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vagabond-umlaut · 3 months

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for love is flesh, it is a flower flooded with blood

you're ravishing while gojo is ravenous— rabidly so.

gojo x fem!reader; everyone is 18+ here; somewhat one-sided enemies to lovers; the summary explains more than any no. of tags can ever; tw: cannibalistic tendencies & blood & violence [nothing of the like happens tho!!]; tw: mentions of throwing up and being sick; SATORU IS PINING HERE, AND IT AIN'T A PRETTY SIGHT TO GAZE ON; he seriously needs to go to therapy; unestablished relationship; there's fluff too, dw; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

fic title from 'poem of the end' by marina tsvetaeva // header from pinterest // divider by @/adornedwithlight // jjk isn't mine

gojo wants to eat you whole.

too ridiculous, even for him— is it not?

maybe... maybe not... the man does not know. he decidedly does not care— not when you're there beside him. seeming this delectable. an alluring treat for his palate— he's surer of this than of the ridges in his palms.

you stir in your sleep.

something gnaws at his heart. shifts in the hollow of his stomach.

strengthening when your features relax. worsening when your mouth twitches, its shape pleased. settling down when your mien flattens in its wonted neutrality.

gojo bites back a groan. only to sigh noisily when you shuffle closer.

years ago, were anyone to tell him that one day he would be seconds away from dying from pangs of an indescribable hunger— agonising, antagonising— for someone catnapping in the seat next to his. in an overcrowded train, sickeningly so, at 10 on a monday morning—

he would have punched the informer. perhaps sent them into a coma if the day wasn't treating him very well... but then again.

you're not just someone, are you?

a bite of candy: so crunchy. refreshing. sweet. when his brain is a bit too tired. a bit too sluggish. a bite of mango: its addicting sweetness dancing on his taste buds. trickling down the corner of his lips. more than welcome after a year of wait. a sip of hot chocolate: the warmth of the drink, homely and sweet. lulling him into a dreamless sleep as he nestles in his childhood blanket. a sip of water: supposed to taste bland, but tastes so sweet. sweeter than nectar, after training—

it's confusing, even for gojo.

but the man believes you'll taste akin a mix of all these he has listed—

he stops. and wonders. will this hunger of his be satiated if he steals away only a small taste of yours? it won't be anything much!! maybe not even a taste, now that he thinks about it... just a touch.

yeah.

yeah, yeah, yeah. it'll be one and only one touch. and nothing more—

can he reach out and caress your cheek once?

he can... obviously, he can. there is nothing he, the strongest, cannot! but... what if his need manifests claws.

what if his need tears at the delicate skin. gouges the soft flesh there — deriving an animalistic, depraved pleasure from the rivers of blood which would be flowing—

no sooner does the image flutter into gojo's mind, than he screws his eyes shut and resolutely burns it. brain already whirring with the next possible course of action. something better. something cleaner—

can he intertwine his fingers with you then?

they look so small. they look so pretty. just so perfect. as if they have always been meant to slip into the gaps between his fingers. erasing the emptiness from there. and from within the fissures formed in his self, for once and for all time— ah.

but what if he squeezes your hand too hard.

what if he bruises you and breaks your bones, in his attempts to allay his craving for you. to mitigate his madness for you. the violet colour blooming on your unblemished skin. the following crack! and crunch! of your frail bones beneath his unyielding grasp. beneath the teeth of his hunger—

no, no, never, never, never!

a wave of something bitter, something bilious rolls through the man.

he draws in a deep breath— and pauses.

gojo can't touch you without hurting you, but he definitely can lean in a little closer... and get a whiff of your perfume, right?

not anything much, it'll be nothing at all. and it isn't like, the moment he tilts himself towards you, he's going to grow fangs— fangs, all too ready to sink into the column of your neck. thirsty for the feel of your blood. the tiny beads of it on his tongue, sweet. yes, addictively so— and maybe, since he's already there... he can leave a loving sign from his side on your skin. dark red. enticing, but defintely not as much as the taste of you. certain to linger in his mouth. persist in his thoughts— conscious and everything not. even after it's been eons—

the train lurches to a sudden stop.

and with it, does gojo's vivid daydream as well— but he doesn't care.

not when the resulting clamour in the compartment has awoken you. not when your face is gaining a shade of upset. pretty cute, he thinks. but the man also believes such a sight isn't meant for these unworthy souls in this place, so...

how bad then, is it not? that he can do nothing about it. he can't blind these people. nor can he ask you to not make such a face. you simply won't take kindly to either of those—

thus leaving him helplessly watching. shamelessly staring.

the way your eyebrows scrunch closer. lips dip into a small pout, then break apart in a yawn. finally followed by your eyes blinking open. too bleary for such a bright morning, but to gojo, they appear to outshine the sun itself.

it takes you a beat to find your bearings. he waits patiently, keen eyes watching your every movement. every minuscule expression. another yawn spills past your lips, noisier than the previous. making the man's cheeks twinge from the growing stretch of his grin. ribs ache from his swelling heart.

you take another moment to focus your foggy mind on him. frowning as you do. gaze flitting from him to your loud fellow passengers, then back to him.

your frown worsens. gathers a pinch of concern.

"is... everything okay, senpai? you don't look too alright out there."

he doesn't!?!?

no. of-fucking-course, no.

he's the strongest sorcerer in the world, yes. there's no doubt about it— but even he is a little too weak to not grow weary when fighting his irrepressible urges to gorge himself on you...

realising he has been silent for a tad too long, gojo struggles to drag back his fading grin. before deciding to just let go of it. dropping his mouth into the most pitiful shape he can, he grumbles. sounding so aggrieved and in such a terrible pain.

"you seeing this compartment, darling? it's so cramped, so noisy, so very under-ventilated— it's making me wanna puke, babyyy!"

features crumpling up— he chooses not to probe why— you exhale a rather heavy sigh. and retort, "i never asked you to accompany me to work, senpai. you were the one who insisted. who invited himself— 's not my problem if you bite off more than you c— wait a second," you cut yourself off abruptly, eyes becoming rounder and tone turning an awful lot panicked, "you aren't really feeling nauseous, are you? i have few candies and a packet of crackers— you wanna munch on those??— or wait a sec, you can drink some water from my bottle— or... wait. i'll just get up and tell these people to move away. you need some air to breathe freely—"

"will you let me eat you?"

lights flickering, the train shudders into a sudden start.

but gojo's heart stumbles into a stop. when he realises he has spoken something he must have never let see the light of day. something the man must have never let reach you— you might always be wearing an awful tough exterior, but you're rather sensitive beneath it... innocent and sweet, the lamb to his wolf.

the man probably shouldn't, yeah. yet he allows his insides to twist in glee at the face you make— bathed in warm hues as you gape at him.

those brilliant eyes, wide and unblinking. lips parted, not-too-slightly. the rest of your body, so perturbed not one whole minute back, but a little too still now in that uncomfortable seat— gojo wants to... but he decides not to jerk you away from a state as this. it isn't everyday you let him drink the sight of you in a state as this.

it takes you much longer than he expected you to borrow to recover. thirteen seconds versus your usual three.

the train picks up speed in the backdrop.

your face slips behind its mask of placidity. but the concern wrinkling your forehead and furrowing your brows is clear as day for him to see. loud as bells for him to hear when you speak, tone quiet and adorably soft.

"i think you need some rest, senpai. we'll get down at the next station and i'll call ijichi-san to pick you up then drop you home, okay?— i will also ask ieiri-san to check you once— think you've caught some virus, or maybe it's just fatigue. that's why you're looking and feeling so sick— definitely why you're asking me such a question."

gojo doesn't need any foresight to know he will regret his next course of action. very much, if not more than that ask which slipped past the cracks in his defenses— but now? in this specific instant? he reckons he'll regret even more if he doesn't do what he wants to do.

what that hunger within him wants him to do— fuelled by your worry for him. care for him. disbelief for him. the impending doom wherein you'll leave him behind, leave him suffering—

a voice floats through the air, announcing the train to be approaching the next station.

slipping the bag onto your shoulder, you move to stand up. a precious urgency highlighting your actions as you do— only for him to encircle your wrist in his fingers. yanking you back into the seat, before you've even left it entirely. a noise akin a gasp, a stifled gasp, spills past your lips. pinching him, helped by the startled look offered alongside. gojo wills himself to ignore the pain, however.

every sense zeroing in on you. only you. as he tugs you even closer to himself. and murmurs, words uttered, slowly and carefully. meant for you and him only, and not for anyone else outside this bubble he has been building around you both.

"but what if i say you are why i'm so ill, and eating you is the only way i can get cured— will you let me eat you then, darling?"

"i..." you start. but then stop. you look a little breathless, gojo thinks. a little too weak perhaps. your placid mask, a little too close to cracking open, falling to the floor in pieces...

the signs are all gone albeit, before the man can etch any of them to his brain. before he can even know if he was just seeing things.

"senpai," you reply evenly, calmly, "we are deboarding the train at the next station for sure. i'll book a cab there and personally drop you off at the school, yeah? ieiri-san needs to—"

gojo whispers your name.

its syllables, too piercing. too pleading. too foreign on a tongue which has only ever called you by terms of endearment. utterly uncaring for how much you complain. uncaring for the rumors, you've always said his antics will give rise to, when there's actually no fire to give birth to the smoke.

hah, if you only saw the fire melting him from within.

he makes a move to call you by your name yet again. but you cut him off before he can. the pieces of your mask crumble into dust, turning into nothing before he can even register what is happening.

your lower lip trembles. just once. barely noticeably so. "you're crazy. stupidly, unbelievably, insanely crazy— you need to get help, senpai."

you're insulting him. lowkey, highkey, it doesn't matter. nothing does, except the fact you're insulting him.

he doesn't even think before he decides it too doesn't matter.

tightening his grasp on your wrist, he leans towards you. shaping his lips in a grin. maybe a bit too predatory, but eh. if you have read him well enough to suggest needing help, he trusts you to know the kind of reaction he will return.

grin wavering for a beat, when your blood gives a frantic push against his thumb pressing onto your artery, he retorts, "what if i say i'm in no need of any help? what if u say i need you— just you— will you permit me then, huh?"

you probably won't, few voices in his head state. studying the utterly stricken look you're offering him in answer. the man doesn't hesitate to choke them into an eternal silence.

you ask, "will i be okay if i say 'no', senpai?"

"i'm hurt you think you won't be," gojo snaps back with a frown. soft but biting, a pretty intentional action of his. you wince a little. words not even taking one whole second to from before bubbling out.

"okay, yeah— 'm sorry. i know you'll never force me— i'm really sorry," you repeat, features more distressed than he would ever like them to be— he lets his frown smoothen out.

face lightening, he notes your shoulders slump a little— before seeing the way your eyebrows huddle together. he acutely registers you shift closer to him. voice ringing in his ears when you state rather than ask, "but you won't be okay if i say 'no', will you?"

"no," the word escapes him, as quiet as a breath the moment the last syllable leaves you—

sucking in a staggering breath, he shakes his head. and repeats, "no. i won't be. i really need you to live at this point, baby. i know you will be thinking how i'm love-bombing you right now, but trust me— i cannot survive without you. i need—"

"— me. yeah, i get it," you interrupt him. as rudely as always, but gojo doesn't find himself offended. too lost in the breathless chuckles tied into your tone. you lean back away from him, an amused glint in your eyes, in your tenor as you hum, "i don't know if this was you flattering me enough to make me cave into your demands... but it's okay. yeah. fine— i'll let you eat me. devour me. or whatever poetic shit you're on about— just don't forget to slice my carotids before you do that, yes?— don't really wanna go through the pain or the mess of being eaten while alive, you see."

[agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him.

gojo knows this. tough to believe, but he does. he really, really does—

but who the hell cares.

definitely not him, as he scribbles both of your initials on his mission reports later in the day. a big plus sign linking the two pairs of letters, an even bigger heart encompassing them—

pen stilling over the paper, gojo pauses. and grins.

sure. agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him— the former's far more intimate. entails much firmer trust, much greater love—

after marriage, will he take your surname, or will you take his?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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foodiegoogie · 26 days

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what friends are for

sirius black x fem!reader ✮ 3.95k summary: you’re an overthinker at its finest; sirius is an overdoer when it comes to saving you from you and your thoughts. cw/tags: no use of y/n, highschool!au, biker!sirius (mentioned), too long for its own good,, nothing too heavy <3 also the teachers r still called professors here bcoz yes !

note: DAMN FINALLY ive finished this 😭 tho its still a little too long for my taste .. i am kinda proud of this :> this was a recycled thoma request, but since i kind of serve to the marauders audience now,, i decided to give it to sirius 🥰 happy reading! 🫶🏼

Having an overly active brain was both a blessing, and a curse. You loved your creativity and intelligence, and they definitely showed in your report cards. What you didn't like was how often you thought about simple, small matters, and then thought about it some more, and then some more after that. You were an overthinker at its finest. Everyone who knew you well enough would agree that you were a non-stop thinking machine, and they all hoped you would cut yourself some slack and give yourself a break.

“That’s easier said than done,” you’d say to them. Oh, what you wouldn't give to stop being a self-sufficient, but also self-pitying brainiac!

But, as they all say, old habits die hard. That is why here you are, in class, watching your teacher collect your test papers and slowly getting into the routine of asking yourself the questions—the what-ifs, did-Is, and the like.

You were bouncing your leg up and down restlessly while chewing on your bottom lip, looking very deep in thought, when you felt something hit your head lightly. A crumpled ball of paper landed in your point of view, breaking you out of the trance from overthinking. Picking it up, you opened it and smoothed it out to see what was written inside.

You look like you just murdered someone and are now burdened by your guilty conscience.

Despite your sour mood, you managed to let out a snort and a soft smile after reading the line. You could recognize the flawlessly cursive handwriting anywhere; it belonged to your good friend, Sirius Black. And knowing him, you knew better than to come up with a snarky reply and retaliate. Getting caught chit chatting with someone like him during class hours could land you in detention, especially now that the teacher inside your classroom was the one and only Physics Terror, Professor McGonagall.

So, you crumple the piece of paper back into its ball shape, and stuff it into your backpack. A few seconds later, you feel something hit your head again. The culprit? Yet another crumpled ball of paper, now sitting on your desk. Letting curiosity get the best of you, you open it up and read what's written.

Ok, rude? Guess you can forget about getting my help cuz I know a good place to bury a body :)

Softly chuckling to yourself, you shook your head and wondered why you were even friends with someone as bizarre as Sirius while you put the crumpled paper in your bag. For a while, you didn’t feel anything light hit your head like you expected. But just as you were about to spiral into another endless stream of self-doubt, you were hit again with a crumpled ball of paper.

Slowly, you turned around in your seat to glare at Sirius. You meet his eyes doing the same thing, and then gesturing impatiently at you to open the piece of paper he just threw at you. You stuck your tongue out at him out of spite before finally opening the piece of paper.

Y R U NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY?!

The sentence was written in bold black letters, underlined a bunch of times, and the punctuation marks at the end were twice the size of the letters. Having read the ridiculous note, you let out what might have been the loudest cackle you have ever let out in your highschool life.

You hear your name called out loudly by Professor McGonagall, in a stern tone that could only mean one thing for you. It felt absolutely mortifying to have your classmates' eyes on you, seeing their pity and amusement appear on their faces.

"You'll be seeing Mr. Filch for detention after class," She said, zeroing in on you with her piercing glare. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead in your seat by now, and Sirius could use his knowledge of good places to bury dead bodies so he could bury yours. "I hope you'll learn your lesson in your time with him."

"I will, Professor," You replied, the embarrassment reflecting in your voice. Great—not only were you unsure about your grade for this class, but now you had one more thing to be worried about, as well as overthink about.

Unable to take on your classmates’ pitying looks on you, you crossed your arms on your desk and laid your head down against them, hiding your face from the prying eyes of your classmates. You could not handle any more humiliations. But you also thought that nothing could possibly be worse than the situation you put yourself in.

Then, you were proven wrong.

All of a sudden, you heard your classmates murmuring around you. Lifting your head up to see what was going on, you saw a paper plane glide smoothly through the air before it landed perfectly on the stack of test papers Professor McGonagall was currently grading.

To some of your classmates, what happened afterward took less than a minute. But to the rest, including yourself, it seemed like eternity with how carefully Professor McGonagall dropped her pen, and took off her glasses. She picked up the paper plane and opened it up, narrowing her eyes at whatever was written inside. Unfortunately, none of you ever knew what was written inside. But you all knew that it wasn't any good, judging by the twitch in her eye and the frown on her face.

"Who does this belong to?" She asked, her displeasure clearly heard in her voice and seen in the glare she gives everyone in the room. A beat passes, and suddenly everyone is pointing fingers to someone sitting at the back of the classroom.

Though you had a hunch on who it was they were pointing at, you hoped that you were wrong; that it turned out to be some other classmate of yours who had rotten luck just like you. Then, you were proven wrong… again.

You turned around in your seat just in time to meet the mischievous eyes of your raven-haired friend. He even took the time to throw you a playful wink before clearing his throat dramatically.

"Good morning, Professor,” Sirius began, his hand closed in a fist like it was holding something near his mouth. “This is your captain speaking. It seems like my aeroplane experienced turbulence and crashed in your area. Terribly sorry, rookie mistake! Rest assured that I'll comply with whatever punishment you subject me to for the matter."

"In that case, good, because you'll be serving detention alongside your classmate here," Professor McGonagall nods in your direction. "I hope you'll both learn something about rudely disrupting the peace and quiet during class hours with unnecessary distractions." She smiled, although anyone could tell it wasn't to be kind. Then, she returned to her previously interrupted task of grading test papers.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. Of course, he'd get himself into trouble, you thought. You turned to look at him, catching his attention, and mouthed the words, "What'd you do that for?"

Sirius shrugged in reply, a cheeky smile on his face before mouthing the word, "You."

—

Genuinely, you have always wondered how you managed to land yourself a place in Sirius’ life as one of his closest friends. It was one of the things you’ve thought about over and over, but have never really gotten to the bottom of. Nevertheless, you will always be grateful for having a friend like him, even if he does give you a headache sometimes.

It turns out that serving detention wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, having been assigned under Mr. Filch’s orders of tending to the flora and fauna stored in the school greenhouses. In fact, you were actually kind of enjoying it, and Sirius being with you totally wasn’t a part of the reason why.

“You know, this actually isn’t so bad,” He remarked, spraying the lavenders with some water, a faint smile on his face. “I thought we’d be somewhere organizing Sprout’s herb collection or something.”

You laugh at his statement, “Not gonna lie, I expected something boring, too. But this is pretty nice.” You beamed at him, looking away from where you’d been adjusting potted plants accordingly where the sunlight was hitting.

“Who knew we’d be so good at gardening?”

“I know, right?”

Sirius chuckled in reply, and you joined in with him, taking the time to look at him before returning to your task. He looked especially handsome whenever he laughed; eyes crinkled by the edges with amusement, his pearly whites on perfect display as he smiled. It also certainly didn’t help that on top of the black leather jacket he wore, he was wearing an apron, and a bandana tied around his hair which pushed it back to act as a headband, revealing his forehead which glistened with a thin layer of sweat.

Sirius Black looked ridiculously handsome, and you didn’t need to think twice about that, because it was a well-known fact.

At that moment, you were so caught up in staring at him that Sirius caught you in action. It was already too late to look away and feign indifference for you as a smirk had started to make its way onto his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” He practically purred, his voice taking on a deeper, more flirtatious tone than usual. Your brain loses its ability to function momentarily before you quickly wracked your mind for a snarky retort.

“How original,” You quipped, trying to hide your momentary lapse in brain function at his unexpected tone. Sirius lets you get away with it, hiding a subtle smile of amusement to himself.

Turning back to a pot of chrysanthemums you’d neglected briefly, you decide to change the topic. “So I was just wondering,” You began, a curious lilt to your voice. “What’d you write on that paper plane you flew to Professor McGonagall?” You queried as you turned to face him again, placing your hand on your hip.

“Oh, psh, that old thing?” Sirius waved it off dismissively as he wrapped up with his task of watering the flowers. “Just a little piece of an opinion I’ve been meaning to tell her.”

“And just what was it you were meaning to tell her?”

Before he answered your question, he took the time to take his bandana off, wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. Then, he fixed his hair - running a hand through it and ruffling it up slightly. Inwardly, you had to admit, you almost forgot what you were talking about as you shamelessly watched him be… hot; and like he knew the effect it had on you—which he most likely did—he smirked at you. Again.

“I told her that dogs were better than cats,” Sirius smiled wickedly.

You gasped in horror. “No, you did not.”

“Oh, yes I did,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know how she feels about cats, Sirius!”

“Precisely the point, darling.”

To some, it would seem like something off of a controversial debate, like if pineapples belong on pizza for example. But to everyone who really knew Professor McGonagall well, saying things like that was just a recipe for disaster—with disaster meaning serving detention, of course.

“No wonder you ended up here,” You shook your head in disbelief at him.

“Buuut, like I said, it’s not so bad here,” Sirius opposed, untying his apron from the back and behind his neck. “Plus, I’ve got good company.” He winked at you before hanging the apron on one of the hooks attached to the wall of the greenhouse.

You didn’t— no, couldn’t reply to him, seeing how you were caught off guard with what he said. But it wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t good company for you, no. There was never a dull moment with him by your side. In fact, if it were someone else you were stuck with in detention, you wouldn’t have agreed with him earlier that serving it wasn’t so bad. And frankly speaking, if serving detention just meant extra time to hang out with Sirius Black, then you wouldn’t mind disrupting the peace and quiet of class hours every now and then.

Though that would certainly look bad on your report cards, so you mentally chastise yourself for even entertaining the thought. But you couldn’t deny that there was some truth behind it, at least. Or more than some.

“Let me walk you home?” Sirius asked as he regarded you with a certain gentleness in his grey eyes. You felt like melting on the spot, right then and there, as he lingered by the doorway to the greenhouse, waiting for your answer.

But you managed to pull yourself together, and smiled at him. “Sure.”

—

On some days, you would have just taken the school bus home, and Sirius would have just gone on his motorbike. Though in the past, he’d asked you countless times if he could give you a ride home, of course, because it was quicker and more cost-efficient than taking the public transport. But with the way your face blanched at his offering, and the way you kept spewing facts upon facts about how motorbike riding was dangerous (Sirius tried to reassure you that it wasn’t for very obvious reasons), he settled for walking you home instead.

While that had quickly become an almost regular occurrence for the both of you, Sirius always made sure to ask you first, despite the fact that he would have to go back for his motorbike parked at the school after. Knowing this, you tried very hard to kindly refuse him at first. But over time, you found yourself saying yes without a second thought.

At the same time, you refrain yourself from giving it much thought. It was simply a kind gesture from a really good friend of yours, and that was that.

A devilishly handsome, fiercely loyal, and incredibly caring… friend of yours.

Walking home with Sirius never fails to make you feel better after a long day at school. The both of you are instantly engaged in meaningful conversation, debriefing the events that occurred during the day. You like to think it’s a mandatory routine by how often you do it, how often it happens, and how natural it feels. It’s definitely one of, or maybe the best way to de-stress and relax after spending a whole day just studying and working.

If only he could keep the teasing to a minimum, though.

“I’m just saying, you know,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked beside you. “You didn’t have to laugh that hard.”

You scoff in disbelief, the sarcastic reply bubbling up in your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked it whenever I laugh at your jokes?”

“Never said I didn’t, love,” He responded, voice softening at the term of endearment used. “But you could’ve been saved from Minnie’s wrath if you hadn’t done that evil cackle of yours that you call a ‘laugh.’” Sirius chuckled slightly as he spoke, reminding you both of your embarrassment.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” You shot him a half-hearted glare, a smile threatening to come alive on your lips. “And second of all, it’s your fault that I accidentally laughed out loud during class.”

Sirius scoffed immediately, taking full offense as he turned away from you. “‘Accidentally,’ she says.”

“What? It’s true!”

“So I suspect you must have ‘accidentally’ found me funny, too?” He air-quoted.

You let out a sigh, feeling exasperated and slightly frustrated by his consistently witty replies. It seemed like Sirius never ran out of energy when it came to your banter, filled with incessant teasing (coming from Sirius himself most of the time, of course) and lighthearted jabs at each other. But even with your patience increasingly wearing thin with him, you found yourself looking forward to the banter every time. In spite of his knack for getting on your nerves more often than not, you liked sharing it with him. It was almost as if it was something only you and Sirius shared - intimate and unique to your dynamic.

“Whatever, Sirius,” You settled for a dismissive response eventually, rolling your eyes as you did so. Though you knew that he would take the piss out of you again for your lack of a snarky retort.

But to your surprise, the boy only chuckled in amusement, kicking a few pebbles and leaves out of the way as the two of you continued to walk. You didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a likely thing for people to do when they walk on sidewalks riddled with objects in the way.

(But little did you know about Sirius’ true intentions, though.)

After a moment of comfortable silence, you decided to speak up again.

“Hey, so I was wondering—”

Sirius interrupts with a snort of laughter. “When are you not?” “Please shut up and let me finish.” “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he said. Though with the ever so present smirk on his face, and the hint of mirth in his eyes, you couldn’t tell if he was truly sorry. “What were you wondering about in that pretty head of yours?” You paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase your question. Sirius gave you a brief glance, curious about what you were thinking of that had you pondering like this.

“Why’d you do it?” You finally blurted out.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that for me, love.”

Sirius earns the sweet sound of your chuckling, and he zeroes in on the slight flush that appeared on your cheeks, betraying your embarrassment.

“I’m talking about earlier, Sirius. During Physics? When you flew that paper plane to McGonagall?”

His lips formed an O shape as he came to the realization of what you were referring to. And as if the reminder was nothing but a lighthearted one, Sirius snickered to himself.

“And? What about that?”

You sigh, internally wondering how on earth he could find such a thing so amusing. Sure, perhaps Professor McGonagall had developed some sort of fondness or a soft spot for Sirius over the years he’d acted against her in his mischief. But the fact still remained that McGonagall was not to be taken lightly to, especially not during her class.

“I was just wondering why you would do such a thing. I mean.. it was certainly unprovoked, don’t you think?”

“‘Unprovoked,’ you say? Is that what you really think?”

There’s a shift in his tone this time around when he spoke, though there still remained the unmistakable, and ever so present hint of a tease in his voice. You studied his face intently as you thought of a response.

“Yeah. I mean, whatever did you do that for?”

Sirius sighed, though you couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration with you or exasperation. “Didn’t I tell you already? I did it for you, you daft woman.”

You resist the urge to scoff at his remark of you being a supposed daft woman. “I thought you were just messing with me there when you said that.”

“‘Messing with you?’ Why would I—“ He cut himself off with another sigh.

Oh, so he’s frustrated, you realized.

“You know, for someone whose mind runs a thousand miles per hour, you can be really clueless sometimes.”

You let yourself scoff by then, feeling indignant. “What are you on about now?”

Sirius almost smirked at your words, and you knew that by the twitch at the corner of his lips. You tear your eyes away from them, focusing on his eyes instead.

“Come on, you’re a smart girl. Surely, you know why I did that, and why I risked detention?”

Deep down, you had an inkling as to what he was telling you. But you refused to acknowledge it aside from the fact that it was downright ridiculous. After all, you firmly believed yourself to be out of Sirius Black’s league. Your dynamic was synonymous to one of those Paramore songs that went, “He was a punk, she did ballet. Can I make it anymore obvious?”

And as if he could read you, and sense your inner thoughts, Sirius sighed for what seemed like the nth time of that moment. Though now it had sounded almost… sad?

“Shall I spell it aloud for you, then?” He broke the silence, his voice deeper and tinged with seriousness.

“Yes.” Please. For my own sake.

He takes a deep breath first, although the both of you didn’t know for what exactly. But it felt like it was necessary for Sirius, and so—

“I did it for you, ‘cause,” He paused, seemingly trying to push the words out of his mouth. Why he was forcing them out, you didn’t know. “What friends are for, right?”

Well, admittedly, that kind of stung you inside. For a moment—a fleeting, hopeful moment—you wanted Sirius to say that he did it for you, and that was that. Just for you. For the sake of keeping you company, and letting it be up for interpretation on whether it was done under platonic intentions or… not.

“Yeah,” You nodded, mentally chastising yourself for ever expecting such a thing. “What friends are for.”

Sirius is looking at you pensively, noticing a hint of your disappointment in the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and in the way you looked away from him as you replied. He wondered why.

But, ever the one to cheer his friends up, Sirius clears his throat to catch your attention, his grey eyes glittering with mirth.

“And besides,” he added. “You would’ve gone mad if you served detention all alone. You’re kind of a danger to yourself here, love.” He ruffled your hair playfully as he said this, eliciting a smile from you.

“Hey! It doesn’t get that bad, you know,” You defend yourself, fixing your hair with your fingers. Sirius helps you out by tucking the wayward strands of hair, covering your face, behind your ear.

He snickered. “Trust me, love. I know how bad it can get.”

In truth, Sirius has always found it endearing—your knack for getting a little lost in your head more often than not. But he was also one of those people who wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you, to tell you to give yourself a damn break. So, he’ll take any chance to distract you from your thoughts. And if that meant angering McGonagall and serving detention, he didn’t mind at all.

The rest of your walk home goes easily after that, the lighthearted atmosphere returning despite the momentary shift to the slightest, almost imperceptible indication to the feelings you harbored for each other—though unacknowledged on both sides of the party in fear of losing the other.

Although, Sirius suspects that he’ll be brave enough for the both of you one day to bring these feelings into light.

In the meantime, he’ll let you get away with your acting aloof and coy about it. He’ll gladly wait until you’re ready to hear what he’s always wanted to tell you.

So, as the two of you bask in the orange hue of the afternoon sun, walking down the path to your home, you don’t realize that it’s only a few steps away until you’ve reached your destination. You were getting carried away (again) with ranting about tomorrow’s quizzes, and Sirius is trying (again) to calm your anxieties, and reassure you.

At the very same time, he realizes the increasing distance between the two of you and your home. He doesn’t make a move to tell you, and you simply don’t notice.

( ♡ )

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black fluff #foodiegoogie writes

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copperpipes · 4 months

Text

Someone sent an ask about green and black beetles and it got me thinking about DC's Martians' designs because of how I designed blue beetle and the fact that green beetle is martian. So I redesigned martians :]

I have lots of beef with american alien concepts (xenomorph too but less for various reasons) especially intelligent alien species' designs. Yes, i understand the audience needs to empathize with our alien heroes, Cameron, but then they stop being alien. Aliens don't need to be appealing visually, psychologically or socially to us at all, if you are intending to write them seriously.

But of course, all this applies only if you want your writing and design to be realistic or close to reality.

I have several noted points about DC's Martians I'd like to question and or correct in my design, I'll be going off of young justice's martian designs because those are the least human canon designs of them and the most interesting ones. (They can mostly be seen at the beginning of season 4 of YJ) here's the green beetle without the suit and miss martian for reference:

In the show martians are shown to not only have a variety in color but also body type (in some places) which is rare even in an animated show with just humans so big kudos for the animators on that, big fan.

AND martians have webbing between their fingers, arms and torso in this design which could point that they were a water dwelling species in the far past, so also a very big fan of that.

To the redesign:

I had a few ideas.

First I got rid of the teeth on the outside and turned them into a beak because that would be the same thing. Proportionally they are also quite different from the original.

I have some issues with martian abilities. The density shifting is ridiculous (leave it to the ghosts who can bend reality) flying would be unnecessary with the gravity on Mars, there shouldn't be a reason why they could do that. Telekinesis too, for what? What would be its purpose? For survival? They would have found a way without it and otherwise it is physically impossible. *huff*

But some are forgivable, like shape shifting and camouflage if you don't have bones which i solved and telepathy which could just be a very specific frequency only they could emit and hear, that could be adjusted depending on who they were speaking with (with the reading thoughts bit just make them loose the ability to lie, problem solved.) Of course that would also mean their vocal cords wouldn't be made for human speech, but that technology can solve.

The weakness to fire could just be because Mars is also a lot colder then earth.

Our biochemistry should be similar enough tho, carbon based n' all. @wazzappp i thought maybe you would want to see this :>

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drunk-on-dk · 2 years

Note

you asked for hard thots and i can’t shake the absolute cesspit of brainrot that is vernon as your long-term-best-friend who is also your “platonic”-but-why-is-this-so-intense-why-is-he-looking-at-me-like-that date to a family wedding, in your hotel room afterwards and roasting your choice in pyjamas b4 ploughing you into the mattress😔✌🏻

anon u are so sexy for this ask ilysm <333 please tho I am EATING THIS UP, sorry it took me some time (uh oh this is NOT a drabble) but I hope you enjoy it, my dear!!! (i don't know if I did a great job making it super intense as it's a bit more lighthearted, but nonetheless, I hope it hits the mark!)

warnings: smut (minors DNI i will bite and block), some plot at the beginning, mutual pining, teasing, fem! reader but no pronouns, unprotected sex, cunnilingus (female receiving), let me know if i'm missing anything w/c: ~2.5k

"When does it end," you groan, finally peeling off those pesky heels that you've somehow managed to wear the whole wedding and falling back into the comfort of the springy hotel mattress. You're immediately curling into a little ball, hands massaging the aching balls of your feet. "This is like the millionth wedding we've been to this year."

Vernon watches you amusedly, removing his own suit jacket and discarding it onto the decorative armchair. Snorting, Vernon states the obvious, "a million weddings in one year would be impossible, Y/N."

"No shit, Sherlock," you laugh, rolling your eyes as you sit back up, already feeling your eyes falling heavy after the night you've had entertaining your family's antics. "Thanks for saving me yet again though. It's nice having a friend at these things, makes the time go by a lot faster."

A dejected sigh from Vernon goes unnoticed as you spring back up to your feet and walk to the bathroom, PJs crumpled in hand whilst you continue to ramble and rant about your family.

"But seriously, how many weddings can my family have in one year? Also, why are they so convinced we're together? I don't know how many times I have to reiterate that you are my best friend to them? They've known you for like how many years now?"

You can hear Vernon humming in agreement as you unzip your dress in the safety of the bathroom, a soft shuffling sound in the other room indicating that he is rooting through his own suitcase. You hope he doesn't hear the wavering of your voice as you mention the word 'best friend' yet again.

Admittedly, it's been slowly becoming harder to read Vernon these past few months, even though he's been your friend for as many years as you can count on two hands and then some. You had invited him to be your plus one to one of the many weddings you had to attend this year a few months ago, and ever since then you've been quelling thoughts of 'what if?'

Vernon has to suppress another snort when you emerge from the bathroom, the sudden reappearance of you in your tattered, old pajamas has him smiling crookedly in amusement.

"I'm sorry, but what are those?"

"What are what?" You look like a deer in headlights, hands dropping to your sides before taking in fistfuls of your pajama bottoms that should have been retired a long time ago. "Are you making fun of my pajamas?"

Vernon's laugh and smile are enough to make your heart feel like it's about to pound its way out of your chest, your own awkward chuckle combining with his as he approaches you.

"Y/N," he sighs, shaking his head with that ridiculous smile of his still adorning his features, eyes twinkling as he makes you spin for him. "These are ridiculous, how old are these pajamas?"

You shrug, still fisting the extremely soft material as you ponder jokingly about his question. "Maybe like 10 years. What? Do you not find Hello Kitty pajama bottoms cute?"

Vernon and you hold eye contact for a second longer until you are both bursting out into laughter.

"Cute," he ponders adoringly, pinching your arm before heading to the bathroom to change into his own pajamas. "Sure thing."

The interaction has your cheeks burning, noting the way Vernon seems to drink you in before going to change, soft eyes observing you in adoration briefly.

Yet again, you're quick to shake yourself out of it, shuffling into the hotel bed and cuddling with the heavy covers. Still, you're left to your own thoughts.

Why does he keep looking at you like that? It's that same stupid, endearing look in his eyes that seem to soften every time you come into view. It's the kind of look that makes your heart beat a little too fast for your liking. It's that kind of look that has you returning to those 'what if' thoughts.

Vernon is soon joining you in the bed, slipping under the sheets comfortably and shimmying in closer to you, utilizing your body heat as a source of warmth.

You've shared a bed with Vernon many times before, during sleepovers when you were children all the way to accompanying you in bed to make sure you were okay after a night of heavy drinking.

However, you swear with each wedding that you grow uneasier being this close in proximity to him. You are no longer able to avoid the ebbing feeling of butterflies fluttering in your lower stomach.

Vernon hums contently to himself as he relaxes deeper into the sheets and turns to face you. The soft sound of his breathing has goosebumps running down the back of your neck and you don't think you can bear to look at him, so you opt to flip around onto your side and face away from him.

You can practically feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of your head, your hair burning and ears tingling knowing that he is staring at you. It's making you feel restless, so you turn around with a hmph to face him once again.

"What," you whisper harshly, even though it's just you two in this dark, hotel room. The only bit of light is the soft, blue flickering light of the TV that Vernon refuses to turn off. "Why do you keep staring at me? You did it earlier when you picked me up for the wedding, on the dance floor, and even when I changed into my pajamas. You've been doing that too much lately."

He seems a bit guilty, jaw falling slack as his eyes become saucer-like, yet there is still a palpable tension in his stare. "What do you mean? I'm just looking at you."

"Like that!? Who looks at someone like that!" You exclaim, one hand escaping from underneath the covers to motion to his face, the other arm now propping you up to get a better look at him.

Vernon seems to be deep in thought for a second, thick eyebrows bunching up as he takes note of your frazzled demeanor. He also takes note of the undeniable blush that can still be seen even in the dim lighting.

"Y-you-" you're stuttering idiotically at this point, tripping over your words as he continues to stare intently at you.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" His voice is soft and raspy. It shuts you up for a second as you blink stupidly down at his painfully handsome bare face.

You're falling face first into your pillow, groaning loudly and shoving your face deeper into the plush fabric to escape the prison that his gaze has you in.

"No," you mumble loudly into the pillow. "It doesn't. I just feel weird."

He's laughing and it has you smiling like a fool into the pillow. There go those darn butterflies in your stomach again. "It makes you feel weird?"

You sit back up, this time crossing your legs and readjusting so you're not laying next to him. He's way too calm and cool for your liking, not liking the way his lips fall into a lopsided smile as he watches you adjust yourself.

"I don't know, Vernon. I don't know what I feel when you stare at me like that."

"Do you like it?" He's still unserious, but his voice is teetering between what seems like amusement and hopefulness. Your hands are subconsciously playing with the tattered hem of your pajama bottoms, and the habitual motion is enough for Vernon to grasp your hand with his.

"Maybe."

One heartbeat.

Another heartbeat.

Oh god, your ears are pounding from the way he's looking at you.

Vernon is tugging on your hand and pulling you into him, soft lips colliding with yours and knocking the wind out of you.

"Do you like this," he pulls away for a second, seeming just as breathless as you.

"Yes, I do."

"Cool," it's such a Vernon response, but in this case it's almost dizzying. With that, he's pulling you back in, lips hungrily reconnecting with yours, and both of his hands are coming up to cup your face to help guide you as he licks into your mouth.

The kiss is just as intense as his stare, almost as if Vernon is channeling all that pent-up energy into the delicate care and passion encapsulated by his lips on yours.

You feel as if you could overheat when his hands travel from your jaw all the way down to your hips, playing with the waistband of your pajamas. He grabs hold of your hips and flips you onto your back, never once disconnecting from you as he nibbles and suckles on your bottom lip.

"These," he finally breaks away, eyes roaming wildly over your features, and snapping the waistband of your bottoms against your skin. "These ridiculous things have to go."

"Please," you mewl, eyes screwed shut in need as his fingertips continue to tease at your hipbones. "Take them off, Vernon."

He's chuckling, but this time it's almost teasing, the sound making arousal burn at your core when he begins to tug at your bottoms. Your hips buck upwards to help him slip the slinky material off your body, ultimately turning Vernon's chuckle into a pained groan upon being greeted by your dripping pussy.

"Y/N," he mumbles softly, hands running up and down your thighs after discarding your bottoms. "Can I please?"

"Can you please what?" You know what he's asking, but seeing him look so desperate between your legs has you wanting to hear it directly.

"Can I taste you?"

You're nodding profusely, yelping in pleasure when he dives down between your legs, rough hands wrapping around both your thighs to keep you still as his wet tongue comes in contact with your throbbing clit.

"Fuck," you're immediately panting, his tongue working quickly as it runs firm circles around your clit. Vernon is staring up at you from between your thighs, thick eyebrows raised and dark, hungry eyes catching yours once again. "F-fuck, Vernon, you're giving me that look again."

This time he raises one brow, tongue running down your pussy and plunging teasingly into your sopping cunt. "What look?" He mumbles into your core, "taste so good, Y/N."

At this point, the warmth and pressure of his tongue has you reeling, the burning pit of arousal in your lower stomach heightening as he continues to messily eat you out. You're soon pushed over the edge, walls pulsing as Vernon continues to work his tongue from your little hole to your clit.

You're fisting a handful of his hair, feeling overstimulated way too fast after your first release, and pulling him back up. He's quick to engulf you in another kiss, the flavor of your lips and juices like ecstasy on his tongue.

He's shuffling out of his own pajama bottoms as you plea between fleeting kisses, begging to have him fill you. Vernon's innocence resurfaces for a minute as he panics, realizing there is no way he packed a condom. (He's not looking for a random hook-up at your family weddings, nor did he think this would ever actually happen, no matter how long he's pined over you.)

"Fuck, Vernon," you moan, pussy throbbing in need as Vernon continues to rut his length teasingly between your folds whilst he searches for a condom anywhere - maybe there is one in his wallet. "Just fuck me without one. I'm clean and on the pill."

"Ah," he hisses, the thought of you taking him raw making him feel like he could burst. "I'm clean too, are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure," you confirm, hands grabbing at him to pull him closer to you.

"F-Fuck, Y/N," he's obliging, his thick, leaky tip dipping in between your folds and sinking into your tight, little cunt. His body shakes as he plunges deep inside of you, hips bottoming out and getting sucked in completely by your walls.

You're shaking too, heavy breaths soothing you as you adjust to his thickness and length. He wasn't massive, but he was more than enough to deliciously stretch you out. Vernon's convinced he could bust just from the feeling of your walls fluttering and adjusting around him, staring down at you with starry eyes as your face contorts in pleasure.

Vernon suddenly feels as if he has a purpose, watching as your jaw falls slack when he experimentally pulls out just to thrust back in, immediately finding the spongey spot deep in your core.

He's addicted to your reactions, the way you look so beautiful with each precise thrust and spear of his cock inside of you. He's memorizing the way your eyes roll back and clamp shut, remembering how your pouty lips scream his name, noting how your cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink.

Vernon's come to realize he can't get enough of you. He's going to forever be hooked on everything about you, and now that he's tasted and felt your perfect pussy, you won't ever get rid of him.

This passion he feels is reflected in the way he roughly fucks you, hips snapping into yours just to pull another delightful moan from your lips. You can feel the bed rocking as he fucks even deeper into your pussy, legs wrapping tightly around his waist as you feel your impending orgasm build.

His motions slowly become sloppy, and the explicit squelching of your walls sucking him in has him groaning with each messy rut of his hips. Vernon is still keen on watching you though, wanting to see your features as you come undone beneath him.

"C'mon, Y/N," he beckons, his length continuing to fill you so perfectly as your walls flutter around him. He can feel you getting impossibly tighter, loving the way your legs keep him close as he pounds into you. "Look at me, please, let me see you."

You're listening to him, eyes opening to look back at him in the same way he's looking at you. There's that damn look again, but this time it has you falling apart for him. The way your walls spasm around his cock and the orgasmic glow of your features has him coming with you, filling you deeply with his cum as your core throbs in pleasure from the intensity of your orgasm mixing with his.

You're absolutely fucked out, the two of you breathless as Vernon reluctantly pulls out, and opts to clean you up quickly. You can't help but hide your face when he happily joins you back in bed, that same stupid look on his features that landed him here in the first place.

You're positive you'll be receiving a noise complaint from the hotel. Hopefully, none of the other wedding guests are staying around you, especially after you've been parading around with him as your "platonic" friend for the past few months (ahem, years).

#seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #chwe vernon smut #vernon smut #hansol smut #hansol vernon chwe smut #[💌] anon #[💌] asks #i love you for this #i love me some vernon hard thots

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nadianova · 1 month

Note

How much time do you spend planning some of your visual novels? At least going by some of them being jam submissions, it feels like you go from pre-production to a finished build very quickly, and it's amazing how you can manage that while still having an awesome story and so many assets.

Also, what is like, the process of planning a story out for you, if there's any vague or concrete similarities that you've noticed?

i think the important context here is that if i get bored/have nothing to do i jhust immediately get really suicidal its like ridiculous how bad it gets(ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT IVE HAD 5 YEARS OF THERAPY). so i hate being bored and want to occupy my time wit something fun whatever that is. if i have a project to focus on but especially if I'm working for a game jam i have a deadline and i just decide to myself okay i will release a game now.

because ive made a decent amount of games i roughly have an idea on my capabilities, i can estimate how long it takes for me to write a story so and so long and how long it takes for me to draw stuff i need and how long it takes for me to throw stuff in renpy. these are estimates like as in I'm not accurate with it but still enough that i generally know where to start cutting ideas since the most important part is just having something to submit. i also know to plan around my brain wanting to slam my head into a wall an my hands suddenly giving up on being able to draw.

i think thats the beauty of game jams it forces you to just go for it and release something. releasing a 'bad' game is better than no game at all. experience only comes over time and i think just going for it is the best approach there is. like its literally 2 weeks 1 month whatever of your life. if you have the time and motivation go for it. make it work or fuck it up it wont matter in the grand scheme of things

im not sure what is the motivation behind the question but i do want to point out that this is just my method (if you can even call it a method) and the only way to figure out what works for you is to just try until you find something that actually works for you

idk not everyone will find it doable/fun to plan around spending two weeks gamedev 10 hours a day just cause i wanted to fit in 100 cgs for a jam game but apparently i can do that when i cheat my stupid adhd brain into hyperfocus with adhd meds

READMORE BECAUSE I CANT STOP RAMBLING

as for planning tho i think ideas on their own are worthless and its always about execution in the end. a great idea or a meh idea are the same for me but i do still enjoy the planning process so i keep notes

like i see a great tumblr post or i see some art or visual novel has some scene that inspires me: i save that shit for myself

having a big collection of random floating ideas like that helps me easily pick from especially during a jam type duration. right now i have like 4-5 half-baked project skeletons, some are literally like 3 pictures and some like naomida are a hundred hours worth of me writing world building about how the toilets work in a city with no plumbing cause its -30celcius(i love bringing this up)=

i dont normally plan that much, i tend to just wing it. like for malmaid i seriously just had some rough ideas and just went along as i wrote

same thing for dddeviance i had a handful of scenes that i really wanted to make and knew what kind of start and end it was meant to have and just figured out how to fill the in between. a lot of plot points changed vastly like halfway through i realised my devil + angel combination was stupid and i should just go for fallen angel + angel.

i think there really is no simple answer tho (as evident from the long as hell post) i don't really have a 'process' because every single game has been worked on has come with different type of planning since I'm always trying new stuff to try and distract me from boredom. like I've been using obsidian for naomida while previously I've just used a empty discord serve as my notes app for malmaid and dddeviance

and tbh with naomida I'm running to a new problem where I'm definitely planning too much. like I'm spending too much time fidgeting with details in chapter 4 even when i haven't finished writing chapter 1 just cause its so easy to get in the loop of "oh ill just change this one line" and boom 20 mins spent playing with my notes that didn't really progress my game since by the time i reach this point the whole scene might have shifted to something else

but if i had to squeeze an answer itd be something like everything related to my art or writing or games is just like "oooooo that seems fun i should remember this for later" and then i just string 10-100 of those into a story

i tend to write my stories in a format of

character A does this and that

this happens here

puppy play ryona piss orgasm

new day and then this happens here

sad thing happens

more piss orgasm

the end

and just like start filling in more details and working on my story in a nonlinear fashion until i feel like i have a strong enough skeleton that i can start writing my scenes. i hop around a lot, often preferring to write the fun scenes first like ero stuff or the ones I'm the most interested in and then the rest is just filling the blanks and stringing the cool scenes together

#idk #dev rambling i guessssssssssssssssssssssssss #asked

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raindduks · 2 years

Text

earned it

p a i r i n g :: toji x reader

g e n r e :: smut, pwp, afab reader

w a r n i n g s :: slight primal play, slight dub-con, being robbed, mentions of gun violence, minimal police, toji likes to bite

s u m m a r y :: It was supposed to be a normal day. A normal day, with a normal, boring trip to the bank.

How the hell did you end up in the back of a bank robbers car with his head between your thighs?

w o r d c o u n t :: 5.2k

a / n :: cross posted on ao3, ive never written smut before so please go easy on me. if you've seen a fic similar to this, a friend and i used the same idea to create two fics (tho i think hers is only on ao3).

m i n o r s d n i

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this.

You were just supposed to grab some money from the bank to pay a couple bills, head home, maybe grab yourself an iced coffee on the way back. Work a bit. Shower? Hell, maybe you’d finally open that nice bottle of Pinot Noir you got for your birthday.

“Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.”

The cold tip of a gun presses harder against your ribcage, its owner leaning over you in such a fashion to hide it. His arm drapes over your shoulder, whispers falling in hot breaths on your ear. The pair of you take a step forward. The teller is focused on another customer currently; you don’t think she’s noticed your predicament quite yet.

“You gotta look at least somewhat happy about this, or else the teller won’t cough up the cash.” He leans in further, squeezing you to his side. “If that happens, well.. You certainly won’t be leaving here alive.”

Deep breaths. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, threatening to destroy this whole charade in an instant. You don’t doubt the credibility of his threat. This man is clearly confident that this ridiculous idea for a robbery would work to begin with - seriously, in broad daylight, no mask, in a skin-tight black t-shirt and baggy jacket - why wouldn’t he be willing to cut down a few people in his way? No need to ponder it further as your ‘companion’ wipes at your eye. A surprisingly tender gesture, all things considered.

“Awh, am I really that bad?”

Does he want an actual answer?

It doesn’t matter now, it’s your turn at the desk.

“Hi, how can I help you today?”

You force on the best smile you can manage, trying to keep your voice light and gentle.

“I’d like to make a withdrawal, please.” The teller doesn’t make any indication that anything is awry.

“Certainly. I’ll need your card and ID please. Which account did you want to withdraw from?”

Your companion steps in as you pull out your ID and card to hand over. “Savings please. We’re headed out on our honeymoon and wanted to make sure we had everything for the trip.” You nod, sliding the cards across the countertop.

The teller’s smile falters just a bit, but you’re hoping he sees it as some sort of surprise at being addressed by someone else, rather than the obvious. She continues with a small huff, “Well, I will need confirmation from the account holder after I make a copy of the ID. It seems the ID we have on file has expired, so I’ll have to make a new one for our system. It shouldn’t take more than a moment. ” Before either of you can protest, she’s turned away and headed for the scanner behind her.

Toji - you think that’s his name, he mentioned it briefly when he cornered you outside and threatened you - leans in. The gun presses almost under your rib cage at this angle. “You’re gonna have to ask about the unmarked bills. I don’t think she’s buying this whole honeymoon bit.” The teller still has her back to you, working on scanning your ID. You can’t see her hands at all.

She’s all smiles when she returns to the counter. She hands you your ID and card, but keeps her hands on the countertop. She makes eye-contact with Toji.

“Alright, how much would you like to withdraw?”

He answers before you can. “All of it.”

“Please.” You chime in - “And can we, uh, can we get that in unmarked bills? The vacation is…international.”

You hesitated in your lie. The smile falters - both hers and yours.

“Of course. I’ll get right on that.”

The teller leaves again, this time to grab the cash presumably. She’s gone off to another part of the bank. You want to relax, but you aren’t alone here. Toji keeps the gun pressed against your ribs - he must be practiced at this, considering how long he’s kept it up - and lets his lips ghost the outer shell of your ear.

“Be more confident next time. We gotta look like a normal, happy couple here.”

You don’t tell him that most normal people don’t ask for unmarked bills in any situation. It’s practically the biggest red flag you could give at a bank besides actually pointing a gun at the teller.

“Ya know, I don’t really like one-sided conversations doll. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is light as ever, casual even. Conversing with the person robbing you of all you have isn’t exactly what most normal people do either. Maybe you aren’t destined to have a normal day. Who are you kidding, any chance of that disappeared when you decided to go to the bank.

“There’s not… a lot going on in my head right now. Besides the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Not dying.” You don’t know what gave you the gall to say some stupid shit like that until he chuckles. It’s not loud, but it sits deep enough in his chest to make him ease up on the pressure of the gun against you.

“‘Course. The obvious. Anything else? I’m looking forward to our ‘honeymoon’.”

This time you turn to actually look at him. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when you first encountered him, a little too preoccupied by the gun pointed in your face. He’s quite attractive, with green eyes and shaggy black hair. The scar over his lip is still somehow eye-catching, and you aren’t sure you want to know where he got it from.

You ask anyway.

“Where’d you get that scar from?”

He seems almost surprised, which is fair. You aren’t sure you have any sense of self-preservation left. He considers your question for a second before just smirking and responding - “It’s a long story.”

The teller re-enters your line of sight.

“Looks like our friend is back.” He whispers, continuing much louder when the teller returns to the counter. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but still you feel like she’s been gone much longer. “All done? We’re in a bit of a rush.”

She hands you at least four envelopes filled to the brim with bills. “Of course sir. I hope the two of you have a lovely honeymoon.” You are actually kinda impressed your savings managed to fill up such space. Simultaneously, it hurts knowing all that work will be gone as soon as you walk out of the building. Toji grabs the money from you, stuffing it in the pockets in his oversized pants.

“Thanks, you’ve been a big help doll.”

You can’t tell who he’s addressing.

The pair of you walk out of the bank, and towards the parked cars.

“You did good back there sweetheart. Now you know the rules, you can’t tell anyone about what happened here tonight, clear?”

“Crystal.”

It’s almost over. This nightmare can end.

And then you hear the sirens.

They’re far enough off to not be an immediate threat, but you’re working ona very limited time frame now. Toji doesn’t hesitate as he practically throws you into the backseat of his car. “Guess you and I are goin’ for a little ride.”

“Wait-!” The doors are closed before you can get a word in edgewise. He’s inserted himself in the front seat and started reversing out as you right yourself in the backseat. The sirens sound closer and he speeds off towards the highway as a couple of cop cars round the corner.

The chase is on. Toji doesn’t seem phased, weaving in and out of traffic with practiced ease. You, on the other hand, are being tossed around in the backseat as he swerves, struggling to get your seatbelt on. The two of you make it to the service road unscathed, four cars hot on your tail. The sirens have made traffic practically grind to a halt, drastically slowing your progress. Groups of cars block your path, and road spikes make entering the highway nearly impossible.

“Hold on princess, we’re taking a shortcut.”

You frantically grab the door handle, trying to keep yourself stationary as he jumps the curb to get around a roadblock. A car comes barrelling straight at you as you finally manage to secure your seatbelt. It’s not a direct collision - barely knicks the back bumper - but it’s enough to smack your head against the window.

Hard.

By the time you come to, it’s dark outside and you’re far, far out of town.

“What the hell… Hey, where are we? Weren’t we being chased by cops?”

Toji looks at you in the rearview mirror, a smirk pulling at the edges of his scar.

“Have a nice nap sweetheart?” He immediately pulls off onto the side of the road. You suppose you’re lucky he didn’t dump you sooner. He opens the driver door and hauls himself out of the front seat.

“Stellar, thanks for... asking. Hey. Hey! Where the hell are we? What’s going on?” Unfastening your seatbelt, you try to scramble away as he walks around the car to the far door - the one facing away from the street. A hand closes around your ankle, and with a hard yank, you are flat on your back staring up at the man now blocking your best route for escape.

“Does it really matter? I have no more use of you. So your time is up.” He’s planted one forearm on the top of the doorframe. Moonlight spills in behind him, highlighting the outer corners of his face. Radiant light from the tail lights leaves his left side illuminated in red.

“You’re just going to leave me here?!” You pull yourself onto your elbows, slightly ashamed of the heat that spiked in your gut from being manhandled.

“What’d you expect, doll?” He holds onto the edge of the frame as he leans in, planting an arm right next to your head. “Didja think you’d that I’d just drop ya off somewhere you’d be sure to get back safely? Leave a witness behind?” His eyes are wide open, opposed to the somewhat droopy look they’ve had up until this point. You can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I-I-No-I just -” Your face flushes at his proximity. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it a long time ago. He’s had ample chances - shooting you after he got the money or throwing you out of the car while possibly concussed, just to name a couple. If he truly wanted to kill you, and he waited until you thought you were safe to do so - then he would be truly evil. The idea of accidentally smartass-ing your way into an early grave has you tongue-tied.

Toji laughs. It’s not a pleasant sound, full of malice and mockery. He leans back a bit, eyes returning to their normal, aloof state as he takes a slow, considering look down your body. Your skin burns wherever his gaze passes over. You’re acutely aware of how this position makes your chest more prominent, how your legs are spread on either side of his on the outside of the car, how the heat from before never really went away but has instead continued to grow throughout this interaction.

“Well, since you’ve been so good this far, I’ll be nice. Leave you a little somethin’ to remember me by.”

He lets go of the hood, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you upright into a brutal kiss. He bites at your lower lip, and you gasp. His tongue is long and presses into your mouth at the opportunity. He tastes like mint gum - he must’ve had some while you were out. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, digging your fingers into his hair. Toji’s hand is warm on your lower back, pressing you up against his chest.

Toji pulls away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting the two of you for a second before he dives towards the crook of your neck. His lips press against your pulse, teeth briefly nicking the skin there, a spark of electricity settling just beneath the area. His tongue flattens against your cheek as he licks one broad stripe from your jaw down to your collarbone. Again, he nips at you before retreating just enough to blow on the wet skin. The sudden chill sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying the heat pooling at your core.

You instinctively attempt to clench your thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction or relief, only to be stopped by his legs between yours. He bites at the base of your throat, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. Nothing about Toji is gentle, and despite the alarm bells sounding in your head at this whole situation - you can’t help the strangled yelp that escapes you.

You feel his devilish grin before you see it, the air sucked out of the car as he pulls away from his position marking up your neck. You can’t even pretend to ignore the flash of heat running through you at the dangerous spark in his eyes. Fuck the wine at home, you think you could get drunk off the feeling of him looking at you like a predator closing in on their poor, helpless prey. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth.

He runs those hungry eyes over every inch of you, moving his hands to your waist. In one swift motion, Toji yanks you to the edge of the backseat - your lower half almost entirely out of the car. He wastes no time hauling your legs over his shoulders and begins to leave wet, open mouthed kisses up towards your aching cunt, heat from his breath doing nothing to cool down the fire burning in your gut. He mouths over your clothed core a couple of times, piercing eyes not leaving yours for an instant. Running his fingers along the waistline of your pants, he hooks his fingers under just enough to find purchase on both your pants and panties and practically rips them down your legs.

Toji hovers over you for just a second. The cool night air settling over your exposed sex makes you squirm in his hold, his eyes more chilling than the night itself. In the soft red glow of the tail lights, he makes one more command.

“Be as loud as you can. There’s no one out here to hear you but me. I don’t want you to hold back.”

He settles further between your legs, elbows on the seat and forearms thrown across your thighs as he positions himself in front of your cunt. Rather than give you what he knows you want just yet, he turns his head and sinks his teeth into the plush skin of your thigh. It hurts - the bite, the chill, the sensation of him sucking at your skin - and you arch up instinctively. Slamming your hands into the seat, you just about scream. Eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back tears. After the initial bite you fall back onto the seat, panting and whining at the continued sensation. You frantically try to tug at his hair, to pull him off of you, while attempting to move out of his iron grip. Truly, those muscles aren’t just for show. He seems almost emboldened by your attempts.

Satisfied with the dark, defined bite mark on your thigh and the tear trails adorning your cheeks - he turns his attention to your forgotten cunt and buries his face in your pussy, the bridge of his nose nudging at your sensitive bud. It’s sloppy, it’s rough, it’s messy in a sort of perfected, practiced way. Every minute movement sends jolts of arousal up your spine that bury themselves in your stomach. You rock your hips against him as best you can with his arms still pinning you down. He licks a long hot stripe up your cunt, flicking his tongue at the top of the motion. Always one step away from truly sending you over that cliff.

You think he’s trying to drive you crazy.

“Please…”

A pathetic whine. You don’t even know what you’re pleading for - more? For him to stop playing around with you? For him to touch you? To play with your empty, empty cunt? More, more, always more. It might be the headache, it might be the man between your thighs, either way you can’t think straight anymore. You need something more. There’s a deep ache twisting inside you - and you’re pretty sure only the dark haired man in front of you can unwind it.

“Please what? You know how I feel about one-sided conversations sweetheart.”

The words are muffled as he speaks them against your clit. He punctuates by wrapping his lips around the small bud and sucking on it for a brief moment. Your body jolts with each one, hips bucking.

“I need - I need more… Please…”

“More? Like…” One arm lays across your lower stomach, elbow under one hip and fingers splayed out across the other. He maintains his iron grip as he runs a single finger down your slit - collecting the juices before dipping one finger into your heat. He pushes up to the third knuckle, taking just a moment before retreating and slowly circling your clit.

“Like that?”

You nod furiously, propping yourself up on your arms again. “Yes, yes, please more…” You can’t even bother with shame anymore.

He huffs out a chuckle, “Greedy little thing.” Toji returns his mouth to your clit, roughly plunging his finger back into your cunt. Pleasure blossoms through your body, unfurling its flaming tendrils into your muscles. Moans, whines, breathy half-sounds tumble out of your mouth, your cunt clenching around his finger as he works you open with one finger, and then another that presses upwards to find that small spongy spot that would bring the stars into the backseat with you.

Toji fucks his fingers into you as he suctions his lips around your sensitive bud. The heat building in your stomach is on the verge of bursting.

“A-ah, I’m s’close…” You struggle against his hold again, aching to ride his face and fingers to completion.

But it seems Toji has other plans.

Almost as soon as those words leave your lips, the black-haired man quickly removes his fingers from your core. The night air hits your sopping cunt, clenching around nothing. You whine - what the hell?! You start to complain about your denied orgasm, but one look at Toji has any frustrated words dying on your lips.

He looks positively feral.

The scar over his lips glistens with the combination of spit and your juices. Teeth bared in a manic grin, his canines catching the light ever so slightly before a long, pointed tongue slips out to gather all remnants of you from his lips and fingers. His pupils are blown wide, hair mussed on the sides where it pressed against your thighs. Toji rises back up to his full height, towering over you in the car. You’d forgotten for a moment you should be scared of him. He doesn’t break eye contact.

Your heart rate picks up significantly, the adrenaline that should’ve been present since he first grabbed you outside the bank finally making its debut. It must show on your face because the crazed look on his face only seems to intensify. What the hell were you doing? This was ridiculous! This man just robbed you of your life savings and here you are letting him eat you out! He could kill you - he still might after he’s finished with you!

None of these revelations have remotely tempered the sheer arousal coursing through you.

You start to move away from him. Prey realizing too late that they’re already trapped in the predator's jaws.

“Oh no ya don’t.” He yanks you back towards him by your ankle. “Can’t back out now, doll. That wouldn’t be fun for either of us.” He grabs your arm, hauling you out of the vehicle into the night. You stumble a little as your feet hit the ground. You spot your pants laying a few feet away, acutely aware of your current state of undress compared to his. Toji hardly gives you time to find your footing before pressing his lips against yours once more. You’re more prepared for this kiss this time- pushing your chest against his and winding your arm around his waist. Teeth clashing, lips bruising at the intensity. Before was messy, full of spit and the slightest gentleness. This? This was no less than Toji claiming you as his own. Another treasure to be had, rich lands to be conquered. He towers over you, placing one hand up under your jaw to tilt your head upwards for ease of access.

He puppets you in the kiss, pushing and pulling as he moves you away from the open door towards the side of the trunk. You chase his lips, trying to keep an idea of where the car is with a hand following the frame. He pulls away once he’s got you up against a more solid section, and with a hand on either hip he spins you to face the car. You don’t have much time to process the sudden move before he presses himself against your back, warmth radiating through the fabric of your top a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath you.

One thick, calloused hand runs up under your shirt towards your chest - the other slowly moving over your hip towards your slick pussy. Toji presses his face against the crook of your neck, breathing over the exposed skin. You feel fully encased in him, a thought both comforting and terrifying. As with everything else, he doesn’t wait. One finger runs up and down your slit, playing once more with your clit while the hand under your shirt pinches your nipples through your bra. It doesn’t take long for small pants and whimpers to fall from your lips again as he works you back up towards that high.

He presses two fingers back into your velvet cunt, surprisingly gentle as he works you open once more. His other hand unclasps your bra, allowing it to fall forward enough to comfortably take your breast into his hand. His teeth graze your neck and he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You whine, rolling your hips forward against his palm.

The superheated knot in your core hardly has time to redevelop before he again leaves you empty and aching. You throw your head back, resting the side of your face against his hair. You try to press back against him, whining at the loss of his fingers.

“Please….”

“Please what? Do you know how to say anything else?” He nips at your jaw, his voice positively dripping with the amusement plastered over his features.

“Please stop playing and just fuck me already!”

This may not count as smart-assing your way to an early grave but it is certainly close.

Toji grins against your skin - “Greedy.” - and bites at your ear. His hands disappear from your body, but his mouth remains glued to the side of your neck. He sucks a small mark in the skin under your ear. You hear the rustle of fabric as his tongue traces over the bruise and down the curve of your jaw. The next moment he’s pressed back against you, obvious bulge pressed squarely against your ass. You try to reach behind, return just a bit of what he’s given you tonight - but Toji’s hands are already pressing your front down into the side of the trunk. One hooks under your thigh just slightly, spreading your feet apart just so. The cold air brushes like hot fire against your skin as he moves away.

You turn your head to the side, not wanting to take your eyes off of him.

One hand lazily strokes his cock, tall and proud, precum catching the light from the tail lights. He’s immersed in their red glow, raven hair mussed against the night sky.

“This is what you wanted, right doll?”

You wet your lips ever so slightly. You nod. He tuts.

“We talked about this.”

“Yes! Yes I-ah-I want this.”

He smirks and presses himself back against you. You feel the head of his cock nudging at your folds, dragging through your slit to gather some of the wetness there. His left hand grips your hip, fingers digging into the plush skin. The head catches ever so slightly on your seeping hole on each drag. Toji continues for only a moment more before positioning himself right against your entrance.

With a small kiss to the nape of your neck, he pushes in.

You feel like you’re being split open. He’s much longer than you realized - pressing against your cervix before he’s even bottomed out. The girth is just enough to stretch, filling you so deliciously. You hardly get a moment to adjust before he snaps his hips up into you. He presses his length fully into you with each thrust, pushing you forward with the sheer force behind them. As with everything tonight, his thrusts are rough and calculated. Bruising. Even when he’s mostly out of you, the throbbing sensation of your cervix being battered remains. It takes everything in you to remain upright. You cry out with each thrust, hands frantically trying to keep you steady on the smooth metal. You rock back against him as best you can, further amplifying his already bruising speed.

The pace steals the air from your lungs, tightening around your core and leaving you panting against the car frame. Every inch of you burns with a passion and intensity you could hardly even fantasize before. The feeling of him stretching you open, the stars faintly twinkling in the distance, the mild ache from your now neglected clit, all burns their way into your muscles, taking up home in your memories. You want to close your eyes. You don’t want to miss the slight contortions of his face as he thrusts up into your slick heat. You need to focus on what you’re feeling. You want to lick at the sweat building at his brow, to inhale him into you.

God, you are one depraved individual.

A baser side of you takes over, finally letting your head fall to rest against the metal. A litany of incoherent, half-baked thoughts cross your mind and tumble out of your mouth. The knot in your stomach returns. He repeatedly snaps you back against him, the iron grip on your hips guaranteeing a new set of finger-shaped bruises in the morning. Toji readjusts his angle just slightly - enough to find that spot deep inside that steals your vision from you with each thrust. You choke out a garbled moan, and you miss the unsettling grin of a hunter that’s found its mark.

He pushes you fully against the car, front resting nearly on top of the trunk with his body pressed firmly against your back. One hand snakes down towards your clit, while the other hooks up under your thigh to allow him full access to your poor abused pussy. He rests his head on your back, right at the curve of your shoulder blade.

“Come on sweetheart, you’ve been so good for me this far.”

A calloused finger rubs circles on your clit. He nails your g-spot with nearly perfect precision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, the knot building and tightening with his attention.

“Give this to me. Remember this - ” a particularly rough thrust draws a cry from you “ - and who it was that made you feel like this.” He bites down onto the skin at the back of your neck, and combined with the finger on your clit and the thrusts against your cervix you can’t find it in yourself to hold on any longer. You’ve already given so much to him - your money, your body, your self-respect - you might as well give him a permanent home in your mind and fantasies. You think you’d probably give him anything if he asked for it. The tension building in your core finally bursts, flooding your senses with its white hot pleasure. You scream, shaking and clenching around him as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. You lean into the overstimulation, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure wracks through you in bursts. At the top of one of those bursts, Toji groans and snaps your hips back one last time to fully seat himself within you. Hot spurts of cum fill you, so much that it begins to leak out around the base of his cock.

The two of you don’t move for a moment, allowing the heat to settle and dissipate. Toji rests against you, one hand idly rubbing your side. If you weren’t almost entirely on the trunk you probably would’ve fallen to the ground by now. Every inch of you feels light and unreal. You start to focus on bringing yourself back down to reality; Toji pulls out and moves away from you. The night air on your back is refreshing, giving you something real to grab onto. Once you start thinking too hard about what just happened, you’re flooded with abject shame.

This man just robbed you of your life savings and… you had (mind-blowing) sex with him?!

You roll onto your back, groaning at the realization. You are quite possibly the stupidest person to ever exist. Or at least the stupidest one at this exact moment. How the hell were you going to get home? He already said he wasn’t just going to drop you off! Fuck -

Toji pulls you out of your shame spiral, pressing a bundle of cloth - your pants probably - into your arms.

“Ah, t-thanks.”

He’s fully dressed already, though it wasn’t like he took off much of his clothing to begin with. There’s a small piece of fabric hanging from his pocket, and you realize with increasing shame that it’s your panties. He notices you eyeing it and only smirks before fully hiding it in his pocket.

“A souvenir. From our little… honeymoon.” You aren’t willing to focus on that any longer, instead electing to get your own pants on - sans proper undergarments. “Well doll. It was nice knowin’ ya.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck oh shit oh fuck - he’s actually going to kill you now. Your heart races and you brace yourself against the car. You open your mouth, fully prepared to plead your case - I won’t say a word, this never happened, please just let me go - as Toji reaches into his other pocket. You want to cry. This has all been too much. He pulls out an envelope - one of the ones the teller at the bank gave you with your savings inside - and takes out a couple of bills.

Toji wrenches your hand away from the car, and presses the bills firmly into your palm. He even makes sure to close your fingers around them.

“Get a cab or somethin’. Don’t want ya wandering around too late. ”

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, staring dumbly after his figure as he walks around to the driver’s side. You try to process the absolute rollercoaster of emotions that was the past couple of minutes, but by the time you realize what’s happening Toji is already starting the car. You frantically feel your pockets -

“Hey! W-Wait!”

He doesn’t.

“Wait, jackass! My phone’s in there!”

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