyes, something soft, almost vulnerable. But then you look away, brushing your hair behind your ear, and the moment passes.

“Hey, genius,” you call out, breaking the silence. “You gonna help me with this or just sit there staring at me like a weirdo?”

Tony snaps out of it, shaking his head as he tries to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he says, hopping off the stool and walking over to you, determined to bury this newfound revelation under layers of sarcasm and work.

He can’t deal with this right now. He’s Tony Stark, for god’s sake. He doesn’t do feelings.

But deep down, he knows there’s no escaping it.

For the next few weeks, everything changes. Well, sort of. You and Tony still hang out all the time, you still work together, you still exchange your usual discussions, but there’s this tension between you now, this unspoken something that neither of you are acknowledging.

You feel it every time his arm brushes against yours when you’re working side by side, or when he makes some smartass remark and you laugh a little too hard, only to catch him looking at you with that same intensity that sends a flutter through your chest.

But you’re scared. Terrified, actually. You know how Tony is with relationships, he doesn’t do them, and even if he did, you’re not sure you could ever be what he needs. He’s Tony Stark, larger than life, always moving a mile a minute. And you? You’re just… you. How could you ever compare to the women who’ve come in and out of his life, the ones who are glamorous, confident, and, let’s face it, completely different from you.

So, you try to push your feelings down, bury them deep where they can’t mess things up. You can’t lose Tony. Not like this. You’d rather be his friend forever than risk ruining what you have by admitting you’ve fallen for him.

What you don’t know is that Tony’s going through the exact same thing.

He can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard he tries. He spends hours lying awake at night, replaying every interaction between you, wondering if you feel the same way, and cursing himself for not having the guts to find out. But he’s scared too. For all his bravado and confidence, when it comes to you, Tony’s terrified. He’s never had someone in his life like you before, someone who really knows him, sees him for who he is, flaws and all.

The thought of losing you? Of screwing things up and ruining the best thing in his life? That’s enough to make him keep his mouth shut, no matter how much it kills him.

One evening, after a particularly long day, the two of you end up in Tony’s penthouse, sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of whiskey sitting between you. It’s a familiar scene: just you and Tony, unwinding after a long day, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. But tonight, something feels different. There’s a charge in the air, something unsaid that’s been hanging between you for weeks.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes wandering over to Tony. He’s sitting next to you, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his head tilted back as he stares up at the ceiling. There’s a quietness about him tonight, a kind of vulnerability that you don’t see often.

“You ever wonder what it would be like if things were… different?” he asks suddenly, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your tone casual, not wanting to give anything away. “Different how?”

Tony shrugs, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “You know, if we weren’t… us. If we were different people, with different lives. Maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated.”

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. “What’s complicated about it?”

He glances over at you, and for a moment, you see something in his eyes that makes your breath catch. Something raw, something real. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by the familiar smirk you know so well.

“Nothing,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just thinking out loud. Ignore me. I’ve had too much to drink.”

You bite your lip, your chest tightening as you try to push down the disappointment that’s rising in your throat. He was so close to saying something—so close to opening up, to finally talking about what’s been hanging between you. But, as always, he retreats behind his armor of sarcasm and bravado, and the moment slips away.

You lean back against the couch, forcing yourself to relax. You can’t let yourself get caught up in this. Tony’s never going to say anything, and neither are you. It’s just the way things are.

But that doesn’t stop your heart from aching.

The tension between you two builds over the next few weeks, until it’s practically unbearable. Every touch, every glance feels charged with unspoken words, and you’re both teetering on the edge of something you’re too scared to face.

It all comes to a head one night after a particularly rough mission. You’re exhausted, bruised, and still a little shaken from the close call you had out in the field. Tony’s even more on edge than usual, his temper flaring as he snaps at everyone around him, barking orders and refusing to listen to reason.

You follow him back to the Tower, watching as he storms into the lab, his face a mask of frustration and anger. You know him well enough to see what’s really going on—he’s scared. Tony hides his fear behind anger, always has, but you’re not about to let him shut you out.

“Tony,” you say softly, stepping into the lab after him. “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t look at you, just starts pulling pieces of equipment off the shelves, muttering under his breath. “Not now, Y/N.”

“Tony, stop,” you say, your voice firm as you walk up to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Whatever’s going on, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

He freezes at your touch, his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. For a

moment, you think he’s going to brush you off again, but then, suddenly, he turns to face you, his eyes blazing.

“You want to know what’s going on?” he snaps, his voice harsh. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that one of these days, I’m going to lose you. I’m scared that I’m going to screw things up, like I always do, and you’ll be the one who pays for it. And I can’t...” His voice breaks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I just… I can’t.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, your heart pounding. He’s never been this open with you before, never let you see this side of him. And suddenly, all the walls you’ve built around your heart come crashing down.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tony,” you say softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m right here. I’ve always been here.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for the first time, there’s no smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect what he’s feeling. There’s just Tony, raw and vulnerable, standing in front of you, his heart laid bare.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, before the doubt creeps back in, you surge forward, closing the gap between you in an instant. This time, the kiss isn’t soft or tentative like the first, it’s hungry, desperate, and filled with all the emotions you've been trying to hide.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. The second your lips crash into his, his hands are on you, gripping your waist firmly as he pulls you flush against him. His kiss is rougher, more demanding, his lips parting yours with a quiet groan that sends heat pooling in your stomach. You gasp into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that leaves you breathless.

Your back hits the lab table behind you, the cool metal contrasting sharply with the heat of Tony’s body pressed against yours. One of his hands slips down to your thigh, lifting it to hook around his hip, anchoring you closer as his lips move against yours with an intensity that has your head spinning.

His grip tightens on you, the kiss turning frantic as if both of you are trying to make up for all the moments you’ve avoided this, for all the tension that’s been building for months, maybe years. The way he’s kissing you, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, makes your heart race even faster.

But then the weight of it hits you, everything this could mean, everything this could ruin.

You pull back sharply, breaking the kiss as your breath comes out in shaky gasps. Tony stares at you, wide-eyed, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something you’re not ready to face.

“I—” you stammer, taking a step back, your mind racing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Tony takes a step toward you, his hand reaching for you, but you’re already moving, already pulling away from him and the mess of emotions swirling between you.

Without thinking, you turn and run.

“Y/N, wait!” Tony calls after you, his voice panicked, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Your heart is pounding, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, all of them crashing into each other like waves in a storm.

What did you just do?

You practically sprint out of the lab, heading for the nearest exit as your heart thunders in your chest. You don’t know where you’re going. You just need space. You need to think. You need to breathe.

You run out of the building, the cool night air hitting your skin like a shock to the system. It’s a relief, in a way, the cold helping to snap you back to reality. But your mind is still racing, replaying that kiss over and over again. The way his lips felt on yours. The way his hands held you, like he was afraid to let go.

This was a mistake.

You tell yourself that over and over again as you walk aimlessly down the dark streets, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You and Tony, best friends for years, always dancing around something deeper but never daring to cross that line. And now? You’ve crossed it. And there’s no going back.

You shake your head, wiping at the tears that you hadn’t realized had started to fall. How could you have been so stupid? You’ve seen the way Tony treats relationships: brief, fleeting, never letting anyone too close. You were different. You were safe. And now, you’ve gone and ruined it.

The worst part? You know you love him. You’ve known it for a while, even if you’ve been too scared to admit it to yourself. And now that you’ve kissed him, now that you’ve felt what it’s like to have him hold you, you know there’s no turning back. But the fear, the doubt, it claws at you, telling you that you’ll never be what he needs. You’ll never be enough.

He’ll leave, just like he always does. And you can’t bear to lose him like that.

Tony stands frozen in the lab, staring at the spot where you just were, his heart still racing from the kiss. He can’t believe it, one minute, you were kissing him, and the next? You were gone.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His mind is spinning, replaying the way you’d pulled away, the panic in your eyes before you bolted.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been good at this, at feelings, at relationships, at anything that requires him to actually open up. But you? You’re different. You’ve always been different. And now that he knows that you feel the same way, he’s terrified that he’s just blown it.

He should’ve stopped you. He should’ve said something, anything, to let you know that he’s feeling just as scared, just as confused, but instead, he let you run.

Tony paces the room, his mind racing. He’s not used to feeling helpless. In most situations, he’s the guy with all the answers, the one who can fix anything with the right tech, the right plan. But this? This is uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t even know where to start.

She’s gone because she thinks it was a mistake.

The thought sends a jolt of panic through him, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. He can’t let you walk away thinking this was a mistake. He can’t let you walk away at all.

Because for the first time in his life, Tony Stark realizes he’s scared of losing someone. Not just anyone: you.

The next few days are a blur of avoidance, both on your part and Tony’s. You throw yourself into work, keeping busy with any project you can find. Anything to keep your mind off that kiss, off the way Tony looked at you like he might actually feel the same way.

Tony’s doing the same thing. You see him around, of course, you still live at the Stark Tower after all, and avoiding him completely is next to impossible. But there’s a distance between you now, a tension that wasn’t there before. It’s awkward, but neither of you say anything. Neither of you dare to acknowledge the giant, kiss-shaped elephant in the room.

Instead, you both retreat into your old habits. Tony leans on his sarcasm, cracking jokes that fall flat, while you throw yourself into your work, avoiding his gaze whenever you’re in the same room together. It’s like you’re both walking on eggshells, terrified of what might happen if one of you breaks the silence.

You hate it. You hate the awkwardness, the tension, the way things have changed between you. You miss the ease you used to have with Tony, the way you could just be you around him without worrying about anything else. But now? Everything’s different, and you don’t know how to get back to what you had.

Worse, you don’t even know if you want to.

Because the truth is, you don’t think you can go back. Not after that kiss. Not after feeling what it was like to have him hold you, to kiss you like he actually meant it. And that scares the hell out of you.

You’ve been in love with Tony for longer than you care to admit, but you’ve always pushed it down, telling yourself it was better to stay friends, better to keep things simple. But now, after that kiss, you can’t ignore it anymore. You can’t pretend that you don’t want more.

The problem is, you’re pretty sure Tony doesn’t want the same thing. He’s Tony Stark, he doesn’t do relationships, not serious ones, anyway. And even if he did… why would he want you?

That thought lingers in your mind, eating away at you. You’re not enough for him. You’ll never be enough. And that’s why, even though the kiss was everything you’ve ever wanted, you know it was a mistake.

It has to be.

It’s another late night in the lab, just like any other night. Or at least, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself. But you can feel Tony’s eyes on you as you work, and it’s driving you insane.

You haven’t talked about what happened. You haven’t even mentioned it. And it’s starting to suffocate you.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You slam your tools down on the table, turning to face Tony, who’s sitting across the room, fiddling with a circuit board.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

Tony looks up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Talk about what?”

You give him a look, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know what.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stands up and walks over to you.

“Look,” he says, his voice softer now, more serious. “I get it. You think the kiss was a mistake.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Tony holds up a hand, cutting you off. “But here’s the thing, Y/N. It wasn’t. At least, not for me.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you force yourself to stay calm, to not get your hopes up. “Tony, don’t—”

“No, listen,” he interrupts, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking about this, about us, and I know I’ve screwed up a lot in my life. Hell, I’ve probably screwed this up too. But I don’t want to keep pretending that kiss didn’t mean anything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreading, the moment you’ve been avoiding. And yet, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Tony takes another step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know what this is, Y/N. I don’t have all the answers. But I do know one thing: I don’t want to lose you. Not as a friend, not as anything. So if you’re willing to take a chance on me… on us… then I’m all in.”

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him, your mind racing. This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment you’ve been terrified of. And yet, as you look into Tony’s eyes, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is worth the risk.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Tony says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And in that moment, you know you can’t run anymore. You take a deep breath, stepping forward, closing the distance between you.

“I’m in,” you whisper.

Tony grins, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into a kiss. And this time, you don’t run. You don’t push him away.

Because this time, you know it’s real.

“God, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips between kisses, his voice rough with need. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

The confession stokes the fire burning between you, and you kiss him harder, your fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. He groans into your mouth, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you even closer as his teeth graze your bottom lip, sending a shiver of pleasure straight through you.

It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of losing control. Every kiss, every touch from Tony makes your whole body ache for more, and suddenly, you’re not sure you can stop this. You’re not sure you want to stop this.

But just as quickly as it began, a flicker of fear pulls you back. You break the kiss, gasping for air as you pull away slightly, your forehead resting against his, both of you breathless. Tony’s hands stay on you, his grip firm but not demanding, as if he’s giving you the space to decide where this goes next.

And in that brief moment, reality crashes back in, the weight of everything you’re risking between you. Your heart is racing, your lips swollen from the kiss, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to give in, to let this happen. But the fear, of losing him, of ruining what you have, still lingers at the edges of your mind.

“I can’t lose you,” you whisper, your voice shaky, torn between desire and doubt. “Tony, I...”

His hand cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your lips, still damp from the kiss. “You won’t,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the heat still burning in his eyes. “I promise you, Y/N. You won’t lose me.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters, is enough to make you believe him. For the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe this, you and him, could work.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, and with one last look into his eyes, you crash your lips back into his, giving yourself over completely this time. And this kiss? This one isn’t frantic. It’s deep, slow, and filled with the promise of everything that’s been building between you for so long.

Tony moans into your mouth, his hands roaming your body with newfound confidence, and you can feel the heat between you growing, spiraling out of control. His lips trail down your jaw, then lower, tracing a hot path along your neck that has you gasping his name.

This time, you don’t pull away. You don’t run.

You stay, letting yourself fall.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I don't know if I like this or not but well...here we are. If you liked it like, reblog and leave a comment if you want! <3

[marketfreshfics]

Like Rabbits | Garreth x f!MC

Header image: @newbienewness ✦ 4327 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI), aged-up characters, unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), alcohol consumption, admission of feelings/slight proposition, masturbation, spanking, p in v, light dom/sub elements ✦ Plot? What plot? This was honest to god just an excuse to write about Garreth in a rabbit costume ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Easter festivities were a rarity at Hogwarts, yet when an opportunity for revelry arose, the seventh-years seized it with unbridled enthusiasm.

For generations, a pact among students governed the hosting duties on such occasions. The house with the fewest points bore the responsibility (and, by consequence, the aftermath) of throwing the celebration. Slytherin, enduring a dismal streak, found themselves reluctantly poised to shoulder the burden once more, the third time not necessarily the charm. As the soon-to-be graduates gathered amidst their diminished house, they sampled the exotic hors d'oeuvres with subdued chatter, their ranks thin and their spirits somewhat subdued, shooing a curious first year who had risen from bed to visit the loo.

You couldn't help but notice the lacklustre effort put forth, evident in the half-hearted swirling of your drink and the telltale lines of boredom etched upon your brow. Natsai, however, who displayed a downright lackadaisical disinterest, was already poised to depart for the evening. "I do think the Slytherins should dedicate more focus to their house standings to avoid committing another crime such as this party."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response, prompting an eye-roll from Imelda as she fished a hair from her drink. "Blame Sallow, we’re still recovering from his little bridge stunt."

The memory evoked a ripple of amusement; the viaduct bridge, unimposing as ever one moment, became a terrifying tangle of devil’s snare that multiplied out of control, requiring several days' worth of Confringo to eradicate.

"I’ll let you know I’m still working through detention for that." Sebastian, the culprit in question, shot a wry grin as his classmates riled with snickers, much to his chagrin. "I was only practicing the Geminio charm for Ronen’s assignment! At his recommendation, mind you, I performed it outside on a plant! I swear, Professor Weasley was just trying to-"

"Did someone mention Weasley?"

Heads swivelled towards the echo of an announced arrival from the staircase, and before questions and curiosities could be posted, Garreth Weasley sauntered down the spiral steps wearing a riot of pink cotton with two lapin ears sprouting from his crown. The seventh-years all hollered and laughed at the sight, save for Leander, who appeared wholly unamused by his fellow Gryffindor’s getup. "The bloody hell, Garreth?"

"What?" He grinned at the tall redhead. "Surely we couldn't have a proper Easter festivity without a rabbit present? Where’s the fun in that?"

Leander's jab echoed into the rim of his goblet before he took a sip. "Is that what’s been stuffed under your bedframe for the past month? You look ridiculous."

Undeterred, Garreth opted instead to, well, air his abundance of comfort. "Yes, but I feel incredible. Quite breezy down here, innit?"

Spiked cider sputtered from Sebastian then, dribbling down his chin. "Are you wearing anything under that poacher’s pelt?"

"Isn’t my smile enough for you, Sallow?"

Yet, despite yourself, your curiosity persisted, occasionally wandering to the vicinity of his lap. Heat rose to your cheeks, unrelated to the effects of alcohol, as you observed the subtle jostle there. It was a wager, you thought, with a flush of embarrassment tinting your cheeks, that Garreth Weasley remained, by all accounts, an honest man.

"What even is this fabric?" Natsai protested, pinching the fold of fluff near her housemate’s bicep. "It appears to be rather flammable."

"Now that would provide ample entertainment for the evening." Ominis chimed in nearby, his attention still fixed on his wand-led readings, seemingly uninterested in the fraternization.

"One at a time, darlings." Garreth, the ever-enthusiastic lion, swung a wicker-weave basket to and fro, reminiscent of some fictional harbinger of joy. Nestled within the dried grass padding were several small bottles of firewhisky, a smattering of cauldron cakes, and various other treats from Honeydukes. "I knew the Slytherins were in desperate need of a Pepperup, so I've come to spread the merriment. Snakes enjoy chocolate frogs, don't they?"

"I thought snakes typically ate rabbits," Imelda quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garreth didn't miss a beat in his response to her jest. "If I were none the wiser, Reyes, I'd wager you'd like to take a hop around my carrot—"

A muttered expletive signalled the departure of the quidditch captain, leaving behind a chorus of laughter.

You found yourself enthusiastically joining in, relishing the unexpected amusement of the evening. As the crowd dispersed, you approached Garreth to select a treat of your own.

"Happy Easter, beautiful." Garreth's voice dipped low, laced with a suggestive tone that he often employed in your company. "Care to take a seat on the Easter bunny's lap and tell me what you want to find in your basket tomorrow morning?"

"That's Santa Claus," you teased in return.

"My mistake."

The flirtations between Garreth and yourself had become somewhat of a tradition throughout your Hogwarts enrollment, though they never progressed beyond playful banter. Here and now, with alcohol’s nack for unbarring inhibitions, the thought of advancing motions with the cheeky Gryffindor didn’t seem like such an unreachable feat.

"You seem rather warm in that outfit," you observed, noting the slight sheen above his brow.

Garreth chuckled. "It's rather steamy in here, indeed. But not to worry, I can… ventilate if needed." Handing you a small package of honeycomb with a coy smirk, he added, "Here, I think you'll enjoy this one."

Before you could inquire further, Garreth was already moving through the lively crowd, intent on distributing more sweets and cheers. With a huff of amusement, you tore into the package of honeycomb, only to notice some writing on the pleat of the wrapper.

'Do you know what rabbits are known for? I think we could do it better. Tell me when you’re ready, and we can hop off for the night.'

The implications hit you like lightning.

Copious procreation.

Flammable or not, your gaze practically burned through the back of Garreth's fluffy pink ensemble as he disappeared into the throng of students.

---

While the evening bled into night, even with the bolstering presence of libations coursing through your veins, the mere idea of approaching Garreth at the night's end had your insides all tangled. Harmless flirtations aside, this was a full-on proposition. What if the request was meant for someone else?

Then again, he’d deliberately dedicated the honeycomb to you…

---

Somewhere between a refilled goblet and the honeycomb wrapper now tucked into your brazier like some love letter from a sweetheart posted overseas, your prior suspicions of Garreth’s costume being rather warm were confirmed. The redhead retracted an arm inside the suit, while the other unzipped the front to his navel, exposing his bare chest as he tied the sleeves around his hips.

At that moment, propriety yielded to fascination, and any pretense of restraint evaporated as you found yourself captivated by the contours of his soft yet sculpted physique. A twinge of envy stirred within you, brought on by the admiring glances of the two Hufflepuff witches directed his way from the sidelines.

Garreth leaned against the wall, a slight trickle of sweat central to his chest, freckles all flushed from alcohol and flirtations, and seeing the wizard looking entirely dishevelled in his buzzed state did something truly wonderful for your inhibitions. Downing the rest of your pep talk, you crossed the common room, approached him near the enchanted piano, and promptly cupped a hand to his ear.

"I’m ready to… hop off, for the night." You whispered, the heat carried with it curling into the shell of cartilage.

"Yeah?" Garreth’s grin settled into a keen sort of coy, and his gaze went all honed-in and confident, leaning into you with some additional insinuations in those glassy greens of his. "Sure you don’t want to linger a bit longer in this charming mildew?"

His stray dig was not lost on Sebastian, who promptly threw Garreth a pointed warning without threat behind it, bopping an ear of his fuzzy getup.

"Settle down, Sallow," Garreth chortled, relieving his cup of its contents before boldly taking your hand. “We know the snakes always host the most splendid of shindigs.”

A chorus of wolf-whistles heralded your departure, along with someone’s award-winning remark about calling Garreth ‘Thumper.’

Down the adjacent hallway you went, past another couple that was long since lip-locked, and the firewhisky fuzz in you sought the very same. At the end of the hallway that connected to the Slytherin dormitories, coincidentally located at the intersection of friendship and something more, you shoved Garreth against the wall and claimed that magical mouth of his with your own.

For all the smart comments, the witty banter, the years of flirtations that stacked the deck and colored your cheeks, Garreth melted against you, a mess of vulnerability and desire. His body responded eagerly, exploring newfound territories with a hunger born of longing. Eventually, his body caught up to the priority of the situation, wrapping both arms around you with eager motions and traveling to all the locations he’d only dreamt of visiting before.

You were moving then—perhaps another student was evicting you from the open area, nudged aptly to ‘get a room’—but at one point or another, between lips, between moans, and those magical, heated renditions of your name, you found yourselves in a vacant dormitory.

"Who’s room is this?" You pondered breathlessly.

Garreth didn’t seem to give two shits as you all but crashed into the bedroom, nearly toppling an oil lamp, sending it teetering on its pegs as you collided with a bedpost. "Don’t know, don't care."

And that conversation promptly died in between your mouths, somewhere in the tangle of your tongues, as Garreth captured your wrists, holding them above your head as he trailed kisses along your throat. Plush, pink lips planted sweet kisses, while the scuff of end-of-day stubble bit friction in their wake.

"Garreth," You murmured with a shallow draw of breath. "You… you fancy me?"

"Oh, we’re well past fancying, love." His tone dipped back into devious territory, the same place where feelings like desire and longing and, goodness, arousal held court. “I’m onto the craving stages of our little tryst, myself. And right now… I need you.”

In response to his confession, your leg instinctively hitched over his hip, eliciting a low groan as he captured his bottom lip between teeth, a rewarding gesture that spoke volumes without a word.

His grip on your wrists was released, instead seeking the supple curve of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the nearest bed. Settling you down with a sense of urgency, the mattress dipped with his company, and he enveloped you in his embrace, hungering for more of the kisses that fueled his wet dreams.

Garreth pulled back, settling on his knees above you, a pleased grin playing on his lips as he panted, as if suddenly realizing something, perhaps in response to the whisper of a zipper against his bare chest. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

You laughed, mischief set free as you met his gaze. "Excuse me? What about romance? Shouldn't you be wooing me or, I don’t know, engaging in some foreplay?"

The redhead chewed his lip, and it stretched with eagerness. “Of course. Where are my manners? Though I’m still taking all of your clothes off right now, I’ve waited long enough for my Easter present.”

"You don’t exactly give gifts for Easter."

There wasn’t much room left for protest, however, as Garreth all but tore your skirt from your waist, his expression telling of the countless times he’d imagined doing so, perhaps somewhere into his fist or while soaking in the shower. The billow of linen and cotton was discarded with such haste that you thought he’d taken some unspoken offence to the garment, but then his efforts were being spent on tugging your underwear down. A breath born from an expletive ensured you were plenty wet for the introduction.

Verdant irises were engulfed by pupils blown wide, as Garreth drank in the sight of your sex. "God… my imagination could never."

"Like what you see, do you?" You giggled nervously, knees bent and pressed together in honest reflex.

"You have no bloody idea how much I like what I see," he replied with a grin, his gaze tracing every contour of your exposed skin. "...what am I supposed to do now?" It was his turn for a nervous chuckle, palming whatever flesh he made contact with, his demeanour akin to that of a tourist in need of directions.

A soft moan rewarded his efforts. "Whatever you desire... I'm yours for the night, remember?"

And to seal the proverbial deal, you peeled the ruched top up and over your head, unhooked your brazier immediately after, and bit the web of your cheek as you expedited it to the floor, joining the rest of your clothing expenditures.

The honeycomb wrapper fluttered onto your stomach, and Garreth raised an amused brow. "A fond little souvenir, hmm?"

"It’s sentimental, shut up." You purred, quieting his jests with bare chests pressed, and he saw no room for further comment on the matter. Garreth was all mouth then, kissing from lips to chin to lobe as he tutted. "Before we truly make like rabbits and fornicate," He couldn’t help the huff that followed, hearing himself say such a big boy word, "there's something I want to do first."

"Tell me," you urged quietly, fingers tangled in fiery copper curls. "Tell me what you want to do to me..."

"Well, for starters..." He kissed a breadcrumb trail from your neck to your shoulder, "I want to hold you in my arms and get you off."

"Oh god," anticipation drenched your mound and arched your back. "Yes, Garreth, please…"

The sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine, confirming the suspicions he had harboured for months. Curated Gryffindor courage made his heart swell, and his hands trailed down to both hips, maneuvering you around until your back pressed against his chest, playing little and big spoons. Garreth's lips found their way to the curve of your ear, where teeth and lips took turns teasing your lobe. "Comfy?"

"Very much so," you mewled, surrendering to his magnetic presence, your bare back pressed against his chest while you lay on your side. Your hips instinctively moved in synchrony with his, firm against fluffy pink fabric slung low on his waist, and there it is—that stiffness underneath the plush that has your mouth watering and your groin humming. A snort erupted from you at the reminder of the rabbit costume, partially undressed, entirely inappropriate.

"What's that, sweetheart? Gonna share with the class?" He tsked then, and a mischievous grin adorned his face as he felt the delightful pressure of your hips against his own. "Might I… take a dip?"

"Yes," you breathed, already writhing, already wanting, even though his exploration had only just commenced. "Please, Garreth... please..."

And so Garreth learned a lot about himself then; your pleading revealed a new kink. He nuzzled your neck with a mischievous grin, his touch growing more daring as a hand dipped lower; as soon as his fingers gently caressed the carnal crux between your thighs, your neck arched a bit harshly, but that was just fine; you were too absorbed in thoughts of holy fuck, Garreth is rubbing my clit.

The prompt response surprised him, but your brash expression had an undeniable allure. A playful smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Merlin, this wet for me already? So generous..."

"Can’t believe I’m getting fingered by someone in a bunny costume.”

“Fingered by me in a bunny costume, thank you.” Garreth began sucking over your jugular to elicit a sweet little cry from your mouth, and with the flesh popping audibly, no doubt where a bruise would bloom, he whispered, "You're going to feel splendid around me, beautiful.”

"I want you, Garreth." Grinding your pelvis into both his palm and his dick certainly conveyed as much. It echoed the heat that built over months of minute gestures, sidelong glances, and jokes made at each other’s expense.

"I want you, too." His hand moved with purpose, with three fingers flat against your bud, dipping to explore your intimate depths while those tactful lips brushed the upward jut of your neck. An arm snaked under you and around your middle, palming a breast with a multitasking maneuver that made you squirm.

"Garreth," you whimpered as he caressed your wetness, throwing petrol on the fire within you. You found a rhythm that harmonized with the symphony he composed. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it, baby?" His thumb made love to that throb and swell of nerves, eyes closed in concentration as he leaned closer, exhalation hot on your shoulder.

"I want to come for you," you rasped, testifying that which sought to consume you. "Please… faster…"

Garreth's explorations intensified, and the sound of your slick arousal punctuated each movement. An almost accomplished smile curled his lips, relishing the subtle power he held over you. "Do my fingers feel good?" His voice danced all hushed and seductive, the grate of alcohol and lust on his throat.

You were lost in the whims of his touch, unfolding in his hands. As he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arched along the river banks of abandon, edging closer to release. "I know something that would feel even better."

He possessed an innate knowledge of the words that would stoke the fire within you. "We’ll get there," he whispered, his breath hot on your racing pulse. "First… come for me."

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice trembling with the impending climax that welled within. His finger movements, an audacious symphony between soaked folds, carried you ever closer. "I'm… I'm… "

As your cries of pleasure came forth with volume, Garreth focused his efforts on your clitoral hood, applying firm pressure as opposed to frantic fingering, intent on prolonging the spasms. At the same time, your body practically sang his praises, and he offered the same in return. "Good girl. Now... are you ready for me?"

You panted, flipping over to face him with a breathless peppering of kisses, flush with gratitude. “Keep calling me a good girl like that, and I will be,” you breathed, gently biting his bottom lip.

He was quick on the draw, bless him. "Good girl.”

Eager motions resumed, bodies practically clinging together. "I want you inside me, Garreth." You squirmed underneath, anticipating his taking. “Let me be your good girl; take me from behind…”

Without hesitation, Garreth shifted you onto your stomach faster than his brain could sort sense of the idea. He grabbed you by the hips, repositioning you on the bed with precision, with his trademark combination of dominance and fondness. You stabilized on elbows, swaying your hips like the comely creature you were.

"Is this what my good girl wants?" he smirked, devouring the gradual parting of your legs, the invitation for him to claim what is rightfully his.

"Yes," you practically pleaded, thrumming to feel the weight of his hands upon your hips, to experience his penetration. "Please, baby... spank me."

He processed the request with his mouth slightly agape in surprise at your words. No one had ever made such a request to him before. "Are you asking me to spank my good girl?"

A coy nod over your shoulder and a bitten lip conveyed your consent. "Yes, please... I'll be good..."

"Say it properly.” The command was all supplicant and alluring, while ravenous hands sampled your inner thighs.

“Please, Garreth…” You whimpered, practically dripping. “Please, spank me.”

"That's better..."

A palm thunderclapped across your rear with unexpected force. Another followed in quick succession, harder than the first, and you cried a simpering symphony. Hips swayed and rutted, knees threatened to buckle, and your back arched as heat rooted deep. "More, please, baby..."

His breath hitched as he took in your heartfelt plea, spurred on by something that mingled and met with testosterone, compelling him to venture into unexplored realms, a captive yearning for sweet freedom. Garreth employed the enthralling control he had over you as he gripped your hips possessively, while his palm branded your buttocks.

"So good," you gasped, and each contact drew forth a garbled moan.

A mischievous smirk played across the lion’s face, as he darkened at the welting consequences of his actions. He prolonged the inevitable. "Oh, is that so?" His hand descended once more, his touch deliberate, unhurried.

"Yes, oh god..." You yearned for a proper fuck, to have your hips hammered, longed to stretch intimately around him. With your bottom lip caught between teeth, you glanced back at Garreth, exuding an eager and willing demeanour. "Baby, please..."

The taut heat of his cock nestled against your rear. Nimble fingers curled into your waist, drawing you closer, and then Garreth discovered the full extent of your arousal. "So wet for me..."

"Only for you, baby..." You pushed your hips back, feeling entirely too empty all of a sudden. "Garreth, I need you inside of me… please, take me... "

"Oh, I'm going to take you, all right."

And then, in a display of vulnerability, he guided you closer with hesitant hands seeking comfort on your thighs. With a shared breath, Garreth aligned himself, gathering warmth and wetness in kind on his cock, and announced his entry with an audible exhale.

Like a reflex, your back arched, writhing serpentine along his length as Garreth bottomed out. He provided experimental thrusts, gradually quickened the pace, and soon you were sucked into a beautiful pattern.

A primal moan parted lips in an unfiltered expression of longing as he delved deeper, as Garreth bucked from behind. Bending down, he pressed an enthusiastic kiss to your nape, grunting with the forceful motion of his fuck. With every thrust, his lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine, and with how desperate he was to hold you close, Garreth clutched you close and brought your torso upright, swaying in rhythm, your bodies making sense of one another’s.

"Oh, baby girl…" The wizard purred into your ear with a strong forearm clamped over your torso and a firm grasp tangled in your hair. He tugged at your strands as he increased his pace, the pricks of pulled nerves eliciting a gasp. His grip across your midsection anchored you to his chest, the tight hold leaving crescent marks of possession into the swell of a breast. A lovely, lewd sound escaped his throat as your hips began to meet his movements, the overwhelming pleasure consuming him entirely.

Your back pressed against his chest, and you contorted in all the right ways. With a head tilted back, your sights set on the heavens, surrendering to the moment. "Fuck me, baby. Hold me tight..."

"I’m not letting go," The words were all breath, the sound caught on the brimming heart stuck in his throat, as he leaned down to bite your neck. "You're... you're mine..."

Your hand instinctively snaked between your legs, choking your clit between index and middle digits. The intense sensation of Garreth's plumbing your depths brought you to the brink, surpassing your wildest expectations. "Oh god, Garreth, I'm... I'm coming...”

A shriek was stifled as you came hard and raw, your abdomen releasing pressure buildup as you rocked against Garreth’s cock like it was your saving grace, coaxing and prolonging your release as you disengaged from body and mind, almost going slack in his arms. The announcement, the tightness of your orgasm propelled him fuck to his full potential, chorused by your cries. He teetered on the brink, his equilibrium delicately balanced as he held onto your hip, thrusting deeper inside with each exhalation, his movements deliberate and steadfast.

The bed protested audibly as you rocked on your knees, punctuating your passionate connection. You coaxed him with a voice still raw and made all the more ragged from your climax. "Come, baby…"

Your words were the catalyst of his coming. Garreth buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing ragged and erratic as the boundless excitement that you built within him finally burst forth in a breathtaking culmination. He surrendered to an overwhelming release, spilling himself deep within.

Collapsing forward, he pressed you into the bed, his body weight a comforting presence upon you. You let out a sound of satisfaction as he settled on your back, your inner thighs slick with evidence of your shared release. An inward sigh of fulfillment escapes you while you tilt to plant a kiss on his cheek. "God, that was even better than the first."

"You’ve rendered me boneless, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m utterly spent.”

You couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle; your fingers naturally entwined with his as you both shifted onto your sides. When your eyes met, they reflected a sense of contentment and gratification. "Me too," you admitted, your voice soothing in the quiet aftermath. "Spent and drained..."

Garreth's hand tightened around yours, conveying tenderness. His lips curled into a gentle smile, a sparkle of admiration flickering in his gaze. Compelled by magnetism, you gravitated close, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "Stay," you murmured, longing to extend this moment of closeness.

The chuckle he responded with caught you off guard until you realized that you hadn’t the foggiest idea whose bed you just expressed your feelings in. "Ah, I see," you laughed, begrudgingly reaching for your clothes.

As you tugged each article of clothing on, Garreth adjusted the rabbit costume back into place, and you devolved into a fit of giggles. “Did you even take off that ridiculous get-up?”

“Listen, love,” Garreth smirked, claiming your chin with impish intent. “I just fucked the most beautiful woman in our year wearing this. I won't soon be criticizing its charm.”

You leaned closer to kiss him, as breathless as he made you feel. “Fair enough.”

[tobiasdrake]

Ranma 1/2 reboot episode 4 opens with a deep cut.

Yeah, we're opening on the Ranma 1/2 SNES fighting games they used to have. Because fandom's like that sometimes.

(Now release a modern one.)

I was wondering if it'd be Ryoga or Shampoo introduced next.

(Because I don't actually remember the order they introduce characters in. XD)

Was hoping for Shampoo but I'll gladly take Ryoga. I hope we get to Ukyo before the end of the season. I don't expect we will. But I hope so.

IT BEGINS

Ryoga's legendary inability to find his way. This is a character who can be justified for crossovers by just wandering by. How did he get to Middle Earth? He's just that fucking lost, that's how.

My very first Ranma 1/2 experience, before I knew what the anime was, came from my cousin cosplaying Ryoga at an anime con. He rode an elevator up and down for like an hour just screaming, "Where's the door!?"

I need y'all to properly appreciate the route Ryoga took to Furinkan High School in Nerima.

Do you see that black circle? That is Tokyo. That is where he is trying to go.

The red circle is Shikoku. When he stops the boar and asks for directions to Furinkan High, this is where he is. He's got a long way to go.

The blue circle is Hokkaido, the second place where he stops to ask directions. He has made a complete journey from one end of Japan to the other without ever running into Tokyo.

He's just. So much fun.

"RANMA OUR TIME FOR DESTINED BATTLE HAS COME"

"...who are you again?"

Is pretty much the story of his life from here on out.

Ryoga is kind of a big deal. Of all of Ranma's rivals, he's the rival. He's the guy. Kuno's really more of a recurring nuisance and Mousse is more quirky than anything. Ryoga is the guy who really keeps Ranma on his toes.

Together, these two boys have a very long journey ahead.

...

Which only makes it more amazing that their rivalry is founded in something so petty and ridiculous, but that is the way of Ranma 1/2. Ryoga is homicidally furious because he was supposed to fight Ranma, but Ranma only waited three days for him to arrive at the vacant lot behind Ryoga's house rather than giving him the four days it took him. Ranma stood him up. The coward.

And all over a curry bun.

This is the magic of Ryoga Hibiki. He is an utterly absurd buffoon of a man who takes himself deathly serious. Blissfully oblivious to how entirely ridiculous he is.

He is the Tom to Ranma's Jerry but he thinks he's Vegeta.

Technically, it's his curse that he's so furious about. But. Like. He was already mad enough to follow Ranma to China. With his sense of direction. So pinning it on the curse is deflecting. Ryoga has a longstanding enmity towards Ranma born of a million micro-aggressions compounding into a spongey hatred that can't be easily untangled.

You can't just give him a bunch of week-old bread and then it's all good.

He doesn't even remember he's mad about that. Longstanding hatred eventually loses sight of why it ever started to begin with.

(And besides, Ryoga has more recent things to be upset about.)

I like the subtle build-up they lay out to the revelation that Ryoga too has a Jusenkyo curse. Starting when he says this.

It's interesting that he knows that. He should only know that Ranma stood him up and then left town. But he knows Genma took Ranma to China.

There's also his primary weapon that he fights with for most of the episode.

The story lingers on the fact that Ryoga's umbrella is ridiculously heavy. Even Akane can't lift it. The intense weight of the umbrella serves as a yardstick to show how incredibly strong Ryoga is.

And, later, how strong and determined to protect Akane Ranma is.

But there is one more interesting fact about Ryoga's umbrella that the narrative lets slip past without remarking on it: The fact that it's an umbrella. It's almost as if he's afraid of something in particular.

Something you might use an umbrella, specifically, to protect yourself from.

(Again, the way Ranma 1/2 integrates the malevolent effects of something so universal and ever-present as water into its storytelling, comedy, and action is so much fun.)

And it's in the way he takes personal offense at Ranma's comparatively benign curse.

Like. Yeah, Ranma has to suffer gender dysphoria sometimes but he did get off easy. At least he stays human. Other curse-bearers face a variety of drawbacks that Ranma doesn't have to deal with.

Nobody is going to try to cook and eat Ranma.

Of course, human misery is not judged on a curve. Ranma can be miserable with his gender dysphoria and be better off than other curse-bearers. Both of those things can be true.

But the way Ryoga loses his shit over Ranma's curse is another piece of well-placed foreshadowing about the true nature of his grudge.

Lastly, something I find... interesting... is this moment.

I need to unpack this. Ryoga's razor-sharp belt comes spinning down and slices off Akane's hair, with the implication that if she hadn't turned around to yell at Ranma just now, it would have been her head.

Ranma fucked up yet again in the middle of their argument and hurt Akane's feelings with the stupid-ass shit he says. Leading to Akane storming around, then whipping around to argue with Ranma right at a critical moment that saved her life.

But what really makes this fascinating is that it wasn't Ryoga that almost killed her by accident just now.

It wasn't not Ryoga. But it wasn't just Ryoga.

Ryoga brought the razor belt. But it was Ranma who kicked the belt out of Ryoga's hand. Ranma who sent it up into the air, and nearly brought it down on Akane's neck by accident.

It wasn't Ryoga that nearly killed her. And it wasn't Ranma either. It was the fight. And it was, specifically, a kick that was meant to end the fight, an attack Ranma threw in self-defense because the realization that he hurt Akane's feelings made everything Ryoga's about right now stop mattering.

When Ranma threw that kick, he no longer cared about whatever this shit is. He was trying to fix what he'd just screwed up with Akane, only for the unforeseeable consequences of choices he didn't realize in the heat of the moment that he was even making to suddenly come down on her like a razor blade.

It was his cruel words that put her in that spot and his shortsighted reflex that sent the blade into the air. But it was also his attempt to apologize that made her turn around and saved her from a much more grievous injury.

I don't.

Really.

Know what to do with that.

It's just. Interesting.

[wisteriaiswriting]

OMG HI! I love all your Valorant stories and how you write. Especially ones with deadlock! Gosh she’s so pretty, I never expected her to be quite popular here? Anyways, I was hoping if you could write one with her about enemies to lovers. The plot is completely up to you! Fem reader or Gender neutral reader, I do not mind.

I hope you are doing well and have a good day!

Enemies To Lovers

Words: 602

This in a gender neutral reader as I don't write for fem! But yes, she is a decently popular character here, so don't be afraid to ask for her.

Iselin knew that she shouldn't be getting so worked up and angry at someone like you. Like fuck, she just used her ultimate, which mind you, missed you by a hair. Luckily for you though, it hit your teammate.

But instead of being some level of rational about it, like running away, saving said teammate or try kill her, you laughed. Like some idiot! Who does that, especially when she was still standing right in front of you.

“And you said she would get me, look at you!” Laughing at the flailing cocoon, completely ignoring the highly trained agent slowly approaching. Both of you taking a step back when the body finally fell.

“Maybe now yo–” Finally you shut up, although it was due to Deadlock smacking you in the back of the head with her gun. Knocking you out cold literally in both ways, as you aslo fell face first into the snow.

***

“Look, Brimsto–” “Deadlock. It is final, they’ll remain under your watch until they speak. That’s when we’ll talk again.” When he didn’t continue the conversation she sighed before leaving the office, finding you on the floor with Gekko standing over you. His creatures were either climbing over you or just wandering around.

“Y/N, let’s go.” Without waiting she started walking off. “Hey– what! How’d you know my name!?” If she could get that reaction from you more often, rather than the otherway around, then this time might be worth it.

***

She was so right.

Over the past few months she has managed to learn just a bit more about you, nothing about Kingdom though. But there are times where she’ll forget that that’s why you’re here, remembering when someone eventually asks about the progress.

“So why’d you bring me here?” Looking around only to find no one else around, “Just wanted to get me alone? Look I get it, I’m that irresistible~” Surprised when she threw you a gun, finding it to be the one you specialise in using. “If you’re not going to talk, then you’ll earn your place here.”

“And you’re teaching me,” Scoffing just before your brain finally caught up, “You want me to stay! Oh Iselin–” “Don’t call me that name, you haven’t earned it.” “Haven’t I?” Now that was a true challenge.

***

The clock said it was about 7 in the morning, a few agents finally waking and leaving their room, with the first being Phoenix. Finding you standing at the counter, two smoothies and a small pile of protein and granola bars next to you.

“Phoenix, hey!” Even as you waved he eyed you suspiciously, stepping closer to the table. “Don’t you give me that look, me and Iselin ar–” “Woah woah woah! When were you two that close?”

“If I had to say,” Putting the snacks into your pocket before grabbing your drinks, “A while ago, guess you didn’t notice.” Leaving the room and Phoenix. Heading down the hall towards the gym, using your shoulder to push open the door. Not letting it slam shut as you don’t want to wake any of the agents that just returned, shuttering at the thought of the last time you woke up Viper.

Never again.

“Y/N, are you going to join me or keep staring?” Fuck. You really wanted to, not that she’d let you. “As if, now here.” Handing her the drink and half the bars.

“Are you sure?” Stepping into your path, “You’re not subtle you know?” “Huh?... HEY!” The others could hear her laughter from outside the gym, but no one dared enter or was even bothered to check.

[minty-mumbles]

Hey! I know your not continuing to write the Mermaid AU, but I was wondering if you had any additional headcanons that you would be willing to share.

Sure! Here's some character fun facts!

Wind:

The youngest of them all at 9/10 years old

He's an orangey-brown color right now, but when he's a juvenile, he'll turn a brighter orange. As an adult, he'll get light blue stripes, similar to a lionfish.

His original pod lost him when he was about 5/6. They were attacked by a larger pod that wanted their territory. They lost, and in the panic to flee, Wind got left behind. The invading pod wasn't going to kill him, because he was just a pup, so they dumped him at the edge of the territory.

Wild:

Based off deep sea creatures. He's a dark blue, with teal accents starting to coming in. He has large but delicate fins, sharp teeth, and bioluminescence

Despite his delicate fins, he's still the best fighter out of himself, Hyrule, and Wind, so he ended up in more than his fair share of fights in the past. A lot of his fins are shredded.

His species are typically solitary. Hyrule's is too. At first, the two of them were just friends that happened to live near each other. Then they found little Wind wandering around and they were like okay, we need to form a pod for the sake of this pup. The three of them wander, trying to stay out of other pods territory and find somewhere to settle.

Hyrule:

He's an octopus mer. He's a muted dark green color. As he's at the age where Mers become juveniles, his colors are starting to change. The green is starting to brighten, and the beginning of gold freckles are starting to cover him.

He has healing magic, which is rare and very valued by Mers. He has to be carefully to not any one know, or else he might end up forcibly adopted into someone's pod. This is what he thinks is happening when Legend finds him and invited him back to camp.

Because he and Wild are solitary species, they don't integrate into the larger pod well at first. They're stand offish, and disappear often. But they stay for WInd's sake

Time:

He's huge, as Mers don't stop growing as they age, and he's pretty old. He's mainly white, but he has a few blue and red stripes. He's covered in scars because of his age.

He has a mate, Malon. She is an actual deep sea Mer. She can't visit the surface for more than. few days, and he can't visit her for more than a few days, but they make it work.

Twilight:

He's a dark green with subtle black and brown markings.

He can survive in fresh water for a few days, so sometimes he swims into the nearby rivers and hunts there.

He wears a seal pelt around his shoulders, and had an orca tooth necklace.

The necklace is actually magic. He can use it to transform into an orca

Legend:

He and Ravio are based off the rabbit sea slugs. Legend is a baby pink color, while Ravio is a deeper purple. Yeah, the both of them have the little antenna things

He can't swim very fast, because, you know. Sea slug. So he has an enchanted tail ring that allows him to move faster if he has too. (Like his pegasus boots)

Warriors:

He's a royal blue color, with orange markings along the edge of his fins.

Second in command of the pod. When Time is off visiting his mate, Warriors in in charge

Four:

He's based off a beta fish. He's a Chimera. He absorbed his twin in the egg, so he's split down the middle. On one side he's green that fades to red on his fins, and on the other side he's blue which fades to purple.

He's the smallest in the pod by a wide margin. He's even smaller than Wind.

He bites

He's the most territorial Mer in the pod.

Sky:

He's based off those flying fish that can launch themselves out of the water. He's red with silver wings.

He's courting a Mer from the neighboring pod (Sun)

There's this huge grouper- like truly large, the size of Sky himself- that hangs out around their camp. Sky has practically adopted it, and has named it Crimson.

[raelhbishop]

Cabaret of the Macabre

Filed under [M] for "macabre."

A collaboration between me and the magnificent @roadkill-frankenstein. The prose is mine, the art is theirs, the characters are ours. Consider it a "back-door pilot" for a setting of mine, of which he's a collaborator.

Capt. Grim Blackburn and Brennos Lobhadh belong to @roadkill-frankenstein.

Theoxenia Trismegistus and Mr. Manson belong to @raelhbishop.

Content warning: Depictions of PTSD and body dysmorphia; graphic depictions of death and stake-burning; body horror; mild emetophobia and hemophobia

❊

Two beaming yellow-on-red specks float about in the darkness. Aside from distant flickers of candles, they alone bring light to an all-encroaching darkness, like embers from a dying universe.

If one squints hard enough, one can see suggestions of a surroundings; the grain of stone, the glint of leather, the smudge of ashes, the subtle crevices of some much larger carving. In the dark, it's hard to tell truly where one thing ends and another begins.

An acrid, metallic smell singes the air.

The specks turn slightly, like two wispy marbles. A thin, bronzy outline of two circles and a line follow some inches ahead. Shuffling can be heard; glyphs, pages, come into view, given a subtle red tinge by the spheres.

Adjust the eye of your mind, and one can see something more to these specks…

❊

"Manson, are you positive this is your… friend's… address?"

"WE'RE NOT EVEN THERE YET, HOW CAN YOU ASSUME I'M WRONG?"

A sleek car moseys its way down increasingly decrepit roads. The tag on the back reads "D3MB0NZ”.

The streets reek of piss and, occasionally, some really poor quality ganja wafting from a balcony — a typical day in Miami. The hot sun glistens off the faces of our protagonists. Well, two of them.

Theo and Grim haven't been here for very long, only a few months at the most. In-between their work schedules, the two of them like to wander around Miami and make mental maps of what it holds. They've got it figured out: where all the vegetarian restaurants, liquor stores, and bars that host live music are.

These streets, however, seem foreign to them both. Mr. Manson has been driving for some time now, practically past the city's heart and into something overgrown.

Their ride comes to an end. He leaves the car confidently, leading the two past increasingly questionable buildings.

Grim adjusts his wide-brimmed straw hat. "…why are we going here again?"

"TO VISIT A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE." His voice is reminiscent of the roar of a car's engine.

"Brennos, right?"

Manson nods, audibly rustling. "YOU WILL LIKE HIM, TRUST ME. HE'S A PROPER GENTLEMAN. PLAYS A GOOD GAME OF POKER.”

The trio walk past a condemned building, boarded up, stucco walls crumbling. Mr. Manson stops at the next house, standing before a rotted door that looks minutes away from falling off its hinges entirely. He starts shuffling through his overly large ring of keys — the one thing, he laments, can't be upgraded.

Theo whispers to Grim. "I still don't know why he's our landlord."

"You know damn well why. He's the only one who would take us in."

"I dunno, dude. He still gives me the creeps."

"Come on, he's just undead, that's all. Like me."

"Well, yeah, but you've got flesh and bones and stuff. He's just… bones."

"AH, HERE IT IS."

Mr. Manson pulls out a literal skeleton key, the teeth resembling tiny ribs jutting out of an elongated phalange. At the key's base is a small crow-like skull.

He jabs it into the doorknob. Fighting a little, it eventually unlocks and glows the faintest bit. The eyes of the key light up a ruby red.

Adjusting his jacket and top hat, Manson opens the door and enters.

Theo grabs Grim's hand. They lock eyes, take a deep breath, and follow behind.

❊

A beam of light bursts through the darkness. Three figures emerge from it: the first, a top hat and Prussian blue coat clad figure, walking confident and cool. The second is straw-hatted, with hints of turquoise visible from underneath his yellow raincoat. He has only one arm. Close behind is a cowboy booted figure, sheepishly wearing a colorful hoodie with a smiling black cat on it.

As the door begins closing, the group find themselves in a corridor filled with other doors. They're all exquisitely carved — Mr. Manson notes they're made from solid ironwood — and are all identical except for a small symbol at the center of each. The door they just left bears a manatee engraved into it; a rose sits on the door to the left, and a fountain to the right.

Manson leads them to one end of the corridor, where a much larger door with a wolf-headed knocker greets them. He puts his skeletal finger to it; without even making contact, it knocks itself with a bark.

Startled, Theo leaps backwards, hitting a door with an eight-spoked wheel engraved into it. His hoodie gets knocked back, revealing two goat-like horns that curl behind and down below his equally hircine ears.

Grim sighs. He grabs Theo by the hand.

The door slowly opens, revealing more darkness inside. Manson continues, unperturbed. His shoes clack across the dark marble floor.

Following his lead, the two enter an even larger corridor. The simple wooden walls of the previous room have now been replaced with a dark stone. Pillars and alcoves have been periodically carved into them, covered in intricate detail that comes off as all-too sinister in the dim light.

The visitors peer into the alcoves as they walk past. Artefacts sit on pedestals in each one, lit by lanterns hoisted mere feet above. One holds a beige bejeweled cup, bearing the suture marks characteristic of a human skullcap. Another holds a preserved jar with a snake inside, a strange blend of the cobra and the moray eel. They pass by tusks from long-extinct wild cats, obsidian daggers, gold urns holding crystal spheres instead of ashes…

They walk by an intricate pocket watch with a mirror exposed; as the three walk past, only Theo's reflection appears.

Manson turns a corner. Theo bumps into a pedestal, showcasing a sizable ram's skull. He shudders.

They come to a still life; Theo and Grim stop to look.

"This painting gives me the creeps."

Grim nods. "It's very well done. I wonder if it has any deeper meaning."

Theo cocks his head. "Maybe you're right, dude… see the way the skull is in the forefront? Maybe it's supposed to represent how, like, death is everywhere. And all the stuff behind it is what you want to see." He points. "The books, the flute — a most excellent flute — the sword, the… weird little thingy you, like, put incense in or something…"

"What of the conch shell?"

Theo shrugs. "They're nice to look at? All the objects represent what we see in life, but the skull rules over them all."

They look at it quietly a little longer. An ever-so faint metallic smell begins to waft over.

"What do you think, dude?"

Grim shrugs. "Looks all the same to me… uh, Theo?"

He turns from the painting and is frozen in his tracks.

The two of them see the orbs in the distance. Floating. Ominously. The metallic odor grows stronger. They pinch each other to make sure this is all real, and slowly inch to the side.

Underneath the spheres, a line of frozen flames of red begin to emerge from the void. Both seem to be hovering in the distance. Eyeballing a nearby chandelier, Grim figures the orbs — the eyes, must be a good ten feet off the ground.

The eyes draw closer. The line becomes more defined, taller even, revealing the flames to be rows of sanguine teeth.

Grim feels for something on his left hip, but hears whimpers from his right. He grips Theo's arm to lessen his trembling.

"AH, BRENNOS! THERE YOU ARE!"

Manson walks past the duo, arms open.

A voice emerges from the lurking face. "Charles! Good to see you."

Stepping into the light, something emerges from the shadows.

A pink, slimy visage surrounds the eyes. It has the skull of a coyote, cleansed of all its flesh except for a thin film coating it. It sits atop a long, shaggy neck that freely hunches over. It’s composed of varying furs — suture marks can be seen patching them together.

The mysterious face seems to smile now, commanding a spindly and domineering body. Whatever other unspeakable things the body has inside it are concealed under rather refined clothes: a red dress shirt and pants, and a black collared vest with brass buttons down its left.

A book is clasped by the figure's massive wolf-like talons. They glisten wetly in the light.

Manson stands beside the ten-foot patchwork creature. The latter closes his book, bends his knees, and gives the skeleton a firm handshake.

"I'VE BROUGHT SOME CLIENTS ALONG WITH ME, I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND."

"Not at all."

"THAT ONE," he points to the figure in the straw hat, "IS ONE GRIM BLACKBURN, AND THE SHAKING SATYR HE'S CLUTCHING IS THEOXENIA TRISMEGISTUS."

"Ah, yes, you've told me about them. The ex-pirate and the aspiring musician." He approaches said musician. "I hear you prefer to go by 'Theo,' is that correct?"

Sputtering ensues.

"Ah, don't be so nervous, lad. Your horns don't bother me one bit."

Theo freezes.

"Would you all like a tour of my humble abode?"

"I THINK THAT WOULD BE IN ORDER."

Grim slowly nods his head.

"Splendiferous."

Brennos begins leading Mr. Manson down a left corridor, the others trailing behind. He begins a thorough discussion of the first item he sees — a shrunken head, hoisted to his right, said to hold the soul of the man it once belonged to.

Theo leans over towards Grim. "I think he's gonna kill me, dude."

"Not as long as I'm here."

He smiles at Grim, his lips quivering.

❊

Cacophony rebounds across the halls. Its source is a simple tea room, with Brennos and Manson chortling and patella-slapping. The two of them regale anecdotes of their "lives," happenings from centuries ago that lose some of their humor on the guests.

A fireplace roars in the background — the most light you'll find anywhere in the place. To the left lies a gallery, to the right a kitchen, and directly in front sits Brennos in his leathery armchair.

"You know, Charles, I could install one of these in your place."

Mr. Manson rattles.

"Really, it's no bother."

"THANKS, BUT NO. MY FLATSCREEN TV WORKS JUST FINE."

"Well, what about a cauldron?"

"SLOW COOKER."

"Magic orb?"

"DESKTOP COMPUTER."

"Oh, you make me feel like such a luddite sometimes!"

Grim fidgets with his coat. Theo stares into his empty teacup.

Brennos turns to the two. “So, tell me, how long have you two known each other?"

"About a year." Grim cautiously eyes his host.

"Good."

There's an awkward silence across the tea room. Brennos flashes a sanguine smile; Grim seems a little unnerved by it, so Brennos retracts. It's at this point Grim realizes Brennos hasn't moved his mouth at all — the words get beamed into his brain.

"Say, Charles, did you ever tell them about how we met?"

Before he can start, howling can be heard in the distance. Theo looks up from his teacup, eyes widened in concern.

"Ah, sounds like the tea's done." Brennos slowly rises to his full height. Theo starts bleating in panic — after trying to relax for the past ten minutes, he'd forgotten how tall his host was. Sitting to Theo's left, Grim taps him on the shoulder to get him to calm down. It doesn't work.

He moves his hand to his nape and quasi-massages his neck. The panicked bleating slows down; he breathes easier.

"YOU TWO HAVE AN INTERESTING RELATIONSHIP."

"Yes, but it's ours, and I'm glad to have it." Grim moves closer to Theo; the latter puts his head on the former's shoulder and bleats, this time happily.

Manson grins — not that he has much choice.

Brennos returns with the tea. He pours Theo and Grim cups. The former's hesitant at first, but messily takes a sip — less out of courtesy and more out of his love for herbal teas. It's quite a nice blend; the rest of the cup soon follows.

Grim notices the host pours himself a cup from a smaller kettle; he inquires.

"Oh, my friend, this is a drink for… very specific tastes. I'm certain if you tried it you'd regret it."

Grim highly doubts that — the man makes his cocktails with antifreeze, after all.

Manson and Brennos resume their recollections, some puns at the expense of a 'Governor Phips' here, wise-cracks about Puritan dogma there, and a passing mention about a Sikh vetala and a book club. Then Manson does an impression of some obscure minister that sends Brennos reeling.

As he laughs, a little spills from Brennos' cup. A crimson stain pools on the table.

Grim hovers over the spill.

Theo cocks his head. "…is that…?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry." Brennos pulls out a kerchief and wipes it up.

"Oh god." Theo puts a hand over his mouth.

"Down the hall, second door on your right."

He runs from the table.

Meanwhile, Grim hovers over Brennos' "tea"cup.

"I told you it was for specific tastes." He sips a little. "You look quite perturbed by it for a retired swashbuckler."

Grim stares at a painting opposite Brennos. "Have you ever seen the mountains outside Marrakesh?"

"In books, yes."

"You know how they transition from being a dried red on the bottom to pallid and snowcapped on the top?"

Brennos acknowledges.

"Every time I see… just any red, really… I'm reminded of those mountains.

"I'm reminded of seeing a pool of crimson, covering the hardened snow. Staining the jagged rocks. Draining the color from…” he winces “…skin. Taking with it, every last inch of warmth… flowing down to join the red rocks below.

"Even just seeing a crimson shirt hanging in a store makes me nauseous."

The void creature takes another sip. "Are you always so honest with gentlemen you've just met?"

"Not until lately." Grim sighs. "How do I put it…"

"YOUR BOY TOY HAS MADE YOU FEEL THINGS?"

Grim shoots Manson a glare that would make one's skin peel. It does what you would expect to someone with no skin.

"JUST A BIT OF HUMOR."

"You're not wrong, though." He resumes staring at the painting. He sighs. "I used to despise the undead, see them as affronts to the unyielding hand of God. And then, by a cruel twist of fate, I was forced to join them."

Putting his cup down, the sewn-together figure steeples his talons. "Do you know how Charles and I became what we are?"

"You just said it was some event in Massachusetts."

"Aye, but that's only part of the story. We used to be flesh and bone too. It was a rather… excuse me for a moment…"

Brennos turns to a cabinet behind him, rummaging through it. He pulls out a stone, clasps it in his hands, and concentrates. He seems to wince while doing so. When he opens his claw, the stone has been reduced to a glowing dust.

"An old trick from the Babylonians." He tosses the dust into the fire. "Observe."

Grim looks into the fireplace and watches its flames turn a vibrant green. It seems rather ordinary, all things considered… but he can't seem to look away from it-

In an instant, Grim sees a foreign vision in his head, a memory that is not his own, playing back as clear as crystal…

❊

Many people misconstrue what 'alchemy' is. It's not the search to turn lesser metals into gold; that's merely a side effect. The true goal of alchemy was mystical: to purify the self, to transmogrify oneself from an impure being of flesh and vice into a transcendent spirit.

To study the vibrations of the world, and pluck them with understanding, turning the universe into a perfect orchestra.

To alter one's own vibrations.

Witchcraft, traditionally, was seen as the innate ability to cause misfortune simply by willing it. Magic for malice, as it were.

But some, many who found themselves magically-inclined or curious — mystically inclined or curious — were targeted as "witches". The actions, the goals, the dreams — they didn't matter to the outsider; their strangeness was enough to warrant scapegoating.

The memory unfolds in a cramped house, wooden logs as its walls and a simple dirt floor. All manner of drawings and writings in scripts — Arabic, Latin shorthand, some bastard version of Greek — line the walls.

He sees a figure in the mirror — one covered with scars across its chest, scars it - he, knows to be from disgust, from a desire to become something different.

A body, a mind, a soul, torn from years of constant, minor degradation. Like a thousand arrows shot at the psyche. Insults from others; assaults from others; assaults from his own mind… and a growing desire to escape.

Today, there is no disgust. There's only excitement… a little fear, but eager anticipation overwhelms it.

A cloth covers a vaguely humanoid outline in another corner of the room.

The anticipation wells further. Various items line the desks here; crucibles and alembics, a bubbling cauldron, ashes, herbs familiar and exotic, not-so precious gems, animal skulls, talismans from within and without the New World…

He turns to see sigils inscribed into various loose-leaf pages and small discs. A wooden one sits forefront, destined to be an amulet.

Removing a rod from the fire of the cauldron, he burns a strange symbol into the disc, then submerges it in the cauldron.

He takes the amulet and… the memory gets blurry here, painful. When it returns, the amulet has been snapped in half; one half, he wears himself, the other, now placed onto the cloaked figure. Both seem to glow gently.

His excitement boils over — as does the cauldron. He takes a cupful from the cauldron, pipping hot, and drinks it, burning his throat in the process. He doesn't care. He takes another, and pours it into the cloaked figure.

Colors now seem more vibrant. He can feel his blood, his breath, his nerves — like winds, swirling about his body. He drinks more of the brew; the inner vision, the excitement grows stronger — blinding his awareness of what's unfolding outside.

The rituals that follow are a bit esoteric for most; still, the feeling of the winds becomes ever-present. They begin to coalesce in channels across the body.

It's exhilarating… it's chaotic… it's purifying…

He can feel a synergy, a connection, with a foreign channel mere feet away, as if a door is opening with a ruby red key.

Suddenly, his own door bursts down. A mob breaks in, armed with simple weapons, dressed in simpler clothes. The few that enter are baffled by the array of oddities. They utter prayers and complaints.

The strongest one of them grabs him by the shoulders, jostling his trance.

It's as if one's hand had been jarred in that very door. The connection splinters, shivers… the winds turn into typhoons around their channels… voices from before, from beyond, from within, are amplified a thousandfold. Dread rises from every pore.

He tries to fight back, thrashing his limbs, knocking his set to the floor. It's no use.

He gets dragged out by the mob. His vision is blurry, hazy, like a mirage. As he gets dragged further, he can see his house burning in the distance. He can make out a few faces in the crowd; most prominent, that of a buckle-hatted, mustached figure — a certain Charles Baldrick Manson III, Esquire, farmer and moral arbiter.

The connection still lingers. He tries desperately to re-enter the trance, to hold on to it for as long as possible. He feels sensations across his bodies ebb in-and-out. A soul cast between two homes, tethered to neither and longing for both…

Within moments, he now finds himself tied to a stake. A woman, a familiar voice, tries desperately to stop them, but it is of no use. She pleads before Manson; he is unperturbed.

He fades in-and-out of awareness, across bodies. He feels the other one grow warmer — a sign of progress?

He can barely hear the confident speech of the mob leaders as he tries to re-enter the trance. Suddenly, light begins to shine from below.

He thinks it's a good sign at first — the soul, finishing its migration!

He looks down — both bodies — to see that he's gravely wrong.

Flames pierce the skin like cuts from a red-hot sword. The smell of burning flesh is choked out only by the stench of the wood underneath.

Blood begins to boil underneath the skin. Joints bubble and explode. Bones can be heard crackling from the flames.

His body begins to feel numb all over, the pain unbearably dulling all his senses. He goes blind — either from the trauma, or from his eyes popping in their sockets.

The last thing he can see is the smiling face of Charles, taking a mirage-like transition into darkness. Swirling darkness, like the smoke of the flames.

There's a piercing ringing in the ears.

It slowly dampens as if it were going down a distant corridor, echoing as it departs.

The vision becomes filled with sparks.

The all-consuming pain slowly seeps, drains out. He can feel the winds withdraw from his body, heat coalescing, then dissolving from the heart…

Grim grips his chest, reflexively…

… pooling into something.

The vision gradually transforms, from the light of a moon-lit sky, to an ember-like reddish glow, to black voidness… finally, to a clear, blinding, calming light…

… it sits there for some time…

… he awakes to find himself in the ashes. Not on them, in them. He feels strangely free, fluid, like he could fly through mountains…

… and yet, he finds himself trapped in a black, bile-like form, pooled in and around what was once the stake.

It takes some time for his spirit to adapt to this liminal body — liminal being the loosest and yet closest fit term for what this is.

Two bead-like eyes form from the mental image of himself. The world no longer looks the same; ghosts and auras are now as clear as day, and the mundanities of life give way to the extraordinarities of the beyond.

Brennos' cool, cold, shadow-like body creeps its way out of the pile of smolders. It rolls itself into the direction of the town, to the direction of a certain manor, inhabited by a certain Mr. Manson…

❊

The memory ends. It felt like hours. It all flashes by in a minute's time.

"I had worked so long and hard to sculpt the perfect form, something I could feel confident in…" Brennos creaks, akin to a sigh. "I spent years learning to re-assemble myself, using what little magic I had left to survive."

Grim quietly, slowly nods.

"It took me some time to get to the form you see today. Most of the bodies and cadavers I tried to inhabit were failures from the start — too decayed, too weak, too small. I soon gave up on trying to become human again. Instead I built myself a body, the one you see before you now. One of flesh, fur, and bone. At first, I was disgusted by myself."

Grim says nothing.

He sips from his cup, teeth clacking ominously against it. "It took me some time to accept what I had become. And now, I've grown quite fond of this body of mine."

Grim still stares in the direction of the fireplace. Brennos creeps over; his cheeks seem wet with tears.

He extends a talon.

Grim turns.

"We all need help sometimes."

Grim grasps the claw. They do a quasi-handshake.

"Say, Charles and I have a little… coven, you might say, of undead friends that meet here. We're called the Cabaret. Would you like to join us?"

Grim looks down, thinking.

"There is no pressure to join, my good sir."

He thinks for a moment. "Well, only if I-" He turns in his chair. "Wait a second… my landlord is the man that killed you?"

"Indeed. I was quite miffed at the time. In a fit of rage, I went over to Manson while he slept, and put a hex on him. I spared his wife-"

"AND I MUST SAY, THANK YOU FOR SPARING HER."

"Why wouldn't I? She was the only one who stood up for me."

"VENGEANCE DOES STRANGE THINGS TO THE MIND."

"Very true. Regardless, that hex is what brought him to his current form as a walking skeleton."

Grim looks Brennos in the eyes. "The cycle of violence."

Brennos nods. "Ah, but how trivial it all looks in death." He points at Manson. "You accused me of witchcraft because I mentioned the possibility of rain, and it rained that day. You were correct, of course, but your reasons… quite absurd."

"TRUTH IS, I WAS JUST MAD BECAUSE I WAS PLANNING A PICNIC THAT DAY. OUR PASTRIES WERE RUINED."

"Ah, to put your fellow man to death over soggy pastries! How interesting those times were."

Manson hunches towards Brennos. "I'M AFRAID NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED IN THAT REGARD, TO THE MORTALS AT LEAST. QUITE SAD, REALLY."

"Yes, but at least the stake-burnings are metaphorical now instead of literal.”

"YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT THEY DO IN SUBSAHARAN AFRICA THESE DAYS. IT WOULD MAKE YOUR BILE-"

A metallic thud can be heard in the distance, followed by a yelp.

"Griiiim!"

Seconds later, Theo emerges from a corridor, a helmet from a Qing dynasty coat of armor rolling in behind him. He runs over to Grim, and buries his head into his shoulder. "I want to go home!"

He sobs profusely on the pirate's left side, tears trickling down his armless shoulder.

Grim looks over at his hosts. He turns back and puts a consolatory hand on Theo's shoulder.

The whimpers echo across the halls of the manor.

As the tears begin to lessen, Grim pats Theo on the shoulder, grabs him by the chin, and turns his head.

He sees Brennos there, taking on the posture of a plant that's begun wilting.

This ten-foot fleshwork creature, witch, daemon, whatever it is, seems… sad.

Theo gets the feeling that there's emotion there. Its mouth may be bony and menacing, and its eyes more like burnt embers than eyes, but it… he, seems just like him in a way.

He burrows his head back onto Grim to process.

Theo gets the sense that, somehow, Brennos is just as sad as him. He doesn't know it like Grim knows it, but he senses that somewhere, deep in those eyes, a mortal just like him once resided — still resides. A hopeful, excited — corrupted, mirror of himself.

"Alright, I understand. You two are free to leave." Brennos approaches a little. "But first — and, I must say, this is entirely your choice — I think I have something you might enjoy, Theo. Would you like to come see it?"

He sniffles. Picking his head off of Grim's shoulder, he grips his hand and looks him square in the eyes.

Grim nods slowly.

Theo turns and cautiously accepts, following behind Brennos and gripping Grim's hand.

They wind past corridors Brennos showed them prior — weapons, skulls, preserved viscera and the like — and enter one the group missed. It's filled with instruments; Theo is amazed by their diversity and age. He brightens up a little, pointing at the erhu and the mandolin and the qanun.

Brennos then pulls out a dust-covered box from beside a pipe organ. His claws wrap neatly around it, brushing the dust off in one stroke.

"I remember hearing you liked music. Is that so?"

"I live for music."

"Good, very good. I've always admired a musician's heart. It's similar to a witch's heart, in a way."

Brennos lowers himself to Theo's height. "Charles has been telling me of all the strange new ways everyone listens to music. When I was born, you could only hear music by playing it yourself or hearing someone else. Before the phonograph or the cassette-disc player or what-have-you, we had this."

He puts the box in Theo's hands. It's wooden, fairly dense, is about the size of a paperback novel, and has a painting of a forest scene on it.

"Go ahead, open it. It won't bite."

Theo cautiously lifts open the top. As he does, it begins playing a gentle tune. He can see the machinery inside — a spinning copper disc with holes punched into it, and a braided metal rod that sticks halfway across its length, dipping up-and-down with the grooves of the disc.

It's so old, so simple, and yet so intricate.

"That's… Clair de Lune.”

"Good ear."

Something about the music box's tune strikes a chord with Theo. The high-pitched, metallic strumming seems to take him back to a time before he was born; nostalgia for a faceless face, a placeless place. He sees the tree he was born under, his name not yet carved in its side.

He feels a pressure build from the side of his eyes, growing stronger with each high-note.

Tears once more stream down his face.

He lets it loop two or three times, before gently closing the box.

"It's yours if you want it, friend. A gift."

He sniffles. "Thank you." He puts the box beside him, wipes his eyes, and looks at Brennos down his comically small glasses.

Theo slowly smiles. He chuckles. "Sorry, dude. I think I forgot to introduce myself." He puts his left fingers on his chest and extends his right hand outwards. "Theo."

Brennos nods. "Brennos Lobhadh, at your service." He extends a hand, as if to shake.

Theo extends his hand upwards.

They stand silent for a few seconds, before Charles approaches Brennos and hushedly explains what a high-five is.

Brennos shrugs and complies, slapping his massive claws against Theo's frail hand. The satyr winces, grips his wrist and grits his teeth, trying to conceal the pain twelve pounds of talons hurdling at his palm conveyed.

Brennos looks concerned.

The satyr smiles back. He sticks his tongue out, playfully. "Don't worry, the last dude that did that became my boyfriend."

❊

The wolf-knockered door opens once more; this time, Theo and Grim walk mirthfully out of it, saying goodbye to their hosts.

Manson and Brennos stand in the doorway, waving back.

"Oh, Grim!"

Grim turns. Brennos gestures conversationally.

"My offer still stands. To join us, I mean. Here at the Cabaret. I think you would make a welcome addition. We share our collections"

"Only if he can come along." Grim nods toward the satyr beside him.

Brennos puts an inquisitive talon on his face. "Well, he's not quite undead… rather the opposite, really…"

"That's my offer. Take it or leave it."

Brennos shrugs. "I suppose a little life wouldn't hurt."

Theo opens the door with a rose carved into it. He waves as the couple say their final goodbyes.

"WAIT, HOLD O-"

The two of them exit the room, entering a shaded pathway nestled beside a dilapidated corridor. Grim holds in his hand double, Theo nothing.

"Remind me never to take you to Vegas."

Theo chuckles. "Remind me to never take you to Macau."

"Think I'd drain their casinos dry?"

"I don't want to have to break you out of a Chinese prison."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grim ducks walking past a… gargoyle?

"You're a cheat."

"I don't cheat!"

They turn a corner, Theo's hands motioning past a poster written in some strange language. "Come on, dude, you even cheat in Monopoly."

"I do not!"

"I dunno, I don't think 'accepting aid from the East India Company' is in the game rules."

"They're called house rules!"

"…Grim?"

A giant statue of a woman on horseback, flanked by two paladins, stands before Theo, with "TRANDAFIR SI APOSTOLII EI" carved into the stone it sits on.

"I don't think we went through the right door…" ❊

[santaclausisintofisting]

am i that transparent? ☣

set somewhere between the nebulous of wanyk-current era. the joot & tigger in my head need the slowest of slow burns to get into all this. enjoy | ship: jim root/corey taylor | words: 666 (can you believe this was unintentional) | warnings & tags: implied/referenced sexual content, fluff, they're kissin', thats about it unless you count their horrible. horrible pillow talk | summary: they've both wanted this for a while, and now that they have it, they're content. what's 30-odd years of pining, anyway?

read here or under the cut

Jim’s fingers fall along old strings, the acoustic sweep of a down-tuned guitar crackling through the afternoon air.

He’s sat on the floor, back slumped against his box spring, one knee bent to keep the neck of his guitar close. What started as a lame attempt at meditating- something he knew he was too hyperactive to sit down and actually do, but dealing with the silence after Corey went asleep was becoming unbearable- is now a mindful disturbance. His guitar might as well be his own half-ass meditation, even if he isn't actually playing anything, only fumbling and plucking over chords and notes that matched the pattern of his growing restlessness. He's not surprised Corey’s been able to sleep this long. For him, it isn't entirely out of character, as there's been countless times of his tendency to sleep in causing delays for their bands in the past. Leave it to Corey to test the patience of others in his sleep.

Jim’s very own patience was tested this morning. Every attempt he made at trying to get him up resulted in nothing but the soft snoring of a fucked-out man. His untouched serenity is what made Jim leave him alone. It's also what's making Jim pick up his tempo, the longer he thinks about Corey’s sleeping face.

The memory of Corey melting under his touch has his fingers wandering along the fretboard. His palm mutes a note as he thinks about Corey’s flushed skin, kneaded and pulled by the same palm so desperately, because he'll be the first one to be fucking honest about wanting him for so long. Last night he'd had him- finally, finally had him- and right now, as he's pulling at twos and fours, Corey is breathing on every odd note. The way he gasped under Jim’s weight echoes in the twinkling steps of Jim’s middle and index. Flashbacks of Corey’s bright smile matched the tune to Jim’s minor progression in perfect harmony. They were both beaming at a joke no one seemed to make. As Jim plays it over in his mind, they were definitely both reacting to each other’s post-orgasm faces.

Just as he's giggling to himself about it again- because Corey’s little nose pulled up into his brow as he panted like a dehydrated hound was actually really funny- the bed creaks, and the top of his hair is now tickled by a warm cheek.

“Some alarm clock you are.” Corey’s laying upside down, his voice like a twitching cicada trying to crawl its way out of molasses. Jim fucking loves it, unashamedly. Possibly hopes he can at least hear it for the rest of his life.

“You have to pay to get the ringtone sheet.” Jim pushes his nose into Corey’s, revels in the blush accompanying that laugh of his. “Remember ringtones?”

“Yeah,” Corey snorts, chasing Jim’s affection with a flurry of lips and chin, “we were only on, like, a dozen of those.”

“One for each album.” Jim knows he's smiling like an idiot and can't really know for sure if anything they've done together has been someone's jaunty little phone jingle, but Corey also doesn't seem to know, or even care. “Give or take some albums.”

“Speaking of,” Corey nods in the direction of Jim’s acoustic, an exasperated sigh pulling from his chest, “are we goin’ somewhere?”

Leave it to Corey to not know if they were supposed to be in the studio by now, and to assume Jim’s not-so-subtle way of telling him that was to noodle around for hours on end waiting for him to wake up.

“Nope.” Jim’s attention is still on Corey, but his fingers carry on with strumming, open notes fading out while his unoccupied hand draws patterns in the carpet underneath him. “Just keepin’ myself busy.”

“Good.” Corey doesn't wait for Jim to explain his plans for the rest of the day, only shoves their faces together in what can only be described as the world's worst upside down kiss.

[carovieehaven]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Chapter 1

—When I opened my eyes, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling.

The overly monotonous sentence, the sickeningly run-of-the-mill scene unfolded in front of my eyes.

I had a hunch. That the very same ‘incident’ that I read thousands of times happened to me too!

My only hobby, reading web novels.

One hundred won even in the midst of a hectic life, collect two hundred won to buy a few moments of happiness.

With the belief that you have to dip it and eat it to know whether it is poop or soybean paste, I mastered almost all the works regardless of whether it was a hit or a miss.

Therefore, when ‘the incident’ that I read about millions of times took place, I felt a subtle excitement rather than fear.

What I imagined while wandering through the letters every day actually happened!

Now it even feels like an old-fashioned relic, ‘Book Possession.’

‘Yeah, who else would be possessed by a book if you weren’t a fan like me?’

I inwardly laughed.

Maybe I have been waiting for this moment.

A day to escape from the stuffy reality, living in a vast fictional world!

I couldn’t just lie down entirely with my beating heart.

‘What should be done when the possessor opens their eyes is definite.’

It is quite right to say that reading is food for the mind.

Thanks to the indirect experience I had accumulated as much as Everest while reading web novels, the was loaded in my brain.

‘First of all, I need to know what novel I’m in and who I am…’

I got up from bed and looked around.

‘Somewhere in the room…. As expected!

As expected, an old mirror hung on the wall next to the bed.

I got up from bed to look in the mirror.

Of course! As a general rule, if you are possessed by a book, you are obliged to look in the mirror and admire your beautiful appearance.

I got out of bed to look in the mirror.

For a moment, my head was spinning as my eyes went dark.

My body staggered, but I skillfully leaned against the wall.

This also does not miss expectations.

‘I knew this would happen because I’m possessed.’

Usually, a possessed body is weak or just over the edge of death.

Even if it is not an incurable disease, there may be a degree of orthostatic hypotension.

I took a good deep breath and came to my senses.

Slowly my vision cleared.

The figure of ‘me’ was slowly revealed as I turned my gaze to the mirror.

In the mirror, there was a woman who looked to be about 20 years old.

Light brown hair, green eyes, pale and remarkably clear white skin, long slender neck, blah blah blah…

When I described it, it was so beautiful that I got tired of it.

“It’s real.”

I have long faced the unrealistic existence in the mirror.

As time passed, embarrassment crept across her flawless face.

‘So… who are you?’

I have no idea.

Who the character I possessed.

The ‘me’ in the mirror is pretty, but aren’t all the main characters in the original novel pretty?

Moreover, brown hair and green eyes are common regardless of the main or supporting roles.

I read hundreds of works a month, so I don’t even remember exactly who and what kind of appearance they have.

‘She’s not a spiteful villain, apparently…’

A beautiful, gentle, yet modest appearance.

In this case, it can usually be inferred from three roles.

First. Heroine. She doesn’t have a flashy appearance, but she’s perfect for a decent lead.

Second. Extra. Because the extras are also pretty in the novels.

Third. Sly 100th tier villain. It is a role that puts the main character in trouble while pretending to be innocent.

Either way, I’m the main character now, but…

‘How did other possessors know precisely what book they were possessed in just by looking at their faces…’

More hints are needed.

At least I need to find the name of ‘me’.

I turned my eyes away from the mirror and looked around.

The view of the old attic was visible through the belatedly widened field of view.

A low-sloping ceiling, a creaking bed without a canopy, a small desk and a rustic wooden chair, old-smelling bookshelves, and a low wardrobe that doubles as a vanity table

‘Where did the luxurious noble rooms used by the main characters go…?’

It was utterly an unenviable environment.

But I was not disappointed.

‘Yeah, this kind of uncomfortable environment for the protagonist is an accessory.’

I proudly put my hands on my waist.

It’s not a nursery with an unscrupulous director, a dark underground prison, or a cold palace, so it’s rather a good thing.

In the first place, the main protagonist starts unhappy and has a happy ending.

‘Isn’t this the way to get a family, a castle, and an empire?’

There is no way the main protagonist, who is possessed by the book, will continue to rot in the attic.

Since I know all too well what the ending of most books is like, I didn’t have to worry.

There’s one in ten works with a bad ending, no, it’s rarer than that. Especially if it’s a book possession!

‘Hmm, by the way, at this point, someone has to come in to give me basic information…’

A maid would come in saying, ‘You’re awake, Young Lady!’ in most novels.

But the old-looking wooden door has been quiet since before.

It’s unlikely that the maid saying, ‘Young Lady!’ would come into this attic.

I tapped my fingers nervously.

‘I can’t wait!’

To wait for the next character without any assurance, my temper born of the blood of the ‘hurry-hurry people¹’ was in haste.

‘It’s foolish to just sit still and wait for the next episode to progress.’

Like a Korean who attacks games with extreme efficiency, I started actively gathering information about ‘me.’

Searching all over the not-so-wide attic, I found a diary in the desk drawer.

‘This is it!’

Could there be any better item than this to understand the situation?

I saw the name written on the old leather cover of the diary.

[Sophia Frauss.]

It was my name.

And the letters within the ribbon shape are engraved with the family seal in the middle of the diary.

[The Count of Frauss.]

‘Then I’m the Count’s Lady?’

I took another look around the shabby attic, where the ceiling creaked whenever the wind blew.

I was about to wonder if it was a fallen family when I heard a loud laugh outside the sunny window.

As I stretched out my head through the small window on one wall, I saw the garden of the Count of Frauss.

Unlike the old and shabby attic, the scenery outside was splendid and magnificent.

The lawn was extensive enough for horses to run, a fountain that made a rainbow, and a gazebo surrounded by flowers in full bloom were also visible.

The family crest attached to the large main gate of the mansion was clearly the same as that of the diary.

In other words, it hints that you are not in a position to live in another house.

‘A Lady who has been in the attic of her own family…?’

Just like Cinderella.

A Lady who is neglected by her family. This is a popular setting.

Honestly, how many female leads are happy and loved right from the first episode?

‘At this rate, everyone will fall for me and I’ll get the male lead as well.’

I picked up my diary, predicting the inevitable future.

At that moment, something fell from between the diary I had lifted.

‘Letters?’

I picked up several envelopes that had fallen on the old floor.

All the senders are ‘Sophia Frauss.’

It was a letter that ‘I’ had not yet sent.

‘Is this the letter you were going to send all to the same person?’

The recipient’s address of the letter.

The same name was written there.

[To the Grand Duke, Killian Viffrons Rivelon.]

A shiver ran through my body the moment I read that one line.

‘Killian?!’

tl: caroviee

ˏˋ°•*✎.ೃ࿐ t/n: 1: ppalli-ppalli (quickly/hurry up)

====================================== ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Previous | TOC | Next

[beels-burger-babe]

Changing Behaviours

***This is a prompt I've had in my drafts LITERALLY since I created this blog (aka a year and a half ago). I changed the angle to better suit my spooky month needs, and I am so so excited! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do! As per usual with my darker stuff, PLEASE exercise self care before, during, and after reading this fic. KNOW YOUR LIMITS. READ THE TAGS. Please read safely. Love you -B***

Summary: Something has MC shaken to their very core. The brothers can see it, but they don't know how to help.

CW: Paranoia, Mentions of past abusive relationships, very brief implied suicide (of a background character), thoughts of murder,

Since your arrival to the Devildom you were a constant to the brothers.

You were a support system that they could rely on at any moment. You were a friend — family. You had introduced love and light back into their lives and showed them that they could be good.

Now, after two years of being down below, they had come to depend on the security that you offered in the warmth of kindness.

But all good things come to an end.

Upon later reflection, none of them could pinpoint the exact moment when you had begun changing. It had been subtle, fast, and all too easy for them to brush aside as their human having a bad day.

When establishing a timeline for the trial, Beelzebub would testify as the first of his brothers to notice something was off.

Two months before the incident, Beel had gone to the gym for his typical workout. But as soon as he entered the room, the steady sound of fists against a punching bag echoed through the otherwise empty, concrete chamber.

With a frown, he wandered closer to the noise when he spotted you. Your fists were bare and knuckles were bruised, sweat dripping down your face with gritted teeth as you pounded into the punching bag with a dazed, yet fearful, look in your eyes.

"MC?" Beel called out, concern pooling in his gut as he watched the skin stretched around your taut knuckles begin to split. "MC!"

An infuriated shout filled the air as you swung your leg around and kicked it harshly against the bag before stumbling away from it.

You leaned against your knees, panting heavily, as Beel looked at you with wide eyes.

"MC," he tried again as you wiped the back of your hand across your forehead, staining your skin with blood.

"Yeah?" You panted, wincing as you looked down at your trembling hands.

Beel pressed his lips into a thin line, watching as crimson began to drip down your fingers, and your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

He sighed and moved over to you, offering out his arm. "Come here," he mumbled softly. "You need to take proper care of yourself before you begin a workout like that. Wrap your fists. Stretch."

He led you over to a wooden bench sitting nearby and pulled a small bag out from his gym duffle bag. He quietly grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and looked at you warily. "Just um ... this might sting."

You hissed through your teeth as he poured the clear liquid over your poor hands. It was strange to see you standing so quietly as he bandaged your injuries. There was a stiffness to your shoulders and a furrow to your brow that he didn't quite understand, but he didn't like it.

"Is everything alright?" He forwardly asked. "I mean, I don't usually see you down here and ... you look upset."

You looked down at your hands, silently clenching and unclenching your newly-dressed fingers. "I'm alright," you muttered distantly. "Just needed to let off some steam."

It pained Beel as you continued fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his eyes, but he didn't push. He reached forward and squeezed your shoulder. "If you want to start working out with me, or get into your own routine, I can help you out if you'd like."

You paused before nodding your head. "That'd be nice," you smiled gently at him. "Thanks."

He grinned, letting his hand drop to his side as he began to put back his medical supplies. "No problem. What is it that you're wanting to work on, anyways?"

A glint of something so grimly intense and horrifically unfamiliar flickered through your eyes. "Kickboxing and weight training," you flashed him a strangely sharp grin and goosebumps formed on the back of his neck. "Have to be able to defend myself, you know?"

Beelzebub couldn't help but frown at the words. He took a step closer to you. "You ... You know that we'll protect you. Right? You're safe with us, MC."

Something in his words caused you to shudder as you glanced down at your hands. "But not all the time," you mumbled in reply. Before Beel had a chance to question you, you shook your head and began to leave the room. "I'll meet you back here tomorrow. See ya."

And that was that. Only it wasn't.

You were jumpier, more an edge than normal. If the brothers tried asking about it, you should brush them off and insist that you were fine.

Belphie wasn't so sure.

Only two days after the gym incident, Belphegor had begun to find you walking around the house late into the night. There didn't seem to be any specific intent or purpose to your midnight brigades — just senseless drifting from room to room.

The one night he hadn't found you walking around, he came across a different problem entirely.

Your shrill scream pierced the air, and Belphie ran faster than he had thought was possible.

He burst into the room, panting, to find you wrestling with your blankets, screams and shouts continuing to pour from your lips and your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Belphie cursed under his breath and rushed over to you. "MC! MC! Calm down. You're having a nightmare," he grabbed onto your shoulder, but quickly reeled back as your screams and thrashing only grew. "Shit," he breathed as panic flooded his heart. He felt sweat line his palms as he gently placed a hand over his pact mark on the back of his neck and felt it grow warm. The demon squeezed his eyes shut, channeling his energies of sloth through the symbol. "MC. Wake up"

Your eyes snapped open as a terrified gasp was ripped from your lungs and shot out of your bed. "Stop it!" You shouted in sleep-riddled-hysteria before you finally began to recognize your surroundings.

Your shoulders hunched as you curled in on yourself and ran a hand through your hair.

Belphegor swallowed thickly before ever-so-slowly approaching you. "MC are you-"

"Get out," you choked.

Belphie's heart clenched in his chest. "W-What?"

"Just-" a sob slipped from you as your grip tightened on your hair. "I need to be alone. Please. Just get out!"

The demon shakily nodded, beginning to take steps backward toward the door. "If ... If that's what you wish. I'll be in my room if you want to talk."

You responded with a barely noticeable nod.

Belphegor waited outside your room for several minutes. He had expected to hear cries, or whimpers, or even screams.

But all he got was silence.

A week of more sleepless nights and forcing Belphegor out of your room later, you had confronted Mammon.

The white-haired demon stood in the corner of your room with a deep frown as you began drilling a strange contraption to your window. "And what exactly is this meant to do again?"

"It'll make sure that no one can sneak in through the window," you mumbled, fiddling with the device a little more. "Not only will it lock it, but it's also sounded with an alarm that will go off if anyone manages to break the lock."

Mammon pursed his lips in thought. "But you're on the third floor?"

You scoffed, as though his argument was completely invalid. "As a demon with wings, you should know it's not impossible for someone to get up here," you stuck your head out the window and glanced down. "Even then, there's ivy all up this wall. ... Hey, can I have your help removing that after we finish this?"

Mammon narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he felt his heart sink at the slight tremble in your voice. "Oi. What's all this about? Is someone threatenin' ya or somethin'? Do I need to give someone a beat down?"

"NO!" Mammon flinched back as you practically screamed in his face. You both stared at each other for a moment with wide, frightened eyes.

You winced as you quickly took a step back. "I-I mean no. I'm just-" you groaned and glanced back over at the device. "It's nothing. I can do this on my own. You can go back to what ever you were doing."

Mammon clicked his tongue and stubbornly sat down on your bed. "Like hell I am! You've been actin' all weird lately and you've got circles under your eyes darker than Lucifer's! What's wrong?"

You glared at the demon before silently turning back and continuing to fiddle with the device. After a single minute of silence, Mammon let out a loud groan. "Come oooooon! You can't just give me the silent treatment and expect me to drop this!"

He didn't get an answer in response.

With a heavy sigh he finally got back to his feet. "You don't want to talk? Fine. But this isn't done. We will be talking about this later."

That conversation never did happen, and after everything that went down, Mammon regretted that more than anything else.

With all the things that had been happening at that time, it was a shock to everyone when you eventually approached Leviathan and asked if he wanted to go to an arcade.

The question shocked and flustered the demon (mostly because it sounded an AWFUL lot like a date, and he wasn't sure if he should dress up or just go normally) but he agreed none the less.

It's how he found himself standing slightly behind you with his jaw dropped as you took out zombie after zombie with a plastic arcade rifle and a cold, ruthless glaze to your eyes.

"Fucking hell," Leviathan swore as your name appeared at the top of the scoring chart. "How the hell are you this good at shooter games?!"

You flushed as you glanced down at the toy gun in your hands. "I don't know. Just ... did it."

Leviathan laughed as a slew of tickets came pouring out of the machine. "Well you're a freaking natural! Damn MC! You could seriously take someone out with that aim!"

You tensed at the comment, your eyes freezing on him with an intensity he had only ever seen in the ghosts haunting the Devildom. "You really think so?"

He chuckled and slipped a couple more coins into the machine. "Don't take my word for it. Go again."

And you did. Again, and again, and again. With each round your gaze grew less cold and more determined. Each round your score only grew more and more.

Eventually, Leviathan dragged you away from it (and no, it was not because he was jealous of the stupid game getting all your attention) to play something more multiplayer like Dance Dance Ruri Tunes, but you weren't there. Not mentally anyways.

Your mind was somewhere else along with the delighted grin on your face.

Satan recognized exactly what expression Leviathan was talking about when he described it in court.

Levi had used the word "distant," but Satan preferred the word "crazed."

It was one that he was no stranger to. He had seen it a number of times on himself whenever his brothers got shots of him setting up his pranks against Lucifer.

He had never expected to see it on you. Especially not when you were simply reading in the library.

He personally had gone in to do some reading on insomnia remedies for humans to help you with the nighttime issues that Belphegor said you'd been having, when he spotted you.

You were sitting at the table, smiling to yourself as you drank a cup of tea, scribbled down some notes, and read from your book.

In normal circumstances, there would be nothing wrong with the situation. If anything, Satan would've encouraged it and joined you to bask silently in each other's company.

But you were reading Demon Abilities and Weaknesses.

A book that he knew was not on your RAD curriculum. A book that he never expected you to have an interest in.

He tilted his head as he stalked over and quietly sat down beside you. You spared him a glance and nodded at him, before continuing your studies.

"Curious book?" He questioned gesturing to the text. You hummed thoughtfully. "Any particular reason for reading it?"

You scribbled down a couple more things before looking at him. "Like you said. It's a curious book," you leaned forward. "Did you know that despite what common human lore says, Holy water doesn't actually kill a demon? It just temporarily paralyzes it," you chuckled and shook your head as you looked fondly back down at the book in your hands. "It's fascinating what humans have gotten so so wrong about you guys."

Satan nodded in agreement and leaned forward onto his elbows. "Yes. Humans have remarkable imaginations and quite an interest in wrongly interpreting us."

You hummed in thought as you starred at the book in front of you. "Do people ever end up here by accident?"

Satan blinked at the question, his mind momentarily stalled by its suddenness. "Diavolo tries to avoid it, but I imagine it does happen from time to time."

"What about those who are purposefully brought here? The ones who were t-terrible awful people in their real lives?"

Your heavy stare was now fixed directly onto him and was unwavering. Satan felt chills run down his spine at the sheer desperation in your voice.

He would later testify that, in this moment, he wrongly thought he had figured out what had been bothering you.

"You aren't damned, MC," tears lined your eyes at his answer as he placed a hand over your trembling grasp. "When your time comes, I think you'll be one of the unique few who get a choice on where you go. Regardless, you'll be okay. We'll make sure of it."

You silently shook your head, and Satan took it as a sign to pull you into his arms and hold you. For the first time in a month, you broke down and began sobbing. The demon said nothing as your ugly, loud cries shook your frame and your tears soaked through his jacket. He just held you, allowed you to embrace your vulnerability.

Eventually you sniffled, and pulled away looking at the book once more. "Satan," you mumbled hoarsly. "There are bad people down here."

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Yes. It is Hell. But those insufferable twits are meant for nothing more than be slaughtered and put in their place over and over again. Rest assured that you aren't one of them. You're safe here."

Your lips pulled into a thin line as you scooped up the book and put it in your bag. "Thanks Satan. You've given me a lot to think about," you didn't say another word before taking your leave, leaving the demon alone and concerned.

Asmodeus had heard about your meeting with Satan from the demon himself and knew that he just had to do something to cheer you up. Clearly, the best way to do that was a shopping.

Still, he was surprised when you agreed so easily.

The strawberry blond happily thumbed through a clothing rack beside you. "See?" He chirped excitedly. "Isn't this just what the doctor ordered? A nice relaxing day out with your favourite and handsomest of pact holders!"

You made a small noise of agreement as you pulled a black turtleneck from the rack and stretched the fabric a little.

Asmo cooed as he perched himself onto your shoulder. "Oh! Very chic. It'll be good for layering in these dreadful temperatures," he warily watched as you added the shirt to your growing pile of black fabric. "Though, might I recommend a little more colour, darling? You'd look radiant in a deep magenta."

You snorted and poked his cheek. "You're just saying that because pink is your designated colour."

The demon giggled and kissed your cheek in return. "So what if I am? It's hardly my fault that I have the best colour of all."

You shook your head in amusement. "Well thank you for the recommendation, but I'm aiming for a different look."

He picked up the black cargo pants you had deposited into your basket. "Ah. Is this an upcoming emo or punk phase? I suppose it makes sense."

You raised an eyebrow at the demon. "What do you mean?"

Asmodeus carefully threaded his next words together at the edge in your tone. "I just mean you seem to be doing a lot of reflection lately. Which isn't always bad, but ... You've been really quiet and distant. I miss being able to go out and just chit chat like old times with you."

You went silent as you fiddled with a pair of gloves you'd found. "I ... I've had some bad memories resurface lately. It's affecting me more than I thought. But don't worry," you smiled softly at the demon, oblivious of the nervous glint in your eyes, "I'm taking care of it."

The demon hummed and nuzzled against you. "So long as you're happy. I miss that wonderful smile of yours," he finally unlatched himself from you as he dragged you toward the cash register. "Now come on. I want to pamper you with some proper skin care products. You seem like you could use it."

You chuckled, squeezing lightly onto the demon's hand. "Okay, okay. But only if we can stop at the general store. I need to pick up a few things."

During all of this, Lucifer was taking notes.

Every interaction reported to him, every oddity that he noticed, he wrote it all down. He didn't know then just how helpful his notes would be — he only knew that something was wrong with you and he was determined to figure out what.

The night before the incident, his concern reached a climax.

He just returned from a tediously long meeting at Diavolo's castle and went to his office to complete his notes and paperwork regarding said meeting.

But when he got there, he wasn't alone.

You hadn't heard him enter. You couldn't have — Not with the way you were muttering to yourself as you dug through the chest behind his desk.

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his heavily beathing heart.

Your yelp echoed through the office as you whipped around.

"I don't believe this is your room, nor do I think you can find your bed in my private belongings.

You gulped and nodded. "Right. Yes. S-Sorry. I-I'll go."

He sighed as you tried to scurry past him and planted a heavy hand on your shoulder. Conflicting guilt coursed through him as you scrambled back from his touch. "MC. Sit down," he instructed.

He glided across the room, taking his place behind his desk, but you remained frozen. "I-I'd prefer to stand, th-thank you."

Lucifer's headache pulsed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "I've been informed that you've displayed some worrisome habits. You haven't been sleeping. You've been overworking yourself to the point of injury at the gym. You're questioning your place and security in the Devildom," your eyes darted to your hands as he called you out. "Why?"

You were tense, practically a rock with how rigid and stiff you were. But, both he and you knew that you would not be leaving without an answer.

"I can't tell you," you reluctantly replied.

"Can't or won't?" he countered.

You shook your head as your arms moved to wrap around yourself. "A mix of both, I-I guess."

Lucifer nodded and wished, not for the first time, that he possessed the ability to read your mind. "Asmodeus mentioned you've had some harmful memories resurface lately. Does that have something to do with it?"

"It has everything to do with it," you choked as your fingers dug into your flesh. Lucifer allowed himself to hope that maybe you would finally reveal the truth that he'd been chasing. "I thought it was over. It should have been over. I survived. I didn't have to be afraid anymore. But I was wrong. It'll never end."

Lucifer's heart clenched. He longed to comfort you, to hold you and personally reassure your safety, but he needed to remain firm. It would do him no good to soften his resolve just to lose grip on the cause of all of this.

"What will never end? What has you so afraid?"

You squeezed your eyes shut as you shook your head. "I c-can't. I can't tell you. Please."

He hated how weak towards your pleas he had become. "Fine," he relented. "Then why were you here? What were you trying to take that you felt you couldn't ask for?"

Your eyes shifted to the chest behind him. "I ..." your jaw clenched and unclenched with unspoken confessions.

"You're not in trouble. I'm not angry. I'm confused. What were you looking for?"

You swallowed thickly as your eyes darted everywhere but at the demon in front of you. "The Morning Star Blade."

His eyes widened and lips parted as he felt time halt. "MC," he breathed. "Do you know the properties of that weapon?"

"I do," you whispered surely.

"Then you know how dangerous it is. It has the capabilities of permanently erasing the existence of any creature it is embedded into."

"I know," you whimpered this time as tears lined your eyes. "I-I just. ... I need it. I'm so so scared, but with that blade nothing could harm me and-"

Lucifer didn't let you say another word before he wrapped you in his embrace. For once, he felt himself tremble with vulnerability as he held you tightly against himself. "I don't know what it is that has made you so distressed you would act so extremely, but I assure you there's no need. You're not alone, MC. My brothers and I will protect you and defend you until our dying breath. You have our seals on your skin to prove it," he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before pulling away. He walked back over to his desk and pulled a small white bottle from the top drawer. "This is Holy Water. Blessed by Simeon himself. If you know about the dagger, I imagine you know what this can do," he held the bottle out to you. "Take it. Let provide to you the remaining comfort that I cannot provide."

You stared at the water as though it held the key to all your problems. With shaking hands, you grabbed it and carefully brought it to your chest. "Thank you," you breathed.

Lucifer nodded. "You're welcome. Come. We'll get you some tea to help calm you before you go to bed."

And that had been it. Lucifer was convinced the issue was resolved and that in a few days time you would come to them, newly rested, and explain everything.

He had been so very wrong.

The following day, at 3 a.m. the brothers had all been suddenly pulled from their sleep and summoned to a place none of them had recognized in the freezing pouring rain.

"Fuck!" Mammon shouted as he bellyflopped onto the ground. "For fuck's sake! What the hell is goin'-" he froze as his eyes fell to the figure standing in the darkness. "MC?"

There you stood, drenched, clothed in the black wardrobe you had bought with Asmodeus. A bottle of Holy Water was clenched tightly in one hand as a dagger quivered in the other. Your bottom lip trembled as horror and uncertainty battled in your eyes.

Those very same eyes fixed onto the brothers as you held out the weapons. "Take them. Quick. J-Just get them away from me."

Lucifer frowned deeply at the sight of the familiar bottle. "MC. What is this abou-"

"JUST TAKE THEM!" You screamed as sobs threatened to break through your voice. "Before I- ... He's down here and I was going to-"

Belphegor moved first, snatching the weapons from you just as you collapsed onto the ground.

Asmodeus quickly scooped you off of the cold wet earth. You were speaking words, but they were too jumbled and distraught for any of them to understand.

Beel quickly ripped off the sweater he hand been sleeping in and wrapped you in it. "It's alright MC," he soothed. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

"It's not me being hurt I'm worried about," you cried. "It's me hurting him! Don't you get it?! I was going to kill him!"

A jolt ran through the brothers at the sheer idea of you even considering murder. Asmodeus held you tighter to his chest.

The dots began to connect in Satan's head, but he still had too may questions. "Kill who?" he pressed softly.

"M-My ex," you choked as you gripped desperately onto Asmodeus's silk pajamas. "I saw him. He's down here. He was j-j-just walking around when we went to the museum t-two months ago. As though n-nothing ever happened a-and I couldn't-" tears poured heavily down your cheeks. "I couldn't stand it. I-I'm not safe. Not with him here. Wh-What if he knows I'm with you and- and- and-"

Asmodeus gently soothed you before you could throw yourself further into your hysteria.

Belphegor felt a familiar coldness drip down his spine as he looked down at the dagger in his hand. "And this ex ... He hurt you?"

You shivered as you nodded. "He ... It was just verbal at first. Insults. Names. Jealousy. B-But then he started to lash out. One night, he went too far. The p-paramedics said I should've been dead. He must have thought so too, cause they found his dead body beside my unconscious one."

"Gods and Devils," Leviathan breathed. "No wonder he ended up down here. He fucking deserves it and worse!"

Your lip trembled as Asmodeus carefully took your clenching hands into his own and gently caressed them. "I didn't feel safe knowing he was here, that he could come find me any moment. A-And the only solution I could think of was- was to-"

"-Was to take his life before he could take yours," Lucifer finished.

"Shit," Mammon swore, moving over to Asmodeus's side. "Is this what you've been stressing out about lately?"

You took in a shaky breath as you nodded. "I was so torn. I didn't want to drop to his level. I didn't want to be evil like him. B-But I-I didn't know what else I could do!"

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," Satan spoke through gritted teeth. "We are going to bring the issue to Diavolo. Demons like him are supposed to be in a certain place in the Devildom. Sentenced to eternal punishment. Not flaunting about."

Lucifer hummed in agreement. "We'll take him to trial, and make sure he never tastes freedom again."

You couldn't help but cry at the words. A trial. Justice. Something you had never been given in human world.

The brothers said nothing. They merely gathered around and held you, whispering reassurances and promises.

They kept you under close watch for a while, never leaving you alone or allowing you to fester in your dark memories for too long. When the trial came, they stood by your said for every second of it and defended your name with all the ire of Hell.

You watched as the being who ruined your life was found guilty. You watched as he was dragged down to the pits of the Devildom.

You cried, and mourned, and grieved.

But you didn't do it alone.

*** OOF that was a big one. Thank you all so much for reading this. Happy Spooky Month, and remember to take care of yourselves. I love you all so much and thank you for the never ending support you all give me. Cheers -B***

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @salvationprodigy @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

[parvulous-writings]

Shy // Junkrat x F!Reader

Request:  What about hmmmmmm junkrat having a small shy cute gf and no ome knew about her til ome day she shows up at HQ looking for him.

Requested by: ​anon

Summary: the request

Warnings: none

Words: 1K

Notes: Yes, the first nickname Junkrat uses is allegedly one used by Australian men for their other halves :) I’m aware that this may not be the best of my work, I just find Junkrat a little hard to write for at times. My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif 

Not many people knew all that much about Jamison Fawkes- or Junkrat as most ‘knew’ him. The man was indeed mysterious- but not in the conventional sense. He kept mostly to himself, and seemed to backtrack on his own words in conversations. Not even the harshest of interrogations could get past the deranged mind of this pyromaniac, all they could draw was that he had little to no filter, and once tried to kill the leader of Junkertown after a world-wide heist spree. They had tried over and over again, and each time their efforts proved useless.  It was this lack of closeness to the other force members that often protected Fawkes, and the few people that were in fact close to him. There weren’t many people ‘close’ to Junkrat- one person in particular, besides Mako, of course; if Mako even counted anymore. This one person was his girlfriend- and yes, the crazed pyromaniac had one. This was more than just a surprise to those at the Overwatch complex when the news came out- it was an outright shock. It shocked Junkrat too, to some extent. He had not expected you to turn up that day. 

You hadn’t heard from James in nearly a week, and though you knew he could be scatterbrained at times, but even that was unlike him. So, here you were now, standing outside of the Overwatch complex, waiting to be granted entry inside. You rocked back and forth slowly on your feet, sighing quietly before a rather loud buzz caught your attention, signalling for you to move past the first set of gates and doorways and into the foyer of the building, primarily used for new recruits or official visitors.  The man who greeted you was not Junkrat, naturally, as the pyromaniac would have scared off any new recruits more likely than not. He wouldn’t have made the best impression on official visitors either, that was for sure. Instead this six foot tall man, with greying hair and a back as straight as a board was the one to approach you. He cleared his throat before he began to speak to you, “We weren’t expecting any visitors today.” He stated plainly, looking you up and down- at least, that’s what you think he’s doing. There’s a rather strange visor covering his eyes. It’s more the way he moves his head- though subtle- that gives you this clue. 

“I know that me turning up like this is a little unexpected,” You nodded, you understand this to be a little strange for those on the force, but you couldn’t let yourself rest till you knew that Jamison was alright. “But I’m here looking for my partner- his name is Jamison Fawkes, you probably know him as-” “Junkrat?” The older man finishes, and you nod slowly in confirmation. The man sighed softly at this information, rubbing the back of his head slowly as he pondered over what to do. You could practically feel the shock and surprise rolling off of him in waves, making way for shock of your own. Had he not told anyone of you? “Can you wait here for a moment, please?” The man asked you, to which you nodded again, unable to refuse the order. 

You had to wait about five minutes or so, and you let your eyes wander. There wasn’t much to entertain you or your mind in the room- it was largely painted in a blueish grey, very monotonous. There were white highlights- which you assumed someone had suggested to be painted on to try and break up the bland colour. There was only one embellishment on the walls- a large, circular symbol,  with a curved bar of orange at the top, and two, almost arrow like spikes at the bottom. You had seen it in a few places before, and recognised it to be the symbol of the Overwatch force- you had seen it not only on walls as propaganda and a means for hope, but also on a few things that Jamison had received when you were both living together.  You heard Junkrat heading your way long before you saw him- his makeshift prosthetic leg made quite a loud clack against the cold hard floor as he walked. That’s when his Aussie accent hit your ears.  “What do ya mean, ya don’t know if she actually knows me?” He asked, presumably talking to the man who had greeted you. “I’ve told you about her loads!” He exclaimed, as the pair rounded the corner and came into view.  “I had to make sure.” The other man replied, sounding almost tired of Fawkes’ over-excited demeanour. 

When Junkrat’s eyes fell on you, his face lit up- his eyes went wide and a smile split his face. Though he always looked rather joyed, he was overjoyed at your appearance here. “Ah, there she is! My bomb-thrower!” The other man gave you an almost shocked look as Junkrat quickly hobbled over to you, embracing you tightly.  “Hey there, honey.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close for a second. “You had me worried for you- you didn’t write or nothing!” You scold, and the pyromaniac gives you a slightly sheepish smile as he pulls away from the hug.  “I meant to write to you... I just kept gettin’ distracted.” He explained to you, and you give him an unimpressed look. “Aw, come on, duck; there’s a lot of distractions here! Well, not in this room, but you know what I mean...” He babbled.  The entire time, the man also in the foyer with you was still trying to figure out what on earth was going on in front of him. He could hardly believe that Junkrat had any friends, let alone a girlfriend. It was just... Beyond him. He cleared his throat quietly, interrupting the moment between you. “I’m sorry, but I’m slightly confused about what-”  “She’s my girlfriend, dummy.” Junkrat answered, before the man could finish speaking. “Look at her. Ain’t she somethin’?” He chuckled softly as he spoke, before taking your arm in his. “Now, c’mon, sweets, let’s go introduce you to Mako an’ the others, yeah?” He suggested, and you nodded a little bit. He then lead you off down the hallway he had arrived through, off to take you to the rest of the force. 

[bestiesenpai]

Neophyte - Gojo Satoru

I shall feed you lol and here is the post they’re talking about, in case anyone would like context

Content warning: dumb inexperienced reader, age gap, almost exclusive usage of ‘little girl’ (reader still 18+ of course lads), uh losing virginity, spitting as well...oh and squirting too

Two weeks. That’s how long they said they’d be gone for, and although you were old enough to be on your own, your parents insisted on getting you a babysitter.

“Bye you two! We’ll call when we make it to the hotel!” Your mother shouted from the backseat of the car.

“Make sure (Y/N) doesn’t stay up too late, her sleep schedule is already bad as it is!” Your father added, loading up the bags in the back of the taxi. He chuckled when you groaned, and he sat in the car.

“Bye!” Waving goodbye, you watched them speed off into the evening sky, the sunset painting a pretty picture for their departure.

“Alright, first order of business: ordering some food!” Gojo announced, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking to the front door. “What do you want, (Y/N)? I’m feeling like having pizza.”

“Pizza is fine.” Trailing after him, you tried not to let your gaze settle on him for too long. You didn’t hate having Gojo staying over, it was quite the opposite. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his crazy hair and have him kiss you senseless and there were plenty of nights you lied awake thinking about him with an ache between your legs, and it would only get worse as the days went by.

“Here’s to our first night together!” Gojo cheered, clinking his beer can against your soda. Leaning back in his chair, he took a massive bite of his pizza, making you laugh at how his cheeks puffed out. Your eyes wandered down to his beer, and you suddenly had a question.

“Gojo, can I try your beer?”

“Hm? You sure?” Lifting up the can with the edges of his fingers, he turned it over in his hand. “Why would a little girl want to try something like this?” A subtle heat rose to your cheeks, getting warmer when his eyes looked at yours.

“I’m just curious. Please?” Stretching your hand out, Gojo lets you take the can from him.

“Alright, but not too much.” He warned. Leaning back in his chair, a smirk spread across his face. The smell wafting up from the can was enough to give you pause, but you tipped your head back and drank anyway.

“Ew!” Curling your lip away as soon as the taste coated your tongue, you held it out for Gojo to take back. His laughter filled the air, getting even louder watching you chug your soda to rid yourself of the taste.

“Not your favorite?” He chuckles, taking a sip.

“No.” Shaking your head, a shiver rips through you. “How can you like that stuff?”

“When you’re a grown up, you’ll understand.”

“But I am grown up.” Gojo ignores your statement with another chuckle and a bite of his food.

Once dinner is over, it’s time for a movie. It’s Gojos idea, he wants you two to get comfortable with each other, after all he will be staying in your guest bedroom. He even went out for a quick run to the convenience store to grab you ice cream and a few treats to eat. Letting you pick the movie, he lounges on the end of the couch in a pair of breezy shorts, legs stretched out far and another beer in his hand.

Quietly eating the snacks he gave you, you keep your body curled up on the other end of the couch. You’d both changed into more comfortable clothing, and while you were fully clothed, it made a strange feeling bubble inside you to wear such short shorts near him. You had no problem wearing these shorts around friends, but with Gojo it felt different.

“I’ve never seen this before.” He comments offhandedly, swaying his leg side to side as the opening credits roll. “What’s it about?” He glances over at you and for a moment you think he’s staring at your bare legs, but then he’s making eye contact with you.

“Uhm…” Biting your lip, a wave of bashfulness goes over you. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

“Ah.” Nodding like he understands, he returns his attention to the screen. Your fingers twitch, wanting to grab the remote and change it to something more highbrow. Something that a grown up like Gojo would enjoy.

As the movie goes on, you’re painfully aware of every line that’s said. Usually, this film can make your heart race with how romantic it usually is, but now it’s just making you cringe. Taking a look at Gojo, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Woah, pretty steamy.” He chuckles at a scene, and you rip your eyes away to see what he means. Two characters are passionately kissing on screen, their hands gripping each other's clothing so roughly it looks like they might tear.

“We can fast forward.” As heat rises to your cheeks, you reach for the remote.

“No, it’s okay.” Grabbing your wrist to stop you, Gojo shrugs. “I don’t mind.” The feeling of his fingers wrapped around you lingers long after he’s let go. Watching the same hand go back to resting on his lap, the tips of his fingers just barely touching his thighs, makes more heat come to your face.

As the story progresses, you try to forget about the scene entirely. You’re able to let your body relax, even stretch out your legs onto the portion of the couch that’s been left unoccupied. There are a few more kissing scenes and they all make you nervous and bring your eyes to Gojos face to watch his reaction.

“I can feel you staring.” Gojo grins like a fool and turns to you, catching you right in the act.

“S-sorry.” Hiding him from view with your hand, you stare at the floor and try to push down the shame at being caught. Gojo laughs, an easy sound aided by the alcohol in his system, and his hand comes down to graze the top of your foot.

“What’s in that head of yours, little girl?” His hand firmly grabs your ankle, playfully pushing your leg side to side as he waits for an answer.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.” He immediately counters, and the hand on your ankle tugs at you. “Let’s see, you only look at me when there’s kissing…” Putting more weight into his grip, he lets out a hum. “Are you trying to tell me you want a kiss?”

“No!” Gasping loudly, your head snaps to attention and instantly you regret it from the way a smirk seems permanently placed on Gojos face. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you try to curl away from him.

“Sheesh, way to make me feel special.” Lightly scratching your leg, Gojo puffs out his chest a little. “I’ll have you know plenty of people have said I’m a great kisser.” A devilish look overtakes his face, a new thought having popped into his head. “I bet you haven’t even had your first kiss, huh?”

The noise you let out is stupid and unintelligible, and it tells Gojo all he has to know. The hand on your ankle goes a little higher to grab your shin and this time when he tugs at you, your body moves slightly.

“So what if I haven’t?” You try to save whatever dignity you have left by forcing your voice to be stern, but with a slight underlying waver it gives you away. When you make eye contact with Gojo now, you see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a look in his eyes that brings that ache back between your legs.

“How about we change that then?” He poses his words like a question but there’s not even the illusion of a choice presented. He sits up a little straighter in his seat, the shorts on his thighs riding up just a bit, and pulls on your leg again.

“I…” The tips of your fingers are tingling, nerves firing off at every possible point as you follow his lead. Sitting up on your knees, Gojo is quick to shuffle you over to him. His hands on your hips help steady you as you settle across his lap, and they quickly wrap your arms around his neck when he senses hesitation from you.

“Just let me do all the work, okay?” He whispers, voice just loud enough over the movie still playing in the back. His hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you closer to the apex of his legs. With a hand on the back of your head, he pulls you down to meet his lips.

Kissing Gojo was just as good as you imagined it to be. His mouth fit perfectly against yours, sliding on your skin and making your eyes fall shut. A soft groan leaves your mouth the longer he’s pressed against you, and your fingers weave into his hair. It’s unclear how long this simple lip lock lasts until you become hungry for more.

Carefully, your lips part. There’s a part of your brain that’s screaming out about your lack of experience, desperate to preserve your dignity and not make a fool of yourself. Pushing past that, the tip of your tongue presses against Gojos closed mouth.

“I thought I said to let me do the work.” Pulling away from you, Gojo clicks his tongue. “Such an eager little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Keeping your eyes closed, you nod breathlessly. Shifting on his lap, you fully seat yourself onto him. With your ass pressing onto his legs, you can feel something hard and hot just out of reach in his pants.

With a chuckle Gojo kisses you again. Readjusting his grip on your head, he tilts it to the side and opens his mouth. He doesn’t need to do much more besides that and your mouth is already open. His tongue slides into your mouth at the same time his hand grabs your ass, and you moan because of both of them.

Instinct takes over any thoughts in your brain, all the worry and doubts you had dashed away. On shaky legs, you rut your hips forward onto Gojo, the friction catching on your clit. His tongue has barely made a home for itself in your mouth, and here you are humping him.

Letting go of your head, both hands clamp down on your ass. He forces you to slow down to an almost complete stop and he swallows the whine that comes out of your throat. Securing his feet onto the floor, Gojo gently pushes his hips up while he rocks you forward, and the noise you let out is one he will never forget.

The pace he sets is agonizingly slow, nothing like the one you’d had. Every brush of your body against his has your skin erupting in goosebumps and heat flashes across your body. Fingers tug his hair harder when the grip on your ass gets tighter, and you nearly throw yourself onto him more than you already have.

You don’t even realize the tiny little whimpers coming out of your mouth in a steady rhythm until they turn to wanton moans, a clunky sound you’re unsure about but make all the same. Gojo makes sound too, a deep grumble in his chest that manages to outdo you.

Time is lost with your lips against his. The movie that’s playing has long been forgotten, playing to an audience of no one. It’s soundtrack is a distant entity, muffled by the ringing in your ears and the heat accumulating between your bodies.

“G-gojo.” You pull back with a face hot as fire and eyes closed softly. A plea is on the tip of your tongue, and although you don’t know what you want, you’re ready to beg for it all the same. Gojo chases your lips, capturing them again for another searing kiss that makes you feel drunk.

He hums when he finally sets you free, the cool air from his nose fanning over your face. Forcing his body to relax, Gojo lets go of your ass and drops his hands to his sides. Letting his head fall back onto the couch, he blinks owlishly at the ceiling.

“Would you look at the time, it’s past your bedtime.”

“What?” Turning to look at the clock on the wall, your blood runs cold when you see what time it is. Grabbing his limp hands, you try to put them back on your body. “No, no forget about that.”

“I can’t. Little girls need to go to sleep when it’s time.” Gojo is fighting back a vicious smirk, forcing his face to remain as neutral as he can.

“Gojo, no!” You cry, bouncing on his lap like a child. His body remains limp as you attempt to engage him in another kiss, and frustrated tears rise in your eyes. “C’mon!” Your eyes flicker between his and you nearly throw yourself off his lap. “This isn’t fair!”

“Throwing a tantrum? I thought you were more mature than that.” Standing up and stretching his impossibly long limbs, Gojo clicked his tongue and flicked the TV off.

“Whatever.” Head clouded with lust and pent up frustration, you stormed out of the room much to Gojos pleasure. He followed after you slowly, stopping in the hallway when you get to your door.

“I don’t get a kiss goodnight?” He teases, and if looks could kill he’d be dead by now. The pout on your lip is almost negated by your puffy eyes straining to hold back tears. Laughing under his breath he walks up to you and pats your head. “Sleep well, little girl.”

“Yeah.” Nodding your head, you close your door and all but fall into bed. Your whole body is tense and unable to relax, the throbbing between your legs too much to ignore. Stripping down and crawling defeatedly under the blankets, you stare up at the dark ceiling.

Curling your fist, you punch the bed twice before shoving a hand between your legs. Your cunt is soaked all from a little bit of kissing, and in any other circumstance you’d be embarrassed. But this time, the only thing you could feel was an indescribable need to touch yourself.

Biting your lip hard between your teeth, your legs spread a little to accommodate the new arrival. There’s slick coating your skin, making everything a sticky mess. Inexperienced fingers press against your swollen clit and you gasp loudly.

“Shit.” A whine leaves your throat at the first touch, and your fingers rub clumsily along yourself. Pushing your head back against the pillows you try to recreate the feeling of grinding on Gojos lap. Every so often that spark hits you, but it’s not enough to get off to.

Slowly, you push a finger inside yourself, and then two. With a strain in your wrist you know you’ll feel tomorrow, you thrust your fingers in and out of your cunt. The wet clicking sound of your fingers is unmissable and you're quickly brought to a messy, uncoordinated orgasm.

“Shit.” You swear again, finally able to relax your body. Wiping your fingers on your blankets, you toss and turn to get into a comfortable position. The orgasm you had brought you some reprieve, but in the back of your mind you know it would have been better if Gojo had done it.

Waking up in the morning with the mess between your legs makes a wave of second hand embarrassment wash over you. Dressing quickly, it’s both a relief and a disappointment that Gojo has work during the day, early enough that you don’t see him in the morning.

Eating breakfast and lunch alone, there’s still a feeling in your body that won’t dissipate. The ache between your legs isn’t as strong as last night, but it’s still there, sitting in your body and ruining your underwear.

Your eyes keep staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until Gojo returns. There were other things you could have been doing, things that were more productive with your time, but every time you tried to move on it was impossible to focus and you found yourself back in the same spot.

When Gojo was nearly home, you sprung into action with a half baked plan. He’d texted you asking if you wanted takeout again or a home cooked meal, and you replied immediately that you would be cooking dinner. The only incentive you had to cook was to show him how responsible you were, and to make up for your show of emotions last night.

“(Y/N), I’m home!” Gojo announced as he opened the door. Toeing his shoes off, he waited for an answer or for you to appear before him, but he was left alone in the entryway. Walking past the lounge room, you weren’t there, and he was surprised to find you in the kitchen.

“Hi.” Giving him a quick wave, you kept your attention on the stove. His gaze lingered on you, a half smile on his face, but Gojo said nothing and left the room. You could hear him moving around the house, going to his room and changing into casual clothes and using the toilet before returning to you.

“So, what’re you making?” Standing close to you on the stove, he leaned over your body. His head brushed your temple and your breath hitched.

“J-just something easy.” You squeaked, painfully aware of how his hands settled onto the counters, trapping you against the stove and his body. He hummed but made no other response, and you just stood there together.

“Ya know, it’s kinda like you’re my little housewife, cooking for me after a long day of work.” His comment made you gasp. A million different scenarios ran through your head, all of them where you really were his wife in a house you shared together.

Keeping your lips pressed together to spare the sanity you had left, you nodded as a response. Gojo chuckled and got closer, placing his hands on your hips. Jumping when you felt his nose brush against your neck, you couldn’t move a muscle to question him.

“Having you as a housewife doesn’t sound too bad, now that I think about it.” His breath was loud in your ear, and so was the kiss he planted behind it. His teeth scraped against your neck, and he sucked lightly on your skin before letting you go. “Looks like it’s almost ready. I’ll go set the table.”

As soon as Gojo untangled himself from you, you let out a staggered sigh. With shaky fingers you turned the stove off and took the food off the heat, your eyes glued to the pan so he wouldn’t see your mortified face. Bringing the food to the table quickly, you stared at the table as you ate.

“So, do you like it?” You asked when he was more than halfway done.

“I do.” Propping his elbow on the table, Gojo flashed you a big smile. “I love whatever my little housewife makes for me.” Slapping a hand over your face in embarrassment, you sunk into your chair when he let out a laugh at your expense.

When dinner was over, Gojo insisted on helping you clean up. Rolling up his sleeves and pressing his body right against your back, he promised to do a good job washing the dishes, but he kept grabbing your hand and tangling your fingers together. By the time you finished, nearly an hour had passed and the ache between your legs was killing you.

“Come sit and watch the game with me.” He mumbled, grabbing a beer from the fridge and going to the lounge room.

“What game?” You followed him obediently, standing next to the couch as he took a seat.

“Baseball. I placed a few bets on tonight's game and I wanna win.” Cracking open the can, he took a long drink. “Come sit down.” Spreading his legs, he pat his thigh loudly.

“Okay.” Hesitantly climbing onto his lap, your hands gripped his arm as he pulled you flush against him. Gojos' chin rest on your shoulder, making you lay on his chest and feel every time he drew a breath.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He whispers once a commercial hits.

“R-really?”

“Mhmm.” The arm around your middle tightens up. “Been thinking about kissing those pretty lips of yours.” You tried to turn your head to look at him, but he wouldn’t budge. Squirming in his lip made him groan, the vibrations traveling across your back. “What’re you doing, little girl?”

“I wanna kiss you.” At your admittance, Gojo lets you go and helps you turn around in his lap. The position is a familiar one, and your ass nestles against his thighs. Going in for a kiss, your brows furrow when he dodges your lips.

“Once there’s a pause in the game I’ll kiss you.” He says off-handedly, pushing your face out of the way.

“But-”

“Shh.” With a pinch to your ass, Gojo shuts down any protest. The same frustration you felt last night was coming back, coupled with annoyance at being ignored. You tried again to kiss Gojo, but he dodged you again.

“Fine.” Pinching him back, you practically collapsed in his lap. Watching the game over your shoulder, you truly couldn’t care less about it, but you needed to know the second there was a break.

But it seemed like there would never be one. Even when a commercial came, Gojo would keep your head pressed against his chest, stopping you from doing anything other than trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Gojo!” You cried, growing frantic. “Stop being mean!”

“Mean? I would never be mean to you.” He gasped dramatically. Letting you sit up, the smirk he had on his face had your fingers itching to slap him. Grabbing your chin, he pursed your lips and finally kissed you.

The taste of the beer on his tongue was something you could ignore when it entered your mouth. Getting what you wanted at last was the only thing on your mind. Your hands found their spot in his hair again, and you kept him pressed to you even when he tried to pull away.

“Someone’s needy, huh?” Gojo chuckled, finally able to break free and breathe.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day too.” The words fell out of your mouth before you had the chance to think.

“Oh, really?” Gojo quirked a brow. Resting his head in his hand, he licked his lips. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking then.”

“Uhm…” Suddenly feeling shy, you look down at his lap. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his pants and it makes you lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you and-” A quick glance up makes your face flush with heat. “And about how you make me feel.”

“How’s that?” He presses, sliding a hand to your ass.

“I get all hot and sweaty, and that place starts to hurt.” Your hand does a vague gesture down to your crotch and it makes Gojo chuckle.

“That place? Do you mean your pussy?” Screwing your eyes closed at his question, you nod. Gojo lets out a little coo, his fingers affectionately squeezing your ass. “You poor baby, I bet it’s just a mess down there.”

“Yeah.” Spreading your legs further across his lap, you try to get comfortable with the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

“What a shame.” Gojo clicks his tongue, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you again. But then his eyes dart to the TV and his body tenses. “Oh shit, I think I might win this game!”

“Huh?” Blinking rapidly, you shift again on his lap and look over your shoulder. Whatever was happening had his full attention, and not even your kisses along his jawline can draw him back to you.

Gojo keeps you seated on his lap for the entirety of the game, every so often kissing you like you wanted, just enough to keep you from leaving but not enough to satisfy you. When the game is over, he repeats the process of yesterday and sends you to your room for your bedtime.

Waking up the next morning is a struggle after being blue balled for two days straight. It was like the release you’d given yourself the first night meant nothing because it wasn’t done by Gojo. Stumbling into the kitchen in a shirt and shorts, you bumped straight into Gojo.

“Hey sleepy head.” He ruffles your hair affectionately, his eyes quite obviously staring right at your ass skirted by the hem of your shorts.

“Hey.” Leaning your head against his chest, you give him a sleepy hug.

“Still tired?” Gojo feigns like he’s interested in whatever you have to say while his hands go under your shirt. The pads of his fingers press into your lower back for a moment before sliding up.

Leaning back a little, you move your arms out of the way for him to bring his hands to your front. His palms cup your breasts, just as hot as your flesh. Grazing your nipples with his thumbs, Gojo hums to himself and nods.

“Can I see?” Gojo asks, slowly tugging up your shirt.

“Yeah.” You nod. He folds up your shirt and pushes the fabric into your mouth, letting go when you bite down. Your fingers are holding up the rest of your shirt, and Gojo squeezes your arms together, making your breasts push together.

“What pretty tits you have.” Leaning down, Gojo presses a kiss to the center of your chest, and another atop both breasts. You’re quick to say a muffled thank you and Gojo kisses you again. His nose is pressed onto your chest and it’s all he can do to pull away and pull your shirt out of your mouth. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” You ask instead, blindly finding a seat at the dining table.

“I’m going in a little later today for a meeting.” Stepping up to the stove, Gojo sweeps his arm over the assorted ingredients he’s set out. “Now, do you want an omelette?”

When Gojo returns home the next few days after work, it’s either long after your bedtime or he’s too tired to do anything more than go to bed. He was caught up in meetings and late night work functions, leaving no time or energy to spend with you. When the weekend finally comes, you don’t even see him until the evening.

“Hey.” He opens his bedroom door the moment you open the bathroom door, a cloud of steam billowing out around you.

“H-hey.” Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, you grip the towel tighter to your body. His eyes flick down to your skin, slightly damp and smelling sweetly of your body wash. Your body moves on it’s own when he takes a step forward, pressing yourself against the doorframe.

“It’s been a while.” He’s in front of you in just a few short strides. Lithe fingers trace your neck, making you shiver as a tingle goes through you. His hand cups your face, turning it up to him. “I’ve missed you, little girl.”

Gojo kisses you before you have time to answer. What usually starts as a gentle kiss is far gone, replaced with a hunger behind his lips that leaves you trembling. His tongue slides into your mouth with ease, roaming all around your mouth while his teeth clink into yours.

Your thighs are spread apart by his knee shoving between them, and your fingers nearly drop the towel to grab onto him. His knee is pressed right against your cunt, grinding deliciously onto you.

“Gojo!” You gasp when he lets you free. Air rushes into your lungs and is expelled just as fast. His teeth sink into the side of your neck, sucking hard on the skin and lapping up any lingering water droplets. “Gojo, please, I-”

“I know.” He grunts, sucking on the junction of your neck and shoulder. A rough groan leaves his lips and his knee drops, replaced by the hard on straining against his pants. Rough hands rush to bundle up your towel around your hips.

“Fuck, look at you.” Gojo growls, his eyes staring directly at your cunt. “What a pretty little pussy.”

“Gojo!” Throwing your head back, you nearly sob his name when he ruts his hips into you. His hands are digging marks into your hips and thighs with every thrust, and if it weren’t for his body holding you up, you would have crumpled to the floor.

All the sensations are too much, mounting pleasure in your body that threatens to take over. One hand is mindlessly clutching the towel, needing something to ground you in the moment that’s quickly getting away from you.

“Shit.” After sucking a harsh mark into your skin, Gojo stops completely. He stands painfully still, his own orgasm nearly barreling over him. Wrenching his hands off your body, he fixes your towel and takes a tiny step back. Licking his lips, Gojo runs a hand through his hair.

“W-why’d you stop?” Looking up at him with wide eyes, your chest is heaving as you catch your breath.

“I don’t want to blow my load right now, that’d be kind of embarrassing don’t you think?”

“I guess.” At a loss for words, you watch helplessly as he takes another step back. The tent in his pants is painfully obvious. “So when? When can we…” Your eyes bounce around the room, skirting around the question.

“Soon, I promise.” Adjusting his pants, Gojo flicks his head to your bedroom. “Now go get dressed, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold standing out here.”

It’s nearly three days before Gojo kisses you again. He doesn’t kiss you, but he does everything else to you that he wants to do. Shoving you against the wall and fondling your ass before he leaves for work. Grabbing at your tits when you’re cooking or washing dishes. Making you perch your ass on his lap when he’s watching another baseball game, his fingers drawing patterns on your thighs.

“Gojo!” Finally, it’s your turn to corner him in the hallway. Blocking his way to the rest of the house, you cross your arms and fix him with your strongest glare.

“Yes?”

“I need you!” Stamping your foot, you know it looks childish, but you need to get your point across. Biting his lip, Gojo steps up to you, giving you a once over.

“Need me how?”

“You know how!” His question shakes your confidence a little, enough to make you break eye contact with him and look at the wall.

“I don’t think I do.” Rocking on his heels, Gojo shrugs dramatically.

“Like- like-” Dropping your arms, you do the only thing you know will work: you shove your hand onto his crotch, palming at his cock and making him jump. “Like this!”

“Woah, little girl.” He’s quick to grab your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away.

“Please!” The whine you’d been fighting back comes out, and it’s music to Gojos ears. “You always do stuff and it makes me feel funny and I really need you.” The frustration makes tears well in your eyes as you look up at him, and he pouts his lip at you.

“Oh poor baby.” Taking your hand away from him, Gojo turns to your room. “Let’s go then. Seems I’ve been playing with you too long.” Rushing to your room, you sit eagerly on the edge of your bed. “Lay down.” He gently pushes your shoulder back, and your head hits the pillow.

Climbing on top of you, Gojo nestles his body against yours and kisses you. Gripping his shoulders tightly, you pull him down harder. The drought he’d put you through had driven you crazy, causing you to dream about his lips on you.

His tongue slid into your mouth quickly, tangling with yours and knocking his teeth with yours. The tips of his fingers skirted around the edge of your shirt for just a moment before delving deeper. Sliding his hand under your bra, Gojo tweaked your nipple.

Making quick work of your shirt, Gojo sat on his heels and peeled his top off. Your eyes were glued to his body, catching every little twitch of his muscles and dip and curve of his chest. He chuckled at your mesmerized face and leant down, taking your nipple into his mouth.

Grabbing your other breast, Gojo worked both your nipples to full hardness, alternating on sucking them into his mouth. The moans that came from your mouth were music to his ears, and your hips blindly rutted against him.

Flicking your nipples with his tongue one last time, Gojo kissed down your chest. Reaching your bottoms, he didn’t need to tell you to lift your hips up, your hands were already pulling them off with him.

“Shit.” Gojo breathed, laying between your legs. Your inner thighs and cunt were covered in your slick, and the heady aroma had Gojo eager to stick his tongue inside you. Sliding his hands underneath your thighs, he set them on his shoulders.

Spreading your lips with his thumbs, Gojos tongue flicked your clit, making your hips nearly shoot off the bed. Your hands immediately wound into the sheets as he continued his ministrations.

“Gojo, please.” You cried, growing tired of the little flicks he was giving you.

“Be patient, baby.” He replied, quickly sucking your clit into his mouth. Your thighs tried to close around his head but his hold on your body was strong. Digging his hands into you, Gojo pulled your cunt closer to his mouth.

Shoving his tongue into you, Gojo lapped tirelessly at your gummy walls, loudly swallowing your essence mixed with his saliva. His nose rubbed your clit, relentless in his pursuit in tasting you. Muffled groans came from his mouth, the vibrations adding to the pleasure.

Pressing his thumb against your clit, he rubbed it furiously. Gojos eyes were screwed closed as he worked you to your first orgasm, his jaw beginning to ache from the force he put behind his tongue.

“Gojo-” Your body tensed up as the orgasm hit you. The fingers gripping the sheets threatened to tear them, your nails digging dangerously into the fabric. A loud, drawn out moan left you and your eyes rolled back.

“Fuck yes, baby.” Gojo wrenched your thighs open and sat up on his elbow. His thumb on your clit didn’t slow down, milking you through your orgasm. When your body relaxed, Gojo shoved his fingers into you, too worked up himself to worry about stretching you out properly.

The two fingers he had inside you stuffed you more than your own fingers ever could. Your walls stretched to fit around the long digits, clenching hard around him. His thumb pressed against your clit again and he began to move his fingers in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

The overstimulation from your first orgasm gave way to pleasure the more he fucked you on his fingers. Gojos palm slapped against your sex with every thrust, mixing with your moans and echoing around the room.

The second orgasm came much quicker than the first, and it was tinged with pain at the edge of your senses. Letting out a loud groan at the feeling of your walls milking his fingers, Gojo pulled out and sat back, roughly ripping his shorts off and exposing his leaking cock to the air.

“Think you can take my cock, baby?” He asked, gripping his cock hard at the base.

“Yes, please!”

“Good answer.” Grabbing your hands, he placed them under your thighs and pressed them to your chest. “Be a good girl and hold your legs for me.” Eager to please, you got a good hold on your thighs and waited.

Both of you stared at his cock lining up with your slit. Taking his time, Gojo pushed the tip past the tight ring of muscle and thrust softly, slowly working you to take his whole cock.

“How does it feel?” He asked, laughing breathlessly.

“Strange.” Your answer made him laugh more.

“Am I the first one to fuck this pretty pussy?”

“Yeah.” A wicked grin spreads across Gojos face and he leans between your legs to kiss your forehead.

“This old man sure feels special.”

“You’re not old!” You gasp, loosening your hold on your legs. “Not at all!”

“Legs, baby.” He taps your hands and you quickly right yourself. Pressing his hands into the pillow beneath your head, Gojo forces your legs to bend a little more. “I’m a dirty old man compared to you.”

“No-” You go to protest again, but the sharp snap of his hips into yours cuts you off. Your head immediately falls back, exposing the column of your throat for Gojo to lean forward and kiss. He pulls back again, making sure you feel the full length of his cock before snapping forward again.

Gojo thrusts into you with no mercy, lust clouding his senses and any reason in his head. Your walls are so tight, they almost grip him enough to stop him from pulling out again. He’s waited so long to feel you wrapped around him, and now that he has you he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

His heavy balls slap against your ass with each thrust, adding to the cacophony of sounds mixing together in your room. Your slick is being fucked out of you and dripping down between your ass and onto his balls, creating a damp spot beneath you.

“Such a good little girl.” Gojo pants, cupping your face with his hand. Swiping his thumb across your lower lip, he grins when you take it into your mouth and suck hard on it. “Taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.”

“Mhmm!” Nodding, you let go of one leg to hold onto his hand, lacing a few fingers together. Pressing his thumb against your tongue, Gojo pulled your mouth open and pursed his lips. Letting his saliva drip down into your mouth, he felt a swell of pride watching you swallow it immediately.

Your hand slid off your leg, the sweat accumulating on your body making you lose your grip. With your feet dangling near Gojos head, he pressed a quick kiss to your ankle before digging his hands underneath your ass and angling your hips up.

“Fuck!” You squeal loudly at the new angle and your hands scramble to push against Gojos hips. “T-too much!” Gojo barks out a laugh and swats your hands away, pining one to your side as he pounds into you.

“Shit, how’d you get even tighter, little girl? I can barely pull out.”

“Gojo, please!” Tears begin to gather on your lashes from the onslaught of pleasure, and you let out a short yelp at feeling his fingers against your puffy clit. “Please, please it’s- fuck-” Your head thrashed against the pillows, unable to run away from the feeling.

“Be good and squirt on my cock.” Gojo growled. He was close to cumming himself, your cunt that he’d denied himself for so long was just as good as he imagined it to be. It was all he could do to make sure you came before he filled you to the brim with his cum.

“Stop I’m gonna- Gojo- pee, I’m gonna-” You babbled mindlessly, tongue falling out of your mouth and making drool coat your chin. Seeing your fucked out face had Gojos racing heart pounding even harder.

Hunching over, he forced your legs to nearly touch your head as he rutted into you. Barely pulling his cock out all the way, Gojo worked your clit in his fingers and was rewarded with a high pitched moan, akin to a scream in his ear.

“Fuck-” He grunted. The force of your orgasm was nearly pushing his cock out all the way, your juices gushing around him. Sinking his teeth into your leg, Gojo came inside your spasming cunt, fucking his cum out with yours.

You were nearly sobbing by the time he fully stopped thrusting. Your body ached all over, muscles that had been pulled taut were finally being released and allowed to relax. Gojo slid your legs off his shoulders as he panted for breath.

Slowly pulling out of you, he stared at his softening cock absolutely covered in your release. His entire lower region was glistening in the light of the room and the wet spot on the bed was much bigger now.

Sliding out of the room quietly, he returned with a damp towel. Quickly wiping himself, he gingerly wiped down your sex, letting out little giggles when your body twitched uncontrollably. Setting the towel to the side, he smiled down at you.

“Hey little girl.” His grin turned into a full toothed smile at seeing your dazed face, drunk off his fuck and cum. A dopey smile spread across your face and you lifted a tired hand to grab at his. Giggling bashfully, you pressed your face into the pillow to get away from his stare.

“What?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heat as he continued to look at you.

“Nothing, just looking at my pretty girl.” Squeezing your hand, Gojos eyes glance at the wet spot on the bed. “Ya know, it’s almost your bedtime, and I can’t have you sleeping in a wet bed.” Humming like you were following along, you giggled again when his hand squeezed your waist.

“What?”

“Are you listening to me?” Gojo chuckled, squeezing you again and making you jump. “Come sleep in my room with me.”

“Okay.” Helping you stand, Gojo led you to his bedroom. Even though it was the guest room, it felt like he had always lived in this room. It smelled of him, and his clothes were everywhere. Flopping onto the bed, you yawned as soon as your head hit the pillow. “Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.” Gojo snorted loudly and nodded. Helping you under the covers, he slid on a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I’ll get you a snack. Try to stay awake.” You give him a lopsided thumbs up that makes him snort again. Turning on his heels, he knows as soon as he comes back, you’ll be passed out and snoring into his pillow. And he’s right.