#these two would push each other forcing who is who is going to kill it

[teakoodrawz]

my arm hurts already so here's Seren in christmas holiday

[xervn]

melatonin

oneshot? | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

ao3 link

summary: you're forced to go on a business trip with your least favorite coworker and share a room with her. now you can't sleep.

18+ MDNI | 4.1k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, sevika is nonchalant fr, reader is a brat, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, scissoring, begging kink, praise kink kinda, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

new record; took me 4 days to write. i don't know who possessed me. i love enemies to lovers so bad FUCKKKK!!!

“One room.” The motel owner, an old, short, and grotesque-looking woman with a thick accent, says. 

 “One room? Clear another one out then?” You insist, mildly threateningly. The woman’s eyes glaze over as she blinks. She’s not moved.

“There are two beds; who cares?” Sevika grumbles, clearly over your antics.

You shoot a glare in her direction, lip forming into a scowl. “I’m not sharing a room with you; you look like you snore.” 

She tells you something along the lines of go fuck or kill yourself (you weren’t really listening) before pushing past you and replacing the room keys on the counter with a stack of silver cogs. 

The owner collects the cogs with a grunt before adjusting her small reader glasses. Sevika strides off towards the rooms, and you quickly turn after her.

“Couldn’t you have tried to help?” You ask. Your eyes burn a hole through the side of her face.

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “You’re dramatic, and I don’t have the patience to deal with your bullshit right now.”

You hate her. You fucking hate her. You’ve been working alongside Sevika for two years now, yet you can’t shake the feeling. It started when you first met; Sevika was cold and critical, reprimanding you even though you were young and starting out. That’s not even what drove you to hate her, though; at least back then it felt like she was looking out for you, but you were painfully mistaken when you got promoted within the year. 

You don’t know what it was; jealousy, doubt, but her distaste for you only grew more apparent. There were fewer critiques and more insults about how you work or about your intelligence. Insufferable. She was insufferable.

There hasn’t been a day she’s been likable since then, so imagine your reaction when Silco tells you and her to go on a little business trip to Bilgewater. No matter how much the both of you wanted to protest, you didn’t. Instead you two argued amongst yourselves the whole trip there. 

Why would you want to spend even more unnecessary time around her?

The minute you guys enter your room, you don’t speak a single word to each other, let alone look each other’s way. You take turns using the restroom to get ready for bed, and then you find a place for your belongings, and Sevika ejects her bionic arm for the night. Although you two definitely don’t like each other, it doesn’t mean you don’t trust each other. You know she won’t rob you; she knows you won’t (can’t) take advantage and kill her. That’s the only semblance of peace you share.

— 

A faint amber light soaks through your eyelids, and you blink them open to the popcorned ceiling. You toss and turn in your bed, rustling around, unable to find a good position, and it doesn’t help that the cheap mattress is, well, cheap. You can’t sleep. You’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it’s never been a real problem before; you’d just stay up. Yes, you have permanent eye bags because of it, but it’s not like you can choose otherwise. You‘re from Zaun; any aid for it is not exactly accessible. 

However, the meeting you have tomorrow is important, so it’s important that you find a way. You can’t afford to slack off or doze off during it; you’re the negotiator, and tomorrow makes or breaks a trade deal that will be most beneficial for Zaun’s income. 

You rustle in your bed sheets again, and Sevika immediately groans. “Can you stop? And turn the lamp off.”

You look at her and you’re about to apologize, but you hold your tongue when you remember who you’re talking to. “I can’t sleep.”

“Turn the lamp off and fucking figure it out.” She snaps, turning her back towards you.

“Can’t you hear?” You squirm around, making as much noise as possible to get your point across. “I’m trying.”

“Find a different way. Count poros. Turn the lamp off.”

You scoff, eyes back on the ceiling, “I’m not five; counting poros doesn’t work, and I’m not turning off the lamp.”

You can hear Sevika shifting in her bed. “I knew you should’ve stayed back,” she sighs, “and you’re scared of the dark? Grow up.”

“Wow, fuck you. If you had asked nicely, I would’ve turned it off, and what do you mean I ‘should’ve stayed’? You’re not my boss. I’m more valuable than you are.” You angrily rant. 

“Alright, you are talking way too much right now. Cut it out.” 

“…No.” You reply. It sounds unconvincing with your lack of words, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Do you need calming tea or something? What will get you to shut up, because I’m about to hold a pillow over your head and call it a night.” She growls.

“Nothing. I can only sleep if I get a concussion or if I drink my pants off.”

She says your name like a warning, “If you ruin this deal, I’ll make sure to see you off myself.”

You bite back, “Sevika, if I could sleep, I would be sleeping. I don’t want to ruin it either, but your scolding isn’t helping.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Sevika grunts stubbornly. It’s followed by sheets moving and a dull stomp on the floor. You turn to look, and you see Sevika sitting at the side of her bed. 

You glance at her muscular thighs in those gray shorts—you couldn’t help it—before staring back at the ceiling. “Are you going to make me tea?”

She pushes off the bed with her one arm. “No.”

“Switching rooms then?” You ask as your eyes follow her shadow’s movement on the walls. 

“No.”

“Then... What is it?“ You turn, flinching a bit when you find Sevika peering down at you. 

She looks hesitant, timid; the first time you’ve ever seen it. “I’ll help you.”

Your defenses go off, and you quickly sit up. “Wait. You’re not going to kill me, right?”

“Over sleep? Are you stupid?” She pushes you back down, and not with much force, obviously.

You lay there, defeated. “So?”

“I said, ‘I’ll help you.'” She restates.

You stare up at her with slight annoyance, “Well, you have to tell me how?”

She has an indecisive frown before exhaling, “If you come, you’ll shut up.” 

Your head shakes in confusion. “Come? Where are we going?” 

“You’re an actual idiot.” She groans.

You gasp in offense. “You’re the one being fucking cryptic—“

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.” 

“What?”

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.”

“I heard you; I’m just,” you laugh nervously, “are you serious?” Your ears must be playing tricks on you. 

“We’re not close enough to joke around with each other.” She says plainly.

Baffled, you reply, “We’re not close enough to fuck either?” 

“Do you really care about shit like that? Sex is sex.”

You think about it for a second. You’ve never been in a proper relationship, and you’ve only had a handful of hookups, but you’ve never slept with someone you dislike, and you definitely don’t like Sevika. Even if she is hot. “Well, I guess not—“

“—Then what’s the issue?” Her eyes bore into you.

You gulp at the sudden weight of her stare, but you don’t crumble. “The issue is that I don’t like you. At all.”

Sevika scoffs, “I’ve seen the way you stare at me. You’re not subtle. At all. I saw you do it a few minutes ago.”

How embarrassing. It’s true, between all your hate are moments of admiration. Sevika is “cool,” she’s respected, she’s feared. She’s also full of herself, naggy, and blunt. Both things can be true. But on top of that, she’s hot to the point it’s frustrating. 

One time, while she was sitting in her designated booth at The Last Drop playing poker, she locked eyes with you after a big win. There was that sexy, satisfied grin she always gets after every win, and she had the audacity to lock eyes with you. 

Your thighs pressed together. You beat yourself up over it for the rest of the night and the following day; you couldn’t even look her in the eye without getting unreasonably angry.

Your face is turning warm, but there’s no point in turning away—you have to fake it until you make it. “Okay? What’s your point?” You ask, even though her point was very clear. You’re running yourself into walls.

Sevika already deciphered that; her face reads, ‘Where the fuck are you right now?’ “Listen, I don’t like you either, but if you want to sleep, I’ll help you, and if you don’t, I’ll get another room.” She explains.

You can tell it’s her final offer. You chew your bottom lip until you remember Sevika is still looking at you. Hiding your face behind your hand, you can’t believe you’re considering it. Sex with Sevika. Sounds mad when you repeat it in your head. It’s just sex, though, right? You knew she loved Zaun, but you didn’t know she loved it this much. Sleeping with you, practically her arch nemesis, for the betterment of society. That sounds insane. This is insane.

Sevika kisses her teeth, “Forget it—“ 

“—Okay,” you interrupt, “help me.” You’re unable to look her in the eyes. 

She looks at you dubiously, and her lack of doing anything unnerves you, so you continue. “Please?” You slowly look up at her, and you swear her eyes darkened. 

“Please?” She mimics. “Didn’t take you for the submissive type.” 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, although it comes out like a whisper.

“Mhm,” she hums apathetically, pulling up the covers draped over you. Her knee makes a dip in the bed. “Make some space,” she asks. You sit up, and you have no idea what to do. Looking left and right, you'd think you were trying to cross the road. She stares blankly. “Just spread your legs.” She commands.

You immediately do as she says, and she chuckles to herself at how you continue to prove her right. You’re clearly not a fan of that, your frown prominent. “What’s funny?” 

Sevika kneels herself between your legs, using her arm to help balance her in place. “Man, you love to argue.” 

You shrug. “I’ll stop when you fuck me to sleep. If you can... Don’t you think you’re a little overconfident?” 

Sevika slowly blinks at you, unsure of whether she should be turned on or irritated. You take it as the latter, and now it’s your turn to chuckle to yourself. But your self-satisfied giggling stops when she leans over you, inches away from your face, “You’re about to find out.” 

You never took the time to process Sevika kneeling between your legs, and now you can feel each exhale from her on your face. Your body starts to process it too: your breathing gets heavier and your heartbeat gets faster. You don’t have a crush on her or anything, but this is an unusual, unsurprisingly hot experience. Your eyes flicker to her full, uneven lips before they squeeze shut.

Sevika flicks your forehead. “Wh—ow?!” You whine, rubbing your head with your hand to soothe it. 

“I’m not kissing you.” She clarifies.

Your face warms with embarrassment, fingers gripping at the fabric beneath you. “How was I supposed to know you wanted a staring contest?” You grumble.

Sevika rolls her eyes, barely shaking her head in disappointment. Her face moves on from yours, and her lips attack the exposed curvature of your neck, licking, biting, and rendering you speechless. She gives you no time to regulate your emotions, and you let out a soft groan you would’ve otherwise swallowed down. Just what she wanted: less talking, more moaning.

Letting her guide the tilt of your head, you awkwardly rest your hands on her shoulders. You’re unsure of whether you can or should touch her. She pauses. “Sor— I… uh…” You stammer and put your hands up. You decide to just stop speaking to save yourself.

“Relax.” She tells you, gazing at you through her loose, dark hair. It stirs something below you. 

You place your hands back on her shoulders, albeit reluctantly, and try to maintain eye contact so you look composed. 

Sevika doesn’t buy it. She glances at your hands, very tellingly. “…Relax.” She repeats, softer than she did before, and your heart skips a beat like you’re in a cliché. 

Hesitantly, you slide your arms around her shoulders, linking your hands together. It feels intimate, too intimate, and looking at her is getting harder by the second. Sevika chuckles in a way that borders on a scoff. “You wanted to do that; don’t be shy about it.”

You huff, “I didn’t know I was being teased to sleep…”

“Is it working? It’d save me time.”

“Fuck off...” 

“You’d hate that.” She replies, as if it’s undeniable. It is, but she’s way too cocky about it. You look like you’re about to curse her out, but you’re holding it back. 

Sevika grins smugly, and for a moment, she considers kissing you. Your arms are wrapped around her shoulders, your eyes are yelling, ‘Fuck me already,’ lips practically begging to meet hers.

This is intimate, too intimate. It’s fucking with her logical reasoning—not that this is logical to begin with. It sounds stupid, but it’s worked for her so far; she casually fucks on the regular, and she doesn’t kiss them ever. Never really felt like it. Yet, here you are, making her feel new things. She knows there’s no going back if she makes an exception with you, and quite frankly, you still piss her off. It’s conflicting.

You impatiently perk a brow at her. You had to stop yourself from flat-out asking her to continue; your ego can’t afford you coming off as begging.

For a millisecond she looks like she got caught, then a millisecond later, she’s on you again. 

She attentively kisses the skin below the curve of your jawline, her tongue making frequent warm appearances. It’s much more fervent, but rough in a way that makes you tremble. She always makes sure you feel her teeth gliding over when she moves to the next spot. Your legs move on their own, one leg curling up against her side. You’re already pooling where you’re seated, but now it’s getting uncomfortable to sit this damp. 

Experienced is how you can describe her right now. You heard rumors of her activity, but you never believed it. There was no way her ol’ grumpy ass was getting laid, no matter how incredibly sexy she was. Then again, you never got along, which makes this situation, this fucking feeling, even crazier. 

She was being extra careful not to bruise you at first, but she seems not to care anymore, only driven further when she hears your little gasps or feels your arms tightening around her. She’s getting carried away, but she’ll figure out how to play it off some other time.

 Sevika pulls back. She throbs at your dazed and confused expression.  “Come closer.” She ushers as she transitions to sitting rather than kneeling on the bed. 

With no hesitation, you don’t let go of Sevika as you push yourself forward on your hips, sitting your ass comfortably on the edge of Sevika’s lap. Her hand lands on your waist. She says, “Lay down for me.” 

You nod shyly, removing your arms from Sevika’s shoulders and descending onto the mattress. Sevika tries to ignore how the loss of your arms around her made her feel. Her hand travels to the waistband of your joggers. “You’re going to have to move these for me too.” She asks, shrugging her shoulder that’s missing an arm as a reminder. 

She doesn’t move; she waits. Your insides do a flip. She’s waiting for you to remove them how you are now: legs diverged around her, hips pointed towards her. You think about how vulnerable you’ll look and feel when you slide them off, showing her the sopping mess she unknowingly made between your legs. You know she’s going to see it eventually, but from you doing the honors? That’s tearing you apart. She notices a shift in your demeanor, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hurry up.” 

“Can’t you move back…?”

Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

You whine in embarrassment, briefly shielding your face in your hands before hastily pulling at your waistband. You wish you had turned the lamp off.

Sevika’s hand clasps over yours. “Slowly.” She scolds. Scolds. You’re fucking flabbergasted. She’s doing this on purpose, you can tell. She’s barely holding back another signature, smug smile. 

“You’re such a dick.” You curse. A direct juxtaposition in your actions that don’t defy Sevika at all. Hell, it juxtaposes your body because of how you’re aching for her.

“Yeah, yeah. Off.” She pulls at the band of your pants, letting it slap down when she releases it. 

You mutter out a few more curses that she fully grins at before you silently begin to remove your joggers and underwear simultaneously. You lift your hips for mobility, and Sevika’s eyes are glued to the fabric making its way down your thighs, and you’re forced to watch how intently she’s watching you. You can try to insist this is humiliating and cruel, but you can’t stop throbbing just from this; her eyes anticipating your reveal, like you’re a self-opening present.

The clothing starts to bunch at the middle of your thighs, and your arousal is halfway there to being exposed to Sevika. The scent is what hits her first; it makes her want to yank your pants down and give you what you want, but watching you do it so much better.

Once it reaches above your knees, she partially moves out of the way so she can help you remove them properly. While she tosses it elsewhere, you debate pinning your legs shut. 

Sevika looks back at you—your legs, actually—and you do flinch them closed. She tsks. “Don’t be stubborn. Not now.” She didn’t sound like she was insulting you, even though a small part of you wanted to be offended. 

You let out a shaky sigh and avoid her gaze, slowly parting your legs. Thighs slicked with arousal, folds glistened with the same, you’re undeniably soaked. You prepare yourself to look at Sevika’s shit-eating grin, but when you do, it’s nothing of the sort. Her eyes are low, shaded, and memorializing, and her bottom lip fully disappeared between her teeth. 

Then she grins; she even laughs, just as you expected. You groan, not at her, but at how wet you got from it. “I didn’t even do anything yet.” She teases, her eyes still locked on the ego-stroking mess she made of you. 

“Such a di—“ You cut yourself off to moan sharply. 

Sevika’s thumb came in contact with your swollen clit, the rough pad of her thumb making perfect circles; the rest of her fingers positioned in the patch of hair crowning above it.

“How fast do you think you’ll come? I’m thinking,” she pretends to, only to press her thumb over your clit. Filthy words flutter from your lips, and you instinctively grind into her touch. “Three minutes?” 

You look pissed between your bouts of pleasure; it molds together attractively. Sevika can’t wait to make it break, make you cry, and fuck the attitude out of you. “What? You should see how wet you are; you’d think I already fucked you.” 

She feels the way you twitch at her words, and it makes the pressure between her legs unbearable. She should just strip and grind her cunt into you, but she knows she won’t be able to stop there. Fuck her stupid life; she’s losing the plot. 

Her thick forefinger collects your slick as she paths towards your entrance. You twitch as she slides it in, making you gasp. She chuckles as your walls clench around her finger, and she starts pushing it in and out, painstakingly slow. 

It’s not enough, yet you can’t bring yourself to beg her for more. It’s at the tip of your tongue, but Sevika was right; you are stubborn. She reads you like a book, and she can read you now. She angles her finger in a way that brushes against your g-spot, but at the same mind-numbingly slow pace. 

Your body doesn’t know what to do; you can’t find friction anywhere; you can squeeze against her finger, but it doesn’t change her speed; all you can do is writhe in place. “You look like you need something,” she says, almost like it’s a thought in her head, so condescending, so fucking hot. Your pussy tenses around her finger for the millionth time, and you almost, almost, cry. “You’re gonna cut my finger off at this rate.” You tense again. She chuckles. 

“Sev—Sevika,” you bite your lip to hold down a sharp inhale, but it fails miserably. “Sevika, you’re not helping.”

 “Should I stop?” She asks with the tilt of her head. Her finger does stop regardless of the answer. 

Your hands reach out for her wrist, weakly clawing at it. “No! No, pl...” You mildly cringe at yourself, turning away. 

Sevika’s brows lifted. “What was that? Pl...?” She begins her pace again, and you realize you didn’t appreciate it enough before. “You said it once already; come on.” 

Your lips tremble, “Plea—se—?” She barely lets you finish the word before slipping another finger into your drooling cunt. Her pace increases, and you let go of her wrist as you succumb to pleasure. 

 Your arousal coating her fingers makes the most obscene noises; she wonders if the entire motel can hear it. You try to suppress your moans with your hand, but you can never do it right, not with the way she’s fucking you. Sevika’s glad you can’t; having one arm would’ve been even more inconvenient otherwise. She needs to hear you sob out her name at least once. “Please what?” She leans over you as she slams her fingers into you, pressing them against your wet, ridged, gummy walls.

“You’re— fuck, you’re pushing it,” you groan, and just like that, she slows down. But you’re weak, and you crumble. “Wait, wait, wait—please. Please, fuck me... Fuck me to sleep.” You ramble loosely, back to scratching at her wrists again. There’s that smile you were thinking about earlier, the one she gets after a big win. She broke you, and she lost the plot ages ago. 

—

It’s been an hour, and you’re already on the brink of your third orgasm. Sevika folded and ended up, verbatim, stripping and grinding her cunt into yours. You should be asleep right now, but Sevika said you have enough time to catch up on it before the meeting. You hope that’s true, but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of her or her abs flexing with every desperate hump. 

So intent on getting her rocks off, practically using you for her own pleasure at this point—you already came twice now; any more is a bonus, just like the one building up right now. Your eyes are pressed shut, trying to envision your release so it comes quicker. “Just like that. Keep fucking me, please, Sev.” You beg through your teeth and quiet sniffles. Sevika’s fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh.

She murmurs, “You,” her movements get sloppier; you can tell she’s close, “feel so fucking good.” Now you’re close—no, you come at her praise. 

You’re shaking, grabbing at the sheets that have since slid off the mattress. You forgot how to breathe; all you can feel is your orgasm coursing through you. Your mind is turning fuzzy, and even fuzzier with Sevika still grinding into you. Your moans are pitchy and pornographic; you’re making sounds you didn’t even think happened in real life. “Sevika...” You sob out from overstimulation, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

She loves it. “Shit…” Sevika moans, followed by several more curses as she shudders out her orgasm. Her vision goes blurry for a second from how hard she came. She tries to control her labored breathing as she comes to, breathlessly calling your name. 

When she focuses in on you, you’re passed out, fucked out, and peaceful. Sevika’s pupils dilate at the markings she left on your neck, then to your lips, which she’s yet to have the chance to kiss. She lets the sleep weighing on her win and carefully collapses beside you. 

[inmaki]

gojo making fun of your other fwb

( smut, a little smthn while i work on my nanami fic <3 ) .

"just put it in, for fucks sake."

gojo chuckles, running his mushroom-shaped tip up and down your folds. every time he reaches your hole, he pushes his cock in just enough to breach your entrance, before pulling out and continuing his ministrations. like a fucking idiot.

"aw, y’want my dick that bad? 'need me to fill you up?" what about matsukawa?"

your expression sours, sending him an annoyed look. this was by far the first time he’s brought up his displeasure for your other friend, especially in bed.

“are you trying to make me dry?" you bark, trying to close your legs - which he immediately stops with a large hand. "if you wanna fuck, stop talking about him and hurry."

gojo rolls his eyes, despising the way you're practically defending the fucker. sure, he's just a friend too - but you were clearly his; you've always been addicted his lips against yours, his hands on your body, his cock against your cervix. now this other shithead thinks he can come and take that away?

he doesn't know how to handle it besides-

"is this how he fucks you?" suddenly, he forces only an inch or two inside you, barely thrusting in and out with a mischievous smile. a hum leaves his lips as your insides squeeze him firmly, but he's stubborn enough to hold back the urge to fill you up properly. "probably can’t reach anything, i bet even my fingers are bigger."

the audacity and immaturity of the man in front of you has you baffled. here you are, ready to be fucked into the mattress by him - and all he can do is joke about some other guy's dick length? you desperately want to scold him, tell him to fuck off - but as expected - the feeling of his fat cock not reaching where you need has your mind going blank in desperation.

"please.. just fuck me, toru."

he smirks, and without giving you any time to adjust, he's mercilessly slamming in the rest of his length so the tip presses right up against your womb. his balls smack against you from below, and you shiver at the feeling of his white pubic hair grazing your pelvis. "so i'm right? hah, what a fuckin' loser. 'course he has a small dick."

you're too busy catching your breath to hear him, and gojo smoothly takes that opportunity to throw your legs over his shoulders and press them against your chest, ensuring his cock hits your g-spot at the perfect angle. just how you like it.

the white-haired bastard can't help but smile, licking his lips at your rolled back eyes and the harmonious ah, ah, ah's that escape your throat with each brutal slam of his hips. "becoming my brainless cocksleeve as usual, so damn cute. only i can rearrange these guts, right?" he demands, bending you even further while getting right in your face.

"say it. say who owns this sloppy," thrust, "fucking," thrust, "pussy," thrust.

“you, only you!” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them.

“who?” he grinds right against your cervix, nearly pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

“sa- satoru!”

he rewards you by lowering a thumb to play with your clit, cerulean eyes staring into your very soul. “damn right. scream it louder.”

suddenly, a quiet ding! comes from your bedside table. gojo glances down to your blissed-out face, cautiously peering over to see a message from none other than the man of of the hour.

matsu: wyd? can i come over?

gojo smiles. typing in a response with one hand while the other keeps your thigh firmly against your chest.

you: yea, be quick daddy ;)

you would definitely kill him after this.

( reblogs & comments r appreciated if u enjoy! had this idea at 2am sorry if it’s bad <\3)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[zevrra]

LaDS—

synopsis: random hc’s i have for the men of love & deepspace!!

tags: 18(+) only, mdni, pretty nsfw, suggestive content, sylus, rafayel, xavier, zayne, LaDS MC(18+), my personal hc’s!

SYLUS—

has a very strict routine and hates when he has to change something in it

annoys you constantly bc he finds it funny

can and will steal your clothes and hide them so your forced to walk around in his house with next to nothing on

would buy you a collar

seems like this giant asshole but would actually kill for you

the second he hears about some lowlife messing with you it’s almost immediately that you never see them again

possessive !!!!!!!

gets jealous pretty easily as well

has to remind you why you are his and only his

toxic bf

leaves hickies/bite marks all over your neck specifically so other people can see them

is soooo into choking/breath play that goes both ways too!!!

he wants you to use him as you see fit

that is until he takes control and uses you like a new toy and does it all for his own pleasure

degrades you the entire time while he pulls your hair

asks you constantly who you belong to as he fucks ruthlessly into you from behind

“if i can’t have you, no one can.”

RAFAYEL—

either he calls you 26 times a day or will call you the second you wake up and stay on the phone the entire day

drops by unexpectedly at your house

brings you anything he sees that reminds him of you

you have a jar full of everything ranging from pearls, seashells, to aged flowers

secretly tries to befriend a stray cat he had caught you taking care of

even if he dislikes it he’d do anything for you

you are 100% his muse

has several sculptures or giant sets of paintings modeled after you

would showcase a gallery of just the paintings he’s done of you

yaps 24/7 to anyone willing to listen to him talk anout his “amazingly, wonderful, kickass girlfriend”

gets flustered so easily

also gets sooo horny if he sees you wearing his clothes

if you start anything sexual, at first he tries to stop you/hold himself back but if you keep pushing he’ll eventually snap

fucks you so so so good after he stops holding himself back too

fav position is missionary because he loves seeing your face, loves watching you as you take him in so well and deep

“i love you, i love you, stay with me forever, i need you, please.” in your ear the entire time

you both share a bubble bath after you’re done for the night

and once you both are too worn out to move anymore, you fall asleep with him at your back, curled up like a cat

XAVIER—

sleepy bf who takes 36 naps a day!!

you don’t have to worry about him when he’s not answering your texts, you just know he’s sleeping

“sorry fell asleep”

loves giving you his clothes to wear he genuinely enjoys seeing you in his wardrobe so much

hates crowds but goes along with any thing you suggest solely because he gets to hold your hand the entire time

would also willing kill for you just doesn’t make it as obvious as some

loves loves loves kissing

little spoon!!!!

will call you over for a movie date solely so he can sleep on top of you while you watch the movie

coexisting together is all he needs

you only ever see him truly awake during two things, missions & when he’s going down on you

truly is a different person when it comes to day vs night

during the day he’s soft, nods along with everything you say, looks at you lovingly

at night he’s hungry, wants to worship you and make you his

looks at you like he’s starving and you’re his last meal when he eats you out

rarely makes noise when you two make love until he’s close

lock your legs around him and force him to stay inside will 100% make him want to go a second round

his stamina is truly unmatched

he loooooves watching you ride him too

after you two finish, you both have to immediately shower together or else you’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms right after

ZAYNE—

is always busy but never busy enough he doesn’t see you

regularly forces his schedule open solely to spend time with you

not a morning person at all i swear

he’s groggy, hates getting up so early even if he has too

either sleeps the entire night on his back or anything but his back

also very possessive!!!

keeps a hand on your thigh whenever you two are out

buys you anything that you look at for too long

cute shirt in the store window? yours. want to try the new restaurant downtown? puts a reservation in the second you bring it up

doesn’t think himself worthy to have sex with you but after some convincing he’s the most tender, caring lover

but that doesn’t mean he isn’t fast and rough, pounding into you while he tells you how beautiful you look

also secretly think he’s into fucking you in public, especially at his office ugh

“god baby, you’re taking me so well.”

regularly only calls you darling or by your name until things turn intimate and he’s a slew of “baby, babygirl, my princess”

aftercare aftercare aftercare aftercare—

is all about aftercare!!! loves taking a shower with you and treating you like his queen

makes sure you’re all taken care of before he even focuses on himself

doesn’t fall asleep until after you do

[ohimsummer]

LOWKEY, SHE’S SO SWEET ft. SUGURU GETO

— minors dni, light angst?, suguru x fem! reader, penetrative sex, mention of gojo x reader (one kiss), slight dumbification, nipple play, biting/hickeys, making out, lovesick! suguru, what could’ve been a creampie, pussy taps, dry humping, reader gets a little flustered (duh it’s suguru), pussy whipped suguru ?, a little proofread

wc 3.3k

Gojo had a lot of bad habits. Eating an over abundance of sweets, not taking things seriously, hiding his feelings, along with procrastinating and, more importantly, avoiding things he shouldn’t.

“Since when were you such a coward?,” Shoko asks and elbows him in the ribs.

He faces away, a lip jutted out as he mumbles a response. “‘M not a coward, I just don’t like her in that way.”

Suguru stands nearby, lighting a cigarette as he eavesdrops on the conversation. The lighter falls deep into his pocket, while he’s wondering how he could have such an absolute idiot as his best friend. People who don’t like someone else ‘in that way’ don’t get butterflies when they kiss that person, but he digresses. If Gojo wants to let you go and keep denying his own feelings, so be it. Suguru will gladly swoop you up and make you his own. Ever since that kiss you and Satoru had shared, one the former was adamant meant nothing because he definitely wasn’t in love with you, the two of you had been avoiding each other for a few weeks now. Well, Gojo was avoiding you. Geto discovered through Shoko that you just didn’t want to force him into anything, putting Gojo’s feelings above your own and essentially condoning his childish actions—and that you were struggling to come to terms with the fact that you’d wasted your first real kiss on someone who apparently thought you meant nothing special.

A week after the incident, Geto was over at your place again, as he often was since you two did hang out a lot. Shoulders drooped, the usual playfulness in your voice is gone, he never gets a good look at your face and that’s on purpose. At that point, it was too hard to conceal your emotions about the whole thing—Geto can read you like an open book, and the conversation wouldn’t be worth the heartache. You’re nothing like yourself. If he’s being honest, Suguru’s annoyed and a little bit jealous that you’re this way over his friend. He could treat you so much better. He’s not the type that needs to be pushed so hard just to admit his feelings; the type to just up and pretend his friend of almost a decade doesn’t exist anymore over one kiss.

It’s not like Geto was being unfair here. He’d been eyeing you for years already, anyway, stuck watching you pine after—and now, lose sleep over—his snowy-haired best friend. Almost two months had passed, and this was the final straw to push Geto over the edge. If the strongest sorcerer in the world was going to waste both his own and your time, then Geto would move things along himself.

“Glad your mission went well.,” Suguru says as you usher him into your spacious apartment, coming to check on you after an especially grueling curse you’d been assigned to kill.

“Oh yeah, easy-peasy.,” you laugh. Your hand waves through the air as if swatting away a fly. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”

He’s used to this, your bravado after every mission, regardless of how dangerous it actually was. Something to lighten the mood after just putting your life on the line. You’re similar to Gojo in that aspect, only the tiredness behind your words and expression is far more evident, but you power through regardless. Calm and collected as ever, pouring yourself a glass of milk and gesturing a chilled water bottle at your guest in offering. Geto rests on the couch with an arm slung over the back as he watches you toss the half-empty jug within the fridge, before prancing over to him with a playful grin.

“Milk?” An airy chuckle puffs from his lips.

Your eyes narrow as you toss the bottle into his lap, your own glass hesitating before your mouth. “Listen, I had a craving while I was out, and it’s going to help my bones grow. I have to catch up to you and Gojo somehow.”

Your silly comment elicits a tugging at Suguru’s lips, ignoring again how you’ve started using his friend’s last name. There’s a flicker of discomfort that crosses your features at the thought of Gojo—he’s noticed your sudden unease at the mention of the sorcerer—before you’re chugging the milk in swift gulps. Geto sees the tension, traces of it at least, leave you through the relaxation of your shoulders.

“So,” you lower the glass just a little, tongue swiping the milk mustache below your nose. “Wanna watch a movie? You don’t have a mission tomorrow, right?”

A shake of his head. “Nope. I’m all yours for the night.” His cheeky words brings a warmth to your face.

Geto lets you pick the movie, giving in to you like he usually does, and accepts the invitation to sprawl out on your bed upstairs. It’s more spacious than the couch, and also adorned with various plushies to protect you both from the frights of the dreadful movie about to play. It’s a typical psychological horror—filled with cheap jumpscares and agonizing suspense in the form of characters lingering through the shadows. He’s never seen this film before, so Geto should be paying attention because he knows you like to discuss after, but he just can’t. Not with both your sides pressed together and the heat of your body radiating onto him, or when your head lolls against his shoulder, face half-hidden behind the fuzzy dog plush in your arms.

It’s sweet, the way you jolt when a character springs from behind a corner, squealing in fright, lowering just a little further behind the stuffed animal. His heart races a little faster when you cower against him, eyes soften a little more at your goofy comments about the idiotic choices of the cast members. You, laughing at your own words, which makes him laugh in turn, and Suguru feels like he’s just falling more in love with you and your being.

Another hair-raising scene occurs, and Geto slinks a comforting arm around your shoulder, face growing warm when you shuffle to sink further into him. From the corner of his eye, he can see the fear written on your face. It’s amusing and just endearing really, how you’re seemingly more frightened by the fake movie monster than an actual cursed spirit. His hand snakes over your face to cover your eyes, fingers spread so you may peek through, and Geto chuckles when you scrunch your nose up at him.

“Are you trying to say I look scared–!”, The accusation barely leaving your mouth before a loud gasp erupts from your throat, the source of your shock being the sudden loud noise of a bookshelf falling in the movie. Alas, your boldness is thwarted by another cheap scare.

“Ah, silly me. Of course not.” Geto’s voice is mocking as he brushes hair from your face. “So fearless, I can tell.”

“Shut up, that doesn’t count, you distracted me.”

He laughs again. “Oh, so you’re gonna pin that reaction on me?”

You mumble into the stuffed dog something unintelligible, face half concealed against Geto’s chest. His hand falls to rest on your shoulder, drawing circles and then hearts into the warm skin of your body. You squeeze an arm behind yourself to wrap around him, giggling when he turns to glance at your smaller hand on his other side.

“So you won’t be scared the rest of the movie.,” you tease with a toothy grin.

“Me?” He thinks you’re ridiculous in the cutest way. “I haven’t jumped once.”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re lucky I was too busy watching the movie to notice you shivering over there.” The faint smell of his cologne is intoxicating from this distance. “Your heart’s probably pounding right now.”

It is, Geto thinks, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. Less of the movie, and more of your pretty face inches from his. The film continues playing on your laptop, a scene shot at night and through the dark screen, Geto admires you in the reflection. Those wide, doe-eyes seemingly hyper-focused on what’s in front of you, darting to take in everything on display—maybe you’d find an Easter egg in this shot, some reference to another movie, perhaps? Your breathing hitches when a sound makes the main character twist to look behind them, and Geto finds himself hugging you just a little bit tighter.

“I’m fine, y’know.” You huff the sentence out at him, catching his curious gaze through the dark reflection of your laptop. “Why are staring at me like that?”

Your head raises, turning to confront him. Amongst the love in Suguru’s eyes, you see hints of fondness, soft and subtle as he studies you. And behind that, something else that’s not so innocent. It all intrigues you.

“Got something on your mind, Suguru?”

This was supposed to be happening with Gojo. Or you’d originally hoped it would, anyway.

The movie was long forgotten, laptop dark as the credits had ended a while ago. The device teetered along the edge of your bed before falling, luckily cushioned by the discarded yellow puppy plush that’d met the floor through Geto’s foot.

Your moans bounce around the room, occasionally colliding with his grunts of satisfaction as Suguru’s tongue danced around in your mouth, him nibbling on your bottom lip as a hand crept up your shirt. Shaky legs squeeze around his waist, parted by Geto’s knee, and you grind against the flex of his thigh to relieve the building ache in your core.

There’s the soft smack of parting lips whenever Suguru breaks away, eager to shower kisses along your exposed neck, littered with the dark marks of his possession—then he returns for the taste of strawberry on your lips again. There it is again, this endearing sweetness about you, it’s engraved into your very being: your laugh, your smile, your silly jokes, the flavor of your kiss. A needy grip, wandering hands that don’t know their destination, rubbing over Suguru’s shoulders, his back, gripping his nape and threading amongst dark strands of long hair. In the back of his mind, he can’t help wonder if Gojo had an experience such as this and, if so, how he could ever risk never being able to go through it again?

It only takes one hand to unclasp your bra with expert fingers. The undergarment is inched away to expose your breasts, and soon, your shirt with it to leave your top half unveiled for Suguru’s longing gaze.

“Fuck, you’re perfect…,” he mutters to himself, pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. Satoru’s such an idiot, he thinks, missing out on this, on you.

Your hot pants graze his skin; fuzzy, indecisive eyes flicker between Geto’s flushed face and the prominent tent in his sweats, where it just brushes your panties and sends a flood of wetness between your thighs. Trembling hands finally find purchase on his shoulder and behind his neck, where you pull him towards your body, arched to raise your tits and the gesture sends an intense throbbing straight to Suguru’s dick. Offering yourself to him like that, wordlessly begging for his mouth to indulge in you—he’s wrapped so right around your finger, just a lovesick fool for you.

A sharp gasp slips out—Geto’s mouth meets one of your stiffened nipples, rolling it on his tongue before tugging it between his teeth. ‘Ah! Suguru!’ you mewl his name with your head sinking into plush pillows, and he gropes your other lonely breast with a large hand, thumbing the hard bud and pinching it between his fingers.

It’s easy to match the greedy rhythm of his hips, and you uplift your own to meet the grinding of his erection against your heated pussy. A loving kiss pressed to your chest, over the swell of your tits, a bite or two in between while he worships your body. “M—!” Geto cuts you off with a harsh suck of your nipple, prompting a desperate whine from your throat. “O-oh, god—! Fuck, Suguru, k-keep going!”

He pauses the feverish assault on your chest, licking a stripe up the center of your throat, and muttering sweet nothings over your glistening skin before continuing ministrations on the pebbled buds. Your legs hug tight around Geto’s hips, pulling him ever closer until the stiffness in his pants massages your clit through sopping wet panties. Drool soaks your chest, messy and riddled with a new array of bite marks and blemishes. Evidence of Suguru’s obsession, and a clear claim over you because you’re all his now.

“Suguruu…”, you jut out a lip when dark eyes move in your direction, tongue hesitating on your nipple. “Hurry, pleasee?” You whine and flutter long lashes, purposefully grinding against his length again in a needy plea.

He gives one last suck on the erect nub, causing your mouth to fall open with a small moan, and Geto balances himself on an elbow next to your head, easing fingers beneath the waistline of your panties. Snorting, his eyes trail over your heaving form, watching your own fingers tug at the hem of his pants.

“My darling’s so eager, isn’t she?” It’s a soft taunt that fills your ears, makes you conscious of the blazing heat in your veins that sets fire to your skin. “Can’t be that desperate for me, can you? Want me in this pussy that bad?”

Your clit throbs in response, and you keep fingers tucked into Suguru’s sweats, pulling them down for a glimpse at the dark hairs of his happy trail, before growing a little more embarrassed and hiding it away again. He chuckles at your shy behavior.

“Shut up.,” you search the room, pouting, for something else to look at. “You can’t get me like this and then be so mean.”

He lowers himself towards you. “Like what?” A little closer, now locks of his hair brush your face. “Getting this pussy all sloppy and wet for me? Begging to have my cum stuffed in her?”

Eyes widening, you break his gaze, cramming your lids shut as your face twists with a look of bashfulness. “God, Suguru, you are sooo–!” Hot? Dirty? Perverted? “Embarrassing!,” you finally groan in frustration.

Suguru sits up to stare down at the soaked wet patch staining your panties. ‘I’ll tell you what’s embarassing…’ and you give a playful glare at his comment. He chuckles, and adjusts both your legs to rest on his left side before fingers hook beneath the fabric, pulling it off in one swift motion. The slickness of your pussy is a sight to behold, mouth-watering. Juices cascade down your thighs, drenches his protruding digits as he slides them up and down your fluttering hole that threatens to suck him in and never let go.

“ ‘S not my fault, she just knows what she likes.” Geto marvels at how easily his thick finger sinks in, cock twitching at your lengthy whine. “And I think right now she’d like me to break her in.”

He’s so insufferable. “Suguru–“

“God, I’m gonna make this pussy mine, just wait.,” he sighs. The squeeze of your walls at his promise is mesmerizing—your words can’t fly high enough to reach him in the clouds. “Til you can’t remember anything but the shape of my dick, gonna breed this tight fucking hole–“

“I think actions speak louder than words, Suguru.”

Your little taunt pulls Geto out of his daydreams. “Oh, you’re going to be much louder than my actions, darling.”

It’s like sand on your tongue the way your mouth goes dry, him grinning at your flustered expression as he frees his cock from it’s prison. Precum drools from the tip, leaking down his length to leave a stain on his dark sweats. Your tongue darts over your lips, craving just a taste, a desire to encompass his bobbing length in the safe warmth of your mouth.

He glides it over your spasming pussy, making a mess as precum and slick smears everywhere. Amusement dances in Geto’s eyes when he slaps the tip a few times against your clit, sending a jolt through you and bringing a cry from within your throat. He does it again, circles your clit with his tip until your hips are gyrating to match his movements and tears prick the corners of your eyes. ‘Suguru…’ falls off your lips once more in a pathetic plea, and Geto can’t wait any longer when you blink so innocently at him, sigh so prettily at his teasing motions.

It burns a little, the stretch of his fat tip making its way inside. But Geto is slow and patient—he notes any sign of discomfort as he awaits your go ahead, as torturous as it is, especially when the deepest parts of your pussy are calling for him. Your gooey walls are snug around his length, holding him so tight and inviting him inside as inches sink deeper into your fluttering heat—it’s maddening. As Geto finally bottoms out, he cages you between his arms, face flushed pink and framed by long, jet-black waves of hair. So pretty. And his pleasured smile wavers for just a second. You’re so fucked out already that you don’t even know you just mumbled that out loud. Looks like you’re both a pair of lovesick fools.

“F–fuck me, please.,” you whimper. He won’t make you ask twice. Lazy yet deliberate, the drag of Suguru’s cock has your head reeling, especially when he keeps brushing that spot inside you, sending floods of euphoria throughout your body.

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “S-so full, Suguru, it f–eels, feels s’ fucking good, don’t stop.” And he replies with a low grunt, ‘shit, I won’t, could never’ as his pace quickens. Tears cast a blurry haze over your vision, sounds of skin against skin picking up in your ears, along with desperate, broken moans from either of you. The sharpness of your nails leave a collection of scratches along Suguru’s back, and the slight pain of it all only fuels the plunge of his dick, making itself at home within the gumminess of your walls. He uses a hand to shift your pelvis, moving himself for a deeper angle and fucking hard into your sweet spot. ‘Oh, fuck, fuck!’ You cry into Geto’s ear, tugging his hair and grasping at him to fit against you. ‘S-Suguru..! Right there–!’, finished off with a loud cry. Your orgasm is right around the corner, a blazing pool of desire overflowing in the pit of your stomach.

“C–um..!” You’re starting to babble, mindless and stupid. “Inside, inside, Suguru!”

And he wants to, trust, but it wouldn’t exactly be responsible without a condom on or knowing whether or not you’re on the pill. Maybe if he was a little less caring—or not tucked away in the crevice of your neck to hide from the hypnotizing power of your eyes—he’d make good on his promise and fill your pussy up until you couldn’t take it anymore. It’s so tempting, the heavy urge to mark your insides with his seed, til they were coated in white, but he just can’t be sure. So while you’re shivering and crying, high off your own orgasm, Suguru uses his last remnants of sensibility. He pulls out, low, raspy grunts and a hiss leaving him at the sight of his cum painting your thighs, spurting onto your swollen clit and leaking down to your quivering hole.

He collapses next to you, chests both heaving and an arm moves to wrap around your waist. Your teary eyes glaze over Geto in his divine glory, too dazed to see him doing the same to you.

“What’s with that face?,” he pants a short chuckle at the pout of your lips.

You turn further onto your side, pressing your bare bodies together and wrapping an arm around his neck, the other rubbing through his hair. “Told you to cum inside me, you wasted it everywhere.”

Suguru scoffs, playful. “Couldn’t risk it, sweetheart, I’d be hooked after one go.”

A shiver runs down his spine as you brush a thumb over his nape. “Oh, is that so bad? Thought you were gonna stuff me, Sugu, you don’t wanna breed this little hole and fill me up?”

“…Keep talking like that and I might.”

tagz: @anthoosies @mysugu

[kaisa-ryo]

soshiro hoshina

tw: total nuisance 18+

english isn’t my native language!

~~~

it seemed as if the vice-captain's coaching room was always quiet, clean and cool. but instead of all that, right now, skin-on-skin slaps could be heard in the coaching room. things are scattered all over the room, and the heat from the bodies continued to envelop you both.

— i thought we were just going to practice together — you say with a grin to the captain, who bumped into you, holding your legs tightly pressed against the seat of one of the simulators.

— huh? are we doing something else? soshiro answers, pushing a strand of sweat—matted hair behind your ear.

it seems that lately he's been obsessed with the idea that you belong to him completely. naturally, you liked it. besides, he could always take advantage of it when he was just around. in every sense of the word.

— and it also seemed to me that the vice-captain should be modest and restrained — you continued.

— you're going to finish playing now.

it was getting unbearably stuffy. there was a feeling that such hot air could warm the whole of antarctica. well, that sounds like a challenge.

— i don't even know how the whole squad will react to the fact that vice-captain soshiro hoshina is fucking y/n in his coaching room for the fourth time... — you say, breathing heavily. but hoshina always keeps her word.

he abruptly grabs your legs and pulls you down. instead of continuing to bump into you, he sits on his knees, spreads your legs even wider and starts licking all the mess that you made because of him. to say that you were in utter confusion is to say nothing at all. It's like your body was planning to break out of its own shell.

— oh, soshiro!

his legs twitched pleasantly from his accidental touches of the clitoris, which made the brunette squeeze his hips more and more. you feel that your body liked this feeling and you are waiting for you to finally be able to cum from it. it looks like he really is a real fighter, since he even has working tongue muscles. you cover your face with one hand in embarrassment, and with the other you dig into his hair.

— i feel like… i am now...

one of the most enjoyable climaxes was very close, but

there is a knock on the door and a familiar voice is heard behind it.

— is everything all right there? don't you kill each other there?

your hand abruptly slides from your eyes to your mouth and presses against it with all its force. kafka was standing behind the wall.

soshiro stopped, as if he had given you the go-ahead to answer. but the moment before orgasm made itself felt. there was a complete mess in your head, which meant that right now you wouldn't be able to connect two words. you wish soshiro hadn't stopped, but if he hadn't stopped, you would have been burned right away.

— y-yes... — finally escaped from your moist lips, — maybe we overdid it a little, but everything is definitely good!

well, it sounded more convincing in your head.

— then I'm sorry for disturbing you!

— go already! — your sweet tone immediately changed to a commanding one.

at the moment when the awkward dialogue finally ended, you felt the excitement gradually go away.

the brunette abruptly stands up and you slide even lower, lying on your entire back. he penetrates you again with a still hard, excited dick and continues at a faster pace. while the captain was picking up speed, he put his face close to your ear and, smiling, whispered "good girl" the butterflies in your stomach stirred, as if after a long hibernation. It sounded too exciting.

— show me how I "overdid it", doll.

the guy continued to enter at full length. you both liked it. but sochiro's captain's gut made him want more. he liked to dominate, to be on top of you, to make you squirm under him. In a sense, he even had a possessive nature. but he never had the courage to show it in full, because it would be strange if he molested you in public, having the status of a "colleague".

— i'm getting close... ah!

— don't hold back, show me how good it feels to be with me~

soshiro presses on your clitoris and watches how you react. you start whining until you realize that the end has come. you scream, clinging to his strong shoulders, and soon you're buried in them. you're wet in everything you can get. your legs are shaking, and your mind is floating somewhere in another dimension. hoshina pulled away to help you get up, but your legs were wobbly. there was nothing to do but fall on his chest and wait for him to take care of you.

he tucks your hair behind your ear again and kisses you on the temple.

— good job, y/n.

a bonus!

kafka: damn, just look at them! I think they really killed each other there...

ichikawa: man, they kicked you away because they fucked. Isn't it obvious?

kafka: YOU MEAN HE RAPED HER?!

[luminiamore]

NEEDY.

brought back to life toji x black reader

warnings: cheating but he offs ur bf so not really?, angst in the beginning, we raised megs with toji, depression in the beginning, this is kinda sad but really cute, no prep just straight sex, reader has locs but it could be whateva u want, overstimulation, soft sex, soft toji, SPOILERS if u haven’t watched the anime.

masterlist

Twelve years.

It’s been that long. Twelve long, agonizing years have passed since you’ve seen Toji. He disappeared on you. Gone. Vanished. One day, he woke you up from a nap and told you he would be gone for a week or so for a job. You understood that his line of work is dangerous. You knew there was a possibility that he could die at any moment.

But he told you not to worry. They were kids, he said.

‘You know me, mama. I don’t die easily.’

He’s a sorcerer killer. He’s strong. It was always apparent to you that he could manage himself. Of course, that never stopped you from worrying.

You began to feel anxious after three weeks. During dinner time, you would cook him meals and fall asleep, hoping that he would come to you stumbling and embrace your body whole as he usually does.

After four weeks, you began to sleep less. The silence in your apartment would haunt you. The sound of every footstep passing by your wooden door and every creak on the floor would make you jump. Imagining that, finally, it would be him who would walk through it. He never did.

After the fifth week, you started calling his boss and friend, but he would never say it out loud. Each time it went to voicemail, you would cry uncontrollably. You may have sent him over one thousand messages, but they all went unanswered. The man probably blocked your number.

You honestly didn’t know what you expected.

Toji tried to keep Shiu and you apart as much as he could. You two were never close. The only thing you had Shiu’s number for was safety purposes, in case you were ever in danger while he was away on the job.

The truth took you five months to accept. To accept that Toji was never going to come back. It took you another three months to come to terms with the fact that Toji was dead.

Throughout all of this, Megumi, his son, gave you comfort. Though it was supposed to be the other way around, you had a feeling he knew what was wrong with you. At times, you couldn’t even get up to cook food and instead chose to order out so he could eat while you lay starving. At the tender age of four, Megumi was skilled in making homemade soup due to your frequent illnesses.

After a year or so, you thought -- you barely left your bed, so you lost track of time, a man came knocking at your door. White hair and bright, bright blue eyes can be seen even with glasses covering his eyes.

You should have fought him, beaten him to a fucking pulp. You’ve always had a keen sense of intuition. You knew he was the one who killed Toji, your Toji. Your gut was screaming that to you.

But what would you be able to do? You had no cursed energy. You couldn’t fight this man even though your husband had taught you some things in his free time. You had no chance against him, and the cocky bastard was aware of that.

He wasn’t here for you anyway. It was obvious to you that when he pushed past you and entered your home, he immediately started to search for Megumi. Knowing that the little boy could see curses, he suspected that his technique was starting to manifest, so he informed him that he could provide assistance.

Hearing the conversation in the kitchen, your breath paused when he mentioned that he would be going to Tokyo. You would be alone, but you refuse to be selfish and force him to watch over you in your depressed state. You urged him to go, urged him to make a change in the world even if it physically pained you.

Megumi made a promise to visit you every year and never leave you. He was truthful to you. Every year, he would spend a week with you, and you would see the boy you helped raise become a capable young man. He would occasionally show you his technique to demonstrate how much he has grown. You couldn’t have been more proud.

It took you 8 years, but you eventually moved on from Toji physically. Your heart still belongs to him emotionally.

Although you never remarried, you did have a boyfriend. He’s a kind man, has a regular corporate job, earns a livable yearly salary, and is not a killer, so there’s no danger of him being murdered. He also treats you nicely, arranging a dinner date every week and a vacation to a nice place every year.

You should’ve been happy. You should love him— why don’t you?

Why is it that every time he fucks you, all you see and think of is Toji? When you respond to his love for you, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Because you know it’s not true. You know it would never be true.

Megumi has a liking for him and believes he is a good fit for you. After what you went through, it’s fair to say that you deserve this. Though, it’s easy for him to sense how unhappy you are, that you’re putting on a facade in front of the man you’re supposed to love. If the man really knew you, he would understand that every time you smile and kiss him, it was an effort, especially after being together for almost 3 years.

You’re not sure why you never left him. You think this is better than feeling alone. Even if it wasn’t as good as Toji, you still got fucked every other night. It could never be better than Toji. You think he’s ruined you for anyone else.

October 31st, 2018. 11 a.m.

It’s Wednesday, October 31st, and it’s the week Megumi is supposed to come to see you.

You begin your day as you usually do. Your boyfriend wakes you up with a kiss right before he leaves for work, and you groggily force your body straight to the shower. While the eggs sizzle, you make a light breakfast as you stare into space.

As you’re eating, you feel your stomach drop. There is an odd sensation in your gut, a negative one. You experienced the same feeling when Toji died. You hastily pull out your phone and dial Megumi’s number.

One ring. Two. Three rings and no response.

“..Mom?”

His tone is fatigued as if you had woken him from his sleep. At that, you breathe a sigh of relief. However, the feeling persists.

“Are you okay, Megs?”

He sounds confused, although you suspect he can sense your concern in your voice, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? Is something wrong?”

“Do you have a mission today?”

Your frantic questioning without an answer is now causing him anxiety.

“There’s something going on in Shibuya tonight, so yeah.” You don’t answer him for a beat, just breathing as you feel your heart beating faster as his response.

“Are you okay, mo-”

“Please, don’t go. I have a bad feeling again.”

He sighs, “You know I can’t do that. It’s supposed to be something manageable, nothing too ba-”

You sternly cut him off, “Megumi. It’s not going to be manageable, I can feel it.”

“If you’re saying that, then it means I need to go and help even more, Mom.”

You’re trembling, and- Are you crying? You feel the tear slide down your cheek before you can even register it. You have always been afraid of Megumi going out to fight curses, but for some reason, your fear is growing stronger.

Your breath stutters, “What if- what if you-”

The thought of Megumi getting badly injured or even dying is so terrifying that you can’t even finish your sentence. You don’t believe you can endure that. No, you know you can’t. You’re still grieving over your husband. How could you possibly stomach his death?

This time, he cuts you off, “I can’t promise you that I won’t go. But I can promise to stay at a safe distance so I don’t die.”

“You’re so selfless, it’s infuriating.” You chuckle through your tears, using your unoccupied hand to wipe them off.

“I love you too.” You can tell he’s trying to stifle a laugh of his own.

You smile, even though he can’t see you, “I love you so much. Please, don’t die.”

“I’ll make sure to haunt you if I do.”

A gasp, “Megumi!”

“Joking.. sort of.”

He hangs up with another ‘Love you’ before you can scold him. And now you’re forced to swallow the lump in your throat. It’s okay, you remind yourself. You’re gonna be okay. Megumi is gonna be fine. He’ll come see you on Friday like he usually does. But even you’re aware that you’re just trying to console yourself.

The day is spent trying to distract yourself. You had the time to paint your nails and toes, try on some new outfits that you bought last week, and even try reading a book. But the feeling would never go away. In fact, it intensified as the darkness outside increased.

October 31st, 2018. 11 p.m.

Around 11 p.m., your boyfriend arrived and greeted you with his usual kiss on the cheek and casual discussion about both of your days. Every day, you think, today is the day. Today is the day you’ll get a tingling feeling whenever he kisses you. Today is the day you’ll feel warmth whenever he says he missed you or he loved you.

But it never came, and today was no different. You had made some food and decided to leave some for him, he had taken a liking to your cooking.

“I’m gonna head to bed. You’re gonna join me?”

“In a few, I wanna stay up a little longer.” You whisper, absentmindedly watching the plate he’s eating from. You don’t even notice. You’re entirely zoned out.

He kisses the side of your head when he stands up.

He kisses the side of your head when he stands up, “Okay, thanks for the food, babe. Let’s go out to eat tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sure.”

He pulls back hesitantly, hands still on your shoulder as he observes the lost look in your eyes, “Are you okay, babe? You seem.. out of it.”

All he gets is a slow nod and a small kiss on his knuckles. That seems to be enough for him because he hums and whispers a small “Love you.” and walks away.

The sound of the shower running after a few minutes is your cue to clean up. As you scrub the burnt parts of the pasta you made, you hear your phone ringing. When you glance over, it turns out to be Megumi.

11:38 p.m.

‘why the fuck is Dad alive? he just disappeared after helping me with some curse??’

Your hands become completely limp as the plate you are holding drops abruptly and crashes into the wet sink. Your eyes were wide and unblinking as you stood frozen. Your breath is caught in your throat, making it impossible to exhale. Your mind is overflowing with thoughts, each one more anxious than the last.

What?

You haven’t moved a single inch, but your hands are now shaking.

Toji is what?

No. He’s lying. But that’s not true either. Megumi would never deceive you, especially about his dad being alive. Your hands are trembling as you try to reach for your phone, but you’re stopped in your tracks by a loud crash.

You come out of your frozen state, and as if you’re running on autopilot, you run as fast as you can to the sound that hits the cold tile floor. But what you see next almost causes you to burst into tears because there he is, your husband.

Toji is right there, in your room, holding a sharp red wooden blade against your boyfriend’s neck. He’s in a gray sweater, but even then, you can see his muscles and just how big he is through it. He’s not looking at you, but with the way his shoulders raise and his breath hitches— he knows you’re watching.

Hearing him speak brings a tear to your cheek. It’s been a long time since you last heard his voice. The world seemed to stop moving, leaving you in a surreal moment stuck in time. You can’t believe it, you’ve lost all hope, but he is here. Sending the ugliest glare to the man on the other side of the blade in your bedroom is enough to make you shiver,

“Who the hell is this, baby?”

You say nothing, relishing in the sound of him speaking to you. Your heart pounded fiercely, echoing in your ears, while a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm you.

It’s when your boyfriend grunts in an angry tone, “What the fuck is happening, (❤︎)?!” You finally snap out of your stupor.

It’s not a surprise you stutter when you speak, but you don’t even say much. You pitifully let out a squeak of,

“T-Toji?”

You want him to look at you, want him to see you. You want to make sure that it’s really him you’re looking at, but he seems so focused and upset? Your eyes move away from his face briefly to take a glance at the weapon threatening to penetrate your boyfriend’s neck.

You speak so lowly, almost as if you’re ashamed to admit your following words, “My boyfriend. He’s my boyfriend.”

Despite boarding on the brink of death, he still manages to harbor a false confidence when you say that, “Exactly, man, so, who the fuck are you?”

“Her husband.”

At that, your boyfriend chokes, and now his anger is directed towards you, “Husband? You’re married?! We’ve been together for 3 years, and you-”

“He was dead!” You suddenly find your voice, a bit hysterically. You turn to Toji, who still isn’t looking at you but presses harder into his neck. You can see a trickle of blood start to drip. “You were dead- You are dead.”

His response is cold, blunt, “I’m about to kill the bastard standing half naked in my wife’s house, so, no. I’m very much alive, mama.”

“How? How are you alive?”

“Long story.” Is all he utters.

“I’ve waited 12 fucking years, I’m sure you can spare me a little more time.”

At that, he has the audacity to sigh as if you’re the one being difficult. You jump back and yelp when he suddenly plunges the weapon into your boyfriend- ex’s neck. You open your mouth, about to ask him what the hell that was for, but he answers before you can, “Unwanted company.”

When he finally turns his head to look at you, you swear he’s more beautiful than you remember. Everything looks the same, but something’s off. His eyes were blackish, or maybe it was a deep purple color in his sclera— that was supposed to be white, wasn’t it? His pupils are purple, too, or was it blue? You’re not sure, but you don’t find him any less beautiful.

“Toji.. I- how?”

He grumbles, and in one blink, he’s in front of you, hands on your waist and lips immediately logged deep in your neck, not quite sucking but just breathing you in. The action makes you shiver, and the feeling of him so close to you causes more tears to fall. “Some old hag did a seance. Wanted me to kill all sorcerers.”

Your breath hitches, but you sternly reply, “Our son is a sorcerer.”

“Obviously, I’m not going to.”

He smiles at the fact that you said ‘Our.’ He can feel the tears on your neck, and he honestly feels he might drop some of his own. Twelve years in hell—because let’s be real, there was no way someone of his caliber was making it to heaven— and he hasn’t seen you. Hasn’t touched you. He’d rather kill you than not fuck you again- he’d have to force himself to do so.

He’s not ashamed to admit he missed you. He feels guilty for putting you through this, through twelve years with him. He said he was coming back, he couldn’t imagine your despair when he didn’t. He hates himself for causing you that pain, for pushing you into the arms of another man.

He muffled out, “D’ya love him?”

It takes you a minute to answer, you feel a bit ashamed to admit this since he just died, “Never did. I only ever loved you.”

“Loved? You don’t love me anymore?”

You break out another sob, “I never stopped Toji.”

This time, he doesn’t answer, but there’s a nagging question in the back of his mind that he needs answered, “Three years, hm? You fuck him?” Your next words give him the answer he needs.

“Toji- it’s been years! You were-”

“Dead, I know. You didn’t look too sad when he died. He could never fuck you like me, huh?”

He knows he shouldn’t be upset. He knows he has no right to be angry at you. You had every right to move on. He didn’t ghost you or just disappear casually. He was dead. The thought never sat well with him, though. It made his stomach churn. He always told you that if you ever cheated on him, he would kill the man and then himself. He could never bring himself to hurt you physically.

But is it even cheating if he was dead?

A whisper breaks him out of his thoughts, “No.”

What an angel you are. Answering him even when he isn’t even speaking out loud. His mind is confused. So he does what he used to do when he needs to let out his frustrations— use your body as a stress reliever.

When his hands grope your hips, you let out a desperate moan. Fuck you are desperate, you haven’t felt your lover in years.

“Damn- I missed you, baby. Missed how soft you are, missed holding you.” His tongue starts slowly, lapping softly at your collarbone.

Your breath starts getting shaky, and the slick that’s been forming since you first laid eyes on him is dripping down your thighs, “Missed you so much more.”

He’s not in the mood to wait. He’d usually tease you before he impaled you on his dick. But it’s been too long since he felt any warmth from you- he’s not stalling any longer.

“Need to fuck you, now. You remember how to take me, right?”

He was quick with his hands, ripping the nightgown you had on to shreds. You’re bare in front of his gaze, and you can see how he was practically drooling— the man was in a trance.

If Toji is as big as you remember, then taking him would be a challenge. You could never do it without some form of prep, be it him eating you out until you cried or fingering you till your legs trembled. Sometimes it was both. But you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to do either of those right now. He just wanted to stuff you, so you’d have to suck it up and let him.

You give him a shaky nod, “Yes, please.”

He lazily rubs on your engorged bud, spreading your slick all over your fat pussy lips. He releases the most toe-curling moan when he feels how wet you are, and it’s all for him. He doesn’t keep the act up for long and dips two fingers inside. They stretch you so wide you can’t help but buck your hips against the wall he has you pressed on.

“Hnng- Toji! Just put it in, p-please.”

He grunts, but he can never argue against you. Toji forces his tip past your tight walls, and you have to hiss it out. You’re wet enough that the first inch slides in easily, but you’re so tight that he thinks you’re about to squeeze his tip right off.

He groans out, seemingly more out of breath than you are, “Relax, mama. Breathe before you break my dick off.”

“M’trying!” Is your only response. More tears are dripping down your face, both from the pain and how close you are to him.

Toji decides to distract you by rubbing tight circles on your clit, and that causes your breath to stutter and your moans to increase in volume. That does the trick because as you’re focused on the pleasure, he doesn’t hesitate to shove everything into you in one go. All nine inches- but shit, you swear it feels bigger.

“Oh god! It’s too much- I can’t-”

“God took me away from you. Made us spend twelve years apart. It’s not God making you feel this way, it’s me. Focus on me.”

You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence because he’s right. Toji gives you a few seconds- maybe 30 before his patience runs around, and he starts slowly rutting in you. He knows how big he is. Takes pride in it, too. So, he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit to ease the feeling of him stretching you out.

As he instructs, all your focus is on him. Your hazy eyes focus on his face, his brows furrowed in pleasure, and his lips parted as he pants against you. You can’t help but kiss him, suck his chapped pink lips so hard you can feel his scar against your tongue. And he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. It isn’t a fight for dominance, Toji easily takes all control of you, and you surrender with no regrets.

You take his cock beautifully, so well. Every time he pushes out, your pussy just pulls him back in, making a wet squelch sound when his hips slap against yours. He can feel the goosebumps on your body whenever his tip presses harshly on your g-spot, and so he keeps the same pace and stroke— determined to make you cum just like this.

You wail out as your eyes roll into the back of your head, “Oh! Right there, don’t s-stop!”

“Never. Won’t ever stop fucking you, baby. Need you to forgive me anyway.”

“For l-leaving me?”

He chuckles against your puffy lips and pulls harshly on your brown locs so your neck cranes to look directly at him, “Yes, mama. I’m sorry for leaving you, for leaving our son. So sorry. Won’t ever do it again, I promise.”

You’re crying again. Tears are flowing freely now, and Toji thinks you’re beautiful and even ethereal. He glances down, and a creamy white paste forms at the base of his cock- getting even more wet each time he pulls out of you.

“I c-cried so much, Toji. For months, for years. You- you-”

“Shh. I know, baby. I know. I’m selfish for doing that, a complete asshole. I’d hate me too.”

You’re nodding, but you could never think of him as such. You would never call Toji anything mean, anything harsh- despite what he put you through.

Your pussy is twitching against him, “Don’t hate you. Could never h-hate you.”

He kisses your lips, all over your face, really, “Yeah? Damn, I love you. You love me?”

“Yes! Yes- I love you. Only you.”

He moans and presses against your stomach, his bulge poking out. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your body tightening as a wave of pleasure builds inside of you. Your muscles clenched, and an uncontainable rush surged through you. Fuck, you’re gonna come.

Toji can feel it, and his slow pace speeds up. He whispers in your ear, pulling at your lobe, “Cum, baby. Go ahead, I need it.”

Finally, with a shuddering cry, you tipped over the edge. Ecstasy washed over you in powerful, pulsing waves. Your body trembled a blissful release, leaving you breathless and utterly spent. Despite your haze, Toji doesn’t stop, nor do you feel his thick cum flowing past your walls.

He can sense the confusion in you, and all he does to ease your mind is, “3 years, right? How about 3 orgasms for every year I wasn’t with you, huh? Think we can reach 36, mama?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief because that doesn’t even sound possible, but you’re distracted by another toe-curling orgasm ripping through you- your clit pulsing in overstimulation. As always, he knows what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t seem to be backing down with his next words.

“Yeah, I think we can.”

[bleachification]

⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY

pairing: sanji x reader

word count: 5.7k

synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

“We broke up.”

“How long? Two months?”

You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”

Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.

“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”

Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.

“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.

You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.

“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”

He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.

“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”

You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.

“Well, he must have been crazy then.”

“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.

“I’ll kill him.”

You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”

“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.

“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

He can’t.

Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.

Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.

You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.

“I’m back.”

At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.

For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.

For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.

“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.

You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.

“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.

You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.

“SANJI!”

It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.

“Marry me.”

But perhaps not logic.

“What?”

Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?

Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.

“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.

Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”

Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.

“You’re funny!” He laughed.

“That’s what you were trying to say?!”

Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.

Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.

“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.

You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.

If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.

“Think it over?”

You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”

“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.

“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.

So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.

For you, he would try it all.

Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.

Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?

Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”

That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.

“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.

“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.

Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.

You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.

“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“[Name], I–”

You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”

“Please, just hear–”

The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.

“Crew meeting, come on!”

Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.

Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.

Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?

“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.

With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.

Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”

She flips the paper over. “…and this.”

A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.

“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.

“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”

“Wait a damn minu-“

“Hold on-“

“Are we sure that’s-“

A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.

Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.

“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.

No one speaks.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”

Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.

“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.

“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.

“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”

Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.

“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.

“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.

“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.

“Luffy—” Nami starts.

“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”

“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.

“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”

“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.

“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”

“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.

“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.

“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.

“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.

Everyone else groans.

“Luffy gets.”

“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”

“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.

“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”

You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.

“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.

The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”

Nami explains the plan.

Sanji turns white.

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”

Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble.

The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.

The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.

The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.

Easy peasy.

Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.

“Why did it have to be me?”

And Sanji?

You don’t voice that last bit.

“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”

You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.

“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.

“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.

You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.

“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.

You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.

Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.

He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.

“You clean up nice,” you note.

“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.

“…Pardon?”

Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.

“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.

“Shall we?”

Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.

“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.

“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”

Disappointment blooms in your chest.

“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.

“Never mind.”

You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.

When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.

It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.

You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.

The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.

“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.

Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”

He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.

“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.

As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.

Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.

“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”

“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.

You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.

“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.

Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”

You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.

“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.

“Why? It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.

Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”

“Not a word.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”

You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.

“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”

You swallow. “No.”

He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.

“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.

“Sanji–”

A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.

“Food,” he coughs.

You blink. “Right. Food.”

“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.

You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”

He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.

A static noise crackles in your right ear.

“Can…I—“

A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.

“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.

“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”

“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”

“Understood..”

After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.

You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.

Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.

“You found it?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.

His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”

“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”

If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”

“One.”

“What’s the plan?”

You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”

Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”

“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.

Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”

His reply is immediate and final. “No.”

You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”

“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.

“Sanji. I have t-”

“No as in not okay!”

You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”

He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”

“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.

You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.

“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”

You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.

“Not happening.”

Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.

Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.

The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.

You run to the alarm amidst the mess.

“Ready, [name]?”

“Whenever you are, Nami.”

She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.

All hell breaks loose.

Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.

You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.

He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.

After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.

You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.

Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.”

You blink. “What?”

“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.

“Why?”

Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”

You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.

“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.

“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.

You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.

It is only you and Sanji now.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“[Name].”

God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.

“This still isn’t funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”

“You say that—”

“I mean it,” he interjects.

“What makes me different? What makes me…”

Worthy of your love?

Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.

“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”

He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.

“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”

Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.

“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”

The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.

“I only ask that you give me a chance.”

“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”

“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.

You raise a brow. “Do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”

Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.

“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.

Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.

You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”

It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.

“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.

You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”

Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”

“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.

Sanji presses his forehead on yours.

“It’ll be the best date.”

“And how do you know that?” You tease.

“Because you will be there.”

—

˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007

[itshermocrates]

Some thoughts on Vander and Silco's relationship

I already talked about this when Arcane S1 first came out, but now that the show is over and we got to see a different reality where everyone has a good ending (except for Vi I guess) I want to bring back my Silco x Vander thoughts

So yeah, vanco ?? silder ??? post

Even if in Arcane S1 there’s some sort of parallel between Jinx/Powder and Silco + Vi and Vander, in my eyes those two were made for an old man yaoi story

Now that we have seen Jayvik’s evolution and that glimpse of them together in a “better future”, I realized that Vander and Silco (+ Felicia) could have something similar to what was happening initially with Jayce and Viktor (+ Mel)

Two best friends working together for a common cause, one hopelessly in love with the other while his partner can’t see ―or doesn’t want to recognize― his own feelings. Since I already have a Jayvik analysis in my drafts, I’m going to focus on Silco and Vander

This will be half a theory - half a fic + I also posted this on BlueSky so yeah, if you see it there it was also me lol

[Pinning, Unrequited love and love confessions that go wrong ahead]

I think Silco and Vander were the perfect duo back in their youth, together they had the brains and the strength, using both charm and cold logic to make people eager to follow them. What Silco lacked, Vander was able to provide and vice versa. Together they were the greatest leaders Zaun could ever ask for.

They not only completed each other like two puzzle pieces, but also shared a bond that had been nurtured since childhood. They had been facing hardships and Piltover’s aggressions since they were little kids, so it was natural that the years of friendship brought them impossibly close.

Some even said that they could have entire conversations without exchanging a single word.

At some point Silco developed a crush on Vander, how could he not? Despite his strength and sometimes scary appearance, Vander had always been the big sunshine boy who was looking after him. That urge to protect and take care of others seemed to be part of his very essence, and if someone benefited from this, it was his best friend.

Of course, they needed to fight and get dirty in the deepest hellholes of Zaun, but even when Vander got his knuckles drenched in blood, Silco could only see the kind man with bright eyes and a dream for a better life that Vander truly was.

Silco really thought that this new beginning for them was only possible because Vander was there with him, since when hope seemed completely lost, when the circumstances took another member of their little family, Vander always remained firm in his stance. They would find a way, they would fight back, they would keep pushing forward and they wouldn’t stop until they finally had the future they deserved.

Oh, wasn’t he convincing? Always the beacon in their times of need, who else could lead them out of their misery?

Vander’s kindness was disarming, and his light was so bright that Silco couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He loved him so deeply it made him feel sick, but he could do nothing about it. Vander had been in love with Felicia for almost as long as Silco had loved him, and even if she wasn’t really interested in him, there was no way that man could get over his emotions.

Just like Silco himself couldn’t make his own feelings go away. He pinned for years, forcing himself to hide how he felt so nothing changed between them and he didn’t lose his best friend. He had to protect their friendship, but, above everything else, he had to protect their dream of a free nation for Zaun.

Silco pinned and suffered in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore, until his unrequited love felt like an open wound badly infected, moments away from killing him. Then, and only then, he confessed.

Vander didn’t make a huge deal out of it, he was understanding and visibly confused. It was an awkward situation, but he could be nothing but kind, even as he broke Silco’s heart. Of course, he didn’t feel the same.

Or maybe he did, but he was too blind to see it, too infatuated by the idea of a future with Felicia to give a shot to a real future with him.

Vander had used a very familiar word to excuse his lack of introspection, one that served him as a shield while unknowingly harming Silco as if it had used the sharpest of blades.

“Silco, you’re my brother…”

They used brotherhood a lot to describe their relationship. Their found family, their friends, their allies in the Zaun revolution and even the fucking pilts, they all could see how deeply they cared for each other. And every time that was the reason they assumed to be behind their bond.

No one could ever deny the love in their eyes, the protective gestures, the smiles... It was obvious, but everyone assumed that what they shared was a blood bond. For Silco it was much more than some stupid liquid running through their veins, what they shared had been built over years of companionship, years of pain and struggle, blood was fucking nothing in comparison. Their souls were connected in a way no one could ever imagine or understand.

And Vander knew this. He knew how strong their bond was, but he hadn't really asked himself if what he felt for Silco was something more than brotherhood. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do if it wasn’t the case either, but he didn’t go as far as to truly consider it.

Vander didn't know how to react to Silco's confession, he didn’t want to hurt him or change their world forever. He was happy as they currently were, it was easy to live with Silco as a brother, but he didn’t know what was waiting for them if he ever allowed himself to analyze his own feelings.

Because of this, and completely unaware of the pain he was causing, Vander uttered that seemingly harmless word that Silco couldn’t stand anymore.

Brother.

The softness in his tone didn’t make it any less devastating. The pain in his eyes, as he knew how badly he was breaking Silco's heart, didn’t make it easier to hear.

The countless "I love you"s he pronounced after that, reassuring that even if it was not the same feeling, Silco was still one of the most important people in his life didn’t soothe the agony of his reopened wound.

None of that mattered.

Because he didn't feel the same as Silco.

The same word that once had been forced on them was now stronger than anything he had built together.

Silco didn't want to feel that pain, he couldn't allow it to stay inside his chest, not when it was so profound.

So he decided to leave The Last Drop. It would be only for a couple of days, to distance himself a little from the source of his pain and try to stitch close that damned cut.

During that time, alone and completely heartbroken, he focused on thinking of ways to achieve the goal they had been fighting for since they were teenagers. The Zaunite revolution and Zaun’s independence. He ignored his pain and used all his anger to plan their next move in their fight against Piltover, thinking of new ways to finally defeat their enemy.

It was during those days, blinded by the pain of his aching heart, that he understood they could only win against Piltover if they showed their true nature to the world. He knew by then that they needed to be more aggressive in their methods and destabilize, not only their government, but also their peace.

Let their own people know what monsters they had for leaders.

Let the people of Piltover suffer the same pain they had suffered since the very moment the City of Progress came to be.

The fight had turned into a way for him to forget his own suffering, and in his anguish, provoking pain to others stopped feeling wrong at all if that meant they could get closer to their goal of freedom.

It was at this point where the conflict with Vander started. Suddenly, the word "brothers" didn't quite fit them anymore, it seemed too caring for them. Now it was a word pronounced in a low voice, and when it was Silco the one saying it, his tone could only express disgust. He rolls his eyes as if the word was some sort of sick joke he hated to voice out loud, a reminder of what could never be.

Silco’s pain is a heavy weight preventing them both from going back to what they once had, and seeing this wounded Vander every single time his friend reminded him of his rejection. This, and how differently they started to approach their fight, made them step further and further away from the other.

And when they saw each other during important meetings, Silco threw the word “brother” extremely carelessly, always with the intention to wound Vander instead of calming him and expressing how much he still loved him.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

[There's still a lot of resentment in Silco's expression, and in this scene before saying brother, Silco rolls his eyes. The man was PISSED]

In conclusion, I think "brother" was Silco and Vander's equivalent of Jayvik's "partner" and I bet Viktor was pissed as hell everytime he heard someone reffering to him as Jayce's partner AND JUST THAT, for both scientific pride and his hopeless crush on Jayce Talis.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Idia's Part)

Previous part (Kalim)

─────❅─────

A/n: Out of every housewarden, I felt like sobbing writing Idia's cause of how fluffy he is, I love him so much. Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Potential Inaccuracy in Indian Tradition, Indian and Greek clothing, if ever you see inaccuracy about it, please let me know, I only did a bit of research about it. The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personalities of our beloved boys. You have a child with Kalim here!

─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul

Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Kalim = The sultan Idia = Hades ─────❅───── Idia: The underworld has always been Idia’s little comfort zone, although at first, he didn’t want to rule it, due to how depressing it gets sometimes, but along with his brother Ortho who takes care of “outside” activities, aka meetings with those overbearing gods and goddesses who think they’re better than anyone, he didn’t mind the work as long as it’s with him. So far, his duties were all just about guiding souls into whatever the fuck they want or are allowed to go, honestly if they all became lost souls, he wouldn’t give a flying damn.

One day, however, an odd discrepancy appeared in the calculations of souls being accepted—an unregistered soul had entered the narrative. Concerned, he strolled toward the portal of Tartarus to investigate. When he peered inside, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted, disorienting him. Before he could react, a heavy force slammed into his body, causing him to stumble.

“What the!” he grunted, feeling a heavy body on top of him, he rubbed his head, opening his eyes, adjusting to the sudden light-to-darkness transition.

You stirred, finding your hands pinning him down. His eyes widened in shock as he pushed you off, scrambling backward so quickly that he hit his back on the wall with a loud slam.

“What In the world?!” he screeched, his hair glowing brightly meaning he was incredibly nervous, while you seemed to be lost, standing up, you pat away the dust off your outfit, taking notice of Idia who still was pressed on the wall.

“Idia?” you went closer to him, he looked like an angry kitten, glaring at you at first but the moment you got closer he stiffens up, pushing his hands to protect himself from you.

“Stay back! You anomaly!” he shouted that it echoed around the empty room, you were taken aback, “Idia, it’s me.” you said, eyebrows knitting in frustration.

“H-how do you know my name?” he asked, looking at you confusedly, were you sent by his other brother who he doesn’t even think of one, Zeus? You look kind of angelic so there’s a suspicion.

“Idia, you’re my boyfriend” Wow point blank you decided to kill him with those words, boyfriend his ass, what boyfriend, all he knows is that he prefers to be single than have a lover, also he wants to add that you are way out of his league, there’s no way you like him that way, and this is the first time you met him, was there a camera around here? The edited laughter? Where is it? He’s waiting for that to come.

Realizing that he was overthinking again, you snapped your fingers catching his attention; stating your name you tried to see if you got any reaction, but nothing. He really didn’t remember you.

You were going to be saddened by this, if it weren’t for the fact that the tips of his hairs had a slight pink on it meaning was still a chance for you to get your boyfriend back.

Okay, you two might be misunderstanding things, while Idia was observant, he can’t think straight when he’s in front of someone, his black and blue robe being a perfect cover for himself, he even had a hoodie knitted for him to cover his hair with.

You noticed that he was taller than before, raising your eyebrow, you grabbed his arm, which made him freeze up, looking at you like you just harassed him, his sweat drops. “What?”

“Since when did you get taller?” you asked, he slides your hand off of his arm, rubbing it a bit, “I don’t know?” he answered confusedly, before waving his hand dismissively, “No more questions, I’m bringing you back to Zeus” he grumbled, his stupid brother playing pranks on him again.

“What? Zeus?” you walked faster to catch up on him when he started speedwalking away, “Y’know, God of Olympus?” he said, weirded out why you didn’t know Zeus, everyone knows him.

“Wait, Zeus as in the God from long ago?” you asked further, which made Idia stop his tracks, turning to look at you, his figure looming, he looked like a grim reaper when he stands with you before, but now it’s more evident.

“What do you mean long ago?” he asked as bewildered as you are, why are you acting this way anyways? Anomaly that popped out of nowhere and almost giving him a concussion and right now you’re giving him a migraine, what’s next huh? brain aneurysm?   

“Are you not my Idia?” you frowned, looking at him closer, he exhibited a different style, he was taller, slightly shorter hair, bluish skin instead of pale.

“Your” Idia? What does that mean?

The more you open your mouth the more questions pop out, sighing he decided to cover your mouth with his hand. “Please… just shut up for a minute”

Okay, first theory! You’re not from around here, I mean you just got spat out like trash by the Tartarus and suddenly proclaiming that he’s your boyfriend, he feels bad for you, your standard is in hell if you’re dating him, you’re pretty too, a disrespect to your face really.

Second theory, which he’s leaning on more, you’re a spy sent by his brother Zeus; to make him fall for you and you break his heart and upload it to magicam or something.

If you think he’s self-deprecating too much, please, he’s just being realistic with the situation.

“First off, I am not yours” he clarified, lifting his hands as if he’s surrendering to you. “I never met you in my whole life, you’re cute but no”

Rejected by your own boyfriend, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for it, you were going to be hurt by this, but the thing is, the way he acts reminded you of the first stages of your relationship with him, he wasn’t the best with it.

“Okay,” you said, being short with him, for some reason that made him feel bad, scratching the back of his neck, he wanted to hold your cheek or hand to comfort you, an odd feeling.

“Sorry- I mean if you want to, I can act like your boyfriend or something” he murmured, his voice gradually decreasing to the point you barely heard the last words.

“It’s fine Idia, no need” not wanting to force him into that kind of thing, however, you noticed that his little fire hair started to fizzle out, panicking a bit you touched his hand, holding it, “wait I mean, okay, sure we can act”

Phew, that got his fire back up, lucky you. “Okay…” he said awkwardly coughing as he uses his tech to call for Ortho. “Ortho, can you come here?”

Ortho was impressively fast with going back to the underworld, looking the same except his clothes or rather his cyborg parts looked Greek like, it explains why you were wearing a tunic.

“Scan her” Idia said, using his eyes to signal ortho who to scan, in which Ortho grins brightly. “Okay!”

You stayed still as Ortho used his eyes to scan you, it was something that came natural for you, especially since your Ortho does that often.

“So?” Idia asked, leaning on the wall, Ortho shook his head, looking conflicted. “Nope, she doesn’t have any data around Ancient Greece, or anywhere”

“Huh” he didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, patting Ortho’s head. “Yeah! I did another scan but there’s no indication of her presence anywhere.

So, you really were just transported by Tartarus to Ancient Greece, connecting the dots, that means Idia here is…

Noticing you staring at him in deep thought He smiles a bit, you looked funny thinking like that, pouty and all. “Since you’re really not from here, my name is Idia, God of the Underworld, and this is Ortho, my brother.” Ortho waves at you enthusiastically and he was genuinely surprised that his brother introduced him instead of himself.

“I know” you hummed, crossing your arms. “I told you already, we’re dating- “

Idia tried to cover your mouth before you spout that out but failed as Ortho’s eyes widens. “You’re dating my brother in the other world?! You mean there’s another version of us in your world?”

Oh dear, you’re in it now.

Ortho basically asked you plenty of questions, already happy that his brother pulled someone like you, you were gorgeous!

Idia was a bit happy you got along with his brother, he sometimes feels bad that he keeps Ortho in such a depressing place instead of being a normal kid outside and playing.

Also he can’t help but get flustered whenever you randomly get physically affectionate with him, he’s been trying to find a way to get you back in your world, but it’s proving to be difficult since Tartarus maybe his domain, but it’s a system that’s entirely independent from him, think of it as the pity system in his gacha games, even if you hit enough 80 pulls, it doesn’t guarantee the limited character you want.

But, as long as he can, Idia tries to make sure every time he hangs out with you is worthwhile, it’s the first time he made effort to spend time with someone, when he’s off work, he finds himself going to the guest room, asking if you wanted to come eat with him and Ortho, or sometimes, you end up in his room, playing a two-player game with him.

Ever since you came into his life, he started going out of his room more, back then he usually just… does his work and go to his room. That’s all Now he’s trying to go outside more, especially when Ortho told him that to get you back faster was by “thinking outside the box” which just meant that he should go touch some grass and let the gears in his brain think of a solution.

He didn’t really know when he fell for you, but he noticed it when you were outside with him, in the largest field that had nothing but nature around. The outfit that Ortho lend you fits your palette so perfectly, it almost made him want to take a picture.

You were admiring the view while glancing around, picking up flowers.

Confused with what you were doing he walked to you. “Hey what-“ getting cut off as you shove a bouquet of flowers on his chest, a ribbon clumsily wrapped around the stems of the flowers.

“For you” you said, smiling, making his heart skip a bit, he accepted the gift as Ortho called out for you, giving him a glance before you grab his collar, pulling him down to kiss his cheek before walking away.

That got his hair to burn bright pink, shaking from the adrenaline, he coughed awkwardly, hopefully, Ortho didn’t see what you did.

Well, he’s having a hard time finding a way to send you back home, so… it might take a while.

─────❅───── A/n: ACCCCCCK IDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ILYSM ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ Malleus' Part

[blackdollette]

"i know what the boys want." — r.c. & j.m.

lolita. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: ...like sweet and sour, with just a drizzle of cream...

⊹₊⋆ pairing: hard!dom!rafe x sweetheart!jj x female!reader

⊹₊⋆ word count: 1.0k

⊹₊⋆ contents: double penetration ( spitroast position ), blowjob, unprotected vaginal penetration, slight degradation, slight praise, creampie, slight roughness, masturbation

the aroma of sweat, the feeling of flesh, and the overwhelming presence of the buzzing hormones in the room cloaked you like an cold blanket, leaving all your nerve endings standing on edge. fast and painful thrusts discoloured the soft flesh of your ass just a tinge, an equally fast thrusting causing your throat to bulge and throb. you gazed up at jj, your big and teary eyes begging for just a second of relief while secretly hoping he would never stop. he groaned deeply, his lip tightly tucked underneath his teeth as his aching balls slapped against your chin, leaving stray drops of spit and precum trailing down your neck.

the headboard of the bed thumped against the wall with each synchronized thrust.

 “c’mon man, she puffing up like a blowfish. you don’t wanna kill her, do you?” rafe taunted as his calloused thumb tortured your puffy clit. 

the irony of his statement laid in the fact that he was the one who was rearranging your guts, making sure your pussy would remember every vein, curve and crevice of his cock for days, even weeks to come. 

jj snickered in response, using a calloused thumb to stroke your flushed, tear-strained cheek.. “i’m not worried about her. our princess can take it…”

rafe’s grip on your ass only tightened more as he tossed his head back in ecstasy, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he buried himself inside of your uterus.

“...you pogues like it rough, huh, kid…?” he muttered between moans, not missing the glare jj swiftly shot him.

your muffled moans and stifled whimpers didn’t go unheard by the two blondes, only fueling their impure intentions further. 

rafe was a classy man, his ironed polo lying neatly on the floor with his jeans to his knees whilst he fucked you, with jj contrastingly stripped naked to the bone, save for the dangling lanyard that hung from his neck, his loaded cannon playing peek-a-boo with your esophagus and nearly meeting rafe’ cock on the other side. he had a fistful of your hair in his grip, watching thick bubbles of spit and precum cascade down your neck.

gasping for a breath of air, you pulled your swollen lips off of jj’s expanded length, lazily stroking the girth to make up for the absence of your mouth. you buried your face into the mattress, your brain going dumber by the second as rafe ruthlessly invaded your guts.

the juxtaposition present in the room was not lost on you, even more so as jj’s ring-adorned fingers gently wiped away your tears.

“...goddamn… atta girl. look at me for a sec, mama… wanna see that pretty face…” jj cooed as he ran a hand through his sandy, tousled hair, his other hand gently encouraging your face to angle upward.

rafe, his thrusts not having reduced in force in the slightest, leans forward and locks your neck between his forearm and bicep, his arm toned form years of violent tendencies.

“...y’heard what he said, bitch… fuckin’ look at him.” rafe’s low voice growled in your ear, his breath against your skin sending a shiver through all your nerve endings.

pushing you back down, rafe grabs yet another handful of your hair, forcing your gaze up to the man in front of you, who’d been sloppy getting himself off, watching the mess you’d become with infatuation.

he brought his cock back to your lips, tracing them with his tip and lubricating them with his salty seed before pushing in the girth once again, his hands gripping the sides of your face as his thrusts resumed.

your tight pussy clenched around rafe’s girth, pleading for him to keep his rabid pace. “you want this cock real bad, don't you?” he tossed his head back as your gummy walls swallowed him whole. “‘’ts all yours, baby… all fuckin’ yours.”

though jj wasn’t speaking much, his actions spoke louder than any word he could manage to utter. with every thrust, slap and push from him was followed by a gag, whimper or spit from you. his hips ground into your mouth as he brutally fucked your face, your throat bruising quickly from the friction but being soothed by the precum that lubricated his path.

“...s-shit. you’re somethin’ else, y’know that? …somethin’ real fuckin’ special…” he groaned lowly, the praises being laced with more fondness than he knew how to deal with.

rafe toyed with your pussy from behind, trailing his thumb up and down your wet slit as it swelled from overstimulation. your back arched as you pushed your hips into his, wanting to feel him in every part of you. 

the men groaned out slurred profanities in unison as your body contracted from the pleasure. you flicked your tongue along jj’s tip, your pussy pulsating around rafe. jj forced your jaw open a little more, wanting to make a lasting impact on his final blow.

rafe pushed your legs even further apart, cum spilling down the inside of your thighs as your limbs began to tremble. your eyes sealed shut, all your senses disabling as a discombobulating wave of pleasure and release hit you like a freight train. rafe’ nails dug into your flesh as he landed one last thrust, your hole swelling from being filled up like a sweet, creamy dessert.

as jj was about to reach his climax, he whipped his cock out of your mouth, shooting his strings onto your face and aiming specifically for your dangling tits. you collapsed onto the mattress, mind buzzing as you felt your insides pouring out of you.

the feeling was divine, so surreal that you found yourself wondering if the moment really happened. all the buzzing hormones, your pumping heartbeat, and swollen holes dripping as a result of synonymous could’ve all been nothing but a particularly ideal dream. but your doubts were dismissed as you felt one soft pair of lips graze your cheek softly, murmuring one last, soft praise, but receiving nothing from the other.

[sugurouge]

— a fire in a flask : lucilfer chrollo x f!reader

content warnings! rope play, possessive themes, jealousy, bratty reader, hair pulling, pet names (sweetheart, kitten, dear), dubcon, asphyxiation & marking @ chrollo, deep throating, rough sex, condescending chrollo, mentions of murder, spit, impact play

summary: after some heavy convincing, chrollo agreed to let you have full control over your play date tonight. unfortunately, the scenario you had imagined takes a different turn once you start dancing too close to the flame

wordcount: 2.2k | my kinktober masterlist

a/n: if you have stumbled across this fic on ao3 it is due to a tag issue i had on tumblr a little while ago

Not much can cause Chrollo to breathe unsteadily; barely anything could take him by surprise. Yet here he is, without power, without control—at your complete mercy. The rope cuts into his taut muscles, the contrast of red against his pale skin is strikingly beautiful. And the groan that escapes his lips something so utterly satisfying as your heel digs into his chest, accompanied by the warning words of, "No, no, you promised me full reign tonight. So behave, Chrollo." You grant him a glimpse of your bare pussy hidden beneath your skimpy dress while pushing him further back into the chair, reminding him to hold still.

"If I had known what you had in mind when you asked for control, I would have never agreed. Why can't you just ride me like all the other girls did?" A sharp hiss cuts off his complaints, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek as eyes filled with anger meet your delighted ones. "Don't tell me about your other flings... I don't like feeling jealous."

With a click of your heel against the ground, you return to standing on both feet and take a step back, allowing yourself a moment to rake your eyes over the exposed figure of your partner. You've made sure to bind him tightly to the chair, rope laced around his upper body and tied securely behind his back. But it's the nearly murderous intent in his dark eyes that really excites you. Being a brat is already so much fun, but being an insufferable demon in full control over the leader of a villainous group? Yeah, it's hard to imagine going back to being submissive.

"Are you done staring? Sweetheart, you're drooling." His smooth-talking voice returns, cockiness and arrogance painting a rather smug expression on his face—one you wish to wipe off. Yet as you remain unnervingly calm, you tick something off in Chrollo's brain, prompting him to nearly ramble. "Hm? Don’t tell me you've already run out of ideas? Tying me up can’t possibly be the beginning and end of your little fantasies. I thought you were smarter than that..."

One step, two steps, three steps, and you're closer than ever before. You bend down, eye to eye with someone who could kill you in an instant, to give him a show of your cleavage nearly spilling from its confines. Your fingers dig into Chrollo's cheeks, forcing his chin to tilt up as you search his eyes for something he can't quite decipher. You're not supposed to be an enigma to him; he’s used to reading you like an open book. That victorious chuckle of yours causes his eyes to squint in suspicion—he's getting nervous.

"Can I not stare at what belongs to me?" your soft voice whispers, almost too lovingly, a cat-like grin spreading across your face before you giggle. "You're mine, and I'm yours," you continue as you straddle his lap, your arms snaking around his neck while you arch your back to press your hips against his. The frilly dress you chose to wear for him rides up your hips, and Chrollo's fingers ache to dig into the soft flesh of your ass. Nose to nose, you turn soft, sickly sweet, as your lips capture his in a fiery kiss, tongues brushing against each other while your nails tease his scalp and neck. Your fingers curl into his dark strands, tugging until he grunts into the kiss—a fitting punishment for not reciprocating your affectionate words.

How could he focus on your words when his mind is occupied with finding a way out of these restraints? He tries to keep some blood in his brain, tries not to show just how much your little display turns him on. But it’s nearly impossible with the roll of your hips against him, with your plush breasts bouncing and pressing against his chest. "You're going to torture me because of my little act during the mission, aren’t you?" he finally deciphers, the possessive themes of the night at last forming a cohesive puzzle as Chrollo allows himself a moment to think. You need to hide your expression from him, need to avoid eye contact before he reads the answer from your face and makes you crumble in the palm of his hand.

"Think what you will," you sigh against the shell of his ear, praying that your lips on his neck and nails on his chest inflict enough sensations, painting his skin pink, purple, and red to distract him from thinking about your motives. You feel the moan vibrating through his body.

"If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you," you whisper against his skin, confident that he hears every word of yours. Your eyes flicker sideways to meet his hard stare. Chrollo is not much of a talker in these circumstances—his expression is usually enough to get people to behave. But in your case, it only spurs you on further. "Maybe you'll have to beg a little, but that wouldn't hurt, right?" His jaw tightens in response, lips pressing into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as his lids drop. Chrollo humours you by leaning in, the tip of his nose brushing along your jaw before he speaks into your ear: "Once I'm free, you'd better run for your life." The sparks that go off in your mind trickle all over your skin in the form of shivers and goosebumps.

"Baby..." you try to respond, but fuck, is that really your voice? You sound so aroused, it even catches Chrollo off guard. Maybe he's been too nice to you during your playtimes all along. Your eyes fall shut as your lips meet again, and you practically devour him, sucking the air from his lungs with a feverish kiss. One of your knees finds rest between his spread thighs while you cradle his neck in your hands, forcing him into submission as you lean above him.

You finally understand why he enjoys to torture you once you see the desperate mess you've turned him into: chest heaving and flushed, cheeks heated brightly as the red colour clashes with his messy black strands falling over his features. Your lips move on their own, forming words he would usually bring your way if the roles were reversed. "Such a pretty mess for me," you sigh in adoration before the creaking of the chair startles you slightly and turns you silent. You never expected Chrollo to be a man of sheer force to break free, but fortunately, the chair and rope are too sturdy to break that easily.

"You really wish to keep messing with me?" He warns lowly, his patience is starting to wear thin. Lucky for you, Chrollo's restraints only tighten further around his frame as he struggles, the friction burning his skin and making him moan—in pain or pleasure? "Do I look like someone who will surrender? You know better than that, kitten..."

The hands around his neck catch him off guard. You never expected yourself to hold him the way you love to be held, never thought your fingertips would push into his skin and constrict his breathing. But his shocked expression tells the tale, conveying his own surprise upon how brave you have grown to become.

"I told you to beg, Chrollo," you mouth against his lips, your thigh pushing against his cock. No matter how much he pretends to struggle and despise this, the hardness of his cock is evidence enough for you to continue.

"You won't make me do anything of the sort, sweetheart," Chrollo bites back, his pet names turning sour, you notice. Maybe playing with fire will get you burned. But he's tied up well—you made sure of that.

Actions speak louder than words—that’s the motto that guides you as you harshly release his face, pushing him back into his chair to do with his body as you please. Your fingers loop around the tight rope as you explore his body, tugging and tightening his prison, forcing reactions from his lips. Sharp hisses and low warnings to "Stop messing around" have long replaced his little act of keeping it all together. But how could you stop now? Not when you much prefer scratching over his abdomen and rubbing your palm over his clothed erection before unbuttoning his trousers to finally free his aching length. Chrollo would never deny himself pleasure—you know that much about him.

Hence why you push his thighs to spread further as you go down on your knees before him, your lips blowing cooling puffs of air over his cock. "Sure you don’t want to beg me to give you more?" your eyes flicker up to meet his lust-filled ones. Chrollo looks unnervingly calm given the circumstances, yet the alarm bells inside your mind take too long to go off.

"You will give me more, whether you want to or not." Chrollo watches with delight as your expression sours. All these emotions and thoughts running laps behind your pretty eyes—he can see them clearly. Good, be scared of him.

You take too long. Unfortunately, you are always two steps behind him.

"Too slow," his final warning, just before the ropes come undone in an instant. His large palm lands on the back of your neck, holding your face right in front of his crotch. "How!?" you whine pathetically, much to Chrollo's amusement. But he has no time for this farce anymore. Better to make you shut up, make you regret acting out like this. His free hand wraps around his cock, pushing the tip against your lips, tapping against your closed mouth once, twice, before the hand on your neck moves to grasp your jaw and force it open.

"C’mon, dear, don’t act like you didn’t want this to happen," he huffs while shoving his length into your mouth. There’s no mercy in his moves—not with the way Chrollo holds down your head, pressing your lips against the base of his cock until you choke on pre-cum, saliva, and his girth. "You’re in trouble now," he pants the warning over your back as he leans forward, blunt fingertips dragging over your spine while the fingers of his free hand fist strands of your hair. With little care for your scalp, he pulls you off, only to bring you forward to choke on his cock, again and again.

Chrollo bathes you in his moans, not bothering to hide the devious chuckles that mix with his sounds of pleasure as you cry for breath, your knees enduring the bruising pain of the rough carpet beneath you. "Can’t—can’t hear you, repeat that for me," he mocks as you try to protest his relentless assault. Your throat burns, your vision is blurred by tears spilling over your lash line. You smell only Chrollo, taste only Chrollo, feel only Chrollo. It’s too much to handle.

"Beg for me, huh? Beg for me to be nice and I might just be," yet the grip in your hair only tightens before he pulls you off. He wears a poker face, an expression devoid of emotion as he stares into your frightened one, basking in your pitiful state—puffy lips, tear-stained cheeks, and messy hair.

"Beg," he repeats, just as harshly as you did once before. One, two, Chrollo’s patience is already running thin thanks to your earlier games. Why even bother being nice?

"Chro—" you begin, only for him to shove you onto him again. "Scratch that, sweetheart—you brought this upon yourself."

You fully did. What were you even thinking when you tried to control a man like Chrollo? Did you really expect him to let you do whatever you wanted with him when he could, instead, face-fuck you until your filthy mouth is stuffed with his cum? All your mockery will now become a painful memory, a reminder of your place. A brat like you doesn’t deserve more than to be used without receiving any pleasure in return—your aching pussy will serve as a memento until your next encounter with Chrollo. You’d better not touch yourself until then.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[hangesdarling]

Idea! Hange who finds out her rival in the scouts is actually just a massive bottom

rivals, right? — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You and your rival Hange were forced to sleep in one tent for an expedition. CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, nipple sucking, fingering, oral sex, a bit slow burn WORD COUNT. 2.1k A/N. sorry anon i missed the part where they're scouts :") they're both section commanders on this one though. hope that's alright!

"I'm not sleeping with you," you groaned, the irritation sharp enough to cut through the night. 

"You make it sound weird when we're just sleeping in one tent," Hange said with an amused laugh, padding up the tent floor with a few blankets so it wouldn't be too rocky to lie down on. 

So annoying, you might be thinking. Hange always acts coy, teasing even as if your constant clash and rivalry were an amusement of some sort. Years of training and expeditions, even as scouts, Hange always managed to be linked with you. Both were labeled the smartest, both became section commanders at the same time, and both were considered respectable researchers. Your titles always one up with the other, a tight competition you never seemed to have an agreement on. 

"Ugh, why is it always with you?" You mumbled behind the notebook you're scribbling on. It was loud enough to reach Hange's ears. 

"Sorry, dear. Every tent is occupied," they said simply. Hange placed two makeshift pillows, peeking over the tent as if waiting for you to come inside. You glanced in their direction but turned away almost instantly. 

"I'll be out here for a while," you muttered, focused on scribbling on your notes. Hange looked over your shoulder in curiosity, crawling beside you. 

"Observations, huh?" Hange remarked, pushing their glasses up so their eyes could follow your scribbles. 

You blushed at being observed, quickly hiding the notes you were writing. 

"Nah, just listing why my research is more relevant than yours," you saved yourself from awkwardness, pulling a smug smile. 

Hange laughed, tilting their head almost mockingly. "That's kinda pathetic, don't you think?" 

"Heh, not when I get those two titans for my experiment," you replied, lips curling into a smirk. 

Ah, so damn stubborn, Hange thought. They shook their head lightly, still amused by how you managed to pull this stubborn behavior with them for years. You're typically kind and soft-spoken with other scouts, an authority to be respected, not feared. But Hange finds it almost ridiculous when you both act like bickering children around each other. 

"Would it kill you to share a titan with me? Besides, Erwin said we only get to capture one titan each."

"Out of all people, you should know that won't be enough," you replied. The situation you're both in just hardens your stubbornness. How could humanity thrive and gain knowledge when research is always limited? Tight budget, the shitty authority; Survey Corps never seems to run out of problems. 

"Well, we have to work with our limited resources, you know," Hange explained. "We're not supported enough in terms of this. Our supplies are insufficient. That's probably why we're sharing a tent."

"I'll do something about that," you mumbled like a steadfast promise. "Just go to sleep for now."

Hange looks at you for a while, perhaps in admiration or judgment. But in any way, they see the reflection of their resolve. 

"You should sleep too. It would be a long day tomorrow. Good night, Y/N."

Do something about it, huh? Hange slept with that curious thought, wondering what risky method would you try to pull in the next few days. 

---

Being outside the walls stopped feeling new after your tenth or fifteenth expedition. As a scout, you always have some sort of fear just from the countless tales of unsuccessful expeditions and a tower of dead bodies after one. 

 But now, you managed to expertly map through the routes outside just from memory. Where titans roam the least or the best view to watch over their behavior. 

You were sitting atop a branch of a large tree, binoculars in hand, and planning where to stage the capture. Your mind went through the manpower and equipment sent with you outside, wincing at the fact that the capture could be dangerous. Hange managed to develop a catching net some months ago, ensuring a safe capture. However, with the tight route and a precarious amount of titan, you doubt that this capture would be entirely safe. 

From another tree, Hange was watching titans, observing how slow they usually walk without bait. They are focusing. Supposedly. 

But now and then, their binoculars would travel over where you sat, the lenses perfectly capturing your distress at the current conundrum. 

No sooner, you felt another presence at the tree—Hange's familiar footsteps, careful to reach you on that wide branch. 

"You're worrying about the route, isn't it?" you heard them whisper behind you as you lowered your own binoculars. 

"Not just that," you sighed defeatedly, head on your hands. "I was thinking that two titans really wouldn't be enough for us even if we shared."

You handed Hange your notebook much to their surprise. They flipped over the pages, gaining an understanding of your concerns. Your desired experiment might be ambitious and idealistic but it would be helpful if you succeeded. But with resources so limited and countless lives to take into consideration, how would you able to do this?

Hange sat beside you, still thumbing over some pages. Even if you're turning your face away, Hange could tell you were trying hard not to tear up from the frustration and possibility of loss. This was important for you after all. They've watched you study, observe, and create all of these for over a year. 

They placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before saying, "We could do something about this, you know that. Come with me."

----

"Why do you always kick your blanket off when you sleep?" Hange asked curiously one night in the tent. 

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do! I had to tuck it beneath your feet at least three times last night," Hange argued. 

"My, don't bother with it..." You brushed it off, turning away from them to hide your face. You tried to trace back since when Hange Zoë's relationship with you became so casual, almost friendly. If your mind wanders far enough, you might consider something else happening. Affection, maybe. But you shrugged all those thoughts off, reminding yourself that the plan you agreed on was purely for science and the advancement of humanity. 

"But you're weak to coldness," Hange continued, covering you in several layers of blanket, ignoring the pout on your lips. They had a grin on their face when they said, "Don't want my research partner getting sick, do I?"

"We're not research partners," you frowned.

"Eh, why not? I just told you my whole plan and you agreed with it."

"Doesn't mean we're partners from now on."

"God, you're one stubborn lady," Hange chuckled, a sigh escaping their lips. They pulled their blankets over them, slowly dozing off. Outside, the night was filled with the gentle chirps of crickets, chorusing at one point. Even with such proximity, you could feel Hange's warmth, their gentle breathing only conveyed that they must also be awake. 

---

The next morning, you and Hange's plan set into motion, traps were located strategically in a different route. Both of you were taking full liability for what would happen in the days to come, informing the soldiers about the need to capture four titans to sufficiently conduct the research. It wasn't the safest plan, some were hesitant but many trusted your scheme since all of you share a common goal. 

You commander your unit, imparting knowledge of the best actions to take. But for the remaining hours, your eyes remained on your notebook, pretending to check details to reach the optimum result. However, Hange knew you had an entirely different reason. Maybe to interact less with them, afraid they would bring up how you two ended up tangled in each other's arms last night.

---

"I'm just letting you know that won't happen again," you said flatly, eyes boring upwards through the tent as you lay down. 

Hange turned their head to you, their lips forming into a subtle smirk once more. "What is?"

"Um, last night..." you said in a low voice. 

"Ah, you mean when you're hugging me so tightly?" Hange asked smugly. 

You bit your lip, trying to save yourself from this. "I was asleep. Not responsible for my actions, but forgive me for disturbing your sleep."

Much to your surprise, Hange hovered over you, their deep brown eyes glinting almost knowingly against the dark space inside. The atmosphere thickened, your heart ramming louder than the sounds of night. 

"No need to apologize for anything, sweetheart," they whispered, their eyes following your lips the way your eyes do for them. In that heated moment, all that you've both held in flooded out like a dam breaking and gushing to spill over. Hange placed a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you pinned on the blankets as their lips met yours. It was a firm kiss, your lips nearly melting into each other's. Your hands traveled on Hange's hair where you tug and pull them closer. Hange sat you up in their lap, gaining better access of your neck and chest. Their hands snaked under your clothes as they ask for permission to go further each time to which you only nod. 

"If you want to have me so bad, you shouldn't have spent years being annoying," you muttered into the kiss. 

"Says the one who wouldn't let go of me last night," Hange smirked, a thumb circling your clothed breasts. "Besides, you should've picked up on it early on. You're so smart after all."

"You know, you look more attractive when you shut up," you muttered as you fell on top of Hange. Their flushed face look at you expectantly, expecting you would dominate this whole ordeal. After all, they saw you in that dominant, commanding light after years of leadership. 

But Hange noticed how flustered you were just from being on top of them. Your thighs kept straddled on their lap, your hands resting on their shoulder, not knowing where to hold on. Hange smirked, taking it as a sign to flip you over once more. Their breath was warm against your ear as they whispered, "It's okay, Y/N. Let me do it for you."

Hange locked your lips in a kiss once more, bundling your shirt on your chest. Their lips slithered from your lips down to your throat, reaching the trail between your breasts. They kept one firm hand on your wrist as their tongue gently circled one of your nipples, sucking their lips on the hardened bud.

Hange covered your mouth before you let out high-pitched noises from the sensation. 

"Shhhh... You don't want your subordinates to hear you, right?" They smiled against the darkness. 

The night was slow and heated as you let Hange do wonders with their mouth and fingers, always managing to draw out a soundless moan from you. Your lips could only part, your hands clenching around their body. They were amused to see you follow along and nod with their wishes, so compliant with their charm.

Hange had the button of your blouse open, your breasts spilling out into their face and the warm flesh of your stomach open for their wet kisses. 

"You know," Hange began, drawing their fingers in and out of you at a teasingly, slow pace. "I didn't expect this much submission from you."

"Shut up, Hange..." you breathed out, a hand over your eyes as you were beginning to write against their fingers. Hange held down your hip, tugging your pants a bit more so they could have more access to you.

"As you wish, m'lady," Hange placed a kiss on your clit before gently lapping up the warm wetness gathering on your slit.

Hange kept on until the faint light of dawn slitted through your tent. You forgot just how much stamina they had to draw one orgasm after another from you. They only stopped when you've whined and writhed enough under them, pleading for a break. Hange fixed up your clothes, smoothed out your hair, and drew the blanket over you again as if nothing happened. Their wet lips kissed you once more as they said, "You still have a few hours to sleep. Sleep tight, sweetheart."

---

The capture will take place during the afternoon. The equipment was set, and the soldiers were preparing their ODM gear for however long the capture may last. 

The scouts passed by, even some of your friends, noticing the slight shift of the atmosphere but couldn't quite put it into words. Maybe this time their section commanders weren't bickering as usual. They went with that fresh start in high spirits,  brushing off their suspicions whenever they saw Hange place an arm around your waist or whisper something to make you laugh or blush. Your unit didn't think much of it, even attributing it as a minor hallucination or a ripple in the universe. There's no way their section commanders are getting affectionate.

After all, you're rivals, right?

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[starryhyuck]

not like other guys. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: bestfriend!jeno x afab!roommate!reader

words: 4.4k+

summary: jeno’s tired from watching you cry over men who don’t deserve you.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: mentions of previous relationships with renjun and jungwoo, reader is briefly with jaemin, jealousy, fingering, praising, creampie, bigdick!jeno

this fic is exclusive to both tiers on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

Jeno’s not the confrontational type.

As Jaemin likes to say, his personality is akin to an obedient puppy who won’t cause any trouble unless requested to. Jeno once took offense to that type of statement, but over the years, he can’t help but see the truth behind it. It’s why it’s so jarring for rage to bubble in his stomach when he spots Jungwoo at the coffee shop down the street from your shared apartment. He doesn’t even feel like his feet are his own when he strides towards the older man, gripping his shoulder and forcing Jungwoo to turn around and face him.

“Woah,” Jungwoo exclaims in surprise before his jaw clenches when he sees the culprit. “Oh, it’s you.”

Johnny and Jaehyun flank behind him, sipping on their coffee with raised eyebrows. Jeno would normally be embarrassed to confront someone in front of their friends, but his mouth moves before his brain can register the words.

“Next time, pick someone else to string along and toss on the side of the road when you get bored. If I ever see her crying over you again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Jungwoo scoffs, throwing a look back at Johnny and Jaehyun, almost as if he was saying, Can you believe the nerve of this guy? Jeno snarls at him and Jungwoo snickers, only angering him further.

“Come on, Jeno. I did you a favor. Everyone in the entire world knows you two would kill for each other. I was the one looking like a desperate loser when I asked her out.”

Jeno grits his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Seriously, man? Not only are you two glued at the hip wherever you go, but you live together. I literally can’t make a move on her because you’re always lingering in the background, waiting to skin me alive. Jae even said I was wrong for trying to steal another guy’s girl.”

Jeno looks over at Jaehyun, who nods in agreement to Jungwoo’s statement. Johnny nonchalantly leans on the counter behind him, sunglasses perched over his nose.

“Give Jungwoo a break. You’re only hurting yourself by pushing away the truth,” Johnny advises, although his tone sounds slightly patronizing to Jeno. The barista behind him calls out Jeno’s name, and Johnny takes the drink from her and outstretches it to the man it belongs to. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better when you finally confess your feelings to her.”

Jeno grabs the cup out of his hands, lip curled distastefully.

“I hope you all rot in hell.”

want to read the rest? access both tiers on my patreon here!

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 7/?

Had some time during my layover, so here's the next chapter, hope y'all enjoy! Don't know quite when the next chapter will be, since I'll be on vacation, but I'll try to get something out in hopefully not too long. Just a smigde of info, reader has tried to look up treatments for the pain caused by soulmates, the only one that really works is to be near them. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, slightly suggestive, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 1659

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

This time it’s a week and a half before you see them. Your sanity might be thanking the universe, but your body does not. You’re stiff, your shoulders and back constantly. You’ve taken to taking long and scolding baths to ease the pain, it helps for a bit since painkillers won’t. Which you discovered through lived and read experience. 

So, in a way, it’s good that you meet them again, even if you will barely admit that to yourself.

This time it is in a place you didn’t think would be their scene. 

This time you are a bouncer at a nightclub, a favor for Dave who got food poisoning. You groaned over the phone when he asked for the favor, but said yes after he promised to buy several rounds for you next time you go drinking with him. It gives you a reason to leave your apartment, to try to live life normally.

So now you are getting paid to look tough and check ID’s, and have free drinks to look forward to later. So, a win-win. Even if you have to deal with drunk people, and you can’t go armed, since the dress pants and t-shirt that is the uniform doesn’t hide much. Technically you shouldn’t need to be armed for this job, but it always feels more safe to be than to not be, especially with your life.

It’s a win-win until you spot two familiar people in your line into the club. 

Two annoyingly familiar people. 

Wade’s wearing tight black leather pants, a black plastic cowboy hat, a pink hello kitty long-sleeve that sits plastered to his muscled torso, a pink bandana covering the lower half of his face, and matching pink chunky closed toe high heels. 

It makes him taller than Logan, who’s wearing black jeans, boots, and a tight black shirt that is unbuttoned to show a hefty amount of chest hair on his muscled chest. 

They both have glitter on their cheekbones, which glint in the light outside of the club as they talk to each other, not having noticed you yet.

They look kinda ridiculous.

But hey, opposites attract you guess.

You know you are stuck until they notice you. You can’t just leave, there’s too many people in line, it would take forever to get everyone in if there was just one bouncer. So, you are forced by the universe to stay put, watching as your soulmates get closer and closer, even as much as you want them to go further and further away. (Though your body screams for the complete opposite.)

When they are just a few people away, Logan catches your gaze. His eyes narrow, before flicking down to Wade, pushing at his arm, directing his attention to you instead of him. Wade grins as he spots you, you can tell because he pulls the bandana down to his neck instead.

“Oh heyyyy.” Wade drags out, grinning, while Logan watches you, saying nothing.

“This doesn't seem like your scene.”

“Not like you would know that, little pookie, you need to know people to know where they like to have fun.” There’s a shot of bitterness in Wade’s tone and your bond, but it’s gone before you can dwell on it as Wade keeps looking at you, unashamedly checking you out.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just go inside.” You gesture for them to walk past you as you open the rope in front of the club door, but both of them stay put.

“Not gonna check ID’s?” Wade grins, fluttering his eyelashes, the only kind of hair he has (you assume). You and Logan snort in unison.

“Neither of you look 20.” And you don’t doubt both of them could get a fake ID with ease. 

“Not interested in seeing our ages pookie?”

“Not in the slightest. Now get the fuck inside before I change my mind and keep you out here.”

“You say that like being here with you is a threat and not a treat.” Wade winks, but walks past you to go inside. Logan follows right behind him, giving you a quick once over.

“What was that?” The other bouncer leans over to half-whisper after you’ve let a few more people in.

“It’s complicated.”

“They trouble?” 

“Only for my own sanity.” It’s with great annoyance you realize your shoulders feel just a tad lighter.

—---

A few hours later, you have moved from the door and are making the rounds through the club. People going in have slowed, meaning you are not needed outside anymore. It feels good to be moving, even as your body aches and hurts. 

The club is packed inside, the loud and rhythmic music making sure the dance floor is crowded with people in varying states of drunkenness. There’s probably some other substances too, but people are behaving for now, as your eyes scan the crowd you spot nothing that you need to stop.

As you walk through the edge of the crowd, you slowly become aware that your bond is more open, as something starts to filter through the low, but constant, hum of the bonds.

It’s not something you can immediately identify. It’s certainly something you’ve felt before, it’s just been a while, and you’ve never felt it this clearly through the bond before. A hint here and there, but you can hardly blame them for being human. 

It’s desire. Arousal. Lust. Horny, if you are going to be slightly less fancy about it. 

You feel your cheeks heat up, and sigh as you rub your forehead. You close your eyes, letting the bond guide you for the briefest of moments. 

It takes a couple of tries of you closing your eyes for you to be led to a metal door in a corner next to the bar marked “Employees Only” in red letters. The lights of the club dance over the letters as you push the door open, and the music spills out into the alley before you let the door fall closed behind you. There’s not much here, just the concrete steps you are standing on, a couple of dumpsters, a wooden bench with an ashtray drilled into the armrest. And two people pressed against the brickwall of the neighboring building.

“You guys should not be here.” Wade pulls away from Logan, turning his head to look over his own shoulder, grinning. His hands are in Logan’s hair, Logan’s hands are on his hips, neither of them let go of the other.

“Pookie! Fancy meeting you here!” You scowl at Wade, then meet Logan’s own scowling face, before he hides his face in Wade’s shoulder, but you do catch the beginning of a smirk before it's hidden from view.

“See peanut! I told you he would feel it.” Absent-mindedly you notice the glitter has moved from just Wade’s cheekbone to his lips as well, and his neck, just above where his bandana now sits.

“Feel what?” Wade ignores the question for a moment, kissing the top of Logan’s head. The bond still isn’t fully closed, as you feel another wave of arousal wash over you, making you take a deep breath. It feels strange, like it wants to settle in your gut, but just flows through you. “Well, now at least we know our bonds aren’t platonic! Well, we knew ours wasn’t-” Wade ruffles Logan’s hair, you see his hands clench Wade’s waist tighter “-but now we know for all of us! How exciting.”

You don’t know that to say to any of this, you rarely do, so you revert back to old habits.

“Like I said, you shouldn’t be here.” A brief spike of disappointment, then your bond is finally blessedly quiet again. Wade grins, but it’s a lot less teasing than earlier in the night.

“Ohhh, I like it when you get all bossy. Gonna start manhandling us? You are more than welcome to.” Wade keeps the grin on his face, Logan shakes his head against his shoulder. Or he’s rubbing against it, you are not sure.

“I will call the fucking cops.” Wade sticks out his tongue at you.

“Party pooper. Come one peanut, let's go home.” Wade plants one last quick kiss on Logan before turning towards you, dislodging Logan’s hands from his hips, taking one of them in his own. “At least you are a lot less stabby tonight.” 

“I am unarmed.” Wade gasps, overly dramatic. You don’t even know why you offer up that tidbit. Not like it was hard to guess with your outfit though.

“Oh my god, our baby is naked. Quick, cover your eyes!” He moves his hands back towards Logan’s face, Logan smacks them away with a grunt.

“I am not yours anything, and quit it with those fucking nicknames. There’s no way to hide anything in these dress pants.”

“No, you can indeed not hide a lot in those.” Both of their eyes wander over your form, you feel anger rise, and push it through both of their bonds. 

“Again, I will call the cops.”

“Again, party pooper.” Wade retorts, but drags Logan with him towards the door. You swear you feel him brush against you when he goes past, but by the time you process the light touch and turn around to look at him, all you see is their backs before the door shuts behind them. 

You stay behind, breathing in and out through your nose. Calming yourself down, the usual background hum of your bond fraying at your nerves. 

Fuck, your body hurts. But for a moment the pain had eased.

You shove your hands in your pockets, surprised when your fingers feel different fabric. 

Fishing it out, you are met with the sight of Wade’s bandana in your hand. You stare at it. It’s soft, there’s little horses on it in a darker shade of pink.

You ball it up in a fist and stare at the door to the bar.

(Part 8)

[unriding]

FLUFFTOBER DAY 21 — HORROR MOVIES! ft. yamato endo x f!reader ﾉ sfw + fluff ﾉ no other warnings ﾉ october masterlist

you’ve had some bad ideas, but this one has to be your worst. halloween night, sitting side by side with the man who has it in his dna to tease you, rank #1 for scariest movies in existence playing on the big TV, and your friends. the friends you’ve somehow managed to convince (through a dragged out lie) that there’s absolutely nothing in the world that can scare you.

A/N ﾉ my submission for @pixelcafe-network’s spooktober collab! + the link to the masterlist that contains everyone else’s pieces ^ ^ <3

You think you’d much rather be anywhere else in the world than here. In fact, watching a puddle of paint dry in your yard sounds pretty delightful- because at least this way, the paint would be the one feeling a watchful presence instead of you.

“Endo,” you warn through a clenched jaw, watching him tense beside you through your peripheral vision. “Stop looking at me.”

You just barely catch his lips tugging into an amused grin before his eyes land on the screen again. He’s still watching you, probably. Out of the corner of his eye- as annoying as it is- because as soon as another ear-piercing scream rips from one of the girls in the movie, you wince and hug your knees closer against your chest, and he’s grinning again.

Clearly getting a good kick out of your reactions- much to your dismay. You swear to yourself that if you weren’t in such an unfortunate situation, you’d give him a pinch to the cheek and an earful to go along with it.

But desperate situations call for desperate measures, so you’re left to hide your face deeper in your knees in a half-assed attempt to play off your terror as sleepiness. Maybe if you didn’t come up with the idea of telling them you were fearless, you could be spending your Halloween curled up on your bed reading a book instead.

Which definitely beats sitting next to Endo, you think. It’s not that you hate him or anything. In fact, a part of you is thankful that the couches are so small- forcing the two of you to press up against each other to make space for the others. It’s just that he knows too much.

In its own way, the warmth of his body provides you with some sort of comfort (though you’d never admit this to him). On the downside, however, there’s not a chance in the world that the nervous tremble of your body is going unnoticed by him. You wonder if that’s why he keeps pushing himself into you every few minutes- like a stray cat persistently nuzzling up against someone they want to go home with.

The other very unfortunate thing about your situation is that you desperately need to use the restroom, but one nervous glance at the hallway immediately kills any slim chance you might’ve had at going on your own.

It’s dark. Pitch black. There’s not one light turned on in the entire house aside from the movie playing out in front of the group, but two hard blinks and a squint for extra measure confirm that there isn’t anything standing in the hallway- for now at least.

“No one’ll judge you if you’re a scaredy pants, y’know.”

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. “I’m not scared,” you respond a bit too fast to come off as unbothered, “and stop looking at me.”

“Hm… if you say so.” His eyes are still on the screen, but he’s smiling once again. “I can always guard you while you pee.”

“No way.”

“Aw..” he feigns disappointment, but perks up when you turn to properly look at him now. “C’mon... why not? It’ll be like a princess and her loyal guard.”

The suggestion makes your face heat up a bit. If your entire friend group hasn’t been actively trying to set you two up for the past few weeks, you’d probably be more likely to accept his help.

“You know it’ll look weird if you come with me to the bathroom,” your voice drops to a whisper because you’re certain you’d never hear the end of this if they saw you two heading there together. “Because if a guy….”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You give him a look, and he gives you a sheepish laugh in return. “Fine, fine. Don’t look at me like that. I won’t.” He starts to slip off his jacket. “But… don’t blame me if you get eaten alive on your way there.”

An irritated huff slips out of you, but the thought of him protecting you from afar doesn’t seem all that bad. Maybe he might make it to your side in time if a ghost was actually out to get you.

“I said I wasn’t scared of silly things like that.”

He almost laughs at this- you can tell from the way his lips curl up into another smile, and you almost tell him that you think he’s having just a bit too much fun from all this, but he stops you as soon as you open your mouth. “That’s right. I almost forgot again.”

“Then at least take this, princess,” he drapes his jacket around you, hand briefly brushing against your shoulder and your eyes widen. “H-huh? What’re you—”

“Think of it as ghost repellent. To ward off bad things. And….” he leans a little closer now, until his lips brush against the shell of your ear so he can whisper, “don’t worry. I won’t tell them you’re a scaredy cat even if you run back.”

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!