#one of you could have done a better job than this

[ifyouencounterwolf]

Normalize this normalize that, we as writers and ARTISTS need to normalize NOT to see any critiques/negative feedback of our WORKS as a critique of OURSELVES.

When your work is finished and posted, it is done. It marks the end of a unique creative process and is now by and large independent from you. No matter how much of a magnus opus you think of it, you will be creating something better in the near future. So how would that posted work serve you now? By getting the FEEDBACKS from your readers.

How did that make others feel? Did it do the job of disturbing people or comforting people that you have intended it to do? Do people feel something unintended from your work? Do people feel anything from your work? Those are things as authors, we needed to know about, in order to know more about ourselves, and that's not just about our current skill levels.

Believe it or not, there's no inherently bad feedback, the negative ones are not inherently different from positive ones. They are all. just. feedback. They don't define you as a person, they are not attacking you as a person. Even with the worst kind "I hate this so much hope you kys" you could either ignore or ask how they hate it and where do they hate the most. Hate supply is still supply as my narc self would say.

That is, unless you are creating something for money and engagement/attention, and getting criticized will destroy your so-called celebrity fame and break the illusion that you are a prodigy and you don't need efforts to improve like everyone else on this planet earth. But sis, that's your problem.

Writing is a way of communication and forming a discussion, conversations cannot happen if either side is not allowed to speak freely. That goes for both the bad readers who demand authors to stop writing certain topics that disturb them, and bad writers who demand special treatment from the world simply because they created something for free and they thought they have a certain moral superiority to the "free-loaders".

Yes. You did create something for free and you didn't ask for the criticism. But you did that out of love and passion didn't you? Because as human beings, we are privileged to have this creative mind and this desire to express ourselves through our artworks, we live inside our own world but sometimes we want others to take a look at it and therefore we write something or we draw something and they reflect our thoughts and experiences and imaginations.

So what do our readers owe us? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

No one had this moral obligation to only make compliments and really really really mild suggestions and they still have to live in fear thinking whether the authors are still going to get offended because they interpreted "Looking forward to updates" as a demand or "I thought I wouldn't like it but I did" as a jeer.

Damn, if I'm a reader I would just say FORGET IT. I like it or I don't like it, who cares about my opinion? One wrong word would get me in fandom jail.

Except we do fucking care. Do you know what a purgatory I'm living in when I wrote my heart and soul out and people are just not going to leave anything for me to know how I did?

The readers' silence and uncaring to artists is a much more cruel punishment than their hate.

We have talked so much about "don't like it don't click" as a gotcha for the readers, but how about "don't like it but still give it a chance and tell me about it even if you still don't like it"? Because I trust you as my audience, that you have sufficient levels of media literacy and you have good tastes, and you can engage with artworks responsibly... THAT'S WHY I POSTED IT.

I could have just shown my stuff to only a small friend circle and let them be the judge but I chose to put it out there. Because I wanted it to stir up something so I could engage in conversations with people who only know me through my work and I would prefer it to stay that way. If the conversation is just about my typos and my grammar be it that way. It's still better than nothing.

That being said, we should not make it a consensus that readers need to give only compliments or just shut up. We should make authors themselves decide whether they wanted to be criticized or not. Authors can absolutely set up boundaries on how their works should be engaged, authors could say that "I want feedback but please don't nitpick my grammar or typo" or "this is personal to me/I am a first time writer so please be more gentle with your feedback".

But if you don't say anything then consider your work a free game if you may. See who catches the most of your hidden details and symbolism and see who asks the most annoying questions. Damn. As a writer that would actually be my dream.

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader - Chapter 9 | Attachment

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader

Read it on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 8

2.3K words

Life changed after that. It went unspoken, but Bob had emotionally attached himself to you in a way that was unprecedented. You barely spent time at your own apartment anymore. 

Bob was in his little spot on the windowsill, reading one of the books you’d picked up with him. He looked tired, but content. You looked around the room and spotted your shoes stacked neatly next to his. One of your sweaters was draped over the couch. The contents of your bag were strewn around, never quite making their way back to your home.

You got up from your spot at the breakfast island. You hadn’t claimed it, exactly, but you noticed just the other day how nobody ever sat there anymore but you. Bob shifted in his seat, eyes following your every move. It was a new development.

“Where are you going?” He asked anxiously, just like he’d done a million times already these last few days. 

“I’m just gonna put my bag in my room,” you chuckled. 

“Ah– Okay,” Bob nodded, returning his attention to his book. You could tell he was still watching you from his peripheral. 

That too, was a development. The empty room next to Bob’s had unofficially become yours. You’d stayed over more often than not. If anybody had noticed Bob sometimes sneaking into your room after he’d had a nightmare, nobody cared to mention it. 

✶

The first time it happened, he’d scared you. He stood in the doorway (which had been repaired during his time in the bunker) like a toddler scared to tell their mom they’d thrown up. You had no clue how you’d even woken up that night, but the dark figure looming in the hallway was enough to make a yelp escape your mouth, quickly turning on the light on your nightstand.

“Jesus, Bob, you scared me!” You whispered loudly. 

“Can I come in?” His voice was so small. 

“Yeah,” you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. A glance at your phone revealed it to be 3 in the morning. “What’s up?” 

“It’s just–” he paused, stepping inside and softly closing the door behind him. “I can’t sleep…” 

“Okay?” You encouraged him to continue, still confused about what he was doing in your bedroom at this time of night. 

“I, well. I was asleep at first. But then… Y’know. I woke up?” The story was vague. Too vague. 

“So what’s the problem?” You were still half asleep and didn’t have the brainpower to connect what he was on about. 

“I had a nightmare,” it was barely audible. “I can just, this is stupid I’ll just go–” 

“No, no. Stay. C’mon,” you scooted over, lifted the blankets and made extra room for him to sit. The bed sure was big enough for the two of you. He hesitated for a second before shuffling over to the bed. He got under the blankets but stiffly stuck to one side of the bed. 

“D’you wanna talk about it?” You asked, lying on your side and propping your head up on your elbow so it was easier to look at him. 

“Not really, if that’s okay,” he admitted.

“Yeah, of course that’s okay. We can just talk, or sleep. Whatever you want,” you smiled. 

“Can you– no. Uh,” he started, but rubbed his palm against his face. His shaky hands had returned once more. 

“Can I what?” You reached for his other hand, playing with it mindlessly to distract him a little.

“No, it’s dumb. You can just go to sleep. I’ll go back to my room.” He moved to get up, but you gripped his arm tightly. 

“No, tell me. It’s not dumb. You can stay here, I don’t mind, I swear,” you reassured him.

“Can we maybe, like, hug? Not anything weird, I promise, just–”

“Aww, you want to cuddle?” You teased lightly. 

He groaned. “Don’t laugh!” 

“Of course we can cuddle. If that’ll make you feel better. C’mon, get in here,” you lifted the blanket again and patted the extra pillow he was leaning against. He shuffled around a bit, awkwardly trying to find a comfortable position without disturbing you. You sighed, grabbed his arm and slung it over yourself. On the outside you tried to look collected, but your heart was racing. 

Bob tugged you a little closer, pressing you up against his chest. “This okay?” He mumbled. You could feel his lips move against the top of your head as he talked. You nodded and snuggled against him. You could hear his heartbeat with your head on his chest, somewhat relieved to find it matched yours, beating fast. Whether from this situation or his nightmare, you’d never know. 

He reached to turn off the light on the nightstand, dousing you in darkness. A content sigh left his lips as he finally let his limbs relax. His breathing slowed, light puffs of air hitting your face. 

✶

So Bob had some attachment issues. Could anyone blame him? You indulged him to the best of your ability, but it was hard, sometimes. You kept thinking about the days he’d spent as Sentry, about what had happened in the bunker. You knew he didn’t remember, but some part of you wished he did so you could talk with him about it. You knew Bob had noticed you were distracted at times. He’d probably figured out it had something to do with those days, too. 

When you returned to the living room Bob visibly relaxed. Though you didn’t blame him for the way he’d anxiously attached himself to you, at some point it would have to stop, realistically. You couldn’t always be around and he would need to learn to be able to depend on himself. 

For now, though, you poured him a drink and handed it to him without thinking twice. 

“What are you thinking about?” Bob wondered, sipping his soda. 

Your brows furrowed. “Nothing in particular, I guess. Why?” 

“You looked a bit far away, there. Happened yesterday too. I’m just curious,” he shrugged. 

You sat down on the other side of the windowsill, pulling your legs up and mirroring his pose. You’d have to talk about it eventually. 

“Do you remember anything that happened in the bunker?” You asked tentatively, absentmindedly pulling at the skin of your lips. Bob’s gaze dropped to your hand, and you quickly stopped the action. 

“No, I don’t remember anything. Never do when he shows up,” he pressed his lips together in a light grimace. 

“I didn’t expect you to remember,” you admitted. 

“What happened that makes you keep worrying about it?” He closed his book and put it away. You tried to find the best way to tell him, but it was difficult. 

“You can tell me,” he encouraged. 

“You… I know it wasn’t like that. It’s just…” You looked down at your hands, refusing to make eye contact. Was it hot in here? 

Bob leaned forward, putting a hand on your knee. Your eyes shot up to meet his investigative gaze. 

“You kissed me,” you sheepishly admitted. You wanted to avert your eyes, but couldn’t tear them away from the intense look on his face. 

When he didn’t respond, you elaborated. “I’m pretty sure it was just– There were cameras inside and he wanted to prove to me that he knew that. I think.” You let your eyes wander to the city skyline through the window as you awaited what he’d say. 

“Oh– I’m sorry? That’s not– He shouldn’t have done that,” he shook his head, leaning back, his hand leaving where it had been resting on your knee to rub at his temple. 

“You don’t have to apologize. I just thought you should know that that happened.” 

He nodded. “Thanks for telling me. Don’t know what I expected but it sure as hell wasn’t that,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, needless to say I hadn’t expected it, either,” you laughed stiffly. You nervously rubbed your hands on your thighs, glad it was off your chest. 

“What was it like?” Bob asked. Your jaw dropped ever so slightly before you could catch it. 

“Huh?” 

“The kiss,” he clarified. “I wanna know what it was like.” 

You tried to read his expression to understand what he was getting at, but it was illegible, aside from a hint of amusement.  

“Well… It was a kiss. I’m not sure what else you want me to say about it.” 

“Did you like it?” He smiled. You opened and closed your mouth several times in an attempt to formulate a response. 

“I– I was a bit preoccupied at that moment, Bob!” You huffed. 

“That’s not a no, though,” he shrugged. 

“You are unbelievable,” you moved to get up, done with this conversation. Did you like it???? What kind of question was that?????? 

Bob called after you as you turned into the hallway. “You’re not denying it!” 

“I’m done talking about this, Reynolds!” You yelled back. You heard a soft chuckle from his general direction before you closed the bathroom door. You quickly turned on the tap, splashing your face with cold water. 

Did you like it? 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, noticing the flustered expression still painting your face. What a jackass. Did you like it, my ass. 

But, did you? Did you like it? God, this was going to haunt you for even longer than the kiss itself had. At least he’d found it amusing. 

You thought back to the question Sentry had asked you. Would you rather it have been Bob? The answer was yes, quite obviously. You knew Bob. You didn’t know Sentry. Bob was sweet. Of course you’d rather it had been him. 

But… 

Did you like it? 

GOD. SHUT UP.  

You unlocked the door and walked back into the living room like nothing had happened. You ignored the smug look on his face and walked past him into the kitchen, ready to go make some dinner. 

Most of the team was out, though not on a mission. It wasn’t any of your business what they were up to, yet you couldn’t help but be curious. The only person whose whereabouts you were up to date with was Yelena. 

She had a meeting with a therapist to vouch for her and set her up with regular appointments with Bob. Mel had said the therapist came greatly recommended by other enhanced people. Where she’d gotten that info, she was unwilling to disclose. It didn’t matter, as long as Bob finally got professional help with his issues. 

It wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Far from it, even. But you were sure that with the help of the team, the therapist, you and most importantly himself, there was a lot of progress to be made in the coming time. 

Yelena had returned by the time dinner was finished. It was just the three of you, for once. It was a nice change from the loud environment the penthouse was usually basked in. Sometimes you wondered what the rest of the tower was used for now, as it hadn’t been Stark Industries property in a long time. You assumed something OXE related, as Valentina owned the building. It was better to not ask questions. 

“Didn’t know you were such a deep sleeper, Bob,” Yelena casually mentioned with a mouthful of rice. 

“What do you mean?” Bob asked. He wasn’t a deep sleeper whatsoever, from his recollection. He’d describe himself as a light sleeper, if anything. 

“I knocked on your door like four times this morning. No answer,” she shrugged. You narrowed your eyes. What did she know? Her eyes glanced over to you, delight clearly shining bright in them. She definitely knew something. 

“Huh, interesting. I guess I must’ve been sleeping very deeply then, yeah,” Bob replied, scarfing down a few more spoons of rice. One day you’d teach him to eat with chopsticks, though you doubted that would slow him down in the bulldozing of his meals. The spoon was more efficient, anyway. 

“Yeah, it was almost like there was nobody in there, at all,” Yelena prodded. 

“Interesting, indeed,” you interjected, trying to shoot the subject down. You knew it was an innocent thing, the arrangement you had with Bob, yet you felt caught. 

When you finished dinner the three of you made quick work of clearing the table and doing the dishes. 

“By the way, Bob. Can I borrow your charger? My cord is all frayed. It’s a miracle it still worked this long,” Yelena asked. You exchanged a quick look with him. She was good, you must admit. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go get it in a sec,” he replied, drying the last plate. 

“No, that’s fine. I can just get it from your room,” Yelena replied. Fucking spies. Can’t hide shit from them. Yelena waited for an answer, a self-satisfied smile stretching her cheeks as far as they would go. Bob sighed, put the now dry plate on the stack and hung up the tea towel. 

“It’s not in my room,” he admitted. 

“Oh, really? I wonder where it is, then,” Yelena tapped her chin theatrically. 

“Oh my god– Yes, he’s been sleeping in my room. Just go get the damn charger, Belova,” you attempted to throw some soap suds her way, but failed. 

“Your words, not mine! I didn’t say anything!” The Russian yelled over her shoulder as she walked out of the kitchen.

“Do you think she’ll tell the rest?” Bob asked, putting the plates in the cupboard. 

“Bold of you to assume they don’t already know, at this point,” you sighed. 

“We’re not doing anything wrong, though.” 

“No, but you know that hiding it in the first place kinda implies…”

“Implies what?” 

“Shut up, you. I’ve had enough of you today,” you took the plug out of the sink and let the dirty water drain away. 

“You wound me,” Bob put a hand to his chest, laughing. You scoffed, but let out a laugh. These people were going to be the death of you. 

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[ssapphosviolets]

Acts of Service

Sevika x gf!reader

Inspired by part of my recent work:

Sevika's job is cruel and grueling, but providing small acts of service makes her feel like a normal person at the end of the day. It's a reminder to herself that she's a lover, that she hasn't lost her way of caring, that she is more than her job. If it was up to her, her girlfriend wouldn't ever have to lift a finger again.

or; Sevika's acts of service

(lowk adhd coded reader bc samesies)

.oOo.

Sevika sighs when she steps foot into her and her partners shared closet, or should she say stepped foot onto her partners clothes. She sighs; not out of annoyance or frustration, maybe a little out of inconvenience, but she's unable to feel any real malice behind it. She's always known, even before moving in together, how forgetful and messy her partner could be.

Messy isn't Sevika's choice of words though. Her girlfriend certainly isn't dirty or slobbish. She just has a tendency to become very easily distracted, often leaving traces of her forgetfulness behind as her brain had already moved on to its next task. Maybe disorganized was a better word. But that didn't seem right either. It's not the first time Sevika has failed to capture her partner in words though.

It's not uncommon that there's forgotten clothes left behind as her girlfriend rushed to get ready for work earlier that morning. Or that there's jackets and sweaters left on the couch and the backs of chairs that had been forgotten about. Or that only Sevika's side of the bathroom sink has more than an inch of visible counter space. Or that there's a pile of laundry sitting on top of the dryer that her partner swore she would put away "tomorrow".

Sevika loves this about her partner. While at first her girlfriend was shameful of this forgetfulness, always profusely apologizing at the realization of her mess, Sevika had done more than enough to reassure her that she really doesn't mind. Sometimes to this day her partner does feel apologetic, but it's no longer from guilt or anxiety, it's more so out of frustration with herself.

Sevika appreciates that it gives her an easy service to do. For most people, coming home from work to almost tripping over a small pile of clothes would be enough to set them off. When Sevika comes home from a long day to a pile of clothes, she uses this task to allow herself a release from that hard and rough front she puts on all day at her job. It took 10 seconds to put away her girlfriend's clothes, and 10 seconds to be reminded of who she really is. She's still a human who has the ability to do no harm. Who is not only capable of loving, but also of being loved.

This mess is an indicator of her and her girlfriend's safety. She's safe, in their own home, where expectations and pressures are non-existent. Her girlfriend is safe, even feels safe enough to leave a mess in the first place. The ability to let yourself be messy around someone is something only a deep trust can bring about.

Sevika turns those 10 seconds into 30 as she chooses to fold up one of her own shirts, placing it on top of her girlfriend's side for when she gets home from work.

.oOo.

While her partner may be forgetful, Sevika always remembered. She never minded having to remember for the both of them. Though sometimes the questions of "Do you know where-?" can get quite repetitive, Sevika knows it's only asked because her girlfriend knows she has it handled. Sevika takes great pride in the underlying confidence and trust that her girlfriend has in her to take care of things.

"Do you know where my lighter is?" Sevika looks up from her place on the couch, where her eyes were buried in a book. "You have probably 10 around the house, babe. Which one?" She easily averts all of her attention towards her partner, not minding the interruption one bit. Not from her, at least.

"I don't know, just any of them?" She hears the opening and closing of drawers as she searches. Sevika sighs and shifts, her hand grasping onto the circular clipper lighter, and she gets a quick flash of pink and grey in between her fingers as she pulls it out. It's one of her girlfriend's lighters, to be exact.

"Here, Hun." She holds the lighter above her head so the girl can see it from behind the couch. She hears the immediate footsteps on the creaking wood of their living room, until the lighter is gleefully snatched from Sevika's fingers. Her partner leans over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of Sevika's head. Sevika's own hand snakes around to hold the back of her girlfriend's neck, and she tilts her head up to capture her lips before she has a chance to pull away.

"I want that one back though, it's always my backup for when you lose your other nine." Sevika teases, nothing but adoration showing through not only her eyes but her tone as well. She can't hide the smile that graces her dark tinted lips when she sees how flustered the girl gets.

.oOo.

Sevika has a love-hate relationships with mornings. She loves the quiet moments she spends with her girlfriend as they get ready together, but hates when they inevitably have to part ways for the day. So she cherishes every second of their quiet mornings.

She finally rolls out of bed when the bathroom light has remained on for a couple minutes too long, sleepily trudging through their shared bedroom to reach the light. She's met with her favorite sight: her girlfriend leaned over the sink as she does her makeup for the day.

Sevika was never one for makeup, but there was something so attractive to her about watching a partner do it. Maybe it was because she loves the femininity of it, or maybe it was the intimacy of being allowed to share such an important part of a daily routine with someone. She's too tired to really consider the "why's" at the moment.

She takes a step towards her girlfriend and presses her own front to her back, her arms wrapping around the girls waist. Sevika watches in the mirror as her girlfriend's smile grows. "Morning, Vika." Her partner mumbles tiredly, adoringly. "Morning, hun." Sevika responds in a similar tone.

She stays where she is as she watches her girlfriend brush on her mascara, before deciding she should stop being a lovesick little puppy and actually help out a bit. She pulls back only slightly, just enough to reach for the necklace laying down on the counter beside her. The necklace her girlfriend has had for years, that one piece of staple jewelry that she is never seen without.

Sevika wordlessly wraps it around her girlfriend's front, and carefully clasps it around her neck. Her girlfriend had moved on to her lipstick by the time the chain and charm rested firmly against her chest. Sevika grabs her rings next, and once she's sure her girlfriend can finish her task with a single hand, she softly grabs the other in her own.

She slides on each of the rings, knowing the exact placement of each one. She intertwines her fingers as the last ring is in place, and repeats the same process on her other hand as soon as the lipstick is set back down on the counter. Not a single word has to be spoken, but when they lock eyes in the bathroom mirror, a silent appreciation is made known.

[all-with-angel]

Stress test // Superhero!Sukuna

➤ Superhero!Sukuna x Gearmaker!Reader

➤ Deadlines are nipping at your heels and you haven't found yourself a willing test subject for your projects. As your last Hail Mary, you waltz into the training area and borrow the first person you see; Not knowing who exactly you had just made your test subject. Not like it matters to you.

➤ gn!reader, Sukuna being sukuna, cocky Sukuna humbled by reader, both are 20+, light injury, sfw, NOT PROOFREAD and I couldve probably done a better job but wtv we die like gojo

You haven’t slept in thirty hours.

You haven’t eaten anything other than energy bars and instant coffee in fourteen, and the last time you took a break was when a rogue drone had exploded and knocked you out for 16 minutes. Those were a good 16 minutes.

You’d love to take a rest, sleep until the world exploded even, but deadlines were looming over your head like a death knell, red marker on your calendar telling you ‘You’re screwed.’

You had ideas- God, you had way too many ideas. Building them was one thing, but that was the easiest part really. You could do that in your sleep, and frankly, probably had once or twice. No, the problem was testing them.

You needed raw data. Field stress levels, user performance under duress, energy thresholds when pushed to their uppermost limit. Simulated tests could only go so far. The board wanted grit. They wanted the real deal. The kind that said, “Yes, this will absolutely survive a villain launching a bus at your face.” or “Yes, this will hold up against the strength of Infinity.” (Like that's even possible)

And you couldn’t give that. How could you? You didn’t have teams of testers like the more known gadget makers, no, you had yourself and A.I. test dummies that started flirting with you if they weren’t reset every other week.

You were a genius. But what good is a genius without results?

You put on your best unwrinkled lab coat, shoved your tablet under one arm, slapped a fresh stim patch onto your neck, and marched your overworked ass down to the training floors of the facility. Academy, as the higher ups would say, but it was anything but that really.

You didn’t learn much here other than that most of your coworkers were stupid.

Today’s plan? 

Find the strongest idiot. Throw gadgets at them. Hope for the best.

Yeah. 

Yeah, that sounded good. You really were a genius. Or sleep deprived. You couldn’t tell.

The facility, of course, was always active. Training rooms were booked 24/7 by heroes, cadets, and the occasional egomaniac. As you stepped into the third hall, the sound of explosions- actual explosions- echoed down the corridor, followed by some deeply maniacal laughter.

Sounds like the strongest idiot to me.

You took a step into the viewing area, peering into the highly reinforced glass and observed. There was smoke everywhere, but it quickly dispersed to reveal your maybe test subject.

He looked pretty familiar. HawkTuna-something?

He stood there in a scorched tank top, hands on his hips, surrounded by sparking debris. Pink hair and red eyes, face tattoos. He looked more like a gangster than a hero.

You jogged your memory, as fucked as it was- and remembered some news broadcasting about a Hero that had more than half of his fights end with a building or two collapsing. You snapped your fingers when you remembered, “The King”. That was his hero name.

You recalled it from an interview, where he refused to be called anything other than that. Right, so he was a cocky fucker. You could work with that. 

A few minutes later, you found yourself at a vending machine right outside the training hall, buying yourself your nth energy drink today. Just as you grabbed the can from the machine, the mechanical doors of the training room opened. Out came walking the King, steps heavy but not rushed.

You straightened your lab coat, holding your tablet to your chest and energy drink in the other as you walked up to him. “Uh, excuse me?” You smiled politely. Holy hell, he was bigger up close.

“What?” He clicked his tongue, red eyes narrowing at you. “You better make this quick. I have things to do.”

“Would it be alright if I borrowed you for a little while? You see I need test subje-”

“Not interested.” He huffed, shoving past you.

Okay, rude. You stumbled to the side, head whipping in his already departing direction. You mentally debated whether pursuing an already bitchy test subject was worth it, before realizing that both your job and education was on the line. You let out a huff of frustration before running after his retreating figure.

“Hey! Wait! Um- Tuna guy? Suzuki, was it?”

He stopped abruptly, leading you to bump into his back face first. He didn’t even budge. Instead, he turned around, a scowl that would leave any sane person shaking in their boots. 

Unfortunately, you were not sane. At least not right now.

“Sukuna. It’s Sukuna.” He hissed at you.

“Oh right, yeah, Sukuna. Anyway-” You took a few steps back, clearing your throat before continuing. “I need to put my projects under stress tests so I need-”

“Don’t they have simulations for that?” He was tapping his foot, crossing his arms as he looked down on you. 

Okay, this guy seriously had to stop interrupting you. “Well uh, those can only go so far. And the board wants actual real life testing,” You answered. “Could you come up to the lab with me and test some of them? It’ll be quick. I promise. I just need to get my reports done before my deadline.”

“Why should I care?”

“Sorry?”

“I said why should I care?” Sukuna repeated. “You’re some nobody asking me for a favor when I’m supposed to be getting dinner. Who do you think you are talking to the future number 1, huh?” He leaned forward, looming over you with a scowl.

“The future number 1 hero?” You mused, staring right back at him. “I highly doubt that.” It hurt your neck to crane your neck this high, but you kept your voice from wavering.

“Tsk. Do you not even know who I am? What I’m capable of, brat?” He clicked his tongue, voice lowering into a growl as he glared, crimson eyes inches away from yours. “I can destroy this facility and everyone in it in seconds.” 

“So?” You blinked.

You could see his eye twitch. “Do you have a death wish you-” His voice raised, almost yelling before you cut him off.

“Dude. Seriously, I can’t care less about what you can do.” You waved him off, “I only care if you can help me. Got it?” 

Sukuna, The King- The so-called prodigy with more potential as a villain than a hero, stood there, dumbstruck at your audacity. You could see the gears turn in his head, the veins starting to pop on his neck.

You sigh in faux defeat, slumping your shoulders. “Unless you’re too much of a pussy to test some measly little gadgets.” You shake your head, turning away from him. “It’s a shame really, the so-called future number 1, scared by some nobody's little inventions.”

“Do I look stupid to you?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not falling for your taunting.”

“Alright.” You shrug. “But you do sound,” You look him up and down, pointedly ignoring the imprint of his muscles the size of your waist. “-pretty weak to me.”

Sukuna stood there, glowering at you, a support course nerd he’d never even heard of. To be honest, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious at what you’ve got in store in that lab of yours if you’d really go this far to recruit him. His manager probably would be annoyed that he was late to their dinner meeting again, but what was that idiot gonna do anyway? Yell at him?

He clicks his tongue. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” You raise a brow, a small smirk tugging on your lips.

“Yeah, fine.” He snarled.

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands once, previous ‘disappointed’ demeanor melting away quickly. “Come, come. Follow me.”

You click the handcuffs into place. “Comfortable?”

“No.” Sukuna answered, flexing his hands under the cold steel of the cuffs.

“Good. They’re not supposed to be,” Nodding, you take a few steps back. “Now break out of them.” You look down to your tablet, tapping a few buttons to monitor the stress levels of the cuffs and see how quickly they might break. You two have been at this for a while now, most of the gadgets being destroyed or barely grazing the cocky hero- Who simply grew more arrogant with every failed test. “These are a pair of reinforced handcuffs, they should hold up quite well-”

The handcuffs explode into pieces, scraps of metal littering the floor and edges of the testing area. “Against some robber, maybe.” Sukuna drawled. “Is this it? Are you seriously gonna waste my time with barely put-together chunks of metal?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the pair of handcuffs off the list and marking it for extra blast reinforcement and maybe power dampening qualities.

“Nope. Next.” You grabbed a gadget from your side table, raising it and aiming at Sukuna. The hero stares at you, the weapon and then back at you. Seemingly unimpressed. “A gun? Really?”

“It's a non-lethal firearm, just as impactful as rubber bullets but not as harmful.” You keep your aim steady, ready to fire.

“I’ve melted bullets in mid-air. Do you really think that would work?” 

“They’re high velocity, so we’ll find out.” You pull the trigger twice, but nothing hits Sukuna. Instead, two very small and unrecognizable puddles of the bullets are a few feet away from him.

“Well, well, well. Looks like your high velocity rounds aren’t much compared to me.” He scoffed.

This time, you felt your eye twitch. He really was starting to get on your nerves. “Yeah, guess so.” You lowered the gun to your side. “Could you get the next gadget? It’s behind you.”

“Tsk. Asking me to do your job now, huh?” Sukuna rolled his eyes, large frame turning around and inspecting the table behind him. Just enough time for him to lower his guard. You raised the gun again, firing at his back- This time, it hits.

“Fuck!” The hero exclaimed, lips pulled into a scowl as he whipped his entire body towards you. “The hell was that?!”

You hummed in satisfaction, finally setting down the gun and tapping your tablet to record the results. Success. “My finger must’ve slipped, sorry.”

“Like hell it did!”

“Did it hurt?” You smirked.

Sukuna felt a bruise forming on his back, the point of impact throbbing lightly on his back. “No. Of course not.”

“Noted.”

Sukuna growled at you, ready to lunge and rip you a new one before he remembered that if he did maul another of his coworkers, that he’d get suspended. Again. So instead, he huffed and crossed his arms. “Are we done yet? Or do you have more chaos to unleash?”

“Yep, just one more.” You tossed a grenade-shaped contraption up and down your hand. “Though, this one has healing properties. Should help with the pain.”

Sukuna eyed you suspiciously, checking if this was another trick. He didn’t find anything other than quiet amusement in your eyes and anticipation. You were clearly enjoying it with him as your test subject. When you noticed his distrustful glare, you reassured him with a smile. “Don’t worry, if something goes wrong, the agency has your medical bills covered.”

He rolled his eyes, like that made it any better. “So you're saying something can go wrong?”

You shrugged. “Anything could go wrong, really.” You traced your thumb on the metal of your little toy, finger hovering right on the detonation button- It should go off after 5 seconds after pressing it. “But trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.” Sukuna said, voice flat.

“Shame.” You pressed the button, tossing it at his feet and stepping backwards. He didn’t move though, even if he did raise a brow at your sudden withdrawal- It didn’t last long before the healing grenade exploded.

Green slime-like substance coated him and a good portion of the area, luckily nowhere near you. The substance from the grenade seemed to pulse and glow green, especially the chunks that were on and around Sukuna. You quickly noted that down.

Sukuna cringed at the sludge coating his body, he didn’t feel any better than he did 3 seconds ago, maybe even a little worse with how icky the green goo felt. “The hell?” He raised his hand, the slime connecting in strands to the rest of his torso. “Some healing grenade this is.”

You stayed quiet.

He clicked his tongue, glaring at you before looking to the door. “I’m done with this bullshit. Now I gotta take a shower before going anywhe-” Sukuna tried to take a step forward, only to be halted by the slime. He kept trying to pull at his limbs, each action taking more effort than the last as it became apparent that this was no ordinary healing grenade.

It hadn’t even passed any screenings yet. And this was still a work in progress, not an actual thing you had to test at the moment. It was one of your flukes, you knew that. Sukuna, did not. “Oh, right. About this one,” You picked up your tablet, voice painfully nonchalant as you act unaware of the struggle that Sukuna was going through. “I don’t exactly have a dissolvent for the healing cream, and it gets quite sticky.”

“Then what are you waiting for??”  Sukuna screeched, head snapping in your direction as any fire or explosion he tried to use was cancelled by the healing agent. Did you mention that it also doubles as a power-cancelling agent? No? Oops. “Get to work on it then!!”

You shrugged, turning your back to him and towards the exit “Alright.”

“Hey, HEY! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” 

You turned around, motioning towards the testing area in shambles. “You don’t expect me to work in this mess, do you?” Voice level, like you were pointing out solid facts- trying your damn hardest to not let the smugness bleed into your tone.

“So, what? You're just gonna leave me here??” Sukuna sounded a mix of stunned, confused and angry.

“Thats the plan, yeah.” You start walking away, the door hissing as it automatically opened. “Don’t worry! It’ll probably melt off in an hour if I’m not done by then!” You give him a wave, smirking at him over your shoulder. 

“Probably?? You motherfu-”

He was spewing curses at you now, belittling you and trying his hardest to defend his last remaining drops of dignity. You simply smiled back, polite. “See you, Number one.”

Yeah, you weren’t going to work on that dissolvent.

(open!) tags: @idontwannatalkrn1

[science-hoes]

how would they ask you to choke them during sex 👀

Ooooooh, I hadn’t really thought about that before but I loved brainstorming for my boys. Please follow the arrow for headcanons for Charlie Reid, Pope Cody, Jack Abbot, and Michael Robinavitch ⬇️

Charlie doesn’t really ask you to choke him, not because he wants you to. Usually it’s his large hand around your throat, thumb brushing against the ridges of your cricoid cartilage, applying pressure when he wants to hear you gasp. But he sees the way you’re looking at him when you’re riding him, a rare position for the two of you. “Why don’t you wrap those pretty fingers around my neck, baby girl? I know you want to.” Your manicured nails, paid for by him, gently dig into the sides of his throat. He gives you a devilish smile, air just a bit constricted, as he guides your hips against his. “Come on, I won’t break. Squeeze a little harder than that.” And when you do, you can hear the wheeze of his breaths trying to move through his trachea. Just the sight of him, letting you hold power for just a minute, makes you come on his cock, your grip tightening even more around his neck until you regain your wits. The sudden surge of oxygen makes him high enough to lose control and come with unprecedented force, and you could feel it inside you as the ropes of cum painted your walls. Maybe he does want you to choke him from now own.

Pope needs you to choke him. He needs it so bad. Especially after running a job with his brothers, maybe if he hurts someone. He knows he’s done wrong, and he knows he should be punished for it. He gets underneath you, guides you to straddle his lap, and keeps his hand on your wrist as you grasp his neck. “Need it tighter.” You’re careful to not hurt him, but it makes him feel better. You tell him what a good boy he’s been to you, how good he makes you feel, how happy he makes you. “I love you.” His voice is pathetic, broken, and strangled, just barely slipping through your clutch on his throat. When he comes, and he comes first only when you choke him, his groans are blocked by your hand until you loosen your grip. Fingernail curves are left indented in his skin, and he loves it. Loves it so much that he eats you out to make up for coming first.

Jack is teaching you how to do a cricothyrotomy during his free time on a practice dummy in the skills lab. When you complain that the practice dummies are nothing like the real thing, he turns to you, grabs your wrist, and brings it to his throat. “Find the cricothyroid membrane.” Your fingers brush against the anatomy of his neck, pushing gently until you recognize the cartilage boundaries. Your hand squeezes his a little around his neck, thumb pushing into the membrane to mark its spot. He doesn’t admit it then, but it turned him on more than it should. When you’re riding him later, impossibly close to coming, you feel him snatch your wrist again, eyes dark with lust. “Find the membrane for me, doll.” The pretty sounds he makes when you squeeze on his throat, thumb pushing into his airway, that’s enough to send you and him over the edge.

Robby disguises the choking as education, like it was his plan the entire time. He’s testing you on the anatomy of the throat, letting you palpate every muscle and cartilage bump on his throat, all while you’re straddling him on the couch, filled with his cock. “Push your thumb there.” When you do, it closes of his airway just enough. His cock twitched inside you as he struggles to inhale, his mouth falling open in ecstasy. “What do you feel?” When you answer with thyroid cartilage, he rewards you with a roll of his hips. Your grip grows stronger as he begins to work your toward your orgasm. He’s flushed beyond belief, the redness traveling from his chest, up his neck, to his forehead. He looks so pretty when he’s not in control, letting you take the reins, not having to worry about being the one in power for the first time all day.

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

35 | i want to be loved

ft. fem!reader x kaiser (nagi, shidou, bachira mentioned)

cw. cussing, moreeee hurt-comfort, brief mention of self-harm, mention of past abuse, suggestive after the 🎸

the door was propped open before you could even think about knocking.

"kaiser?" you practically whispered as you poked your head into his apartment. his back was to you, a simple white t-shirt stretched over his muscles as he fiddled with something on the counter. he whipped around when he heard your voice, as if he hadn't expected you so soon despite liking your "i'm omw" message.

immediately, kaiser was on his feet. his eyes flitted haphazardly over your face, honing in on the bruises along your nose. you watched his hands form fists so tight you worried he'd break skin.

"i'm okay," you rushed when one of his hands went up to his hair.

kaiser let out a harsh breath that sounded more strangled than anything else. he trembled. "he put his hands on you." you followed the harsh line of his throat as he swallowed down his rage. "i... i let him."

"i chose to put myself in that situation," you explained lightly. "there wasn't anything you could have done."

kaiser shook his head and wobbled slightly on his feet. his hand slid down to the collar of his shirt, which he tugged anxiously as he tried to look anywhere but your bruised face. "don't lie to make me feel better. this is my fault, and we both know it. i'm a piece of shit, just like him."

only when your cheek began to sting did you realize you were biting it. "you're not like him." your words didn't come out soft like you'd planned. they were rough and raw, near-pleading as you tried to get him to understand.

kaiser's eyes shook when they met yours. "how would you know? you don't know me..." and before you could stop yourself, you were caught in a rant.

"i do know you. i know you like pretzels, but prefer bread crust husks. i know your eyes light up when you’re on stage. i know you don't like to call the people you sleep with by name, because that makes it too personal for you. i know your past is shitty, i know you're a bit of a mess, but despite all that, i know that i want to know you. i want the chance to really, truly know and understand you, michael kaiser."

kaiser was flustered, you knew by the slackness of his jaw and the flush in his cheeks. you could tell that it was too much for him by the steady quickening of his breath, and you would have left him to calm without the pressure of your presence if you hadn’t noticed his fingers inching toward the fingerprints bruised into his throat.

mindlessly, instinctively, you stepped forward and snatched his hand in yours, holding it tight to your chest as you let your wild eyes scan his features. "don't. don't do that to yourself, ever." you'd done such a good job of respecting his boundaries, of giving him space, but you wouldn't watch him harm himself. you couldn't.

kaiser's eyes lingered on the dark spots beneath your eyes as he calmly said, "i deserve it."

you shook your head before he was finished speaking. "shut up. you're hurt. you deserve to heal. i'm here, kaiser."

he tried to pull his hand from between yours, but you tightened your grip, placing his closed fist over your heart. kaiser tried once more before giving up, his brows knitting with unshed emotion. "i tried to cut him out of my life. i told him to fuck off and leave me alone, that i wasn't giving him any more money..." he paused, blond hair falling over his eyes as his chin tipped toward you eversoslightly. "it is my fault. i was a coward. i knew he would retaliate; he always does."

"he's gone now, though," you explained in the softest voice you could muster. "he's far away from here. he can't hurt you anymore."

the scoff kaiser let out sounded like it physically pained him. "it always hurts. the only time it doesn't is when... is when i'm with you." kaiser finally managed to pull himself from you and step away, letting his head fall against the wall with a soft thud. "but when i'm around, you get hurt."

you fought the urge to sigh as you took a slow step forward, as if approaching a wounded animal. "that wasn't you. it was him. and he isn't around anymore." you stopped moving when kaiser looked at you. "when you're around, i feel like i'm on the verge of cardiac arrest with how fast my heart races. i didn't even know butterflies were real until meeting you, so don't you dare minimize yourself to this one accident. it happened, it's over, and i don't want it to hang over your head for the rest of your life."

the fact that he was comfortable enough to tell you about his father, even after everything that happened, felt like a win. you didn't want to push him any further than you already had and rocked back on your heels. "i'll be down the hall if you need anything."

☆ 🎸

you couldn't even think about falling asleep after whatever transpired in kaiser's apartment, but it wouldn't have mattered, because nagi took up your entire bed in your absence, anyway. you sat at the desk in your room, a cup of tea in your hands as you mindlessly flicked through your twitter, which was full of fans freaking out over the bastardz.

debating knocking on bachira and shidou's door, since they were often up late and always willing to hang out, you jolted when something banged against your bedroom wall. thankfully, nagi was a deep sleeper and didn't even flinch as the banging continued. it was heavy and steady, not like something being thrown, but like a fist or a head. like someone was knocking, trying to get your attention.

your socks slipped across the hard floors as you slid from your living room into the hallway, where you found kaiser's door unlocked. he was waiting for you.

you froze in the doorway when you spotted a chair flipped over, something you should have heard when it happened. your breath caught when a head of wild blond hair caught your eye. "kai—"

his hands reached for you, one finding your waist while the other slipped into your hair, and kaiser pulled you into his chest. the hand on the back of your head pushed your face into his collar, but you didn't think as you wrapped yourself around him, clinging desperately to him through his shirt, which was slightly damp with sweat. you could feel his heart hammering against your body.

"i want to be loved," he blurted out desperately, so suddenly it made you feel weak. he was shaking so hard, you didn't know how he was standing upright, even with your support. "i want to be loved. i want to be admired. it's why i chose this path for myself, y/n." your name caught on his tongue, but it hardly did anything to slow him down as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. "i thought the fans, the fame, the lovers, would satisfy me. be enough to fill whatever black hole sits in my chest. but it didn't. it doesn't."

kaiser released his grip on your hair to pull you away and slide his hands over your face, cupping your cheeks and jaw, forcing you to meet his glittering blue eyes. "the only thing that makes me feel human is you."

you barely had time to process what he'd said before his mouth was on yours, a searing heat that spread through you like wildfire. you clutched at his shirt, grip tight and trembling as you melted into him, desperate to get him even closer. you pressed your body against his, shivering despite the heat that bled through your clothes.

every press of his lips against yours, every nip of his teeth, conveyed how much kaiser wanted, needed, craved you.

your fingers found his hair and tangled themselves at the roots, tugging enough to release a throaty groan from the man. you kissed him harder, taking advantage of the moment to sink your teeth into his lip. all thoughts of your prior conversation fled from your mind, and you decided it'd be something to focus on later.

kaiser's grip on your hips was bruising, but you didn't mind it until his fingers began toying with the helm of your shirt. the tips just barely grazed the hot flesh of your naked ribs when you grabbed his wrist.

kaiser pulled away, his eyes hooded but confused and a little sad that you stopped him. when you saw that, you slipped your grip from his wrist to his hand and interlocked your fingers together.

"not yet," you explained gently, voice hoarse from the noises his kisses drew from you. "not after... not tonight." everything was still new, and you didn't want him to group you in with a way of ignoring his struggles.

kaiser still had you caged between his body and the wall, but he didn't make another move upon hearing your rejection. "i want to make you feel good, too."

you blushed so hard, and the butterflies in your stomach were so violent, you thought you might throw up. you brought your intertwined hands to your lips and placed a kiss against his knuckles. "stay with me, then. let me hold you instead."

after a tense moment of hesitation, kaiser slowly nodded his head and let you lead him into his bedroom, where the sheets were a mess. you didn't care as you crawled in, scooting over to make room for him. kaiser anxiously followed, as if he hadn't had dozens of people over before you. this was different. you were different. the thought of messing this up made him��

kaiser sank against the mattress and leaned his head against your stomach. your fingers immediately carded through his hair as he looped his arms around your waist like you were a pillow.

"this is strange," kaiser admitted in a gravelly voice, and though he didn't say more, you felt a tiny drop of water seep through your shirt where his face pressed into you. you wished earnestly you could take all of his pain away, but this was enough for now.

you fought back tears of your own when kaiser asked in a quiet, sleepy voice, "don't leave before i wake up..?"

you nodded, then, when you realized he couldn't see you, said, "i'll stay. i promsie."

masterlist // previous (ch 34) // next (ch 36)

notes -> KAISYN KISS KAISYN KISS. idk why they bring such angst out of me

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyoo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @cookiesandcreammy @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @yvanllie @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia

© neeeooon, 2025

[idllytarott]

PAC: Your Hidden Talents. (Tarot Reading)

What are your hidden talents? What is that thing you're good at and don't know it yet? What is stopping you from uncovering it?

pick a picture or a number for your reading! think wisely.

catalog of my paid readings.

PILE I.

Hello first pile, your hidden talents, or one of them, is your patience. Your ability to get things done efficiently , funny enough, you choose the clock! You live time in a different way than other people do. It is your practicality, and willingness to wait for the right moment that makes you very talented, not everyone has the patience of a saint, you think strategically even when it's the most miniscule thing. You believe that hard work will always pay off, so you are willing to endure many things. Although, I see that you don't see this as a talent or a strength, rather than a weakness, you think you are too indecisive or think too much before jumping into something, that you are a coward, even. But the cards are interpreting this differently. You believe your strengths are your weakness, that your hidden talent is actually what stops you from reaching your full potential, but that's not true, you are very smart, and resilient, you're built differently than others, in the sense that you don't mind waiting for things to unfold on their given time, you observe and analyze every option before deciding on the better one, something you take too long, but you never make anyone waste their time. Your hidden talent is not only patience, as I said resilience, endurance, and a big intuition that is the main reason why you do things at the time you do them. You might or might not, believe in divine timing, but you are the type of person to follow your intuition even if you don't necessarily believe in the esoteric. It's knowing when the time is correct, when hard work pays off because a lot of inner work has been done.

How can you use this hidden talent? The cards tell me you already are, things are unfolding naturally to you, in a way it feels spontaneous or good luck, but it's also part of hard work. You're a person who thinks of money a lot, you might do well in money oriented jobs or careers, like a banker or accountant, economics or even as an entrepreneur, you'd do well in jobs where you take care of the money, receiving it and giving it to people, math is something you do well or you don't have any problem in things that are more complex. The card of The Star suggests you to look for a new job, to venture on new journeys, and not stay in one place for too long. If you've been considering leaving your job or your hometown or starting another career, this might be a good opportunity. You are strange in nature, you don't feel like you depend on others, you have patience and intelligence, charisma and are money-oriented, but, as of right now, you can lack initiative and ambition. You've been getting too comfortable in one place for too long, but now it's time to extend your wings and look for something new, you are the kind of person that stays in a place even after it's long overdue, because you're a creature of habit, but this is no longer serving you. The place you are in right now, is not going to teach you more than you know, you have already absorbed and learned everything you could, it's time to learn something new!

What awaits you in the future? You are at a crossroads right now. You are not happy in the place you're in, the situation that you are in, or just bored in general. As I said, you have been feeling down, incapable, or even like a coward, you don't like where you are but you are unwilling to change it. Your indecisiveness controls you more than you control it. My advice, you have pondered over this issue enough! You've learned and grown and dealt with everything that you possibly can in this situation, a work, a career, home, or a relationship. But now you've overgrown them, and it's time to move on, to let some things go, people and places and jobs. You have a bright future, you have to get used to new experiences, otherwise you will never learn more than you know and you will never grow, it will be difficult but it will be worth a try.

my personalized reading for you <3

Song for you:

PILE II

Hello second pile, your hidden talents, believe it or not, is your grace and optimism. With the card of the Sun, you take up space everywhere , you are a shining soul that knows what to say to appease people. You are charming, charismatic, easy to talk to, you are very generous with people, and this might have you compromising too much of your own energy to people who don't have good intentions. I see you afraid of your own light, of shining too bright, you've had people tell you in the past to be less loud, to adapt to your surroundings instead of being yourself, you are not where you want to be, and you'll find that most people around you are the one making you feel at odds with yourself. You tend to be indecisive because you don't want to hurt anybody's emotions, but you possess a strong personality that, when it doesn't feel valued or placed where it needs to be, it starts to lose its power. As I said, you're very charismatic, but you have let people dictate your way of living and feeling, even indirectly, you care too much about what others think and say about you, and you make yourself small so other people don't feel overwhelmed. But you have a talent not many people have, and that is your own personality. You fill a room easily, you're the life of the party or the one everyone wants to be, but you don't believe it. I see you have suppressed your emotions so much, that you've started to become depressed, and that has made you doubt yourself even more. You have big opportunities awaiting for you in the near future, but you are trapped in a hate-cycle, where you don't like yourself or what you do. It's not easy to say it, but this might be influenced by those closest to you, beware of who you bring to your home, invite into your place, let borrow your things or be your friend. Let go of codependency, you don't need people as much as you think so, sadness can be overcome, don't let it ruin your perception of who you are.

How can you use this hidden talent? The cards tell me that you need to go through a waking moment, a death or judgment day of some sort, you are not yet seeing things as they are. You have been sad, let down, felt alone or underappreciated, but you've felt a lot of guilt in your life. People around you made you think it was bad to want the attention or the nice things in life, you might come from a family that was more humble or did not allow themselves nice things, because they didn't think they deserved it. But you are different, your way of thinking and processing things is more distinct, you are not yet doing what you want but what is expected from you to do. But when you find the strength to move from this mindset or this group of people, life will move a lot more smoothly than you think. Things will fall into place when you allow yourself to shine and to openly love the things you love in secret, you will naturally attract people into your life that will like that you are not hiding anymore. This can go back to some sort of unconventional dream career, job, or sexuality, but your talent will shine in front of others, artistic jobs will appease you the most. Acting, drawing, writing, singing, directing, dancing. Anything that has to do with creation and self-expression is where you will find you're the most lucky.

What awaits you in the future? It's imminent that you move on from previous beliefs, that you find a light at the end of the tunnel. You will deal with a lot of repressed emotions in order to let go of this overpowering sadness you've been feeling. I see you will start following your intuition a lot more, letting it guide you in moments of indecisiveness and it will actually save you from a lot of bad decisions that you would've otherwise chosen. You will face ups and downs in regards to your emotions, because you feel things too deeply, but don't let guilt guide you back into old habits, at some point, you're going to have to be responsible for your own decisions, don't stay in a place where you don't feel loved or wanted or happy. Your intuition is right, you are meant for a lot more in life than what you have right now, but you have to want it for yourself too. When you leave, you won't be sad or resentful, you will remember everything with love and nostalgia, but you will learn to move on from things that stop you from getting the attention you deserve.

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PILE III.

Hello third pile, your hidden talent is your ability to adapt, to transform into what you need in order to survive. You have a good eye for seeing what other people want from you or what they need in specific situations, you have a very strong intuition and that makes you aware of your surroundings. But it also makes you very sensitive, prone to indigestible problems and high anxiety, you absorb too well what goes on around you to the point where you don't know where you end and where the other person starts. You can become obsessed with money or obsessed with substances, I see you like to live in fantasy or you like to sleep a lot. Your dreams are prophetic and you believe in everything that has to do with the esoteric, but you are also a hardworking and logical person. You can tell when somebody is lying to you, and I also see that you already know what this reading is going to tell you, you are the kind of person that can like or dislike someone because of their vibes, and most of the time you're right. You are always trying to run away from things when you get comfortable, you'd like to live in another country. You find it difficult to be in reality sometimes, like you wished you were in your made-up world, but as I said, you have the talent to blend in and to make anyone feel comfortable around you, you will know the right things to say and who to tell them to, you believe success is not so much about money but about the self. You deal with never knowing what you like or don't like, because you're always adapting to other people, and you have a hard time seeing things from your point of view and not someone else's. Your ability to connect with people easily can be dangerous if you don't learn to put boundaries, you will know many secrets of many people and you have to learn how to use them to your benefit when it's needed, your sensitivity or want to be in a fantasy world can make it hard for you to think you're an individual person, and not an extension of the world.

How can you use this hidden talent? You must learn to take advantage of your surroundings, of your ability to blend in, instead of focusing so much on how people perceive you or how others feel. You have strong desires for traveling away or moving from the place you are at right now. The cards are telling me that you have to be smart and take care of your own energy, because there aren't always good people and they want to take advantage of how you make them feel. Putting boundaries will be very important for you, especially if you want to change your life and do something you've never done before, somebody else can be stopping you from reaching your full potential. Or your need to be there for everyone. Be more adventurous, be okay with being alone and doing things on your own, don't just befriend anyone, learn to keep your own secrets too, don't give out personal information in the name of connection, you will end up in bad situations. You have a very strong intuition as I said before, but you tend to ignore it, practice with it more, learn to work alongside it. You'll do well in magical or spiritual related jobs, learning spells, tarot, astrology, any form of divination or spiritual journey to uplift yourself and your intuition, beware of people and of not falling victim to somebody that wants to manipulate you into joining a cult! At times, you can be your own worst enemy and go back to toxic patterns like relationships or substances or victimization, but if you really want what to move on you're going to have to work on your psychological state as well.

What awaits you in the future? If you do what's best for you, you will find yourself moving away from difficult situations, it's important that you take the initiative, because the wheel will turn in your favor, but you have to learn to receive good things and believe that you are worth receiving them. You will be able to meet and connect with important people that will be crucial to your development as a person. You will learn valuable lessons regarding love and friendship and recognizing when something or someone is not meant for you. It's important that you start being more independent, more selfish and more self-aware when it comes to you, not others. A person might want to come and steal your energy, somebody who you love! That's why it will be important to recognize certain patterns and to know when you're being manipulated or not treated fairly. Your close circle will become even smaller but don't see this as a bad thing, rather something good and eye-opening for you. You will face lessons, good and bad, and you will be open to them, I see that you will mature very quickly from these experiences and you'll learn to trust yourself the most, your intuition doesn't lie to you and it's not an anxious feeling. You'll be very happy having a little less, but you'll be at peace.

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PILE IV.

Hello fourth pile, your hidden talent might be detachment. I see you are a very inquisitive person, very independent and eloquent, you have a way with words and speaking with truth. You come with a lot of baggage, you're someone who has had to grow up too soon, dealt with some sort of death, literal or metaphorical. You have faced very abrupt changes in your life that have shaped the way you are nowadays, and it has developed into this talent that you have. You're a person that's always ten steps ahead, naturally awkward, because, as I said, you've gone through too much too young and a lot of people that are your age don't know what that is like, but you do, and you sometimes get tired of socializing, of dealing with people, but conversing, talking, writing, detaching from the situation and seeing it in retrospective is something you do well and you do it to survive as well. People around you will put you on a pedestal or give you too much responsibility, you are a trustworthy person that knows what to say and knows when to say it. You are open to hurt and to learn lessons, you find comfort in instability and leaving when your soul calls you to. There are a lot of things in your life that leave unexpectedly but you choose to see them as a lesson to learn and grow from, your way of speaking and communicating your ideas and thoughts are what makes people so drawn to you, how you think, you use strong emotions to your benefit when you can't do anything more, basically you know how to take advantage of a bad thing. I don't see you as a person obsessed with money or acclaim, but you can become self-absorbed and believe your way of living is the only right one. You have a mind like a diamond, you trust your logical thinking more than your intuition, and that might not be totally bad, but it can make you cynical and annoyed with everyday things. You are a very intense person, and you channel that through communication, through words, you let things happen, talk about them, and move on.

How can you use this hidden talent? The cards tell me that you are not yet where you need to be, mentally or emotionally to use your talent. You are a person that lives daydreaming about leaving everything behind and going crazy, doing something unpredictable, but you fear that you will disappoint people, as I said, you are put on sort of a pedestal or certain obligations are put on you that are expected to follow. You fear what people will think of others, you feel a lot of guilt for thoughts you can't control. That's why you are not quite there yet, you need to move more lightly, don't take everything so seriously, especially yourself, you have a perception of yourself that, it isn't wrong or bad, but it's filled with negativity, you see yourself in a very bad light and you punish yourself for wanting to leave and do your own things. You want to explore the world in a place where tradition is important, your views and your close circle's views are not the same, and you feel tangled in what you believe within you and what other people believe for you. But your way of seeing the world is very unique and it's a breath of fresh air, your way of seeing things for what they are rather than what you believe them to be, is unique. Anything that can make your thoughts not just be thoughts, will be useful for you, writing, talking, recording yourself or journaling can be good for you, I also see that the future holds a lot more than what you're seeing right now, the world is vast and unpredictable too.

What awaits you in the future? You'll have to follow your intuition more, not everything can be put under a logical lens, you will feel very trapped or like you're not evolving as a person and that makes you feel sick. But life happens whether you like it or not, you will face more lessons that will put you in a place where you'll have to stop ignoring your calling and do what your intuition tells you. You will be met with a lot of criticism from loved ones at first, but you will move on from that, don't be afraid of judgement from close people to you, because you are going to be very successful once you put your big girl pants and decide to do something for you and not for other people around you. A lot of abundance will follow you, as I said, your way of thinking will be a breath of fresh air and you will have a lot of people following you around, you decide what to do with that energy. Don't let your energy get stuck and unexpressed, if you have been feeling sad or depressed or like life has no meaning, it is because you're not doing what you're supposed to do, and you're rejecting what your body and soul want, the future looks promising! Don't be ashamed of your own ideas, of what you want to express, because there will be a lot of people feeling the way you feel right now, and you will know how to use this talent well.

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[concretejunglefm]

Can't stop thinking about himbo!noah and him jerking his monster dick in the shower to you

Pairing: himbo!Noah Sebastian x plus size!reader.

CW: includes masturbation, Noah having inappropriate thoughts about you and your thighs, big dick!noah, rip to your washcloth, readers appearance mentioned in some ways.

NSFW below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

Noah’s no stranger to making stupid choices—in fact, he makes plenty. He’s usually the smartest kind of person doing the dumbest things, but asking you to spot him while he works out at home, with just the two of you there? That’s easily one of his worst decisions. Definitely top five dumb choices of all time—second only to the time he thought gluing on sideburns would make him look hot(ter). Spoiler: they didn’t, and worst of all, he used superglue instead of cosmetic adhesive. It was a whole thing, but hey, the red rash wounds earned him sympathy points from the club’s patrons, and that meant better tips.

Another thing he doesn’t take into consideration is how you somehow manage to give both him and his dick heart eyes. Despite this, he’s convinced he’s hidden his crush well—so he believes.

(Folio here, cue a montage of all the many times he’s done a terrible job hiding it. Look at this flustered mess of a man: falling into the pool, practically tripping over his own feet after staring at you too long—and don’t even get me started on the giggling)

But having you standing over him, spotting him as he lifts his weights, head tilted back against the bench, so close to your thighs, so close to heaven, to the idea of being crushed between them, nearly makes him lose his grip altogether.

“Ithinkthat’senough!” he blurts out, quick and impatient, reaching for his towel—partly to dab away the sweat, mostly to cover his crotch and the very obvious hard-on pressing against his shorts.

“But you said you were gonna help me next!” you whine, pouting so adorably he nearly gives in. Almost. Except he knows there’s no way he’s going to hide the growing strain in the front of his boxers.

“Later? I’m gonna grab a shower,” he says, scrambling up from the bench, gesturing vaguely toward the house while keeping the towel clutched in place until he’s safely out of view.

The moment he steps under the water, he takes a deep inhale, the cool stream cascading down his skin, soothing his muscles. He hopes it might temper the arousal brewing in him, but the hardness between his thighs only seems to intensify.

“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, one hand brushing down his chest, following the flow of water before slipping lower, wrapping around his cock. Despite the size of his hand, the girth and length of it still manage to exceed his grip. At first, he strokes himself slowly, almost absentmindedly, lost in thoughts of you—his thumb grazing the vein beginning to pulse beneath his touch.

He can’t help the flashes that roll through his mind, always returning to that first night he met you. The way you felt in his hands—something full, squeezable, solid—seated on his waist with your legs wrapped tight around him. A grip he hasn’t stopped thinking about since. Those thighs, always on his mind. He wishes they’d crush him, especially after all those times you’ve indulged him with playful wrestling in the living room.

It took a couple of weeks before you stopped seeing it as something dumb he and his friends did, before you joined in yourself, and when you did, you didn’t hold back. You tried your best to pin him, and he felt the strength of your thighs then—his hands gripping them with more want than strategy. He hadn’t wanted to escape. No, he wanted them to stay wrapped around him, to hold him there and keep him there.

Slowly, his hand sweeps up along his length, thumb stroking over the tip, and he can’t help the groan that slips out. It’s high-pitched, weak, and needy. He thinks about how easily he could sink to his knees in the shower with you right now, throw a leg over his shoulder just to bury himself between your thighs like this. Or maybe you’d let his hands roam, exploring every inch, every curve, every dip. He thinks about that a lot. Especially when you take him up on the offer to sit in his lap, when you let his hands rest on you—innocently.

One hand on your stomach, fingers splayed against the soft curve, while the other slides under the swell of your waist. He never shies away from your softness, he embraces it. Every inch you allow him to touch, he cherishes, and right now, he wishes more than anything to have his hands on you again—cradling you, caressing you, sliding beneath each layer to explore.

The thoughts draw another sound from him, this time a deeper moan, as his hand tightens around his thick cock, pumping faster. He’s completely taken over by the image of you perched on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night on your first night here, licking honey from the jar. The way it tasted when he licked it off your finger comes to mine. Oh how he wishes he were doing that now, but not with honey. No, he wants to taste you from your fingers.

He’s heard you late at night, when you think the rest of the house is asleep—your rooms share a wall. He hears the soft moans you make, the creak of your headboard, and once—just once—he swore he heard his name slip from your lips.

Just like now, he swears he hears it again, clear and close, except this time it’s louder, and then a knock at the bathroom door makes his eyes snap open.

“Noah?” You call through the door. “Did I leave my washcloth in there from this morning?”

His mind starts racing, and his cock throbs in his hand. You’re right there. So close.

“Uh…” His voice strains, his hand pausing to squeeze around himself as the familiar coil starts to unravel—too fast, too close. Just the sound of your voice on the other side of the door is enough to tip him over the edge.

“I—” he gasps, a desperate, strangled “hnnng” slipping from his throat as the wave crashes through him. He slaps his free hand against the wall to brace himself, biting down hard on his lower lip to muffle the sounds escaping him as his hips buck with the force of his release.

When he dares to look down, he sees the washcloth you’re referring to—gripped tightly in the same hand wrapped around his cock. Ropes of thick cum spill into the fabric, and shame curls low in his gut. He knows he must’ve reached for it in the haze of thinking about you—the one you left hanging over the shower door to dry after using his bathroom this morning, when yours had no hot water.

That fact alone—that it’s yours, that it smells like you—is enough to make him throb all over again.

[h109zone]

long distance surprise—nsfw/short piece

synopsis. after not seeing your boyfriend due to his demanding job, you discovered more about him that you didn't expect to have from him.

pairing. caleb x reader

words. 643

warning. hair pulling, slight body mention, vaguely mentioned pilot!caleb, use of pipsqueak, slut was mentioned, switch caleb and reader?

a/n. REPOST this small piece is totally not based off of a dream i had of him on the day of his release that converted me from a caleb hater to a closeted-now-open caleb fucker... not at all... also might build more for his birthday... maybe not... we'll see

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

Having a boyfriend who's always out of town can be both upsetting and exciting.

With Caleb, whenever he visits, you're always left surprised with the way he gives himself away with his gifts. While he gives you the best gifts one could give you, there is no better gift from him other than his presence.

Especially when his lips graze your skin that aches for any sounds that expel out of your lips—and today is no different.

Throwing his coat and hat somewhere in the room, leaving him in his button-down, which was half unbuttoned, and formal pants, as you straddle his lap while he's sitting with his lips ravaging yours.

Touches desires for fervent actions, yet neither of you wants to give in that quick; instead, there's an unspoken competition on which of you wants to succumb to either of your seductions just yet.

His hands that were once gripping your thighs started to roam around your body, his long digits and palm caressing the beauty of your curves and plumpness of your hips and breasts, before one hand reaches up to your throat while the other travels downwards.

Your hands as well were performing quests while roaming around Caleb's well-built body, with one hand playing with his necklace and gripping it to get him even closer, while the other was playing with the hairs on his neck.

Your tongues danced around each other as strings of salacious sounds resonated around the room. You've been holding yourself well until Caleb reaches past your shirt to play around with your bud, making you gasp and whimper.

He pulls away slightly, making you chase after his lips. You were flabbergasted by his audacity, him playing with your most sensitive spot when you haven't done your attack yet. Almost like he knew, he chuckles at your desperation.

"What's wrong, pipsqueak? I thought you wanted to tease me, but I see that I wo—HA!"

His words were cut when you suddenly tugged at his hair back, making him gasp as he widened his eyes at you. His face instantly turned bright red before rolling his eyes back as you began pulling it back further to expose his neck, his Adam's apple dropped with each pretty groan and curses expelling his lips.

"You didn't give me a chance..." You cooed, feigning innocence—an oxymoron in this situation—as you looked down at his beautiful throat, "I was just about to give in, but I remembered where your weakness was. You just love getting your hair pulled like a slut?"

Your mouth was letting out the most provocative words as it licked a stripe and nipped around the sensitive spot on the sides of his throat. He moans out of desperation as your teeth sink in, making sure you mark him.

"Fuck..." Caleb shudders as he grips your hips harshly. Victory was right around the corner as you finally had Caleb wrapped around your finger, his delicious whimpers of desperation causing you to feel wetter than you initially felt.

You won.... or so you thought.

It was only when you pulled away to witness the art pieces you've created on his neck and collarbone, Caleb pushes you down to the mattress and begins chuckling darkly as you attempt to wriggle yourself out of his grip. Your wrists were wrapped around his large hand while the other began to grip your leg, placing himself between them.

You felt your stomach beginning to warm up at the sudden maneuver from Caleb, catching you off guard. It was only until he leaned down to your ears while his other hand began to play with the hem of your skirt, his fingers played with your clothed folds in languid motions as he whispered menacingly.

"You thought the game's over? how gullible... we're far from over."

ⓒ 2025 all works done by H109zone do not repost, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work.

[ak319]

Dark A.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ┃ ─𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕─

Warnings/MDNI: none, jus' slight fluff Syno: Every nod was a step closer to betrayal, the kind that brings justice in cuffs and ruin. ✰ 4.4K +++ Arthur's pic by Innocence from Pin.

★ Prev I concept m.list

Your eyes grazed Dutch's form as he left he camp. Then to his tent. The urge to barge in to just find something, anything. Does he have the deed? Even if he does what's that gonna do for you? Will it?

Sigh.

"Needed another session with him?"

"No. Not his day today."

Your head whipped to the side to see Molly, to give her a quick fake smile.  You were currently sorting the vegetables, standing lazily against the wagon. 

"Why don't you dress nice. I mean, doing all these chores all of a sudden? Being from such a good household doesn't suit you-"

"I don't need someone to tell me what suits me and what does not. And I can wear whatever I want. Don't need to prove something to anyone."

"I just don't understand why you're acting like this when he's the one to blame." She referred to Arthur.

Right. She's still pissed at you for standing up to Dutch?

You let out a sharp breath, your patience hanging by a thread. "Yeah? Well, I blame everyone, and I'll keep doing it. What are you gonna do about it?"

Her gaze hardened as she stepped closer, the air between them charged. "You're blessed than most here, whether you see it or not. At least be a little grateful."

You scoffed, the sheer absurdity of her words making your skin prickle. "Oh, really? Blessed for what exactly?"

Her expression darkened, bitterness creeping into her eyes. "Some of us gave up everything for this life. For the people we love."

Wait… blessed, huh? Now it clicked. You thought, So she, like Mary the worm, probably thinks all this means something romantic. And perhaps wonders why Dutch didn't do the tradition for her. Judging by what Abigail has told you about their relationship, it seems like it....

Sad to be honest.

You both could have escaped together from such men. But seems like she's.....fine with it. Hurts to see it.

How many lives does this man plan to ruin? For what? To feed his ego?

You folded your arms, jaw tight. "I’m going to say this once and once only, so listen carefully. I’m not after Dutch or anyone else here. He's probably even older than my father. You can believe what you want, have as many doubts as you like, because clearly, they can't be removed by me, but I’m done explaining myself. So sit back and relax. Like you do."

"Don't ever talk about my personal affairs as if you know better, you dowdy dame!"

And with that she stomped away leaving you to sigh once again.

"What was that? You okay?"

You nearly jumped as Arthur appeared from behind the wagon, his voice cutting through the tense air.

"Was nothing," you muttered, brushing it off.

He mumbled something under his breath about her before turning his attention back to you, leaning in just enough that his voice was barely above a whisper. "I was thinking... let's go somewhere. Two of us. The weather's nice-"

"Mr. Morgan, just the man I need."

Arthur exhaled sharply, straightening up as the moment slipped away. He turned to face Strauss, who strolled up with his usual air of smug authority.

"Mr. Morgan," Strauss repeated, his tone clipped yet polite. His sharp gaze flickered between you and Arthur before settling on the latter. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything... pressing?"

Arthur scoffed, already irritated. "No..." 

Strauss clasped his hands behind his back, tilting his head slightly. "There's a debtor. A rather forgetful one. I need you to pay him a visit, remind him of his outstanding obligations."

Arthur ran a hand over his face. "Yeah? And where is this fella?"

"Not far," Strauss said smoothly, clearly pleased to have roped Arthur into another one of his errands. "Shouldn't be too difficult for a man of your talents."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head before glancing at you. "Figures."

Strauss, already convinced the job was settled, handed him the address and turned away without another word.

Arthur lingered for a moment, looking at you with a mix of frustration and regret. "Well, so much for takin' it easy."

His eyes wandered to your hand once again , his grip was firm but careful as his calloused fingers wrapped around your hand, halting your work. His touch lingered for a beat too long, his thumb grazing your skin as his eyes flickered up to meet yours.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to keep still as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Don't work on anything hard, 'kay?" His voice was softer than usual, almost careful, as if he were afraid you'd slip away if he wasn't gentle.

Then, before you could react, his hand traveled up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The suddenness of it made you flinch, just barely, but he caught it. His jaw tightened for a moment, yet his lips curled into something close to amusement.

"Real pretty...real damn pretty..." he murmured, almost to himself.

The words hung between you, heavy and deliberate. His presence loomed close, a suffocating sort of awareness and fear.

But then, just as quickly as he had pulled you into the nightmarish moment, he cleared his throat and stepped back, tipping his hat with a lopsided smirk.

"Take care, darlin'."

❀˖°

It was hard, still is, to feign acceptance, to cloak yourself in humility while clinging to a fragile thread you dare to call hope, and another, even more elusive, that masquerades as a plan. And circling this uncertainty and hope is a fear that was once foreign to you, a fear that never existed when he was just a friend.

Your unease grows in direct proportion to the risk: the danger that too much humility, too much quiet compliance, will lull everyone into acceptance, especially him. Acceptance of your new role. And once that happens, the next step is inevitable: being taken advantage of. That, above all, is what you dread.

So you balance, precariously, somewhere in between.

The weight of it is relentless, an invisible burden few seem to notice. But you do. You feel it with every breath.

"Here, Abby."

The brunette glanced up, momentarily startled, as if pulled from some quiet reverie.

"Oh, I was just craving some tea and--oh, wow. Are these chocolates? Thank you, (Y/N)!"

"No problem. Thought you would love some. Hey....that's a nice sweater.

"You think? I just hope it fits right." She looked lovingly at the little piece of fabric, playing with it's sleeves already imagining a baby in it.

Your ears perked at the sound of a dull thud from somewhere to your left. A quick glance confirmed it, he was just lifting the axe again.

Please, just keep doing that the whole day and stay out of my radius.

"Have a seat, (Y/N)," she gestured to the grass beside her.

You shook your head. "No... uh, I'm tired of always just sitting, y'know. I'll go...and...look for something to do..."

With a soft, fleeting smile, you walked off, lost in thought.

As you lazily, though inwardly frustrated, began chopping celery, you felt a gaze on you. You ignored it, pretending not to notice. But beneath the surface, there was something else.

A small, quiet sense of accomplishment.

That's right. Notice me adjusting like some pathetic 'wife'. One more dreadful step closer.

You just wished you knew what that Dutch bitch was doing. You have a vague outline, but it isn't enough. If he owns the land, surely he plans to use it in some way. Has he gotten the deed yet? He doesn't necessarily need it to start constructing, but still, has he started anything there? How does he plan to keep this from Arthur? And who else in camp knows he stole it from you?

"I hope you don't poison us all."

Pearson's voice cut through your thoughts, his usual dry humor dragging you back to the present.

"Not a bad idea y'know. I won't mind sprinkling some in if it's available."

"I think you should focus on chopping for now--GEEZ!! That is NOT how you cut a potato!"

The shape of the slices nearly gave him a stroke. "Have you been taught nothing at all?!"

"And you've squashed the life out of the tomatoes instead of dicing them- 'more cursing at your cutting skills, which you couldn't care less about right now '--give it here and learn if you plan to do it at all, missy."

"Actually, I don't."

You mumbled to yourself, stepping back, your eyes taking an annoyed roll, pretending to pay attention as he droned on about technique and precision.

Yeah. Very interesting.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur stood a few steps away, watching quietly, his canteen paused at his lips. Water dripped down his bare chest as he drank with a thirst that went beyond mere heat or exertion.

He could see why Pearson looked so offended, like you’d just kicked a dog. A low, amused snort escaped him, muffled into his damp shoulder.

At least she’s willing to try, he thought, the unfamiliar warmth blooming in his chest tightening with something almost like hope.

The sight of you, so unexpectedly domestic, caught him off guard. There you were, hands busy with vegetables, brow furrowed in a mix of annoyance and concentration. It was something raw, real.

Arthur’s mind raced with conflicting feelings. He hated the circumstances, the forced marriage, the bitterness between you, but moments like this made it harder to keep that hate alive.

This... this is what I want. Not just the fight, not just the anger. He swallowed hard. I want to see this side of you every day, even if you don’t want me to.

For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine a different life, one where you weren’t bound by chains of duty or resentment, where maybe, just maybe, you could be his in more ways than name alone.

His hand twitched, the urge to reach out, to touch, to claim, burning just beneath the surface, but he pulled it back, biting down on the bitterness and the ache.

Not yet. Not like this.

And damn it, he admitted quietly, there’s no sight sweeter than this.

"By the way, Mr. Pearson, why ain't you married? I think your cooking is not being appreciated by women. You need to work harder."

"Shut it and cut the rest like I taught you to, or go away. Here I am being nice and all cus' of Mr. Morgan and you-"

"God, stop being so emotional." They all have to just bring him in every conversation now huh?

You snatched the knife back, resuming your attempt at cutting properly, all while ignoring his muttered grumbles about having to work with damn jerks.

❀˖°

The evening air hung heavy with the scent of burning wood, the fire crackling lazily as the last remnants of daylight bled into the horizon. Camp had fallen into its usual lull, the occasional murmur drifting through the trees, interrupted only by the distant hoot of an owl.

Arthur dropped onto the log beside you with a thud, far too close for comfort. You didn’t need to look to know it was him. That scent, smoke, leather, and cedar soap, clung to him like a second skin. At least he’d bathed. Unlike most of the camp, he had the decency to show up clean before playing the part of husband.

"Can I have a sip?"

"No."

"Not even one?" he asked, already leaning forward like he might steal it anyway.

You curled your fingers tighter around the tin cup.

"Ain’t this marriage thing supposed to mean sharin’? You keepin’ secrets and tea now?"

You kept your gaze fixed on the fire, refusing to indulge him.

He sighed, long and theatrical. "Lord. I wed a cold-blooded woman."

"Correction. You forced a cold-blooded woman."

Arthur grinned, grinned, as though you’d told a joke. "Semantics."

The flames cracked, casting flickers of gold across his face. His eyes roamed your profile with idle interest, as if deciding whether to prod you further.

You finally glanced his way, just to glare. He smiled wider, tipping his hat back like he owned the whole damn world. Like he owned you.

"Y’know," he drawled, voice dropping as he leaned in just a little, "you’ll warm up to me eventually. All things do, sittin' too close to the fire."

"Don't call me a 'thing'. "

You moved your tea to the other side of your body, away from him.

And yet he didn’t leave.

You didn't even entertain him with a response this time, merely continuing to drink as he leaned in, chuckling softly against your side.

"Arthur?"

Ah. And here comes the bitch. Yes, now the family is complete.

The familiar deep voice made you both glance up. Dutch stepped into the fire's glow, his expression unreadable as he stared down at you.

"Yes, Dutch?"

"I'll be sending Mac and Davey, and occasionally Bill, to work on some farm owned by a jolly fellow. The boys agree, of course. Who doesn't want a stable income? No harm in boys moving their limbs instead of being completely useless, right?."

"Mhm. I can go too if you-"

"Oh no, no, boy." Dutch waved a hand dismissively. "We still got jobs to look after. You're needed here, and you already do more than I can ask for."

He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, his smile sharp. "Anyway, that's that. Thought I'd inform ya."

"Why not send John too?" Arthur suggested.

Dutch turned to him with a raised brow. "Marston?"

"Reckon he could learn a thing or two-"

"I'd be surprised if he even learns to eat properly." Dutch scoffed, shaking his head. 'Farm work demands responsibility, Arthur. You know that, right?'

"And he needs that."

Dutch let out a low sigh. "I can't, no one can, spoon-feed him that. If he wants to be responsible, he needs to act like it."

With a wary glance in your direction, he stalked off back to his tent.

You took another slow sip, letting the warmth settle in your chest as you leaned back slightly. "Is he planning something big or...this is just it?"

Arthur stretched out against the log, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the stiffness from the day's work. His movements were unhurried, easy, too at ease, like he had all the time in the world. "Don't know yet. Big score comin', I guess. He's unpredictable."

"Bank?"

"Could be anything. Bank, trains, a mansion..." He tipped his hat back, dusting it off with a slow, deliberate motion before sparing you a glance. Something was knowing in his eyes. "Someone's interested"

You frowned. "Huh?"

"You plannin' to go with me or somethin', darlin'?"

You scoffed, setting your cup down. "No. Just asking. Is that not allowed too?"

His lips curved slightly, amused. "Calm down, just teasin' you."

He shifted, draping an arm behind your back as he settled into a more comfortable position. His touch was casual, too casual, but there was a weight behind it, a presence you couldn't ignore.

His mind drifted.

What if he really didn't come back one day?

What would happen to you?

Would you even care?

The thought had been lurking in the back of his head for days now, gnawing at him when he least expected it. He should talk to Dutch. Maybe Hosea. Someone.

But for now, he just sat there, arm close but not quite touching, gaze flickering between the fire and you.

Yeah. He should.

❀˖°

One week.

One whole damn week of playing these stupid games, of keeping your head down, of being... mild? You didn't even know what to call whatever the hell this was. Maybe "fitting in" was the word. Maybe "pretending." But it had finally paid off.

Because he finally let something slip.

A train. Belonging to Cornwall.

That name struck a chord, familiar and unpleasant. You'd met the man before, back when you were seventeen, some high-society function your father had dragged you to. Back then, Cornwall was just another businessman trying to carve out his place in the market, still shaking hands and making deals instead of dictating them. Your father had helped him, connected him with contractors, given him a foothold. And now? Now Cornwall was drowning in wealth, far beyond your father's reach.

27th.

Next Saturday.

Shit just got good.

Please just remember me too Mr. Cornwall.

"Hosea?"

"Yes, son?"

Arthur settled onto the crate beside him, the flick of his lighter breaking the quiet as he lit up a smoke. He took a slow drag, exhaling as he stared off into the night. His gaze lingered on the dim glow from your tent, shadows shifting against the canvas.

"I was... thinkin'..."

Hosea closed his book with a soft thud, turning his full attention to him. He didn't miss where Arthur's eyes had been moments before.

"Go on. Everything alright?"

"Yeah... just... y'know, there's this job, and then there's always gonna be another, and another. But what if one day I can't... make it?" Arthur tapped the ash off his cigarette, jaw tensing. "What about-"

"Her?" Hosea finished for him, watching Arthur's shoulders stiffen. "Mhm. I think it'd be best to return her to her family. And first, you need to have some trust in yourself too, Arthur. Don't go borrowin' trouble."

 "But I can't help it. It's true and..."

Arthur let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face. "Her family... they won't take her back. You were there, right? When Dutch took her?"

Hosea sighed but... more so at the fact that he has to now lie to his boy.

 "I was. But, Arthur... a parent can never truly turn their child away when they're in need. I saw it in their eyes that night, love, not hate. They weren't angry. Just... disappointed, that too stemming from....forget it.  Anyhow,  disappointment fades. Time, son. It's all about time."

Arthur's chest rumbled with a quiet hum. His face twisted into something almost boyish, sympathy, doubt, a hint of shame. Hosea had seen that look before, too many times to count.

He took a slow drag of his cigarette, staring at the embers as he exhaled. "If somethin' happens to me... don't let her end up alone."

Hosea's gaze softened, his voice steady. "You have my word."

Arthur didn't answer right away, just flicked his cigarette into the dirt and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. After a long moment, he sighed.

"Thanks, old man."

Hosea patted his shoulder, the weight of understanding between them. "Anytime, son."

❀˖°

The sun cast a warm glow over the camp as everyone busied themselves with their tasks. It was one of those rare, quiet mornings, and Arthur had left just after breakfast, disappearing into the wilderness like he always did.

"Charles! Charles!"

The long-haired man turned, setting down his carving as he took in your heaving breaths. His eyes sharpened with concern as he stood.

"Abby, she's not feeling well. A lot of pain. She needs to be taken to the clinic."

"Um, Hosea-"

"He's not here. And please, we need to take her. Now."

"I can't take you, I mean, Arthur, "

"He won't mind! Just please, let's go!"

You ignored the glances from others, your heart hammering in your chest. No Bill (well, he's passed out drunk), No Hosea. No Dutch even. No one to stop you today. And even your trick worked perfectly. It was like the universe had handed you a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Everything was falling into place.

Charles hesitated only for a second before nodding. He could see it, the way Abigail clung to you, her body curled up in pain, her grip weak but desperate. That was enough. Without another word, he moved to help.

You patted Abigail's forehead gently, whispering, "It's gonna be alright, okay?"

Your fingers tightened around the satchel at your side, knuckles white with conviction. The words were meant for her, but more than that, they were meant for you.

❀˖°

The door slammed shut behind you, sealing away the murmurs of the waiting room. Once Abigail was settled in the chair, you wasted no time, grabbing Eddie by the arm and pulling her into a corner as the doctor began his examination.

"Thank God you're here today. Now listen, I don't have time to waste. Sedate her, stall her, do anything. Ask the doctor for help if you have to, but I'm running out that window. I have something I need to do."

Eddie's brows furrowed, a million questions flashing across her face, but she didn't argue. With a sharp nod, she turned on her heel and hurried toward the doctor.

For you, this was it. Now or never.

You cast one last glance over your shoulder. Abigail was behind the curtain, out of sight. The door remained firmly shut.

Perfect.

Without hesitation, you sprang forward, slipping through the window in one swift motion.

Then you ran.

The streets blurred as you tore through town, your breath coming fast and shallow. The postal office was just ahead.

The bell chimed as you burst into the post office, chest rising and falling with each breath. The clerk barely had time to look up before you slammed two sealed letters onto the counter.

"These-" You swallowed, composing yourself. "One goes to Leviticus Cornwall. Urgent. The other to the Pinkerton Agency."

The man behind the counter raised a brow, eyeing the crisp envelopes, the wax seals still fresh. "That'll cost you, miss."

You reached behind your neck, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your necklace. The delicate gold chain, one you had worn for years, slipped into your palm. It felt lighter than it should, as if the weight of it had already left you.

"This should cover the cost," you said, placing it down.

The clerk studied it, then nodded, pocketing the jewelry before grabbing the first letter.

But before he could reach for the second, you handed him a bundle of cloth, one with another necklace, the one that you wore at your wedding..

Absolutely priceless. Heavier, encrusted with jewels that caught the dim light. It was worth more than anything you had left. Your hands were adamant on not letting it go.

But you had to.

It's just a necklace (Y/N), a mere material, freedom is the only thing that's priceless.

"This," you murmured, "goes with the letter to the Pinkertons." 

The man didn't ask questions, to your surprise. Perhaps used to people sending leads of goons to the agency?

"Consider it sent."

You exhaled, a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

It was done. Now, you just had to make it back before anyone noticed.

❀˖°

Eddie and you stood solemnly at the side, watching over Abigail. She was still under sedation, her breathing steady, the baby safe. Thank God, nothing serious had happened. The worst had passed.

Meanwhile, Eddie had heard everything.

"You think... it'll work?" she asked quietly.

"It should. Neither of them would pass up the chance to wipe out this... disease of a gang. No one would."

Eddie exhaled sharply. "Still can't believe your fath-"

"Don't say his name right now," you cut in, your tone firm.

She hesitated but pressed on. "Yeah, but where will you go if..."

"I'll go back," you said flatly. "It’s not like they won’t take me in. Things won’t be the same, sure, but I’m not backing down."

You looked her dead in the eye now, voice steel.

"I’ll go and demand what’s mine. That’s my fucking right. And I’d love to see who thinks they can stop me."

You stood straighter, jaw tight.

"I won’t let go of my shares. I won’t let them pretend I never existed. They don’t get to erase me."

Eddie gave you a long look before nodding, wrapping her arm around you. "My doors are open for you, (Y/N). Always."

You barely had time to squeeze her hand in gratitude before Abigail stirred, a faint sound escaping her lips. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side.

"(Y/N)...? What..." Abigail's voice was groggy, her eyelids fluttering as she stirred.

"You're fine," you assured her gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "The baby too. Just a gastric issue, that's all. Nothing serious."

Your smile seemed to comfort her, though the sedation still clouded her mind. She blinked slowly, trying to process your words.

The door creaked open, and Charles stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning both of you. "What happened?"

You explained everything, your voice calm and steady as he listened, nodding along. His tension eased just slightly, though he still looked her over with concern.

Once the doctor handed over the prescribed medicine, the three of you set out, making your way back to camp.

❀˖°

The tent flaps rustled open, and you glanced up from your book as he stepped inside, the weight of the day evident in the way he moved. He began removing his gear, the familiar clink of buckles and leather filling the quiet space.

"Heard you went out today, huh?" His voice was even, but there was an edge to it.

"Oh, yeah. Abigail... she-"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me."

Thank God. At least she listened to you. You had counted on her words carrying more weight than Charles' explanation ever could. A pregnant woman pleading her case? Far more convincing.

Arthur sighed, settling down beside you as he reached out to scratch Suki behind the ears, his rough fingers idly tracing through the cat's fur.

"But that don't mean I liked it," he added, voice lower now, almost grumbling.

Oh no.

But honestly, quite a mild reaction. Just as you had worked for. If you hadn't...well, shit could have been worse so you are content with whatever this is.

"You won't go out with me, but suddenly you're a damn hero when it comes to her-"

"You seriously comparing yourself to her situation? I'm the only one looking after her, Arthur. Yeah, not even Susan cares for her the way she needs. You very well know that."

"But that doesn't mean you get free rein to just leave whenever you feel like it. She could've tolerated some pain until Hosea got back-"

"Are you serious?!"

Arthur clenched his jaw, struggling to put his frustration into words. It wasn't that he didn't trust Charles, but Charles was too damn soft. What if he let you go? What if he dropped you off somewhere and you never came back? The thought burned hotter than he'd admit.

No, he won't. He's loyal, decent.

"Just... forget it. Go bring me the food."

With a huff, you slammed your book shut and threw it onto his lap before storming out.

At least you listened this time. That was something.

Arthur let out a breath, shaking his head as he turned the book over in his hands. His lips twitched into a small, amused smirk. If nothing else, you sure knew how to make an exit.

❀˖°

The next evening arrived, and once again, he was preparing to leave. But tonight wasn’t just any other night, it was a big one.

Stepping out of his tent, Arthur found you leaning against a pole, arms crossed, eyes sharp as you surveyed the camp with that familiar air of quiet judgment.

Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand rough as it gripped your wrist, pulling you inside the tent. He didn’t just hold you, he clutched you, as if anchoring you to him, desperate to keep you tethered to this moment, to him.

His embrace was fierce, a silent demand disguised as a hold. His voice dropped low and gravelly, rough breath ghosting against your ear.

"Not gonna wish me anything?"

You almost scoffed, but swallowed it down, the sharpness in your throat too heavy. "Safe travels..."

His hand slid to the back of your neck, thumb trailing slow, deliberate circles over your skin, less reassurance, more claim. His gaze was dark, smoldering with something deeper, something that made your pulse tighten beneath his touch.

"I’ll be back before you even know it, darlin'," he promised, the words thick with meaning.

He moved closer, lips hovering near yours, the tension pulling taut, dangerously close, but then he pulled back, eyes burning with restraint.

Not tonight. Not now. Not when the stakes were so high.

But still, when he finally pulled away, there was something in his eyes, a quiet plea for you to say something. To let him believe you cared, just a little.

You gave him nothing but a slow blink. Curiosity mixed with...defiance. That was enough of a reassurance for him.

"...Yeah," he muttered after a moment, as if answering a question that hadn't been asked. His jaw tightened. "I'll see you later, darlin'. "

And just like that, he was gone.

May they all be gone for good.

─AN: Was it worth the wait? 👀 Interactions and ur thoughts bout the fic are always appreciated and a boost so don't be shy my pooks. To be added or removed from tag list u can always lemme know!

★ tag list: @m1stea @warmsideofthepillow03 @thatoneraeder @marzintears @nxttaru @cazzacarm @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @nulixity @poll-u @bajabish @cheesycheddarr @luzzbuzz @dilfsarelife @ninastyless @claire-is-here @replaythatrayrae @hopingtoclearmedschool @lain3iwakura @bashfulcowgirl87 @catjsashrine @bipolarbitties @lizynownow @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @meheheasasa @necktattooed @jbrownta @mandalover2023 @ceza-141 @httpskuri @abigatorchomp @nalitali

[mrsimpurity]

do-re-mi-fa-so fucking done with you!

(credits for art: _3aem on twt/x <3)

inspired by this song!

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: bit of angst, mentions of infidelity, reader is a brat, satoru calls her a bitch (it's justified dw), p in v, creampie, edging, MDNI

a/n: i love utahime i just didn't know who else to put pls spare me the lecture...

satoru never thought that the sound of glass breaking outside his house would send him into such panic. but accompanied by the sound of his car alarm blaring, he swore it was the most infuriating thing to ever happen to him.

and of course, it was all because of you.

let’s face it - your relationship with satoru was doomed from the start. you were jealous and obsessive and he was… well, himself. 

he knew his conscience was clear and that he would never even think about doing the things you loved accusing him of, but his attitude was so nonchalant and suspicious that it constantly drove you into these insane breakdowns.

“baby, put the knife down, i’m begging you. my phone died, i swear.” satoru would hear himself saying quite often, in his best attempts to calm you down, handing you his dead phone in defeat.

but you were untameable. 

at the start, it was cute. he loved this jealous side of you - which man wouldn’t? it made him feel special, knowing that you were willing to go to such lengths to keep him all to yourself.

but the honeymoon phase ended when he made the grave mistake of accepting a mission far away with a certain fellow sorcerer. a female sorcerer.

“you go on this mission and we’re done.” you threatened satoru. the mission was two days away and he had already accepted, but you didn’t know that… yet.

and now satoru was beginning to think that maybe telling you wasn’t really worth it - he’d prefer to die there than by your merciless (and psychotic) hand.

“i don’t want you being away with another woman. and it doesn’t matter if you’re planning to save orphans from a burning building. the answer is no.” you continued. satoru’s palms were only getting sweatier by the second.

did he really have to break it to you? for a moment, he considered just not accepting the mission. losing his job actually sounded easier than handling another one of your tantrums.

but indeed, there was no getting out of this. you are crazy, but there must be some way of taming you. right?

following his confession, satoru was left surprised. he thought that you’d reacted too quickly and had already killed him - perhaps he’d already been sent to heaven?

because why else would you just quietly get up, bottom lip caught between your teeth and eyes glossy, and leave the house without saying a word?

well, it all made sense when this evening, you woke satoru’s entire neighbourhood up for a quick midnight entertainment.

”you crazy bitch! that’s my range rover!” his voice wasn’t shaky like it used to be. 

during the time which had passed, he’d realized that your quiet exit meant something more than your meltdowns did - you guys really were over. and he’d never accept such behavior ever again.

for better or for worse, you had chosen not to lash out at him before. and now he was seeing that it was definitely for the worse.

“thanks, but i know what car brand it is. what a shame though, huh?” you shouted over the car alarm blaring, bat in hand, the windshield of satoru’s expensive car shattered to pieces.

“get away from the car before i make you pay the damages. i thought you said we were over.” satoru was fuming. there really was no getting rid of you.

“and that’s what you’d like, yeah? to never see me again? well, pretty boy, that’s not happening before i avenge my dignity.” the audacity you were speaking with and the emphasis you’d put on the stupid nickname only caused satoru’s blood pressure to skyrocket.

hell, he knew you were a bit fucked in the head, but this was absolutely absurd.

“vengeance for what? for me almost losing my life in kyoto so you could keep draining my bank account?” satoru was slowly beginning to approach you, moving from the threshold to the now destroyed vehicle parked on the street.

your figure in the shadows of the street lamps was… exquisite. satoru was angry, fed up and tired, but at the end of the day, he really was just a man.

a man who hadn’t had a taste of you in two weeks.

and it didn’t help his case that you’d thrown a flimsy zip-up hoodie over a tank top and paired it with your pj shorts to go out and wreck your ex’s car.

“you were out cheating on me!” you screamed at him, aiming for the rearview mirror.

“for the hundredth fucking time, i wasn’t cheating on you, i was dying!” his words stroke a chord in you. you slowly lowered your arms down, still keeping your guard but giving him some time to prove that what he was saying was worth listening to.

“you never answered my calls. i was on the brink of death and you didn’t give a fuck. i knew you were hurt, but i had no choice.” satoru’s voice was beginning to waver and he was only getting more emotional by the second.

but you were listening. he could see it with his own two eyes as he swallowed, trying hard to collect his thoughts.

“i know my conscience is clean. i’ve never even thought about utahime like that. hell, i was only thinking about you on that goddamn mission.“

two could play that game, is what he thought. you weren’t the first manipulator this world had seen and you certainly wouldn’t be the last.

so when you finally let your guard down (after a bark or two) and allowed his unsure fingers to trace up your arm, let his eyes roam over your body as his mouth ran a mile a minute, pointless apologies spilling from his lips, he knew he had you right where he wanted.

at the end of the day, you too, were just a woman. and which woman couldn’t be tamed with sex that was a little too good to be true?

that’s how you found yourself in satoru’s bed, naked and begging for his mercy underneath his body, which you were convinced was sculpted by god himself.

he had been edging you for over half an hour, the broken windshield of his range rover long forgotten, the only thing on his mind being making you learn your lesson.

“t-toru, please. i need you. so fucking bad.” your whines were music to his ears. what he had been doing to your body was in stark contrast with the way his calloused fingertips ran down your body ever so gently, coming up once in a while to stroke your hair or get it out of your now sweaty forehead’s way.

“you have me, baby. tell me what you need.”

“need you inside me. now.” 

“my bratty baby. so demanding.” he chuckled.

but you didn’t have to tell him twice.

satoru adjusted himself, the tip of his cock teasing your clit with light taps which only drove you madder. you were soaking wet, practically tearing up from how bad you wanted him inside your pussy, hitting all the right spots and pleasuring you all night long.

finally, when he buried himself inside you, you thought you’d cum on the spot. the moan you let out was more than embarrassing and satoru thought that this was the perfect moment he could get his version of revenge.

“you think i had utahime like this? wet and begging for my cock?” he teased. 

the way your gaze shot up so you could give him a death glare was almost comical and he thought that if you were to kill him right now, he’d happily die buried deep inside your tight cunt (and with an idiotic grin on his face).

“don’t say that shit while you’re inside me.” you only hissed back, too overcome by pleasure to say anything else.

satoru’s thrusts were relentless and considering how many times he’d stroked his cock in the shower to the mere thought of you while you were gone, it didn’t take long for him to cum.

his warm seed spilling inside you sent you over the edge and you came, body spasming wildly, your velvet walls clenching around satoru’s length.

he didn’t bother keeping his voice down, moaning at just how snug your pussy was around his cock, your eyes rolled back in feeling too great to describe, nails scratching his forearms for dear life.

satoru slowly pulled out of you, his cum spilling out of your clenching hole. you whined at the sensation, still catching your breath, chest rising up and down.

your ex was only staring at your tired body in awe, admiring what he’d done to you and placing kisses down your stomach.

you were still facing the ceiling, only choosing to relish in the feelings of his lips so intimately chasing your skin and touch.

“i’m still mad at you.” you said, but deep down, your cunt was still throbbing and your heart wanted nothing more but to have your little troublemaker back.

“don’t make me remind you of the condition my range rover’s in.” satoru replied, slapping your pussy playfully.

you rolled your eyes at him but your desperate whine only gave you away.

well, it’s fine, because satoru’s cock was still painfully hard and he was (almost) sure that his best friend had put him on a “crazy girlfriend” insurance plan.

[livingund3ad]

my strange addiction [ ONE. ]

chapter warnings: toxic academic rivalry dynamics(?), drug addiction, drug use, child/institutional neglect, emotional trauma, bullying, criminal/illegal activities

YOU have an addiction. And it comes in the form of academic validation. Now you wonder, how have you arrived at this point? Let’s go back to the time where you were still nothing but an innocent child.

You were a kid with practically zero, none-existent presence. You’ve known that ever since at the universal consciousness gaining phenomena at the age of four. Or were you five then?

Regardless, you were in kindergarten at the time. Your school went on some countryside beach trip, and as a child—you were a bit of an attention seeking brat. Hence why you insisted on being dressed in a pirate costume that your mother got for you for halloween a few months back. A better choice against that mandated obnoxiously bright yellow school uniform.

As for which beach, you couldn’t really remember where you all went. Was it by the East sea? The West? Or maybe it was in the South?

Well, it didn’t really matter now. All you do remember is that, at one moment, you were left alone with everyone else gone. Like a lone pirate stranded on some island.

You wonder sometimes, even now—that if you’d listened to your mother and worn that stupid uniform, would you have not gone missing?

Months passed by after, and you found yourself clumped together in a room full of other parentless kids. Even then, during your time at the orphanage, your lack of presence was pretty much the same. No one really looked out for you, as you’re well aware that your supposed caretakers already have so many kids that they have to look after. Most of which were likely just babies and much younger than you. So you often miss meals. You couldn’t really blame them. You had to learn to understand.

So on the days you went hungry, you’d go outside at night to drink tap water. What you found odd, was that however much you drank, you never felt full. It felt like the water you drank was leaking. It was always like that for years.

Then, during your years in highschool, the school you attended had an unusual commute system. Everyone shared a van and got dropped off one by one. If the van didn’t have the orphanage logo, you’d probably lied and said I was coming from a dorm where you were training to be some kind of pop star. You definitely had the looks

It wouldn’t really matter anyways, people in this shitty school in this small shitty countryside town knew each other and everyone. The rumours to which person, the people involved in some scandal like it was recorded in some chart. The good thing is that you’ve got neither, and the worst thing being rumoured about you, which was rather unfortunately true, was that they called you ‘the orphan boy’.

Just kidding. You experienced much, much worse. With saliva coated bubblegum being slapped on the back of your head, forcing you to shave your fucking hair bald in a buzzcut for months. Before being slapped on the back of the head with the same bubblegum and bullies, again. The cycle never stopped.

You’d been invisible all your life, and then, suddenly, you were reduced to those three words. It was the worst.

There were others who had done you worse, but that’s a story to tell for another day.

People like you can’t get referrals, so it’s hard to get even ordinary part time jobs. It all started almost two years ago. This so-called adult that came from the same orphanage got you and the others a job like he was doing kids like you a favor. But in reality, it was just buying medications. Illegally. With the use of fake ID’s of all things. Distributing everyone copies of falsified IDs with fake names and your faces plastered in the cards like it was food stamps. Maybe in a way, it was. Because if the orphanage ran out of food before you got back from school or this part time, you could buy your own with the cash. It kept you fed.

This went for months, and all you had to do was get a prescription. Not just from one hospital but from multiple different institutions. Use said prescription to buy said prescribed drugs from different pharmacies. Then meet up again in some nondescript location, return the ID and give the drugs to be paid and be driven back to the orphanage. A simple process, yet tiring with all the running you have to do all day.

One night was enough to change the entire course of your life. Shortly after a day of work, on the way home, that ringleader of these operations from earlier asked you a question–one that you found rather absurd at that time.

“What’re your dreams?” He asked. You were the one only awake during that time, with everyone else either snoring and having their eyes closed, so you answered, knowing that he was referring to you and not someone else.

“I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”

It was true. You really didn’t have dreams. No ambition. You lived moment to moment. You didn’t have the luxury to imagine anything else.

“People should have dreams.” He replied. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that.

“Was your dream to exploit poor orphan kids for drug trafficking?”

The old man scoffed, before he dug through the bag of medications. He didn't seem offended by your words. More like amusement. He then offered you a small bag of the said drugs, and you can only assume it was a dose for one person.

“City kids would do anythin’ to get them, y’know. I like you kiddo, you have some.”

So you did. Not because you needed it. It didn’t change your pay. It felt like a useless gesture. But you took it anyway.

“Study hard, if ‘ya don’t want to end up like me.”

If those words had come from a decent adult who studied hard and had an actual job, you probably wouldn’t have listened. Was it because it came from a good-for-nothing middle aged man? You don't know why, but you found it strangely persuasive. Maybe because he was a failure, you figured what not to become.

That same night, you found yourself digging through the garbage bin of some publishing factory that is a walking distance from the orphanage. And wouldn't you know it. You found a stash of misprinted, but still readable books about biology and one about statistics. You can read the text just fine.

Then by the time the sunrise hit, you were able to understand a quarter of the material you have read in that misprinted biology book.

And just like that, you actually started doing this thing called studying. You used to be 15th in your class out of 30. In the middle. Just average. Ordinary. And in the matter of months after devouring every book you can get your hands on, actually putting an effort to understand—you went into being the 15nth in your year.

15th out of 264.

The number in your report card seemed to have great power. Out of nowhere, you didn't miss out on meals anymore. The orphanage staff started saving plates just for you. You got to study in peace, in the admin office with the AC still running and lamplight on. They even let you pull all-nighters without complaint.

People started treating you differently.

It was a change, and you liked that.

And once in your life, you started feeling full even without eating. Whatever that was, it became your sustenance. And that’s when the hunger changed. It wasn’t just for food anymore. It was for something else. You wanted to be first.

You remembered the pills. Methylphenidate, they were called. You think. What’s the harm of taking it, you thought? It’s not like you were actually going to use it. You weren't going to get hooked.

Right?

Curiosity trumped caution. Just once, you told yourself.

Wrong.

For whatever it did, consuming it made you more sharper, more focused at the task at hand. You were able to do even better, solve many equations and understand multiple complex concepts in a matter of hours. It definitely helped.

Your hard work had finally bore fruit.

You ranked first. Easily surpassing the one sitting on the throne before you. Winning the gold in competitions that those same teachers who wouldn’t even bat at your visible bruises a few months prior suggested you join after they realize potential.

Everything changed, not just the adults, but everything around you for the good. Once your grades shot up, the punks who just couldn't stop tormenting you and making your life hell…finally stopped. As if you wore some invisible armor. And you didn't want to lose it. Losing it would mean death. You couldn't have that. Never again.

Whatever happens, you had to go on, and be number one. The thought of going back? You hated that more than death itself.

So you started stealing pills. Quietly. Regularly. As quickly as you got obsessed with learning, so did your dependence on the drug.

You took them twice everyday, like it was life support. Once before the first class period. Once before your nightly study sessions. Washed down with a drink.

You worked hard and studied harder, regardless if it was night or day, anywhere, every time you saw an opportunity to study, you seized every chance like it was your last.

Then opportunity knocked again.

The orphanage found your father.

They contacted him. Confirmed your identity. And just like that, after all those years, someone saw you again. Really saw you.

In four months, you’d be leaving for Gotham City. To meet him. To finally return to the place you were born. The life you could've lived, if you wore that yellow uniform. Life, at last, was looking up.

TIMOTHY DRAKE has an addiction, and it came at the form of a person. YOU. At the very least, not yet that you knew of.

Timothy was an algorithm in human skin.

He knew this about himself. Always had.

The world, to him, made too much noise, but not in the way people thought. Not loud, exactly, just cluttered. Inefficient. Unnecessary. He had to arrange it in lines and frameworks—somewhere between the straight edges of compulsion and control. He mapped it all: people’s tells, their stutters, the way they blinked too quickly when they lied or blinked not enough when they were about to cry. Timothy had learned to observe people like experiments.

He knew at age six, he was never like the other children. Too smart. Too fast. He was a genius, they said. He could speak seven languages by the time he was thirteen but still found it exhausting to look someone in the eye and remember to smile with his teeth. Social rules felt like cheat codes someone forgot to give him. So he compensated in other ways—by being perfect. Polished. Efficient. Academic excellence, extracurricular consistency, public charm, private distance. His image was so pristine it felt bulletproof.

But then… you happened.

It started in the middle of October. Cold enough for scarves, warm enough for competition. He still remembers the first time you walked past him in the hallway without looking in that plain uniform that’s not even the part of the dress code. On your first day. You stuck out like a sore thumb—plain on purpose, like you were begging for attention.

That week’s Calculus mock quiz had been brutal. People had groaned, cried, even appealed to the teacher. But not him. He had scored a perfect 10. He should have been the talk of the class.

Instead, it was you. But not because they were impressed, no.

You, with your scuffed shoes and that unplaceable accent like you were trying not to exist too loudly. You, the supposed genius transferee who got a score of four.

Some laughed at you. But you didn't care.

He remembered the moment he overheard your name in the hallway, half-whispered by students. It was all baseless rumours, about you being an orphan, a fraud that cheated his way into this place.

And just like that—Timothy Drake, golden boy, heir of Gotham’s most elite academies—was no longer the only talk of the town.

He wasn’t threatened. Not really. Not at first. Competition was natural. Expected in this environment. Even welcome. But what he didn’t expect was how you seemed to slip through the usual systems of interest. You didn’t care about their words. You walked through the halls like someone who had already died once and come back immune to criticism.

That is where he began… noticing.

How you never raised your hand in class, but always had an answer. How you studied alone. Always alone. In the library, under that buzzing light you never bothered to report as broken. The way your hands trembled—not with fear, but with strain. Like you were constantly wound too tight, buzzing on something invisible. Like your mind was racing five laps ahead of your body and your body was struggling to keep up. Like you wanted to prove the world something.

You didn’t just want to win.

You needed to.

And that? That was something Timothy understood, in all these years of watching people.

Yet still—he couldn’t understand you. That was the part that disturbed him. Every time he tried to predict your behavior—when you'd turn the page, when you’d pack up your books, whether you’d look at him after class—he got it wrong.

He didn’t like getting things wrong.

So he observed. Watched. Stalked.

Not in a way that would draw attention. Not overtly. Just enough. Just close enough to start cataloguing you. You drank two cans of cheap black coffee a day. Always by the rundown convenience store just a few blocks away from the campus. Always carried mints, but never chewed gum. Never ate, not even once—during your first week in the cafeteria. During class, you’d leave your textbook open to the same chapter but read from different margins. Like you were trying to create new meaning from something already finished.

He noticed something else too. The way you always checked your wrist—not for a watch, but as if you were timing something that only you knew about. Like you had a schedule in your head that the rest of the world didn’t operate on.

A few days later, one rainy morning before class, he finally decided to approach you. Not closely. Just enough to test a theory.

“Hi. I’m Tim—Timothy Drake. We haven’t spoken before, but… mind if I sit here?"

Silence.

Your silence answered him. People don’t usually do that—at least not to him. At the minimum, he expected a greeting.

It wasn’t just that day. It was every day after. Still—no glance. No acknowledgment.

One night, he realized it.

You didn’t see him. And that—no. That wasn’t acceptable.

He wasn’t used to being invisible. People noticed Timothy Drake. Teachers paused when he entered the room. Adults leaned in when he spoke. Girls and boys both lingered too long when he brushed past them. Even introverts stutter when they’re acknowledged by him. The world saw him. It bent around him. Always had.

But you?

You looked through him like he was part of the furniture. Like he wasn’t real.

He thought maybe it was an act. Some strange tactic. A defense. A performance. But the more he watched, the more he realized—

You genuinely did not care.

You had no time for people. You were addicted to something else. Maybe knowledge. Maybe success. Obsession dressed as ambition. Your hunger mirrored his own, but where his was calculated, yours was raw. Desperate. Messy.

It should have repulsed him. Instead, it enthralled him.

Because there was no one else like YOU.

He knew more than half of the people in this classroom, their scores are paid by daddy’s money. Yours wasn’t, and neither were his.

He saw you in the library one late afternoon when everyone was leaving. You were muttering to yourself in a language he couldn’t quite place, scribbling so fast your pen nearly broke. Your eyes were bloodshot. Your hands were shaking. Your lips were blue from cold or caffeine or something else—he couldn’t tell.

And still—you didn’t stop.

Timothy, watching from behind the bookshelf, felt something like vertigo.

Because you weren’t just trying to be the best.

You were trying not to disappear.

He recognized it. The manic precision. The way your body was breaking down but your mind kept clawing forward. It wasn’t survival, not anymore. It was compulsion.

He found himself thinking about you on the drive home. In the shower. When he read. In the space between REM cycles. He started mapping out your patterns. Estimating your caffeine intake.

And still—you wouldn’t look at him.

Not once.

You made him feel like he didn’t exist.

That was the moment it began to curdle.

His obsession wasn’t born from attraction. Not initially. It was disruption. You were a crack in this predictable system. A riddle he couldn’t solve. A human variable that resisted logic.

You were an unpredictable variable inside a vessel of order.

And Timothy Drake had to know everything.

Why you acted the way you did. Why you pushed yourself so far past breaking. What made you tick. What made you tremble. What made you stop– He had to know everything about you.

He couldn’t rest until he did.

Because maybe this wasn’t just about competition anymore. He didn’t even care if you managed to surpass him somehow. He needed to see if you could.

This was curiosity rotting into something unnameable.

Timothy Drake's mind was a machine built from and for control.

But you—you made him want to lose it.

You made him want to peel back every layer, pick at every scab, test every reaction.

He didn’t just want to study you.

He wanted to unravel YOU.

| … | Next |

A/N:

YOU: Internally crashing out after seeing that hideous 4/10*

TIM: Internally crashing out every time you don’t acknowledge him*

Priorities. lmfao.

[monstercanyeti]

We talking romance? Let's go!

BTdubs, this is my opinion and mine alone, so don't yell at me if I say something mean about your favorite. We all have favorites and that's perfectly okay because this is a video game.

So, if we talk about romance, I hate to say that the better romance options are for Male V rather than Female V. Judy is alright, sure, but if you're nice to her. I remember in one of my playthroughs, when my Cool attribute was low, I wasn't able to end the conversation quickly. Now, I know how it looks like from her end. Some random merc she met that Evelyn hired is suddenly back, asking to find her in desperation would raise some flags. What could they possibly want, right? Revenge? To kill Evelyn? Makes sense and I get why she's hostile, but the shit she says to you is low. She throws Jackie's and T-bug's death in your face and blames you for it, as if you were the sole being responsible for everything that happened.

No one, not a single soul, knew Saburo Arasaka would fucking be there. T-bug mentions that everyone is scrambling and on their feet, because his arrival is that sudden. Yorinobu probably got the memo at the last minute and rushed his ass from wherever the hell he was straight back. Didn't even have time to process it, just sat down and waited for his father to come down the stairs. No one could predict what Yorinobu would even do, least of all V. I don't even think Yorinobu planned to kill Saburo either, it was the heat of the moment when he did it. A crime of passion, so to speak. All of it ended in disaster, but V did manage to get the Relic. V did the job, at their friend's expense and what did that earn them? A bullet to the brain by Dexter fucking DeShawn.

Judy only knows from what the scream sheets and news outlets told her, yet when V explains that they also fucking died, Judy says she doesn't fucking care. She wants to be angry, which is fine, but if you keep defending yourself, she is just more and more angry at you. Fine, I get it. After your mission in Clouds and you show up at Fingers, she gets all mad. She starts to give up before V tells her to get her shit together. To hold out for hope. The go to the power plant and this is when I lose it with Judy. She demands to know why you were looking for Ev, so when you tell her, she scoffs and says she expects nothing less of a merc.

Girl, what the fuck? I get you're mad, but this is the shit you're gonna tell me when I'm the only reason why you know where Evelyn is in the first place? I did the dirty work for you and you say this shit? Scavs die on sight, so I'm killing everyone, but really? I go through hell just to get Evelyn and save her. If I didn't do something, your ass would've just sat in your den, mulling over what you should do but not actually doing it.

If V never came back from the dead, what would happen? Judy wouldn't have done anything. The Mox wouldn't help her, they're tired of her shit. She's good at what she does, truly talented, but that could only go so far when you start to piss off the leader of the Mox enough. Tom would have never have told her what happened, because he'd still be doing his own thing, always wondering what happened to Ev but never doing more than that. Ev would have been absolutely tortured until she finally died from the way the Scavs were treating her.

And the whole thing with them doing the raid on Clouds? Piss poor planning. She had nothing to go off of and the only reason why anything happens is because of V. Depending on what you do results in something awful happening. You either get the Dolls killed who aided you in the mission, Maiko takes over and doesn't make the Dolls lives any easier or you just piss her off.

Depending on your choices, if you unlock the extra mission for Judy, the one where you dive underwater, she goes through her life before suddenly feeling utterly guilty over everything that happened. If you reject her advances/play Male V, she sleeps on the couch and Johnny goes off on how he doesn't like her. He may be an asshole, but Johnny has shown that he's pretty decent at reading certain types of people. He knows her type and he hates it. If you stay for her, he gets mad at you for being all "sentimental" but, either way, the message is clear. He does not like her and if you're not "nice" to her, she says some pretty awful shit to you.

That's not to say Judy is a bad character. Far from it. I think she's fantastic, because she's a fleshed out character with flaws. She's realistic. But, for romance? I don't find her to be a good romantic partner for V.

River, on the other hand, is one I do have the least experience with, but for good reason. He's a good guy, heart's in the right place, but he comes on too strong and it's kinda awkward. From the stories I've heard and the bits of dialogue I've seen from videos, I just don't think River is a romance option that V would pursue. Plus, he's a badge. V with a cop boyfriend would only be hot in fanfiction, not in the reality of the game. Male V can at least see the friendship in him, but Female V is fighting mighty levels of cringey flirtation that borderlines desperation. Truthfully, I refused to do that mission for the longest time because I genuinely did not want to go through that second-hand embarrassment. But, from what I read, at the very least, you know his love is genuine. He does love V and I guess that's alright. You just really have to deal with some pretty hard cringe beforehand.

Although, I will say, River is very similar to Judy in terms of planning. He does not plan ahead. He doesn't think things through and impulsively goes through the motions. From what I've seen, from the actual gameplay mind you, he relies heavily on you to do most of the work in figuring out where to go. Like, my guy, your nephew's life hangs on the balance but you're telling me that you're incapable of doing the police work? Why I am doing the scrolling? Why am I doing the investigating? If you do not go with him to save his nephew, he's not prepared for anything and dies. Mind you, he's a cop. Sure, he doesn't have the cyberware that V has, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to avoid mines and turrets. Finding the button isn't as hard as you think and navigating around is dicey, but he could figure it out. Time is of the essence, but still, even Panam could figure out what she needs to do if she was there.

Speaking of which, Panam is probably the best romantic option in the game for a multitude of reasons. She's impulsive, like Judy, but also smart enough to think on her feet. She shows love to V, regardless of gender, though only familiar/platonic love for Fem V, and is the type to be your best friend through it all. She truly does love you and is hurt deeply when you disappear with certain endings. She is your ride or die type of partner and that's what's so great about her.

Kerry, truthfully, is the one I have zero experience on. I haven't gotten to the point of romancing him because I'm usually not playing a Male V. From the looks of it, he maintains the relationship with V so long as V is in Night City. And if you choose the Phantom Liberty ending, he would like to start up the relationship again, but that he's busy with the tour. And honestly, I think that's pretty dope. A rockerboy(old man really) that loves you a lot and can spoil your ass? Sounds good to me, honestly.

Now, enough of that. I know I ranted about Judy the most, sorry about that, but really? With these romance options, it pains me that the ones I wanna romance, I can't.

Other Romance Options that I'd have preferred

Vik? Lemme romance that old-timer, please. I'd kill to have him as a romance option. Solid enough dude. Man can beat most people's asses and he's not even suped up with any cybernetics. He's chill and he's nice to hang around with.

Claire? CLAIRE!? LET ME ROMANCE HER, PLEEEEEASE. God, she's so cool, so pretty, so amazing. I know she was married and was grieving, but c'mooooooooon. Let me love her. Let me be with her. Please!

Takemura is an enemy to lover trope and I am alright with it being a one-off thing. Truly I am. I mean, we even make a tongue-n-cheek reference about how we could make sure he's not feeling so lonely and he says he's flattered, but has prior commitments.

That one ripperdoc, Rafael Pérez, in Arroyo? Pleaaaaase let me romance this guy. Ugh, he's perfect. Tired man who could definitely use some company. Love you. I do.

T-Bug? I KNOW YOU DIE BUT GOD YOU ARE GORGEOUS! LET ME LOVE YOU! She's so pretty, too. Ugh, T-Bug, you're amazing. Trust me, I'll love you. I'll take care of you while you surf the net. I'll make sure to take care of you.

Denny? OH GOD, DENNY. That woman had me flabbergasted. I swear, I make it a point to have each V check her out. Feisty woman and gorgeous to boot. And she's punk? She's a rocker? Fuuuuuuck me, she's amazing and I'm enamored. Fuck Henry, I will pick Denny every single time.

So Mi? So Mi... I'm dying. I'm dead. I love her. I'd kill for a chance to romance her. So she lied to me, no one's perfect. I love her. V loves her. V will get over it. We got options, don't you worry. You go to space, I'll take care of myself. I'll see you after you're better, trust me.

Mumaur? El Capitan? Let me love you. Let me adore you. Sure, as a fixer, it could get complicated, but you know me and trust me and I got your back. I'm good at what I do, so please, let us be together.

Rita? Bouncer and Mox? Beautiful and badass to boot? Let me love you. I'm a merc, so I don't mind getting my hands dirty. I'll chill with you, fight with you and do whatever you want me to do. Just let me loooooove you.

Tiny Mike? Mike Kowalski? Yo, you and me are gonna have fun. We'll have a great time and I will romance the fuck out of you if given the chance. Already saved your ass, so you know I'm tough enough to help you with your merc work. Truuust me, I left your bro alive, I promise.

Angelica Whelan? Listen, you're a bitch and you did my boy Aaron dirty. Truly, you're bad. But, god, I think I can change you for the better. Let me romance you. It'd be toxic and god awful but let me make that choice, pleeeeeeease.

Farida Nazeri? Let me love you. God, let me love you. I think we have chemistry and I think we could make it work. Sure you work for BARGHEST, and I shouldn't get mixed up with that, but LET ME LOVE YOU. I WILL RISK IT FOR YOU.

Kurt Hansen? I hate you... but I'm willing to have a one-off with you. Just a one off, like with Meredith.

Paco Torres? One off, for sure, but damn it might be great.

Aurore Cassel? God, it'd be awful and just ruthless. It'd be so toxic and I know at some point, I'd grow to hate you. BUT LET ME MAKE THAT MISTAAAAKE. Come on, let me MAKE IT. PLEASE!

That being said, Johnny not being on the table does suck. Because, I agree. Johnny knows everything there is to know about you. Johnny cares about you and is with you throughout every portion of your life. Johnny honestly should have been a romance option, but I also understand why they didn't. I feel like it'd be one of the hardest things to explore. It's not like he's actually real and alive. He's dead. He's a dead man that you're speaking to. It's so morally grey, falling in love with a memory of someone who once existed.

It's a pretty damn hard topic to broach, one I think they could have explored, but I get why they didn't. There's so much to Cyberpunk 2077 and it's amazing that everyone can experience this game truly differently than others.

So here's the thing about Johnny Silverhand.

If he were a romance option, it wouldn't even be close; he'd be the most popular option. Ao3 backs this up. But the game doesn't let us choose him.

The four options the game gives us are fine as far as romance goes--they lack the depth of old-school Bioware and Larian. Panam, Judy, and Kerry are beautifully written, wonderfully messy characters. Oh yeah, then there's River (no seriously, CDPR did him dirty). But once you play through their stories, you're kinda done with them. Sure, you get some random texts, a handful of repeatable dialog, a repeatable date--but that's such a tiny sliver of your game time.

Johnny's with you for most of the game. Over the course of many hours, you get to see him warm up to V (a stand-in for you, the player), playfully trade barbs with them, and then solemly swear to off himself in order to save their/your pathetic ass.

If you think about it for more than two seconds, V has this near-psychotic level of intimacy with Johnny. The "guy in my head" trope makes a lot of narrative sense, especially in video games. It's a more interesting story when the main character has someone to talk to, rather than internal monolog or muttering to themselves. But if you overthink the trope to a concerning degree, as I have--you understand that Johnny is forced to quietly look away while V is taking a shit, showering, flicking the bean, getting random boners, violently puking blood, etc. This is way more intimacy than I have with my husband of 15 years. We close the door when we use the bathroom.

They're sharing dreams, seeing each other's memories. They pick up each other's habits. V can play the guitar. Johnny's less of an asshole and learns how to let go. They're changing each other for the better.

All the other romances in CP77 feel so damn shallow next to Johnny and V. That's not the fault of the romancable characters. It's that they've been through some very fucked-up shit together, and I don't know how you don't trauma-bond over all that. V and Johnny are the only two souls on earth who know what it's like to be an engram on a chip inside a corpse's head.

Their story is so beautiful, tragic, and fucked-up that I don't want it to end.

And I really wanna fuck that rockerboy.

[trekscribbles]

Failsafe: Chapter Six

...I came across the John Rogers line "Eliot's job is to be the failsafe that never fails". And I couldn't help thinking... What happens if the failsafe does fail?

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3.)

Parker regretted the words as soon as she said them. Don’t touch him. Like Eliot was dangerous, like he would hurt Hardison. But—he had. He hadn’t known it was Hardison, but he’d still hurt him, and Parker didn’t know what else he might do.

Her words had brought him to himself a little, or his name had—she didn’t know. She didn’t have time to ask. He stood back as Parker fell to her knees beside Hardison and ran her hands over his face, under his jaw, searching for a pulse.

She found it.

“He’s fine,” she said, her voice breathy with relief. “It’s okay, he’s fine.”

Eliot didn’t answer. His eyes were unfocused, and he stared through her like she was nothing more than a shadow. She sat back uneasily, pointing her flashlight down at the ground. “Eliot?” she said.

He didn’t respond.

“Eliot,” she said again, putting a snap in her voice, and his gaze found hers. “We have to get him out.”

Something flickered over his expression, but should couldn’t read it. He didn’t move. The anxiety that had been bristling through her since they entered the basement bled into outright fear.

What had they done to him?

“Eliot,” she said. Then, when he still didn’t react, she made her voice strong and hard. “Eliot.”

He jerked forward a step, then moved past her and continued silently down the hall. For several painful heartbeats, she thought he was leaving her—but then she heard a metallic clatter, and he returned a few moments later with a wheeled stretcher.

“Get his feet,” Parker said, because he seemed to be responding better to directions. When they had Hardison settled on the stretcher, she added, “We cut off the power. The elevator won’t work. We’ll have to take the stairs.”

Still, he said nothing. Parker’s stomach twisted, but she pushed on, and she could hear Eliot’s nearly soundless steps behind her. She didn’t know what to do. Hardison would have been able to talk to him, would have known how to get rid of that horrible emptiness in his eyes, but she didn’t know what to say.

He’d attacked them. Eliot, her Eliot—the man in the surveillance video had turned him into something she didn’t recognize. He’d done bad things, she knew that, but this? Hurting Hardison? They had taken a piece of Eliot away, and she didn’t know how to put it back. 

Maybe no one could.

“Nate,” Parker said, pressing a finger to her earbud. “Nate? Can you hear me?” 

He didn’t answer, and she was getting tired of that. But she tried to sound neutral as she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Nothing yet. Our comms work upstairs—I’ll get him then. He and Sophie are on their way.”

She turned back to the stairs, barely visible beneath the exit sign, but Eliot shot past her before she could say anything else. She pressed against the stretcher, covering Hardison with one arm as a man materialized in the doorway. Eliot grunted as he took a hit to the abdomen, but drugged or not, this was still Eliot, and a single man was no match for him.

When Eliot knocked the man down—and he stayed down—Parker flicked her flashlight on and checked his face. It wasn’t anybody who worked at the hospital. She cast an uncomfortable look at Eliot. “How many more?”

He stood at the bottom of the steps, still blocking the unconscious man’s path to Parker and Hardison, his shoulders heaving slightly as he fought to catch his breath. She started to reach for his arm, but he deflated and flattened himself against the wall. “One,” he said, deferring to her again.

She swallowed and turned toward the stairs. “Help me with the stretcher.”

They carried Hardison up the steps, and when they reached the top, Parker checked Hardison’s breathing once more before looking toward the lobby. “Nate?”

“Parker,” he answered—finally.

Parker exhaled, long and slow to keep from startling Eliot. “We have him. Meet us out front.”

Eliot had dropped his hands from the stretcher, and stood looking past her with his arms loose at his sides. “Come on,” she said, trying to sound encouraging. They were almost there. Nate and Sophie would know what to do, how to bring Eliot back. They just had to get out to the parking lot, and everything would be okay.

Eliot came up beside her, and she shot him a hopeful glance—maybe he’d seen the van outside—but he darted toward the reception desk as another figure lunged at her.

Faster than she could follow, Eliot blocked the man’s attack and hurled him back against the desk, where he straightened and drew in a harsh breath. “Who the hell are you?”

Eliot squared his shoulders.

“You’re no doctor,” the man continued. “Who do you work for?”

There was a stutter in Eliot’s breath, as if something had hurt him, but Parker couldn’t see any injuries. She hesitated at Hardison’s side, unwilling to leave him, but suddenly afraid for how Eliot would fare in another fight. If she only had her taser…

“I took the wrong approach with you,” the man said, his voice low and cutting. “I tried to put you into a dream-like state, but I should have gone deeper. Dreams aren’t enough for you. You need a nightmare.”

That was enough. Parker snatched the flashlight from her belt and pushed the stretcher out of the way, gripping the metal handle as she tore across the lobby. She would get behind the other man and bring it down on his head as soon as Eliot gave her an opening.

He didn’t. He dropped back a step and slammed his fist up into the man’s jaw, then stood aside as he collapsed against the desk before sliding to the floor.

Eliot turned, his expression blank, and Parker lowered the flashlight. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but he had that distant look again, and she couldn’t handle any more silence. “Nate will be here any minute,” she said, desperate to reassure him. “Come on.”

He looked down, a nod without motion.

Parker left the flashlight and the security belt on the reception desk and jogged back to Hardison. “Get the door,” she said. More orders—anything to get him moving.

Eliot obeyed, holding the door so she could wheel the stretcher through, his head still lowered slightly. But it was okay now. They’d gotten Hardison out, and Nate would be turning into the parking lot any second, and it was almost over. She brought the stretcher up to the edge of the sidewalk and held in a cheer when headlights flashed through the darkness.

“Where are you?” Nate asked in her ear.

“Right in front of the door,” she answered. “Do you see us?”

“I see you,” Nate said. The van turned toward them, splashing light over the sidewalk. Parker watched it approach, her heart pounding, and started pushing the stretcher forward.

“Parker,” Sophie said uncertainly. “Is that a stretcher? Is that—is that Hardison?”

“I’ll explain when we get inside,” Parker said.

The van pulled in front of her, and Nate leaned his head through the open window. “Where’s Eliot?”

Parker’s stomach dropped. She spun toward the hospital to call him back from where he’d been holding the door, but it was shut. The sidewalk was empty.

Eliot was gone.

[parallaxdemon]

alastor x human demon hunter- like protect earth from demons?

you know like how Blitzo goes to earth to kill humans, alastor finds a way to get deers from earth, this masked human without powers was actually a challenge to beat and she had a sword of angelic steel,

perhaps they fight for a long period of time, until it got boring, and they just started talking, opposites attract?

Oooooo!!! I love it! Hope you enjoy!

Sometimes Opposites Attract

Warnings— 18+, Blood & Gore, Violence, Sexual Tension, Demi Alastor

You were an excellent demon hunter. Any demon who dared come to Earth was met with a terrible fate at the hands of you. Your angelic sword would slice them up to ribbons. The only part of the job you hated was having to clean off their blood and guts off of you.

Filthy fucking creatures. You thought.

Yes, you were the best of the best. No one ever beaten you. No demon ever escaped from you. That was until him.

Alastor the Radio Demon. You met him 4 years ago, when he came to Earth for unknown reasons. It was obvious that he was a high level demon, so your team sent you, the best demon hunter they had.

He was taking a walk through the woods, enjoying the lovely scenery. You were following him from a distance, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Little did you know that he knew you were there the entire time.

“You can come out of hiding now. I know you’re there.”

You cursed under your breath, pissed that he had noticed you. You stepped out of the bushes.

“Why, hello there! Alastor’s the name. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure! Now, why don’t you introduce yourself and take that ridiculous little mask off.”

You, of course, just charged at him with your sword. Suddenly, black tentacles appeared from out of the ground and wrapped around you, throwing your sword far off in a random direction, and suspended you up in the air.

“A bit shy, it seems. That’s alright, I’ll remove the mask for you.”

You shook your head defiantly. But he just removed your mask with one of the tentacles.

“Ah, a pretty girl. Now, what would such a delicate creature be doing with such a dangerous weapon, you might hurt yourself.”

His ever present grin widened. He ran his fingers through your soft hair.

“Does the beauty have a name?”

“Fuck you, you demon bastard! When I get down, I’m going to fucking slice you in half!”

He covered your mouth.

“Now now, such ugly language to come from such a pretty little mouth.”

He wagged his finger at you, chuckling.

“Since you won’t tell me your name, my dear, let’s see if any identification on you.”

He began searching your pockets, while you writhed around trying to free yourself from his tentacles.

“Ah! Here it is! Your name is [Name]. What a beautiful name, it suits you, my dear.”

You made a cranky face.

“How cute.”

He stroked your face gently. Suddenly there were sirens coming from somewhere in the distance. Your team was coming.

“That’s my que! Well, it’s been a delightful time, my dear. I do hope you come see me again soon.”

The tentacles placed you back on the ground, Alastor kissed your hand quicker than you could react, then he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Bastard.”

You cursed, going to find your sword.

Since then, you have had many encounters with him. You just couldn’t let it go that he was the one who had beaten you. Your team even suggested that you take a break, but you weren’t having it.

Every time, you would still try to kill him and every time he would escape. Each encounter involved him restraining you in some way, flirting with you, and telling you that you were never going to best him.

One time, he snapped his fingers and you were in a dress from the 1920s with your hair all done up. Then he made dance with him.

“My dear [Name], you look so much better without that ridiculous uniform on. Yes, much more ladylike now.”

“I hate you.”

You spat at him. He only laughed.

“Do you now, darling? Then why are you blushing?”

He asked as he spun you around, before dipping you.

You quickly turned away from him, trying to hide your flustered face from him. It was true that you were growing quite attracted to him and you despised it.

“Haha, oh you’re so adorable, my little demon hunter. Hiding your true feelings from both me and yourself.”

“Shut up.”

“So feisty…it’s one of my favorite things about you.”

He grabbed your chin with his large hand, making you look up at him.

“You know, you have gorgeous eyes. I could just get lost in them.”

You felt your walls crumbling down as you gazed up at his handsome face. That smile that used to disgust you now charmed you.

“I…I…”

You couldn’t even speak.

“Shh, you don’t need to say anything.”

He brought his lips mere inches from yours, but as you were about to kiss, the sirens came again.

Shit. You thought.

“Till we meet again, my dear.”

He kissed your cheek before leaving.

Let me know, if you would like a part two. <3

[starkspondwater]

So I'm stupid and accidentally deleted the ask but this was a request from @sagesbard! The request was for Kyle x a bratty and whiny reader basically taking it too far and causing Kyle to snap (which both reader and him very much enjoy!) I did play around with the prompt you gave me a little so I hope that's alright!

Summary: Kyles had a long few weeks, and just wants to relax. Unfortunately you have a habit of running your mouth until he just can't take it any longer- making him take things into his own hands, quite literally. (SMUT)

Word Count: 3964

Warnings: spanking, hair pulling, edging, rough handling, some domming

Run Your Mouth- Kyle Broflovski x Bratty!Reader

A slam of the front door broke the quiet atmosphere that filled the apartment. 

Kyle knew what was going to happen, and already his hand was up and pinching the bridge of his nose as he waited. It had been a lovely afternoon, one where he could actually get some work done on a bullshit project his boss assigned as well as take a reading break in his favorite chair. These days were few and far between, with hectic scheduling and project deadlines, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure he’d been able to properly breath for weeks. Hell, he was sure you were even getting a little frustrated with the amount of time he spent hunched over his work laptop at the table, or not joining you for game nights with friends. He was just…tired. 

So to have this time where he could just sit was wonderful. He could actually put his mind off his work for a moment while he allowed something else to take its place. But as he heard the thump of footsteps along the carpet outside he knew his office sanctuary was soon to be intruded upon.

“There you are!” You had burst through the door, work clothes still hanging on your frame as you walked in and plopped yourself directly down on the top of his desk. The skirt you wore for your waitressing rose up slightly as you settled, soft thighs on display. You only briefly readjusted to move a few papers that crinkled beneath you. “You would not believe the day I had!”

“I have a feeling you're going to tell me,” Kyle sighed, placing a finger between the pages.

You registered the tone in his voice, but chose to ignore it, already opening your mouth and letting the hellish day you had spew forth. You knew it was annoying, barging in and doing this. You knew how Kyle loved his space. However, you also knew that he wouldn't tell you no.

The relationship you had with Kyle was an odd one. Both of you had tempers that came to life with surprising ease and yet, you still got along better than a house fire. Even with a few arguments here and there, the bond you two shared had only seemed to grow brighter. Kyle was more strict than you were, growing irritated at those little inconveniences that threw a wrench into well laid plans. You were far more lax, but nary a thing needed to happen for complaints to make their way from your lips. 

One would look at the two of you and wonder how long it took before one killed the other, but somehow, someway, you clicked. You found Kyle's need for planning and his want for things to be a certain way grounding. It was an anchor on the drama filled life you seemed to attract. And while Kyle wouldn't ever say it out loud, you knew he loved how much you talked. You were not only entertaining, but with what you brought to the table the noise that filled his head finally quieted. In a weird way, you brought that man peace.

So yes, despite the fact that he was obviously comfortable and doing something, you took the opportunity to yap. There was something kind of fun about riling him up, if only to wake him up enough to spend time with you. It was just how things were, he and you were used to this!

“And I just don't understand what the fuck her issue was. I was doing my job!”

“Uh-huh,” Kyle hummed, his eyes starting to gloss over.

“Kyle, are you listening?” You pitched up your voice slightly, catching the way his head perked at the sound.

“Of course I was, m’just…thinking of other things.”

Hm. That wouldn't do at all.

“Could you please pay attention?” You whined lightly, keeping a smile from forming on your lips. 

Oh, how he hated the whining. You knew this well, already catching the way his right brow twitched slightly. 

“Anyway, on top of all of that, they've started asking us to clean the bathroom-”

“Love,” with a tense smile, Kyle looked into your eyes, the corners of which were tight. “I still have a bit to do in here but I'll be done soon, can this wait?”

Placing a finger to your mouth, you tapped your lips teasingly. He knew you weren't actually going to comply with his request, and you knew that it was his way to tell you that you were getting on his nerves.

“But I just have so much to tell you! Are you saying you don't want to talk to me?” Folding your arms, you pouted. “I wouldn't have thought that my boyfriend would treat me so badly!”

“Uhhhh yeah, sorry. Continue.” He huffed, settling his shoulders back against the chair.

“So, then she went on to try to tell me how to do my job, like I hadn’t been there longer than her! What the fuck even is that?” Kicking your legs you started in on a particular coworker, one he had heard about many times before as she continued to get on your nerves. With each kick, your heel thumped against the drawers. The sound was dull, but loud enough that with each thwack you could see a tick appear in Kyle’s jaw. 

“Hon, could you stop kicking please?” 

“...No. And what did she even mean by that anyway, it’s not like she’s my-”

“I said please.” The tone of his voice caught you off guard. It was tense, much like when you argued, but there was something else there, something that shot right to your core making your quim start to pulse. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were boring holes straight through your own.

You also caught the distinct tent in his jeans, the bulge straining against his fly. 

Experimentally, you kicked once more, keeping your eyes on his. He said nothing, only staring with that same blank expression. It was as though he was trying to hide how this all was making him feel, despite the fact you could clearly read it.

You kept still, allowing your legs to simply hang. With your compliance, Kyle seemed to get a pleasing gleam in his eyes. You could even see the way he moved himself to adjust for what he had going on down below, which only appeared to get harder. Interesting.

With a sigh, the redhead laid back, his book opening once more. He supposed if you wanted to stay while he read that would be fine, you were quiet for now and that was-

Tap tap tap tap. Manicured nails tapped along the edge of the desk’s surface, and from how loud they were it was obvious you were putting more force into those motions on purpose. You could practically see the anger climbing up Kyle’s body, rising up to those well matched fiery curls.

Painting on a saccharine smile, you continued your tapping before softly saying, “Kyle, you know you can’t just tell me what to do, right? It’s not like you ever could- hey!” 

With zero warning, Kyle reached over and hauled you off his desk, dragging over to where he sat. The book he had so carefully kept marked fell to the floor with a clatter as he moved, a startling sound within the small space. With a strength you didn’t realize he had, he easily turned you over his knee with your body now draped over him. You tried to look over your shoulder as you felt him flip up your skirt.

“What are-ow! Kyle!” You felt a sharp slap on your ass. You barely got his name out before you felt another one on the other cheek, stinging just as badly.

“I asked you nicely. I let you come in here and interrupt my work. I let you complain about fucking everything.” Smack! Smack! Smack! “And yet when I ask for one thing, you say no?!”

The bite in his voice wasn’t as sharp as you might’ve expected with the words he was saying, instead something more playful and aroused colored it. From your position you could feel his erection pressed tight to your belly, layers of clothing doing nothing to hide it.

Kyle looked down, his eyes taking in the slight shaking of your backside. Rubbing gently, he considered for a moment what he had just done. It’s not like he hadn’t given your rump a tap here and there, but…he had definitely gone much harder than he probably should have. It felt good in the moment, but it was no excuse to… His train of thought stopped as his hand dipped lower, the tips of his fingers feeling the moisture between your legs. You liked this. Those whimpers were ones of pleasure. With that in mind, he dipped a finger in, relishing the whine that fell from your lips.

“Please,” you had uttered, right before clamping your mouth shut. You were playing a game, and it wouldn’t do to give in so early. Swallowing thickly, you raised your voice. “Just one?”

At once you felt another digit enter the fray, Kyle already pumping his hand at a grueling speed. Dropping your head, you could only lay there and feel the way those fingers entered you. It was effortless the way he used those hands, easily reaching spots that brought out the true meaning of what the French called “the little death.” It wasn’t long before he retracted that hand and addressed you once more.

“Get up,” the command came out huskily, his breath coming out in puffs. “At the desk.”

Grinning, you got yourself up, slowly walking over to the desk. You were drawing this out, and he knew it. He scoffed as you leisurely took those few steps, hand lightly tracing over the wood as you turned back towards him. Raising a brow, you waited.

Kyle looked both uncertain and wild, his gaze serious despite the slight hesitation in how he moved. He wanted you, and he wanted you a particular way…he just didn’t know how to ask for it. Biting the inside of your cheek, you came to the conclusion that you would need to be the one to push him there.

“Well, Kyle? I don’t have all day to stand here.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilted your head teasingly. “I mean really, Ky, I came in here for you and you can’t even decide what to do?”

Like a switch was flipped, those movements filled with trepidation stilled. In one long stride he was at your side, tall frame much more imposing than you remembered. “If you have time to run your fucking mouth, then you have time to turn around and bend over.” 

You wanted to snap back, but the tone change was like an electric shock to your system. He was in control. Or at least he wanted to be, whether he fully knew that or not. Turning, you lowered your front down onto the flat surface.

“You whine and whine and bitch all day, and I can't even get a single moment to myself!” Kyle's voice sneered as he hurriedly undid his buckle. The sound of the zipper drawing down made your belly flip, excitement coursing through your veins.

You went to look up at him from your place on his desk only to feel him roughly push you back down. “Don't move.”

You could feel the uncomfortable jab of papers and documents beneath your chest, but at this point you didn't truly mind it. Seeing this side of Kyle was…hot, admittedly. He never broke like this, his hands always gentle and soothing, guiding you both to something wonderful. But here and now he was taking. He was going to take and take and take until you had nothing left to give and the thought of that made your thighs tremble in anticipation.

“And just what the fuck are you excited for?” A sharp smack hit your backside before you felt him line himself up to you. You could tell by the way the cockhead slid through your folds that you were sopping despite him not even touching you for very long. With a grunt you felt him glide in, stretching you with a delicious heat.

It wasn't slow like all the other times you did this, the adjustment to his size a little more difficult, but the feeling was just as good. Kyle had stopped once he buried all of himself in you, his breath ragged and coarse. You could only gasp feeling how he pulsed inside.

“Well? You got anything to say, brat?” He breathed out shakily.

You were thankful he didn't have a clear view of your face, afraid of what he'd say if he saw the smirk that resided there. The way he said that once again proved a little something to you. All the whining and bitching and moaning? He didn't mind it nearly as much as he let on. Why, from how he felt inside your cunt, you could tell he was more than aroused by it. He needed it.

“I want you to moovveeee,” the whine came out long and high pitched, like a practiced line in a play. “It's the least you could do.”

“Oh yes, the least I could do for your bratty ass is fuck it, huh?” With an abrupt thrust of his hips you yelped, drawing a dark chuckle from Kyle. “God, you just talk so, so much. You'd think a good dicking down would put a stop to it but no.”

By now Kyle had started to truly fuck you from behind, his fingers pushing into the supple flush of your hips as he drove himself in over and over. With each push you felt the rough edge of the desk along your waist, light scratches only adding to how rough he was handling you.

“Hard-Harder!” You moaned, trying to keep that same whine evident. “Jesus Ky, it's like you’re not even trying!”

Another smack hit your ass, the fat still jiggling as it bounced from his thrusts. You would laugh from the feeling if he hadn't reached up to grab a handful of hair, forcing your head back.

“You think I'm trying? Fucking really?” Grunting, Kyle readjusted his grasp, ensuring your head only moved when he saw fit. Leaning down slightly to whisper harshly into your ear, he said “if you wanna act like a little slut I might as well treat you like one.”

At that a chill went down your spine, the words seeping in bone deep. You barely had time to dwell on this before you felt your mind go blank.

With a hard yank, Kyle plowed into you hard and fast, the sound of skin on skin loud and borderline obscene. Between the pain in your scalp and the pressure of his cock pounding into you, you were lost. Pinned to the desk and unable to even turn your head, you could do nothing but take what Kyle gave you. And you loved it. You wanted to give him anything, everything you had.

And from the sounds that fell from his own mouth you could tell just how much he enjoyed this. Unlike with your usual lovemaking, his moans became much more feral, more desperate. In some way it was as if he was ramming every ounce of what he had been feeling these last few weeks into you.

To know he could do whatever he wanted, that he had the strength to do so, was enough to bring you close to the finish line. You could feel that pressure mounting so sweetly, the whines you once uttered turning into keening, begging for release. Just as you felt your walls flutter, suddenly you were left cold and empty.

His hand left your hair, and you felt him step back. Confused, you turned and took in his flushed form, particularly noting that he was still hard, the head of his cock angry and red.

“Um…”

“Yes?” He said with a frown, arms hanging at his sides. “Is there something wrong?”

“You didn't…I didn't…” you tried, the haze of being so close to coming still slowing your brain. That climb to absolute satisfaction that you should’ve been feeling dissipated, disappointment quickly taking its place.

“I don't think you've earned it, brat.” Stepping up, he leered down over you. For a split second, the corner of his mouth turned up. “Besides, I'm not done.”

You could only gape, understanding dawning. He wasn't going to let you come. He was seriously not letting you finish. What the fuck?

Opening your mouth, a complaint dancing on the tip of your tongue, you were interrupted by him scooping you up to sit on the desk, legs spread wide to accommodate him. You were silenced by the look in those eyes, dark, green, and positively sharp. With a few light taps to your mound, he chuckled at the light gasp that escaped you.

“I thought you had more to say,” purring he slid his cock downwards, teasing and slow. “Was I wrong?”

“Maybe shut up and keep fucki-oh fuck!” Ramming himself in, Kyle was back full force in slamming his hips into your own. “You can do fucking better, asshole.”

Hooking a leg up with his arm, Kyle set your right ankle up onto his shoulder. Your thigh burned with that stretch, but seeing your leg up near his head was enough to make you forget all about it. At this new angle he seemed to be able to drive himself further in.

“God you feel- ugh, shit.” Sweat dripped from his brow, ginger curls plastered to the front of his forehead as he kept pumping into you. “Keep talkin’ t’me.” 

The demand was slurred but you followed nonetheless. You didn’t even register what you said, mean little whines pouring out as you tried to hold yourself together. With each word Kyle drove himself further and further in madness, pounding harder, faster, more brutal with every single thrust. 

For Kyle, he wasn’t quite sure what was coming over him. This was not who he was with you. You both had toyed around in bed before, trying new positions and everything else. He didn’t see the need to let the frustrations from his life flood over into what he had with you, he didn’t wish to sully the bed he made with shit that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to show off. But now? This? This made him feel like some other person, someone hot and angry. Alive. 

The next time you felt yourself nearly topple over, waves of pleasure only just barely breaking over the walls, you felt his hand seize your chin. With his thumb and forefinger firmly grasping you, he ensured your eyes could only see him.

“You don’t get to cum until I say you can.” He growled, slowing his hips. “When I said you have to earn it, I meant that.” 

His pupils were blown wide as he took in your appearance. You were a mess with your shirt bunched over your breasts, something he only hazily recalled doing, and hair sticking up every which way. And yet, despite that, your mouth still persisted.

“Fuck you, you can’t tell me what to do!” You tried sounding big, but as Kyle ramped up his movements you could feel the fight leaving you. “You don’t own- mmm!” 

With swift movement, Kyle placed a digit within your mouth, his own turning up into a grin. “I think if anyone saw how I have you now, they’d think differently.” Popping the finger out, he dropped your legs, instead grabbing back onto your hips. “No one else gets to fuck you like this. No one but me. You can deny it all you want brat but as far as I’m concerned? You’re mine.”

You struggled to hold back your own orgasm at that statement, head swimming from every one of your senses. From how he fucked into you, the feel of his skin smacking into yours, the smell of sex absolutely engulfing the room, and now he had to say that? He had a hold over you, strings attached to every single limb, every single nerve ending. A puppet master finally taking control.

“Say it.” 

“I’m you- oh! I’m yours, Kyle!” You nearly cried as he finally brought his hand over to rub along your clit, pressure becoming far too much. “Yours!”

“That’s more like it- fuck! All mine.” 

Kyle’s rhythm broke down, the speed and intensity in which he had been going beginning to grow rough and uneven. It was as he started breathing the words cum for me, come on, cum for me baby that you finally let yourself unravel, Kyle following right after.

With one final hard thrust, he remained inside, like he didn’t want a single drop to go to waste. As the air cooled the sweat upon your skin, you registered the soreness in your thighs, along the backs of them in particular radiating up to your battered ass. Kyle, for his part, looked shaky.

The room was silent aside from heavy breaths. Your ears still rang as the ghosts of all that went on bouncing from the walls back towards you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but something told you that you were not supposed to be the one to break the quiet.

Kyle stood there, breathing hard. His hands stayed on your hips, grip no longer tight as he gently swiped his thumbs along your skin. He looked...pensive. With a faraway gaze he retreated into his own thoughts, taking into account all that had transpired. He had never acted in such a way with you, never had those thoughts about taking you like that. 

“Um…are you alright?” He asked after a time. You could feel how he had softened up, but still he stayed. Wary and exhausted, he looked at you.

“More than okay,” chucking, you reached up to pet his head, fingers brushing through damn curls. “Didn’t realize that sort of thing got you off!”

Immediately he sputtered, face red and eyes shifting elsewhere. “W-well it’s just…it’s not…”

“Relax. I enjoyed it, dummy.” Gently grasping those curls you brought his face down to yours in a  searing kiss. “Had I known I would’ve played that game with you much sooner.”

“Oh, yeah?” smirking, he finally slid out, eyes panning down to take in his work dripping out of you. “I suppose we could…make it a regular thing. Felt pretty good if I’m being honest.”

“I bet it did,” and you knew it did. The tension in his body had evaporated during your coupling, shoulder now relaxed down from his ears. He was tired, that was for sure, but also somehow lighter. Like a weight had been lifted. “Sex is supposed to be a stress reliever, and what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t take part in that?”

You observed him a moment, eyeing how his chest rose and fell, his cupid's bow as he licked his lips, the flutter of his lashes with every blink. It hit you then that in all this time, you two hadn’t even kissed. Reaching up, you gingerly took his head in your hands, smiling at how he melted into your touch. For someone who just took control, he gave it very freely just as quickly after. 

You placed a sweet kiss to his lips, allowing him to lean into it with a hum. Once more you marveled at how relaxed his entire being was, how he could finally let himself just be. It was something you so sorely missed.

And you resolved to make sure you never had to miss it again.