#the tone shift.... is huge to say the least

[chuluoyi]

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

[moonstruckme]

not sure this really applies for the blueberry muffin prompt but...update on roomate!james and reader? 🥺 (AND CONGRATS ON 7k 🥳🥳)

It does haha! I knew blueberry muffin would be my downfall (but it's okay I signed up for it and ily regardless). Please accept this garbage fire of a drabble <3

cw: modern au, alcohol mention

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 683 words

You’re squished between Sirius and James, the two people here least likely to allow you space to breathe. James has got you half in his lap, his arm around your waist and one of your thighs over his, while Sirius’ shoulder pushes into yours, his legs cast over the arm of his couch so he can kick gently at Remus when the urge strikes him. 

“Her coworker hates me,” James says. 

“He does not.” You roll your eyes. This is a topic you’ve been over before. “Art likes you just fine.”

“Does too!” He pinches your waist. “It’s because he’s in love with you.” 

You fight the urge to hide your face in his side. “He is not.” 

James laughs. “He is, sweetheart. You just can’t see it.” 

“You would hardly know, would you?” Sirius agrees, but he agrees with James on everything. You’re fairly sure that if James said the moon was green, Sirius would swear the same until his dying breath. “You didn’t know our Jamesie liked you until he practically confessed.” 

“I still doubt it sometimes,” you mutter, earning you another teasing pinch from your boyfriend. 

“Hold on,” says Lily, “she’s the one who works with him.”

Remus nods. While Sirius always agrees with James, Remus always disagrees with the both of them. You suspect this is mostly because he enjoys getting them riled up. “Exactly. I think y/n has had plenty more time to figure out if he has feelings than you have, James.” 

“He used to walk her home after every shift,” James argues. 

“Because he’s nice,” you sigh. 

“Nice to you, you mean.”

“It’s very normal to walk girls home from late shifts.” 

Remus hums. “Have you considered, James, that maybe because you’ve never worked in the service industry, there are norms you don’t understand?” His tone is smug. Sirius kicks his foot at him lazily.

James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “Have you considered,” he waves his free hand in your direction, “look at her?” 

Your face heats something atrocious. Sirius tsks. “He’s got you there, darling.” 

“Hush,” you say to James, though you can’t manage to infuse your voice with any sternness. “You’re the only one that thinks that.” 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p. “Actually, it’s me and Art and every other seeing person on the planet. Sorry, sweetheart.” 

You’re not sure if he’s apologizing sardonically or genuinely, for the pain his compliments are causing you. A big hand cups the side of your head, bringing you closer so he can kiss your hair. 

It doesn’t pacify you. “You’re awful,” you say, slipping out from between him and Sirius so his friend nearly falls sideways onto James’ lap. “I’m going to get some water, does anyone want anything?” 

Lily and Remus say no, Sirius asks for a cider, and James is noticeably silent. You can’t say you’re surprised when he comes into the kitchen behind you. 

He gives you a sheepish look. You don’t believe it even a little. “Have I scared you off?” 

You go to Sirius and Remus’ fridge, grabbing the cider for Sirius. “No.” 

“But I embarrassed you.” James wraps his arms around your middle, smushing his lips to your hairline. “M’sorry, lovely.” 

“Don’t,” you say, though you’re far from pulling out of his embrace. “It takes more than that to scare me off.” 

“Yeah?” You can hear the teasing slip into his voice, and that scares you more than it should. “Good. Because you’re gonna have to get used to it, you know. I don’t plan on toning down how lovely you are just because you might get shy on me.” 

You tilt your head back to see him. “You’re insufferable.” 

“So you’re always telling me.” James’ grin is huge. He drops a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “You’re lovely, and I’m insufferable. How’s that fair?” 

“Dunno.” You kiss his chin in return. Fill your cup with water and brush past him out the kitchen. “Suppose you’ll have to get use to it.” 

It’s impossible not to smile when his laughter sounds behind you. 

[whoreforsexymen]

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

[deathbxnny]

hey i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to seeing their partner looking really good dressed up?? also i love ur writing!!

Arcane characters reacting to their s/o dressed up really pretty. | Vi, Ekko, Jinx x Gn!Reader

Thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

"Ooh... where are we going?" A wide grin rested on her lips as she watched you put on your fancy shoes and straighten out the last details of your pretty attire. "I'm going out with a couple friends." In other words, she was not invited. But Vi couldn't hear you over the sound of her mind spinning with many different thoughts.

Humming, she leaned against a wall next to you, intensely dark eyes staring you down with a glint that made you shake your head in defiance. "No." "Oh come on, Cupcake! Do you really have to go out today? I mean... I can go along. It's dangerous around this time of the night and-" "-Viiii. I can take care of myself." She pouted at your clear disagreement, hardly attempting to even hide how much she loved the way you looked.

"Aw... please? At least let me tag alone so I can show you off to everyone." Typical. And yet, you had a hard time denying her anything when her hands suddenly sneaked around your waist so smoothly. She always got what she wanted out of you in the end. Not that you necessarily minded.

"Fineeee... but keep your hands to yourself around them." You huff out whilst your heart warmed a t the sight of pure excitement on her face. But the slyness in her smirk didn't leave as she gratefully kissed your cheek and let go. "Can't promise you that when you're looking so good, unfortunately... but I'll try. For now."

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you let her happily run off to get ready, glad that she enjoyed your outfit a lot.

》EKKO

He was stunned at the sight of you emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed up so beautifully it left him speechless. The Firelights were having a huge festival in celebration of a recent successful mission, and of course, you were both expected to look your best. And you weren't the type to ever disappoint either.

It was rare to see you dressed up so nicely, the cute outfit being one he had only seen a small couple of times before due to your line of work and life circumstances. But in his mind, you looking so good was a sign of success. He wanted you to be able to dress that way every day, perhaps another motivation of his to continue going.

"How do I look?" You ask, the nervous tone in your voice making his eyes soften even further. "You look great. Who are you trying to impress, hm?" His words were playful as he grabbed your waist carefully. Ekko mirrored the shy smile that crept onto your lips at his question. "A certain someone. I don't think you know him, though." You played along, watching as he raised a brow with an unimpressed smirk.

"Hm... maybe we shouldn't go out then-" "-Oi! Why are you guys taking so long? Let's get going." Scar's voice made you both jump, as he appeared in the doorway and waved you over. A sly smirk crept onto your face as you quickly followed after the man. "Ah, there he is! See ya around, Ekko!" "Hey! I'll remember this-!" Running after you two, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

The festival was going to be great, to say the least.

》JINX

You were just trying out some new clothes you had gotten. Nothing special and definitely not for anyone else's eyes, except for hers. Once you were done, you were quick to hunt down your girlfriend to show her your outfit. "Jinx! How do I look?" You asked, a happy smile on your lips as you now stood next to her, whilst she tinkered away on some projects. Removing her googles, she glanced up at you and blinked in surprise, near speechless for a moment.

Nervously shifting under her intense gaze, you wondered if she didn't like it. "Uhm... should I go change or-" "-You look really good..." She muttered thoughtfully before a large grin crept onto her lips mischievously. "A bit too good! Makes me nearly jealous, pretty. How about you dress me up too so we can match?" You should have honestly seen this coming, as she enjoys doing cute things like that with you.

And so, you did as she asked, whilst she painted your nails to match her own. By the end of it, you looked like you were headed to a fancy event, something she found greatly amusing. Kicking a nearby radio to make it play music, she held out her hand to you with a bright smile. "Alright, let's get this party started!"

[sanguineterrain]

gag gift | jason todd

Summary: A gift from a friend results in quite the evening for you and Jason.

Pairing: Jason Todd x AFAB!reader 

Word count: 1.5k

Kinktober fill: Day 2 - Pegging

Warnings/tags: pegging, strap-ons, anal sex, vaginal penetration, coming untouched, sub!Jason, bottom!Jason, reader refers to the strap as their dick, humiliation, size difference, pet names.

A/N: me every time I see Jason: he needs to be knocked up. anyways. enjoy :)

divider

Well. It started as a gag gift.

A kinky Halloween joke from a close friend. A big, black, double-sided strap-on.

So you'd showed it to Jason last night. His reaction had been surprising, to say the least.

...Now it's out of the box. On you.

"Look at how hard I am for you," you say, wiggling your hips. The strap stays put under your pajama shorts, though they do absolutely nothing to hide it.

It's meant to be a tease, your words, but then you look up at Jason and he's got a stunned expression on his face. His eyes can't stop flicking down.

"It's so big," he says, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He's right.

You grin. "Think I'll fit?"

And judging from the way Jason shifts, he wants you to try.

So here you are.

You slide off your shorts and the strap juts free. You leave your shirt on, liking how the hem sticks out over your strap.

"So?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Am I fucking you or what, baby?"

Jason nods and removes his pants and underwear in one go. His cheeks are slightly flushed.

He's already hard.

You join him on the bed, pushing your way between his legs. Jason lies down at your beckoning. You look down, positioning your hips against his. Jason follows your gaze.

"Look at that," you say, your strap against Jason's cock. "My dick is bigger than yours, honey."

Your pussy throbs at the sight. Jason whimpers as you slide your strap against his cock. He's usually huge, but next to your strap, he's kind of... small. Is that all it takes?

You imagine him shrinking as you grow impossibly bigger inside of his hole. You imagine a knot at your base, swelling as you mount and breed him like a dog. Looks like you'll have to do some research on toys later.

"All those muscles and height, and I've still got a bigger cock than you," you say, tone gentle even though your words are not. "Your cock is so cute, sweetheart."

Jason's chest is red with a humiliated blush. You're sure your pupils dilate at the sight.

"And I can stay hard forever. You blow your load after a couple of strokes."

You brush your fingers through his curls and get a good grip. You tilt Jason's head back, mouth slotting against yours. He makes a soft noise as you kiss him, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. You pull away slightly.

"Seems like I should be fucking you, huh?" you ask. "I don't get dumb and leaky when I fuck a hole like you do, sweetie."

Your strap pushes against his stomach. Jason whines when you tug his hair harder. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"My big guy. Big, pretty guy. All you have to do is squirt on your tits."

"They're not—"

"Well, of course they are, honey bunches," you say, groping his pecs under his shirt. Jason hisses. "It's obscene, the way you go out in your tight little white shirts, nipples hard. Maybe I'll fuck your tits after."

You gesture for him to take off his shirt and he does. It lands somewhere behind you. You flick and pinch his nipples. Jason lets out a shuddering breath.

"Yeah? You like that?" you ask, pushing your hips against him.

"Uh-huh," Jason says, sensitive all over with how close you are, how every bit of his skin touches yours.

"Pretty boy," you say, hands going to his face. Jason dwarfs you like this, but you love how docile he is, how reactive to your touch.

"Did you do what I asked?" you say, gripping the back of his neck, lips on his cheek.

"Y-yeah, opened myself up," Jason says.

"Oh, yeah? So I can just push right in? Fuck you loose?"

You feel around Jason's hole, and it's indeed wet with lube. You grin.

"Such a good boy. You wanted to get fucked fast, didn't you?"

You grab the undersides of Jason's huge thighs and force him to bend at the knees so he's spread open for you. You pat him when you're satisfied with how wide he's spread.

"Hold your legs open," you say, and Jason does, grabbing his thighs and keeping them parted.

You cup his balls. Jason chokes and nearly releases his thighs. You tilt your head.

"You feel heavy," you say. "You need to come, don't you?"

You play with his balls, watching Jason's stomach twitch in response. His knuckles are white from how tightly he's holding his thighs. Your strap nudges Jason's hole and more precum beads on the tip of his cock.

"Please," he says. Your gaze sharpens at the first hint of begging.

"Please, what?" you ask. More pre gurgles out of Jason's leaky cock head.

"Want you inside, please."

"Sure?" you ask.

Jason nods frantically. "Yeah, yeah, please, c'mon, plea—hnngh."

"It's only the tip, sweetheart," you say, gleeful at the way Jason's eyelids flutter.

You rub his legs, then move to grab his waist instead. Your hands aren't even close to touching. Jason's stomach bunches in rolls, simultaneously strong and soft.

"'S big," Jason says, stomach tensed as you keep pushing in.

"I know," you say, ego tripping at the fact that you've only pushed in a little and Jason's already tightening around you. "Gotta relax for me, honey pie. Know my cock is big in your little hole."

You hear him force out deep breaths through his nose. Slowly, inch by inch, you bully your way inside. The strap presses back inside of you and rubs your clit, but not so much that it's a full distraction. You're still able to focus on the fact that you're stuffing Jason.

"Good?" you ask, a little strained from the pressure. The strap sinks further into you.

Jason nods, mouth parted in a tight moan. "Good, oh m'God. Y'dick feels so good."

You bite your lip and resist the urge to hammer away at him. You have to take it slow.

"If I had my way, you'd never get to fuck me," you say. "I'd be inside of you all day, baby. Every time I got hard, I'd fill you up."

Jason moans, lifting his hips so you can fuck him deeper. You hover over him, hands on either side of his head. You dip your mouth to his neck.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, breath hot on his ear. "Wanna get fucked everyday? Wake up with my dick in you?"

You look down and watch your strap slide in and out. The sight makes your brain buzz. All it took was a little petting and Jason's wet and easy for you.

"I... I can fuck ya too," he squeezes out. "Do it a lot."

You coo. "But I'm bigger than you, sweetie. And I last longer. Maybe I should tie up your stupid dick so you won't cream your pants every time I pet you a little. You need to be trained before you can fuck me again."

You bottom out before Jason can reply, his words melting into a high moan.

"How do I feel?" you ask, wrapping an arm around Jason's leg. He lets you push it back further, not even hesitating at the stretch.

"Feel s'good inside a'me," he says, blinking to focus. "Ah, p-please move, please, baby, gonna be so good, be so good for you—"

So you move. Now, the stimulation on your clit and inside of you is at its height. You chase the pleasure, the build of your orgasm.

Jason's being good, holding his legs open, even though his arms are shaking.

"I fuck you on my cock and you're already shaking?" you ask, diving down to bite the junction of his neck and shoulder. You busy yourself with marking him up, sucking his skin, until—

"Uh, uh, mmgh!"

Unintelligible sounds make you lift your head. Jason's eyes are wet in the corners.

"Th-there, right there—"

You thrust again and Jason's entire body tightens. Precum dribbles steadily from his cock.

Jason's not the only one who learns fast.

"Don't touch yourself," you say. "Hands off. Got it?"

He nods. "Got it. Please, please can ya—"

Again and again, you hit that magical spot, perfecting your angle in the process. Jason's moans become high, aching whimpers. His entire face and chest are red. Sweat beads on his forehead. His cock is steadily leaking onto his stomach.

Meanwhile, your own orgasm builds, the strap thrusting into you with every move. You feel that familiar curl of lightning low in your belly.

Jason's eyes are squeezed tight now and he sounds like he's crying a little bit. You don't stop your brutal pace.

"Gonna!" he cries, and it's the only warning you get before Jason comes all over his stomach and chest.

"Almost there," you pant, focusing on your release. Jason whines with each additional thrust, and you ease off, trying to keep them shallow for his sake.

It isn't long before you come too, pussy clenching around the strap while it's still inside of Jason. He moans when you come, bonelessly reaching for your body.

"T-too much," he says, voice wrecked, and you pull out, taking pity.

You roll over onto the bed, taking Jason's hand.

"Best gag gift ever," he says, after some time, and you giggle into his shoulder.

[lovebugism]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[notsunnyowo]

Iᖴ YOᑌ ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗷEᗩT TᕼEᗰ - ᒍOIᑎ 'Eᗰ

Part 2

Summary: Gojo Satoru is known for being a flirt, but what happens when he gets a taste of his own medicine?

Content: Fluff, Flirt! Gojo, Female! Reader (AFAB), Gojo getting flustered, Teen! Gojo x Teen! Reader (Reader is the same age as Gojo)

Word Count: 778

It was well known that the infamous head of the Gojo-clan was a huge flirt. And understandably so. He was a striking young man with good looks that could rival the ones of even the Greek gods. Not to mention the personality to match.

He was a cocky little bastard. Always using his good-looks to his advantage. Didn't feel like paying the regular price for a double scooping of ice cream? - He'd just charm the vendor into giving him a "customer discount". Wanted to get into the VIP lounge of some club? - No problem. One wink, paired with a flirty comment towards the security was all it took for him to waltz right in like he owned the place.

Everyone knew he liked having things his way. After all, no one had ever opposed the strongest. And gotten away with it at least-

You supposed that's what ultimately resulted in his unique personality. . .

His boyish charm worked on almost anyone.

Except you.

There were only a handful of people that could resist Satoru's charming attitude and you were one of them. And for some reason it only made you a target more than everyone else.

But could you really blame Satoru for wanting to make the cute new girl wrapped around his fingers?

He just found you so interesting (not to mention adorable) whenever you rolled your eyes at his flirty pick-up line, brushing him off as if he wasn't the Satoru Gojo.

You were absolutely perfect.

One could only imagine the look on his face when you actually responded to his flirty comments.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Satoru spoke in his usual charming tone as he leaned over your desk. "Don't you have someone else to bother Gojo?" Raising your head from the book you were reading, Satoru was met with your unamused expression. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Satoru answered. "No. Suguru's out on a mission and Yaga-sensei called Shoko to his office not too long ago. Said something about practicing for a medical exam, whatever that means." "Which means that you, sweet girl, get to spend the evening with yours truly." He added, flashing you his signature boyish grin. Rolling your eyes at his comment, you said sarcastically. "Gee. How lucky am I?" Grinning like the dork he was, Satoru completely dismissed your unenthusiastic tone and simply carried on with his 'speech'. "Don't get too excited now. I wouldn't want Suguru getting jealous." "But then again- Who wouldn't get jealous over the lovely little lady that gets to spend the evening with me?" He continued on with his 'speech'. Letting out a defeated sigh, you looked up at the white haired sorcerer. What was that old saying again? If you can't beat them - join 'em. "Y'know what.." You spoke up, capturing Satoru's attention. "You're absolutely right." "Oh?" The boy hummed, raising a brow at your response. Had he finally gotten to you? "Definitely." You chirped, shifting in your seat. "Heh, I knew you'd see it eventually." Gojo commented, his cocky grin resurfacing once more. "After all, it was only a matter of time till you fell for m-" His words were suddenly cut off by your hand tugging his shirt and getting him down to your level. Cerulean eyes meeting yours, Satoru could feel his heart picking up its pace at your close proximity. His breath hitched as he saw you lean in, till your noses were almost touching. "What's wrong, pretty boy?" You cooed, your grin matching the one on his face just a few moments ago. "Cat got your tongue?" There were no words to describe how fast Satoru's heart was beating in that very moment. Nor how lightheaded your words, and actions, made him feel. If his blood pressure didn't kill him you would. For once in his entire life. Satoru was left speechless. Chuckling at the flustered state you'd left him, you gently patted his rosy cheek with one hand, before pulling away. "Y'know Gojo.. You're not as bad when you shut up." You said, offering him a cheeky smile. "You should consider letting your face do all the talking next time." "Chao~" Once you were out of the room and Satoru couldn't sense your cursed energy any more, he let out an embarrassed groan as he raised a hand to cover his flushed features. He glanced back at the door you'd walked through a minute earlier as he muttered to himself, hand covering his mouth. "What a woman.~"

After that little fiasco, Satoru was never the same.

He had a new goal in his mind. Get the new girl to do that to him again.

Author Note:

OMG I did not expect my previous post to blow up this much-

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!! <3

Also, I hope you enjoyed reading this lil' fanfic!

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part5. front-row tickets to the show

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you’ve got in a huge fight with Vi about last night, there are two options now. either you lose her forever or make things right

・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 2.6k

✎ warnings: 18+, SMUT, dom!vi, swearing, teasing, verbal fight, drug use (weed)

MINORS DNI!

RIDE ON ME masterlist

thank God it's Saturday, so you’re not missing any classes because of your hangover. it felt like your head was going to split open the moment you opened your eyes. it took you nearly an hour after waking up to finally lift your body out of bed. what drove you was an overwhelming thirst, but even if water had run out in the entire world, you still wouldn’t have gone to the kitchen after last night. drinking straight from the tap it is, then.

the terrible metallic taste of the water made you grimace, but it was such a relief to finally quench your thirst. you grabbed some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet, praying that it would save you from this headache.

finding your phone, you were surprised to see 15 text messages from your classmates. they had created a group chat called "rum and cola," how very funny. just the thought of alcohol made you nearly gag right there on the floor. you texted them back, saying you were fine and that you'd fill them in on Monday. "what will I even say?"

after that, you fell asleep again, waking up to the delicious smell of chicken later in the evening. that aroma pulled you to the door, where you stood listening. it seemed like someone was cooking in the kitchen. you dragged yourself to the shower, freshened up, and finally took off that damn dress, replacing it with some home shorts and a T-shirt. for at least ten minutes, you hesitated by the door, thinking of what to say to Vi. it reminded you of the day you two first met, how you stood at the door rehearsing a line. that memory made you smile, and you felt a warmth inside - probably the only normal evening you’d had since living here.

“okay, just stay calm,” - you muttered to yourself as you opened the door, and the mouthwatering smell of chicken hit you, making you close your eyes and savor it.

“after a rough night, you should get plenty of sleep and a good meal. you’ve already done the first, so now sit on the couch, dinner will be ready in five minutes,” - Vi said in a calm voice, but there was a slight tension in her body.

you looked at her with nervous eyes - "we need to talk, but how?" - and you quietly made your way to the couch, sitting on the edge, hands on your knees, rubbing them together from the anxiety.

“thanks for making me dinner,” - you said sincerely, forcing a smile, hoping she’d look at you.

“I'm cooking for myself, but I can't let you die of a hangover,” - she replied in that same cold tone, not even looking at you, as if you were talking to her back.

"no, not now, I can't just pretend nothing happened," - you thought, feeling tears prick at your eyes. "we have to talk, something happened between us, and I have so many emotions, I feel like I'm going to burst."

“Vi, thank you,” - you said, your voice trembling a bit.

“you already thanked me for dinner, remember?” - she said, still not turning to you as she continued cooking the chicken.

“no, I mean... thank you for taking me home last night. sorry about that stupid joke on the phone. and thank you for...” - you paused, your eyes shifting to her pink hair as you stared at the back of her head. “thank you for not taking advantage of me last night. I wasn’t myself,” you blurted out in a single breath.

Vi's muscular shoulders tensed slightly at your words, and she raised her head, staring at the wall in the kitchen for a few seconds before lowering it again and resuming her cooking. that reaction only upset you more, turning your tears into anger. you jumped to your feet, shouting across the kitchen, - ��why won't you look at me?! we almost… at least talk to me! I'm already ashamed of my behavior, and you're not helping!”

when Vi finally turned to you, her face was filled with a level of anger you’d never seen before. “are you fucking kidding me? who do you think you are?” - she growled, stepping toward you until she was just an arm's length away. your face twisted in shock. “you said Kate was bad, but at least she doesn’t pretend to be some good girl who goes to class during the day and then gets so drunk at night that she doesn’t know who she's spreading her legs for," - she spat, her face flushed with rage.

“what? why are you so angry with me?” - you asked, wiping away your tears.

“because you've been here for three days, and you're already causing more problems than if you'd lived here for a year. you invade my life, eavesdrop when I'm having sex, tease me, get wasted, then beg to be fucked, rubbing up against me like I'm some toy for you to play with, and then the next morning you say I could have taken advantage of you?” - Vi was barely holding back from exploding in fury.

“but I just wanted to thank you,” - you stammered in confusion.

“I’d like to see how your classmate you were grinding on will be able to stop himself next time when you're lying there in front of him with wet panties, moaning about how badly you want to be fucked,” - her words were like knives, cutting deep. you couldn't hold back your tears anymore, they streamed down your face as you looked at Vi in stunned disbelief.

she just lowered her head for a few seconds, then threw the towel she had been holding at you and turned to leave, saying, “finish cooking yourself. I see you've got your energy back. enjoy your meal.”

at night, you couldn't sleep. her words still hurt you. yes, you acted strangely, you crossed a line. you turned to the window, looking at the stars - "maybe I should find another place to stay?". you sat on the bed, tucking your knees under yourself, lowering your head onto them, and holding it with your hands. “no, I have to fix this, she helped me.”

with these words, you headed straight to Vi's room - no more rehearsals or games, you had to say what was on your mind. it was quiet in her room, it was late, and she might be sleeping. “Vi, are you awake?” - you asked softly, and after a moment, you heard a moving in the room. “I know you hear me. can I come in?” - you asked carefully.

“come in,” - Vi's voice came from behind the door. you opened the door and stepped into her room. you noticed a punching bag, an unmade bed, posters of bands you had never heard of, clothes scattered on the floor, and an open window with an ashtray on the sill containing a lit joint. you walked over to her, Vi was sitting on the bed, so you sat down next to her.

“can I?” - you asked, gesturing to the joint.

“help yourself,” - she said. you took a drag from the joint and placed it back. the thick smoke instantly filled your mind, making you feel a bit lighter.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I know you wouldn't have done anything that I would've regretted in the morning. It's just that I feel an intense pull toward you,” - you said, looking her in the eyes. “I've never felt like this before, I think I just don't know how to act around you,” - you exhaled.

Vi continued to look you straight in the eyes.

you went on, - “I'm sorry for acting yesterday like you were just some toy that didn't mean anything. please understand, we haven't spent much time together, but I think about you constantly - I wake up with thoughts of you, and I fall asleep with them. I hope you're not mad at me.” - you took a deep breath before saying, - “In the morning, I'll start looking for another place to stay, and I'll try to move out by the end of next week.” Vi just stared at you attentively, not saying a word.

“thank you for listening. I'm sorry if I disturbed you,” - you said as you were about to get up and leave, but Vi grabbed your hand and pulled you toward her.

your lips met, and for a moment, you sat there with your eyes open, not quite understanding what was happening, until you finally surrendered to her soft lips. the kiss was so gentle that you almost melted, and then she reluctantly pulled away. Vi looked into your eyes, gently caressing your cheek.

“Vi, what…?”

“forgive me too, cupcake,” - she said softly. “I didn't mean to hurt you with my words tonight. yes, you made me really mad, but that's no excuse. what you said about me taking advantage of you - it really hit me. what happened between us was one of the most real moments I've felt in a long time. you coming into my life turned everything upside down.” - she continued to hold your surprised face in her hands.

“I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching you, other than me. I would never hurt you or do anything without your consent.”

you reached for another kiss, this time more passionate, as her strong arms pulled you closer by the waist. your legs practically went weak from that movement. she was so captivating and mesmerizing. your lips intertwined, and you kissed her so fervently that you started to run out of breath. finally, you broke away for air, looking into her eyes once again.

“and if I gave you my consent? what would you do?" you asked, and the question made Vi smirk. she leaned in close to your neck and placed a gentle kiss, sending shivers down your spine. then, she whispered in a seductive voice into your ear, “I'd take you right here, undress you, and lay you on the bed. I wouldn’t rush - I’d explore every inch of your body. after I made you come, I'd have you everywhere - in the kitchen, on the couch, in the shower. I'd do things to you that would make you blush just thinking about them."

her confession made a wave of heat rise in your lower abdomen, and you closed your eyes, picturing the scene. you were brought back to reality by another kiss on your neck.

“then consider that you have my permission,” - you said, tilting your head to give her better access to your neck. but she pulled back and gave you the most seductive look.

“don't joke like that, cupcake,” - she said, leaning in to lick your lips.

"Vi, I want you. take me," - you said, and that was all she needed to hear.

Vi closed the distance between you so fast that you didn't even have time to blink. her lips devoured you hungrily. you ran your hands over her muscular arms, passionately kissing her lips. realizing the effect her touch had on you, she pulled you even closer with those strong arms. the heat radiating from her body was almost scorching, and you felt her heavy breath against your chest. her hands roamed over your back until one cold palm slipped under your shirt and settled on your waist. the unexpected chill against your heated skin made you moan. Vi noticed and smiled, pausing the kiss for a second. it was so seductive that you rolled your eyes back.

you tangled your hand in her hair, tugging it just slightly, which made Vi's neck arch toward you. you ran your tongue along her neck, and a low groan escaped her lips - the sexiest sound you had ever heard in your life.

taking advantage of the moment, you pressed your hand against her chest, pushing her back onto the pillow. her disheveled pink hair, swollen lips, and that sly smile drove you wild. wasting no time, you straddled her so that her thigh was between your legs. you loved the feel of her solid body beneath you. wrapping your legs around hers tighter, you arched your back, feeling the pressure against your core, which sent waves of pleasure through your body.

when Vi saw you arching on top of her, it was like she completely lost control to the desire surging through her. she grabbed you by the shirt and bit down on your neck, causing a moan to rip out of your throat that echoed through the room.

“do you like being on top, cupcake?” - Vi murmured into your neck, the vibration from her sultry voice traveling straight from your neck to your pussy. if you weren't sure how wet you were before, it was undeniable now, as a wet spot began to appear on your shorts.

“you said you wanted me to ride on you. I'm giving you front-row tickets to the show,” you winked at her.

the idea that you remembered her words drove Vi wild.

“don't stop then," she whispered almost breathlessly.

you continued to move your hips, taking pleasure in the pressure building between your legs. Vi pulled off your shirt and practically growled when she realized you weren't wearing a bra. "I wonder how she'll react to the fact that I'm not wearing any panties either," - you thought to yourself, biting your lower lip.        

Vi tossed your shirt to the floor and leaned back on the pillow, enjoying the show. your soft moans filled the room, the way you threw your head back, moved your hips, and hold her leg in front of you with your hands, bringing your tits together - it was like a drug to her. she placed one hand on your thigh, helping you to move a little faster, while the other reached up to your breasts.

when Vi's fingers touched your nipples, you rolled your eyes back. her touches were slow and deliberate, as if she wanted to savor every moment. her thumb started to gently massage your hardened nipple, pinching and teasing them, giving attention to every inch of you while you rode on her desperately.

you felt the wave of your orgasm building, so you began to move faster. Vi noticed it too, gripping your hips with both hands, guiding and encouraging your movements. your moans grew louder, and when you finally looked down at her, you saw the way she was watching you - her eyes taking in every move you made. her gaze was so intense that you almost wanted to hide, yet at the same time, you wanted to show her how proud you are to be hers.

as you were on the brink of your climax, you heard the words that drove you over the edge, "yes, cupcake, come for me."

[willyoubemycherryy]

Hypervision.

Older!Logan x reader

Warnings: cursing, flirting, s3xual innuendos but they’re tame I SWEAR, age gap, alcohol mention, one petname, cliffhanger :3

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆42 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖♡´ ◕ ᴗ ◕ ｡ `♡ : @th3mrskory @smutinlove @inthetub @multifandom-random @multifandom-rand0m @fictionalmen-dilflover

part 1 .❄︎.

[2]_car karaoke is just conversation

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°

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“Hey driver…”

Logan looks at you through the rear view mirror as your lilting voice reaches his ears. He briefly considers ignoring you for the sake of keeping things professional and because he could already hear the bit of mischief in your tone but decides to humor you, responding with a soft hum.

“I was just making a guess before but I really gotta ask- are you any fun?” When you were told there’d be a change in your team, nothing major just a new driver, he was not what you imagined. You had pictured someone bland and…inconspicuous; the man in front of you was anything but. For starters, he was huge. Standing at least 6’3 with thick dark hair peppered with gray strands and a beard that matched, a strong nose that contrasted such dreamy eyes. Even though he was clearly silverfox/beekeeping age older, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t gorgeous.

You hear a light scoff after a minute, almost forgetting you ever even asked anything while looking at him.

“I wouldn’t bet on it. M’ too old for fun, kid”, he says and your heart jumps at how deep his voice is. There was definitely a backstory to the rasp, a low timbre that’s mixed parts alluring and mixed part warning but his answer piques your interest and you can’t help asking-

“How old are you?”

Logan can’t say 200 b.c and it feels suspicious to pass your question altogether, deciding to settle for how old he’d pass for in normal human years.

Your eyes widen as you pinch your lips in to hide the growing smile. God bless beekeepers. Logan notices your silence and glances at you through the mirror. He doesn’t really care about your reaction (in denial) but he’s curious enough to look yet you’re not looking at him any differently, still grinning in that way that makes him weary but also like he needs to keep an eye on you. Still, there’s a few things he wants to ask about. Not willing to be the only one put on the hot seat.

“How old are you?” Your eyes pop wider and you’re quiet for a second longer than what’s comfortable making him wonder if you’ll answer. It wouldn’t surprise him if you didn’t, a big part of your image is your mystery-

“I turned 22 a couple of weeks ago”, you say lightly and a bit of trepidation creeps into his system because he knew you were young but christ. You laugh again at the poorly concealed shock on his face as you scoot forward, wrapping your arms around the headrest of the seat next to his as you lean your face against it. It’s quiet for a bit but the silence isn’t uncomfortable, even with the slight shift in the atmosphere at how much closer you are to him, Logan doesn’t exactly mind it. Glancing at the gps, there’s still about 30 minutes left until you reach where he’s taking you but traffic might change that.

There’s a light sigh next to his ear and before he can look, your hand is reaching over to flick on the radio and suddenly he’s listening to a song called “indigo” by a woman named Niki while you grin innocently. “So…since you’ll be with us for a while unless you turn out to be a serial killer or stalker-“ Logan smirks in amusement at that, “what’s your name?” You ask, watching confusion flicker across his features before he snaps his head to face you at the red light, your heart quickening as he looks directly at you.

“What? Kid, nobody told you?” It didn’t make sense to him because if he was to be technically working for you then someone should have already passed the basics of who he was- on paper at least- to you but you shake your head.

“No. All I got from my manager was that he’d get someone to hire a new chauffeur so he wouldn’t have to keep driving me to everything.” Huh. So there were some things that Logan wasn’t the only one in the dark on. You clear your throat to remind him that you’re still waiting. He won’t admit but for some reason, it’s charming, the bit of attitude vaguely familiar.

“Well, I don’t know your name either”, he says but you’re not buying it.

“Of course you do-“

“No. Your real name.” You pout as Logan waits. It’s your move and you hesitate. “Besides, it’s not like you need my name for me to do my job.” Your frown deepens at that as the silence persists and Logan decides he’s humored you enough. Not wanting to get close or involve yourself with him anymore than what was strictly necessary but you want to push for just a little bit more. Your playlist is nothing but distractible noise in the background as it plays while you think, leaning back.

“Nobody knows my real name though. So it’s nothing personal,” You whine.

“I know.”

“Then-” Logan cuts you off, “then it’ll be our secret. Well, mostly yours but I’m no snitch, sweetheart.” Your heart leaps at the petname rolling off his tongue in that smooth drawl and you hum softly at that because you already knew he wasn’t the dishonest type just by the way he carried himself.

“But..” you start and Logan finishes, “but what kid?”

Stormy hazel eyes find your form again and he’s not sure what to make of you, not sure if he he needs to find out. It’s too soon to tell but you’re odd, cheeky, curious but you aren’t rude despite your status…charming too.

“But you can’t keep calling me kid, the same way I just can’t keep calling you driver”, you say sounding like the exact definition of petulance.

“Why not?”, Logan sighs back. Unbothered with his eyes one the road as you get closer to your destination.

“Take a wild guess”, and just to get you off his case…

“Because it sounds like a cheap porno?” The way your jaw drops makes him smirk, especially since you’re quiet then. But not for long.

“Yeah but that’s okay since the backseat is big enough…” Logan’s eyes pop open and he inhales sharply, a quick image of you on him in said backseat as he wills himself not to look at you. Hearing you shift in your seat but silent after, lost in thought.

It’s no big deal, it’s just a name…but nobody else knows except your manager. Taking a long look at him, you see the hardness of his features, the “stay away” cloud around him and make your choice.

“It’s…” your voice comes out in an almost hushed whisper and it’s soft, you heart pounding with anxiety until he repeats it. Low and reverent, it makes you warm and you nod your head at him, indicating it was his turn.

“…Logan.”

“Logan what?” He cuts you a look out the corner of his eye. You were pushing it.

“Logan Howlett. No more questions.” You smile, nodding. Logan Howlett. It suited him, both rugged and pretty. You could see yourself screaming it. You know….in case of emergency.

“Alright Eazy-E, no more questions.” Logan shoots you another glare but says nothing. The rest of the ride is mostly just music and your voice when you’d sing along. “You don’t talk much do you?” His answering hum tells you all you need to know.

Logan looks at the screen, you’ll be there in less than 5 minutes and he hums. The drive was more tolerable than he thought it’d be. “Where am I taking you anyway?”

“A close friend of mine’s birthday party. She picked the club so don’t judge me.” You put your hands up in defense of your innocence, the timing for it perfect when he pulls up to the front of a club named ‘The Naked Strip’.

Putting the car in park, Logan gets out and walks over to your side, opening the door as you get out. Using his arm to steady yourself, you squeeze the firm muscle there and think not for the first time that night- fuck was he big. You’re grateful there are no paparazzi yet because you aren’t subtle with the way you hang onto him. Softly biting your lip as you look up at him.

Meanwhile Logan is reeling not only are you standing close enough for him to feel your silhouette, catching whiffs of your sweet smell but also because he’s seeing clearly again. He wasn’t hallucinating it the last time and nothing hurt, unlike it usually did. Hundreds of thousands raced through his mind as to what the fuck was going on with him, mainly how but you call his name before he has the chance to think down the deep end.

“Thank you for driving me, Logan”, the way you seem to purr his name makes his nape warm as tingles settle over him. Lowering his head, he doesn’t just look at you- no- he sees you. Your eyes almost glow, the glitter around them making you look every bit the siren, pink lips shiny under the light pressure of your teeth and the contrast of your pretty little outfit brushing against his suit…

Clearing his throat, Logan reminds himself that he’s not supposed to be enjoying you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“I was just doing my job. No need to thank me but you’re welcome”. You nod, smiling- “But your job is also me if you ever plan on doing that…” Logan raises a stunned eyebrow and you’re giggling before backing up a few steps as you turn to go inside. Already eager for some drinks so you can tell your best friend all about your hot new driver.

“See you in a few! Don’t wait up!”

Logan watches the clear sway of your hips until you disappear inside, getting back in the car, no limp either as he’s remembering devious doe eyes, charming voice, soft wandering hands while wondering just how fucked he is….

He finds out exactly just how much when he picks you up.

Part 3_come over?….

[marionthegeek]

Stede is in the Gravy Basket, Izzy is Alive

The season 2 finale of Our Flag Means Death is odd.  It hits weird. I think I know why. And this is going to sound bananas, but give me a chance to explain.  Maybe you’ll agree.

It has a huge tonal shift. It seems to speedrun Stede and Ed’s romance. It feels like we’ve missed out on something from the end of episode 7.  The fight scenes and pirate plans are nonsensical, even for OFMD. And most egregiously, a prominent character is killed off in a way that feels disingenuous to his story arc, just for starters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  We need to go back to the beginning of season 2.  The season opens with Stede looking more piratey than ever. Beard, sash, earring… oh he’s his own fantasy of a real proper pirate.  He’s clashing swords with Izzy Hands and demanding to know where Ed is. He’s dreaming. In the dream he kills Izzy. He and Ed run into each other’s arms while screaming each other’s names. They crash into the surf. Ed says “I knew you’d find me, Babe.  I knew you’d find me, Love.” Stede keeps asking if they’re good. Ed dodges the question. Then Ed asked about the smell. Stede wakes up in a crowded room with farting and shushing roommates.

At first I thought the finale was supposed to be just a “satisfying” mirror to Stede’s dream. Stede and Ed call each other’s names and run into each other’s arms in a display that resembles a more grown up version of Stede’s dream fantasy. There’s some wild sword fighting not unlike Stede’s dream duel with Izzy. And Izzy dies.

It does mirror, but I didn’t find it satisfying. All of the characters except Stede feel flattened. Stede gets to make the heroic plan (that we never even hear) while there’s at least five pirates with better skill sets for it in the room. Ed, as Blackbeard, was described last season as “History’s greatest tactician”; Zheng Yi Sao conquered China; Jackie just took out a room full of British soldiers. Izzy and Auntie are right there. You could make arguments that Jim or Frenchie, or pretty much anyone could make a better plan. Then Stede says “It’s only suicide if we die,” which is horrible considering the plan gets Izzy killed.

Stede’s really the only person in that room who thinks Stede should be making the plans.  So I got to thinking, what if it's not just mirroring the dream? What if it is a dream? Last shot of episode 7 is an incoming cannonball. Maybe he’s unconscious.

Huge shout out to @Arty_Sunflowers on twitter (I’m not calling it X, fuck Musk) for pointing out that that isn’t the only episode that ends with a cannonball. Episode 2 ends with Jim swinging a cannonball down at Ed’s head.  Stede’s not just dreaming, he’s in the Gravy Basket!!!! (Stede even screams “Oh my God!” at the end of episode 7 in the same tone he screams “Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” in s1e9.

Stede’s hopes, dreams, and insecurities shape everything in the finale. And it helps explain the absurdities in the episode when you remember that Stede is living out pulp adventure and romance novels in his head. (He even looks like someone on the cover of one in his episode 1 dream.) But Stede can’t be dead, you say. He’s literally the main character. Well, Ed was dead for a whole episode. Let’s take a closer look.

I could and probably will do another essay on Lucius as a POV character and Ed’s mental health and how the threads they seemed to have dropped aren’t as dropped as they appear. But all of that hinges on me proving the Stede is in the Gravy Basket theory. So for this essay I’m focusing on that.

So for starters we’ve got the cannonball scenes. They’re eerily similar even if the method of cannonball propulsion is different. We don’t know Ed is dead and in the Gravy Basket for about half of episode 3. Neither does he. It makes logical sense you can be there without realizing it for a while. Buttons even said Ed didn’t know whether he was in the Gravy Basket or not in episode 4. It definitely messes with your reality.

One of Ed’s issues is self hate. He manifests Hornigold as his companion. Stede is desperate to be a good pirate and have people be proud of him. And he lives in his fantasies a lot.  So his dream shapes his experience. There’s a whole bit about Zheng needing “soft” and Auntie saying she’s proud of her. That isn’t their issue. It’s discordant with the show previously. But it is Stede’s issue. He’s manifesting.

When we first see Stede and Zheng in episode 8, they’re in a familiar spot for Stede, the bridge from episode 1. But why are they alone? When we last see Stede and Zheng in episode 7, several characters are within 5 to 10 feet of them. Did none of them decide to escape with Stede? Izzy, Lucius,  and Jim are closest. But we know Pete was there begging Stede to stay down during his fight with Zheng. Archie was definitely in the bar. That's why Jim entered the fight. So why is it only Stede and Zheng at the bridge? Because, going back to rescue others fits into Stede's hero fantasies. 

Zheng and Stede also argue about who pulled who to safety and how they got there. Stede waxes poetic about being a failure his whole life, but things always seem to work out for him. He’s such a main character mediocre white guy in this scene. He saves Zheng from two random soldiers, then she has to save him from them. Then they fight a bunch more soldiers on the beach until Blackbeard manifests in full leather from the ocean.  It looks cool. But it's absurd, even for OFMD.

Speaking of Ed, he begins the episode waxing poetic about nature and calling fishermen simple.  Those things are more Stede than Ed. Pop pop tells Ed, “You have no skills” which is something Izzy said to Stede in episode 5.  He also tells Ed, “If you were ever good at something, go do that, you bum.” If Stede’s insecurities could be distilled into one sentence, it would probably be that. (He also talks about being like a wave. I’m not 100% sure it's a The Good Place joke, but it would be thematically appropriate.)

Pop pop also tells Ed he “ruined dinner.”  Back in season 1, in Stede’s flashbacks to life with Mary and the kids, Stede thinks he’s ruined dinner. But remember, we also see another version of the scene where Stede is laughing with Mary and the kids.  Stede isn’t exactly a reliable narrator. Even in his own head.

Despite it being beyond unlikely, Ed finds soldiers reading one of Stede’s letters. I know physics in this show is sketchy, but this seems like a good time to point out no one found the red silk. Stede wants Ed to read a letter and for it to fix everything between them. The letter, plus Stede being in danger, make Ed swim out, find his leathers, and emerge from the sea with them on, while the music is the Swede’s solo from Stede’s fuckery in s1e6. Stede wants to be rescued by his handsome pirate in leather, again, just like a pulp adventure romance novel. Little chance of Ed swimming out and finding his kit.  Even less of him getting leather pants on under the water.

Back to the beach… for some reason two squads of soldiers are wandering around out on an empty beach. A visually incredible fight scene occurs. It honestly reminds me of Pete’s story in s1e2, including flips. Ed and Stede yell each other’s names exactly as in the dream. Like I’m pretty sure they used the same audio track. The same song (I Love My Baby, Nina Simone) starts playing. Ed says “I love you.” Stede says “I know.” (We’ll come back to the Han Solo joke in a minute.) They have a bit more absurd fighting then Ed, Stede, and Zheng sit on the beach complimenting each other. And Ed calls Stede “babe”.  He’s never done that outside of Stede’s dream and this moment. He’s called him mate a couple of times.  Babe is exclusively in Stede’s head.

Back in the Republic of Pirates, the crew are locked in a cell that is actually the “vista suite” at Spanish Jackie’s.  Izzy gets a heroic entrance. It’s as cool as Stede thinks Izzy is. And he gives a speech that sounds like what he probably told Stede to get him to relinquish the suit in episode 5. Piracy is about belonging to something. You can’t ignore the wishes of the crew.  Izzy also knows details about Captain Kidd and Pinocchio. Not impossible, but not exactly Izzy’s wheelhouse. It is Stede’s though. He’s obsessed with pirate tales and he read Pinocchio to the crew.

Stede, Ed, and Zheng show up just as Jackie has poisoned a bunch of soldiers. Stede makes a plan, despite everyone else being more qualified. Everyone disguises themselves as soldiers. Now we’ve seen the crew of the Revenge wear disguises. They never do the weird free styling they do here. Only Stede actually looks like a British officer. Zheng at least wears the disguise properly. Suddenly Ed has a multi gun bandolier like Blackbeard in the books. Pete ripped the arms off. Izzy is still wearing his vest. Doesn’t make sense if we’re going for stealth. Neither does not checking hostage Ricky for weapons or putting Izzy and his wooden leg at the front of the group.

If I'm right, Stede wouldn't know Ricky was behind the explosions. However,  Ricky is basically evil Stede. He's Stede's perfect foil. All of this is reflecting Stede's psyche. So, of course, it's Ricky.

Izzy gets shot and says quite a lot of nonsense in his death scene. “They love you, Ed.” Um, 3 of them were going to leave like five minutes ago. Ed has made some progress with the crew, but we’re not at “they love you Ed”.  The only person who thinks the crew loves Ed is Stede. Stede who weeps for Izzy while most of the crew aren’t showing much emotion. Stede can barely deal with his own big feelings. His fantasy doesn’t give the crew room to have them. Also, given the rest of the season, having Jim just let Ed be the person cradling Izzy doesn’t fit. The crew is also pretty stony at Izzy’s funeral.

I feel like it should be noted the last shot of Izzy in episode 7, he’s got one are around Jim and a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. He sat in Wee John’s lap in episode 6. Reactions to his death don’t make sense.

Also, Izzy’s terrible grave marker is very … Stede. He’d think it was a brilliant idea.

I didn't understand at first why Izzy had to die, even in Stede's dream world. Stede clearly likes him a lot better now. Why kill him? Well, it's because we're supposed to think Buttons is there to go to the Gravy Basket for Izzy. When actually he's already arrived in the Gravy Basket and he's there for Stede. Also, mentors die in pulp adventure novels. Stede sees Izzy as a mentor.

They go aboard the Revenge for Lucius and Pete’s wedding. It’s cute that the crew performs the ceremony, but I’d venture a guess that’s because Stede doesn’t know a captain should do it if it's legally binding. Stede does love the romance of it all.  The sudden uptick in monogamy is also very Stede. He barely understands monogamous relationships. Polyamory is beyond him.

Then Stede and Ed, who earlier told Zheng they’d help hunt Ricky, go back to the island where Izzy is buried to start an inn in a run down shack.  Stede knows Ed wants to do this because Ed told the (Taika’s) kids that they ran an inn.  We hear Ed ask “Jesus, what is that smell?” Now, at first, I thought Izzy, because Ed “knows the smell of my rotting first mate”. But what was the last thing to happen in Stede’s dream? A fart joke.

Last scene is Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave. To retrieve Izzy from the Gravy Basket? No, Izzy’s not dead. He’s with Jim and Lucius, probably watching over Stede’s corpse. Buttons is there to retrieve Stede.

This theory fixes the plot holes and dropped threads problem. We’re coming back to them next season. Ed's amends making should be far from over. And we see several moments during the season where he acknowledged that. And yet here on the island they've set up a horror movie and called it a happy ending.  Well, Stede is the type of boss who thinks things are fixed with a pizza (Calypso) party. In Stede's mind, this is a happy ending.  But really Ed is still off finding himself,  Stede is (temporarily) dead, and Izzy (who is not dead!) is probably guarding Stede's corpse.

They haven't resolved the domestic violence thread, but they haven't dropped it, either. Izzy is alive. Stede and Ed aren't together (yet). There's still time.

This also explains some of the freewheeling nonsense David Jenkins has been spouting in articles. Ed doesn’t see Izzy as a father figure and mentor, Stede does.  Stede almost turned to mush when Izzy approved of him. And David is writing a three volume adventure novel. Han Solo (Stede) is in carbonate (the Gravy Basket). The perfect end to the second act. See, I told you we’d get back to the Han Solo joke.

I still have problems with the season.  I really think they need a sensitivity reader. Even just implying a newly disabled character was fridged is certainly a choice. Especially given the amount of time devoted to how the character handled the disability. The DV scenes were brutal, as well as the suicide attempt, and the Human Puppet joke. I think they need someone trauma informed and disabled in the writer's room. (David Jenkins hit me up!)

Overall, I liked season 2. Especially once I realized Izzy wasn't dead. I'm looking forward to season 3, the conclusion of the Gentle Beard arc, and hopefully 6 seasons and a movie of Izzy (to be clear, he's not captain) and the kids sailing up and down the coast being gay and doing crimes, occasionally checking in with Stede and Ed.

Seriously, David, call me.

Historical Note: IRL Blackbeard died on November 22, 1718, killed in a naval battle off Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. IRL Stede Bonnet died December 10, 1718, hanged in Charles Town, South Carolina for piracy.  IRL Israel “Izzy” Hands survives piracy, death date unknown. I know this show doesn’t actually care about historical accuracy, but this lends a little support for my Ed died, then Stede died, and Izzy isn’t dead theory.

[sleepyhutcherson]

You’d Love My Bed

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike comes home from his shift at freddy’s and crawls into bed with you.

contains: fluff, no use of y/n, childhood friends to lovers, youre abby’s babysitter, sharing a bed!! also this does not follow the movie plot or anything.

you watched after abby while mike was working at freddy’s, you didn’t mind, you were doing your best friend a favour. mike wouldn’t ever admit it but he was more relieved when you were watching abby, he knew how great you two got along and well you also somehow always managed to get abby to eat her dinner.

it’s nearly time for mike’s shift when you walk into his place, abby’s in the living room laid out on the floor, crayons and paper spread around her with the tv on. once she hears you, she immediately jolts up from the floor to greet you. “you’re back!”

“hi, abs.” you smile, the smaller girl giggling as she wraps her arms around you. you hug her back with one arm, “what’re you up to? where’s mike?” you ask, slipping off your shoes by the door and pulling your coat off once abby pulls away.

“he’s getting ready.” she hurries back to the living room and grabs something off the floor—a paper; to be exact—and brings it back to you. shyly, she hands you the drawing. it’s a picture of abby and you, sitting at the dining table with markers and paper sprawled around the two of you, each of you working on your own drawings. it’s such a familiar scenery to you that it brings a smile to your face. then your eyes spot mike in the picture, he’s standing by the front door, wearing his security vest, and he’s watching you and abby with a huge smile on his face.

“abby, this is really great.” you say, your eyes fixated on the picture in awe. you then return your gaze to abby, “i love it, abs.” you chuckle slightly and add: “you even added mike in his security vest.” you say teasingly, raising a brow at her, reminding abby of her fight with mike only a few days ago when she tried to nick her brother’s work vest.

she glares at you, though you can spot a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “don’t talk about that.” she tries to say in a serious tone but then breaks down into giggles. “okay, i’m going to hang this up on the fridge.” she says before running off.

“hey.” you hear from behind you. instantly, you recognise the voice; mike. you turn around, smiling at mike who’s dressed for work. “thanks for watching abby again.” he says with a shy smile.

“yeah, don’t worry.”

“hopefully she eats something.” mike moves to grab his coat and keys, making his way to the front door, and like every other day you follow him to see him off. “she will.” you say confidently.

mike chuckles softly at that, nodding his head. “she does listen to you more.” his hand is on the door knob but he lingers there like he doesn’t want to go.

you grin. “favouritism.” you tease causing mike to smile at that. he couldn’t deny how much happiness it brought him seeing how well you and abby got along.

“well, i gotta go.” he sighs, opening the front door to reveal a rainy scenery outside. “i…” he rubs the back of his neck; a nervous look on his face suddenly. “you can, uh, sleep in the room, you know?”

you smile at the offer. “thanks but it’s alright, i’ll leave her to her space. anyway, the sofa’s not too bad.”

mike clears his throat. “i mean you can sleep in my room.” he says with a tad bit more confidence now.

your brows furrow at this. “where would you sleep then?” you ask, aware how tired mike returned from freddy’s, always heading straight to his room to sleep for a couple more hours.

there’s a cheeky smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. “sofa.” he answers, a sudden flustered expression on his face but you don’t question it.

anyway, who were you to turn down sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed? “you sure?” you ask.

mike nods, stepping outside to the front porch. “yeah, you’d love my bed. better than the sofa at least.” he says, shrugging on his coat.

“okay.” you agree.

mike says his goodbyes, telling abby to behave before leaving and then it was you and abby for the next couple of hours. you watched tv together for a couple minutes before you prepared the two of you a small meal. you managed to get abby to eat all of her food—though now you owed her pancakes for breakfast. once the two of you were done eating you sent her to shower and get ready for bed while you picked up the kitchen and living room, luckily there wasn’t too much to clean.

once you’re done you walk into abby’s room where she’s already getting into bed with her teddy bear tucked in her arms. “do you want me to turn the lights off already?” you ask.

she yawns, nodding. “okay.” you make sure the blankets are covering her up well, not wanting her to get cold throughout the night. “good night abs.” you kiss her head before making your way out of her room, making sure to close her bedroom door only slightly, well aware abby didn’t like it fully closed.

you decide to go to bed then. you make sure once more that the front door is locked, turning off all the lights as you make your way to mike’s bedroom. the clock on mike’s bedside table reads 1:47am, tiredly you crawl into his bed, the warmth of his bedsheets quickly warming you up. you’re curled up around the bedsheets finding a comfort in that scent that lingers in the sheets, falling asleep to it.

with how comfortably you were sleeping you didn’t think anything could wake you but the sudden dip on the empty side of the bed forced your eyes open. before you can even react an arm drapes tiredly around your waist startling you. “sorry,” mike whispers, noticing he scared you. “you didn’t mention how uncomfortable the sofa was to sleep on.” his warm breath is hitting the back of your neck, his body pressed up against yours.

you relax, though you're a bit flustered having mike’s arm wrapped around you. “did you just get back?” you ask. mike nods, though you can't see him you can feel him nodding, that's how close your bodies were. you assume mike wants his bed to his own, probably exhausted from his shift so you attempt to sit up so you can go sleep a little longer on the sofa.

"where’re you going?" mike asks, grabbing your hand to stop you from leaving. his hands are cold but you can't bring yourself to pull from his touch.

"sofa." you reply, stifling a yawn. honestly, you weren’t fully awake, you eyes daring to close.

"no, stay." he implores, and thanks to the window that allows the moonlight to shine in, you can see the desperation in his eyes.

“okay.” you agree, being won over with his puppy eyes. this wouldn’t be the first time mike won you over with that look. you lay back down, mike making sure to wrap his arm around your waist again, pulling you closer to him. “you’re so cold.”

mike chuckles, his hand travelling to grab your hand. “warm me up then.” his fingers intertwined with yours, and unconsciously you place your free hand on top of the one that’s intertwined with your other hand hoping his hand would warm up between yours. there’s a significance to your sudden touch, it’s such a nostalgic gesture for the two of you.

after a few minutes mike speaks. “i missed you.” he admits tiredly, though you can hear a smile in his voice. before you can even reply, mike presses a light kiss on your shoulder, “i think i miss you every time i’m away from you.”

you smile at that. “i know what you mean.” you say. and truth be told you did understand completely. since you met mike you found yourself completely attached to him, always longing for him whenever you were apart, even if it was for a few hours. you turn around finally facing mike, your legs are tangled up with his, your faces mere inches apart.

his hand moves up to caress your cheek, a smile appearing on his lips. you giggle, both of you flustered suddenly. mike’s eyes scan your face, a smile on his lips as he looks at you, he always found you so beautiful. he moves forward to kiss you, and desperately you lean in immediately kissing him back. the kiss is soft and slow and you can feel mike’s smile in the kiss but it makes it even more precious if anything.

you both pull away after some time, mike’s cheeks a crimson colour now. it’s adorable how smiley and red he is right now. mike kisses your cheek, he pulls you closer to him, your head buried in his chest now hearing how quickly his heart is beating. “let’s stay like this forever.” he says with a hint of fatigue in his voice. you laugh a little, kissing his jaw.

before he allows himself to doze off he whispers: “i told you you’d love my bed.”

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The hotel gang + overlord!reader part 2

Part one here

!Not beta read!

While it may just be the stress talking, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, for a hotel at least. Today was a lot. Even if this hotel seemed to be a net positive it was still a lot. So the comfortable bed made it seem like you already made it to heaven. As you sank into the bed you drifted off to sleep.

You awoke to a few loud and powerful knocks on your door. "Hello? If you're awake we are going to do some trust exercises!" Charlie called out. You unintentionally groaned as you got up.

"Give me a minute!" You replied.

"Okay." Charlie said as she left. When you got up you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't a mess by any means but you've definitely looked better. You freshen yourself up slightly before going downstairs.

The Hotel residents and staff were all in a circle. You sat down in one of the gaps in the circle. Charlie cleared her throat.

"Okay everybody let's go around in a circle and say our names first! I'm Charlie." She paused, "As you all know." Everyone else proceeded to say their name, which you already knew everyone's name. Excluding the short one-eyed girl, Niffty, and the girl with an x over one of her eyes, Vaggie. Then your turn came.

"Uh- Hi! My name is y/n" You cringed at the nervousness in your voice.

"Now I want everyone to tell a fact about themself. It doesn't have to be anything huge, just something to get to know each other." Charlie said, "I love musicals!" Yeah, that was pretty easy to guess.

Angel was next up. "I love sitting on big, HUGE-"

"Angel I fucking swear." Husk cut him off.

"Comfortable chairs! What were you thinking?" Angel had a smug smile plastered on his face. "Also cocks as well." He added. Husk and Vaggie groaned.

Niffty went next, but Charlie spoke before her, "Please try not to scare away our newest member." She pleaded. Niffty pouted but compiled anyway.

"I love writing fanfiction! Escapily with bad boys." Her tone turned slightly seductive at the end. You elected to ignore that.

There was a silence as everyone waited for Vaggie. Charlie stretched her palm out to tell her to talk. "Oh- yeah right sorry." She shook her head slightly, "I like to dance."

"Really!? How come I never knew that?" Charlie asked.

"It never came up." Vaggie smiled faintly

"I'm the bartender," Husk grumbled. Vaggie elbowed him. "What? I told a fact about myself."

Alastor let out an "ahem" noise. The focus shifted to him. "While this is a fact in general, I believe that radio is the utmost form of medium." As baseline as this was for a guy such as Alastor, you also kind of expected it. Alastor would not let anything deeper about himself slip. So why not go for the most well-known part of yourself. "Now, y/n, darling I do believe it is your turn."

Oh shit right. You've just met these people so don't go with anything personal. Also, make sure it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. “I really don’t like being an overlord.” Your mouth moved before you could comprehend what you were saying. Well fuck. If this was a TV show you’d clearly be the comic relief, at least right now. Everyone but Alastor and Niffty had some form of uncomfortable plastered on their face. Alastor however had a curious yet sinister smile on his face. Niffty wasn’t really paying attention to you, she was chasing some random cockroach. 

You wanted to go back on that statement but something was saving you from embarrassing yourself further. Do demons have guardian angels? If so, yours was working overtime right now. But they also weren’t getting much work done.

Your real savior was whoever blew the fucking wall up. Everyone's head was quickly aimed at the now missing wall. While Husk just accepted it everyone else, including yourself, to find the source. Like you were in some sort of horror movie character getting ready to be stabbed. But you instead met with a huge mechanical blimp that had an impractical amount of guns.

“There you are!” The person in the blimp called out. It was very hard to hear but it was just loud enough. “Alastor, are you ready to be beat-”

“Who is this?’ 

“Who- Who am I!?” The voice was very clearly offended at Alastor's lack of knowledge. You just drowned the rest out. Alastor was cruel and frankly heartless. But he also did not like wasting time. So even while this poor sinner's fate was sealed, thankfully it wouldn’t be as drawn out as his past victims. You turned around to hopefully save any shred of innocence you were able to save. As you entered through the wall you could hear both Alastor and his victim speak.

“Thank you for another forgetful experience!” Alastor said. You didn’t necessarily

want to look but you did so anyway. Kind of like watching a car crash.

“Thank you…” the snake struggled to get out, “ For letting your guard down!” He ripped part of Alastors coat off. Well, that's not good, for anyone really. Alastor’s coat got torn and this sinner is about to die again. Or at the very least get seriously injured. You’re honestly surprised he lasted this long. He was notably weaker than The Radio Demon’s usual opponents. 

He, quite appropriately, said “Oh shit-” Before an explosion (you can only guess caused by Alastor) caused him to fly away. Welp, he’s gone forever now. The hotel seemed nice for the most part. It honestly still does. You just wish you weren’t staying in the same house as The Radio Demon. But now that you think about it, almost everyone here seems to have something severely wrong with them. And that includes you too. So at least you fit in.

[aayakashii]

Idk if your still taking requests but can I have nsfw of taiga hoshibami? 👉👈

oooo boy, writing for Taiga is very hard for me, because I don't wanna make him too ooc (´×ω×`) but I think I did it?? At least I hope you like it (´ᵕ `ก).｡

late nights with Taiga headcanons

Warning: NSFW !!! MINORS DNI !!!

You are not going to be at your dorm, oh not at all. You're his doll, and you're going to be right where he wants you to be, following all his orders – compliant, obedient.

He'll be putting his secret torture chamber to good use.

You'll be a little scared, granted.

But even if Taiga is intimidating during his daily life

When he's horny, all he thinks it's about your body and how many times he can make you cum for him.

He wastes no time stripping you off all your clothes and tying you to his chair.

His eyes are half-lidded and darkened with lust, the tent in his pants already making him more impatient than he usually is.

He doesn't care about taking his own clothes off, just undoing a few buttons on his shirt and on his pants.

If you wanted to see his beautiful toned body, I'm sorry, better luck next time~

Right now, it's all about YOU getting naked and pretty for him.

Taiga grabs an ominous looking box from one of the corners of his room, leaving them right beside your feet.

You sneak a peek at the contents and your eyes widen as you see a wide variety of dildos, vibrators, plugs and lubes.

He smirks when he sees your expression, biting his bottom lip with his pointy teeth so hard it bleeds.

His tongue darts out to lick the droplets of his own blood and, suddenly, he feels hungrier than ever.

Caging you in between his arms and the chair, he pants loudly against your face, his hardened dick making him move his hips unconsciously, desperately trying to find a way to get off.

Once he reaches the soft skin where your shoulder meets your neck, Taiga bites hard.

You gasp and moan in pain (or is it pleasure?) as you feel his sharp teeth pierce your skin, warm blood leaking from the punctures.

He laps up the fluid and shifts his position, resting his crotch against one of your hands and humping mindlessly.

Understanding the assignment, you grab his bulge as best as you can while tied, while Taiga fucks into your hand, still sucking the blood that leaks from the bite marks he left.

Right as you feel his cock twitch harder against your hand and his thrusts begin to feel erratic, Taiga stops .

“Not gonna cum before you” he murmurs, voice raspy and low, right next to your ear and you shiver.

Rummaging through the box, Taiga fishes out a huge vibrator, quickly turning it on to test it.

Once he sees how your eyes widen at the sight of how strong and fast the vibrator moved, Taiga smirked devilishly and immediately kicked the box to the side after grabbing a few bottles of lube.

“Let's see how you scream for me, huh?” he says, a crazed smile plastered on his face, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he licks your neck

And he slowly inches the vibrator towards your most sensitive parts...

A loud gasp comes out of your mouth as the vibrator touches you, and you soon squirm against the chair, the stimulation being too sudden and too strong.

You beg for his mercy as your hips buck forward unconsciously, a puddle of wetness quickly forming under you.

Taiga laughs and latches his mouth onto your nipples, sucking harshly and nicking them with his teeth, the few and small droplets of blood making him groan against your skin as he pushes the vibrator forward and into your hole.

The sudden intrusion makes you squeal and Taiga gives it a few thrusts, before pulling it out and assaulting the area in which you were more sensitive again.

“Nah, the only cock that's going inside of you is mine" he says, sudden anger flashing on his eyes, as if he was jealous of how the piece of silicon made you feel

"Now you're just gonna cum with this” he claims, final.

It doesn't take long for you to be pushed over the edge – his name elongated into a loud moan while you cum and buck against the toy.

Taiga doesn't let you ride your orgasm, quickly fiddling with the ties that kept your limbs restrained.

He carries you onto his luxurious bed, throwing your body, that still buzzed with the mind-numbing orgasm you just had, onto the bed.

And he crawls over your figure, much like a tiger that is ready to pounce over its prey.

His cock teases your hole and he smirks at your moan, enjoying how sensitive you are despite how tired you got.

Now it's his turn to cum good and hard and you'll be the perfect tight hole to milk him dry~

[sassenach77yle]

7x12 “Carnal Knowledge”

The haze had thickened into steel-gray clouds, coming purposefully up the river, muttering with thunder. I took a deep, lung-filling whiff of ozone and then another, of his skin. I detected the basic male animal, very appetizing in itself, but he seemed to have acquired a rather unusual—though savory—bouquet in addition: a faint whiff of sausage, the strong bitter scent of cabbage, and . . . yes, mustard, underlaid with something oddly spicy. I sniffed again, repressing the urge to lick him. “You smell like—” “I smell like a large plate of choucroute garnie,” he interrupted, with a slight grimace. “Give me a moment; I’ll have a wash.” He made as though to get up and go toward the river, and I reached out and seized him by the arm. He looked at me for a moment, then drew a deep breath and, reaching slowly out in turn, pulled me against him. I didn’t resist. In fact, my own arms went round him in reflex, and we both sighed in unison, in the sheer relief of embrace. I would have been quite content to sit there forever, breathing the musky, dusty, cabbage-laced smell of him and listening to the thump of his heart under my ear. All the things we’d said—all the things that had happened—hovered in the air around us like the cloud of troubles from Pandora’s box,—but for this one moment, there was nothing but each other. After a bit, his hand moved, smoothing the loose, damp curls behind my ear. He cleared his throat and shifted a little, drawing himself up, and I reluctantly let go of him, though I left my hand on his thigh. “I wish to say something,” he said, in the tone of one making a formal statement before a court. My heart had quieted while he held me; now it fluttered in renewed agitation. “What?” I sounded so apprehensive that he laughed. Only a breath, but he did laugh, and I was able to breathe again. He took my hand firmly and held it, looking into my eyes. “I don’t say that I dinna mind this, because I do. And I don’t say that I’ll no make a fuss about it later, because I likely will. But what I do say is that there is nothing in this world or the next that can take ye from me—or me from you.” He raised one brow. “D’ye disagree?” “Oh, no,” I said fervently. He breathed again, and his shoulders came down a fraction of an inch. “Well, that’s good, because it wouldna do ye any good if ye did. Just the one question,” he said.

“Are ye my wife?”

“Of course I am,” I said, in utter astonishment. “How could I not be?”

His face changed then; he drew a huge breath and took me into his arms. I embraced him, hard, and together we let out a great sigh, settling with it, his head bending over mine, kissing my hair, my face turned into his shoulder, openmouthed at the neck of his open shirt, our knees slowly giving way in mutual relief, so that we knelt in the fresh-turned earth, clinging together, rooted like a tree, leaf-tossed and multi-limbed but sharing one single solid trunk.

The first drops of rain began to fall.

HIS FACE WAS open now and his eyes clear blue and free of trouble—for the moment, at least. “Where is there a bed? I need to be naked with ye.” I was entirely in sympathy with this proposition, but the question took me momentarily aback.[...]

glanced at the river, wondering whether, after all, a nice, sheltering bush—but it was late in the afternoon, cloudy, and the gnats and mosquitoes were hanging in small carnivorous clouds of their own beneath the trees. Jamie stooped suddenly and swept me up in his arms.

“I’ll find a place.”

THERE WAS A wooden thump as he kicked open the door of the new potting shed, and suddenly we were in a light-streaked darkness smelling of sun-warmed boards, earth, water, damp clay, and plants.

“What, here?” It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t seeking privacy for the purpose of further inquiry, discussion, or reproach. For that matter, my own question was largely rhetorical. He stood me on my feet, turned me about, and began undoing my laces. I could feel his breath on the bare skin of my neck, and the tiny hairs there shivered.

“Are you—” I began, only to be interrupted by a terse “Hush.” I hushed. I could hear then what he’d heard: the Bartrams, in conversation with each other. They were some distance away, though—on the back porch of the house, I thought, screened from the river path by a thick hedge of English yew. “I don’t think they can hear us,” I said, though I lowered my voice.

“I’ve done wi’ talking,” he whispered, and, leaning forward, closed his teeth gently on the nape of my exposed neck.

“Hush,” he said again, though mildly. I hadn’t actually said anything, and the sound I’d made was too high-pitched to draw the attention of anything save a passing bat. I exhaled strongly through my nose and heard him chuckle deep in his throat. My stays came loose, and cool air flooded through the damp muslin of my shift. He paused, one hand on the tapes of my petticoats, to reach round with the other and gently lift one breast, heavy and free, thumb rubbing the nipple, hard and round as a cherry stone. I made another sound, this one lower-pitched.

I thought vaguely how fortunate it was that he was left-handed, as that was the hand nimbly engaged in undoing the tapes of my skirts. These fell in a swishing heap round my feet, and I had a sudden vision—as his hand left my breast and the shift whiffed up round my ears—of Young Mr. Bartram suddenly realizing a dire need to pot up a batch of rosemary seedlings. The shock probably wouldn’t kill him, but . . .

“May as well be hung for sheep as lambs,” Jamie said, having evidently divined my thought from the fact that I’d turned round and was shielding my more private bits in the manner of Botticelli’s Venus. “And I’ll have ye naked.”

He grinned at me, whipped off his own dirt-streaked shirt—he’d thrown off his coat when he set me down—and yanked down his breeks without pausing to undo the flies.

He was thin enough to make this possible; the breeches hung on his hipbones, barely staying up by themselves, and I saw the shadow of his ribs beneath his skin as he bent to shed his stockings.

He straightened and I put a hand on his chest. It was damp and warm, and the ruddy hairs prickled into gooseflesh at my touch. I could smell the hot, eager scent of him, even over the agricultural fug of the shed and the lingering smell of cabbage.

“Not so fast,” I whispered.

He made a Scottish sound of interrogation, reaching for me, and I dug my fingers into the muscle of his breast.

“I want a kiss first.”

He put his mouth against my ear and both hands firmly on my bottom. “Are ye in a position to make demands, d’ye think?” he whispered, tightening his grasp. I caught the faint barb in that. “Yes, I bloody am,” I said, and adjusted my own grip somewhat lower. He wouldn’t be attracting any bats, I thought.

We were eyeball-to-eyeball, clasped and breathing each other’s breath, close enough to see the smallest nuance of expression, even in the dimness. I saw the seriousness that underlay the laughter—and the doubt beneath the bravado.

“I am your wife,” I whispered, my lips brushing his.

“I ken that,” he said, very softly, and kissed me. Softly. Then closed his eyes and brushed his lips across my face, not so much kissing as feeling the contours of cheekbone and brow, of jaw and the tender skin below the ear, seeking to know me again past skin and breath, to know me to the blood and bone, to the heart that beat beneath.

I made a small sound and tried to find his mouth with my own, pressing against him, bare bodies cool and damp, hair rasping sweetly, and the lovely firmness of him rolling between us. He wouldn’t let me kiss him, though. His hand gripped the tail of my hair at the base of my neck, cupping my head, the other hand pursuing the same game of blind man’s buff. There was a rattling thump; I had backed into a potting bench, setting a tray of tiny seedling pots to vibrating, the spicy leaves of sweet basil trembling in agitation. Jamie pushed the tray aside with one hand, then grasped me by the elbows and lifted me onto the bench.

“Now,” he said, half breathless. “I must have ye now.” He did, and I ceased caring whether there were splinters in the bench or not.

I wrapped my legs round him and he laid me flat and leaned over me, hands braced on the bench, with a sound halfway between bliss and pain. He moved slowly in me and I gasped. The rain had grown from a patter to a ringing din on the tin roof of the shed, covering any sounds I might make, and a good thing, too, I thought dimly. The air had cooled but was full of moisture; our skins were slick, and heat sprang up where flesh touched flesh. He was slow, deliberate, and I arched my back, urging him. In response, he took me by the shoulders, bent lower, and kissed me lightly, barely moving. “I willna do it,” he whispered, and held tight when I struggled against him, trying vainly to goad him into the violent response I wished—I needed. “Won’t do what?” I was gasping. “I willna punish ye for it,” he said, so softly I could barely hear him, close as he was. “I’ll not do that, d’ye hear?” “I don’t frigging want you to punish me, you bastard.” I grunted with effort, my shoulder joints creaking as I tried to break free of his grasp. “I want you to . . . God, you know what I want!” “Aye, I do.” His hand left my shoulder and cupped beneath my buttock, touching the flesh of our joining, stretched and slippery. I made a small sound of surrender, and my knees loosened. He pulled back, then came back into me, strongly enough that I gave a small, high-pitched cry of relief.

“Ask me to your bed,” he said, breathless, hands on my arms. “I shall come to ye. For that matter—I shall come, whether ye ask it or no. But remember, Sassenach—I am your man; I serve ye as I will.” “Do,” I said. “Please do. Jamie, I want you so!” He seized my ars* in both hands, hard enough to leave bruises, and I arched up into him, grasping, hands sliding on his sweat-slick skin.

“God, Claire, I need ye!”

Rain was roaring on the tin roof now, and lightning struck close by, blue-white and sharp with ozone. We rode it together, forked and light-blind, breathless, and the thunder rolled through our bones.

24 WELCOME COOLNESS IN THE HEAT, COMFORT IN THE MIDST OF WOE ~ Written in My Own Heart's Blood

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8 - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇɴᴛ

Summary: You met a new girl at a university event, immediately drawn in by her friendly, outgoing nature. Before you knew it, she invited you to a small party where she hinted you could make some valuable connections. Little did you realize, networking with a biker gang wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for boosting your CV.

tags: Laws Ex, your first little argument with Law, Kid and Killer cameo

a.n.: I've a soft spot for Kid and Killer.

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

"Do you really want to go to this?" Law grumbled, his voice tinged with irritation as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He never had patience for events like these—listening to famous doctors drone on with the same recycled speeches about how med students were the future, how they were going to change the world. It was all so cliché to him.

But you, with a wide, enthusiastic grin, nodded. You would’ve loved it if Law joined you, but you knew better than to push him. He was clearly not in the mood. The fact that he was walking you to the lecture hall was already enough for you.

"Alright, fine," he sighed, his tone softening slightly. "If the guy actually says something useful, let me know." His irritated expression shifted into a familiar, amused grin.

"I will, but you’re missing out," you teased, knowing full well that Law wasn’t about to change his mind.

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Yeah, huge loss," he said as sarcasm was dripping with every word. "Anyway, I’m gonna hit the library. Text me when you’re done, alright?" With that, he reached over and gave your cheek a quick, playful squeeze. You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture—it wasn’t like Law to show affection in public. And, well… you two weren’t officially together yet. “Dating” was probably a more fitting term. You met up regularly, switched from texting to phone calls—since he was terrible at texting—and usually ended up spending the night together.

"Will do. See ya," you said, giving him a smile before turning to enter the lecture hall.

As Law made his own way to the library, neither of you noticed the young woman standing off to the side, her gaze lingering on your exchange with something close to resentment. Once Law was out of sight, she slipped inside the lecture hall, her eyes scanning the room until she found you.

It was already filling up with students taking their seats and chatting quietly as they waited for the presentation to start. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she spotted an empty spot next to you. She approached with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet.

You looked up from your bag, mid-rummage, and smiled politely back. "No, go ahead."

She sat down, her icy blue eyes locking onto yours as she introduced herself. "I’m Yuki, by the way."

"Y/N," you replied with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you."

Yuki’s smile didn’t waver, though internally she bristled.

She could’ve ripped that smile off your stupid face.

"Haven’t seen you around here before," she remarked casually, pulling out her iPad.

You shrugged, letting out a small chuckle. "I tend to keep to myself. No offense to everyone in our program, but I’ve already got my little friend group."

It was true, but the words came out sounding very much like something Law would say. And Yuki hated you for it. She knew all too well there was something going on between you two—she’d seen the way you interacted, the way he looked at you. And it drove her crazy. In her mind, Law leaving her had been a mistake, and his friends were to blame, always meddling in his life. He was happier with her. He had been, at least—that’s what she told herself.

But for now, she kept up the pleasant facade. After all, what was the saying? Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

And you, in her eyes, were most definitely the enemy.

Yuki had done an excellent job masking her true feelings. To you, she seemed perfectly nice—friendly, even—and you didn’t mind her keeping you company during the dull wait for the presentation to start.

“By the way, you heard of this awesome party next week?” she asked casually, glancing at you. The question caught you off guard, and you blinked at her, puzzled.

“No, not really,” you said, shaking your head.

Yuki’s eyes widened, feigning surprise. “Really? You should definitely come, a lot of med students are there too, its great to make connections as well.”

You were a bit taken aback by her friendliness and the sudden offer, thinking about it. You didn’t knew her, yet she seemed pretty nice. You barley attended those kind of party, usually you just took part of a good old house party you friends threw occasionally. Building some connections for later on didn’t sound too bad either.

“Sure why not,” you replied with a smile.

Without hesitation, Yuki pulled out her phone, and the two of you quickly exchanged numbers.

As you saved her contact, Yuki mentally applauded your naïveté, her smile growing just a little sharper.

The event began soon after, and the two of you fell into silence, listening to the speaker drone on about the future of medicine and the importance of innovation. At first, it was engaging, but after a while, your attention started to fade. Law had been right—this was a snoozefest. You sighed quietly, trying to suppress a yawn as the presenter rambled on, his speech feeling more and more empty with each passing minute.

When it finally ended, you felt drained, like the life had been sucked out of you.

“God, that was a waste of time,” you mumbled under your breath as you started packing up your things.

Yuki chuckled beside you, though she was already hurriedly gathering her belongings. She seemed almost nervous, moving with more urgency than the situation warranted. She didn't want to risk bumping into Law.

“Yeah, total waste… Anyway, I’ve gotta run and catch the bus. You’ll hear from me soon, alright?”

You blinked, surprised by her sudden rush. She was already standing, ready to bolt, her polite smile looking a bit forced. “Uh, sure,” you said, still sitting, unsure of what had sparked her sudden haste.

Yuki flashed you a quick smile before darting down the stairs, moving as if she couldn’t get out of the lecture hall fast enough. You watched her disappear, frowning slightly. Weird, you thought, shrugging it off as you took your time gathering your own things.

As you exited the hall, Law was already waiting outside, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. You felt a wave of relief.

"How was it?" Law asked, eyebrow raised, already suspecting your answer.

“Terrible,” you sighed, falling into step with him.

"Told you."

As you walked, Yuki’s sudden departure lingered in your mind. Something about it didn’t sit right, but you shook the feeling off. After all, she seemed nice… right?

Yuki still lingered in your mind days later, especially after she followed you on Instagram so quickly. How had she even found your profile? You shrugged it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe she was just really enthusiastic about the party today. Who knew?

“You’ve been glued to your phone a lot lately,” he commented, glancing at you over the rim of his cup before setting it down. He’d noticed your recent surge in texting but hadn’t asked until now. What he didn’t know was that it was his Ex  you were messaging.

"Ah, sorry," you said, locking your screen and sliding the phone aside. "I met this girl at that lecture the other day. She invited me to the med party I told you about."

Law’s reaction was immediate—a groan of disapproval as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You still want to go? Seriously, don’t waste your time.”

“What? Why not?” you asked, frowning, unsure why he seemed so against the idea.

He shrugged, eyes rolling as if it was obvious. "It’s just a bunch of future doctors jerking themselves off and getting trashed. Ego trips everywhere.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his bluntness. "Yeah, but I could use the connections, right? Networking is kind of important."

Law’s eyes narrowed slightly, his skepticism clear. “If you’re a good doctor, you don’t need to rely on that.”

You scoffed, half-amused and half-annoyed now. “Easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I-grew-up-in-a-hospital.’ You’ve had all the connections handed to you since day one.”

Law’s expression hardened, clearly irritated now. “Are we seriously doing this again? You gotta stop bringing that up.”

You knew it was a sore spot for him, but you were frustrated too. Law had connections, mentors, resources—you had none of that. To you, this med party was more than just an excuse to drink; it was a way to get ahead, to build relationships that might help you down the line. But Law didn’t seem to get that.

“You don’t understand,” you muttered, standing up abruptly. “I don’t have what you have, Law. I have to work for this.”

“I never said you didn’t,” he shot back, a little harsher than he meant. “But I’m telling you, these things are just ego-fests. Don’t expect anything real to come out of it.”

“Well, I’m going,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

Law sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could tell you were annoyed, but he wasn’t about to start a fight over something so trivial. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

His dismissiveness stung, and the tension between you simmered.

Without another word, you stormed off to your room to get ready, leaving Law at the table. He just sat there, watching you go, now scrolling through his phone with a sigh. The silence between you felt heavier than usual.

“Call me if you need a ride,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, as if he was offering an olive branch.

But you were still too frustrated to take it. “No need,” you shot back sharply, the words colder than you intended.

Law raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting. The tension in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. He scoffed lightly, more out of frustration than anything else, and leaned back in his chair, not wanting to push further. Whatever, if that’s how you wanted it.

As you pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag, you could feel his eyes on you, but neither of you said anything. The silence had stretched too far, and now neither of you knew how to break it.

You left the apartment without another word, both of you too stubborn to fix the crack that had opened between you.

As you made your way to the location Yuki had sent you, an uneasy feeling began to gnaw at your gut. The place she directed you to didn’t scream “meds party”—it looked more like an abandoned building, graffiti covering the cracked walls. A bunch of motorcycles were parked haphazardly outside, while a few guys leaned against them, already looking wasted, bottles in hand.

You hesitated, your heart starting to race as you dialed Yuki’s number quickly. The longer you stood there, the worse this felt.

“Hey, uhm… are you sure this is the right place?” you asked when she picked up, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

“Yeah, for sure! I’m running a little late, but go on inside! It’s chill, I promise. Have some fun till I get there, okay? See ya soon!” Yuki’s voice was cheerful, almost too carefree for the vibe you were getting.

“Wait, Yuki—” You started, but she hung up before you could finish. You sighed, staring at your phone. Great.

With a deep breath, you glanced back at the house. It felt off—so wrong in every way. But maybe you were just overthinking it? After all, Yuki had seemed so genuine.

You approached cautiously, feeling eyes from the people outside follow you as you neared the door. A group of guys laughed loudly, one of them muttering something under his breath as you passed. The heavy thrum of music seeped out from inside, as you pushed the door open.

The lighting was dim, shadows stretching across the room as heavy metal blared from old speakers. Your heart hammered in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to leave. This wasn’t right. You scanned the room quickly, searching for any familiar faces what so ever. Nothing. Just strangers—rough-looking strangers.

You turned back, ready to leave and forget this whole thing, but before you could reach the door, a large hand slammed it shut. Slowly you faced the person behind you, to find a tall, muscular guy blocking your way. His wild red hair and the predatory grin on his lips gave you goosebumps, not to mention his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Look what we got here…” he drawled, leaning in closer. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and you took a step back, trying to put some distance between you.

“Uh, sorry. Got the wrong party,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you reached for the door handle. But he didn’t move. If anything, his grin widened.

“Wrong party?” he laughed, his voice carrying over the music. “Hey, Killer, this chick says she’s at the wrong party!”

From another room, a man with long, messy blond hair appeared, just as broad and intimidating as the redhead. His blue eyes gleamed with amusement, and his high-pitched, manic laugh only made your stomach drop further. The name didn’t help either.

“Cmon Kid, let her go. You are scaring her.”  the blond said, stepping closer and crossing his arms, his biceps flexing as he loomed over you.

Your pulse spiked as your back hit the door. You glanced between them, heart racing. “I don’t want any trouble. I think I got the wrong address,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though fear was clawing at your throat.

The redhead, apparently named Kid, laughed again. “You? Trouble?” He eyed you again and let out an amused laugh. “Doubt that princess. But you know, it’s pretty rude not to stay for at least one drink.” It wasn’t hard to see the challenge behind his words, a challenge you denied with a frantic head shake.

“Leave it Kid,” Killer chuckled, though there was no warmth in his voice. He stepped even closer, blocking off any hope of an exit.

You swallowed hard, every instinct telling you to run, but you were trapped between them. Your fingers itched for your phone, to call Law or anyone for help. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding anymore—it was dangerous.

“I—really—I’m just trying to leave,” you managed to say, your voice tighter now, laced with panic. Your eyes darted toward the door, but Kid’s massive hand stayed firmly in place, keeping it shut.

Suddenly, the blond man’s grabbed Kid’s wrist, his gaze unreadable. “Seriously, enough man,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of authority. Kid shot him an irritated look but released his hold on the doorframe, muttering, “Asshole,” under his breath before losing interest entirely and wandering off into the chaos of the party.

You finally exhaled, your chest tight from holding your breath. Relief washed over you, but your heart was still racing as you looked up at the blond man. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, his tone casual as if the whole thing was no big deal. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here before someone else wants a piece of you.”

His nonchalance was unsettling, but you didn’t argue. You simply nodded and followed him as he opened the door, walking you outside. The moment you stepped back into the night air, you felt the weight lift off your shoulders every so slightly. The people outside, who had been eyeing you earlier, now ignored you completely, probably because Killer was body guarding you.

Standing on the sidewalk, you fumbled with your phone, trying to call Law. Your hands were still shaking, and you kept glancing around nervously, as if expecting someone to jump out at you. When the call finally connected, Law’s sharp voice cut through the line.

“What?”

His tone was icy, and the sudden harshness made your throat tighten, words sticking in your mouth. You stood there frozen, feeling even more vulnerable. The blond man watched you silently for a moment before sighing, taking the phone from your trembling hands.

“Yo,” he greeted, his voice steady but neutral.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Law’s tone darkened. “Who the fuck is this?”

The blond raised an eyebrow at the intensity in Law’s voice but stayed calm. “Chill, man. Pick up your girlfriend. She’s at the wrong party.”

There was a pause, and Killer could practically feel the tension building on Law’s end. “What do you mean wrong party?” he snapped.

Killer glanced at you, then back at the phone. “No clue. She just showed up here, freaked out, said something about wrong address. Anyway, come get her. This ain’t her scene.”

Law’s voice was clipped but calmer now, sensing the urgency. “Give me ten. Send me the location.”

Killer sighed again as he handed the phone back to you. His expression was unreadable, though, there was almost a hint of pity in his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure whether you were trembling from shock or the cold.

“He’ll be here soon. You’re out of this,” he said, his voice calm, almost reassuring. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Killer stayed with you outside, his presence both comforting and unsettling. He wasn’t saying much, but it was clear he didn’t want to leave you alone with the lingering partygoers. You found yourself wondering what kind of people they were—what kind of place this was—that even he felt the need to stick around and make sure you were safe. The air was thick with tension, and every noise from the party made your heart jump.

When you finally heard the familiar low rumble of Law’s motorcycle in the distance, your eyes snapped up. As he pulled up to the curb, he cut the engine and took off his helmet, his eyes immediately locking onto you. The sight clearly unsettled him, and you could almost see the curse forming on his lips, blaming your new friend for the whole drama.

Killer slid his hands into his pockets, offering Law a brief nod. “Nice machine,” he commented, glancing at Law’s motorcycle.

Law’s gaze was distant, focused on you but acknowledging Killer’s presence with the barest of nods. “Thanks for looking out for her,” he finally said, his voice tight as he passed the second helmet to you.

You didn’t waste any time, quickly taking the helmet and climbing onto the back of Law’s bike, your hands trembling as you secured it on.  

Killer shrugged at Law’s thanks, watching as he started the engine and the two of you sped off into the night.

During the ride, Law could feel how tightly you held onto him—tighter than usual. There was no need for words. The brief argument the two of you had earlier seemed irrelevant now. All that mattered was getting you home safe.

"What do you mean, she was sure it was the right address?" Law asked, his voice tight with concern.

Back at home, you were curled up next to Law on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea warming your hands. Law sat beside you, his brows furrowed, filled with worry. You shrugged and sniffled, your eyes still glassy from the overwhelming emotions.

"I-I don’t know," you mumbled. "Yuki said it was the place..."

"Yuki?" Law interrupted, his entire posture shifting. At the mention of the name, tension rippled through him, his muscles tightening like he was bracing for something.

You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden change. "Y-Yeah...?" you replied, voice trembling, eyes red and filled with sadness. Seeing you like this—so hurt, so vulnerable—shattered something inside him.

Law's heart ached, but his mind raced. He had a sinking suspicion about what was going on. Could it really be her?

“D-Do you know her or something?"

He hesitated. How could he explain? If Yuki was involved—if it was the Yuki he thought it was—this was even more twisted than he'd imagined. It wasn’t just a biker gang party you'd been lured into; it could have been intentional.

Law wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn’t unfairly blaming some random girl with the same name. His gut told him something was off, but he needed proof. "Do you have anything on her? A profile picture, social media... anything?"

You nodded and unlocked your phone. Law leaned in, his expression tense as he focused on the screen.

After a moment of heavy silence, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N... That's my Ex."

"H-Huh?" you blinked at him, still sniffling, confusion clouding your face. The way you looked at him—like a lost, hurt puppy—made his heart ache. He didn’t want to pile this on top of everything else, but you deserved to know the truth. None of this was your fault.

"She’s... not stable," Law admitted, his voice low and strained. He shifted closer to you, gently reaching for your hand. "I think she did this on purpose..."

You tightened your grip on his hand, slowly processing what he was telling you. At first, your face was unreadable. Intentional? Laws Ex lured you intentionally, to a biker gang?

Flicker of something darker crossed your expression.

It was anger.

"Wait... so this bitch" you sniffed one last time and pointed at you phone, her profile still visible "sent me to some disgusting biker gang party because she’s still obsessed with you?" Your voice rose, sharp with frustration. Was it your possessiveness over Law? The humiliation of being tricked? Or the sheer outrage at the danger you'd been put in? You weren’t sure, but it boiled up inside you, igniting a fire you couldn’t contain.

You had even fought with Law before you left that night, all because of Yuki’s twisted lie.

Law watched, a bit taken aback as your emotions shifted from sadness to rage. The broken look in your eyes was replaced with pure fury, he’d never seen you like this before.

"I could’ve died, Law! I’m not exaggerating—one of those guys was named Killer!" You clutched his hand so hard now, it almost hurt.

"Y/N, calm down—"

"Calm down?!" you snapped, glaring at him. "Your psycho ex tried to get me killed, and you want me to calm down?! Why do you even stick you dick into crazy?!”

Law was caught off guard, not just by your anger but by your comment. He had heard the same accusations countless times from Shachi and Penguin. Now you, too.

"When did you even meet this... this, this clown?!" you demanded, clearly too furious to come up with a better insult. The heat of the moment had your mind racing so fast, and that made Law smirk just a little. He couldn’t help it—seeing you all riled up and possessive over him was oddly amusing.

"Start of uni," he answered casually. "Didn’t last long though. A year."

"A year?!" you threw your hands up in disbelief. "And she’s still obsessing over you?"

He couldn’t resist grinning, and that only made your frustration spike.

You glared at him, baffled by his amusement. "Why are you smiling like that? You think this is funny?"

Law chuckled. "You’re cute when you’re angry."

"Oh, shut up!" You snatched a pillow from the couch and chucked it at him, but the edge in your voice softened as a small laugh slipped out despite your situation. You were still furious, but the tension in the room had shifted. Knowing this was all part of Yuki’s twisted jealousy was terrifying, but also... it wasn’t your fault. And Law clearly knew how she was. Somehow, that gave you a sense of safety.

At least you weren’t alone in this mess.

"Seriously," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. "Yuki can piss off. I’ll fight that bitch if I have to—especially after this. She acted all nice and whatnot." You scoffed, but beneath the bravado, you were still seething.

Law sighed, a heavy sound, as he gently started playing with your fingers, his touch grounding himself as if trying to distance his mind from the painful memories of that toxic relationship.

"Yeah... that’s her thing," he admitted quietly.

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, and your anger flared even more. She had done this to Law, too—the person who already struggled to open up to others, who kept his walls high for a reason. The thought of what Yuki had put him through made your blood boil. You didn’t even want to imagine what the final straw had been, or how things ended between them.

The night had already been overwhelming enough. You swallowed those questions, saving them for another time, and took a deep breath. Scooting closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder, needing the closeness to calm down, all of this was just too exhausting. He leaned into you a little, his body warm and comforting against yours.

"...isn’t what she did illegal?" you mumbled, almost to yourself.

"Can’t prove she lied."

"Shit.”

tag list:@mars-mizuko, @tadomikiku, @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii (Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you 🖤)