#like the face has more detail without the shading

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[najahshamad]

🌸”Save Najah Hamad and Her Family from the Devastation of War”🌸

💔 My name is Najah Hamad, and I write these words with a heart that is shattered beyond repair. I live in Gaza, where my family and I once had a life filled with hopes and dreams. With my husband, Mohamed, and our beloved children: Ahmad, Muhammad, Samir, and Heba Allah, we built a home that held all our dreams. 🏠

But now, everything has vanished… 😔

In an instant, our home was destroyed by relentless bombardment. We were forced to flee, searching for safety, but there is no safety. We are living a daily nightmare, moving from one shattered place to another without hope. 😟💨

We face hunger and illness without clean water or medical care. My brother urgently needs surgery, and my mother suffers from chronic pain due to rheumatism. 🏥

🖤 The decision to leave Gaza has been the hardest of my life. I feel like I am abandoning everything I know, but staying means certain death. The cost of escaping is €5,000 per person. For my family, we need €30,000 just for travel, plus €10,000 for shelter and food. The total we are seeking is €40,000. 💶

Every day we remain here, our lives are at greater risk. When I look into my children’s eyes, I see fear, pain, and despair. 😢

🙏 Please, help us escape this torment. Even the smallest contribution could save us and give us a chance to live again.

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #188 )

VETTEF BY @90-ghost

Vetted by @dlxxv-vetted-donations

vertted by LIST (14) @ibtisams

Share from @a-shade-of-blue

🌟 Your kindness is the light we need to escape this darkness.

Thank you for your support and generosity. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. 💖

📲 For more details, you can reach me on Instagram: NAJAH_HAMAD_

Donation Link : https://gofund.me/c5b10d4b

I hope you will share my campaign and not let me down."

@90-ghost @gazavetters @gazagfmboost @soon-palestine @appsa @sayruq @a-shade-of-blue @free-palestine-bitch @free-palestine-forever @heritageposts @gazikacmislaflar @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr@butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @shesnake @garden-of-vegan @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoogle @ree-duh @neptunerings @dlxxv-vetted-donations @lostaff @vague-humanoid @summerhigh @malcriada @sar-soor @ibtisams @nabulseye @memingursa @schoolhater98

[lisenberry]

141 when they find out reader has been crying:

(an earlier brain worm had me expanding this to all of them)

Price: He pulls you into his office and shuts the door. It barely closes before he turns on you, crossing his arms and looking down with his chin tucked against his chest. He rocks back on his heels once, twice, while he waits for you to spill.

You can only blink up at him, willing your tears not to fall while he's watching you so intently.

"What is it, sir?" You finally chance the use of your voice, but instantly regret it. Your miserable croak isn't hiding anything.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me why you've been crying." His tone is gruff, like sandpaper over rock salt, but his eyes soften imploringly.

For a minute, you want to tell him everything, but instead you just give in and cry harder. For a moment, he looks disappointed, but he simply pats you awkwardly on your shoulder and grabs a box of tissues from his desk drawer.

He motions to the sofa in the corner where you sob quietly for a half hour more while he finishes his paperwork. He doesn't know what's going on, but he's not going to let you do it alone.

Ghost: It doesn't matter where you hide, he finds you. The kitchen? He's in and out three times. Tea, a spoon for his tea, another tea. He crowds your space each time, no matter where you stand. Forcing you in circles as you try to keep your face averted.

For a silent man, he manages to make as much noise as possible to distract you to the point of almost asking him, "What the fuck, Simon?"

You finally move to a bathroom stall, but before long you hear the door open and two large boots stop just beyond the door. You know it's him by the size alone.

You hold your breath for a beat, and then two, so long that you wonder who is going to give in first. You know you've got about 3 minutes before you pass out. But just as you're about to stand up and face him, he turns and leaves without a word.

Exactly ten minutes later, he finds you in the rec room, dragging someone by the neck. It's not until Ghost kicks the man's knees out from under him, forcing him to kneel in front of you that you realize who it is. Some asshole from the other team who was giving you a hard time in training this morning.

With Ghost's knee pressed painfully between his shoulder blades, he grits out, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! It won't happen again!"

He's not the reason you're crying, but watching his face turn ten shades of purple does make you feel a little better.

Gaz: He keeps his distance and hates to see people cry because it always makes him cry, too. He doesn't know why. Movies, talk shows, commercials, they just get him right in the feels.

But every time you look up, his golden eyes meet yours, glistening with empathy. You simply shake your head at him and go about your day, until eventually, you get a text.

You mad at me?

-No, I'm fine.

You sure?

-Yep.

Fucking xxxx again, innit?

Of course he'd be the one to guess right. He paid the most attention, listened when you talked and remembered every detail. To be honest, he'd been the one you confided in the most for that reason.

He took your silence as a confirmation.

I hid some ice cream in the freezer. Unless Soap got to it first.

Soap: You head back to the kitchen again in search of the contraband ice cream, hoping it's the good mocha chip flavor you love, only to find Soap has beaten you to it. He innocently scoops out the last bite before seeing your face crumble and guiltily tosses it into the sink.

"Och, shit. Was that yours?"

"No, it's okay." Could this get any worse?

After dealing with these four, you just give up and slink back to your room.

"You know what you need?" He charges you before you can get any further.

"No, Johnny, don't!" Not one to listen, he pulls you up over his shoulder in one swoop and fireman carries you out to the gym.

"We're going to sweat it out, yeah? Always makes me feel better. Whether it's fighting or fucking is up to you."

You finally laugh at the absurdity of it, for the first time all day.

[esouliie]

… you should stay in my good graces⋆𐙚₊

(actress!wanda x fem!reader)

tags | romantic asf, a little hurt/comfort, wanda maximoff needs a hug, reader is a reassuring simp, together? they’re both gross horny freaks :3 (18+)

It’s late, around 9 PM, and the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. You’re lounging on the couch of the hotel suite, feeling the gentle buzz of the wine you’ve been sipping. She’s there with you, still dressed in her suit for her upcoming movie’s press junket. Her hair, now a shade of molten chocolate, falls loosely around her face, with random pieces tucked behind her ears. She’s wearing minimal makeup, despite her lips being coated in a subtle reddish oil, and her eyes shimmer gold with every bat of her lashes.

The evening has been easygoing since arriving back, a perfect blend of quiet conversation and shared silences as your girlfriend winds down from being social. You watch her as she took another sip of her wine, her eyes glinting in the soft light. Suddenly, she sets her glass down and rises from the couch with a playful glint in her eye. "I want to play a song for you," she announces with a smile.

You watch as she heads for the old record player tucked in the corner, a vintage piece that had caught her eye the moment you checked in last night. The suite modern charm was evident in every detail, from the heated floors to the spacious kitchen, but the record player, with its polished wood and brass accents, seemed to be the centerpiece of the room. Wanda had been drawn to it immediately, her fingers tracing the smooth surface, a look of nostalgia softening her features.

She flips through the small collection of vinyl records stacked beside it, her brow furrowing in concentration as she searches for the perfect track. After a moment, she lets out a triumphant little sound, pulling out a record with an old, faded cover. The worn label reveals the artist: Sam Cooke. She handles it with reverence, lowering it onto the turntable with a practiced hand. There's a small, satisfied hum as she brings the needle down, and the soft crackle that follows fills the room like the first breath of life. For a moment, everything is still, suspended in the quiet, until the first sweet, soulful notes of "Cupid" drift into the air.

The melody is timeless, a rich cascade of sound that wraps around you like an old, familiar blanket. You recognise the tune, though it's been years since you last heard it. The notes are tender and full of emotion, evoking memories of a time long past yet strangely present in this moment. The room, bathed in the warm glow of the lamps adorned around the space, seems to swell with the sound, the music curling around the furniture, the walls, and finally, the two of you, as if drawing you closer together.

Wanda turns back to you, her eyes bright with anticipation, waiting for your reaction. She knows you love this song, and she loves it too, perhaps even more.

“I love this song.” She reaches out a hand, gesturing for you to join her. You stand, taking it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of her fingers intertwining with yours. The music flows between you like a current, and Wanda begins to sway, drawing you into the rhythm. Her voice, soft and unguarded, rises to meet the melody as she sings along with Cooke:

“Cupid, draw back your bow...”

With her eyes locked on yours, the world around you fades into the background. The record spins, the music lilting through the room as you both begin to dance, a slow, easy movement that feels as natural as breathing.

You follow her lead, letting the song guide your steps. Wanda’s voice, sweet and slightly off-key, weaves through the music, adding her own touch to the tune. There's something so intimate, so pure in the way she sings to you, for you, her voice a quiet confession wrapped in melody.

“You know," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against the instruments, "I've never felt like this with anyone before."

"I feel the same, Wands. Every time I'm with you, it's like the world finally makes sense."

She tilts her head down slightly, her eyes searching yours. "Do you ever wonder if this is too good to be true? Like, maybe we're dreaming, and one day we'll wake up, and it’ll all be gone?"

You stop swaying for a moment, cupping her face gently in your hands. "No, Wanda. This is real. We’re real." You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling her relax into your touch, “You’re never getting rid of me, baby.”

Her hands move to your back, pulling you closer, as if she needs to feel you, to confirm that you’re really here. "Promise me," she whispers, her voice trembling just slightly.

You press your lips to hers again, a gentle, lingering kiss that holds all the promises you can’t yet put into words. “I promise,” you whisper against her, “let me show you.”

Her worries melt away, replaced by a deepening trust as your hands run through her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. The pressure of your lips increases, growing bolder as you feel her responding to you, her own lips parting slightly, inviting you to explore further. A soft sigh escapes her, and it echoes in the stillness around you, a sound that sends a shiver of warmth through your entire body.

The kiss grows, building from that initial, tender connection into something more passionate, more urgent. You can feel the tension in your chest, a yearning that rises and swells with every heartbeat, driving you to close any remaining distance between you. Your other hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Unable to feel the heat of her body through the thick suit jacket, your hands trail inside the material, mapping the thin waist of the taller woman.

She’s wearing nothing underneath.

You deepen the kiss further, your tongue brushing against her lower lip, seeking entrance, a silent request that she grants as her lips part further, allowing you in. Her hands find their way to your shoulders, gripping lightly as she leans in. The kiss is no longer just gentle; it’s filled with a fervent need, an unspoken desire that’s been building between you since the beginning of the night. Since you first saw her in this outfit. She’s kissing you back with equal intensity, every movements matching yours, the both of you lost in this moment, hands groping all and everything you can.

“I want these off,” Wanda husks, pupils blown entirely, as she hurriedly pulls at the zip of your jeans, “… now.”

You don’t bother helping the older woman, as you fling your arms around her to pull the jacket off her toned shoulders, a swift competition to see who can undress who first. You managed to discard the jacket before she can shove her hand down your pants, your fingers already groping at her chest. Your lips making their way down from her neck down to her breasts, lapping at the pebbled nipples before you.

With her hand finally between your legs, stroking ever so languidly, she guides you back towards the couch. You’re too distracted to notice the change until you’re on your back and she’s on top of you. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth before you could protest, hips doing most of the work appeasing you, as she thrusts ever so slowly. Giving up, your legs fall open, calves wrapping around the brunette as if to keep her flush against you.

The kiss comes to an end, much to your dismay, with a singular strand of saliva hanging between you both.

“You’re such a brat. You joke, hands smoothing over her ass, pulling forward.

“Says the one who was racing to undress me first.” She immediately retorts, and you push your luck, retaliating by smacking her ass. She gasps before cutting you a sharp look. Grinding harder against you, her head bends to kiss along your pulse. Her canines sink into the soft skin, a sharp sting following closely before her warm tongue laps along the bruised skin.

“Do that again and I won’t fuck you.”

Your mouth opens a few times, but you weren't sure what to say. You only managed a please, which felt pathetic even to your own ears. The laughing quirk of her lips revealed how little Wanda takes you seriously, and why would she? You were already trembling, unable to form a single thought.

So easy.

Turning your head so she could press her lips against yours, she was licking into your mouth, just separating enough so you didn't suffocate, and even then, it did nothing to help the threads of spit remaining between you both.

But it didn't appear that she was going to stop anytime soon, as her fingers trail up your thigh until she reaches your underwear. Her lips twist into a smile at the feeling of the damp fabric, molding to you. Lithe digits sneak inside, spreading your lips, grazing just under your clit and then down low. “This all for me, baby?”

The feeling so overwhelming, you’re unable to reply. Wanda merely laughs before pressing into you, revelling in how easily you swallowed her fingers, hips moving in time with her. The rooms fills with sounds of breathless moans and her fingers fucking you, her other hand snaked under your top to pinch at your nipples.

“Feels so good.” You manage to stutter out, and bring her down to your lips. Once again, locked in another fervent kiss, moans spilling into her mouth.

A knock on the door jolts you out of your reverie, lips smacking as you pull away, eyes drawn towards the source. Panic surges in your chest as you remember earlier Wanda had invited some of her cast mates to your suite for a games night. Helplessly, you attempt to get your girlfriend to stop, your hand curling around her wrist pumping into you, but she didn’t. Instead, she speeds up, fingers now sliding in at a bruising pace in comparison to her earlier slower one. Your knees were trembling, cunt pulsing around her rigid knuckles, as her thumb circles your clit desperately.

“Gotta be quick, baby,” She huffs, energy depleting with each thrust, whispering terms of endearment as you convulsed, muffling your sounds of pleasure into her neck. Her chest heaves, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she hovers over you.

You couldn't help the way your body shudders, so sensitive, every nerve ending screaming for her to stop and yet for her to continue. Trembling a little less now, her fingers slip out of you cautiously, soothing along your flushed skin despite being coated in you. She studies the room accessing the damage before turning back towards you, noticing you’re already looking up at her, the buzz of your orgasm fading away slightly.

To be honest, you didn’t want games night to happen.

You wanted to spend the rest of your night wrapped up in your girlfriend’s arms, listening to her steady heartbeat as she held you close. But you knew Wanda was shy, and in this industry, she struggled to make friends. It was a hard world to navigate, full of people who wanted something from her or who couldn’t look past her fame to see the wonderful person she was beneath it all. You didn’t want to get in the way of that, all because you were feeling needy and wanting her sole attention. It was her night. Wanda deserved to have friends, people she could laugh with, people who would remind her that not everyone wanted something from her. So, despite the ache in your chest, you pushed your feelings aside, biting down on your lip, trying to suppress the soft whimper that threatens to escape, but she notices.

She always notices.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, and then your cheek, and then your nose. Her lips were warm, comforting, grounding you back to the present. “You did so well, sweetheart.” She leans down placing one last kiss – this time upon your lips, “You know I love you, right?”

You nod, a shy smile curling at the corner of your mouth. “I love you too.”

“Good,” she hums softly, her voice carrying a note of finality. “Now, come on,” her hand behind your back guiding you to your feet, “help me tidy up?”

You groan playfully, your muscles protesting as you try to follow her lead. You wobble when you stand, a reminder of just how thoroughly she’d loved you, and she chuckles, steadying you with a hand on your waist

“Easy there.” She teases, holding tight to your waist. You feel her breath tickle the top of your head, and then, with a gentleness that contrasts the intensity of earlier, she places a chaste kiss upon your tousled hair, before collecting her jacket and buttoning it up around herself like before.

"Oh, Tony’s gonna have a field day when he sees you," she murmurs, the amusement in her voice impossible to miss. You can almost picture it now—Tony’s raised eyebrows, the sly grin that would stretch across his face when he spots the two of you looking disheveled as ever, and the sex joke already bursting free from his smart ass mouth.

“Whatever, Maximoff.” You push her away and in the direction of the door, “go let them in.”

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 3

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, eldritch monster

A/N: Here is part 3 at last! It started to get a bit long so I decided to break it up into 2 parts. This one is just fluff (no smut), but don't worry, I am posting part 4 with more tentacle shenanigans at the same time so you won't have to wait!

Since it fits, I'm also tagging this for #10 Tentacles from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

The next morning you wake to the bright sunlight streaming through the open window of your bedroom. Blinking open groggy eyes, you stretch your sore muscles with a groan. You smile to yourself at the memories from last night as you admire the bright red circular marks that cover your skin. You realize then that the tentacle monster is no longer holding your hand.

Leaning over the side of your bed, you peer under it but there’s nothing there. You sigh in disappointment and get up to grab some clothes from your closet. Just as you finish pulling them on, a soft rustling sound comes from behind you and you turn in excitement.

To your delight, you see a few tentacles peeking out from under your bed, gently feeling around on the sheets as if looking for you.

“You came back!” You exclaim as you rush over to it.

“Of course, my sweet. I will never leave you,” its deep, cosmic voice echoes in your head. Before you have a chance to wonder at its statement, it continues, “Did you rest well?”

“Yeah.” A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, “Thank you.” Biting your lip, you tentatively ask, “Will…will you come out so I can see you?”

The monster is quiet for a beat before saying, “I do not want to scare you.”

How bad could it really be? 

“I won’t be afraid, I promise.”

“I am not like your kind or anything that lives in this dimension.”

This dimension? Now you’re really curious, but you decide to table those questions for later in favor of coaxing this monster out from under your bed.

“I know,” you say as you take a step forward. You’ve already jumped way past the line of sanity by letting it fuck you with its tentacles so you might as well dive into the deep end at this point. “But you’ve seen all of me and I want to see all of you in return.”

It doesn't say anything for several moments and you wait patiently. “Very well,” it finally replies.

You watch with bated breath as the tentacles begin to slide forward. Soon there are dozens spilling from beneath your bed, squirming and writhing as a massive shape begins to form. Within moments, the monster has fully emerged and is looming over you, nearly blocking out the light from the window.

You gape in awe at the creature before you. Amidst the sea of tentacles that writhe from every side, is an amorphous, dark mass. You can’t quite tell what it’s made of but it looks almost like goo. When you take a step closer to get a better look, you can see that the surface is not actually black, but rather a deep shade of dark purple. The color appears to shimmer in the daylight as it gently undulates under your gaze. You also notice that it’s slightly transparent since you can make out the faint outline of your desk behind it.

As you stare at the creature, trying to drink in all the details, the tentacles begin to shift along its body so that a blank space forms on the side that’s facing you. Without warning, dozens of eyes suddenly blink open in front of you and you yelp in surprise. When a wide slit appears below the eyes, revealing two rows of black, razor sharp teeth, your breath catches in your throat and you take a half step back.

The tentacles droop at your reaction. “See? I told you that you would not like what you saw.”

“No!” You hurry to explain, “I was just startled, that’s all.”

“I will change my form to better suit your liking.”

You watch in fascination as the tentacles begin to melt into the dark mass until they are all gone. The eyes and mouth close and disappear as well. Its body then begins to morph, rippling and shuttering as it reforms into a roughly humanoid shape. Amazingly, the surface also flickers as the color lightens to a soft pink.

Two of its eyes blink open again in the approximate location of where human eyes would be. Except that one of the eyes is a bit too low, looking as if it’s melting off. The mouth also reappears, much smaller this time, but still with the same deadly teeth. When the monster stretches its mouth wide in a gut-churning imitation of a smile, you grimace.

Now this is utterly terrifying.

Swallowing the bile that’s trying to climb up your throat, you manage to choke out, “No—no that’s ok. I like your normal form just fine.”

“Are you sure? Would this not make you more comfortable?”

“I’m sure,” you say with a pained smile. “You can change back.”

“Very well then.”

You sigh in relief when the monster quickly shifts back to its original shape. When it first appeared, you thought it was beautiful in its own way, with its shimmering surface and gorgeous dark purple color. But now, after seeing the monstrosity of its “humanoid” version, you find that you quite like its true form.

“Much better,” you say with a genuine smile this time. Your grin only widens when it wriggles in obvious pleasure at your words.

“Hey, what’s your name, by the way?” You ask, realizing you never actually had a proper introduction.

“I am called *garbled noises*”

Whatever name it just gave you is completely unintelligible to you. “Umm…sorry, what?”

It repeats the same unintelligible noises again and you wince, knowing it will be impossible for you to grasp, let alone repeat. “I uh—I don’t know if I can pronounce that. But the beginning kind of sounds like ‘Karl’. Would it be alright if I called you that?”

“You—you would give me a name?” It asks in a stunned tone.

Worried that you may have offended it, you try to backtrack a little, “I don’t have to! Only if you’re ok with it, I mean. I just—”

“I would be honored to be named you,” it interrupts you, its voice reverent.

Sighing in relief, you grin. “Ok then. It’s nice to meet you, Karl.”

“Kaaarrrlll,” it says, dragging out the sounds as if testing them out. “I shall be Karl from now on. Thank you very much for this gift, I will cherish it for eternity.”

Reaching out a tentacle towards you, Karl curls the end into a ball and holds it there. You stare down at it in confusion, blinking a few times. “What…what are you doing?”

“Is this not what humans do in greeting?” Karl replies, reaching down to grab your opposite arm with a tentacle. It wraps around your hand, manipulating it until your hand is in a fist. Then Karl lightly taps its balled up tentacle against your closed fist and says, “Sup, bro?”

You continue to stare in utter confusion for a moment until it dawns on you that Karl just tried to fist bump you and you burst out laughing.

“What is so amusing?” It asks in a mildly affronted voice. “I have seen many humans greet each other this way. The ones who throw around the big orange ball do this a lot.”

“That’s not…” you try to reply through wheezing gasps but you’re still laughing too hard. After a minute, you finally settle down and catch your breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… that’s how friends might greet each other.”

“Are we not friends?”

“Well…” you hesitate. “We could be. But since we…Uh... Since we were intimate… That’s not how lovers would greet each other.” You manage to stumble through your explanation, hoping Karl understands what you’re trying to say.

“Are we…” it pauses, as if mulling over the word, “lovers?”

“I mean, I guess?” You hedge, not quite meaning for it to come out as a question.

“And how do lovers greet each other?”

Laughing awkwardly, you rub the back of your neck. “They…would kiss each other.” You can feel your cheeks flaming at the thought. This monster literally fucked you senseless twice and here you are, blushing like a school girl at the thought of kissing it.

“Kiss?”

Oh gods. Your cheeks manage to grow even hotter. Taking a step closer so that you’re only a few inches from Karl, you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, like this,” you say as you lean in and place a soft kiss on its now closed mouth.

Karl is quiet for a moment before demanding, “Do it again.”

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

taglist: @blushycadaver @pearlofrose @gothicsugarslvt

[syoddeye]

consequence / shopping

price x f!reader | 1.5k words series directory tags: stalking mention, white lies, jp fears no 'friend zone', entitled cats a/n: john price vs. his feelings. john price vs. old man allegations. john price vs. his barista . ☕

john’s grip tightens on the wheel as he turns onto her street. he’s imagined this moment since he set her in his sight. possessing the patience of a sniper comes in handy with endeavors such as this, and it’s good to pull a trigger that isn’t lethal for once.

she’s waiting outside. good girl.

nose-deep in her phone, she doesn’t notice him until he’s a building away. his heart jumps into his throat when her eyes lift, and her face follows. she squints, then shades her eyes with a hand. a smile breaks the mild confusion, and she rises to her feet from the steps outside her door.

he forces himself to relax, painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze. he can’t risk running her off, but he has to see it—the moment of realization.

~~

it cannot be the same car. calm down, you order yourself, plastering a small smile on your face as john rolls to a stop, grinning back through the window. it’s statistically impossible. there are thousands of cars in town, plenty of the same make and model. this is just the universe’s idea of a cruel joke: giving your favorite customer the same car you smashed your face and arm into. your good hand shakes as you open the door and sink into the passenger seat.

coincidences happen.

~~

“hey.”

“afternoon. you look nice.”

“yeah? i was worried you wouldn’t recognize me without the apron.” she says wryly, draping her bags over her lap.

i’ve memorized your face and more. which one would think would help decipher the minutiae of her expressions. does she recognize the car? remember it? she was drunk and crashed hard enough to break bone—fuck, he hadn’t thought of the effects of the impact. too caught up.

he watches her buckle, eyes falling to her cast. it’s filling with signatures fast. the space that held his number is covered in a drawing of a cat. all that remains is ‘john’. 

“did you draw over my number?”

“i didn’t think you’d want the free advertising.”

smart girl. the number isn’t traceable further than falsified records, but it's best to avoid nuisance. he lets the doodle eclipse his grand scheme and pretends to adjust the mirror. he’ll wait until the time is right. “that i don’t.”

the drive to her preferred market is ten minutes by car. she might’ve managed alone, but he’s done some of his best work in ten minutes. performed miracles and misdeeds. he spends this bit on recon.

he susses out a little more information about her life: she’s worked, on and off, as a barista for nearly a decade. she recently took in a kitten, the very one depicted on her arm, and named her chicken cutlet a tortoiseshell.

“it's all i had for food. now cece’s a snob.”

“points for uniqueness.” he grins and gestures at the doodle on her arm. though he doesn’t have much of an eye for art, it’s obviously stylized. “and creativity. bet you did her justice, like a regular artist.”

the comment, meant as a compliment, makes her wince. she ducks her head in poorly concealed shame, pretending to check something in her wallet. it comes out casually, like a weather report—she dropped out of an mfa program to move here, for the ex, a year ago.

the details resurrect his anger. 

the tremble in her hand tells him to leave it. he will. for now.

the car park is packed, and it’s all he can do to not celebrate when he finds a space on the first go. he cannot be much older than her, but he’d rather avoid feeding the ‘old man’ reputation his sergeants encourage.

she separates her reusable bags as they climb out of the car. “do you have any pets?”

he circles to her side and takes them without asking, “no. afraid my schedule doesn’t allow for it.”

“oh.” 

he beats her to the baskets, tossing her bags into the bottom, and she strolls past him. he traipses behind, head on a subtle swivel, inwardly tickled at how normal it feels. it’s not often he shops, let alone in the company of a bird. it makes him puff up. go a bit softer in the face, especially when a woman roughly his mother’s age gives them a long, wistful look in produce.

it’s nice playing house, even in the middle of a bustling supermarket, dodging the less spatially aware and rogue children. it strokes his ego to flex an arm over her head to reach the shelves she can’t and carry a bag of cat litter in the other. he cracks a joke about tinned fish, and though she doesn’t laugh, he can tell she wants to. how she ignores his suggestions and color commentary on other shoppers. it’s fascinating to watch her, all business, as if she were behind the coffee bar. tapping items off the list on her phone, triple-checking a recipe.

while she’s distracted, slowly loading the conveyor belt one item at a time, john pushes his luck. he slips his card and pays.

her focus breaks when she sidles up, reaching for her wallet, only for the cashier to offer the receipt. she takes it, confusion turning to understanding, and her jaw clenches. her thanks are muttered, and she promptly joins him in bagging what’s left.

he knows she’s upset before she speaks, practically punching items into the bag.

“please don’t do that again.” she whispers. “my wrist is broken. i am not broke.”

angry as she is, she sails out the doors without waiting. clearly expecting him to tote her bags like a porter and follow.

which he does, of course. it’s what he signed on for.

good view, at least.

the ride back to her place is quiet, but he feels the tension burning away with the light. it’s damn distracting how the sun plays off her skin and hair. ten minutes fly by. she turns to him as the car idles, a storm of thoughts in her eyes. severe, tempestuous, and pretty.

“park. you’re not off the clock.”

“yes, ma’am.”

the bag handles loop into one fist, and the litter rests on his shoulder. he beams, and with the complete confidence he usually carries himself, he starts up the steps of her building.

“uh…john?” 

he glances over his shoulder and sees her fidgeting at the bottom of the stairs.

“that’s…not actually my address.”

his brows raise, fall, and pinch in rapid succession. the minx. a fake address. smart.

she sheepishly apologizes on the walk to one street over and explains. 

“i mean, this part’s weird.” 

“what part?”

“befriending regulars,” she shrugs. “the counter’s there for a reason—to sling espresso, yeah, but it’s also a social barrier.”

“do you often befriend regulars?” he hopes not.

“god, no.”

thank christ. he’ll start memorizing faces on his next trip, just in case.

“but being polite to people is part of my job.”

he cracks a careful grin. “do you get reprimanded for that?”

her eyes roll. “ha. ha. no. my manager’s a coward and afraid of me. what i mean is, it’s a tightrope. be nice, but don’t be too nice to the wrong people, else they’ll stalk you or something.”

john’s gut tightens. what was his plan again? expose her? he manages a chuckle. “and am i one of those…wrong people?” effortless.

“well, you’re a minute from my kitchen with an invitation. so.” she smirks after a second. “are you fishing for a compliment? for me to say you’re special?”

heat shoots up his neck and colors his cheeks. “i am not–”

“relax. i’m joking. but you are the first customer i’ve brought back to my place.”

the phrasing instantly sets him on high alert. it could mean nothing. it could mean anything.

her place is markedly worse than her fake one. he does not like the look of the neighbors, but the exterior light reaches the walk. he bites his tongue when she veers to the side, cutting down a set of steep stairs to the basement. it won’t do, not long-term.

but the interior of her flat—it’s everything he did and did not expect. 

it’s sensibly furnished and lit to compensate for its floor plan and limited windows. it’s cozy and colorful, with artwork fixed to the walls and littering various surfaces. some pieces are more notable than others: tiny statuettes of women, a diptych of a cow, and a collage of what looks like found notes. in the living area, there is a console and a headset, a small collection of games and dvds, and ten too many knickknacks. a stuffed backpack occupies a seat at the table.

he moves mechanically behind her, toeing off his shoes and treading straight into the surprisingly decently sized kitchen. he sets the bags and litter down, rolling his shoulder as he soaks it all in.

might be his only chance, after all.

something bumps his shin. two big amber-colored eyes stare up at him, unblinking.

“you must be the famous cece.” 

“the one and only.”

the young cat weaves through his legs, then jumps, immediately sticking her pointy head into the bag containing the chicken. she meows, indignant, when her human automatically hooks her around the middle without looking and returns her to the floor.

“bad.” she murmurs, unpacking. “would you mind setting the litter next to the door down the hall?”  

john obeys, though he lingers outside of said door, staring through a crack into the dark of her room. she has a big, comfortable-looking bed. a shudder passes over him. an unhelpful throb. christ. feels like a fucking teenager. he pulls himself together, retreating toward the door to leave. probably overstayed his welcome.

just as he turns to say his goodbyes, she glares from the kitchen. around her neck, untied, hangs an apron—don’t be afraid to take whisks.

“where are you going? i’m making dinner.”

it’s not an invitation. it’s an order.

he slips his shoe off.

“yes, ma’am.”

[kikyoupdates]

NSFW Alphabet | Nanami Kento x F!Reader

NSFW with Nanami Kento

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It comes as no surprise that Nanami is diligent and attentive with his aftercare. He’ll be sure to wipe you down, bring you a glass of cold water, some clean clothes to change into, and just about anything else you need. 

He also just enjoys spending time with you afterwards. He likes basking in the afterglow, the warmth of your presence. He’s more than happy to lie next to you and hold you snug against his broad chest as he gently strokes your hair and occasionally presses kisses to your forehead.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nanami’s favorite body part of himself is probably his hands. They help give him some sense of assurance, as if he’s strong and in control. A lot of this has to do with his lifestyle as a jujutsu sorcerer, but he also relies on his hands to touch you, hold you, and protect you. He’s not really the type to spend much time fixating on his own appearance (even though you constantly tell him how attractive he is).

Nanami’s favorite body part of yours would either be your eyes, or your lips. He can never get over the way you look at him, with so much want and adoration. It makes him feel seen, loved, and at peace. He also loves your lips because of how soft they feel when he kisses you, and how pretty you look when they curve into a smile. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum doesn’t have a particularly distinct taste. It isn’t overly bitter or unpleasant, mainly because he takes care of himself and has a pretty good diet. 

It usually comes out pretty thick spurts when he finishes, though. Nanami would never try to pressure you into having sex without protection, but if you’re on birth control or if you’re trying to get pregnant, he has to admit, he loves the feeling of being able to have sex raw and finish inside of you. He can’t help but be mesmerized when he pulls out and watches his cum ooze out of your wet, swollen pussy. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Nanami is honestly pretty vanilla, and he doesn’t really feel like any of his sexual preferences are so outlandish that they need to be hidden. If he had to pick, his dirtiest secret would probably be that he’s fantasized of filming the two of you while you have sex, just so that he can watch it back on his own time, when he’s missing you. He would never bring this up himself, though, so you would definitely have to be the one to suggest it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced. He isn’t the kind of guy to have had many partners, and he definitely doesn’t enjoy casual sex, either. But what he lacks in numbers, he more than makes up for in natural perception and attentiveness. He loves you, which means he’s going to be focusing on all of your reactions, down to the most subtle details. It won’t take him long to learn exactly what you like, and what has you moaning the loudest. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favorite positions are missionary or when you’re facing towards him and straddling his lap. Nanami much prefers the positions where he can clearly see your face while you’re having sex. He also loves having your arms constantly wrapped around him, and the feeling of your breasts pushed up against his chest.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious. Not in a stern way, but he’s definitely not the type to tease or crack any jokes during sex. He just focuses all of his attention on savoring the moment and making sure you feel good.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Definitely well groomed and regularly trims down there for a neat, tidy appearance. The carpet mostly matches the drapes—his hair down there is a darker shade of blond than the hair on his head. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nanami is extremely intimate in general, and this carries over into the bedroom too. He’ll almost always be hugging you tight during the act, or if one of your hands is free, he’ll make sure to interlock your fingers with his. He will repeatedly praise you during the act, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are, and he won’t hesitate to tell you he loves you, either. 

Sex makes him feel even more vulnerable than usual, but he trusts you with his whole heart, and won’t hesitate to show how he feels.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nanami very rarely jacks off. He would occasionally do it back when he was single, but since you’ve become his partner, he much prefers to do something intimate with you instead. The only instances where he’ll choose to jack off are if he’s apart from you for an extended period of time, or if you send him a dirty picture and he gets too excited to hold back.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He definitely has a praise kink. The more you compliment him and tell him how much you love him, the more turned on he’ll get. He also enjoys seeing you go out of your way to look pretty for him (even though you always look pretty), by wearing lingerie and stuff. It’s less about the actual lingerie, and more so the fact that you’re always thinking of him and doing your best to make him happy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom, all the way. For Nanami, sex is a very private, intimate affair, and he would never want to do it in risky places where you might get caught. He also hates the thought of someone walking in and seeing you naked. So, most of the time, you’ll end up doing it in the bedroom, but other places around the apartment are also a possibility (like on the couch, against a wall, etc.)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What turns Nanami on is when you tell him how badly you want him. Hearing how much you love him and cherish him not only fills him with happiness and fulfillment, but every time you profess your feelings without holding anything back, he can’t help but want to take you right then and there. The more you praise him and remind him of how much he means to you, the more likely he is to pin you down to the bed. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Mostly anything involving pain. He doesn’t enjoy getting hurt, but most importantly, he would never want to hurt you either. Within reason, of course. If you ask him to bite you a bit or pull your hair, he might be open to it. But he tends to avoid stuff like choking or more hardcore stuff.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving over receiving. Not that he doesn’t love the sight of you choking on his cock, guiding your lips up and down his length as you stare up at him through teary eyes (it actually drives him insane), but if he had to choose, he would still rather spread your legs and eat you out as if you’re his last meal. Nanami’s favorite thing is making you feel pleasure. He loves your sweet taste, the moans you let out, and being able to feel your thighs twitch when you orgasm. 

He will also gladly let you sit on his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual. Nanami’s goal is always to make you finish and have you practically seeing stars because of how good he makes you feel. He wants the sex to be intimate, but also passionate, and he’d rather pace himself and hit all your sweet spots rather than rush to a climax. It’s also easier to stare into your eyes and kiss you when he maintains a slower pace. Intimacy is the most important part to him, and there will definitely be moments where he pounds into you a lot faster, but as a whole, he prefers to take his time and carefully explore every inch of your body. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Nanami definitely prefers proper sex over a quickie. Even if you approach him with the intention of a quickie, it’ll usually turn into a much longer, much more passionate session. He wants to make love to you, not just fuck you, so quickies with him are exceedingly rare. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t often experiment. If anything, you will have to be the one to suggest new things in the bedroom, and again, he’ll only do things that don’t involve seriously hurting you. As a whole, he’s pretty vanilla. He tries to be open-minded because he loves you and wants to make you happy, but he won’t take that many risks.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Near endless stamina. Not only because he’s a powerful, trained jujutsu sorcerer, but his physique alone should be proof enough that he won’t tire easily. Since he doesn’t rush anything, he’s able to control himself and avoid finishing too fast. But even if he does finish, he’s more than happy to go another round—or however many you want, really. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does not own any toys, and prefers to have sex without them. If you really, really want to try out a particular toy that’s not too extreme, he’ll consider it. But he would only ever use it on you, not himself. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Almost never teases. Sometimes in the moment he might make the odd remark, while chuckling in that deep, gravelly voice of his, but usually, whatever he says he’s going to do to you, he will do to you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely more on the quiet side. You’ll hear him gasp softly every now and then, and he’ll bite back moans as well. The sounds he makes during are unbelievably sexy, but he’s mindful of not being too loud. You’ll mostly notice the changes in his expression instead, like how his brows knit together, and how he’ll clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut when something feels extra good. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It doesn’t necessarily even have to involve sex, but Nanami loves just taking a bath together with you. He finds it incredibly relaxing, and he adores the sensation of your soft, damp skin against his. He’ll hold you close, and he’ll even gently scrub your back or wash your hair. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s roughly 7.5 inches long when fully erect, but even more impressive is just how thick his cock is. It stretches you out perfectly and always leaves you craving more. The veins along his shaft are pretty noticeable, and the head flushes a deep red while he’s hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he met you, he had a below-average sex drive. Sex really wasn’t his priority and he didn’t think about it much. But since sex is more about intimacy for him, and connecting with his partner even more, his sex drive has definitely increased. He’ll find it difficult to keep his hands off you, and if you approach him yourself, it’s very unlikely that he’ll ever refuse.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep easily, and is more than happy to cuddle you after sex. You’re usually the one who falls asleep before him, and he doesn’t mind. He’ll just hold you close and smile as he gazes upon your peaceful, resting expression, and eventually, he’ll be so relaxed and at ease that he’ll fall asleep too. 

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[sadnymi]

Nonsense

[Theodore Nott × reader]

Summary: you have always been Hogwarts perfect girl ,excelled academically, demonstrated exemplary behavior, and has been a role model, but your obsession with Theodore Nott was getting out of hands.

Warning: fluff, strong language.

Words:3k.

I had been obsessed with Theodore Nott for as long as I could remember. Every morning before class, I’d muster up the courage to say, “Hi, Theo,” my voice soft and shy. I couldn’t help but blush every time he glanced my way.

In the Great Hall, I always found myself sitting at the nearest table to him during meals, stealing glances in his direction. Theodore was effortlessly cool, the quintessential bad boy, and it only made him more irresistible. His presence was magnetic, and I found myself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Despite my nerves, I made a decision. Today would be the day I finally talked to him. As I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart, I reminded myself that I had nothing to lose.

I saw him sitting alone in a corner of the library, sketching something intently. My heart skipped a beat. This was my chance. I approached him slowly, my palms sweaty, and my mind racing with all the possible things I could say without making a complete fool of myself.

“H-hi, Theo,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What’s up?”

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “I, uh, I just wanted to say that your drawing is really, um, beautiful,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, you’re really talented. Like, really, really talented. It’s just so...beautiful. And, um, did I mention you’re talented?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Thanks,” he said, clearly amused by my nervous rambling. “I appreciate it.”

I felt my face heat up, my cheeks undoubtedly a bright shade of red. “What are you drawing?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He tilted the sketchpad so I could see. It was a detailed drawing of a dragon, its scales intricately shaded, its eyes fierce and alive. “It’s incredible,” I breathed, genuinely impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You like dragons, huh?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, they’re fascinating creatures. And the way you’ve captured its essence is just...amazing. You’re amazing.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that made my stomach flutter. “You’re quite the fan, aren’t you, Y/N?”

I bit my lip, nodding shyly. “I guess you could say that.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, you’re cute when you’re all flustered.”

I felt my blush deepen, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Th-thank you,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. “You should stay. Maybe I’ll draw you next what do you think?”

My eyes widened, and I felt a rush of excitement. “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. I think it’d be fun.”

I sat down across from him, feeling a mix of nervousness and exhilaration. “I’d love that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mesmerized by the way his hand moved across the paper, I didn't even notice someone approaching. My mind was completely absorbed in Theo’s sketch and the subtle expressions on his face. I was smiling, lost in the moment, when suddenly, Theo’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” A voice cut through my trance, but I barely registered it, still smiling and looking at Theo.

“Y/N,” Theo said, looking between me and someone else.

“Yeah?” I responded, still a little dazed.

He nodded towards my ex, who was standing there awkwardly. “He wants to talk to you.”

I blinked, finally noticing jacob standing there. “Oh, hi,” I said, my voice flat.

Jacob gave a tight smile. “Can we talk, Y/N?”

“Sure,” I replied, standing up reluctantly. Jacob frowned but took my arm, gently steering me away. I kept glancing back over my shoulder, my eyes drawn to Theo, who was already back to his drawing, seemingly unfazed.

“Y/N,” Jacob started, but I was only half-listening, my attention still fixated on Theo.

“Y/N?” Jacob repeated, more insistently.

“Yeah?” I asked, finally looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, but his words were a blur. All I could think about was Theo’s sketch, his focused expression, the way his hand moved so confidently across the page.

“Y/N!” Jacob said sharply, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Just go away, Jacob,” I said, waving him off without really thinking.

“But, Y/N—”

“I’m serious, Jacob. Just leave me alone.” I turned back towards Theo, who was still engrossed in his drawing. I hurried back over to him, feeling a mix of relief and excitement.

Theo looked up as I approached, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who was that?”

“Who?” I asked, momentarily confused by the intensity of his gaze.

“The guy you were just talking to,” Theo said, smirking slightly.

“Oh! Him. That’s…uh…” I stammered, trying to remember. “Jacob! That’s Jacob. He’s my ex.”

“ You forgot his name ?” Theo raised an eyebrow, smiling he added. “You seemed pretty distracted.”

I laughed nervously, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I guess I was. I just...couldn’t stop thinking about your drawing....”

“Is that so?” Theo asked, his voice low and teasing. “You must really like my drawings, then.”

“I do!” I said eagerly. “You’re so talented, Theo. I wish I could draw like you.”

He chuckled, the sound making my heart skip a beat. “Why don’t you try?”

“Oh, I’m terrible at drawing,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “You don’t want to see that.”

“Come on,” he insisted, pushing the sketchpad towards me. “I’ll help you.”

I hesitated, then picked up the pencil. My hand shook slightly as I tried to draw a simple line. Theo’s hand covered mine, guiding me gently.

“Like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. He moved my hand slowly, and I felt a thrill shoot through me at his touch.

“I’m really bad at this,” I whispered, embarrassed.

“You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just relax.”

I took a deep breath, letting him guide me. Together, we managed to sketch a rough outline of a dragon. It was nowhere near as good as Theo’s, but it was better than anything I could have done on my own.

“See?” he said, smiling at me. “Not so bad.”

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Thanks, Theo. You’re a great teacher.”

He looked at me, his eyes intense. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Before I could respond, Blaise Zabini sauntered over, his usual confident smirk in place. “Hey, Theo,” he greeted, then turned his attention to me. “Oh, hi, cutie.”

“Hi,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Blaise,” Theo said, acknowledging his friend.

“Just wanted to let you know about the party this weekend,” Blaise said, his eyes flicking between Theo and me. “Should be a good time. You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Theo replied.

Blaise turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why don’t you come too, Y/N? Bring a friend if you want.”

“Can I?” I asked, looking between Blaise and Theo.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Blaise said with a grin. “You and that friend of yours... what was her name again?”

“Y/F/N,” I supplied.

“Right, Y/F/N,” Blaise repeated, nodding. “But are you sure you’re up for it? These parties can get pretty wild.”

I smiled, a determined glint in my eye. “I can handle it. You’d be surprised.”

Blaise chuckled, clearly amused by my confidence. “What do you think, Nott?”

Theo smiled, his gaze meeting mine. “Yeah, she can come. Should be interesting.”

As soon as I was out of earshot, I practically sprinted to find Y/F/N. I spotted her in the common room, reading a book. I burst in, unable to keep the news to myself.

“Y/F/N!” I exclaimed, causing her to look up in surprise.

“What’s got you so excited?” she asked, marking her place in the book.

“I talked to Theo today,” I said breathlessly, sitting down next to her. “And Blaise invited us to a party this weekend!”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Theo Nott?”

“Yes!” I said, practically bouncing with excitement. “And he helped me draw, and he was so sweet, and then Blaise came and invited us to the party!”

Y/F/N grinned, her excitement matching mine. “We definitely need to go shopping for new outfits.”

“Absolutely.“

The end of the year was fast approaching, and the air in the Great Hall buzzed with anticipation. Professor Filius Flitwick stood at the front, addressed the assembled students.

“As you all know, the Yule Ball is a time-honored tradition,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. “This year, we have the honor of selecting one student to represent Hogwarts at the ball. This student has consistently excelled academically, demonstrated exemplary behavior, and has been a role model for their peers.”

I felt my heart pound in my chest, my mind racing with possibilities. Could it be me? I had always been at the top of my year, never cursed, never got into trouble. But still, it felt like a dream too far out of reach.

Professor Flitwick continued, his gaze sweeping over the students. “It is my pleasure to announce that this year’s representative for Hogwarts will be... Y/N Y/L/N!”

The Great Hall erupted into applause, and I felt my face heat up with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. I stood up slowly, my legs feeling a bit wobbly as I made my way to the front. Professor Flitwick smiled warmly at me as he shook my hand.

“Congratulations, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “You’ve truly earned this.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I managed to say, my voice shaking slightly. I turned to face the hall, my heart soaring as I saw my friends cheering for me.

As I made my way back to my seat, I caught sight of Theo, his signature smirk firmly in place. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking every bit the confident bad boy he was known to be.

“I knew it would be you,” he said as I approached, his voice low and teasing.

I felt a giggle escape my lips, my cheeks burning. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said, his smirk widening. “You’re the perfect student. Always top of the class, never in trouble. It was a given.”

I bit my lip, trying to contain my excitement. “Thanks,”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze intense. “So, you’re coming to the party, right?”

I nodded, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face. “Yes, I am.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

I felt a shiver of excitement at his words, my heart fluttering in my chest. Just then, one of his friends called out to him from across the hall.

“Theo! Come on, we’re going to be late!”

Theo glanced over his shoulder and then back at me. “Looks like I need to go. See you at the party?”

“See you there,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the weekend approached, Y/F/N and I spent hours picking out the perfect outfits for the party. And we were getting ready in our dormitory, the excitement palpable in the air.

“How do I look?” I asked, twirling in front of the mirror.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Y/F/N said, adjusting her earrings. “Theo won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

I blushed. “Let’s hope so.”

We made our way to the party, the corridors of Hogwarts buzzing with the energy of students eager to celebrate. As soon as we entered the room, Blaise Zabini spotted us and sauntered over, his usual charming smile firmly in place.

“Ladies,” he greeted us, his eyes sparkling. “You both look stunning tonight.”

“Hi, Blaise,” I said, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

“Hi,” Y/F/N added, smiling.

Blaise turned his charm up a notch, giving Y/F/N an appreciative once-over. “You both are making everyone else look underdressed.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks, Blaise.”

As the night went on, I found myself searching the room for any signs of Theo. The party was in full swing, with students laughing, dancing, and enjoying themselves. We eventually found a spot to sit, and a few people came over to congratulate me on being chosen to represent Hogwarts at the Yule Ball.

Blaise leaned in, his smile never wavering. “Can I get you ladies a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” I said quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I do,” Y/F/N chimed in, giving me a playful nudge. “But only if it’s something good.”

Blaise laughed, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

As Blaise left, I continued to search the room for Theo. My eyes finally landed on him, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked incredibly handsome in a black shirt, the fabric fitting him perfectly and highlighting his lean build. His dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly sexy way, and his eyes scanned the room with an easy confidence.

“There he is,” Y/F/N whispered, noticing my gaze.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest.

Theo’s eyes met mine across the room, and a slow smile spread across his face.

I turned to Y/F/N, trying to steady my breath. “ I can’t breathe. He looks so handsome, I think I might die.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Y/N, you’ve got it bad.”

“No, seriously, that black shirt has me thinking...” I paused dramatically, “no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while I gasp for air and scream the Lord’s prayer, he can top me.”

Y/F/N’s eyes widened, and she tried to interrupt. “Y/N…”

But I was on a roll. “Vertically, horizontally, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, in a chair, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, in the shower, on the street against the wall, until the room reeks. NO BREAKS!”

“Y/N!”

“I mean, come on, have you seen him? He’s so—”

“Y/N!” Y/F/N hissed again, her voice more urgent this time.

“What?” I snapped, feeling a bit annoyed at the interruption.

She looked at me with a horrified smile, trying to point behind me. “Please don’t freak out, but…”

“Please tell me he’s not—” I began, my voice trailing off as I turned slowly to see Theo standing right behind me, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

For a moment, I just stared at him, my brain scrambling to process what had just happened. My heart plummeted, and I was about to fall from my seat.

“Y/N,” Y/F/N said quickly, “I—I really need to go search for Blaise. I think I heard him calling my name.”

She darted away, leaving me alone with Theo. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

“Hey,” he said, his smirk widening. “Quite the imagination you’ve got there.”

“I—uh—” I stammered, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I didn’t know you were...”

“Listening?” he finished for me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Clearly.”

“I, um...” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond.

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “So, vertically and horizontally, huh?”

My face turned beet red. I was about to fall off my seat when he caught me, his hands firm on my waist.

“Easy there,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.

I blinked, trying to find something to say. “Theo, I—”

He gently touched my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Theo chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know, you don’t have to fantasize. All you have to do is ask.”

My breath hitched, and I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. “Ask?”

He nodded, leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “Yeah. Just ask.”

“Theo, I—”

He interrupted me, his face now inches from mine.

“Do you know what really turns me on, Y/N? Hearing you, the perfect little angel, talk so dirty. It’s like discovering a secret side of you. And I have to admit, it’s fucking hot.”

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a moan. "I was just—"

"Just what?" he whispered, leaning in so close that his lips brushed against my ear. "Just fantasizing about me taking you in every possible way? About me fucking you so hard you can’t breathe?"

A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped my lips. He chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me.

"You’re so damn sexy when you’re flustered," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Do you want me to kiss you right now?" he asked, his lips hovering over mine. "Because I want to. So badly."

I nodded, barely able to breathe. "Yes."

He closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands roamed my body, pulling me even closer, and I melted into him, all my senses overwhelmed by his touch.

"Am I interrupting something?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

I pulled away from Theo, my heart racing. "Draco, I—"

Theo sighed, stepping back but not letting go of my hand. "You’ve got impeccable timing, Malfoy," he said dryly.

"Do you two want to join us, or are you planning on giving everyone here a show?"

"We’ll catch up later," Theo said smoothly, his eyes still locked on mine. "You go without us, Draco."

Draco smirked. "Alright."

Theo watched Draco walk away before turning back to me. "Now, where were we?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Theo, I—"

"Let’s start with a date," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "What do you say, Y/N?"

"A date?" I echoed, still trying to process everything.

"Yeah, a date," he said, his eyes softening. "And maybe, we can see if you really do scream God's prayers."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[lime-bloods]

I honestly didn't ever expect that I'd be in the position where I'd be using this blog not just to analyse what has come before in Homestuck, but to look toward the comic's future and do some real old-fashioned theorycrafting. but the time has come. so here goes; lime-bloods' Beyond Canon theories as of the July 6th 2024 update:

Vriska's Going to Hell

were all gonna help you! / whether you like it or not

a select few eagle-eyed readers already noticed that the sound used in last month's (Vriska: Figure shit out yourself.) is called "hell_tierwav". while it was easy to dismiss this as irrelevant composer shenanigans at the time, it's now become clear exactly what this was foreshadowing. whether it would be more apt to call this "Hell" or "Purrgatory" is probably up for debate - but whatever you call it, Vriska's been placed in a dimension seemingly tailored specifically for her personal torment.

while Vriska characteristically interprets the recreation of her childhood home as a symbol of how badass she was, the ghosts of her past - both literal, as the shades of the trolls she killed as Mindfang, and figurative, in the form of sprites wearing the faces of her dead friends - show us in no uncertain terms that Vriska's childhood home is the stage where traumas play out.

Erisolsprite puts it succinctly with his welcome to hell, but pay close attention to what exactly we're being welcomed to: this update ends on page 665. so as of this next update, we'll be starting on page 666.

Does Homestuck Have Hell?

the exact bubble of reality Vriska's currently found herself in seems to be an entirely new construction of the likes we've not yet seen in Homestuck - but that doesn't mean this kind of cosmic torment is without precedent. because while 666 is a number with Satanic connotations in the broader cultural context, it also has a very particular meaning of its own within the world of Homestuck. indeed, the latter half of the comic almost revolves around it, culminating in a climax in Act 6 Act 6 Act 6.

specifically, this repetition of a single digit is emblematic of recursive storytelling. to summarise what you can already read about in detail in my essay The World / The Wheel: when Caliborn is 'gifted' the Act 6 Act 6 supercartridge, which he is told is an "expansion" of Homestuck, it's a trick. there is no "expansion"; he's going to be trapped in a story that never ends because it keeps dividing into smaller and smaller versions of itself forever. the only way to truly beat the devil who trapped the heroes within a story is to trap him in his own story.

that's what Caliborn's "Hell" is, and that's also exactly what the Alternate Calliope achieved in Act 7 by creating the black hole which Vriska knocked Lord English into, ending Homestuck's story - something that Calliope even hints at in this very update, when she refers to the black hole as "containment"; not an accident, but a deliberately crafted prison. black holes are a symbol of recursion and regression; being sucked into one means being forced to live out your whole life over and over again, forever. so really, this is all we ever could have expected to happen when Vriska stepped into a black hole within a black hole! the presentation of the narrative even subtly hints at this; events in Beyond Canon that take place in the black hole are enclosed (in brackets), and now events that take place in a black hole-within-a-black-hole are contained within {curly brackets}, because you should always use a different kind of brackets to differentiate nested parenthesis from each other!

it is absolutely no coincidence that when Caliborn closes the curtains on his appearances in Homestuck, thinking he's won when really he's been condemned to a hell of his own making forever more, it's with a tribute to this exact same Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff strip.

IF YOU REMEMBER JUST ONE THING I SAY, OF SO MANY GREAT THINGS SAID BY ME, THEN PLEASE REMEMBER THIS. I WANTED TO PLAY A GAME.

So What Does That Mean?

one of Beyond Canon's central missions is expanding upon Homestuck's exploration of the relationships between author, text, and audience. as discussed above, a large part of Homestuck's thesis is the evil of forcing characters to live the same lives and the same stories over and over without the chance to grow or move on, and Beyond Canon picks up on this by placing Dirk in the position of trying to keep Homestuck going forever purely to appease its fans, while the Alternate Calliope continues to oppose this ideology. and while the alpha Calliope outwardly seems not to have taken a hard position on where she stands in this cosmic battle, the question posed by her device seems to be an entirely new one: can it actually be a good thing to regress, to return to ground that the story has already covered? can this path lead to something new, rather than merely stagnation?

it's so relevant that Vriska is being confronted with the crimes of her past, not only in the form of all the trolls she was personally responsible for killing but also in the form of the exact same punishment she condemned Lord English to with her heroism - complete with the herd of horses that are always present at Caliborn's demise! but where being condemned to an eternal cycle was fitting punishment for Caliborn, someone who refuses to break free of cycles of abuse and instead chooses to enact that same abuse on the world around him... if Vriska is someone who can break free of these cycles, who can change and become a better person despite what happened to her, will this punishment have the same effect? or, as Davepeta seems to believe, is forcing Vriska to reckon with her own past and traumas exactly what will allow her to break free of that cycle?

DAVE: [...] ill just be over here in the hyper gravity chamber training to beat lord english KARKAT: WE HAVE A HYPER GRAVITY CHAMBER???

it's hard not to be struck by the parallels in design and purpose between the Plot Point and Dragon Ball's Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and not just because of the Dragon Ball enthusiasts present on Beyond Canon's writing and art teams: albeit in typically Strider-bastardised form, the Time Chamber got a shoutout in Andrew Hussie's own Homestuck (see quote above), in a reference that was even picked up on by prolific theorist bladekindeyewear at the time. for the uninitiated: the Hyperbolic Time Chamber allowed its users to train for extended stretches of time, sometimes even spanning years, while a significantly smaller time period passed in the world outside - something that is actually true of real-life black holes! and with the Plot Point's own emphasis on time, represented by the hourglass included among its mechanisms, it seems to me that an essential part of making the 16-year-old Vriska ready for the trials ahead will be giving her the time to undergo the same growth her adult friends have experienced.

considering that Beyond Canon is already playing in the Ultimate Self space, where there are levels of power beyond merely the "god tiers", it also doesn't seem too farfetched to speculate that Vriska, forced to reckon with the fact that becoming a powerful Thief of Light isn't the be-all and end-all of personal growth, will take another leaf out of Dragon Ball's book here and ascend "beyond Super Saiyan". perhaps this is even the "hell tier" so cheekily alluded to in the Plot Point flash? certainly this kind of evolution would be the perfect way to challenge Dirk's belief that the Ultimate Self is the only logical final step for a character's development.

whatever the case, I believe we can take Davepeta at their word here. I don't think it's just a joke that by the end of this ordeal Vriska Serket is going to be fucking RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPED!

[ddarker-dreams]

Cherubim.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Implied trauma, Gojo and Geto are both weird + manipulative. Word count: 6k.

-Index-

March 18th, 2006. 

2:26 p.m.

-

Gojo Satoru has found himself embroiled in his greatest turmoil yet. 

Assassination attempts? That’s nothing, he’s waved those off since he was a kid. Jujutsu politics? The higher-ups can yap until they’re blue in the face; they’re all bark, no bite. Curses? Similarly inconsequential. No matter how much power they hold, they're reduced to speckled splatters the instant they cross his path. 

For most, experiencing one of these dilemmas would prove too overwhelming, much less all three. He isn’t like most, though. He’s strong. Incomprehensibly strong. He can weather any storm, shift the tides of any battle in his favor. Has this gone to his head? Absolutely. He can handle ‘too much.’ It’s ‘not enough’ that’s proving to be an issue. 

This is why he’s detailing his recent woes to an uninterested Ieri Shoko, who made the mistake of reading in the dormitory’s common area. 

The scene is as follows:

Satoru’s along the length of the couch, his long, lanky limbs dangling wherever they can. He lays his head against the armrest, snowy hair succumbing to gravity in an avalanche that frames his face. He uses his ability to keep his sunglasses from meeting the same fate. Behind the dark frames, his eyes narrow into a piercing stare. If the ceiling were sentient, it would’ve fled by now. Such is the potency of his miserable mood. 

Parallel to him sits Shoko, the fat of her cheek squished upward from resting on her fist for so long. Books, candy wrappers, and notes from last year’s curriculum yet to be thrown away litter the table’s surface. Suguru’s could put a calligraphist to shame, even if they were written in a Badtz-Maru pencil you won from a gachapon. Your notes stand out as well. They’re bright shades of your favorite colors, organized according to a system of your own devising. Occasionally, the handwriting shifts, taking on Suguru or Shoko’s likeness for trickier kanji. You doodle hearts of gratitude around the yomigana they include for good measure. 

(You complained that his handwriting was ‘indecipherable’ when he tried doing the same. Out of spite, he gave you the cold shoulder… for three minutes. He withers and wilts without your attention). 

He sighs and concludes his monologue. 

“So, that just about sums everything up. Well? What’s the prognosis, Doc?” 

“You’re in desperate need of more friends,” Shoko replies. Satoru lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “And you miss [First].” 

Satoru perks up at your mention, finally giving that poor ceiling a much-needed reprieve. He shuffles around until he’s facing Shoko. 

“But she just headed out yesterday.” 

“I know.” 

“That’d make me really weird and clingy, right?” 

“Glad you’re catching on.” 

While Satoru contemplates the previously unconsidered possibility of him being ‘really weird and clingy,’ Shoko reopens her manga. She’s of the mistaken belief that the issue has resolved itself. Unfortunately for her, the problem extends beyond Satoru’s insatiable hunger for you. The problem is Satoru himself. Until he’s running amuck elsewhere, there’ll be no solace. 

She commends herself for her patience. 

In typical Satoru fashion, he continues testing it. 

“When was the last time you updated your passport?” 

“I’m not flying to her home country with you,” Shoko shuts down what he thought was a brilliant plan. “It’s just two weeks. Wait it out.” 

“What if we fly first class?” 

“Gojo.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s still too soon to meet her parents. It’s gotta happen eventually though, right?” 

Shoko doesn’t dignify this with a response. 

Satoru sinks into the cushions. Could there be anything worse than boredom? He has no missions lined up, you and Suguru are visiting family, and the first-years haven’t arrived yet. Pestering Utahime has lost its charm too. He could return home before the school year starts, but he’d rather have his fingers chopped off one by one than suffer that torture. 

“Hey, Shoko.” 

“Mm.” 

“Why aren’t you back home? I thought you got along with your parents.” 

“They’re both busy. I wouldn’t see them much.” 

Satoru doesn’t press the matter. 

It does intrigue him though — the relationship sorcerers have with their non-sorcerer families. Or, to be more specific, yours and Suguru’s familial dynamics intrigue him. Satoru can’t (and doesn’t bother trying) to care for the going-ons of anyone outside his small circle. This is more the hubris of a teenager who has been told he’s special his entire life than anything malicious. To Satoru, the world’s population might as well be stuck at three. 

Regardless, it’s an improvement.

Before meeting Suguru, those in his life consisted almost exclusively of suckups or stuckups. If he was unlucky, it’d be both, rolled into one terrible package. This was his reality. Jujutsu was his reality. He was the first to possess the Limitless and the Six Eyes in generations. The Gojo clan wouldn’t waste such an extraordinary opportunity. He was their pride and joy, personality aside. 

He was born to be the strongest. 

He can’t imagine any other life for himself. 

Then there’s you. 

He could see you leading a normal life. You wouldn’t be top of the class or a varsity athlete, but you’d be well-liked. Boys would nervously ask you out on dates and buy you roses with money they got from mowing lawns. You’d be the first one your friends would call when they experienced heartache. Maybe you’d go to college or land an entry-level job. Some co-worker with a decent sense of humor would win you over. Then you’d get married, rent a property, have a few kids… 

Satoru’s stomach twists. He grimaces, shifting his thoughts elsewhere. Namely, the question that’s bothered him for a while. 

Why did you become a jujutsu sorcerer? 

It was intentional. You chose to leave behind your home, your family. You knew the risks. How the body can break and ache in ways previously unrecorded. And what do you get in return for this thankless crusade? Sleepless nights where you tremble like a leaf beside Shoko? A nimbleness at dressing wounds that could only have come from years of practice? 

You’re open about everything until you aren’t. Fear, mortality, loss — when confronted by these unsightly truths, you retreat to someplace he can’t follow. 

Satoru can’t make sense of it. Neither can Suguru. Shoko says they shouldn’t press the matter. He wants to, though. He needs to know how you break. How else can he ensure that you never will? 

He thinks back to that humid August day. The binding vow eviscerated your insides, shards from fractured bones dug into your organs. Until that point in his life, Satoru prided himself on his immunity to fear. The pathogen never lasted long in his system. After all, fear is born from a lack of control. From having something to lose. If he couldn’t lose, what was there to be afraid of? 

It’s a question he’s been avoiding. 

(“If she dies,” he told Suguru, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “They die too.”)

His mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. He’ll drink that tea you’re fond of later to satiate his thirst. He wonders if you share its taste.

“What’re you reading, anyway?” he asks, hoping to take his mind elsewhere.

“Fruits Basket.” 

He laughs, incredulous. 

“Seriously? Didn’t take you for a shoujo type.” 

“I borrowed it from [First]. We’re doing a book exchange over break.” 

A book exchange… three words Satoru never thought would pique his curiosity. However, anything about you demands his undying attention. Even if it’s shoujo manga. Girls who read that genre do it to project onto the heroine, right? So the love interest must have appealed to you. What tropes do you like? Do you want a shy, sensitive soul who blushes and stutters in your presence? A misunderstood bad boy who’s only soft around you? The responsible student council president? 

Oh, he’ll have so much material to tease you with when you return. He can’t wait. 

“How do I enter this exclusive book club?” Satoru demands. 

“You don’t. I don’t trust your taste,” Shoko replies, much to his chagrin. “You can still read it, though. She has all of the volumes in her room.” 

… Your room? 

He grins from ear to ear.

Should he respect your privacy? Probably. Is he going to? Of course not. He never has, there’s no point in starting now. 

This trip of yours might yet redeem itself. 

-

Along the outskirts of Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru spots an odd woman. 

She’s wearing a baggy graphic tee, low-rise jeans, and gaudy bracelets on both arms. Her black hair is tossed up, thick strands sticking in every direction. Even from this distance, he can discern the silver glint of piercings that dot her ear like constellations. The stranger stands slouched, both her hands shoved into her pockets. For her to have gotten this far, she can’t be a civilian. Those unfamiliar with jujutsu can’t find this place. 

He stays still for a spell — watching and waiting. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to sense his presence. It’s one of the few areas he excels at over Satoru. Satoru’s cursed energy is bright, blindingly so, a thunderous clap that can be heard for miles. Suguru prefers to keep his muted. It coils around his limbs like a serpent, never straying far. This is why you had no difficulty picking out Satoru’s stupefying presence on your first day, whereas he had to make himself known to you. 

Suguru’s lips quirk up. 

He was fated to meet you. 

“Hey! Kiddo!” A deep, somewhat raspy voice exclaims. He blinks rapidly, temporarily thrown off. “This ain’t an art gallery. What’s with the staring?” 

She noticed him? How? 

When the stranger starts slinking his way, he regains his composure. 

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable,” Suguru’s cadence flows smoother than a river. 

“Hah! ‘Uncomfortable?’ That’s a way of putting it,” she pokes the space beneath her emerald eyes twice. “Even now, I can feel ya picking me apart. Shit’s creepy.” 

His smile tightens. “I’ll be more mindful of my conduct in the future, then.” 

She waves him off. Her golden bracelets clink together as she does so, the sound grating his ears. 

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. And I should know. Schemers excel at picking out their brothers in arms,” she juts her head up, giving the impression that she’s the one looking down on him, despite the slight height difference. 

“Anyhow, by the looks of it, you must be Sugu-kun.” 

… Did she just call him Sugu-kun? 

“What? Too soon* to be calling you that? Heh, heh…” 

Suguru’s smile tightens. “You can refer to me however you like, so long as I can return the favor.” 

She guffaws.

“Maaan, Goldie sure was gracious in her description of you,” the woman gives him a lopsided grin. “Name’s Akane. There — is the playing field leveled now?” 

“Ishimoto Akane?”

He doesn’t miss the way she winces as her surname is spoken aloud, rather pointedly at that. 

“Ah. S’pose I had that coming.” 

Suguru decides against prolonging her torment. He’s in a generous mood, it isn’t every day he has a chance to learn more about you. This is an opportunity he’ll take full advantage of. 

“And I presume 'Goldie' is [First]?” 

He makes a mental note to figure out the wordplay for your nickname later. 

“Full marks.”

Suguru hums, a sound indicating that he’s drifting deep into thought. 

You don’t mention your mentor often. When you do, it’s normally in the form of endearing (if not mildly concerning) anecdotes.

“She told me that natto is bits of caramel held together by melted marshmallows, like a Rice Krispy Treat. It… it was not like a Rice Krispy Treat…” 

“... For my twelfth birthday, she got me Pokemon Ruby. I remember crying because Roxeanne’s Nosepass took out my Torchic. My cursed energy spiked and the party had to end early…” 

“... Out of curiosity, I drank her stash of Georgia canned coffee. My heart rate was almost high enough to warrant a trip to the ER…” 

Getting anything else relating to her out of you was like trying to wring water from a rock. Suguru didn’t miss the wistful melancholy underpinning your stories. You recalled them with a far-off expression as if mourning that those days of whimsy were over. Initially, he considered it a consequence of growing up. Childhood idols rarely remain highly esteemed as the years pass and maturity accrues. 

His intuition argued that he should examine the issue closer.

(“I met her, y’know,” Satoru mentioned whilst he spun in a rolling chair ‘commandeered’ from Yaga. “Akane. Our girl’s mentor. Former mentor? Whatever the case is.” 

Suguru sat his pencil aside, any investment in his studies gone.

“When?” 

“Last March.” 

Suguru sighed. “And you didn’t bring this up earlier because…?” 

There’s a twinkle in his companion’s sunglasses-covered eyes.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Satoru shrugged. 

Liar, Suguru thought, unamused by Satoru’s faux nonchalance. He must’ve had his reasons for neglecting to mention it for so long. Suguru figured your impending trip home had something to do with Satoru’s ‘miraculously’ cured amnesia. 

“What? Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

The provocation failed to irk him. Instead, Suguru refocused the conversation.“Tell me your impression of her.”

Satoru stilled, threw his feet atop Suguru’s desk, and placed his hands on his neck. “About what you’d expect from a disgraced daughter of an influential clan. Bad-tempered, tattooed, pierced up… hah! Bet her old man would go into cardiac arrest if he saw her.” 

“Satoru,” he implored. 

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” The white-haired sorcerer complained. “I misread her. She got all mopey after she fessed up about Cursed Technique: Null. I wrote it off as envy. The student exceeding the master, or whatever.” 

Satoru remained silent for a moment. “Post Kaizu, though, I assume the feeling actually gnawing at her… ” 

Kaizu. 

Panicked phone calls. Satoru’s agitated exclamations. His horrified silence. Your breathing faded, theirs accelerated. You looked so small. So human. He scarcely believed the limp girl cradled in his arms just executed such a devastating maneuver. Your cursed energy had exceeded any output he’d felt from you before. It was too much, your body wasn’t ready to endure a spike like that. 

Suguru had never felt so distant from the title ‘strongest.’

At some point later on, in a hospital waiting room, Suguru posed a question. 

Satoru heard him yet offered no response.

“Who taught her how to do that?”

“... was guilt.”)

“You didn’t visit her.” 

Akane blinks. 

“Hah?” 

“You didn’t visit her,” Suguru repeats, his tone firmer. “[First]. Your student.” 

She exhales shakily. Suguru thinks she looks tired. 

“If you have something to say, just come out with it already.” 

He was prepared to wear her down for hours — this willing cooperation saves him time. Although, it doesn’t make navigating the volatile minefield that lies ahead any easier. He knows how to rein Satoru in when he’s going too far. He can fluster you without giving too much of himself away. After rescuing someone from a curse, he knows the exact pitch, timbre, and tempo necessary to pierce through their abject horror. He’s a virtuoso at playing people, a conductor hidden amidst the audience. 

Deceit. Misdirection. Coercion. 

His repertoire is expansive and ever-growing. 

From what he can see — what he can feel — the prodigal daughter before him boasts a similar discography. She returns his unflinching eye contact as if issuing a challenge. Daring him to use dubious methods that might work on anyone else. This obstinate resolve reminds him of you. Once you’ve determined your course, even he struggles to change the route.

He abandons all pretense. 

“You didn’t want her here,” he theorizes. Akane’s face reveals nothing. “You knew something like that was bound to happen.” 

Sorcerers aren’t only at war with curses. No, there’s an inner battle that must be fought as well. The recognition that the next assignment could be your last. And if it is, you won’t be commemorated by the masses; to them, you don’t exist. Your sacrifice will be known to a select few who mourn you, or  a few who don’t. Everything could go right. Everything could go wrong. Engaging in that high risk for such a low reward goes against one’s self-preservation instincts.

How each sorcerer handles this fight is unique to them. 

As for your strategy — you refuse to acknowledge this conflict exists. 

Paradoxically enough, that functions as your self-preservation. 

Akane smiles thinly. She’s almost his reflection, in that regard.

“Full marks.” 

-

Suguru idly observes as Satoru paces back and forth, his troubled figure illuminated by a row of vending machines. 

A nearby street lamp flickers. It’s late, but the local convenience stores glow with artificial light, tempting customers to come inside. Some are weary salarymen grabbing ready-made meals, others are middle schoolers clinking their change together, praying they can afford a sugary treat. The latest group cheers, indicating their triumph. 

The duo receives odd looks — thanks to their school uniforms, no doubt — not that they pay the judgment any mind. No one troubles them. Not even a wandering policeman, who, under normal circumstances, would scold minors out by themselves at night. 

Suguru theorizes that Satoru’s ominous aura is what subconsciously repels them. 

Earlier today, Suguru bid farewell to his parents and boarded a train for Tokyo. As nice as it was to spend time with his family, he’d been looking forward to reuniting with you and Satoru. He amassed quite the phone bill thanks to your frequent correspondence. Nonetheless, he carried the minor debt with pride; it’s a sign you often thought about him. He planned for Satoru to assume the debt by dangling the pictures you sent his way as ransom. 

His encounter with Ishimoto Akane grounded his soaring mood. This was made worse when he entered the dormitory, only to find a tight-lipped Shoko and agitated Satoru. 

Shoko remarked that unlike the two of them, she’d be handling things with ‘tact,’ and retired for the evening, not wanting to catch their ‘stupidity contagion.’ 

It’d been hours since then. That time stretch brought them closer to revealing the complete picture, but a few pieces remained missing or incomplete. 

The frenetic sorcerer stills and rummages around in his pocket.

Suguru takes the opportunity to break the silence. “I—” 

He cuts himself off as Satoru whips out a familiar-looking chapstick. The cutesy design befitting your aesthetic stands out like a sore thumb in Satoru’s large, calloused hands. 

“... Where did you get that?” 

“[First]’s room,” is Satoru’s response, spoken nonchalantly whilst applying it to his lips. “Why?” 

Suguru snorts. Sometimes Satoru’s ungodly strength blinds him to the fact that he’s still a teenage boy. 

“Won’t she notice it’s missing?” 

“I replaced it.” 

“Ah.”

“She has plenty more in the drawer beneath her vanity if you want one.” 

Suguru knows the exact spot Satoru’s referring to. They both helped you assemble it (Satoru got bored fifteen minutes in and fell asleep on your bed but still claims credit). 

After noting this suggestion, he asks, “Have you calmed down?” 

Satoru barks out a ‘hah!’ as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke. “Me? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?” 

Suguru massages his temples, sensing the looming headache that awaits him. “Satoru…” 

“We could follow her residuals, you know,” Satoru suggests. He tips his sunglasses down, revealing eyes that gleam with predatory intent. “With the Six Eyes, it’d be a walk in the park.” 

“And then what?” 

“Oh, you know, chat about the weather, latest political scandals, that sort of thing.” 

“You can’t strong-arm yourself through everything in life, Satoru,” Suguru chastises. 

Satoru opens and closes his lips. He folds his arms, scrunches his eyebrows together, and rapidly taps his foot. The shift puts Suguru at ease. Satoru adopts this countenance on the rare occurrence he’s faced with a formidable threat. The serious, almost somber visage speaks to his ironclad resolve. Suguru may have told his companion that he can’t strong-arm himself through everything, but that’s a half-truth; the Gojo clan’s pride can do whatever he pleases. 

It’s consideration of the aftermath that Suguru wishes to instill in his companion. Tempering the arrogance of a God is no easy feat. 

“... She isn’t going anywhere,” Satoru declares, as if any other outcome was blasphemous. 

“She isn’t,” Suguru agrees. Then, he lowers his voice, adding, “We can’t disregard what Ishimoto-san is getting at, though.” 

“Simple — all our girl needs is a good ol’ fashioned intervention.” 

“An ‘intervention,’” Suguru deadpans. “Didn’t you already try that?” 

Satoru smiles in a way Suguru can only describe as dopey, reminiscing on the night you got ‘mad at him for wanting you to be mad at him.’ That’s how Suguru interpreted the detailed account Satoru gave the next morning, anyway. 

(“I wish she would’ve cried, just a little bit; it would’ve made her look extra cute,” Satoru cooed, to which Suguru shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’d make her cry just so you could wipe her tears away.”)

Suguru shakes his head. “Here’s what I think — the self-sacrifice in and of itself isn’t the problem. Well, the main problem. There has to be a reason, something personal… identifying that takes priority.” 

A gust rips through the narrow street, howling as it terrorizes store signs and doors with weak hinges. The two strongest sorcerers remain oblivious to the drift. What occupies their mind is greater than any force of nature, insignificant or otherwise. They have the means to challenge natural phenomena itself. And they would, should they deem it an obstacle to their goals. This single-minded determination is what elevates them beyond the rest. 

“I guess the old man has a soft spot for us after all,” Satoru says, referring to Yaga, Suguru guesses.

Breathlessly, he chuckles. “Maybe.” 

Studying Satoru from his peripherals, he silently mulls over the far likelier reality—  

—that Yaga understands Satoru’s potential for saving this world is matched only by his capacity to condemn it. 

-

From a young age, Ieri Shoko found irony everywhere she looked.

It’s prevalent in the medical field she wishes to pursue. When stabbed, it’s better to leave the knife in than immediately pull it out. For an immune system to better defend itself from a virus, it must first be exposed to it in trace amounts. If an appendage becomes too infected, removing that piece of the body is better than keeping it whole. It was you who pointed out this theme extends into the world of jujutsu. 

“You’d think fighting to survive a curse instead of defeating it would be an okay alternative, right?” You had said. “But really… that just means someone else gets to foot the bill. All ‘cause you cheaped out.” 

She regrets not asking you to elaborate. At the time, the observation felt so personal, so intimately interwoven with who you are, that she thought it best to leave it alone. 

Watching you now, lounging on the swing beside her, she’s determined not to repeat her previous mistake. 

“Tired?” 

“Well, yeah,” you laugh. It sounds off. “I wasn’t meant for long flights. It takes everything out of me, y’know?” 

Shoko unsuccessfully digs around her pocket for a lighter. The search ceases when she recalls its inopportune location — left behind in her dorm room in the rush to be the one who reaches you first. Not sure what else to do with her hands, she folds them onto her lap. Meanwhile, you pick at a stray thread on your jeans. 

“I didn’t mean from traveling,” she clarifies. 

“Hm?” 

“How many curses did you exorcise back home?” 

Your fingers go still.

“I dunno… a few?” You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “If I happen across them, I’m not gonna just let them run amuck. That’d be irresponsible.” 

Your nonchalance comes across as forced. You may be keeping your words lighthearted, but she can tell you’ve dialed up your senses, monitoring her closely. It reminds her of a cornered mouse. It’s then that any lingering doubt over her choices leading up to this moment dispels. Resolve strengthened, she swears to make as much progress as she possible before those two catch on. She felt a bit bad lying about your flight’s time, but felt the situation justified the call. 

“It feels different when they’re close to home, doesn’t it?” 

Shoko’s eyes scan over the lively park before them. There’s a group of children playing with one another, some scouring the grass for bugs and others playing tag. Their guardians watch from a distance, chatting amongst themselves, likely discussing the upcoming poor weather or latest neighborhood scandals. Young couples walk hand in hand along the pathways, cheeks flushed from the joy of experiencing their first love. 

“Encountering a curse is draining. Fighting them, even more so. But when they’re on a street you walk every day, or a few blocks over from your house, you can’t help but start thinking. ‘What if I hadn’t come this way? Would it have hurt people I know? People I love and care about?’”

Her eyes find yours. “‘What if it killed them?’”

You look like you’re going to be sick. 

She ignores how your expression contorts her stomach and continues. “Sorcerers are in the minority, it’s true. So… fighting to survive isn’t selfish. It’s strategic.”

In the distance, the rough silhouette of two individuals grows clearer. The spotlight she commandeered grows fainter with their every step. In what remains of the fading limelight, she considers you. The CC cream that conceals the worst of your exhaustion, how your pupils dilate from high caffeine intake, then your fingers. The keys that when steepled just so, open the future for others at the cost of permanently locking yours. 

She reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. 

“Remember — we won’t be much help to anyone if we’re six feet under. So let’s aim to stay above ground.��� 

-

The evening sun sinks into the horizon, demanding acknowledgment in its final moments by dousing all in a fiery hue. 

Your uniform absorbs the brunt of this last stand. The dark fabric devours the waning sunlight, heating you from head to toe. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were back when you walked through the torii gates lining the mountainous path. Nor when you unpacked in your dorm, stuffing your passport away until your next break, where it’ll serve you faithfully again. 

Instead, it was the simple act of putting your uniform on again that made home seem far, far away. 

You’d gotten used to your clothes smelling like your mother’s preferred detergent. It’s a brand you couldn’t find in Japan, sold exclusively in your home country. You wondered what meal your parents were having when you straightened out your collar. If your neighbor ever fixed that rumble their old sedan huffed out as you slipped into your tights. Whether your grandpa knew you’d landed safely when you brushed lint off your skirt. 

The campus atmosphere is serene. Tengen’s barrier is a bulwark against curses, insulating you from any potential threats. Without this assurance, some part of you was always on the defensive, anticipating anything when you slept in your childhood bedroom. It siphoned away your vitality, just like Shoko pointed out. 

You sniffle and kick a rock aside. 

How does it always end up like this?

First Akane, now Shoko, you hug yourself. I just want to protect others. What’s so wrong with that? If I don’t, then who will?

You pause abruptly. 

When Akane began mentoring you, the world as you knew it changed. Suddenly, you were given knowledge no one else was privy to, for they lacked the tools to comprehend it. You’d seen those ‘creatures’, but it was Akane that explained their malevolent nature. What they could do, the pain they inflicted, how defenseless the population at large was against them. 

The shadow that this monstrous threat cast could never be outshone by light. The best you could do was create safe pockets the size of pins in the darkness. That was the extent of your hope, the most bitter pill you’ve ever swallowed.

The lingering specter of Shoko’s reassuring touch prickles along your hand. 

It’s easy to forget you’re not alone anymore after fighting by yourself for so long. 

-

Eventually, you happen upon a clearing near the school’s main grounds. 

The steep inclines surround a sizable outdoor track. This area is known colloquially as the school’s training grounds. You prefer to train in a more secluded, wooded area, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for subtlety. Namely, the two prodigies who have turned the field into a colosseum that’d rival the battles of ancient Rome. 

You take a seat on the grassy hill and watch what unfolds. 

Your eyes can scarcely follow the blows Suguru and Satoru exchange. Their sparring sessions are unreal — blurring the very fabric of reality. Somehow, they manage all this without using cursed energy. The spectacle you’re witnessing is simply hand-to-hand combat. It’s like watching a film with skipping frames. In a matter of seconds, they can travel a hundred meters and return to their original position. Your brain struggles to process the stimuli your senses are feeding it. 

They were already strong when you met them. But now? The nomenclature doesn’t exist to properly classify them. 

And in the future… 

There’s no telling what highs they’ll reach or the ceilings they’ll shatter. 

Their light is the most dazzling you’ve ever seen.

Within a few minutes, they conclude their training session. Satoru instantly beelines toward you, whereas Suguru cycles through stretches. There’s not even a single drop of sweat on Satoru’s body as he plops to your right. He’s wearing his signature sunglasses, despite the night's looming shadow. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep or something?” Satoru asks. “It’s past your bedtime.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. He yelps out an exaggerated ‘ouch!’ rubbing the area to soothe the nonexistent wound. 

Suguru approaches at a far more leisurely pace, sending a wave that you return in kind. 

Satoru, not one to be forgotten, yells out, “Be careful, Suguru! She’s violent!” 

“Only against those who deserve it,” Suguru replies.

Fondness blossoms inside your chest as you laugh. You’d forgotten how simple life feels around them. It’s as if when the three of you are together, you’re swallowed by a pocket dimension, isolated from everyone and everything. Permanently inhabiting this utopia is a temptation. 

Satoru places his hands behind his head and lays onto the ground. “Here I am, potentially out of commission forever, without a single ounce of sympathy to show for it.” 

“We could always settle in court,” you offer. 

Suguru stands before you, hands on his hips. “Or he could finally figure out how to use reverse cursed technique.” 

At this, Satoru shoots back up, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Last I recall, you gave yourself a headache giving it a go. At least I’m not that bad.” 

“Hurdles are necessary to improve. Without any, how do you know you’re truly making progress?” 

Satoru gives him a grossed-out look. “All this philosophizing is gonna turn your hair gray before you hit twenty.” 

“That’s rich, coming from the guy whose hair is already white,” You point out. “What’s that say about you?” 

Suguru muffles his laughter behind his hand. 

Satoru’s quick to overcome his incredulity. “It says that I’m going to spoil the next volume of Inuyasha. Sesshomaru—” 

You cover your ears and sprint off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you…!” 

He chases after you, periodically shouting the names of the main characters right when you think he’s finished. You do your best to block out his voice, running like your life depends on it. He’s hot on your heels, cackling at your expense. After a stretch of silence, you uncover your ears, hesitantly turning around to check if he’s finished his torture. 

You meet Satoru’s gaze. His lips are parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Your reflection in his dark lenses appears equally perplexed. He straightens his sunglasses and regards you with an unreadable expression. 

“... You’ve gotten faster.” 

The comment is so quiet, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, waving you off. “You shoujo-loving types sure take this stuff seriously. It’s almost cultish.” 

“I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who references Digimon like it’s some sorta scripture!” 

“Honda Tohru is a lame heroine.” 

You audibly gasp. “Wh— you take that back!” 

And so it’s your turn to chase Satoru, who, for reasons unknown, is oddly knowledgeable regarding Fruits Basket. 

-

“Could you guys be honest with me about something?” 

“All depends.” 

“Of course.” 

Satoru and Suguru’s responses come out simultaneously, the contents offering little reassurance. You’re not sure what you expected. Nonetheless, you press past the gnawing discomfort, your conversation with Shoko a fresh memory. 

“Did Akane stop by while I was gone?” 

You scrutinize their countenances for involuntary reactions that might betray their inner thoughts. You begin with Satoru, who was in the middle of cleaning his sunglasses when you posed the question. His eyes, which normally brim with mischief, have an eerie calmness about them; like sheets of ice that were once choppy waters. He smiles softly and slips his lenses back into place, undoubtedly aware of the intent behind your stare. 

Then there’s Suguru. He hums, as if finding your inquiry unexpected and not an inevitable point of contention. He’s a more challenging puzzle to decipher than Satoru. With the latter, you can roughly gauge the greater picture, blurry and incomplete as it may be. Suguru, on the other hand, hasn’t given you enough pieces to attempt a solution. 

Satoru continues mulling over your question while Suguru responds, “Is that what’s been worrying you lately?” 

So they picked up on it too, you think. 

Frowning, you shift in your seat. Blades of grass tickle your thighs and you push your skirt down. 

“Er… not that, specifically,” you admit. You feel like you’re surrounded by walls that know just how far to close in to give the impression you might be crushed. “I just… I’ve been thinking. About why I’m here— what I’ll go on to do. And, well…” 

Much to their surprise, you stand, squeeze your eyes shut, and bow ninety degrees. 

“For so long, I’ve carried this burden. The truth is, when I first learned about Null, I was relieved. I’d always have something to rely on in the worst-case scenario. But at the same time… that meant not using it could also be a mistake. You have no idea how much that scared me.” 

You curl your hands up into fists. “I don’t want to think that way anymore. I see it now — have for a while, actually — strength I couldn’t even imagine before. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m in your care. If it’s alright, I want to rely on others, starting with you two.” 

Your heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows. 

Maybe this is selfish too, you think. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. 

You hear Suguru speak your name. It isn’t until he repeats it, his tone kind yet firm, that you straighten yourself and face him. 

Satoru stands further back, scratching his neck. Much to your confusion, a red flush has risen to his cheeks, extending up to his ears. Suguru corrects your staring by taking your face in his hands and redirecting your attention to him. Warmth envelops you. Your faces are inches apart, but somehow, the distance feels nonexistent, like he’s peering into your mind unhindered. 

“Surely, you can dream bigger than that,” Suguru chastises.

“... Eh?” 

“Do you think so little of us?” Satoru grumbles. It almost sounds like he’s pouting. Was he not listening to anything you just said? The sincerity behind your every word? Why are they both acting like you insulted them? 

“Eh?!” 

“I’m glad you’ve come to this realization, but… you don’t have to rely on anyone else. Just us,” Suguru takes a step back, though he keeps one hand cupping your cheek. You feel lightheaded. “After all…” 

“... We’re the strongest.” 

notes:

*this pun actually works decently in english ?? but akane is making a reference to how suguru sounds phonetically similar to すぐ, or sugu, which means 'soon.'

[neon-junkie]

How would TBB react to seeing the reader about to leave on a night out dressed up in a super hot outfit?

Gender-neutral reader, but feminine presenting. Words like 'beautiful' and 'pretty' are used!

Hunter - Even with half of his face tattooed, he still manages to blush through the thickness of the ink. - He's truly lost for words. - Hunter has an adorable stutter as he compliments, "wow, you look… nice- I mean, incredible. Good. Beautiful?" - Hunter then facepalms as he scolds himself for picking "nice" as his first compliment. Ugh, you look so much more than nice! - You'll both be giggling as Hunter takes a deep breath, and begins going into detail about how good you look, highlighting the specific parts that really stand out to him. - You're heading out with friends, but Hunter is quietly hinting that he wants to come along. Totally not because he's jealous or anything, but because he hopes to meet your friends, right? The friends that he's met several times before? Yeah! - Tell him that you'll still be looking this good when you come back home later tonight, and he'll get the hint. - However, he may need to leave a fresh mark or two on your neck, just to get the point across that you're taken.

Echo - This poor, poor man is going to turn the deepest shade of red when he finally sees you. - Why, just WHY did you have to wear that specific outfit that he loves so much?! And you're going out without him too?! Oh, what a tease! - Echo is lost for words as he gushes over you. He feels like it's his wedding day - How is he this lucky? How did he land an angel like you? - There's a tear in his eye as you smother him in kisses, reassuring him that you're all his, that you're the lucky one for being with him, that you can't wait to come home and snuggle up with him later. - Echo doesn't ask for much, but he would like to be kept in the loop on your whereabouts. Purely for your own safety! - "And when you reach the next bar, just comm me. Your friends have my comm number too, don't they? If anything goes wrong, and you want picking up-" blahblahblah. - One final smother in reassuring kisses, and you're good to hit the town!

Wrecker - His mouth instantly hangs open, his eyes turn wide, and his facial expression swiftly turns into a grin as he comments, "HOT!!" - You know in cartoons where the character's mouth drops open, and they begin howling and barking? Yeah, that's Wrecker. - Seriously, you look hot, and Wrecker's going to ensure that you know it. - "Look at you! I can't believe I got myself an angel as sweet as you!" - He'll mention how he's sad that he's not tagging along, but he'll assure you that it's important you spend your time with your friends. - Wrecker isn't as clingy as he seems. After all, he'll be right here, waiting for your return. - And when you do return, all your hangover needs will be met. A tall glass of water waiting for you, a midnight snack, breakfast in bed, and a big buff man to cuddle you back to health!

Tech - This will go one of two ways: - Option one: Tech eyes you up and down, and with a firm nod, he comments, "that is suitable attire for your evening. I hope you enjoy yourself." - Option two: Tech's brain short circuits. He can barely muster up a thought, let alone a comment. Radio silence, but his expression says it all. - Either way, Tech is more than impressed with your outfit choice, and how stunning you look. He just… struggles to find the words, like a deer in the headlights. - Give him a few moments, and you'll be met with suitable praise. "How exquisite you look, a truly elegant and radiant creature." - Tech can't pinpoint one specific word to describe how beautiful you look, so instead, he selects the most complex and in-depth ones. He doesn't want to rely on a 'standard compliment.' - A few kisses later, and you're off to meet your friends. All the while, Tech begins pacing around the Marauder like a lost puppy. He needs to keep himself occupied until you return!

Crosshair - He's instantly thirsty for you, smiling cheekily as he eyes you up, gawking at the sight of you. - Crosshair has a way with words, and spews out his praise, all whilst kneading at your waist, his hands trailing down to grab your ass whilst he steals a handful of kisses from you. - And then it dawns on him… - You're going out with your friends tonight, not him… - Jealousy swiftly takes over, and his compliment turn into teasing (yet petty) jabs. Nothing to hurt your feelings, though. - "Any reason why you're wearing this tonight? Do you need more attention? Am I not enough for you?" - Whilst his tone is teasing, there's a desperate need for validation. - Yes, he knows you'd never be stupid and hurt him, but… can you please remind him one more time? - Don't be surprised when you leave, and minutes later, Crosshair sends you a holotext. "Comm me if you need anything, Beautiful."

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 1: Cat Adams

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4986

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you finally understand what is going on. and that leaves you more lost than ever.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

The first thing you notice is the colour of the walls– beige and cold and not green. You don’t say anything to Spencer, though; you couldn’t even if you tried. Not with all those eyes on you. Your visitor’s pass clicks and clanks against the buttons of your shirt and your hands still shake, even with how tightly they are holding onto your bag. Morgan and Spencer have been very careful to not make too many sudden moves near you, but they are not the problem, it’s the situation. It’s the fact that Spencer doesn’t tell you who is Cat Adams. Is the fact that they made you put your phone in a metal box before entering the building, and then proceed to talk about as if you are not right there. 

“She’s going to need a security detail,” Morgan sighs, sunglass finally off and it knocks your breath away how worried he looks. He can’t really hide it, you think, not with how expressive his eyes are. Spencer, on the other hand, is unreadable. His face is set and frozen in a blank expression that has all the hair on your arms standing up. He doesn’t speak, though, and that is probably the first time you’ve ever seen Spencer Reid that quiet. “Kid, are you listening to me?” 

“Security detail won’t do,” Is all he says before guiding you out of the elevator and into an open space filled with office desk, trapped inside those god awful beige walls. Fuck, you think you are starting to hate beige; that specific shade of it. You hate how it numbs out everything inside, how trapped it makes you feel. No one really talks to you, but from the way they stare, it’s quite obvious that they know what Spencer won’t tell you. 

At this point, there are various things happening inside of you and you can’t quite keep up with them all. Your stomach is roaring, sending sharp jolts of pain up and down your torso and you wince a little with each step you take. In turn, each step you take has you wobbling on unstable legs, and you take deep breaths to try and keep it together. Though every time you inhale, your lungs burn from the panic that lingers in the back of your brain. And finally, you brain, tired and overused, still seems to have an issue with processing the situation, and it takes you to a time that no longer exists– a time in which Spencer laughed at your literary themed jokes, or when he would come with coffee and nothing more than a smile. You understand now, why he kept you in the dark about his job; you understand the weight that this job has on him. 

It makes you wonder if it’s a weight you’re strong enough to carry on your shoulders.

By the time you blink yourself awake from your world of past memories, there are people around you and you don’t recognise any of them. Somehow, you are seated at what looks like a very typical office desk; the chair swivels as you look around. The copy of The Argonauts on the desk is a dead giveaway of whose desk you are on, but then why isn’t he here? Why did he bring you to this cold, cold place and left you by yourself? Why– “Y/N? It’s Y/N, right?”

There are two women next to you, one to your right and one to your left. You don’t like how they make you feel like a cornered animal, but their faces show nothing but understanding and compassion, and you don’t feel like being a bitch will help your situation. Your anger, building higher and stronger with each passing second, is not because of them, and you are many things, but you like to think you are not unfair. “Yeah,” You croak out, gulping the ball of emotions that seemed to be stuck halfway down your throat, making it hard to talk or breathe without your lower lips wobbling pathetically. 

“Y/N, my name is Jennifer, but you can call me JJ. This is Emily, we both work with Reid.” 

It takes you a second to know who they are talking about. For you, it’s never Reid. It’s Spencer when you are laughing at one of his rants about something so niche and specific that you couldn’t find it anything other than amusing. It’s Spence when you’re heart is full and the butterflies are awake. And it’s Favourite Customer when you want to tease him. It’s never just… Reid. “Spencer,” You nod, embarrassed by your own need to say his full name. You don’t want to need him, right now, but you can’t help but look around the open bullpen. His wild, shaggy hair is nowhere to be seen and you don’t understand how the sweet man that stole your heart can do something like this. You are scared and confused and he just left you with strangers. “I uh, I’m sorry, but wha-what’s going on? No one will tell me anything, and I think I have the right to now why Spence had a gun and why I was dragged away from my shop and–“

If you had anything in your stomach, you’d vomit again but all you manage is to double forward a little, the pain of your hunger and your nausea together starting to get a little too much when the added stress of being alone with strangers got added into the mix. “Here,” JJ pushes a packet of saltines towards you. “Got into them when I was pregnant with my boys and now I always keep one here. It’ll be good to eat something, Morgan mentioned you got sick.”

“Thank you, I– Penelope?” Seeing her there, with her pinks and oranges and yellows, makes as little sense as seeing Spencer with a gun. Her warmth and happiness don’t fit in a place like this, that, so far, has only brought you anxiety. 

“Y/N! Oh my god, sweet, pretty Y/N!” For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you chuckle. And it breaks you down inside, how fragile you must seem for Penelope to wobble towards you in such high heels and yet, hug you with the utmost care in the world. It’s in her arms that you start crying again. “Oh no, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay… You’re safe here.” 

“Safe from what?” You wail, and if Spencer had bothered enough to be there, that would’ve been the first time he would have seen you raising your voice. 

Ever since you were little, you never raised your voice. As an adult, it has happened once or twice, but never at someone specifically. Your nature is that of a more reserved person, someone who enjoys the spectator role a bit too much and prefers to observe from afar. There is power in knowledge, and it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone that you value the little bit of it that you have– so much so, that you built a business in which you could gather all the knowledge you deemed special and worthy and important, and then you could share with other people. Sure, you don’t always feel like your job is significantly important for the betterment of the world, but every time a client leaves with a smile, you know you’re doing your part. 

“Cat Adams.” 

The name alone is enough to make you fall onto the chair again, body limp and drained. Spencer is back, but he’s off. His lips are pursed in that way he does when he is unsure of what to say and he’s hidden his hands inside his pockets. It’s his own way of keeping secrets, hiding his hands from you… and you don’t like it. For as long as you have known him, his excitement shone through his hands; it’s the fast movements and the wiggle of his fingers that always make you smile. It’s how he best communicates and now it’s how he pushes you away. “Miss Y/L/N,” There is a man in a suit standing next to him, and you shrink in your chair under his stare. It’s heavy and cold, and you think that if he looks at you for a second longer you might start crying all over again. “My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m the unit chief for the BAU. Please, come with me and I’ll explain everything. JJ and Spencer, you too. Penelope, prepare to brief the team in 20.”

Part of you wants to tell him no just to see what would happen. It’s clear, from more than just his title, he’s in charge. Your one and only connection to these people and this place is Spencer, so he is your tell-tale. He is your magic ball. It’s a skill, rather than a gift, being able to sense people like this– it’s something that years in retail and sales have taught you– and right now, you see how Spencer shifts his weight from one leg to the other while looking at his boss, waiting for instructions as if he couldn’t come up with them himself, and that, more than anything else that has happened today, is what scares you the most. 

Because if a man like Spencer can’t come up with an answer for this specific issue, you are not sure anyone else can. 

—————————————

“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” You are not above begging, hands balled into fists on your lap as you look up at Aaron Hotchner with pitiful eyes. You probably look messy, at this point, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you care about is you. And your store. And the fact that an hour has passed since you first got to that godforsaken office and no one seems to care; no one seems to care about your time or your personal affairs. 

They only care about that stupid package. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I apologise for the confusion we’ve caused, but I guarantee that everything that has been done so far was to keep you safe,” His words, as strong as they sound, don’t feel any more assuring than then tentative glance Spencer throws your way. 

“Oh god,” You breathe out, eyes wide while your mind ran circles around you. It is a dangerous thing, to let a literary lover imagine– your brain, filled with epic tales and unforgettable real stories, starts rushing towards the worst case scenario and you find yourself reaching out to hold at something, anything, that might make you feel grounded in reality again. It’s how soft Spencers suit feels in your fingertips that makes you realise you reached out for him. “Oh god, was that like, a bomb? Did I sign for a bomb? Oh god, Spencer, do people send you bombs? I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Spence, I–“ 

“It wasn’t a bomb,” Spencer is quick to interject, hands finally out of his pockets when he reaches out to hold your shoulders. His thumb gently caresses your arm and you try to breathe somewhat regularly, imitating the rise and fall of his chest like he is the beacon light bringing you back home in treacherous waves– like he is the only one you can trust in that place. “Y/N, it’s okay, it wasn’t a bomb. The contents of the package are not important and they were harmless. But we need you to focus. I know I scared you and that this is all very overwhelming, but you need to listen to Hotch. Please.” 

In your mind, you keep repeating those words to yourself– Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“Cat Adams is a prolific serial killer,” Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. “We’ve arrested her a few years ago and we believe she has resurfaced.” 

Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“And that she has been targeting Reid.”

With one panicked look his way, you say what the words stuck in your throat can’t convey– I can’t listen to Hotch anymore. “She… She is a serial killer,” You whisper, eyes focused on Spencer in search of a nod or a shake of his head. This is the FBI, but you only trust him. “And she is after Spencer. Okay, I uh– I need– I don’t know what I need.” 

If you asked Spencer, he would tell you that you have a certain something about you whenever you are tired. Your shoulders slump forward and your head fall on your hands in a desperate way to keep your neck upright. The lack of energy is almost visible in you, and sometimes he has to fight the urge to hold your head up for you. 

But you don’t ask Spencer. Actually, you don’t say anything at all; you let people talk about you and around you, but your brain shuts down with each and every word, unable to retain any more information. “Can I go home?” There is a minute of silence before Hotch sighs, shaking his head. “But you said you arrested her, correct? Therefore I shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. I mean, it’s not like she has access to USPS delivery data from prison, right?” The more you speak, the faster you try to get up. You’re not thinking straight, and with all due reason– there is no power left in you to do this. There is no energy, no will, no strength to keep on going because it feels like you’re running in circle. 

Spencer notices it, too, and in what can only be interpreted as a daring attempt to calm you down, he let his hand rest on your shoulder for a second. It’s a subtle way to tell his team to go easy on you, almost like he’s having a full conversation with Hotch without opening his mouth. You, however, don’t catch it, and you continue to try and push yourself upright and away from them. You need to get away from them.

“So she has no clue who I am and I have nothing to do with this because I’m just a bookseller! And I just happened to sell Spencer some books and we’re just friends!”

A wave of shame downs on you when the words leave your mouth, like you are admitting to failure when  you haven’t even had the chance to try it to begin with. It’s like you deny Spencer’s presence in your life as a whole, like he has no significant place or role next to you, and you can’t seem to meet his eyes even when he starts speaking. “Y/N, I am so sorry,” The choked out sound that escapes him is the only thing that makes you look, makes you raise your eyes to meet his and you gasp when you notice he is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was gone, that she was not a threat anymore, I–“ 

“Reid,” JJ sighs, and you see something in her that makes you shift in your chair, a bit uncomfortable with the way his name sounds coming from her lips. “Reid, she’s going to be alright. We will get some officers to keep watch by her place, and we can file a request for protective detail during the day.” 

“You know as much as I do that none of that will help!” Spencer’s voice gets higher and louder with each word and his hands are back at it again, flying around the room in frustration. You have never seen him like that before, and it scares you more to see him scared than to hear that you might now be placed under protective custody. 

“Spence,” This time, when your voice wobbles in fear, it’s not because of him. “Spence, is it really bad?” 

When you were little, you used to refuse to admit your were scared. You’d use any other word– frustrated, spooked, uncomfortable– but you would never admit fear. Your dad always thought it was the cutest thing, though, because despite you puffing your chest out and crossing your little arms over your chest, the one thing that always gave you away was the way your lips wobbled. Right now, you feel like that little kid again, refusing to admit to how you really feel but giving it all out anyways. 

Spencer’s eyes read you like a book. You can feel the weight of them, moving across your face, taking in the lines and expressions you make without even realising. It’s like every part of you is a new chapter, telling him more and more of a story he is yet to finish, and with a sigh, sad and defeated, he nods. “It’s really bad, Y/N, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault. I should’ve been honest with you, I should’ve told you what I did and who I worked for and all that it brings with it.”

“No, Spencer, this is not your fault,” You breathe out, reaching for him in a moment of weakness. Your anger is still there, still simmering at the way that, in a sense, this is very much his fault, but you manage to rise through it when his nervous hands try to reach for you but fall nimble by his sides instead. “I mean, it kind of is, but it isn’t. And it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Right? I’ll be–“

“You’ll be just fine,” Hotch interrupts. His brows are slightly raised and from the way he looks at Spencer you think he knows something you don’t, but you’ve been feeling like that ever since you’ve stepped into that office. Everyone around you knows something you don’t– they know things about each other, about Spencer, that you simply don’t, and that you think you never will. Because after this– this betrayal, this hurt, this fear– you just don’t think you and Spencer can coexist anymore. You don’t think you can forget, as hard as you might try, the sight of him holding that gun to your head. So for now, you try to calm down. For now, all you can do is try to calm down. “Miss Y/L/N, we need to asses the situation, understand if you are in any kind of immediate danger. While our team works on this, we will ask that you relocate. Do you have relatives you can call? Friends?”

Technically, you do. Your parents live in New York and so do most of your friends– all it takes is one call. But that is one call you really don’t want to make. “I don’t want to leave my store,” Looking down at your hands, you wonder how easy it is for them to see right through you. “I just moved here. I know it might sound stupid, specially considering the… you know, this whole situation. But my life is here now and I would rather stay, if, if that’s okay, of course, I mean, you know… best.” God, you look so uncomfortable trying to stand up to his boss that the pity in Spencer’s face is almost palpable. “Please.”

“Hotch, she can stay with me.”

“Do we think that is a good idea?” JJ frowns, and you can’t help but nod, looking at Spencer as if he’s insane.

“I– That’s a very kind offer, but isn’t she after you?” You manage to ask, looking around for any clue their team might give you. These guys are professionals, though, and they know how to keep up their masks of indifference. 

“Yes and no,” He explains, sighing before crouching next to where you sit. “Y/N, this woman– Cat– she is psychology disturbed. She is what we call a black widow, do you know what that is?”

You nod, blushing a little with how close he is to you. “I uh, I read a book that the main character was a black widow. Butter, by Asako Yuzuki.” 

His smile makes you melt a little, and you hate how weak you are to the little windows of personality he allows you to see from time to time. “Yeah, I like that book too. But… this is real life. Cat Adams goes after cheaters, liars.” 

“Then why is she after you?” 

“Because I lied to her,” He admits, your eyes stuck on his expression and if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his jaw ticks in response to what you can only assume to be anger. But you are not, anyone else, you are very much so yourself, an observer, a quiet listener, and it just so happens that your favourite person to observe and listen to is Spencer Reid himself. “I was our decoy to capture her and now she sees me a as a game. Almost like, like a game of wits, to see who’s smarter, to see who will win. Is this making sense, Y/N? Do you need a break?”

“I just, I don’t understand where I fit. I was just housesitting for you, I could’ve been a complete stranger.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Hotch interrupted, leaning forward in such a somber way the hair on your arms stand up. “You have managed to get something she never did. Cat Adams is acting out in jealousy.”

“What did I get? I’m sorry, I don’t–“

“Me,” Spencer said, eyes piercing into yours. “You got me.” 

—————————————

By the time you make it back home, the moon is high and the roads are clear. It has been a while since you last got out of the house at the early hours of the morning. Fresh from the move and focused on your new store, making friends wasn’t at the top of your priority list when you landed, a year and something ago. Without someone to drag you out to bars or bribe you to go to clubs, you don’t really leave the house much at night, preferring the comfort of your own couch and the company of a book in the weekends. 

“You know,” For a second, you almost forget that he is right there behind you, and you jump a little when his voice echoes in your empty apartment. “You’ve been to my place so many times, but I never really even seen your apartment.” 

How do you tell him that there is not much to see, anyways? How do you tell Spencer that, in the time you’ve been here, the 365-plus-something days, you just never really thought about your apartment the same as your home? Your walls are empty, and it’s a little embarrassing, the way his brows shoot up when your turn on the lights. Besides your couch and a centre table, the place is almost empty. The TV stands on an old piece of furniture, a unit too dark and too classic to match with the rest of the things you have, and it’s a little too obvious that it came with the place and you were just too lazy to get rid of it. There is a singular throw pillow on the couch and a blanket, with a pile of books standing by the foot of it. But what really strikes him as odd, what really makes Spencer look around and make sure that yes, this is your apartment, is the fact that there are no shelves. There are no books, besides the four or five pilling up on the rug. 

“You know, for a book lover, you have… no books,” He mumbled, hands on his pocket as he offered you that smile you used to adore so much, but that now makes you a bit uneasy– tight lipped, never really reaching his eyes. “Why do you have no books?” 

“They are all downstairs,” You say, marching straight to your room to grab a backpack. “How many days do you think I’ll be staying with you?” 

“Honestly? Until we solve this.”

“…And how many days is that?”

From where he stands, he can’t see your sagged shoulders, trembling hands holding onto the blue backpack you had laying around the back of your wardrobe. “Pack for as long as you can,” He shouts from somewhere deep inside your place. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Too late for that,” You mumble to yourself, grabbing the closest items your found– a couple of shirts, sweaters, and jeans. After today, it’s not like you have much energy left to try and plan outfits ahead, so anything will do. 

It’s borderline funny, when you think about it… Just yesterday you were worried about what to wear, nervous hands sifting through your endless collection of sweaters to try and find just the right one for the day. Spencer visits you everyday, so everyday is a new day to impress him. You even start wearing makeup; a bit of mascara to make your eyes shine behind the glasses you refuse to wear, some blush to make the natural flush you get whenever he’s around seem more normal. It’s vain and futile, you know, but it makes you feel a tad more confident. A tad more… colourful. Like Penelope. “I think I’m ready,” You say once you’ve gathered all items you might need from the bathroom. “I’ll still be good to work, right?”

He nods, a smile on his face as if this is good news to him too. “Yes, we will have men stationed outside your store all day, so you don’t have to worry about anything while I’m away at the BAU. I’ll personally drop you off and pick you up myself.” His words don’t make you feel any more confident, hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “Y/N, I promise, we will get to the bottom of this as fast as possible. This is temporary, and uh… I’d like to think that, you know, staying with me is not all that bad. You’ll get the bed and you are comfortable in my apartment, anyways, right? And, and! And we can have movie marathons and talk about books, cause I have a lot of books! You know that, of course you know that, you sold me half of them.” Clearing his throat when you just stare at him, you can see how Spencer is ranting. But you don’t mind the rant, actually; oddly enough, his nervous words are the one thing giving you a sense of normalcy right now. “Cat won’t come to you personally, if that helps. She is in federal prison, we’ve confirmed it yesterday, and anyone that comes in and out of your shop will be checked. Y/N, we– I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you need to trust me.”

“I do,” And you don’t mean to sound so sad, but you can’t help it. Right now, he’s the only person you can trust, and for you, that is one of the saddest things you’ve ever experience, because even though you know you need to pull away from him, that you need to put some distance between yourself and the man standing right in front of you, you just don’t trust yourself to be able to do it. “Anyways, can we go? I’m really tired, it’s been one hell of a day.” 

The walk over there drains the last bit of life you still have in you, foot dragging and tripping on the road, and you hate that this is how Spencer holds you for the first time– stopping you from falling on your face. “Sorry,” You mumble, following him once you’re on your feet again. The way his hands hover around you while you slowly make your way up the stairs of his apartment is adorable, and each and every time your heart skips a beat for him, it also breaks for yourself. You are digging your grave, and the worst part is that you don’t seem to care. You’re weak, you think to yourself, exhaling heavily when you finally walk inside the familiar apartment. 

You are so tired that you don’t really think about things too much, dragging yourself to the armchair you adore so much and sitting down. The way you kick your shoes off isn’t very polite, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow; for now, all you want is to shut your eyes and drift off to sleep, lulled by the muted green walls and the stories they told. While you slip into the hypnotic pull of a dreamless slumber, you can hear shuffling in the background, and later on, much later into the night, you don’t feel it, but Spencer covers you with your favourite blanket– the wool one his mother gifted him ages ago, the one you always leave tossed aside on his armchair. And you don’t see the way he smiles at you either, like he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn’t mind; not as long as you get to sleep as soundly as you are then. 

Actually, when it comes to Spencer, you are blind. To logic, yes, but to him, too. For someone as observant as yourself, it’s a little ridiculous how oblivious you are to the looks he send your way when you’re not paying attention. They linger, and he smiles in a way you’re yet to witness, but they are all for you. It’s the one bit of him that Spencer can give you, and you’re not even aware of it enough to take it and keep it safe. 

But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to not have hopes. 

Sometimes, Spencer thinks, fixing your blanket so that it tucked under your chin just right when your curl into a small, defenceless ball of exhaustion, it’s better to never have loved, then to have loved and lost.

He would know. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

aaaahhhh this is really happening! it's now official: a muted shade of green is an active series :D sorry if it felt like it took so long for an update, I just don't have much time to write recently, but I'm working on it! hope you like it <3

[darknesseddiem]

Do I Make You Nervous?

Request: "How about Eddie and Y/n are like owing to have sex but Eddie has a hard time getting hard?"

Warnings: +18 MDNI, angst with comfort, mentions of erectile dysfunction, Eddie being mean to Reader, talking about anxiety, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), aftercare.

Word Count: 9k

Tagging who must be interested: @tlclick73 @mykuup @ali-r3n @starksbabie @spideydreams00 @alanamarie @oatmilk-vampire @rose1518 @hereforsmutbcicantgetenough @iheartgrayson @stephanie-nicks76 @corrodedcoffincumslut @livsters @ami01x @skrzydlak @yujyujj @thehuntresswolf @hxlly678 @torimcc @skyline4446 @choke-me-eddie @samz31 @birdysaturne @spenciesprincess @prestinalove @whatwedontdointheshadows @hookandchain @nobodycanknoww @rogueinmymind @jenniquinn

His face burned with deep shame, his white skin tinged with scarlet red painting his cheeks and ears, fading into a soft shade of pink on his neck. He wished he could shrink himself to the smallest size possible to hide from the burning gaze of the beautiful woman in his bed, instead, Eddie decided to focus his gaze on an Anthrax poster on the other side of his messy room, and for the first time, he paid attention to the details that the figure of the Statue of Liberty making horns with it's hand and holding a book with a pentagram on the cover had.

“Eddie…” Your sweet and attentive voice made him even more nervous than he already was, he could feel the droplets of sweat accumulating in his hairline and his breathing becoming short and labored.

“Can you look at me? Please?" 'No', he thought in his racing mind, but his body did the opposite of what he wanted.

Humiliation pressed against his eyes and tried to show itself through tears he fought to contain.

With his heart rate similar to that of a marathon runner, he slowly turned his flushed face towards you until his teary eyes met yours and, God, it was the worst thing he decided to do that night.

You looked at him with such pity that he was sure that at some point that hard shell he kept to protect himself would be broken into little pieces with the intensity of your gaze and the feeling he conveyed.

He didn't want your pity, he didn't need it, he had already been through enough humiliation that day.

Overcome with frustration and embarrassed by the event, he did the last thing he wanted, he took it out on you.

"I-"

"No." The rude tone he used made you shrink in your place when you noticed how he looked at you.

You opened your mouth again but no sentence or words came out, intimidated by the enraged look, your eyes looked away from his and stared at your bare legs.

“I think you should go.” Your chest tightened at his sharp, emotionless voice.

"But-"

“Are you fucking stupid?” He knew he was being irrational at that moment but he would rather hurt you verbally than let his wounded ego and crushed pride show. “I don’t want you here, get out.”

The look in your eyes was enough to make him regret what he had said, but it was already too late to take back his words.

Overwhelmed by the feelings that your sad and desolate eyes caused, Eddie abruptly got up from the bed and wrapped himself in the sheet in an attempt to cover his shame, failing. Without looking back, he awkwardly crossed the room without paying attention to you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway.

Sitting on his bed, you could finally let the tears flow, he had been so mean, but even so, you still couldn't help but understand him.

Eddie had this confident energy about him, a debauched smile and immaculate bad boy attitude, consequently it was a bucket of cold water when amidst the hot kisses and desperate touches on your naked bodies he realized that nothing had happened down there.

Shaking your head to clear the thoughts, you picked up your clothes thrown on the floor and quickly started to put them on so you could get out of there as quickly as possible.

Eddie was a good guy, fun and caring towards you, but at that moment he was insensitive and irrational, so the best thing to do was to leave and try to talk when things calm down.

Although the words and the tone used to say them still caused pain, you didn't blame him for reacting like that, you would do the same if you were in his place.

Dressed and with your dignity forgotten, you went after yet another humiliation.

Leaving the room and heading towards the bathroom, you slowly stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath before speaking one last time.

“Eds, I… I'm already going, when you want to talk again, you know where to find me.” Silence was your only response.

Sighing, you turned towards the living room and finally left the trailer, sooner than you had anticipated.

In the bathroom of his trailer, Eddie faced his own demons.

Leaning on the white porcelain sink, the boy stared at his disheveled reflection in the mirror: slightly reddish eyes, hair messy and damp from the sweat and water he had thrown on his face to clear his thoughts, a complete mess.

In the confines of the blue and green tiled walls he was finally able to peel off that confident and self-assured persona he showed to everyone and welcome the insecure boy he hid under lock and key.

That same little boy who spent sleepless nights with the insecurity of what tomorrow would bring for him, who thought so low of himself and had no idea how to be like other nice guys, so he pretended and tried to deceive himself when deep down he knew he would never heal his wounded inner child.

What happened today was just the culmination of his journey of humiliation.

It could be anything with anyone, but not you, not with you.

So many years spent just watching from afar as your silly childhood crush grew even more, and just when he had managed to prove himself worthy of your attention, his body decides to betray him in the most treacherous way possible.

His desire for you was undeniable, as strong as liquid lava that coursed through his veins and burned all of his senses, and like the pepper that burned in his tender flesh, he burned with desire for you, his soul burned in ecstasy to intertwine up with yours and make them one single flesh.

Now that the raging fog in his mind had lifted, he saw how stupid he had been to the one person he was completely sure would understand him better than anyone and even himself, but had allowed himself to be carried away by the bonds that his ghosts held from the past and ruined the only thing he was proud of having accomplished by being himself.

Not the Eddie who pretends, or the confident one, or the debauchee, nothing like that, but the insecure Eddie full of fears who one day thought he would never see the light of sun again.

Of all the moments that could happen, why now? Why?

His pride and ego were deeply hurt that night, he felt helpless.

This had never happened, even in his moments of pleasure alone he didn't need much to get horny or have an erection, just a glimpse of anything from you was enough to get him going for hours straight.

Eddie had no idea how he would face you again after the fiasco that was tonight, the night you were supposed to spend entwined with each other just letting your wildest instincts take over your naked and fervent bodies.

Putting an end to his torment, at least for now, he straightened up and walked away from the sink, walking towards the door and heading towards his empty room.

Your delicious perfume invaded his nostrils as he crossed the door frame and his eyes involuntarily closed and rolled to the back of his head in delight, if he concentrated a little he could still remember the exact smell that your sweaty neck exuded: citrus and slightly floral with a salty and warm touch.

Walking slowly to the disheveled bed, he followed the path the two of you, lost in pleasure, took earlier.

Starting with the desk, where Eddie sat you down and your tongues danced fiercely against each other, fighting a battle that neither of you intended to lose.

His hands roamed your body, yearning to map every curve and every piece of soft skin he could reach, tracing his fingertips softly under your blouse and watching you shiver with lust as you tangled your fingers in his wavy dark hair, pulling him closer as if you wanted him to devour you in that instant.

Hurrying to get to the bed, the two of you walked awkwardly without letting go and you ended up pressed against the wall with one of his hands full of rings around your neck, his teeth nibbled your swollen lips and slid sensually to your jaw where he traced figures with his warm and experienced tongue. His left hand rested inside your panties, cruelly teasing your clit with his thumb and index finger while his middle and ring finger slid into your wet, warm hole giving you enough to squirm in pleasure but not to cum until he wanted you to.

And finally, the last destination, the bed.

He moved and knelt on the mattress, remembering how he had grabbed you by the waist and thrown you there, seeing your face contort into the most beautiful expression of lust he had ever seen.

His fingers still tingled from the feeling of your soft, swollen lips enveloping them in the wet heat of your sinful, ungodly mouth, the taste and smell of your arousal had been tattooed on his mouth and nose, altering the entire chemistry of his weak brain.

The roots of his locks were still throbbing from the aggressive encounter of your nervous fingers and his scalp of the moment he allowed himself the eroticism of his first taste of your sinful and seductive pussy, almost as if it hypnotized him with the earthy and luscious flavor that dripped and flowed like the honey of the gods.

His eyes closed and your naked image was tattooed inside his eyelids, just as your moans played on replay in his ear from the moment the first sound left your mouth.

He laid down on the bed and shook his head against his pillow but stopped abruptly when he realized one small thing.

Eddie looked down and let out an incredulous snort.

“Oh, now do you want to do your work?” He looked at his dick with disdain. “Great news: she’s not here, champ.” He ran a hand over his face and exhaled in frustration.

The sound of vibration caught his attention, making him raise his head and take his cell phone from under one of the pillows, it was a message from you.

His heart beat faster and he swallowed hard, he wasn't going to lie, he was scared as hell by whatever you sent him.

With a trembling thumb he clicked on the messaging app icon and saw your contact appear pinned at the top with the text highlighted and the number “2” next to it.

Closing his eyes and breathing heavily he pressed into your contact, and after a few seconds that seemed like hours, he opened them again and breathed a sigh of relief.

lightfury 🤍: hi, I don't know when you'll see this, but I wanted to let you know that I'm already home

lightfury 🤍: I hope we can talk later, I don't want things between us to be like this. good night, eds

With a relieved sigh, he let go of his cell phone and let his arms fall to his sides, smiling at the ceiling of his room. You really were a badass woman.

Pondering for a few seconds, he took the device in his hands again and went straight to the search app.

“Why can’t I get hard?”

He looked through the countless search results until he found the one that most resembled his case.

‘Powerful erection, buy it and receive it in two business days.’ What the fuck? No.

‘Age crisis? SexBull pills are the solution.’ No, absolutely not.

‘Erectile dysfunction, understand the causes and how to treat it.’ Oh God, please don’t be that.

He clicked on the last option and started reading the article.

“Erectile dysfunction, also known as impotence, is defined by difficulty getting and keeping an erection. It can be an embarrassing thing to talk about. It's been reported that more than half of men between the ages of 40 and 70 experience some form of ED.”

His eyes widened as soon as they passed the section where the most susceptible ages were indicated.

What the hell? Eddie was only 25. Could it get any worse?

Oh yeah, it could...

“Various risk factors can contribute to erectile dysfunction, including:

• Tobacco use, which restricts blood flow to veins and arteries, can — over time — cause chronic health conditions that lead to erectile dysfunction;

• Drug and alcohol use, especially if you're a long-term drug user or heavy drinker.”

Oh yes, he was completely fucked if he were to take these two factors into consideration, as he smoked so much that he could be compared to a walking chimney, and his body was almost at the point of producing alcohol on its own accord.

But his concern soon disappeared when he read the rest of the article.

“The brain plays a key role in triggering the series of physical events that cause an erection, starting with feelings of sexual excitement. A number of things can interfere with sexual feelings and cause or worsen erectile dysfunction. These include:

Depression, anxiety or other mental health conditions;

Stress;

Relationship problems due to stress, poor communication or other concerns;

Anxiety.”

Anxiety…

This last topic caught the boy's attention because it was exactly what he felt when he was around you, not that it was caused by your person, but rather by his dangerous mind.

All that euphoria of wanting to please you and insecurity that he wouldn't be good enough had created a black cloud above his head that rained liquid worry straight to his brain and caused a breakdown in his nervous system due to the pressure he felt, which led to his failed performance today.

He turned off his cell phone screen and lay on his side with his eyes closed, thinking about what a complete jerk he had been to you and how he would explain the whole situation without sounding even more ridiculous.

But that would be for tomorrow, with a quick movement he raised his left arm and slammed the palm of his hand against the light switch, leaving the room in complete darkness and silence as he fell into a deep sleep.

A few kilometers away, you were already lying in bed and ready to sleep, a few seconds away from turning off the light when you heard the notification sound of a new message.

Normally you would let it go and go to sleep, but the name that appeared on the screen caught your attention and you picked up the device and unlocked it, clicking on the messaging app icon.

nightfury 🖤: hey

nightfury 🖤: I'm sorry if I was an asshole today

nightfury 🖤: can we talk tomorrow? I don't want to lose you because of my stupidity

night fury: night baby

Upon reading the content of the messages, you smiled widely until your cheeks hurt, and with your heart filled with tenderness and joy you finally allowed yourself to lie down and sleep.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and hopefully, a much better day.

47 minutes and 15 seconds, that was how long Eddie had spent in front of the mirror rehearsing his monologue, and he was not at all satisfied with what came out of his mouth.

Nervousness had turned him into a pathetic chattering mess and he couldn't stop himself from spewing nonsense words in the middle of sentences.

Walking back and forth across the room, the young man decided that it would be better to stop that stupidity and act like an adult, he would go to your work and talk normally without all this ridiculous rehearsal.

Be yourself, Munson. He spoke in his mind whilst taking a deep breath.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m ready.” His hands ran through his wavy hair and he bit his bottom lip anxiously.

“I’m not fucking ready for this.” He grumbled as he furtively watched from across the street where he could see you at the register through the large glass window.

Robin and Steve were nowhere to be seen, which was easier because he certainly didn't want to deal with those two loudmouths today.

Eddie thought about standing there until you noticed him staring at you like a maniac, and then calling the police so he wouldn't have to go through the second humiliation of explaining himself. Ha, good idea Edward.

The boy shook his head, making his hair messier and putting his hand on his face, exhaling in exasperation. Do you have a fucking problem?

“Okay, it’s now or never Eddie…” People on the street looked at him strangely as they watched him talk to himself. “You can do it, just get there and act cool, easy, you got this.” And repeating this about a hundred more times in his mind, he took courage and walked towards Family Video, which was now Family Books.

The sound of the bell ringing echoed throughout the empty store, making you look up ready to greet the customer who had arrived.

A smile formed on your mouth when you noticed Eddie standing in front of the cashier counter, playing with the rings on his fingers.

“Hi..” Your voice broke him out of the trance he was in. "Can I help you with something?" Eddie looked at you with slightly widened eyes.

“Um, can we… Can we talk? Both of us? In particular?" He wanted to slap himself for the way he was stuttering the words.

"Of course! I just need to call Robin or Steve,” Your eyes scanned the store for your two noisy friends. “I can’t leave the register without anyone here.”

“No problem,” Eddie said shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Take your time, I’m not in a hurry.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You smiled before disappearing down the hall.

You practically ran through the bookshelves looking for those two, and no sign of them.

"What a hell?" You stood in the hallway talking to yourself. “Where were those two-” The shrill noises of laughter reached your ear, revealing the location of the two lazy people you called friends.

You marched furiously to the storage room while thinking of millions of curses to throw at them, opening the door with a quick movement letting it slam against the wall, scaring the both of you, you began to complain.

“What do you two think you’re doing here?” Robin and Steve looked at you scared from where they were sitting, laughing about something on Robin's phone. “Did you forget that you also have to work?”

“We were…Uh, the books… The books needed to be scanned? Yes, the books needed to be scanned into the system!” Steve was slurring his words trying to explain himself, while Robin just looked elsewhere as if she wasn't to blame for anything.

“Oh really?” You asked and they both nodded. “Then where are the books and the scanner? I don’t see either one.”

The two remained silent, staring at you, wishing that a stack of books would magically appear in front of them.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Robin began.

“Yes, I think I heard some customer calling us.” The brunette agreed with the blonde girl and they both got up from the couch, hurriedly passing you who was still standing in the doorway.

“What the-” Snorting you rolled your eyes. "Forget it." You mumbled.

Turning to go back to the front of the store and tell Eddie that he could come now, you came face to face with the boy a few feet away, which made you let out a scared yelp.

“Jesus…” You placed your hand on your chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He smirked and approached you.

“Sorry, I thought you saw me follow you.” Eddie was looking at you with such intensity that you had to look away.

“Yeah, no, no problem,” You let out a nervous laugh. “Come in, here we can talk privately.” He entered the storage room as you stepped aside and gestured with your hand.

The two of you sat on the brown leather couch and stared at each other.

“So…” “I…” You let out a laugh as you spoke at the same time.

"You first." You said smiling shyly.

“Okay,” The metalhead took a deep breath before starting to speak. “Firstly I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you yesterday, I was rude and mean to you when you didn’t deserve it.” His brown eyes remained fixed on yours the entire time. “And secondly, I wanted to explain myself about-” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“No, no, it’s okay. Seriously, I understand why you reacted the way you did and I don’t blame you for it.” Your body moved closer to him and your hands took his in yours affectionately. “You don’t need to explain yourself about anything, Eds.” The boy felt his heart beat faster and his eyes burn with tears forming in his waterline. “What happened yesterday could have happened to anyone, including me, and I'm sorry if at any point I made you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, I swear that wasn't my intention. You are the most precious boy to me and I truly apologize if you felt this way because of me.”

Eddie had been left speechless.

His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding like it was going to jump out of his chest. He was so moved by the things you said that he barely noticed when tears started to run down his beautiful pale face.

“Oh no, no, please don't cry,” Worry was written in capital letters all over your face. “I-I didn’t say anything in a bad way, please-” Your chatter was interrupted by the warm smile he directed at you.

“You…” He said shaking his head in disbelief. “You have no idea what your words mean to me.” The curly-haired boy felt his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “All my life I've been told I wasn't enough and judged for who I am, I was so insecure about myself that the only way I could find it was to mask who I was, so I created this confident shell that didn't care about the rest of the world, so that maybe one day I could be accepted by someone…” Now you were the one crying silently at his speech.

“And after all these years thinking that I would live with fragments of my true self, you came and knocked me off my feet,” He smiled through his tears and brought one of his hands to your face, caressing it affectionately.

“It scared the hell out of me the way I lost all my composure around you, I felt scared because that boy who was so hurt in the past always tried to be present around you, all the time he wanted to show himself but I suppressed him as much as I could, afraid that I would lose you because of my ghosts. It was a new feeling for me, you know? You brought me comfort and kindness, and it made me want to run, 'cause I was so used to living in pain and being hurt that it became my comfort to feel this all the time, and the idea of being… Truly loved for who I am, made me have so much fear." His eyes widened in realization after the last sentence.

Eddie lived for so long feeling pain and finding comfort in it, that he was afraid of being loved and cared for by someone, believing that he was not worthy of such feelings.

“Eddie…” You looked deeply into his eyes before continuing, and in that moment you didn't see 'Eddie Munson, the Satanist leader of a cult who didn't care about the opinion of any living soul' but 'Eddie Munson, the scared and fragile boy who was so hurt by people who once pretended to love him, the insecure young boy who believed he would never be good enough to be loved by anyone'. “You are more than enough, you are not broken and less worthy of someone’s love, do you hear me?” Despite the serious tone of your voice, it still carried a whirlwind of emotions. "Nobody! No one has the right to say whether or not you deserve to be loved, because you do deserve to be happy in any and every way, Eddie. And this little boy inside you?” You asked with teary, red eyes and he nodded. “Let him out, let me get to know him, let me take care of him and show him how loved he is. Let him be free this time, because this time I will take care of you two, I will show you how much love I have to give you.”

The two of you looked at each other as if there was no one else in the world, just two souls destined to find each other and become just one, a single soul that carried with it the fragments of the past so that in the future they would remind them of the arduous path they had taken until they found home at each other's hearts.

Eddie was the first to close the distance between you, being followed by you immediately.

Your lips touched, causing an explosion of feelings in your hearts and pure passion to run like thick honey through your veins, filling each wound and healing the cuts that seemed to not want to heal.

His hands were like warm silk that slid easily across your skin, taking place at the base of your neck as he possessively cupped your cheek and claimed your mouth for himself with his warm, sensual tongue, caressing every corner and edge of your cavity.

You gave in equally to the kiss and holding his wet face, you let all the feelings flow as you lost yourself in the taste of love that was in each other's mouths.

Passion. Euphoria. Reassurance. And love, so much love.

He deepened the kiss even more and sighed intensely, sliding one of his arms around your waist and holding you as if you were going to disappear at any moment.

Your hands found the base of his neck and you intertwined your fingers in his long locks, bringing him to you.

But it still wasn't enough, your bodies screamed for each other and your minds clouded with the desire to feel the raw and pure nature that emanated from your pores and dripped from your centers.

You broke the kiss and lightly ripped off the leather jacket he was wearing, placing your mouth on his again and running your hands up his arms in a frantic manner. You wanted to feel him in his entirety, his body, his essence and his soul.

Eddie was no different, his mind screamed your name incessantly and his body cried out hotly to possess your flesh and infiltrate you, draining your arousal until there was no drop left.

With a quick movement he laid you down and was on top of you, stopping only to take off his shirt and throw it somewhere in the storage room.

“God, tasting you is like having a taste of the nectar of the gods, I can’t get enough.” He admired you and smiled, placing his lips on your neck and jaw.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with his mouth trailing kisses and licking your sensitive spots. “God, Eddie.” Your body was on fire and his attention only intensified that.

“Wait, wait…” You managed to mumble breathlessly.

“Did I hurt you? We can stop if-” You silenced him by putting a finger on his mouth. “Shhh, lay down. Now.” Something in his gaze changed and you could swear you heard him whimper softly.

Eddie lay down on the couch and you stood up watching him, his Adam's apple bobbed and he swallowed hard seeing your look. You were like a seductive panther looking at him as if he was your prey and you were waiting for the right moment to enjoy the meal. Him.

“I’m going to make you feel so good…” Draping one of your legs over him you sat on top of his crotch. “And I will show you who owns this body.” With that said, you attacked his mouth with yours, this time the kiss was fierce, full of bites and sinfully whispered moans.

He filled his hand and squeezed your ass tightly, drawing a breathy sigh from you, while the other moved up to your breast and pinched your nipple through the fabric of your blouse and bra.

You ran your lips and trailed a path of wet kisses to his jaw, going straight to his earlobe and nibbling, feeling him stiffen beneath you. That's the spot, you thought.

“You love teasing me, don’t you? Always trying to make me surrender first…” He asked as he placed his feet firmly on the floor and held your waist, pressing down and rubbing your pussy with his rock-hard cock. “You’re going to need more than that, sweetheart…” He held your head, pushing you against his sensitive spot and sighed with lust.

"Me?" Pretending to be innocent, you began to kiss hotly down to his pale pink nipples and, God, they were pierced. “And what have we here?” You ran your tongue gently, seeing him shiver and smile, biting his lip. “Oh… They’re sensitive, aren’t they?” With your thumb and forefinger you began to squeeze and roll them between your fingers.

“Oh God, please.” He panted and arched his back bringing his chest to you. “They're still too sensitive…” He let go of your waist and unbuttoned the buttons on your beige uniform shirt, taking it off and throwing it in some corner. “I need to feel you or I’ll go crazy.” He pulled the clasp of your bra in one agile movement and ripped it from your body with violence. “What did you do to me, woman?” His hands grabbed both of your breasts and squeezed with voracious force, eliciting a muffled moan from you.

“I just put you in your place, big boy.” You sat up straight and took your time admiring him, his disheveled look, his alabaster chest full of tattoos and his hard nipples, his slender waist and his happy trail that led to the treasure you selfishly wanted to enjoy. “The other women never knew how to deal with you, isn’t that right?” He looked at you with his eyes half closed and mouth hanging open and nodded. “Hmmm…” You began to roll your hips into his crotch and brought your hands to his that were resting on top of your breasts and pressed them even harder, throwing your head back with the pleasure that electrified your body as your clitoris started being stimulated with friction. “They never knew how you become such a good boy when someone commands you, right my pet?”

“Hmmm fuck yeah, I'm such a good boy for you... No one can have me like you do, my love…” He was slowly losing the last bit of sanity he had left, you were like a drug and he was the addict in abstinence and would use you until he couldn't take it anymore and dropped dead.

“That’s it, baby, you poor thing… You just needed someone to tame you like you deserve, right?” Mocking his fucked up state you laughed mischievously. “Shhh, don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll beg me not to stop…” Sliding off his lap and kneeling between his legs covered in ripped black jeans, you began to play with the hem of his pants, teasing him.

“Jesus…” He panted and ran a hand through his untamed curls. “Please don't fuck with me this time” Whispering quietly and looking at his dick he bit his lower lip so hard that he was sure he would draw blood. “Are you nervous, big boy?” Your seductive voice penetrated his ears like the song of a siren who was about to take him to the bottom of the ocean and drown him in the dark waters of pleasure. “Yeah-” he cleared his throat. “Do I make you nervous?” Your hand slowly crackling down his pelvis and caressing his thighs was enough to short-circuit his poor, lust-ridden brain, allowing him to only nod pathetically.

Sliding one hand up his inner thigh and giving it an experimental squeeze as your left trailed its way to the hard bulge in his pants, you saw his face contort in pleasure and he let out a shuddering breath. “Hmm, I can make you relax… But I don’t know if you deserve it, you know?” Teasing him for fun just to see the desperate look on his beautiful face that was sin incarnate.

“W-What? No I-I” his plea was interrupted by your mocking tone of voice. “Ah, ah, ah… You've been such a bad boy recently,” The smile on your face widened even more when you noticed how wide his eyes were, dilated pupils swallowing any trace of the chocolate that painted his iris, giving way to the black that emanated the lust that his body failed to contain. “Bad boys don’t deserve good things, my pet.”

Shaking his head like a maniac, his hoarse and sly voice pleaded. “N-no, I was… I was a good boy, please! Please touch me… Fuck, please touch me.” He didn't care how pathetic he sounded now, his mind was completely clouded. You you you. It was all he could focus on, your fresh citrus smell that invaded his nostrils and made him want to stick his nose in your neck, your ethereal and unique taste that stuck to his tongue and permeated his taste buds, your curves that fit so perfectly in his hands and your body that reacted so deliciously to him.

“I don’t know… You still haven’t convinced me that you deserve it.” You looked at him intensely and he swallowed hard when he noticed the strange gleam in your eyes. “Beg… Beg me to touch you, Eddie.” You waited with a small smile. “Please? Please touch me?” He spoke quietly, his face turning pink. “You can do better than that, pet…” He huffed and looked to the side with a pout. “Okay, since you don't want to ask nicely,” Leaning on his knees, you stood up and stood. “I’ll come back-” “No, wait wait!” He quickly dropped to his knees at your feet and circled his arms around your waist and hips, looking at you with puppy dog eyes that would make you commit atrocities if he used them against you. “Please…” He began, “Please touch me, I’m begging you.” He rubbed one of his cheeks on your bare stomach and began trailing kisses down to the hem of your jeans. “Let me feel you… Please, I’ll do anything.” He held your waist with such strength that you would definitely have had his finger marks the other day - not that you cared at the moment, too focused on the way he begged for your touch.

“Stand up,” You ordered and he promptly obeyed, rushing forward, almost losing his balance. “Take your pants and shoes off, now.” His hands flew to the button on his pants, undoing it and then unzipping his black jeans, bending down to untie the knots on the black combat boots he wore and discarding them somewhere nearby. You saw the hesitation in his eyes as he bit his lip and commanded again. "You are deaf? Strip. The pants. Now." Your hard, dominating voice made him tremble and shiver with desire.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and removed the item of clothing, revealing the white Calvin Klein boxers he was wearing. Your eyes migrated to his crotch and your mouth watered as you noticed the size of the bulge that stretched the fabric almost to its limit, a small wet spot could be seen where his pink tip rested and could be seen due to the transparency of the damp fabric.

“You know, I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one taking off my clothes, don’t you?” His voice dropped a few octaves and reverberated through your body, his eyes practically burning each and every piece of clothing you wore. “And who said I care what you think?” You slid a finger down his tattooed chest, stopping before your hand came down on his erection. “But I suppose you’re right…” Withdrawing your finger and walking away, you saw him exhale in frustration and the corners of your mouth turned up in a wicked little smile.

You took off your sneakers and socks, taking your hand to your denim shorts and unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly, making a show for the brunette standing in front of you. He licked his lips hungrily at every bit of skin that was exposed in the process, his eyes making you feel like a furnace inside.

The two of you were now standing face to face in just your underwear, Eddie couldn't take his eyes off your body, he was looking at you so intensely that your knees went weak when you took a step forward.

“Why don’t you get comfortable on the couch and let me take care of you, huh?” You placed both hands on his chest and pushed him until he sat on the furniture, taking a place between his open legs and kneeling again.

“I’m gonna' make you feel so good, Eddie…” You rubbed your hand over his crotch, avoiding his cock only to see him twitch. “I don’t- fuck- I don’t doubt that, sweetheart, but please-” His babbling was cut off by the feeling of your small hand stroking the base of his dick so lightly that he was barely sure you were touching him. "What? Please, what-” Your fingers collided with something even harder.

His eyes glittered with a wild glow and you narrowed your eyes and looked down to where your hand rested.

Eddie smirked and bit his lower lip when he noticed your surprised face. “What’s wrong, sweetie? See anything you like?” He was making fun of you and you could tell.

Moving your hand, you spoke again, “A piercing… Munson, Munson, you’re a box full of surprises…” Your index fingers hooked into the waistband of his underwear. “Do you have any more surprises for me, Eddie?” Your playful question was answered as soon as you removed the last piece of clothing from him and his cock emerged free in all its glory: big and thick, probably a good nine inches, with a prominent vein on the underside, curved slightly to the right and, the cherry on top, his gray metal piercing decorating the drooling, reddish tip.

His eyes were boring into your face, trying to catch your reactions.

Your eyes widened slightly and your mouth parted, forming a slight “o”, while one of your hands crept up to his erect dick and caressed the long shaft.

“Oh yes, this is a big surprise…” Your hand moved up and down. “Now be a good boy and keep still while I suck your cock.” His face contorted into an expression of pleasure and his mouth fell open in a whimper. “Damn, woman, you're going to be the death of me…” He laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

His eyes were boring into your face, trying to catch your reactions.

Your eyes widened slightly and your mouth parted, forming a slight “o”, while one of your hands crept up to his erect dick and caressed the long shaft.

“Oh yes, this is a big surprise…” Your hand moved up and down. “Now be a good boy and keep still while I suck your cock.” His face contorted into an expression of pleasure and his mouth fell open in a whimper. “Damn, woman, you're going to be the death of me…” He laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

You drooled, wetting your lips, before you took it in your hand and dipped your head.

You took him in your mouth easily, sucking on the tip while your tongue slid over the sensitive head that leaked the milky fluid. Eddie whined loudly, his hands moving to hold through your hair, tangling his calloused fingers through your soft hair. Your mouth, velvety warm, sucking him down gently while driving him crazy.

Eddie exhaled languidly, eyes fluttering down to watch you through thick lashes.

You look up at him, jacking him slowly and still sucking his red swollen tip, Eddie nodded at you gently, a bow down towards you that was your go-ahead signal.

"Just like that, honey..." His face writhed in the purest expression of lust, shutting his eyes for a moment.

 He could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat and your skilled tongue caressing his shaft, and still willing to take him further into your tight throat. "Goddamit, baby, this sinful mouth of yours… F-fuck that feels so good.."

"So good, you’re so good to me baby." Eddie rasped, voice drowned out at the empty storage room where the two of you vulgarly expressed your most carnal and sinful desires.

You gave him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes, moving to cup his balls while your head bobbed up and down his cock. 

His eyes trailed down to you, seeing you looking at him while almost sucking his soul out of his body,it was too much for his poor brain to handle. Eddie closed his eyes again and let out a symphony of moans and whimpers to the feeling of your warm wet mouth.

Your hand cupped his balls, squeezing lightly, pulling back to suction on his heavy sac and moving your hand down his shaft, deeply inhaling the musky scent of his manhood. 

Eddie could feel his own abs clenching with every slow drag of your mouth licking the soft skin of his balls and making them jump and squeeze at your expert movements.

"Holy fucking shit." Eddie gritted, tightening his grip in your hair. "You take me so good, isn’t that right baby? Gos, such a fucking slut for my dick, huh? Bet you soaking through these panties ." 

You hum in response, vibrations from your throat tickling and sending shockwaves through his sac. 

He wasn't going to last long with jerking him and fondling his ball like that, you were too good at this. Too good at making him a total and pathetic mess.

You knew he was so close, his toes were curling, his breath becoming erratic and his grip on your head getting tighter each time, the coil in his lower belly pulling closer and closer until it snapped, spilling hot spurts of his seed onto your flattened tongue while he threw his head back and groaned loudly. 

He milked himself into your mouth, finger hooking to catch a dribbled spurt on the side of your lips before he pressed them in your mouth. .

You swallowed him in one big gulp, opening your mouth open to show him, seeing the way his eyes became darker. 

 “Fuck,” he panted and ate you with his eyes. “I have to be inside you in the next five seconds or I’m gonna’ get fucking crazy, ‘cause you're killing me here, baby.” Desperation and lust were written across his eyes.

You smiled, still kneeling between his legs, and bit your lip seductively with half lidded eyes.

“Oh yeah? You're that desperate to feel my pussy around your cock, huh?” You stood up and looked down at him through your eyelashes, seeing him nod dumbly.

"I'm being such a good boy for you, don't you think I deserve this..." Nothing could prepare you for the word that would come out of his mouth in the next moment. "...Mommy?"

You choked on your own spit.

Jesus Christ, that simple word leaving his mouth was able to light an intense flame inside you, that licked your center and melted into a slick that soaked your panties and ran down your thigh.

You stood there, opening and closing your mouth like a fish in water, completely speechless.

Eddie watched you with a shit-eating grin as if to say "I won."

His expression faltered as he noticed your hard gaze and sinister smile at him, you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed dry and cleared his throat.

“Yeah...you really are a box full of surprises, Eddie, and it's going to be so fun to play with you..." You hooked your thumbs into your wet panties and dragged them down your legs, letting them fall to the floor and kicking it to some corner of the room.

His eyes were now fixed on your smooth, glistening pussy, you felt a surge of pride and self-confidence as you noticed his cock kicking in interest.

Eddie was sure that at this point he was shamelessly drooling at the sight of you naked in front of him, your body must surely be the representation of Satan and his sin as how provocative and ungodly it was.

"Shit..." With the way you were looking at him, like you wanted to eat him alive, he probably wouldn't get out of there in one piece.

You grinned at him and leaned over, putting a leg over him and sitting on his hairy thighs.

Your eyes skimmed over the pretty boy below you, his fucked out face, he never looked so beautiful.

Your eyes wandered his slender torso and followed the delicious happy trail that led to the thatch of dark curls framing his gorgeous dick..

“Ready for me sweetheart?” He asked with an air of smugness and tucked his hands behind his head, but you could see that he was controlling himself not to jump on your bones. "The real question here is, are you ready for me, Eds?” You trailed your hand from his stomach to his tattooed chest, fingers ghosting over his nipples drawing a shaky breath from him. "So...so ready, princess, please..." His glazed eyes were heavy, you hummed, but remained silent as his hands hovered over your thighs before shakily running through your hips and waist.

Still grinning at him, you reached between your bodies to give his cock a few steady strokes. He pulsed in your palm and it sent a surge of need through your lower belly. 

Adjusting yourself and sitting upright, you moved until you were sitting on top of his rock hard cock, giving your hips an experimental rock and shivering as you grind against his cock slowly, the fiction on your clit sending waves of arousal coursing through your veins. 

“Go ahead baby, take what you want.” Eddie closes his eyes, fighting his inner demons to not to cum with just that, his hips thrusting into you into its own accord. "Sit still or I'll stop." You warned and Eddie's hips stilled before reluctantly settling against the couch. "How badly do you want to cum, baby?" You asked, slowly rocking your hips before sitting back down on his lap. You set a lazy pace, making sure each glide of your wet cunt was slower than the last. “Christ, mommy-” Eddie whimpering, his hips thrusting weakly against yours. 

He didn't see it coming, he just felt the burning sensation and the impact of your hand on the left side of his face. “Dont. Fucking. Move.” You hold a tight grip on his throat. “Answer me, you pathetic slut.” 

"Fuck," he panted as his back arched off, "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to–" Another slap delivered across his cheek, the skin blossoming a pretty shade of pale pink-reddish. "Fuck! I want it so bad, I want to cum so bad, Mommy!" Lustful tears were forming on his waterline and threatening to spill over his hot cheeks. “Hmm, that’s a good boy…” Your lips kissed his red cheek with tenderness. 

"Who-who thought that you were into that shit..." Eddie's voice has a rasp to it. “Might be a lot about me you don't know, Munson.”

Your fingertips dug into his chest as you steadied yourself with one hand and grabbed his cock with the other, and ever so slowly sank down on his generous length. Mingling moans and whimpers paired with the sounds of his grunts filled the small space of the storage room, you shuddered as he stretched you inch by glorious inch and let out a content sigh when you were fully seated on his lap, his balls pressed against your ass.

“Oh my god, Eddie…” He had one hell of a view, and it had him entranced. Your jaw was slack as you gasped and panted from how deep he was, and your head was thrown back with pleasure. He gave you a moment to adjust before both of his hands found purchase on your ass and he started fucking into you like a wild animal. "Hoooly fucking shit, you're so fucking- Oh God!” he whimpered. “Yes… Oh fuck, right there!” Your hands held onto his arms that were circling your waist while his thick cock pumped in and out of you. 

“Eddie!” You cried, your pussy clamping down around his dick as your thighs snapped closed on his narrow waist. “Oh my fucking god! Ohhhh-” The boy laughed breathlessly seeing you lose your mind over how good he was fucking you. "Yeah Mommy? Where's all that atittude, huh? Got so dumb on my cock that you can't even answer me?" He met you for a sloppy kiss, both of you too far gone to care about the clumsiness. "You... Dick." He moaned into your mouth as you clenched around him, hands flying to your face as he bucked into you.

“Close, I'm- baby I’m so close,” you whined against his lips. 

The white burning coil in your core grew to reach its snapping point with every brush of his dark curls against your clit.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me?" His sweaty forehead pressed to your own while his almost black irises looked deep into your soul. “Fuck, that's it Mommy, I wanna feel you cumming all over my cock.” His hand left your waist to snake down, his thumb rubbed tight circles to your clit, helping that tight band snap inside you. “Oh fuck!” You cried out loud as you came, not caring if Robin or Steve would hear. Your hips continued to roll, a clumsy attempt at keeping up with his thrusts and his thumb that still rubbed your bundle of nerves. 

“Feels so… fuck, your pussy…” He babbled, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Hmm… you’re just so… tight and warm.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and let every one of his senses be entirely consumed by you. 

He's loud when he comes, whimpering loudly, full body weak with it. You feel his cock pulse and kick inside of you, deep painting your insides white. 

"Thank you, Mommy..." He's mumbling against your skin, kissing the side of your neck softly as he comes down. "God, you're so perfect." 

The mixing of his cum and your arousal is now coating your inner thighs, and dripping onto his balls and crotch. “Jesus fuck—” He slip his now soft cock out of your cunt, seeing the white fluid dripping of your insides.

Both of his arms wrapped protectively around you and his nose nuzzled against your temple as he whispered how good you were for him.

Eddie pressed your cheek to the crown of your head and drew soothing patterns across your warm, sweaty skin. “Do you think they heard us?” You broke the comfortable silence. "For sure." He laughed softly and you widened your eyes, slapping his chest. "Eddie!" "What? You asked and I just answered." You rolled your eyes and stood up, getting off his lap. "Wait, wait!" He held your waist and sat you down on the couch, heading towards the black shirt he had thrown on the floor a few minutes before. "Gotta clean up my girl." He went to the water machine in the corner of the room and wetted the fabric, returning to where you were and gently rubbing it against your skin.

You both got dressed in silence and looked at each other.

“So…” “Yeah…” You looked at the wall as if there was something interesting there as he rocked back on his heels with his hands in his leather jacket pockets. "Um..." He began. "What do you think about... I don't know, going to the movies today? I saw there's a really cool movie in the theater and- and it would be cool if we went together." You smiled, biting your lip. "Really? What's the movie?" The boy smiled too and was sincere. "I don't know, but with you anything is cool." Your heart melted at his sweet words.

"Pick me up at seven?" You opened the door, stepping outside so he could get out too. "Seven, great, very good." He wanted to beat himself for being so nervous, for God’s sake just a few minutes ago he was balls deep in you.

"Okay! I'll see you at seven then." You smiled and walked towards the front of the bookstore, coming face to face with Steve and Robin whispering, who soon stopped as soon as they saw you and Eddie.

Eddie said goodbye to you and left the store, waving his hand and smiling once again as he mouthed 'see you at seven'.

You turned to your friends who had a mischievous smile on their faces and walked back to your spot behind the counter.

"So..." Robin said. "Mommy, huh?" Bursting into laughter with Steve.

"Fuck off, you two." You mumbled, face burning with embarrassment.

You could say that those two gave you hell for a long time after that day.

[satorusugurugurl]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT.

I’ve been seeing so many videos about how Japanese people view prostitution wherein they don’t think that such is a form of cheating.

Can I please get JJK men headcanons of whether or not they would visit a prostitute (for the context, the boys can be single of taken)

TY

Lady of the Night

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (modern ceo au), Geto Suguru (curse user)

Warnings: Mentions of sex work, escort/prostitution, rough sex, silly gojo, blindfolds, spanking, cursing, balcony sex, contracts being bought, sold off, virginity loss, mentions of violence/blood/death/fire (all in Geto’s)

Word Count: 5,000

A/N: Wowzers, this one was intense. Please note consent is key!!! I don’t support cheating or anything, so these boys are just looking for a good time. Please know in Geto’s, there’s no SA. It’s hinted there was an attempt, but I didn’t go into details! If you’re not comfortable, please do not read!

Gojo Satoru:

Gojo wouldn't intentionally hire an escort. He would, however, order one on accident. The man is exhausted and can easily teleport home, but the tiny village he’s in is famous for its taro mochi. He finds a motel where they’re renowned for their sweet treat and books a room for the night.

The second Satoru steps inside, his blindfold is off, his shoes kicked to the side, and he's making his way for the phone to call room service. Glancing over the menu, he ordered the mochi his mouth was watering over, along with a silk robe that must be woven with gold because who in their right mind spends ¥200,000 on a robe? Oh well, it's pocket change for him.

Little did Satoru know there was a reason the robe was so expensive. The hotel he’s staying at is a love hotel. They are known not only for their delectable mochi but also for their lovely escorts. So the reason his robe was so damn expensive was because you were a part of the order. A package deal of sorts! So imagine his surprise when he opens his hotel room door expecting someone to roll in a cart with a silver platter and lid to find a woman standing in his ¥200,000 robe that barely covers your beautiful glowing skin.

“Room service~” Your sultry voice cooes as you pull the robe out a little, revealing more of your breasts.

Satoru takes one look at you before turning a bright shade of red. Then he does something no one in all your years as an escort does. He slams the door in your face, leaving you staring at the wood grain in utter shock.

“I-I’m sorry!” He sputters out, turning to stare at the door. “I-I think there's been some kind of mistake!”

Confirming that you’re at the right room, you tilt your head to the side. “This is the room I was given. Is your name Gojo? You ordered a specialty robe.” A nervous laugh sounds from the other side of the door.

”I assumed it was a robe for me to wear!’

He was slamming his head against the wall, grimacing as you burst out into a fit of giggles. Not only were you incredibly attractive, but your laugh was fucking adorable?! Satoru just wanted to throw himself out of the window without his infinity up.

You wiped at the tears forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t be laughing, but this has never happened to me before.”

”Yeah,” Satoru chuckled, “I guess that makes two of us.” His face was burning as his eyes lingered on the door. You laughed again louder, this time making his heart flutter. “I guess this explains why the robe was so expensive.” You barked another laugh as he slowly opened the door, leaning against the frame, grinning down at you.

”That would explain it.” You held the platter of his mochi out for him. “Sorry for the mixup. Here’s your mochi, and I’ll bring you up a robe that hasn’t been worn.” Turning back to the elevator, your movements ceased as the handsome man gently grabbed your wrist, preventing you from moving.

“Would you like to come in?” he offered, stepping to the side. “Share some mochi?” with a broad smile, you slowly nodded.

“You did pay for a night with me.”

“No, I paid for a robe, a robe that just so happens to be attached to a beautiful woman.”

“Right~ I would love to come in.”

When you first got off the elevator, you had a general idea of what the evening would entail. Sex with a customer, a hot shower, and then you would head home. You had never been more wrong in your entire life, and you were glad that you were.

You didn’t have sex; instead, you just laid in bed with Satoru tied up in the robe that he had ordered for himself. You fed each other mochi while laughing and getting to know each other. In the two hours you had with him, you had never had so much fun in your career. Gojo felt the same way; you were so easy to talk to, and you were gorgeous.

Time didn’t seem to exist in that hotel room as you took a bite of mochi Satoru held out for you. But the moment the phone rang, it pulled you out of your happy fantasy back into reality. A disappointed sigh escaped you as you answered the phone, grimacing as your manager yelled at you that he’d had another client waiting for you despite your rule of only taking one a night. Before you could argue with him, Satoru snatched the phone from your hands.

”Sorry, I’m not done; I’d like to add to my time.”

”Satoru wh—“ he cut you off by shoving a ball of mochi into your mouth, shutting you up.

”You know what, just put me down with her all night.” Your manager's excitement was audible from the phone as Gojo just told him the price for the whole night. “That’s it?” Satoru’s nose turned up. “She’s worth more than that and then some. Just charge it to my card.”

”Satoru,” He grinned, pulling you into his chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”

”You honestly think I’m just going to let you slip away? Hell no.” You cuddled into his side. “How would you feel about leaving this shitty job and becoming a sugar baby of sorts instead?”

”Are you offering to be my sugar daddy?” You teased with a giggle, running your hand up and down his chest.

”Depends. What would you say if I did offer to do just that?”

You gently straddled his hips, trailing kisses down his jawline. “Well, I would start by saying you’re too young to be one.” His cock twitched underneath the curve of your ass as you moved past his neck.

”I might be young, but I’m filthy rich.” His hands reached up, groping your ass, gently rocking you against his hardening bulge. “If you allowed me the pleasure of taking care of you, you wouldn’t have to worry about a damn thing.”

Sitting back with a breathless giggle, you rocked faster. “Well, when you put it that way, I would have to be stupid to say no to the lovely gentleman who accidentally ordered a prostitute.” Satoru’s chest heaved as he watched your hands move to the robe's sash. “But there’s just one thing we should do before we proceed with this agreement.”

Your hips moved painfully slow over Satoru’s cock. He thought he might lose himself if you kept going at that pace. “Y-Yeah, fuuuck, what is that sweetheart?” With a gentle tug on the sash, Satoru stared at you in awe as you exposed your naked body to him. “O-Oh my god, you’re beautiful, so pretty.” Reaching down, you unbuttoned his pants with a purpose, taking your bottom lip between your teeth with a giggle.

”I need to show you my resume.”

The next day, Gojo returned to Tokyo with a bag full of taro mochi and a girlfriend on his arm. Ordering that robe from a tiny love hotel was the best accident he’d ever made. You couldn’t have agreed more with him,

Nanami Kento:

Nanami was a very busy man who was constantly working and valued the little free time that he had. On his days off, he liked to go out to eat and partake in a few drinks. Other times, he likes to stay at home reading a book and enjoying a glass of wine.

Living this sort of lifestyle could be very lonely at times. Typically Nanami had no problem or issue with going out on dates, but some nights he would prefer to just fuck his frustrations out. And without a partner, he found it challenging to fulfill his desires at times.

Eventually, the pent-up frustration had become too much for him to handle. So, without another choice, he called an escort service where he met you. Your first initial meeting had been a consultation of sorts. Nanami asked for your limits and what you were okay with. When he decided you would be a perfect partner, he paid you in advance, gave you a safe word, and nearly destroyed you the night you were hired.

Your hands were being held behind your back with one of Nanami’s. His other hand was forcing your head into the mattress as he fucked into you brutally. His cock hits your g-spot and cervix with every pull. Nanami Kento was like a growling beast above you as your tight, wet walls hugged him.

”That feels good, love?” He asked in a husky feral tone, his hips grinding snuggly against your ass. The tip of his cock, in turn, teased your g-spot, rubbing it just enough to stimulate the spongy spot. But there wasn’t enough pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering on. “I—“ Nanami’s hand left your head, striking your ass with a powerful strike, “asked you a question.” Another slap, this one hard enough to have your walls clenching around his veiny cock. “And when I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

Nanami’s hand massaged the sting out of your ass. “Y—Yes god, yes it feels s-so good N-Nanami!” His hips rocked faster against your ass, “Oooh, Nana—”

“Kento.” A sharp growl interrupted you. “Call me Kento—” His fingers left your ass, wrapping around the tails of the yellow spotted tie he had blindfolded you with. “When I’m fucking you into the mattress.”

He tugged the ends of the tie, forcing your head back and causing your arch to deepen. The sudden change of position results in Nanami’s cock bullying the tip harshly over your sweet spot he’s been torturing for what seems like hours. You cried out as drool dripped down your chin, pooling on the sheets. Your walls were beginning to hug him in pulsing waves; you were so close. Nanami felt it, too. Releasing your hands, he grabbed your hip to steady himself as he began fucking your tight cunt like he hated her.

”Say my name, say it, scream it out loud. I want the entire complex to know who makes you feel this euphoric pleasure.”

”Kento!”

”Louder.”

”Kento!!”

“You. Can. Do. Better. Then. That.” Each word was punctuated by a fast jabbing thrust right against your cervix.

”KENTO!” Your scream bounced off the walls. Making both you and Kent’s ears ring as you came around him, soaking the sheets as he fucked you through the intense orgasm and into his own.

”Cumming!” He growled against your shoulder blade. Beads of sweat ran down his brow, dripping onto your sensitive skin. “Good girl love, take it all, take every last drop I give you.” He kissed and nipped at your skin as his cum filled you.

Once his hips had finally stilled and you could form coherent thoughts, his whole demeanor changed from a frustrated, fuming mass of a man to a gentler soul. His fingers undid the tie around your head before gently massaging circles over your aching joints. His lips trailed soft, gentle kisses over your sweat-shimmering skin. You found yourself leaning into his touch, longing for more. You were desperate to feel every inch of the man who had just fucked you within an inch of your life.

Not many of your clients liked you to do that. Leaning into them once that had quite literally finished using you. They would shove you away before kicking you outNanami Kento was different. The second he felt you shift, leaning towards his body heat, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body, spooning you.

That first night was the start of your partnership with Nanami. He would fuck you to the brink of death before slowly reviving you with gentle kisses, words of affirmation, and aftercare. Nanami quickly became your favorite client; whenever his name appeared on your schedule, you felt as light as air.

Typically, these sorts of relationships stayed strictly professional and revolved around sex. So when you showed up to his apartment one Friday evening, ready to see the pearly gates, you were shocked to be offered a glass of wine. Not only that, but he led you to his dining room, where he pulled out your chair as he served you the delicious dinner he had prepared for just the two of you.

”I thought we’d try something a little different tonight.” He’d confessed in the low flickering glow of the candlelight. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You agreed without hesitation, smiling lovingly. Nanami was the client; whatever he wanted to do, you’d be willing to try. You’d had several different clients and gone through so many other kinks. You liked to imagine with all of that, you had a pretty good amount of experience under your belt. Nanami, however, had surprised you for the first time in a very long time.

Some nights, he just wanted a normal, quiet dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed with you in his arms. The initial request had been a bit of a shock, but it was a good one. After that night, your visits with Nanami began alternating from rough, god-like se to sweet, gentle evenings.

Tonight was one of those mundane nights you’d grown to love just as much as the crazy, wild sex you two had. But you found yourself loving these quiet little nights a bit more where you were currently resting your head in his lap as he played with your hair. His eyes roamed over the pages of his newest book.

”Mmm, I love nights like this.” You whispered, shutting your eyes.

”I love you more.” Nanami said while turning his page, not even paying attention to the stunned expression pasted over your face. All he did was smile warmly. “You don’t have to say it back.”

”I love you too.” You answered just as fast.

”Mmm, then perhaps we should consider ripping up our contract. I would prefer to be your boyfriend rather than your client.” That was the night that you had retired, and the night Nanami deleted his account on your escorts page.

Ryomen Sukuna: (modern CEO AU)

Sukuna would purchase an escort for sure, no doubt. He'd go through a site and pick the one he thought was the most beautiful. He would then ask you to come to his apartment to complete your services. The man could fuck; he fucked you hard, deep, and fast. He took you against the door the first time you visited his apartment. Once he was done, he paid you and saw you out.

The following week, Sukuna requested you again. This time he picked up dinner before he fucked your throat while he watched a movie he'd put on for the two of you to enjoy. His large hand was rugged and pulled on your hair, forcing you to take more of him down your throat before yanking you off and giving you a chance to breathe before pushing you back down on his thick throbbing dick. When he finished, he handed you bent over the coffee face buried in your pussy, lapping at your clit.

Sukuna might have been rough and demanding, but he never once hurt you. He always ensured both of you came hard, never leaving you unsatisfied. He quickly became one of your favorite clients. Every Friday night, you'd happily skip to his condo, and every Friday, he would rock your world.

“Oh~ god fuck~!!” Sukuna snarled as you rocked back against him. “Fuuuck~” The bustling city and honking horns sounded from below as your hand gripped his balcony railing. “God, you take my cock so good~”

“Kuna~ Kuna s-so good!” you slam yourself back faster in his cock, losing yourself in the wet squelching sounds that fill your ears.

Sukuna’s hands grope at the fat of your ass, squeezing it as he pulls you harder against him. A smirk tugs at his mouth at the whimpers that shake through you. “I'll never get over how good you feel~” He groaned deeply as his hips snapped faster, his free hand rubbing circles around your swollen clit. “Maybe I should have you stay for a weekend~ maybe longer.” Manicured nails scrape over the metal of the railing as you dip your head forward. “Would you like that~? Being my live-in slut? Huh?” Pillow talk: this was just pillow talk.

“I-I'd like that a-a lot!” you sobbed as his cock hit the deepest part of you. “P-Please Kuna~ I need you.”

“Ah~ you'll get it, my queen, ~ you're gonna get a thick fucking load shoved so deep, you'll be dripping my cum out for days~.”

“Yes! Full me up! Fill me up!”

The begging tone of your voice has Sukuna wishing there wasn't a condom separating him from your wet heat. One of these days, he’ll make sure that he gets to feel all of you. For now, he was more concerned with just feeling you cum around him. He’d take care of the rest later.

“Then cum for me, my sweet little slut.” With a jab at your g-spot, you do as he commands. You scream, not caring about the people walking down below or his neighbors. All that matters in this current moment is losing yourself as Sukuna fucks you through the scream-inducing orgasm and into his own.

“Nggh! Fuckin’ slut!” His grunt of pleasure is bitten off by an almost demonic roar as his cum fills the condom.

You both rock slowly against the other, skin-hitting skin in soft—plops before Sukuna sits on his patio sofa with you in his lap. He's groaning on the nape of your neck as his hands gently massage your hips. Humming softly, you look up at the stars, wishing this moment could last forever.

Where he wasn’t a client, and you weren't an escort. The more you came to his condo on Friday nights, the more you didn't want to leave. But he was paying you for an evening, so the chances of this escalating into something more were slim to none. So you would just be thankful for the moments you had.

The night ended like every other Friday. He gave you the cash, walked you to the lobby, and kissed your cheek. “See you soon.” He said as he helped you into a taxi and waved you off.

When he said soon, you had been thinking he meant next Friday soon. But the following day? Yeah, that was a shock. You had just been called into your manager's office, finding Sukuna leaning against the wall while your manager counted big stacks of money.

“What’s happening?” The question was almost inaudible as your manager leaned back with a sickening smirk.

“This gentleman has bought out your contract, so as of this moment, you’re fired.”

“W-Wha—?!” you don't even get to question your manager as Sukuna is dragging you out. “Kuna?! What the hell is happening?!”

The man who just bought you out of a lifestyle you didn't care for cocked a pink brow. “I asked you last night if you wanted to live with me. You said yes. Buying your contract out was the next step.” He leads you to a sleek black car. “Don't think just because I bought you out of your contract means I assume I own you. You're free to do whatever you please. I enjoy your company.”

“So I can go home whenever I want.”

“Yep.”

“And if I want to stay with you?”

“You can.”

You don't even hesitate; you leap into his arms and kiss him. “Mmm, good, take me home,” Sukuna smirks, kissing you back as he loads you into the car.

“Home it is.”

Geto Suguru:

Geto was searching for a place to stay when he first met you. Back then, you weren't even an escort yet. He was looking for an inn with rooms opened; he'd been informed by one of his cult members of a curse that would be perfect for him to absorb.

At twenty years old, he walked into his first brothel, fully intending to get a room for the night. The establishment reeked of booze and sex, but it was the only place with room available, and the curse he'd just swallowed was one of the worst he'd tasted. Resting was the best thing he could do before returning home.

Once in his room, the best room in the entire building, there was a knock on the door to his room. The manager of the building shoved you inside. You hit Geto’s chest with a wince before the manager bowed his head to Geto. The man you ran into glanced over you; you were dressed in thin white garments before his dark eyes met the man in the doorway.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“A welcome gift, as a token of my appreciation of you buying our best room. I had heard you hadn't ordered any escorts, so please take her as you. She’s a virgin.” Small curses and little leeches appeared, crawling all over the man. These curses typically came from greed and lust, sucking the life out of everything. And the man was covered in them.

Geto felt his stomach twist as he glowered at the stupid monkey—another reason he had to rid the world of these parasites. This man was a disgusting creature who was selling off women like this. But for all he knew, you were just a monkey, too. There was no point for him to waste his time

“I do not need such services.” The handsome man announced, shoving you back to the manager. As he did, one of the leeches lurched for you, and you held up a hand in disgust. Suguru watched as the curse hit a barrier before fading into black ash.

So you weren’t a useless human.

”Oh, I see very well. Come girl, I can use you for the party tonight ins—“

”On second thought, it was rude of me to refuse your offer. I will gladly accept her.” The manager beamed with excitement while you glared at him in disgust.

” Excellent choice, my lord; I will leave you to it.”

The second the door to his room shut, Suguru turned to you, watching you angrily undo the sash at your waist. “Hurry up.” You barked out, voice trembling as you laid on the bed as stiff as a board.

”I have no intention of touching you.” Suguru said, tilting his head to the side with a grin. “I do, however, have questions regarding your technique.”

”Technique?”

Geto sat on the bed next to you, explaining what he had seen you do. You, in turn, told him your life's story. How you could see curses since you were a child, how your parents sold you off to repay a debt. You confided in him that you had been the errand girl for the brothel since you turned eighteen, but when the manager saw your beauty, he started insisting you begin taking customers. Now that you were twenty, he had grown tired of your denials and decided tonight would be the night he offered you for free to any willing customer.

Suguru was disgusted and offered to handle the problem, but you politely declined, stating you would stay. If you didn’t repay your parent's debt, your younger sister would be sold off next, and you refused to allow that to happen.

“I just hate for my first time to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. And once you leave, I know I'll be paraded around some more.” Suguru could see the sorrow in your eyes as you brought your knees to your chest, hugging yourself. “I wouldn't have minded you being my first customer.”

”I will confess, I have never done anything like this myself.” His cheeks flushed as he gently placed his hand over yours. “Perhaps we could be each other’s firsts?”

You were no fool; you knew this would be an ideal opportunity for women in your position. With shaking hands, you cupped Geto's face and kissed him. He was almost too stunned to react, but as you gently rubbed his shoulders, he slowly melted into your touch, kissing you back earnestly. Both of you gently removed your clothes, kissed, and ran your hands down each other's bodies, losing yourself in the other's touch. It was tender and slow. You were mapping out the other, caressing chests, legs, and lips overheated skin.

But those gentle kisses turned into desperate ones, tongues sliding gently against the other, fingers buried inside you while your hand wrapped around him, stroking him. When you were both hot and needy, Suguru gently pushed himself inside of you, pausing as you winced at the sharp sting that accompanied him. Seeing the way you wince, both pained and pleased Suguru. He felt terrible for causing you the briefest moment of pain, but he was also glad that he was the one doing it. Anyone else would have been far too rough with you, and you deserved a memorable first time.

A memorable moment that was not going to last very long because you were so tight, and he was already seconds from losing control. “G-Geto~” you whispered as he kissed your neck, up to your ear, nibbling on the lobe as he gently thrust in and out of you. “Ahhn Geto~” He whined in your ear before chuckling breathlessly.

“Suguru.” He corrected, pulling back to stare into your eyes. “Call me Suguru.”

”S-Suguru.” You tested out, and upon hearing his name pass through your lips, his cock throbbed inside of you. “S-Suguru ah, yes Suguru~.”

“My princess, so warm~ so good.” Cries of your names were whispered into the other mouth as Suguru gently fucked into you, his gentle thrusts losing the messy rhythm he had begun with. “I-I’m sorry, but I’m already close.” His confession and thumb gently brushing over your clit, rubbing the bud back and forth, had you rolling with the waves of your impending orgasm.

”M-Me too, Suguru.”

You came at the same time as the man who had bestowed you with a gift not many other girls in your profession were granted, and for that, you were forever grateful. You almost cried tears of joy when he laid down next to you, holding you close to his chest, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back, caressing you to sleep. The following morning, Geto woke you up before he left. He was bidding farewell and leaving you with his cellphone number. He was persistent on you taking it, urging you to call him if you ever needed him.

Little did he know that your call would come one week later. Rainbow dragon landed outside of the brothel, and Suguru came bursting through the doors, eyes dark in fiery fury as he scanned the entryway finding the scumbag monkey that was a pathetic excuse for a manager cowering behind the bar. Suguru ignored him and bounded up the stairs, heading to the room you had first met.

Opening the door, he froze, finding you sitting on the bed, face swollen and bruised. “Princess?” He spoke softly, not to startle you. “What happened?” You motioned to the corner of the room where an unconscious man lay, a fork jammed into the side of his neck.

”My manager sent a customer to me without my knowledge. The man attacked me, but I fought him off before he could get what he wanted.” Suguru released one of his curses before pulling you into his arms, attempting to shield you from the gruesome sight of the man’s death, But you watched from over his shoulder, never once blinking.

”I’m taking you home with me.” His tone and words left no room for argument, not that you would. “Let’s go.” He lifted you into his arms, carrying you down the stairs, ignoring the whispers and glances in your direction. Before he took you outside to where Rainbow Dragon was waiting, he stopped turning towards the bar where the disgusting human who had betrayed you cowered. “Princess, what shall we do with him?”

You turned, one eye swollen shut, as the other burned with rage. “Kill him.” Suguru smiled coldly, releasing more curses that swarmed around the man. His screams filled you with joy as Suguru sat upon the back of his dragon, holding you close to his chest. As the cursed spirit took flight, you peered down as several girls and patrons escaped the building before it erupted into blue flames. “Worthless monkeys.” You spat out, cuddling into Suguru’s chest.

The next day, Geto happily watched as Nanako and Mimiko braided your hair while other members of his found family spoke with you. Suguru had made sure to get your sister away from your parents before he took care of them as he’d done to his mother and father. Your sister would be placed in the care of one of his devoted followers while you stayed by his side.

“Suguru,” You called out, smiling sweetly as you broke away from the girls. “What are you thinking about?”

He kissed your head, “Just admiring your beauty.” He took one of the braids the girls had done and kissed it. “I’m truly a lucky man.” You smiled this time, kissing him on the lips.

”I think we're both lucky.”

”That we are princess, that we are.”

[aakaneeee]

ROUND 7 THEORY.

Till is going to lose: and Hyuna won't be there to save him.

this is insanely long, hug yourselves

I. Hyuna won't be part of the rescue mission.

I'm going to start with the obvious: today's alien stage friday content that opened my third eye.

obviously, hyuna is.. suffering is an understatement right now, she appears in a lot of pain, having to lean on mizi to walk. not only this, but mizi is distressed too. she is looking back, and the warning:intruder sign is reflecting in her eyes. interesting detail I've seen: the screen behind hyuna I'd light, and I personally think it's Luka's promotional photoshoot we've seen in All-In. maybe a slight reach, and not a good point to base a whole theory I genuinely believe in on, but trust me, it all ties togheter: Hyuna is looking directly forward, towards a 'light', while Mizi is looking back, at a warning sign. So, Hyuna will go to their base, and Mizi will do the rescuing mission alone. This might sound stupid, but the AMOUNT of content I found that holds this theory is insane.

Speaking about All-In..

This is a promotional video for All-In. (Might be the teaser but I'm tweaking) Mizi is only shown in the car scene, where she's togheter with Hyuna. In the other parts, Hyuna is completely alone. This might not mean a lot, except that we have this official art:

Unlike the frame in the video, Hyuna is alone here, leaving dust on the on the other cars. Does this mean that she'll go alone? Perhaps leave alone? And there's even more I consider as 'evidence'.

In the cover of hyuna ver. of ROMH, she seems to be laying down, something that I don't think she would be able to do while still being in the ALNST building, and the splash on her face seems to be similar to the character's that have died.

As happy as this looks, again, Mizi isn't here. The rest of the rebellion is, and she's wearing the outfit she had on in All-In when making that video with the others. She's making a gun sign, something usual for her, she's done it multiple times all over. Is this foreshadowing of her being shot?

But this.. even though the backround is Hyuna, it's obvious that the hands are not hers because of the light skin. So is this Mizi that's trying to learn from Hyuna? Maybe because she has to do a mission without her? Back to the All-In teaser, we don't see who's holding the gun that flashes between the frames of Hyuna's hand making a gun sign. I personally think it's Mizi instead, since now she's learned how to fire. Afterall, in All-In, even Hyuna is surprised at her sudden fierceness.

Here, it seems like Hyuna is being announced something, while sitting down. But what could be so important that she is told with such secrecy? The only thing I can imagine is a rescue mission, but she isn't there herself.

In this art, Mizi is looking down, while Hyuna is looking up, with a stern face, almost monitoring. But where could Mizi be, so high up she has to look down, and so bright she has to shadow her eyes? This takes me to the next part of my theory:

II. Till is going to lose.

The light from above the stage in the Round 7 teaser is dark blue, but a specific shade that has been often associated with Mizi. Is she there, so that's why she's looking down? Also from the teaser, we have this (which I think was pointed out before):

The little gun aim light is pointed towards the stage from an alien that seems to have a guard helmet, and then a light covers Till. I think it's enough proof that something will happen to him, but I have more. So much more.. And yet, I think the other ones fit more into another category. III. Even though he'll lose, Till won't die. But he won't live well, either. I am not delusional, I genuinely think Mizi's rescue mission will go well.

Here, Till is holding a strand of Mizi's long hair, the hair we know is long gone. In relationship with the first category, Hyuna is the only one missing from this art.

I initially thought it was Till protecting Mizi from something, but no. I think it's Till protecting the image of Mizi he remembers from something he finds terrifying: and I think that scary thing is the real Mizi, the Mizi that exists now. It's a common theme that Till is only inlove with the image of Mizi, so what if that dissapears? I imagine he'd be terrified of that.

Here, the wire of Till's collar (that we've seen him wearing in round 7, too) seems to be blending with Mizi's hair, as if he is bound to the image of past her. (Since we know her hair is short now.)

In this, the tape is similar to the one that covered his mouth in Top 3, but here, his mouth is wide opened, the tape instead covering his name, as if his freedom, his own voice was given back to him, rather covering his branding whom is proof of ownership.

Here, the characters that are behind have died, and the ones that are holding flowers are the ones who love Mizi. But again, it's the long haired old Mizi.

III. Hallucinations

Alien Stage is about romance, and hallucinating your loved one isn't new in it. Mizi hallucinated Sua in Round 5, and Till hallucinated Mizi (again, her old version) after... we all know what I mean. Hallucinating has led to losing, but is this going to be the case in Round 7?

Well, yes and no. Yes for Till, no for Luka, and I think this aspect is the one that makes the most difference between them.

Let's talk about Till first. I feel like Luka won't genuinely see Till as a threat, especially after Round 6. I do not think that he will do the ROMH technique. And yet, I think Till will hallucinate Ivan in him anyways. Looking at Luka's stage smile and Ivan's default expression, they look very similar (atleast to me), and the white outfits might do it, too.

This particular image makes me feel like that. His fingers aren't purple, which, I don't know what to make out of it, but it's about the neck holding. Ivan always seemed to have something with Till's neck, and there's a lot of art to prove it. This is undoubtedly something that Ivan would do, and I can imagine Till hallucinating Ivan, or atleast, a warped version of him, in situations like this. Till is already in a bad place mentally, so I feel like such a thing would destroy him, even though he won't go down without a fight.

Onto Luka. I think hallucinating Hyuna in Till is inevitable: their energy is just incredibly similar. But unlike Till, Hyuna is Luka's motivation to sing.

In this comic, we find out that Luka doesn't truly like singing: his only reason for singing is (or atleast, was) the fact that Hyuna likes it. And again, unlike Till, Luka is obsessed with the stage. It's canon that he has low self-esteem, and that winning is his way of raising it up. I don't see him having a mentality like Till, but rather, one that sounds more like "Only I get to kill you.", so a competition against Hyuna would only make him more motivated. And so, I think that hallucinating Hyuna gets him even closer to a win.

IV. Till will escape: but at what cost?

Till knows that the last time he turned down escaping, it didn't go well. So, even now, with the new image of Mizi, even now, with Ivan dead, even now, when he's still holding onto an image long gone of someone he loves, he will accept, but without getting implicated into whatever the resistance does too much. Why? Because he thinks he has nothing left except his hallucinations.

V. Conclusion

I'm sorry for how long this is!! I've been thinking for sooo long... I really like how I've made this though, in the end. extra: In this official art, the characters that are slightly smiling are now dead (sua, ivan).. it doesn't really mean anything to what I said (I think), but I found it interesting :)

[todorokies]

RUMOR HAS IT - suguru geto

✩࿐ the streets of london have now been considered a danger for citizens when a blood hunger vampire prowls looking for their next lady in waiting . . .

contents: very suggestive, fem!reader, vampire!geto, geto is bewitched by you(r blood), nanami cameo, nineteenth century gothic victorian era, this leans towards the thriller side, reader is a bit naive, a wee bit of manipulation, blood drinking, usage of ‘m’lady’, inspired by the song ‘rumor has it’ by adele & this tweet, 2.5k words

a/n: there is a lot of imagery written !!! i truly hope u all like it, reblogs & supportive feedback is welcome ik the wc is a lot but pls bare with me :”) . . . apart of @kentopedia’s ‘love through the ages’ collab

the sun has begun to shift into its everlasting transition of casting soft orange hues of light that are softly entangled with a dark shade of blue that covers up above. the moon had tucked its companion away for the time being as it began to come into view.

the current state of main street however didn’t reflect the tranquillity of peace; the town clock had loudly reverberated alerting the public of the danger that would soon lurk.

citizens both young and old trampled out of buildings leaving a simple gust of wind in their wake to reach their residences.

a curfew had recently been implemented by the town council in order to reduce the sudden influx —dubbed as animal attacks— of women being found lifeless on the cold streets, with their blood being completely drained from their bodies.

but alas, the troublesome rumours of the attacks being performed by a person rather than an animal, rattled in, heightening the unpleasantries.

the rotten smell of fear lingers in the air with the pumping adrenaline coursing through the towns folks veins. if the perpetrator weren’t foolish enough, an entire course meal has been presented onto a platter for them.

“staring won’t do you any good if you end up dead.” nanami, your coworker, noted who was packing the last of the bakery’s unsold goods in a bag to be taken home.

you quickly drew away from the windowsill, “doesn’t the site of it all make you miserable. this new curfew has done nothing but made everyone even more frightened.”

nanami’s features softened and pursed his lips in a thin line before sighing. “the curfew is sensible in hindsight, but when rules are enforced people have a sudden urge to break them, mainly to figure out what animal—”

“—or person,” you sharply cut him off which causes his eyebrows to crinkle.

“i mean, let’s face it, what kind of animal leaves two perfectly clean puncture wounds on the neck and abandons the body as it is without any carnage?”

a beat follows before you continue, “this is obviously the work of some mad scientist in town looking to make a name for themselves.”

he sighs, “animal or …person, you shouldn’t be standing here chatting with me about it.”

his eyes twinkle with remorse whilst handing the bag of baked goods over to you, “i could chaperone you to your residence, you do live on the outskirts of town. i deeply worry about your safety.”

you lightheartedly scoff, politely waving off the suggestion. “nonsense kento, i always seem to have luck on my side, the walk home will be uneventful as always.”

he frowns at this.

you can be extraordinarily stubborn at the most inappropriate times.

“besides what would society think once they see an unwed woman getting escorted by the opposite sex. you should hurry home yourself! send my kind regards to yuuji for me.”

you bunch up the detailed lace of your overflowing gown in one hand while holding the brown bag of pastries in the other.

swiftly scurrying off into the abandoned streets, “do take care of yourself!”

“get home safely and hurry before the streetlights turn on!” nanami yells out the door before locking up the establishment and heading on his own way.

the cobblestone beneath your feet painfully ached and crumbled apart with each passing step you took. shutters from other houses forcefully swung open from the wind that picked up overtime, soon a ghastly fog began to move in, hindering some of your vision.

you truthfully dreaded this. nanami’s offer is still mulled in the back of your head, you mentally slap yourself for dismissing a comforting and preferably safer option of returning home.

however, dwelling on the what if’s have never been your cup of tea, instead you attempt to take in the scenery of the town in it’s glory.

the eerie atmosphere reminded you of an agatha christie novel you’ve once read. the fond memory warms you up in the dead of night.

soon your manor appears into view. relief immediately washes over you, a small breath of air exited your lungs.

but then you hear it; an extra set of footsteps a mile or two from behind you that rippled the cement.

too heavy of a stride to be another woman in heels and too human-like to be a four legged animal. with each step you took, they would take on another, almost in sync to throw you off their suspicions.

you felt bare and exposed as the only thing that you could focus on was the tangible breeze rattling your bones, fingers turning numb and losing its feeling. your head buzzed considering the only two options to best handle the situation: continue the venture to your housing or confront the entity.

continuing your journey would result in the mysterious entity gaining knowledge of your location. whereas, standing idly waiting for the perpetrator’s next move would result in you being the newspaper’s front headliner.

you’ve concluded the mental battle with yourself on cutting through the woods and loosing whomever is behind you in the dust.

just as you were about to pick up your feet, a tap by a set of fingers rippled against your shoulder causing you to shriek.

“m’lady, i believe you dropped this.” a sultry voice booms through your ears that belonged to a man so majestic you couldn’t comprehend. your breath staggers while your mouth hang slightly agape.

he was as pale as a lilith in its full bloom but still managed to glisten under the moonlight. monolid eyes sharpened that showcased nothing but intensity and gluttony.

you couldn’t dare away, especially not when his gaze has your flesh burning to the touch as heat pools between your legs, an endless void of lust and mystery.

somehow breaking out of his enchantment, you regain consciousness, blinking away the blurriness and swiftly take the handkerchief he handed to you and stuff it in your dress pocket.

“o-oh, thank you kind sir,” your words heavily slurs past your lips.

his overwhelming aura seemingly switches, presenting more of a laid back approach when speaking to you.

“what’s a dream like you doing roaming the streets at this hour?” he inquired.

it’s almost like whiplash— fear surging from every portion of your body to feeling a sense of ease with his presence around.

your face warms up. subconsciously picking at the skin that surrounds your nail beds. “just trying to make my way home, i had picked up a late shift from—”

“the bakery in town square, correct?”

taking a step, his taller frame leaned a quarter into your personal space suddenly being consumed by his aroma. sweetness mixed with a hint of sandalwood and lavender.

his fingers weakly pranced around a single strand of your hair that had been loose, meticulously swirling it about in a specific way that only pleased him.

only then were you able to come about his long raven locks that were styled in a charming half-do that seemingly blended in with the sinful sombre of the midnight sky.

your pulse amplified, picking up like the speed of lightning. your hands soon began accumulating sweat just by a single question.

despite town square serving the population of two countries bound together, not once have you had the pleasure of encountering this man.

he was far too bewitching to grace the status of a commoner. no, he must be a figure of royalty or at least had rich wealth flowing through his blood, but he showcases no obvious signs of luxury.

just who was this man exactly?

he watches you regain control over your psyche, backing away which lets the strand of hair he possessed on his finger seemingly bounce free.

“enlighten me. how do you possess knowledge of the location of my employment? my eyes have never seen someone of the likes of you before.”

he senses utter hostility from you. the entire cobbled street reeks of your fear. he can practically taste your appetizing disdain on the tip of his tongue.

his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth to conceal the withering moan that elicited from his core; you’re unsettled by him which only fuels his erogenous.

he playfully surrenders his hands in the air as if you had just caught him in an obtuse act, “what, pray tell, are you insinuating?”

you scoff, “do you take me for a mockery?” your voice doesn’t waver, eyebrows cinched together with lips into a firm line.

he simply tuts, “only a well put together woman like yourself could gain employment at such a high end bakery that stands in town square. i based such an assumption off my judgement . . . forgive me, m’lady.”

your eyes cautiously scan his face to detect any signs of playfulness that went against his explanation. when none was present, it was your cue to ease up on your suspicions.

with a sharp intake of air, your tense shoulders unwind themselves from your ears as you straighten out your dress trying to knead at any wrinkles.

the bakery in town has built a famous name for itself, being known as one of the most ancient buildings standing tall, as well as offering fresh pastries throughout many wars and battles.

different hierarchies from all across the globe have made it their mission to invest in a trade deal of importing the bakery’s goods in exchange for many benefits.

“then again, you find yourself situated on this street conversing with an utter stranger during after hours. so pray tell, who exactly is the jester here?” he dryly asks.

the warm energy circulating between the two of you came to a sudden halt as the tension quickly grew cold.

his voice is fervent. a barbaric ignorance flows naturally in his tone as if he was challenging you, which is much different than how he addressed your inquiry.

truthfully suguru was growing impatient by the minute. he has worked all of the charms in the book but you still haven’t given him an opening for what he wanted the most. your body, soul and most importantly; your blood.

he salivated at the sight of the minuscule veins on your neck becoming more prominent when your voice raises an obtuse or two.

the excruciating torment of his body thumping with thirst made his head throb. his tongue swirled hungrily around his sharp left fang in anticipation. 

if you had blinked, you would’ve missed how he traveled at the speed of light. a gust of wind swept through the streets as a strong swooshing of air caused the ends of your dress to get caught up in the wake. suddenly, you were face to face again with the mystery man, his nose ever so gently grazing yours, feeling his cold breath onto your lips.

his eyes carefully scans your features, taking notice of the crease between your eyebrows. “you aren’t aware of my name yet you give me your time of day? or rather night that is? i feel honoured.” he purrs.

your heart collapses to your feet. what in god’s name were you doing?

allowing yourself to get seduced by a nameless maniac on the street at the devil’s hour. letting your head get filled to the brim with such deception and trickery. your bread must’ve gone stale and you hadn’t noticed until now how terribly your feet ached from standing for so long.

your brain screamed at you to pick up your feet and dash out of a sickly situation you’ve unfortunately found yourself in. but to no avail your soles stood firmly in place, you pitied yourself for still being under his aphrodisiac.

your eyes sting as tears begin to well up into the base of your waterline. he shushes you by lightly tapping his index fingers against your bottom lip then leans into the shell of your ear, “you were the most naive out of others yet the most challenging one, what is your secret, m’lady?”

the only thing you could muster up in the moment was a faint, “p-please don’t hurt me…”

to that, suguru’s current expression gets replaced by a look of genuine remorse. he smiles fondly, his eyes forming into crescent moons. “you mustn’t worry, i have different plans for you. now be a darling and tilt your head for me.”

his eyes glowed a crimson hue that casted a reflection in your own eyes. his divine string of words compelled you to follow his demand, having no conscious influence over your own actions.

he could see your arteries viciously pumping oxygen. unstable hollow breaths depart from your plump lips.

what a delightful sight you are.

finally, his fangs penetrate your fragile skin causing goosebumps to arise upon impact as angry scarlett red seeps out of the two puncture holes he’d created.

you gasp, your head is frantically bubbling with heat as your knees buckle, static shoots through your joints feeling vibrations all over your body.

he gently cradles the back of your head with one hand using his grip to better his angle on his landscape. drowsiness consumes you whole. feeling yourself slowly slipping into a labyrinth that only the man in front of you has the key to.

your whimpers and soft pants fill the air. your stomach soon coils with a pleasant sensation of pleasure, you’ve truly gone mad as you bite your lip to cover up the choked up moans from the pleasurable aches of pain.

your eyes roll back to the sky, mentally counting the stars until your body decides to shut down what leftover functions it had left.

your eyes softly flutter open, wincing almost immediately from the dim overhead lap that shines directly in your face.

you’re currently lying on top of the broody velvet red loveseat that resided in your manor’s foyer. how you got home is beyond your comprehension.

suddenly the horrific memories of this particular night floods in your head like a tsunami.

that man… his fangs…the blood.

your hand quickly flies towards the area of the wound that resided on your neck, which to your surprise, is covered by a heavily padded gauze that will soon need to be changed once you get up.

who or what brought you home and tended to your wound? was it that man or maybe he had left you on the streets, barely alive when another lost soul roaming at the witching hour took you home.

you spot a glass of water on the floor that had a note taped onto it next to your bagged pastries. you cautiously pick up the glass to hydrate your overly dry throat then carefully peel the paper off the glass to read the note.

the contents of the note reads:

i have seeked high and low for the purest form of life, to find a companion worthy enough to indulge me in this wretched world of misery but yet, you were found from right under my nose.

your purity sings to me like a songbird o’holiest of thee. a crystallized soul patiently waiting for a body to mold.

your blood is as rare as black dahlia, hidden deep within the nooks of clouded nostalgia. your pastel beauty is the cure to my everlasting torment in hell.

i will return for you, my love.

always and forever yours, suguru.

tags: @cawwn @osaemu @yunymphs @megumimania @dollria @maeby-cursed @get0

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3