#somebody kill me before i ruin things further

[bygetoacademia]

I wasted the first month of the semester watching anime and reading about gay men fucking

That's it, that's the school update

[vivwritesfics]

"He Can't Know"

Y/N Wolff and her father have always had a rocky relationship. Formula One was bringing them together. She's not quite ready to let her relationship with a certain Ferarri driver ruin that

1.4K

Part Two

"He can't know," Y/N whispered as they met in the dark halls of the hotel. "If he finds out, he'll kill me, you and your entire team," she whispered, pressed up against the wall.

Her back was flush against it, her arms thrown around his neck. They were close enough that there was no space between them. If anybody was to appear now there would be no hiding it.

"We can't hide it forever," he whispered back, leaning down to kiss her.

Y/N pushed him away. "Yes we can. We need to be more careful, too. What if paparazzi is watching the hotel? What if somebody with a camera catches us when they think we're alone and they sell us out to the tabloids?"

Releasing his grip on her waist, Charles pulled away from her and let out a sigh. "You really want to keep me hidden away forever? Are you going to wait until we're married with kids before you tell your dad?"

She let out a sigh and went to say something else, but Charles had already walked away, leaving her standing in the hall.

That was the problem with Y/N Wolff, daughter to one of the biggest names in Formula One (outside of the drivers, of course). She found love and she couldn't express it, unless she wanted her dad to go Darth Toto on said loves ass.

Y/N and her father had never had a very close relationship. He was travelling a lot and Y/N never got to see him. She resented him for never being there. For missing all the school plays, the dance recitals, all of it.

Formula One was the reason Y/N hated him. Formula One was going to be the thing to fix their relationship. As soon as Y/N turned twenty one and she was done with university, she asked her father if she could join him as he travelled the world for the sport he loved.

Toto jumped at the chance. Y/N hadn't been to a grand prix since she was a little girl; he couldn't wait to take her around to experience it all.

Unfortunately for Toto, Y/N seemed to be preoccupied.

And she was. She really was preoccupied. With a driver clad in red and yellow.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. She kept her head down and pulled her phone out. With no other options, Y/N texted him. I'm sorry, she texted. I'm sorry and I will tell him, just not yet.

She stayed the messages, watching the three little dots appear for a few seconds, and then disappear right after. She threw her head back as she swiped her keycard against the door and pushed it open.

Charles wasn't happy with her, that much was clear. But what was she to do? Tell her dad and risk him killing both her and Charles? No way. She wasn't ready for that.

***

"Hey dad," said Y/N when she walked into the Mercedes garage. Toto looked at her and gave her a smile, already engrossed in meetings and work. She made her way to the back of the garage and sat alongside George's girlfriend.

He was just a little further down the paddock. He currently wanted nothing to do with her.

Y/N could do it now. She could rip off the bandaid and tell her dad everything. And then watch him rip off Charles' head.

She pulled out her phone to text him. Hey, she sent in one text. Good luck today.

Read but not answered. That was okay; he was a busy guy. Especially on race day.

“Good luck,” Y/N said to both Lewis and George. She reached down to scratch the top of Roscoes head as he came trotting past. It wasn’t long now until the race started. The drivers were doing their last minute prep.

When the race finally began, Y/N was still sat at the back of the Mercedes garage, headset on as she watched the race. When she first came with her dad to watched the Formula One, Y/N had found the races thrilling. Now, as she watched the two Ferrari’s driving around, her heart was racing in her chest and anxiety had her chewing her nails.

The race was over just as fast as it had begun (although not really, it lasted the amount of time it was meant to. For Y/N though, it felt like it was over just as quickly as it had begun). Lewis was on the podium and George just about missed out.

Charles, though, he was on the podium, alongside Max and Lewis. Y/N watched him, clapping her hands as he sprayed the champagne. She wasn’t going to lose him over fear.

After the race she made her way back to the hotel. Her father was letting her stay in the city for a little while, letting her have a little holiday. As she got out of the car and walked across the lobby, Y/N checked her phone.

Meet me in the hall.

Five little words. Five little words that meant so much to her.

Getting into the elevator, Y/N repeatedly pressed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator doors were too slow to close. The elevator was too slow going up. The elevator doors were too slow to open again.

Charles was waiting there, outside of the elevators. His arms were folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Mon amour,” he said as she stepped out of the elevator.

“Are you still mad at me?”

Charles shook his head. “No, I’m not mad. But you need to tell your father at some point. I want to be with you, and I don’t want it to be in secret.”

Letting out a sigh, Y/N fell against him. “I really want to tell him,” she confessed. “I really want to tell my dad but I’m so afraid of what might happen.”

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “We can tell him together.”

No, not together. This was something Y/N had to do alone.

***

“Hey dad.”

Once again, Toto was too busy talking to properly acknowledge his daughter. She awkwardly waited beside him, hands shoved into her pockets as she waited for him to stop talking. But Toto kept going. It was understandable; he was a busy guy.

“Hey dad,” she tried again. “Can we talk?”

“One moment,” Toto responded.

Not good enough. “Hey dad. Can we talk? It’s about something important.”

That finally got Toto’s attention. He apologised to those he was speaking to and followed his daughter as she tried to find an empty room.

Once they found one, Y/N closed the door behind her. She leaned against it as her father took a seat. This was maybe one of the hardest things she ever had to do. “I’ve been travelling around with you for all of the season so far, and, a lot of things can happen when… you’re… travelling.”

There was really no delicate way to put it. Toto looked at her expectantly.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been seeing someone. And they are in the business of Formula One.”

Toto stood up. His arms were crossed as he walked over to the door. “Which one of them is it?” He asked, pointing at the door. “Which one of them touched you?”

“What? Nobody touched—”

“Who do I have to fire?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “What? Nobody. Nobody in Mercedes touched me. I’ve started seeing Charles.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Toto was saying nothing, and that was putting Y/N on edge. “Dad, please.”

But Toto held up his hand, silencing her. “You’ve started seeing Charles Leclerc? The Ferrari driver?”

Y/N nodded her head.

“I’m going to kill him.” He was calm, which, Y/N supposed was good.

But he was smiling. And that was better than Y/N could have asked for. “I know dad.”

“I’m going to kill him right now.”

A/N: Hey guys! So I moved to finish my studies and my roommate is going to watch the f1 with me I'm so happy. Anyways, with my studies resuming, I'm not gonna have as much time to write.

[generalllimaginesss]

author’s note: I blacked out while writing this, so it will be as much of a surprise to me when I wake up and reread it as it will to you when you read it for the first time. It wasn’t requested, just something that my brain came up with and wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished it. It’s loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s The Grudge and the movie Sweet Home Alabama (my favorite movie). Also, this is completely made up in my head and in no way reflects something that Luke Hughes has done, or will do. It’s also 2:06 AM and I can’t promise that it’s proofread very well because I can barely keep my eyes open (I worked a double today).

Warnings: cursing, ANGST, cheating, kinda sad but has a good ending. Slow beginning, but I promise it gets better!

Without further ado….

The Grudge

“Hello?”

The single word that was the catapult for the demise of your relationship. The single word that changed the course of what you pictured your future as.

Luke’s side of the call was silent, the only noise able to be heard was his breathing, heavy as if the weight of the world was crushing his lungs, deflating him of life.

He wasn’t supposed to be calling. He had told you he was having a guys week, a time for him to regroup with his brothers and friends at the lake house. It was his own little sanctuary away from the life that he had worked so hard for. A quiet place. He had asked for that time, to which you agreed, he needed a break.

“Luke? Everything ok?”

He wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone in that instance. The reality that he was about to destroy the last bit of trust that you held for him constricting him as he fought with his vocal cords, trying like hell to form some form of vocalization.

“I need to tell you something,” He managed to squeeze the words out, every bit of courage mustered into it. The feeling of facing the mistake that he had made seemed impossible compared to simply just refusing to acknowledge it. He could ignore it all, ghost you, and pretend like he had never ruined everything. He had ruined your relationship, your love. You. He had ruined you, including everything that came from the relationship the two of you developed a couple of summers before he had left to play for Michigan.

Ironic that it would begin and end during the summer.

“Ok. Are you-”

“Are you alone?”

His brothers will kill him when they find out, but your family? The thought of them being there to wipe your tears and listen to your rants that have to do with him break his heart. He had developed a special relationship with your dad, your mom always put a stocking out for him during the holiday season, your brother? He had taught your little brother how to skate, how to play hockey. Even though he couldn’t coach your little brother’s team, he had supported him since the beginning. He had bought him his first jersey. 43.

“Yeah, Luke. You’re scaring me.”

“God, I fucking hate myself. I’m so sorry,” Sobbing, the sound of his arm wiping his nose could be heard. He knew he shouldn’t cry. He chose this.

He knew he didn’t always treat you like you should have, no deserved, to be treated. He didn’t spend time with you like he should have, he didn’t tell you he loved you enough. When you yelled at him about things, he would scream back. He would never hit you, but his words cut through your core, sometimes feeling worse than what you imagined the sting of one of his slaps might feel like.

The anxiety that stemmed from Luke’s call gripped your lungs, confusion coursing through your body outweighing the blood that sucked at carrying the oxygen at the moment. There was nothing random about your relationship, he didn’t surprise you with anything, much less a phone call.

Something is wrong.

The silence was deafening, overwhelmingly so.

“I tried to tell myself that you would never find this out, but there was somebody taking pictures and I need you to hear it from me first, ok?” He closed his eyes forcing himself to find some shred of courage left inside of him.

“Ok,” The word was breathy as it left your lips, a courtesy to encourage him to continue.

“I cheated,” It flowed out of his mouth in such a casual way that it felt like somebody had stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife and watching as you writhed in pain. The taste of iron flooded your senses as you bit your cheek to hold yourself together.

“We went to one of the local bars. She was the bartender, she knew us. Trevor invited her to the house after her shift and me and her ended up alone together while the others were out back and one thing led to another…one of the guys took a picture and posted it on their story. They forgot about you.” He tried to explain it in a way that redeemed himself. He was only 20 years old…this bartender could’ve taken advantage of him, but you knew him.

He didn’t get close to just anybody, he was the gate to his space. Nobody would get through the gate if he didn’t want them to, including this girl. Which made the bile that was building in your throat much more bitter. The fact that he not only cheated, but is trying to play victim makes you bubble with rage. Luke Hughes was very good at many things, but the one thing he had never quite mastered the role of was “victim.”

The shock coursed through your body like metal to a magnet, searching endlessly for something to smash into and deciding your heart was the place to do that. It felt like you forgot to breathe, your lungs aching for a breath.

“Y/N?” He willed you to talk, silence causing more anxiety than your anger ever would have.

“I never would have done this to you,” Your whisper spoke more volumes than a scream would have, cutting through the phone and going straight through Luke’s body. He wished you would scream at him, tell him he fucked up, but the way you said those words made him feel like this was it. He couldn’t come back from this one.

“I’m sorry,” His words were meaningless, but he spoke them nonetheless.

Those two words sent you into a silent rage, one that wrecked the inside of your mind but couldn’t be seen by anyone else. You hung up the phone, throwing it across your room and immediately packing everything that had to do with Luke into a box that you found.

Packing 4 years worth of things that you acquired from him was emotionally draining, each article triggering memories through the years.

His first Michigan Hockey sweatshirt that he had bought himself packed into the bottom of the box reminded you of the date he had planned. He had snuck the two of you into the arena when no one was there and taught you to skate, skills that still stick with you to this day. His first hoodie became yours that night, the smell of his cologne long gone from the comfort it brought you many nights when you felt lonely.

A Devils snow globe and jersey that was decorated with the number 43, his number, packed next. He had bought it for you the day he was drafted, convinced that it would be worth something one day. And it was. Just not to you anymore. The snow globe was attached to a memory that was better left forgotten. It was for your birthday, which happened to be the day after his. When you had gone all out for his 20th birthday, buying him a new custom suit and designer shoes that required months of savings, he gave you a snow globe that “you could add to your collection.” You had said some backhanded things to him, a huge fight came from that. A fight on your birthday, something else that you would’ve never done to him.

The last items consisted of hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants and boxers, and a couple of jackets. The last thing, however, was something that you didn’t know if you could part with.

It was a letter that Luke had wrote you for Valentine’s Day the second year of your relationship, a sweet surprise that you weren’t expecting with your usual bouquet of daisies and roses, your two favorite flowers.

When you doubted your relationship with Luke in the past, when arguments and fights felt like it was all it consisted of, you always found your way back to his letter. He had told you that you were his end game, that there would never be somebody else that was better suited for him. He poured his heart out in that letter, telling you that he was going to marry you one day. One day when he had made it to the NHL and could roll in money, he was going to buy a rock for your finger and a huge house for all of the babies that you talked about.

Rereading the letter normally made you remember the good times, when things were good, but under the circumstances now it made you want to burn it, to watch his words turn to ash, just like the promises he had made to you.

Meaningless. His words were meaningless now.

It wasn’t always his fault, no. There were instances where you said things that you knew hurt him, things that echoed in the back of his head every now and then. Something along the lines of him never being as good as his brothers, that he would always be in their shadow. That Luke Hughes would be known as “just another Hughes brother.”

Some days he felt like that statement couldn’t be more true, that he would never live up to the records that Quinn and Jack seemed to break every time they stepped on the ice. Some days he just couldn’t see it coming together for him.

But other days he knew he was determined to make a name for himself, for Luke. The Hughes name was a force to be reckoned with. Luke wanted to be even better than his last name. Whatever it took, sometimes at the expense of those around him.

You snatched the letter that was stuck in the corner of the mirror that perched on top of your dresser, the sound of the paper crisp beneath your fingertips. As much as you wanted to destroy the letter, you figured it would be better to send it back to Luke. He needed to see all of the promises he broke and hurt he’s caused.

The paper was the last thing in the box, folded neatly on top of everything else.

Closing the box, you carried it to your car, placing it in the backseat behind the driver’s side. If there’s one thing that could be payback to Luke, it was telling his parents. He thrived on his parent’s approval, likely a symptom of being the youngest brother of an extremely successful family.

Ellen and Jim’s faces burned the back of your mind, so many memories that consisted of the two of them. Countless games at Michigan were spent with the two of them, as well as a couple of trips to New Jersey. You had helped Ellen cook supper many times, and watched as Jim coached his sons. Ellen’s pep talks were rarely intended for you, but you always felt like something could be learned from her wisdom.

The drive was silent, muscle memory the only way you could manage to get there in the state you were in. You didn’t know if the lights were green or if you used your blinker, all you could think about was Luke admitting to cheating. All of the shit you had been through with each other, all of the petty fights, had finally come to a head. You may have gone low, below the belt at some point in time, but this? You never could have ruined him like this, no matter how bad you wanted to.

As hurt as you were, you were numb. Tears wouldn’t fall, your body still in shock over the news.

As you drove up the paved driveway to the house that had become your second home, the emotions hit you when you saw Ellen in the flower beds, digging up weeds and planting new flowers.

She had heard a car approaching, causing her to look up and recognize you. Although she loved for you to visit, you normally didn’t come over unless Luke was with you, especially now that him and Jack owned the lake house.

She wiped at the sweat that was beading her forehead, dirt from her work gloves sticking in some of her blonde locks that were glued to her face. She smiled at you, before confusion flashed and she saw that you were carrying a box.

“Hi, Doll! Luke’s not here, but I’m glad you stopped by!” Her warm tone and kind smile didn’t fade, even if she did notice something off about your demeanor.

Her voice broke you. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her and Jim into this. Maybe you should have just threw everything that connected you to Luke in a garbage can and called it a day.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She walked towards you with her arms open, noticing your quivering lips and teary eyes.

She was drenched in sweat from the summer sun, but you didn’t mind it. Dropping the box on the driveway, you allowed her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her embrace gave you comfort as sobs racked through your body. How could such a loving mom and dad create such a jack ass? They had done perfect with 2/3 of their sons…what happened with Luke?

“Do you want to go inside? Jim’s working on a sink faucet, but he won’t mind,” She ushered you inside, her hand gently pushing your back.

Nodding, you wiped your nose on your sleeve and allowed her to walk you inside. She quickly washed her hands at the sink Jim was working at, earning a few objections from him, but she hushed him and motioned to you.

His face filled with concern as he noticed something wrong with you. He could fix a lot of things, but girls was something he would leave to his wife.

The leather of the couch soothed the heat that the summer sun had left on your skin. Ellen joined, sitting next to you as she rubbed your back, calming you. She truly was like a second mom.

“Is everything ok?” She held onto your arm, the pressure from her fingers sending tingles to your brain.

“No,” You croaked, the single word rattling your throat as it struggled to exit.

“What happened?” Her voice had dropped below her regular volume, but above a whisper. She cut her eyes at Jim who was attempting to listen from the kitchen.

“He cheated…”

The shock hit his parents as hard as it did you. Quinn would never cheat, Jack? It was questionable sometimes. But they’re baby? The one that had endured the lectures from his parents the longest, the one that had seen his brother’s mistakes and learned from them, the one that seemed so in love with you that nothing could ever separate you both? It seemed nearly impossible. Surely it was a mistake.

“How do you know? The press always lies…” She trailed off, your eyes connecting to hers.

“He told me,” The strength you tried to regain from your prior meltdown was useless as your voice trembled, “…said that he wanted to tell me before somebody else did.”

“Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry,” She pulled you into her arms, watching as Jim rounded the corner to join. You were like the daughter the two of them had always wanted, so seeing you hurt killed them in return. And at the hands of their son? They were immensely disappointed. They didn’t raise him like this.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, and I probably should have left you both out of it,” Your attempts at stopping the free-flowing tears were useless, so you embraced each one as it fell, “…um, I brought his stuff back. I know he’s at the lake house, but I don’t think I can see him right now. I really wish we could have worked. You two will never know how much you and your boys mean to me.”

“Likewise, sweet girl. I wish I could make this all better. You may not feel like it right now, but our family will always hold a spot for you,” Ellen reassured, a hum of agreement resonating within Jim.

“Anytime you want, and I’m serious, our door will always be open for you. No matter the time or circumstance, do you understand?” Jim waited for you to respond, a nod of your head, before embracing you again.

Their words meant so much, but the hurt still ached, seemingly never ending.

You said your goodbyes, taking in the house that you would probably never see again. The walls holding memories that only those in the house would ever understand or appreciate.

Closing the front door felt like closing a chapter on your life. A chapter that felt like it was ending in the middle with no resolve, but it closed.

It needed to.

———

As the New Year approached, your parents reminded you of the plans they had that would draw them away from home. They claimed that they celebrated Christmas with you, but the New Year meant that you were alone in a house that felt big and lonely while they celebrated with their fellow group of middle aged parents.

The months had passed, agonizingly, since Luke’s cheating admittance. The summer turned to fall and fall into winter, getting colder like you were allowing your heart to do.

A few dates here and there did nothing but remind you that the guy wasn’t Luke. They should’ve been better than Luke since they actually treated you with respect and checked every box that a girl had.

But the lack of teasing, of being the biggest pain in your ass and best friend, made the hole in your life bigger. You were sure nothing would help, not even the texts from Ellen and Jim, periodically, made it better.

They all consisted of the same topic: “How are you doing?”

It was the same old same old, until it wasn’t. Until Ellen texted you after Christmas asking you about your plans for New Year’s Eve. The Hughes had always thrown a party for the New Year, packed to the brim with people.

When Ellen asked if you had plans, you had every intention on lying and saying yes. Saying that you had a date and that he was taking you to see the countdown and fireworks that followed, but something told you to tell the truth. So you did.

After you had admitted to her that you, in fact, would be all alone, she reached out and invitation to join them.

The invitation had toggled in your mind for a few days now. On one hand, you wanted to go see how everybody was, talk to his brothers, catch up with his friends. On the other, you wanted to stay home in your pajamas and watch Andy Cohen get shitfaced with Anderson Cooper while wondering if Luke would kiss somebody for the occasion.

The saying “curiosity killed the cat” proved to be true as you had finally decided to go, a sparkly gold dress accentuated your curves, hugging you in all of the right places, the places that Luke had once yearned for. You don’t know how, but your makeup was flawless, your eyeshadow bringing out your eyes in a way that you had never seen, but you loved it. Maybe this was revenge?

Even though you hadn’t made the drive in over 6 months, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Your nerves were working overtime, anxiety squeezing your thoughts the closer you got to the Hughes’ residence.

What if Luke had a new girlfriend? What if his parents were the only ones that wanted you there? Was this actually a good idea?

Too late now.

There was probably 25 or more cars that littered the driveway, most carrying a minimum of 2 people. It was a relief, maybe you could just blend in with the rest of them. A chameleon in the house of your ex lover.

Music blared, drifting from the backyard into the front, making the walk to the door less daunting of a task. There was no use in knocking, the sound of talking and music would most likely just drown it out, so you took a breath as you pushed the door open. It appeared to be the spot for the more mature crowd, Jim spotting you as soon as you walked in.

He was confused as to who you were at first, but as soon as you gave him a shy smile his face lit up with excitement. He had missed you more than he realized.

“Y/N! What a nice surprise! Come in, make yourself at home,” He squeezed you in a tight hug before relinquishing you.

“Y/N! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you to come, but I’m so glad you did!” Ellen squealed, the clinking of her heels against the hardwood floors becoming faster as she did her best to jog to you, embracing you like her life depended on it. It lasted a few seconds before she held you out at arms length, examining you.

“Gosh, you look absolutely stunning! That dress was made for you!” She gushed.

“Thank you! I just decided to throw something together last minute. I should have let you know I was coming, but I honestly didn’t decide until right before I got dressed,” you chuckled, explaining the lack of communication on your part.

“Honey, you do not have to explain a single thing to me! I’m just so happy you’re here!” She hugged you again, rocking you side to side.

“The kids, sorry, young adults are out back. I do have to warn you…Luke did bring a date,” As she explained the dilemma, you expected yourself to break down. When it didn’t, relief washed over you. It had been almost 7 months, why wouldn’t Luke have moved on? You couldn’t be mad at him for that part, but you still held a grudge against him for allowing you to love him as much as you did and shattering your heart in the end.

There was never another conversation between the two of you. His parents never brought him up, he had never attempted to contact you, so the resolve was the fact that you returned everything. He had nothing left connecting him to you. That was how it was supposed to be, so there was no need to communicate with you. He had gotten the message loud and clear when he had returned home to a box of his things in his old bedroom and an ass-chewing from his parents and brothers. One that he would never wish on his worst enemy.

He learned from his mistake, but felt like the very toxic situation between the two of you was better left where it was: untouched.

He had been trying to move on ever since, sleeping with any girl that reminded him of you, sneaking them out before Jack had noticed, or simply just embracing the newness of being alone. It sucked at first, but he got used to it.

Ellen’s face flushed with concern at the momentary silence that followed her statement, scared that she would scare you off with the news of her son, your ex, having a date that wasn’t you.

“Ellen, it’s ok! I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” Making light of the situation was easier to fake on the outside, but trying to convince yourself was a bit harder.

You talked to Ellen and Jim for a few more minutes, catching them up on the latest details of your life, and then grabbed a Michelob to give you some liquid courage as you walked to the backyard.

There was people dancing, circles of people talking, various games being played, the scene never-ending as your eyes scanned over them. A few people locked eyes with you, recognizing you as the ex, but most everybody just continued to do whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn’t until Quinn’s eyes softened from his party vibes to concerned big brother that you felt nerves wrack your body. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to, making his way through the small sea of people to get to you.

For a split second you wanted to run away, but the rational side of you talked you down. It was just Quinn. Quinn had done nothing to you except loved you as if you were his own sister, so why would you run?

“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you…how are you?” You immediately threw your arms around his torso, him returning the gesture, his hug similar to the way Ellen had hugged you.

“I’m good! I had no other plans and Ellen seemed like she really wanted me here…”

“Yeah, she hasn’t shut up about you,” He laughed, recalling how his mom mentions you anytime a girl was over, even one that Luke brought, and always comparing them to you when they left.

You were the standard that she held possible daughter-in-laws to, but they never lived up to you, she would admit.

“Gotta love her,” You chuckled, a slight awkward tension fell between you, a foreign, icky, awkwardness.

“That you do,” Quinn tried to repair the conversation, but some friends began to pull him away. He had mentioned to not leave before telling him bye, and then left with the group.

“Didn’t think you’d show up here,” The voice turned your blood to ice, freezing up what the beer had tried to let loose prior. No matter how many ways you envisioned this interaction to go down, nothing could have prepared you for hearing his voice after so long. It wasn’t like “nails on a chalkboard” irritating, but more along the lines when you pick a scab and it starts bleeding again.

That’s quite literally what it was. He was an old wound in your life that was becoming irritated because it was being messed with. No matter how much time had passed, it was still sensitive.

“Well, didn’t think I would be here either. It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” You turned around, met with the beautiful, curly-haired boy that was once your everything and a petit blonde that was his temporary. She was gorgeous, you’d give her that. But it wasn’t real beauty. It was bought. There’s nothing wrong with that, but her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, and push-up bra was irritating like nails on a chalkboard.

“Do you mind going to get us something to drink?” He turned to his date, giving him the empty bottle that his hand wrapped around.

“Is that a Michelob Ultra?” You almost snorted, her question a breath of fresh air in this unfortunate meeting.

“Not her and I, you and I,” Luke quickly cleared up.

She left with a smirk playing at her lips, kissing his cheek and heading inside.

“God, please let’s go somewhere else,” He grabbed your arm, tugging you to a secluded, area beside the shed out back. Your brain told you to rip your arm from his grip and scold him for thinking it was okay to ever touch you again, but your deemed in control and allow his touch to erupt butterflies in your tummy.

“I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here,” he groaned, realizing he was still holding onto you, quickly letting go.

“She seems more Jack’s type, if you ask me,” You suggested, Luke squinting his eyes at your words.

“Good thing I didn’t ask…” He may have been the reason the relationship ended, but he wasn’t going to put up with any slander that you had for his current life. The life that didn’t include you.

“Whatever, why did you bring me here?” You looked around at the spot. It had definitely been a spot where the two of you had snuck off to make out several times, escaping the teasing of his older brothers.

“To talk…” He shift his weight to his heels, his hands finding warmth in the pockets on his pants.

“Oh! To talk about you being a complete dipshit and cheating on me this past summer? Yes, let’s talk about that!” Sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom from a snake, targeting the next victim: Luke.

“I’m sorry…” Again, the empty apologies were beginning to grind at you now. You didn’t want the apologies or the excuses. You wanted him to shut up for once, hear you out, and then come up with a genuine apology. He had said his piece, now it was time for you to say yours.

“No, Luke. You’re not sorry for cheating, you’re sorry you got caught. Save the apologies for when you actually mean them,” You started, him immediately shutting up and listening.

“We were so fucking toxic. You know it, I know it. The whole world probably knows it by now. But, God, I loved you so much. I would have spent my whole life trying to fight for that stupid relationship and you turned around and threw it all away. And for what? Some temporary pleasure? You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get back to me?” Your words shot through him, like bullets hitting glass, shattering the surrounding areas. He couldn’t argue because everything that you were saying was true, but he’d be damned if he let you find satisfaction in being right.

“You said it yourself, it was toxic! You probably would’ve found a problem with me being there without you, anyway!” He tried to defend himself, but he was fanning a flame that he shouldn’t be messing with right now.

“Don’t you dare try to manipulate me into thinking your cheating was justified! Luke Hughes, I’ve said some fucked up shit throughout the years, but I never have, and never will ruin your trust. That’s the type of shit that lasts a lifetime. I can’t date anybody else because there’s always that ‘what if’ of them cheating!” Tears brimmed your eyes, softening the wall that surrounded Luke’s heart. He was a tough guy, but the sight of you hurting was a soft spot for him, an Achilles heel.

“You promised me a future, and then turned around and burned it to the ground without a second thought once you got a taste of fame,” Your finger poked at his chest hard enough for him to wince, expecting to see bruises the next morning.

“You’re a liar! A fucking liar and cheater!” Your voice broke as the words left your mouth, but Luke took the verbal beating that he deserved.

“Do you think I want to be labeled as a cheater, Y/N?! I’ve prayed for months that I’d just wake up and it not be real, that we’d still be together!”

“Awe, so sad, Luke. Truly heart wrenching!” You grabbed at your heart, feigning compassion as he began to clench his jaw, the muscle flexing as his annoyance rose. It was hot, but not hot enough for you to do anything about it.

“Stop being such a bitch, it may suit you, but it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.” His eyes grew dark, almost challenging you to see who would win in a game of insults.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to act however you deemed fit. Even if you’re a cheater…”

“I cheated, I’m not a cheater,” he tried to correct, a viscous chuckle tumbling from your mouth in response.

“I’m not! That’s the one and only time that it will ever happen, I can promise you that!” His voice rose in volume as he continued to defend himself.

“Oh, one and done Luke! How nice! My trust is fixed, so there’s nothing left to worry about!” The sound of people counting down in the background didn’t distract you.

10…9….8…

“If I’ve had anything in the past months it’s peace in knowing I don’t have to put up with your fucking nagging anymore!”

7…6…5…

“Yeah, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking some rando anymore!”

4…3…2…

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

1…

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The voices erupted behind the shed, but the whirlwind of a kiss muffled it all.

Luke eagerly pulled your face toward him, his lips colliding as intensely as a train hitting a car on the tracks. An accident waiting to happen, but there nothing that could be done about it.

It took a second or two, but you kissed back with the same passion as him, him pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall of the shed.

His lips were like home, sweet and comforting. The remnants of his vodka redbull tempting your taste buds to plunge deeper, but you didn’t, you let him set the pace.

One of his hands tilted your chin up, steadying it as the other pulled you closer from the small of your back. Every sense inside of you erupted in fireworks as his tongue tried to gain entrance into your mouth, but you stood your ground, or tried to at least.

The hand that steadied your chin found itself wrapped around your neck, the shock causing you to gasp as he gained entrance.

“Luke! I finally found something to drink, but we missed our-” The voice immediately tore the two of you apart, the fireworks over the lake and store bought pretty interrupting the fireworks that were going off inside of you. Your breathing was a little shallow as you tried to control it again.

“-kiss. What the hell.” She glanced between the two of you before storming off, her stiletto sinking into the grass as she desperately tried to remove it from her foot.

Luke groaned, but the chirping had just begun for you, “One and done, huh?”

“Me and her aren’t even dating!” He squealed.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow, Y/N. Do you understand me?” He pointed at you as he began to smooth over yet another failed attempt at dating, but he wasn’t going to reconcile that one.

“Aye aye, Captain,” You gave him a silly salute, earning an eye roll from him, but as soon as he turned away from you the smile wouldn’t disappear.

Call you crazy, but you hadn’t felt butterflies for a long time, probably since his note to you. What you felt tonight was an army of butterflies being obliterated by fireworks. The feeling of his fingers around your neck, his jaw muscle contracting, everything about him had turned you on.

Did you really fold that easily?

Oh well. The thought of the next day, the possibility of getting him back, along with his family far outweighed your pride.

He could be your Luke once more.

[m1d-45]

duality of man

summary: foul legacy only bends to childe’s will, he isn’t fully controlled by him.

a/n: foul legacy speaks in bold, childe speaks italicized. internal/mental speech is quoted ‘like this’ rather than simply italicized for the sake of childe, as tumblr does not have underline capabilities :/

word count: ~2.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for childe lore / liyue archon quest, childe is his own warning (and is frequently bloodthirsty and strange), violence and gore, it/it’s pronouns for foul legacy because it’s childe’s pov and also i said so, imposter sagau things. technically isn’t 100% canon compliant according to wikipedia.

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky

childe stalked through the forest, the foliage tinted by foul legacy’s vision. this form wasn’t the best for stealth, but it would help him find you faster.

he could hear your heavy breathing from the corner you backed yourself into, and grinned.

“surrender is a valid option,” he purred, voice warped and distorted through the heavy mask. your breath hitched, and his smile only grew. he had you. all he had to do was reach, reach with the clawed hands of his abyssal form and drag you out of wherever you’d hidden and he’d earn his place at his gods side. to be the one to find and kill you was an honor, one he was not keen on giving up.

he could imagine it now. dragging you along with his claws sunk deep into your neck, whatever blood left in your body staining his hands. your corpse would fall, lifeless, at his god’s feet, and he’d be the one to reap the rewards of their love.

you would not escape. he would not leave empty-handed.

he couldn’t.

childe tried to reach for the bush you were hiding behind, but his arm wouldn’t move.

no, not his arm, he realized. it was disobeying.

‘what are you doing?’ he hissed into his mind, pushing with all his might. still, the arm of foul legacy wouldn’t move. it was strange; it had never disobeyed before, and aside from the initial period to get used to piloting a body, he’s never had any issues.

‘i cannot allow you to kill them.’

‘what? why? if you want to have a hand in it, i’ll let you have a while to-‘

‘no. they are not to die.’

his arms moved of their own will, moving aside the branches much slower than he would have.

‘i refuse to allow the death of the one who made me.’

what?

the leaves eventually reveal you, tucked in as small a space as you can manage, holding a broken-off spearhead. your clothes are tattered, leaves caught within the creases. your hand is shaking so badly childe doubts you could hurt anybody but yourself with it.

your mouth opens like you want to say something, but nothing comes out. a thrill runs down childe’s spine at the fact that they’ve scared you from words, but it’s quickly overrun by the concern coming from foul legacy.

wait… concern?

“your grace… how ruined you have become.”

your eyes flick between the pearl of its eye and the hand, likely trying to decide which is a better target, and childe wants to laugh. he wants to urge you to strike, to watch as you fruitlessly spend your energy bashing that spearhead into foul legacy’s armor, blunting the steel against it.

the devouring deep doesn’t let him speak.

“please… i’m sorry.”

normally, hearing somebody beg for their life would make childe’s day, week if they do it prettily enough, but this… some part of his heart, as beaten and rotted it is, hurts.

whatever sadness he feels quickly burns into rage. what right did foul legacy have over his emotions? making him pity this imposter, as if you weren’t fit to die the moment your treacherous tongue claimed you were somebody you weren’t.

“i know, i know.” legacy’s claw extends and you flinch, feet kicking up dirt as you press yourself further against whatever rock you’re against.

“stay away from me!”

foul legacy hums a low note, and childe wants to scream as his hand falls to the dirt. what power did you have over it? why didn’t it just take whatever it was it wanted from you?

‘why are you hesitating?’

‘you wouldn’t understand.’

the first sensible thing it’s said. he didn’t understand.

“it is alright. i am not the one you fear.“

“yes you are! i… i know you, childe.”

childe allowed himself a smile. no matter how much foul legacy pushed aside his commands, it would always have to deal with his reputation. the fact that he disrupted its plans just as it did his brought him a little joy from the situation.

“i am not him, leading light. please… do not be afraid.”

‘leading light’?

childe had heard many names and titles for the divine creator in his time, and knew that that one in particular was favored by abyssal creatures. he’d heard it shouted and screamed, people slaughtered in the name of the light that they claim leads them from the abyss. he even adopted it himself, at one point, for the first few years after he was freed from it himself. he’d killed with the title on his tongue, and ripped out others’ that dared to dirty it.

all of this to say that foul legacy was claiming you were the divine creator.

you. you.

you, who dared to walk with a face that wasn’t yours, to gaze with eyes that didn’t belong to you. you.

he could admit that he didn’t sense the aura of the creator—with a bitter, sour tongue, but admitted nonetheless—due to his time spent in the abyss. his soul was too rotten to resonate with theirs, only able to find solidarity in their violent retribution cast down on those that dared cross them. he acknowledged that he was beyond saving, that even the highest of the high could barely begin to fill the gaping maw of the abyss inside of him. he’d… not accepted, but come to terms with it.

but even he did not dare to call another by their name.

“you’re… you’re what?”

“i can hear him.” foul legacy’s hand extended once more, slower, gentler, with much more care than any other action childe had seen from it. “he is in my mind, but we are not the same. i can promise, while i am here, no harm will come to you.”

you didn’t trust it. good, as childe was starting to distrust foul legacy as well.

“you… you’re saying you’re…?” the spearhead in your hand lowered, some of the fear—regrettably—fading from your eyes. recognition flooded instead, and childe was confused as to how you found comfort in a creature of the abyss. he knew he had a reputation, one stained with violence and blood, and surely that would extend to it as well, right? foul legacy… it couldn’t be more trustworthy than him.

“i am his foul legacy. i am the devouring deep.”

its clawed hand finally reached yours, and you let it close around your wrist even as hesitation shone in your eyes. your lips parted, but whatever you had to say died before it spoke again. “please… can you find it in your heart to trust once more? if only for me, if only for a moment?”

childe tried once more to take over the form, and was again met with the stone of foul legacy’s will. he huffed; it shouldn’t be getting this close to you, and he shouldn’t have to watch as it did. it shouldn’t have even disobeyed in the first place.

“why don’t you hate me?”

foul legacy sighed, the sound warped and roughened by its mask. “this world- no, these people are fools. do not hold the mistakes of the many in your heart. they do not understand the weight of their actions. they are being pushed, puppetted by another.”

‘what are you talking about?’

‘hold your tongue.’

childe was in shock. first it went against him by taking over his actions, then it claimed you were the sacred creator, then told him to shut up?

you were sitting up, carefully daring to come closer, and childe beat at the boundaries of his will with all his strength. he couldn’t let this go on any longer. he could take being disobeyed, he could take his anger out on some innocents with its hand once it was tired enough to give him control, but for it to disrespect his god?

he could not- he would not let that go so easily.

childe pushed at his arm with all his might as foul legacy sat itself on the floor, tugging you closer. he sent the command to move at least a thousand times, begging his own hand to squeeze, to snap the bones in your wrist, to show any sign that he still had control in this body.

the most he got was a twitch of the ring finger.

he refused to allow foul legacy to take him over like this. he could not let it shatter his reputation and attack his beliefs like this. it could not say that you were his god, it could not say that it was in control, it could not say that childe was wrong. it should not hold you will claws that should kill, and you should not gaze so deeply into the pearl of a monster’s eye.

it was almost as if you could see him within it, your searching eyes piercing right into his. he hoped you could, that you could see how much he hated the situation he found himself in. how much he hated you, you for warping his foul legacy’s mind, you for making it think you were it’s god.

“how long do i have?”

“hm?”

“before he comes back.”

childe tried again to assert his presence. he failed.

you shifted closer to foul legacy, sitting against its side. part of childe wanted to laugh at you, at the fact that you dared to lean on a creature of the abyss. part of him wanted to sneer and call you pathetic for it.

the same part that knew it was fruitless even as he tried to follow through on it.

foul legacy put its arm around you, pulling you into its side. the glass of its eye bumped against the top of your head, words of reassurance buzzing in its head.

childe huffed to himself, feeling his anger start to bubble again. there was no reason for this behavior. there was no reason for foul legacy to try and influence him by bleeding their thoughts together, nor for it to subject him to this. even it should recognize the creator, even if by context clues from the people around it.

and if this was all a trick, childe could accept it. if foul legacy had whispered into his mind, told him that yes, it knew, it believed, then he could tolerate the attacks against his god. he could bite back his words and let legacy do what he did best: follow orders.

if this was a ploy, childe would be fine. but foul legacy’s claws never dug into your side, and the whispers it spoke were not of retribution, but of reverence. how he wished it would just obey, even if not his orders but theirs.

follow the orders of the true god, who was in their palace, waiting for their trusted followers to capture and kill you. sitting, waiting for your corpse to be tossed at their feet, waiting for their loyal followers to carry out their word. the true creator, their god, not you. not you, not any other fake that dared to imitate them, and not those that behaved as foul legacy did here, following the impersonators and claiming they were real.

foul legacy hissed in his mind. ‘still your traitorous tongue.’

‘i won’t! if you took a moment to even think-’

‘and if you paused to allow yourself to do the same, you would agree.’

he did think, he had plenty of time to think when foul legacy was- was almost cuddling you, the warp of its voice doing nothing to mask the affection within it. he can’t move, he cant take control, and it has the gall to say he should think? all he’s able to do is think! he could sit here for an eternity, listening to the quiet rumble of legacy’s voice, mulling over every action he has or could taken, and he still wouldn’t be convinced. he wouldn’t agree. all he would be is sore, tired, and angry.

and of all the ways he could spend his time… he could fight for eternity, he could hit at the boundary between their brains with mental fists that never tired, he could give himself a headache with how hard he tried to dig his hand into your side. he could plan out his revenge against foul legacy, he could start to draft the prayer of repentance he’d surely have to raise to his god, he could do so much and yet precious little.

and that beast wanted him to think?

inside a body that wasn’t his, childe screamed.

[blank-slate-jay]

Louder than Words

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Summary: Joel feelings for you start to come to light while talking with Henry. Things between you two take off when Joel finds you alone, and finally takes his chance. (Setting and story moments from Episode 5)

Tags: Fluff, Kissing(Slightly Smutty), Soft Joel, mention of violence

Word Count: 2.7K A/N: Time for some more Joel Miller! This time something more sweet and passionate. Writer's block made this one take forever to finish, but here we are. Any who enjoy!

*SPOILERS AHEAD FOR EPISODE 5*

A loud crack at the wall echoed within the sealed room. Ellie excitedly jumped up, cheering after scoring a goal. Ellie and her new friend, Sam, were occupying themselves with a game of soccer to past the time.

You were setting your supplies down on a desk that hosted a stereo and lamp in a dark part of the settlement. Seemed like a perfect place to get yourself situated, so you got to work turning both the devices on and getting your things organized in your bag.

Joel and Henry, both sitting at small tables on the other side of the room, were watching the kids play. Whether it was out of boredom or just seeing them entertained brought them the same emotions, wasn't clear.

"If you were collaboratin' to take care of him...I shouldn't have said what I said. I don't know your situation." He offered his apologies to Henry, explaining the cruelty of FEDRA's intention of trying to kill him.

Due to Joel's show of empathy, Henry took the opportunity to open up about his first kill. "There was a man, a great man". By the way Henry explained him, his death almost seemed unwarranted. His selfishness, forgiving nature...having to kill somebody like that must've been difficult. His face made it obvious.

Henry continues after a short pause, "Have you ever met someone like that? Kinda man you'd follow anywhere."

Joel felt his heart jump at said words, his eyes instinctively looking over at you. You were moving your head in sync with the music while patching up your weapons, unnaturally calm about their coming mission. You were just like that, seemingly levelheaded even if the worse was to come. It was something Joel just couldn't get his head around. Yet he still found it comforting, perhaps he knew he could lean on someone in dire situations.

While Joel's attention was brought back to Henry's further explanation, you proceed to set your gun down after making some modifications to it. You turn the volume of the stereo down some, eyes catching a softball just off to the side. You stopped what you were doing, picking the ball up with an idea coming to mind.

Ellie and Sam began chasing each other around, but you were about to ruin their fun. You came out of your dark corner shouting to the two, "Heads up". You threw the ball at Ellie who didn't have enough time to react and ended up being hit in the shoulder. She turns to you with a confused look.

"Ooo..did that hurt?" you say in a mocking manner.

"Screw you" she retorted, retreating the ball off the ground and throwing it back at you.

You of course caught it with ease, "Dodgeball ain't your sport kid."

Ellie scoffed, "I didn't even get a chance, pass it here...I'll show you."

Your eyebrows raised before looking over to the 'Goal' writing on the wall. You walk over to the goal frame, passing the ball too Ellie. "Alright, you two you gotta hit me. Best-" As quick as the words came out of your mouth, Ellie threw the ball at you.

Ellie giggled, watching your expression changed to one of shock. "What? You said hit you..."

You sighed, passing it back to them, "When I say go, Ellie. Like I was saying, best game out of three. I dodge and you two try to hit me. Each round is complete after one attempt from both of you." Sam was then notified how to play the game via his magic slate board and they begun.

Unfortunately for the kids, your reaction time was unmatched. Not a single throw had landed. Ellie decided then and there to hand the ball to Sam, pointing her fingers down at the ball and then towards you. She then charges toward you and jumps onto you. You yelp as the her weight and grip kept you in place.

It clicked then for Sam what Ellie was trying to do, and he proceeds to bombard you with blows from the softball. The kids laughing and smiling in taking their revenge got a smirk out of Henry.

"It's nice seeing that boy happy..." Henry mentions, referring to his brother, "Very rarely does he even crack a smile." Both Joel and him watched as the chaos unfolded, certainly clear to them now that they were entertained. “And your friend is something. Don’t come by someone like that often”.

Joel replies trying to hide his smirk from forming, “Yeah, something for sure.”

Henry looks at Joel, who still had his eyes on the chaos. He thought for a second before stating, "He's a good guy, you know”.

Joel could only give Henry a puzzled look as a response, trying to figure out what the man was getting at.

“You may not be his, and she not be your daughter, but you were someone’s at some point. I can tell,” Henry exclaims.

All Joel could think was how perceptive Henry had to be to figure that out. They had just met not even half a day ago and he seems to have a general idea about them. Joel couldn’t tell if he feels relief or offended by his feelings being plastered out in front of him.

Seconds later, Joel decides to end the conversation entirely by getting up, “We need to leave. We’ve waited long enough.”

———

It was far late into the night now. The group had posted up at a motel after just barely making it through a fight between FEDRA and a horde of clickers. Everyone by this point was exhausted and getting ready for bed, except you weren’t back inside yet.

Earlier you had stepped out, saying you needed some air. So instead of getting comfortable on the floor, Joel gets up to leave the apartment.

Stepping out into the night, he's hit with the night's cool air. He looks in both direction and spots you half way down he open hall with your arms leaning against the railings. Gently, he closes the door behind him and walks over to you. His heavy footsteps alerting you of his presence.

You greeted him, “Joel.”

“Y/n”, he says, rubbing his hands together. The man stood a few feet from you, “Cold ain’t it?”

“No…weather is quite nice. And you're not warm in that,” pointing out his light brown jacket.

Joel shook his head, moving closer to the railing, "Barely." An awkward silence lingered over the two as there wasn't much either one of you wanted to say.

Even with very little on your mind, you tried to spark up a conversation,"Today was quite eventful.”

Joel hummed, leaning against the rails like you were, “Yeah, we’re lucky nobody got hurt.”

“Seriously. I could barely tell what was happening. I honestly thought we were done for", a small bit of fear was noticeable through your tone. “Thankfully we had you watching our backs”.

Joel could sense his heart picking up hearing you say that. His compliment was well rewarded after saving you and Ellie multiple times from being bitten. The man could snipe for sure. “I’m just glad that massive clicker didn’t get ahold of any of ya.”

“The massive what?”

“Some overgrown clicker just emerged among the horde and started attacking everyone in sight.”

You raised a brow, a bit skeptical on how you didn't manage to see it. “Uh huh…you sure you weren’t just seeing things?”

"I'm certain of what I saw",

You backed off, "Okay then. I do wonder how you didn't shit your pants seeing that." Joel let out a quick laugh with a look of slight amusement and disgust. "What? I mean I would've shit pants. I would've even screamed it out loud."

"Y/n..."Joel cracked up some, trying to keep himself from bursting out in laughter by hiding his face in his shoulder. "That is a stupid thing to do."

"Hey at least everyone would feel ok to admit it as well."

Joel just couldn't help but imagining that scenario playing out. One guy screaming it first, creating a domino effect where everyone around just begins to say it too. The absurdity of a situation like that only made it funnier to Joel as he failed to hide his laugh. For a guy who hid his emotions a lot, his silent giggles were quite contagious.

You chuckle along with him asking, "What?"

The older man couldn't get a word out to respond, his face turning redder by the second. He buried his face in his palm and continued to laugh, trying hard to get it out of his head. There was no use, you had put that image in his head and was now irreversible. Both of you went on for almost a full minute before your amusement began to subside.

Joel was the last of the two to pull himself together, sniffing and clearing his throat up to gain control of himself. The silence before that plague the air was now back, only this time, things felt a lot more comfortable. Having Joel there, and the fact that he was a lot more loose played into it. You wished the man was like that more often. Sadly though you knew you needed as much rest as you could get. Tomorrow was undetermined, so it pained you to have to cut your time with Joel short.

"Alright Joel, we should probably head back in now", you suggested, removing your arms from the rails to stretch them out.

Joel nods, "Yeah we should," he really didn't want to. His voice shivered a bit with hints of disappointment. As you were beginning to walk past him, Joel thought about today...what Henry had told him. 'He may not be yours...but you were someone's at some point'. His longing for someone else, was that desire so obvious that a stranger like Henry could figure it out so quickly? Is that the way he treated you, like his partner? The prospect brought Joel brief happiness before thinking about the possibility of you getting killed. A reasonable fear given the world they were in, but Joel wagered the odds. Would he rather you die without ever telling you how he feels, or have you know he much he cared about you before you pass.

The ladder seemed like Joel's choice in the end cause before you could make it fully pass him he says your name. You stop in place directly behind Joel who still faced the open air. You let out a questioning hum, awaiting a reply.

Joel took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. Due to time and their environment, he wasn't as smooth as he use to like back in his earlier years. He begins by saying, "Thank you", turning his head enough to see your figure behind him, but keeping his posture still.

You tilt your head slightly, "For...?"

Joel fully turns to you, "For everything. Your support, your extra hands, protectin' Ellie...just sticking by us through all this madness".

That to you was a bit unexpected, but you weren't going to turn down some appreciation from Joel of all people. You took the praise with a gentle smile on your face, "Of course."

The older man's eyes lingered with yours for sometime. Both of you had a soft gaze, just observing and expecting the other to say something. Joel was the first to react, stepping forward he inches closer to you, comfortable in doing so since you weren't changing your expression or moving. His eyes then traced over to your lips, looking at them before gazing down at his boots. Joel was oblivious to how tense things were. Sure stalling gave him time to figure out his next move, but he couldn't hold out forever.

Locking eyes with you once more, he was met with a gentle look that nearly sent him over the edge.

You couldn't help but say his name in a near whispering tone, "Joel."

By then, Joel felt he could tell you everything, tell you how much you meant to him. But words wouldn't do his emotions justice. He knew one thing would say all he wanted with one action.

Joel steps within a foot of range from you, his hands grabbing both sides of your face and leaning in for a kiss. He inhales, surprised by how soft your lips were when making contact. He initially wanted to keep the kiss to be brief, but it turned out to be much deeper with you kissing him back.

Upon parting from your lips, Joel traces his hands down your chest and all the way down to your hips, getting ready to speak. You were quick then to pull him back in for more, grappling onto the collar of his jacket and locking your lips back together. Joel lets out a heavy sigh into the kiss, grateful that you didn't want it to stop.

The older man wrapped his arms around the small of your back, reeling you in until you were chest to chest. The man's heart was racing, you could feel it pounding against your shirt, just as fast as yours was going. You guessed the man really did have a heart under all that thick skin, is if the moment didn't already confirmed that.

Your arm ran around Joel's shoulder to get a grip the back of his smooth grey hair. Gripping him causes him to moan; loudly. He could feel you smiling into the kiss as you both continued basking in each other's taste. Joel took the initiative and bites softly into your bottom lip to get a reaction out of you. On queue, you groan separating your lips from him.

Heads still close together you speak, "Don't infect me now".

Joel bites his lips, “You want me to?” His voice turned devious, like he had something they’ll make you infatuated by him. You were curious, what did this man have in store for you?

You might end up regretting it later but saying ‘no’ meant missing out. You reply with a breathily, “Yeah,” hands still playing with Joel’s hair. The man didn’t say a word, he began kissing your cheek and trailed all the way down to your neck. You had lowered your arm so that he had room to bury his face inside. Joel started off gentle but was now starting to become more passionate with him introducing his tongue. It made you quiver, your hands grabbing onto his arms that held your hips tightly. You tried your best to keep your voice low, but between Joel’s warm breath and his repetitive licks, it became impossible to hide.

Joel, mere seconds away from nibbling on your skin, is stopped by a sudden rattling noise. His hand quickly grabs his holster, retreating from the small of your neck. Both of your attention's are now down the hall, awaiting the sound to return. It did, and when one of the motel doors opened, you two relaxed when Henry stepped out from within.

Henry lets out a quick, “Oh…” realizing that he might be intruding once seeing Joel’s hand on your hip, “Sorry…sorry I got worried.”

Joel lets out a sigh, taking his other hand off his holstered. “Thought you were in bed.”

“The door wasn’t locked and neither of you were back yet, so I just wanted to check,” he replies.

Slightly annoyed Joel comments, “Very kind of you,” not giving the other man much room to response.

You could tell the poor wanted to get out of your hair. You thankfully reassure him, “It’s alright, Henry. We were just about to head back in.”

Henry nods, “Right,” taking his chance to remove himself from the awkward situation by heading inside.

You and Joel look at each other, both still needy for each other but tired nonetheless. With that desire for you still lingering in Joel’s eyes, you pat the man on the chest offering a suggestion. “So, wanna continue this next time?”

Joel thought for a second, that you were just sending Henry away so that things could proceed between the two of you. You actually meant it though, bringing some level of disappointment to Joel. But the smile you had on your face, no way he could say no to you. Joel simply smiles back agreeing, “Next time it is.”

[madame-mortician]

Mark Hoffman under a Psychoanalytical Lens

Wanted to discuss Hoffman's characerisation in Saw and how bad it got, so here we are.

I'm one of those people who doesn't like Hoffman that much however the truth is I didn't mind him in Saw 4 (which says a lot because Hoffman was only revealed to be an apprentice in the last 5 minutes.)

In Saw 4, Hoffman's entire thing was that he was trying to recruit his friend and partner Rigg to join him in his vigilante ways. He'd chosen Rigg because they were already friends and Hoffman had saved his badge before so he saw it as kind of a "You owe me" situation, but also Rigg was mentally vulnerable because all of his friends were dying and/or being kidnapped so he would've been easier to manipulate, especially when Hoffman faked his own kidnapping which set Rigg off the edge. The thing is, this plan didn't work since Rigg was shot and also failed his game, killing Matthews and Art, would Hoffman have recruited him if he wasn't shot? I don't think he would've, I think the only reason he didn't recruit him was because he realised then and there that Rigg wouldn't join him, even after that entire game where he literally made Rigg put a victim into a trap, using a Pig mask. I like this whole relationship dynamic between Rigg and Hoffman but it gets better on Hoffman's end.

Before I explain that let me go through each apprentice and their modus operandi's. John targets people who don't appreciate life, people who are suicidal or just self-sabotaging and people he views as "wasting their lives." Whether he is right or not is usually glossed over, but he is a hypocrite and also completely self-righteous about his tests, claiming they help people when in all certainty most people either don't survive his traps due to them being unfair, or do survive but their lives are ruined further. Amanda is the latter, somebody who survived his trap and it gave her a change of heart, no longer did she want to waste her life doing drugs, now she wanted to help her "saviour" and stay by his side no matter what.

Amanda doesn't really get to pick her targets, she dies before John does so there's never really a point where she gets to host her own game with the closest being the Nerve Gas House in Saw 2. The only people that Amanda seems to have chosen herself are Troy and possibly Allison Kerry, where she rigged both traps so that they had no chance of survival. Her MO seems to have been to just kidnap whoever John asked her to, however she rigged the traps because she felt like people couldn't change, not really. This was likely because of her own worsening mental state and she believed if she couldn't be saved, nobody could.

Lawrence Gordon doesn't really get shown much, but the two people we know he targeted (Lynn Denlon and Bobby Dagen) have different circumstances surrounding them. He chose Lynn because he knew of her recent tragedy, and had seen her vulnerable state and perhaps knew about the cheating somehow. Bobby was chosen because he lied about being in a trap and profited off of this lie and used real-life victims as props for his marketing campaign. He likely chose Bobby because he was pissed off at this exploitation, especially since he himself survived a traumatic Jigsaw trap, so Bobby touched a nerve.

Then there's Hoffman.

The thing is, Hoffman is the only apprentice who really gets to choose his own targets, because he continued to operate after John and Amanda's deaths, Lawrence wasn't really shown to do much except for the Bobby trap and killing Hoffman. Hoffman got to enact his own form of vigilantism similar but different to John's vigilantism. John tested mentally ill people who he believed could be "cured" through the trauma of surviving this sorta situation, whilst Hoffman's vigilantism was through targeting people who were genuinely bad, and he wanted to either kill them or traumatise them because they're just that bad. At least in Saw 4 he was like that.

In Saw 4, all of the victims presented to Rigg are predators, specifically predators that target women. Brenda manipulated young girls into prostitution, Ivan was a rapist, Rex was abusive towards his wife and daughter and Art saved multiple predators from facing justice by defending them in court. All of these people were abusive and predatory especially towards women, which was Hoffman's motive. He used the Jigsaw tests to try and convince Rigg to join him, whilst also using them to reenact his revenge fantasy of killing Seth Baxter, the man who murdered his sister. His entire reason for joining Jigsaw was because he'd gotten revenge for his sister, making him emotionally vulnerable when seeing women getting abused like his sister was, the entire reason these people are here is because he hates women abusers, and wants to show Rigg this.

"See as I see. Feel what I feel. Save as I save. Judge as I judge."

Of course it doesn't lead anywhere since Rigg fails his test, so he leaves him to die, but the point isn't Rigg, it's his motive.

The thing though, after Saw 4, Hoffman changes completely. In Saw 5, the main victims the Fatal Five are just kinda people John asked Hoffman to test, and he did so. Saw 5 and 6 were just kinda Hoffman finishing off John's tests, doing the ones that John never got up to, none of them are really personal to him. Hoffman doesn't give a single shit about who survives the Fatal Five's trial, he doesn't care if Easton is killed or saved, he's just finishing off John's final requests, which okay that's fine I guess, if you want a more personal, vigilante Hoffman that's Saw 4 but then...

Saw 3D.

Oh god, Saw 3D.

In Saw 3D, Hoffman is mainly targeting Jill Tuck, this being because she tried to kill him in a Reverse Bear Trap at the request of her late husband. Like, I get it, she tried to kill him, he's going to try and kill her but like... It's framed kinda misogynstic. Like I'm not saying Hoffman is a misogynist, he's far from it in Saw 4, but here he just aggresively beats the shit out of Jill before putting her in a Reverse Bear Trap, and he watches her die. He also does that entire terminator massacre through the police station, which is just stupid, but idk, making the guy who's first film was about killing female predators and then making his last film about him targeting a defenceless woman is kinda odd. The first trap in Saw 3D is literally a random woman who was cheating on two boyfriends, with the woman portrayed as the villain implying he is biased and wants her dead. This trap always struck me as odd because not only is it weird for a Jigsaw trap to target a cheater when usually it’s deeper than that, but this was entirely Hoffman’s trap. He planned and chose these victims himself with no input from John and it’s just like… why? The only thing I can think of is it’s supposed to be him venting his frustration about Jill. Jill is the cheating woman and the two men are John Kramer and Mark Hoffman “killing her” because she was cheating by secretly seeing both of them but this is a stretch. It’s more likely they just character assassinated Mark and forgot he was supposed to be a feminist that targeted female predators and just made him this guy running around killing everything in his path like a Terminator.

So there you have it, Hoffman went from a vigilante who targeted people who reminded him of his sisters killer, to a guy just finishing off his mentors unfinished business and then to a guy doing everything to kill this woman. It's one of the reasons I don't like Hoffman that much compared to Amanda, I like the emotional mental states of Amanda and even Lawrence to a point, Hoffman only gets that in Saw 4, the film where he's barely even fucking shown.

[temporalbystander]

Okay so I'm back (not sure for how long) but I need an answer to this and it amazes me I can't find it on the internet already. Seriously, everyone in the Miracuclass has to be subsisting on caffeine during some days right? How has NOBODY made a list of what their coffee orders would be? How is that NOT a widely available story writing tool?

I'd make it myself but, wouldn't you know it? I have no idea when it comes to coffee. I've even tried googling what stereotypical orders would be and still get nothing that helps... So I'm putting it out here. Further explanation under the cut.

Why do I need the entire class's coffee order? Because it's important in my story. Why am I being so obsessive for a story nobody else but me will ever see? Because if I don't get this exactly right it will completely ruin the scene and drive me insane.

Here's the setup, OC Faybon is in this new world with villain Chat and a very late night Akuma has kept everyone awake. Determined to make an impression on everyone that he's not the same Faybon they remember he got coffee for the class. Cue everyone being shocked at the guy they've all barely spoken to, getting every single one of their coffee orders exactly right, Ms Bustier and Lila included.

Here's my thoughts just based on the (very very) little I know about coffee:

Rose would probably have something naturally sweet but without any additives (Im thinking something with honey maybe?) Due to the fact she's sweet enough already and has health problems.

Juleka? I keep wanting to say a caramel machiato but I have no idea what a machiato is. I only say caramel because it's still sweet but a bit richer. Going for that "darker" tone of hers.... Okay just googled the machiato and I feel like that may fit better for someone like Mylene but I'm leaving that up to you anyway.

Speaking of Mylene I'm imagining hers to be a similar order to Rose (somebody's getting a similar order to Rose because she (or anyone really) needs to bring up that she doesn't take sugar only for someone else to say they do. Hey Faybon's sleep deprived in this too, he got the orders right he's allowed to screw up handing them out.)

I'm thinking Chloe would probably be the one with a frappuccino. What comes before that is anyone's guess.

Sabrina? Either just a regular coffee or maybe a latte?

This is where I start hitting the wall. Miss Bustier's is decaf something since she's pregnant in this world too. Max, Alix or Kim would probably also have a decaf or maybe an iced something? Max because of the whole caffeine isn't good for your brain and Alix and Kim because they're athletes.

I have no idea what Alya or Nino would want. Same with Ivan. Nathaniel may want something sweet as well? And Zoe may also go for either a latte or something simple due to her time in new York. With a splash of honey because she's currently coming off a very bad cold and her throat is killing her.

Lila is given a whole allergenic soy based thing, because Faybon just KNOWS she would pull something, and yet will not say a word when the cup she's given is actually her preferred coffee. Though she will look at Faybon warily.

As for the two heroes? Marinette gets hers early so it doesn't really matter but yes, it is stacked with espresso shots. While Adrien gets something almost as caffeinated but with extra cream. Not necessarily because it's part of his order but because Faybon just finds the idea of it hilarious.

[oldguy56-world]

You've Made Me So Very Happy

Everyone likes to be happy. (Well almost everyone. I know a couple of people that are only happy when they are miserable. I guess technically that makes them happy. Don't tell them that or it will ruin their day)

Problem is there is no one thing that makes everyone happy. If there was we could ensure more happiness in the world. Sometimes, what makes one person happy has the opposite effect on another. Example: Whenever I am watching sports, or blooper reels, I am extremely happy when I see someone take an object or sharp blow in their nether regions. This makes me smile and laugh every time but I get the distinct feeling it has the opposite effect on those that it happens to. Oh well, to each their own.

I have been studying happiness for a long time and while I am no expert I do believe I have a handle on what makes certain groups happy. Nothing is 100% but I believe that the majority I will cover are made happy with what I have deduced is their happiness generator.

Babies. This one is easy. It is pooping. It must make them happy because they do it all day long. Need further proof? Once they have finished they yell until you put on a fresh diaper so that they have room to do it again.

Teenage girls: Their cellphone. They are so happy with it that if you try to take it away they will kill you to regain their happiness. I am trying to remember what made them happy before the invention of the cellphone and have come to the realization that for all those centuries the several years they were teens they never were.

Teen boys: another easy one. Seeing anyone naked or having sex. Doesn't even have to be human. They have always been like this but happiness has been much easier to achieve since the internet came around.

Americans: Shooting a gun.

American babies: shooting a gun while having a poop.

Dogs: feed them, pet them and walk them. Repeatedly. They never seem to tire of the routine. They also like to lick your face right after they have licked themselves just to see if you will let them.

Cats: Staring at you to make you feel uncomfortable. If you ignore them they come over to get your attention and once they do they walk away. They get far enough away to see if you are still watching before they start to stare again. Occasionally they will run as if they saw something. Another trick to unnerve you.

Teachers: Last day of school. Watch how fast they get out of the parking lot. Most have several drinks before they get home. Some before the final bell goes.

Politicians: When they lie. That is why it is an hourly occurrence in their profession.

Old people: Coupons, discounts, free food, buffets, yelling at people, walking slow in front of people in a hurry, wearing ill-fitting mismatched clothing, re-writing their wills, watching people on their way to work. There are so many things. This is why we are happy all the time. The trick we learned over the years is not to show it. If you think you might smile, yell at somebody instead. Really keeps everyone off balance.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: If you want to find happiness you have to look for happiness. It is always there.

[yottakitsune]

The Choice

I woke up laying on one of the abandoned skyscrapers of a ruined city. I held my head with one hand and tried to focus my thoughts. I didn't know how I had gotten there. I searched my memories, and the last thing I could remember was losing myself as someone both familiar and yet a stranger ended my life. No. That wasn't right. I thought I was in my room going to sleep? No, that wasn't right either. I was begging somebody to kill me and look after somebody I loved. A sharp pain stabbed through my head, and the other hand came up to hold the other side of my head. I stood up and started staggering around, trying to focus my thoughts and sift through them. "Conflicting memories?" I managed to say in a familiar voice that wasn't my own. A wave of vertigo struck, and I lost my balance and fell off the edge of the roof, and began plummeting hundreds of feet. As the ground rushed up to meet me, several systems inside my body woke back up and caused me to reorient myself so that I fell feet first. A long sword materialized in my hand, and I jabbed it into the wall and pulled it with me as I went to slow my descent.

I still hit the ground harder than I would have liked, but it was better than going splat. I pried the blade out of the concrete and swung once to remove the dust before it returned to... wherever it was the sword had come from. I looked at a puddle of water and squinted my eyes as though that would clear things up for me. The face that stared back was incredibly weary. Even though I didn't feel tired, my face said I had seen some shit and I was done with it. That mildly annoyed face was framed by white hair that was cut into a bob, and a blindfold hid my eyes. I always thought it was a weird way to design goggles. I immediately knew who and where and even when I was. "This is going to be a goddamn pain..." I muttered.

I started walking through the ruins of the city, trying to find any signs of life. There were no Machines at all. At least none that functioned anyway. It was like any who had been still connected to the Machine Network had been uploaded into the payload of the tower, and their bodies shut down afterward. I rounded a corner and saw the sand dune that had taken over a corner of the city made of sand that had blown in through the canyon from the desert. While I was distracted, I tripped over a Stubby and stomped my other foot hard. It bent way further than it should have, and what should have at least rolled my ankle was barely felt. "Being an Android comes in handy," I said as I stretched the leg I had been worried about.

"Yes, I would imagine it has a whole host of benefits," came the deep voice of an old man from behind me. I whirled around and a sword notched and scarred from a million battles appeared in my hand. There stood two small girls in red dresses. "You seem to be wary of me, even though we've never met," came the old man's voice from the little girls. "Amusing, if not practical." The only reason I didn't do a double take was I already knew who they were.

"We haven't, but A2 has," I corrected.

"Ah, so you do have knowledge of this world. That will speed things along, but she has never met us either." There is a flash of light, and I several warnings come up on my HUD about mental intrusion and my memories being accessed. Once my eyes adjust and the flash is gone, the Girls are gone and have been replaced by Devola and Popola. "We are not the Machines' collective consciousness," they say in the twins' voices. "We are more."

The twins smiled as one held out her left hand while the other held out her right. Two marble doorways rose from the ground to either side of them. "We brought you to this world, and we come to present to you a choice. The choice we give to all mortals who interact with us." The door to Popola's left opened, and there was a white light that filled it and was quite blinding. "Servitude," Popola said simply. "You will become our instrument and spread our influence to the world you hail from. It is a simple task. You need only return. Your body will do the rest."

The door to Devola's right opened and there was nothing but an empty void that seemed to drink in all light from around the door. "Cessation. You will cease to be. Your life will end and your soul torn asunder to neither move on nor to reincarnate."

They let their hands fall and the doors moved away. "Isolation," they said together as they pointed towards the desert sands. "You may remain here, in this dead world devoid of life both born and crafted, doomed to spend the rest of time alone until your Android body is swallowed by the unfeeling cosmos as it dies."

"How will my body spread your influence?" I asked. I didn't know whether Cessation or Isolation was worse, but I knew that a human soul wouldn't do well in any event even if it were shoved inside of an android body.

"As technologically advanced as it is, it is still magical in nature." Devola motioned to the shimmering sparkles that drifted through the air. "Your mere presence will spread these Maso particles throughout your world. The longer you are there, the more it will spread. You already know what happens from there."

"Are you going to turn us into pillars of salt?"

They both gave a sickeningly sweet smile. "We will not turn you into a pillar of salt," they answered. Maybe it was even honestly. "However, what you know as White Chlorination Syndrome will be the fate of those who can neither handle Maso nor accept to serve us." They lifted their hands and the doorways reappeared once again. The choices formed a triangle with me in the center. To my right was Servitude, to my left was Cessation, and looking behind me was a path to the desert; Isolation. It was very clear they demanded a choice now. I took a deep breath before I took a step forward and went through a doorway as my body shut off.

[brokenrobot2004]

It makes me a little sad that I'm going to be convicted forever by the hate blog my ex best friend made about me years ago now; to her, the drama ended with that blog, but to me, it's going to stay forever as long as it's around, because it's one of the first things anyone is going to see when they look me up; I'd be more accepting of it if it wasn't also loosely comprised of buzzwords (Biphobic and ablest are specifically strange to me because I'm bi and diagnosed with autism, and even back when I was aroace I never said anything about bisexuals? I never said anything about any kind of disability either, I was always very respectful about both of those things and have even considered myself bi before now too, when I was 11) and mildly sexualized assumptions that an adult made of posts I made when I was either 10 or 11 years old in the furby community, just trying to fit in with what other people were saying but not entirely having a grip on what they meant and sounding off, when I never meant to sound the way I did at all; like how "Fetishizing trans women" was a post where I angrily mocked my mom calling me cute or girly things because I was a trans guy and found it upsetting, "disabled furby fetish" was me trying to make a positivity post about helping disabled furbies to be inclusive like everyone else was being, one of the things happened to be me saying I'd help a furby who couldn't walk sit on the toilet because I heard around that people taking care of the elderly would do that, so I included it in my post to seem knowledgeable on real ways of helping, and that was it; I really really wish that even while I was an unhinged young teenager, people would have just gently asked before writing those ever-lasting posts, "Hey, did you mean bla-bla-bla when you said this, or did you mean something else?" and I would've answered honestly, I'm sure; I was a bit of a monstrosity the further back you go into history of how I acted on the internet but I was really, not all that terrible to talk to when there was no perceived threat from the person and asking me a rational question would've been easy, I never ever mean to hurt anybody, but now, that's all people are going to think of me; even in real life, because who wouldn't look up my social media in this digital era? 🙁

And it was mostly, if not entirely, consisting of behaviors and views I've grown out of since the 5+ years ago it happened; I have even been met with backlash in 2022 or 2023, for saying I'm sorry to someone I was mean to back then 😯 (I now think that was unnecessary from me, I was very tired that day) what do the people who've cancelled me want from me? I don't think they want me to apologize, or care that I've gotten so much better since then; I think maybe they just want to revel in that I am a complete recluse now socially, a coward; I cannot even say "Cool fursuit!" or "I like your artstyle!" without feeling like somehow, someone will come forward and be able to twist what I've said into something terrible and use it against me if they don't like me, because that's just how people can be online now; it's terrifying. My ex best friend has shunned me behind my back for being so scared, I remember being shown longer ago; but knowing the things that upset her, she would be absolutely broken if someone did to her, what she did to me online; because that shit can ruin careers, it could ruin my chance of ever making a friend again, even IRL because anyone can look me up online; imagine doing that to somebody who was at the time, not even old enough to drink.

I've been called vile, irredeemable, and anonymously told to kill myself once even; I was a 16 year old; a rather air-headed one too yet. Who would talk that way to a 16 year old who made it clear he was trying to improve and never meant to hurt anyone? Who knew he was in the wrong and was trying his hardest to fix it? For young readers rolling their eyes, how absurd that is will click when you're older and realize how inexperienced most people are at that age.

And that isn't keeping in mind how developmentally delayed I always have been too, which I state as a fact and not as an excuse; I don't let it ever stop me from improving myself either, but I feel like it's probably important that I mention that about myself here; I've always been considerably far behind people my age socially and often, intellectually; it was very visible at School especially where alot of the work I did was far behind everyone else's, and was alot slower than them too, and when I was younger I'd hardly get any work done at all even and was very difficult to deal with as a whole; Autism can be a very unflattering disability, it's not generally pure or wholesome, and it has influenced my bad or otherwise embarrassing behavior alot in the past; which I will still take responsibility for; because my illness isn't some seperate entity from me I'd use as an excuse, I just want it to be understood and recognized that I can't function as well as most other people in the head, I never could, and I genuinely just want that to be understood coming from someone who is seriously, detrimentally autistic to a point I had gotten diagnosed with it at a young age; my past outbursts and socially-inept behaviors helped by it gave the internet ridiculous shitshows to point at, and I'll never be able to take that away; what I can do is hope that I'll be atleast somewhat understood in the end, and left alone for how I was such a long time ago now

I've made a good effort to no longer be that way or act immature and freak out like I did long ago, and I can't stop persuing a social presence at such a young age, over the idea that strangers might not understand that about me.

I have no respect for people who think call-out and purity culture are okay and useful towards youth; this stuff was meant for use against megacorperations and rich celebrities that are getting boycotted for being generally harmful and/or gross on a huge scale that affects many innocent people, not stupid teenagers like I was, or even young adults. People learn, grow, and change; I spend and have spent every second of my life finding ways to grow and improve, and taking information in from people I look up to and admire to do so; and came far enough that I am 100% no longer the petty, angry, and immature person I was at the time, and that makes me very proud. I am no longer going to cower in my little corner, shivering at the thought of complimenting someone's 3D model or uploading a piece of music on YouTube; because people who told a scared and confused autistic kid to end his life and tried to take future careers, friendships, or even love away from him with things he's said and done years and years ago, do not deserve my compliance anymore

[devilfic]

It's me, cain! Since your last fic (as of the moment i'm writing this) is about stranger things (which is somehow "inspired" by the ask i sent and it makes me feel like i requested it), then i want to officially request something different. I still have ideas for stranger things, but for now... may i request a continuation of boogeyman???

❝boogeyman❞

II. no god in gotham.

parts: previously. plot: your shadow has a task for you. it's best you accept it. pairing: edward nashton x gn!reader. cw: detective!reader, dark, religious themes, use of handguns, murder, slight dumbification, conversations between law enforcement that should reasonably have them put in prison, non-graphic allusions to child abuse. words: 3.9k.

a/n: of course!! we get some further lore for the reader and a new hairstyle for edward.

When you were just starting out, the GCPD had put a gun in your hands and asked you to just hit your target. It was a fact of life in Gotham that most citizens had at least held a gun by fifteen, if not shot one, but you were a special case. You’d held a gun before. Held a gun and threatened to shoot, even, but you’d never pulled the trigger. Your fellow recruits called you “soft”. Soft was a word you could shake off anywhere else but here.

You spent hours training, impatient, wondering what you were doing wrong. That’s when you first met the man who’d change your life for the worse, “You ever killed somebody?”

Anywhere else, one might’ve balked. Another fact of life in Gotham was that if you lived long enough, you’d have some blood on your hands, “No, sir.”

Instead of calling you soft, he smiled—Lieutenant Dwyer, his nameplate boasted—and pointed at the poor target you’d been abusing all night. Then, without mincing words, patted your shoulder and asked you, “But you’ve wanted to, right?” Someone in your position couldn’t say “yes” and get away with that, could they? It had to be a test. Dwyer didn’t mind your silence, “It’s a bit easier to aim if you have someone in mind.”

“Isn’t that... dangerous?” You’d skirted around the word “immoral”, “In the field, I mean. If you’re thinking about a specific person. You could end up profiling.”

“Of course. In the field. But you just need to pass this test, right? Then you’re in? So do what you have to to get in.”

Why he cared that you pass when there were far better recruits he didn’t need to waste breath on was beyond you back then. Why he congratulated you, personally, when you did pass, you had no clue. Why he had taken you under his wing and ruined your life... you found out eventually, at least.

"I think you should take me off this case, Chief."

In all your years of knowing Chief Bock, of two things were you certain: one, you didn't make demands of the man. And two, you didn't question his authority. You'd effectively done both in the time it took for you to walk from the front door to his desk. It's only because it's you that he humors you, wiping his lip of coffee and giving you the floor, "You got a life-threatening disease I should know about, detective?"

Someone is going to die, "It's just getting a little crowded." Bock's face tells you that was the wrong thing to say.

You felt like a child. Bock, your "parent", insisting you were the very best on the force. Gordon, his "parent", indignant that the Bat could be trusted beyond the system. Both with their hands on yours and Batman's shoulders, shoving you two into the spotlight and saying "Look! Look how much better this one can be."

It always ended up with you and Batman in the middle. Your only solace was that he seemed to hate it as much as you did. "Did Gordon bully you into this? Huh? Five years ago and you'd have been singing a different tune."

Five years ago, you were still honest. "No, sir. But it's obvious what you're doing. Batman solves one too many crimes and suddenly people are questioning the GCPD's competence," Bock snarls at that, "so you put me on the scene. All it's doing is taking away from the work."

"I put you there because you're smart."

"With all due respect, sir, you put me there because you can't take him out. Because no one wants him out."

And it was true. With every public takedown of another crazed villain, Batman shot higher and higher up the popularity polls. Questions had steered from "Is the Batman a threat?" to "Who's the Batman's next threat?". He was a celebrity, and while there were still plenty who opposed him, the tides were changing.

To remove Batman from a case was like dooming it to fail.

Bock stews in his anger, clearly caught in a trap. It helped that you were one of the few who had yet to pick a side between the Bat's fans and adversaries. At the very least, you could see the situation for what it was. "Do you not want this?" Bock demands, finally.

"Of course I want this."

"But you wanna leave it to the vigilante and run off with your tail between your legs?"

It would be easier for you to agree with that. Let him think you a coward and save yourself the stress. "I just... I want to know why I'm still here. Why you believe that I have something to offer that the Batman doesn’t. And don’t say a badge."

Bock grinds his teeth behind his pursed mouth. You’d like to think it was because that’s exactly what he was going to say. He takes his time coming up with something else, "I trusted Lieutenant Dwyer. I trusted Detective Kenzie. I trusted every goddamn man I put on this force. And then I wake up one morning and... Dwyer's dangling over the harbor and I find out he's been putting bullets in skulls for hush money. And you," Chief Bock's scornful finger points your way, "standing there on that same harbor. You two used to be attached at the hip. Couldn't figure out for the life of me why you weren't hanging right there with him."

You both had that in common. It probably kept you up at night more than it did him.

He continues, "But then I thought about it, about all of it. If you were someone I couldn't trust, that psycho would've made sure of it. And yet you're here. Truth is, you've always been a good kid. I'd rather you on this case more than anybody else. I don't say that lightly."

It twists your gut, his earnest eyes. You can't look at him when you know the truth. "...Thank you, sir. I'll... think about it."

When it was time to pull the trigger in the field for the first time, your bullet had missed. It went flying off somewhere into the smog, flung too high too quickly to hit much more than a passing bird. Briefly, you’d wished that they’d get away.

Another bullet flew through the air shortly after yours and the suspect fell to the ground, dead. Your partner had taken the shot that time. They hadn’t held it against you.

“Did you do what I told you to?” Dwyer sipped absently at his coffee, not bothering to look you in your pitiful eyes. 

“I... I couldn’t.”

“Hm. You may not be so lucky next time.”

The Batman is a big man. It’s probably all the Kevlar and armor and the pointy ears of his cowl that make him seem enormous, or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you stand by his side. The corridors are too small for him, cops weaseling past the two of you even as you press your heels against the wall. The Batman isn’t as accommodating, simply watching them struggle by.

With Bock and Gordon in a screaming match behind the chief’s office door, you supposed he had nothing better to do than strike up a conversation, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you probably aren’t helping your case with the wounded rabbit look on your face, “where’s this coming from?”

Batman clears his throat, keeping his face turned forward. He almost looks... embarrassed. “The other night. When I drove you home.” Your confusion only grows. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to intimidate you off the case.”

Your first instinct is to laugh. Then, you roll your eyes. You could hazard a guess as to who put that thought in his mind, “Did Bock say that to you?”

“He insinuated it.”

“I was thinking about leaving, but not because of that.” Batman stares down at you, asking with his eyes. “I just figured you’d have the case covered. Seeing as you’ve got experience with... him and all.”

Referring to him as him and not your shadow, the ever present demon jerking you around by the strings, felt just as wrong as saying his real name. “We don’t know if it’s him yet.”

“But it probably is, right?”

It wasn’t like he was dead. It wasn’t like the GCPD didn’t still have a warrant out for his arrest. He was very much still a wanted man.

When the floods had broken out that night, no one could be blamed for thinking of themselves. Those who were lucky enough to live above sea level sheltered in place, wondering when help would come and if they’d be locked in for days without food or electricity. Those who weren’t had their bodies flushed out with the draining of the city. Worries went to jobs, possessions, families and friends. Why would anyone be thinking about Arkham’s finest breaking out in the chaos? Those worries didn’t come until after.

Some hoped they all drowned in their escape. Others hoped they’d leave Gotham and never come back. Others, like you, knew they lied in wait. The floods weren’t bad for everybody.

The Batman had sworn to find them before they could cause any more harm, but then the Riddler had showed up in the dark of your bedroom and the rest was history.

“When I talked to him in Arkham, Edward was... smart. Meticulous. All his plans were like he’d laid out the chessboard and the pieces moved themselves. I was one of them,” The Batman gets this far off look in his eyes, shame mixed in the pits of blue, “everything down to the T had his signature. The councilman’s murder is familiar, but not exact. Something’s wrong with it.”

Your breath is stilted, uneven. You’d had your doubts that he knew who was hiding in your shadow, but asking him would give it weight. You had to be careful, “Because there was no riddle?”

“A man that proud of his work and he doesn’t sign off on it? Something’s changed.”

A lump begins to form in your throat. Gordon and Bock are still tearing into each other mere feet away. You feared your heart beat loud enough for them to hear it. 

You don’t mean for your eyes to wander off but the Batman doesn’t seem to mind. He takes to surveying the area again, always on the lookout. You wonder through your mounting anxiety if anything ever truly flies under his radar. It only solidified to you how little you could compare. How close you were to being caught.

It’s a miracle when Gordon throws open the door, panting, and ushers the two of you inside.

Bock is at his desk having shifted from glaring down Gordon to glaring down your caped companion. The Batman, again, doesn’t seem to mind. You wonder what all that screaming could’ve accomplished when Gordon speaks up from the other side of you, “We’ve been getting letters taking credit for the murder.”

The chief drags a sack onto his desk and out spills about a hundred different envelopes, all different sizes and colors, all different addressees. One clearly says “To the Batman”, another “To the GCPD”, and another “To GOTHAM”. Most of them are for the Bat, but all of them are a clear imitation of one another. Their inspiration was not far off in distant memory.

You watch as the Batman takes one addressed to him and peels the flap up to retrieve the card inside. It’s a cheap greeting card. Just like- “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” he thumbs it open, revealing an unruly script inside, barely legible even as the three of you gather ‘round to read it, “the Lord punishes and the Lord rewards. Who’s side are you on?”

Your stomach is doing flips. Bock looks annoyed, clearly frustrated with the turn of events. Gordon looks unsettled. The Batman... his mind is working. “You religious, Bat?” The chief mocks. “I’m starting to think there is no God in Gotham.”

There’s still a church to pray to him.

It’s changed a bit since the bombing. You remembered seeing the Batman blown across the room with the detonation of the bomb, wondering if that would be the end of him. How hadn’t it killed him? How hadn’t it unmasked him, cracking his cowl (and skull) in two? He was lucky. More lucky than the man whose brains were splattered all over his suit. 

There were metal detectors out front now. Ugly, modern things that clashed against the cathedral’s ornate bones. They were ugly but necessary. You’d read the impassioned editorials on this godless city, your city, and how it was all the citizens’ faults for not believing in a higher power. For trusting in a false god to cleanse the city of its evil.

His black head turns toward you as you approach his pew.

Riddler rarely went out these days. When he did, he was skulking along the worst parts of the city where people would sooner run in the other direction than call the cops. His friends in the underground kept him safe enough, but when he needed to be in public, he took to changing his face. He wasn’t very proficient with a makeup brush and concealer, but it changed enough of him that no one really looked long.

It had startled you the first time you saw him like that. It made you finally call him by his name, “Why here?”

He had your apartment. Free reign of it, in fact. He had the dark alleyways. He even had the Penguin’s new and improved Iceberg Lounge if needed (as thanks for putting him on top of Gotham and Falcone beneath it). Why the church he sung in as a little boy? The church he killed a man in under the eyes of heaven?

“I thought a change of scenery would be nice,” he smiles, broad and unsettling as always, “and I wanted to see if they’d let me in. Please. Sit.”

His hair had grown significantly since the floods. With it dyed black now, he really did look like an entirely different person. Without the coke-bottle lenses taking up half his face, you really got to see more of him. New parts of him. 

You take the seat he allots you at the very end of the pew and he immediately scoots closer until you’re sandwiched between his thigh and the arm rest. His proximity at home- in your home was nothing new, but in public? Where a stray priest might see? You squirm, focusing now on the papers folded in his hands. “What are those?”

Riddler... no, Edward, turns his face toward you with a closed-lipped grin and hands you the papers.

Most of them are old prints of the front page news. The dates range from the 80′s to the 90′s, some bleeding into the new millennium. The only thing any of them had in common was the same white, wrinkly face printed black and white on every page. You had to live under a rock not to know who this guy was. “Scott Winthrop?”

Edward crosses an arm over you to highlight a headline you’d skimmed over, “Gotham old money. Older than the city, practically. They came over from down south.”

“What about him?”

Your eyes meet Edward’s in the breath’s distance between you both. “He’s got a dirty history, detective. Generations worth. You know how I know him?” Your head twists to make sure no one might be sneaking up on you, “He used to come here every Sunday. In this very pew. He visited the orphanage too. Donated a couple blankets one winter. We all fought over them.”

“So what’d he do to you?”

“Nothing to me. I wasn’t his... type.”

Your head spins the moment you get it. You’d seen this man on TV. He’d donated to charities for years. He owned a portion of the city. He owned the block you live on. “What... did nobody try to stop him?”

“He donated shoes, too.” Your revulsion is harder to hide up close, as is the furrow in the middle of his forehead, “Of course we did. We were kids. But he paid very good money, detective. He only stopped coming ‘cause his wife caught him. Well... that, and I burned the place to the ground.”

“And you want...” Your breath shudders. The guy was too rich of a target, wasn’t he? He had to be hiding behind layers of security to rival Arkham. Bruce Wayne had been one in a million. There was no way he’d get that chance again. “How?”

Edward’s shoulder pushes into you as he shifts, hand reaching into his back pocket for something. A phone. It was his burner gifted to him by the Penguin himself. He flips it open and shows you a text on the screen.

Saturday. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

- O

No doubt “O” was Oswald Cobblepot. “What’s Saturday?”

“A celebration,” a sparkle lights up in Edward’s eyes; you’d think he was a boy in the candy store, “the old man’s turning the big seven-zero. And I have an invitation to the party.”

“How in the hell-”

“People will pay anything to not think for themselves. My sponsor is very generous.”

“So you want to do it at the party? Even with an invitation, you’re not getting close to the guy. Let alone close enough to... dress him up. I know you hate the guy and I don’t blame you but you’re crazy if you think that we can-”

Your teeth clash together with the force of his hand gripping your jaw. His big, spindly fingers hold your cheeks close together, bruising the soft flesh of your face until you’re only inches away from his face. There’s a hard look in his eyes. You tuck your chin as close to your chest as he’ll let you, hoping not to alert the scattered devotees throughout the room. “I’m not stupid, detective. Let’s stop pretending like you’re the one who thinks for the two of us, hm?”

Naturally, you nod. His fingers cup your jaw instead of clenching it now. Once upon a time, you would have never let someone put their hands on you like this. “You just need to trust me. I promised to keep your secret. So trust me.”

You could’ve laughed if you weren’t certain it would end badly, “Do you trust me?”

Edward laughs for you, practically cackling and drawing the attention of those nearby. His hand drops as soon as their eyes turn your way. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You could strangle him. “Oh, and don’t worry about how you’ll get in. If your precious GCPD is as diligent as you say they are, they’ll make room for you at the party.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve already sent word ahead. You’ll find out soon enough.” The furrow in Edward’s brow smooths over then, his face returning to calm. He was in control again.

He glances quickly at his phone once more and takes the papers back from you, folding them into the pocket of his rain coat. You always felt this dread every time he left. You didn’t know when, or how, but he’d pop right back up in your life again and you’d be right back to where you were before. Anxious. Exposed. Dragged by the scruff and forced to keep up appearances until he left again.

Part of you wanted to always see him. To keep an eye on him. At least so it’d come as less of a fright. But you knew where he was. He was your shadow, never too far behind. Even if it scared you sometimes, deep down, you knew it was always there.

Edward rises on his long legs and scoots past you into the aisle. The words come out before you can stop them, “Will I see you before the party?”

He blinks a few times—a consequence of the contacts he wasn’t used to wearing. The faux freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose stretch underneath his smile.

Seeing him coming doesn’t stop you from flinching when his hand touches your cheek again. The heel of his palm presses into the side of your mouth while his fingers curl toward your nape.

He pats your cheek twice and leaves you there.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

Dwyer startles at the sound of your voice. You’re smart enough not to touch the picture frame in case it might be overstepping, instead keeping a finger pointed in it’s direction. It’s a beautiful picture. You could tell it was taken on one of Gotham’s atypical sunny days.

A host of emotions cross his face, but the most prominent is foreign to you. Pride. Your parents hadn’t had much of that for you. “I did,” the sorrow, though, was familiar, “she was killed when she was fifteen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your hand drops to your side.

One look at your face and he goes back to cleaning the action of his gun. “It’s alright. I got the motherfucker. You gonna finish your coffee?”

You’re just leaving the church when the shrill of your ringtone bounces off the walls. You quickly grab the belting thing and answer before anyone could say anything, shuffling out into the light drizzle, “Hello?”

You’re surprised to hear Gordon’s voice on the other line. His number in your phone was starting to be more ornamental than useful, “You might wanna get down to the precinct soon. We think we might have found something.”

“Did something come up?”

“A card, actually. The Bat noticed it in the pile of... letters the Riddler’s fans left. It’s the only one with anything concrete to it.”

“A clue?” A riddle, you mean to say. You hug your coat tighter to yourself and get as close to the road as you can without getting splashed by the cars that race by.

“Yeah... and an address.” So that was the word. You hiss through your teeth and shake your hand in the air, cursing each taxi that speeds right past you. “You think you can get here in the next ten minutes? Chief wants to go over our next move.”

Might be twenty, you want to growl. Since when did anyone in Gotham turn their nose up at a little extra cash in their pockets? It was like you were a ghost.

Just as you’re about to give up and start down where you’d come from on foot, a bike’s roar makes the concrete under your shoes shake and tremor. You hear it before you see it pull up in front of you, careful to slow down before your legs could get splashed with the city’s toxic rainwater.

The Bat is a welcome sight up until you realize that you hadn’t told anyone where you’d be going when Riddler had texted you to meet him.

Gordon’s distant voice calls through your phone. Batman explains, giving nothing away. “I thought this would be quicker.”

Was he watching? Did he know? Had your shadow really left, or was he pushed up between two buildings, watching you? Egging you on? Begging you to take this chance. You’re smart, but the line between reality and your reality blurred everyday.

Gordon calls your name again and you quickly recover, choking out, “I’ll be there in five.”

[wri0thesley]

nat something about toji drives me absolutely feral, can i have a scenario or something where he meets reader at a bar and they have a steamy one night stand i don’t know i just want this beeg beefy dilf to absolutely ruin my puthy (fem reader please!)

anon, i really hope you have a corruption kink

Favourite (So Far) - Toji x Fem!Reader (5k)

Toji sees you sitting alone at a bar; all quiet and soft and unsure, and absolutely begging to be ruined - and he decides he can help with that.

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. not sfw, mentions of murder. corruption kink, virgin reader, dacryphilia, fingering, coming inside, dirty talk. 

Toji normally doesn’t bother lingering after he’s held up his end of the bargain, but the money is burning a hole in his pocket and the minute he’d left the body of the man he’d been hired to kill locked in the back office of the bar, he’d remembered you.

He estimates he’s got a good half an hour before anyone realises the man is dead. If they’d wanted him to clear up after himself, they should have written it in the contract – still, with how awkward you’d looked and how your eyes kept darting about the place, Toji is pretty sure he’ll have you away from the bar and with his arm around your waist in . . . ooh, ten minutes? Fifteen, at a push.

He knows your type.

You’re uncomfortable, watching your friends go off and flirt and dance – pulling at your skirt (you’re uncomfortable in that, too), tugging your thin shirt up to cover your chest, ordering something non-alcoholic and looking morosely at it. Your eyes avoiding when men try and catch your gaze, your posture tensing – he’s pretty certain that you do not want to be here, and Toji is going to offer you an alternative that he thinks you might prefer.

You don’t notice him until he’s right beside you (people never do), leaning in against your ear, one of his arms slapping on the bar beside you, caging you in on your barstool. You start, moving back, blinking your pretty eyes at him in clear surprise, your mouth a soft ‘o’ – ah. Toji can tell you’re the kind of girl who isn’t used to male attention, who doesn’t think that you’re anything special. Shy. Probably untouched-- he’s grinning at you, and he doesn’t miss the little swallow, the flash of interest in your eyes (girls like you always like the idea of getting involved in something a little dangerous)--

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”

The voice is rough and low and dark, startling you from your reverie. Your friends have all, indeed, long gone – after sighing at you that you’re no fun, that they shouldn’t have asked you to come out with them anyway – you’re surprised by the man it belongs to, all raven hair and piercing green eyes and a scar on his lip that your eyes can’t help but trace the line of – how does somebody end up with a scar like that?

“Oh,” you bluster, feeling embarrassed and unsure by the way he’s looking at you, the easy way he throws out the pet name, the casual authority he’s emanating by how you’ve been caged. “I’m-- I don’t really--”

He chuckles.

“Me neither,” he says. “Lemme get you somethin’ soft, then--”

It would be easier, he thinks, if you had agreed – if you’d been softened a little bit by the buzz of alcohol. Still, he knows that what he gives off is heady enough that you’ll come with him anyway – he doesn’t drink himself, so he’s not exactly going to blame you for wanting to keep your wits about you. Smart thing, for all of how vulnerable you look in a short skirt and high heels and a low-cut top. He’s ordered something for you before you can refute – you can’t deny to yourself that it’s nice. It’s nice to have someone be interested in you. It’s nice, too, that said someone is rugged and six foot something with corded veins and muscle in thick biceps and forearms.

You’re staring at him, and Toji allows it, letting his own gaze crawl across your pretty face, your body, the way the cheap lights of this dive are picking out the shine in your eyes and the gloss of your lipstick.

“What’s a cute little thing like you doin’ on her own somewhere like this?” He asks you, lifting the glass to his lips. You try not to stare at them, though your stomach is twisting. You shrug, awkwardly.

“I got dragged here by some friends,” you say, inclining your head towards the dance-floor, where your friends are very much living up to their earlier assertion that they were going to have a wild time and if you weren’t going to join in, then you could just wallow in your misery.

“Ah,” he raises his eyebrows, eyes briefly brushing over where you’d indicated before returning to you. Something about the way that those eyes are pinning you like a butterfly to a cork board makes you squirm, heat curling in your lower belly. Nobody has ever looked at you like that before. This man is staring at you like he wants to take you apart, and it’s exhilarating. “You not the dancin’ sort, huh?” Another swallow. The bob in his throat is mesmerising. “Can’t blame ya. Pretty thing like you’s probably inundated with attention the minute y’get out there--”

You laugh, softly, heat rising to your cheeks. Toji can’t help but think how cute that is – you’re so obviously unaware of yourself. When he gets you on your back, he knows you’ll have that certain kind of naivety that never fails to get him hard and aching in his pants; wide eyes and bitten lips and breath dying in your throat at the touch of his teeth and hands and cock.

“Nothing like that,” you say, “I just--”

Your eyes catch something. Toji looks too, as you’re interrupted by a pretty girl tottering up to you both in an even shorter skirt and even higher heels. Her eyes linger on Toji, a fraction too long, before she turns to you and pouts and says your name, making you wince. There’s a whining tone to her voice.

She’s complaining that someone’s spilt a drink over her, and Toji sees now that her expensive-looking shirt is stained dark brown. He hadn’t noticed the scent of beer wafting from her because of the overall air of the bar is absolutely saturated in it, but now that she’s right there . . . he wrinkles his nose.

“You have to come home with me, nobody else will,” she tugs on your arm. “And you said you weren’t having fun anyway, so you can always stay there, but I need to change out of this--”

There’s a world-weary quality in your eyes. Something that suggests to Toji that you’re used to being the designated person to take care of your friends, to dropping things to clean up after them – those big eyes and the downturn of your mouth and the softness of your voice all suggest to him that maybe part of the reason you’re so demure, so . . . innocent . . . is because you haven’t had a chance to explore anything else.

Toji drapes a thick arm around your shoulders. You jump at the contact – but almost as if it’s against your will, you nestle into him. Closer to him. A prey animal knows when it’s being protected, after all – even if it doesn’t know, yet, that he’s the predator.

“We’re a bit busy here,” he says, keeping his tone affable with a knife-sharp edge. The girl opens her mouth, as if she’s going to protest – but Toji grins, his eyes darkening, his mouth tilting to show just a little bit too much teeth. He lets himself draw himself up a little taller, so that his breadth and his height and the taut muscles beneath his tight shirt are unarguable. Your friend falters, shoots you a look, and then shrugs.

“F-fine,” she says, “I’ll go on my own--”

She walks away, pouting, storm clouds rising off of her. You’re trembling imperceptibly (adorable) – he thinks this might be the first time you’ve ignored one of your friends. Eager to please little thing, he supposes – the kind of person who wants to be liked and will do almost anything to keep it that way, with big doe eyes and a trembling lip and your chest thrust out unconsciously.

Oh, he will ruin you, and you’ll thank him for it afterwards.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’ my boundaries there,” he says to you, and you look at him with your eyes big and wide and wet your lips, his cock giving an answering throb. You breathe very softly;

“N-no, thank you, it’s . . . it’s nice to not have to deal with them, for once--”

Toji leans further into you, his arm not leaving your shoulders – close enough that his breath tickles the shell of your ear, and your brain short-circuits at a handsome older man leaning so close and intimately to you.

“You don’t wanna stay here, though, do ya?” His other hand is suddenly on your leg, calloused fingertips brushing the soft skin of your thigh. Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting – threads of heat sewing themselves into knots between your thighs. “You wanna split?”

His eyes do not stray to the clock behind the bar, but he estimates it’s been about eleven minutes. Longer than he was expecting, but – as you bite your lip and stand up, letting his fingertips drag dangerously close to the part of you between your legs, Toji decides it’s worth it.

His place is nothing special. For a man as well-paid as he is, you’d expect something a little classier, maybe – but for a man with the kind of profession Toji Fushiguro has, he doesn’t spend much time in it. He’s too busy travelling to care about it beyond anything other than a place to crash, eat, and bring home his conquests. And you don’t seem disgusted by it as he pushes you roughly into the room, arm locking around your waist, mouth dipping to taste you – so Toji doesn’t worry about it too much.

You’re still trembling against him, your entire body thrumming with energy that you’re not used to – but that all works to his advantage. It works to the advantage of directing you into his room, until your back hits the bed with a soft ‘whoomph’ of air and Toji is kneeling over you, your eyes big and wide and blown as they look up at him.

You’d been so easy to convince back here. You’d made a couple of quiet whispers about how you shouldn’t, the way that good girls like you do – but his fingers had cupped your cheek and his body had pressed against yours and he’d smiled that dangerous knife-edge smile and you’d been putty in his hands, trembling kneed and so very adaptable as you’d walked beside him with your breath unsteady in your chest at your own daring.

Now, though, with a man’s bed behind you and a man’s cock digging into your stomach where he has you caged underneath him, things are beginning to feel far more real. You take another shuddering breath, not meeting his eyes as you whisper;

“I—I haven’t--”

Oh, fuck. If you knew what those little words did to him – if you could have heard the monster roaring in his chest at how excited he was that he’d not only get to utterly ruin you, but to get to be the first one to do it . . . He’d let himself hope, based on your way of holding yourself all demure and prim, that you’d be a virgin, but to hear it from your own lips with your skin rapidly heating up under the confession.

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Toji practically coos at you, as his big fingers go to your shirt, tugging it off with expert precision. “I ain’t gonna break you—”

(Well. Not in any way you aren’t going to beg for.)

Breath caught in your throat as your bra is unclipped, the lacy garment dropped onto the floor. His own shirt follows – you can barely stop yourself ogling him, the firm abdominal muscles, the scars across his pectorals. You can tell, based on how many scars he’s bearing, just how dangerous the man above you must be.

The one like a starburst is a bullet scar, you’re pretty sure. The one wrapping around his side is too big to be anything but a knife or a sword – this is a man involved in something dangerous, something shady – and even that isn’t enough to get you to ask him to stop.

Staring down at your newly exposed breasts, Toji can’t resist leaning in; sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, dragging his teeth across the sensitive bud, lapping at it until your back arches and you whimper so prettily that it goes straight through him and straight to his cock. The wet kisses trail back up to your neck, blunt teeth tugging at your skin, sucking quickly stinging bruise marks into the skin so that everybody will know what this cute little virgin was up to last night--

A rough tug to your earlobe makes you moan. A nip to your lower lip makes you practically mewl. And his rough fingertips pushing up your skirt to your waist, letting his fingers dig into your plush thighs so hard that there’s no way you won’t be marked with fingerprints tomorrow – that makes you whine.

“You like bein’ pushed around a little bit, cutie?” The pet name, again, has blood rushing to your face and heat rushing to between your legs. You’re suddenly so very aware of how slick you are, how your underwear is clinging to the folds of your sex. How much of that is his fingers and how much of it is his voice and how much of it is how exposed you are in front of him, you don’t know – but you bite your lip and avert your gaze, and this just seems to spur him on. Both of you know the answer: yes. Yes, you do like being pushed around a little bit--

“These are soaking wet,” he tells you, as the matching lacy underwear to your bra is peeled off of you. He readjusts himself, grabbing your thigh and pressing your knee against your chest so that he can move his hips between your two legs as well as get a proper look at what you’ve been hiding beneath the tiny skirt – he lets out a low whistle, those green eyes greedily drinking you in like you’re a painting hung in an art gallery. “Well, look at you. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

He sees how the compliment makes you squirm at the same time as it makes your cute little hole, exposed thanks to the stretch of your leg, flutter around nothing. He might break you if he doesn’t prepare you properly; you’re so small, and it’s been a real long time since he bedded a virgin--

One of his fingers drags through your slick with no preamble, brushing your fluttering hole, and the noise catches in your throat – halfway between a whimper and a soft sigh, a noise that does not serve to do anything but make him repeat the motion, gathering your glimmering arousal on the same thick digit. He brings it to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you.

“Mm, you should taste yourself,” he says to you, eyes glinting. “You’re like honey, sweetheart--” Toji doesn’t wait for you to say yes or no. His finger pushes past your lips, so you’re forced to taste yourself on his fingertips, brushing over your tongue. His eyes focus very deeply on you, like you’re the only thing in his orbit worth paying attention to. “Why don’t you give my finger a suck, darlin’? You’ll want it as wet as you can get it--”

Not that you’re not plenty wet enough. But there’s something so endearing about the feel of your tongue hesitantly licking at him, the shine of your eyes. If he wasn’t hard enough to cut diamonds, he would have you suck his cock first, if only to see those pretty lips wrapped around his shaft and to hear you choke a little bit, to see your makeup go runny and messy and ruined--

“Atta girl,” he says, roughly, pulling his finger out (the trail of drool sends another of those throbs of heat through him). The finger drags over your slit again, parting the plump lips – and then, he’s pushing his finger inside you, your walls pulsing around him. You’re so fucking tight. He knows you weren’t lying about being a virgin – the gasp that dies in your throat, the hand that tangles in his bedsheets, the little lift of your hips to help him along – all of those are things that are entirely sensation responses, not in the least calculated, and Toji loves that.

The finger pumps in and out of you, helped along by your slick, until he can press another alongside it and scissor them gently, stretching out your channel in preparation for what you’re going to take in a matter of minutes. Your teeth keep digging into your bottom lip, as if you’re afraid to make too much of a noise – he chuckles as he brushes your swollen clit with his thumb.

“C’mon,” he growls, “don’t hold out on me. Lemme hear you--”

Oh, you’re so embarrassed – but you’re also, he can tell, the kind of girl who can’t resist an order. You let your mouth relax, drop open – and next time his thumb rubs firmly across your clit, the noise is caught only by the ceiling above you both. He makes some little noise of praise that you can’t fully discern, because now he’s started pulling forth your pleasure he doesn’t want to stop. Three fingers. His thumb, toying with your clit, rubbing firm circles with it as he feels your channel clench and quiver around his fingers. He rubs at the textured spot on your inner walls and you groan, your other hand gripping his forearm, your brow forming sweat. Your hips are circling, needy, in search of more stimulation.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Toji asks you, his voice like cigarettes and leather. “C’mon. Let me see-- let me feel your pretty cunt clench--”

Something about the dirty words pushes you over the edge and you tumble down a dark hole, fireworks exploding inside of you, stars bursting into being behind your eyelids as pleasure washes over you in great waves. You soak Toji’s fingers, your walls sucking him in deeper and deeper.

Your breath comes in great pants, the aftershocks of your orgasm still gently rippling through you even as Toji pulls his fingers out of you. You look up at the man as he adjusts himself with his other hand, as if in a haze – and as if in a haze, when he roughly pushes those three fingers back into your mouth, you suckle on them with your mind and thoughts all misty. All you can think about is him. That’s what he wanted, anyway – cute little demure virgin, cock drunk even without him fucking you properly – he breaks girls like you on the regular, but you might be one of his favourites.

He tugs down his pants enough to reveal his flushed cock, curving to lay against his stomach, hard and leaking precome from a reddened tip. Your eyes widen (he always loves that moment), as you realise why he took pains to prepare you with his fingers.

“Whaddya think?” He asks you, teasing, wrapping his fist around the shaft. Even his big hands around it do nothing to make it look smaller, and you barely realise that you’re staring until he slaps your thighs with it, streaking his own wetness all over you. “You’ll give a man a complex, sweetheart--”

“I-I don’t have much to compare it to,” you say, desperately, heated and needy even though you literally just came. You want him inside you. You never thought you’d be so easily broken down into wanting to be fucked, but here you are – something primal inside of you is awoken by the size of his cock and the glitter in his eyes and the sculpted muscle, and you want to be desecrated. “Y-you look big--”

He laughs at that. Yeah, you definitely don’t have much to compare it to if that’s your take-away. Still. It’s cute, how you’ve spread your legs a little wider, how you’re not hiding the fact you’re looking at him like he’s some kind of angel who’s finally granted you a taste of the celestial city.

“I feel big too,” he tells you, with a smirk that rattles you to your core. “Wanna find out?”

When you nod, he grins – those big hands take a hold of your thighs, pressing both of your knees to your chest this time. He takes a moment to enjoy you in this position – those wide eyes, the lewd splay of your legs revealing the glimpse of your cunt still tantalisingly shining with the remnants of your orgasm. You squirm under his hungry gaze, exposed – and that does nothing to quell the hunger that seems to be thrumming through Toji, with every clench and wriggle.

“Good,” he tells you, rubbing his cock through the mess you’ve made of yourself, making sure the head nudges your clit and he can see the way you shiver. “You’re bein’ such a good girl for me--”

He catches on your entrance and you let out a keen. With your knees pressed to your chest, you’re unable to get a grip on Toji’s shoulders, and you have to console yourself with fisting the bedsheets beneath you (rumpled even before you’d ended up there).

The position he’s got you in means that you feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, every throb – inch by inch, as he sheaths himself slowly inside you. He can’t help but watch as your jaw goes slack, as your eyes cloud with the feeling of him entering you – as tears bead in the corner of your eyes at the burn and stretch--

Oh, fuck, the tears. He wonders if you feel the way that his cock seems to harden at that, at how pretty you look all glassy-eyed and helpless and trying to take him. He’s maybe two thirds in and almost at the limit of forward motion, but you whimper, letting your head fall back--

“P-please,” you say, “I—I can take it--”

He laughs, low and dangerous. He leans in, brushes his lips over your sweat slicked forehead. His tone is syrupy sweet when he speaks, as he angles his hips just so that he sinks another aching inch into the sweet kiss of your tight cunt.

“Oh, I know you will, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sounding almost like a threat. His eyes flash downwards, to see how tightly you’re clinging to him – how big his cock looks, disappearing into your slick sex. How the glistening ring of your need coats him. Just a bit further – watching himself claim you is almost hypnotic.

He wants to see you on your hands and knees, watch his cock stretch you out that way. He wants to see you gag and choke and drool around his cock, wants to see your small hands wrap around him, wants to have you in every position until you’re so fucked silly you can barely move--

But for now, he hilts inside of you, his balls slapping against your slick skin. His face splits into a smile as his eyes travel back up, to the bulge in your stomach that he knows is from just how big his cock is, to your thighs trembling even with him keeping them prone against you. You’re so cute. The tears have spilled past the rim of your eyelids now, wetting your cheeks – they’re so maddeningly sexy, on your pretty face. He’s not going to last half as long as he wants to, he doesn’t think – not when you’ve been driving him to distraction since the moment he laid eyes on you.

He can barely remember he killed a man less than an hour ago.

That’s old news, unimportant compared to how your walls flutter around him as he pulls out. Unimportant compared to the arch of your back, the rock of your breasts, the great gasps of air.

He’s not a kind man, but he doesn’t go out of his way to be an asshole to his conquests – so he lets you get used to the rolling rhythm of his hips, slowly. He doesn’t piston his hips in and out of you, not at first. He lets the slow drag of his cock on your sensitive inner walls make you shiver, make you gasp and moan and whimper. And only after he’s earned the light hump of your hips against his, searching for the sensation yourself, does he let himself fuck you the way he wants to.

He wants to record the moan-squeak-whimper of surprise as he begins to pump his hips in earnest. It’s a noise he’s heard before, but coming from your pretty mouth it seems all the more potent. His hips jerk into you and out of you, the noise of skin slapping against skin very loud in the bedroom. The slick noises of his cock driving in and out of your tight cunt would be shaming if it didn’t feel so good, if you didn’t get a shock of want every time his body ground against your clit on the inner thrust.

You lose track of time, with the dangerous man you met at the bar bent over you. He mouths greedily at your lips, seeming to treasure every noise you make and swallow it down his throat like a sweet candy – he bites at your neck, at your throat, the grip on your thighs never faltering for a moment. You can do nothing but let yourself be folded in half, and let him fuck you like an animal.

That seems right. He’s rutting into you deep and hungrily, almost feral in his enjoyment of your body. He drops one of your legs suddenly, letting it hit the mattress, readjusting his hips so that one of his hands can dive between you and--

He’s playing with your clit again. The pads of his fingers are rough, and you wonder if he handles a gun like the one that gave him that starburst scar. You wonder how dangerous these fingers are, the ones that were buried inside you and are now coaxing your poor, swollen clit to another orgasm.

“Come on, baby girl,” he growls, pressing harder, making your thighs jump with tension. “Wanna feel you come with my cock buried in that pretty little cunt--”

You whimper, throwing your head to the side and letting a cry out into the pillow like a mewl. Toji would be mad that you’d stifled the cute little noise, if the sight of you submissively showing him your neck (one of your softest parts) hadn’t scratched an itch for dominance inside of him – and if the feel of your body clenching and pulsating around his cock wasn’t currently finally pushing him over the edge, making him judder his hips against you as he shoots rope after rope of his come directly inside of you.

Your shoulders are heaving with the effort of the orgasm that’s still ricocheting through you, your toes curling, your body clenching and soaking Toji’s cock with your orgasm. You don’t even realise he’s come inside of you until he pulls out slightly and you wince at the feel of that same come, his load far too thick and full to not have a bit of it trickling out of your stretched hole. Toji admires the look of it; darkened from his persistent thrusts, your syrupy slick mixing with the thick pearly white of his seed.

“Y-you came inside me,” you say, your voice half-clogged with the tears that are still glistening on your cheeks (a low pulse of heat in his groin. His refractory period has always been short – and with a cute little thing like you in his bed, who can blame him for wanting to fuck you again almost immediately?). “I—I don’t even know your name--”

Oh, shit. He’d quite forgotten. He knows yours from the girl in the bar (that already feels like a lifetime ago). He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, the kind of confusion that seems to say ‘good girls don’t do this, I would never do this, who is this stranger wearing my skin with a man’s come making their thighs sticky?’. It’s part of the process of breaking that Toji loves so much.)

“Sure did, darlin’,” he says, absent-mindedly scooping some of the come that’s oozed out of you and pressing it back inside. He wins a whimper for that, one that’s definitely not ‘stop’. “You’re still so sensitive.”

If you notice he doesn’t give you his name in response to your question, you don’t say anything. As his fingers gently circle your entrance again, as his hand brushes your thigh and you shiver, he sees that you unconsciously spread your legs even further apart for his explorations. Oh, you’re so cute.

One lone finger, gently grazing your clit, makes your hips jerk, your voice break in a way that’s all needy. You look at Toji through those tear-darkened eyes, your lips bitten to puffiness, your lipstick and mascara and eyeliner all messed up on your face from crying and biting your lip and drooling. Adorable. Girls like you always look best like this, their polish scuffed when Toji’s taken them to bed and stripped away all of their defences.

Girls like you, Toji always manages to get to move their hips against his ministrations. He always manages to have them gasp, whimper, break--

You’re not the first one in his bed, and you probably won’t be the last. But as he grins at you and asks;

“Well, sweetheart. I’ll give you a choice. Y’wanna take a shower and I’ll call you a cab or somethin’ and you can head off home? Or,” he drops his voice low, drags his eyes over your prone form, brushes his lips over your stomach. They flutter against the soft skin, his breath a hot wash that makes goose flesh prickle all over you. “Y’wanna spend the night?”

And you bite your lip before nodding, nervously running your hand through his hair, your body near trembling with need--

Well. As he asks that and you answer, he really does think you might be his favourite one ever.

[bratdesire]

All Bark and No Bite

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Noncon, lowkey incel Tsukki, yandere ( i think?), degrading language, knifeplay, misogyny, slut shaming, brat taming, slapping, belting, mentions of blood, choking, emotional manipulation, belly bulge, overstimulation, painful orgasm, unprotected sex, general meanness, time skip spoilers?

Genre: Smut (gross)

Author’s Note: This is mean, nasty Tsukki brain rot and I had no reason at all to write this. He’s a fucking beast in this and I apologize for nothing. Hopefully someone likes it tho. As always, thank you to my betas @sempiternal-amour​, @kidwine​, @india-katsuki​!!

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: Tsukishima teaches his roommate’s bratty girlfriend a lesson or two.

Please heed the warnings, it’s dark in here ;;;;

Tsukishima has hated you since he laid eyes on you. 

You personify everything that he despises, from your big bratty mouth, to your typical bitchy attitude, to your ridiculous wardrobe which must only consist of tiny crop tops and slutty skirts that barely cover your ass. 

Most of all, he hates that you never fail to give him a raging hard on anytime you’re around. But it’s really not his fault, not with the way you prance around his and Kuroo’s apartment in your tiny, indecent outfits and surely not with the sinful moans he hears you make through the thin wall between their bedrooms. He knows you know exactly what you’re doing.

You can’t not know.

He knows you’re trying to tempt him, test his resolve. He doesn’t miss the way you make sure he’s looking when you bend over in your too-short skirt, panties conveniently missing. You’re always mouthing off to him, trying to goad him into an argument, knowing Kuroo will always come to your defense.

You’re trying to push him until the thin, fraying thread that is his self-control snaps.

One day, it does.

You’re standing in the kitchen, boiling some pasta for dinner when Tsukishima unlocks the front door. Great, he thinks, he’s had a long day full of stressful negotiations for the museum and now you’re here to sour his mood even more. Usually Kuroo is there to smooth out any tension that develops between you, quickly defusing any arguments before you start full-on screaming at each other, so your conflicts have never risen above that threshold. 

But Kuroo’s not here, as Tsukishima learns from you in your annoyingly snarky tone, “Tetsu won’t be home until late tonight. He told me to tell you he said to fuck off if you bothered me.” You’re smirking, feeling superior in the belief that you’re safe from his wrath because you’re his roommate’s girlfriend and he wants so badly to wipe that smirk off your face, preferably by belting you until you bleed.

“I didn’t ask, brat,” Tsukishima sneers, narrowing his eyes at you as he passes on the way to his room. He’s trying to keep a calm, collected persona, but you just get under his skin in a way that no one else does. Usually he lets those types of comments go but he’s just so tired, so tense, and so fed up with your attitude that his bubbling anger threatens to break the surface and boil over. He breathes in, breathes out, breathes in, breathes out. He can tolerate your unruly behavior for at least a few hours until Kuroo gets home, he tells himself. He truthfully doesn’t care about his relationship with his roommate, Kuroo just offered him a cheap place to stay after high school graduation, but he knows that if he did hurt you he’d have to find a new place to live and that would just be a headache that he doesn’t want to deal with.

After changing out of his work clothes and putting on sweatpants and a t-shirt, he makes his way down the hall and back into the kitchen to make himself dinner because he sure as hell isn’t going to eat anything you make. Girls his age never know how to cook, only knowledgeable in spreading their legs for any alpha male that looks their way.

Much to Tsukishima’s irritation, you’re still in the kitchen piddling around like the clueless bitch you are, incapable of boiling a simple box of pasta without the water boiling over and making a mess of the stove. He lets out a groan of exasperation, walking over to where you’re standing in front of the stove to remove the pot from the burner.

“Can’t do anything without fucking it up can you, brat?” He growls at you, purposefully clipping your shoulder as he moves behind you to throw the ruined pasta away. He knows he’s baiting you into an argument and that you’ll take the bait, but the knowledge that Kuroo won’t be home for a while makes him want to see how far you’re willing to go without your boyfriend present.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that? No wonder no one likes you,” you huff, leaning against the stove and crossing your arms. The action squishes your breasts together and he can see the faint outline of your areolas through the thin material of your shirt.

“As if I care about what a useless brat like you has to say about me.” Tsukishima scoffs and he can see your anger in the way your shoulders shake.

“You barely fucking know me, who are you to call me useless?” You push yourself off the stove and take a step closer to him.

“I know enough about you to know that you’re useless.” He can feel his resolve fraying more and more as each word leaves your bitchy mouth.

“Oh, I’m useless? Didn’t that little ginger boy you played volleyball with in high school get on the Japan National team while you work at a museum?” You’re smiling triumphantly as if you’ve won this battle of wits, but Tsukishima can rattle off insults in his sleep and this isn’t his first time putting someone in their place.

“You know Kuroo only keeps you around because you’re pretty and you’re a warm, wet hole waiting for him to fuck when he gets home.” He crosses his own arms this time, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. 

“So you think I’m pretty?” You’re snickering at the reddening of his face and the twisting of his delicate features and it fills him with so much rage that the thread... 

Just.

Snaps.

He’s on you so fast that you can’t even blink before he has you pinned to the countertop, one hand squeezing the back of your neck and the other twisting your arm painfully behind you. Tsukishima relishes in the little yelp of pain you make when he twists your arm back farther.

“Absolutely not. Your slutty cunt is the only good thing about you and even that has probably been stretched out by all the cocks you’ve taken.” His voice is calm, collected, as if he were discussing the weather and not verbally abusing you while he has you pressed into the countertop. Your fight-or-flight response triggers and you start kicking and screaming, thrashing against him in a blind attempt to wrench yourself from his grasp. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Fucking asshole get off of me and let me go!” The hand that’s holding your arm quickly grabs your other wrist while his other hand wrenches you upward by a painful grip in your hair. Your back is now pressed against Tsukishima’s chest, wrists restrained by his long fingers and head bent back so your eyes meet his. They’re cold, unfeeling and send a sickly chill down your spine that makes you still immediately.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet and calm down. It’ll be easier that way for the both of us.” The monotony of his voice is even more sinister in this moment where you’re completely at his mercy. Your eyes widen in horror as you feel his cock pressing against your ass and it causes you to start fighting him again, no coordination in the way your muscles move in your frantic movements. You’re screaming, just hoping somebody will hear you, somebody will come save you.

Your hopes are meaningless when you’re so small, so vulnerable. Tsukishima knows no one will come for you and he knows you’ll never be able to overpower him. You’re completely at his mercy, whether you choose to comply or not.

 “You know, even if nobody comes for me now, Tetsu will be home later and I’ll tell him everything you did to me.” You’re confident that the threat of your boyfriend will deter him from taking his abuse any further. You struggle in his grip to hold yourself a little higher so you’re more eye level with him. “He’ll kill you if he sees one hair out of place and I tell him it was you.” 

How cute, you still think you have control of this situation.

“I’ll just deny whatever you claim that I did or didn’t do. Who do you think Kuroo will believe? Me, his longtime friend from high school, or you, his whore girlfriend he met a year ago?” A smug smile tugs at his lips, knowing he’s planted a seed of doubt in your mind that Kuroo will believe you.

“Tetsu loves me! He’ll believe whatever I tell him.” He can’t tell if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You really think Kuroo loves anything more than your tits,” he uses one hand to grope at your breasts, “or your ass,” the other hand sliding down to fondle at the supple flesh. The feeling of his long, thin fingers on your body causes you to start fighting again, but this time your arms are free so you start flailing them blindly, hoping to stun him long enough that’ll give you enough time to get away. You manage to twist around and smack him in the face and almost wriggle out of his grip but as luck would have it, you don’t get away. You won’t get away. 

Rage takes over his features, his muscles tensing and flexing. Tsukishima quickly raises his hand and brings it down across the left side of your face. It takes a moment for you to realize that he slapped you, confusion slowly morphing into an expression of sheer, unadulterated fear. The horror that dawns on you, overtaking your features, warms his heart.

“If you’re not going to behave and continue to be a brat, I’m going to treat you how a brat should be treated.” He drags you, kicking and screaming, down the hall to his bedroom. He wishes you’d shut the fuck up, but that’ll be taken care of soon enough.

Kuroo thinks you’re his sweet, innocent girlfriend but Tsukishima knows better, knows what you really are. You’re a mouthy, bratty whore who needs to learn her place and he’ll be the one to remind you what you are.

Once you’re in his bedroom he turns and uses one hand to lock the door. How pathetically weak you are that he only needs one hand to restrain you. He digs around with one arm underneath his bed, slowly getting frustrated before he finally grabs what he’s looking for.

Handcuffs.

He grabs your arm and fastens a cuff to your wrist, tightening them just enough so the cold, hard metal digs into your flesh. It only takes a few moments of your incessant struggling for redness to bloom across the skin of your wrists and Tsukishima can’t help but smile at the sight. 

“What kind of sick fuck just has a pair of handcuffs lying around?” You’re scared, he can hear it in the way your voice shakes, but you’re trying to act tough and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

Tsukishima hauls your body over to his bed, forcing you to follow him if you want to prevent fracturing your wrist. He forces you onto the mattress, body bouncing with the impact. With the other cuff in hand, he fastens it to his headboard.

“The kind that’s going to beat your bratty ass into submission before I fuck your stupid cunt.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your flimsy, tiny shorts and pulls them down your legs. You start thrashing harder, trying to slow the movements of his hands but your efforts are futile. 

“Stop! What the fuck do you think you’re doing a-asshole!?” You’re on the verge of tears, eyes welling up, bottom lip trembling. You shut your legs as tight as you can in an attempt to impede his quest to remove what’s left of your clothing, but you both know that won’t stop him.

Your entire body stills then seizes up when you see the glint of a box cutter blade in Tsukishima’s hand.

“W-What’re you planning on doing with that?” Your wide, terrified eyes are trained on the blade as he waves it around in the air.

“Stop your whining, I’m not going to cut you with it. It’s just to make removing your clothes easier.” He’s looking at you like a parent would look at a child that was throwing a fit, exasperated and tired of your nonsense. “Hold still and I’ll make this quick. I don’t want to get blood on my sheets just as much as you don’t want to get cut.”

You’re cowering from him, trying to scramble away from him despite the handcuffs anchoring you in place. You gasp when you feel the sharp edge of the blade against your hip, not daring to take another breath. Tsukishima slices through both sides of the little bits of string you call panties, revelling in the way your body trembles underneath him. Another long cut is made down the front of your shirt, the box cutter making quick work of the fabric, and his suspicions are confirmed that you’re not wearing a bra. Of course a whore like you wouldn’t be wearing one.

He admires the enticing curve of your breasts, the way your nipples are hardening in the cool air of his room. Your cheeks are wet with fresh, salty tears and you’re sniveling pathetically. He’s almost tempted to tell you that you’re beautiful like this, tied up and naked, crying, but you don’t deserve his praise. 

“Turn over, face down ass up. If I have to tell you a second time, I have no problems carving you up with this blade.” The threat has you scrambling onto your hands and knees, the action hindered by your restraints but you manage to turn over and present your ass to him.

Tsukishima unbuckles his belt, sliding it through the loops of his jeans. He takes it in his hand and folds it in half, inspecting its structural integrity to ensure he won’t destroy it as he whips you with it. The belt is real black leather, heavy in his palm and he knows it’ll make pretty welts on your skin.

“Now, it’s time to beat all of that sass and attitude out of you.” 

There’s no warning, no pretense before he starts viciously whipping you with his belt and you’re already screaming. If you hadn’t been so difficult, he might have warmed you up beforehand but he doesn’t mind. Your struggle was like foreplay, a little taste before the main course and it has his cock is straining against his pants. 

Every broken cry that leaves your throat sends arousal down his spine and he thinks he 

should’ve done this sooner. 

He would have if he had known how delicious your screams were.

The blonde is relentless, the impact of the belt never lessening, if anything, the smacks become even more ruthless. Your ass is an angry red and he can see some of the skin beginning to split, fresh, warm blood bubbling to the surface around your deeper wounds.

“P-Please stop, it hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore!” You’re fully sobbing now, tears and snot dripping down your face. “I’ll do a-anything,” you choke out between cries, your voice hoarse from overuse.

“Look at you, bawling hysterically from a few licks with my belt. You really are all bark and no bite. How pathetic,” he sneers.

“Tsukkiiiiii! Please, stop. I’ll do whatever you want as long as you stop hurting me.” The way you say his name is harsh and grating against his ears, but he overlooks it in favor of taking what you’ve been dangling in front of his face all this time.

The sound of Tsukishima’s pants hitting the ground makes you stiffen on the bed, slowly and apprehensively turning your head to look at him. Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when you see his cock: thick, hard, and leaking precum.

When you feel the dip of the bed underneath his weight, you start shaking and hyperventilating at the realization that this is really going to happen. “You… You’re really going to do this.” You sound so small, so defeated and his chest swells with pride because he did that—he smothered that blazing fire inside you with little more than a few flicks of his wrist.

“Yeah, and there’s nothing you can do about it so just lie there and take it,” he says as he lines himself up against your slit. When he notices the copious amounts of slick drooling out of your quivering pussy, the man can’t help but laugh at your expense. “Are you actually fucking wet from this? Does being fucked against your will turn you on this much?”

Your cheeks burn with shame and disgust because you are wet from Tsukishima’s abuse. It’s wrong, you know that, but your traitorous body doesn’t even feel like your own as it reacts to his touch. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop the thrusting of your hips to try to catch the head of his cock each time it slots against the tight ring of muscle around your entrance.

“I always knew you were a cock hungry slut. You don't care whose cock is inside this filthy pussy as long as you’re getting fucked, do you?”

You don’t respond, tears welling up in your eyes and leaving watery trails down your cheeks. He’s right. You asked for this—if you hadn’t tempted him, you wouldn’t be handcuffed to Tsukishima’s bed, waiting for him to defile you. 

“I asked you a question,” Tsukishima snarls, fisting your hair in your hand and delivering a sharp spank to your ass. “Tell me how much of a disgusting whore you are.”

“I-I’m a—hiccup—dirty slut that loves t-to get fucked,” you stutter, the words like acid, foul and caustic on your tongue. “All I w-want is a cock inside me.”

“At least you know your place. Now let’s see if this slutty hole of yours is worth anything.” Tsukishima finally thrusts inside you, meeting some resistance from how unprepared you are, but he just pushes harder.

Your walls spasm and clench to try to adjust to his length, but you feel like you’re going to split in half. He’s much bigger than any other man you’ve slept with, stretching and filling you so full your stomach bulges where the tip of his cock is pressed against your cervix.

You scream and writhe on the bed in an attempt to get away from the hard, throbbing length painfully probing your delicate insides, but it’s futile with the handcuffs keeping you firmly shackled to the bed.

“Urgh, shit, for a used hole, you’re so fucking tight. I’m d-definitely going to cum from this.” The blonde takes a sharp breath through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t want to cum so soon. He can’t cum so soon when he’s waited for this for months.

“P-Please, not inside… I-I’m not on birth control,” you plead softly, hoping he’ll at least spare you the humiliation of having to clean his cum out from inside you.

“Tch, you think I give a shit about that? I’m gonna cum deep inside this pussy, ruin you for Kuroo and any man that’s sorry enough to want to fuck you.” He speaks low, muttering to himself but just loud enough for you to hear.

Despite the aching of your heart each time he speaks, you can feel your pussy begin to give as he fucks into you with abandon, his hips smacking loudly against yours. The sharp burning in your core slowly fades to pleasure as Tsukishima’s cock presses against that little spongy spot inside you that makes you cry out. You bite your lip so hard it bleeds to try to muffle the noise, but it’s no use. He heard you and it just gives him more reason to taunt you.

“Ah, I found it, did I?” the man asks as he hits the spot again and again, making you clench around him as the fluttering of your cunt tells him that you’re close to orgasm. “What a dumb slut you are, about to cream on my cock as I ravage your pussy.”

How utterly fucking humiliating. You’re going to cum on his cock and you didn’t even want this, not with him.

A particularly rough thrust into your g-spot sends electricity down your spine, down your body, and sends you careening over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream. Your sensitive cunt clamps down onto Tsukishima’s cock like a vice, but his ruthless pace doesn’t stop or slow as you shake and convulse underneath him. 

It isn’t like any typical orgasm you’ve had, which are usually blissful and warm, flooding your body with pleasure that makes your limbs heavy and your head fuzzy. No, this is almost painful, as if your orgasm was ripped out of you by force. 

All of your muscles contract as hard as they can and several seconds pass before they relax, your body shaking all the while. As it hits it feels as if a bucket of ice water was poured over your head, shocking and jarring, and you want to claw your way out of your own skin it's all so intense.

Once the last of the aftershocks leave you, you slump forward on the bed, boneless, chest heaving with every breath. You’re too exhausted to hold yourself up as Tsukishima keeps fucking into your overstimulated cunt, taking no regard for you or your body as he chases his own climax. 

You’re whining, gasping, hands fisted into the sheets to try to keep yourself grounded as electricity shoots through you with each thrust. 

“Too muuuch, ‘s too much,” you slur, but it only falls on deaf ears.  

The blonde pulls almost all the way out before shoving himself back inside the tight, wet heat of your cunt, and pushing against your cervix so hard you think he’s trying to fuck that hole too. You’re so fuck drunk that your eyes cross and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, strings of drool staining the mattress.

“Hey,” he calls out, yanking your hair backwards so you’re arched back towards him. “Don’t pass out; I’m gonna cum soon, so tighten up.”

You’re barely conscious by the time his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated, his own peak just on the horizon. His grip on your flesh is bruising, no doubt leaving purple marks in the shape of his fingers. The pistoning of his hips gets even faster, lewd squelching noises filling the room.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum inside this slutty little pussy and you’re going to take it all,” Tsukishima groans, digging his long fingers into your hips as he fucks into you.

All you can do is whine and mewl as he buries himself to the hilt, cursing and groaning as he shoots thick, warm spurts of cum into your sore, quivering womb. He leans forward, resting his forehead on your sweaty back as he catches his breath.

Some time passes before he withdraws and you twitch and gasp, the barest stimulation too much for your abused cunt. You try to curl in on yourself to go to sleep, but Tsukishima grabs your ankle and drags your limp body toward the edge of the bed.

“You really think we’re done here? Not even close. I’m not stopping until I’ve soiled every single one of your filthy holes.”

[dabifixation]

the importance of knocking

dabi x fem!reader

summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.

warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI

word count: 2.4k

~

You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.

Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.

If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.

Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.

You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.

And you failed the test.

So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.

You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.

When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.

Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.

You had a serious problem.

Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.

He wasn't.

"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.

You ignored his question, "Where are you?"

There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.

You learn new things everyday.

"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.

Wait.

"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.

"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.

He hung up before you could give a response.

That was weird.

You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.

Yeah, very weird.

❦

It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.

Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.

Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.

You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.

That's strange.

"Uhnnnggg~"

Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.

You didn't dare move.

There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.

Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.

"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"

Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.

It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.

Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."

The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.

What a hypocrite.

You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.

The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.

It made you shudder.

He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.

You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.

Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.

Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.

Hook, line and sinker.

He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.

He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.

Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.

Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.

There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.

This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

It was intoxicating.

Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.

Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.

He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.

That was the last straw.

She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.

His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.

"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.

Fuck yes.

She responded in a tired moan.

"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."

Jesus.

She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.

"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.

"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.

When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.

Oh.

He was talking to you the entire time.

You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.

It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.

"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.

He was close.

Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'

You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.

"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"

A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.

Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.

He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.

Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.

His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.

He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.

He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.

Bastard

Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.

You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.

You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.

How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.

You hated him so much.

You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.

Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.

[slasherhaven]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1, Part 2

I've been enjoying some Soft!Bo recently, so here's some more!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 3:

Time passed since you first stepped into Ambrose, only a few weeks since you ended up meeting your soulmate in the most unlikely place and getting stranded in the small town. You told yourself you were stranded, tried to convince yourself of that, but it wasn't completely true. Now you thought that even if you got the chance to escape, you wouldn't. You wouldn't leave and if you did...you would probably end up being drawn right back to Ambrose.

Weeks passed. You mourned. You still found yourself saddened by Carly's death, but you had come to terms with everything that had happened. Bo had, in an act of kindness you supposed, demanded that Vincent didn't use any member of your group to create new wax figures. You were supposed to be at home in this town, you didn't need a constant morbid reminder of your past.

Of a night, you had been staying in Bo's room while he slept on the couch. Surprisingly, he had insisted on it. Despite you being his soulmate and practically being destined forgive him, he supposed he should try to make it easier for you. He just hoped it wouldn't take too much longer, the couch wasn't as comfortable as his bed.

The events from your arrival had settled and the town seemed to fall into it's more day to day routine. You had gotten to know Vincent and Lester a little better, but you found yourself more comfortable around Bo, which made sense even if it wasn't logical to an outsider.

Despite spending more time around Bo than the other brothers, you surprisingly didn't talk much. Neither of you really knowing what to say. You wanted to be around him instinctively but didn't know what to say to the man who killed your friends, or even if you wanted to say anything at all.

Today went by as usual, you spending the day down in the garage with Bo, eating lunch and dinner with him, and awkwardly sitting on the couch in front of the brother's little television. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, occasionally risking glances at him.

You had excused yourself and gone up to bed, changing into one of Bo's tee-shirts. You didn't exactly have a wide selection of clothes just yet but did you have other options of sleepwear? Yes, you did. Still, you chose to wear Bo's tee-shirt. You found it comforting.

Unsurprisingly, you hadn't been sleeping well. It took a few nights for you to get a good few hours of sleep but you were sure that your sleeping had actually become more disturbed than it had been. The bed was comfortable, and smelled of Bo, but you still found yourself tossing and turning, feeling like something was missing.

It was something you had been debating for the last few nights but always talked yourself out of it. Tonight though...you had decided to take the risk. You knew you would end up doing it eventually anyway.

Pushing back the sheets, you climbed off of the bed and exited the bedroom.

When you had arrived, the house had been untidy but you had fixed that during your stay. You had to fill your time with something and it helped make you feel more comfortable. So, now, you didn't feel too worried about walking around barefoot.

You made your way down the stairs and quietly into the living room. Bo mustn't have heard you since he was still sitting with his feet up on the coffee table, eyes on the television, with his temporary bedding piled beside him.

"Bo?" you asked quietly and he instantly turned to you. Under different circumstances, you might have found it amusing that you had surprised him.

His gaze scanned your body, wetting his lips at the sight of you in one of his tee-shirts. "You alright, darlin'?" he had never been shy about pet-names, always calling you by them. You didn't mind. You liked it.

"Can't sleep" you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Wanna sit with me?" he asked and you nodded without having to think about it.

He gave you his signature charming smirk. "C'mon then" he patted the space beside him and you walked over to him.

Bo lifted his arm, laying it over the back of the couch as you sat down beside him, his arm behind you. Some old film was on the television, you had no idea what, but you didn't mind. Bo didn't seem very interested in it either.

"You got any idea what's going on in this?" Bo asked, gesturing towards the television, you just shook your head. "Need better fucking stations" he muttered to himself, making you smile a little in amusement.

"Or you could upgrade from VHS...maybe get a DVD player" you mused. "Do they even sell VHS's anymore?" you asked with a small chuckle, earning a smile from Bo.

"Guess we'll have to save up for your fancy technology" Bo teased, proud of himself when you laughed.

"I think I can deal with it" you shrugged before, not so subtly despite your best efforts, shifting closer to him.

"Good" Bo hummed, his arm lowering from the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer. You allowed him, resting your head against his shoulder.

The two of you fell silent as you watched the screen, not really taking anything in. Risking your glances at Bo once again, the hand that lay lazily in his lap caught your attention. He was wearing a tee-shirt, ready for bed, leaving his wrist visible.

Gently, you reached out and took his hand in yours, your other hand tracing his scars. "Will you tell me about them now?" you asked quietly, watching your fingertips trace his scars.

"Ain't much of a story" Bo shrugged, watching your expression of concentration.

"I'd still like to hear it. Been wondering since my childhood" you confessed.

"Me and Vincent were very different kids. He was well-behaved and quiet, me...not so much. I got angry, I'd shout, throw tantrums, parents had to restrain me at the dinner table sometimes. I'd try to get out, fucking up my wrists" Bo explained, finding the repetitive touches to his scarring strangely relaxing. It wasn't something he usually liked to have on show, but he knew he could be vulnerable with you.

"That's horrible...I'm sorry" you frowned, meeting his gaze with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

"Eh, had to do what they had to do" he shrugged dismissively. Surely, he should be apologising to you if anything.

"You did what any kid with behavioural problems does, they should have handled it much differently" you shook your head, brow furrowing in frustration. Who would treat their child like that?

“Ain’t a big deal” he shrugged again. You could already tell that he didn't like talking about this sort of thing and you found yourself hoping he would begin to grow more comfortable with opening up to you.

“Come on, Bo…if you can’t talk to me, who can you talk too?” you asked with a small but sincere smile. You were his soulmate after all. “I know it hurt, I felt it, remember? At least when the pain started for me, I had someone there to calm me and help me. I can’t imagine how distressing it would have been…” your smile quickly faded, expression turning to sympathetic as you squeezed his hand gently.

There was a short silence, Bo not looking at you, and you decided that if he didn't talk, you wouldn't push it further. “It hurt” Bo finally spoke, clearing his throat. “Each time the restraints would get tighter, ‘least that’s how it felt. The more I struggled the more it hurt, but the more it hurt the more I struggled. Just wanted to get out of the damn chair” he told you shortly, sighing as your thumb brushed over the inside of his wrist. And then he looked at you properly, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry you had to feel that too…and everything else.”

“You don’t need to apologise. I was never angry with you for the pain, just angry with those hurting you” you confessed.

Bo smirked a little at the anger in your expression. The hand that you held onto moved, gently grasping one of your wrists as he brushed his thumb over the matching scarring. "Hey, don't you start worrying about me, alright?"

"I'm not allowed to care?" you asked, suddenly hit with the realisation that you did care. You cared a whole lot about this man.

"...you want to care? You go ahead and care, darlin'" he nodded, giving his permission, making you smile.

"Good...because I will, even if you don't want me too" you told him, knowing that now. Accepting that.

"Beginning to think you're warming up to me" Bo hummed, the hand on your shoulder stroking up and down your arm.

"Don't ruin it" you rolled your eyes but still moved closer to him, naturally draping an arm around his waist and laying your head against his chest. "I wanted to ask you something" you spoke quietly after a short pause in conversation.

"Shoot" Bo looked down at you, his hold around you tightening ever so slightly.

"Was wondering if you...wanted to sleep in the bed, maybe, with me tonight?" you glanced down at your lap. You shouldn't have been embarrassed, he was your soulmate, but circumstances were more than unusual. "Don't like sleeping alone...it never used to bother me" you confessed.

"Can't complain about getting back in my own bed" Bo mused before hooking a finger under your chin, lifting your head and making you look at him. "All you had to do was ask, darlin'" he assured you.

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made heat rise to your face, but it still earned a smile from you. "Just sleeping, though" you added, not wanting him to get any ideas.

"Just sleeping. I swear" Bo chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. It was a nice sound.

"Thank you" you whispered, breath catching in your throat when you realised how close your faces were now.

Bo noticed how you gaze flickered down to his lips before meeting his eyes again, cheeks darkening with a flush. He hadn't been subtle despite putting effort into making you comfortable, you had often caught him staring and he'd only smirk when you caught him looking at you.

Bo didn't seem like the type of guy to sit back until somebody else made a move, he seemed like an initiator type, but you knew that he wasn't going to play into that role right now. You had just talked to him properly, invited him back into his bed. He could be impulsive but he wasn't stupid, he wouldn't risk scaring you away right now.

You had no idea where you got the confidence from, or maybe it was just the innate gravitational pull you felt towards him, but you started leaning in. Eyes fluttered shut as your lips brushed against his.

That seemed to be enough to reassure Bo that you wouldn't run away as he fully closed the space, pressing his lips further against yours in a proper kiss. One that you instantly returned.

You couldn't help yourself, arms looping around his neck as you lent into his chest. Strong arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, practically onto his lap. His kiss, his touch, his mere presence, lit a fire in you. The like of which you had never experienced before. In that moment it truly felt like you were the only two people who existed. Two people colliding in an unlikely little town.

And, in that moment, you knew. Monster or not, soulmate or not, you were supposed to be right here with Bo. It didn't matter if the universe had a sick idea of fate, the past didn't matter, only now mattered. Only him and only you. Finally, you accepted the truth you had been resisting for so many days.

He was yours and, more importantly, you were his.

[nanatsumu]

HIGH SCHOOL!SUKUNA x F!READER

thinking about bad boy itadori sukuna who all the kids at school try to steer clear from because they know he’s bad news and if you get involved with him then you’re bound to be tied with bad luck for as long as he lives. well, that is everyone except for the president of the student council who so happens to be his childhood best friend turned lover.

this is mostly written for my own self indulgence and to project my fantasies of having a boyfriend onto sukuna but feel free to treat this as any other headcanon! ps i am pretty sure canon sukuna would kill a baby at any given situation, but this is going to be a revamped version of sukuna written by yours truly ;) and its a high school au so sukuna won’t be a complete menace to society and will actually have a heart heh

also i didn’t realize how long this was going to be??? this is kind of all over place too because i just wanted to throw all of my thoughts onto this post so there might be some plot holes in this LOL

i feel like sukuna would be the type of bad boy who isn’t necessarily a bad boy but everyone at school just paints him as some kind of delinquent because of all the tattoos and piercings he has.

he actually shows up to school more often than you think he would (but that’s only because you’re in most of his classes so long story short: you’re his only motivation for attending class)

“forgets” to bring his work books to class more than usual (in reality he does this on purpose so he has an excuse to be near you) so he requests to sit next to you the entire class period so he can share with you for the meantime but whenever the teachers not looking he’ll go back to admiring your face.

his older twin brother, itadori yuji, is very fond of you since you three grew up together and you both had your chances of being a victim to his antics!

exhibit a: in middle school when you and yuji were watching tv together, the show you two were watching would keep switching to some wrestling match broadcasting on a sports channel and no matter how many times you turned the tv on and off, it just would not stop. but it wasn’t until you heard snickering from the kitchen that you realized sukuna had a spare remote and was the mastermind behind the whole thing.

exhibit b: sukuna and yuji’s mom was the owner of a bakery so every now and then she would have either one of the twins come deliver freshly baked pastries to your household! oh how wrong was she to trust her youngest. sukuna was now a freshman in high school, and by now you would’ve thought that sukuna would have grown out of his childish phase, but WRONG! sukuna was still a menace in your life even past childhood. so when you bit into one of the macaroons, instead of being hit with the overwhelming taste of [favorite flavor], all you could feel was the burning sensation of wasabi kicking into your tastebuds.

yeah after the whole wasabi macaroon freak accident, you stopped accepting everything sukuna offered to you and opted to only eating pastries out of the boxes that yuji delivered to you. (sukuna eventually caught onto this and was just TEENSY bit upset but he would rather down a whole tube of wasabi than to tell you upfront)

now, how did you two even end up dating??? oh boy now that is a story

you see, yours and sukuna’s dynamic growing up was similar to that of tom and jerry’s— you being jerry and sukuna being 10x worse than tom of course

but it wasn’t until a confession after school behind the cherry blossom tree that was known for bringing good luck to successful confessions that sukuna finally realized that maybe he really did like you just a little lot bit

sukuna overheard the boy who was planning on confessing to you talking to his friend group about how “sweet and caring” you are (although sukuna could argue otherwise, you were a little brat. *LIKE HELLO?!&:&:& YOU WEREN’T THE ONE WHO ATE A MACAROON FILLED WASABI**) and obviously his ears perked up at the mention of your name. he grew up with you after all so naturally he would be interested in a conversation that revolved around you.

but then the boys started going on about how “you looked like an easy catch” and how “your body was bangin’!” yeah no, that’s where he drew the line. sure sukuna was an ass and talked shit about you most of the time (in his defense it wasn’t like he was doing it behind your back) but if he ever caught someone else talking about you like that then he would be sure to give them a hard time.

he hid behind one of the bushes near the cherry blossom tree while the boy was professing his love for you. funnily enough, for a moment sukuna forgot why he was originally there because he was too busy trying to stifle a laugh as he watched the boy stumble over his words.

“okay shows over” sukuna thought as the confession was reaching its conclusion, but just as he was about to step in and give the poor boy a piece of his mind, he stopped in his tracks when he heard you roaring with laughter.

“did you really think that i wouldn’t hear about what you and your friends said about me earlier? you’re really pathetic if you think any girl would be easy enough to fall to her knees for you because news flash! you’re a disgusting pig and you deserve to rot in hell for speaking about a girl’s worth like that.”

“it’s kind of sad too, i thought you were a nice boy and i probably would have given you a chance but it seems like you’re even worse than scum! damn it, to think there was somebody out there who’s even worse than sukuna.”

of course sukuna was not pleased to hear that last bit, but he did have a proud grin forming on his face as he watched the boy run away, flustered from your rejection and the embarrassment he was put through.

“sukuna i know you’re hiding behind the bush.”

“huh? i came here way before you got here, there’s no way you could have seen me.” he said as he stood up to his full height.

“well, your laughter isn’t exactly the quietest, plus i can spot that hair of yours from a mile away.”

lets just say, sukuna was glad you didn’t ask him what he was doing there because he wasn’t sure if he could spare the embarrassment of telling you that he was planning on ruining the confession.

after that whole fiasco happened, sukuna started to feel(!&:&::&) things

like he started to notice how you styled your hair differently one day and how you switched to a new perfume that smelled like spearmint (was that weird? for sukuna probably not. he just excuses it as being highly observant)

you weren’t dumb either, you had a feeling sukuna was there that day of the confession because he too had overheard the conversation between the boy and his friends as well (you knew he was prideful and if you brought it up then he probably would’ve denied it)

so from there on out it was just mutual pining at the point except... well.... not really??

i feel like it was just an unspoken agreement between you two that you guys were “together” but not “together together” because he started to treat you differently than he would before. like for example, he’d carry your bag for you whenever you guys would walk home (yuji was confused by this at first because if anything, it would have made more sense to see sukuna make you carry HIS bag, but he eventually caught on to sukuna’s feelings for you because they were twin brothers after all), he started walking you to class more often even though his class was all the way on the other side of the school (you asked him why but he just shrugged and said he was just “killing time” so that he wouldn’t have to go to class and then you ended up scolding him), and there was also that one time you miraculously found a $20 bill in your backpack after mentioning to sukuna that there was this cute top you saw at the mall the other day but didn’t have enough money at the time to purchase it (you asked him about this but he said it was probably yuji, but you didn’t want to pry any further since you wanted to cherish the fact that sukuna cared that much)

but eventually you got sick of this whole push and pull game that you physically had to tug the collar of his school uniform and pull him in for a kiss (he was visibly shocked at this because he never would’ve imagined you as the assertive type. not that he was complaining though)

“oya? didn’t think you liked me this much kitten.” he said laughing while you rolled your eyes.

“as if, i got tired of you being a wuss so one of us had to wear the pants in the relationship.” you snorted, causing him to irk.

to be honest, your relationship with him is smooth sailing because you both were pretty chill people and you didn’t have to worry about him sneaking behind your back to see other girls because 1. literally all the girls at school are terrified of him and 2. he knew what you were capable of doing to him if you were to ever catch him cheating on you so he wants to stay on your good side

jealous and possessive don’t exist in his dictionary because he is the epitome of those two words. remember what i said about how your relationship is smooth sailing? i kinda lied.

he’s easily jealous like for example: when you were in english class and the teacher had you guys jot down some notes, you realized you forgot to ask for your pencil back when you lent it to your friend last period.

so you asked sukuna to borrow a pencil but instead of giving you a pencil, he called you an idiot for being so forgetful.

this makes you mad so you turn to your male classmate since he was sitting on your opposite side and ask him for a pencil instead.

sukuna was practically fuming the entire class period and once the day ended and you two were back at your place, he made sure to mark you real good. (oh he also went out to buy a pack of mechanical pencils to sneak into your backpack so that next time you forget your pencils, you’ll have 10 extra pencils sitting in your backpack as backup)

he’s not a big fan of pda in public, but on the chances he will show some of it, the most he will do is wrap an arm around your shoulder or waist whenever some dude is trying to hit on you.

BUT IN PRIVATE? better buckle up because your in for a ride wink wink

really likes putting hickeys on you to a fault! but will never put any visible ones on your neck because he doesn’t want your parents to view him as some kind of animal (but he has nothing to worry about because your parents really like him and are grateful for the fact that he’s very loyal to you, and you guys grew up together so it’s only natural that your parents are accepting of him since they already know he has a good heart underneath that tough facade of his)

oh, and yuji starts learning how to knock whenever you come over (or shuts himself in his room for the meantime if he thinks it’s unsafe to step out of his room) because chances are, you’re probably making out with sukuna in his room or smth.

now onto the spicy stuff

when you and sukuna first started dating, the first thing you told him was that you weren’t ready to have sex yet because you were nervous and sukuna understood and told you that he was willing to wait for whenever you were ready.

but when you were ready though, it was kind of spontaneous and you weren’t even wearing a matching pair of bra and underwear that day

you two were chilling in your room watching some stupid (according to sukuna) animal documentary when suddenly you felt his hand on your thigh

dating sukuna and all, it was normal for him to have his hands on some part of your body (whether it be your thigh or your waist) while you two were in bed.

but you were feeling a bit bolder HORNEE than usual so you began to leave a hot trail of kisses starting from his jaw all the way down to his neck.

sukuna obviously got the memo but before those kisses could escalate into something more daring, he asked you once more if you were completely sure you wanted to do it and once you gave him the green light, he was quick to tug his shirt over his head and pounce on you.

he started getting really into it though and accidentally bit your thigh which made you loose your high and scold him for it, but he let out a hearty laugh and muttered a quick apology before getting back into business

sike i lied, remember what i said about it being spontaneous? yeah, you technically didn’t loose your virginity to him that day because after he finished prepping you, you both came to a realization that you didn’t have a condom.

oh well, there’s always next time!

i think sukuna is a sucker for pet names: his favorite thing to call you is either kitten or princess and that’s it LOL he finds calling you baby or babe is a bit too cheesy for him

but he likes it when you call him baby or babe ;)

date nights consist of either staying in and cuddling in his room, going out for a walk at night (but very very late though. there’s still lamp posts that guide your way through the streets but it gives you the heebie jeebies to be out walking outside so late. sukuna always reminds you that nothing bad will happen as long as he’s right by your side), or just spending time with you and your families.

but if you’re really down to do it, he’ll probably initiate a make out session that’ll lead to y’all fucking one way or another (he only ever does it if he is 100% sure that you’re feeling it because he knows you get easily embarrassed if he asks you straight up)

(this part is mainly written for me because i love the idea of sukuna being over at family functions, but it can be applied as part of the general hc heh) if you took him to any of your family functions as your plus one for the first time, all the aunts and uncles would be a bit wary of him at first due to all of the tattoos and piercings he has (sukuna swears he has never felt so self conscious before) but after they strike up a conversation with him and find out that he’s actually a good guy who knows what he wants to do in the future and is very loyal to you, they start to like him more.

your little cousins adore him and love it when he comes over because sukuna is a very tall high schooler which makes him the perfect candidate as a monkey bar

so when you noticed that all the little ones started to climb on his body and mess around with his hair, you were quick to react because you knew your boyfriend was easily irritable which prompted you to think he hated kids

but there was nothing to worry about because when you saw him playing around with them and even crack a smile, you felt your heart grow fuzzy at the sight and you knew right then and there that you wanted to stick by sukuna’s side for the rest of your life

and in the unfortunate circumstances that sukuna is too busy to make it to one of your functions, the first thing everyone asks is “where’s your boyfriend?” or “where’s ‘kuna? i wanna play with him!”

so you have to facetime him and let him know that everyone is wondering where he is (your phone is dead by the end of the night because after the adults get their turn at saying hi to your boyfriend, the kids snatch your phone and end up talking to him for the rest of the night)

but in conclusion, everyone is waiting for the day he gets on one knee to propose to you and your parents are itching to get to get call sukuna their son-in-law :))

also don’t forget that your parents want two grandchildren: one boy and one girl!