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espresso1patronum · 2 days ago

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Nine Lives, One Knight

(batman!gojo x catwoman!reader)

synopsis: By day, Gojo Satoru is Gotham’s golden boy—billionaire, genius, untouchable. By night, he’s the Bat, a relentless force in the city’s shadows. You? You’re Catwoman—master thief, chaos incarnate, always one step ahead. You’ve spent years dancing around each other, neither willing to truly win. But when a new faction, the Black Veil, sets its sights on Gotham’s most powerful players—including you and the Bat—you’re forced into an uneasy alliance. Tension crackles, lines blur, and the game you’ve always played turns deadly. Because this time, it’s not just about the city. This time, it’s about each other.

cw: batman au, mutual pining, slow burn, sort of enemies to lovers, angst, violence, blood, injury mention, gun violence, kinda gory? kinda forbidden love? Toji, geto, shoko and nanami cameo lmao

word count: 10.1k

author's note: this had been in my drafts for a very long time and after the poll results, I thought i'd finish this. it's not much, but I enjoyed writing this jjk x dc crossover.

Gotham was never silent.

Not even at midnight.

Not even when the rain came down in thick, suffocating sheets, drenching the city in shadows. Somewhere below, sirens wailed. Tires screeched. A single gunshot cracked through the air, distant but unmistakable.

To some, the noise was chaos. To you?

It was home.

You move across the rooftop with practiced ease, the weight of the Black Veil’s encrypted drive tucked safely into the pocket of your suit. The heist had been too easy. A little slip past the lasers, a quick crack of the safe, and just like that—you were out.

Something worth a small fortune in your hands. Or rather—something that could destroy half of Gotham’s elite if it ended up in the wrong hands.

(Or the right ones, depending on who you asked.)

A clean escape. A successful job. You should be gone by now.

And yet—

A shiver runs down your spine. Not from the cold. Not from the rain. From something else.

Something you can’t see, but feel.

You land soundlessly on another rooftop, pausing only for a second to scan the city below. Nothing. No movement. Just the familiar neon glow of Gotham’s underbelly.

Still—your fingers twitch. Instinct coils in your gut, whispering a warning you don’t want to acknowledge.

Too easy.

Too—

“Going somewhere, kitten?”

The voice comes from behind you, smooth as silk, dark as thunder.

You don’t startle. You don’t turn. Instead, you let a slow, knowing smirk curl at your lips before you finally glance back.

There he is.

Perched on the edge of the rooftop like he belongs in the night, the rain dripping off the edges of his cowl, his cape shifting slightly in the wind. Batman.

Or rather—Gojo Satoru.

You should’ve known he’d show up. Maybe you did. Maybe you ignored it.

"Bold of you," you murmur, fingers flexing, ready to bolt. "Sneaking up on a cat in the dark."

His head tilts, and though the mask hides half his face, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Please," he drawls. "You knew I was here before you even touched the ground."

He's right. You did. But you don’t let him win that easily.

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, Bat?" You shift your weight, rolling your shoulders, keeping it casual. "Or do you just like following me around?"

He steps closer. Slow. Deliberate. The way a storm rolls in—inevitable.

"You stole something," he says.

You sigh, dramatically. "I steal a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific."

"You know what I’m talking about."

He’s close enough now that you can see the flicker of blue beneath his mask. The kind of dangerous blue that makes your pulse stutter for half a second before you shut it down.

"Give it to me," he says, voice quieter this time.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "Oh, Bat. You always ask so nicely."

Before he can move, you bolt.

And that’s when the rooftop explodes.

A deafening boom shatters the night, the blast wave knocking you clean off your feet. You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to react—your body moves on instinct, twisting midair, boots scraping against the slick rooftop as you skid dangerously close to the edge.

Shit.

The explosion wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for you.

You barely have time to register the shift in the air before an arm wraps around your waist—strong, unyielding, and familiar—yanking you backward just as the ledge beneath your feet crumbles.

You don’t fall.

Because he doesn’t let you.

When the smoke clears, you’re half-sprawled against him, one of his arms still locked around your waist, his other hand braced against the rooftop. Your breaths come hard and fast, heart pounding against your ribs, adrenaline flooding your veins.

"Well," you huff, dazed but not broken. "Didn’t think you cared, Bat."

His grip tightens—just for a second. Just long enough for you to feel it.

"I don’t," he says flatly. But his jaw clenches. "Stay down."

You snort, pushing off of him as you roll onto your feet. "You and I both know that’s not happening."

He doesn’t argue. Because you’re right. Because whoever just tried to kill you isn’t done.

And they’re not alone.

From the rooftop across the alley, figures emerge from the shadows. Armed. Precise. Waiting.

Batman’s shoulders go rigid. His voice is low. Dangerous.

"They knew you’d be here."

You exhale sharply, adjusting your gloves. "Looks like we’re on the same side tonight, Bat."

The rain slicks the rooftop, turning it into a death trap. But you’ve fought in worse.

Across the alley, four figures move into position. Their weapons gleam under the glow of a distant streetlight—guns, knives, and something that looks an awful lot like a taser baton.

Cute.

Satoru tenses beside you, assessing. Calculating. His voice is low, barely audible over the rain. "Stay behind me."

You scoff, rolling your shoulders. "Not happening."

He doesn’t waste time arguing. Because you’re both outnumbered, because the enemy is moving—because there’s no time to fight each other when you’re about to fight them.

And then—they strike.

One gunshot. Two. You react on instinct, dropping low, twisting away, boots skidding against the rooftop. Batman’s cape flares as he moves—one sharp flick of his wrist, and a batarang slices through the dark, knocking a pistol clean from one of their hands.

Fast and efficient. Classic him.

You? You have your own way of doing things.

The second attacker lunges at you with a knife. You sidestep, grab their wrist, twist—the blade clatters to the ground. Before they can react, your elbow smashes into their ribs, sending them stumbling backward with a wheeze.

"Really?" you taunt, dodging another strike. "You came all this way just to embarrass yourselves?"

Batman doesn’t look at you, but you swear you can feel his exasperation.

"Focus."

You grin. "I am focused."

And then you flip over one of the attackers, landing smoothly behind them before slamming them headfirst into a ventilation unit.

Batman exhales sharply. "Could’ve just knocked them out."

"They’ll wake up." You dodge another strike. "Eventually."

More gunfire. Batman twists mid-air, cape flowing like liquid shadow as he dodges the bullets. In the same motion, he grabs your wrist—yanking you forward, pulling you out of the line of fire just as another shot rings out.

You’re so close you can hear his heartbeat.

For half a second, the world shrinks. The rain, the chaos, the rooftop beneath your feet, it all disappears.

It’s just you and him. Breathing the same air.

Then—"Move."

And just like that, the moment is gone.

You both explode into motion, flawless in sync. A kick to the ribs. A punch to the jaw. A perfect sweep of your leg sends another attacker sprawling.

It’s fast. Clean. Too easy.

When the last enemy collapses, groaning, you barely break a sweat.

You exhale, shaking out your arms. "Well," you say, breathless. "That was fun."

Satoru glares at you. "This wasn’t a game."

"Could’ve fooled me." You step over one of the unconscious bodies, crouching slightly to pat them down. No ID. No insignia. No obvious ties to the Black Veil.

But then— your fingers brush against something cold. Metal.

Your stomach drops.

A small device is clipped to one of their belts. Black, sleek, with a blinking red light.

Shit.

Your head snaps up. Satoru sees it the same moment you do, his voice is sharp. "Bomb." A soft beep. A single second.

And then— the rooftop blows apart beneath your feet.

Pain.

It drags you back to consciousness, slow and disorienting, like surfacing from deep water. Your body aches, the sharp sting of a fresh wound cutting through the dull throb of bruises.

The last thing you remember—the rooftop. The explosion.

And then—falling.

Your eyes snap open. You’re not on the street. You’re not dead.

Instead, you’re somewhere dimly lit, the soft hum of an old heater filling the silence. A safehouse.

Your head tilts slightly. The room is small—just a battered couch, an old desk, and a half-broken lamp casting flickering shadows against the walls.

And across from you— standing near the door, arms crossed, still in full suit— is Batman.

Gojo.

Watching you.

You shift, trying to sit up, but a sharp pull at your side stops you. That’s when you realize— your suit is torn and your stomach is bandaged, and you sure as hell didn’t do it yourself.

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. "Didn’t take you for the hands-on type, Bat."

His jaw ticks. "You were bleeding."

"Aww," you tease, voice still hoarse. "You do care."

He steps closer. The soft glow of the lamp catches the edge of his mask, illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint tension in his shoulders.

"You almost died." His voice is quiet now, lacking its usual smugness. Too honest.

You tilt your head, studying him. Something about the way he’s looking at you feels... different.

Like he hated seeing you like that. Like it unnerved him.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The air is thick, heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Then—he exhales, stepping back, breaking the moment.

"You need rest," he mutters.

You shift again, testing the pain, biting back a wince. "I need answers."

"You need to not die."

"You didn’t answer my question."

His hands tighten into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at you, but his voice is sharp, precise. Avoiding something.

"The bomb was a trap. Someone wanted you dead."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, I figured that part out, Bat."

He ignores the sarcasm. "Who else knew you’d be at that vault?"

"Just me."

His gaze flickers to you, sharp and assessing. Like he doesn’t believe you.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Look, I don’t have a name yet. Just whispers about a buyer wanting the drive. But if they’re willing to go that far to kill me for it—"

"—then you’re already in too deep."

There’s something grim in his tone that makes your stomach twist. You study him carefully. His cowl hides most of his face, but you’ve seen him fight, seen him move.

Gojo Satoru is always too confident. Too smug. Like he knows he’s the strongest, the fastest, the smartest in the room.

But right now? Right now, he looks... frustrated.

Not at you. He is frustrated for you and the realization is dangerous.

You push it down and swallow it whole. "Relax, Bat," you say, forcing a smirk. "I still got, what, six lives left?"

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t take the bait. But then your breath catches as he kneels infront of you but you don't move.

You should. You should say something—anything—but you don’t. Because his hands are on you again, pressing carefully against your bandaged side, checking his work.

He’s too close. His touch warm, solid, and careful.

And for the first time, he looks at you—not as an opponent. Not as a thief. But as something else entirely.

The silence stretches and you wish it hadn't because your heart is pounding in a way it isn't supposed to.

And then— he shifts.

You feel it before it happens. The slow lean forward. The weight of his stare. The way your own pulse betrays you, beating too fast, too hard, in the space between you.

Almost—

But then, the moment shatters.

The old radio in the corner crackles to life, static hissing before a voice cuts through. "Breaking news—an attack on Gotham’s financial district just moments ago—"

You blink as he pulls back and you just clear your throat, wanting to push all the wierd thoughts that were clouding your mind right now.

Satoru's expression hardens, as he stands, straightens his suit and steps away. "You stay here," he says, all business again.

You smirk, ignoring the sharp ache in your ribs. "Come on, Bat. You know that’s not happening."

He exhales, long-suffering. "You’re injured."

"And yet I still fight better than half your enemies."

He pauses and stares at you as though you'd said something wrong. Then, finally—a reluctant smirk. "Try to keep up, kitten."

Satoru hadn’t always been like this in the past when you met him. He was obnoxious, full of himself, always eager to show off his strength and speed in front of you. But today—this time—he felt different. For the first time, he seemed genuinely serious. And maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of vulnerability in the way he spoke, in the way Gotham’s Batman spoke.

You told yourself it had nothing to do with you. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, you couldn’t help but wonder—what if it did?

Sneaking into Gotham’s financial district isn’t hard. But sneaking in with Batman?

Now that’s a challenge.

You slip through the shadows like you were born for this—because you were. Satoru moves beside you, silent, precise, and still annoyingly smug. You glance at him. "Not bad, Bat."

He doesn’t look at you. "Not trying to impress you, kitten."

Liar.

The building looms ahead, dark and empty except for the guards patrolling the perimeter. "Twelve," you murmur, already counting. "Four on the roof, two at the entrance, six inside."

He hums. "I’ll take the roof. You take the inside."

You grin. "Awfully trusting, Bat."

"If you get caught, I’m not saving you."

You both know that’s a lie.

Getting in is easy. Getting to the main office where the stolen drive is hidden? Even easier. You’re already at the vault, fingers working over the lock, when— you hear footsteps.

Shit.

You whirl around, but it’s too late—one of the guards spots you. The alarm blares.

"Dammit," you hiss, already moving, flipping over the desk as more guards storm in. You could take them. You should take them. It's really easy for you actually.

But before you even get the chance— a blur of black crashes through the skylight. Batman lands hard, cape billowing, taking down two guards before his boots even hit the floor.

You blink. "Show-off."

"You’re welcome," he mutters, throwing a punch.

It’s a blur of fists, kicks, and electricity. You move too well together, too in sync. It’s not just skill—it’s instinct. Every time you dodge, he’s already covering your blind spot. Every time he moves, you’re already reading his next step.

It’s flawless. It’s deadly. It’s perfect but— a bit too much. At some point, you end up back-to-back. Panting, bruised and your adrenaline spiking.

His voice is low, breathless. "You good?"

You swallow hard because you shouldn’t be this affected. You shouldn't be affected by anything he says or he does because you don't care, right?

"Always."

And then— a hand grips your wrist. It was a guard you didn’t see. You twist your hand, ready to counter, but before you can, Batman moves first.

Fast. Too fast.

His hand grips the front of your suit—yanking you forward, spinning you behind him as he slams the attacker into the wall with enough force to shake the room.

With a loud thud, the guy drops instantly and you hear nothing but the silence that is lingering in the air. The only sound is your breath and his, his hand still gripping your suit, still holding you.

You look up at him and find him already watching you. He’s too close for your liking. Or is he?

His jaw is tight, his chest rising and falling in steady yet controlled breaths, and his grip on you remains firm. Your pulse slams against your ribs. There’s something in the air—something that shifts, pulling both of you in. You feel it. And so does he.

You hate this. Or at least, you tell yourself you do. But the truth is, you can’t stop it. It’s happening, inevitable and inescapable. This isn’t just a fight anymore. This is something else entirely. And this time, no one interrupts. No radio crackling to life, no explosions in the distance, no convenient excuse to look away.

It’s just you. Him. And a choice.

Before you can even pull yourself back, before your mind can fully grasp the situation, Satoru makes the decision for you. He yanks you forward, his lips crashing onto yours, his mask half-pulled up—just like yours. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you in closer.

And despite everything, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t—you kiss him back.

Your back slams against cold metal, the impact sending a shiver down your spine—not that you can focus on it. Not when he’s leaning in, fingers curling into your suit, pulling, pressing, taking.

You don’t even realize you’re kissing him back until it’s too late. Until your hands are in his hair, gripping, tugging, dragging him closer. Until his weight is the only thing keeping you upright.

The vault. The alarms. The entire damn mission—forgotten. Because all you can think about is—

This is dangerous. This is a mistake. This is—

“Fuck,” you breathe against his lips.

And then— he pulls back, barely.

His breath is ragged, his gloved hand still firm on your jaw, his eyes burning with something wild, like he can’t believe he just did that or like he can’t believe he wants to do it again.

The silence between you crackles like a live wire.

Then he swallows. “We can’t—”

You shove him off. Hard.

Your body still hums from his touch, your lips still tingling, your pulse betraying you. But you don’t let any of it show. Instead, you smirk, sharp as a blade.

“Didn’t know the Bat had such bad impulse control.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you see it—the exact moment he chooses denial. The way his walls snap back into place like steel reinforcements.

His mask comes down. His voice turns cold. “Let’s move.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Except it isn’t.

Because now, the line between you is blurred beyond recognition. Because now, you know what he tastes like. Because now, everything has changed.

And there’s no undoing it.

Gotham’s elite love to party.

It’s how they distract themselves from the fact that their city is rotting beneath them.

Big money, expensive champagne, and a ballroom filled with people who don’t care about anything but themselves.

It’s your kind of scene.

A place where no one notices a missing diamond necklace. Where a stolen keycard goes unreported. Where masks are more than just accessories.

And yet— tonight, you’re not here to steal. Tonight, you're here for him.

It had been a few days since that night—since everything that happened between you and Satoru. Or Batman.

Now, another party was being thrown by Gotham’s elite, and of course, Batman had been invited. And, of course, you had to see him again.

It felt awkward.

Because no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, that kiss had meant something. To both of you. And you didn’t want it to.

You wanted to talk to him like nothing had happened. Like nothing ever would happen again. Right?

You wanted to tell him it was just the adrenaline, just the chaos of that night, nothing more. That’s all it was. That’s all it could ever be.

Gojo Satoru feels you before he sees you.

A shift in the air. A prickle at the back of his neck.

And then— you walk in, dressed to kill.

Silk. Black. Dangerous. A slit running high up your thigh, the soft glint of diamonds resting against your collarbone.

And when your gaze meets his across the ballroom— his throat goes dry.

Because he hasn’t seen you since the kiss. Because you’re smiling like it never happened. Because the second you do— you turn away, and walk straight into another man’s arms.

You feel his stare before you even see him. It lingers on your skin, heavy and unrelenting, like a touch without contact. But you don’t look. Not yet.

Instead, you let the man beside you—some rich idiot with more money than sense—pull you closer, his hand brushing over your waist, his breath warm as he leans in.

"You look exquisite tonight," he murmurs, voice smooth, practiced.

You hum, barely interested. "I know." And still, you feel him.

Watching. Brooding. Jealous. Exactly as you wanted.

So when you finally turn—when your gaze finally locks onto his across the crowded ballroom—you make sure to smirk.

And just like that, he’s gone.

But you know better. He didn’t leave. Not really.

So when you step outside onto the balcony, the cool Gotham night air brushing against your skin, you’re not surprised to find him already there. He stands by the railing, his posture deceptively relaxed, fingers curled around a glass of untouched champagne.

His mask is gone, but his walls? Higher than ever.

You exhale slowly as you step closer, watching him carefully. "Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Bat."

He doesn’t look at you when he answers. "I’m not."

You tilt your head, amusement flickering in your eyes. "Could’ve fooled me."

Silence settles between you, thick with unspoken words and something else, something heavier. The tension coils between you like a wire pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

And then, you break it.

"You’ve been avoiding me," you say, your voice quieter now.

His jaw tightens, but his expression doesn’t shift. "You’ve been avoiding me."

"Maybe," you admit. A small smirk tugs at your lips as you step even closer. "Or maybe I was just waiting for you to make the first move."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s not how this works, kitten."

"Then how does it work?" Your voice is softer now, your gaze steady. "Because last I checked, you kissed me."

His breath hitches, barely audible.

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

And then— you’re against the railing, his hand is on your waist, his grip firm, fingers pressing against the silk of your dress as if anchoring himself in place. His breath is warm against your skin, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

"It was a mistake," he murmurs, though there’s no conviction behind the words.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Then why are you still thinking about it?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Because you already know.

And when his grip tightens on your waist, when his breath ghosts over your lips, you can see it—the exact moment he realizes he’s already lost.

You could kiss him right now. It would be easy. He’s already too close. His body is practically caging you in, his presence overwhelming. His fingers press into your waist like he doesn’t want to let go, like he’s memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch. His breath is warm against your lips, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And you know he wants it. Because he hasn’t moved away. Because his grip keeps tightening, like he’s fighting himself but losing the battle.

Because when you whisper, "What are you so afraid of, Bat?" his lips part—like he’s about to answer.

Like he’s about to give in. Like this is finally it.

And then— "We’ve got a problem." The comm in his ear crackles to life, shattering the moment.

Just like that, his entire body stiffens. The warmth disappears, replaced by something cold, something distant. You watch it happen—the exact second he shuts down. The moment he remembers who he is. Who you are. What this is.

His hand falls away. His walls slam back up.

When he speaks again, his voice is devoid of whatever had been lingering between you just seconds ago. "I have to go."

You don’t let it show—the disappointment, the frustration curling inside your chest, the ache you don’t want to name. Instead, you force a smirk, tilting your head slightly.

"Duty calls, huh?"

His expression remains unreadable. "Always."

And with that— he’s gone.

But there's always a problem. You should've known this was a setup. You should have left the party the second he walked away.

You should have ignored the champagne, the meaningless conversations, and the empty laughter echoing through the ballroom. You should have disappeared into the night before anyone had the chance to notice.

But you didn’t. And now, you are paying for it.

The moment you step out the back entrance and into the dimly lit alleyway, something slams into you with brutal force. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, sending you stumbling. Before you can react, a sharp sting pierces the side of your neck.

Your vision blurs instantly as your body feels heavy and unsteady. The world tilts beneath you as you struggle to stay upright, but your limbs refuse to cooperate.

Through the haze, a voice reaches your ears, low and amused. "Nighty night, kitty."

Darkness swallows you whole.

"Say that again."

His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

Shoko hesitates over the comms. "She’s missing. No one’s seen her since the party. Word on the street is—"

She doesn’t get the chance to finish. He is already moving. His mind is no longer in the conversation. His focus sharpens, narrowing in on a single, undeniable truth.

Someone took you. And that changes everything.

This isn’t part of the game you and he have played for years. This isn’t the usual chase through Gotham’s streets, the endless dance of pursuit and escape. This isn’t teasing smirks and near-missed captures.

This is something else, something darker.

Someone dared to take you, and that is a very, very big problem.

Because you are his to chase. Because no one else gets to touch you. Because if they have hurt you— he will burn this entire fucking city to the ground.

Pain is the first thing you register. The feeling's not new at all though.

A dull, throbbing ache pulses behind your eyes, heavy and unrelenting. A sharp sting burns at your wrists where the rope digs into your skin. Cold metal presses against your ankles, the bite of steel cuffs locking you in place.

You inhale slowly, steadying yourself as the haze begins to clear. You’re tied to a chair.

The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete, musty and stale, like an old basement that hasn't seen fresh air in years. A single lightbulb flickers overhead, its dim glow casting long, shifting shadows against the cracked walls.

You take a slow breath and assess your surroundings.

You’re underground. Maybe an abandoned warehouse. Maybe a storage facility. Wherever you are, it's hidden, tucked away from prying eyes.

And whoever took you here—they know what they’re doing.

You flex your fingers, testing the restraints, but before you can shift too much, a voice cuts through the silence.

"Ah, you’re awake."

The words are smooth, laced with amusement, as if this entire situation is nothing more than an entertaining inconvenience to him.

Your eyes snap toward the source of the voice, adjusting to the dim light, and when you finally see him, irritation flares in your chest.

Fushiguro Toji.

You let out a slow breath, biting back a groan. "You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me."

Toji smirks, leaning back in his chair like he has all the time in the world. "Surprised, kitty?"

"Annoyed," you correct, rolling your shoulders against the ropes. "Didn’t think I was worth your time."

He chuckles, dark amusement dancing in his green eyes. "Oh, you weren’t. But then I heard about your little… situation with Gotham’s Bat."

The words are casual, but your stomach twists.

You don’t react. You don’t tense. You don’t let the flicker of unease show on your face. Instead, you arch a brow and smirk. "Didn’t know he had fans."

"I wouldn’t call myself a fan," Toji muses, tilting his head. "But I do love a good weakness. And you, sweetheart?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You’re his."

Your heart skips just for a second.

But you keep your expression neutral because he’s wrong.

Right?

Right.

…Right?

Gojo finds the first guy in ten minutes.

The second in five.

By the time he gets to the third, his knuckles are already bloodied, bruises forming across his fingers from the force of his hits.

The man stumbles back, pressing himself against the brick wall, his breath coming out in short, panicked gasps. "I-I don’t know where they took her, I swear—"

Gojo’s expression is unreadable beneath his blindfold, but his voice is ice. "Where."

It isn’t a question. It’s a demand.

The man chokes, scrambling for words. "P-please, man, I just heard they took her underground—"

That’s all Gojo needs.

His fingers loosen, and the man collapses to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. But Gojo doesn’t wait. He’s already gone. Because he’s close. Because they took you from him. Because they think they can keep you.

And they’re about to learn just how wrong they are.

You won’t let him see you sweat.

Not when the ropes burn against your wrists, cutting into your skin with every twitch of your fingers. Not when your head pounds from whatever the hell they drugged you with, the fog in your brain refusing to lift. Not even when Fushiguro Toji leans in, eyes dark with amusement, the sharp glint of his knife catching the dim, flickering light.

He’s enjoying this.

Enjoying the way your muscles tense when the blade spins between his fingers. Enjoying the way your gaze flickers toward the door, toward the single exposed bulb swaying overhead.

Enjoying the way you’re waiting for something.

Or rather, someone.

"What’s wrong, kitty?" he murmurs, the cold edge of steel pressing against your cheek. "Thought your Bat would’ve come for you by now?"

Your lips curl into a smirk, masking the way your stomach coils with unease. "What, jealous?"

Toji chuckles, low and amused, before his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face up. His grip is firm—not cruel, but controlling. A predator playing with his food.

"Nah," he muses. "Just curious how long it’s gonna take him to break."

Your stomach tightens because if there’s one thing you know about Gojo Satoru, it’s this— he doesn’t break.

He shatters. And when he does— he takes everything down with him.

Gojo hears your heartbeat before he sees you. He has some sirt of a bat instinct, you see.

Faint. Steady. Alive.

That’s the only thing keeping him from ripping this place apart.

But the moment he steps inside—the moment his eyes land on you, tied to that fucking chair, with Toji crouched in front of you like a wolf toying with its prey—something inside him snaps.

"Step away from her." His voice is quiet and deadly. The kind of voice that promises violence.

Toji doesn’t even turn around. Instead, he grins, spinning his knife between his fingers. "Took you long enough, Bat."

Gojo doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink. "This is your only warning."

Toji finally turns, his sharp green eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Or what?"

Gojo tilts his head, slow and deliberate.

Then—he smiles. "Or I’ll show you why Gotham is afraid of the dark."

You’ve seen him fight before. You’ve seen the way he moves—quick, calculated, precise.

But this? This is different. This isn’t the controlled Bat, this isn’t the patient hunter.

This is Gojo Satoru with nothing left to hold back. And it’s terrifying. Because he’s not just fighting Toji.

He’s dismantling him.

A fist meets flesh with a sickening, brutal crack. Toji throws a punch—Gojo catches his wrist mid-air, twisting hard enough that the snap of bone echoes through the empty warehouse.

Toji grits his teeth, lunges—Gojo moves faster, dodging with ease before slamming him into the concrete so hard the ground cracks beneath them. There’s no banter. No smirk. No teasing.

There’s just rage.

And the worst part? Gojo is enjoying it. Because this isn’t just about you anymore. This is everything.

This is Gotham. The corruption. The powerlessness.

This is every ounce of anger he’s swallowed down for years, unleashed on the one bastard stupid enough to give him an excuse and if you don’t stop him now— he won’t stop at all.

"Satoru." Your voice barely reaches him over the pounding in his ears.

But the second you say his name—his real name— he freezes.

Fist still curled in Toji’s bloodied collar. Breath coming in slow, heavy exhales. Shoulders rising and falling with barely contained fury.

And then, slowly—he turns. His eyes meet yours, and for the briefest moment, they flicker—from Gotham’s Bat to the man underneath. That’s all you need.

"Let him go."

Gojo stares at you, unmoving, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second.

Then, with a sharp breath—he lets Toji’s unconscious body drop to the ground. The tension in his frame lingers, coiled tight, but his steps are steady as he moves toward you. The anger is still there. The darkness. The weight of everything he just did.

But his hands are gentle when they find the ropes binding your wrists.

"Let’s get you out of here."

The silence is suffocating.

You should be grateful though. The moment he cut you loose, he got you out—carried you through Gotham’s backstreets, made sure you weren’t followed. Now, you’re in a hidden safehouse—one of his, no doubt—sitting on an old couch, trying to ignore the dull ache in your wrists.

And him? He’s in the bathroom. Avoiding you.

You hear the water running, the steady drip of blood swirling down the sink. You should leave, you should run. But you don’t. Because you’re not done with him yet.

But for him it keeps replaying in his head. The way you said it.

'"Satoru."'

Not Batman. Not Bats. Not some teasing, smug nickname meant to piss him off. Just his name.

Like you knew exactly what it meant to use it. Like you knew it would break him.

His knuckles sting as he washes off the blood. He should have killed Toji. He should have— no.

No, he shouldn’t have let you get this close. He grips the edge of the sink, eyes burning into his reflection. He can’t want this. He can’t want you.

But then—a creak of the floorboard, a shift in the air. He doesn’t need to turn around to know you’re standing in the doorway. And when you speak— he already knows he’s fucked.

"Let me see your hands."

He doesn’t move, neither does he look at you. But he also doesn’t stop you when you step forward and reach for his hand. The bruises are already blooming, dark and angry across his knuckles.

You should say something sharp—something to piss him off, make him smirk, drag him back into whatever stupid game you’ve been playing for years. But for once, you don’t want to play.

"You could’ve killed him," your voice is quiet.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "I should have."

"That’s not who you are," you say as you caress the back of his hand.

That makes him snap.

His head jerks up, eyes flashing. "You don’t know who I am."

But you don’t let go.

You squeeze his hand—challenging. "Then tell me."

He doesn't say anything for a while and you feel frustrated.

And then, softer—barely a breath. "You don’t want to know."

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, coiling around your throat like a noose.

His hand is still in yours, bruised and warm, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to pull away.

Or worse—hold on tighter.

You don’t let go. Neither does he. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe— maybe this isn’t something you have to fight. Maybe this doesn’t have to be another battle, another game of pushing and pulling until one of you finally lets go.

Maybe— but then his grip tightens, and his voice, when he finally speaks, is hoarse. "You should leave."

The words hit harder than any punch.

Your breath catches, but you don’t let it show. You force yourself to smile, to tilt your head like this is nothing, like you aren’t standing on the edge of something that could shatter you completely.

"So that’s it?" you murmur, fingers tracing absent patterns along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath your touch. "I almost die, you almost lose your mind, and now you’re just gonna pretend none of it happened?"

His jaw clenches, eyes flashing, but he doesn’t pull away. "It can’t happen."

You scoff. "Can’t, or won’t?"

He exhales sharply, the muscle in his jaw twitching again. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Make this something it isn’t."

Anger flickers hot in your chest, and this time, it’s you who tightens your grip. "And what exactly is this, Satoru?"

He doesn’t answer and that’s the worst part. Because you can take a fight. You can take sharp words and heated arguments, can take anger and fire and frustration.

But this? This silence? This refusal to even acknowledge what’s between you? This is what fucking hurts.

You shake your head, laughing bitterly as you finally drop his hand. "You know, for someone who always acts like he’s got all the answers, you really are a fucking coward."

Then you turn. And this time, you walk away first.

He lets you walk away, though he shouldn’t.

He knows he shouldn’t. But he does.

Because if he stops you—if he says anything else, if he gives in even an inch— he won’t be able to stop himself at all.

He won’t be able to stop himself from pulling you back, from letting himself want this, want you, from letting himself believe that there could ever be a world where this doesn't end in disaster.

So he lets you go. He stays in that goddamn bathroom, gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turn white, staring at his own reflection like it’ll give him an answer he doesn’t already fucking know.

Because he knows.

He knows that no matter how many times he tells himself to stay away, no matter how many times he buries it— it’s still there.

It’s been there for years. And now? Now it’s unraveling, slipping through his fingers like smoke, impossible to ignore, impossible to deny. Because the moment you walked away? He felt it.

The weight in his chest, the tightening in his throat, the overwhelming urge to chase after you, to take it back, to do something—

And fuck.

Fuck.

He slams his fist into the mirror before he can stop himself, glass shattering beneath his skin, pain blooming sharp and hot across his knuckles. He doesn’t even feel it. Because all he can think about—all he can fucking think about— is you. And that’s when he knows. This is it. This is the breaking point.

Because the second something happens—the second something puts you in danger again, the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way— he won’t be able to stop himself.

And this time? He won’t fucking try.

You shouldn’t care. You tell yourself you don’t.

You tell yourself it’s better this way.

You tell yourself you should be used to it by now—used to the push and pull, used to the way he always leaves first, used to the way you always let him.

But this time? This time, it feels different.

This time, it feels like something inside you has been cracked open, exposed, left bleeding in the space between you. This time, you were the one who walked away—and it still fucking hurts.

Because the truth is— you wanted him to stop you. You wanted him to prove you wrong. But he didn’t.

And that? That fucking stings.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples, eyes fluttering shut as you try to push it down, try to shove it deep, deep, deep beneath the surface where it can’t touch you anymore.

But the second you open your eyes, the second you see your reflection in the grimy window of your apartment—

You know. You know this isn’t over, because no matter how hard you try to run from it— it always brings you back to him.

You were lost in your thoughts, more like consumed by them that you forgot. You're Catwoman. You're in the freaking city of Gotham. You should've known. It happens fast. Too fast.

One second, you’re walking down the empty streets of Gotham, the cool night air biting at your skin, the weight of earlier still sitting heavy in your chest—

And the next? You’re surrounded.

Shadows slip out from the alleys, footsteps closing in, voices murmuring in low, amused tones. "Look what we have here…"

"Thought you were untouchable, sweetheart?"

Shit.

You recognize them instantly—Falcone’s men. Which means this isn’t a random attack. This is a message, a warning. A consequence for getting too close to Gotham’s Bat.

You bite back a curse, hands twitching at your sides, muscles tensing as you count the men, assess the distance, calculate your odds.

Four—maybe five. Armed? Most likely. A fight you could win? …Not without consequences.

But what other choice do you have? Because you already know— no one is coming to save you. Not this time.

Satoru feels it before he hears it.

It’s instinct.

A sharp, sudden shift in his chest, a gut-wrenching pull like something inside him is being ripped apart. Then— the comm buzzes.

"We got a situation." Nanami’s voice is clipped, urgent. "Falcone’s men. Five of them. Near Harbor Street."

And before he can even think—before he can stop himself—he’s already moving. Because he knows.

He fucking knows.

You don’t go down easy. They think they’ve already won. They think this will be easy.

They think you’re just a pretty little thief, just a girl who got in too deep, just another lesson to be taught. And that’s their first mistake. Because you don’t go down easy.

You move before they do—a sharp kick, a twist, a knife pulled from your belt and pressed to the throat of the closest man before he can even blink.

"Try it," you hiss, voice laced with venom.

He hesitates, and in that second, you know—you have an opening.

But then— a gun cocks.

And a voice—low, amused, familiar—cuts through the night like a blade. "Tsk. Always making things difficult, aren’t you, kitten?"

Your blood runs cold because you know that voice.

Suguru Geto.

And that? That changes everything.

You’ve honestly been in worse situations. But not many.

Not ones that make your stomach twist quite like this, not ones that make your pulse hammer against your ribs in something too sharp, too visceral, too close to fear. Because this isn’t just anyone. This isn’t some low-level thug. This isn’t even some mob boss looking to put you in your place. This is Suguru Geto.

And he doesn’t waste his time on small threats. No, when he moves, when he speaks, when he smiles—it means something.

"You’ve been causing quite the stir lately," he muses, stepping closer, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets. "Getting on the Bat’s good side, stepping on all the wrong toes—really, kitten, I expected better from you."

You force your grip to stay steady, the knife still pressed against the throat of the man you caught off guard.

"Flattered, really," you say, keeping your voice light, like your pulse isn’t hammering, like your fingers aren’t itching to grab your grapple and run. "Didn’t think I’d be important enough to warrant a visit from the great Suguru Geto himself."

He chuckles—low, smooth, condescending. "Oh, you’re important," he says. "Just not in the way you think."

Your jaw tightens. "Yeah? Then why are you here?"

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already figured out. "Because," he hums, "you have something that belongs to me."

The USB.

Shit.

Your grip on the knife falters for half a second—half a second too long. Because before you can react, before you can process, before you can even think— The man you were holding twists, shoving you off, the cold barrel of a gun pressing against your ribs before you can recover.

And just like that— you’re out of options.

Satoru's close.

Close enough that he can hear the words, close enough that he can hear your fucking pulse spike.

And that? That’s what does it. Because it’s one thing to be reckless. It’s one thing to be stubborn, to push him away, to insist that you don’t need him, that you can handle yourself.

But this? This is different because Geto doesn’t make idle threats.

And the second Gojo hears the sharp intake of your breath, the second he hears the shift of movement, the second he realizes exactly what’s happening— he moves. Fast. Too fast for them to react.

Because one second, Geto is smirking, enjoying his little game— and the next? He’s eating pavement.

Satoru doesn't hold back. He could, he should. But he doesn’t.

Because the second he sees that gun against your ribs, the second he sees the way your shoulders tense, the way your eyes flicker with something you never let anyone see— it’s over.

The first punch sends Geto flying. The second cracks something, leaves him coughing up blood.

The third? That one’s personal.

Because Gojo has been patient. He’s let things slide, let lines blur, let the underworld think he’s just another player in the game. But this? This is different. This is you. And that? That changes everything.

You've seen his fight countless times, but not like this. Not like he’s tearing through them without a second thought, not like he’s this close to losing control, not like the only thing keeping him from going too far is the fact that you’re standing right there.

It should scare you.

It should make you rethink everything, should remind you why you’ve always kept your distance, why you’ve always told yourself you couldn’t afford to get caught up in whatever the hell is between you. But it doesn’t. Because all you can think, as you watch him break Geto’s men like they’re nothing— is that he came. That you didn’t even call for him, and he still fucking came.

And when it’s over, when the dust settles and Geto is left bloody and laughing on the pavement, when Gojo finally turns to you, breath ragged, knuckles split, eyes burning— you don’t run. You don’t even flinch.

Because you know what this means. What it’s always meant. And maybe—maybe this time, neither of you will walk away first.

You really think you should stop this. You should. You should shove him away, should tell him this doesn’t change anything, should remind yourself why this is a bad idea, why this has always been a bad idea.

But when his fingers curl around your wrist, when he tugs you closer, when his breath ghosts over your lips— you don’t move. You don’t speak. You don’t even breathe. Because this isn’t like before.

This isn’t a game, isn’t a moment either of you will walk away from, isn’t something that can be brushed aside when the night is over. This is the point of no return.

And when he finally, finally closes the distance— you let him.

Because maybe—just maybe—you were never meant to run from him in the first place. It was always going to be you, always.

From the moment you first slipped past his defenses, from the moment you first met his gaze across the rooftops of Gotham, from the moment you first left him standing there with nothing but your name on his tongue and your laughter ringing in his ears— it was always going to be you.

And now? Now, with you in his arms, with your fingers tangled in his hair, with your taste on his lips, he knows there’s no going back. He doesn’t want to.

Because if Gotham is his curse, if the mask is his burden, if the weight of this city is something he’ll never escape— then you? You're the only thing that’s ever made it worth it. And for once, just once—he’s taking what he wants.

You find yourself on the rooftop with him, where it all began.

The city glows beneath you. The skyline stretches out, endless and alive, neon lights flickering, sirens wailing in the distance, the hum of Gotham’s heartbeat steady and unyielding.

It’s always been like this. Always moving. Always demanding. Always taking. And you? You’ve always been running.

But tonight? Tonight, you stand still. Because Gojo is in front of you, mask off, white hair ruffled by the wind, the cut on his lip still fresh from the fight, his eyes— those damn blue eyes—locked onto yours like he’s trying to memorize you, like he already knows what’s coming.

"So this is it, huh?" he says, voice low, rough.

You swallow hard, forcing a smirk. "Come on, Bat. You knew it wouldn’t last."

His jaw clenches. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

You step closer, tilting your head. "You’ll live."

He exhales sharply, like he’s about to say something—something real, something that might make you stay— but you can’t let him.

So you reach up, fingers barely brushing his jaw, a ghost of a touch, a silent goodbye.

"Goodbye, Batman," you whisper, voice softer than you mean it to be. "Gotham needs you."

For a second, just a second—you think that’s it. That he’ll let you go. That he’ll watch you disappear into the night like you always do.

But then— his hand catches yours. Tightly. Desperately. And when he speaks, when his voice finally breaks— it nearly stops you in your tracks.

"Why don’t you stay, Cat?" he murmurs, raw, unguarded, everything. "I need you."

Your breath catches as your heart lurches. Because that—that’s the one thing you weren’t ready for. But you force a smirk, even as your chest aches.

"That’s your problem, Bat." You squeeze his hand once, just once—before slipping free. "You’re not supposed to." You pause and for once give him a big genuine smile. "See ya later batman."

And with that— you step back and you turn, as you disappear into the night, like you always do.

Because Gotham needs him. And maybe he was never meant to need you.

@do-morochaa @madamechrissy @katthekat1234 (hope y'all like it😭💗)

#jjk #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #batman x reader #batman x catwoman #jjk x you #batman gojo #jjk angst #gojo angst

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hyunjuenthusiast · 2 days ago

Note

Im craving for angst , so girl can you write about Hyun ju x female reader

Basically Hyun ju and female reader have been dating for 1 and half year now, but things didn't went so well after attending squid game, Hyun ju gave young mi more attention , than she did for female reader so she distance herself from Hyun ju and her team, wondering why female reader ditched her. So female reader went to Gi Hun's team instead. And to make things worse not only Hyun ju voted O to continue the game, but Hyun ju lost the love of her life during the Mingle, ANND.. It took Hyun ju 2 to 4 business days to figure out that she hasn't been a good girlfriend ever since they came to squid game and Hyun ju Crashes out so badly.

(Female reader committed su!cide during Mingle, died instead of young mi and the shaman lady predicted female reader's death)

(And YES the guilt is definitely eating Hyun ju alive)

Sorry if this is too long

Take your time for this one

゜・（／。＼）・゜

Okayyyy complex, I like it! Hopefully I do this ask justice 🙏🏻

HER ANGEL

Pairing: Hyun-ju x femreader

Warnings: ANGST, depression, death, suicide, longing, survivors guilt.

Insecure. That was a word Y/n had always been familiar with. Ever since she was little. Her mother would criticize everything she did. If she ate too much, if she didn't eat enough. If her hair was down, if her hair was up. If she smiled, and if she didn't smile. Everything she did up until she was an adult was judged.

When she finally got the taste of freedom, moving out at the ripe age of eighteen, she discovered that the world was an ugly place. Nothing like how she fantasized how it would be. The books were wrong.

For the first few years after moving out, she was alone. Truly alone. She had no one. No friends to call late at night, no fuzzy kitten to cuddle when she had tears running down her face on a rainy day. No significant other who would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep... No one.

Not until she met her angel. Hyun-ju.

Everything had changed. For the first time in her life, Y/n felt like she deserved to take up space in the world. Hyun-ju made her feel wanted, loved. She erased every insecurity Y/n had. She loved every flaw and imperfection. She kissed her scars and wiped her tears.

Hyun-ju was her soul mate.

Y/n didn't care that her angel was different. She didn't care how people looked at them in public. Hyun-ju was perfect, in every way. Even if her angel couldn't see it for herself.

Hyun-ju told Y/n of her wishes for surgery. She had cried to Y/n about her debt and abandonment. And Y/n was there to comfort her in return, wiping her angels tears away and whispering promises.

So when a nice-looking man asked Y/n to play a game, showing her the money she would win, of course she agreed. For her angel, for Hyun-ju.

Y/n didn't need convincing to call the number on the back on the card. Once she saw Hyun-ju looking at herself in front of the mirror, her eyes filled with loathing, she dialed the number.

It was the least she could do. Hyun-ju had given Y/n her sense of self back. She had given Y/n her smile back. Of course, she would return the favor. Anything for her angel.

Waking up to the blasted music, she looked around to see other people. Waring the ugliest green she had ever seen. Looking down at herself, she saw her jacket was labeled 005.

She gathered around like everyone else. Waiting for an explanation. There were so many pink guards and even more players. They explained that they weren't trying to collect debt or cause any harm.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice. Not just any voice. Her angel's voice. Y/n quickly turned and saw Hyun-ju. Her Hyun-ju standing near a couple of bunks. She didn't catch what her angel said next, only focused on the fact that she was here.

Y/n winced as she saw Hyun-ju getting slapped. That was the day her angel had gone on a walk. She remembers her coming home, acting strange. Hyun-ju had met the salesman before Y/n did.

As all the players walked in single file lines up the colorful steps to get their pictures taken, Y/n looked around for Hyun-ju. Seeing her fixing her hair prettily, she smiles and quickly walks up to her. "Angel!" Y/n gushes.

Instead of greeting Y/n with a smile, Hyun-ju tenses. Asking her what she was doing here. "I know how much you need the money..." Y/n whispers softly, watching as Hyun-ju's eyes soften.

As they all walk into the first game, Hyun-ju holds Y/n's hand. "Don't separate from me, sweet girl. Okay?" Her angel asks softly. Y/n squeezes her hand in return.

"What is that?" Y/n asks, pointing to the giant doll like figure in the distance.

"Green light..."

Y/n quickly runs forward a few steps, then stops.

"Red light!" The doll waits, seeing if anyone would move.

The first to go was 196. Y/n stood, stiff as a board, the sound of people dying behind her. When the doll says green light, no one moves forward, but Hyun-ju reaches over and grips Y/n's hand.

Player 456 explains that they will die anyway if they don't cross the finish line in time, and so, she stays behind Hyun-ju, racing towards the finish line.

Once across, she watches in horror as her angel races back across to help player 456. This is the first and only time that Y/n has ever wanted to yell at Hyun-ju.

The second game is the six legged pentathlon. Her and Hyun-ju look around for more teammates. She notices Hyun-ju's fallen expression when people stare at her, and when they don't want to join because of her.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice says from behind the both of them. Y/n and Hyun-ju turn to see a small girl, obviously nervous. "W-Would you...like to team up with me?" She asks, looking at Hyun-ju first, then to Y/n.

Ever since then, Hyun-ju had been attached at the hip with Young-Mi. It was hard for Y/n not to notice, especially in a place like this. When she wanted comfort and reassurance from her angel, she would see that Hyun-ju was already comforting Young-Mi, that she was already whispering words of encouragement to her instead of Y/n.

But that was just who her angel was. She was kind to everyone, and Y/n had no right to take that away from Young-Mi. Y/n could clearly see how terrified the small girl was, and if Hyun-ju was her safe place, then who was Y/n to take that away from her?

That's was until Y/n heard it. What Hyun-ju was saying to Young-Mi.

"I won't let anything happen to you, sweet girl." Hyun-ju had said. Y/n felt her stomach drop. Sweet girl. That was Y/n's nickname. That was her word of endearment.

She decided to give them space. Joining player 456 and his team.

The third game was mingle.

As they all stood on the platform, Y/n watched as Hyun-ju held Young-Mi's hand, giving her soft smiles. Y/n felt horrible for feeling envious. Would she always be cursed to be this insecure? Would she ever feel content with anything?

"TEN"

The voice said. Everyone scrambled to find their groups and rooms. So far, their team had nine after joining Hyun-ju. Until her angel grabbed the crazy shaman lady.

Running into the green room, Y/n pants, not even bothering to look at her angel holding onto another woman. Hyun-ju gives her a confused look, wondering why she had left their group.

"Your heavy sorrow will swallow you whole." The crazy lady says, making everyone look at her. Y/n shrinks into herself as she realizes that she's talking to her. "You won't last much longer, I'm afraid. Pity. You have the purest birthstone."

"SIX" the voice says.

Gi-hun and Young-il had split from the group, leaving Y/n no other choice but to join Hyun-ju.

They all run to a yellow door, freezing in their tracks as they see a group is already in there. Hyun-ju races to find a different one.

She found one.

Y/n starts to run towards it with the other people in her group, but when she sees player 333 running towards it too, she slows down.

Looking over at her angel, she sees her clutching Young-Mi's hand.

The pregnant girl holds her belly.

The mother and sun cling to each other.

Where did Y/n fit into that? She didn't.

She has seen Jun-hee talking to player 333 on several occasions...

She needed him, more than any of them needed Y/n.

She made her decision then.

As player 333 races into the room, she finally hears Hyun-ju calling for her. Her angel was trying to get 333 out of the way.

Y/n walks to the door, looking into the small slit. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing? Go find a room! Go!" Hyun-ju shouts. Y/n only shakes her head softly.

"Ita okay angel." She whispers, putting her hands onto the door. Hyun-ju is starting to panic. The timer still had thirteen seconds on it. "I know there's no place for me here. Not now." Y/n says, tearing up.

Hyun-ju continues to shout, begging Y/n to go find a room. "You made me feel so inside the lines, Hyun-ju. Like I wasn't a lost shade outside of the pretty design. I could actually fit inside the art." Y/n says with a sad smile.

"I never thanked you for that." She says. "Thank you for showing me. For guiding me to see who I was for the first time."

Nine seconds on the timer.

"I know you'll be happy. You'll make it out of here and live the life you've always dreamed of...live the life you've always deserved. A life, with Young-Mi." Y/n's lip quivers.

Four seconds on the timer.

Hyun-ju starts shaking the door, sobbing and yelling. "I love you, my angel." She whispers tearfully, letting out a pained breath as she feels the bullet peirce her back.

"NO! Y/N!"

Player 333 had left that room beaten to a bloody pulp.

At first, Young-Mi's hand doesn't feel out of place instead of her own, not for the next two games.

Until Y/n's words repeat instead of her head.

A life...with Young-Mi.

Once she realizes it, she drops Young-Mi's hand as if it had burned her. She had been holding the wrong woman. Comforting the wrong woman. Calling her...

She had called the wrong woman sweet girl.

Hyun-ju looks over to Young-Mi, a tear falling. She had made the love of her life question her love.

She had been at fault for her sweet girl's death. Not 333. Not even the guards. Hyun-ju was the reason.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing her again, " the shaman says. "A lot sooner than you think."

For the next game... was human chess.

I'm scared.... what do we think?

#squid game #squid game 2 #cho hyun ju x reader #hyun ju x reader #cho hyunju #hyun ju #hyunju #cho hyun ju

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vampiresbloodx · 17 hours ago

Text

I wonder how good your hands feel around my neck.

pairings: Vi x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings/contains(18+ ONLY): smut, Vi loves her some tits, clubbing, tattoo artist!vi, innocent!reader, porn without plot/plot what plot, top!vi, dirty talk, flirting, daddy vi, fingering

You have the absolute filthiest thoughts that come to mind while getting tattooed. Some you really can’t control, they just appear and you end up fixated on them for hours, before you know it, your session has ended.

Vi, short for Violet, is the first artist who’s ever tattooed you ever. With her pink hair, to her muscles that are covered in ink. You can’t help but wonder how strong she is, you know she’s talked about how she did boxing one time, she even tried karate, many forms where she gets to fight and use her hands.

You know she’s good with her hands.

When you first got your tattoo done by her, you focused on the way her fingers moved the entire time and how the art came alive on your skin, the needle not even bothering you. She was impressed at how long you can stay still.

You were slightly surprised yourself. You didn’t mind the pain, the pain had slowly turned into pleasure meeting halfway. That’s what made it all worth it.

You’d work more hours just to save more money so you could see her again, you thought at first you loved her style, how she worked, all that. But then you realised it was more than that.

Almost you wanted to stop going to her, and you did for a while, focusing on other things in your personal life. Actually trying to hang out with your friends and go outside instead of only going to work and the few shops and stores you went to. It was nice for a while, you did miss her, which felt stupid when she didn’t know you at all. She was just a girl that gave you a few tattoos, some of your best.

And then you saw her again.

You went out with a couple of friends on a saturday night, you couldn’t describe the shock you were in when you saw a familiar pink haired girl who was at the same bar as you. Even in a big city, it's strange how you can see the same faces again.

She was actually here.

You couldn’t contain how much your heart was racing, you weren’t even paying attention to anything your friend was saying, she grinned when she saw who you were staring at.

“Hey, is that-”

“That’s no one,” you interrupted quickly, looking away.

She smiled more.

“Just go and talk to her, it won’t be as weird since you two already know each other.”

You shook your head, “that would still be fucking weird and you know it.”

She shrugged, “maybe a little. But what if I told you she’s coming your way right now?”

Wait, what?

Before you could ask any more questions as you thought she was messing with you, it turns out she wasn’t. Just as you turned around to look where Vi was, she was really walking towards you, in your direction, maybe she might just walk past, not even notice you, maybe she saw someone else instead.

And of course your friend ditched you.

You heard your name being called.

It never sounded so much nicer coming from her mouth.

“Vi? Hey” you tried to act smoothly, as if you didn’t know she was already here.

“I have to say, you look good, like really good.”

Did she just?...

Were you actually dreaming right now?

“You look great yourself” you decided to say back, it didn’t seem like it would hurt if you flirted back a little.

She really did though. She wore black ripped jeans, loose tank top that showed a bit of her abs that you couldn’t help but look at shamelessly. God you were obsessed with her. You had an issue. But right now all you could think about was how her hands would feel around your neck as she fucked you silly.

You didn’t see how much closer she got to stand next to you, until your hands brushed against one another. You couldn’t focus. With the loud music blasting in your ears, the lingering touches. What did she want?

“Where are your friends?” she asks, her eyes never leaving yours, as you bite down on your bottom lip.

“She left, of course.”

“She left a pretty girl like you all by yourself?” she hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Can I keep you company for a lil while? I can make it worth your time.”

How could you ever deny her?

You followed her back to her place, you haven’t gone home with someone in a while, you’re happier it was with her than any other stranger.

She held your hand with a strong grip, leading you the way, making sure you were always with her. The silence between you both wasn't even uncomfortable, you actually enjoyed it.

It was the thrill of her that was exciting to you, you craved more.

You laughed with her as her hands roamed your body, touching you wherever she pleases and where you wanted her to be. You let her. And then you found yourself begging for more, it wasn’t long until she had you where she wanted you to be, on top of you as she teased you, slowly taking your clothes off.

“I hate to take these pretty clothes off, but I think i’d be more happy to see your naked body” she licked her lips, you made a noise as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Someones getting needy.”

“Please, just touch me” you whimpered.

She spread your thighs apart, keeping one hand a tight grip on them to make sure you don’t move as much. You liked it. The way she stared at you had you squirming.

“But i'm already touching you?” she teased, and so easily, she slipped a finger inside your wet pussy, moaning at how well you fit her, she wanted to fill you up.

“God baby, you’re soaking” she groaned, thrusting her finger in and out slowly on purpose, hearing you whine louder, she loved how vocal you got the harder and faster she fucked you.

Her other hand played with your tits, as she groped you and fondled with them, you were on cloud nine, why didn’t you do this sooner? You both wondered. She really wanted to taste you badly. She wanted to make you cum on her face, make you ride her, hear just how loud you can get.

She added another finger in and another, stretching you out as she imagined how fucking sexy you’ll look riding her thick strap on, as you cried sweetly.

“Who knew you were such a slut, behind how innocent you showed yourself to others” she chuckled. She felt herself getting more turned on, getting off on how wet you are for her. “You gonna come for me, baby? Make a mess on my fingers? I want you to come.”

You let out a sweet release of a beautiful cry, she wanted more. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your body shook. Still you craved her touch. You didn’t just want it to be over, and she didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me.”

“No, I need you.”

“Good girl, now come use me as a seat, would you?.”

#vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #vi smut #vi imagines #vi fanfic #vi arcane #vi #arcane x reader #arcane smut #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x female reader

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 day ago

Note

scott summers x male reader where Scott gets hit with someones love mutation ( basically like a love potion type of situation ) and Scott " falls in love" with male reader, but scoot acts the same as he always does, because he is already in love with male reader.

Scott Summers x mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers mildly based on Atom Smasher, at least power-wise. Still tired from working all week, but it is what it is. I eat up Scott being awkward, I hc him as autistic if anyone cares. Cuz I love Scott, and Scott is me.

You were on X-men, with a mutation that let you change your size. Like ant-man, but cooler, if anyone asked you. You didn’t need a suit to change your size, so in your mind you were the original.

How long you had been an x-men doesn’t matter much, just enough time for Scott to fall in love with you, but not long enough that you could read between all his actions.

Which isn’t very obvious to anyone but the teams telepaths, who can hear his thoughts because of different mind bonds they share. Or the ones who have been on the team long enough to notice he’s giving you favorable treatment.

To you it isn’t obvious, as Scott doesn’t let it show too much. favorable treatment from Scott is things like him pulling you into the danger room to spar more, or him secretly stocking up on your favorite snacks.

Scott would stick closer to you than most, but again, to you it just comes across as the leader sticking closer to the new guy. At least, in the beginning when you are the new guy. After that, you two have kind of a strategy when it comes to fighting from all the training, which makes you believe its that.

Scott was always a bit tense or flighty, in your opinion. But everything moved so slow or fast when you changed size, so maybe it was just that. being the leader of the x-men also meant he had to have a lot of weight on his shoulders, right?

It definitely wasn’t because your suit would rip and tear a lot back when you first joined the team, before Hank and you found the right formula for a suit that would shrink and grow with you.

At least you never flashed anybody, as much as Scott would silently in his mind wish you did. Which just ended up with him getting a lot of ribbing from Jean and whoever else could hear his thoughts.

When Scott was hit with the enemy mutants’ powers, no one really realized for a while.

You had been as big as a skyscraper at that point, fighting against a sentinel of all things. Why mutants would side with them, you never understood. But that’s life. This also just meant you didn’t see Scott get hit.

It was only after you guys got back to the mansion, or krakoa, depending on where and when this takes place, and other members of the team were getting treated. Hank was mostly shocked you hadn’t gotten hit, since you were so damn big and easy to hit.

The only difference in Scott was that he was hovering more than usual, hell, he even let his fingers brush against the back of your hand for like a split second but that was it.

Other than that, he’s the exact same, giving out orders and helping where he’s needed. Though, he does keep an eye on you more than usual, which isn’t that obvious with his visor and everything anyways.

Maybe Jean is out of commission for a while, so it’s Charles that realizes Scott was hit, so it takes a while.

And its only realized when Scotts thoughts spiral more than usual when it comes to you, sounding borderline obsessed and possessive. It’s when flickers of thoughts about using his optic blast on Remy when he’s doing his usual flirting that it starts setting off alarm bells.

Scott would deny anything being wrong with him, since he doesn’t feel different. Which, in the end, just outs him and his feelings to you which leaves you stunned for a while.

You end up having to sit with him and hold his hand to make him stop resisting treatment, since he’s way too focused and flustered about holding your hand.

Maybe your powers act up a bit from having these feelings put on display, because yeah, your team leader is such a damn smokeshow and he’s charming in his own way. But you never thought hed actually like you of all people.

It’s pretty awkward in the medical wing for a couple of moments, with Scott wanting to jump into the ocean at how embarrassed he feels. It doesn’t help when you grow a couple of sizes when you realize all the times you two have been grinding on each other during spars, and the table breaks right under you.

Being thrown to the floor at least makes Scott laugh. Enough for him to roll over and pull your mask off, because it’s not fair only you get to see how flustered he is, right? (it’s also because he wants to see if you are disgusted by him, but sssshhh, don’t tell anybody)

When he sees how flustered you are about it, how you keep worrying your lip and looking away it makes his heart flutter.

Scott has always been good at reading people, it comes with the job. But realizing other people like him has never been his strong suit, so he’s never really thought about it.

In the end you two kiss, even if it’s pretty clumsy and a bit weird with you being at least 8 feet tall, but you make it work. Good thing Scott doesn’t mind the size difference.

It takes a moment for you to shrink back to normal size, and you two just spend some time sitting on the floor feeling flustered and talking about it. Scott likes order in his things, so of course hed want to get this right too.

You two are not surviving leaving the medical wing for long though, especially when the rest of the team sees the smashed table. Everyone knows the real reason, but there’s so much teasing about “what were yall doing in there, huh?”

But you guys survive, even if Scott does get huffy and blushy about it. you get back at the teasing by putting the items of the teammates in places they cant reach.

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thevanillerose · 2 days ago

Text

SQUID GAME 2 | YANDERE SCENARIOS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS / Yandere / Violence / Death A/N: Probably the most popular request I've ever gotten on this blog, was to write a sequel to Squid Game | Yandere Scenarios. Now it did take me a minute to binge Season 2, with a bestie. Mainly because I felt like it was a little too depressing to watch over the holiday season...(unless it's a 'Silent Night Deadly Night' sorta Christmas??). But now that I have, hoo boy.

Strap in.

THE SALESMAN

Your teeth ached.

You should have predicted the kind of man he was. You should have seen it coming long before this investigation started. His little subway game should have been a dead giveaway.

Was it any surprise you ended up gagged and bound in the most fucked up game of Russian Roulette you could imagine?

Watching him slide that metal barrel up taut between his teeth was enough to make your breath catch. It was strikingly perverse, but then again, so were many of the things he had turned out to be into. And you’d ended up in too deep before you could realize that.

For a moment though, just a moment, you wondered if maybe Heaven was smiling on you. You wondered, ever so hopefully, if that chamber may be full. If a bullet may rip right up through his skull and splatter the cheap smoke-stained motel wallpaper behind him.

It didn’t.

You flinched at the click, and that was all.

Smiling smugly, he withdrew the gun from his mouth and slid it across the table to you again.

“Your turn, [Y/N].”

Right now you didn’t even know what your odds were. You quit calculating your chances once more than two bullets had come into play. Hopelessness swelled in you, and you couldn’t even will yourself to pick up the gun. You sank in the seat, skin pressing to the ropes, lowering your head in pitiful defeat.

“Mm? You don’t want to play anymore?”

When he received no response from you, save for a sad shake of your head, he sighed and picked up the gun, twirling it aptly, gesturing it towards you as if it were only a toy.

“That’s no fun. I thought you were feeling lucky? Isn’t that why you came after me in the first place?”

You looked aside, ashamed. Mission failed, huh?

Now, all you expected was a pull of that trigger on his part. A gamble on your behalf, one he’d probably take a few times if that was what it took to put you down. Yet instead, it was the gun he put down instead.

“Can I be honest with you, [Y/N]?” he asked, steepling his fingers and leaning forward to look you dead in your tearful eyes.

“...I think it’s quite fortunate. That you stopped being so stubborn. That you gave up. Do you know why?”

Somehow, this already confusing man had baffled you further. And only moreso, terrifyingly moreso, when his fingers reached out to drift slowly up your cheek, coming to tug playfully on the gag and make you whimper.

“Because, alive? Like this? I can do whatever I want with you.”

That charming, disarming smile.

“Can’t I?”

THANOS

“I wanna keep playing with you. So push O, okay baby?”

His painted nails dug deep under your collarbones, like the worst kind of shoulder massage, his tall body leaning over yours and pressing against your back. His purple hair brushed your cheek, as did his breath when he spoke.

Thanos had singled you out and ‘chosen’ you from the get-go. He was arrogant enough to think he could get anyone he wanted, and you were a cute-looking challenge for him. Your initial resistance, your discomfort around him, he figured, had been nerves.

“But it’s all good babe, stick with me and I’ll keep you safe. That’s a promise, yeah?”

Surely it didn’t have nearly nothing to do with your actual wellbeing, and more to do with keeping you in his clutches. Surely it wasn’t because he cared less about whether one of those pink limp-dicks blasted your brains out and more about making sure nothing else with a dick got near you.

Surely it wasn’t anything like that.

You were just someone who’d make a good fuck if he could bribe the guards to let you two in the bathroom alone. Just a toy for him to play around with, as he drugged himself all the way to victory.

…He tried to keep that lie strong and real in his head. But with you standing right there, back to his chest, he knew he was trying to convince himself of some serious bullshit.

There was nobody else like you. He didn’t know why, there just wasn’t.

Whatever it was, the drugs, the impending doom, the smell of money, whatever it was…one thing he simply knew for sure, was that he couldn’t let you go.

Which meant, you had to keep playing.

You had to push O.

His grip finally loosened, as your number was called. He pushed you toward the voting stand. He bit down on his chipped, painted thumb, and hoped you’d make the right choice.

Because if you didn’t? Well.

He wasn’t letting you go anyway.

HYUN-JU

It wasn’t fair.

You were so sweet. You were so innocent. You were so understanding.

Someone like you had no place in a game like this. Whatever mess it was you’d gotten yourself in, out in the real world, Hyun-ju couldn’t imagine it was bad enough to be worth staying here. Living this nightmare. She couldn’t fathom why you had voted to keep going.

There was no way you’d last. This sweet little person who called her ‘unnie’, and had told her without a shred of sarcasm that she was beautiful…you surely had too good a soul to survive in this place. You were going to die, and you were going to die horribly, she just knew it, and she couldn’t bear it.

“Unnie…would you come to the bathroom with me?”

During the night, you’d nudged and asked her almost like a child, apologetic for waking her, but clearly trusting nobody else as much. Hyun-ju obliged of course, she felt like she could do anything for you. Escorting you to the bathroom, even if it meant dealing with some difficult guards, was such a small ask.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was resting, or trying to, at least. Trying to steel themselves with energy, a hopeful advantage in the upcoming games. So here, it was just the two of you. Alone.

“I won’t be long!” you assured her, and hurried into one of the cubicles, while Hyun-ju turned towards the sinks, leaning against one and gripping it. She gazed up at her face, brushing her cheek, remembering how you’d called her ‘beautiful’.

You probably didn’t even realize how much that meant to her. You probably couldn’t fathom the effect you had on her.

Hyun-ju’s teeth grit and she doubled over, arms quivering as her grip on the sink’s edge steadily tightened. More and more, until her knuckles flushed in white.

I could do it.

Her head immediately shot up, staring at herself in sheer horror. How could she even consider that?

But…what was the alternative? Let you suffer in one of these awful ‘games’? See your perfect face riddled with bullets, bloodied, ruined? Let any of those other lecherous creeps in here even have a chance of getting closer to you?

…It would be a mercy, no?

“I’m done!”

Blissfully unaware of what she was truly contemplating, you emerged again and quickly washed your hands, looking up at her with your usual, warm smile.

“Do you need to go too?” you shook your hands off, “I can wait for you, unnie.”

Hyun-ju forced a shaky smile, and shook her head.

“No…I’m fine.”

“Okay!” you gestured for her to go ahead, back to bed, back to the impossible task of trying to get any rest at all in this fucked up place.

Instead, Hyun-ju reached out and gently guided you back against the sink, standing over you. Her hand lingered near the crook of your neck, her thumb gently curling against your skin.

“...Unnie?” you looked up at her, now wide-eyed, and confused.

“...You wouldn’t blame me…right?” she whispered, softly, worriedly, like her words were pure sin. Her other hand cupped your cheek gently, and you instinctively leaned into it, confused, but happy to be held by her like this.

“...I just…I don’t want you to suffer…”

The pad of her thumb pressed harder. Her other fingers slipped lower, resting on the other side of your neck.

All she had to do was bring them together. Bring them together…and squeeze.

Squeeze until you felt nothing else. Until you could go blissfully to a happier place, with no debts, and no killing, and freedom again. Your delicate body would sink against hers, and then, somehow, she’d take herself out of here too. It could be as simple as provoking one of the guards on lavatory duty. It wouldn’t be the prettiest, but at least then, you’d be together.

Out of this place. Away from it all.

Forever-

“U-unnie?”

It was how small and suddenly so frightened your voice sounded, that startled her out of it. Her hands jerked back, hovering stiffly either side of you, as you gazed up at her with so much hurt and concern and…fear.

Fear.

You were afraid of her. The last thing she would have ever wanted.

“...W…we should get back, right? They’re going to get mad if we don’t…”

She could see the way you still tried your best to smile, and be nice, be the way you’d always been with her, but it was too late.

It was ruined. She blew it. You’d never see her the same way again.

Whether you truly knew what her intent had been or not, she could feel the awkward shift between the two of you, as she stiffly followed you out. She felt sick. Was that it? The end of this beautiful thing you had?

…Beautiful.

No. She couldn’t let it be. And as she left that bathroom, and looked at those guards, and looked at every other twisted person in that room, and looked at…you. She knew.

She was filled with a dark, delusional resolve.

Maybe killing you wasn’t the answer.

Maybe killing everyone else was.

THE FRONT MAN

Young-il had seemed like a good man.

A good man, simply in a bad place. Like the rest of you. You liked to think anyway.

It was only during this game, Mingle, that you got to see the full extent of people’s desperation. What they were willing to do, to survive, to line their pockets, or both.

It wasn’t in your nature…

“You understand, right [Y/N]!?”

It wasn’t ever…

“We’re sorry!!”

…in your nature.

You’d made a small group of companions here, but as you were the weakest link, they cut you in an instant as soon as the number needed in one of those rooms required it. Their apologies were like water, they meant nothing, as you were left standing there, lost, alone, scared.

This game…was also the first time he took action.

Messing with Gi-hun was one thing, but the Front Man wanted more than that. As soon as The Salesman had shown you to him; your red, flustered face as you had been slapped around the subway station, captured on handycam video…he had been sure of something.

It wasn’t just Gi-hun. It was you too.

Perhaps, he’d even say, you were the priority.

He liked the idea of keeping you after this was all over. Which meant, for now, assuring you stayed alive through these games.

So when he saw you abandoned, it was his time to act. He practically ripped the breath out of you with how fast he grabbed and tugged you along, throwing you into a lime green room and slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

You hit the wall with a yelp, and slumped against it. But as you shakily looked to your right, and as he turned from the door and cast his sharp eyes around the room, you both saw.

You’d wanted 2. You’d gotten 3.

“H-hey, we can work this out, r–”

The man didn’t get to finish. The tears that had welled in his eyes now poured down his face as he gagged and choked and writhed against the solid arm around his neck. You gasped with horror, staggering back as tightly into the corner as you could, covering your mouth with both hands.

You watched him kill that man. Clenched jaw, staring ahead coldly, even as a living being drifted into death in his very own arms.

And only once he was sure you were in the clear…did that kindness return. That goodness, you had been so sure about.

Young-il stood, and approached you, arm outstretched so he could brush your arm gently with his palm.

“You’re alright?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Pallid and wide-eyed, feeling like you had a cord around your throat, you looked into those worried eyes and only saw softness. But you couldn’t shake seeing that hard look from earlier. Witnessing it firsthand.

His cold will. How easily he had killed.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, but quickly moved away, muttering something about how the game must be over now. As you stepped out, he remained for a moment, glancing up at the cameras before smirking, and curling the hand that had touched you close to the mint green jacket on his chest.

Did that shock you? Really?

Then perhaps it was better if you braced yourself.

Because if it meant keeping you as his own sort of prize……he was willing to do a lot worse than that.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

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w0rmss · 3 days ago

Note

Can you do like Jason Todd x reader whos like Constantine’s kid, like Reader went through a lot of stuff that they got powers (any magic type) and Constantine takes them in. Jason meets them in battle is is kinda mesmerized by their powers and fighting.

Absolutely I did my best so I hope you like it. Thank you so much for the request I really appreciate hope you enjoy

Across the way

tw: fighting guns blood injury kissing and a minor minor talk of living on the street.

Jason knew it was bad when Bruce called for backup. And when he called for magic back up, it was so much worse. Gun blared blood splatter swords clashed. It was a mess. Then, a flash of light came from across the way. He turned and was met by the most magnificent sight. You. You were knocking people out with blast of light and fire, and gods only know what else, and Jason loved it.

Your dad had called you. Well, you say dad, he's more like a random wizard man with a British accent and a smoking problem who plucked you off the street and thought you magic. But at the end of the day, john constantine was your dad, to the best of his ability. When Conservative had called, he'd informed you the batman needed help for and he was busy. The usual father child magic duo things. That's how you found yourself setting fire to goons and looking good doing it.

Jason watched you entrenched like you were a God in need of worship. He didn't even notice the goon or the gun till he felt a searing pain in his left shoulder, and the other guys pants were on fire. You grab Jason's good arm and pull him away from the fight. "Geez, man, you good." You ask as you start to assess the wound. Jason winces as he feels you put pressure on the bullets entryway. "Fine." He grits his teeth as you glare at him. "Sure... I can help... delt with enough if these to know how." Jason winces again but nods.

He watches you work ignoring the raging fight still happening just beyond. You look even more perfect close up. Your eyes your face your skin all perfect. And Jason though he might die again looking at your lips. "You may have a helmet on but I can still feel you gawking at me." You look up at him finishing up with his shoulder. Jason laughs sheepishly. He reaches up and pulls of his red hood helmet thankfully wearing a domino under it. "Thanks for the help." He mumbles eyes still glued to your lips.

Before you can react, with the fight still raging behind you, Jason leans down amd captures your lips in his. Caught of guard it takes you a moment to reach and jason goes to pull back, but before he can your lips pull him back in and your hands find his hair. You kiss each other like the world isn't ending behind you.

Thank you so much hope you enjoyed. If you’d like me to write anything else feel free to request my dos and donts are up so yep

have a lovely day night afternoon etc. Thank you.

#fanfic #jason todd #jason todd x reader #batfam #dc x reader #x reader #request #reqs open

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valleymyristica · 2 days ago

Text

People that make me happy ᵔᵜᵔ

Also, happy 3 month anniversary of What it takes!

There are so many people around And I find myself wanting to share my glee

So I want to give a thank you to all who make me happy And I also want to wish whoever is reading this a lovely day For I'm sure there is always someone who finds glee in your existence

For me, these are the lovely ones that gives me a smile whenever I see them about. Just knowing they are there is enough ᵔᵜᵔ

@waitineedaname

For being a wonderful person One I'm always happy to see doing well We may not talk as much, because I'm so slow But you still make me happy, wherever you go

So I want to wish you the best in this new year! [And thank you for being the beta reader for the HLVRAI fic I've yet to post] [If I ever will, really should though...] [Man, it's so old now]⠀

@cubbiverse

Thank you for being the reason I started What it takes! Without you, it wouldn't exist

Talking to you is always a blast You're always so fun! Your ideas are such a driving force for me

Really bringing me glee whenever I see you You're lovely, you're great I hope the year to come will treat you well! I wish you a happy new year!

Also! Can't forget! Your art is always so nice to see It's always so bubbly, bouncy, pretty and soft! Such lovely fun you bring With every single thing!

Oh, I really do like all the things that you do! You make me so happy too!!!

@shrimpyjackal

Art so pretty, always so kind So very sweet, with a lovely mind

Your colours, they pop! So pretty to the eye Like the setting sun An array of colours in the sky

Like a cold dessert After a desert walk Your art really does have a special spark! Like fireworks that boom, with colours and light! I hope that the year to come, will be lovely and bright!

I wish, it will be lovely and bright! And who knows, maybe wishes do come true?

@astrolotte

Things come Things go

But you are one I'm happy to know!

You're always so positive, so very sweet Just so lovely and unique!

It delights me when you read But I wish you well all the same

For I hope this year brings you joy As we play along with it's game Even as rules change

For change can be good Though, wouldn't want it to leave you on the run

And some things are sweet Though, being trapped is no fun

And have to also tell that your art is like a present on Christmas day Truly something to look forward to in every way!

@arandom-dog [AO3]

My beta reader My wonderful beta reader

AHHHHHHH!!! YOU'RE GREAT!

I'm so happy I have you! You're so helpful and kind! I always like to talk and hear what's on your mind!

AHHHHHH!!!! I still can't stop looking that the comic you made! Along with all the other lovely things you've made Gosh, Bunny is so CUTE! AHHHH!!! It's so pretty! So cool!

I'm so happy you made it And I'm so glad you had fun when you did!

Gosh, What it takes really has taken hold of my life

@unconsciousnonhuman

Thank you for creating the lovely [angst server]! It would be a delight if there was more time to spend

For hearing what's on your mind Is always a highlight before reaching the days end!

So morbid and fun! Oh! You are such a lovely one!

I'm happy you exist! So happy you are here! Really bringing joy by simply being you Do hope I can give you joy too!

Honestly, I think my new years resolution will be to read all of Para. Peri and leave my comment at every chapter.

I will get it done. I hope

@poggieking03

My delightful little fan I'm so happy I have you Really bringing me glee, and questions too!

It's always so fun to see your reactions To hear what you think heh Especially when the characters are on their brink!

I do hope that life is treating you well and that you are feeling swell!

For deserve kindness for all the things you've given me You make me so happy and fill me with glee!

@nightjasmine10

I really do delight in all you send my way Every comment, whatever it may, really does bring a smile to my day!

Honestly, it's so nice that you like talking to me, and it's nice talking to you in turn. You're always so sweet and willing to engage!

You seem so passionate about writing It's so cool! It's always nice to see you around!

Thank you for being as lovely as you are!

@freesso

Pretty, soft and expressive art So very cute So very sweet So very lovely and unique

A lovely person So nice and kind With art that always bring a smile to mind

Hope your days are joyous and sweet For you’re a lovely person One I'm happy I got to meet!

@midnightdemonz

Yay! Our fairy meat fanatic and one with a powerful Peri AU!

You're such a fun one and always a delight to talk too

Really should work more on fairy meat, we got so much to work with, still... what it takes is also important. Though, sparing some time for some meat shouldn't hurt, right?

As for the wonder you are? You're bright and fun, like a lucky star! Always so fun to talk to you

Hope your days are as great as you are! For you are indeed great!

@nova-in-space

Honestly, I may not be a part of it But seeing all the Peri's interacting is so fun!

From what I've read of Ghost Town so far It's very interesting! Desolate, dreary, eery What could have caused such disarray? Oh, is there anyone that would dare to say?

Also, I still remember the drawing you made based on What it takes I will forever cherish such lovely things Every spec of gold is still gold And it really does delight me that you took the mind and time to do it

It really made me happy, and remembering it really does bring a smile

Thank you so much!

You're a fun delightful person And I do delight in the ideas you present in your work

Like miasma filling their lungs Poisoning their bodies Breaking their minds And all which connects

It's interesting It's fun

@vhs-consumer

It's weird, I don't talk to you But you do seem like a person I'd like You seem like a really fun and cool person

hehehe You even know about 'fairy meat' Which is fun ᵔᵜᵔ⠀⠀

So, I do hope that the year to come will be a fun one With lovely food and fun people!

Also, have to compliment your art Because it's really nice It's like ice preserving the beauty of the world It's like a an array of needles you can softly pet It's like a shiver of cold as you sit so warm with a cup of hot chocolate

It's sharp and nice Both cool and warm And really something one likes to look upon

@elsa-fogen

Thank you for also being a lovely morbid delight!

It's fun talking to you from time to time and I do hope that this year will be a lovely one for you!

I do delight in all the AUs you do have And it's so fun to see your version of Icy She's so cool! hehehe Cool and cold Pun for fun

I like a sweet one who sees no wrong in the horrors It's simply how things are How they should be

Why would you want to leave? We're just getting to the fun part!

Also have to tell, I do like your art as well! It's so fun, the way you create, It's as if all fit together as pieces to a puzzle Every little line has a place to be

Everyone seems so full of life It's just connected so nicely And you're really funny too Your jokes are great!

@illustrationismyhaven ( @doodle17 )

You're a fun one, and happy late birthday!

I think you're the reason I decided to play Psychonauts Which is something I am so very happy and thankful for, it and it's sequel are such great games! I'm so happy I got to experience them, thank you!

In addition, I really like your lobotomy family au It's such a cute little idea!

Well, you seem to have many fun ideas So I guess that's kinda a given

Apart from such, you're a delight too see Your art is always so striking and lovely! So fluid, like a stream of water in winter Like green leafs in the summer rain So pretty, colourful and bright

You really do give off a lovely light!

@todaytomorrowgiraff

I doubt you know of my existence, but I do want to tell I appreciate you!

It delights me to see a little HLVRAI on my dash Gives it all a little extra pizzazz!

I remember finding you thanks to your wonderful fic, Becoming Human. It's been a moment since I've read it last, but I do recall delighting in it so. In a way, I guess it's inspiration, it's such a lovely one and you seem like such a wonderful person!

@bunnieswithknives

Gosh do I like the things that you do So of course you make me happy too!

Your art is so modular Like pipes connected so cleanly together Like ball-jointed dolls that you simply move

It's so very cool! And it all creates such a funky grove!

In addition, your ideas, the thoughts in your mind How you play with ideas You're funny and smart

What you make is truly a work of art!

That is to say, I like what you create! Always so fun to see what you'll present next!

Also, sorry for the time that I messed with your head Hope you're doing better, and you're happy instead!⠀

@kisskisstine

Like a story book with tales to be told Your art is so lovely to behold

A blooming star, so pretty and bright Yet so lonely when she shines her light

And he who thought himself bright and strong Is bound to have a stark realization when he finds, he is wrong

Your art is soft and kind Very fitting for you

For you seem like a lovely person too! Wishing you the best in all that you do!

Bright soft skies Sun so high Hope the smiles that you give Are given in turn For you deserve bright joys! Is one thing I've learned

Giving kindness to the kind Giving joy to the joyous Giving, sharing and wishing the best

So many sweet things You deserve them too!

@wreckrinho

You art is like cookies So scrumptious and good!

Like rivers Like streams Like something forgotten in dreams

So cool and fun So very you

And it makes me happy to see When you enjoy what you do!

Hope you're well And life is treating you with kindness

Horror may come to those in the stories one tell But that doesn't mean it should come to you as well

You're a fun delight Sweet little starlight Deserving fun

Enjoy the things you do I enjoy them too

Share what you like That's when you shine the most bright!

@artificial-angels

Your art, so pretty Like clouds on a soft summer day Like flowers that bloom Like sweet cotton candy dreams

Pastel paradise parade So soft and sweet It really is a delightful treat

@nilsford-prattle

Long forgotten In sand we lay But still we always hope that you are doing okay

Bright and fun Sweet and kind Hope you have peace of mind

Hope there is joy in the things that you do And that you always have a reason to be happy too

@purplecatghostposts

Hope there is joy to your days Your interests are ones we enjoy to see

Your writing a lovely delight Your shimmer a happy joy

So many things anew Yet though old they may seem For you bring it to life Like it's been awoken from a dream

Thank you for being you And doing what you do

Thank you all so much for bringing joy to my day! I hope I'm able to bring some joy to yours as well!

And maybe I'm alone in being me But I do think it nice to tell about those that are kind

In a world so cruel I want to prove there can be kindness as well

I find it pretty funny that it took so long to post this In part because I kept remembering so many fun people⠀

Huh... maybe my friend is right? I am pretty much always happy⠀

Maybe you all have something to do with that?

#Started this around new years‚ thinking #“Yeah‚ can totally get this done for the first!”#I could not.#WHY ARE YOU ALL SO AMAZING!!#It all would have been so much easier if you weren’t #But I guess it's a lovely thing that you are #Each and every one #Another star to my pretty sky #I really do like the night #(Do hope I didn't forget anyone)#(You know‚ there are just so many good people out there)#(Or maybe I'm just lucky?)

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 hours ago

Note

Woke up from the sweetest dream of eating ice cream with Jason in the middle of the night, both in our jammies hunched over a pint in opposite sides of the kitchen island and its just so special to not be doing this exact thing alone.

"There's something so sweet about loving and being loved. Knowing and being known. Especially by a man who makes every past moment of suffering so worth it if it's lead us to this." 🥺🥺

Late Night Desserts

Pure Fluff ~1k words

It's late, the kind of late that's so far into the night that you can start to call it early. Your kitchen is dark, lit only by the dim street lights and the occasional stray beams of moonlight that break the clouds hanging low over Gotham's sky. There's the sounds of cars driving by, the faint whirl of a helicopter flying overhead, but it's all drowned out by the quiet giggles bouncing off the walls of your apartment.

"Why are you even whispering," you stumble out between hushed laughs, voice barely above a breath as you point your spoon at Jason, eyes narrowing in accusation.

He grins, mock offense dripping into his quiet tone, "I could ask you the same question, sweetheart."

"I'm whispering because you're whispering," you bite back, gaze leaving him so you can dip your spoon into the pint of your favorite ice cream resting between you on the counter.

Jason scoffs, all teasing and playing as he reaches over to knock his spoon against yours, digging into the frozen dessert for another taste, "I'm whispering because it's still dark outside, and the walls of your apartment are thinner than paper."

"That's not my fault," You pout, taking your own bite of the ice cream. Your eyes narrow, but there's no heat to the action, not when the moment feels as sweet as the dessert you're sharing.

"Didn't say it was, doll," he hums, catching you entirely off guard when he reaches over the kitchen island to swipe his thumb over the corner of your lip, collecting what remains of the ice cream on his finger. His gaze never leaves yours as he licks his thumb clean, smile never fading.

He seems intent on knocking your world off center for a second time, because he speaks again, an easy grin on his face, like his words have no consequence either way, "You could always move in with me. Then it wouldn't matter how loud we were at night. Opens all kinds of doors, ya know?"

You think you manage to keep the surprise off your face when you answer (you don't), "It would?"

"Sure," he hums, jabbing his spoon back into the cartoon, it's the only sign that he feels even slightly nervous over the question he poised, "We could cook after eight pm without your neighbors complaining, blast music in the morning, and, ya know, if we ever get the dog you've talked about, it would be nice to have thicker walls."

His words sweep you right off your feet, his easy answer, the slight tension in his shoulders, all point to one thing. He's thought about this. He's planned a future with you, even if it's just coming up with small, mundane reasons on why you should move to his apartment.

The realization steals your breath away, and it's only when his face furrows and his eyes start to dart over your face, searching for any clues of how you feel, that you remember you have to respond.

"That sounds nice. I'd like that, " You say, voice melting into a different kind of soft from your previous whispers. It's a soft that's fond, almost reverent in the face of his feelings for you, the cusp of something more you want to build with him.

The tension drains from his body, and his smile returns to something bright, something real, "Good." Jason lifts his spoon back to his mouth, face thoughtful like he's mulling over his next words, "You could move in anytime, you know. If you wanted. Half your stuff is already there anyway."

The ice cream melting onto the counter doesn't matter anymore, and you drop your spoon, letting it clatter loudly to the granite surface. Jason only has enough time to look confused and vaguely alarmed by the noise before you round the island to get to his side.

He tries to play off his eagerness with a nonchalant shrug, but you see right through your boyfriend. And suddenly, the moment feels so big.

The feeling nearly bursts from your chest. The warm, fluttery love that's so pure and right in your soul that it's nearly overwhelming. The idea that every path you've ever walked has led you to him, and him to you.

He opens his mouth to talk, and you steal whatever words he means to say with your tongue. The kiss is sweet, so, so sweet. Sweeter than the dessert you were sharing, sweeter than anything you could tell him, sweeter than all the emotions fluttering in your stomach over just how much he means to you.

Jason kisses you back with a softness that speaks to all the adoration he feels for you, dropping his own spoon to cup your face, to wrap an arm around your waist to draw you closer.

You only pull away first so you can watch the way his eyes flutter open slowly, lingering in the ghost of your lips against his.

"What was that for," he asks, voice so breathless and dreamy it nearly brings you to your knees.

"Just wanted to," you hum out, pressing a kiss to his jaw, to his chin, to his cheek. It's not a lie, it just doesn't encompass all the warmth you feel in your heart, the goofy smile you can't wipe from your face.

His dumbstruck smile matches your own as he squeezes your waist, saying everything he needs to say back with a simple touch. You melt into arms, ice cream, and quiet whispers long forgotten.

But you don't need to explain, don't have to elaborate. Jason knows what you mean when you press another gentle kiss to his lips, he knows what you're trying to say when you tangle your finger in his hair and memorize the feel of his body pressing against yours.

He always seems to know what you can't find the words to say.

It's just a moment, just a stolen minute of peace as dark creeps towards day, but it's yours. Yours and his. Another warm memory to write into your story, another step towards something that feels like forever.

The moon lights up your kitchen as it breaks the clouds once again, and Jason chases your mouth for another head-spinning kiss, sealing the promise of words unsaid, emotions that are far bigger than can be spoken into the calm, quiet air of the night.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader

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ezrasxfics · 2 days ago

Text

i might be the brain of evil.

abstragedy

gangle pov

i sit alone in my red, white and black themed room, drawing, trying to avoid my mind being infested with thoughts of what happened that day. the spudsy’s adventure. you see, i’ve not been able to get it out of my head. no matter what i do, and how much people insist i’m forgiven, i can’t seem to forgive myself, to convince myself it’s all okay.

putting down my black mechanical pencil, i take a deep breath in, just the way ragatha had taught me to. i hold it in for a few seconds, counting down from 5 before i let it go, a small exhaling noise leaving my mouth. it doesn’t really solve the problem, but i suppose it’s a good short-term coping strategy. that, and drowning the thoughts out with the loud music blasting in my ears. or.. where my ears would be. it seemed to work when i put headphones over them, so i suppose it doesn’t matter what they’re called.

when zooble walked into my room, i didn’t even notice at first, listening to some old vocaloid song: ‘world is mine’. i had it turned all the way up, to the point it was almost painful. that way i didn’t have to think.

“uh.. hey, gangle?” zooble says, tapping me on the shoulder, making me jump and squeal in surprise, practically throwing my headphones off.

“oh-!! hi, zooble..! sorry.. i was just- just.. drawing!! yeah, that’s what i was doing!!” i ramble, and internally facepalm. zooble was so cool.. i couldn’t help but be nervous around them!! and, being nervous just lead to me acting like a total fool.

“..yeah, you were pretty distracted there. you okay?”

that single question - those two words - that was enough for tears to threaten to fall from my eyes, all the feelings i tried to push away all flooding back to the forefront of my mind, impossible to avoid.

“..yeah..! im- i’m finE-!” my voice cracks a little, a tell-tale sign. that, along with the relentless trembled in my body, slumped over due to my complete lack of energy.

“you’re a terrible liar. come on, what’s on your mind?” they reply, eyes narrowing a little in concern. despite all the clear signs they cared, that little voice was telling me otherwise. why would they care about someone like me..? someone so.. evil..?

“zooble.. do you think i’m a horrible person?” i ask before i can stop myself, and immediately regret it. they probably think i’m needy, that i don’t trust them, that i’m clingy, that—

“no, why would i think that? you’ve proved you’re a good person. is this about spudsys?”

“yes-“ i squeak, nodding at this.

“look, gangle, you f**ked up. that doesn’t make you a bad person. the fact that you feel like this on its own proves that you have good intentions. you’re taking accountability, sh*tty people don’t do that. everyone’s done things they regret. i know i have, more times than i can count. let me put it into perspective for you. say i did what you did, all the same. and afterwards, i hated myself for it, saw myself as an awful person and started isolating myself from everyone. would you see me as a bad person?” they look me in the eyes, waiting for a response, a glimmer of concern in their eyes.

“..no, of course not-!!” i begin, before getting interrupted.

“exactly. let yourself be happy, forgive yourself. you’ll never be happy if you keep beating yourself up like this.”

“..i love you—“

and that’s where i’m gonna end the fic becauseee im an asshole!!

reblogs are appreciated, and i take requests!!

#abstragedy #tadc zooble #zooble #tadc #gangle x zooble #the amazing digital circus zooble #the amazing digital circus #tadc gangle #the amazing digital circus gangle #gangle #tadc fanfiction #the amazing digital circus fanfiction #digital circus #amazing digital circus

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changingplumbob · 1 day ago

Text

Me, well, I was feeling it might be time for a change to. The neighbouring noises were getting annoyingly loud when I needed Emily to sleep. One night there was such a racket I had to go bang on Jessica and Salim’s door.

Salim: Layla, how can I help? Jess and Will aren’t here at the moment-

Layla: I know, they’re visiting family. Want to know how I know that? Because whenever they go you play your explicit music at top volume while cleaning

Salim: It helps me get in to it. Cleaning is my least favourite thing. I admit it, I'm lazy, I need motivation. And it’s no louder than what Mr Mob Boss across the hall blasts

Layla: Salim, please, Emily is learning words now. I’d rather she not learn those lyrics

Salim: Yeah and I’d rather you understood that cleaning is hard and I need hip hop to get me through it

Layla: It’s hardly hip hop, it sounds like the singer is just listing all the ways they can woohoo

Let's be real, Jessica would not be so inconsiderate as to have loud woohoo late at night when she knows Emily needs to sleep. But Salim would never cheat on her. So we're saying the noise was Salim blasting songs similar to W.A.P. in an effort to inspire him to clean all his mess.

#StruckByLoveLegacy #sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #SBL created by fruitysimsy and hellohopesims #SBL01 #SBL01W31

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oh-no-my-hand-slipped · 3 days ago

Note

We know noseguard trapdoors exist But what about Noseguard Chests, and Noseguard Wardrobes(Especially a Noseguard Wardrobe for, say... a maid?)

If you can fashion a lock for something, you can have a NoseGuard! Boxes, chests, luggage, even diaries! Usually, the limits don’t involve the what, but the where. Depending on what a NoseGuard is made of, it is sensitive to many things. Imagine it in cold climates, on a dusty shelf, buried.

One of the greatest adversaries of NoseGuards is dust…which you will soon see.

************************************

This room had obviously not been used in years — much like the rest of the manor. How could a once such prosperous, wealthy household, Estella wondered, fall into such disrepair?

Well, no matter. If she had anything to do with it, this study would soon be sparkling from the edge of the chandelier to the corners of its plush red carpet.

But first, she needed supplies. Her master had told her something about a maid’s closet in this room, but with all of the old and broken furnishings filling every inch, Estella knew it would be some time before she found was she was looking for.

Or so she thought.

“Ooooooh…”

Estella jumped. The groaning only got louder, growing more pained with every breath. Was it a lonely spirit? A mischievous ghost? One of the errand boys playing a trick?

She held her feather duster in front of her, brandishing it like a deadly weapon.

“Show yourself!” she said, hoping she sounded just as brave as the guards. “What are you doing in my master’s house?”

There was no reply other than a few moans, punctuated by thick sniffles.

Estella lowered her duster. This wasn’t someone playing a trick — this was someone who needed help.

“Are you alright?” she called, craning her neck over the mountain of velvet and polished oak. “I don’t mean to harm you,” she added, kindly.

After a few moments, a muffled, sniveling voice shuddered from nearby.

“Oh, thangk heavens…snf!…please, this rug is ever s-hoh-! So very d-duhsty-!”

Estella looked around the room, her eyes soon falling on a, in her opinion, quite ugly rug. The green wool was decorated with brown diamonds, each surrounded by a pattern of yellow vines. In other words, it looked more like a rotten garden than anything Estella would have pleasure in cleaning.

She grabbed both sides of the rug, using all her strength to heave the thing aside. As it piled on a floor next to her, a cloud of dust rose around her. She coughed, fanning the plume from her face.

“Oh, at last! To be free frob that horrid prison!”

Estella jumped again. The voice was right in front of her, but she saw no one. All there was under the rug was an old wardrobe, decorated with simple iron edges.

However, she did notice one strange thing — instead of a knob or a lock, a large iron nose sat in the middle of the door. As Estella took a closer look, she saw a ring of rust surrounding its nostrils, as well as the remains of a rodent’s straw nest stuffed into them.

Hold on, was it…? Did Estella just see the nostrils quiver?

Suddenly, the iron nose sniffled, bits of straw falling onto the floor. Estella stumbled back in surprise, falling onto a nearby fainting couch. Another cloud of dust rose up between them.

“Oh, pardon mbe!” the nose said, bridge wrinkling. “I didn’d bean to…t-to…”

The dust was swirling around the nose, and it began to snort and snuffle.

“Th-Thad blasted d-d-duh-! Huh-!”

The nose hitched, its nostrils flaring, its septum trembling, until…

“Hoooh dear…”

The nose’s nostrils drooped, causing more straw to flutter from them. Estella got to her feet, approaching the nose sideways, leaning away.

“B-Blessings?” she stammered.

“Blessings have ndo place before a sdeeze,” the nose said, sniffing. “Ooh, I haven’d had a good sdeeze in years. Not that adyone has required mby contents…”

Estella squinted.

“Must someone make you sneeze in order to open the door?”

“By master’s orders, yes, to be sure ndo rapscallion steals the rags for handkerchiefs and the like.”

The nose sighed.

“Bud I’ve been stuffed so full of dust and straw thad there is simply ndo room for a sdeeze.”

Estella smiled, patting the side of the wardrobe.

“Well, you are among good company, Master Nose!”

She lifted the corner of her apron.

“I’ll have you and this room as clear as a dead man’s debts!”

She began rubbing the inside of the nose’s nostrils with her apron, tugging out the tightly packed debris.

“Ohoh-! Do be cahah-!”

Estella felt its nostrils flare against her fingers, even though she was as gentle as she could be. The nose sniffled and snorted and sighed and gasped, only breathing “a b-bid to the left” or “r-right!” between them.

Estella was polishing the outside of the nose’s nostrils when the felt the whole wardrobe shudder, and the door seemed to bend with every sharp hitch the nose choked out.

“I d-do - hiiiih-! - th-think I…st-stand bahahaHAAAAAH-!”

Estella hurried behind the fainting couch. The nose’s door seemed almost ready to shake of its hinges as the nose bent upwards, showing its massive (but clear) nostrils.

“HAKSH’SHIEEEHIIIIIIIEW!”

A fine yellow spray misted the air above Estella, giving the air a metallic smell. The wardrobe door flung open with a rusty squeal. The nose lost no time in making up for the dismal dustiness it endured, and continued to sneeze for quite some time afterward.

“Snnnnnf - oh, by the gods,” the nose said as Estella finally revealed herself again.

“Bless-ings,” Estella said. She began looking inside the wardrobe for her cleaning supplies.

“Oh, no, my dear, blessings to you. I haven’t sneezed so well since my smiting!”

“Well, you’ll have plenty more to sneeze after soon,” Estella chuckled, bringing out a glass bottle of freshening water.

She sniffed it, and her own nose wrinkled. Her eyelids fluttered, and she pitched forward into the wardrobe.

“hhhp’tcHIEW! TSHIEW! TSHHHHIEW!”

“Blessings for a magnificent sneeze!” the nose cried.

Estella sniffled. “I…my pleasure?”

The nose hummed.

“I’m sure anyone would be quick to free your lock, with a sneeze like that!”

Estella laughed, closing the wardrobe door again.

“A strange compliment to be sure, but one I have no qualms with, Mr. Nose.”

#snz fic #ohnos fics #snzfic #snz #snzblr #snz kink #snz things #snezblr #snzario #snez kink #snz scenario #snezario #snz drabble #whump

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stxrsniolo · 4 hours ago

Text

ㅤㅤִㅤ ݁ ꉂ just this once ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀tread carefully, my dears, for the words that follow are not for the faint of heart: what lies ahead is smut, a dance of desire that might just set your pulse racing. proceed if you dare.

warnings: explicit smut. rough sex. dubious consent. anger issues. trauma. ptsd. emotional vulnerability. hurt/comfort. power dynamics.

pairings: harsh leader!matt × fresh meat!reader

a/n: i literally spent hours looking up military-style terminology to write this, and even though i'm not entirely satisfied with the results (especially because not having prior knowledge about some of the terms and still using them makes me uncomfortable), i'm posting it because i find it interesting and i'm not going to throw away all the effort i put into it.

you can create your own experiences with harsh leader!matt with this c.ai bot here!

═══════════════════════════ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

the door to y/n’s quarters slammed shut with the force of a breaching charge, the sound ricocheting off the cinderblock walls like a gunshot. matt didn’t bother with the deadbolt—nobody in this godforsaken facility would have the balls to walk in on him, not when he was like this; he was a live grenade, fresh off a sit-down with the brass... those smug, pencil-pushing assholes who thought they could dress him down like some fresh-faced private.

his fists were still clenched, knuckles white like he was gripping the hilt of a combat knife, and the fury was a living thing, coiled in his chest, ready to detonate. he needed a target, and of course, she was the only one in mind. y/n didn’t even flinch when he stormed in, didn’t bat an eye as he started pacing like a caged animal, his combat boots pounding the concrete floor. “fuckin’ desk jockeys,” he snarled, his Boston accent thick, the words sharp as razor wire. “sittin’ there in their pressed uniforms, tellin’ me how to run my ops like they’ve ever held a goddamn rifle. I’d like to see ‘em last ten seconds in the field. Fuckin’ REMFs.”

rear echelon motherfuckers. he didn’t need her to answer, he didn’t want her to. he just needed her to take it, to absorb the blast wave of his rage. but then, like always, it shifted. one second, he was pacing, spitting venom; the next, he had her slammed against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head in a bone-crushing grip. his mouth crashed into hers, all teeth and tongue, no softness, no hesitation. it wasn’t a kiss; it was an assault, a hostile takeover as she didn’t fight him. not because she couldn’t—she’d gone toe-to-toe with him before—but because she wanted this. wanted him, even if neither of them would ever say it out loud. now, she was on top of him, straddling his waist on the narrow cot, her thighs clamping around his sides like a vice, but she wasn’t riding his cock, not yet, no, she was grinding her wet, aching pussy against his abs, the hard ridges of muscle slick with her juices as she moved.

her hands were braced on his chest, nails raking across his skin, leaving red welts in their wake while matt’s hands were on her hips, his grip bruising, fingers digging into her flesh like he was locking a mag into place. he guided her, controlled her, his biceps flexing as he forced her to move faster, harder, her clit dragging against the taut, slick surface of his abs, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through her body, making her gasp and moan like a bitch in heat. “fuckin’ tease,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, like the rumble of a humvee engine. his eyes were locked on her, dark and feral, watching the way her tits bounced with every movement, the way her lips parted as she panted for air. he could feel her wetness soaking through her panties, could smell her arousal, thick and heady. his cock strained against his fatigues, throbbing, aching to be buried balls-deep in her tight little cunt, but not yet, he wanted her desperate, begging, wanted to see her break before he gave her what she wanted. when he finally flipped her over, it was like a combat maneuver: swift, precise, no wasted movement. he yanked her panties down her thighs, the fabric tearing in his haste, and shoved her legs apart with his knees, his cock sprang free as he unzipped his fly, thick and hard, the head already glistening with pre-cum. he didn’t bother with preparation or warnings, didn’t bother with anything gentle, he just lined himself up and thrust into her in one brutal motion, burying himself to the hilt. she cried out, her back arching off the cot, her nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched her open, filled her completely. “fuck,” he grunted, his voice rough as gravel. “tight as a fuckin’ virgin.” he didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, he pounded into her, hard and relentless, the cot creaking under the force of his thrusts. his hands gripped her hips, pulling her back onto his cock with every stroke, driving himself deeper, harder. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with her moans and his low, animalistic grunts. he didn’t care about her pleasure, not right now; this was about him—about the rage, the frustration, the need to dominate, to control. he fucked her like he was trying to break her, like she was just another target to be neutralized.

when he came, it was with a guttural growl, his cock twitching as he spilled inside her, filling her with hot, thick cum. he didn’t pull out right away, staying buried inside her as he caught his breath, his chest heaving like he’d just finished a ten-mile ruck march. then he rolled off her, collapsing onto his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. she didn’t say anything, just turned onto her side, her back to him, pulling the thin blanket over herself. the space between them was a no-man’s-land, cold and silent but he didn’t care. he didn’t need her to stay close, he didn’t need anyone. sleep came fast, but it wasn’t peaceful, it never was for a soldier. the dreams hit like an ambush, dragging him back to the hellhole of his childhood: the fire, always the fire, and he was ten again, trapped in the house as the flames roared around him, the heat blistering his skin. the screams—his mom, his brothers—were drowned out by the crackle of burning wood, the shriek of collapsing beams. smoke filled his lungs, choking him, and the panic was a living thing, clawing at his chest, and he tried to move, tried to run, but his legs were lead, his body frozen, leaving him helpless like a scared little boy who couldn’t save anyone. he woke with a start, his body jerking like he’d been hit with a defibrillator, his chest was tight, his throat raw, and he realized, with a sickening clarity, that he was crying. hot, silent tears streamed down his face, soaking into the pillow; he hadn’t cried in years, not since the fire, not since he’d learned how to bury the pain deep enough that it couldn’t touch him, but now it was all flooding back, the memories like shrapnel tearing through his mind. he turned his head, his blurred vision landing on y/n, who was still asleep with her back to him, her breathing slow and steady. she looked peaceful, untouched by the chaos in his head and he hated her for it. hated how easily she could sleep, how she wasn’t drowning in the same nightmares. but he needed her. just this once. he moved before he could stop himself, sliding closer until his chest pressed against her back, arms wrapping around her tightly, desperate, like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. he buried his face in her hair, the scent of her—sweat and sex and something softer—grounding him, pulling him back from the edge. she stirred, a small sound escaping her lips, and then she turned in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. for a moment, she just looked at him, her gaze soft, unguarded, but she saw the tears eventually, the raw, broken look on his face, and something shifted; she didn’t say anything—thank fuck, because he couldn’t handle words right now, instead, she reached for him, her hands gentle as she cupped his face, her thumbs brushing away the tears. she pressed soft kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, her lips warm and soothing against his skin, fingers sliding into his hair, stroking gently, and she pulled him closer, letting him bury his face in the crook of her neck. “it’s okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, like she was afraid to break the moment. “i’ve got you.” for once, matt didn’t push her away, didn’t tell her to fuck off, didn’t shove her back into her place, intead just held on, his grip on her like a lifeline, his breathing ragged as he tried to pull himself together. she didn’t let go, her hands moving in slow, comforting circles on his back, her lips brushing against his temple. it was soft, tender, everything he didn’t deserve, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t care. he needed this. he needed her. just this once, god, just this once, and he'll repeat those words until he believes them.

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my baddies: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

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fluffyfeatherfun · 11 hours ago

Text

Dinosaurs can laugh! (Antoher Dandy's World Tickle Fic

Made another one speciallt for the requester to fuel their Lee!Shelly needs

Requested by: @mosaichunter (I ALSMOST PING THE WRONG PERSON)

Lee:Shelly

Ler:Vee (Yup, again!)

Starring:None, just two of them!

Word Count:1,585

Warning:This is a tickle fic, again. If you don't really like those kind of stuff, scroll pass

Bits of angst. Just a bit at the beginning but it'll tone down

((brackets like these are creator's notes in the fic))

Extra note:While this is technically connected to the previous fic , you don't need to read it in order to understand this fic.

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Shelly can hear the roaring cheer outside. She can feel the plastic texture of her dino toys. She can feel the cold stone floor beneath her. She can feel the scars on her heart. It hurts to know that the crowd outside dosen't even know her name. It hurts to know that the love she gets is just as little as the attention the kids pay when she talks about her dinosaur facts. It hurts that there are only a few toons who are aware of her problems. It hurts....

Until her thoguhts were cut short when she heard a creek from the woodeen door, follow by a familiar looking TV host((totally not because we just saw her last chapther)),follow by a powerful slam.

"Oh, your done already?"

Vee held a grudge from the loud blasting crowd behind, turning to Shelly and nodding with one foot on the door.

"Wish it was even earlier. Being a host is quite stressful sometimes. Now, what did yoy want to talk about when we were at the hallways? "

The ammonite's face switch to that of a teary looking one, darting down on the ground and not muttering a word until the TV head host broke the silence.

"Was it because you are being ignored again?"

"Wh-No! I promise this one is different." She waves her hands around in denial.

"Really? Tell me more about it." She respond, as she took a seat beside her.

It was hard for Shelly to make eye contact with how hard is it to word this new worry, but she still did her best to keep the point straight:

"I've been thinking a lot about..... Changing what's mainly about me.... To be more specific, my liking for dinosaurs. I tried a lot of things:baking, sewing, roleplay, even game hosting with the toons, but it's either I..... Don't enjoy it as much or I'm not as good at it.... Mostly the first point... "

She fiddles her fingers around, as tiny drops of tears fell on the floor. Vee can clearly she how desperate she is for just a little love, for just a little attention, for just a little recognition, so she pat her on the back to soothe her aching heart a bit and gives a pep talk:

"Hey there, dino girl, look at me."

"Hmm?"

"I know that dinosaurs aren't the most popular among the kids, but that dosen't mean it can't be interesting. There are so many fun ways to express it out, but that dosen't exactly mean your way isn't good. You know what they say:" Sometimes it takes time to find the right audience." etc etc.... "

She widens her eyes a bit, feeling a bit better with Vee's ramble (Or pep talk again I'M NOT REALLY GOOD WITH WORDS), as she countinues to listen to her:

"And besides, fame isn't everything. Sure, it seems like the greatest gift when you have lots of it, but when it dies down, what now? Barely anyone knows you, there is some new kind of thing that's all the rage, and worst of all, you know what was it like to be loved. Not to mention busy schedules and having little to no privacy. Seriously, I can't even remember the last time I had a nice and normal chat with Teagen. "

She quietly opens her shuttle, looking at the old, janky wries for a short moment in a bit of quivering sadness, before closing it and turning back to Shelly, who was just nodding her head this entire time.

It was quite the akward stare, to say the least, just for her to process everything Vee said and wipe her tiny tears.

Suddenly, a little idea spark in the television's CPU. Without scaring her too much, she taps on her fat dino finger(okay she dosen't really have those but cmon, think about it) to get her attention and spoke:

"Hey, I can prove that your dino knowlage does have some use."

Of coruse, you can't just say that to some person your trying to comfort and expe t them to understand. The ammonite's head tilts like a confused dog, before responding with a few studders:

"Wh-wh-what?"

Wagging her mic tail nervously, she scrathes the back of her antenna and replies back:

"Uhmmmm, how do I say this....... Could I........ Dust off your ribs?" (A luttle silly secret word of 'Can I tickle'. Aka the creator forgot the the term for secret word so her worsing is super off AHHH)

Her eyes light up in excitement as her dino tail wags rapid and her hands wave, turning around and fully exposing the area.

"Of course you can! I'm still not sure how that relates to what you said earlier, buttt I'll go with the flow."

With a smile on her face, Vee retracts her cold, metal fingers to give them little fur tips, before extending her arms to grab Shelly by the shoulders and wraps her mic wire tail around her body.

((Alright IK there might be too much creator notes, but this is important, I promise. I honestly don't think I can contently write both Shelly and Vee's names for this psrt since it rapidly switches the focus, so you, the reader will need to keep track of that. If you are reading this thank you :)))

Without warning, she felt a few of her top rib bones getting attacked by the fingers. That combined with the fact it's near her underarms, another vunerable spot, makes her burst of of laugther and flail her arms around helplessly. To say that she didn't expect her to immediately aim for it would be an understatement.

"VHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE, THAHAHAHTHAHHA WAHHAHAHAHA, GAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA."

As if that wasen't enough, the host positions her mic right in front of her mouth to amplify her laugther thoguh her speakers.

"You know, after what's possibly the longest gameshow, I could really use a bit of relaxing music to calm my wires down from the win of the other craft. Now, tell me, my deae ammonite, what's an interesting fact about dinosaurs and your sweet melt spot?"

Her blush was quickly forming on her face, especially with that little comment on her ribs. Regardless of how much tickles she is tanking, hiwever, she is still able to roll out one.

"AHAHAHA THEHEHEREHEHEHX HAHAHAHAS AHAHA SEHEHEHEHCHOHOHOHND SHEHEHEHEHET OHOHHOHOFHO RHIHIHIBS CHAHAHAHALLHEHED GASHHEHEHESTHAHAHAHLHIHIHIAS."

"Hmmmm, impressive! Perhaps you wouldn't mind naming me a flying dinosaur that flaps like your arms?"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ARHAHAHACHAHEHEHOHPTHEHERHEHEYHEHX DHOHOHOHEHEHS."

"Not sure how your able to say such a long name when your mind is as tangled as your body under my tickles, but I'll guve you credit for that. Perhaps we will need to increase the difficulty a bit more."

Giving her palms fluffy pads, she moves the the bridge of the sides and the belly, letting the it and the fingers work together around that area. This sudden increase of ticklish feeling jolts her body around and fills the room with even more of her laugthers.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NHOHOHOHOHOHOHT THEHEHEHEHEHERHEHEHEHE VHEHEHEHEHEHE. THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHTHEHAHTS MHIHIHIHY MHEHEHEHEHEHEHELT SPHOHOHOHOHHOHOT."

"Everywhere is a melt spot for you, silly. Say, what kind of dinosaur has the largest stomach and how much it can eat?"

"AHAHA BRHAHAHANCHIHIHOSHAHARHUHS CHAHAHAN EHAHAHAT FOHOHOHOHUR HUHUHUUHUHNDRHEHEHED THOHOHO NIHIHIHIHNE HUHUHUHNDHRHEHEHED PHOHOHOHHOUNDS OHOHOHOHOF LEHAHHEHAHEHAHAHFY GRHEHEHEHEHENS AHAHA DHAHAHAY."

"Wonderful, really, wonderful! Last question before I let you go:Can dinosaurs laugh?"

"WHAHAHAHAHAIT, WHAHAHAHAT?"

"Can a dinosaur laugh just as loud as you? Hmm"

She repeats, as her fingers got closer to the center of her stomach.

"IHIHIHHIHT DHOHOHOHNT HAHAHAHAHAVE THEHEHEHEHE ANHAHAHANSWHEHEER THOHOHOHO THAHAHAHAT!"

"I'm just joking, silly, I don't know the answer to that either."

See her nearly cracking up to a little mess, she suddenly retracts the fluffy pads awaywhile still holding her body. Shelly babbled around like an idiot for a minite or two before she realized that the tickling stop. Feeling relieved, she takes her time to catch her breath and wipe of all the sweat on her head(don't ask me how is Vee not affected by that). She wags her tail playfully around Vee's stomatch, not fliching her by even a bit. Before long, her lungs had ctahc enough air for her to verbalize some words:

"Hey, Vee, thanks alot..... Huff.... For the tickles...... I've been craving some since this morning....."

"Haha, no problem! Look, I do want to apologize for not really spending time with you these past few days. I've got a lot of events to headline, including my own gameshow."

"Yeah, I understand,.... Haha..... Say, how exactly did you prove my dino knowlage...... Was worth something.......? "

"Don't you see it, Shelly? You could just pop one out even under such laughter as if it was nothing! That dosen't just take knowlage, but also some fighting energy and lung capacity! I'm telling you, you're a real fighter for this. "

"Oh!..... Well that's new..... Maybe that explains why I accidentally crack Tisha's.... Knuckles a bit too hard yesterday....."

"..... You what now?"

"..... Yeah.... I may or may not have.... Broke her arm?"

"..... I'm not even going to question that. Anyways, my next gameshow could use snother contestant. Wanna join?"

"Your kidding?..... Of coruse I would!"

"Alright alright, I'll register your name later. Come on, let's get some soft tacos."

"But you can't eat food, can you?"

"A robot can dream, Shelly, a robot can dream."

And so, the TV host picked up the ammonite by the hand and took the other exit back to the toon rooms, leaving the aftershow on a sweet note.

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Thank you so much for your patience! Speaking honestly, I wish I could get thus done earlier, but hey, better late than never!

Let's thank Google for giving me some dino facts to incoperate into this fic, and thank my will to tease the requester the motivation to finush this fic! /silly

Have aa good day mate! And proud to say I enjoyed this fic alot more!

#fluffy feather posts #dandy’s world tickles #fluffy feather writes

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