#staff is at the wrong angle

[booksandfairytales]

Trying to get better at drawing by starting with redrawing screen caps

Definitely needs work, but getting there

[rmorde]

What's happening with MAPPA ?

Their scheduling is simply terrible and its killing animators on the inside. Many big name animators are posting online how little of a time they are being given to work on the episode. I have seen one artist post how they only have 5 days (!) to draw a sequence. The Choso vs Yuji episode only finished post-production BARELY A DAY before it aired. It's insane.

Shibuya Arc is action-heavy and the expectations for the animation is high. Artists HAVE to deliver high quality work on the project because their reputation is on the line.

Some of the artists have been posting how hellish it is to work on MAPPA. The director of the last episode felt so bad about how "terrible" it is and apologized. Some have barely enough time to submit their sketches, in-between art, key frames, corrections, etc.

Now, for us, the episode is great. However, "sakuga" fans are more discerning and would see how its faltering in some parts. They can tell how the staff is struggling and are being forced to produce "subpar" results because of the 7 day production schedule.

*Sakuga = High quality Animation = 24 frames (drawings) per second

The staff takes great pride in their work. So, having to deliver subpar "sakuga" to audiences is horrible for their mentality and confidence. They do not want that to be their legacy - which is a big deal for them.

Think these episodes look great already? Had the animators have more time, they would have looked even better!

The fact that the staff can still make episodes look so good by sheer will and god-like drawing skills despite their schedule should be given a lot of respect and admiration.

Now, why haven't the staff been given more time?

It's because MAPPA is greedy. Not only is the studio producing JJK. They have other big projects going on alongside it: AOT, Vinland Saga, CSM. All of them had to look good. The staff have barely any time to breathe as they are treated like machines to deliver high quality animation season after season.

While CSM is being produced, the staff are already working on JJK 0 and then JJK S2 Hidden Inventory. It resulted with CSM's last few episodes being janky. JJK 0 was great and Hidden Inventory, obviously, was really polished (at the cost of Hell's Paradise being average imo tho).

Then we have Shibuya Arc. In all honesty, I wished they have delayed this a bit later. Maybe turned it into a winter season anime because again Shibuya Arc is:

Very very hyped. It HAS to look good and polished.

Lots of Action. Action is like the crowning jewel of any shonen anime and JJK has the reputation of being the best at delivering it. They CANNOT mess this up. *Cue PTSD to the insane complaints of the Toji vs Gojo Round 2 + Yuji vs Locust Curse episodes*

The solution should have been: Delay the anime so the animators can breathe and deliver their best which would make Shibuya Arc as polished, if not better, than Hidden Inventory.

Sadly, with MAPPA's insanity, it is impossible:

The staff are juggling so many high-tier projects. They have no room to "take their time" so to speak. They have to "GO! GO! GO!"

The "airtime" has already been reserved. Any delays would cost them losing a slot of airtime which meant the series MAY NOT completely be televised (which I think was the fate of ZOM100). Lost airtime means lost profit and MAPPA can't have that.

Fan anticipation. I wish I could lie about it but I just know some entitled assholes would harass the studio and the staff about animating Shibuya Arc ASAP. Fans can really put a lot of hype and pressure for JJK at the same time.

Now here are just my own opinion. But other factors may be:

4. MAPPA wants to capitalize Halloween. Just look at all the merch and collab events! All profits from those would go to the studio and not Gege. Gege's profit are JUST from the manga. Anime-related merch/products would be for the benefit of its manufacturers, studio, and shops only.

5. Timing things with the manga. Prime example: Gojo. (I am not too sure about this tho).

One reason I am excluding is the staff not working on the project because they may be busy with something else. JJK is a huge! New animators would love to have that as part of their portfolio. Big names in the industry would have wanted to work on it too because of the challenge it poses and their love for the manga series or animation in general as well.

TL;DR: It's all MAPPA's fault and not the staff. The studio wanted everything out of greediness while the animators just want to bring out their very best at their own pace.

[ellecdc]

⬜️idea!🟩

poly marauders. reader sees James fall off of his broom during a game. he gets injured, but makes it out fine. it affects reader more than she wishes to admit, but hides her concern/fear. maybe her hurt turns into anger when she hears him talk highly about his upcoming game, snaps at him to leave the team (maybe Sirius and Remus ganging up on her too?) maybe after a nightmare she seeks him out, apologizing and just wanting to ensure he’s all alright?

maybe a fic on this, if you wish to!

hi sweets! thanks for this idea - I hope I did it justice!

poly!marauders x fem!reader who hates seeing her boys get hurt - 2.7k words

CW: James gets injured [he's fine tho], brief mention of Sirius' crappy childhood, angst [with a happy ending, obviously], poor communication [but ends in good communication]

Every step you took seemed to lodge your heart further and further up your throat; you were nearly certain that one wrong move would have it leaping right out of your mouth as you made your way to the infirmary.

You had a one track mind as you pushed your way through various students and staff in the halls; get to James. Get to James. Get to James.

You had been sitting with your friends from Ravenclaw during the game instead of with Remus and Lily which was obviously problem number one.

Problem number two had to be this stupid sodding game - quidditch. Whoever invented it clearly wished death on many generations to come.

The third problem - and arguably your biggest problem - had been watching James hurdle from nearly thirty feet in the air before hitting the ground with a bone crushing thud. 

You were certain you were only three steps away from actually losing your heart (and your dinner) as you pushed your way into the infirmary to see two familiar silhouettes standing over a hospital bed.

Whatever relief the sight of two of your boys had on you quickly melted into something uneasy when Sirius let out a bark of laughter. 

“Hope he gets suspended for at least one game.” You heard James chuckle, which caused Remus to snort.

“Please, Madame Hootch looked like she was ready to bar him from the pitch all together.” 

“Good; one less beater we have to worry about then.” Sirius added before you stepped around the curtain to look at the patient and alert them all to your presence.

Save the bandage currently wrapped around James’ head and the fact that his left arm was situated in a sling, he looked like he was being served a cheeky breakfast in bed rather than emergency medical care.

“Hey sweetheart! Did you enjoy the game?” He called to you with a cartoonish smile on his face. 

You found that you had no response to that. 

Did you enjoy the game? You had been enjoying the game, until…oh…you don’t know, had to watch your sodding boyfriend fall out of the godsdamn sky!? 

You took a moment to survey your surroundings. You currently had:

One boyfriend situated in a hospital bed with an injury to his head and clearly something wrong with the left side of his body

There was an empty bottle of pain potion and what looked to be a vial of skele-gro 

Your long haired boyfriend was still decked in his quidditch kit as he took a casual and sloppy seat in the chair beside James’ bed

And Remus roughly patted James’ knee as he moved to stand on the other side of him, leaving you standing at the end of the bed on your own as all three of your boyfriends waited for you to respond. 

“No.”

James’ brows furrowed momentarily as he cocked his head to the side as if perhaps your answer would make more sense from a 45 degree angle. 

Remus merely offered you a sympathetic smile. 

“No?” James parroted.

“No.” You insisted, growing more and more agitated at the nonchalance the boys were showing the current circumstances. 

“Not enough action for you, dollface?” Sirius teased.

That apparently had been your last straw.

“Oh fuck off, Sirius.” You hissed, causing the air to be sucked out of your quasi curtain-walled room. 

“Hey, easy Y/N…” Remus started, but it was too late.

“What the fuck were you doing out there?” You asked James pointedly, throwing your arm behind you as you gestured in the direction of the quidditch pitch.

“Erm…I was playing quidditch?” 

“That was a trick question, babe.” Sirius added rather unhelpfully; smirking at Remus and James.

“This isn’t sodding funny Sirius; he could’ve died!”

“But he didn’t.” Sirius offered with a tone harsher than you were used to hearing from him, though you figured perhaps you deserved it. “As you can clearly see, he’s fine.”

“He’s not fine.” You fumed, gesturing to his current state. “He could have brain damage, he could have broken his neck, he could have-”

“But I didn’t, sweetheart. Listen, I know-”

“No!” You cut James off. “I don’t think you do know. Because you’re sitting here laughing like it’s nothing!” 

“Because it is nothing, dovey. Look, I know you’re upset but I think all you needed was to come and see that he was fine, yeah?” Remus tried placatingly, holding his hands up at you as if he were trying to quell a feral cat. 

That just made you feel even more angry.

“No, what I need is for him to quit the team.” 

James choked on air as Sirius started laughing incredulously. 

“Okay, doll; clearly you’re not feeling very well right now. James ‘Quidditch’ Potter, Gryffindor team captain, is not quitting the team.” 

“I don’t understand how you can so calmly climb atop a wooden stick and ascend 30-50 feet into the air just to fall like that.” You argued.

“Well, you see, I actually wasn’t supposed to fall. That was sort of the problem.” James started, causing Remus to snicker. 

“Stop laughing.” You shouted; horrified when your voice cracked and your sinuses filled painfully. 

Unfortunately for you, all three boys caught it.

“Dove…”

“Don’t dove me, Remus. I’m serious - don’t you fucking dare.” You cut yourself off as Sirius opened his mouth.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You pleaded with James.

James very rarely got angry or frustrated with you; he was one of the most easy going people you had ever met in your life and he was always the first to have considered every person’s feelings and sides before participating in discourse. 

But you seemed to have found something he was not willing to negotiate about. 

“What exactly is it that am I doing to you, Y/N? Because from where I’m standing, I’m the one who’s hurt.”

“James…” Remus started, but much like you had, James cut him off.

“No! I don’t see her getting all worked up about Sirius playing quidditch!”

“Because people in his position are the one’s trying to knock you out of the fucking air!” You argued.

“That is the point of quidditch!” He bellowed back at you.

“Okay, enough.” Sirius barked. “James, relax, it’s alright. She’s just upset.”

You laughed humourlessly as you looked to the sky for patience.

It didn’t come.

“I’m not just ‘upset’. I have spent countless holidays waiting,” You started severely, still looking towards the ceiling as you tried to ward off your tears. “Wondering what kind of state you might be in, how you were being treated. Wondering if-” You choked on a sob and shut your eyes harshly as the first wave of tears fell. “If you’d even come back at all, Sirius.” You finally finished with a laugh that turned into a sob as you finally made eye contact with him.

“Every winter.” You continued. “Every Easter break. And every summer, which were always the hardest because they were the longest and there was no way for me to know. 

“And every month I sit and wait and watch and worry and wonder and hope and fear.” You continued, turning your gaze to Remus. “And I will never stop waiting and watching and worrying and wondering and hoping and fearing but-”

Finally, you turned your gaze back towards James. “But to do this willingly, to… I don’t know, to put yourself in harm's way for what? For sport, for fun, for a goof? I…I don’t understand.” 

James let out a sad and tired sigh as he looked at you pleadingly. “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry I upset you; I really am.”

“No, no - don’t apologise just because I’m crying.” You argued as you wiped angrily at your face. 

“I think it makes sense to be upset, dove. You’re worried; that’s more than fair.” Remus offered; ever the voice of reason.

But the more he discussed your feelings and concerns and not the actual problem - which in your opinion was currently your third boyfriend holed up in a hospital bed - you could feel your temper rising again. 

“I can’t do this. I need to go.” You announced before turning on your heel.

“Y/N, wait.” You could hear Sirius start, but you carried on and let the door to the hospital wing shut behind you.

You felt silly.

You were still upset, but you felt silly all the same. 

You aren’t sure where you got off demanding James quit the team, but you do wish he would take his health and safety a little more seriously, at least for your sake.

But you hadn’t said that to him.

And you shouldn’t have brought up Sirius’ trauma to push your point across when you had been the one walking into their conversation with an air of hostility about you.

And Remus, poor Remus.

You had no right to bring up his affliction like that; you knew he struggled letting people in for that very reason.

Gods, you were awful. 

But you were still upset.

You were awful and upset, which was why you were currently sitting behind the curtains of your four poster bed simply tossing and turning without any hope of ever falling asleep. 

Not whilst angry, and not alone. 

Before you had much time to think about it, you felt a familiar…scurrying on the side of your bed.

“What in Godric’s fucking name?” You hissed as you pulled your blankets back in a panic to expose a yellow rat looking rather guilty (or, as guilty as a rat could manage to look) with a folded piece of paper in its mouth. 

You stared at the rat disbelievingly as it slowly dropped the note beside you before sitting down and looking at you expectantly. 

“What?” You asked expressionlessly. 

The rat - being a rat - simply looked back down at the note before returning its gaze to you.

“You need me to read that?”

The rat seemed to nod yes.

“Now?” You deadpanned.

Yes.

“Did they pay you for your efforts?”

Yes. 

“Tell them to pay you double.” You sighed as you unfolded the note. 

I’m sorry, sweet girl.

I shouldn’t have snapped at you, especially when all you were trying to do was care for me.

Please come see me? 

I’m sorry. 

You could almost hear the desperation in James’ words as you traced your fingers over the xx’s he had signed on the bottom. 

You looked down to see the rat was still sitting there.

“For fucks- you’re job is done, Peter. Tell them to pay up.” You muttered in faux contempt as you felt any residual ire melt from your body. 

The rat seemed to give you a little pat on the knee with his tiny hand before he scurried off back down the stairs of the girls dormitory. 

After washing your face to try to hide any remaining evidence of tears being shed, you stalked towards the boys’ dormitory with your own metaphorical tail between your legs before you paused in front of their door to knock.

Your fist had hardly made contact with the wood before the door was flying open to expose a rather bedraggled looking James.

“Angel.” He breathed out, seemingly simultaneously relieved that you were here and worried about what the next words coming from your mouth would be. 

“Jamie.” You sighed, hating the fact that you had just spent time and effort to hide any evidence of previous emotions only for your voice to crack and your eyes to fill with tears immediately.

Thankfully, it seemed James was prepared.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathed out; words muffled from where his lips were pressed into the crown of your head as he pulled you tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry; I should never have shouted at you.”

“I was being unreasonable.” You argued, causing James to make a pleading sound in the back of his throat.

“You weren’t being unreasonable. You were upset and I brushed you off.”

“Can we both be sorry?” You asked as he rubbed his hands up and down your back.

“Only if you can tell me what you did that was so wrong.”

“I should never have asked you to quit.” You whispered; embarrassment flooding you at the mere memory of your demand. 

James let out a sigh as he backed up enough to see your face, but not far enough to let you out of his hold. 

“I…I think I can understand why, though. I don’t think you would have jumped to that if I had taken my injuries more seriously.”

You let out a noncommittal sound as you pushed your face back into his chest. “I’m still sorry.”

“I would, you know.” He said suddenly.

“Would what?”

“Quit.”

You pulled your head back rather suddenly at that causing a momentary bout of dizziness that even James seemed to notice as he helped you right yourself. 

“James ‘Quidditch’ Potter would quit quidditch?” You asked disbelievingly. 

“Try saying that five times fast.” Remus chuckled quietly, causing you to turn to find him sitting on the edge of Sirius’ bed with his hand resting atop a rather pitiful looking Padfoot. 

“Pads…” You whispered, causing Sirius’ dog form to step off the bed and make his way over to you, nudging your hand with his wet nose. “I’m so sorry for the way I spoke to you; you didn’t deserve that.” 

Seemingly appeased that you weren’t about to lash out at him again, your (arguably most) sensitive boyfriend spun back into his human form and stood rather bashfully in front of you. “I completely brushed you off; I would have told me to fuck off too.” He offered as he took one of your hands in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry I took all of my anxieties and concerns out on you. None of you deserved it and it’s not your responsibility.” You declared, pointedly looking towards your last boyfriend who you felt arguably most guilty for having accosted earlier. 

“I appreciate your apology, dove, but I disagree with part of it.” Remus said as he stood and made his way over to your three. “Your anxieties and concerns are our responsibility; they became our responsibility the second we started dating.”

“And we right fumbled that.” James let out with a breath, causing Sirius to smirk and pinch his good arm. 

“I got upset when I didn’t think any of you were taking it seriously, and then got defensive when it felt like you were being flippant with me. I wish I had handled it differently.” You explained, leaning into Remus’ side as he pulled you under his arm. 

“I’d say we all could have handled it differently.” Remus decided as the rest of you nodded. 

“Next time?” Sirius asked then.

Remus scoffed. “Haven’t you heard, Pads? There won’t be a next time; James is quitting the team.”

James seemed to baulk at that fact before he turned to look at you, face falling forcefully neutral as he took a deep breath.

“Right… yes. If…if that’s what you want.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your sweetest boy before jostling his shoulder that had been in a sling. 

“Where’d your bandages go?”

He turned slightly bashful before looking towards Remus. 

“Erm, well, I had wanted to come find you immediately afterwards, but we thought it might be better to wait until I didn’t look so…hospitalised.” 

“What Prongs is trying to say,” Sirius teased as he looked at James with no shortage of love. “Is that the pain potion and skele-gro did their jobs and he’s back in tip top shape for his girl.” 

You let out a sigh of faux exhaustion and rolled your eyes. “Well then I suppose I could allow you to continue playing if you promise to be extra careful going forward, and also to cuddle me the whole night after every game?” 

“Deal.” He agreed quickly before enveloping you in a hug so big that it picked you up off your feet.

“Oh yeah.” Remus laughed. “He’s right back in tip top shape indeed.”

[necromancelena]

That staff message really is just Tumblr taking the whole "lots of people are criticising the ceo but doing it from a 'haha that matt guy is a clown' angle while completely ignoring transmisogyny as an issue so things can go back to a shitty status quo" thing and turning it into their official strategy moving forward.

Like "yeah sorry looks like Matt fucked up a bit oops. We're gonna be so good from now on though! Don't mind that any time we accept that something is wrong we say 'this hurt the LGBT community' and then the one time the word 'trans feminine' was used it's to categorically deny that trans women have ever been targeted. Don't think about it too hard! 😊"

[fluffylino]

annoyed!hyunjin

you decide to say sorry in your own way~

-contains suggestive themes

"pay attention to me?" hyunjin asked for the 4th time. you hummed, disagreeing. you could feel his eyes on you. they were still at mcountdown. he had about an hour until the actual recording.

the others had gone to get something to eat while felix and han were rolling around on the floor. jisung had fallen asleep right next to your leg. you stared at the words in your textbook, or tried to. hyunjin was stuffing cereal into his mouth, his eyes following whatever you were reading.

"look at me" he pleaded but you spared him no glance. you hadn't even realised he was sulking. the door shut and you looked up after what seemed like hours.

hyunjin had walked out. you didn't think much of it. that was until he refused to talk to you for the rest of the day. you also had pride so you weren't one to beg for his attention.

"hyunjinnn" you called out, a big smile on your face. your heart dropping when he locked eyes with you for less that a second. going back to his conversation with a staff member. time had past you sat on the couch, watching them practice.

you slowly began to get sleepy even though the music was loud enough to keep you awake. you laid down, curling into a ball. drifting into dreamland.

when you woke up next, you shuffled around. something was different. what you were laying on was softer yet firmer. it all made sense when you heard hyunjin's voice above you. no, he wasn't talking to you. he was discussing something- their positions or where they were to walk around on stage to changbin. a few minutes passed and you heard the door close. was practice done?! no unfortunately.

you squinted, lights very bright for your comfort, admiring his face. how could he look this good for an angle made to look people bad?

you could feel his fingers very subtly running through your hair. and his other hand outstretched to pat your thigh. the moment he looked down at you, you shut your eyes, moving closer to him. your face against his stomach. trying your best to not make it look like you were actually awake, you slid your arm behind him, holding on to this lower waist.

all you could smell was him. heat radiated off of him and he smelt....musky. like he had just danced his butt off.

finally you opened your eyes. he took notice of it. his hands moving away to rest against the backrest of the black couch.

oh...so he was still mad at you. at this point, you couldn't help but feel guilty. you didn't mean to do that.

"baby...im sorry" you mumbled, looking up at him. he avoided your gaze. pretending? to look around the room.

"hyunnie sorry please.." you tugged his shirt a bit, holding his waist more firmly. yet he didn't respond. but hyunnie was his favourite nickname.

"you can slap me, i was stupid" you whined, pushing your face against his stomach with force. he jerked forward. you nipped at him. making no attempt to stop. his hands frantically held you back. or atleast he tried to. you wriggled around, throwing a playful tantrum. until you accidently touched the wrong place.

he shot you a glare.

"behave yourself"

of course you were going to apologize since everyone was still there but you wanted to do more. just to piss him off. if he was annoyed at you earlier, you wanted to tick him off even more in a much different way.

no one would even see what you were doing. unless they actually *looked*.

you bit the string of his sweatpants, pulling on it lightly. he shot you another look.

this time keeping his eyes on you. you mouthed at his covered crotch, poking your tongue out on where you knew his tip would be. he scoffed. an open mouth smile on his face.

"jinnie" you mumbled, hyunjin raised an eyebrow.

"not now. not...here"

"please?" how could he deny you when you asked so nicely.

"is this how you plan on apologizing?" he whispered, just for you to hear.

"I didn't mean to do that..im sorry" you apologized, tugging his pants down just enough to reveal his waistband.

hyunjin coughed.

he pulled his camera out, snapping a somewhat blurry picture.

"you're just too drunk on my dick" he commented in a hushed voice. you blushed.

what could you do? he had a good cock...an amazing one and he knew how to use it. you nuzzled against him.

"its like your asking me to take more pics of you" he laughed quietly.

you remembered the last time.

.

.

"look at the camera" hyunjin said, holding the polaroid camera up in a way he could capture everything. his words never reached you.

how did he expect you to hear him? when you were stuffed full of his cock. he pushed your hands away from your face, choosing to pry your mouth open. shoving two fingers so far back, you gagged silently. tears slipping out.

he pressed himself deeper, snapping a pic. you closed your eyes as it flashed.

"good girl" he praised you, placing the camera down on the bed.

"so so so good for me" your heart swelled at how much he complimented you. everything about you.

[imissnanami]

Perfect Aim w/ Nanami K.

KINK!tober w/ Nana Oct. 2 m.list

MDNI | nsfw use of ct, creampie, p in v, mating press a/n: for that other anon (UwU)

Four members of Jujitsu Kaisen’s staff sat in a meeting room. While waiting for Yaga, the conversation turned raunchier. The topic at hand? Whether or not Gojo’s cursed technique would be useful in the bedroom. Gojo obviously argued yes while Geto said that it would definitely not. Shoko thought it was stupid and typed away on her phone, idly listening. 

Up ‘till this point, Nanami had managed to remain neutral, or rather out of the conversation entirely by staying quiet. And hiding behind his newspaper. Well, until the strongest wasn’t satisfied with a tie. Gojo whined for Nanami to help him.

“Nanamiii~, you agree, right? Tell Suguru that he’s wrong, ok?” Gojo looked expectantly at the blond man. Geto also stared at him, not as invested but curious to see what Nanami would say.

Letting out a sigh, Nanami realized he wouldn’t be able to stay out of it any longer. Unfortunately. Folding his newspaper and turning to Gojo, he said,

“I think it’s stupid. If your only valid point is that your infinity is possibly equal to a 50 yen condom, then I’d die on another hill.” 

Gojo let out a dramatically loud gasp while Geto laughed at him. Shoko, who had stopped typing to listen, chuckled too. Geto spoke,

“Well Satoru, our precious kohai has spoken.”

Gojo scrambled for words, looking between the two. Yelling at Geto first,

“He didn’t mean it!” And then to Nanami,

“How could you betray me like that, I thought we had something special,” while wiping away a non-existent tear. 

Once they had settled down again, Shoko asked,

“Could you eve use a cursed technique for sex? Yanno cause they’re meant to be used on curses and all.”

The two strongest looked at one another, seeming not have considered that aspect of the conversation. Gojo simply shrugged, now bored with the conversation cause he lost. Geto stroked his chin, before humming. 

“I don’t really know. I mean mine isn’t really suited to it either way.”

Turning to Nanami once again, he asked,

“Nanami, What do you think?”

Nanami pursed his lips, thinking.

He thought back to last night. Specifically the memory of you laying on your back as he held you in a mean mating press. You were pressed up against the headboard. As the two of you fucked, you had migrated higher and higher on the bed. Each of his deep and strong thrusts inched you up. Your head, cushioned by a pillow, pushed forward as you stared up at Kento. His strong arms caged you in and supported his weight. You were bent in half, your thighs pinned to your chest and your knees by his ears. Sweat dripped down his body and as you looked up into his face, his eyebrows were drawn together in pleasure. Hot puffs of air passed through his open lips as he stared back at you. His golden hair fell into his line of vision but neither of you cared. 

Leaning forwards and angling your bodies closer together, he looked down. What he saw nearly made him cum on the spot. Your lower stomach was shiny with your cum. Your fat pussy lips bulged around his thick shaft, stretching to accommodate his length. With each thrust he saw the way your clitoral hood pulled back to reveal your swollen and glossy bud. A creamy ring of white decorated his base and matted the dark blond hair above. Feeling his mouth water he focuses on your steady stream of moans. He needed to change that. You should be absolutely wrecked and falling apart on his cum covered cock. 

Closing his eyes and concentrates on how your body reacts to each of his thrusts. Pulling out, how the vacuum of your pussy is desperately trying to stop him from leaving. How your muscles grip his length, milking it, begging for velvety ropes of cum. Pushing in, how there is resistance as his thick mushroom head pushes past the tight ring of muscles. How your gummy texture massages each vein on his length. How his slit drags against your walls, and kisses your cervix with each thrust. Suddenly, as if it were instinct, he knew exactly how to angle his hips, the exact depth of thrust, and the perfect pace. A feeling paralleling the one he gets when he uses his ct makes its way down his spine. 

The first thrust pulls a loud yell from your throat. The second has your hands scrambling for purchase, drawing red lines along his arms and chest. The third has tears welling in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you sob in pleasure. Feeling your walls clench down on his length has him biting his lip till he tastes blood. Each thrust hurtled the both of you closer and closer to your orgasm. As if that weren’t enough, Nanami brought his hand down to where you were connected. Pushing down he adds to the pressure, feeling himself moving inside of you. He moans so sweetly as he fucks your brains out. The ball of his palm grinds on your clit, you legs seize as you feel white hot pleasure race up your spine. 

“Hah, hah,hah, Ken-Kentoooooo” You moan.

“Look at me” his husky voice commands. You force your eyes open. Your breaths come faster and faster , your voice pitches higher and higher as you struggle to get out;

“Gonna...gonna, I’m- I’m cuming, I’m hahhhh” you whine as your body struggles in his grip. Feeling the way your cunt greedily milks his cock has Nanami teetering on the edge. A grunted 

“Fuck-” is all you get before he too is cumming hard. His full, heavy balls pull tight and thick ropes of cum shoot into your womb. His weight comes crashing down as he moans brokenly, hips still hitting that perfect spot before he thrusts in as far as he could go, plugging you up. You’re crying from the overstimulation as he finally settles. Nanami kisses your hair, whispering praise,

“...good girl...that’s my love...you did so well...” Kissing all over your face he pulls his weight off of you and maneuvers the two of you on your sides, still tucked inside. Petting back your hair and then stroking your side he makes sure you’re content. Smiling up and him you giggle. 

His chest rumbles as he chuckles too. Having calmed down, you’re able to say,

“I’m so glad we discovered your technique can be used for this too.” 

Nanami rolls his eyes good naturally and pulls you closer, tucking your head into his chest. He kisses your head again. 

Pulling himself back from his memories, now with an uncomfortably tight pants, Nanami ponders aloud,

“Could you use a ct in the bedroom?” Before looking at Geto and Gojo.

“Who knows.”

>:)

tags | @plushygrrrl @alpha-mommy69 @roygbivvie @flooftoof

[redvexillum]

Me: Alrighty-ho! Time to work on my grossly late fraugwinska's DBD x HH event and @6esiree's contest!

Me, completely a sub to my desires despite having zero experience writing a lucifer x reader fic: This is gonna be a quick, dirty, SHORT one shot. No problem-o! *nearly 5000 words later* fhuck.

TAGS/WARNINGS: vexi's brain rot, p in v, cunnilingus, wtf did I just write, f!reader, lucifer isn't quite over lilith because ✨drama✨️, low key blaming @sociosin for sending me spicy Lucifer's ask and @the-other-soup for drawing sexy lucifer - I stood no chance guys

When you first matched with DuckLover69 on Cinder, you laughed, thinking it was a typo—surely, he meant to type DickMaster69. That seemed on brand for a hook-up app straight out of Hell. But as you stood there in his room, surrounded by luxurious, crimson-hued furniture and bed sheets of rich satin that would have looked decadent if they weren’t crowded by piles—actual mounds—of rubber ducks, you realized this guy hadn’t mistyped at all.  

This man really, truly, loved ducks. 

Maybe a tad too much.

You wove your way carefully through a veritable army of rubber duckies, each dressed in an outfit more absurd than the last. A little one in a sombrero sat beside a duck knight, complete with a silver helmet and a feather. You squinted. Was that one wielding a miniature sword? It stuck out from its back at a haphazard angle, as if this duck had met some unspeakable end in battle. 

How…avant-garde?

“Sorry for the wait!” A nervous, high-pitched voice broke the silence, followed by an anxious chuckle that echoed through the room. You turned to see Mr. Duck Lover, as he’d introduced himself online, standing stiff as a board, his hand twirling a crimson red apple atop his sleek, obsidian-black staff. 

He was exactly as odd in person as he’d been in your chats: curious to a fault and totally oblivious to social cues. His very first question had been, “So, do you know the King of Hell?” Not exactly small talk. But you had shrugged it off, telling him the truth—that you’d hardly kept up with Hell’s political scene since you arrived. You were too busy dealing with entitled assholes in your new, endless service job, a punishment so mundane it felt like Hell’s personal version of torture. 

You’d expected the conversation to taper off after that, but Mr. Duck Lover had caught you off-guard by taking a U-turn, asking without reserve if you liked sex. The question had been so blunt, so awkwardly dropped into the conversation, that you’d ended up laughing. After a hellish day dealing with rude customers, his lack of tact and straight-up weirdness had been refreshing, if bizarre, and you’d surprised yourself by playing along. 

And now here you were, standing in his duck-filled lair, looking at him in all his nervous, overdressed glory. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked ducks,” you said with a grin, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible as you waved at a particularly stylish duck with a feathered boa around its neck. 

Mr. Duck Lover's shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darted back and forth. Two bright red circles painted his cheeks, and he looked like a mime who’d been caught halfway through his act. His fingers fidgeted with the apple on his staff as he tried for a casual smile, though it came across more like a grimace. 

“I-is that a dealbreaker?” His voice cracked, and you could practically feel the nerves radiating off him. You chuckled, stepping a little closer, savouring the way his breath caught, and his cheeks flushed a unique shade of gold, the colour spilling across his nose in a way that was like glittering treasure strewn across white sand. 

“Nah, just… observing,” you said, your grin turning wicked. “What’s wrong, Mr. Duck Lover?”  

You reached out, tucking a stray strand of gold that had fallen over his forehead back into place. He froze, his breath hitching, his eyes widening as if he’d been zapped. The blush on his cheeks deepened, and he puffed them out, holding his breath, looking for all the world like he was trying not to combust from embarrassment. 

Odd, yes. But somehow, interesting. You found yourself curious—very curious—about just what went on in that strange, nervous, duck-obsessed mind of his. 

You chuckled softly, warmth pooling at the base of your throat as you took him in. How adorable. Everything about him felt so out of place for a guy on an app specifically for hookups. He stood there, stiff as a board, his eyes darting to your every move, arms glued to his sides as though his own body wasn’t sure what to do with itself. And as you leaned closer, you noticed a large portrait hung in the back corner of his room—a family picture, quaint and well-loved. 

Am I his rebound? you thought, as you slid your fingers along his collar, grazing the crisp fabric before slowly easing it off his shoulders. His vest, a pale pink stripe against white, gave him a soft, almost innocent look—a stark contrast to the nerves dancing in his wide eyes. He didn’t resist, simply let his jacket slip down his arms, his breath coming shallow as you leaned in, feeling the heat rise as your faces neared, breath mingling. 

With a gulp, he stammered, “I gu-guess we’re doing the do, that's fantastic!” He tried to smile, his teeth peeking out in a goofy, uncertain grin as he let the jacket fall to the floor. 

“You mean…” you whispered, your voice low as you pressed against him, feeling his entire body tense beneath your touch. “Fucking?” 

He squeaked—actually squeaked—and tried to clear his throat, summoning a shred of composure. “That’s right, f-ffucking,” he stammered, the word awkward on his lips as he sounded it out like it was a foreign concept. “Because that’s… what we do. Now. Here.” His body shivered slightly, and you could feel the tremble that ran from his chest to yours, betraying his every anxious thought. 

A spark of curiosity bloomed in you as you watched his attempts at bravado crumble with each beat of silence. You felt it all click into place. In Hell, family didn’t exactly… exist. Sinners couldn’t create new life here, so the idea of settling down with a partner wasn’t the norm, let alone the idea of casual intimacy. But here he was, talking about sex with the clumsy innocence of someone barely familiar with the concept. “Hey…” you murmured, a thrill lacing your words. “Are you… a virgin?” 

The question struck him like lightning, his eyes going wide, his fingers clutching at his vest in a mixture of embarrassment and flustered denial. “Wha—first time?” He laughed—a loud, forced laugh that seemed to rattle out of him, like he was trying to chase away the truth. “Oh, no, no, no, not at all! I’ve… I’ve used my penis in… numerous ways.” His voice dropped to a low, desperate tone. “I even shape-shifted a few times for… added spice,” he said, his forked tongue flicking nervously, searching your face as though hoping to see doubt there instead of amusement. 

But you couldn’t help it. The men you usually met were arrogant, self-assured, and too focused on themselves to care. Yet here he was—blushing, hesitant, endearing in his innocence. A wicked grin spread across your face as you let your fingers trail lower, smoothing down his vest, tracing each trembling line of muscle underneath until you reached the waistband of his pants. 

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smirk, and his breath caught. His lips quivered, his cheeks flushed, but he returned your grin—innocent and eager, albeit with a slight, deliciously shaky edge. 

You wondered just what kind of man Mr. Duck Lover truly was as your hands moved along his body, peeling away each layer of his clothing, his meagre defences landing on the floor with gentle thuds joining with yours. For all his usual fidgeting and awkwardness, there was something disarmingly tender in the way he touched you, as if each stroke of his fingertips was sacred, each caress reverent. That boyish, clumsy charm he wore like a mask seemed to slip away, leaving behind a quiet intensity in his gaze that made your pulse race. 

“Been… a while,” he murmured, his hands wandering in tentative exploration, pausing over the soft curve of your breast, then settling firmly at your hips. The admiration in his voice deepened as he sighed, his eyes tracing over you as though you were something divine. “God really did create the perfect being,” he whispered, his lips grazing your shoulder, and as your bare bodies met in a slow, full embrace, it was your turn to hold your breath, struck by the unexpected gentleness of it. 

You almost chuckled, the urge to tease him—“Praising God in Hell? How blasphemous,”—hovering at the tip of your tongue. But as he drew you closer, his face tucked deep into the curve of your neck, words fell away, replaced by a silent warmth that seeped into every nerve, every inch of your skin. His arms wound tighter around you, his body pressing against yours, not out of desire, but a kind of longing that felt… deeper.

Meaningful. 

Your arms wrapped around him on instinct, though your mind buzzed with confusion. Shouldn’t this be a quick, meaningless fuck by now? Yet, here you were, tangled in his arms, savouring the sensation of him, feeling the quiet, almost desperate comfort he sought as he held you. The naked intimacy was strange, yes. Unexpected, yes. But something in you didn’t want to break the moment; it felt like a balm, easing all the stress and tension that had worn you down for far too long as you toiled away in your eternal damnation.  

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the steady warmth of his body, your fingers tracing delicate paths along his spine. Each gentle touch pulled soft, barely audible sounds from his throat, the hint of a moan muffled against your skin as your fingers reached his hair, petting through the soft strands. His hair was even softer than you’d imagined, and you felt him sink into your touch, both of you on the brink of letting go.

Letting go of what? You weren't sure.  

But suddenly, he pulled back, and the spell shattered. His cheeks flushed, his hands awkwardly clutching at your waist as he avoided your gaze, his nervous energy flooding back. “Right, uh, sex. That’s what we’re… here for, isn’t it? So, we should, um…” He forced a grin. “Do the, uh… the sex!” 

That was when you finally absorbed your surroundings, the vast emptiness around you, the solemn quiet of his home. There was a lonely hush here, dark and endless, filling every corner, every shadow. And, of course, the lifeless ducks haphazardly thrown around. 

But there was no one else. 

Not a soul in these halls. 

You slipped your hand into his, guiding him toward the bed with a gentleness that felt at odds with your own intentions. You almost considered tucking him under the covers, wrapping him up and telling him that he didn’t have to prove anything to you, that he could wait until he was ready. But he wasn’t a child, and you weren’t here to be his caretaker. 

He lay down first, an eager anticipation flickering across his face despite the faint tremor in his limbs, his gaze fixed on you as you joined him. His body, still soft with nerves, lay at ease, his cock resting against his thigh. You reached out, taking him in hand, moving slowly as your fingers traced down his length, stroking him with a softness that coaxed him to relax. You felt him tense, then soften beneath your touch. 

“Oh… oh wow,” he breathed, his voice catching as he watched your hand, eyes wide with wonder. “Y-you’re… you’re pretty good at this,” he stammered, awe shimmering in his voice as he struggled to keep his composure, his gaze flicking between your face and your hand, his lips parting in quiet gasps. 

At that moment, you couldn’t help but smile—feeling the thrill of his innocence, of his complete surrender. And somewhere in the warmth of his admiration, his trust, you realized you didn’t mind slowing down. 

True to his word, his body responded to your touch with a newfound firmness, his length growing against your hand, his skin silky and heated beneath your fingers. The sensation felt achingly familiar, like a melody you’d danced to before, each note resonating with a purpose neither of you had voiced aloud but understood all too well. 

Loneliness.

That was the reason, unspoken and raw, why you both found yourselves here tonight. You didn’t need his name, didn’t need his history because tonight was about filling that hollow ache. It was a fix—a fleeting, intoxicating drug against the gnawing ache deep in your chest. For one night, the world and its relentless wear could fall away in the ecstatic blur of release. 

You moved to straddle him, your body lowering until your wet, aching centre pressed firmly against the length of his cock, heat melding with heat. His eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, then back up to meet your gaze, a hungry, almost reverent look filling his face. As you began to grind your hips against him, the friction sent a rush of molten heat through you, a spark igniting as you slid over him, slick and needy. 

He watched, his breaths coming in short, shuddering waves, head falling back against the pillow, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure if he should reach for you or simply feel. His own pulse matched yours, every breath and heartbeat syncing to a rhythm of shared need, unburdened by names or burdens. 

Slowly, you lifted your hips, guiding him to your entrance, pressing yourself down until his thick, warm tip pushed past your folds. Inch by inch, you took him, feeling every delicious stretch, every bit of pressure radiating inside you. A soft, desperate mewl escaped your lips as you sank fully, your bodies meeting in a perfect, seamless join. The raw sensation of him filling you hit deep, igniting pleasure like embers to flame. 

His head tilted back, his eyes fluttering shut, a low hiss slipping past his parted lips. “This is…” he began, voice trembling, his fingers flexing as if fighting to keep control, “oh gosh… really wonderful.” His hands faltered, barely grazing your hips before he let them fall to his sides again, his face flushed with both pleasure and nervous restraint. His hips lifted, seeking you instinctively, meeting each of your downward strokes with soft thrusts that went deeper, each time pushing him further within. 

“Oh, oh jeez, oh—golly…” He groaned, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he struggled to find words, every breath shuddering as he fought to keep up. His words, his earnest surprise, almost made you laugh, a kind of sweetness seeping into his awkward sounds as he gripped the sheets tighter. “Wow…” 

You bit back a smile, letting a small laugh escape between breaths. “What? You’ve never had good sex before?” you taunted, rolling your hips, drawing him fully within before slamming back down again. 

His cheeks flushed a deep gold, his chest expanding as he gasped, his muscles tensing beneath you. “N-No—ah, that’s not…” His voice wavered, breaking off in a moan as he sucked in a breath. “Oh, no… if you keep doing that… I won’t last long.” His voice softened, rich with pleasure and just a hint of pleading, as his eyes met yours, full of shy desire. “Please… I want this to last… just a little longer.” His words trailed into a low, trembling moan, his hands finally reaching, hesitantly finding their place on your waist as he held you, breath heavy with yearning, surrendering entirely to the moment with you. 

You hummed thoughtfully, sliding him out of you, his cock springing free and bouncing against his stomach, throbbing with the loss of warmth. His sudden whimper made you smirk, biting back a laugh as you hovered just out of reach. 

“I'm nowhere close to finishing,” you teased, keeping your wet heat tantalizingly close to him, yet unreachable all the same. 

“I can fix that!” he nearly shouted, grinning like he’d just found a solution to all the world's problems. Sitting up eagerly, he waggled his eyebrows with such intensity that it made you giggle. “After all, I was quite the… generous eater in my day,” he added, flicking his forked tongue out for effect. 

“Oh, is that so?” You chuckled, giving him a playful look. “Show me, oh great, generous eater.”  

He joined in your laughter, but then his eyes drifted over your shoulder. His face faltered, brows knitting together, and you followed his gaze. The same family portrait you had initially noticed back in your view—a tall, curvaceous woman with long blonde hair standing beside him and a child who seemed to carry hints of both their features. 

You moved next to him, and leaned back, trying to keep your tone casual. “If you’re going to bring a one-night stand over, maybe next time use a room without a family portrait.” The words came out sharper than you intended, a twinge of bitterness souring the edge. 

His shoulders tensed as he turned to you, eyes wide with a guilty look. “Oh—no, that’s not…I…” He stammered, his hands fluttering in the air as if trying to reach some explanation. 

You sighed, deciding to throw him a lifeline. You were here for fun, not drama. “Hey, relax. It’s…whatever,” you said with a casual shrug, a grin playing on your lips. But that lingering bitterness in your chest didn’t quite vanish. 

Mr. Duck Lover seemed to seize onto your words, scrambling between your legs, though his excitement from earlier was starting to wane. “I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured, leaning close, fingers hesitating on the curves of your hips, as if battling his own mind. His face hovered near your core, yet he seemed frozen in place, like he was staring into the void rather than your body. 

It was quite a comical sight. 

If you weren't in the picture, that is. 

There he was—his head bowed at your centre, practically on the verge of a self-reflective breakdown. While you laid there, spread out and ready, and he was having an existential crisis. 

You sighed, raising an eyebrow as he muttered to himself, “I can do this,” almost like he was about to leap off a bridge instead of…well, pleasing you. His hands twitched as his hands hovered over your hips, eyes squeezing shut in concentration as if gearing up for some monumental challenge. 

By now, the mood had evaporated, leaving behind only the lingering awkwardness of his whispered self-encouragement. Five seconds later, you realized that, yes, you’d completely lost the heat of the moment, and this was likely going nowhere but more awkwardness. 

You reached out gently, brushing his cheek. “Hey…maybe we should…” you started softly, hoping to ease him off this self-imposed, anxious ride and spare you both whatever spiral he was about to go down. 

His eyes snapped to yours, full of a pleading, vulnerable intensity, his lips parted and his gaze almost desperate. “No, no, I can do it!” His voice trembled, and he bit his lower lip, the slightest twitch in his left eye betraying his nerves. “It’s just been….” 

You softened, trying to help him find the words. “Years?” 

“Centuries,” he murmured, looking away as if confessing a secret. 

Centuries. The realization hits you with a strange thrill. You liked older men, sure, but you wondered how long he had stayed in Hell for. “Oh…” was all you managed, feeling the surreal weight of the moment. 

“May I?” he asked, his voice a tender murmur, fingers twitching, hesitant to touch you. You could only nod, slightly taken aback that he was asking for permission now, especially after where you'd both already been just minutes earlier. 

The moment his fingers touched your skin, he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if relishing the warmth. He pressed a featherlight kiss against the curve of your hip, his touch more gentle than you could have imagined. With each kiss, he drifted lower, his lips tracing delicate patterns along your skin, until he found that sensitive spot just above your core, making you jolt beneath him. 

Your emotions tangled, caught between surprise and pleasure. You’d expected something hasty, careless, but this…this felt almost achingly tender. 

He opened his eyes, the intensity of his gaze softening as his lips brushed against you. Then, slowly, his tongue traced between your folds, a warm, pleasant heat that sent a gasp spilling from your lips. His own groan followed, deep and low, a sound of unrestrained need, as he continued to explore you, his lips and tongue working in gentle, insistent rhythms. 

You bit your lip, mirroring the way he’d done earlier, clutching the sheets as your body arched, heels pressing into the bed. Every reaction you gave seemed to stoke something in him, drawing another low, desperate moan from his throat. He rocked his hips against the mattress, as if drinking each of your gasps, as if they were fuelling his own desire. 

“Ah—D-don't stop,” you whimpered, your chest rising as your back arched from the bed. But he didn’t let you escape, his lips chasing every inch of you. His mouth closed around your sensitive nub, sucking gently before he dipped his tongue to explore further, the alternating sensations sending you spiralling. 

Your breath came ragged and broken, each wave of pleasure building faster as he licked and sucked with an almost feverish devotion. His own body responded in turn, his hips grinding against the bed, the friction drawing needy, guttural sounds from him that only fed your own pleasure. 

The rhythm intensified, and just as you thought you might break from the mounting sensation, he pressed deeper, his tongue a soft, insistent force. You clenched around the bliss rising within you, every muscle tensing, as he held you there, relishing every sound, every tremor of pleasure that passed between you both in the heady, dizzying night. 

“Shit,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, fingers tightening as you pulled him closer. His lips pressed even harder against you, and you felt yourself unravelling, teetering on the edge of something wild and raw. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, your legs bending as the fire in your belly coiled tighter. Then, with one last fierce suck and an indulgent lick, he shattered your restraint. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, tearing a ragged cry from your throat as it flooded every inch of your body. 

He moved with you, his own hips shifting as if in sync with the rhythm of your climax, his mouth still sealed to you, eager to take in every tremor and quake of your release. His hand slipped beneath him, the hurried motion of his strokes intensifying, his fingers relentless as he chased his own peak while lingering over every pulse and shudder of yours. 

He moaned against you, his mouth vibrating with his own mounting pleasure, his hips twitching as he hit his release just after yours. His strokes slowed, tapering off as he gasped, his lips finally releasing you as his chest heaved. He knelt there, breathless, lips glistening from the shared passion, drenched by the evidence of his pleasure pooling between you. 

But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he crawled up beside you, eyes softened as he reached for you, arms wrapping tenderly around your shoulders, guiding you to rest your head against his chest. You stayed there, uncertain yet draped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. His heartbeat pounded against your ear, each beat so fierce you couldn’t tell if it was his or your own. 

His hand drifted up to brush your hair back, fingers combing gently as his breathing settled into a steady rhythm with yours. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, then another to the crown of your head, his lips lingering as if they held some unspoken affection, each kiss like a vow. 

“You were wonderful, dear,” he whispered, his voice a low, affectionate murmur, pressing another soft kiss to your hair. He stayed there, his arms cradling you, showering you with gentle kisses, an unexpected tenderness weaving around you both in the aftermath, grounding you in a warmth that felt real, if only for this moment. 

“I'm not sure how to even respond to that” you murmured, your mind still a haze, struggling to piece itself back together in the lingering aftershocks of your release. His fingers brushed tenderly along your cheek, and when you looked up, his eyes were warm, soft, his gaze holding an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re perfect,” he said, tilting your chin up, his voice thick with emotion. His lips pressed gently to yours, lingering as if he wanted to etch this moment into his mind. “You’re everything I want and more.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper, before he pulled you against his chest, his arms tightening around you with a fervency that felt almost desperate, as if he were holding on to something he couldn’t bear to lose. 

The raw affection in his embrace left you spinning. He held you as if you were his—an intimacy that felt foreign and startling. You’d just met him, after all. Yet here he was, clinging onto you as if you were more than a passing connection, as if you meant something deeper, something that couldn’t be dismissed. It was unnerving, a stark contrast to what you’d expected. 

Your eyes drifted to the shadowed portrait in the corner of the room, catching the faint outline of the woman in it—a powerful figure with curling horns and a smile that was as beautiful as it was unsettling. Whoever she was, she lingered here, like a ghost following his every step, a reminder of a past not fully left behind. 

But then, he murmured into your hair, “I love you. Please… don’t go.” His voice was fragile, almost broken, and his arms wrapped around you even tighter, his head pressing against yours, as if the strength of his embrace alone could keep you with him. 

There were many reasons people used Cinder. Some were looking for a thrill, some for a fleeting escape, some for connection in a moment that might otherwise feel empty. Maybe that was all this was, a bandage to the wound of loneliness he didn’t want to admit to, a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. 

You hesitated, your hands resting limply against his back. This wasn’t what you’d come for; it wasn’t what you’d expected. But then, you could feel his frame trembling beneath your touch, the vulnerability in his grip as if he’d waited lifetimes to feel the comfort of another. Gently, you placed a hand on his back, feeling the way he drew in a shaky breath. 

“I won’t,” you whispered softly, almost to yourself, your voice filling the quiet between you.  “I’m here for you.”  

It was a lie, but a beautiful lie, nonetheless. 

At your words, he shuddered, holding you tighter, his trembling easing as if you’d just unlocked something buried within him.  

You were just a passing soul, but at this moment, maybe that was enough. 

[good-chimes]

Based on @tibbycaps’s very funny convexian hitman au, where vexes Cub and Scar have been ‘voluntarily’ employed as hitmen by the governing NHO.

YR 1, DAY 1 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Hello and welcome to the NHO! We are proud to protect the citizens of Hermit City. How can I help you?

Cub: We want to get past those security barriers.

Receptionist: Uh…so you’re…visitors?

Scar: We’re employees!

Cub: Since this morning.

Scar: We have a contract and everything. We’re totally official and definitely allowed in the building.

Receptionist: Um. Do you have your passes?

Cub: Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Just a moment.

Scar: Do we have passes! Of course we have passes. Cub, give her the passes.

Receptionist: Sir, that’s an aluminum bottle cap.

[The visitors examine the item.]

Scar: Looks like an employee pass to me.

Cub: My bad. What about this?

Receptionist: That’s a penknife. That’s a sandwich wrapper—that’s a library card—I mean, it’s the right shape, but—that’s a driver’s license which is obviously not yours—that’s a fifty-dollar bill—that’s a second driver’s license for a completely different person. Sir, literally none of these things are employee passes.

Cub: Yeahhhhh, but do you get paid enough to notice?

Receptionist: Do you have a line manager? Or, um, a hiring manager? Who’s in charge of you?

[The visitors consult.]

Scar: Someone is, probably.

Cub: Might be Beef.

Receptionist: Uh, Director Beef is, uh, one of the heads of the whole organization. Are you sure?

Cub: Eh.

Scar: He did have a nice suit. Good shoes, too! Shame about the soot stains afterwards.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll…just ping my boss… and I guess we’ll just start the process to get you passes. Let me take your first and last names, please?

Scar: Mister Scar GoodTimes, and this is Cub.

Receptionist: Cub?

Cub: Yup.

Receptionist: That’s a nickname…?

Cub: No, it’s a full name. Cub. Uhhhhh. Fan.

Receptionist: Sir, did you just look at that baseball pennant?

Cub: Yeah. Huge coincidence.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll send them to print…orientation booklet…fire exits…do you need any accommodations for your, er, your wings?

Cub: Naw, they’re not real in this dimension. Go straight through physical matter. Walls, people—

Scar: —bars, safe doors—

Receptionist: Um.

Cub: Vex joke. Cultural.

Receptionist: Oh, right, you’re Vex! Like—what were those guys called who ate that policeman on the news…? ConVex!

Cub: Noooooo, no, no, we’re nothing like them. We’re real upstanding citizens.

Scar: I heard those two went to prison.

Cub: To super jail.

Scar: For a thousand years!

Manager: Excuse me, I’m the head of front desk and security, what’s going on here?

Receptionist: Oh, hi, boss, these gentlemen were just—

Manager: I can see what they are! This should have been escalated as soon as they turned up. You should have known to call me the minute you saw a Vex!

Receptionist: They haven’t done anything wrong.

Manager: Not done anything wrong—you mean they haven’t eaten anyone yet.

Cub: I haven’t had my coffee.

Scar: I have! Who do you want us to start with?

Manager: Come with me, please. The Directors want to see you.

Scar: [voice retreating as the visitors are escorted away] This is a fancy office. I like the art.

Cub: Did you know you can turn that photocopier into a laser canon?

Manager: This is why they put you in prison! Stick close to me! Please stop touching things!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

The copier tray is to be loaded from the correct angle only. It is not a ‘useless piece of shit’, you are handling it incompetently.

HR will not be dealing with complaints of ‘substandard management’. HR are here to deal with your pay slips. Complaints of substandard management should be addressed to your manager, who will take appropriate action.

Colleagues are to act with caution around new NHO agents ‘Cub’ and ‘Scar’. Minimal contact is advised. Security can be contacted via the panic buttons.

YR 1, DAY 36 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Hey. Picking up a delivery.

Receptionist: Of course, sir. Have you got a parcel ticket?

Cub: Sure, give me an example and I’ll forge you one right now.

Receptionist: I just needed the number—never mind. Let me take a wild guess based on your deliveries so far: is it the crate that’s green and glowing?

Cub: Huh, thought it would be blue. Maybe a kind of teal.

Receptionist: Well, we only have one that glows. It makes a buzzing sound when you get near it.

Cub: Ohh yeah, that’s the one.

Receptionist: Last time you got a delivery it was snakes.

Cub: Important experimental material.

Receptionist: Can you let us know if it’s snakes again? Only I need to find a heat lamp if you’re out on a mission.

Cub: Oh, yeah, right. I can build a heat lamp for you to keep here. You want something for it?

Receptionist: Okay, sir, for the last time, I don’t know where all your unmarked fifty-dollar bills come from, but it’s not normal to bribe building staff to do our jobs. 

Cub: Yeah? No deal, huh?

Receptionist: …Can you really turn the photocopier into a laser?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

URGENT: ALL STAFF MUST STAY AWAY FROM THE PHOTOCOPIER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

YR 1, DAY 82 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good afternoon, welcome to the headquarters of NH—Scar?

Scar: Hello there! How’s it going?

Receptionist: Hey, Scar?

Scar: Uh-huh?

Receptionist: Your whole arm is covered in blood.

Scar: Blood? Oh, this blood? Don’t worry, don’t worry, everything’s fine. It’s not my blood. How was your weekend?

Receptionist: Are you sure it’s not your blood? That looks like someone sliced through your whole sleeve!

Scar: [tastes his own arm gingerly] Wait, yeah, some of it is mine. Just this bit, though.

Receptionist: Don’t eat it, oh my God.

Scar: It’s fine, Cub says we’re immune to all pathogens.

Receptionist: Seriously?

Scar: Nah, I think he just said that because I took his research away from him when he had the flu.

Receptionist: You should go wash that wound. That can’t be healthy. What have they got you doing out there?

Scar: Oh, y’know, this and that, we solve problems. We’re problem solvers. In fact we signed a contract to do that, so I guess we keep solving problems forever. Can I have one of these mints?

YR 1, DAY 145 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Gooood afternoon. What a beautiful day. Y’know, this kind of day makes me think, the thing about human perception—

Receptionist: The what.

Cub: The thing about human perception is it’s subjective. I did a PhD on this. So sometimes you could think you saw someone bring something into the office that you need to write down in the biohazards register, but actually, you could report to your boss there wasn’t anything there.

Receptionist: Sir, you are trying to hide an eight-foot-tall Venus fly trap behind your back. It’s taller than you are.

Cub: Seven foot at most.

Receptionist: [sighs] I guess I didn’t see anything. You want a mint?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Cascaded from Legal: Employees are required to familiarize themselves with the new and expanded Dispute Resolution Policy.

Pursuant to this, threatening to eat your senior manager is NOT an approved method of settling conflicts and WILL result in disciplinary action.

Lava traps are ALSO EXPLICITLY DISALLOWED.

YR 2, DAY 407 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Cub, you don’t have to bribe me to get into the building after hours. You literally work here. I know you have a 24-hour pass. Just use it on the main door.

Cub: Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?

Receptionist: Try bribing an IT tech for codes to the secure areas instead.

Cub: Got those already. Phishing email. But y’know, all the techs make triple what they pay you.

Scar: And! I wanted a mint.

Receptionist: The mints are FREE.

Scar: It tastes better if it’s not!

Receptionist: That doesn’t make ANY sense! You two get back here and explain!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Please find attached the Employee Satisfaction Survey. As always, we look forward to listening to your views to make NHO a Great Place To Work. Participation is mandatory.

Our recent payment settlement unfortunately means no raises this financial year.

Operational note: does any Front Desk team member know how to disconnect the ex-photocopier from the power supply without it immediately blowing up? You are all being very unhelpful about it???

YR 3, DAY 763 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Oh, hey, Scar.

Scar: …

Receptionist: Wait—Scar? Buddy? Are you okay?

Scar: Have you seen Cub?

Receptionist: Not since last week, I think.

Scar: Oh.

Receptionist: It’s the night shift. Was he supposed to meet you?

Scar: Yeah. They gave him a solo mission, and I dunno what time he was supposed to get back, either, but it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning. I’m just gonna…hey, can I wait down here? Until he gets in?

Receptionist: Sure. If you pull the chairs together, I guess you could make a kind of bed. I’ll keep an eye on the cameras.

-

Scar: I mean, nothing can take down Cub, right? That man’s a tank, I tell you. A genuine tank.

Receptionist: Yeah. Definitely.

Scar: He would have called me if something went wrong.

Receptionist: He would’ve.

Scar: What time is it?

Receptionist: Just gone 3am.

-

Receptionist: Look, if you’re not going to sleep, I’m ordering you pizza.

Scar: Ooooh. Let’s get wings and make a night of it while we wait. Catch!

Receptionist: This is two hundred dollars.

Scar: Yeah, can we get sides?

-

Receptionist: Just gone 4am, before you ask.

Scar: I didn’t ask!

Receptionist: I saw you open your mouth. You’re really worried, aren’t you.

Scar: Noooo, I’m not worried. I never worry about Cub.

Receptionist: Cub’s always seemed way too capable to have a problem with a mission.

Scar: Yeah.

Receptionist: You two go back a long way, huh?

Scar: There’s just the two of us. It’s always been just the two of us. And, I’ll be honest, I like this work, we have fun doing it, but why’d they send him out solo? And you know what’s worse, I can’t even ask! If we put a foot out of line, we— [breaks off into a coughing fit]

Receptionist: Are you okay?

Scar: I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m fresh as a daisy.

Receptionist: It sure sounded like your own throat just tried to cut you off.

Scar: Well, maybe I just care a lot about the office Data Combustion Policy.

Receptionist: I think you mean the Data Protection Policy? On second thoughts, I remember last year’s Christmas party, so maybe not—oh, hey.

Scar: What?

Receptionist: I saw something on the cameras, is that—

Cub: Yo.

Scar: Oh my God Cub I was so worried.

Cub: ‘m fine. [blurrily] Are those buffalo wings?

Scar: You are so not fine. You can have wings when you’re lying down!

Cub: ‘m taking these wings.

Receptionist: Here’s the first aid kit. You need to close the bag or the rest of the wings will fall out, guys. Guys. Look where you’re going. You have to open the doors before you go through them. Take the first aid kit with you!

YR 5, DAY 1561 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good morning, and welcome to—oh, it’s you two. You brought a guest?

Cub: Howdy. This is Grian.

Grian: Apparently I work here now. Apparently I have “limited employment options”. Someone told me I’m lucky I’m not dead.

Scar: Haha, Mondays, am I right! So he’ll need a pass, and maybe a helping hand if she spaces out in the atrium.

Receptionist: Sure…oh, Grian, you’re on the system already. Here, take a temporary pass, and we’ll have your real one ready by lunchtime. Uh, if you need any help—

Grian: Wait, my date of birth is wrong on your screen. It’s the year before.

Receptionist: Did you just…read that backwards from the others side of my computer?

Scar: Wow, Grian, another nosebleed?

Grian: Shut up.

Cub: Your brain must be shrivelled up like a raisin by now.

Grian: Still works better than Scar’s!

Scar: [leans on the reception desk as the other two leave, bickering] Sooo…Grian’s not allowed outside without a Director’s approval.

Receptionist: Is that right?

Scar: Scary stuff, huh? If you happened to see him leave with us, and we just forgot to show you a permit…can I convince you into some sort of deal? As a friend?

Receptionist: You know, you can just ask a friend to do you a favor, you don’t have to pay me. I’ve known you for five years. I’m not gonna turn you in.

Cub: [calls] You coming, Scar?

Scar: I gotta go! Grian’s just a Watcher, she’s not dangerous. Grab some cash from Cub’s bottom desk drawer. They don’t even search our office anymore, so it’s just labelled ‘proceeds of crime (not)’. Cub’s traps will let you past.

Receptionist: Wait, are you—was that person—a Watcher—holy shit—

Scar: See ya later! Get the money!

Receptionist: [rolls eyes] Of course, sir. Have a nice day.

*chau Grian uses he/she pronouns

*Check out tibby’s chau tag!

[sukunas-wife]

Chapter 7

Ch.1 - Ch.6

“Yuji..” I smiled softly, seeing him there before I cringed, pulling my outer robe off and throwing it over his lap as I hugged him. “What happened? Are you okay?” I sniffled wondering what exactly had happened, I pulled back, holding Yuji by the shoulders, “I thought…” he only smiled, closing his eyes as he tilted his head.

”I’m okay! Nothings wrong.” I nodded, stepping back, curious how Yuji could recover so quickly. “Alright then.” I turned to Gojo as he started to talk to Yuji. Explaining how the odds were it was a plan to have him killed, and that it would be for the best to keep Yuji hidden away practising controlling his energy output for now. I was iffy about the situation, even more when he said no one could know his location, but it also meant I wouldn’t be able to stay on the campus now that Yuji was supposedly dead, the higher ups wouldn’t be obligated to house me.

“That’s no problem, but my concern is where are you going to keep Yuji…” I watched as Gojo seemed to think about it, the mortuary being on the first basement floor gave way to privacy as he explained about private rooms that no one used because they were long forgotten after remodelling and the fact students and staff were sparse there was never need to use them. I nodded along as the other man who was panicking earlier came back with a set of clothes. “Thank you Ijichi” I did my best to remember his name after hearing Gojo say it. Yuji started to get dressed as the rest of us were turned away listening to Gojo elaborate more on his plan.

It wasn’t long before Morí and I were in the room setting things up for Yuji. It was a melancholic feeling asI swept up dirt and dust setting up a bed and making sure everything was clean before I would have to leave for who knows how long. I hummed clasping my hands in front of my chest, fidgeting slightly as I looked around one last time with a nod. “We’re done, I should tell him bye before we leave…” Morí from beside me gave a solemn nod in agreement. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way Lady Y/N.” I nodded, swallowing as we took the stairs to leave the room, ending up on the basement floor hallways, making our way to the room where we left Yuji with the others. I opened the door, he was there smiling and nodding along with Gojo, he turned to me with a bright smile and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Everything’s ready.”

The short walk back to the room felt strange, Gojo was leading the way, Yuji was beside me bent in a weird angle to rest his head on my shoulder as we walked. I smiled, shaking my head as we got to the room, I let him go in after Gojo before I followed. I listened as Gojo explained everything to Yuji now that he was able to pay attention. At the end of the conversation I managed to zone back in, turning to Yuji who was sitting on the sofa holding a weird green plushie. “Yuji.” I called his name looking at him with a soft smile, he turned to me and smiled back, “I’ll be leaving soon, so I suppose this means I wont see you for a while.” I moved closer, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back with a soft smile, “Be good, and don’t be too reckless alright?” I saw how he looked confused before he looked up at me. I saw for a second that same child I dropped off in kindergarten, big innocent brown eyes as he asked, “What do you mean you won't see me for a while…?” I ran my hand through his hair again with a hum, “to keep you hidden away, people are going to think you’re dead, so I wont be here anymore, if you were dead that means I don’t have a place here anymore. So I'll be leaving until Gojo decides when’s a good time for you to come out of hiding.” I watched his downcast eyes, the slight pout on his face as he looked down in thought, “You won't forget me?” I smiled, shaking lightly as I laughed, “You said that same thing when I first left you in kindergarten, you know.” He smiled as I hugged him by my side, “Call me if you need anything alright?” He nodded leaning into my side, “I love you.” I rubbed his arm and shoulder offering comfort, he nodded along, mumbling back, “I love you too.” I smiled as I pulled away, “Be good then.” He smiled nodding as I turned to Gojo, “Take care of my Yuji.” Gojo just smiled holding up a hand the other tucked behind his back. “Of course Miss.L/N, I'll make sure he’s better than you left him.” I nodded turning to Morí, he closed his eyes nodding, “Lead the way Lady Y/n” I started to walk out ready to pack up and leave, but a part of me wanted to stay, leaving now would mean, leaving my son and my husband. I swallowed, feeling the weight on my chest, ignoring it as I pushed myself to go. I pulled my Kimono tighter as we walked to the small house where we had been staying. I passed the two kids, Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki, who were sitting on the steps of the building. I turned to Morí who looked at them also, he turned his face away knowing it wasn’t our place to say anything. We took the further steps, passing them to not interrupt whatever conversation they could be having.

We made it to the house, packing what few things we had brought. Time passed slowly as we made progress until there was a knock at the door. I looked at the door not sensing anything unfamiliar as I slid it open. There was Fushiguro Megumi. I was concerned to see him staring straight down at the floor with a dead expression, before I spoke up. “Fushiguro Megumi.” He looked up, almost sympathetic, it was then I understood what it was about. I nodded along to the silence. “There was nothing you could have done, there are times where fate cant be altered, you shouldn’t hold yourself to fault, I hold no anger against you Fushiguro Megumi, nor against Satoru Gojo.” The silence hung heavy as I watched him clench his jaw and fists. The distress was clear over his face as I took a breath, to think of what I should do or say, I settled for the only way I knew how, I pulled him into a hug, using hand to guide his head to rest against my shoulder and chest holding him there, my other hand on his back as I whispered, “Forgive me Fushiguro Megumi, I can heal the body, but I can't repair a broken heart.”

I felt how he held onto my Kimono. I stood there. I had learned long ago with Yuji when he was a child, when someone desperately needs to be held, especially children, you should never pull away until they let go when they feel more stable. I patted and rubbed his back in circles, consoling him as he held on in silence. Time passed and I watched the sky slowly fade to orange, when he pulled away, I put my hands on his shoulders as he avoided looking at my face. I brought one hand to his chin, lifting his face, holding his cheek in one hand. I looked at him with a soft smile running my thumb over his cheek. “You will be alright in time.”

—- —- —- —- —-

The days were long and quiet as I spent the days in the temple working miracles and healing people. Donations flooding in by gratitude by those who’ve been suffering and finally found healing. I hummed, running my hands over a pregnant woman’s stomach, “Ah your sons so lively, I can feel him kicking.” She smiled “this is the first time in a while he’s been really moving.” I hummed with a soft smile, using my reverse cursed technique, I could sense where the muscles around her womb were tearing, carefully mending the muscles back together I hummed content hearing her sigh in relief. “It really feels like the stress and burning in my stomach has calmed down, do you know what it was?” I nodded slowly moving my hands off her stomach, ‘I’m not sure how your doctor didn’t catch it, but I’m assuming you’ve had a surgery where they needed to cut through muscle, where they mended the muscled was tearing open, its what was causing so much pain, the burning sensation was where the muscle was pulling and tearing bit by bit.” I watched her eyes widen, I smiled sympathetically nodding, “It’s all better now, you’ll be fine, even with time it shouldn’t raise up any problem”

I left the room after she thanked me, I walked around the back halls, lost in thought, not to be caught up in the day, I passed it healing people, until a certain man walked right into the private chambers.

I turned, it was obvious alone by his cursed energy, I watched him as he smiled, eyes closed and hands tucked into his sleeves. He pulled a hand out waving, I watched him, not too interested, but more concerned how he made it in without being stopped.

”Y/n.” His voice was smooth and unsettling just as any other life, “Kenjaku” we stared at one another, his head tilted down, he looked at me with lidded eyes, I could feel the heat of my emotion rising. “What are you doing here?”

”Well, I’m pretty sure it's obvious, it wouldn’t be the first time we cross paths now would it? Now, if I'm not wrong I'm pretty sure somewhere along the line we had a conversation similar to this, are you still so set on doing things your way?”

I watched how you stood there, thinking of what to say, “I’m not siding with your ideals, I could never support someone who could do things as vile as you did when you were experimenting with humans. We stand on uneven ground, there will never be a day we see eye to eye, there will never be a day where I would even think of standing on your level”

The room wasn’t tense, we both knew where we stood, we both knew the other couldn’t be swayed, there was no reason to argue or get hostile.

”hmm” I listened intently, not willing to let anything slip by, “Well, if you're so set in your decision I suppose I'll only be generous to make my offer once everything moves closer to the end line.”

I swallowed, nodding, “I doubt I’ll take your offer even then, we'll just have to see who stands where.”

The silence in the room remained the same, we stood there staring at the other, a silent conversation, where everything that needed to be said was said, I watched a wicked grin move over his lips head tilting forward slightly, “Well then, we will just have to stand back and see how everything plays out then.”

—- —- —- —- —-

Once again the days passed slowly, I knelt at the shrine in my room at the temple, lighting incense as I mumbled in vain, Sukuna would never be able to hear me this way, but it brought a sense of comfort as I bowed my head to an old painting i had set on the shrine table. “Ryomen…, please, please, if at any point in time, you hear these words please, I beg whatever plans you have with Kenjaku, don’t see them through.”

I begged internally, feeling my heart shaking in my chest, “Please.”

I stood up, turning to go on with the day, the day was just as slow as any other, until I felt a stab in my ribs, I tensed up, Morí who was with me didn’t let it go by unmentioned as he was quick to drop everything. “LADY Y/N! Are you alright?!” I leaned onto him feeling the stinging pain subside before it came back again. “We need to go, I need to see Itadori”

Mori looked up at me confused as he supported my side, “Lady Y/n Satoru Gojo said we shou-MORI,” I looked at him in desperation, “Please, I know something is wrong, this is just like last time, Please.”

The silence that settled between us wasn’t tense, but we knew the decision was made. It was quick work of Mori grasping his hands together and giving me a weary look before he spoke a small chant activating his technique.

It was an instant of standing behind the school, there was Satoru gojo and others looking at a veil, I didn’t bother to stay around immediately setting off to find Yuji, this isn’t about anyone else if not my son. Mori was right behind me as we made haste tracking Sukuna’s faint cursed energy in Yuji.

We made it to the dead forest, a tall grey curse with a bloom on its shoulder, I didn’t see Yuji, I held up a hand ready to unleash an attack until something came crashing down knocking it out the way.

“Yuji!” There was a moment of silence, that’s when everything came into place, the special grade curse, Yuji standing to side, a more built man beside him, the veil darkened sky starting to drop when I felt the attack coming, I rushed over to Yuji shielding him as a purple wave rammed through everything clearing a path.

I held on tight to Yuji, keeping him close to my chest until it completely passed. I let him go, stepping back to look at him as I held him by his shoulders at arms length. “Yuji! Are you okay?” I felt my heart still racing as I looked over at him, he smiled rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah! I’m fine mom!” I sighed relieved, “Yuji, thank goodness you're okay, I was SO SCARED, I turned to look at the other guy who was standing not to far off, he seemed proud as he stood by watching, before he squinted at me looking uneasy as he asked, “Who are you?”

I felt my brows drop slightly as I let go of Yuji turning to the boy, “I should be asking who you are.” He seemed amused as he laughed, closing his eyes as he brought a hand to his chin as if he were thinking. “What an excitable woman.” I made a face shaking my head no as I turned to Yuji, he smiled. “This is Toudo.” I nodded along, “I see.”

I nodded along, turning back to Toudo, “well, it's nice to meet you Toudo, but don’t call me an excitable woman, I'm not too sure my husband would appreciate that. But, my name is L/n F/n, I’m Yuji’s mother.”

I watched as Toudo opened his eyes, a smile on his face, “My brothers, mother.” I nodded slowly thinking over what he had said. “Brothers….mother.. brother?” I turned to Yuji curious, “What’s this about?”

Yuji perked up, “Oh, it's kinda confusing, Toudo actually helped me understand a few things I’ve been struggling with, he says we’re brothers…”

I nodded along, “I see…”

—- —- —- —- —-

Authors Note

I really wanted to go with the Canon time line, but the more I type the more I realize it would be ridiculously long. So- time to create alternate time line so everyone can be happy 🥹

also Sukuna is very much Husband material after I read the last chapter

—- —- —- —- —-

@needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 @ang3lz-lov3 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @t4naiis @blkmystery @the2ndl @too-pretty-to-live @v-sh @officialjellydoughnut @f1uveryysblog @wsp1st @ivysenpai3 @babyqueen17 @lupita97lm @oh-gods-its-a-dragon @avyannasstuff @nameless-mushroom-warrior r @fullwriterpoem @nanamisbigassschlong @queen-luna-007 @pupbistro @clxvrs @dangerous-girls-world @saiyara05 @honeybachira @sizzlingsongblaze-blog @theirbitxch @bluusugar @itszzmoon @venus-seeks @abdce12345

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tattoos

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You have pens

"Sorry," Mumma says as she bounces you on her hip," She's in a grumpy mood today."

You grunt, angling your head away as Tia Patri tries to rub at your cheek.

"Very grumpy," Tia Patri notes before smiling at you anyway and waving you goodbye.

"Okay," Mumma says, readjusting her grip on you so you can tuck your head into the crook of her neck," There we go. I think someone needs a little nap."

"No," You whine," No nap...jus'...jus' you. Jus' Mumma."

"Okay," Mumma agrees," Just Mumma."

You've been out of whack ever since the flight over for the semifinal Champion's League match. Mapi's still returning from her knee injury so she's been dropped to the bench and continues her rehab even though she's on the squad list so Ingrid's kind of been solo parenting for a bit.

It's not that Mapi won't help but she very much can't do things like play rough with you like you enjoy or bounce you on her knee to calm you down.

Ingrid hasn't done that a lot since she started dating Mapi, who dived head-first into things like that in an attempt to win you over.

"Mamí too," You insist as you whine out a low note.

"Are you having big feelings?" Ingrid asks as she fishes out her phone to ask where Mapi is.

You nod tiredly against her, practically limp but still with enough energy to kick and snap your displeasure.

Ingrid wonders if it's a lack of stimulation. The plane ride had been long and you didn't have any of your usual things to keep you occupied.

Your story books had all been packed in the big suitcase (the last time Ingrid will ever trust Mapi to pack your bags) and your colouring book and felt tip pens had been deemed too messy for you to use on the flight. That coupled with your inability to stay asleep for more than twenty minutes, means that you're exhausted and bored.

It's a dangerous combination.

Ingrid shoots off a text to Mapi about the situation and walks the length of the hallway, quietly hushing you and allowing you to suck at her collar even though she knows that it's going to feel bad against her skin later on.

Mapi replies quickly, saying that she's in the canteen with Alexia.

"Mumma," You whine as Ingrid makes for the elevator," No go out! No want!"

"We're not going out," Ingrid assures you but the damage is already done because the exhaustion and the boredom finally catch up with you and you burst into a round of frustrated tears.

Ingrid bounces you more firmly as you babble and sob and whine all the way down. The staff sends her sympathetic looks, some of them having children themselves, and the rest of the team look equally distraught as you clearly feel when Ingrid (frazzled and stressed) bursts into the canteen.

Mapi's at the table in the corner, a packet of temporary tattoo pens by her side as she transfers a sketch from her book onto Alexia's arms.

Alexia's been talking about getting another tattoo and Mapi had drawn up designs easily.

She's animatedly talking about the one she's transferring to Alexia's arms interspersed with flicking through the book to show alternative ideas.

She stops immediately though as your cries echo through the room and Ingrid approaches.

"What happened?" She asks," What's wrong? Is she hurt? Sick? She had that tummy bug a few weeks ago. Is it back?"

"She's having some big feelings," Ingrid replies, sitting down next to Mapi," I think she just wants some company while working through them. Look, she's already calming down."

She's right.

Your gasping breaths are evening out again and the tears roll down your face mostly silently. With your Mumma and Mamí now together, you're happy to just sag against Mumma and allow Mamí's conversation with Tia Ale to wash over you.

You slowly reach out for the pink pen that's resting on the table. You pick it up. Mamí doesn't use the pink a lot, especially when she's drawing ideas on people like she's doing with your Tia.

Mumma leans with you as you angle yourself towards Mamí's arms where some of her tattoos are on show.

"Open," You tell Mumma, your voice a little scratchy from all your crying and general unease. Mumma takes the lid off for you.

You press the tip against Mamí's arm, taking a lot of care to colour in the lines of the pictures she's got there.

She stops drawing on your Tia when she first feels the press of the nib against her skin.

You give her a little teary eyed smile when she catches your eye.

"Following in your footsteps," Mumma says fondly, finally able to plait your hair into a neat braid," Little tattoo artist."

"Yeah," Mamí agrees, moving to uncap all the pens on the table," Make sure to get in as many colours as possible, alright?"

You nod.

Mamí continues to draw on Tia Ale as you continue to colour in her tattoos.

The repetitive action soothes you and you make pretty swirls in her arm pictures even after she's finished showing Tia Ale her designs.

"Finished?" She asks.

You nod. "Finished."

"Ingrid," Mamí says," Take a picture of this." She flexes her arm. "I want to brag to everyone about how much more exciting she's made my arm."

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 04: lonely star

preview: ". . .He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first."

content warning: cursing, hanma owns a strip club, oral s.ex, unprotected s.ex, choking, hair pulling, no aftercare.

word count: 7k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

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Tokyo was a bustling city. People escape from the mundane using any source of entertainment allowed. From going shopping to partying, the city provides numerous remedies for any challenging moment a person might experience. There, in the depths and labyrinth streets of Tokyo and its lively nightlife, exists a world that only unravels to those who dare seek it. Hidden between tall buildings and colorful signs, paradise on earth stands proudly.

A black car pulls up in the alleyway, parking right outside the back entrance of a disheveled looking building. The door opens and cigarette hits the dirty floor. A foot crashes the bud, adorned in squeaky clean shoes that do not fit the vibe of the creepy alleyway. Golden Glow reads in bright neon light right above the back door. The man’s slender fingers push the wooden door open, stepping into a vibrating world of sensuality and allure where reality and fantasy blur for hours on end at night.

The air is thick with perfume and anticipation, a line of rich men of all backgrounds sitting on the deep red plush seating facing the focal point of the strip club. Murmurs of who will be performing next fill the room and the tall man makes his way towards the VIP table.

“You’re late.” Kisaki doesn’t pull his eyes away from the curtains waiting to unravel tonight’s star, more or less used to this kind of behavior from his right hand.

“I had to take care of something.” Announces Hanma as he pulls his seat back and grabs a cigarette. The relationship he had with smoking was more of a toxic affair—a continuous tag of war between depending on the small bud and desiring a whiff of the substance when things get a bit too hectic. With each inhale, he feels a momentary release from existing. He’s never enjoyed it, not fully at least. Existing meant he had to abide by rules, which he never did. Breakups were nasty, women lashing out insults towards the man they called a God only a few nights prior—they should’ve known better, is what he tells them every time. He never claimed to be a good person, just a good—no, an amazing fuck.

Hanma’s dick serves as a distraction from his violent nature, he momentarily hypnotizes those women with each sharp and angled thrust from his hips. Deliciously dragging out moans, whines and profanities, proclaims of how godly he feels and how they’ve never had better. He is good at using and not giving much in return, he shows it through prioritizing his orgasm, only speaking when the dirty talk tips him over the edge. Shuji doesn’t budge as a pillow is thrown his way, ‘asshole!’ sounds from behind the door he’s just closed and he swears he could feels his fingers twitch. He’ll spare the cleaning staff of the hotel a blood bath tonight.

“You took too long,” Nahoya adds his two cents as usual, and the tall man wonders what the orange haired even provides for him to remain alive and attending special nights like these.

“It’s your club, you’re supposed to get here first.” Kisaki presses and the lights dim as the curtains open, revealing tonight’s a woman clad in a gorgeous set of deep red lingerie. She commands attention with the way her body carries her across the stage, each step is like a soft whisper, beckoning more people to look at her—admire her. She embraces the power she holds over the spectators, feeling a surge of dopamine push her to do better.

“You’re not my fucking dad. I’ll get here when I want to.” His fingers tremble as he drags the cigarette away from his lips, resting his wrist on the table as his whole hand shakes. You would think that years of smoking would get the man used to the motion, familiarized with the aftermath of each whiff—somehow, it doesn’t. Through furrowed eyebrows and behind framed glasses, Kisaki notes the unusual behavior from the man. He is far too moody, perhaps more than usual. Hanma took pleasure into killing, coming back from missions was almost as euphoric as an orgasm after being denied for so long. As far as his report went, the mission was done and Toman’s men were able to discard of the dead body rather easily. So what was wrong?

The younger man doesn’t say anything, he waits until the show wraps up and for people’s attention to drift elsewhere to speak to the taller man. As Hanma, not so quietly, slips away from the table and onto one of the VIP rooms upstairs, Kisaki soon joins him.

“So, wanna talk about what’s up your ass lately?”

“What do you mean?” Hanma’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but he still looks unimpressed as he casts half a glare towards Kisaki.

“You know what I mean. Something’s up your ass, you need to fucking pull it out and do your job. I don’t need a moody bitch as my first in command.”

Hanma’s heard worse over the years, he knows what it meant to be involved with someone as nasty and as disgusting as Kisaki. However, he was having a bad week and Kisaki came to him at the wrong moment.

“This moody bitch will blow holes into your brain and make it seem like it was a pathetic attempt to kill yourself. Don’t fuck with me.” The tension rises between the two men, silence engulfs the room that’s hidden to the rest of the audience. They’ve had to fight before, the scars littering Hanma’s arms a reminder of Kisaki’s knife slashing the man’s skin. The shorter man’s own scarred hands a grim testament to what Shuji was capable of doing. The two of them don’t speak another word.

Kisaki sits on one of the soft chairs facing Hanma, placing his gun on the tiny glass table. The other man does the same, and it feels like a silent agreement that neither of them was going to harm the other.

“I went to her place.” There’s no question about who he is referring to. Kisaki knows all too well who you are. He’s seen you from afar when you were all young, unknowingly grasping the heart of a delinquent who’s never known what the feelings he had for you even meant. His face twitches as he remembers the conversation he had with the man a couple of weeks ago.

“You found her?”

“She’s back in Shinjuku.” Kisaki doesn’t miss the way Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. Like domino pieces lined up, the tattooed man blows on them and watches them tumble just for fun. He was after you just for fun, Chifuyu fears.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki’s busy rummaging through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

Sensing his silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes became storm clouds, hiding their usual golden color and crackling with the threat of lightning. Hanma’s never cast him a look similar to this before, usually blessed with an emotionless face.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Kisaki leans back against his seat. He’s seen Hanma get riled up over things like missions going wrong, people pissing him off, testing his patience—this was a different kind of negative emotion he was displaying. Dare Kisaki say that it was fun to witness? Perhaps even unexpected from the tall man? But he doesn’t say a thing, only gives a curt nod and proceeds to finish the task at hand.

“Why is that?” he asks, curious to know what lead the man to end up in your place.

He glances towards his fingers which had long ago healed, he could still feel your fingertips against his skin, warm breath fanning over his wrist as you tended to his wounds with so much care, as though you were stitching a tiny tear in a delicate fabric.

“She cleaned me up.” Kisaki has to blink a couple of times, but he notices how Shuji keeps his gaze fixated on his fingers. He chews on his bottom lip out of habit. The band aid wrapped around them is unfamiliar, the man’s never taken care of himself this way—oddly enough, Kisaki feels that Hanma had a strange attachment to the adhesive strip keeping his healed cuts safe. It has been days since that incident, he most definitely did not need to cover his hands that way.

“Cleaned you up?” Kisaki pours himself and the other man a glass of whisky, pushing one of the glasses towards Hanma.

“Saw my hands and thought that I was in pain.” The taller man mumbles as he brings the glass of whisky up to his swollen lips. Downing the liquid like rapid fire, he slams the glass on the table and leans in his chair, head thrown back as he grunts.

“I think I fucked up.” Hanma admits, his hand covering his eyes. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you or your touch since that night. So soft, offering him what he has deprived himself of for years—you were so gentle with his hands, treating him as though he was made of glass. Your beautiful eyes witnessed the harm he is capable of causing to others, yet your soul set that aside to make sure he was okay.

Only for him to mess it up.

He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first.

He was growing impatient with each passing second. He wasn’t an expert at solving this kind of problems, let alone when it involved him in the equation. However, one thing was for certain; his insatiable need to feel you again made every moment apart from you feel like he’s been cursed with damnation.

--

October comes to an end, you start to accept the atmosphere of loneliness that settles like a heavy cloak over the landscape. The days grow shorter and the nights longer, there are Halloween decorations displayed along the entrance of every apartment door. It’s adorable. Pumpkins, bats, and your most favorite—cats are all over the fronts of every store. You look up and find paper lanterns with spooky designs, themed displays in shopping malls, and themed merchandise in stores. You find yourself yearning for the celebration to linger a bit longer.

As the days turn into weeks, Hanma’s absence becomes palpable. You cannot ignore that the lack of his pestering feels strange and foreign, when you had only started speaking to the man again for a couple of days only. Like a shadow retreating to darkness, it feels like he never existed in your life. You’re back to living life the same way that you did before he suddenly reappeared in your life—you don’t know why you’re disappointed. After witnessing murder with your two eyes, you thought that Shuji would scare you. He should. Such an unpredictable man with a history of violence that remains unknown to you should instill a deep fear in you. Then why do you find yourself craving the presence of a man whose ruthlessness carves a path of destruction? A man whose words made it feel like walking through a field of thorns?

You pay your feelings no mind as you drown yourself in chores, making sure there was no speck of dust left on each furniture of your apartment. A shower soothes your nerves afterwards, the motion of scrubbing the dirt off of your skin a subliminal attempt at getting Hanma’s aura off of you. You make yourself a cup of hot chocolate, top it off with some marshmallows as you settle on the comfortable couch with a soft yet heavy blanket draped over your shoulders. The movie you picked for the night is nowhere near comforting, but you brush it off for the sake of Halloween vibes.

However, those feelings melt away as soon as ears pick up on the sound of footsteps near your door. It was pretty late for anyone to be visiting you, let alone on Halloween night. You set your hot chocolate down and walk towards the door in quiet footsteps, praying that you don’t make a noise by accidentally breathing too hard.

Behind the door, Hanma stands looking almost apologetic. His head hangs low not out of shame, but because he sees your shadow from under the door. He holds back a chuckle.

 “It’s me.”

When he hears no reply, he pushes himself off of the wall and walks away from the door. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at his chest, but he refuses to acknowledge any of it as his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He lets one dangle between his lips as he reaches for the lighter. Until he hears the creaking sound echoing in the hallway.

Glancing back, he sees that your door was no longer closed, but he couldn’t see you either. His feet slowly drag him towards your doorstep once again and the moment he attempts to peek inside, your face pops from behind the door. The both of you pull away at the same time, you almost close the door in his face but his foot stops it before you could close it shut.

“I had to hide my cat. He likes to escape when I open the door.” You announce with a tone that appears to be protective, very used to your fur companion’s habits. Hanma nods, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It wasn’t until you break eye contact that he realizes he’s been staring at you without uttering a single word.

“Are you alone?” He can see inside your apartment, he towers over you with so much ease. You shift your weight from one foot to another, eyes avoiding his as you stare back at the TV screen and the obviously empty living room.

“Yeah,” you pause, glancing back towards him. “Why?”

“I was thinking you could—“ he wiggles his fingers. “See if they’re okay.” You stare down at the band aids wrapped sloppily around the skin and have to fight back the urge to smile. “I tried to do it myself but I don’t think I did as much of a good job as you did,” which was true and very apparent.

You take a moment to consider your options, chewing on your bottom lip as you fixate your stare on his hands. It was relatively late at night, you were wearing a light sleep dress—this could either go right or horribly wrong. For now, you don’t mind taking the risk.

Pushing the door wide, you see the way his eyes glimmer as they scan your entire body from head to toe. He doesn’t hide that he is checking you out, even as he steps inside your place, he chooses to stare at you instead of scanning his surroundings like last time. You refuse to crumble under his gaze nor change what you were wearing, you close the door and make your way to the kitchen without uttering a single word.

Hanma suddenly thinks of something and he bites back the urge to smirk as he makes his way towards the kitchen as well. This is the farthest he’s been in your place, your kitchen is rather small compared to the one he has in his apartment, but he appreciates how full it is. From the fruit sitting on the counter, the coffee machine, the magazines, the small board where you have what looks like a to-do list written there—it feels homey. It feels like you.

You glance behind you, noticing the pair of shoes in your kitchen and don’t bother to look back, but you feel a tad bit annoyed.

“No shoes in my house,” no response. Surely, he wasn’t going to ignore you when you were about to take care of him.

“I said—“ your stomach flutters and your breath catches when you feel something land on your shoulder, hot breath fanning the tiny bit of skin exposed from your sleep dress falling to the side. You hold your breath for what feels like an eternity, body frozen in place.

“No shoes in the house?” his deep voice sends chills down your spine, his hands resting against the fridge instead of gripping your hips.

His fingers twitch when the smell of sweet vanilla and coconut hits his nostrils, your scent is intoxicating and he struggles with himself. Every instinct urges him to break free and surrender to the intoxicating allure, yet the tether of restraint holds Hanma firmly and keeps his impulse in check. He doesn’t want to upset you again, but he thoroughly enjoys seeing you like this. So flustered.

As he pulls away from you, you turn to face him and use the first aid kit to put space between the two of you, like a shield. If you were trying to appear intimidating with the scowl on your face, Hanma’s smirk tells you that you were failing miserably.

“What the hell is your problem?” you don’t even sound mad, just completely and utterly embarrassed. You were fighting a war between your brain and your needs—the warmth of his body lingered on your skin for far too long, and although his breath reeked of cigarette and something minty, it made you feel dizzy.

“You’re red in the face, doll.” He purrs, making his way towards the couch. This time, you were certainly not going to get down to your knees and treat his cuts. Not after the stunt he pulled.

“Shut up.” You groan, sitting on the couch.

“You’re like, totally vermillion in the face—“

“I will kill you!”

He snorts and comfortably settles on the couch right beside you. One glance at his hands and you can tell that it really isn’t that serious. You bring his hands close to your face, inspecting them as soon as you take off the adhesive strips. There are a few faint scars, but they’re all healed and he only needs to apply ointment to them for extra measure. You put them back in his lap for a few seconds, leaning forward to grab the ointment you placed on the small coffee table in front of the both of you. You don’t realize that you had both gone awfully quiet after that moment, for a few seconds you almost forget what his touch felt like until you feel a pair of eyes burning holes in your face.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you blurt out, never meeting his eyes. You want to appear unbothered by all of this, by his intense way of giving you attention. But god knows how loudly your heart was thumping in your chest.

“Would you let me do it?” oh my god.

You don’t respond, you want to focus on the task at hand and step away from him as quickly as you can. The longer you felt him near you, the harder it was to contain yourself from matching his energy, his flirtatious comments. You were supposed to be mad at him, why did you cave into his request of having his minor cuts treated once again when the man ruined your mood the other night?

“No, I wouldn’t.” You say firmly, although your touch against his skin is very soft. Hanma can tell that you’re fighting an inner battle, you’re not good at hiding it. Your furrowed eyebrows make his own skin burn, his thumb craves to smoothen the skin of your forehead, get you to relax that jaw and melt against him the same way he does when the tip of your finger grazes his skin. He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees that you were already putting everything back in the white box, golden eyes staring between your hands and face.

“We’re done?”

“Yeah, you should be fine now.” You get up and head back to the kitchen, leaving Hanma alone with his thoughts once again. He notices that the movie you were watching was paused only 20 minutes in and the hot chocolate sitting on your coffee table was starting to go cold. It seems as though your night was just getting started and him showing up put it on hold.

However, Hanma doesn’t want to leave just yet. He can’t put his finger on why he feels the need to stay, perhaps the idea of going back into his car, driving to his empty place made him feel a little bit sick to his stomach. It was an unspoken rule for Hanma to never visit his place unless he really needed something. Clothes, money—he always packed those in a bag and left it in his car. His place—located in the heart of the city's shadows, is nestled within a towering skyscraper, its imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows over the streets below. Whenever Shuji inserts the key card, he is greeted by an atmosphere steeped in mystery and menace. Dark, rich tones dominate the décor. Nothing about the 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms apartment made it feel homey. So Hanma avoided it like the plague.

He thinks he can find an excuse to stay a little longer with you. Should he take you out? He can’t. You were far too comfortable in your sleep dress to change into something else. The movie seemed interesting, perhaps a few sweet words would convince you to let him stay a little longer before he has to depart—

“Have you had dinner yet?” You break his chain of thoughts so easily, Hanma is a little taken aback at first. Glancing back towards you, he sees you holding two white ceramic plates in one hand. The pot, which he assumed had warm, homemade food in it, is sitting on the stove with a ladle inside. Were you offering him a meal?

“Not yet,”

“I figured you skip meals,” you say with a frown. You forget the grudge you’re supposed to hold against him, it nestles itself somewhere in the back of your head the moment you see Hanma lost in his thoughts. You glance at his face—not as full as it was when the two of you were kids. He’s never had chubby cheeks, but you could tell when the man had a good meal and when he hadn’t eaten properly in a while. You naturally find yourself reheating the food you made for yourself, grateful you decided to cook more than a singular portion.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” he clarifies, as though he needs you to understand where he is coming from but then his lips are sealed shut. He’s never had to explain himself to anyone, it’s a little foreign for him to be doing it with you.

“You forget?” you guess, your back facing him as you serve him a good portion of the katsu curry you’ve made. You make sure to give him a bigger portion than yours, assuming that the man has probably skipped lunch as well.

“Mhm.” With the way he engulfed you in his arms previously, you shouldn’t trust him so blindly and have your back facing him again. But you don’t seem to care as much, maybe even wishing he does it again. Instead, you hear a chair creak from behind you and see that the man has made himself comfortable in your kitchen. You hand him his food before sitting across from him, then the two of you dig into the food.

Hanma hasn’t tasted something this good in—14 years. Ever since his mother stopped cooking him a decent meal. You made a dish that’s such a delightful harmony of textures and flavors, engulfing him with a warm velvety blanket he would never throw over his own shoulders. He glances towards you and you’re focused on your food—at least, you look like you’re trying to focus. He sees that some habits never really left you. You ate fast, way too fast, never truly savored your food. You still had a habit of bringing the food close to your nose and inhaling the scent (he never understood why you did it). He can remember the last time you tried to smell something he was about to eat—a sandwich he had bought that had a weird mixture of ingredients, you leaned down to inhale its scent and Shuji swears he hasn’t laughed as hard ever since. The face you made was of pure disgust, pushing the bread back into his hands and away from you. You’ve always had such an expressive face—either that, or Shuji stares at you a bit too much.

The present situation mirrors your date at the ramen shop in sad ways. It is obvious that the two of you have grown apart, no longer needing to be so close to one another at any given moment. The person who sits across of Shuji Hanma is someone he recognizes but doesn’t fully know—he recognizes certain habits that even time couldn’t tear away from you. But your touch, your body and soul feel different. On them lingers this love and care you still held for the man along the years, but never to a full extent. It seemed as though even whilst with him, you were thinking of something else—somebody else. He could be mistaken and you’re just trying to push him away, but Hanma’s gut feeling never betrayed him.

His stomach twists in knots when he sees you reach for the jewelry adorning your neck—a necklace with a golden heart pendent. You hold onto it with so much care, cautious not to break the fragile accessory.

He is reading too much into it.

He pulls his eyes away from you once he’s done with his curry, polite enough to put his plate in the sink and wash it off for you. You stare at his large back in silence, contemplating your next words.

“Tonight’s Halloween.”

Hanma turns to look at you, his raised eyebrow an indication that he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Yeah? You got a costume you want to show me?” he teases, bracing himself against your kitchen counter. You have to pull your eyes away from his hands and arms, ignoring the way your pussy throbs at how large he looks in your tiny kitchen. You realize what he says and make an offended face, standing up with your own plate and utensils and walking towards the sink.

“Over my dead body.” You nudge his side with your elbow, he moves away from the sink but still stands next to you.

“Okay then?” he questions as you turn on the water.

“You could stay and watch the movie.” You offer without looking at him. You were scared that your face would betray you, you almost slipped and said ‘with me’ and that would give him the upper hand, another thing to tease you about.

“Like a date night?” you halt your movements, quickly turning off the faucet and turning to stare at him. Your breath hitches when you see his face so close to yours. He isn’t trying to intimidate you, the playful glint in his eyes give away his true intentions. However, you can’t deny that having him so close to you was starting to be challenging for your self-control.

“I… I don’t know.” your voice is barely above a whisper. You try to build a wall between the two of you, put some distance, but it’s useless. Hanma stares at you with golden orbs that mimic lanterns lit up in the night, evoking a sense of nostalgia that felt so strange to you—

Up until now, Hanma was a mere teenage crush you had parted ways with on less-than-great terms. There wasn’t a single time during those twelve years where your heart yearned for the man, remembered the way he would make your stomach leap and be like a light at the end of the tunnel—why let such silly feelings resurface so unexpectedly? You could blame it on your celibacy, not having been out on a proper date for a couple of months now—but even as you look at it, you haven’t been this interested in anyone for a while.

What was Hanma Shuji doing to you? What was so different about him? Could it be that the man’s touch messed you up?

He steps closer to you, tall figure looming over your smaller frame in an attempt at caging you between him and the sink. He’s got a million things to say and yet, his lips remain frozen. Yearning to feel the warmth of your own softer, plushier ones. As you confess shakily, although your hands far too comfortable holding onto his shirt for it to sound convincing, he chuckles and you smell his minty breath.

Everything about him looks…inviting. You cannot look away from his neck, or his jaw or his lips. You’re lost in a trance, on this terrifying journey where you wish to be able to hear something other than your own heartbeat. Deafening, muting the world around you for a split second as Hanma leans down and captures your lips in a fiery kiss.

It’s different than the one shared at the ramen shop—there was no waiting, no longing for your touch for twelve long years. You were at hand reach, so close to him like a dream. Hanma needed you like the moon needs the stars, promised himself to tattoo the feeling of your lips against his for years to come—they fit perfectly against his, like a mold made specifically for his body. It’s surreal. The initial kiss is short, gently easing you into the sea of his passionate and intense loving, because when his lips reattach to yours, you’re being pinned to the wall.

His hands grab your face, they hold you in place like he’s been craving to breathe again for an eternity. You can smell him, feel him on you everywhere even with layers of clothes stuck to your skin, set ablaze like a furnace. His electrifying touch leave goosebumps in their wake, trailing from your cheek down to the back of your neck. There, his hand grips your nape before his fingers dig into your scalp.

When you gasp at his touch, Hanma’s heart leaps. Like a ticking bomb, it was only a matter of time before he unleashed a side of him he wasn’t sure he wanted to offer so early on. You’re such a tease, he thinks. Why were you giving him those eyes as he pulls away from the kiss? Why are you biting your already swollen lips if you didn’t want him to bury himself so deep inside you?

“Ask me to leave.” He says, voice firm as he tries to catch his breath.

“Shuji—“ you go for his face but he grabs your wrist mid-air.

“Ask me to leave, doll.”

“No.”

“This is your chance,” he leans down, close to your face and brushes his lips against yours. “—won’t stop if I start.”

“If I touch this,” his hand gropes your boob over your dress. “If I kiss this,” he yanks your head back, brushing his lips against your throat. “I promise you. I won’t be able to stop.”

At this point, you’re more than fed up with his teasing and crash your lips against his. You push yourself off the wall as get on your tiptoes to reach for his lips, and he decides to end your struggle and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You kiss him harder, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he marches towards your room.

“Didn’t take you for a biter,” his words are muffled against the skin of your neck as he kisses there. You throw your head back, allowing him more room to work with and you feel your back hitting the familiar soft mattress. The bed was made, but the blankets are quickly discarded to the floor as Hanma’s mess of limbs loom over your figure and plant hungry kisses on the skin that’s showing.

Thanks to your choice in outfit, Hanma finds it easy to strip you naked. Skilled fingers undo your bra to reveal your breasts in full display, but his hands are busy groping at your mound. You gasp at how rough he is handling your body, but the wet patch forming in your underwear indicated just how much you’ve been craving this kind of attention. His lips attach to your hardened nipple, whilst his left hand twists and fiddles with the other one. It feels like he is attempting to nurse on you with how hard he sucks, golden eyes staring deeply at your fucked out face. Messy hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, and your eyes barely able to stay open as he gives your erogenous zones the right amount of attention.

“Mmm you’re so soft,” he teases the nipple with his teeth and chuckles when he feels you try to squeeze your thighs together from under him.

“Shuji,” you breathe out, as soft as a silken thread.

Pulling away from your breasts, he admires the hickeys he’s painted across your skin—branding you as his on your very first night together. Sure, he’s done this before but never this passionately. He wants those bruises to never go away, glued to your skin like a tattoo and a constant reminder that this is what being his meant. He attaches his lips to your skin again, this time on your torso—he travels down to your stomach, passes your belly button before kissing right above your panties. He notices how drenched they are and hisses.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping.” He says as he moves them to the side and his mouth falls open, drool threatening to spill. “All for me, doll?” his thumb teases at your engorged clit and you whimper.

“Don’t tease, fuck—!”

You react almost immediately as he attaches his lips to your clit. Your legs try to close around his head but he is having none of it as he grips your thighs and forces them open, continuing his assault on your pussy.

“Shit, shit!” you gasp as he lays his tongue flat against the bud before moving his head from side to side while watching intently as you writhed and twitched under his touch. There was no way you could escape his mouth, tongue moving down to lap at your folds while his fingers pinched your clit. Hanma craves to exist between your thighs for the rest of eternity, a place so warm and so wet, offering him the best of both worlds.

He pushes two fingers past your folds, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the way your body tenses up. Curling them upwards, the combination of his rough finger fucking and his mouth’s continuous assault on your clit makes you cum hard. You’re writhing, crying desperately for the man’s head to leave your thighs. Soft “I can’t—I can’t!” resonate through the room, but soon die down when he spares your pussy and instead, litters soft kisses over the inner of your thighs.

“You did so well, took me like a champ,” it seems as though the only time Hanma shows any emotion beside boredom, is when he has you under his mercy like this. It’s when he makes you blush, flustered, angry or in this case, cum so hard that you have to take a moment to remember your name—that’s when he feels alive, as though life is worth living again.

Your heart thumps loudly when you hear him fumble with his belt. A sound that makes your ears perk up, eager with anticipation. You push yourself up with your elbows, licking your lips when you see the obvious bulge in his pants. It makes your mouth water, and your hand reaches down to palm him through his pants. A rough hand grabs your wrist, you look up at the man hovering over you with lustful eyes. You stare at him through your lashes, neither of you uttering a single word—he is telling you not to touch, not right now, and you are craving his body like earth needs the sun.

You squeeze the bulge, lips parting when he closes his eyes and leans down towards you. You hear a soft groan emitting from the back of his throat, and it’s your sign to do it again and even go further. Hanma puts a halt to your attempt with a rough kiss against your lips, pushing you back against the soft mattress until you are whining against his lips.

“Oh what is it?” he says, almost mocking your sounds. “Do you need something?”

“Shuji—“ you are way too embarrassed by how he is speaking to you, staring to the side. But he doesn’t seem to mind your bashfulness, rather indulging it by kissing your cheek and then your pulse. The kiss on the cheek is a stark contrast to how roughly he finger fucked you, and when he finally releases his cock and you see the way it jumps—your stomach twists in knots.

That thing will reach spots your own fingers haven’t been able to.

You panic when he starts to tease your folds, hands pushing at his shoulders to remind him to use protection. You did not want to have a kid running around anytime soon.

“I’m clean,” he says and a part of you can’t help but not fully trust him. He sees the expression on your face and chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck as you melt back on the mattress.

“I get tested frequently.”

“I’m not on the pill—“

“Don’t worry, I can’t get you pregnant.”

You don’t have time to question what that could possibly mean, lips forming an ‘O’. You are forced to lay back and take it as Hanma’s cock keeps going deeper and deeper—you feel full of him. A sob erupts from your chest as you feel him pull his hips back and then—thrust.

He repeats the motion a few times, piercing eyes scanning your face like a hawk. He wants to memorize your body like the back of his hand, wants to tattoo the feeling of your warm and soft cunt at the forefront of his mind—you are so soft and pliable, making sweet noises that he easily swallows by kissing you deeply.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,”

You moan into his mouth when he angles his hips a certain way, Hanma grins victoriously against your lips and uses his hands to grab the back of your knees. Pushing them to your chest, he enjoys the sight of you taking his cock like a sweet girl. You’re so cock hungry, practically begging him to fuck you silly with those glossy eyes staring deeply into his.

“Yeah? You like that?” he purrs, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He removes one of his hands from the back of your knee and wraps it around your neck in a possessive grip, watching as the early signs of your orgasm start to creep in on you like a shadow in the dusk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl—“ filth continues to spew out of his mouth at the same rate as your loud whines. Your eyes can barely stay open as he quickens his pace, jaw going slack when his thumb brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He shamelessly leans back to stare at your pussy as he continues to fuck it, watching as his cock slides in and out of you. The room is filled with wet noises, the sound of skin slapping against each other reaching Hanma’s ears as he takes in the sight before him.

You were so pliant beneath him, no longer putting up walls in his presence. He loved it. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock keeps nudging at that one spot that makes you dizzy. Your hand wraps around his wrist as he continues to pin you to the mattress by the neck, you stare up at him with glossy eyes, thighs twitching and your back arching off as you finally cum.

Hanma swears he has never seen something as magical. You feel like a magnetic force, pulling him closer with an irresistible allure that ignites a fire in his stomach and sets his senses ablaze. It tips him over the edge, he empties himself inside you with a loud groan as he lets go of your neck and holds onto your boobs as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Now what? It’s not like he’s never had sex before, he was in fact very good at it—but usually, he gets up and leaves the moment he empties his balls inside. Now, he worries that you would get the wrong idea, that you’d think he’s using you—does he want to use you?

Isn’t this what he wanted all along? To fuck you senseless the moment he saw you run towards the metro station in your tight skirt. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities of what could be underneath the fabric—perhaps a matching set, or if you wanted to be a tease, nothing.

He starts to wonder what his intentions were with you—he wanted to be your friend without getting too close to you. He couldn’t afford having you near him at all times, that came with a cost he wasn’t sure you could afford. In your arms, he didn’t feel as though he needed to prove anything to you—not his existence, nor his power. And for a man who lives his life in pure chaos, a house that didn’t have a mess isn’t one where he belongs.

His hands pull away from your body, his eyes scanning your face only to find that you were fast asleep. He could wake you up and tell you to go pee, but like a puppet, his own fears pulled on the strings as they desired—his feet carry him towards your door in speed record. Glancing one last time at the pot you left outside, he closes the door.

Even as he drives back to his place, Hanma can’t brush off the burning sensation sitting heavy on his chest.

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[randomshyperson]

Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.

Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.

A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.

Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.

A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.

Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.

The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.

"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.

"It's still my company..."

Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."

Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."

Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."

Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."

Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."

Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.

Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.

She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries. 

Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.

It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.

So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.

"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge. 

"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive. 

"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."

Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."

You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.

"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."

Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth. 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."

"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."

You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?" 

Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.

"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."

You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"

Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.

Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."

You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."

Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."

You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"

"I-I..."

"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."

She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.

Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.

As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.

Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.

Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.

Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.

"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"

"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"

You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."

Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.

Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:

"I'm leaving."

Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."

You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."

Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.

"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.

"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.

"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."

"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."

"Y/N..."

"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."

"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.

"Wanda..."

"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"

"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."

"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"

"I care, Wa-"

"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"

"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.

"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."

Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."

"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."

Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."

You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.

"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building." 

You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.

–//–

You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.

It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.

"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."

"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.

Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other. 

But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture. 

Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:

"Why are you here, sweetheart?" 

Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify. 

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together. 

It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.

"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"

"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."

"W-what...?"

Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."

With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.

With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.

She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.

Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time. 

When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.

"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you. 

Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.

"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."

"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."

That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.

You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.

She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch. 

There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.

"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.

"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.

"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”

She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."

"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."

She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.

When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.

"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"

"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."

You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."

"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."

You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before. 

She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight. 

And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.

[hyuckiefluff]

Hey so I hv request! Really love the way you write♡ ok so mark is on adrenaline high frm the concert and is really touch starved and really just wants to fuck his gf! Established realtionship y/n and Mark, feel free to add your magic, thank you!!!

a/n: thank u for the nice words and for sending in this req!! this is exactly what i needed to get back into the mood cuz i’ve (once again) been neglecting my writing lol but anyway when i read this the first thing i thought of was quiet down hence the pic :)

ps: requests are still open btw (still got a lot of them to go through but feel free to send in more) i usually do them in order of which one inspires me the most so even if you send rn i might get to it first!

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

content warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, slight choking, brief mention of blood, mark is sex starved so he goes a bit crazy, ass groping, handjob (m. receiving), cum eating yeah ik ik i keep writing this but i can’t stop sawry, big c0ck mark!! barely any prep or aftercare (they don’t have time!!!) basically just a messy & needy quickie backstage.

masterlist

Mark was losing his mind. 

Why?

All because you placed him on a week-long sex ban in an attempt to prepare him for the upcoming tour. He knew you were just trying to help him adjust to being away from you, but it felt like torture.

Everything was fine at first, or at least Mark was doing a great job pretending. But as the first week neared its end, his resolve started to crumble. Today, in particular, he was extremely horny for no reason.

...Well, he actually did have a reason and it was the picture you sent him this morning, wearing the new underwear he had gifted you  'They fit perfectly, Markie ;)'.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you showed up to his show wearing his favorite skirt—the very one you knew he always fucked you in. He wasn't sure if he was just thinking with his dick, but it felt like you were trying to push him to his limit.

Either way, it was definitely working, because when you leaned in for a kiss, he caught a glimpse of your underwear in the mirror's reflection and and he had to fight against every part of himself to not moan right then.

To make matters worse, you were still wearing the black lace panties he had gifted you.

By the time he stepped on stage, he was already painfully hard. What kind of pervert gets turned on in front of an audience just because his girlfriend accidentally flashed him? Well, apparently, Mark Lee did.

But he didn't care about looking like a desperate, sex-starved fool. 

So as soon as the VCR started playing and they had to change outfits, he made a beeline for you backstage. Ignoring the protests of staff and confused band members telling him he only had 10 minutes to get ready he grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowd.

“That’s more than enough time,” he muttered under his breath. Despite your persistent attempts to ask where he was taking you, Mark didn’t stop until you were hidden away in a dark, secluded corner behind the stage.

"Mark, what's going on? Are you okay?" You inspected him with concern in your eyes, checking for any injuries.

"Ah...fuck... I have a really big problem," he groaned.

"What's wrong?" But you quickly understood the issue when he pulled up his shirt, revealing the growing bulge in his pants.

You tried not to laugh, but the way he looked like a child in need of help was too endearing. "Aw, did I do this to you?"

"It's not funny," he protested, suddenly invading your personal space. "I need you to fix it." His forehead pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your sides and gripping your hips to press you firmly against his body, your lower abdomen coming in contact with his hard on.

"Of course, baby" you replied, ready to kneel down, but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. You looked at him confused, and the stage lights cast an angle that highlighted his pleading eyes. They were glossy with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he murmured, his voice strained and raspy.

The idea of having backstage sex at his concert with just about seven minutes left before he had to return to the stage felt crazy. But there was something about it that turned you on beyond explanation.

So, you cupped his face and kissed him hard enough that your teeth clashed with his lips, but not even the slight taste of blood stopped you from devouring each other’s mouth. Mark quickly matched your intensity, his tongue wasting no time exploring every corner of your mouth. Every time he nibbled on your lips, it elicited little gasps from you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, pressing you firmly against his bulge, a clear reminder that he was about to explode down there.

You started to undo his pants, the friction of his erection against the fabric made him suck in air through his teeth. He broke away from your lips, allowing you to pull down his pants. His boxers were already stained with pre-cum, and when you lowered them, his dick looked at you flushed and angry. You bit your lip, his size always made you clench your thighs in anticipation.

Before you could even touch him, he turned you around and that’s when you realized you were pressed against one of the glass boxes from their performance.

"Mark..." you moaned his name when you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance. There was no time for much preparation so when he slowly pushed his hips forward, a string of curses left his lips at the tightness.

"Fuuuck..." he groaned when your walls clenched around him relentlessly. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you leaned against the box for support

“God, you feel so good” His hands gripped your hips, and you felt his lips kissing your shoulder before he whispered that he was going to start moving. You nodded weakly.

His pace started out slow, but there was an undeniable urgency in each motion. His hand moved from your hips to your neck, gripping you softly and pulling you closer with every deep thrust. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and with every kiss and nibble, you couldn't help but clench around him, making his hand close tighter against your throat. This pattern continued for a while, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Please..." you whimpered, and he grunted softly against your neck.

"What do you need, baby?" he asked.

"More, please, I need more," you moaned, feeling his grin against your neck.

He wasted no time. His thrusts quickened, and you couldn't help but release soft gasps and moans with each movement. You leaned forward against the box, your breath fogging up the glass, feeling it tremble beneath you as he continued fucking into you harder. Mark was losing himself, or perhaps he already had; he was rutting against you as if he was an animal in heat.

"M-mark... I'm close," you mewled, not sure if he even heard you amidst the loud cheers.

"Mhm, me too," he moaned, his voice strained. 

It only took a few more thrusts and you were spent, moaning and mumbling incoherently as he helped you ride your orgasm.

 "Fuck, it's gonna be messy if I cum inside you," he realized, slowing his movements.

He was right… he wasn't wearing a condom so as soon as he pulled out, it would definitely drip down your legs. And there wasn’t anything nearby to clean you up with.

"Pull out," you said, and you could see his confusion from the corner of your eye. Nonetheless, he did as told. His hand was already on his dick, ready to take care of himself, but when you knelt down, it was as if his body glitched momentarily.

Your hands replaced his, applying just the right amount of pressure in your strokes to evoke that familiar sensation building in his gut. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your makeup slightly smudged from tears and sweat. The sight was incredibly hot, and just when he was about to cum, you opened your mouth, catching all of his release. Some of it trickled down your throat. The whole scene, along with the sounds you made while swallowing, had Mark almost in tears from the sheer intensity of the moment.

After swallowing every drop, you stood up, adjusting your panties and casually licking a remnant from the corner of your lips, all while maintaining eye contact with Mark. He watched you in stunned silence, still catching his breath. You chuckled when he remained frozen for a good 10 seconds, pulling him close gently and zipping up his pants. In that moment, you heard his voice.

“Please come on tour with me,” he begged, his eyes wide with hope. You just smiled and kissed him.

“Where’s Mark?! You guys are up in 2 minutes!” The staff's frantic shouts pulled you both back to reality. You exchanged a glance and burst into giggles like a pair of teenagers.

i think i might be shadowbanned guys so interact with this post if u enjoyed it pls <3

[writingjourney]

Benedict x fem!reader fic preview anyone?

It will be a cute 4+1 times situation with some wholesome (and spicy!!!) moments during their engagement period.

EDIT: FIND THE FULL FIC HERE!! OR ON AO3 ✌🏼

─── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ───

He stops, leans against the frame of the open door to the drawing room and drinks you in. The pianoforte is angled away from the open windows, your back turned to him. Bare skin shimmers in the sunlight, diffused by sheer white curtains that stream dreamily in the mild breeze. He follows the line of your shoulders where they rise and fall as your hands dance across the keys, then up the curve of your spine where your neck is exposed under pinned-up hair. The music seems to carry the easy with which you hold yourself.

He notes that your maid is not with you, a sign that the staff is kept busy with the wedding preparations. Or perhaps you sent her away as you are prone to do, craving solitude – and opportunities to meet him. Benedict finds himself chasing these moments in which he gets to have you to himself like they’re his sanctuary, so precious that he has to pile them up with care like gemstones in the shrine of his love for you. One day soon he will be able to display them more openly. For now he has to grasp them as they appear.

You only hear him when his steps have reached so close that not even the rugs can muffle them anymore. A few weeks ago you might have been startled by him appearing out of nowhere but by now it is rather natural that he should find you when you are alone. It seems he has a sense for it.

When you look up he is already urging to you scoot over. The double piano bench is rather narrow but you think he might be closing in more than necessary. You’re acutely aware of the press of his thigh against yours.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” he says in the dulcet tone you know means mischief.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mr Bridgerton?”

“My goal,” he whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “is to be closer to the music.”

His breath on your neck does nothing to enhance your ability to focus. The first few notes are not quite rhythmic as a shiver runs through your limbs and down your fingertips. You soon find your footing, however, and the song comes to life in the form of a moderately slow but all the more magical sonata of your own composition. Sheet music is quite expensive and your collection rather limited. To add some variety you recently began to write your own, significantly inspired by Benedict and his artworks.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself and you smile as you transition into a faster section of the song that reminds you of fairies frolicking in a meadow, drunk on honeydew and starlight.

However, you soon realise that he did not talk about the music. His hand dances along your back, fingertips drumming over your spine until they come to rest on the swell of your hip on the other side. It is the closest thing to an embrace, his arm a comforting support behind your back. His proximity, if thrilling, does not deter you. Your hands remember exactly what they must do – over a decade of tutoring has left its marks.

Your confidence is short-lived. His hair tickles your ear as he leans in, a soft press of his lips to your shoulder, devoted, sensuous and… lingering. Your fingers slip but for a moment. It is enough to draw the wrong tunes from the instrument, a cacophonous quake that has you wincing in surprise.

“You must stay focused,” Benedict warns, lips still warm on your skin, “or everyone shall hear that you are… rather distracted.”

“How fortunate that I am known for my stable countenance.”

“Hm, yes, that is what they say about you, my darling, “ he whispers. “If only they saw you as I do, falling apart at the mere idea of a kiss.”

You close your eyes and recollect yourself, trying desperately to ignore how he feels against you. Despite his warning he shows no signs of stopping, not even as you resume your play. The next kiss hits the crook of your neck. You feel his nose against your jaw as he inhales your scent, rose oil and soap. For a moment his warm exhale against your throat overshadows the fact that is fingers curl at your hip, a not so innocent squeeze that you feel somewhere between your legs.

You’re aware that both of your families are just outside in the gardens, that the open windows and the steady breeze carry your tunes far out on the premises. Muscle memory serves you and you finish the hardest part of the song without more than one or two off-key notes. Benedict has been silent, lips lingering just below your ear. Just as you move on to the conclusion his mouth gets more insistent, sucking gently at your delicate skin as he gets carried away.

”Benedict,“ you warn. Crooked tunes are one thing, a vivid red kiss mark another.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, pressing tiny kisses along your neck now. “I cannot help it.”

You finish the song with a relieved exhale, wondering if a musical number has ever felt so painfully long before. Benedict has lost his patience, it seems. His free hand comes to rest on your sternum as though he needs to feel the agitated rise and fall of your chest. You only have a moment to relish in the soft feel of his palm on your bosom before he curls his fingers over your jaw and forces your head to turn to him. His kiss is dizzying, starved. He tastes of the strawberries he must have had outside just earlier.

You allow him to kiss you breathless before you remove yourself. He tries to chase after you, as he is won’t to do, but a finger on his swollen lips has him halting. His expression rivals that of Newton when he is in want of a treat.

“We must go back outside before they find us,” you say. “It is already suspicious enough that I played off-key the moment you stepped inside.”

“I blame you for being such a flawless musician.”

“I blame you for being such an irresistible distraction. Now come on, my darling, I am suddenly in want of some sweet strawberries.”

He sighs woefully and you cannot help but kiss the pout from his face.

─── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ───

This fic is coming within the next week I would say, it will be 18+ so MDNI. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the full thing!! (just in case this lands in the hashtag and someone actually sees it haha) ♡

[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~*

A/N: This was a funny idea I had and Now I'm gonna do another series with my Yuu OC. Note that I write most of the cast in a platonic sense with my OC because that's how their story formed. I'm fully open to doing requests with characters in a romantic sense. Word Count: 4.7K Warnings: Period mentions, allusions to sexual assault (They are assumed, nothing actually happens), She/They OC Pronouns Pairings: Azul/Reader (Poly), Jamil/Reader (Poly) Enjoy! Start (Here), Part 2 (Octavinelle), Part 3 (Heartslabyul), Part 4 (Savanaclaw), Part 4.5 (Diasomnia pt.1), Part 5 (Diasomnia pt2), Part 6 (Pomefiore), Part 7 (Scarabia)

Yuu was forgetting something, she knew she was. But sitting in her pjs on a Saturday morning, an over-filled bowl of sugary cereal in hand, she couldn't be bothered to really care.

It was shaping up to be a good day too. None of the staff needed her help with anything, her friends all had their club meetings, and the kitchen was stocked with easy-to-grab snacks for Grim. the cat monster himself had even started his homework on Friday night with minimal fighting. Literally, nothing could be wrong, but she still felt uneasy. They woke up feeling weary and oddly bloated.

With an inquisitive expression, she taps her spoon against her bowl. They really hoped they weren't going to spend all day in a strange sense of deja vu…

Then she sneezed and everything made sense. Yuu blinks, moving back to pull the seam of their pj pants, looking down as they groan, "Ah, shit…"

Azul loved Saturdays, they were his biggest money-maker days. Students came to the Mostro Lounge either to get a head start on homework, grab a drink after practice or clubs, or merely have a freshly cooked meal. It also was the day he had most of his workforce available so he could spare the time to walk around campus or catch up on his own paperwork.

But, what he's trying to do was gather his courage and think up a plausible enough reason for him to go visit his date-mate. Not that he usually needed one, they were very vocal about how he was always a welcomed presence in their company.

But, Yuu had been…easily irked? Prickly? Upset. Yuu had been upset for most of the week but anyone who questioned their mood was quickly shot down. The prefect would then tensely state they weren’t mad and then questioned why people thought they were mad. Sure they had a very intense resting bitch face but who didn't at Night Raven? (He's fairly certain you needed to either be handsome or have the most terrifying resting bitch face to be admitted to this school).

So he wasn't too pressed about his date-mate's mood until Floyd said something. He had come into the back office pouting of all things, saying 'Shrimpy smelled off'. They had also punched him when the eel merman attempted to pick them up, which wasn't normal.

Jade handled his twin, trying to cull Floyd’s decreasing mood, while Azul opened a few text chats to ask if anyone had caused Yuu reason to want to kill someone. The genuine confusion and concern that answered back only made him more uneasy.

Now, on a sunny Saturday, Azul made the long journey toward Ramshackle. With an obscure board game tucked under his arm and a bag of exclusive gummy candy in hand, he was on a mission to improve his dear pearl’s mood.

Or he was until he was suddenly being dragged down the dirt road in a different direction. He yelped and shouted, trying to angle himself to see what was pulling him through the mud and sticks. The answer was Sam’s shadows, the black willowy wisps quickly yanking him into the shop and setting him on his feet. Azul looks down at his outfit, scowling at seeing the dirt and grass stains. Sevens, did he rip his slacks?

“Lil fish.”

Azul jolts, eyes wide and semi-fearful at Sam’s echoing tone. The man stood behind the counter, a number of medical supplies laying across the surface as his nails gripped at the wood. Sam’s eyes were wide, pupils pinprick as his amethyst orbs almost glowed under all the shadows. Speaking of shadows…Azul looks around the shop, feeling actual fear stir in him. The shadows were everywhere, zipping through the aisles, slithering in and out of the back room, and some were even racing out of the shop, “Uh…Yes, Sam? H-how can I be of assistance?” He didn’t stutter, he refuses to admit he stuttered.

“Do you know what a pad is?”

…

“Like…Like a notepad or-”

“NO!” Sam slams his fist onto the counter, the lights of the near-endless shop flickering wildly at the force of it. He rests his face in his hands, paying no mind to his makeup and hat that fell to the counter. Looking up, his intense stare was replaced with one of desperation, “You’re killing me here, kid. Look, if you know what a damn pad is, just tell me where to get one! I know you and the lil pup talk!”

“I swear, I have no clue what you’re talking about, sir.” Sevens, had Azul ever felt scared of Sam? He didn’t like this, why was his fellow businessman so frazzled? What kind of pad was he talking about? Why couldn’t he find it and assumed Azul would know where and what the damn thing was?

Sam groans, hands running furiously through purple-tinted lock braids. With a snap of his fingers, the wisps all stop. Either quickly entering the shop or bleeding into the shadows to hide once more, “Look just…Go see the prefect. They called me asking for sanitation pads? That’s the business name they told me anyway…That and just…a lot of pain potions.”

Azul clicked out of his confusion, growing nervous at the potions request, “I…wait are they hurt? Shouldn’t they be in the infirmary?”

“I suggested that, but they insisted they didn’t need to go, just the potions. I’m sending them over soon, Crewel is due to deliver my order in an hour or two. I’ll send him over after ya once he gets here.” Sam grumbles under his breath as Azul rushes out of the store. ‘Primadonna dog hates when I call him while he’s brewing…’

Azul pulls his phone from his pocket, sending a text to both Jade and Floyd. Yuu was in pain, they had requested something called a ‘sanitation pad’? Whatever those were. By the name he could only guess they were used for cleaning of some kind. He sent the twins a message to meet him at Ramshackle ASAP, potentially 119 status. Yuu had always joked about the Octavinelle trio being the first ones they’d call if they needed to hide a body. But, it seemed when it came time for them to actually make the call, the poor thing must have been overwhelmed. He could only think they had done it in self-defense, but the cause didn’t matter. There wasn’t going to be a body in a few hours.

Halfway through the woods to Ramshackle, he hears other footsteps hurrying to catch him. Looking over his shoulder, he raises an eyebrow at the extra amount of people, “Why are they here?”

Ace, Deuce, and Jamil all kept a quick jog behind Floyd and Jade’s long-legged walk. Floyd rolled his eyes, pointing behind him with his thumb, “I was at practice. Crabby and Sea Snake saw the text and wanna help lil Shrimpy too…”

Deuce raises a hand, "I saw them leaving the gym on my way to track practice. Yuu's my classmate and friend, it's only right I help them."

Jamil hisses under his breath, side-eyeing Azul as he sped up to walk beside him, “Plus, they’re my date-mate too, asshole…”

Rolling his eyes, Azul sighed, waving Jamil’s attitude off, “Yes, yes. We can meet with Draconia later about our timeshare lover's crimes. But for now, we need to go and assist them with the dead body I’m sure is on their property.”

Ace sighs, relaxing more as he leans back, arms folding behind his head, “Yuu finally did it, huh?”

“I mean…They can only threaten to murder someone so many times before they’d snap…” Deuce pipes up, rubbing the back of his head, almost dreading getting blood on his uniform again.

Floyd giggled, “I can’t wait to see who Shrimpy squeezed~. I bet they made it real messy!”

“Hmm…I wouldn’t put it past Yuu to kill someone via strangulation. But their MO seems to lean more toward bludgeoning.” Jade smiles to the group, eyes closing in barely hidden glee, “If anything clean up will at least be interesting if we’re just dealing with some blood splatter and a puddle!”

 Ace and Deuce wince, watching Floyd, Azul, and Jamil simply nod at Jade’s examination.

The mood was instantly broken once they came into view of Ramshakle. Floyd and Jade tensed, their smiles dropping off their faces before racing toward the dorm as two teal-colored blurs. Azul shouted, only to choke on his tongue at the smell. Blood. His nose wasn’t anywhere as sensitive as Floyd's or Jade’s but even at this distance, he could smell the sharp iron smell. He jogged to catch up with his dormmates, his expression of panic causing the other three to speed up as well.

All he could smell was Yuu’s blood. Sharp and salty, but spiced and sweet because of their diet. A hint of some type of alien fragrance that no one could place and Yuu couldn’t name mixing it all together perfectly. And that was all he was smelling, not even a hint of another person’s blood.

When the rest of the group had made it to the front porch, Floyd was pounding on the door, eyebrows creased while Jade searched the bushes for the hidden key, “Shrimpy! Open up! Shrimpy!”

Jade’s fingers had just grazed the false rock when the door’s locks clicked open. Floyd swung the door so hard it nearly sent Grim into the hallway wall. The feline monster kept to the ground, eyes wide and teary with fear, “Yuu’s bleeding all over everything and they won’t tell me why!”

Deuce was the only one who had the mindset to scoop Grim into his arms, the rest of them instantly rushing up the stairs toward Yuu’s bedroom. The sound of their footsteps pounding on the floor echoing in the house, each of them calling out in panicked voices. Azul could only grow increasingly worried, the scent of blood growing stronger and stronger.

Jade slams the door open, Ace instantly diving into the bed and startling Yuu awake.

“The-The fuck- hello?”

Ace cupped their face, using what medical lessons Riddle had drilled into his head to see if they had a visible injury, “Yuu! Can you hear me? We were calling you all the way downstairs- Ay!” He tumbles off the bed when Yuu shoves him aside, dark eyes glaring down at the redhead.

“Yeah, I was sleeping. Why are all of you in my house?”

“We smelled blood shrimpy!” Floyd kneeled onto the bed, sniffing around trying to find the main source of blood. Ignoring or nipping at Yuu’s hands trying to shove his face away from her body.

Azul stepped forward, eyes roaming in barely concealed haste, “Sam sent me over. He was worried by a request you had called him about? It’s sent him positively spiraling.”

Yuu raises an eyebrow, having given up on getting Floyd off their bed and wrapping an arm around him instead, “Yeah I was about to ask. Octobaby, what truck did you get dragged behind and did you at least get the license plate?”

Whatever positive flow of atmosphere that was building ended, Floyd grasping the duvet covering them and pulling, “Shrimpy, where are you bleeding-”

A single tug was all it took for Yuu’s bottom half to be flashed. They all look in stunned silence. Fresh red blood on a series of towels under them, a smear on the inside of their bare legs. Yuu shouts but none of them respond, minds spiraling at what could have possibly happened.

“Floyd! By the Seven, I’m not wearing any pants!” Yuu snatches the blanket back, draping it over their legs with a huff. They turn to Floyd only to have their face gripped harshly. Floyd stared at them with a dead expression, his single golden eye almost glowing with the force of his anger, “Floyd?”

“Who?”

“Wha-”

“Who?”

“Floyd.” Jade’s hands come into view, pulling Floyd’s grip off of their face and his brother off the bed. Jade was no better, a pleasant smile on his face but eyes wide and void of any emotion, “It’ll do no good to pressure them into telling us. Let us let our two professionals deal with this. The two of us can brainstorm methods of...disposing of the unsavory culprit once we have a name or description.”

Yuu watched them slowly leave the room. Floyd just barely letting Jade pull him along as his expression started to finally morph into a look of anger. His fists clenched as he gritted his teeth, body so tense his movements were more shaky than his normal loose glide.

Looking beside them, Yuu catches eyes with Ace and Deuce. Ace quickly turned away, a hand covering his mouth as a single tear slid down his cheek and his shoulders shook. Deuce was no better, gripping Grim in his arms as he hiccuped softly with just barely contained sobs. He looked like he was fighting back the urge to go into 'delinquent mode'.

Jamil finally moves, a hand on each of Ace's and Deuce's shoulders, guiding them to the door. Softly pushing them out too once Jade had managed to pull Floyd out of the room, “Let us talk to them…We’ll…we’re gonna figure this out…”

Yuu watches stunned as Azul walks toward them as though he was approaching a wounded animal; softly, with just a hint of fear and pity, “Azul…What’s-?”

“It’s ok.” Jamil closed the door, still facing it so Yuu wasn’t sure if he was saying it to them or mumbling to himself, “It's…It’s ok, you’re gonna be fine…”

Azul had finally reached them and they could clearly see the unshed tears in his eyes, “It’s not your fault. This is not your fault, do you hear me?” He ran his fingers through their hair, his other hand gently cupping against her cheek as his thumb shakingly caressed their skin. He opens his mouth, closing his eyes while he sighs a shuddering sob. Gathering his wits again he opens his eyes, a fiery determination glowing in them, “We’re here for you, my pearl.”

“Wha…?” Yuu could only wrap their arms around Azul, the merman diving to embrace her in what had to be the most protective hold he could do with just his two arms. It felt safe and sturdy, like a cool blanket was wrapped around their body. While it was welcomed, Yuu only grew more confused feeling a wet spot start to form on their shoulder where Azul’s face had snuggled into, “I’m…very confused…”

“Yuu.”

If Azul wasn’t holding them, they would have jumped off the bed. Jamil stood right next to them with a blank expression. His face pulled into a mask of neutrality, but his eyes were steely, an ice-cold fire in them waiting to find a victim.

“Who. You can tell me, you can trust me. We’ll handle everything, you won't even have to look at the bastard unless you want to beat him to death yourself.” He kneels on the bed, his hand moving to touch her covered thigh before retreating, a pinched expression breaking his mask before it was back in place, “You have to tell us who did this to you, hayati.”

Did what to them?

Yuu stared at Jamil, blinking when he finally had to look away to bite his lip. He looked to be holding back tears, fully turning around to put his face in his hands to mutter under his breath. ‘How could he let this happen? Why couldn’t he have just one thing with nothing to ruin it?’ a teary sob of ‘Do they not trust him?’

“My pearl?” Azul pulls his face away from their shoulder, sniffling before he removes his glasses briefly to wipe his tears, “Do you…Would you like me to draw you a bath? This can’t be comfortable-”

“Azul!” Jamil whipped around, glaring at the merman, sparing them a worried glance before turning back to Azul and whispering heatedly, “They can’t take a bath until they get checked, you moron!”

“What’s there to check Jamil!? We can all clearly see what happened! Why put them through the extra…extra poking and defilement when we know what happened!?”

“Because we need evidence!”

“What we need is a name! Or a description! I’m not even going to entertain the idea of bringing this to a court. We have plenty of manpower on campus to bury whoever did this 12 times over.”

“Excuse me, what the fuck are you guys talking about?” Yuu spoke up, eyes glancing between the two of them, “Because if you mean the bleeding, that’s pretty standard at this point.” Maybe they just…forgot they had a vagina? Boys normally didn’t react well to period talk in the first place, but this was an all-boy school and Yuu was more non-gendered than female-gendered. Maybe they just honestly forgot.

But, what they said had only made things worse, both Azul and Jamil looking at them in absolute horror. Standard. This was normal. This had happened multiple times already.

Azul starts to openly sob, wrapping himself around them in a way to keep everything else away, nuzzling his head into her neck and whimpering out apologies. Jamil covered his mouth, a look that Yuu could only call devastation on his face before he stood from the bed to pace the room. Mutters grew in volume and speed before Yuu finally realized what they thought had happened.

“Oh. OH!” They quickly pull Azul from their neck, hands pressed to both his cheeks to keep him looking into their eyes, “Sevens! Guys no! That isn’t what this is, I promise! No one hurt me like that!”

“You expect us to believe that!?” Jamil turns on them, eyes wild and red with held-back tears. He gestures to the bed, alluding to the mess of blood under the covers, “What else could this possibly be!? Why are you trying to defend them!?”

“Jamil, I’m on my period!” Yuu looked back at Azul once her words seemed to hit Jamil, “It’s just my period. No one hurt me. I’m…well, not fine. Periods are a bitch. But not that…I swear it wasn’t that.”

No one made a sound past Azul’s labored breathing, the merman’s expression slowly morphing from one of despair into confusion. Once his breathing was finally under control, he pulled Yuu’s hands from his face, a single brow raised, “Your…your period?”

“Yeah…It’s just my period.”

Jamil pulls a face, eyes looking down as his brain worked to understand what Yuu was saying, “...Like the punctuation?”

Yuu frowned, turning to Jamil, “Don’t you act fucking dumb with me.” They press a kiss to Azul’s forehead, letting him slump against their chest, not seeing the gears turning in his head, “You and your sister are basically the same petty soul shared between two bodies. You know what a period is Jamil.”

The two mages catch eyes across the room, both…so painfully confused. Azul takes his time to finally untangle from Yuu, giving a small smile and patting hesitantly at the blanket, “O-okay…A period…right?”

At Yuu’s annoyed nod, Jamil sniffs, checking that he hadn’t cried before looking over to the door, “And…Najma will know. You’re sure she will?”

“I mean basically every girl gets a period so I would think so Jamil…”

The two boys share another look, communicating in a way Yuu hadn’t learned to do with them yet before they turn back to them with those soft, weak smiles. Azul caresses their face again, saying they should go back to sleep and that someone will bring up something to eat later on. It was slow, they clearly didn’t want to leave, but they both closed the door behind them. They share another look in the hallway, nodding before moving to regroup with the others.

The contained chaos they walk in on was almost comical if the reason wasn’t so mortifying. Jade had a hand gripped on each of Floyd’s shoulders while they took up the loveseat, whispering to the taller eel as he held him back. The whispers growing in intensity as his eyes widened in manic glee every time Floyd growled and moved to pull out of his brother’s hold. Ace was leaning against the wall, anger clear on his face as his nails bit into his forearms. He was the only one who looked up when they walked into the room. Deuce sat on the couch, curled around who they could only think was Grim, his shoulders shaking with barely contained cries.

Ace speaks up first, calling everyone else’s attention to their entry, “Well? Who’s the bastard we’re hunting down?”

Jamil and Azul pause, Jamil looking to the side and sighing, “They say nothing happened-”

“They’re lying!” Grim cries from Deuce’s arms. 

The spade Heartslabyul soldier sniffles, raising his head to look from over the couch, “Grim said they’ve been bleeding since this morning. From before he woke up…”

Jamil pulled out his phone, already dialing his sister, “They said Najma would know what’s going on…They were…so sure nothing…happened…”

Ace opened his mouth to yell only to be cut off at the sound of Najma picking up the line on speakerphone.

“Jamil? What’s wrong, you never call me?”

“...” Jamil gulped, gripping his phone before speaking, “Najma, I need you to be completely honest with me. Swear on your life levels of seriousness. Do you know what a period is?”

“...Like the punctuation?”

Azul bit his lip, a hand moving to cover his mouth and start to pace around the room. He walks closer to Jade and Floyd to explain, the two eels listening to his quick words in clear confusion.

“I…Najma, something happened. Is it…normal to…” He let out another sigh, almost wishing it would take his soul with it, “Is it normal to bleed…out of your vagina?”

The beat of silence almost gave Jamil hope. Maybe it was some super secret girl thing that no male was allowed to ever know about. Maybe everyone in the room would have to be killed once Najma confirmed its existence. He knows he would at least prefer that over the alternative.

“Jamil, what the fuck? No!? No, that's not normal!? Jamil who do you know that’s bleeding out of their-”

“Don’t have time, I’ll call you back once this is all settled.” He’s never hung a phone up so fast. It quickly rings again, but he just declines Najma’s call and silences his phone. Now looking around, everyone else in the room is just as confused if not more so than he and Azul were.

“...What?” Jade tilts his head to the same degree his brother does while they both study Jamil, each trying to find…something in the conversation they just heard.

Azul spoke up, leaning his elbow against the fireplace, a hand coming up to rub at his temple, “They said they were simply on their period and that this was normal. They were also very certain Najma would confirm this sentiment, claiming it was a natural thing girls did.”

Deuce sat in thought, his brain working overtime to try and piece together the information they had, “Maybe…Uh…Wait, I can ask my mom!”

“What is your mom gonna know, Deuce!?” Ace hissed, more frustrated than actually angry.

“I don’t know, she’s like...an older girl? Maybe she knows more about it than Najma would?”

“...” Jade looks toward Azul with a shrug, “It’s another source of information. We’re literally going in blind with this.” He looks down in worry, feeling Floyd relax in his arms. His brother wasn’t calm by any means, more so his mood had finally reached so low that his homicidal urges couldn’t properly latch onto it. He just kept Floyd in his arms, holding his taller brother under his arms as though he was a cat.

Deuce pulls out his phone with one hand, the other keeping a grip on Grim as the monster whines. It only took a very rings before the phone was answered again.

“Hi, Deuce! I was just about to send you a text. I found this new cafe and they make the cutest parfaits-”

“Mom, that’s cool. Send me a picture later but. Um…I got a really weird and private question to ask you-”

“Deuce, we talked about this sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with liking certain things-”

“NOT THAT, NOT THAT!” He blushes, quickly cupping his phone away from view of the others. He whispers his question into the receiver, waiting with bated breath when the other line was quiet.

“Sweetie. Am I on speaker?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“That isn’t…that isn’t something that should be happening. Is this…Deuce, is this about your friend Yuu?” At the affirmative, she continued, “I know you said they weren’t from around…anywhere really. But you boys need to tell your teachers about this. Whoever told them this was normal lied to them.”

The nervousness returns, everyone sharing a look, Deuce thanking his mom before hanging up the phone. Pass the stray sigh or muffled rambles no one spoke, each one of them was scared to voice their theories. Everything easily pointed toward…assault. But Yuu was such a level of certain that it was hard to deny the doubt that grew at the idea. There were magical ways of getting the truth out of people, they had Jade and Jamil, so it wouldn't be hard. But none of them wanted to break the trust Yuu had given to them. Not to mention the small chance that something did happen, and forcing Yuu to recount the horrible situation was cruel even by Night Raven standards if they were trying to actively suppress it. 

It seemed like they sat in silence for hours before they all heard the front door slam open, footsteps quickly stepping through the hall before a signature black and white coat filled the doorway. Crewel stood with one hand on his hip, the other impatiently tapping his crop against his leg.

“Ok, what’s going on? I’ve had students running around terrified from Sam’s shadows. I go to see Sam to ask about it and he informs me that he sent you runts to check on my puppy.” Crewel looks around the room, his frown turning into a scowl before he schools his expression again, “And there's no sign of my puppy in this pack of dogs, so what’s happened?”

After a prolonged silence, Ace groaned, deciding to bite the bullet since no one else wanted to, “Yuu’s bleeding from…from their vag and won't tell us why.”

…

“...” Crewel stepped to the side, light gray eyes seeming to look past all of them while he used his crop to point down the hall, “Get out.”

“Sensei-”

“Get. Out.”

The scramble they did out of the room was like a pack of dogs released into the wild, each of them refusing to meet the glacier-level stare of their teacher as they ran past. They didn’t leave Ramshackle property, choosing to instead stand outside and wait to be fully dismissed.

Crewel took the stairs two at a time, flinging Yuu’s bedroom door open. The sound of it slamming into the wall made Yuu groan in protest. He walks to the bed and sits, a hand instantly brushing their bangs back to alert them to his presence. He couldn't tell through his gloves, but they had seemed flushed, “Puppy? Puppy, talk to me. What's happening? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Yuu hums, just barely getting back to sleep before Crewel woke them up again. A hand pressed to their lower stomach and grumbled, “Hmmmm….Period…” “...Pup. What’s a period, explain it to me.” He keeps his hand in their hair, petting in a way to soothe both of them if needed. Period, Yuu clearly wasn’t talking about punctuation. All his mind could reach then was that period was speaking of a state of time. Meaning this was something that happened on some type of schedule.

Groaning, Yuu sits up, letting her head rest against Crewel’s shoulder, “Period, monthly bleed and all that. It’s girl stuff, you know biology, Crewel…”

Taking her in his arms, Crewel rubs at their back. Monthly…It’s at times Crewel is made painfully aware of how lacking he and the rest of Night Raven College were in knowledge about Yuu’s biology. “Yuu…That’s not a thing in Twisted Wonderland.” He can feel the moment they tense up, letting them pull back to look at him.

Yuu stares at their pseudo-father, eyes searching for some sign of the past hour being nothing but a really bad joke. Seeing none, they feel a cold realization hit, “Oh…Well, this is gonna be a real interesting time…”

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 5) (Interactive Story)

Despite him being our protagonists murderer, there may be no one eyes who can help Macaque in this moment.

Lets continue this tragic story, shall we~?

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Next

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal

Ships: Shadowpeach

Angst: You betcha

Fluff: With enough choices, maybe we'll get there.

“'Wukong!” The name tumbled from Macaque’s lips, a desperate plea that sliced through the haze of mist and shadows. It rippled in the air, echoing through the void that separated them.

The moment lingered, the air thick with tension as silence engulfed the realm. And then, Wukong stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, golden irises shimmering with an unmistakable awareness. His ears straightened to attention, startled and alert. His eyes looked wildly left and right, swearing for a moment he heard his name being called.

Heard… his mate call for him.

That couldn’t be….

As he searched, the two Diyu collectors froze. As they stumbled back and into each other, clear fear in their actions, they squabbled, “I thought you said he would never be able to see us?!” one shrieked. There wasn’t a soul alive who didn’t fear Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.

Especially after his recent visit to the Diyu a year prior…. (Though that, was a story for another time.)

“He can’t! He shouldn’t!” the second quickly corrected.

“Then how—”

Wukong’s gaze landed on the figures with an intensity that seemed to burn through the suffocating shadows. For a moment it seemed like he could see them.

“…Is someone there?” Wukong mumbled. His heart raced as he sensed something was wrong. There was something in the air- it tickled the back of his neck. The air crackled with tension, a fight brewing just beyond his immediate perception. He was not in the mood for some demons games.

The two Diyu collectors shrieked and huddled together at his words, daring not to move in case Wukong did truly peer beyond the veil and see them. It was for his exact senses that most opted not to collect the dying souls of Flower Fruit Mountain. Even with the best intentions, the good natured collectors still cowered in the presence of this man.

Macaque panted quietly, angling his head to peer up at Wukong. Despite his hands tied, they itched to reach out. For a moment he wondered if Wukong could see him- yet the King’s ever scanning gaze made it clear he could not.

But he had heard him.

For the briefest second he had heard the cry of his mate. Of his Moon.

Wukong touched his temple, wondering if it had just been the wind. The echoing mountains still holding the essence of the Moon. “…Fool,” he mumbled to himself, “He isn’t here.”

But even as he muttered, the air continued to vibrate with that same uncanny sense. Wukong’s instincts were honed, sharp and unyielding—he could not ignore this. A cold knot formed in his stomach. Something was amiss, he was sure. Of course, it could just be the lingering effects of the alcohol stupor he had tossed himself into the night before. He was home.

It was time for celebration! Of course it was. Which is why he gladly took every glass of alcohol the monkeys tossed his way. In the ruse of celebration, and the turmoil of his agony.

As the King turned, searching behind him as well, the two Diyu collectors inched closer, quietly hissing to Macaque. “He can’t help you..!” They insist. Yet despite this insistence, they kept their voices hushed. “This is the way of it. A soul isn’t intended to linger after death. You can’t use that Monkey to shield you from the cycle of life-”

Macaque felt their whispers like fiery embers against his skin. “Shut up!” he snarled, the bravery fluttering within him. He wanted to insist he wasn’t using Wukong for anything of the sort. He didn’t need a protector, nor did he want it to be Wukong. He didn’t need him either! Now that he was out of that blasted Staff, he wasn’t going to let anyone boss him around.

He just- couldn’t deny the usefulness of Wukong at this time. Like a scarecrow scaring off crows.

Now that he was dead, he was free. No more needing to manage Wukong’s actions. No more needing to protect the tribe or lead in Wukong’s absence. He could… do what he wanted.

He didn’t need Wukong-

He shrieked when Wukong started to walk away.

The nerve of the man! A scarecrow wasn’t supposed to move!

The Diyu collectors were grinning as he did so, already inching closer the more Wukong got further away.

Unable to get a full grasp of the land, it seemed Wukong intended to take to the sky. It was best to look up there-, the King figured. To make sure no one was slinking around his home.

With a call to his cloud he was shooting upward, Macaque’s voice dying out behind him. “Wukong you idiot-!” of course.

OF COURSE!

The one thing he needed Wukong to do and he couldn’t even do that right!

As Wukong ascended, leaving the earthy scents of the mountain behind, the rush of wind whipped against his golden fur, filling him with a momentary sense of freedom. But that knot in his stomach tightened further.

With the King drifting away, the cowering Diyu collectors straightened their attires.

They cleared their throats, finding their confidence, “Ah, see?” they jeered. “Can’t get away that easily! Now-” as they got closer, Macaque kicked his legs feebly to try and put some distance, crawling against the ground.

He wrestled against the restraints around his torso and limbs, biting his lower lip harshly. If he was alive, he was sure it would be bleeding.

“Stop making this difficult-” as one of the collectors grasped his arm, looking intent to just toss the Moon Monkey over his shoulder to get this over with, all present were stunned when something odd occurred.

The Six Eared Macaque was bodily dragged, rather sharply and suddenly, to the right.

Macaque himself had gagged at the sensation, feeling something tight against his chest.

When he looked back at the Diyu collectors they were just as stunned, going pale. “…Huh?” They rushed to grab him again, but Macaque was only forcifully tugged rightward again- in the direction of Wukong’s retreating form.

At Macaque’s waist, below the black tendrils that binded him, a golden light began to shine. It wrapped around his waist and up his spin, coiling to his chest. Like a string it pulled outward, dragging itself back to Wukong; like a string of fate.

Macaque eyes the thing, having never seen something like this before.

"W-What the-??" he followed the trail of it, finding it was coming from Wukong. It was like this etheral string was coming from Wukong's soul it self. The farther Wukong got away the more it dragged Macaque, keeping them at a 50 foot distance to eachother at any given time.

“What?” Macaque murmured, feeling the Doty’s collectors magic loosen from their shock. A chance to escape.

"Oooh," The Diyu collectors winced, smacking their own foreheads. They seemed to recognize this phenominon, and were not pleased, "Well that ain't good." One grumbled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the other hissed