#maybe a good cry as well. it’s been a day

[kashverse]

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men 

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one” slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate. 

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed. 

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

[r0-boat]

Wrapped up gift

Happy Valentine's Day enjoy my gift with extra sugar!

This is part of a collab hosted by @dream-effect

Don't ever ask me to do this ever again

Whb!Seven Kings X Gn!Reader Fic

Cw: NSFW, gangbang, double penetration, spit roasting, cum drunk, bondage, name-calling, praise, multiple orgasms, uses of toys, biting, marking, creampie, choking, Crying kink.

WC: 5.1K

Everyone has been acting weird today…

Well, weirder than usual, many devils have avoided you, or that's what you think.

It's not like you expect the countless attention and gifts you are showered with every day, but it does raise a few questions when one day you can't even walk around town without a flock of devils around you, and the next, no one can hang out with you. 

Not even the kings. Who usually blows up your phone at all hours of the day?

Whether it's Asmodeus’s random confessions of love, Lucifer using your medical history as an excuse to talk to you, Beelzebub going on a random tangent about God knows what, Belphegor talking about anime, or Leviathan’s awkward ass small talk, only to spend another hour arguing with you over the phone, Mammon sending you pictures of expensive gifts he's about to buy you, or Satan angrily texting you why you haven't blocked everyone yet. Usually, your phone is flooded with any of these weirdos, but it was quiet and lonely for the first time since you came to hell.

With a sigh, you walk through the unusually empty halls of Gehenna’s Castle. The echoing of your footsteps mocked you till you reached your room. You push your door open when something fluttering down to the ground catches your eye: a pink envelope with a pink wax seal notice the fancy engraving on the and Asmodeus's sigil. It was ha and miss, especially the ‘interesting’ encounters you've had with him. His sigil became not only his symbol but also his calling card. You hesitate before sliding your thumb underneath the wax and opening the envelope. You sigh, scrunching your eyelids, preparing the potential nastiness you're about to unfold out of this letter…

Good fuck, why is it stained…?

‘Dear beloved, 

I prepared some Valentine's Day gifts for you at my castle. Let's enjoy Valentine's Day together!❤️

Constantly yearning, Asmodeus’

The letter was short and innocent, but you knew better than to trust anything from Asmodeus. The motherfucker couldn't even bother to text you, instead sending you an embroidered letter with an equally fancy-looking envelope doused in his normal scent.

Flashbacks of the past, heated in your eyes, prove what awaits you if you accept his invitation. But then again, you've never felt so lonely on a day you're supposed to be with the people you love. Also, Asmodeus was the only demon ever to mention Valentine's Day. You didn't even know today was a holiday until he mentioned it. You're not sure how you felt about the fact that no one even wanted to see you on Valentine's Day.

Maybe it was because Valentine's Day was an Earth holiday, not a holiday they usually celebrate in hell…Yeah, let's go with that. 

Knowing that he knew and wanted to spend time with you, your heart pumping with excitement, you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

You almost put down the leather until you realized what was in the bottom right-hand corner: an arrow pointing to the other side with the words ‘flip me ;)’ written in cursive.

On the back, you see what looks like a Latin chant. More of his handwriting was next to it: ‘simple teleportation spell to the front gates of my palace while you momentarily will feel a little dizzy; that's normal.’

Thank goodness for the grueling lessons Sitri would give you after you discovered that most demons use Latin as their mother tongue.

It was hard, but you resisted the temptation. As soon as your lips mouth the final syllable, your world spins. You almost lost your lunch as you instantly felt like you'd been propelled forward. One moment, you were in your bedroom in Gehenna, and the next, you stood on the red carpets of Abaddon, looking down that all-too-familiar hallway. 

Your eyes landed on a demon leaning against the wall, a black crop top resembling other biker jackets that reach the same length as the top, with spikes that adorn their collar and shoulders. His bulging muscles and choice of clothing looked scary, but as soon as Zalgrok saw them coming down the hallway, he smiled, picking his hands out of his pockets. “Hey, His Majesty is waiting for you.” Your eyes dart around the empty halls. But just like before, there were no signs of people. “Where is everybody?” The smile falters momentarily, his eyes darting to the ground, trying to think of an untrue excuse. “Asmodeus ordered everyone to leave, but he's in one of our private rooms with the other kings!” He smiled, pointing at one of the doors, a door to a room you haven't seen before. It looked different from fancy dark wood with golden embroidery.

This time, you walked up to the door. Zalgrok followed behind his hand, itching to reach out and touch you. He perhaps curled his fingers and interlocked them with yours.

He never gets to play with his Majesty's favorite toys, and yet here they are now, their ass swaying as they walk tantalizingly.

Before he could even react, it was too late. As quickly as you came in, you left. Zalgrok clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning on his heel, not wanting to stay longer to hear what would happen on the other side of that door.

The room was dark, with only as much light as the scattered candle could provide. Rose petals scattered all across the floor. A wide variety of sweets, chocolates, and fruits decorated the table, although some looked half-eaten.

Wrapped gift boxes litter the ground around the couch, some smaller than others. And at the center of it all, on a large bed, the devil of lust himself thrilled across the furniture as usual, his nude self dressed nicely in a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and done into a bun. He smelled of Ivory and rose petals as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my dear~! Poor baby must have been so lonely…” he purred as he opened his arms to beckon you to climb into them when he saw you approach him. You've never been so happy to see Asmodeus that you practically skipped toward him, but before you could get close enough to even touch him, a repellent tentacle wrapped around your throat rather harshly, pulling you back with enough force to make you stumble into something. 

The tentacles slip from your throat, replacing it with a firm hand. 

“So, is this what you do when I'm not here, whore yourself out to the nearest devil?” Leviathan hissed in your ear. He loosened his hand just enough to have you turn your head to look at him. You could barely see anything but his scowling face, but you could have sworn he was wearing a suit, too. Your suspicions are quickly confirmed, your heart jumping out of your chest as you see another devil seem to come out of himself, finally showing himself. 

The buzzing of flies becomes louder until they coagulate into one spot, Beelzebub appears as the horde disperses. He was also wearing a suit; however, it seemed that he had either forgotten or did not care to finish his green tie, as it simply hung over his neck. He spent no time taking off the jacket part of his suit immediately before letting out a relieved sigh. “These things just aren't for me…Glad you liked the eye candy, though, babe.” You watch helplessly, trapped in Levi's arms, his hand still wrapped around your throat, only putting pressure when Beel gets close. “Touch them, and I'll kill you…” He snarls. 

"Hate it or not, you still agreed. It's too late to back out of it now, Leviathan." Lucifer, whom you had just noticed, had been sitting idly on the chairs facing the bed, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as if he were some vampire out of an old film before taking a sip.

“I can feel their delicious greed from here. They must love their gift." Mammon smirked. Levi's hands were long gone, replaced with his large, firm ones wandering to your butt. 

“Slut better like it because I'm not doing this again…” Satan growled, feeling something tug tightly around his palm.

Asmodeus finally got up from the bed. From the other side of him, you see Belphegor, his tie loose, one of the buttons of his polo shirt undone, and his head resting against his hand. Asmo squishes your cheeks together playfully, shaking your head. “Now it's time for our Valentine's Day gift!” The wicked smile on his face when he said that made your hair stand on end. Your eyes went wide as you felt the thundering in your chest; shoot…again, you had forgotten; if you had known days in advance, you would have prepared at least something. You sputter out pathetically, "But I didn't bring anything…I'm sorry." The kings around the room went silent before bursting out in laughter.

“They said ‘they didn't bring anything’… How cute!” One of them mocked. Even Asmodeus struggled to contain his laughter as the hand that squished your cheeks together rushed to cover his snickering smile.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt heat rush to your face. 

“Stop, don't laugh!! You don't understand!” You hiss to at least try to explain yourself, but instead, Satan approaches close enough to weave his hand in your hair and yank your head up to look at his wide-eyed, toothy grin.

“No toy; you don't understand.” He lets it go over your head before unraveling the thing around his palm. A red ribbon. 

“You are the gift.” The realization hits you like a truck before anything can truly sink in.

“Strip them," Leviathan commanded with a hiss as Mammon’s big hands grabbed the fabric of the outfit you picked out, thinking it would just be you and Asmodeus.

“So sorry we have to ruin your outfit, dear; it's cute, it really is, but it would look better on the floor." Asmodeus laughs, licking his lips as he hears the fabric begin to tear. 

“I'll buy them new clothes, something far better than these worthless rags!" Mammon grunted with each flex of his muscles. 

The last piece of clothing rips off you, falling to the floor and revealing lovely lace underneath. The kings in the room hummed in delight, except for Leviathan and Asmodeus, whose moods were opposite. 

“Fucking worthless slut…Just what were you planning on doing with this, huh?!” Leviathan grits his teeth, his hand harshly grabbing the delicate lace, caring little for how his claws dug holes into the fabric.

And, of course, Asmodeus responds with a catty grin, fueling that fire of jealousy.

“Beloved, if I had known you would come see me in this, why? I would have canceled plans and just had you all to myself.”

Satan snarled before finishing Mammon's job, working with Leviathan to tear apart the lacy undergarments, abandoning them in shreds of cloth on the floor. 

“Such heathens…” murmured Lucifer, ignoring the bulging tent in his dress pants. Watching every move Satan made as he used the ribbon to tie you. Even with Mammon, Leviathan, and Beelzebub holding your arms and legs as Satan began to work, the binding, occasionally with a ribbon, would twist and fold with every imperfect knot. His eyebrows furrowed until he finally got up.

“Move, you're not doing it right." He ignored Satan's glare as he snatched the ribbon.

"It's like bandages; let me do this." Lucifer couldn't help but sneak a small kiss from your lips, his fangs catching your lips and causing soft, supple skin to bleed, which excited Beelzebub, who had been playing with your hand before. He didn't waste any time in fear that some other devil would steal a taste of your sweet red blood. He moved in as much as he could, forcing your head until his mouth could reach yours. His tongue glides across your bleeding lip, getting every last drop of your delicious blood. Beelzebub shivers at your taste, unconsciously trying to press his body against yours, tongue immediately moving into your mouth.

As Lucifer almost finished wrapping your body, you felt the ribbon tighten against your skin before the demon tied it into a neat little bow. Your hands and legs were still free, but not for long, as Satan handed Lucifer more ribbons for him to work with. You were too occupied with Beelzebub’s mouth and tongue to care that Mammon was holding your wrists together for Lucifer to tie up until a neat little bow.

Beelzebub, finally having his fill…for now, breaks away from you as Mammon and Satan move you toward the bed. “You look so beautiful like this." Whispered the Mammon, looking at you as if you were his greatest treasure. Satan snarls as he moves his body in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread, grinding his hips against yours. "Nice and fuckable; can't wait to leave you sore for weeks.”

You see Asmodeus off to the side, grabbing a present off the floor. "Is that for me? You ask, and he smiles. "Yes, well… Yes and no. It's for all of us~" With such precision, he picks at the ribbon at the top of the bow, slowly peeling it loose. The ribbon slips from its knot. He peels open the wrapping before putting his hand into the open box. Taking out a bar with two cuffs on the end. His thumb applies pressure as the bar springs longer.

“This will keep you nice and spread; we don't want you closing those pretty little legs now, do we?” Asmodeus smirks. Satan chuckles, practically snatching the spread bar from him, fastening each cuff onto your legs.

You had completely forgotten that you weren't the only one on the mattress when you felt a hand caress your cheek. 

“I hope you're grateful that we're doing all this work for you," Belphegor said, his other hand diving below to unbutton his belt. He scoots up till his crotch is right in your face. His hand palms his balls underneath his underwear before taking out his hardening cock. “Be a doll, won't you?” You know exactly what he wants as he touches your head, getting you for a taste. Belphegor’s head tilts back as he feels your mouth wrapped around his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, taking it deep just the way you knew he liked it. 

With your tongue swirling around the head, your mouth suckles his tip before taking him down to the base. His cock is squeezed by your throat with each suck.

Your legs quiver when you feel a hand around your throat again. Leviathan collects are done clearing out how well you're taking another demon down your throat. “Cock-hungry slut, look how well-trained you are at taking cock. How come you're not well-trained with me?” Leviathan's hand squeezes your throat as you gag around Belphegor’s cock. “Fuck, keep choking them! Damn throats getting tighter.”

With your choked-out sobs and moans, Satan, who has been grinding his bulge against your core this whole time, finally gives in, pissing out a string of cuss words, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't take it anymore! I'm going to fuck them! I'm going to fuck and feel them cum around my cock!” His hands shook, undoing his pants and sliding them down just enough. Take his cock out. His hard, leaking cock pressed against your entrance, and with one hand, he guided his cock till his head was pressing right against your hole, applying enough pressure to open for him. His other hand slid against your body, occasionally grasping at the ribbons. You squirmed as you felt the edges of the ribbons bite into you as they tightened against your skin.

“Don't struggle if you don't want the ribbons to hurt.” Lucifer scolded. Asmodeus added, “Be a good toy, and let us use you till you break.” You strain your eyes, trying to look to where the voices are coming from, and that's where you see Lucifer in a chair and Asmodeus standing across from the bed, both playing with themselves, Lucifer palming and groping his cock through his underwear and Asmodeus stroking himself, his pants long since abandoned as well as most of his suit.

Your cheek gets a light smack from Leviathan. “Hey! Don't look at them! Look at me! Or do I have to choke you harder?" 

This was all too much with Leviathan's hand on your throat, applying pressure before releasing and squeezing again all the while. Belphegor is now trying to fuck your throat, as Satan is now starting to ram his cock deeper inside, grabbing and clawing at your plush hips. His big demon dick forcing you open makes you take him.

It was all too much! Squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure and pain overwhelmed you so much you couldn't hold back your tears. 

“Fuck, they're crying! That's so hot…” Lucifer hissed, his palming motions now turning into jerking as he fucks his hand. Your legs shake as you can't hold back your orgasm, your screams muffled by the cock in your mouth as you squeeze Satan's cock for all He's worth. 

“Oooh fuuuck, never thought I'd find someone trying to scream with cock in their mouth so hot! Satan snarled, his hips driving into you, chasing his orgasm. 

"I'm going to cum! Gonna fill that throat, swallow it all, take it, all of it!” Belphegor growls, his balls heavy and full of seed slapping against your face.

Satan was not too far behind as his eyes were falling back. “I'm going to come too; we're going to soak you with demon cum! Take it all! Take all we fucking give you!

Belphegor's hand digs into your scalp as he's using your throat for his pleasure. He slams his hips against your face before stealing them. You swallow every last drop of his seed. As Satan slams one final time inside you, your walls suck every last drop of cum out of his cock.

Try not to cough and sputter, as Levi's hand is still around your throat.

Finally, you can breathe as the king of sloth removes his cock from your throat. And the king of wrath finally slips out of the core, watching his cum dribble out of you.

“Let me rest for a bit; I'm okay with watching for now…did way too much.” Belphegor groans as he rolls on the other side of the bed. Belphegor was still hard, but he had his fill. Why would he want to do more when he can just watch the show and get off till you get fucked by multiple people, just like the porno he would watch every night?

“You took them so well; you did so well…my sweet treasure.” Mammon purred with his hand, squeezing your chest and pinching your nipple.

“I bet the stupid whore is hungry for more…” Leviathan growls, his hand moving from your neck to your cheek. Getting into your face, he demanded you open your mouth. Practically forcing it open with his hand, he spits right onto your tongue. “Swallow." He commands, and you obey, having no other choice but to follow these demons every command as you are tied up and helpless.

“Fuck their mouth, Levi,” Beelzebub said, putting a hand on your head, running his hand through your now messed-up hair.

“They would like that, wouldn't they? Are you so much of a whore that you will take cock from any person who will give it to you, hm? Do you want to drink my cum?" Levi asked condescendingly, with a confident smile that made you want to spit in his face. But right now, as Mammon was taking the cops off your legs, preparing to turn you around onto your stomach as his hands were sneaking handfuls of your ass, you did not care.

With your hands tied behind your back, you couldn't provide any support for yourself as your face was shoved against the pillows.

You heard Asmodeus moan, “Mm, what a delicious sight~! I can still see Satan's cum running down your leg, but I bet that that sweet little body of yours can hold more.” Mammon smiles at his colleagues and lets out a devilish laugh. 

“That's the plan. Our sweet gift deserves everything they're given…”

“Spank that ass red," Satan adds. And Mammon is happy to oblige, as his big hand comes down on one of your cheeks hard and fast, a sharp smack fills the room, and it wasn't before long that another one comes down again on you. His big hands are filled with your ass as he spreads you open. He didn't have to prepare for his big size, as you were wet enough for him to slide in with one thrust; despite having Satan, you still stretched around him, letting out a shaky squeal.

Despite not wanting sloppy seconds from your mouth, Leviathan couldn't handle the way you looked right now as he began to unbutton his pants. He took off his belt, fastening it around your neck, using it as a leash and collar. He grabbed hold of the leather, lifting you prematurely before placing another pillow underneath your head. And another one underneath your chest, making sure you are comfortable before fully removing his pants and getting onto the bed.

“This is where you belong…This is your place…underneath beings that are far stronger than you. Being nothing but a fuck slave for demon cock!” Leviathan did not give you the same luxury as Belphegor when he waited for you to be ready; instead, Leviathan immediately began a brutal pace. Forcing you to take more and more of his cock with each thrust, pulling on his makeshift belt leash. All the while, he tugs on your hair. Desperately bucking his hips as much as he can.

Your whole body rocks back on Mammon's cock just to be bounced forward, getting choked by Leviathan's dick. The two demons kept up. The demon of greed behind you occasionally slams his hand down on your ass, making you squeal around Levi's cock. Mammon’s eyes roll back as he feels himself getting close. You're squeezing him home, milking his cock, and the slapping of his skin against yours was too much for him to take.

“You're so good; you feel so good! Doing such a great job for us! Take everything we give you! You deserve everything!" 

Beelzebub opens another gift box, ripping open its ribbon to reveal a vibrator. He smiles as he turns it on; his hand snakes underneath to press it between your legs. 

You squeal and squeeze around Levi's twitching cock and tighten around Memes as your legs shake from the vibrating pleasure and the cock relentlessly pounds into you. Another orgasm rips through you. Your moans alone were enough to make Leviathan cum down your throat while calling out your name. Levi pulls out a little too late. He's still cumming cock, jutting another pump on your face. 

“You're so beautiful, like this…." You think you heard Leviathan say, "You are too cum drunk to even think. 

With Levi now gone and Beel pulling the toy away from you for a moment, Mammon flips you onto your back. Putting your legs over his shoulders, jackhammering down inside you to chase his orgasm, your whole body shook and squirmed as you whimpered broken sentences that were only chuckled and awed at. The huge man above you slammed his hips one more time before stilling, filling you up more with his cum. He let his cock stay deep inside till he was finished before slowly pulling out. Even with how deep he was fucking you, his cum still spilled out of your hole.

Beelzebub licked his lips, watching Mammon off you. “Finally, let me taste you…”

"I've had enough watching..." You didn't even realize Lucifer had approached the bed until you felt him pull you into his lap. “Are you still here, Child of Adam? Surely, this isn't all you can take.” This cock sat between your legs. You unconsciously ground your hips down onto him as he helped you guide him inside. Beelzebub finally climbs onto the mattress, leaning his head forward until his tongue touches your collarbone. Beel turns on the vibrator once again, pressing it between your legs.

“Don't worry about moving. Just sit there and take it," Lucifer murmured, his sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe as he got a good handful on your hips and started to move and grind your body against him. Your walls squeezed and milked him as much as you could, all that delicious cum from the other kings drooling down his cock onto his balls. For a little while, Beelzebub playfully fiddled with the ribbons that stretched all across your body while he licked, sucked, and bit wherever he could fit his mouth.

You felt his tongue glide across your chest, giving extra special attention to your nipple. You watch Beelzebub's cock bob in front of you, your arms struggling against the ribbon bindings, aching to touch.

“Show me those delicious tears again, child of Adam. You cried for Belphegor…Why don't you cry for me too?” Lucifer purred, dipping his head to the nape of your neck before sinking his teeth.

“The best way to make them cry is to make sure they're nice and overwhelmed with pleasure," Beelzebub smirks, turning up the setting. You throw your head back. “B-Beel! P-please! T-too-too much! So sensitive!”

“You scream his name but not mine…I'll have to train your throat again later,” Leviathan growled.

Beel applied more pressure on the toy as he went for your neck. His tongue strips across the sensitive flesh before sucking. All the while, Lucifer sucks and nibbles at some more parts of the other side, his cock sliding deliciously against a sensitive spot inside you.

“Oh God! Oh fuck!" Your whole body shakes as you cum again.

“There is no God here…” Beelzebub grins as the other kings approach closer toward you, laughing coldly.

“No one can save you now! You're going to stay here and take cock for the rest of your pitiful human life.” Asmodeus purrs, stroking his cock with the other Kings slowly stroking. All you can hear is their wet cocks as they prepare themselves for another round with you. 

Asmodeus's smile turns into a dastardly smirk as he turns to the demon of gluttony, “Beelzebub, once Lucifer is done, let's both pick them up and stuff them at the same time. Beelzebub stopped biting at another part of your body to return Asmo’s toothy grin. “I like the way you think, you horny bastard…”

Beel gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling away.

Lucifer, with the new room that Beel gave him, spun you around before you began to bounce on his lap. With only your shaky legs holding him as he grabbed at your hips to support you. Seeing your eyes swollen and tears dried on your face as well as your cock drunk and glazed look in your eye. Whatever restraint Lucifer had left snapped, bouncing you hard up and down on his lap. He wrapped an arm around your back, bracing himself with each thrust. 

Seeing your ruined face, he knew he couldn't last. Lucifer wanted to wring out one more orgasm from you. This is heavy; balls slap up into you. His lips brush against your ear, his sinful words as he nips your earlobe.

“Do you know what you do to me… to us? All these devils are hard because of you. I am swollen because of you.” His tongue glides across your lip before kissing deeply, his tongue tasting yours in a messy, hot kiss that made you clench around him.

“You did this to us. You drive us crazy to the point where all we can think about is filling you with cock and cum. Your soft skin, your tears, and your cute little screams are addictive.” 

“Are you going to cum, sweet child of man?” 

"Are you going to squeeze me like you did the other devils? Is this sweet little hole of yours going to worship my cock?” 

He rolled his hips, grinding through your orgasm as he came with you, crunching his teeth and silencing his moans into hisses. Even though he just came, it wasn't enough. It will never be enough.

Beelzebub stopped you from falling from Lucifer's lap. Grabbing your bound-up wrists before pulling you toward him, he picks you up in his arms as you instinctively wrap your legs around them as Modius comes up from behind, giving you extra support. "Upsy Daisy, don't want you passing out on us…”

“We should hurry. I don't think our precious present can hold on much longer." Asmodeus says, pressing his lips against your shoulder blade. 

"Damn it! I wanted another turn!” Satan snarled. 

“We have all of Valentine's Day to enjoy our gift." Mammon smiled, relaxing against the chair that Lucifer was sitting on. Enjoying the sight of Asmodeus and Beelzebub trying to fit their cocks inside you at the same time. 

“Come on, sweetling. You can do it; I know you can.” Asmodeus whispered once Beelzebub was inside, he squeezed himself in. He not only felt the squeeze of your tight warm walls but also the delectable pleasure of another man's cock sliding against him. Asmodeus didn't even hide how good he felt when his eyes rolled back, and he moaned.

Beel’s mouth was wide open. If he didn't move right now, he was going to burst, so he slid against your velvet walls, making enough room for himself and the other devil.

Asmodeus kept up with Beelzebub, pressing kisses all over the back of your neck. His pathetic whimpers and whines made you clench around the both of them. You are doing so good taking them both. The other devils watching you were just as entranced as the two taking you. Never had they seen you so fucked out and cock drunk. You didn't even know what was happening, as all you did was press yourself against Beelzebub and take it. It was a beautiful sight. The tears are flowing from your cheeks, and drool is running down your face. With the ribbons binding your body, you have entirely given up, completely at their mercy, all of them.

[elllisaaa]

OOPS - C. YEONJUN

KINKTOBER DAY 23 - SEXTING

SUMMARY : when your best friend receives a nude from you on a random tuesday, he feels the need to seek some clarification, and maybe that it is his chance to finally fuck you like he's been wanting to for years.

-> pairing : bff!yeonjun x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sexting (obviously), sending nudes and videos, masturbation (f. and m.), dirty talk, teasing, begging, praising, phone sex

+ the way i'm depicting yeonjun does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | txt masterlist | kinktober 2024

You had always been a clumsy person, and sending a text to the wrong person had already happened to you countless times, leading sometimes to awkward situations, but never as embarrassing as the one you were in right now. You groaned as you looked down at your phone screen, the chat with your best friend still opened. And there, a picture of you wearing pretty much nothing took centre stage. 

you :  [1 attachement] i could use some company tonight… junnie :  ??? wtf y/n ???

Your cheeks were burning, and all you wanted to do was to bury yourself six feet under but sadly you couldn’t. And you didn’t even know what to say because obviously, you hadn’t sent that to the right person. Truthfully, these nudes were just meant to some guy you met through a common friend. You had gone on a few dates together, and even though he wasn’t exactly your type, nor was he really interesting, you were a woman with needs, and a lonely woman at that. Hence why you were about to send him this mirror photo, with you posing in nothing but black lacy panties and your oversized shirt lifted up to show part of your boobs. 

you :  fuck don’t look at that delete delete delete it wasn’t mean for you junnie :  yeah could’ve guessed who were you going to send that to anyway ? you’re bitchless you :  first of all fuck you i’ve got plenty of bitches second and even though that’s none of your business, i’m seeing someone lately

The way Yeonjun seemed to care that much helped you relax a bit. His first reaction only seemed to be out of surprise, and you would have reacted the same way if you had received a sudden half-naked pic from your best friend too. Though, you would’ve probably not deleted it right away. 

junnie :  you mean that lame guy who couldn’t even pay for his own meal the three times you went out ? he’s an ass you :  well maybe but he’s my only option and i’m in need junnie :  doesn’t matter you can do way better than this jerk you’re too smoking hot to be sending that to him

Your cheeks took an even darker shade of red as you read his compliments, but it was not out of shame this time. It wasn’t unusual for Yeonjun to praise your looks actually, but never in such a bold way. And the fact that he was not referring to your pretty face but most likely to your body made some feelings swirl inside of your stomach - some feelings that shouldn’t even be there in the first place but that you couldn’t stop. 

junnie :  cat got your tongue darling ? you :  no gotta go  junnie :  to send him your nudes ? you :  and so what ? you jealous ? junnie :  maybe bet that loser couldn’t even make you cum anyway you :  and you could ?

This conversation was taking a turn you hadn’t expected, but a turn you liked very much, a turn you maybe liked a bit too much. You bit down on your lips as you waited for Yeonjun’s answer, though nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were about to read. 

junnie :  oh darling i would ruin you if you asked make you cum on my fingers first, until you’re dripping everywhere make you come on my tongue next, until you’re crying out my name and then i’ll give you my cock and i’ll fuck you better than any other guy you had before so, still need that jerk ?

You stayed speechless for a good minute that felt like an hour. There had always been some kind of tension between you and Yeonjun, always had been something underlying feelings that you didn’t want to misinterpret. He always looked at you and talked to you and flirted with you in a way that was way more than friendly, and you had always wanted him too - because let’s be real, who wouldn’t ?

you :  i’d let you do all that [1 attachment]

On the receiving end of your texts, Yeonjun couldn’t believe what was happening, couldn’t believe that this wasn’t just another one of his wet dreams, with you taking the first role and making him crave you and your body even more. He had wanted you for such a long time that it was hard for him to acknowledge that you had sent him another nude, another shot of your now naked tits, and that this time, you had done it while being absolutely conscious of who you were sending it to.

junnie :  fuck, you’re so beautiful darling tell me this isn’t a joke tell me you’re going to let me put my hands on you you :  i’m not one to joke about something like that, you know that are you touching yourself too ? [1 attachment]

His heart was racing in his chest as he opened the next photo - this time, a closer pic of your drenched panties, your fingers pressing against your clit through the material. He had been palming his cock over his sweatpants ever since he had received the first photo from you, and even if you had told him to delete it, he would’ve probably kept it for a while, because he couldn’t just forget about it just like that, because he needed you. And now, he needed you to see how bad he wanted you. He took a quick pic of the obvious bulge deforming his sweats before sending it to you without any shame. 

junnie :  [1 attachment] what do you think ? you :  show me more junnie :  [1 attachment] enough ? you :  shit i knew you were big you would fill me up so good [1 attachment]  wish it was your cock instead of my fingers

Yeonjun’s head was spinning with want, with all the fantasies he ever had about you and the new ones you were stirring inside of him with your little game. Every photo you sent became more and more revealing, and with each new one, his hand only sped up his rhythm. He didn’t care about how late at night it was, he didn’t care if one of the other guys could hear him, he just couldn’t stop when you kept sending him shots of your glistening folds and videos of your fingers covered in slick, spreading it across your hardened nipples.

junnie :  you’re driving me crazy look what you’re doing to me [1 attachment] wish you were here to sit down on my cock i know you would take it so well make the prettiest sounds for me too

The video of Yeonjun quickly getting himself off, paired with his airy moans and low grunts you could hear in the background made you even wetter if that was possible, your own fingers speeding up and rubbing against your g-spot making you feel close to the edge already. Your texts were starting to have more and more typos but you didn’t care, it felt too good to stop now. 

you :  i wpuld  frck junnie i nzed you so bad i’m so clode  [1 attachment]

This last video of you moaning his name was all Yeonjun needed to finally call you. The game had been fun, but he wanted to hear you as you came for him, wanted to hear through the phone how wet you were. Within a second, you answered the call and your needy whimpers immediately ringing through his ears felt like the greatest music he had ever heard. 

“- Fuck darling, you sound so good. 

- Junnie… Need you so bad…

- Me too, shit, you’re making me go crazy.”

Another one of your moans was the only answer he got, but it was more than enough for him to feel the knot in his stomach tightening as well. Your high-pitched voice was heavenly, and with his eyes closed and his imagination working overtime with all the photos you had sent to him, it was easy for Yeonjun to picture you touching yourself, all wet and ready for him.

“- I’m so close Junnie…

- Me too, darling… Cum with me, let me hear you.”

Your sounds of pleasure only elevated as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a hurricane, and Yeonjun let go too, covering his own hand in loads of cum as he moaned your name. For a while, the only sound that either of you could hear was the one of your heavy breathing, trying to regain some sense of consciousness after what had just happened. 

“- Are you still there darling ?”

You hummed absentmindedly, your mind still clouded with the intensity of your release. You rolled over your stomach to take some tissue and wipe your fingers from your slick, and then you took a hold of your phone again. You didn’t really know what to say now, but you didn’t want things to become awkward between the two of you, so you tried to crack a joke to break the ice. 

“- I thought you were a gentleman, but you’re here giving orgasms to girls when you’re not even with them.”

Yeonjun chuckled on the other end of the line, cleaning himself up a little too. 

“- I can be a gentleman. All you have to do is ask Y/N. Say the words and I’ll take you out on a date tomorrow. 

- And if I want you to come over and fuck me ?

- I’ll be there in ten.”

A smirk spread out on your lips as Yeonjun immediately hung up, but you had heard him rushing in the background before he ended the call. Sometimes, sending the wrong text to the wrong person wasn’t such a bad thing.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

txt taglist (fill in this to added) :

@lala-----------lala @bbgnyx @hann1bee @rikiives @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @seomisaho @dylanobr1ens @straytiny127

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @leeknowinggg @anxiousskylar @mikaelless

[littelovelunette]

i'm obsessing over ur page rn because i LOVE our wifes vi & sevika 🫶�� was wondering if you could do (if u haven't already) nsfw headcanons for one of them? like ... what are their turn-ons, their turn-offs, what they like in a woman ... maybe even kinks ... im curious and i can't ask chatgpt these things 🤧.

I gotchu and thank you so much it means a lot when I hear praises about my writings it makes me feel really supported and loved thank you so so much and ig i already did do nsfw headcanons for sevika but ima do a new one for you because you made me day just now and i will include BOTH OF THEM

HEADCANONS (TURN ONS, TURN OFFS, KINKS) ft. Sevika and Vi

Sevika

turn ons

a woman shorter than her or in general smaller than her which is pretty much all women because cmon sevika is tall and buff as fuck

thick thighs are a huge turn on for her

being bitten harshly, not the wussy type of bites, the type that would draw blood and ache for days

obedient girlies who spread their legs whenever asked to do it but that doesn't mean she'll turn down a brat just cause she likes obedience, she will spank you raw if you're bratty

women with high sex drive

sevika gets super wet when someone takes charge when she's tired from work and would lay back and let you do the work, strong women who take charge and are mentally sluts are attractive to her

big ass

anything related to mild danger really

turn offs

being on the receiving end of degradation (baby is insecure deep down but doesn't let it show) but you can call her slut, whore, bitch; just don't insult her arm or anything about her not caring about grooming herself, age, looks and that stuff

you taking advantage of drunk sevika would disappoint her and turn her off, she wont let you touch her for days

publicly she holds all dominance and if you try to make her act submissive to you in public she'll instantly lose her sexual appetite

hard to turn her off in general because she has a high sex drive

kinks

knife play, gun play enthusiast

anal, she likes giving more than receiving because receiving it... well, sevika squirts a lot when she receives anal and she feels embarrassed about it but if you dominate her successfully and are close enough she'll ache for anal pleasure

power play, seeing how strong she is compared to her gets her off easily

breeding kink hardcore, oh she wishes she could pump you full of semen because even if she says she prefers not being with children, settling down has been a lifelong dream

bondage, should've seen the way she looked at jinx when she was tied up

mild sadism during sex because cmon, the girl grew up around guns and fights

double penetration because why not?

Violet

turn ons

seeing your mouth around anything whether its even a popsicle or you licking off the seasoning of chips off your fingers

you in a skirt for some reason turns her on maybe it's just the view of your beautiful legs

you being assertive as fuck with her, she loves it when you take control for a change and it makes her fantasize about how you could make her moan and make her feel so good

you in her shirts or hoodies makes her bend you over and fuck you in that very clothing

seeing you without a bra makes her grab your boobs in a tight grasp and bite them because they just look so delicious

loves having you on her lap and it gets her wet seeing you all pretty on her lap

soft gentle sex

turn offs

dishonesty during intercourse

idea of someone else owning you or having it with you makes her blood boil

overly fragile or needy behaviour from you turns her off because she wants you to know she'll always be there to do anything and everything for you, protect you and nurture you

disrespecting her family turns her off hardcore

sadism during sex turns her off and she won't be cruel to you during sex at all, maybe a little due to simple teasing but she won't deprive you of anything if you're a masochist

kinks

spanking, she loves you bend over her lap and crying as she slaps your ass firmly for teasing her in public

nipple clamps and she will pull on them deliberately to make you whine and cry

69 because she loves burying her face in your pussy while you do the same for her trying to keep her in place because she wriggles out of sensitivity so much

leaving hickeys all over your chest and inner thighs too so she can claim you in every way possible she just loves you so much

having you blindfolded, tied up, gagged so all you can do is take her

she loves fingering you to no end she would do it every day and all the time if she could

she likes stretching your pussy out and watching the arousal dripping down

[bedcchem]

18+ kuroo x f!reader, too shy

cw: kuroo is such a handsome panty stealer. ᢉ𐭩

no matter how hot frustrating it can be, kuroo genuinely can’t find it in himself to be mad at you for too long when you leave your clothes lying around the apartment. your panties, especially.

just washed some laundry? oops, it must’ve fallen out of the basket…

just showered? oops, accidentally left it in the bathroom…

whether it’s an accident or not, kuroo doesn’t know or actually care. and that’s okay. washed or unwashed, he always puts them to good use, either by wrapping your pretty black thong around his cock as he slowly strokes himself, or by licking that one little wet patch still left on your favorite lacy pair as he desperately humps a pillow. every time, he closes his eyes and imagines it’s your hand on him instead of his own, giving him the most agonizingly slow handjob, edging him well into oblivion, or that it’s your thighs he’s in between, tasting every drop of you straight from the source, not from a flimsy piece of fabric.

god, he’s pitiful.

he knows you’re so sweet, so shy, and that’s fine. it’s adorable, actually. the way he can hear you when you think he’s not home and at work. but oh no, he can hear everything. on the other side of the too-thin walls of the apartment, he can easily make out each sweet whimper and muffled cry of “oh, tetsu—!” and “oh, fuck yes—right there…!”

and in turn, he knows you can hear him above the sound of the shower when he grunts out a choked form your name when he’s coming against the pearly white tile. he can’t help but smile to himself when, just like clockwork, he always hears the little buzz of your trusty little vibrator after he turns the water off.

though outside of your bedroom and bathroom doors, you both pretend nothing’s amiss, like you both weren’t having the most intense orgasms to the thought and the sounds of the other the night prior. with normal laughs and kind smiles, you both put up a well-practiced façade of ignorance, with only the occasional shy touches passed between the two of you.

guess you two will endure another week’s routine of this… maybe one day kuroo will finally man up and ask you to dinner.

a/n: i have been perceived… hello to all one (1) of you who knows my true identity…

enjoy my masterlist!

mdni. do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bedcchem 2025.

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples, pt. 3

part one part two

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you go out with caleb but things turn south.

word count: 8.1k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, sad at the end, a good mix of everything! a hint of foreplay! mentions of death! not proofread!

author's note: hi all! this is a bit on the longer side so i apologize! part four is most definitely in the works, though! i hope you enjoy the chapter! i hope i got everyone who asked to be tagged! please yell at me if i forgot you!

taglist <3 : @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexizia , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @jexizia

Seven o’clock is approaching fast and you have yet to find anything to wear. Your closet has been emptied, clothes scattered across the vinyl flooring of your apartment. Dresses, pants, and blouses fill in the blank spaces of the floor. You tip toe around the messily laid out outfits, sending pictures to your closest friend for her opinion,

It doesn’t really surprise you when she video calls you, laughing at how seriously you’re taking this dinner.

“Are you trying to impress him?” Your friend snorts. You prop your phone against a book on the counter. “I thought you didn’t like him?”

“I don’t,” your response is immediate and snappy, “I would like to have a nice dinner, though.”

“How do you know you’re actually going out to dinner? What if he’s there to kill you, you know, like some serial killer type shit.”

“He is our beloved Colonel, after all. I can’t pass up the opportunity he’s handing to me.”

“An opportunity to what? Find another military sugar daddy that wants you on his arm? Bitch, please,” Your friend rolls her eyes and shakes her head when you hold a red dress to your body. “I don’t think you should go. My expertise tells me that this is a bad idea.”

“Your expertise?” You throw your head back and laugh. “Your expertise from what? All of the true crime documentaries you’ve watched?”

“Yes, actually,” she proudly states, a ‘fuck you’ smile spreading across her face.

“I’m going,” a fake smile spreads across your face when you glance at yourself in the mirror. “It’s a free meal. I’m not going to pass it up!”

“You’re making a major mistake! You should go in sweatpants. Put in no effort whatsoever. He’s the guy you’ve been trying to forget, right?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, glancing at her face on the phone screen, “he’s kind of hard to forget, though. He’s—”

“A dreamboat? Got you a single butterfly toy when you were kids? Has the prettiest eyes? This is going to end up horribly and you know it. I’m not going to stop you…just don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.” Your friend hangs up after that.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, eyes focused on the dress that you hold up in front of yourself. It slips out of your sight and your eyes drop down to the baggy sweatpants you have on.

They haven’t been washed in a couple days and there’s a stain from the takeout you ordered the other day when your favorite show had its season premiere.

Sweatpants, you roll your eyes with a chuckle, he’d hate that.

A slow smile spreads across your face. Maybe you will be in sweatpants and the shirt you sleep in when he shows up. You never agreed to the dinner, after all. What could Caleb possibly be expecting from you?

It’s not like this dinner is going to solve all of your problems. It’s not going to wash away the sins he’s committed against you nor will it bring you much solace even if things go well.

A black dress catches your attention from the corner of your eye. The hanger finds itself between your fingers. you slowly lift it into the air, silently examining it, before holding the dress against your body. Your steps are slow and meticulous. They’re almost hesitant to see what it looks like on you.

Your hands trail across the soft fabric of the dress. It has a box neckline, cutting low on your chest, with long sleeves, and a skirt that stops just halfway down your thigh. You squint at the dress, familiarity tingling in the back of your mind.

It couldn’t be…no…right?

The dress falls to the floor. It pools at your feet, your body shuddering. You grasp the spot over your heart, feeling the beats speed up. A faint ringing buzzes in your ears. You didn’t expect to see the black garment in your closet.

Did your mother pack it without you knowing? She was horrendously overbearing while you packed your room up. The move from Linkon to Skyhaven was brutal on her. She had almost convinced your father to follow you so she can have the peace of mind knowing that you know somebody there. Thankfully, he talked her down, but it didn’t make her maternal instincts go away.

Out of all the things she helped pack for you: did she have to pack that dress?

Grumbling obscenities under your breath, you cleaned your apartment, wasting time.

You simply weren’t going to go. Your friend was right, all this is going to do is bring back bad memories and ruin your night. With the floors now cleared and free from your disastrous attempt at fashion, you flop onto the couch, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table. The television switches on, the laughs from Skyhaven’s news anchors filling the silence of your apartment. You roll your eyes and click to the next channel. A reality show pops up with older white woman screaming at each other.

It’s trash but it works.

You grab your phone and the screen lights up. Just as fate has it, a notification pings, the banner floating at the top of the screen. You don’t recognize the number and shrug it off, swiping it away. You move to a familiar app and begin to play the game.

It only feels like a few minutes, when in actuality it’s been an hour, when there’s a knock at the door. The sound floats in the air before it comes again, much more demanding this time. You turn around, looking over the edge of the couch you have sunken into, and raise an eyebrow.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air. The knocks don’t continue nor can you hear anyone, like your landlord, calling your name. There are no alarms and no sound of chaos from the hallway.

Huh. Weird.

 You turn back to your game, groaning when your tiny character falls off the platform and into the lasers below. You chuck your phone into the other side of the couch, head rolling back and over the arm rest. You stare at the door, laughing to yourself.

That would be so fucking crazy if that were Caleb at the door. How would he even know where to find you? You definitely didn’t tell him where you live nor did you confirm this dinner he invited you on.

Life is weird though. Dead men come back to life and they suddenly pay attention to you. What’s even crazier is that the dead man wants to see you tonight.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Your body jumps from the couch, the sudden sound scaring you back to life. You land on your feet, sharp pain shooting through your ankles. You gasp and collapse back onto the couch, loudly whining.

You hear your name through the door followed by continuous knocking. Quickly making your way to the door, you swing up open and quickly dodge a balled fist that misses the door.

“Woah!” Caleb’s voice causes you to groan. “I almost got you there! Sorry about that!”

Your eyes narrow at him and that damn charming smile of his. You lean against the doorframe, pulling the door to your side to block the view of your messy apartment. Caleb’s a head taller than you, though, so your efforts are in vain as he cranes his chin up, looking inside.

“How did you find my apartment? How the fuck do you know where I live?” You ask, completely baffled by his presence.

“I may or may not have abused my power when you didn’t answer my texts,” he says it so casually that even you think that what he did was okay. You blink for a couple seconds, comprehending what he just said, when your eyes get caught on his outfit.

He wears black dress pants matched with a white dress shirt. He sports a black jacket over his arms and shoulders with no tie hanging around his neck. unconsciously, your eyes drift to the collar of his shirt. You expect to see a certain silver necklace around his neck, one that you’ve seen in countless social media photos.

It isn’t around his neck.

Hope strikes your heart, causing it to skip a beat. Your cheeks heat up.

You hate how easy it is for you to like him again. Is the bar that low that him opting not to wear a necklace has you wanting to go to dinner with him?

Fortify your mental walls, dammit! Do not give in to the temptation that is Caleb!

“I love the sweatpants look. Very classy. But you should probably change, our reservation is in thirty minutes,” his purple eyes scan the small sliver of your apartment.

It’s actually a lot different than from what he initially imagined. The couch is in the middle of the room with the television pushed up against the wall. Behind the couch is a small table with two chairs. He assumes that the kitchen is to the right of it because your bedroom is to the left. The walls are somewhat bare. Only a few pictures and decor hang from them.

At least your place feels alive and lived in compared to his.

You raise an eyebrow. He mimics you with a chuckle. You purse your lips and Caleb has to mentally tell himself to not close the distance and kiss you.

“A reservation?” He nods in response to your question. “I can’t. My heater broke I’m…waiting for maintenance to come by and fix it.”

“I can fix it,” his reply is immediate.

“No, it’s fine, really—”

“It’ll take me five minutes! You can get dressed while I fix it,” he speaks over you so casually as if this were everyday banter between you two.

It’s like that with his pipsqueak, but never you.

Caleb pushes some of his weight onto the door but you push back. He stops and looks down at down, brows furrowed.

Why won’t you let me help you? He thinks to himself.

Caleb rests a hand on the door, palm flat and fingers stretched out. He leans down and inspects your face.

You wear a large frown which is matched with a deadly glare, one that he isn’t particularly fond of since your years together in high school. Your eyes keep moving away from his, looking everywhere but at him, and he frowns.

“You’re lying to me,” Caleb states. His posture straightens, arms crossed over his chest. You match his posture, throwing him a dirty look.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes you are,” he leans down to your eye level. You get a closer look at his eyes, noticing that the gold you saw before is actually more of a bronze. Perhaps he’s never been a golden boy this whole time. Your hardened expression falters. “Go get changed. I’ll wait inside for you.”

Caleb takes a step towards you, the door creaking open. Your hand smacks against his chest, right on top of his heart. His heart thumps inside his chest. Your fingers involuntary curl into his chest, pushing him back. Your eyes remain trained on the top button of his shirt.

“No,” you say, finally looking up into his big eyes. “Stay…right here.” You swipe your foot in a line in front of your apartment door. He watches then looks back up at you. “Don’t cross this line. I’ll be right back.”

You slam the door in his face and quickly lock it. Caleb stands out in the hallway. He blinks at the door, unsure of what just happened, and turns around to face the hallway.

Progress. That’s what this is. It’s progress. Progress towards you two reigniting the spark of friendship. The Colonel hopes it turns into something more. He needs it to be more than slammed doors and tense moments in interrogation rooms and apartment hallways.

Caleb watches as people pass by in the hallway. He can’t hear you inside, most likely deep inside your bedroom getting changed.

Getting ready for him.

The thought of you getting all dolled up for him gets Caleb excited. His smile grows with every passing second. A few men walk by and Caleb makes for sure to glare at them, arms crossed, chest puffed out, asserting dominance over them.

He sighed when the last one disappeared into the elevator. The faint click of the door’s lock catches his attention and he takes a single step back, watching as you slowly open the door.

His heart pounds in his chest, ears and cheeks growing warm from the sight of you.

You look absolutely stunning in the black dress you wear. He likes how the sleeves cover your arms yet it leaves your upper chest exposed. It’s like you’re teasing him, luring him in for more. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face. Your face isn’t beaten, instead opting for a more natural and casual look, and you shrug your long purse strap over your shoulder. You’re much taller, too, and his eyes fall onto a simple pair of heels. Looking back up, Caleb smiles.

You are the image of perfection.

His eyes barely skim over the top of your head now. Maybe his neck won’t hurt as much looking down at you.

“You look…amazing.” Caleb can barely get his compliment out, fumbling over his words and growing feelings towards you. His heart swells at your small smile and nod. You turn, keys jingling in your hand. You take a second to breathe. The warmth in your cheeks irritates you.

You hate how your body constantly betrays you when he’s around. It’s a curse, not a blessing.

“Ready?” His voice quips once you turn around from locking your apartment door. You hesitantly nod, forcing a smile onto your face, but it falls once he extends his hand to you.

You stare at his fingers, which have a few scars wrapped around his skin, before looking back up at him. Caleb’s smile is so hopeful. The corners of his eyes slightly crinkle. You sigh, stepping around him, his fingers brushing against your arm.

Caleb watches as you walk down the hallway, your jacket draped over your arm, purse bouncing against your side. He releases a disappointed sigh, fingers curling back into his palm. He forces his feet to chase after you, watching as you press the elevator button.

The Colonel attaches himself to your side, making sure to keep a respectable yet close distance. It’s silent. The faint dings from the elevator grow louder. The doors slide open and you step inside, Caleb following suit.

The metal box slowly lowers. Caleb’s eyes remain on you, utterly captivated by the sight. You look forward, opting for the buffed metal door.

Caleb would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the door.

“Where are you taking us?” You break the awkward silence of the elevator. You glance at him and your eyes meet. You slowly bat your eyelashes at him, sighing.

Please prove me wrong, you internally plead, inner voice desperate, please prove that you aren’t the same boy I knew in high school.

Before he can respond, the elevator slide open. An obnoxiously large group stands on the other side. They wear bright pink cowboy hats and sashes, their eyes half-lidded.

Oh shit. It’s a bachelorette party. That’ll be fun to listen to tonight.

They wave hi, which you and Caleb return. As they slowly pile into the elevator, their voices grow loud, causing your ears to ring.

Caleb slides in front of you, gently pushing you against the back wall. His forearm rests against your head, the man trapping you in your spot. You look around him.

The elevator is completely packed. The inhabitants push together, morphing into one big blob. Your eyes dart to Caleb’s torso, noticing that there’s a few inches of space between you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You look up, his face hovering in front of yours.

Your lips barely graze over each other. He’s slightly hunched over, face slightly grimacing from the bachelorette party bumping into him, stepping on his feet.

You hold back a laugh, covering your mouth. Caleb turns his attention back to you, a half-amused grin tugging the corner of his lips up.

“You’re laughing? At a time like this?” Caleb whispers into your ear, leaning in. The strands of his hair tickle your forehead. He leans in closer, lips grazing against your ear. “C’mon now…cut me some slack. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

His breath is hot on your ear. Shivers run down your spine, the tingles making themselves at home in your stomach. Frozen in place, your eyes move to his shoulder.

A small speck catches your eye. Inside the small elevator, you push your arm against the pressure from the other people. Caleb’s gaze follows your hand. You breathe in sync with him, both watching as you pluck a single eyelash from his cheek, right below his eye.

Your fingertips graze against his skin, leaving electric shocks in their wake, and scoop the small eyelash from his skin. You inspect the eyelash with close eyes. Your gaze flits to his, his purple eyes staring not at your eyes but your lips.

“Make a wish,” your whisper fills the tension between your bodies. His bottom lip quivers. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, feeling them heat up.

Caleb tilts his head down. He slowly slows at the eyelash on your finger, the hair disappearing, your eyes meeting once again.

My wish is you.

His breath is cool against your skin. It brings you no relief. Instead, your body inches closer to him, burning under his gaze of desire.

The two of you don’t even realize that the elevator is now empty. There is no bachelorette party cornering you. There is no reason for you two to be so close.

You hate to admit it but you don’t want to move. Caleb doesn’t either. He can’t get enough of your perfume, the way your touch was so light and careful against his face, almost as if you were scared to get even closer to him.

Do you feel it?

Do you feel the center of gravity that is pulling us together?

You clear your throat and dip under his arm. The further you get from him, the easier it is to breathe. You don’t even look at him from over your shoulder, scurrying out of the small enclosure.

Caleb hangs behind. His fingers curl against the elevator wall, eyes closed. He grimaces, harshly biting down on his lower lip. Your perfume lingers in the air. The warmth of your affection tickling his skin. He lets out a haggard breath, his back slowly straightening. He fixes his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt, and exits the elevator, finding you outside.

You stand alone and off to the side, just hidden enough for people not to notice you but visible enough for Caleb to immediately find you. Just as the purse strap slips off your shoulder, Caleb collects it in his hand. He slips the jacket from your arms as well and eases your hand through the first sleeve, helping aim your next arm through the second.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, your breath visible in the cold night air. He nods, clearing his throat. “I think you were interrupted before.”

“Was I?” Caleb’s eyes flutter, looking down at you. You chuckle and raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, I was, wasn’t I?” You nod. “A colleague recommended the restaurant to me. I thought you may like it.”

“Oh?” His intention takes you by surprise.

He actually…thought of you? Wow. You didn’t know he could do that.

You don’t give it much thought, though. It’s probably due to her not being here.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

The outside of the restaurant takes you by surprise. The outside is made up of dark metal with grooves in it that imitates wood, which is a stark contrast to the rest of the Skyhaven’s white metallic look. A long window surrounds the perimeter. It’s a thin line and doesn’t take up much of the wall space. A faint, golden glow seeps into the glass.

Caleb’s long strides keep with your pace. He walks close to you, your purse acting as a boundary between your hips. You glance inside the restaurant’s window, seeing couples and semi-large parties inside the main dining room.

The Colonel opens up the business’ door, smiling down at you as you step inside, quietly thanking him.

The atmosphere is warm, the chilled air tingling away from your skin. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, shrugging your jacket off of your body. You watch him with an intense gaze.

His shoulders are so broad. You swear you can watch as his muscles tense then relax under the fabric as she hands over your jackets to an employee. Caleb turns to you, nodding as the hostess walks away. You swallow whatever spit you have in your mouth. You tell your feet to move, goosebumps forming across your skin when you feel his touch on the low of your back.

Caleb sticks close behind you, fingers grazing up and down your body. His eyes stare at the exposed skin of your neck, eyes drifting up to the side of your face. He smirks, watching as your lips part with a gasp, his fingers inching their way around your side. He’s unable to get a full grip of your side, though, when the hostess places menus on the table before you.

You step to your chair but Caleb is too quick for you, dragging it out. You roll your eyes at him and sit, the man pushing the chair in to meet your body. He sits at the spot in front of you, the table circular and on the smaller side, with a lit candle in the center of the table.

Taking a glance around the restaurant, you notice that you and Caleb are more towards the back. It’s like you’re hidden away so nobody can see you. Couples at other tables lean in, smiles adorned on their faces over the candle light, the dim lighting of the restaurant casting shadows over their faces.

The scenery and atmosphere is…strangely romantic.

“You look great in that dress,” Caleb’s voice brings your eyes back onto his. They drop to his arms, where his white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Your breath gets caught in your throat. You tear your gaze away and settle back onto his eyes.

“Thanks. I haven’t worn it for a year,” you respond with a shrug.

“Yeah?” He leans forward, his smile growing, “when was the last time you wore it?”

“Your funeral.”

Oh. Well. You know…I don’t know how to respond to that, Caleb thinks to himself. He purses his lips, brows knitted together, eyes narrowed from unease.

You stare at him with your arms crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow at his sour reaction. He was the one who died and magically came back to life with no explanation.

He sits up in his chair, resting his hands in his lap as his piercing violet eyes tear into yours. You shift in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as he comes up with the proper words to respond.

A waiter approaches the table, their face just barely illuminated from the light. He wears all black clothing and his smile is a little too friendly, his eyes dragging across your bare chest. You suck in a breath and glance at Caleb, who glares at the waiter.

“Good evening. May I start you two off with a bottle of wine or an appetizer?” The waiter asks, looking at you, not even a second to stare at Caleb. You simper at his gaze, only feeling slightly uncomfortable, as you take the wine list from his hands.

“He’s paying, so we’ll make it an expensive bottle,” you muse with a quiet chuckle. Caleb’s eyes break from the waiter and land on you. Goosebumps litter your skin as you pretend not to notice the intensity radiating from his body. “We’ll do this one,” you point out a name on the list to the waiter.

He dips down and his putrid cologne tinges your nostrils. You lean away, wincing from how his scent burns the inside of your nose. His lips curl into a toothy grin.

“Great choice. I’ll have it out for you in a few moments.” He walks away and you watch him. You relax into your seat when he vanishes from your eye line, turning back to Caleb. 

“Could you get even closer to him?” Caleb’s raspy voice cuts through the low lighting. You raise an eyebrow, confused by his sudden possessiveness towards you.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Caleb,” you roll your eyes and lean forward, dress grazing against the table, “you’ve only been in my life for twenty four hours. You don’t get to have a say on who gets close to me.”

“Don’t I?” He matches your lean, his purple eyes glowing from the candlelight. “I was in your life for a good amount—”

“Emphasis on was,” you interrupt him. He swipes his tongue over his teeth, shaking his head ever so slightly at you.

You know you’re teetering on a very, very line and fragile line with Caleb. A small amount of payback won’t kill the man. He did lead you on for that good amount of time he was in your life for so if it’s any consolation for you, it’s deserved.

“Let’s have a nice dinner,” you sigh. His darkened expression softens, his eyebrows relaxing. Catching a glimpse of his fists, you see them relax as well, his knuckles no longer white. “However, I do think you owe me an explanation about your so-called ‘death.’” You pause, looking to the side, before rushing to get the words out, “and I don’t want to talk about her either. I…I don’t particularly have fond memories of the three of us since things ended badly. I hope you can understand that.”

Caleb’s eyes slightly widen. A part of him knew that this was coming. He had been distracted all day, sitting at his desk, ignoring all of his duties as Colonel. He went through every memory that he could remember, ones that weren’t influenced by the chip in his body, and came to realization that towards the end, you weren’t there.

In the memories that you were in, you were in the background while she took center stage. It made Caleb feel like a fool, truly. He agonized over it. Just to know that he could have caused you so much pain and emotional turmoil ripped his heart apart. He plans on repaying and making up for it until his final breath.

Even in death, Caleb will find ways to make you feel important, that you matter.

“I promise,” he breathes out, eyes never leaving yours, “to not bring her up. Consider her banished from our relationship.”

You lean into the back of the chair, putting your full weight into it. You stare at him, wondering if what he said can be trusted. You sigh and nod, forcing a small smile onto your face. He beams at you and nods, sighing from relief.

The side of your heel glides against his leg. He sucks in a breath and you bat your eyelashes at him. You take your bottom lip between your two teeth, knowing that it will drive him absolutely crazy. The Colonel shifts in his seat, his eyes taking all the liberties he wants.

His demeanor has shifted so many times within the last minute. He went from happy, to sorrowful, then his anger took over, and now the look on his face tells you that he’s feeling some form of lust. Adrenaline runs through your veins because you simply don’t know what Caleb you’re going to get next.

He licks his lips when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You turn your attention to the dining room, looking upon the other couples and groups that mingle inside. A soft chuckle shakes your body.

The waiter comes back with a bottle of white wine and two glasses in hand. He sets the glasses in front of the two of you, but neither dare to break their gaze.

Caleb’s eyebrow slightly perks up and you tilt your head to the side, a sly smirk forming on your face.

The wine is poured, the pale yellow alcohol sitting pretty inside the glass. You make the first move. The glass is cool in your hand and you swirl the wine around, bringing the glass to your glossy lips.

The first sip of the Pinot Blanc has an exceptional fresh taste to it, complimenting the dryness to the wine. The aroma is fruity with hints of apple, Caleb’s favorite, and a side taste of citrus.

You glance at the waiter, who hovers at the small table. Caleb clears his throat, glaring at the man. The waiter doesn’t pay attention to Caleb, his eyes staying on you.

“The wine is delicious, thank you,” you set the glass down, fingers resting on the base of the glass. He nods but stays in his spot. Caleb’s fists ball on top of the white cloth. He opens his mouth to speak but you’re quick to tap his knee with the tip of your high heel. You roll your eyes and take a deep breath, leaning towards the waiter. “As you can see, I’m here with him and not you. So, if you could please give us some privacy, that would be nice.”

Caleb watches you in awe. Your dominance is refreshing and is something he hasn’t experienced with her in a long time. She typically gave up after five minutes but you? You are fiery. You know what you want and you also know how to tell people to fuck off in ways he never knew how.

Has he finally met his match? Can you be the one to meet his fiery passion and loyalty?

“You can leave this here,” you reach out to the waiter, tapping the label on the wine bottle.

The waiter obeys, scrambling away. Caleb watches it as if he’s at a magic show, completely enthralled with the display you’re putting on for him.

This is a completely different side of you, one that he’s never seen before but desperately wants to get to know. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would think that you also want to indulge in the sweetness of your blossoming love.

“Try the wine,” you grab your glass, emptying the contents into your mouth before refilling it. Caleb watches with an amused smile, tasting the wine as you said to do, and pauses. It’s…it’s delectable. It hits all of the flavor notes he’s been dying to taste in a good wine.

And you were the one who managed to find it.

“Hey,” he leans forward, capturing your attention. “Can we…start over? You know…a fresh start for us?”

Your eyes read humor and your smile is divine. You think about his proposal for a moment, tearing your gaze away, opting to look at the menu.

You know that he’s eagerly waiting for a response. Knowing Caleb, he’s impatient to know the result of your calculations. He watches you, focused on the way your foot taps against his shin and how your eyes scan the menu as if there’s anything remotely interesting on there.

Caleb is right there and he knows that he is way more interesting than the variety of food options the restaurant has to offer.

“What do you say?” He pesters. Your eyes shoot to his. Chills run down his spine.

“New life, new you, right?” You muse. Caleb can’t help but laugh, turning his head away from you.

Have you always been this funny? Your humor knows no bounds, truly. While some people would have groaned at your words, Caleb couldn’t help but see the lightheartedness behind them.

He knows that his death must have taken a large, emotional toll on you. It’s never easy losing someone you were once close to. Perhaps your humor is your way of dealing with uncomfortable and awkward situations. He can’t fault you for it. He too has been known to make light of many uncomfortable scenarios, such as failing his psych evaluation at the DAA. 

“Thank you,” he releases a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding in. You shake your head, his interest piqued.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” you bring the glass to your lips, licking them, “consider this dinner as your trial run.”

“Noted,” Caleb responds, eyes trained on your lips, wondering when he’s get a chance to taste the flavor of your lip gloss.

The dinner runs smooth, smoother than you or him could have ever anticipated. Your glasses never went empty and after a bottle or two, you could feel your tipsy giggles taking over your body as Caleb watched you with the biggest smile on his face.

Whenever you covered your face from embarrassment, he always made sure to peel them off so he can look upon your gorgeous face. He loves the way your cheeks turn a light pink color, an effect the alcohol has on you, and how your entire demeanor changes. You become light, airy.

Caleb basks in your delightful chuckles and you can’t help but feel closer to him every time he told you one of his stories from inside the Deepspace Tunnel.

The best part of it is that whenever you shared stories from your translator job, he didn’t make you feel insignificant or insufficient compared to him. Sure, you weren’t in a direct line of danger like he is. You don’t fight Wanderers nor do you patrol the Deepspace Tunnel like it’s nothing.

Your average Tuesday consists of translating, and sometimes even decrypting, secret messages and speeches that the Farspace Fleet intercept. To you, it’s a boring old desk job. To Caleb, you are one of the most integral parts of his job. Without you, his job would be much more difficult and he would be in shambles.

He always knew you were smart but your skills as a translator and linguist are truly impressive. He may be able to able to fly some of the most difficult planes and spaceships, but he’ll never be able to fully understand how to comprehend a different language.

It feels like there were no walls between you two. No angst for you to cling to and a time for Caleb to finally, and quite regrettably, get to know who you are after all these years.

To him, you’ve changed so much. You’ve broken free from your shell, one that him and her put you in, and have grown into a woman who is utterly captivating, someone who can control the room with a simple look and a voice that he never wants to stop listening to.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you breathe between quiet chuckles. You lean forward, a genuine smile on your face. “You’re telling me that you and your squad were scared of a creaking noise?”

“Yes,” Caleb leans in, slowly reaching out for your hand. His large hand lays on top of your tiny one and he is surprised that you don’t immediately pull away from him. The tips of his fingers trace the top of your hand, leaving random swirls and letters into your soft skin. His sight lowered to your hands.

It feels domestic to him, something that he never thought or imagined he would have with you. But here you are, allowing it to happen as you breathlessly laugh at his moment of stupidity while on patrol.

He loves it. He loves—

“Caleb?! Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!”

His fingers stop, eyes shooting up to you. Your posture shifts. Your back is as straight as a board, eyes dissociated from the world.

You have become an entirely different person when her voice shrilled form behind you.

You can’t bring yourself to turn and look at her. You listen for her footsteps, hearing them approach before stopping behind you.

“You forgot your necklace at home! I was worried that something happened to you. Who are you with?” She circles the table settling the space to the side of the table. Your hand retracts from his and Caleb can’t help but stare at the tears that brim in your eyes. You look to the spot around his neck, one where the necklace that dangles from her hand should be hanging. 

“I left a note for you—” Caleb begins.

“Is that who I think it is?” She says in a hushed tone to him, staring you with a look that says back off. 

Your eyes stagger to meet his. His lips part, staring at you like he’s just been caught red handed.

Of course. It was so easy to see what this is.

You tilt your chin up, finally looking up at her. She’s all dolled up, makeup absolutely flawless, elevating her natural beauty. She wears a simple blue bow in her dark hair, which travels just below her shoulders. Her outfit is pretty too, nothing that you can pull off anyways, and she radiates I’m better than you energy.

Your stomach turns on itself. You stare at the wine glasses, ears ringing, wondering why the fuck you had to drink so much. It’s because you felt comfortable with him, yes, but you should have known something like this would happen.

You’re nine years old. She feels left out so you give her a present to open. You hate sharing your birthday.

You’re twelve and sitting alone while they get ice cream together. You’re filled with disappointment when they forgot to get you something.

You’re fifteen years old again. The sting of rejection and embarrassment cuts into your skin at the sight of her when he says he can’t go to the dance.

You’re sixteen years old and watching as they leave your game, hand in hand, not even bothering to say goodbye.

You feel your inner child die. Caleb the Knight has finally slain the monstrous and rotten dragon that has done nothing but ask for love.

“How have you been? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” She beams at you.

“I’ve been fine,” you fake a smile but are unable to keep a cheery charade as your smile immediately falters, the corner of your lip twitching. Your nostrils tingle. Your throat throbs from holding back tears.

“You should have waited for me back at the apartment,” Caleb’s face never turns away from yours. A quiet gasp falls from your lips.

At the apartment? Are you sleeping with her? Are you two dating? Have I been made a fool again?

Questions flood into your mind. You’re unable to stop them, not that you want to anyways, as the realization of what’s happening weighs down on your shoulders.

This is the unmistakable feeling of dread.

You stare at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, as your hands grip onto the skirt of your dress for dear life. Your nails dig into the palms of your hand through the fabric, stinging your skin.

“I’ve been waiting! I didn’t know you were meeting up with someone,” she turns to you and looks at the plate in front of you. “Is that salmon? I love salmon!”

Suddenly, you hate salmon.

Thinking rashly and acting off of pure instinct, you stand from your chair. The table clatters, silverware clanging into each other, when the top of your thighs hit the table.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, glass of wine tipping over, splashing onto her. It shatters on impact when it falls to the ground. Embarrassment crashes through your body like a tsunami, ears turning a bright red color from the heat you feel in your head.

“Are you okay?” Caleb jumps to your side, grabbing your arm with kindness and sincerity. You rip your lib away from him, shaking your head.

“I’m fine,” your voice shakes. You look at her, who watches with a dropped jaw. “It was…so nice seeing you again.” You push the painful words out, your throat tightening around itself. Nausea sweeps your body and you grab your purse from the back of your chair, throwing the skinny strap over your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn away from the duo, who are so clearly made for each other, and rush through the restaurant.

You accidentally bump into a hostess who leads a couple to their table. You gasp and drop to the floor, helping her up, choking out apologies to her. You hear Caleb call your name from behind, trying to keep up with you, but refuse to turn around.

You simply can’t! You can’t see the look on his face, the one every man has when he realizes that he was caught being a two timing scumbag. 

This is just like high school. This is just like the failed homecoming dance when you cried yourself to sleep. This is just like the time Caleb ditched your game because she wanted to go home and watch a movie instead.

Hot tears streak down your face. You wipe your eyes, the fabric around your hands soon becoming soaked from the salty tears. You rush to the door, everyone’s eyes on you. The employee in the coat closet stares at you with bewildered eyes. You ignore him, leaving your jacket behind, as you burst into the ice cold night air.

There’s no rain but you really hoped there would be. You’d be able to escape into the night, going unnoticed as you ran to your apartment. It’s be cinematic, yes, but in all the worst ways possible. It would have been your punishment for being so fucking stupid.

How could you have thought that this would have gone well? Did you really think that Caleb, out of all people, could actually fucking care about you? He’s a man! He could care less about your feelings! As long as he ends the night in bed next to her, he’d be fine.

It wouldn’t matter if you cried yourself to sleep that night. It wouldn’t matter if you deleted and blocked his number. It wouldn’t matter if you ended up getting hit by a car, falling into a deep coma that you’d never wake from.

The only thing that matters is that Caleb is in love with her. Not you.

Your vision is blurred. Your mascara streaks down your cheeks. The street is busy, filled with cars from the night traffic. They whizz by at top notch speeds, your dress skirt getting caught in the air. You hold your hand out, trying to hail a taxi.

“Taxi!” You yell in a pained cry. Your legs wobble. Your arms ache. Your body feels as if it’s shutting down on itself from the grief you’ve just gone through.

Caleb breaks through the restaurant door. He scans the area, chest rapidly rising and falling, and his eyes land on you, who sways back and forth right next to the curb. His heart sinks into his stomach and he leaps towards you, hand outstretched.

You feel your body tense, going still. A tear stops halfway down your cheek. Your eyes dart around, looking for someone to help you. Your name shoots from Caleb’s mouth and you let out a cry, closing your eyes.

“Leave me alone!” You sob. His evol releases you but you’re immediately pulled into his chest. His arms trap you against him, body trembling from sadness and anger, his palms flattening against your hips. “Let me go, Caleb.”

“No. Let’s talk about this,” his chin rests on your shoulder, hunched over. He presses his nose into the side of your neck, his breath only making your body hotter than it needs to be. “Let me explain, please!”

“No! You don’t — Caleb!” You throw your shoulders backward. He stumbles back but takes you with him. His arms remain frigid. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“Caleb, I swear on my life that if you don’t let me go, you’ll never see me again.” Your words push through gritted teeth. Caleb stares at you, knowing that’s not true, that wherever you go, he’ll follow like a lost dog. He humors the sentiment, though, and slowly relaxes his grip.

You turn around and shove him away from you. Red eyes, ruined makeup, and a heart that has officially rotted, you stare at him. He tries to come close to you but you shove him away, using every bit of strength you can muster. He takes a step back, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I swear, it’s not what it—”

“What it what? Looks like?!” You yell at him.

People turn their heads and watch. They whisper amongst themselves, pointing and bringing their cameras out to record incase the encounter goes south. Cars honk and sirens blare in the distance.

“Please,” his voice cracks, a hand extending towards you, “this is all one big misunderstanding!”

“What could be misunderstood, Caleb? The fact that she came looking for you? Or the fact you brought me to a place that men take their mistresses to?” You turn away but he uses his evol to turn you back around. You let out a frustrated yell. He holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“Hey, hey, let’s try to calm down—”

“Calm down?!” Your screech interrupts him. You point to the restaurant behind you two. “Caleb! You made me your mistress! She literally showed up looking for you! She brought that stupid fucking necklace and asked why you weren’t home!”

“Please—”

“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn around, holding your face in your hands. Your breaths are deep, heavy, as your lungs burn from the inside, the lack of oxygen causing your body to ache. You hunch over, hand over your chest, fingers digging into your chest.

Maybe it’s the wine clouding your judgement, maybe it’s the walls you built from the constant years of betrayal and lackluster friendships, but you just want to disappear.

Anywhere but here would be better. Hell, even a date with George would have been better than this.

Caleb is quick to circle you. He drops to his knee in front of you, trying to get a look at your face, to try and have a conversation. He brushes hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I’m so stupid,” your words are just above a whisper. Caleb shakes his head, fighting back tears of his own.

“No. No you aren’t. Don’t say that,” the words tumble from his mouth.

“Yes, I am. I thought I could trust you. I thought that things changed—”

“They did change! She’s just here on a mission and needed a place to stay, that’s all—”

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you shake your head, lifting your head up. You take a deep breath.

You look at the chaotic street. Cars drive by and honk at each other. They don’t stop for anyone. All of the anger and sadness you once felt slips from your body. Your mind and body go numb.

“I don’t want to see you again.”

Your words shake Caleb to his core. He stands, looking down at you.

“No! No, please don’t do this to me—”

“I can’t trust you. You’ve made me look like an idiot.”

“Let me make it up top you!”

“I want nothing to do with you. Or her. I deserve better than this. Than you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“You haven’t changed. She’s always going to come between us.”

“That’s not true! I have changed!”

“You’ve broken my heart, Caleb.”

Caleb grabs hold of your shoulders. He cranes his head down so he’s at eye level with you. You stare into nothing, unable to stop the tears that roll down your cheeks. He stares into your eyes, his devotion and his everything.

That’s you. But you can’t see it.

“Caleb?” Her voice carries to the two of you. “Where are you? Let’s go home!”

You can’t help but laugh. Hysteria takes over your body. You finally come out from your dissociation, looking into Caleb’s violent and bronze eyes.

“You better hurry up or she’ll leave you too.” You shrug his hands off of your shoulders, stepping around him. You whistle and a taxi immediately pulls to the curb. You get in, the last part of your beating heart turning into outright decay, your core nothing but rotten scraps of the girl you’ve left behind.

[suzukiblu]

Day two of February’s third weekly WIP behind the cut; “interdimensional kidnapping via Robin”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon cries a lot harder; hard enough he clearly can’t talk past it, hard enough to shake with it, and like–he’s not a small kid, honestly. He’s the smallest that Tim’s ever seen a version of Kon, yes, but he’s pretty big for his physiological age. Which, like–not surprising that he would be, really. He’s definitely in the expected top percentile for a ten year-old, if not over the expected top percentile. Tim would put him somewhere between 4’10” and 5’ and at probably a good hundred pounds or so, which puts him maybe nine to seven inches shorter than Tim himself is and maybe, like, forty-five or fifty pounds lighter. So . . . about seventy percent of his own body weight, give or take. And Tim probably has a concussion and at least a couple broken ribs, and definitely has plenty of cuts and abrasions and bruises deep enough that he doesn’t even want to think about how long it’s going to be until he’s field-ready again. 

He doesn’t do goddamn Bat-level training to not be able to pick up and carry a crying kid no matter what condition he’s personally in, though.

Tim scoops Kon up into his arms and the kid makes a startled little noise about it that cracks through one of his sobs, then grabs the front of his suit just next to the “R” decal tight enough that the body armor creaks and buies his face in his neck to cry even harder. He doesn’t hold onto him any more than that, but he’s still as close to clinging to him as he can get. 

Well–no, his TTK is definitely clinging to him, whether his actual physical body is or not. 

Tim wonders exactly how many times this kid’s been held by someone–at least how many times that he remembers being held by someone, anyway–but all things considered is pretty sure he wants the answer to be “none”. If Luthor really is the only person that this version of Kon remembers ever having been touched by . . . 

Yeah. Tim definitely wants the answer to be “none”, ugly as that thought is. 

“S-sorry,” Kon gasps brokenly into his neck. “M’sorry, m’s-sorry, I d-don’t–I dunno why, I–I can’t s-s-stop, I–” 

“It’s alright, kid,” Tim says, and doesn’t let his voice get any tighter. Really, it’s impressive Kon didn’t fall apart sooner. Or . . . depressing, maybe. “I’m just gonna carry you for a bit now. Just tell me if you want down, okay?” 

“I don’t,” Kon sobs, his TTK going tight. “Don’t put me down, don’t–please.” 

“Okay,” Tim says, and fucking hates Lex Luthor. 

He walks the rest of the way to the marina with Kon curled up in his arms and crying into his neck; digging his fingers into his body armor and his TTK into all of his bruises. Tim might need to do some repairs on the armor later but is really not concerned about it right now. It’s just a footnote to take care of before he tries to go on patrol in this specific suit again, that’s all. It already needed some fixing up anyway, after spending seventy-six hours going through the wringer in a reality that shitty. 

Also, like, he guesses he needs some fixing up after that too, admittedly. 

[fancyfeathers]

So I've seen a lot your story with Robin!Darling and Villain!Batboys, it's pretty interesting but how about Bruce? Can we get some scenario about them and it doesn't need yandere or something(depends on you obv) but pure Platonic relationship between them, like Father-Daughter things

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

YES! OH MY GOD YES! GIRL DAD BRUCE!!

So starting off since Dick’s darling was the first darling and her parents also murdered, she was practically raised by Bruce, like if someone asks her…

“Oh ya, he’s my dad.”

Her parents were scientists who worked with him as Batman and who were friends of Bruce and were murdered in attempt to steal their research, Bruce came just in time to save their daughter but he was too late to save them. Now Bruce tried to find any family but she didn’t have any left and the last thing he was about to do is leave this little girl who was mourning her parents in the care of people she doesn’t even know, so he takes it upon himself to adopt her, besides if he didn’t do it Alfred would have.

He drops a lot of the playboy persona because she needs someone there for her, he understands that first hand after both of his own parents were killed in front of him as well. So now the media more portrays Bruce as the DILFY single parent he is, raising his friend’s daughter on his own and then soon enough she stops being just his late friend’s daughter and instead his daughter, he doesn’t know exactly when the change occurred, it could have been when he thought the manor was in danger and he raced back and everything was perfectly safe but the first thing he did was to go look for her and the moment he saw her he picks her up in a hug and holds her close, or when he is woken up to her crying across the halls and immediately he runs and finds out she had a nightmare about her parents dying and she asks him to stay but her and he stay by her side until she wakes up, or maybe it was one of first days she was Robin and as if out of instinct he picks her up by the scruff of her cape like a kitten or pulls her under his cape in order to hide her…

He just knows when she called him dad for the first time when she was nearly falling asleep during patrol it just felt right.

Bruce was friends with Harvey Dent before he became Two Face, so that means that he was like an uncle to Harvey’s daughters when they were growing up. While she was a good kid growing up, Jason’s darling had her problems, namely sneaking out which led her to end up being kidnapped and held for ransom from a few people who had a bone to pick with the district attorney. She very well would have ended up getting shot if it was not for Bruce coming in just in time to rescue her. But when the Batman is untying her and telling her that her father and the police should be outside any minute now-

“Uncle Bruce, I know it’s you, I’m not dumb you know.”

Sass was another one of her issues along with the ability to irritate any adult she meets until they give her exactly what she wants, and in this case that was to be the next Robin since it’s kinda obvious Dick’s darling moved on from the mantle and became Dove instead. At first Bruce refuses every time because her father would never forgive him if something happened to her, but eventually he so happens to see her taking on a guy half her size in a local gang that was harassing her friend that she was out with, and she won. So Bruce gives in and gives her a suit on the condition that she will tell her dad one day…

Eventually Jason’s darling graduates high school and Bruce is at the ceremony with Harvey’s family and Dick’s darling. Then a few months after graduation the accident happens to her father and Harvey becomes Two Face. Bruce takes in Jason’s darling and her little sister while they regroup, her little sister becoming his ward because he knows he will never be able to replace their father.

She is staying in Gotham and is gonna go to law school and become just like her dad, when he okay in the head he was one of her two greatest role models. But Jason’s darling is different, she gives up the mantle of Robin willing and becomes Phoenix and her main priority is to help young people her age to stay out of crime, but that back fries when she bites off more than she can chew one day and encounters the Joker. We all know what happened to Jason in the Arkham games, that’s what happened to her, except she was killed in the end.

Bruce remembers seeing the footage and knew he would have to be the one to tell her little sister and find Harvey and show him because even for who he is now, Harvey deserves to know what happened to his daughter.

Bruce was the one who had to give the eulogy at her funeral and he felt sick to his stomach during the whole thing, guilt eating him alive because he should have been there to save her but he wasn’t able to in the end. Yet he still has to look after her little sister because she has no one else now, he still has to be strong for her.

When Jason’s darling is brought back to life by Damian in a ploy to get information out of her, she feels just as guilty as Bruce does because she told the Heir of the Demon’s Head everything about her little sister, with no idea while she was gone that Tim’s darling had become Robin and then passed the mantle on to Damian’s darling, her little sister.

She eventually escapes by some miracle and eventually finds a phone to call Bruce, she is crying, she is scared and alone, worried that he’ll be mad at her for everything, but he is overwhelmed that she is alive that when he gets to her in person it’s the first time she has ever seen him cry.

Bruce meets Tim’s darling when his youngest ward comes home with her, she is an upperclassman but they have a few classes together. He is happy that she is able to make peace and not let the death of Jason’s darling pin her down for the rest of her life. Tim’s darling is a sweet girl that reminds Bruce way too much of his last Robin, especially when…

“You’re the Batman! Woah that’s so cool!”

“…Did you tell her?”

“No I did not, Uncle Bruce.”

It comes a normal occurrence for Tim’s darling just showing up at the manor randomly, Alfred making her hot chocolate while she sits at the kitchen counter while she complains about her parents never being home, both of them are doctors at Arkham Asylum that care more about their work than the daughter they had that is eating alone most nights. Her parents are never at anything, none of her art shows or choir performances, it’s just her standing alone while all the other kids having their parents and families with them and after words she has to take the city bus home, all alone…

But then Bruce hears her talking to Alfred about that in the kitchen one day and realizes if he was not there for Jason’s darling then he will make up for his mistakes with Tim’s darling. So at her spring art show and she is sitting alone at her display, only strangers giving her compliments on her art, not her friends on her family.

“Tell me about this one?”

Her ears immediately perk up and she looks up to see Bruce Wayne and Dick’s darling and Damian’s darling next to him. He gives her a bouquet of flowers and she just immediately breaks down crying, because no one has ever done anything like this for her.

Family dinners at the Wayne Manor now include Tim’s darling, she comes home with Damian’s darling after school and normally she leaves after dinner before Bruce goes on patrol but on a night where Bruce knows her parents aren’t going to be home he insists she stays at the manor, she was her own room now.

Eventually she even convinced Bruce to let her become Robin, well convinces, she saves his life when she drags his unconscious body out of an alley when she spotted him on her way home.

But then her parents finally finds out about her visits to Wayne Manor, not about her being Robin, and they are pissed because it is their child, Bruce just snaps when they call their daughter an it…

“You two may leave, my lawyers will be in contact and I will see you two in court.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am taking you to court on negligence charges, and trust me you will not win.”

And he was right, they were lucky that they didn’t loose their jobs at Arkham, but Bruce doesn’t really care. He just cares about the young lady and helping her feel more comfortable at her new home…

But that isn’t necessary because Wayne Manor is already her home.

Then there is Damian’s darling, the youngest in the bunch, even if she is sixteen when she moves to Wayne Manor with her big sister after her father became Two Face. Life has been hard on her, so she just needs to process one thing at a time, including the death of her big sister. Bruce does his best to be there for her and he just can’t help but be reminded of Dick’s darling when she was young, the way she crawls into his bed after patrols or when he finds her asleep in the Batcave, waiting for him to get back.

She is young and sometimes she just needs to be held.

But the worst experience in her recovery is when she accidentally finds the video of what happened to her sister when contacting Oracle on the Batcomupter when the comm lines where hacked and she just shuts down, can’t even move and can barely even breathe. So when Bruce comes back to the cave he just finds her in a completely state of shock, everyone does everything they can to snap her out of it but she is in complete shock for almost a week, it’s enough challenge to get her to eat or drink anything, let alone anything else.

But when she snaps out of it, she has had time to process a few things and she goes to Bruce and tells him something…

“I want to be Robin…”

Tim’s darling has left the mantle behind and became Strigidae, and she wants to pick up where her sister left off. But Bruce’s biggest condition is that she has to train with him for a year, no patrols or anything until the year is over, even if her training is almost over.

Tim is hard on her but in the way he needs to be, like a father with their child. He is patient with her and they will train for hours on end, doing the same thing over and over again and he will tell her what she did wrong so she learns how to do it right, but he is hard on her because he is not letting anything happen to her.

The first night she is out with him as Robin, picture how Dick Grayson was as Robin, specifically this comic and honestly her mischief as Robin brings such a smile to Bruce which is both unsettling to see on Batman and a refreshing thing for him…

But that happiness is over when they encountered Ra’s Al Ghul together. He wanted to yell at her to run and he feels just as terrified as he did when her big sister went missing. But without her he doesn’t know what would have happened because she throws a Batarang at the Demon’s Head’ hand just in time, the blade pinning his hand to the wall. When they get out of there, Bruce picks her up and holds her close because if something went wrong then she would have ended up dead and he can’t loose her too.

Then when her big sister comes back home, he doesn’t care what is going on in that moment, it means the world to see the sisters reunite, the happiest he has seen them in years.

But then when Damian encounters his darling and carves into her, Bruce amps everything up, no one patrols alone, three minute check ups on the comm lines with Oracle, if something happens they immediately report it, if some one gets hurt then they go to the Clocktower or the Batcave immediately.

They are a family and a family looks after each other.

Extra things:

The Batgirls are also good, so imagine sister nights with the darlings and Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Kate Kane (or Auntie Kate to Jason’s and Damian’s darlings), Helena Bertinelli, you get the idea. So all of them take over the movie theater in the house and have a girl’s night, locking Bruce, Duke, and Alfred out.

Duke is also good in this AU, I really can’t picture him as a villain, he is their baby brother who gets doted on by his big sisters all the time.

I love the idea of Bruce being on top of all his girl’s schedules, like as they are walking out of the door in the morning, Bruce is there handing each other them things like…

“You have ballet rehearsal today, make sure to break your shoes in.”

*hands Dick’s darling her new pointe shoes that arrived in the mail last night*

“Test today at 1:00, make sure to study chapters twenty and twenty one during your lunch study session.”

*hands Jason’s darling her law text book*

“Remember your gallery showing is at 7:00 tonight, I’ll be there at 6:30 to make sure you have everything set up-“

“Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“You left a can of paint out last time and you tripped five minutes before the doors opened and you were covered in green paint when people came in.”

*hands Tim’s darling a bag with a change of spare clothing*

“Your Auntie Kate is pick you up for your appointment with Dr. Thompkins after fifth period, okay?”

“Got it, Uncle Bruce.”

*hands Damian’s darling a note*

“What’s this?”

“A letter I wrote to Dr. Thompkins last night, telling her about what actually happened on patrol last night so you won’t minimize what happened like last time.”

“…fuck.”

“Kate also has a copy of it as well.”

[silkenwinger]

angst galore incoming, inspired by this/translation (almost required listening tbh)

He stares at his door for ten minutes straight. Some part of him wishes he was at work. He tried, at first, to oppose Price, but his captain is one stubborn man, and when he puts his will into one thing, he's capable of moving mountains to make it happen. So Simon is "home" for his birthday.

Price said it. Try calling her. Except he doesn't think it will do one good thing, and he only has himself to blame. He broke it off with you because he could feel the worst of himself coming out of his mouth and seeping its way into his hands. He's always been a far cry from a perfect partner, but he wanted to spare you from his absolute worst. If he couldn't do that, he might as well be alone. You never complained, but he could tell by the look in your eyes that you didn’t like some of his ways. That you didn’t tell him anything because you, at some level, were scared of him, of what it’d be without him.

He remembers the day very clearly. You'd gone out for dinner. You looked cute in your peach dress; he looked as dreadful as usual. Your expression stayed joyful for most of the night, anticipating god knows what. He'd let you eat and then tore you apart once you were back home. You had pleaded with your tears, and your words, with your body... he'd been unmovable then.

It crept on him as the days passed. At first, he felt like he'd done you a great service, releasing you from his shackles. He always wanted too much. You'd be freer without him, without the fear that comes with dating a soldier. And as sharp as you are, you'd find a way without him, even if it felt hopeless at first.

Then he started to feel as badly as he did before meeting you. Part of it he drowned in work— the rest stayed to laugh at him. He spent hours working out so he'd get so tired, the nightmares couldn't reach him in his slumber. When that didn't work, he stared at the wall in the dead of the night willing you there, in the room with him. Now that he's doing the same thing, the inane thought manifests into his mind and doesn't leave. He knows you're a homebody– rare chance of you being out at this hour on a weekday. He'll make the same drive he always did, walk the courtyard, knock on your door. He will apologize and hold you close and call himself a stupid fucking dog for letting you go. For not believing you when you said you could go through this together, that it wasn't only his burden. Yes... you'll love him still, the way you did for so long, no games or childish tricks, only honesty and gentleness.

The light in your living room is on. He rings the bell, then knocks on the door to be clear. He has to see you now. He thinks he will die if he doesn’t. You open a sliver of the door, looking out with one eye. Clever girl, you never know who’s on the other side. When you recognise him, you open it more, still slowly.

"Simon," you murmur, your throat bobbing as you look at him from head to toe. He must look like a mirage. Your hair is done. Hanging out with the girls?

"Hey," he hears himself say. You look well. As well as the day he left you.

Your mouth is hanging slightly, your expression confused, but not necessarily angry. Maybe you are happy that he showed up, that he's still alive, that he thinks about you. Your hands, fiddling at each other, look cold as ever, nails coming to scratch off some non-existent cuticle.

"May I come in?" He thinks he's never been so brazen in his life, and his reputation is not exactly spotless. Your nose scrunches and you laugh then, the beautiful sound that he missed so much, a breathless giggle. He’s so close— so close to making it again, to holding your hands in his, to—

The spell is broken when another voice calls your name. A male voice, almost worried, inquisitive. To ask who’s at the door. Reality crashes on him as loud as an unexpected explosive, the shells of it stabbing him. Your laugh isn’t one of understanding, of residual love, it’s a laugh of disbelief at him. He freezes then, and can’t force himself to look inside, to confirm what he’s heard. His hands flex, his fists clench. You’re the one talking now, holding your hands up, almost reaching to touch his arm, but he dodges it, takes a step back.

“I-I’m sorry,” he manages to spit out, looking at you for one last time, not even daring to look inside for whoever you’re seeing now. You look sad, now, again, as he left you. Always causing you grief.

“Simon, it’s ok, we can—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he tries to give an explanation, some kind of madness that took control of him and moved his body across the city. But he fears its name is loneliness and yearning.

He turns and starts walking away, not even looking back when you call his name again, as much as he’d like to. He closes the gate on his way out, hands in his pockets.

[demigodsanswer]

Waffley Wedded

They had written their own vows, and those had already made Percy cry. And he still didn’t really consider himself a crier. Eight years with Annabeth had brought it out of him a bit more, sure, but he really didn’t cry much. And certainly not in front of fifty-something people. But today the tears barely stopped. 

He couldn’t help it. He loved her. And they were finally getting married. Forever. They were going to be together forever. They were going to be married! They were going to have babies! She was going to be his wife! He could finally introduce her as his wife! He was so excited. (They’d had to do a few small quests for Hera to get her approval, but eventually they had the blessing of the queen of the gods, and they could start planning their day.) 

It still didn’t feel entirely real that they’d made it this far. But of course they had. They were together, and as long as they were together, they could make it through anything. 

Annabeth’s dress had been the only surprise so far. She’d never been particularly girly. Even her prom dresses had been relatively simple. So the light blue Cinderella ball gown complete with frills had been a surprise. But a welcome one at that. She looked stunning, and so, so happy to finally be up there with him. 

Grover had his part of course, as the officiant, he was in charge of making sure he and Annabeth didn’t veer off track too much. He’d done a good job. They had made it to the official, old school vows without hiccups to delays. 

“Repeat after me,” Grover said to him. “I, Percy Jackson …” 

“I, Percy Jackson …” his heart was beating fast with anticipation and maybe just a few nerves. Not nervous about marrying her, just nerves that somehow it still wouldn’t happen. Like he’d wake up in two seconds and be twelve years old again. But then, he figured, he’d get to go through everything with Annabeth again. And that wouldn’t be so bad, maybe. 

“Take thee Annabeth …” 

“Take thee Annabeth …” Great, he said the right name! Not that there ever was another name he could have said, but it was nice to get it right when it really counted. 

“To be my lawfully wedded wife …” 

“To be my waffley wedded…” wait. Had he said waffle? Annabeth’s lips were pressed together in a tight smile as she tried not to laugh. Oh he’d absolutely said waffley. 

The thing about Annabeth was that even when she was laughing at him for doing something stupid, she somehow managed to never make him feel bad about it. Percy always felt like he was in on the joke with her. It helped that Annabeth was often prettiest when she was laughing, with or at him. He loved her laugh, and how easily her laugh climbed from something small to a high pitched scream, before sound disappeared from her completely. 

Of course, during their vows wasn’t exactly the time he wanted to say something stupid and make her laugh. 

A giggle escaped her. A few people in the audience started to giggle too. 

Well, better roll with it, he figured. 

“... and pancakey,” Percy added. 

That did it. That broke Annabeth. Her shoulders started to shake as her full-blown laughter started, and Percy couldn’t help but laugh along. She leaned forward towards him, and he pulled her in close as they, and most of the people watching, started to laugh. 

It took them a few minutes to start again, because every time Percy and Annabeth thought they were done, they just looked at each other, and the fit of giggles started all over. Yeah, he thought, he could easily do this forever. 

Finally, Grover cleared his throat. “Should we try again?” Grover offered. 

“Yeah sure,” Percy said. 

This time he did manage to get through the vows without lisping, slurring, or stuttering. 

“Annabeth,” Grover said, turning to her. She already looked like she was going to cry. And not from laughing at him. “Repeat after me. I, Annabeth Chase …” 

She followed along, not waffling on any of the words, until she got to “In sickness and in health.” 

“At breakfast and at lunch,” she said. 

Percy laughed then; his laugh was the loudest in the room then. He started to pull her in for a kiss, but Grover put a hand between them. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He chided. “Leave room for Pan! We’re not there yet! Let’s get through the vows and rings?” 

They both nodded. Percy was pretty sure that after that, Annabeth was racing through her vows. 

Finally, they got the rings. He got the ring on her finger like an old pro. They’d been practicing for weeks. At that part, they both did start crying again. 

“You may now,” Grover said, before taking a painfully long pause. Annabeth was bouncing up and down, a small movement that was extremely exaggerated by her flouncy dress, “kiss the bri --” 

Percy swept her up in his arms before Grover could finish the word. 

It had been nine years since their first explosive kiss, and he still never got tired of it. 

~

I saw a video of this happening to a groom, and I knew I had to make it Percabeth.

[softxsuki]

Hello! If requests are still open I would like to submit one for the valentines day event? I would like a confession letter from baji (he's liked me for a LONG while but bc I have low self esteem/been in a bunch of failed friendships and relationship (some of wbuch he had a part if bc he didnt wanna see me with another man), I only saw him as a friend and didn't really allow myself to have feeling for him (like im a really optimistic/extroverted person but I'm also rlly scared of getting close to people as my most recent friendship breakup resorted in me getting fucking insomnia that took weeks to recover from). Tone: hurt/angst to comfort/fluff where after I try to go out on a date (and fail), he finds me crying onnthr curb, ion wanna see his fsce (bc we got into an argument) and then he tries tos ee what's wrong but I'm hiding my feelings, we get into an argument and I run off (it's super dramatic too). Other info: we've been tight since middle school (i saw him as a big bro/cool guy figure. Looked up to him) ans latches onto him even as I gained and lost friends gjnffjdnmd

Sorry if its too confusing or complex dndndn

Have a lovely day!

Confession Letter from Baji

This event is now CLOSED, but you can view the masterlist for the other letters here.

| Pairing: Baji x Gn!Reader| Genre: Comfort, Fluff | Post-Type: Letter | Word Count: 500 |

Warnings: mild language, jealousy, crying

Note: You painted a whole scene for me, so thank you. Hope you like !

You were at home sulking over the events of the day; a failed date once again due to your inability to fully trust a guy again, to Baji finding you crying on the curb, the argument that ensued after, and you running away from your own feelings, taking yourself back home.

You felt so pathetic, why couldn’t things work out for you? Why did you have to have these feelings for your friend despite how much you tried to push them away? There was no denying them anymore.

A knock at your door, forces you off your feet, opening the door to find no one there, but instead, a letter on the ground with your name on it.

Strange…

You wipe away your tears and bring the letter in with you, opening it;

Y/N,

Before you crumple this up and throw it away, please wait…I’m sorry okay? I was just…upset. I realize I’ve been holding my feelings back for so long that my instinct is to scold you for going out on dates…it’s probably jealousy honestly.

We’ve been close since middle school and I’ve seen all the crap you’ve been through with fake friends and failed relationships…which I’ve probably scared a few potential love interests of yours away myself…but I can’t help it. I like you. What man stands around and lets other guys talk to the person they like? Despite how lame I’ve been to keep it to myself instead of just telling you…

But after tonight, I can’t hold it back anymore. I like you, Y/N. I have for a while and I hate to see you hurting…I know I could treat you well. Our friendship is proof of that, but I want to be more than just your friend. I want to hold you when you’re hurting and kiss your tears away. I want to reassure you and build you up after all the times you’ve been knocked down by losers who don’t know how to treat their lovers…

I’m tired of running from my feelings, I just hope I haven’t pushed you away by telling you this. 

Come find me, please.

Love, 

Keisuke.

You can’t help but smile at the letter, the guy could hardly spell (let’s pretend like there were many spelling and grammar mistakes in the letter…the editor in me couldn’t actually do it BFHKEAF), let alone put words together on paper, but he tried for you, and it was beautiful. 

Maybe these feelings you had for him weren’t so bad after all. Maybe this could be your first good experience with a relationship. Baji always treated you well, despite the times he’d get moody after you’d mention dates you had gone on, but now you knew why–he liked you back.

You laugh to yourself, wiping the remainder of your dried tears. Time to find happiness with your best friend. The thought filled you with hope, making you excited for the idea of dating him. 

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

Posted: 2/14/2025

[wormswurld]

Omg please continue the tashi slipping art viagra then cucking him

okay! i can do that :D obvious tw for duncon regarding drugs, the perspective is off at times i think oopsies, 846 words; enjoy! 🌟

to be honest i feel like after she slips viagra into art’s drink he starts to feel off after 30 minutes or so..feeling all warm, cheeks flushed, maybe a little bit of sweat above his brow.. but god does he feel tight, feels his stomach slowly twisting into a knot, his slacks just making him overwhelmed and dizzy.. he tries to pass it off as nerves, after all tashi looks so gorgeous sitting across from him, and this is their first date in a hot minute..

“you alright baby? you seem uncomfortable?” tashi asks sickly sweet, her soft palm grasping the side of his cheek..fuck, what is wrong with him, even just the slightest touch made his stomach (and balls) tense up, this can’t just be nerves.. “y-yeah, just a little nervous, you look beautiful tonight…by the way” and tashi just smiles, evil grin disguised by her captivating gaze.. “well aren’t you the sweetest..” placing a peck on his flushed cheek, before art has time to press his cheek further onto tashi’s pursed lips there’s a knock at the door, “and by the way, pat is joining us for dinner” tashi quips as she makes her way to the door.

and if art wasn’t sweating already he sure is now because patrick looks hot, like really really hot. his hair is slightly messy, a couple of greys spiraling their way into his jet black curls, and a black button down shirt tucked into his nicely fitted blue jeans that accentuate his bulge perfectly. “hey artie, dug up this shirt for dinner tonight, you like?” patrick says smugly, giving art a small spin. oh absolutely he liked. he liked a lot. too dumbfounded to speak he just nodded his head, patrick winking at him before he sat down at the dinner table.

it’s too much now. way too much. art is starting to feel antsy, too aware of his pants and shirt clinging to his body. and tashi. oh tashi. looking as perfect as ever and she swipes the hair out of her face, leaning into patrick whenever he makes her laugh. god. the two of them have been at this for the past 30 minutes now, laughing and giving small touches here and there. art sees patrick put his hand on her leg and that’s when he has to excuse himself. he can’t take it anymore. his body is buzzing with arousal, which is rare these days, but my god do tashi and patrick have an effect on him.

slowly standing up, art catches the attention of the two. especially patrick. eyeing him up and down like a peice of meat, letting his eyes linger on the straining fabric of art’s armani dress pants. “can i be e-excused?” he feels like such an idiot, a grown man asking his wife and beat friend if he can be excused from the dinner table. but nothing can take away his table manners that have been drilled into him from so long ago at the academy.

“hmm, i don’t know pat” tashi says, face now supplying a cheshire cat grin as she faces patrick, “can our boy be excused?” hands now balled into a fist at his sides, art glances at patrick, desperation oozing from his eyes. a quiet plea. chuckling softly patrick smirks, “of course he can, he’s been good hasn’t he?” tashi now averting her gaze from patrick’s she fixes them on his neck, slowly kissing up the long space of skin, biting a couple times under his ear, earning a hearty moan from.

stuck. art is stuck. paralyzed even. as he watches tashi devour the collum of patrick’s neck. patrick’s face blissfully fucked out as tashi runs her manicured nails down his shirt. and art just wants to cry fat wet tears because this isn’t fair. neither of them are helping him, and he feels so lightheaded he might pass out. pathetically making his way over to the two art kneels. knowing his place is best at the feet of his two lovers. “fuck tash—look at him now, on his knees and e-everything” groans patrick, looking at the worked up blonde beneath him.

but tashi doesn’t stop. she just expertly unbuttons patrick’s jeans with one hand, and begins stroking his hard cock. art is nearly drooling at the sight of tashi’s pretty hands on patrick’s girthy length. each time he sees her nails graze over the course black pubic hair his brain short-circuits. slowly palming at his swollen clothed cock, art whines. he really whines, the type of whines puppies let out when they’re punished. “please! p-please just touch me…need it need bad”

and there patrick goes. “fuck— art! oh f-fuck art..” patrick moans as tashi pumps him a few more times, leaving him to cover his jeans in cum. wiping her dirty hand on patrick’s shirt, tashi fixes her gaze on art. finally. “since you’re so noisy clean him up. i have dishes to do.” and with that tashi is off. leaving a half clothed, breathless patrick, and a nauseatingly hard art on the floor.

—

[a2remedy]

Rocking with the Joker

It was a dark day in Gotham. The dark clouds and heavy rain weren't a new sight for its residents. Some would say it's the city's natural state.

Heavy rain accompanied by thunder usually muffled the cries of people with knives or bullets in their abdomen from a deal gone wrong. At the same time, it was a comfort to Gothamites.

Rain showed the best and worst of the world's crime center. The muffled sounds made finding sleep in the city easier. It made its people more receptive to helping one another. Rain, Darkness, Shadows.

Those were the playgrounds for the very protectors of this city.

It was the very thing that frustrated Oracle at the moment. Looking through wet lens into the alleys and abandoned sites like her life depended on it.

Maybe it did. Switching to being the lady in the chair surely wasn't a seamless but she did a damn good job, if the numerous voices in her ear didn't remind her enough. But she couldn't help her frustration. Even if they didn't speak often, they shared a look. A silent promise to get back at their assailant for what he's done.

A week ago, rogues used the same playground to break out of Arkham. The Joker was out there. Somewhere.

And Jason was silent. It's been slowly eating at her as they caught more rogues. Tim and Dick reported back that they've 'contact'. Whatever they wanted to call it. She hated the 10-foot pole between him and the other bats. She knew he hated it too.

A week since the Joker escape, and his pit rage hasn't died down since.

Her mind stopped wandering as she heard the GCPD. Reported sightings of the pale green gas inside an indoor concert hall, the feint laughter in the background growing louder by the second. With a practiced deftness, she located where the officer's coordinates were and reported to the bats... Right near Crime Alley. "Does anybody have eyes on Red Hood?" Nobody responded for 1...3...5 seconds. She knew well enough that one of the first casualties when Hood was like this was his helmet , and she assumed right when she got in to see the blurry camera that glitched with static occasionally. Right at the doors of the venue. She could make out people crumbling to their knees, desperately making their way for exits before succumbing to the drug. The haunting laughter ringing out from crying faces with grins too large. "I NEED ETAS! STAT!" "I'm 5 minutes away!" Tim responded as he grappled from rooftops. "I'm there in 3!" Dick was hoofing it as she focused on Red Hood. She opened her mouth, and her stomach dropped. Static graced her ears as it came in, but she was sure she heard correctly. "I'm going in." "Hood, just hold on." She knew better than hoping he'd listen. She checked the clear camera. At least, he had his rebreather on. "Hood is making contact. Hurry!"

"On it!" The chorus of voices and affirmative "Hm!" brought the comfort of the rain back to her. He's not alone in this, and neither is she. ---- The corners of his eyes tinged with green as he felt the pits simmer to life. He had to act fast. He had the officers on-site help him and his boys move the people nearest to the exits away before he turned back to the venue and collapsed forms inside. He could barely make out what the others were saying, but he knew well enough that the venue could comfortably fit 1,000 people. Far too many for him and 20 odd cops to handle.

He could still remember Bella, the rock star in the making, nerded out when a meta from the out of the city announced a surprise performance for the end of her tour. What was her name again? He followed the sounds of gunfire the further he got in until he made it to the open double doors. There weren't any bullet holes through the wall and door frame, so he made his way in. His heart was in his chest as he laid his eyes on the room surrounded in green. Lazarus green.

Jason had to keep reminding himself, freak out later, there's a job to do. Freak out later; there's a job to do. FREAK OUT LATE-! Green paved its way through his sight.

But the pits we're of afraid of it. Should he be? He needed something, anything to ground himself. So he touched the freaky thing. The green at the encompassing his vision vanished. Like oil to water, whatever he felt now wasn't the pits. It was like taking a dip into a pool. Cold enough to make you flinch, but it warms to his touch. He didn't notice he was dragging his hand along it until a guy's voice rang out over the mental and physical gunfire. "EMBER!" He took off a purple guitar with teal flame details and tossed it over.

The guitar straps fitted on her like a glove. "I GOT IT, B! LET'S KNOCK THEIR SOCKS OFF!" Jason didn't realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled in relief. Not noticing the band members' attention snapping to him as he finally caught sight of the joker. He gave the room a once over. The room with cheering fans as the band members were still being fired on. "THIS IS EMBER AND THE BUSTAS-" The three other members responded,"-AND WE'RE HERE TO BUST YA BALLS!" What. The. Fuck.

[magiclwritings]

Alexandria may not have been Cass' favorite person in the world but what had happened to her. Well, what they were assuming had happened, was awful. She'd just been another victim of the awful sub-society that their families all subscribed to. He wondered briefly if his and her's and Apollo's family's maybe had been afforded another opportunity there could have been different ways, different outcomes. Different thems. There were a lot of things Cas was wishing for in that moment, one specifically was to know how Orion was that damn powerful to be able to do that. Perhaps he's not just a junkie. He could ask all those questions of Oliver later on, he knew he'd answer now if he'd asked but they'd already lost enough time.

"So," He started softly, smoothing his hands gently along Oliver's back. He was mindful of how he touched him as he was still trying to piece together how the hell any of this was possible. He supposed that was the beauty and horror of magic. "W-what happened to Alex .. ?" He asked, knowing damn well he'd already known the answer. Apollo was absolutely going to lose his fucking mind when he found out about this. The blonde's head whipped towards the cellar door and another pang of regret washed over him again. This day could go straight to hell for all he cared. As a matter of fact, if he'd wake up right then and there and this was all a nightmare, he'd be so damn grateful but he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Cass immediately took to burying his head in Oliver's neck, apologizing as he did so for any discomfort he caused. How the hell could a little boy cry out like that? How could anyone hurt someone so vulnerable and .. his thoughts trailed off as Cass inhaled his boyfriend's scent and got as close as humanly possible. He had had it bad growing up. A backhand to the mouth every now and then and some truly disgusting words that a child should never hear but it hadn't been like that.

It was moments like this that had Isaac questioning whether or not he truly deserved the things that came into his life. And this one was about that beautiful little boy. But this was more to do with how he came to be in the world. It had been him. And if he expressed this thought to Apollo he'd assure that that wasn't the case and that Theodore would have always been. It would have been in the design. But as Isaac stood there, arms wrapped around his own middle he knew it had been his fault. Alexandria and Apollo were meant to get married. They should have been married and that little boy would have been Apollo's. But Isaac found a man following him one night and from that night on, he was never able to stop luring him on and towards their future. He'd been so good at it that he'd even managed to incorporate little bits of Apollo's bleed over now too.

Isaac was quiet, letting Oliver comfort Cass and vice versa. They all needed a minute he thought. And so he spelled up a basin of warm water a few wash clothes to clean the two up when they were ready. His gaze still hadn't really left the chubby little cherub face that had come to disrupt his whole life that afternoon. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as Isaac took a wash cloth in one hand and wetted it. He wondered, briefly, if Alexandria had spelled the little boy to look like Apollo for that reason as well. Had she known what was coming for her? He hoped now. Even after everything, Apollo had assured him that he and her hadn't ended on bad terms. Even gave him life updates sometimes. But he was starting to wonder if it had been Apollo lying to him about this or her lying to Apollo and that whole slue of events.

"Di' ya see anythin' else, Oli'va?" Isaac asked softly, tearing his gaze from the child to the cellar door. Without a word, Isaac raised his hand and it popped open. Apollo needed to be up here. Isaac just hoped that Cassio knocking him out was enough to knock the veela magic from his system. For as frustrating as this day had been, at least he knew now for certain that that wasn't something they could play with in the bedroom. Which wasn't ideal but Isaac was not ready for repeat of whatever the hell happened today. "Apollo?" Isaac hollered, looking over towards Oliver and Cassio to see the daggers they were staring. "I will ta'e ca'e o' 'im if nee' be." He assured them, moving closer towards the door just in case. "Bu', was tha' all o' it? Not'in' else?"

Oliver tuned out Isaac and Cassio. He had to. He couldn’t focus on that situation when he had Theo before him and was almost ready to start the spell. His eyes scanned over everything one last time. The symbols he had drawn were correct; Isaac had muddled the paste into perfect condition. Oliver willed his hands to stop shaking. I can do this, he reminded himself. I have to do this. 

He dipped his fingers into the paste, drawing a circle on his forehead, then drew a line through it. He then reached for Theo, drawing the same symbol on his forehead. “Get behind me,” Oliver instructed them both. “Once I start chanting, the spell will start, and Theo’s mind will open up to me. Think about it like a pensieve, except I can see any memory he holds in his head instead of a specific one.” He turned to look between Isaac and Cassio. “But don’t touch me during the spell, no matter what, okay? If anything distracts me while I’m looking into his brain, I could damage it. I don’t know what will happen. I’ve never seen Orion perform this spell or what happens once I’m inside his mind, but even if I’m screaming in pain and begging you guys to pull me out, don’t. I can handle it.” 

Then Oliver only had eyes for Cassio—his brave, strong, wonderful boyfriend. A part of him didn’t want Cassio to be in the room, not when he didn’t know what the spell would do to him, but the more significant part needed the strength of his boyfriend’s presence. “Hey,” He spoke softly, puckering his lips and blowing the man a kiss. “It’ll be okay, Cass. I’ve got this.” 

“Okay,” He sighed, turning back to look at Theo. Oliver laced his fingers, bending them inwards and cracking his knuckles. When he opened his eyes, his mind was clear. He was ready. 

He started the spell; the Latin words fell from his lips softly. He repeated the phrase repeatedly as he slowly lowered his hands to press his fingertips against the sides of Theo’s head. The room grew warm as the spell started, and with a sharp air intake, Oliver’s head fell back, and his eyes went completely black. He found himself inside the boy’s mind. Memories, like film reels, circled him. He couldn’t see anything - not Isaac, Cassio, or even the room he had been in. Oliver studied the memories surrounding him and noticed quickly that they were blurry compared to others. He reached out and touched one and was transported into it. 

Theo was sitting in his bedroom, playing with his toys. He reaches for one, but his little arms can’t extend that far. He pushes himself harder but topples forward, smashing his face into another toy that comes to life. A song floods the room. Theo flinches and rolls to his feet, running into the closet and closing the door. He isn’t in the closet for more than a second before thumping footsteps approach, and the door slams open. Oliver flinches at the sound. A man is standing there, his eyes cold and evil. He’s looking around the room, searching. His eyes land on the closet, and Oliver’s heart races as he opens the door and drags Theo out by the back of his neck. 

Theo screams. 

Oliver screams. 

The next memory is the same. Oliver feels Theo’s fear as if it were his own, but he pushes through it, going from memory to memory. One constant in each of them: Theo ends up being hurt. Oliver ends up being hurt.

“Theo,” Oliver is pulled into a memory, unlike the others. This one feels safe. Theo is wrapped in his mother’s arms. He loves her completely. He just wishes they didn’t have to hurt all of the time. “I have to tell you a story.” He listens; stories are his favorite. This one is about a boy who grew up with two dads, and in this adventure, they were throwing a surprise party. Theo loves his mom, but sometimes he wishes to be the boy with two dads. They never hurt him. 

She’s planting memories in his head, Oliver recognizes. It hits him, and he knows what she did, how she protected Theo, how she gave him up. 

Oliver severs the tie between him and Theo’s mind. 

In the present, Oliver immediately wipes his face clear of the cooling tears. “I know what happened.” His voice is hoarse. Had he been screaming?  His body aches, and with a glance down, he knows why. Oliver was also injured in every memory he entered in which Theo was hurt. There are a handful of handprint bruises on his forearms; his cheek feels swollen, and the back of his neck is bruised. He turns to find Cassio, his breathing quickening and quickening until Oliver is grasping for air, but he can’t get anything in. He can’t inhale deep enough.

Oliver crawls towards Cassio, but his panic doesn’t stop until his arms are around his boyfriend’s waist. “Theo’s real dad is abusive.” He keeps one arm around Cassio and throws the other arm out so Isaac can see. “Insanely abusive. To Theo and Alexandra. I think it got to the point where she knew it would end up with them dead at his hands. Alexandra altered all of Theo’s memories to include you and Isaac. She would tell him stories about a little boy and his two dads. She was writing these memories in his head so he wouldn't be scared when she found an opportunity to get him away. He would know you guys, know us. Theo loved his mom, he loves her so much, but he was so fucking scared. He loved those stories. He wanted to be the boy in those stories. He…” Oliver closed his eyes as fresh tears slipped out. “He just wants a family. He wants to be loved. And she knew that. She didn’t think they could escape him, so she saved Theo. She sent him to the two people she knew would do everything possible to keep him safe, who would love him like she did.”

[senkuideas4all]

I’m sure you guys know about the movie “Flipped,”right? Or at least the concept of PersonA openly expressing their affections for PersonB, only to get shut down every time, and personB soon developing feelings once personA no longer likes them/isn’t as affectionate as they once were.

…

This troupe + Senku has so much potential—

PersonA should be someone who’s known Senku for an extremely long time, I think—maybe a neighbor or kindergarten classmate. He’s not someone who can be enticed by romance easily (or at all if we’re looking at a canonical standpoint. Thankfully this is fanfiction) so he’ll need a LOT of time and exposure for said person to grow on him.

I imagine Byakuya patiently waiting by the door for his son, only for Senku to come home after his first day of kindergarten with an irritable scowl on his face and another kid clinging onto him. Please, he was crying tears of joy once he found out that his stern son actually made a friend. His first friend!

PersonA probably squeezed their way in into every experiment and reading session. There was a day when Senku went home on his own (which he thought was suspicious and lonesome without a certain person clinging onto him and annoying him) and was greeted by a grinning Byakuya (which he also found suspicious). All the skepticism soon made sense once he entered his room and found the very person who wasn’t there to bother him a few minutes ago. Surprised and huffing out, he slams the door shut and makes his way towards his father who was startled by the noise.

As his son rambled on and on about what PersonA could possibly be doing in his room without his knowledge, Byakuya couldn’t help but grin even wider than he ever did when he noticed his son’s relieved expression. It probably wasn’t obvious to anybody else but him at the time, but the child was clearly disappointed upon his return home.

Senku doesn’t know it yet and won’t know about it until years and years later, but the child upstairs was worth tens of billions and meant so much more than his son could possibly imagine. He just hopes his son won’t take them for granted.

I envision Senku labelling PersonA as an annoying and persistent hinderance (with a few other quirks that he’s noticed over the years) but would still treat fairly…somewhat well. Someone who he occasionally pays special care and attention to only because “my old man likes them a lot and would give me an earful and take my equipment away if he hears I don’t treat them good enough.”

Maybe he can reminisce about PersonA during and after the petrifaction since in all his years of knowing that ‘bothersome’ person, this was probably the furthest and longest time they’ve been apart. Now that he’s given the space that he’d always wanted, he starts to wonder if it was always this quiet. When was the last time he had such a thick, deafening silence? He never really noticed it in the first few years he’s been in the darkness of the petrification—he was too busy counting every passing second and thinking of what could’ve possibly lead to this situation to have such thoughts.

He’d always fantasize about complete, utter silence to ‘focus better’, but was soon disappointed that it wasn’t as great as he’d expected. It wasn’t until 3,700 years of counting that he finally broke out of the stone. As he’s roasting his dinner one night, his mind drifts off. Now that he thinks about it, he never once thought of PersonA within the first month he escaped that stone prison. Survival was the priority, but to not think about the person who’s been with you the most in your entire life was…strange? He picked up the skewer and stares at his meal. They used to always insist on making his meals. Ever since Byakuya left Japan, they’d constantly check up on him to make sure he’s eating anything aside from ramen…or just eating anything at all.

Who knew doing all this on his own could be so different? He used to believe that his life would still flow the way it did whether or not they were there by his side, but now, even eating felt odd without a certain someone talking and filling in the silence.

—————

I actually spewed all that up?Unfortunately, that’s all I could put together with my dwindling energy. I can’t decide on whether or not Senku’s realization of his feelings will actually occur pre-pertification/post-petrification/no-petrification au. I did mention about post-petrification(albeit sloppily)but that’s only because I don’t have much interesting or unique scenarios for the other two. I’ll leave that to the other writers out there. I’m so disappointed with my post-petrification word vomit so don’t let that part hinder your own ideas about the troupe.I might also request this to any willing author if I find one. If you do, do me a favor and request for a Flipped-inspired fic? I want to read their take on the troupe <3.

[electronicclowncollector]

Chapter 23: Prom

(Authors note: Sorry for the delays, had procrastination issues lol)

Rogue couldn’t believe it, it was finally the day of the prom, it felt like it had been like 2 weeks since the meeting with Yukino asking for advice, he wasn’t sure why. He got up out of bed and began to prepare, he wore his dads old suit which surprisingly fitted him, probably because of dragon slayer magic, and he stood waiting at the door for the time to arrive as the clock hit 11am. The prom started at 9pm.

Rogue proceeded to wait there, shaking with excitement until it was time to go. He picked up Fresh by the paw and slung them over his back as he opened the door and left for the prom. He walked down the dark street in his dads navy suit, feeling awesome. The world was his catwalk and he sure as hell was gonna be the catboy of it.

“Hey Rogue! Lookin sharp” a voice behind him said. This was it, Rogue was going to finally see what Sting would look like in a suit, his handsome body and charming smile in formal wear. He turned around and… oh, it was gajeel. “Glad to see we can get people from all corners of the school to attend. I think you’ll really like what we have in store.” Rogue had completely forgotten that Gajeel was the host of the prom, though it never really occurred to Rogue to see who was involved since it didn’t matter all that much. Gajeel looked pretty good in his own gajeel way. He wore a black and white suit that had the sleeves ripped off. Gajeel seemed to notice his gaze upon his arms. “So whose your date for the dance Cheney? Come on, you can tell me” Gajeel said, placing a hand on his shoulder with a grip that was almost painful.

Rogue blushed, “O- oh, I don’t have a date for the dance, I’m going with Sting platonically though… I don’t think he has a date either though…”

“Really? Sting Eucliffe of all people not having a date? I remember seeing girls ask him out to be their prom partner several times but he turned them all down…” he playfully bumped Rogue with his shoulder, almost knocking him onto the road and ending the fanfiction right there. “Maybe you got a chance then.”

Rogue blushed and stuttered and stammered, HOW DID GAJEEL KNOW?!??! “I- I- You- I- nya- How- G- gajeel?”

“Come on, as if it wasn’t incredibly obvious that you like Sting. Well, I should get going, I gotta be there early for preparations. Good luck mate!” he said, before leaping onto a building roof and parkouring his way to the school, like the parkour dragon from Rogue’s book. That was all very embarrassing and Rogue was still tense after it, but he continued walking anyway, for Sting. Eventually he arrived at the academy, and there really wasn’t much to see, they only really decorated the inside so it was basically the same on the outside except for the light coming from the hall, so he went in. It surprised him how many people were there, and he was even more surprised that he recognised a lot of them. But for writing reasons, he couldn’t find sting anymore.

Rogue began to panic but eventually came to the conclusion that Sting would be, as usual, fashionably late. So he decided to try talking to the people he recognised. He started by approaching Lucy, who he saw talking to Minerva, who was drunk and crying. Lucy was taking it well, acting polite and showing no sympathy whatsoever for her tears, simply talking to her like she’s acting normal.

“H- hi Lucy, how are you finding the prom?”

Lucy jumped in surprise and turned to face her ex (?) with a blush on her cheeks, “H- hi Rogue! I’m having fun, Gajeel didn’t like the idea of making it snake themed though, so I’m a bit disappointed about that, but it turned out well… How about you, do you want a date- I- I mean, have you got a date for the dance?”

Rogue blushed and looked down, adjusting his glasses and playing with his hair, “No, not really… but I’m gonna be hanging out with Sting for most of it I think… Have you seen him anywhere?”

Lucy looked down in slight disappointment, “Oh, Sting… No, I don’t think so.” She perked up, “Oh yeah! Maybe he’s at the petminding area. To make life easier for the pet owners attending, Gray thought it would be a good idea to have someone volunteer to mind all the pets while the prom happens. You could go by and leave your cat… frog… thing over there, and maybe you’ll see Sting there.”

“Oh! G- good idea, thanks… Lucy…” he stammered out as she took his hand and brought him through the hall. The act of intimacy caught him off guard immensely, his cheeks were as red as the even redder dragon from the newer dragon book Rogue had back at home. He almost dropped Fresh out of surprise, but instead gripped them harder, causing them to let out a strangled ribbit. Soon enough, they got to the area and Rogue launched Fresh into the sandpit that was available for cats, right next to doug, who was high on catnip.

“Bye Fresh!” Rogue called out to the very dizzy cat. Beside him, Lucy was blushing a bit as Rogue left, wishing she had said something more before he left. Meanwhile Rogue was disappointed that Sting wasn’t there, and his worries began to pile up. He wandered through the hall of chatting students and decided to try to find someone to talk to, someone who would understand him, someone with similar interests… He couldn’t find anyone (despite Lucy’s efforts) and was about to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Milord, such a pleasure to meet a beta male like you at such a prestigious event.”

Rogue turned around and was very surprised to see Mirajane Strauss standing before him, with a smitten Gary Fullbuster clinging to her arm. Mirajane was wearing quite a similar outfit to her usual wear but a bit more formal. She had an extra shiny fedora on and under her ankle length trench coat was a shirt and tie, admittedly it looked pretty good, not as good as sting, not even close, but it was nice. Gray was wearing a cheap 3 piece suit- nevermind, 2 piece now, the jacket had strangely disappeared. Rogue realised he was monologuing in his head too much and spoke up “T- thanks… you two look great together…” he faced Gray. Who was nuzzling his head into Mirajanes shoulder like an affectionate cat. “I thought you and Juvia were in a relationship…”

Gray let out a little growl and held Mirajanes arm tighter, “No… we’re just friends…” he sounded the word ‘friends’ like it was a slur that nobody should ever say. “Janey is the only one for me…”

Mirajane rolled her eyes with a smile and patted his head, “Calm down, be a good boy and let go of your alpha females arm, My Lord.”

Gray immediately let go of Mirajanes arm, looking down at the floor with cheeks as red as something really red, Rogues mind was too boggled to even think of a type of dragon that fit the description of being red so you’ll just have to imagine something really red. Oh, and now Gray’s suit only had one piece, the trousers. Rogue decided that was enough of that conversation and was about to leave as he heard the door to the hall slam open and Rogue turned around right away to see the dragon god in human form himself, Sting Eucliffe.

“WWOOOOOOH HELLO EVERYBODY! THE INCREDIBLY CONFIDENT STING EUCLIFFE IS IN THE HOUSE!” Sting called out. There was silence, then applause, then cheering. It was a standing ovation, probably because nobody was sitting because it was a dance.

Rogue nervously walked over to Sting, who strode over with an aura of pure awesomeness and put an arm around his shoulder, “Ready for the night of your life? These dating fools don’t measure up at all to the 2 legendary bachelors that are us!” Rogue blushed, sting blushed, Stings confident façade was falling apart at the first sign of Rogue’s cuteness. Rogue wondered why Doug was at the petminding area before sting had arrived, but then he chalked it up to Sting being fashionably late and awesome. Once the crowd had settled down, the pair began to chat for a bit, when Gajeel approached the two.

“Hey hey Sting, so glad you could show up dude!” exclaimed Gajeel as he patted Sting on the back. His confidence was matched by Sting, who patted him on the back even harder, “Ah, Gajeel, my man, Gajeel ‘wifehaver’ Redfox, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Rogue felt a sudden pull as he was squeezed up against Sting, it felt like heaven, the softness of the fabric on Sting’s suit and the warmth of his body being so close, his cheeks went so incredibly red, would he feel this every day if Sting and Rogue got married? If Sting’s body felt like this, what would his lips feel like? His mind whirred with thoughts and fantasies, while on the outside he was simply letting out little Meows, which was driving Sting crazy on the inside.

Sting knew he had to keep his composure around Rogue, so he pulled him along to a group of people, most of which were in the Saber Tooth club and a few friends outside the guild. Rogue was snapped out of his haze as he saw the people they were approaching, Bickslow, Laki, Sorano and Minerva. Minerva was more drunk then he had ever seen her, she could barely stand, she had an arm around Laki to keep her up, Laki was of course wearing stiletto heels and was inwardly struggling to keep hold of her.

“Hey Laki, glad to see you and Bickslow are doing well” Sting said to her with a friendly grin, that sparked some jealousy in Rogue.

“Oh yes, he’s a good boy and was the first in my harem, so he gets a bit of special treatment” Laki says, holding up the leash she had that was attached to a collar around Bickslows neck. Rogue… Rogue didn’t like this sight, it made him want to be sick, but one word stuck out to him and it seemed Sting felt the same way…

“Harem..?”

“Oh yes, Sorano was incredibly desperate for a partner that I let her join, she’s very low maintenance, I barely even need to interact with her and she’ll be content. Minerva followed not long after and she’s inseparable from me… though her opinion on me is very different if I have no alcohol on me…”

“Right…” Sting said, feeling very uncomfortable, he turned to Sorano, who was on her phone texting someone, “Hey Sora! Did Yukino not come with her boyfriend for the prom?”

“Nah…” she seemed very focussed on texting, about 80% focussed on her phone, 20% on the conversation, though it seemed that was enough for her to hear what Sting was saying, “Her boyfriend doesn’t go to the academy so he wasn’t allowed to attend, so naturally she didn’t come either, they’re having a little date night back home.”

With a shrug, he seemed to understand the logic. Following the simple gesture, he whispered in Rogue’s ear, “Wanna go to the dance floor for a little platonic dancing? It’ll be fuuun”

Rogue gasped and nodded, “Nyah!” he agreed.

The dance floor was packed as the music slowed down, Sting put his strong right arm and large hand around Rogue’s waist and Rogue looked up at him with a gaze of pure awe. Sting then gracefully placed his foot atop Rogue’s as they attempted to dance, causing pain to shoot up his leg, but Rogue didn’t care, this was so romantic, this was as close as they’d ever be, Rogue knew. Nothing could ruin this night, it was all so perfect.

“Rogue… how do you like my confidence? Or how well I am at being myself?”

“S- So much… Your so cool Sting…”

“Yeah… I know” Sting pulled his other hand out of Rogue’s and gave him a little finger gun while making a clicking sound with his mouth, and it was like he had been shot right through the heart by cupids very own finger guns. As the totally platonic bro dance continued, the two talked and talked and it was so intimate, so heartwarming. That is, until DJ Erza changed the song to Cha Cha slide.

Gajeel then announced to the hall, “Alright lovebirds, it’s time to announce the very first PROM KING AND QUEEN!”

Everyone gathered around, Rogue was so nervous, he knew he wouldn’t be picked for Prom King or Queen, but there was still that hope.

“This prom has been a huge success, and I think that they’ll only get better from here. Tonight will mark the start of a new Academy annual tradition!” Everyone cheered at Gajeels enthusiasm. “Now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for… we’ll start with the prom queen, as you all know the saying, Ladies first, so the very first prom queen for the dragon slaying academy is… Lucy Heartfilia!”

Lucy gasped as she stepped onto the stage in her snake themed dress, she gracefully moved to the middle of the stage and had the Prom Tiara placed on her head (??? I have no idea I haven’t been to a prom before). She had a wide grin on her face, despite not actually having a date for the dance.

“And the prom king is…” Gajeel paused for suspense, “ROGUE CHENEY! We really need to tweak the rules for prom king and queen, we were way too vague with who it could be…” Everyone applauded as Rogue went up and stood next to Lucy, grinning with tears in his eyes and a meow caught in his throat as he felt the heavy crown lowered onto his head, he glanced over at Lucy, both were blushing, Gajeel looked over to Erza and whispered, “What now?”

Erza shrugged “I don’t know, maybe make them walk down the middle of the crowd?”

Gajeel shrugged, “Sounds good to me. Alright! Everybody make way for the King and Queen of Prom!”

Everyone awkwardly made space for the two of them to walk down the middle  as some romantic piano music played. Rogue was very confused as to why it couldn’t have been Sting who was prom king with him, 2 kings walking hand in hand, sex with a man, etc. But he walked with Lucy, who linked arms with him, just like they had practised together. He actually kinda enjoyed her company, if it weren’t for Sting she might even be a good partner for him-

“GAJEEL LOOK OUT!”  Erza called out, Everyone turned to face the stage and Gajeel lay on the floor, face down with a knife in his back. Gajeel was dead. Things had changed.

To be continued (someday)

(Authors note 2: I still know barely anything about fairy Tail, but I'd like to think that Gajeel and erza are (or would be) total bros with eachother, just the vibe I get. A sort of drinking buddy dynamic but healthier if you get what i mean. If i'm wrong do tell me)