#sometimes a random body part would disappear

[obwjam]

a small surprise part 3 (gravity falls g/t)

omgggggg i'm still doing this! i actually have so much written! i didn't think i'd get this far but i just can't stop. enjoy!

parts 1 and 2!

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“Alright, shorty, where does this go?”

“Right there. In the – yeah, that one.”

“Are you sure? This doesn’t look right.”

“How would you possibly know what looks right?”

“Don’t question me! I can look at a picture and know what it’s supposed to be!”

“Diagram. It’s a diagram.”

“Psh. Whatever. S’just a word to make dumb nerds seem smarter than the rest of us.” 

“Pretty sure Ford is smarter than the rest of us.”

That’s how pretty much every conversation had gone today.

The first couple of days weren’t too bad, though it was mostly spent by Stan working on something alone until he remembered Jay was there. Sometimes, he would disappear into the portal room for hours, trying to get it back on by sheer willpower.

Now, it was day five – no, six – seven? – of the portal reactivation effort, and if Jay had to put a number on it, she’d say zero progress had been made. She was trying her best to honor this truce of sorts that they made, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the days went on, especially the ways he’d mock their size difference. 

“Hey, hand me those pliers, won’tcha?” he would say, a wicked smile plastered on his face. Or he’d be sitting on the floor and pretend he couldn’t reach the table when he needed something. More than once, Jay threatened to drop something on his head, but that just seemed to make him laugh even harder. 

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just teasing you, tiny,” he would say, feigning innocence, and then he’d give her a hearty poke in the back and she’d stumble forward, often half-falling and needing her hands to stop her momentum. “Don’t take it so personal!”

“Easy for you to say,” she’d mumble, rubbing whatever part of her body was now sore.

“Take it from me, kid. When life punches you, you gotta punch back. Don’t be such a pushover.”

It was almost like he was giving advice to himself as much as he was lecturing Jay. She didn’t need to be told how to survive, least of all by a giant. 

Jay tried to keep her distance, offering up nuggets of wisdom where she could, but Stan was mostly dismissive of anything she had to say. 

Until she actually figured something out.

He was mindlessly flipping through the journal one day when he suddenly stormed off, presumably to find a soda, or something a little stronger. Curious as to what got him so mad, Jay trotted over to the open journal and ambled onto the page, setting her hands on her hips as she read over the impossibly large display.

Jay’s eyes scanned the page dutifully, trying to pick up the little things she learned from Ford. He had shown her that equations that seemed like a random amalgamation of letters, numbers and squiggles actually had meaning when you knew what stood for what.

That’s when she spotted it. It was a large, red W – something Ford called the “weirdness coefficient.” She didn’t know exactly what it was used for, but she actually recognized the string of data that succeeded it. She followed it along, running across the page a few times to get it all in her head. She was so distracted that she never noticed Stanley enter the room, drink in hand. The loud cracking of the can’s tab snapped her back to reality. 

“Ew,” Stan said, eyeing her with suspicion as he sat down. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“No! Don’t sit! You’ve gotta help me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think I figured something out.”

Stan nearly spit out his drink. “You? Figuring something out? Hah, sure, and I’m a millionaire.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Jay retorted. “It’s not like you’ve done anything.”

“It’s only been a couple of days, squirt. I’m just gettin’ started.”

Jay rolled her eyes. Stan’s machismo attitude was really unmatched. “Okay, well, can you hear me out on this one?” Stan took a long sip of his soda, then nodded. “Okay, you see this here? This big W? That’s the weirdness coefficient. It’s supposed to account for the average amount of weirdness – or, anomalies – that can leak through to this dimension at any given time. So this equation here, it stipulates the maximum amount of W – weirdness – that can be allowed through P, or the portal. So, we have to make sure the leakage output doesn’t exceed this number here.” She pointed to a bold number circled in red, looking up at Stan, a little winded from all the talking. 

Stan blinked. “I have no idea what you just said.”

She groaned. “It means we have to input this number,” she tapped it again for good measure, “into that machine over there.”

Stan squinted at her tiny arm pointing outward, trying to hide his amused smile. He turned around, then turned back. “How do you know that’s the right one?”

“I just know. I saw Ford using it a million times.”

“What if you’re wrong and we blow up the place?”

“Hey, if you don’t trust me, you can just say you don’t trust me.”

“Alright. I don’t trust you.”

“Okay, you weren’t actually supposed to say it,” Jay said, crossing her arms. “Come on! How can we work together if you won’t listen to me?”

Stan tapped his chin. He seemed to actually be thinking about it. “You bring up a valid point.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Now, could you put the number in?”

For the slightest moment, Stan hesitated. The inflection in her voice, and the authoritative way in which she spoke, sounded so much like Ford that it almost made him scream. Yes, yes, I know might as well have been his catchphrase. Stan tried really, really hard not to think about it, but for a nanosecond, his mind was filled with so much pain at the reminder of this little person spending so much time with Ford that she picked up on his speaking patterns that it made him want to curl up his fist and –

He stopped. Come on, Stan, you need her. You know you do. The sooner Ford is back, the sooner you’ll never have to see her again.

“Where am I putting it in, short stuff?” he finally asked. Jay tried to point him in the right direction, but even when he found the right knobs, he didn’t know how to do it correctly.

“Ugh, why don’t you just do it?” Stan sighed angrily.

Jay furrowed her brow. “This again? Are you serious?”

���Don't think this doesn't hurt my ego. But the only thing worse than having you do it is listening to you squeak about it,” Stan grumbled. “Now, c’mon, just do this so we can move on.”

Jay nervously laughed. He didn’t sound like he was joking. “Stanley, I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t exactly walk over there and start pressing buttons.”

“What, I thought you wanted to be all self-sufficient? And didn’t you say you were good at climbing?”

Jay clenched her jaw. Maybe telling him little things about borrower life wasn't such a good idea. “Well, yeah, but I don’t – that would take a while, and I don’t think you want to wait. So just, listen, you just have to–”

“Nope! Not this again,” Stan declared. He took a few steps toward her and was now looming over her, hand twitching. She knew what he was about to do, but was powerless to stop it.

“Be – careful!” she yelped. She felt her arm bend uncomfortably against her body as Stan stuck his hand underneath her and lifted her into the air. She shut her eyes tight as the pressure in her head mounted. Even when they stopped moving, it didn’t feel like it.

Stan stared intently, wondering why she wasn’t moving. “Uh. You okay?”

His booming voice only made her ears ring more. It had to be 30 full seconds before she finally felt centered again. Her stomach dropped when she opened her eyes and saw just how far the ground was. Sure, she had been up higher, but the anxiety of sitting in Stan’s hand only exacerbated her unease. She never even felt 100% secure in Ford’s hand, given the way he would sometimes forget she was there. Fidds was the only one she felt remotely comfortable holding her.

“Tiny? Hello?” Stan shook his hand a bit, as if the issue was that she forgot where she was. He felt the tiniest of pressures as she pushed her palms into his, and he immediately stopped moving. Oh.

“Please – move slower,” she croaked, not even bothering to look up at him. “And don’t just pick me up without asking.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” he said, sounding a bit dismissive. Truthfully, he was fully aware and then some about what he just did, but he didn’t want to admit that he probably fucked up. He walked the few steps over to where the control console was and stuck his arm out, holding her out in front like a platform.

“Okay, short stack. Just tell me where to move you.”

“The row of five switches with the red light up there.” Stan pointed to confirm, and she nodded. “Yeah, that one.”

She should have prepared for how fast he was going to move, but it still caught her off guard. She wanted to yell at him for not listening, but getting fresh with a giant while she was in their hand was not something she was interested in.

Stan chuckled in amusement at how much effort it took her to turn the knob, and it turned to a full-blown laugh at the way she couldn’t push one of the switches back up.

“Oh, is this funny to you?” she huffed, clearly exhausted.

“Oh, yes,” Stan grinned. “Extremely.”

“Just – flick it yourself, please,” she sighed, plopping down in his palm. His hand reflexively twitched at the movements, and he shot her a brief look. Man, she actually looks beat from that.

“Fine, fine. Let the big guy show you how it’s done,” Stan said with that smarmy smile. Jay watched incredulously at the way his arm seemed to stretch on forever from his body to the panel. It hung over her like a heavy barrier; something her weight wouldn’t even register against. He could swing his arm and knock her off his hand and he wouldn’t feel a thing.

It was even worse watching him flick the switch with ease. Sure, she had watched Ford and Fidds do crazy human things all the time, but something about the way Stan did it was different. It was almost… taunting.

“There. Now what?”

“Well, if I’m right, it should–”

Suddenly, she couldn’t speak. It was as if her entire body was frozen. A dull sensation reverberated through her, and then, pain. A loud popping sound zapped her ears and she fell backwards, landing hard on her butt, her head ringing, her body aching.

“Woah!” Stan shouted, flinching back. A small spark jumped out from the panel, but he narrowly avoided it. “Was that supposed to–” he started, but stopped. She wasn't moving. Again.

“Hey, tiny, you alright?” Nothing. “Kid?” Still nothing. She was definitely breathing, but seemed to be in a lot of pain. “Jay, you okay?”

She grit her teeth, trying to usher the pain out of her body. Luckily, it melted away after a few seconds, and even though her head was spinning, she was alright. It was no worse than being whipped around on Stan’s hand, anyway.

“I’m fine,” she finally said, though her voice almost sounded like it was glitching. She took another moment to recompose herself. “Guess it didn’t work.”

Stan almost forgot to respond. “I don’t even know what it was supposed to do.”

“It was supposed to – once you put in the W maximum, it should have calibrated a couple other systems. Thing must be fried after the portal was turned on.”

“Oh,” Stan said, pretending to understand. “So, how do we fix it?”

“I – don’t know,” Jay admitted. “I’ve never been inside there before. Not really sure what to do with the wires.”

Stan hummed, unsure of where to go from here. This was the most tangible progress they had made since forming this unlikely alliance, and it got them nowhere.

“Well, uh, if it makes you feel any better… good job.” Jay winced at the way he sounded like the words were being tortured out of him. “Figuring this thing out, I mean.”

“I got it,” Jay said, a small smile forming on her lips. Why did that compliment make her feel so… warm? “Thanks, Stanley.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t be expecting any more compliments from me,” he shot back, though there was no bite to it. “Don’t want you going soft on me.”

“Psh. Never in a million years,” Jay teased.

To her surprise, Stan set her down slowly on the table before burying his head back in the journal. He was only half-reading it, though, because he couldn’t get his mind off Jay. It was so contradictory – every time she did something impressive, like spout mathematical nonsense she had no business knowing, she would be rendered immobile by a slight altitude change or a small electric shock. She was so much more fragile than he thought. It was beginning to dawn on him that he actually did have to be careful, or else he might accidentally kill her. He shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t be so reckless when it came to someone’s entire life. 

Not again.

Ever since then, he seemed to care a little bit more about her opinion, which confused Jay to no end, but she didn’t complain. Even if he was invasive and had no regard for her personal space, he seemed to have a... gentler air about him. Like he was trying more.

But it didn’t always show, especially when he got frustrated. They were rapidly approaching that territory right now.

“I think the red wire has to connect to the other end,” she said, glancing at the journal. “No, not that one, the other one! Right there – you keep missing it!”

Stan clenched his teeth. He was getting tired of being bossed around. “Well, if it’s so easy, why don’t you come do it?”

Jay felt her blood boil. “I hate when you say that.”

Stan grinned wildly. “I know.”

“Ugh.” Jay flopped on her back. “We’re not getting anywhere.”

“We? You’re not even doin’ anything.” Stan abandoned his rewiring effort and joined Jay at the table. “Maybe you’re reading this thing wrong.” He grabbed the journal and pulled it to him, taking Jay along with it. She yelped and held on tight as she was moved at a blinding speed from one side of the table to the other.

“C’mon, get off,” Stan began to shoo her away like a fly, and Jay quickly jumped off the book. “I gotta look at this thing.”

Jay stumbled when she landed, staring up at Stan with a disapproving look until she gave up trying to telegraph her annoyance. The worst part was he didn’t ignoring her maliciously; he genuinely didn’t care that she was there. She swallowed, her unease growing at the extended silence as Stan scanned the journal. She had been in close physical proximity to him for basically a week now, and it was unnerving. She had no idea what he was ever going to do, and the only thing stopping him from picking her up all the time was that she grossed him out. But that didn’t feel like a strong enough motivator to stop him from swiping her clean off the table if he got mad enough.

“Ugh, what am I missing?” Stan groaned. He tilted his head, along with the journal, trying to find some hidden message.

Jay marveled at the way he so easily swung the book around. “I don’t think you’re missing anything. There’s only so many ways to read it.”

“C’mon, short stack, you hung out with my know-it-all brother more than any female ever has. You gotta know something. What about these…” he narrowed his eyes, “weird secret codes?”

“Yeah, I’ve tried my best with those, but I don’t think I know enough to figure them out.”

“I’ll say,” Stan mumbled under his breath. Jay heard it, but chose to ignore it.

Stan took a moment to think. Maybe I should go to the library and find a book about this or somethin’. Hah, now I’m really thinking like Ford. But the last thing he wanted was to go into town. There had to be an answer in the journal somewhere. Where there’s a test, there’s always an answer sheet.

But first, he was going to do it his way.

“I’m gonna go shove the lever around again,” Stan announced, grabbing the tool box and disappearing into the portal room. Jay knew it was a futile effort, so while Stan got himself needlessly tired, she would go back to working on her secret project — the new hook that would buy her freedom. 

At best, Stan was tolerable, and being at his mercy was giving her increasing amounts of anxiety. If she couldn’t go back for the contraptions that Fidds made her, she’d just have to do it the old fashioned way. But she only went to work when Stan was asleep or in the portal room. There was no way he could know about this.

Jay had been relegated to sleeping on the table while Stan was here. He had only gone upstairs to get food and drinks, often falling asleep right on the table and getting back to work when his own snores jolted him awake.

Thankfully, there was plenty of material to work with. Not so thankfully, none of it was a rope and a paper clip. She had already fashioned two hooks out of sharp pieces of metal, so her next step was either finding something long enough to lower her to the ground or tying a bunch of short but sturdy things together. Even a parachute could work at this rate.

Her mind flashed back to times with Ford, when they would test out her physics with paper hang gliders and makeshift obstacle courses out of rulers and tape dispensers. He went through a phase of trying to see how far a fall she could take before hurting herself, but that only lasted a week before Jay made him drop the subject. His final conclusion? “Very far.”

Evidently, though, she got too into tinkering, because she didn’t even notice when Stan walked back into the room, jacket shed and face sweaty from all the work. He watched her curiously, trying to see what exactly she was doing. Maybe she just messes with metal like it’s a toy or something. She was working on sharpening her hooks and finding heavy enough things to wrap them around when Stan cleared his throat, and she nearly shot 500 feet in the air.

“What’re you doing?” Stan asked.

“Nothing!” Jay squeaked. “I mean, not nothing nothing, I’m just – it’s –”

But Stan was no longer interested in her ramblings. He reached down and carefully pinched one of the metal hooks between his fingers, ripping it right out of her hands.

“HEY!” she yelled, but to no avail. Even if she could fight him for it, it wouldn’t have mattered, because her legs turned to jelly and her arms became numb the moment his massive fingers came next to her, filling her entire body with a sense of dread. She quickly let go to avoid being pulled up into the air.

“What is this…?” Stan turned the object, observing it intently, marveling at just how damn small it was. Jay felt sick at how miniscule her only path to freedom looked between Stan’s fingers. 

“It’s nothing! Give it back!” she tried, but one glance from Stan promptly shut her up and even pushed her back a few steps. God, he’s so far away.

“Huh… you made this?” he asked, holding it out to her. She just shrugged, unwilling to answer.

Stan wouldn’t have been suspicious otherwise, but he had spent the better part of his life either around criminals or being the criminal. He knew what guilt looked like. He also knew a bad liar when he saw one. He just couldn’t figure out what she was trying to hide.

Not at first, anyway.

He tried to think: if he was that tiny, what would he need something like this for? It certainly wasn’t for fixing the portal, so what was it for? Fun? Stan didn’t know what was so fun about bent metal. Maybe she was just bored? Then there was no reason for her to act so suspicious. She would have just said so.

Then it hit him. What’s the one thing she wanted more than anything, besides getting Ford back? To be left alone. And it wasn’t like she could just walk out of the room whenever she wanted.

She had been looking for an escape since Stan found her. She was manufacturing a way out.

Stan ahh’d in realization, and the way Jay’s face went pale was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Not sure how you were planning to escape with this, and I admire the effort. Really! But you can’t hustle a hustler, kid.”

Jay didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t matter. Her heart was pounding, her breathing labored. She had no clue what was coming next.

“Look, if you don’t wanna be here, I won’t stop you. In case you haven't noticed, I’m not running a charity here. I’m trying to get my brother back, and I can’t seem to figure out if that’s really what you want or not.” He callously tossed the metal back to her, and she scrambled out of the way as it clanged a few inches from her. “So scram, alright? Get outta here.”

Jay blinked. He was… really going to let her go like that? She didn’t believe him. Humans didn’t do that. They never did. They’d always be back.

But that part didn’t even matter, because she did want Ford back. Even with the threat of opening the portal, she wanted her best friend back more than anything. She just really, really hated working with his irritating brother, and she didn’t know how to deal with him. The only people she had ever dealt with this closely were Ford and Fidds. She wasn’t used to anything else. She couldn't handle anything else.

“I’m – I’m not trying to – to leave,” Jay stammered. God, that sounded so pathetic. “I just – need some freedom, that’s all.”

A light went off in Stan’s head. “You can’t leave, can you?”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Of course I can leave–”

“No, not this room, this house. You don’t want to leave here. There’s nowhere else for you to go.”

“I–” Jay started, but she had no words. He was right. He was right, damn it! He saw her as this helpless little thing, and he was right.

“Huh, so the squirt that thinks she’s better than me needs me to keep her safe. Right?”

“I don’t – I don’t think I’m better than you!” Jay said, but it didn’t sound convincing. And she didn’t even try and dispute the other point.

Stan’s face scrunched up. “Huh, you sure act like it. Well, squirt, you may need me, but I don’t need you. If you disappeared right now, I wouldn’t waste my energy lookin’ for you, because I’m the one who actually cares about fixing this damn thing and saving Ford!”

Jay knew fighting back would be a bad idea. It had never, ever worked before. But she couldn’t take the constant antagonizing. She just couldn’t.

“Stop acting like I don’t want him back, either!” Jay blurted. Stan looked at her in surprise, but it was too late. The floodgates were open. She was tired of hearing this. “It’s just – it’s dangerous! And there’s only so much I can do!”

“Yeah, and you do a pretty terrible job! Half the time you sit there and mock me for not knowing the “difference” between a picture and a diagram! And there isn’t even a difference!”

“There is!”

“See! You’re just like Ford, always talking down to me, acting like I’m just some – bumbling idiot who can’t possibly be on his level.”

“That’s not true!” Jay asserted. “I don’t think you’re an idiot!”

“Well you certainly fooled me!”

“You’re just – so stubborn!” Jay was nearing the edge of the table now. “You ask for my help, and yet you can’t even fathom that I would know something you don’t!”

“Maybe I’d listen to you more if you weren’t so damn tiny! I’m taking orders from someone who can’t even walk up the stairs by herself!”

Jay’s eyes widened in shock. Oh, so that was it. Of course it was. How could she think it was anything else? Her heart was racing now, her stomach churning. How could she respond? Why did she ever think she could fight a giant?

“And you act like you’re so much better because you were best friends with him,” Stan sneered, placing particular mocking emphasis on that part. “He’s MY brother! MY family! He probably only talked to you because you’re – weird and small and he felt bad! You’re just a thing, an experiment for him to get all excited about! He never cared about you!”

Jay knew responding would be a bad idea, but her lips moved faster than her brain. “Oh yeah? He didn’t even want to think about you! I didn’t even know you existed until you showed up here! Maybe if you weren’t such a lazy freeloader, he would–”

It was at that moment her life flashed before her eyes.

[love-3-crimes]

dreams glitched and made cjs arm go flying off the screen...come back...

[nezuscribe]

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

part two of after all this time

summary: you try to make sense of everything after that night with gojo satoru, the slytherin prince, but as much as you try to run away from it, it seems to follow you more. but he has to hate you for it, right? that could be the only explanation for why he seeks you out...right?

warnings: 18+ mdni all characters are 18, gojo slight angst, messy makeout, gojo eating pussy like his life depended on it, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex

word count: 12k

note: yay! part two is done! please comment and reblog, it's really appreciated. thank you @jadeisthirsting for beta reading! <3

slytherin!gojo masterlist + jjk masterlist

If there was one thing you grew to understand about Hogwarts, it was that the castle was entirely unpredictable. 

From the moving staircases, the random ghosts that would appear out of nowhere, to the disappearing portraits that sometimes only reappeared to listen in on student gossip, you knew you had to expect the unexpected when it came to ancient school. 

But never in your wildest imagination would you have thought that you would’ve kissed Gojo Satoru. 

You couldn’t even pretend that it didn’t happen, despite the fact you wanted so desperately to obliviate your mind and move along with your life. 

You could still feel his lips on yours, even days after it happened. You could feel his hands on your body, the way he held you to him, the way he kissed down your neck. You could still hear the way he said your name, breathless, almost desperate. 

“Fuck,” he had whispered, heavy on your lips as he dipped down again to kiss down your chin tilting your head up to expose the column of your neck, “Fuck,” he said once more, diving down as he sucks and bites at your skin, his movements growing faster and more erratic once he hears the soft and sweet mewls that escape your swollen lips. 

You tried to blink it away.

“Satoru,” he had said against your skin, “Not Gojo. Not you.” 

Not you. 

That Saturday and Sunday you refused to move from your bed, huddled under blankets as the other girls in your dorm came and went. You could hear the loud party they held after yet another win at the quidditch game, so you just cast a silencio charm around your room, feeling your mattress create a permanent dent in the fetal position you were lying in. 

One of the kinder girls of your dormitory, Celeste, crouched down to where your head peeked out from your swarm of blankets, her brown brows furrowed together with worry, but you promised her it was just a stomach flu, nothing to worry about, and told her to go enjoy the party. 

That next Monday morning you made sure to go to the transfiguration classroom, glad to find that skipping breakfast helped to see that nobody except for Professor McGonagall seemed to be in the room, of course, aside from that little snowy owl perched atop her desk, its wide eyes blinking slowly at you as you walked in.

You remember how Professor McGonagall looked up briefly, annoyed that a student was here before classes even started, but she did a double take when she noticed it was you, welcoming you by saying your last name with a little bit of surprise. 

“How may I help you?” Her eyes looked at you over her glasses, her hands lay flat on her desk, next to the quill she was just using. 

“Professor, I have a request to ask of you.” 

A part of you was glad that you were such a good student, one who never asked for much and gave everything you had towards the work you did, especially for her class. McGonagall’s thin bow raised slightly, her lips pursing together as you motioned for you to continue. You swallowed thickly, pulling out the thick pieces of parchment tied together, your contribution to her essay, as you laid it down on her table. 

“I would like to change my partners…if possible,” your voice was shaking, “I have my work all done here,” quickly going to show her the work that you had done, but her hand outstretched, her slender finger grasping yours as you halted your movements. 

When you looked at her face, the only emotion you could trace, which was one you had never seen on the older woman, was genuine concern.

“Has Satoru done…something” She tried to find the right words, but you insistently shook your head, trying to act as if nothing was wrong aside from you.

“No, no,” you sputter out, “It’s me. He’s done nothing wrong. I just,” you sigh, trying to calm down your heart, noting that the large clock outside had struck three times and that her first-year students would be filing in any minutes, “Please, I’d do the rest of the essay alone if necessary.” You know that you were pleading with her at this point, but you couldn’t care. 

McGonagall looked you over once, noting the bags under your eyes, the way you actively looked like you hadn’t slept in days, and thought for a long second before she nodded, waving you along as other students started to come in. 

“I’ll take care of it,” she said, a promise, and you thanked her extensively, bidding her goodbye as you ran across school to make sure you didn’t miss Lupin’s riveting defense against the dark arts lesson about warding off vampires. 

And she stuck to her word. 

That day you sat in your usual seat, in the back, but instead of Gojo sitting next to you was a disgruntled Charlie Reeve, his arms crossed like a petulant child, depressed to be split up with his friend despite not having any work done. 

You saw his flash of white hair, stopping in confusion when he saw the Gryffindor in his seat, your eyes locking briefly as his nose flared. 

“Oh, Mister Gojo, I had to rearrange some partners,” Professor McGonagall called out, motioning him to come sit up front with Benny Thompson, “Some people thought it’d be better to leave this essay until it was absolutely necessary.” She cast the two Gryffindor boys a knowing look, not necessarily a lie, and deep inside you felt grateful that she was able to find something believable. 

And so, with all of your tedious efforts to make sure that you never bumped into Gojo Satoru, you went weeks without really seeing him. 

Of course, it was difficult, increasingly so as it seemed that he was everywhere you went. When you went to the library, he was there, at your usual table, either reading or working on homework, which meant that you had to weasel your way into the astronomy tower to do your work.

And then he began to go to the astronomy tower, you’d see him looking over the ledge, his hair flickering in the wind, his back thankfully to the stairs as you quietly made your way down, running away to find somewhere else. 

Sometimes when you were lying in bed, trying to go to sleep, unwillingly, your mind traveled back to that night. And it seemed like all your hard work was in vain because despite trying to act as if he didn’t exist, he was something that you could never forget. 

Gojo acted indifferent, however, which both helped and stung a bit. Helped because you were glad he went back to forgetting that you existed, and though you wanted him to act as if he maybe had feelings for you, you knew he never would, and so you blended back into the background

But despite it all, you found that somehow October bled into the unforgiving winds of November, which slowly turned into the winter of December. 

Your classes were wrapping up, and teachers no longer cared much seeing that they too were looking forward to the long-awaited and deserved break.

You found that with the workload that was slowly dying down (for you at least, seeing how you had finished up most of your exams, and all the essays and projects the professors had assigned to you months in advance were done, unlike some people who believed in the power of magic enough to leave it to the last week), you visited Hogsmeade more. It offered you some solace to take your mind off of everything. 

The snow was beginning to set both on the ground and on top of all the roofs and signs, making the small village look like a wonderland you’d see inside a snow globe. A part of you couldn’t stop the happy smile that made it on your face as you walked through the cobblestone streets, looking inside every shop as if you had the money to spend. 

On one of the Saturdays, you were able to give yourself a rest from the work you had to finish before the break started. You bundled up, a silver and green scarf wrapped around your neck, your old mittens (passed down from your mother, of course), and your thickest knitted sweater, went out for Hogsmade. 

Hogsmeade is usually busy during December, which you like, pretending that you were somewhere far away, perhaps a little village in France, as you gently make your way around the eager students ready to buy things for their families for the holidays. 

After a couple of years of visiting this place, you’ve picked up some key knowledge. Never go to Honeydukes before seven, otherwise, it’s entirely ransacked and they sometimes stock up on Saturdays at half past seven. Zonko’s is only good once in a while, otherwise, it’s too overwhelming, and Gladrags Wizardwear had something marked off if they went unnoticed for too long. 

And, perhaps the best part of your visits to Hogsmeade, you had a pass from McGonagall, which let you stay an extra two hours. While most students made their way back before their ten o’clock curfew at night, you were able to get special permission from Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape to stay till midnight. 

You told them that you didn’t do anything crazy and that the only reason why you longed to stay out late was really only for Saturdays because the three broomsticks sometimes brought in the wizarding jazz society, a group of witches and wizards who played live on their respective instruments. It was your favorite part of Hogsmeade, and after some negotiation, you were allowed out after ten. 

But before then, you spent your time in the other shops, browsing for nothing in particular. 

You found yourself admiring some of the intricately made quills outside a window that was on display. Surely expensive, but you simply looked at them, your face almost pressing up against the chilly glass to get a closer look. 

There was a group of friends a couple of feet away from you, and you could hear the giggling now and then about something, but you didn’t think it’d be best if you looked over to see what was going on, mind your own business. 

You walked along, moving to the next shop window when you noticed that the giggling almost seemed to be following you.   

You felt yourself peeking over briefly, somehow not being shocked that it was some of the seventh-year Slytherins, the kids you had grown up with, looking over at you, the girls pointing to something near you as they laughed behind their hands. 

Tough skin, you reminded yourself, trying to ignore it as you tried to look at the new cauldrons. At least, you would’ve distracted yourself had you not heard a loud, almost animated rip. 

You look down, but not quickly enough to see your bag tear open, some of your knuts fell out, along with your chapstick, your tissues, and some other miscellaneous things. 

It didn’t take a genius to glance over at the girls, to see one of them with their wands out as one of the other girls cackles, and while you were used to their antics, it didn’t hurt any less.

You bent down, going on your knees, trying to find some of the things that had disappeared in the snow. One of the girls, Avery McKenna, who talked loud seemed to talk even louder, as if wanting to get your attention. 

“Satoru! Satoru, look!” She spoke in a whisper which was louder than your normal speaking voice, and you looked from your lashes at the mention of his name. 

And you saw him as one of the other girls shuffled around, tugging at his coat sleeves to direct his attention away from whatever shop window he was looking into as she pointed a finger at you on the ground. You quickly looked back down before you made eye contact with him, your fingers growing cold from the bite of the snow. 

You didn’t want to know what he looked like, what sort of smile would take over his face at the sight of you looking like this. You pick up your bag, putting it under your arms so that it won’t grow wet from the snow, inspecting the gash with a heavy heart, realizing that there’s no way to mend it. It looks like a wolf had slashed its claws through the fabric, something that no needle and thread, or even a reparo charm could fix.

You shove the coins in your pockets, holding the rest in your gloved hands as you stand up, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you feel their stares on you, the snow seeping in through your pants, causing you to shiver as you try to find a place you could into to get this sorted. 

Thankfully, The Three Broomsticks was just up ahead, and so you tried to mute out all the people behind you as you turned your back, walking up the street as you heard the snow crunch under your shoes, sniffing from the cold as you walked into the familiar pub. 

—-

The Three Broomsticks was a Hogsmeade staple. 

Inside the pub was a roomy place, a fire always lit in the corner, the flames crackling almost all the shouts and yells and drunk laughter. Up on the stone walls were photographs of famous witches and wizards who had visited the pub, paintings of people long past that used to frequent it, and family members of those who owned it. It smelled of ale and peppermint, the atmosphere warm and welcoming, something that you always enjoyed. 

It was usually full, so you count yourself lucky to find a little empty booth near the back. 

You got some water seeing how the last knut you needed to buy a butterbeer got lost somewhere in all the snow, and laid out all of your things on the table, including your mauled-up bag. 

You wipe at your eyes, careful that nobody sees the stray tears, and allow yourself to sit against the wooden booth, shutting your eyes for a second. 

You count to ten, allow yourself to calm your breathing down, and crack your neck, moving it around to your left and right side. The sun was nearly starting to set and it was already five, so it was going to be a bit before their usual jazz band came. Although you’d been looking forward to it since last week, at this point you just wanted to go back, have some soup, and then sleep. 

When you open your eyes you find yourself staring at the ceiling, breathing deeply through your nose as you look back down, a surprised gasp escaping your lips to find somebody sitting in front of you.  

“I-” Gojo starts but you’ve already started collecting all of your things off the table, your heartbeat skyrocketing as you shove whatever you can in your pockets, sitting up as you try to leave.  

But he’s fast, sitting up from his seat, blocking you with his tall body as you feel your heart in your throat, pounding away rapidly as you try to look away from him. 

He’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

His hand is holding your elbow, he’s holding you, and he seems desperate, his eyes searching yours, begging you to just listen to him. 

Why is he here? Why is he holding you?

“Can we talk?” His white brows are furrowed, his lips parted as his thumb rubs up and down on your skin, “Please?” 

What does he want? 

You’re looking at him, really looking at him for the first time in months, and despite not seeing him face to face for a while, you can still notice the little changes. There are bags under his eyes, he seems worn down. His eyes, the ones that you often dreamed about, were swirling with unspoken emotions. His lips looked like they were chewed raw, much like yours. 

But he still looks like he did that one night in October, the way he spoke your name as if it were the only thing he could say, his hair tousled by the December winds, and his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. 

“I n-need to…” you swallow thickly, your mouth running dry as your eyes dart around to not look at him, “I need to go.” 

But you don’t, and he knows that you don’t.

“Your water…miss,” the waitress suddenly comes around with your mug full to the brim with water, looking curiously at you and Gojo as she sets it down on the table, giving you a small smile as she walks away. 

“Please,” he says one more time, and his voice is heavy, piercing through your chest and into your mind, working like a devil’s snare as it wraps itself around you until you are entrapped by everything that is him. 

You look at the door of the pub, noting that none of his friends are either there or outside, and you look at him once more.

You lick at your gnawed lips, letting out a defeated sigh as you give him a single nod, watching as his face breaks into a smile, his shoulders sagging from the release of tension as he helps you back into your seat and climbs into his own, across from you, and you set all your stuff back on the table. 

His eyes follow your movements, look at your bag and the contents that used to be in it and he whips out his wand, going to cast a spell before you cut him off. 

“Reparo didn’t work,” you mutter, fidgeting with your fingers as you awkwardly sink into your seat, watching him intently as if he had been a painting you’d been studying that suddenly came to life. 

His eyes flicker to yours and he puts his wand away sheepishly. 

“I didn’t know that they were going to do that,” he finally says, breaking the silence. 

You nod curtly, looking at your hands resting in your lap as you try to think of what to say. Of which emotion you should call upon to do the talking for you, which thing you had been itching to say to him ever since that night. 

“It’s nothing they haven’t before,” you finally say, looking up at him with a sad smile, watching as his chest rattles with an inhale. His fingers are interlocked with each other as they rest on the table, his green sweater resting snuggly on his muscular frame as he leans in, as if he were scared you were going to disappear. 

He goes to open his mouth to speak, but you cut him off again. 

“Why do you care?” 

His mouth shuts, his blue eyes shimmering brightly in the light of the fireplace. He doesn’t seem angry or annoyed, just shocked. 

“What?” 

You breathe roughly out your nose, looking away briefly as you click your tongue against your teeth, your fingers gliding across the mug, the little water droplets that slid onto the table creating a ring around the cup. You twist and turn it around by the handle, deep in thought. 

“Why do you care so much? Why do you care about what happens to me?” You press, your head tilting to the side. You try to look fierce, trying to channel the anger, the pain, the hurt that you’ve been feeling not only since October but since you first stepped foot through that castle. 

His lips parted as if he were going to say something, but his head dipped, his fingers playing with that gold ring on his finger, the one of his family crest. 

“I…” Gojo can’t seem to finish, can’t seem to find the words. But that’s fine because you’re finding them for him. 

“I’ll find a new purse and I’ll move along with my day because I’m used to this Gojo,” your voice is slowly growing, “I’m used to your friends, to you and your pureblood hierarchy. So stop acting like you’re this hero that should get rewarded with whatever it is you want from me by talking to me o-or pitying me,” you ramble, your voice dripping with venom, your eyes stinging as you try to control yourself, “Just please stop acting like you care.” 

He doesn’t say anything, his lips pressed together tightly, his jaw ticking. His eyes reflect a storming sea right now, one a sailor would never return from.

“That night, when you kissed me,” your voice was loud enough to be a whisper, but he hears you, his breathing hitching as he most likely thinks back to that night, “Were you able to cross off another check mark on your list? Did you finally fulfill all the crazy things you wanted to accomplish?” 

“Stop,” he seethes out through clenched teeth, his eyes daring you to continue. 

You’re glad that the pub is so busy and so loud to cover the two of you. 

“Did I taste different than the pureblood girls? Than Alicent? Than Eliana?��� You pushing him, pushing at his buttons because this has to be it, this has to be when he finally tells you that you were some bet that he made with his friends, that kissing you was worth some extra galleons to fill his pockets as he came back gallivanting to the other Slytherin purebloods. 

His eye twitches, his breathing heavy as he murmurs another stop but you just shake your head, hoping that he doesn’t see the gloss covering your eyes, the way your lips are trembling thinking of all the possibilities. 

“You’re mean, Gojo,” the words fall from your lips, heavy, pointed straight at him, and you can feel a tear drop down your chin, splattering on the table, right next to all the water droplets from your mug, “A-and you don’t even realize it. Or maybe you do, I don’t know,” you shrug, “Those weeks when we were working on that essay I sent an owl to my mum and she sent one back saying how happy she was that I finally had a friend.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

You can’t stand to look at his face. 

You helplessly wipe at your cheeks, looking away as you heaved in a shaky breath, nodding confidently for your own sake as you stood up.

“I need to go,” you mutter,  your water sat untouched as you made your way around the people standing and talking, made your way out the door, and let your tears loose. 

—

The break couldn’t come by any faster. 

You occupied your time and mind by doing everything possible. 

You found a broom closet that was big and comfortable enough for you to do your work, and most days you found yourself there. You ate your meals alone, as always, and made sure that wherever Gojo was, you weren’t.

One of the only things you could look forward to was when the holidays came and when everybody left. It meant that only a handful of Slytherin’s stayed and that meant that you could finally have some moments of quiet to yourself. 

Hogwarts was a different kind of magical during Christmas time, and you tried to take time to appreciate the dozen trees, the floating candles that had red ribbons tied around them, the little snow clouds that sometimes followed you around, and the mistletoes that some of the fifth years thought would be funny to hang up around the castle. 

And when the breaks finally came around, you watched as people bid each other farewell, their bags packed sufficiently enough for the two-week break as they made their way out of the school and to the train, waving at each other until they departed. 

You watched from the stairs, knowing that you too could go home, but seeing that your mom picked up more shifts around the holidays, you’d just be spending these two weeks alone rather than surrounded by strangers, which you still preferred. 

The professors seemed to be in a better mood around this time as well, and it helped with distracting you from all the other thousand thoughts that were running through your mind. 

The Slytherin common room was always empty around this time of year. Seeing that most of the kids went to their families, it gave you some time to actually enjoy the amenities you usually miss out on during other times of the year. 

The room itself was decorated with a large Christmas tree near the large, arching window that looked out into the black lake, and stockings on the fireplace of those students that were staying. 

Despite Slytherin and their hatred for the color red, the room was a nice mix between the two clashing colors. 

After dinner, on the first night with everyone gone, you made your way down to the dungeons, muttering out the password as the large doors swept open, allowing you inside. 

Your first thought was to sit in front of the fireplace on one of the couches and catch up on reading, but seeing that there was almost nobody here you decided to go change into something more comfortable. 

Making your way up the stairs that led to the girl's dormitories you noted that most of those who were staying were relays from years before, some fourth and sixth years, a couple of first years, and rounded the corner that led to your room. 

Well, that would’ve led to your room had it not been blocked. 

“Sorry!” You cry out in surprise, a little shocked, and then your shock melts away as you feel like banging your head against the stone wall when you see that it is none other than Gojo. 

“I need to tell you someth-”

“The train left!” You cry out, feeling like dragging him out by his hair. 

“I’m aware-”

“Then why aren’t you on it?” You push past him as you go to open your door, feeling him right behind you. 

You’re glad that all of your other roommates are gone because Gojo doesn’t seem to be giving it much thought as he comes in as well. 

Your arms are crossed as you look around, looking for something, anything, that you could use to ward him away. He’s standing awkwardly at the doorway, wringing his fingers in a way that he never does. 

He’s wearing a loose sweater, gray in color, and it seems to make his eyes even more striking. There are still bags under his eyes, but his face seems a little more flushed as if he was slowly coming back from the dead. His white hair is tousled, and you note that he hasn’t styled it in a while. 

“I’ve been thinking ever since the three broomsticks,” he’s talking and you’re pacing around the room, trying to act like you don’t care that he’s here, “And I have some things I need to tell you.” 

You’re rummaging around in one of your cupboards, but he knows what you’re doing, and he steps a little closer to you, shutting the door behind him as you glance up at him briefly, raising a brow. 

He swallows, running a hand through his white strands as you turn your back to him, looking through your jewelry box as you begin to take off your earrings. 

“I saw you, this summer.”

You stop. 

Gojo continues. 

“My parents had some ministry work to do, and we went to the city. I was walking around one day, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go when I saw you,” Gojo sounded nearer, his voice more desperate, “I saw you through a window. You were working… I think. You had this apron on and you were walking around this little restaurant.” 

You swear you could hear your heartbeat. 

“And you were smiling at something this guy said, and you just looked so…happy,” he pauses, “And pretty…you looked so pretty and I didn’t know what to do because I’ve never felt this strange feeling in my chest where…” 

Where everything just stops, then starts moving in tandem as if there had been a loose screw the entire time until now. 

“And I think I’ve always felt this way, you know?” He’s not stopping, and you’re scared that if you look at him you’re going to believe him, believe that he’s telling the truth and that this isn’t some sort of dream you’re forcing yourself to see, “In our fifth year, when you were telling the class about your happiest memory, you had this smile on your face. Or last year, when we were in potions and Nanami said a joke, you’d laugh and I just felt so…lost.” 

He’s lying. 

“N-no, no, you’re lying,” you croak out, moving past him as you keep your head down, going over to your bed as you sit at the end of it, needing something to sit down on because otherwise you’d collapse.

“I’m not,” Gojo pleads, his voice behind you, “And for so long I thought I was lying to myself because I didn’t know what I was feeling,” he takes a few steps closer, standing at your bedpost, “I’d never felt this way about anyone. A-and you’re right, you are different. You’re so different from anybody else and I love it.”

You’re shaking your head, your back to him as you sniffle. 

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter, your arms wrapped around your middle as your head dips down, lashes wet with tears. 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and you realize it’s because he’s moving to where you’re sitting, and you see him clearly as he crouches down on the ground, his hands moving to hold yours as he forces you to look at him. 

It’s such a strange sight seeing the Gojo Satoru, the Prince of Slytherin, the most stoic and composed person you’ve ever met so…vulnerable in front of you.

“I know-” 

You’re shaking your head at him, lips pouting together as you blink slowly, your nose scrunched up in frustration. 

“You’re lying-” 

“I’m not, I’m begging you, please-” 

“You’re lying, Gojo,” You say, your voice cracking as you feel your tears rolling down your, collecting on your chin before they splatter crudely on your bed sheets, “You don’t feel this way about me. You’re either lying to me o-or to yourself because…” you struggle to find the words, “Because in no world would you feel this way about me.” 

His hands are warm, his thumb gentle as it rubs over your knuckles. And you don’t notice it until he pulls them away to wipe at your tears, his fingers soft and slow against your skin as you hiccup.

“But I do,” he whispers, his thumb cradling your cheek, “I do. Y-you’re so smart, and kind, and witty, and caring, and you’re so wonderfully you.”

This is too much. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” you plead, wondering when he was going to give up the act and leave so you could be alone. 

“You only eat your eggs if there’s a little bit of syrup on them,” Gojo says immediately, and your eyes shoot up to his, “You put an extra flick on the dots of your i’s, you like McGonagall most out of all your other professors, you never change your necklace, you-” 

You push him by the shoulders, frustrated knowing that he’d never stop, changing the subject.

“If you cared about me you would’ve done something,” your voice isn't yours and you can’t recognize it as it escapes your windpipes, “I mean, you only had three years. Y-you called me a mudblood, your friends never stopped when they were doing, you - you,” deep inside, your breath is lodged inside your lungs and you choke on it. 

Gojo cradles your head, pulling you into his chest, and for some reason you let him. You melt into his warmth, into the way he holds you as if you were the thinnest piece of glass, and you can’t remember the last time somebody held you like this.

His hand rubs up and down your back, and you feel your tears and snot wet his sweater, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“I did,” his own voice shakes, “I did, and I…” he swallows his bile, “I wish I could go back and take it back, take all of it back. If I could trade everything I have to turn back time and change the past, I would. I’ll spend my life making it up if you’d let me. You have no idea what I would do…” for you.

You pull away from him, and he lets you. 

“You’re all I’ve ever been able to think about this past year. And especially ever since that night, I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” his hands go up to hold your face, tracing your features with the most delicate touch, “Your eyes, your nose,” his finger glides down the slope of it, “Your lips, your skin, your hands.” 

“But,” your hands go up to his wrists, pulling them down and he lets you rest them on your lap, hanging off your every word as if you were religion, watching you preach as he remembers every word, every syllable, every tone and inflection you have as gospel, “I’m a muggle-born,” you laugh wetly and painfully, “And you hate muggle-borns.”

And for once you see him break into a small and melancholy smile that's full of years of longing, of confusion, of wanting, and his white strands fall on his face. Unconsciously you move them out of the way so that you could see his eyes. 

“My parents hate muggle-borns, and I’m their only son,” your eyes drop to that gold ring, and he notices, “I believed them, and for so long I felt so confused because you weren’t like anything they described,” his lips quivered, “I don’t hate muggle-borns, and I don’t hate you,” he raised your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to them, “I could never hate you.”

You inhale shakily, your heart thumping in a strange, new rhythm. 

“What about the others?” You ask shakily, “Your friends, your parents, everybody else?” 

He shrugs, looking indifferent as he plays with your fingers. 

“I’ll get new friends,” he shoots you a small smile, “And I can just buy new parents.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes at his antics, and he brightens up seeing your change in demeanor. 

“You…like…me?” You ask finally. 

He lets out a little bit of air in a disbelieving chuckle. 

“I like you more than the air I need to breathe,” he kisses your knuckles again and you snort, rolling your eyes as you wipe at the corners of them. 

“Then how have you been breathing all this time without me?” You ask a bit teasingly, wondering how you never noticed that his eyes have little specks of green in them, or how the blush on his cheeks sometimes traveled up to his forehead. 

“Horribly,” he says and you give him a small laugh, “But it feels like I just took my first breath after eighteen years.” 

—

After that, Gojo could not be separated from your side. 

He sat next to you during all of your meals, throwing nasty jinxes at anybody who looked at the two of you weirdly. Sure, people couldn’t stop talking, but after the first three people who left with a red ink-looking stain on their face, they learned to keep their whispers low. 

When the two of you were in the common rooms he laid next to you as you read, or vice versa, pulling you into his chest as he told you stories from his childhood. 

And of course, it took you a while to warm up to him, but slowly and surely you felt at ease around him, feeling like you could be as true to yourself without any fear of repercussions because he loved you wholly, and he had no cares about anything else. 

“What’s that you’re reading?” He’d say sometimes, looking over your shoulders to scan whatever book it was that you were reading. Thankfully you still had a couple of days till Christmas, and another week of break after that, so the common room was empty, spare for a few stragglers. 

The fireplace crackled in the background, the smell of cinnamon and cloves heavy in the air. 

“Voyages with Vampire,” you reply, turning the page as you hear him groan next to you. 

“Lockhart? The fraud?”

You giggle, shoving him a little bit, eyes never leaving the page as you try not to lose your spot. 

“Yeah, but his books are interesting.” 

And Gojo didn’t care too much, because as you got to read your book he got to be with you, which was all he’s ever wanted since he was fourteen. 

Other days he’d take you to Hogsmeade, his hand holding onto yours, letting you steer him into the different shops you wanted to look at, a content smile on his face. He loved the way you looked, bundled up in your scarves and sweaters, and he loved that it was mainly just the two of you, seeing that Hogsmeade was unusually empty with everybody gone. 

And sometimes he’d squeeze your hands a couple of times just to let you know that he was there, and you’d squeeze back twice, looking behind your shoulder so that you wouldn’t miss his boyish grin. 

He mentally noted all the things you picked up, asking if you wanted it, but when you saw that he was beginning to pull out his wallet you shook your head sheepishly, putting it back as you began looking at other things. 

“Let me just get this-” 

“No!” you cried out, embarrassed as you moved away from whatever shelf it was, hearing him let out a sigh of frustration, laughing at his childish antics. 

“But I can just-” 

“No, Gojo,” you’d tell him, your voice a little sterner, “I don’t like you because you have money. Too much of it, might I add.” 

And he’d pout, his arms circling your waist as he petulantly stays in place, resting his chin on your shoulder so that you can’t move. 

“But I just so coincidentally seem to have it,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you tried to look at something else, trying to act like you didn’t turn to jelly in his hands, “Why won’t you take it?”

You giggled, angling your head to look back at him. 

“Because I don’t need a bursting raspberry delight,” you chided him and he’d groan, pulling you even closer to his chest as he outstretched one of his long arms, picking up something in front of you, inspecting it as he showed it to you, putting it back as you shook your head, “And I don’t need cockroach clusters.” 

And you smiled, feeling happy, genuinely happy as you continued to look around the store with Gojo latched onto you. You felt normal for once, felt the way you’ve been wanting to feel ever since you were eleven.

—

The days passed by and you found yourself back in the common rooms the night before Christmas, sitting on the couches, facing Gojo as you listened to him talk about all the things he’d been wanting to tell you.

The days passed by and you found yourself back in the common rooms with Gojo the night before Christmas, letting him play with your hair as you leaned up against him on the couch, reading another book. 

“Did I ever tell you how Benny Thompson didn’t know what an animagus was?” Gojo says randomly and you gasp, looking over your shoulder as he nods as you lay your book down on your chest. 

“You’re lying,” you say and he shakes his head, twisting and turning that ring on his hand the way he usually does when he likes to fidget. 

“And he asked me if the books in the library had all been written in the actual library,” he continues and you let out a loud, shocked laugh, holding your hand over your mouth in disbelief. 

You put your book on the table so that you could move up closer to him so that you wouldn’t have to crane your neck so much. 

“Well, to be fair, I think he was just a bit disgruntled to be moved away from his partner in crime,” you move some of the hair out of his face as helmets you sit on his lap, his hands resting comfortably on your waist as you lean in to whisper, “Seeing how I saw them hooking up in one of the broom closets.” 

Gojo’s lips part, eyes wide in shock as you nod slowly, a smug grin on your face.

“Makes sense,” he finally muttered and you snorted, thinking back to how the two boys literally couldn’t be away from each other for too long before they made a fuss about it. 

Most of the other students had gone up to their beds, excited for the early morning they’d be having with presents and such, but you liked staying up this night, liked watching as the presents slowly appeared under the tree.

His mouth opened in a small yawn and you moved slightly, feeling guilty for keeping him up so long. 

“Do you ‘wanna sleep?” You offered, twirling some of his white strands around your fingers as his eyes traced over your features. 

His hands moved up and down your back, holding you close to his body. 

“But the presents?” Gojo started, looking at the big Christmas tree near the fireplace as you giggled, noting how he was trying his best to control the yawns that were threatening to spill from his lips. 

“I’ll just look at them tomorrow,” you promise with a giggle, swinging your legs off from him as you stand, stretching your arms above your head as you let out a tired yawn of your own, rubbing at your eyes as you bookmark the page you were at, watching as he stands up, doing a little stretch of his own.

He slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him as he presses a kiss against your forehead, letting you lead the way back to the dormitories. 

“Promise to wake up early tomorrow?” You say, looking at him with a raised brow, watching as he crosses his hands across his heart. 

“Swear on it,” he assures you with a little cheeky grin, his shoulder playfully knocking yours as you snort. 

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, your eyes taking in all the festive decorations, not noticing how he couldn’t stop looking at you. The girl's dormitories were on the left, and down the hall, you’d find the boys, which meant that you were the first to depart as you neared the top of the stairs. 

You move to stand in front of your door, your book in your hands as you stare up at him, noticing the pink flush that never seemed to leave, all over his cheeks. He looked so pretty like this. 

“This is me,” you say jokingly and he chuckles softly, his hands back on your waist as you feel him press a gentle kiss to your forehead. He never pressured you to kiss him back, always leaving small yet thoughtful pecks either on the crown of your head or on your face, wherever he’d find that you didn’t squeal as he tried to kiss.

He says your name quietly, looking down at you as you meet him in the middle. 

“Merry Christmas Satoru,” you whisper, and you see the wide, boyish smile that breaks across his face when you say his name, loving it only when he hears it from your lips. 

“Merry Christmas sweetheart,” his voice quieter than usual, kinder, and in a lovesick way that not even amortentia could replicate.

You look up for a brief second when you sense something is off, and you giggle at the little green and white plant that is forming above your head.

“Mistletoe,” you mutter. 

“Hm?” He sounds confused until he looks up when he sees it growing, it’s green leaves and little white flowering buds, looking back down at you. 

And again, just like that night in October, you don’t know which one of you it was that moved closer to bridge the gap, but either way, only seconds later did you feel him press his lips against yours, and you were gone.

He was gentler than the last time as if he was savoring your lips, your taste, the way you moved against him. Gojo wrapped an arm around you, tugging you to him, his other hand fumbling with the door handle as the two of you tumbled inside, his foot raising to kick it shut as you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

“S-satoru,” you whine, needing more of him, needing him in a way you’ve never felt, your eyes fluttering shot when he bites at your lips, his tongue prodding past your lips as you let him, your stomach fluttering delightfully, “More, need more,”

His eyes flicked open for a second, ensuring you were okay, and he grinned. 

His lips resumed their movements, sucking and yours, teeth nipping as your face became of a mess of spit, moaning slightly as he nudged your jaw up with his nose, your head tilting backward as you gave him more room on your neck. 

Mindlessly you reach for your wand in your back pocket, waving it near the direction of your door as you lock it and cast a muffliato charm, something you would thank yourself for greatly later.

Gojo was relentless as he pressed kisses and sucked harshly on your skin, needing to mark up what was his, needing people to see that you were his, and you could only whine as he left dark marks on your skin, soothing them with little pecks as he moved down. 

His scent was all-consuming, the way he held you made you go dizzy, and if only you knew that what you felt, he felt ten-fold more. Gojo was so crazy about you, that if you told him to jump from his broomstick he’d gladly do it.

“Is this,” he sighs, trying to catch some air, “This okay? Do you want me to stop?” 

And you quickly shake your head, muttering out no, no, as he chuckled darkly, moving your (his) sweater away from your shoulders so he could kiss down there too. 

Your hands, which had been wrapped around his neck, fell to his chest, pushing at his sweater as you wanted to paw at the skin, wanting to feel more of him, and you heard his breathing stutter, his lips pausing momentarily at the feeling of your hands on him. 

He says your name like a mantra like he’s been waiting his entire life to say it, and you catch his eyes once again like he’s asking for permission to continue, and you nod, smiling up at him as you let him.

Your fingers grasp at the hem of his sweater, tugging it upwards so that you could see his skin beneath, the muscles sitting nicely, a glimpse you sometimes saw when he was moving around too much, and your heart stumbled. 

He helped you, tugging it upwards and over his head as he discarded it somewhere on the floor, and for once you feel the air get knocked from your lungs. 

He’s built. Long, muscular shoulders, soft skin that shouldn’t be as daunting as it looked right now, but he wasn’t even focused on that, his nimble fingers running across your waist where your sweater had hitched upwards, and you just know that you need more of this. 

You’re not even thinking as you shed it off of you, joining him on the floor, and his eyes widen, swallowing thick as he sees what he only thought he’d be able to see in the back of his mind as he dreamed. 

You were stunning, and suddenly he thought back to the statues he saw in Italy when he traveled there as a child. He thought back to how those ladies looked, and how the sculptors must be twisting and turning in their graves when they could’ve had you as their muse. 

“Stopp,” you whine, embarrassed, your hands going up to cover your naked skin, but he gently pushes them down, kissing your collarbone, the skin above your breasts which were still hidden with your bra as he shakes his head. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words escaping him as if his mind is working faster than any other part of his body, “So beautiful.” 

He dips his head back down to kiss you, and a surprised sound escapes your lips, but you welcome it nonetheless, feeling entranced by him, by the fervor in his movements, as if he wouldn’t survive without this.

His hands worship you, slow and careful as they run against your naked skin walking you back so that your knees hit the back of your bed. 

“You’re pretty good-looking too,” you try for a joke but it falls short from your lips because it’s true. You’d read stories of Aphrodite and Persephone fighting over Adonis just because he was the most gorgeous man they met, and you were worried that if the gods were real you’d have to hide him away forever. 

He hums in the back of his throat, as if he didn’t believe you, and gingerly laid you down on your bed, his massive body looming over you as you smile, a gleeful smile on your face as you try to make sense of what your life was. 

“What’s so funny?” Gojo teased, pressing little butterfly kisses on your cheek, the tip of your nose, your chin, and you couldn’t stop smiling, feeling ticklish when he kissed your neck again, a light giggle falling from your lips that made his ears turn pink. 

“Nothing,” you said breathlessly, squealing when he bit the skin in the middle of your tits, swatting at his head as he grinned, pressing a soothing kiss to the spot. 

“No, it has to be something,” he argues, kissing down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, never breaking eye contact with you as you swallow thickly, no longer laughing as you feel a heat growing in your stomach, “Is it funny when I kiss here?” He presses a kiss above your navel, “Or here?” He’s reaching the top of your jeans, pulling them down slightly to kiss your hip bone, “Or maybe here?” 

And you shake your head, want and desire in your eyes and he chuckles darkly, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he slides them down your legs, his heart sputtering in his chest when he comes back up to see you all sprawled out for him. 

You feel self-conscious about your choice of undergarments, both old and nearly falling apart at the seams, not matching in any sense of the word, but Gojo doesn’t seem to care. He looks at you as if you’re a painting that’s suddenly come to life, and he doesn’t know how to handle that. 

You reach behind yourself to work at the old clasp of your bra, sliding it down your arms as you lie back down, looking sheepishly at him as you realize you’re far more exposed at the moment than he is. 

But Gojo seems to have gone to another world, not moving from where he was as his eyes don’t leave from your chest. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” You shout, trying to cover up your bare chest with your hands but he gently tugs your wrists away, his blue eyes wavering as he groans, getting closer to you before he glances up.

“Don’t hide from me then,” he’s pleading, beginning, “Please.” 

And you can’t, because the way he presses gentle kisses to your bare breasts is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You’re breathing hitches, and your head falls back to your pillows as his mouth closes over on your nipples, a moan ripping from your throat. 

“Oh,” you say, breathing shakily through your nose as his other hand goes to your other tit, his thumb flicking over your nipple as you feel yourself grow wetter down there, terrified that there’s going to be a pool when he looks. 

He sucks, bites, marking up this territory that only he’s going to see, his pink lips switching to your other one as you whine out loud, feeling lightheaded as he presses three kisses to your hard nipple, worshiping you like you were his deity. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says with a mouthful of tit, pulling up from your chest as he kisses you briefly, kissing down your body one more time before he settles in between your legs, “And no man has been more willing to die than me.” 

You whine when his hot kisses trail up from your calf to your knees, wet as they glisten in the candlelight as if he was making his path visible up to where you were burning, needing for him to meet you. 

“You talk a l-lot,” you’re trying to sound steady but you can’t when he’s looking at you like that, but he just kisses the inside of your thigh for a second long, his nose nudging at your clothed cunt as you whine. 

You’ve only heard about the other girls talking about sex, feeling embarrassed as they acted out what the other guys did with them. They talked about how they threw them around on the bed or how they pushed their heads down into the pillows but they never mentioned anything about this.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, “I should stop.” 

And he doesn’t give you any warning as he presses a kiss to your clit through your underwear, your little gasp of surprise going straight to his dick. He hitches your legs on his shoulders, looping a finger around the waistband of your panties as he slides them down, a deep, guttural groan almost punched from his lungs at the sight of your glistening cunt. 

Fuck, he thought to himself, you actually were going to be the death of him with the way he still can’t properly breathe around you. 

“Perfect,” Gojo whispers, his head dipping down, “You’re perfect.” 

And before you can chide him again, he dives down, his tongue licking and sucking at your pussy lips, your back arching off of the bed as your fingers grasp onto his head for support, unknowingly pushing him even further into you. 

He’s fast, tasting you as he groans again, your saccharine essence bursting against his tongue, and he can’t control himself. It’s so messy and wet, and you can see your juice shining on his chin when you glance down briefly to look at him. 

“O-oh,” you stutter when he pushes a slender finger inside your walls, clenching down on him as his lips find your clit, suctioning at it as you whine for him to go fast, “Oh god,” 

He smiles against you, his finger slowly moving in and out, his lips kissing your clit, feeling the way you grew tight around him and didn’t stop. 

When he added his middle finger you felt like you were going to die, not knowing how you’d be able to handle all of him if this was just you losing yourself on his fingers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care right now. 

His fingers are long and reach deep within you, something you’ve never felt before, but knowing that you’d surely die without it if he stopped.

“S-Satoru,” you’re mewling, and he thinks he could just cum with the way you’re saying his name, “Don’t stop, please, f-faster.” 

And he kisses your cunt to tell you that he hears you, his fingers positioning in and out of you, his tongue alternating from where his fingers were to going back up to your little bud, your eyes screwed shut as you feel that rope grow tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

His unoccupied hand travels up your stomach to toy with your breasts, flicking your nipples back and forth, the added sensation along with everything else causing you to nearly lose whatever sanity it was that you had left. 

Your toes curled, your fingers gripping onto his white strands even tighter, feeling bad for how hard you were pulling at him, but he urged you, loving that sting. 

“How do you feel?” He takes a break, his voice a little muffled, his fingers not stopping as you whine helplessly, “Everything okay?” 

And you can tell he’s just teasing you because when you push his head back down he goes willingly, acting as if you were his last meal on this earth and he just couldn’t wait for the sweet release of death. 

“Good,” you moan, “S-so good,” and your voice is egging him on, making him go faster and faster, your toes curling as he switches between his fingers and his mouth, doing something heavenly that you never knew you could experience. 

You’re growing tighter around him, your chest heaving as you feel something strange, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, coming. 

“W-wait, ‘Toru, I…” and you can’t stop it, your eyes going white as he doesn’t stop either, his fingers pistoning in and out of you with no remorse, “I don’t know…fuck…coming, I…” and you’re just babbling mindlessly now, your back almost off of the bed as something snaps and you’re gushing around his fingers. 

It’s euphoric, the feeling. You can’t breathe but somehow you can breathe better than you have in your life, your walls clenched around him like a vice, your thighs shaking as you cum around his fingers. 

You wailed out a hopeless moan, your hands covering your mouth as if that could silence you, fat tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling and you were trying to fill your lungs back up with air as his mouth never stopped sucking at your clit until he was sure your climax was over.

When you finally calmed down and sank back onto the bed, Gojo sat up from between your thighs, his hair messy, chin and lips soaked with his spit and your release, his eyes a bright cerulean blue. 

You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, cleaning you off of him, moaning like a whore at the sight. He dipped back down, kissing you feverishly, letting you kiss yourself on him as you whine, feeling like a different person entirely. 

When he pulls away there’s a line of spit connecting your lips, and he’s never looked happier.

“Are you feeling good?” He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hips, “Want to stop?” 

You groan, swatting at his shoulders. 

“You’re too attentive,” you say, and he snorts, kissing in between your brows as he pecks your lips one last time, reaching down to unbutton his pants, and throw them somewhere along with the rest of your clothes. 

You watch in a love-sick haze as he tugs at his boxers, his fingers quick as he discards them too, and suddenly, the two of you are bare before each other. 

He is Adonis, you finally decide when you get to get a full look at him, there’s no question. 

His legs are just as toned as the rest of him, his thighs huge with pure muscle, something necessary to be quidditch captain as well as one of the best seekers Hogwarts has ever seen. The v-line that leads down to his…oh god. 

He’s huge, and while you haven’t been with any other guy, you can tell that he’s big. His dick sits hard and angry against his stomach, his pretty pink tip leaking with pre, curving slightly. Your mouth waters at the veins that start at his base, his white hairs trimmed, and go upwards. 

How would he fit in you? 

“Don’t worry,” Gojo assures you, as if reading your mind, “I’ll go slow. Tell me at any point if it hurts, okay?” 

And you nod, your mouth watering as he climbs atop of you, his hand near your head as he presses one final kiss to your hairline, wrapping your leg around his waist as his other hand goes down to finger his dick, plunging two fingers into your wet pussy, lubricating it in your wetness as he looks down at where the two of you met. 

“Ready?” He asks, and you can only whine, murmuring out a needy yes as he chuckles, your legs spreading open to accommodate him, and he lines his tip up with your entrance. 

You feel like the air that you had so tirelessly gulped back seconds ago was punched out of you at the feeling, and he stays true to his words, going as slow as humanly possible so that you could get used to his length. 

He pushes past you gently and carefully, your walls clenching around him, memorizing every vein he has, the curve of his dick, and you watch as his hips press into yours, the way his abs tense as he tries to go slow. 

It stings, but in the most delicious way possible. Your eyes dot with tears, but you need him to move, not knowing why he was taking so long.

Gojo balances himself above you, and you grow wetter and wetter the more he sinks into your warmth, your legs circling his waist to pull him in even closer, your arms tangling around his shoulder, into the hairs at his nape. 

“More,” you whisper, needing him unlike anything you’ve needed before, “M-more, ‘Toru, please,” 

His eyes look at you with slight apprehension. 

“Are you s-” 

“Yes,” you cut him off, your legs tightening around him as he groans, his dick pressing more into you, sinking into you completely until all of him was sheathed inside your cunt. 

You could feel him in your stomach with the way he was pressing up into you, feel the outline of his dick against your skin, and his head dipped down so that you couldn’t see his face anymore, his breathing stuttering as he tried to regain his composure, trying his best to not pull out and slam back into you. 

Gojo gives you a couple of seconds to grow used to him and tries to be as much of a gentleman as he can be, but with every other tick of that clock on the wall he thinks he’s going to go inside, not recognizing himself anymore. 

Your chest heaves, and you nod. 

“‘M ready,” you say finally, and his head draws back up to you, his brows furrowed together, trying to make sure that you weren’t just saying that for his sake, but you nod again, “I’m ready.” 

And god, he feels like he’s finally seen the light as he pulls out of you, nearly all of his dick from your snug cunt, your juices shining in the light, and he pushes himself back in, groaning out from deep inside his chest as you clench around him. 

He does it again, and again, and again, and before you know it he’s slamming his hips into yours. 

“Shit,” he moans, his voice deeper and lower in pitch, “F-fuck, you’re so tight, you have’ta,” he lets out whine when you clench around him, “You have to relax, please sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

His hands are leaving bruises on your hips from how hard he’s holding onto you, your moans mixing with his as your ankles dig deep into his back, your back arching so much that your tits were pressed up against his chest, gleaming with sweat. 

“Mhh, ‘Toru, oh my g-god,” you can’t even recognize your own voice, “S-so good, s’big ‘Toru,”

You watch as he drops a hand in between your two bodies, his fingers rubbing at your clit as your mouth opens in a silent scream, sweat dotting at your forehead as you bit your lip to keep in your debaucherous moans. 

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving yet another mark, his nose inhaling at the last remnants of your perfume, making sure he’d never forget a single thing about tonight. 

His fingers along with his dick are driving you to ruin, and you feel that same coil coming back, being pulled taunt deep within you far quicker than the first time. He’s relentless against your clit, kissing your tits gently as you cry out. 

“Shit, I…” you can barely breathe, his own groans and moans filling up the room, “I can’t, I feel like…!” 

“I know, I know,” he says, knowing what you’re meaning, what you’re feeling, because he’s not too far from his own release either, “Come on, let go, I’ve got you,” he muttered against your glistening skin, edging you on even more.

Your fingers tangle in his white strands once again, pulling him closer to you as your lips lock with his, the kiss messy and not even coherent but you don’t care because as his tongue mingles with yours, his hips never stopping and his fingers picking up pace, you moan out loud, lewd and wanting into his mouth as you come. 

This time is even more intense than the last time, and you can’t stop clenching around him, your cum coating his dick, making it even more wet as you spasm around him, your eyes seeing stars, feeling a loud thumping in your head and chest. 

It doesn’t help that he doesn’t stop either, your orgasm lasting even longer as he chases his own high, his head thrown back in an instant as he pulls out to finish on you, white spurts coating your heaving chest, painting you like his own portrait. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, his white lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he looks at you, underneath him, covered in his cum, and feels something primal surge in his chest at the sight, like you’re his god and he’s finally in heaven.

Even after he pulls out you feel yourself pulsing around nothing, already missing him as you whine absentmindedly at the loss.

When you finally calm down, you crack your eyes open to see him sitting on his haunches, pushing back his sweat soaked hair away from his face as he shoots you own of his wide grins, your own face breaking into a smile as you throw and arm across face. 

You feel the bed dip, and peek out to see him walking away. 

“Where…?” You croak out, your voice hoarse, and he throws you a wink from over his shoulders, finding a clean towel in your little bin that you keep at the end of the room for when you and the rest of the girls need to shower.

He brings it over to you, grabbing his wand, casting a small aguamenti charm on it, only to get it slightly wet, as he comes back to where you were lying. 

You silently watch as he gingerly drags it across your body, cleaning you up between your legs, wincing at the way you inhaled sharply, still feeling raw, and kissing your stomach in an apologetic manner. He then dragged it across your chest, making sure he got everything, throwing the towel in the dirty bin as he climbed up to bed with you. 

“Thirsty?” He asks, and you nod meekly, graciously accepting the cup that he fills with the pitcher near your bed stand, gulping it all down as some of the water droplets fall on your chest, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you set it to the side, falling back in your bed 

The bed isn’t really meant for two people, especially one with his size, so you have to cuddle close together, but you don’t mind the way he pulls you closer to his chest, pulling the blanket above so that it rests on your naked body. 

“Good?” He asks simply, and you nod again, craning your neck to look up at him as you smile gleefully. 

“Good.” 

—

That morning, you were the first to wake. 

You blink slowly, sitting up, wiping at your eyes as your mouth opens in a loud yawn. 

You look over to Gojo next to you, his hands still strewn across your waist, his lips parting slightly as he sleeps gently. 

You don’t want to wake him up, not used to seeing him so at ease, but you remember that it’s Christmas morning, falling back down to your mattress as your fingers tap on his bicep, watching as he cracks one blue eye open. 

“Hmm?” He hums tiredly, annoyed that you had moved away from him, pulling you back to the furnace that was his chest. 

“You promised you’d wake up,” you say with a whine, giggling when his eyes snap open, never wanting to break a promise he makes to you, sitting up suddenly as he looks around the empty room. 

“I’m kidding,” you tease, “I don’t usually get much, come back to sleep.” 

Gojo yawns, rubbing his hands across his face, and gives you a knowing look. Your brows furrow together in confusion, tilting your head to the side. 

“What?” You ask, sitting up next to him as his thumb traces against your knuckles. 

“Nothing,” he kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and then finally your lips, “It’s just that I think that the majority of presents under that tree are for you,” Gojo says with a grin, watching with a smile as your face breaks into the cutest grin, your eyes bright as you tug on his fingers. 

“Really?” you’re already getting out of bed, the smile on your face never ending as you tug on your jeans from the floor, “Really?” 

“Really,” he says, handing you your sweater as you pull that on mindlessly, your movements fast and hurried, excited for Christmas morning for the first time since you were a kid. 

“Oh, and,” he holds onto your wrist, stopping you momentarily as you try to pull on a sock over your feet, “I have something I wanted to give you…in private.” 

Your eyes squint together, trying to see if he was going to say a dirty joke or if he was actually serious. 

When he releases your wrist, he unfolds your hands, taking your ring finger as he slides a ring across it, something that he must’ve had hidden in his hand for a good second because you never saw him get anything. 

“What…?” You turn your hand around, only to see his gold ring, embellished with his family crest, shining back at you. 

“‘Toru, I…” You were shaking your head, going to take it off, but he stops you, his blue eyes shimmering a light sky color, creasing upwards as he gives you one of the smiles that he only reserves for you. 

“It’s yours,” he says, closing your fingers into a fist as he brings it up to his lips, kissing it softly, “And besides, it’s just a placeholder.” 

You let out a disbelieving chuckle, looking at the ring once again as you glance up at him. 

“Placeholder for what?” 

Gojo gives you another knowing look, as if you should know the answer to this question. 

“You’ll see,” he promises, and you laugh, helping him put on his own clothes, messing with his hair, pushing it back so that it wouldn’t be so messy. 

“You want to be my husband?” You say teasingly, walking to the door as you cast him a glance, “Because you should know that I need to get a stable job and house and everything before I even think of marrying. Are you sure you’ll want to wait that long? After all that time?” 

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head. 

“Even after all that time,” he murmurs against your hair, “Always.”

taglist: @satorusemepls, @mokonasenpaiposts, @kao-ri, @rinxgojo, @notsochillnerd, @astral-hydromancy, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron, @tedbunny333, @13-09-01, @mynameislove1, @hyunsuks-beanie, @uziwork, @haychhans, @cccccccccccleo, @sweetteez, @mxdwomann, @sorcerersseestars, @tiramusuc0ffee, @sourairi, @luringfantasy, @gojoswife69420, @empathum, @luna-v-roiya, @r0ckst4rjk, @hyori2, @kaisenkalogathia, @kraytjustkrayt, @nobayashi-blog

[gremlingottoosilly]

Reader who accidentally gives her virginity to Slasher!König? The lights were off, and she was planning on spending a romantic getaway with her boyfriend to finally seal the deal. She mistakes him for her boyfriend, assuming the mask was for some weird role play he wanted to do. Didn’t even question why her boyfriend’s body feels extremely different. It’s not until she turns on the light and curiously lifts up his hood after the deed was done that she found out that she just fucked a random guy, while her boyfriend was actually bleeding out in the next room over.

You boyfriend paid for the cabin. Said the owner -- a creepy fuck - dropped the price twice immediately upon hearing that it was for a couple's getaway. Said he is too fucking tired of groups of drunk partygoers - too much clean up after they're done with. Said it's nice to have fewer gusts sometimes. Tuck the payment immediately, though - said he doesn't make deposits, and too many people disappear after only giving him a third of what they own. Creepy fuck, like your boyfriend said - but you didn't care. It's the first nice thing he did in a long time - he won you over, pushed you in direction of finally agreeing for him to take your virginity - even though you were kinda scared at first. Your first time should be special, and your boyfriend lately wasn't...exactly a special feeling inducer. It's no matter though - you will have your romantic getaway in cozy cabin in the woods. The place looks like a mansion - you're shocked, really, even after a few hours spent settling in, sipping on a beer and nervously giggling each time your boyfriend made a sleazy remark about popping your cherry. He makes a joke about filming the process for history sake. About the owner of the cabin probably preparing to jerk off somewhere in the dark corner - you didn't like the jokes. Asked to turn off the light as you get under the covers, preparing to finally become a part of the sex club. Your boyfriend exited the room, searching for more booze, probably - came a while after, when you already started to feel weird about the whole thing. There is a bottle of sweet liquor - not beer, surprisingly - tilted to your mouth. You drink it, enjoying the sweet, alcoholic coffee poured into your mouth. They are gentle, but firm hands going over your body, grasping every bit of skin they can find. It's probably booze and your nerves, but the hands feel slightly different from your boyfriend's - bigger, rougher. You're probably just nervous, imagining weird things. He kiss you everywhere - you could feel a light stubble. It's funny, you didn't even notice your boyfriend didn't shave - probably your nerves, again, making you feel a bit dizzy from the kisses. You had a few fantasies about how the whole losing virginity thing would turn out - you never thought it would be like this. Soft and terrifying at the same time. Tongue licking you everywhere, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and find his head, hoping he would stop the gentle assault on your nerves. You find his hair - suddenly, it feel shorter than a greasy man bun your boyfriend has - and tug on it. Feel the pressure. He moans. Rough voice, low voice. A bit of a boyish tone. "So good for me, Schatzen. Knew your boyfriend wouldn't put much of a fight, but you're a natural for me, ja?" This is not your boyfriend.

[earlysunshines]

killshot

im nayeon x fem!reader ; smut!! 

synopsis: your roommate is aware that you hate her and she likes irritating you but oh no she just now realizes you’re hot and wants you so bad

warnings: kinda porn w no plot ; smut!!! ; mentions of alcohol ; hate fucking(???) ; degradation kinda ; insulting each other as they fuck yesss ; face riding ; comp sci major!reader *shivers and shakes* ; fwb-ish but not really ; nayeon is umm lowk manipulative but only if you squint , maybe? ; not proofread as always

wc: 5.1k

a/n: computer science major slander (i'm jealous) and also i don’t like the pacing but oh well maybe u guys will (i'd be such a great writer if i weren’t lazy af... )

with a groan, you lift yourself off the bed after hearing a loud thud. tiredly, you blindly reach for your phone and check for the time with squinted eyes: 1:04am. 

a low “fuck” leaves your lips while you struggle to sit up, still hearing the impact of bodies crashing against the walls and the faint sounds of a woman and man groaning through the bedroom door.  

nayeon is home. 

this is a bi-weekly occurrence; your roommate nayeon stumbles into the apartment all hot and heavy from the alcohol that was in her system, and then you can hear her getting all intimate—against your will—with some random person she’s found at the various clubs she cycles through. to be completely honest, you don’t care for her midnight rendezvous, just as long as they don’t bother you. 

however, this night she’s bothered you greatly; you’re fucking irritated. 

just when you had finally sought solace in the arms of sleep after hours of laboring over a project, your few minutes of rest are abruptly shattered by the intrusion of nayeon. —all drunk and insatiable—who’s barging into your room whilst some average guy latches onto her neck. he doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing, but it doesn’t matter because nayeon’s senses are too fucked to really pay attention to that. 

“get the hell out of my room.” you yell angrily towards the two. to say you were annoyed would be an overwhelming understatement, you were furious. 

“ah—fuck, sorry y/n,” she responds, voice all airy and light whilst the man’s hand slides down to play with the edge of her dress. “wrong room baby, let’s go.” she says whilst pushing the man off her a bit, much to his dismay. 

they both leave the room, still attached to each other with their hands roaming and gripping at anything. to make matters even worse; they didn’t close the door behind them. 

“fucking whore.” you scoff, falling back down on your bed and groaning.  

- 

im nayeon is an indescribable pain in your ass and unfortunately, she also happens to be your roommate. 

for the most part, you generally pride yourself on your composure and tolerance, but living with nayeon has truly put your patience to the test. she's irresponsible and unreliable, which regularly pushes you to your limits. you find yourself frustrated sharing an apartment with someone who’s always falling hort of your expectations. she's falling far from them, really, and it’s almost impressive. 

she has a knack for disappearing into the lurking in the apartment while you're away, often entertaining friends and leaving behind a mess in her wake. the audacity she possesses to neglect simple chores like doing the dishes or tidying up after herself borders on infuriating, you’re fighting the urge to bodyslam her into the mattress sometimes. it's as though she expects the cleaning fairy to magically swoop in and restore order while you're left to pick up the pieces of her irresponsibility, maybe she thinks you’re the fucking cleaning fairy. 

living with her was hell, you don’t even know how she managed to keep up with her courses and stay sane with how she lived her life. she was a pretentious, sassy little thorn stuck in your skin. 

but still, there are two things that keep you tethered to the apartment, even if it's a bit embarrassing to admit on factor. one: the rent is cheaper, and your shared living space is nice. two: nayeon’s fucking hot. 

the truth is: nayeon is the epitome of physical allure, the hottest person you've ever laid eyes on. as much as you resent her for her shortcomings, you find yourself unable to ignore the pull of her undeniable visuals, which whispers against the urge to pack your bags and leave.  

you despised the stupid allure of her face, the way her figure teased and tempted, and the fact that she held the power to have you on your knees if she poked you in the right ways. it grated on your nerves to know that you weren't the only one drawn to her; half the campus seemed to be either enamored with her, aspiring to be her, or eager to get into her pants. and she wielded her beauty like a weapon, using her "pretty privilege" to her advantage.  

the feeling you had towards her was bitter, but the attraction you had made things complicated. 

it was easy to mask your little attraction for your pretentious roommate with annoyed comments and irritated glares, but deep inside you wanted her in ways that you could never admit out loud. countless daydreams and very questionable thoughts about her invaded your mind at the worst times possible, espeically when she was near. 

- 

- 

your irritation mixed with attraction was mutual. nayeon felt the same way about you; what a match. 

at first, nayeon found herself irritated by your stuck-up demeanor and seemingly perfect self. your involvement in various extracurricular activities, dedication to your studies, and honestly majoring in computer science major as a whole contributed to her initial impression of you as someone who had it all together. it was a stark contrast to her own carefree attitude and laid-back approach to everything, which built friction between the two of you. 

(nayeon could never do all of that, study for hours and keep her shit together. and god, especially watching you type for two hours straight already made her head swirl. how does someone do that without losing their shit? she wonders if you’re okay) 

from nayeon's perspective, you were nothing more than a stuck-up bitch in her shared home, always fussing over cleanliness like a relentless clean freak. it striked a nerve every time you scolded her for leaving behind a couple of dishes or a few stray bottles of alcohol. if it bothered you so much, why not just pick up after yourself instead of constantly complaining? 

despite the irritation you stirred within her, nayeon couldn't deny the undeniable truth: you were actually pretty cute for a nerdy, uptight roommate. in fact, she'd even go as far as to admit that you were pretty hot. 

nayeon has seen the people in the computer science department, most of them are men who look like they’ve never spoken to a woman or gone outside for more than thirty minutes a day. you on the other hand were quite the sight, someone nayeon would describe as “eye candy.” 

and yeah, she kind of overlooked the fact that you were her type after you had yelled at her so much, but then there was this one little moment that changed her mind. maybe she could tolerate you more. 

(maybe nayeon had to put looks first in this case.) 

-- 

-- 

some thursday afternoon, while you typically would be found either buried in books at the library or enjoying the afternoon at a café, nayeon found herself in a predicament—she couldn't find one of her favorite t-shirts. with frustration growing, she decided to take matters into her own hands and went into your room to see if it had somehow ended up there, given that you were supposed to be out.  

to her surprise, she discovered that you were most definitely home, a fact that caught her completely off guard—especially when you’re home in your room, in the middle of taking your pants off. 

she barges into your room to see you with your shirt off and the fly of your pants down, revealing some of the logo of your victoria’s secret underwear. your cheeks flush a dark hue of red when you realize she’s invaded your privacy, and you quickly cover your chest—which, is already covered since you have a bra on, but god is this whole situation embarrassing.  

after you literally push her out the door—slamming it shut with embarrassment—nayeon stands outside the door with a newfound interest.  

nayeon couldn't fathom that someone who dedicated their sanity to lines of numbers and letters on a screen could look so good. there was something mesmerizing about the subtle groove tracing down your stomach, hinting at the definition of your abs, or the glimpse of your bicep as you hastily covered yourself and scolded her for intruding, maybe even the hint of muscle on your shoulders. whatever it was—all nayeon knew was that the little mishap of you not locking the door and giving her the chance see you like that piqued her interest without doubt. 

and after seeing you half naked? the image of you, with your shirt off and the hint of your physique tantalizingly on display? holy shit you had her fantasizing a little (a lot) more than she already had been; she needed some of her fantasies to come true.  

your roommate had already been attentive to your quick—and evident—glances on her body and her lips. she also noted the subtle bite of your lips when she swayed by, your eyes barely caught her, but she noticed it all. getting her fantasies to become a reality seemed easy enough—probably—and she was determined to make it all happen.  

she knew she already had you starting to wrap around her finger, just by those observations, so it should be easy enough to get you hot and heavy, right? 

- 

“oh look who’s finally fucking awake.” you mutter, turning around to see the hungover, marked up woman emerging from the hall.  

nayeon rolls her eyes at you like always and simply responds, “oh shut up, don’t be a drag.” 

“i’m a drag? i’m not the one barging in at one in the morning the same night my roommate stays up to actually do their school shit. not only that, but that fucking guy—” 

“was a terrible kisser,” nayeon cuts you off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i kicked him out so can you please just—” 

“no!” you scoff, surprising nayeon with this burst of anger. you’re much more irritated than usual, which is weird. nayeon suspects that it’s because she’s never accidentally stumbled into your room, and to be fair; this was kind of intentional.  

you see, nayeon thought that if she could make you a little jealous, it’d increase the chances of you intervening. just what she wanted. 

“i couldn’t fucking sleep and i have a really important assessment today.” 

“yeah yeah, move over i need some tea.” nayeon says tiredly. upon hearing her response, you clench your jaw tightly and lean against the marble counter, gripping it with one hand tightly to suppress your annoyance. 

your roommate looks at you and a laugh slips out accidentally. after hearing that, there's probably a vein visible on your forehead, maybe your neck—somewhere. 

that was your last straw. 

angrily, you lift yourself off the counter and swiftly advance towards nayeon, pinning her against the fridge with force. the impact reverberates through her as her back meets the cold surface, while you lean in closer, your eyes narrowing with intensity.  

now, this should not be turning nayeon on—she’s going to blame it on her hangover and whatnot, and maybe the fact that whoever that guy was and whatever he did didn’t really satitate her—but it does.  

with barely an inch of space separating you, your height advantage allows you to tilt your head down, locking eyes with nayeon with a glare. the tension crackles between you like a firework, it’s thick and palpable, your look shows restrained anger. despite how furious you look, there's an unexpected allure to you, drawing nayeon in even as she senses the little reprimanding you’ll give her. 

“don’t give me that fucking attitude nayeon. you’re fucking unbelievable, you’re a fucking slut, you know?” 

“yeah?” she says, a smirk tugging at her pretty, plump lips.  

you feel your body tense as soon as you start to take in the proximity of the two of you. gulping lightly, you move yourself away just an inch, but nayeon pauses you, pinching your collar. 

“oh don’t get so timid now, you were just fuming earlier pretty.” she laughs. “keep going. this is cute, i like this. what did you call me again?” 

as nayeon's eyes flicker from yours to your lips and back again, the tension between you is like pushing down on a spring, and it’s about to pop back up any moment. sensing an opportunity, nayeon skillfully navigates her way out of the looming scolding, her allure becoming a potent weapon against your mood. she begins to weave her charm, coaxing a reluctant softening in your expression. despite your initial anger, you find yourself drawn to her, you can’t let yourself slip up, not now, not when she’s the reason you might fail your assessment. 

“you’re— you’re so... fucking irritating…” you mumble the last part of your sentence, voice getting smaller. you push yourself away from her and shake your head, trying to conceal your blush. nayeon giggles before going back to making her tea, the tension in the air like an invisible weight pressing down on you, and this whole morning might just completely flatten you down from how distracting it’ll be the whole day. 

nayeon’s relieved, at least you’re not scolding her while she dips her chamomile bag in and out her little mug of hot water. 

- 

the day is filled with the events of the morning, with you struggling to finish various lines of code because the feeling of nayeon toying with your collar lingers, and nayeon trying to force the thought of you finally snapping in her head. 

seems like the two of you are trying to avoid the same thought, despite how badly you two want it. 

it's palpable that there’s something in the air that needs to be swatted away, and nayeon knows you’re too much of a coward to really do anything about it, so she’ll figure somethign out.  

one thing about im nayeon: she always gets her way, no questions asked, no matter what it takes. 

- 

nayeon finds you on the couch typing away later that night, probably doing some homework. 

nayeon plops down next to you, intending to tease and push you over the edge. you turn your head after feeling the cushions under you shift, immediately grimacing once you see your roommate. 

“what do you want?” 

“what, i can’t sit next to my roommate?” nayeon questions, “i’m just going to watch tv, if you don’t like it you can leave.”  

“whore.” you mutter under your breath, quiet enough so she doesn’t catch what you say.  

your roommate lounges lazily on the couch and rests her head against the armrest. as she reclined, her hair spilled over, framing her face like a halo. nayeon's gaze wandered lazily around the room before settling on the tv, and with a languid movement, she turned to lay fully, bending her legs so they didn't intrude into your personal space. 

your jaw tensed, a visceral reaction to the sight before you. the light from the tv in the dimmed room accentuated the allure of nayeon's figure. you couldn't help but steal a glance, your attention momentarily torn away from your screen by the annoyingly captivating vision in your periphery. 

casual sweatpants adorned her figure, the looseness of the bottoms from brandy allowing for comfort yet teasingly hinting at the eye-catching curves of her terribly alluring figure beneath. the fit of her tank top—cropped just enough to expose a sliver of her toned midriff—effortlessly made your gaze linger. the fabric clung to her silhouette in all the right places, revealing the subtle contours that sent a subtle jolt through the room and your veins. you completely forgot about pretending to be irritated in that brief trance. 

the tank top, snug against her skin, revealed a gentle dip of her collarbone, an enticing invitation that you took note of. the image staying in your head even as your attention returned to your screen. a flush settled on your cheeks as you tried to focus again. the ambiance of the room, however, remained penetrated with the downplayed sensuality that lingered in the air. you huff lowly. she's winning whatever game this is without even trying. 

after typing at your laptop for a bit, you hear the faint sound of people talking in the background. you look up from the screen and see some show playing, then turn to see nayeon’s head turned toward the tv.  

shaking your head, you redirect your attention back to the assignment in front of you; the task is quite easy, but it’s insanely tedious and for some strange reason nayeon’s presence isn’t helping you. 

nayeon shifts on the couch and sits upright against the cushion, you don’t bat an eye. your roommate is sick of you being academic, she’s bored and wants your attention. needs it, maybe. 

“when’s that due?”  

without turning your head, you respond, “next week.” 

“why do it now?” 

“why do you care?” your tone is impatient. “and besides, it’s better to get things done earlier.” 

“nerd.” nayeon sighs. she scoots over and peers at your screen, putting her hand down beside you to prop herself up and when she leans over, her boob smushes against your arm a little.  

you glare at her. “aren’t you usually out? it’s a friday night.” 

she shrugs. “didn’t feel like it.” and after she scans the screen one more time, she leans away (to your dismay) and continues on with whatever drama she had been watching.  

the thought of her boob being smushed against you lingers, embarassingly it’s almost tattooed in your mind for the next half an hour. 

when you finish your assignment, that’s when you let out a big, hefty breath and close your laptop.  

nayeon's annoyingly melodic giggle dances in the air as you sink into the plush couch, surrendering to its embrace that eases the pain in your shoulders. after savoring your few seconds of tranquility, your thoughts drift to the comfort awaiting you in your bedroom, your bed, peace and quiet, being enveloped by the blanket.  

as you start to stand up, a delicate yet firm grip clings to your forearm, delaying your departure. nayeon's touch, like a sirens call, invites you to linger, gently coaxing you to stay a little longer. 

she bats her eyelashes at you. “stay here.”  

you brows knit. “why would i stay with you?”  

“watching shows alone is boring, and i know your ass isn’t going anywhere tonight.” 

you groan in response and decide to give in—you might as well lounge on the couch for a bit—earning a smug smile from your roommate. she unpauses her show and you allow yourself to ease into the cushion, then watch with her (against your will), only to immediately tense up at the scene that unravels before your eyes. 

two girls appear on screen, and they’re kissing each other.  

they’re close, kissing, and then fifteen seconds pass and boom—they’re eating each other’s mouths sloppily, groaning and everything, tongue and all. you shift in your seat when you feel a weird pulse down at your core. 

“y/n,” nayeon starts, “have you ever even kissed someone?” 

“of course i have.” you respond, crossing your arms.  

nayeon turns her head in surprise and tilts her head. “seriously?” 

“yes, is it that surprising?” 

“well, you’re always cooped up in the house and whatnot… didn’t think you had any game.” 

“i hooked up with someone last month for your information. i'm not a homebody.” 

“yeah? sure, you did.” she laughs, shaking her head. you roll your eyes at her. 

“fuck you.” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the tv and watching the two girls undress each other. “do you always watch shit like this?” 

“why, does it turn you on or something?” nayeon asks, shifting closer to you. a lump forms in your throat. 

you shoot a quick glare at her and lie, “no.” 

nayeon laughs in amusement after pink dusts your cheeks. “you seem pretty flustered baby.” 

what the fuck? 

as you meet her gaze, a wave of surprise washes over you, mirroring the hunger that burns in her eyes. nayeon's laughter tumbles from her lips, enchanting and playful, as she places her hand delicately on the couch. leaning towards you, she ignites a spark that makes your heart skip a beat. feeling a sudden urge to be closer, you subtly shift in your seat, captivated by the exhilarating simplicity of the moment and giving into nayeon’s intentions. 

“i don’t believe you.” she says. 

“what?” 

“you’ve never kissed someone, hell, like you could even fuck someone.” 

“excuse me?” 

she just laughs at the mix of emotions coming from you; your cheeks are dusted pink, but your tone and expression displays that regular irritated look of yours. 

then she bites the corner of her lip, finally easing into the reason she even bothered you in the first place. she leans a little closer, lips hovering near your ear lobe, and giggles again. 

“how about you prove that you’ve fucked someone, hm?” nayeon suggests, raising her brows. “that you even can.” 

your breath trembles slightly, you’re stiff in your place. 

“if it’ll shut you up then... fine.” 

she clicks her tongue, then pulls away from your ear. now she’s looking at you with a shit eating grin, you want to wipe it off her face. 

the air stilled, your breath shook, and nayeon’s hand inches to your forearm. her other hand grabs the collar of your shirt, pulling you in and your lips meet in the middle. 

she tastes like cherry, well, her lip gloss does. 

your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, pushing her deeper into you so your lips can hungrily slide and suck and gosh, everything, all of the above, both a and c, you name it. 

the last thing you had on your mind for the friday night was kissing your roommate aggressively. initially, you were just going to finish the assignment and take a nap or something, but this? it’s much better than what you had planned originally. 

nayeon practically takes your breath away after simply kissing you, just the way your lips lock makes you greedy. you groan accidentally, embarassed until you have nayeon groaning into you too, even louder for that matter. 

you pull away for a brief moment, voice a little shaky and out of breath. “is this why you bothered me? are you that horny that you wanted me to fuck you?” 

“oh shut up, it’s not like you’re against it.” nayeon’s right, you’re not. not in the slightest. 

“fuck you” is uttered from your lips before you crash your lips against her again, taking the air from her lungs again. 

the kissing quickly escalates and your tongues are in each other’s mouths. you’re both unashamedly moaning and groaning into each other carelessly, it’s funny how quickly everything escalated within seconds, the boundaries between whatever you two had dissolved like sugar in boiling water. you shift yourselves over so that nayeon is under you, both your knees on either side of her legs. you reach over for the remote to pause the two girls who were mirroring the two of you—well, the two of you started going at it after they did so maybe it was the two of you mirroring them. 

each subsequent kiss felt as electrifying as the crackle of sparks dancing in a bonfire. the more nayeon deepened the kiss the more it drove you crazy, irrationally enough to continue kissing her and slip your hands under her shirt. 

nayeon sighs blissfully as you kiss down her neck, her fingers tangle with your hair while she claws at it aggressively, and still, the pain from her grabbing your hair only turns you on more. 

“fuck,” she groans when you suck on her neck, sinking her nails into your tricep. 

“slut.” you mutter, smirking against her. “so easy to rile up.” 

unashamedly, nayeon begs and begs for you until you’re biting down on her skin, repeatedly uttering your name until you’re leaving marks that’ll have her friends wondering who ruined her this time—and this time, it’s not some person she’s run into at the bar while tipsy. 

still, she could get drunk just off of you. 

you start to undress her, starting with her top and taking a moment to gaze at her undeniably alluring figure. strands of hair just barely stick to her forehead as she gazes at you breathlessly with eyes full of lust. she moves her slender fingers to work at the edge of your shirt, urging you to take that stupid t-shirt you have on off so she can get a sight of your surprisingly exciting figure. maybe she’ll get a better, longer view of what she had seen that night she walked in on you changing. 

“fuck, why have you been hiding this?” she mutters, sliding her hand down your side. “god you fucking bitch.” 

“if i didn’t you’d be all over me, you fucking horny mess.” you spit back harshly, but the way you moan when nayeon latches her lips onto your neck completely rids of that fake, irritated tone of yours.  

nayeon ends up on top of you in a matter of seconds, thenyou’re groping her ass shamelessly as you two devour each other’s mouths again. hands tug at whatever else covers your bodies until it’s just the two of you skin to skin. everything that had just happened in the span of ten minutes was for sure ten times better than whatever else had been going on in the movie. 

you can feel her grinding desperately against your thigh as you kiss her, feeling the moisture from her needy cunt that dampens your once-dry upper leg. you palm her breasts blindly and feel her gasp against you, and then nayeon forgets how to breath when you press your thigh up and against her, adding more stimulus. 

she moans frustratedly, the feeling of just your thigh against her throbbing pussy is far from what she needs. so, she’s putting her hand on the middle of your chest and pushing you down to lay flat on your back. she bites her lip blatantly before lifting her hips away from your skin. 

you furrow your brows in confusion and begin, “what are you—” 

“shut up,” she grunts, shoving one hand in your head and gripping your hair so rough that you whimper. she shifts over so that her pussy is directly above your mouth and orders: “just eat, bitch.” 

this is something you can’t argue with her about, and fuck you’re hungry.  

there’s a meal waiting for you that you’ve been craving, you can’t just lay there and starve. 

eagerly, you lift your head up a bit to meet the aching in between her legs; she’s so wet and you’re definitely teasing her about this later—but who knows how long it will take until it’s later. 

she moans louder than ever and it surprises the both of you, it only leaves you wanting more of her, wanting to hear her when she’s at her limit. your nails sink into the flesh of her thigh as you devour ravenously, taking note of what makes her twitch more and what earns lewder noises. what earns noises that turn you on more than ever. 

it doesn’t surprise you how shameless she is during sex—clearly, she isn’t ashamed of seducing her roommate—the way she rides your face so desperately gives you enough to know how she is. 

nayeon likes when you suck on her clit, she grips your hair tighter with each “pop” sound that’s made after you release the suction. she’s easy to read, her cunt is easy to adjust to. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” nayeon moans, leaning back little while she continues to ride, head tilted back and face almost parallel to the ceiling. “god-- fuck, oh my—shit, keep going,” 

you can see her tits from your view, nipples all perked up while you grip onto her thighs tighter, feeling her shake in your grasp.  

nayeon's like an alarm clock, ticking and ticking away until the alarm rings, her cry echoing through the room, hand gripping at your hair tighter than ever as her head falls back. you continue to savor her arousal even after she came, earning little whines and whispers of your name. 

“oh, y/n, just like that...”  

you're doing all the work now, which only helps with your aversion towards her, but still, you’ve made her moan, cry—all of the above, so at least there’s something to use against her. 

and then she lifts herself off of you, letting your head rest back against the seat of the couch so you can catch your breath.  

when she looks down, all she can make out through fuzzy vision and overwhelmed senses is the puff of your lips, hooded eyes, and fucked up hair; everything about the sight of you is a product of her desires, a fantasy that’s been lingering in her mind now come true. 

“slut,” you mutter, almost breathlessly. “you’re really loud, you know.”  

“fuck you.” 

“already did.” you retort, giggling. “let’s go for another.” 

“oh so now look who’s a horny mess.” nayeon responds, moving over to sit on your lap. 

you sit up, holding yourself up with your hands placed behind you. “you just never shut up, do you?” 

nayeon smiles before tracing her finger along your skin. “do you me want to?” 

you look at her amusingly before shifting positions so she’s laying down flat on her back, with you hovering above. the two of you kiss again, nayeon savoring a the traces of arousal off you, a muffled hum of delight vibrating against your locked lips. 

she pulls away, thumbing your nipple and making you groan surprisingly. you pull away to glare at her. 

nayeon laughs, “wow, you’re so--” 

you cut her off by shoving your ring and middle finger in her mouth, she almost gags, but the way she sucks obediently is enough to tell you that she’s enjoying this. 

“you just never shut up,”  

in response, she moans with your fingers still in your mouth, right before you pull them out, skin coated with her saliva. 

you bring your fingers down to her cunt, teasing her folds. 

“let’s change that.” 

[themissinghand]

Solo Leveling: Tease

Requested by: @666veiniklaas

Summary: In which Jinwoo likes every part of you, and he hates to share what’s his. 

Or, you finally take revenge on Jinwoo for teasing you a little too much. 

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x M! Reader

Note: For some reason I lost your request in my inbox, but luckily I already started working on it in my drafts.

Anyways, not a bother at all! The cat drawing was so cute! Love how you showed my dark eye circles so accurately XD 

This inspired me to write a....sexier version of Jinwoo. Hope you enjoy it! 

Warnings: Some sexual tension and sensual touching, suggestive themes! Nothing beyond that, unless your imagination takes you there-

★・・・・・・★

Jinwoo is an asshole, and he knows because his boyfriend tells him too many times. 

“Hey (Y/N).” Jinwoo called out, before noticing you hunched over your laptop in his hoodie, that was clearly too big for you. He smirks before walking behind you and tapping you on the shoulder. 

“What? I’m in the middle of a game right now!” He leans down and lets his wet hair touch your skin. He feels you flinch before finally turning your attention to him.  

“Do you know where my boxers-” 

“What the f-it’s in the drawer!” Like a cat, Jinwoo watches his boyfriend malfunction (checking him out) with red cheeks, before screeching and dashing out of their shared bedroom. 

It’s adorable, seeing you throwing random items at him to cover himself up, or when you run away anytime you see him naked. 

But he knows you like what you see. Maybe, you’re just too shy or prideful to admit it. 

(Jinwoo knows it, after all, he remembers you giving ideas to his Shadow Soldiers when building sculptures of him in his Shadow Realm - he’ll never let you live that down)

You’re like a cat. 

A cat thief that likes to steal his hoodies, and wear comfy clothes. Jinwoo didn’t mind it, after all, everytime he hugged you, he felt like he was hugging a big marshmallow cat.  

Sometimes, Jinwoo would come by and scoop you up in princess carry, and like a cat, you would fight him and try to get out. But that never works, as Jinwoo was a S-Class hunter for God’s sake! 

“Beru! Help me!” You cried for Beru, who sheepishly looked back and forth between Jinwoo and you. But could only disappear in Jinwoo’s shadow when His Liege gave him a “I dare you” look. 

In the end, his kitty would give up and grumpily cuddle in his arms until Jinwoo decided to let him go. 

It’s fun teasing you and watching you run away from him. It’s also a great way to get your attention. 

For example, Jinwoo found a great way to wake you up. 

“Jinwoo…? What time is it?” Jinwoo watches his little kitty do a little stretch in his arms, clearly not awake yet. 

“It’s time to get up.” He pressed a kiss to your palms, before cheekily bringing your hand to his bare chest. 

“Wha-” In the next second, you broke out of his hold and slammed your back to the wall. 

“Like what you see?” Jinwoo leans on his arm, purposefully showing off his toned body, but by then you were already out of the room and screaming profanities at him. 

“I swear to God Jinwoo! I will get back at you for this!” 

Jinwoo laughed as he saw his marshmallow cat angrily stomp to the bathroom. 

“Oh yea? I like to see you try!” 

Jinwoo regrets challenging you. 

It was like any other day in the Shadow Realm, Jinwoo was training with his Shadow Soldiers until he heard a call from Beru.

“My Liege! His Highness is-” Without another moment of hesitation, Jinwoo teleported back to his house and worriedly rushed to the bedroom where Beru was at. 

“(Y/N)! Are you okay-” Jinwoo froze when he saw your figure. His oversized hoodie no longer to be seen. 

“Oh hey Jinwoo.”

Your quiet seductive voice sent a wave through him and Jinwoo even let Beru quickly slip away despite being part of the whole farce. But Jinwoo couldn’t be angry at you, as he was too smitten with your appearance. 

His shadows' excited clammer was ignored. 

A slim fitted black top with fishnet sleeves and matching black tights. Your collarbone, flat stomach, and even hip bone was exposed, making him unconsciously gulp. 

The fabric was almost transparent, as if teasing Jinwoo and letting his imagination to go wild. 

You looked so good right now, and Jinwoo feels himself slowly losing control-

“I’m going out.” 

“Where? Looking like that?” Jinwoo flinched when he felt that he sounded a little too aggressive, but he really can’t let anyone see you looking so good. 

You had the audacity to look confused. 

“Nightclub, Liu Zhigang invited me out.” A cheeky little smirk rose to your lips before playing with the collar on your neck. 

“How do I look?” 

In the next moment, you were swept off your feet and slammed onto the bed, but this time, you weren’t backing off. 

“(Y/N), is this what you mean by getting back at me?” 

“I don’t know what you mean-” Jinwoo dived for the side of your neck and felt you squirm. 

“‘Cause it working. Your plan.” Inhaling deeply, Jinwoo feels dizzy, did you even put on cologne?

Even though he knows that this was all part of your plan to get back at him for teasing you so often, the fact that you mentioned another man’s name makes him mad. 

What if you actually did it for someone else? 

Just imagining you with Liu Zhigang and other men-

“Hey Jinwoo, calm down-” 

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

Jinwoo pressed a couple of kisses to your neck, and then left a trail of marks down to your shoulders. He peaks up, seeing your face bright red, but looking directly at him. 

Even more surprising, Jinwoo felt your fingers in his hair, before cupping his face and kissing him.

“I know.” You licked your lips, and tugged on your top, revealing more skin. 

“So hurry up and take me, My Liege.” 

That was all you had to say to make him lose control, and devour.

Let’s just say that the shadows smartly decided to not interfere and watch the premise far, far away from the bedroom. 

Beru on the other hand was just happy that he wasn’t the one being peppered with kisses this time.

The next morning was a mess. Jinwoo went back to being an asshole, not because he wanted to tease you, but also because he didn’t mind being an asshole for you to dress up like that again.

Also, Jinwoo eventually figured out that it was not just Beru in this, but Bellion and Igris too. Apparently, it was their chance to show off their knowledge of their master’s preferences, and also give you some armour…though Jinwoo doubts you would wear it ever again. 

Not if he had anything to say to that though.

[e-dubbc11]

Only You’re The One

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Swear words, alludes to smexy time(mostly PG-13), Billy being possessive and jealous, mentions of Billy’s commitment issues, no use of “y/n”

Word Count: 2K-ish

Summary: A brief run in with your ex puts Billy in a mood and has him wondering about how the love he has for you compares to your previous relationships

A/N: Random thought, good thing there are a lot of pictures of Ben online. I like to use a different one for each of the moodboards I make. Title is a song by Lifehouse that I’ll link at the end (one of my favorites)

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

A quick run-in. That’s all it was.

A brief encounter with an old boyfriend while on a night out with your current boyfriend left Billy feeling possessive, unsure, and a little jealous.

You could see the frustration in his onyx colored eyes that shined like two flat black marbles under the warm city street lights. His cheeks were flushed with anger and he gripped your hand tightly as you continued to walk down the sidewalk.

His silence was a sign of irritation, anger, and what he considered to be weakness. And it was because you knew he loved you more than anything but the threat of anyone taking you away from him scared him to death.

It hasn’t always been easy. He was easily triggered by any man’s glance lingering a little too long, an innocent smile in your direction, and god help them if they tried to flirt with you in front of him. Sometimes they were just THAT bold but that was no excuse for him to threaten them like he did or worse and you repeatedly had to tell him that…firmly.

Fuck, you loved him for it though. No one fought for you as hard as Billy did, loved you as fiercely, and that just deepened your love for him. Nobody would ever take you away from him. You’d never let them.

It pained you to watch him suffer in silence, to not be able to always say what he wanted to or to express to you how he was feeling. The smile had disappeared from his face as soon as your ex stopped you mid-stride, Billy’s eyes slowly narrowed when you introduced them to each other, and there was a thread of warning in his voice as he said “Nice to meet you.” Billy’s lips pulled back to reveal clenched teeth as you politely smiled and said “It was nice to see you” then you continued the walk home.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Billy turned feral, the hungry kisses, his teeth nipping at your chin and jaw then kissed the smooth skin of your throat, and lightly biting the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, making you gasp into his ear.

Intense desire burned in his eyes for you as his hand disappeared under your blouse and tickled the sensitive skin of your stomach. Hearing his name escape your lips turned him on and you could feel his hard cock against your core as he pushed up against you in the corner of the elevator.

His touches and kisses were urgent like he was trying to prove something and he encouraged you to touch him more like he was starved for your affection when it was clear to you that he just needed some reassurance. Billy wanted to feel your nails scratching his scalp or your hands clasped behind his neck with your legs wrapped around him as he lifted you off the floor and pinned you to the wall.

There was a touch of acid in his tone as he sharply said, “You’re mine.”

Your eyelids were warm with his breath and a growl came from deep down in his throat as he continued to firmly press his body against yours like he didn’t want you to escape. The grip he had on you eased only after you whispered against his ear, “I’m yours, Billy. It’s ok. You don’t have to hold on so tight, my love.” Billy eased up on the tight grip he had on your hips and slowly backed away to allow your feet to touch the floor. “Thaaaaaat’s it.”

Looking up at him through your long dark lashes, you wanted to reassure him and tell him that he was the only one for you so without saying anything, you raked your nails against his scalp and gingerly pulled down on his neck so you could touch your forehead to his. It was calming and soothing to him and helped to bring your breathing back to normal.

Billy’s lips touched yours again, softer this time, and you faintly tasted the vanilla and cloves on his lips from the bourbon he had earlier tonight. He stayed close and long enough to be able to inhale your scent and feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips.

You could still smell the spicy cologne left on his shirt from this morning as you loosened his silk tie, it felt cool to the touch as it slid through your fingers just as the doors to the elevator opened again on the penthouse floor.

With your knees trembling slightly and your legs threatening to give out, he laced his fingers with yours to lead you off the elevator and quickly ushered you inside.

It felt good to be home.

The two of you left a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom and you wasted no time falling into each other, Billy teased you and touched you right where you needed it the most, he took his time ravaging every inch of you, your body short circuited when he touched you but in the best possible way, and he didn’t stop until you were overstimulated and he pulled every orgasm out of you that he possibly could. Or, in his words, until you were “properly fucked.”

Still tangled in each other’s limbs, your eyes opened again before his did after a short sleep. Your eyes flicked from his hand enclosed over yours, up to the peaceful look he had on his face as he slept. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, a slight smile stretched across your lips as you felt his chest gently rise and fall underneath your head.

His raven colored hair had fallen down onto his forehead to graze the top of his eyebrows, you wanted to move it away from his eyes but you didn’t want to disturb him.

He slept so little.

You managed to unravel yourself, throw on one of Billy’s t-shirts, and get out of bed all without moving the mattress too much. You needed a drink of water. As you started to tip toe out of the bedroom, you heard his soft silvery voice cut through the silence.

“Did you love him?” He choked out with bitterness in his voice.

Your heart sank like a lead weight and shattered as soon as it hit your stomach. The lump in your throat prevented you from giving him a rapid response.

Finally, without turning around you managed to choke out, “Billy…”

“Did you…love him?” Billy repeated again.

You turned to face him. Billy’s jaw was clenched, his breathing was shallow, and his stomach muscles stiffened. Although you knew running into an ex would probably happen at some point, you had hoped it wouldn’t.

“At one time, yes…yes I-I did.” You replied, walking back toward the bed.

Billy’s top lip curled back away from his teeth, he shook his head and said in a frustrated tone, “I guess that’s the difference between your exes and mine. I never loved them, any of them. And I’ll never be the only one who’s loved you.” His New York accent a little heavier now.

Billy’s childhood experiences had prevented him from forming any kind of romantic relationship. It had always been purely physical but you were different and it all changed the day he met you.

The wall he put up was no longer impenetrable, his smiles traveled all the way to his eyes, and the ache and heaviness in his heart seemed to finally subside. He knew it would always be there but it hurt just a little bit less.

Your body went numb as you climbed back onto the bed and into his lap. Billy never had a model for what love is, he didn’t know how but he knew when he was with you, he felt…different.

“Well…that’s love, Billy.” You had said to him months ago with a warm smile.

He replied, “But I’ve never known what that feels like, sweet girl.”

“I think you do now.” You had said, pushing yourself up onto your toes and gently pressing your lips to his.

He knew there had been other boyfriends but he never had to meet them face to face, shake their hand, or forced to watch the way they doted on you, hung on your every word, or think that they even came close to loving you as much as he did.

Billy rested his hands on your hips while you snaked your arms around his neck. He briefly closed his eyes as you delicately scratched his scalp with your fingernails; it was one of his favorite things you did for him.

As you brushed his beard with your thumb, you just smiled at him and replied, “Billy, my love…you’re right…you aren’t the only one.”

Billy looked confused and suddenly his face was overwhelmed with sadness, almost anger but before he could react, you finished your sentence.

“But you’ll always be the one who loved me the most.” You said as a tear streaked down your cheek. “There’s a reason I’m not with any of them anymore, Billy.”

He didn’t say a word, just smiled his perfect smile and pulled you in closer. Holding you in a crushing grip, Billy’s lips collided with yours, his tongue parted your lips to entangle with yours, and his hand traced along the sculpted hollow of your throat. You choked on your need for him with his mouth slanting over yours and you never wanted to let him go.

“Because you’re meant to be with me, sweet girl. I know I love you more than any of those others ever have.” He growled. “But I could tell, I could see it in his face that he still loves you, and I just…” Billy paused. “I just want to be the only one who gets to love you.”

His competitive nature had him striving to be the best at everything. He didn’t care what he had to do but he was going to win…especially when it came to your love.

You could feel all the muscles in his body tense at the same time. Billy was a marine, a scout sniper, physically strong, smart, and determined but sometimes it was easy to forget that there was a scared, broken little boy inside who just wanted to be loved.

He wanted affection but didn’t know how to ask for it without appearing vulnerable and he always wanted to be in control. But there are always going to be circumstances that he can’t control which he was still in the process of learning.

“Billy…you know that’s something neither one of us can control, I can’t help the way they feel about me but you are the ONLY one who will ever GET my love in return.” You said with a hitch in your voice but with assurance.

Again, Billy didn’t know what to say but at that moment, his endless brown eyes said everything he couldn’t say out loud. They said “I love you” and “thank you for loving me.”

You weren’t expecting him to but he said the quiet part aloud.

“I love you and thank you for loving me, sweet girl.” Billy whispered against your lips.

He let his head fall into your neck and shoulder after he kissed you again. You could feel his warm breath going through the t-shirt and brushing against your skin underneath as your lips curled to reveal a loving smile.

“You’re easy to love, baby. Frustrating as fuck sometimes but easy to love; And I love you too.” You said with a little laugh which made him chuckle too.

Billy Russo was so much more than his money, his charm and his good looks. If anyone, including his mother, had bothered to look a little deeper they would have seen an unwavering, intelligent, hard-working, wonderful man and the only wish he had was to mean something to them other than for the money in his pockets or a piece of arm candy. Lord knows he wasn’t perfect but he was perfect for you.

Billy didn’t anticipate someone like you to come into his life, someone that tried a little harder, that didn’t give up on him when he shut down, or that really wanted to get to know the man underneath the fancy suit.

You were unexpected, a startling surprise yet welcomed and you were the one he had waited his entire life for.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[dilfl0v3rss]

oh so people getting bold in the requests?? CONNIE AND ONY THREESOME??🌚

THISSS THE ONEEEEE. I BEEN THINKIMG AB THIS FOR WEEKSSSSSS. ima doooo mob boyfriends!ony and connie since it’s been in my brain for a minute😛😛😛😩😛😛😛😩😛😩😩

ours

cw: polygamous relationship!!!

word count: 2.1k

part 2

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

your boyfriends were feared by many. mean and dangerous men that nobody ever dared to question. they were the monsters the kids hid from and the bad men parents want far away from their daughters. you, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. everyone always seemed to gravitate towards you due to your kind and caring nature. you made people feel safe and welcomed no matter what they may be going through.

when you’re out with connie and ony, strangers would have to sometimes do a double take to make sure what they’re seeing is real. a soft and sweet looking girl wearing cute little outfits with pretty colors being accompanied by two brooding men on either side of her, wearing no other colors but black and grey. it was not a normal sight to see. “ooouuu what about this one papi. you said i look pretty in blue.”

the three of you were currently in a boutique in the mall. looking for different dresses to add to your never ending collection. connie, your more lenient partner, stood with his finger curled on his chin, thinking about the different looks you could achieve with the dress “hmmm it’s aight. i think you should get sum tighter.” you rolled your eyes, putting the dress back on the rack before walking to the next section.

“you only saying that so you can look at my ass.” before you could get far you felt a soft tug on your arm. “rolling your eyes is rude. i told you ‘bout that.” ony grumbled, staring down at your smaller figure. ony was the strict boyfriend. even though both of them were pretty stern, ony was the one that kept both you and connie in check sometimes since connie had a tendency of letting you off easy.

“sorry sorry…geez.” you sigh. he let go of your arm and the three of you continued your search for some new appliances. as you walked to your next store you notice a familiar man standing by the pretzel shop. “sean?” the brownskin male lifted his head from his phone, bright smile immediately forming on his face as he spotted the source of the voice. “y/n?? oh my god hey sugeeee? how you been?” you squealed before running into the arms of your old friend.

you and sean were friends in high school who drifted away from each other since he moved away. “boy what you doing back in town? and why didn’t you call meeee?” as the two of you spoke ony and connie stood annoyed behind you. they were holding all of your bags as they watched this random guy practically eye fuck you every time you happened to be looking away. you were too oblivious for your own good.

“well it was nice seein you boo. hope we could stay in touch.” sean licked his lips, looking down at you as he opened his arms for a hug. you gladly stepped into the embrace for a couple seconds before trying to pull away, but you froze as you felt a palm on you ass. “uhh sean?” “huh? oh my bad y/n you know my arms are long.” you hid your uncomfortableness with a laugh as you moved back to go rejoin your boyfriends.

as soon as you turned around they were already by your side, staring daggers into the boy. “you wanna die nigga?” ony said before grabbing sean by his collar and pushing him on a nearby wall. sweat began to bead all over his forehead as he tried to plead with your man. “n-nah man ian mean t’do that i swear.” connie stood by you, arms wrapped around your shoulder as he held you to his chest. “bet not have or so help me god i will cut that hand off so fast. get the fuck outta here before i kill you.” connie added.

sean’s body dropped to the ground as ony abruptly let him go. he ran away and didn’t look back as he disappeared from your sight. when you got home you could tell they were a bit upset about the situation that happened at the mall so you decided that maybe you could do something to make them feel better. you ran to your room, putting on a pretty lingerie set before quietly making your way back downstairs. the boys were on the game, cursing each other out before you stood in all your glory in front of the tv.

“how i look?” you asked shyly, arms crossed over your chest to hide some of the skin from them. “move your hands baby. let papi see.” “yea no need t’be shy mama. it’s just us.” your boyfriends rose from the couch, standing in either side of you as they each pulled one of your arms from your chest. “you so pretty baby. making me real hard lookin at you.” connie mumbled while palming himself through his sweats. you squeezed your legs together at the sight before your attention was put on ony. “go upstairs ma.”

your hurried upstairs, sitting in the middle of your california king bed as you waited for your men to arrive. they walked in with a pair of fuzzy cuffs and a vibrator, both of their tattooed chests on full display for you as they approached the edge of the bed. “c’mere pretty girl” connie’s smooth voice rang in your ears, coaxing you to crawl to the edge of the bed. you sat on yours knees as you looked up at him. “gon be good for us, right?” his inked hand held your chin, lightly caressing your cheek as you nodded your head.

ony then softly moved your head towards him, giving you a kiss on the lips before giving you your first instructions. “turn around and arch your back mama.” you did as you were told. arching as deep you could before you felt your hands being bound behind your back by the cuffs. “gon make you feel so good mami.” connie said as you began to feel the bed dip. he made his way in front of your head, pants long abandoned as he sat in front of you in his briefs.

you moaned as you felt ony lick a long stripe up your pussy, stopping at your entrance to penetrate you with his tongue. “f-fuck daddy.” and sharp smack was delivered to your ass, connie’s light brown eyes scolding you. “watch ya mouth pretty. don’t wanna have to gag you.” your apology got stuck in your throat as you felt ony begin roughly sucking on your clit, connie lifted the front of your body up so he could slap his tip against your mouth before looking up at ony.

“ready?” the two of them nodded to each other before both thrusting into you fully, making you gag and moan at the same time. connie’s pace on your throat was slow rather than the quick deep strokes your other boyfriend settled for. “feel so good mama. gon make daddy nut fast if you keep squeezin like that.” your body was already feeling hot as you felt ony’s hands roam all over you.

running all over your back, softly touching all your rolls and dips. connie hand was buried in your hair, guiding your head up and down his shaft before occasionally pulling it out to slap it across your tongue. “eres guapa.” he sighed. your eyes were low and unfocused. your pink tongue hung from your parted lips, letting your drool fall all over his pink tip. you looked so fucked out and they’ve barley even touched you.

“mi niña bonita.” your moans went straight to his dick as you felt ony pull out of you. he got on his knees and began fingering you as a slow pace, digging into you softly before placing the vibrator on your clit. your body jerked at the sudden stimulation, pussy fluttering before his eyes as you whined onto connie’s dick. “i know princess, feel you squeezin around my fingers.” ony dug rougher into you as he turned the vibrator up to a higher setting.

your lips disconnected from connie with a pop before you gasped loudly. “r-right there daddy ohmygod.” your hips moved on their own. gravitating towards ony’s fingers to get him deeper into you. “you like how daddy makes you feel, pretty? like when he touches that spot right here?” connie said as he was now next to you, hand outstretched under you on your lower stomach as began to push on it. “answer me baby. tell daddy thank you for making you feel so good.”

connie whispered, giving you a light smack on your ass, dragging more moans out of you before you looked back at your boyfriends. their brown eyes stared right back at you as they waited for you to comply. “t-thank you d-daddy. c-can i cum?” the vibrator was soon removed from your clit as his fingers began moving in and out at a quick pace. “my pleasure mama, but not yet. how bout you get on your back. you want papi t’feel good too, right?”

ony said. his fingers left you empty before you turned around on your back. ony and connie gave each other knowing looks after looking at your confused face. why were the cuffs still on? “cant have you pushin on my stomach princess.” he mumbled as if he were reading your mind. him and ony switched places. light brown dick tapping against your clit as ony’s laid flat on your lips. “open up mama.” as your mouth slowly opened and he began thrusting into your mouth, you felt your other lover slap his tip all over your wet pussy.

your arousal splashing onto your thighs as your boyfriend watched strings of it connect him to you. connie sunk into you slowly, dick dragging against your wet walls until stopping at the hilt. your pretty moans were muffled by the thick dick between your lips, but the vibration of them sent shivers flying down ony’s spine. “s-shit. keep fuckin her like that baby. your mouth feel so good mama.” connie nodded his head in compliance, pushing into you the same way over and over again.

pace slow and steady as your wetness began to drip onto the sheets. “fuckkk mami. you so fucking wet f’me.” you felt your orgasm nearing as connie continued fucking into you slowly. his pace never faltering as ony watched his lip get buried behind his teeth. he was trying his best to listen to his lover, but the slow pace was killing him. “i-i can’t pa i wanna go faster.” he breathed, but was quickly met with ony’s hand on his. darker skin caressing his as he looked him in the eyes. “what’d i say?” ony said sternly.

“you said keep fucking her slow like this, but-” “but nothing. if that’s what i said then you gon listen right? or do i gotta teach you after m’finished wit her.” the interaction made your pussy flutter in a way that caused connie’s eyes to roll back. you were close to the edge and your squeezing made him closer as well. “n-no pa hah- m’listenin’.”connie moaned as his other hand found its was to your throat, squeezing it slightly to make it tighter for ony’s dick.

“good boy fuck-” ony groaned as he felt his end nearing. thrusting into your mouth with a little more vigor as his hot ropes slid down your throat. soon later you came, juices pouring out of you and onto the sheets as you shook around connie’s dick. “f-fuck m’gonna cum m’gonna cum princess.” connie moaned, picking up his pace as he rubbed on your clit. you screamed as more juices rushed out of you, spraying his stomach and thighs as he thrusted one more time and stilled, cumming deep inside of you.

all three of you stayed where you were as you caught your breath. “let’s get you cleaned up mama.” ony signed. the two of them made sure to clean the sheets before running you a nice bath. both standing at the door, watching you relax. connie’s head whipped towards ony when he felt a hand on his lower back. “you didn’t listen t’me earlier don’t think i forgot. ima deal wit you later.” he mumbled before walking off to go handle business downstairs.

connie’s eyes widened as he felt his dick jump in his pajama pants. “papi can you wash my back?” your voice startled him out of his thoughts, making him jump a little before smiling and walking towards your naked figure in the tub. “of course mi vida. anything for you.”

[mintmatcha]

cw: a weird vent piece lol, suicide mention, no quirks au, mentally ill reader

You always fuck with your shirt on. You'd wear more, if you could, but you haven't figured out how to do it with your pants on yet.

You pull the sheets over your sweat chilled legs and hope he didn't notice the spots you missed shaving. If he did, Natsuo doesn't seem to mind. His arm is tucked under your head, muscle fibers occasionally twitching underneath you and turning the soft mass dense.

Sometimes, Natsuo keeps his shirt on too. Neither of you have ever asked the other about it; there's a mutual understanding when a hand is stopped.

"Do you work tonight?" he asks.

You shake your head as his body relaxes deeper into the mattress.

"I'm gonna do laundry if you want to throw your stuff in," he mumbles, "I'll get you junk to sleep in."

The medical textbooks he was studying are still on the floor, flipped to random pages of different cycles and tissues, abandoned in exchange for you. If Natsuo fails his midterms, it'll be your fault. If he passes, he'll be leaving the city next semester for his hospital rotations.

Part of you wants him to fail. It's that dirty, evil part that no one else seems to have, the part you try to starve, but it keeps growing anyway. It nips at you whenever the room gets too quiet.

It's teeth are extra sharp today.

"You're so sweet." You speak into his skin, "I don't know how you're still single."

A sharp inhale is sucked through his teeth, cutting through his smile. Natsuo takes in all of your features and you know he's wondering why you're saying these things-- why you're purposefully bringing this up.

"Well, sweetie-" His tone is light, like he's avoiding stepping on glass, stepping on glass. With every word, he walks his fingers on your arm, spanning from elbow to shoulder, "I'm only single because you keep turning me down."

The overhead fan whizzes. The part you try to starve sinks its teeth into your chest.

"Natsuo, we've talked about this," you say, "I don't date."

You sit up and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. A trail of white hair runs down his stomach and down under the sheets, disappearing where the two of you meet. He holds you by the hem of your tee, just tight enough to hold you in place.

"Would it be so bad?" he whispers.

"Here's what would happen, alright?" You brush your fingers through his sweat touched hair and it bounces right back into place the second you pull away. It makes you giggle a bit and he mirrors you, an unsure, foolish optimism in his eyes, "Let's just say I met this wonderful, beautiful boy and tricked-"

"Tricked?" he scoffs.

"Tricked him into loving me." You want to kiss him, but it feels cruel for both of you. Instead, you just cup his jaw in your hands and cradle him, letting the weight of him slump into your palms, "He'd treat me right and bring me home to meet his parents, 'cause he was raised right and, even though he's really smart, he'd think he's in love."

Fingers squeeze at your hips.

"But the second I left, his parents would tell him that he deserves someone prettier and smarter and, and, and better," you say, "And they'd be right."

“My mom’s nice," He drops your pretense with a whisper, ruining your not so careful charade. “She wouldn’t say that.”

He doesn’t mention his dad. There’s a silent sentence there. One that says, “But he might.” It’s hard to keep your brain from sticking to that point, from sticking your thumb into this metaphorical soft spot.

“I mean, she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d think it," you say, “She’d sit there and think ‘that girl's not good enough for my son' and she'd be right."

He scoff he lets out is uneasy, almost a songed laugh, more pained than annoyed. "My mom is nice."

This conversation is hurting him, but you can't stop yourself.

"And they'd tell you to break up with me, but you wouldn't listen to them, 'cause you're head strong like that. You'd probably date me in spite of them for while," you ramble, "But then you'd go away and you'd meet some pretty, normal girl and you'd realize they were right. They were always right. I was right."

The overhead fan whizzes.

"So, it's better if I just don't date at all,"

Natsuo's grip dissolves and you think you see it then - the moment whatever is between you dies. A hollowness passes over his features, empty eyes and sucked cheeks, as he ducks his head down to rest his face against your chest. Chin against the soft of your tits, he seems farther away than ever.

You could gloat. You could cry. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy once again.

Natsuo sighs and his words slip so easily from him that you almost don't process what he's saying. "You're so sad. I wish you'd get help."

That catches you off guard. The control over this conversation is ripped away, your curtain drops, and you suddenly feel very, horribly seen.

"What?" You try to laugh it off, leaning back to escape the way he watches you.

"Sometimes I wake up and you're not here," he says, "And I worry that's the last time I'll ever see you."

You understand the implication.

"I'm not gonna kill myself." It might be the truth, you think.

"Yeah," His arms wrap around your waist again, snaking the air from your lungs, "Touya promised me that too."

Touya is only ever mentioned over too many beers and tears you're not allowed to remember the next morning. He was only 16, only a couple years older than Natsuo, but the ghosts still linger to this day, always tucked into the back of the room, stalking, haunting.

Natsuo comes from money and fame. His apartment is paid for by his father. He's never had to work to afford food. At first, you resented him for that; you wanted that ease and safety his family afforded him.

But everything comes at a cost. Every unhappy family is unhappy in there own ways.

"I'm sorry that you keep loving things that break." That is the truth. You're just the end of a line of his mistakes, starting all the way at mom and dad and trailing through every girlfriend ever since.

"I do love you. And it's not despite the fact you're 'broken'," Natsuo takes your hand with a resounding firmness. It reminds you of that thing they say about golden retrievers; the smart ones can hold an egg in their jaws without shattering the shell. Natsuo holds you like he understands you in some deep, intrinsic way, "Or because of it or whatever."

He doesn't look away, those bright, wide eyes bluer than ever.

"I just like all your little pieces." He kisses your knuckles one by one, trailing from thumb to pinkie to thumb again.

The room is silent. The bad part of you is no longer begging to eat. Maybe it's full for now, but you know it's just out of focus, stalking in the dark, biding its time.

"You should study." You slip from him and reclaim your own space in the bed. After a long, simple pause, Natsuo gets up himself, collecting his boxers from the floor.

"Yeah," he says, "You're right."

The hurt you've caused is no longer comfortable to live in. Your mouth is dry, thirsty for a change you're not sure how to make. Recovery feels like a big leap-- loving and being loved feels every farther away.

All you can do is shuffle your feet against the sheets and take the tiniest step towards normalcy.

"Do you want to get brunch tomorrow before your classes?" you offer your olive branch, your silent promise, "I'll pay."

He weighs this, measuring it for sincerity, then smiles just wide enough your get a glimpse of teeth.

"Let me get you something to sleep in."

For now, it's enough.

[mixelation]

worked on some async today. takes place immediately after tori attempts to turn minato into soup

Tori watched Minato disappear into the water in great satisfaction. She peered over the embankment. Steam clouded her view, but she could see his blue and green uniform under the rolling boil of the river. The bodies of dead minnows bubble up above him. 

Then he disappeared. 

Tori tensed automatically. She hadn’t caught him dropping any Hiraishin markers anywhere, but ninja were sneaky. 

Minato didn’t spontaneously appear behind her over the course of the next minute, and Tori relaxed ever so slightly. A bigger fish came to the top of the still boiling river, its body flipping over and over. 

So. Boiling someone alive did not kill them nearly as fast as she had expected. She’d seen various propaganda about Terumi Mei cooking people alive with steam, and that varied from “instant death” if you were pro-Mei, to “incredibly long and painful and cruel” if you were anti-Mei. But Tori had given little weight to the propaganda as actual evidence, aside from that she was positive boiling hot water could kill you. 

Hopefully Minato was currently dying of his injuries wherever he had gone. While Tori could not recall any stories about people being boiled alive, but she was something of a connoisseur in bizarre and horrific bodily harm. Sometimes adrenaline was enough to get a ninja through the initial part of receiving a major injury, only to collapse moments later. Tori balled her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. She hoped his pretty eyes were cooked solid. Then he’d never be able to trick a poor girl’s heart with a pretty face ever again. 

On the other hand, given Tori had no real data about boiling people alive, she could be royally fucked if he lived. It occurred to her that he definitely had Hiraishin markers back in the village, and if he had pulled some sort of main character ninjutsu bullshit and was still fighting fit, he could just come back to the river and kill her. 

I guess I’ll just lie out my ass again, Tori decided, trying to convince her brain not to panic. She was very obviously just a civilian woman who couldn’t even get her life together to wash her hair properly. She could act hysterical and say the Kumo-nin had told her the trap did something else, or else that she was just trying to protect her home and beg for mercy. It would be humiliating, but while Minato obviously had no qualms about killing ninja without asking questions first, he did seem to want to play nice with civilians. 

Also, if he did kill her, probably he would just abandon her body like he had the Kumo-nin. He was unlikely to stick around long enough to figure out Tori’s little problem with dying and attempt to kidnap or question her over. 

It’ll fine either way, Tori told herself. She still didn’t go back to the village. Instead, she walked stiffly down the embankment as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She was going to miss the dirty laundry and the cute crab mug she’d left behind, but all her other belongings were in a storage seal, and she didn’t want to risk going back and discovering a pissed off and half-boiled Minato. 

Minato did not show to bother her at all that day, as she marched forth in a random direction. He didn’t show up during the horrible three hours of paranoid sleep she got while camping. 

When a full twenty-fours passed, Tori finally started to calm down. She’d found a fisherman and convinced him to take her further down the river than she could get walking, and while she wasn’t untrackable, she gained confidence that Minato was at the very least too injured to hunt her down immediately. 

She tried to travel deeper into Grass Country as fast as she could, paying for transport more often than she would normally. 

Days passed and no news sprang up about the Yellow Flash mysteriously dying, but also there were no new sightings of him. Tori had no way to draw real conclusions from this. Konoha was unlikely to advertise him dying or being grievously injured, but also he was a key player in the war and his enemies would be sniffing around for information like this. That there was no news could mean she’d succeeded, or it could be she’d failed and so there was nothing worth gossiping about. 

The lack of knowing what had happen turned to a festering sort of anxiety that kept her up at night and made her head dizzy at random moments. And so, Tori switched up her goals. Even if she’d killed Minato properly, that his body was somewhere where she couldn’t hide what she’d done meant Konoha could potentially track her down. She needed to protect herself more than ever. She holed up in a cheap hotel in the middle of nowhere and spent every waking moment making drafts of seal diagrams and fussing. 

How to set up a barrier that could activate faster than a ninja could kill her…? She could paint i directly on her skin, then link its activation to being hit, or to an increase in her heart rate. This would mean she’d inevitably activate it on accident when she walked into a table or got excited about something, but perhaps for now she didn’t care…

Weeks passed. Tori’s anxiety hit a maximum where she didn’t sleep at all one night, and then slowly started to calm. She obtained a raw potato and stuck it in her room’s windowsill to sprout, hoping to use it to add to her chakra phylogeny. She walked into town and stole a library book to try and add to her notes on plant and animal relatedness. She did accidentally activate her seal multiple times, but at least she knew it worked. 

Her funds were running dangerously low, and she’d have to move on soon. She started talking to people again, asking about where war refugees in this area were moving to, and if she could join a caravan. 

She was organizing her things one evening, preparing to move out the next morning. She’d spread all her various fuuinjutsu and research materials across her bed, and stood over it with her hands on her hips, debating the best way to repack and also, how to best transport a sprouted potato?

She looked up at her window potato, now in a paper cup with dirt. It had grown three alien-looking shoots, jagging out at random angles before reaching towards the window. 

Then, as she regarded her potato, a shadow passed over the window. Tori frowned. The window started to move upwards, a hand appearing in the open space, and Tori’s eyes widened. 

She panicked, obviously, which activated her barrier. This was still somehow not faster than the Yellow Flash could break into her hotel room. 

He was toe-to-toe with her in an instant, kunai in hand. Tori yelped in horror as the barrier flicked up around them, a dark pink bubble that was supposed to keep her safe. 

Somehow, Minato looked exactly the same as before, like she hadn’t done her best to turn him into soup. 

The barrier pressed him up against her, his chest and shoulders blocking her view of the rest of the room as he boxed her in, and Tori’s back hit the other side of the barrier. Minato's arm was forced forward as he bent over her, and thank God he was competent enough to roll the kunai in his hand so the broadside pressed against her neck rather than the sharp edge. His chin brushed against the top of her head. 

Tori wished he smelled bad, so she could find this new predicament gross. Instead, he just sort of smelled like dirt and an inoffensive odor of sweat. His body against hers was also warm and firm and bigger than her in a way she regrettably found she liked. 

He also maybe wanted to kill her. She needed to focus on that. The rush of adrenaline and the increase in her heart rate was very confusing in this moment. 

“Oh,” he said, sounding mildly surprised but not at all upset. The hand not holding the knife reached around her, knuckles knocking on the barrier next to her head. “Interesting. Well, I still think this is my win.”

What the hell is he talking about? Tori thought. She was sure he could feel her rapidly beating heart, as sure as she could feel his completely steady heartbeat. 

Well, if he wasn’t already pissed off, she could test the waters a little to see if she could figure out what he wanted. 

“You haven’t won yet,” she said hotly. “What are you going to do? Trap yourself indefinitely in an enclosed space with my corpse?”

He shifted slightly, bringing the kunai away from her throat. He could only pull his head away a couple inches, and he didn’t step back so his body was still pressed against hers, but it was enough distance that she could peer up and see he was smirking at her. His eyes were exactly as pretty as they’d been before. 

Oh no, his smirk is hot, Tori thought helplessly, regretting yet again that boiling was a less efficient murder technique than she’d anticipated. Her insides squirmed with some bizarre contradictory emotion. She was terrified, yes, but also she was a little turned on. 

Then suddenly they were standing on the other side of the room, near the door. He must have chucked a kunai across the room in the tiny fraction of a moment before the barrier had gone up. The barrier was still in place around them. 

Minato’s smirk slipped slightly. Somehow, Tori found his apparent confusion even hotter. 

“Oh, did you try to teleport us both out?” she asked, and smooth and coy as she could make her voice given her insides were flipping out in either panic or arousal. “You’re not getting me out of this that easily.”

Minato was outside of the barrier a second later, and the kunai clattered to her feet, undoubtedly scratching up her shoes. He’d left Tori where she stood, with the marked kunai still in the barrier in case he wanted to go back in. 

He hadn’t gone far— just back to where he’d stabbed a kunai into the wall over her bed. Somehow, on top of planting multiple kunai and outrunning her barrier, he’d also left her window potato completely untouched. Damn him for being so thorough. 

“How’d you do it?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. His eyes were bright and inviting in a way that made Tori want to answer. Even though he’d literally held a knife to her throat only a moment earlier, he just seemed like he’d be really easy to talk to. 

Touché, she thought. 

“Do what? This barrier?” she said. “Believe it or not, you’re not the only ninja who wants to kill me. A girl learns to protect herself.”

Minato flopped down to sit on her bed and cocked his head. 

“I don’t want to kill you,” he said plainly. 

“Uh-huh,” Tori replied. 

“So how long does your barrier last?” Minato asked, leaning back on his hands. “I have all night. Do you?”

Tori twitched in annoyance. The barrier was tied to her, so it would be up as long as she was alive and producing chakra, or until she chose to deactivate it. But she didn’t want him to know he could just teleport back in and kill her. It was better if he thought the barrier had a time limit, like most barriers would. 

The barrier was also draining her chakra, so it could “kill” her in a day or so without food to replenish herself. She supposed that was the time limit. 

That, or Minato could attempt to deactivate the barrier himself, which meant he’d have to teleport back inside the barrier and then remove her shirt and…

Tori’s face went hot as she imagined what his hands would feel like on her bare skin. This idea should frighten her, and yet she kind of wanted it to happen. What was wrong with her?!

Fortunately, Minato did not react to her blush and simply continued to just stare at her in mild interest. Tori turned her gaze to the kunai at her feet, desperate to distract herself. She had just enough room in her barrier to awkwardly squat down to pick it up. 

“How does this even work?” she asked, picking at the tag with the Hiraishin marker. It wasn’t hard, once she peeled up the edges, to pull the whole thing off the kunai’s handle. “This isn’t real fuinjutsu, is it?”

The tag was… well, technically it was seal script. But also it was just some characters. One of them was “love.” Why. 

Minato’s cheeks had actually turned pink. 

“It’s… it is a seal,” he spluttered. 

“What happens if I destroy it?” Tori wondered, tugging at the paper like she meant to rip it. 

Next moment, Minato was back in the barrier with her again, hands around her wrists as he pushed her back up against the barrier. 

“I stop you before you can,” he said, and somehow this made Tori’s stomach completely flip over. 

“So I can destroy it,” Tori said smartly. She wondered what he would do, if she continued to be sassy with him. 

Minato sighed dramatically. She felt the puff of his breath on the top of her head. She waited excitedly for his reply. 

He took a tiny half-step back, as far as he could get in the cramped space. He let go of her right wrist, but his other hand slipped up her arm to cover her left hand. He held it up in the small space between them, her wrist facing upwards. A brand new Hiraishin marker, written in black across the delicate skin of her wrist, glared up at her. 

Tori’s eyes widened. “When did you…?”

Minato’s stupid sexy smirk was back. “I don’t need ink to place one.”

Fuck, Tori thought. If she’d known this about the Hiraishin once upon a time, she’d definitely forgotten it. Truly this was an OP technique. 

Minato teleported back out of the barrier, this time appearing facing the bed. He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the notebooks and scrolls Tori had left out, his head leaning back to regard her window potato. 

He can also control how close he gets to the marker and his position around it, Tori thought. What the fuck, honestly. She was glad she wasn’t a ninja. She’d absolutely hate having to figure out how to fight that. 

As it were, she was a civilian. If she fought anyone outright, she’d just die. Finding out the Hiraishin was even more OP than she’d thought just meant she could figure out new ways to trick him into teleporting directly into his own demise. 

“Who taught you fuinjutsu?” Minato asked, picking up one of the scrolls and examining it. 

Tori did not answer, instead glaring at him as he went through her things and she was helpless to stop him. How rude! She liked her things! 

“I’m honestly not going to hurt you,” Minato said after a couple minutes of silence, picking up a different scroll. 

Tori eyed him, rubbing at her wrist. The Hiraishin marker didn’t smudge the way ink might. Clearly Minato was still underestimating her, if he thought she wouldn’t be willing to also destroy a marker physically on her. 

“Not the vengeful type, then?” Tori drawled. 

Minato actually laughed. He tilted his head back slightly, grinning good naturedly at her. 

“They managed to regrow all my skin, so no harm, no foul.”

They did… they did what?

The face Tori made at this statement must have been funny, because Minato laughed again. It wasn’t mocking or cruel; he sounded genuinely amused. He really did seem like he was telling the truth, that he was just here to ask questions. 

Except, Tori knew better than anyone how good a manipulation tactic playing kind and demure was. Minato was a killer and a tool of Konoha above anything else. She couldn’t forget that. 

“This is a Konoha scroll,” Minato said conversationally, holding up the scroll in question. “Where’d you get it?”

Tori narrowed her eyes at him. I’ll make him break, she decided. 

“One of your buddies decided it would be a good idea to get drunk and harass women,” Tori said, which was the truth. “So I decided he’d be better off with a pair of collapsed lungs and none of his stuff.”

Minato’s easy smile shrank slightly, and his body language turned stiff. 

There, Tori thought. Now show me your true colors. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Minato said, voice tight. 

“I’m not,” Tori replied. “What did Konoha tell you to do about me?”

Minato cocked his head to the side. He studied her for a bit, even as he tucked the Konoha scroll into the pouch at his waist. 

Eventually, he said, “They don’t think you could possibly be real.”

Tori actually laughed. It ripped out of her against her conscious efforts, a single, resounding Ha!

Minato’s lips quirked upwards, his body language loosening. 

“I already knew you’ve killed Konoha-nin,” Minato said. He picked up her notebook and flipped through it idly as he spoke, not really reading it. “And Iwa-nin, and Kusa-nin. I’ve been following you for a while.”

“Really?” Tori asked, and then wanted to slap herself at how obvious it was she wanted the attention. Minato picked up on her tone shift immediately, resummoning his stupid sexy smirk and then stepped towards her. 

“There were rumors of a fuinjutsu master, so naturally I investigated,” he said. Then he snorted with laughter. “Konoha doesn’t believe any of the rumors could be true. So I have no orders from them about you.”

“So…?” Tori prompted. She wasn’t sure if this was good news for her or not. Although, hearing Minato had been looking for her out of personal interest made her insides go all funny again. 

“So,” Minato said, eyeing her up and down. “I’m not lying when I say I don’t really want to hurt you. I’m here to make friends. I just really, really want to know more about the mysterious girl who nearly killed me.”

Then he smiled that smile again, the one that had made Tori feel safe and cared for, the one that she knew was fake. Her face went hot again, but not from whatever confusing hormonal responses she was having. Truly, if she could kill people with her mind, Minato would be dead right then and there. 

“For example,” Minato continued. He held up a page of her notebook, which contained a draft of the chakra phylogeny she was trying to make. “What is this?”

“You know,” Tori said tersely, “if you actually wanted to play nice, you wouldn’t be going through all my personal belongings like a creep. You wouldn’t have snuck in here waving knives around.”

Minato’s eyes widened slightly. His cheeks went ever so slightly pink. 

“I don’t think I want to tell you anything,” Tori said, crossing her arms. 

“I came in waving kunai around because last time we talked, you nearly killed me for no reason,” Minato replied, annoyance seeping into his voice, although he didn’t raise his volume. He jabbed a finger against the outside of the barrier. “What if this had been an offensive jutsu instead of a defensive one? I want to play nice, but don’t think you can play harmless civilian with me.”

Tori scowled. Okay. So. He had a point. And she did… she did want his attention. She liked him smiling at her as much as she hated it. 

“It’s a phylogeny,” Tori said finally, pointing at the notebook. “It’s a family tree that shows evolutionary relationships between species. I’m trying to see if more closely related things have more similar chakra than distantly related things.”

Minato stared back at her, mildly dumbfounded. Her explaining this probably just created more questions than it answered for him. 

Good, Tori thought. She wanted to be mysterious and unsolvable. 

She pointed at her window potato. 

“So my hypothesis is that that guy will have more similar chakra to the trees outside than yours or my chakra.”

Minato eyed the potato for a moment, and then stared down at the phylogeny, then looked back up at her. 

“So you’ve been carving seals into trees,” he said slowly, “to use… tree chakra…?”

“Well,” Tori said. It was unclear to her if this was a secret she should be keeping or not, but if  she wanted to establish a friendly rapport and not be killed by an upset famous ninja, probably she should tell him something. This she couldn’t exactly hide, and it was less risky territory than time travel or Orochimaru or Ame. Also… something inside her was pleased, that he’d noticed she’d been doing that. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Huh,” Minato said. 

“So will you be reporting my creative endeavors to Konoha?” Tori asked cautiously. 

“I think they’d be even less likely to believe me,” Minato said, grinning cheekily at her. “As that sounds like crazy bullshit.”

Tori felt her face collapse into a pout, and Minato’s grin broadened. 

“How about…” he said, lazily tossing the notebook back onto the bed. “Next time I bring you another plant, and you show me how you're using plant chakra?”

Tori bit her bottom lip. What was this angle? So he was threatening to come back to her, to make her show him her fuinjutsu experiments? Was he just curious, or was he mining her for information to report back to Konoha? What would happen if she said no? What would happen if she agreed?

“So you’ll bring me flowers?” she said instead of a real answer. 

He winked at her. “It’s a date, then.”

And just like that, he was gone. 

Tori sank to her knees. Her hands were shaking, and she wasn’t sure if they’d been doing that the whole time or not. The adrenaline seeped out of her, and Tori felt exhausted. 

Minato definitely could have killed her. That he didn’t must mean something, but she wasn’t ready to believe he wanted to be friends. That didn’t make sense. That wasn’t the crapsack world she lived in, or how the people of the Third Shinobi War behaved. 

She stared down at her wrist, at the Hiraishin marker now permanently affixed to her. He had acted all nice, almost flirty, but also he’d made it so she couldn’t back out if she wanted to. He wasn’t a good person, and he wasn’t as friendly as he claimed. 

He had won this round, she supposed. But he was still underestimating her. He had left her like this, assuming she wasn’t crazy enough to hack off her own skin… and assuming she wasn’t smart enough to remove the marker herself. 

Let’s see who wins the next one, Yellow Flash, Tori thought. 

[empresskylo]

Any ideas for ghost headcanons part two? 🥹😊 I love your personification of him!! Your writing is great!

(I also loved that konig brings you a tea or drink everytime he makes one for himself I like cried reading that)

more ghost headcanons!!! some headcanons mention reader being afab. some are nsfw. [previous ghost headcanons] (also thank you sm anon!!!)

♡ he's clingy af. but like, not in a needy way, more in a 'he just wants to be around you' way. he just likes to be in your presence. sometimes you think you might be boring him because you're just sitting there reading while he watches you, but he could leave at any time. he's choosing to just sit there in silence with you because he cant help but be around you.

♡ he kind of just hovers around you. he won't even realize he's doing it half the time. you'll get up to leave the room and he'll follow suit. "simon?" "hmm?" "why are you following me? I'm just going to the bathroom." "oh... I--I don't know."

♡ you stood up, stretching your arms above your head in a yawn. "i think i'm gonna go shower," you mumbled. simon got up from his seat, following you to the bathroom. "yeah, guess I could use a wash." you turned to him and raised a brow. was he inviting himself to partake in your shower? you stood a bit dumbfounded in the bathroom as simon began to strip his clothes immediately. in just his boxers he halted. "What?" he asked realizing you were simply staring at him. "you're joining my shower?" you asked. you weren't sure why, but simon's instinctual reaction assuming he was doing whatever you were doing surprised you. "don't worry, love. i'm not comin' on to you." he paused. "unless you want me to." you swatted his arm making him chuckle. he reached down and began to help you take off your shirt.

♡ he's a good cook. he's always enjoyed cooking though he doesn't get the chance to do it often. he got soooo nervous the first time he cooked anything for you. it's just something he finds really personal, so sharing it with another person made him feel a bit vulnerable. but of course, you loved whatever he made.

♡ his hair is always a mess. not only because of his mask messing his hair up, but because he's so used to having it on, he doesn't know what to do with his hair when it's not hidden by his mask. he doesn't like when it gets too long, but he also can't be bothered to cut it all the time so it frequently gets kinda shaggy.

♡ the same goes for his scruff. he gets kinda lazy about his physical appearance and so he doesn't shave that often. he doesn't usually like when he grows a full-on beard (it gets itchy under his mask) but he almost always has stubble. his hair grows so fast and thick too. like even if he shaved in the morning, by that night, his face is scratchy with stubble again.

♡ he definitely has body hair too btw (; he's got a slightly hairy chest. a nice lil happy trail. there's no way he'd every shave his chest either. he already struggles finding time to shave his face. he's just a very manly man. lots of hair....

♡ idk this is so random but he bites his nails. he does it a lot at night when he's laying in bed, just thinking. his mind tends to keep him up at night, thinking about all the shit he doesn't want to think about. it's a bad habit but it's the last thing he's worried about.

♡ speaking of bad habits, i think he's probably a smoker. not a heavy smoker, which would fuck with his lungs thus fucking with his stamina. but he likes the occasional cig. he more so smokes when he's extra stressed out. you'll often find him smoking outside the night before a big mission, his mask pushed up to his nose as he takes a hit. he smokes a lot with price too, who usually has a cigar.

♡ he is very handsy. maybe it has something to do with his trauma—he feels like you’ll disappear if he lets you go—but he always likes to have physical contact with you. he’ll walk past you and let his hand brush across your back. he likes to pull you into his side, his arm wrapped around your waist. he will aimlessly rub circles on your thigh when you sit next to him. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it but he’ll slowly pull you closer until you’re on his lap. he wraps both arms around you when you sleep in his bed—you both always wake up tangled in the morning. likes to kiss your forehead, the top of your head, your cheeks, your hand, your fingers, just everywhere on you, whenever he can. But he doesn’t love pda. so that means he won’t kiss all over you when someone else is around, but his wandering hands still somehow find their way to you, holding yours or resting on the small of your back.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

♡ likes to make you beg for it.

♡ he likes seeing you on your knees, absolutely a mess, pleading, begging for him to touch you. he enjoys making you work for it. he’ll let you suffer, bringing you to the edge just to stop and demand you tell him what he wants to hear.

♡ but that’s not to say he doesn’t like when you take revenge on him. you enjoy riling him up, making him shift his pants while you two are in public because you’ve been teasing the fuck out of him. and when you’re finally behind closed doors, you don’t let him touch you. you don’t let him anywhere near you until he falls to his knees and begs you for it. begs you to let him touch you. begs you to kiss him. begs for your permission to touch himself. begs you to let him take off your clothes. and only then, do you let him devour you, only giving you pleasure. no, he can’t come until you allow it. and honestly, simon never thought this would be his style, he definitely always preferred to be the dominant one. but something about you making him a helplessly devoted fool makes him revel in the way you can get him to succumb to you.

♡ likes to fuck you from behind (-: he loves getting a good grip on your hair, yanking you back into him as his other hand leaves bruises on your hips. and fuck if he doesn’t leave bruises all over you. your hips, chest, arms, legs, neck, just everywhere. and sometimes he feels bad after, thinking he was a bit too rough with you, but he always gets a weird swell of butterflies whenever someone else sees your bruises (knowing exactly how you got them) and seeing you get all flustered.

♡ and speaking of feeling bad about being too rough, he definitely gets dom drop (aka emotional exhaustion/feeling of guilt or depression after dominant sex). this makes him very clingy and cuddly after, always double-checking to make sure he didn't go too hard on you.

♡ he is also really good at aftercare. he will immediately clean you up, carry you to the shower, or bring out a warm washcloth. he helps you change into comfy clothes, brushes your hair, then pulls you into him so he can wrap his body around you and hold you as you both lay in bed.

♡ as much as he likes receiving, he fucking loves giving. he loves to go down on you. he fucking loves knowing he's the one making you come apart like that. loves knowing you're moaning his name because of what he's doing. goes crazy when you drag your fingers through his hair, tugging on him when he starts to suck on your clit. he often hums against you in pleasure, getting off solely from the fact that you're getting off just from his tongue.

♡ very possessive. and he often exhibits this during sex. he gets off on the fact that you're his.

♡ "say you're mine," he demands as he thrusts in and out of you. your mind is so lost in a haze you barely hear what he says. simon stops, making you whine before he speaks low and slow. "say. you're. mine." you shift under his weight, moving your hips around, making him growl. "i'm yours, simon. only yours," you pant. a sly grin forms on simon's face before he starts pounding into you relentlessly.

♡ my guy's got a bit of a breeding kink. (i don't think he necessarily wants kids. maybe in another life. but in this one, he's so committed to his job that he'd never be able to raise a kid. he'd feel especially guilty if anything ever happened to him, cutting his time with his kid short) that being said, he loves the idea of breeding you. he likes to come inside you till you overflow. likes the idea of him knocking you up.

♡ "gonna fill you up, yeah? i won't stop till you're fuckin' overflowing, love. you gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?"

♡ he's very talkative during sex. always mumbling something vulgar or demanding things from you. that, or he's muttering little praises.

♡ "you like that, baby?" "fuck, you're so tight." "god, i love it when you do that." "this feel good, yeah?" "you can cry all you want, i'm not stopping till you come again." "you're taking me so well." "tell me how much you want it." "say my name, baby." "fuck, you're squeezing me so god damn tight." "want me to make you come again?" "want me to stop, hm? no? then let me hear you beg for it." "don't keep those noises from me" "look at me." "don't you dare look away now."

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Love me back to life - Part 1

A/N: We all knew this was coming! Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story :))

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ angst but a little hurt comfort as well. Tony’s kind of an asshole in this one, the relationship isn’t exactly healthy.

Word count: 1.9k

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

He was late.

Again.

Tony had missed dinner for the fifth time in a row now, not that you were counting. It had been over fifteen hours since you last saw the man, not that you were counting. And it had been over two weeks since you had had sex with him, but not that you were counting.

Tony Stark - the man, the myth, the legend. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The best if not most popular Avenger in the entire world. A man with more enemies than friends. Also, your fiance. But you were unsure about the last bit.

He had proposed six months ago in a room full of disquisitive journalists that went ballistic at the announcement. A glittery rock that easily cost more than your apartment sat on your finger, for the world to see you were his.

Of course, that didn’t stop dumb, heavy-chested women to throw themselves at him at social events. You were privy to it all, because you had faith in him that he didn’t have eyes for anybody else. At least you knew that in the past. Now though, you weren’t so sure. It had become somewhat of a ritual for the two of you to enter a party hand in hand and go your separate ways.

He would be the center of attention, obviously, enjoying every bit of the adulation he got while you would find a deserted corner for yourself and your beloved glass of wine. By the time the night ended, or rather morning, Tony would be drunk off his ass or passed out with a random blonde drooling nearby. You would have Happy Hogan to help get him home, where he’d disappear in his lab once he regained consciousness.

Never in your life did you think you’d be jealous of a goddamn laboratory. The room who got to see Tony every single day, for the longest time, sometimes for days on end. His safe space that you once thought you were.

You did everything in your might to be there for him, it took effort and sacrifices on your part, but Tony was worth it all. He had managed to crawl his way into your heart and carve a space meant just for him, with no room for a third. You loved him with every last cell in your body, you did. You just wish he could see that, and even if he could see it, you wished he could care enough to let you know your efforts weren’t fruitless.

Yet another expensive bottle of wine sat in the ice bucket, the food you’d ordered from his favorite restaurant now cold, the velvety red dress you’d purchased just for him now hung on your frame unappreciated. Your mood plummeted with every glass of wine you finished, watching the hours tick by.

“FRIDAY, where is he?” you sighed, asking the AI who’d become your informant and best friend, as sad as that was.

In the lab, Miss. Do you want me to remind him again?

Her crisp voice sounded through the walls, almost sympathetic to your state.

“No. Don’t bother him. Wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway.” you murmured, swallowing the last bit of disappointment before getting up and heading to your room.

In the shower, you had let the tears flow and mix with the water that cascaded down your body, mind exhausted from the constant heartbreak. You knew that the only thing waiting for you outside that door was the giant, empty bed that had the last traces of Tony on them.

.

You had woken up with a stinging headache the next day, a futile glance to your left let you know Tony hadn’t made it to bed last night. It wasn’t uncommon. The occurrence had just multiplied over the last few months.

If you were keeping track, and you were, it had been over two days since Tony had slept, FRIDAY corroborated your suspicions as well.

You got dressed and headed downstairs to his lab, a blast of cold air sent chills down your spine as you entered.

There he was.

Surrounded by screens emitting a glowing blue light, mouth mumbling something incoherent to your non-science based mind, fingers trembling as he moved about the space, drawing your attention to the numerous empty cups of coffee that lay strewn. His eyes weren’t focusing on his task at hand, his stats reflected in red, flashing before you and letting you know his heart rate was way over normal.

“Tony.” you called softly, waiting for him to turn around and see you. You repeated yourself when he did not, placing a hand on his back only for him to jump and be startled at the touch.

“Hey! It’s only me.”

He seemed to relax instantly once he saw you, you however grew worried at his appearance. Eyes that looked beyond tired, bags under them concerning, his whole body language screamed exhaustion.

“FRIDAY, shut this thing off.” you mumbled, taking Tony by his hand to the couch that sat near the wall to your right. You were glad he didn’t protest, and borderline worried if he had the energy left to do so.

He didn’t.

You handed him water, watching him flinch at first probably realizing it wasn’t coffee before finishing it in one go. He grabbed your wrist before you could turn around again, looking up at you desperately, his brown orbs yelling a silent cry of help.

What broke your heart is that it wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Tony, you have to eat something.”

“No.”

He pulled you down next to him, planting his head in your lap while his arms wound around your middle, hugging you like his life depended on it, which it was. His breathing evened out as sleep finally took over almost instantly. You sighed, leaning back against the plush sofa, your fingers found their way in Tony’s hair, carding through them while your eyes brimmed with tears.

“I’d like to not die of this cold, FRI.” you closed your eyes, letting a few stray tears escape as everything around you returned to homeostasis, even if internally things were radically different.

.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, Y/N?”

Rhodey’s voice pulled your attention away from the paintings you were sifting through. A major chunk of Tony Stark’s fan following were kids, who sent him drawings of Iron Man swooping in to save the day. They always put a smile on your face, watching their faces light up with joy every time he waved at them, signed their drawings, picked one of the kids up for a pose.

“I’m pretty sure that question was meant for that crazy genius of a man signing autographs over there.”

You pointed to Tony at the far end of the restaurant you were at, clicking pictures with a bunch of teenagers who were gushing over him, signing their posters and entertaining them with his stories.

“And to answer your question, it’s been the same amount of time since he had a good night’s sleep.” you sighed, leaning back against your chair, sipping on your drink, avoiding Rhodey’s eyes.

It worried him greatly watching his two friends struggle, watching their health deteriorate in front of his eyes was heartbreaking.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“By all means, knock yourself out, Rhodes.” You chuckled, knowing fully well how that interaction was gonna go. You had been there and done that. It was falling on deaf ears.

There was a commotion which caught your eye. Tony Stark stumbled out of the restaurant clutching a hand over his heart.

Panic set in as you both followed him out, pushing people out of the way as they gathered with their phones out, capturing every moment.

You saw him step into his suit, the metal closing in around the man like a second skin before he knelt on the road in distress.

“Check the heart, Jarvis. Is it—is it the brain?” Tony took in a deep breath, trying everything in his might to find the source of his current state.

No sign of cardiac anomaly or unusual brain activity, Sir.

Jarvis spoke in his crystal clear voice, the suit display showing him stats that everything was normal.

“Okay, was I poisoned then?”

My diagnosis is that you’ve experienced a severe anxiety attack.

Tony’s eyes went wide in realization, he couldn’t believe it. His heart hammered against his ribcage, his breath still labored but he was okay. It was just an anxiety attack. It could be handled.

The chatter of people around bothered him and before you or Rhodey could utter a word, he took off, zooming off into the sky, homebound.

Rhodey wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze as you closed your eyes and sighed.

“That idiot needs an intervention and damn it, he’s gonna get one. Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll bring him back.”

.

Rhodey wasted no time in storming into his lab, catching the Avenger sitting still in the Ford Model B who looked mildly irked when his music was turned off.

“I’ve got to change the combination of the doors.” He muttered.

“Yeah, you probably should so nobody would find you dead in this lab.” Rhodey glared at the man who was avoiding his eyes, fiddling around with a screwdriver, his fingers trembling.

“Seriously Tony, what have you done to yourself?” He asked, his voice softer this time.

Tony’s eyes had sunken since the last time he saw him, his face distraught. All signs of PTSD visible in his demeanor.

“You need to accept the fact that you’re not okay, Tony. You need help. And sleep. And food—”

“And Y/N.”

Rhodey stopped mid-sentence at his admission, giving his shoulder a squeeze as Tony’s brown eyes glistened, finally looking up at his oldest friend.

“Oh I’m glad you still remember her.”

“She’ll save me. She always has.” Tony murmured mostly to himself, leaning back against the car seat.

“She’ll save you alright. But what about her? What about the relationship? There won’t be a relationship to save if you keep this up, Stark. That woman has done more for you than you could possibly imagine. You’re killing yourself and you’re taking her with you.”

Tony’s heart dropped to his stomach at Rhodey’s words. He was right.

You were there for the man since the world got to know he was Iron Man. After Obadiah Stane almost killed him, after Ivan Vanko, after he fell through the wormhole. It was you who kept him alive somehow. You had been there for him.

Always.

He, on the other hand, had always taken advantage of that. He had been a terrible boyfriend and a fiance, hell, he had been an awful human being these past few months.

It was almost surprising that you hadn’t left him yet. However, by the way your appearances in his lab had seemingly reduced, he was sure you were close to giving up. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. You didn’t deserve this treatment.

You deserved better.

Find Part 2 here :)

[gremlingottoosilly]

OMG how I love your headcanons about COD. They always give me some inspiration about these lovable character 💕

I was wondering (dont know if you already answered this) what would happen if Konig and/or Ghost and/or Price would discover their partner is ticklish? (You dont have to do three of them, you can just answer about Konig, if you want to)

It's a hazard!! Once these obsessive men are finding even about smallest of your weaknesses...yeah, it's over for you, pack your bags, everyone should leave immediately. Also, it's fine, I want to write more for other characters!! I actually have more works with obsessive 141 on my AO3, but I don't post them on Tumblr because they are Fucking Huge. Konig

Oh, this man is going to murder you. He isn't the most delicate person in the world, he has large hands, thick fingers, and the desire to touch you constantly, at any given moment his hand lingers on your inner thighs, on your waist, on the back of your neck...he discovered that you're ticklish very soon. He just wanted to press his face in your thighs, he just took off his mask for you, but then you startled giggling and squirming because the insides of your thighs are tickling from his uneven facial hair and...next thing you know, you're dropped on your back, giant hands roaming all over your tickling spots. On your armpits, your neck, the soft lower part of your tummy - he loves to make you laugh and to make you adore his touch, so even if you're crying from overstimulation, this mountain of a man is not going to stop!!

Ghost

He is having kind of a hard time touching you without lingering desire of fucking - the intimacy is still tough for him, he has too much stress to even hug you sometimes without having a raging hard-on you need to take care of, so he most likely found about you being ticklish during sex. Maybe he tried to be softer with you, kissing and handling your neck not roughly, as usual, but carefully and gently - and then you started laughing and he froze, thinking you're mocking him for trying to be gentle. You can't even calm down, his touches are tickling you too much, so when he eventually understands your feelings, he attacks your neck with kisses more and more!! This man loves stupid jokes and making you laugh, just like Konig, and he isn't above using cheap tactics to make you giggle. You can expect a random hand appearing from the darkness of your bedroom just to tickle you, disturb the cleaning process, and disappear before you can understand what the hell happened.

Price

He clearly knew this before you even knew this - he is observant and careful, so every time you think he accidentally tickled you on your side or pressed on your neck just soft enough to make you jolt in place and start giggling, he was very, very deliberate. He likes to surprise attack you with tickles, acting very immaturely for his age. Often times when you two snuggle in bed or on a couch, he will hold you in place with one hand, while starting tickling you all over your body with the other hand - you try to squirm from his bulky arms, but it's impossible(( you can only giggle and stay in place, trying to get out of his hold, but he only presses tighter(( it can also lead to very passionate sex after because all of your trashing and struggling against his crotch made your captain hard...you would have to take care of it!!

[signanothername]

hi, this is like slightly random and I’m not sure if it’ll entirely make sense, but I feel the need to as anyway.

Remember those like two nightmare panels where he lost like a soul but still had a lot more bc he ate 999 apples. Leaving him 998

And there’s also this running joke the only reason nightmare is nice (sometimes) is because 999 sad apples isn’t as bad as 1000.

so wouldn’t that mean with each apple destroyed he may become to be more like himself or even get at the least a bit more humane?

Anon i’m so glad you sent this ask >:)

Ok see that joke of Nightmare being nice cause 999 isn’t as bad as 1000? There’s some truth to it when it comes to my interpretation of Nightmare, but only at the beginning

Like when the apple incident happened and Nightmare got corrupted, his corruption made him go into madness and therefore is what made him go on a rampage killing everyone in his world, but once he settles down, that one missing apple is the very reason why Nightmare’s true self was still inside, had he gotten the last apple soon after his corruption, it would’ve killed what’s left of his passive self (and even killed him completely, considering his body barely held itself together at the time)

But why would it have killed the kind part of him? Cause children have underdeveloped personalities, Nightmare got corrupted as a child and so it shaped his personality as an adult, but that one missing apple left room for Nightmare’s sense of self to stay, the corruption had a single little weak spot that allowed Nightmare’s passive self breathing room to remain and develop along his corruption

But now that centuries went by and Nightmare’s personality developed and shaped itself into who he is now, eating the last apple won’t have much of an effect on his personality but rather his power

Now to the question, would Nightmare lose his corruption with each apple destroyed? I honestly haven’t exactly decided on what i like to think

But it’s gonna be one of three options:

A- he loses his corruption and gets back to looking like his passive self (with permanent consequences to his mind and body that won’t just poof into thin air just cause he lost his corruption)

B- there’s no such thing as him losing his corruption as it is significant part of himself at this point and with every apple destroyed he’d be weaker and weaker until eventually he becomes lifeless

C- a combination of A and B

I’ve yet to make a final decision about what I think, but it doesn’t mean I can’t just go and explore them individually, that’s why I’ve already tried exploring option A, i just never shared it chhcch

But here are my basic thoughts for option A

Losing the black apples means he might go back to his passive self look wise as the corruption lets go of his body

Which brings the question.. would he actually go back to being the kind gentle person he used to be? Would losing the apples mean that Nightmare will be back to who he used to be?

No. Not to me, because again, his personality has been already shaped by this point

Don’t get me wrong, with the corruption gone Nightmare’s thoughts would become a lot clearer in his head, his emotions and pain won’t be magnified anymore and so his reactions will be a lot less intense

But that doesn’t mean the centuries of loneliness, cruelty and fighting would just simply disappear like they were nothing

Nightmare would still be a bitch, just a bit less of a bitch than usual, cause it’s not just a matter of the corruption messing with his head, it’s a matter of how it shaped him as a person

And as you can tell, it shaped him into a cruel bitch

But you also have to put in mind Nightmare has an intense fear of feeling weak, he’s power hungry and is very obsessed with being in control cause he feels like a cornered animal, to him everything and everyone is out to get him and so he has to take the first step and make sure everyone around him fears him

So losing that corruption and by extension most his powers would make Nightmare panic so bad, cause the very first thought that’d come to his head is how he’s now helpless and defenseless exactly how he used to be, and with how he’s infamous as the king of negativity, many might come for his life if word got out that he’s defenseless

It’s a bad situation all around for Nightmare

But it also raises another question

Would Nightmare losing the apples mean he’d actually lose the corruption without consequence? Like would Nightmare just get back to looking like his passive self but with his personality that was shaped by the corruption and that’s it?

It’s something I’ve been thinking of but wouldn’t it make more sense for his body and mind to lose strength as he loses his corruption?

Something I mentioned before is how i like to believe Nightmare’s legs got extremely fucked up after his corruption, I mean come on, his bones broke in every little way you can imagine and he had tentacles get out his back, i refuse to believe that had zero consequences on his body

Like to me i feel like Nightmare might be bedridden for a good while if he loses his corruption, he absolutely would never be able to walk ever again unless he gets his corruption back, and he’d probably be completely out of strength when it comes to his arms, he’d definitely be a bit shaky

And while the corruption isn’t suffocating his thoughts anymore, Nightmare got so used to it that his much clearer thoughts feel loud and painful, the way he experiences his emotions also changes and he doesn’t know how to deal with it at all

Nightmare reaches out for what’s left of him only to be met with nothing but broken fragments that are now missing so many pieces now that his corruption is gone, even when he can still see the shards of his corruption so clearly but they’re no longer part of himself, even tho they’re extremely important to make the shape of him make sense in Nightmare’s head if that makes sense at all chchchhc

So yeah in short there’s no way for Nightmare to simply go back to how he used to be, cause to be “himself” is integral parts of both his passive and corrupted self, losing his corruption means he’s just losing parts of himself that he can never fill back

And at this point, Nightmare has been shaped to be who he is now

What I’m trying to say is that Nightmare true self is now this combination, and to only look at one side (his passive for example) is saying that an entire half of Nightmare doesn’t matter

That’s why to me, Nightmare gets pissed off at Dream’s attempts to save him from his own corruption, cause to him, it means Dream is basically telling him that he doesn’t truly care for him as he claims cause Dream isn’t ready to accept that THIS, is who Nightmare is a whole now

And until Dream shows full acceptance of Nightmare, corruption included (even if he lost said corruption) Nightmare would never believe that Dream truly cares, and even if he believed he truly did, to him, Dream doesn’t care in a way that matters :)

[storm-angel989]

Yo I love your work.. anyway can I request Val x Fem Reader when Reader is on their period and the rest is up to you (I’ll cry if you actually notice)

Hi Friend,

Thank you for sending in your request! I always notice and read a request- sometimes it just takes time for my brain to buzz.

Now I have written this before. The link is here:

Valentino x Reader (Period Pains)

That being said….

Here is another version! Think OTO reader and Val after they’re married. 

<3 Mandy

The bright red stains on my favorite pajama pants began the start of that cursed day. It was going to be one of those mornings that lasted all day. 

It didn’t help that I woke up alone, my husband off to do whatever it was he did in his studio. Vox and Velvette were working and me? I was by myself. Which, as I poured myself a cup of coffee and stirred in my creamer, I figured was better that way. 

I lifted the mug to my lips and took the first sip of what should have been a heavenly experience. Instead, I was met with the bitter taste of peppermint.  I spat it into the sink and went to set my mug down. Somehow I missed the counter and shards of ceramic splatted the floor. 

“Fuck!” I yelled across the empty flat. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and cleaned up the mess as quickly as I could, tossing the shards into the garbage. Housekeeping would be up later, but with how the day was already turning out, I didn’t want to risk stepping on a rouge shard. 

“Who the fuck puts peppermint into their coffee without mocha?” I growled aloud as I shoved the creamer back in the fridge. 

Of course, I knew the answer was Vox. As much as he pretended he only drank black coffee, those of us who lived with him knew his guilty pleasure. Random flavored coffee creamers that appeared in the fridge each time it was restocked. It was just my bad luck that I had grabbed the wrong one this morning. 

Shoving the thought of making another cup of coffee to the side, I jumped into the shower, willing the hot water to take away the cramps that slowly awakened with each movement of the day. Fuck, there were some days I hated being a girl. 

But, like all women, being on our period wasn’t an excuse to miss work. Going to see Velvette in her studio was always an option, but just the thought of being touched by another being made me annoyed. I gingerly dressed myself and pulled my hair up into a bun. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I grumbled as I tried to hide the tiny whiteheads that appeared overnight with a strong dose of foundation. 

“Okay, I can do this,” I said to my reflection as I swallowed down several advil. “I got this.” 

Ten hours, eighteen phone calls and one ruined pair of underpants later, I stormed back upstairs to our apartment. 

“Babygirl, you’re home late,” Valentino’s voice rang out.

“I know, fuck,” I snapped without thought. The cramps, masked by the Advil I had taken this morning, left me both nauseous and crabby.  Every part of my body ached, and I could feel a headache starting to brew. I slammed the door behind me as I stripped off my outfit for the day. 

The bright red bloodstain on the back of my dress. I stared at it and without really knowing why, I burst into tears in the middle of my room. 

“Bebita?” Valentino’s voice came quietly from behind me. 

I felt him tug the dress from my hand and he wrapped his arms around me. I didn’t have to say a thing and instead laid my head on his chest as I sobbed. 

“Nothing a little stain remover can’t take out,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright. Why don’t you get in the shower? I’ll get your pjs and…”

“My two favorite ones are wrecked,” I choked out softly. “I bled all over the ones this morning, and my backups have a hole in them and…”

He pressed a finger to my lip and kissed my forehead. “Just let me figure it out while you go shower, okay?” 

There was something about he way he said it that left me with a feeling of comfort. I disappeared into the shower and by the time I came out, he was leaning against the bathroom sink, waiting. He handed me a towel and watched as I wrapped it around myself. 

“I have a heating pad and a cup of tea ready for you in bed. Toast, if you’re hungry. Advil if you want it. And if you’re in the mood to cuddle, I’m here. If not, I can stay with you or give you space. Remote is yours either way.” He pointed to a pile of clothes. “Period underpants. Vel sent them up. And…wear my pjs tonight. They’ll be looser than anything you own.” 

“Thanks, Val,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch when I came in.”

He cracked a smile. “Mi amore, I don’t think you know the true meaning of that word. Come on out when you’re ready.” 

I watched the door close behind me and got dressed in the outfit he left for me. I settled into bed next to him and sipped the warm tea. 

“I love you Val,” I said after a few moments. 

“I love you too, bebita. Even when you’re cranky,” he replied lightly. “And I always will.”

[lucrativesoul]

i love soft husband leon. who doesn't? what about soft leon who loves that you are a bookworm and dedicates himself to being your biggest fan? i am on board for this.

Ever since you had met, Leon knew how much of a reader you were. So much so, that before anything serious had even transpired between you two, he vowed to be the reason for your eventually massive book collection.

He had never said it out loud, but he loved your dedication to your reading space and how you cared for your growing library. You treated it like an entity, and he couldn’t help but always admire your effort that you put into it. He never thought that he was a second choice to your affection, rather, he preferred seeing you in the state of caring for your passion. It only made him fall more.

Every anniversary, birthday, holiday that required gifts possible, he was buying you a book or something to put in the room. Leon was always paying attention to what you say you need to add, or what you want to read, or something that would make the room look brighter.

Some of his favorite moments with you are the silent nights where he was sitting at one end of the couch, either on his phone or mirroring you and (giving it his best attempt) reading, and you were always right next to him with your own book. If you were close enough to the table, a mug with that night’s choice of drink not far from your reach, and one body part always in contact with him. The peace of the air calmed him after a day at work, or when something insignificant in his life went wrong, and even just looking over at you in your blissful state was enough to soothe him.

Leon, truthfully, loved nothing more than seeing you absorbed in your own worlds. Before he had met you, he thought it impossible that he could live a life where he even had a few moments of a quiet mind. He had no idea that one person could flip that all on its head. You became that for him. And when you are in your own little world, happy as can be (or sad, Leon has seen your many moods with the books you choose), he is reminded of the day that altered his life path forever.

Leon shows up with random plants sometimes. Nothing compliments a warm library space like a good plant, and eventually you had to tell him to slow down, as you were running out of room. (That really wasn’t true, you had a whole shelf and the both of you knew it. You would happily fill it with any plant he brought in, but he stayed conscious to keep it open in order to leave space for all the books he was planning on giving you).

Coming home from work, if you weren’t in the kitchen pouring yourself another mug of whatever it was that you chose for the night, you were in your reading room. The huge chair (that Leon supplied) held you snuggly against the thick knit blanket (from Leon) with your signature mug placed on the side table (...Leon) was exactly how he liked to find you. As much as it pained him to interrupt your reading, he always comes in to greet you, heart lightening at your expression at seeing him home, even if it was in the middle of a sentence.

Basically, Leon knew he made the right choice in choosing you to marry. He thought it would never happen to find someone who was his light even when you weren't paying attention to him. Just the mere sight of you had his heart racing. His safe space was with you, and with you always came the books and the comfort, so for the rest of his life, he knew he was bound to think of you every time he looked at a leather bound hardcover, already being able to picture you flipping through it.

a/n: i'm sorry for being silent! as i said before, the semester is in swing and i only have a month left now! i'm still thinking up ideas for my next full length, but i have not disappeared yet. please check out my others in the meantime if you haven’t already, and i will continue to work hard to make sure i deliver to my utmost quality. thank you for reading <3