#this gif doesn't do justice to how blue his eyes are

[a1ecmcdowell]

LIVEWIRE — jj maybank x reader.

livewire (n) — an energetic or unpredictable person; a force of nature. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthat boy is a livewire; he'll ruin you, or die trying.

. . . or, jj's crashout — featuring you.

includes, SEXUAL CONTENT! MDNI. kinda pwp. crashout!jj. best friend!fem!reader. forced proximity. high stakes. dirty talk. jj is vocal. p in v. unprotected sex ( do not do this they r just so ridiculous & horny ). ( semi ) public. he has absolutely no pullout game but he's forgiven for it </3

NOTES. if the door logic doesn't make any sense realistically ... that's not my business. i'm not writing for realism i'm writing for the JJ GIRLS who want 2 fuck CRASHOUT JJ. also my apology for the quote in the tagline ik its too soon still but i joke 2 cope.

Red and blue littered the autumnal afternoon sky, sirens overshadowing the lyrical chirps of the birds, the scattered winds blowing red and orange leaves down the Kildare streets. 

JJ Maybank is a fucking force to be reckoned with. In his wake, town hall’s alarms reared their deafening screeches, the aforementioned chilly winds blowing in handfuls of leaves to scatter the podiums and the foldout chairs. There’s a lone chair on its side in the middle of the well-kept grassy front courtyard. There’s glass burrowing itself in the dirt, reflecting the golden sun’s light at every which way when you turn your head. 

The other pogues are screaming at him to go, to run, and he’s shocked for a moment. Stood like a deer in headlights at the actions that he took. Who knew how much one boy was capable? All of the destruction that two hands could elicit? 

Oh, and what an empowering thought it is, too: realizing what you are capable of doing when you are pushed to the brink. 

There’s that look in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and takes off into the wood, disappearing like a speck in the small bit of forestry separating town hall from the rest of the downtown area. 

You know what that look means. This is merely the first in his rampage. Fire burns blue in the thin line of his irises, everything else overtaken by adrenaline and fucking rage. 

“Someone has to—” Kie starts, and you realize that you’ve been staring straight ahead at the trees he vanished into, eyes locked on the exact path he took. “Someone has to go, go make sure he’s okay—” 

Sarah’s eyes lock on yours. John B grimaces for a second, like he’s considering it, before he looks at you, too. Kie’s words, albeit vague, had never sounded so directed before. Pope—

Pope is getting tossed against the hood of a cop car, and suddenly, the pogues aren’t looking at you anymore. Their gazes break and shatter away from you like the shards of the window surrounding your feet. 

Your heart is racing. You. Chase him down. And what did they expect you to do? To tell him that this wasn’t him, and to stop while he’s ahead, and to hold his hand and guide him back to safety away from the cops’ sirens and cars that had already broken away from the crowd to hunt for him? 

No. This was JJ, and he wouldn’t stop while he was ahead, and he was going to take the cops on his tail like a challenge to keep going until he cracked — or they did. 

You were the only one that ever understood him, really. That was why their eyes immediately shifted to you when the topic came up that someone had to find him, because even while they wanted to help, they would only drive him further away. Not you. Never you. 

You’re turning on your heel and sprinting before anyone can realize what you’re doing. Not the screaming kooks, demanding lawyers and justice to the unlistening winds. Not the pogues, banging on the remaining cop cars to free him, free Pope, stop this fucking madness— 

It’s like a thin line is painted on the ground between you and JJ. An invisible rope, loose but growing more taut the closer you follow on his tail. 

You follow it. Follow that red string into the trees, letting it tug you along until you break out of the shadowy wood and onto main street. 

A car alarm blares. Glass shards on the trunk of it, surrounding the asphalt around it. You slow to a stop to avoid catching any of those sharp, loose pieces in your shoes. Even now that the imaginary red line has faded, you can see traces of where he went in the path of destruction he made. 

A shop’s window busted a few feet away from the car. A street pole sparking and buzzing lowly, electricity humming through the air like a siren’s song, tempting anyone it came across to touch it. Touch the livewire. 

Just a few feet away, there he is. JJ has an outdoor seating chair in his two hands, and he’s seconds from tossing it through the glass window of the cafe it was in front of. 

“JJ!” You shout, your voice faint beneath the sound of the car alarm, the sparking of the electrical fire, the hum of electricity buzzing all around you. 

His head swivels to look back at you, and he looks fucking vicious. He looks like no matter what you say, he’s not going to stop. Not here. The electricity coming from the dented-in box on the street pole is feeding directly into his veins. 

“Not supposed t’be here,” he calls back, and now that fury is directed at you. As if he ever could have stopped you from following the breadcrumbs he only ever left for you. “Can’t fuckin’ stop me.” 

You crunch glass beneath your feet as you run toward him. It’s too late to do anything about the cafe window; its pieces spill onto the glossy wood floor, some splayed onto the sidewalk. 

“Who said I’d try and stop you?” You ask him once you’re close enough. His hand runs through his mussed blonde hair, tugging the strands straight up. 

His eyes flit to you, eyebrows raised behind the loose strands falling back down over them. “M’not letting you get into this shit, too,” he says just as sternly. “It’s my fuckin’ life I’m ruining.” 

“Why?” you ask him, and it is a genuine question, even though you don’t think he’s going to answer. So you start to spit out your own theories. “Because of your dad? Because of what Luke did?” 

His eyes drop to the ground, squinting like he’s looking for something through the shards surrounding his feet. The bat. The end of it sticks out in front of your shoes. 

You bend down to grab it, holding the hitting end out toward him. His eyes are so dark when they glance at it, and then back up to you. His eyes were always oceanic, but now they seemed to be drowned out by the stormy black clouds that were his pupils. 

JJ’s eyes linger on yours. He’s never really made an effort to read you before, more of a take it on the chin sort of guy when it came to how people were, and what they meant to him. But he studied you now, and it was almost unnerving, trying to guess what exactly he saw reflected back to him. 

His fingers close around the hitting end of the bat in a tight grip, using it to pull you closer to him. He’s holding it out to the side, just so that it can’t go taut and rigid between the two of you, allowing you to be tugged closer than you would have been able to be. 

His breaths come in furious pants, audible once you were close to him. He was a livewire. He was sparking, burning everything he touched, trying to take it all to the ground. 

Destruction was always so pretty when it was at his hands. He did everything with purpose, whether it was for the good of who he cared about, or for his own grievances. 

And this sort of destruction, the kind you saw his eyes fall into once you were close enough to share breaths? It was golden and fiery, and full of promise that would break the thin line between your friendship and something else. 

You knew it in the same way that you knew how to follow that red, invisible line to him. Red because it was a bad idea, a waving red flag, telling you to stop, stop, stop. But it connected the both of you, regardless of its color; so how were you expected to?

“Feelin’ hungry?” JJ asks, voice low and almost sinful with the way that it rasped. 

You don’t mean to balk, but you do. It wasn’t a question you expected him to ask, but the double meaning in it, the innuendo laced words, had you stifling on your own words. “For what?” 

The bat slips from his grip, and it falls to hang loosely at your side. “We broke it, we buy it,” he says with a nod toward the shattered gap in the cafe’s window. “Or… not buy it.” His eyebrows bounce when he looks at you, and he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Did you think I was talkin’ about something else?” 

Your face flushes. Then, you drop the bat to shove at his chest with both hands. “Shut up.” 

“What, you feelin’ all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tryna get some fugitive dick before it’s tossed in the slammer?” 

Your face is hot, the trail of heat from your reddened cheeks traveling like a river stream to your lower stomach. “Shut up, JJ,” you seethe, though it has none of the fire you wish it did. You didn’t know why; you had so much of it running through your blood then that it should have made you sound more fiery than you did. 

“Uh huh,” JJ cackles, his hand lifting to the back of your shoulder, pushing you toward the broken window. Once you’re a few steps ahead of him, his hand claps on your ass. “Andele, andele! Cops on the horizon.” 

It takes every bit of your willpower to not whirl around and smack him back. You don’t, because unfortunately for you, the sting only adds to your stomach becoming molten liquid, and for the other, more pressing matter, of the cops’ lights glowing red and blue at the very end of the street. 

You duck into the hole in the glass, feet crunching down on pieces of glass and debris. He follows immediately after, though when he slips into the building, it’s more stumbling than anything graceful. 

“Head t’the back,” he huffs, nodding toward the push-to-open door behind the front counter. “M’not gettin’ fucking caught before I fuck up that goddamn realtor’s house.” 

Arguing with him is a bit useless. JJ’s never been one to listen to anyone when his mind is set on something. You knew this from the moment that you took off in his direction to find him. Still, you almost open your mouth to make the effort to stop him, so at least you could say you did try. 

He cuts in front of you, stepping around the chair he tossed through the window, hopping over the countertop. He stops when he’s leaned against the door, holding it propped for you. 

“I’d say ladies first, but someone’s takin’ their sweet ass time,” he prods, nodding in gesture to the kitchen. 

You scoff, shaking your head, as you circle around the counter, shoving your shoulder into him when you duck underneath his arm. “Some of us aren’t so akin with vandalism.” 

“Some of us,” JJ mocks, his fingers digging into your ribcage as he falls into step behind you, “need t’lighten the hell up.” 

“I’m sorry, but are the cops not literally outside? End of the road?” It’s useless to humor him and his pestering, but it makes your heart beat a little bit faster, so who are you to make it easier for him and just go along with his ploys? 

He tsks. “Semantics.” His head spins around as he takes in the room surrounding them; typical bakery style kitchen, mixers and cutting boards and ovens, sinks lined up on the back wall. There’s tall fridges and deep freezes on one side of the wall, and parallel to it was— “Aha, there we go.” 

JJ cuts in front of you again, doing a little hop and a skip as he bumps his hip into this new door, tugging the handle down as he opens it. “Pantry, or whatever,” he scoffs, his face twisting up, “doesn’t matter to me what the hell it is. Gonna have to camp out in here, you and I.” 

Of course you were. You’d signed up for this, getting involved in this round of his criminalistic habits, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have the right to be annoyed. Weren’t you lot chased by the police enough as is? 

Still, you step into the pantry, the smell of chocolate chips and something else sugary hitting your nostrils the moment you’re inside. Boxes of ingredients line the shelves, including the ziploc bag of chocolate chips. 

JJ’s snatching it up before you can even process it, diving his hand into it and popping the handful between his plush lips. “Told you. Break it, we bought it.” 

Your eyes roll. Vandalism and theft. Probably a hefty sentence, nothing that either of you could afford with Poguelandia on the brink of destruction and your debts already piled high. 

He zips the bag back up and tosses it back on the shelf. “Walkin’ around like you got a stick up your ass, sweetheart,” JJ muses, his fingers closing around your elbow. “Told y’to relax, didn’t I?”

“No,” you say slowly in response. “You told me to lighten the hell up.” 

One side of his mouth quirks in a half smile, dimple gracing his cheek in the process. “Semantics,” he repeats, and he uses the grip he has on your arm to tug you back into his chest. “I could help you lighten the hell up.” 

“I sincerely doubt it, JJ,” you huff, your expression as unimpressed as one’s could be. “You’re the entire reason—” 

His mouth crashes against yours before you can finish that sentence. His mouth is as soft as it looks, the inner shell of his lips chapped. He tastes like weed, like the taste of it is so familiar in his mouth that it embedded itself into his taste. 

You almost don’t kiss back. It’s one of those things that feels like a bad idea because it is. That pointless rule about no kissing on other pogues went out the window the moment Kie and Pope got their hands on each other, but it still felt wrong, to break one of the rules that cemented the glue that held this group together. 

You kiss him back anyways. The moment that you start to respond to his advances, his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, pushing his way in. He starts walking the both of you backwards, deeper into the pantry, until your back hits the wall. 

JJ’s hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him further in until his chest presses against yours. 

His hands let go of you, the press of his body against yours on the wall and your legs tight around his waist keep you held up. His fingers close around the hem of your dress’s skirt, tugging it up. 

Your eyes pop open, falling down to your exposed panties pressed against his denim jeans. When you glance back up at him, lips still lightly pressed to his, they’re blue again, and glimmery. 

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, stealing another kiss in the process. “Just… tryna get your mind off of—” 

“The manhunt?” You finish for him, and he laughs breathlessly against your mouth. 

“Mm, m’not doing a great job at distracting you, then,” he teases, one of his hands letting go of your dress, the other fisting the fabric as he holds it up. The free hand’s fingers slide down, down, down, until their tips are pressed on the edge of your panties. So close he could probably feel the slickness leaking through the fabric. 

“This all for me, baby?” he asks with that infuriating amusement curled around his words. “Or is it the danger of all this, too? Like bein’ an outlaw with little ol’ me?”

You aren’t even going to dignify him with an answer. Your bottom lip wedges itself between your teeth, your hands curling into fists against the fabric of his shirt. 

His middle finger starts to rub slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your panties, his lips parted like he’s going to say something stupid about the whine that falls from your mouth—

When the sirens get so loud that it echoes around the small pantry. They don’t dissipate, either, which means…

“The door,” you choke out, nodding behind JJ to the pantry door. He’d shut it behind the both of you, but there’s a lock by the top of it, one of those chain link ones. “The lock—” You try to clarify, your brain a bit muddled. 

JJ’s head turns to glance behind him, and you watch his eyes dance up to the chain, too. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Such a damn worrier.” 

“I’m not—” 

Always useless arguing with him. He cuts you off by gripping at your thighs again with his lithe fingers, lifting you off of the wall and tugging you into his chest. 

You grab fistfuls of his shirt so you don’t fall backwards at the sudden movement, your lips curled into a scowl. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. He holds you in his arms as he walks to the door, pressing your back against this one so he can remove one hand from your leg, and lifts it to chain the lock. 

“Better?” he teases, and you’re about to scowl at him again when you watch the smile drop from his lips. 

Just as suddenly as he’d yanked you from the wall, he’s dropping to the ground, your body falling right along with him, knees crashing into the hardwood floors as you land into straddling him. Your mouth opens to gasp, or swear, or gasp and swear, when his fingers close over your lips. 

The cops. You hear them, then, the muffled voices and muddled words. Through the crack beneath the door behind JJ’s planted ass, you see their flashlights, too. 

His eyes meet yours, and he nods once, his expression grim. You blink, and his eyes are again filled with that glimmering mischief that never, in his life, has meant something good. 

And it was truly delinquent of him this time, as his hands drop to the button and fly of his jeans. Your mouth opens and closes in protest, because there’s no way he’s thinking that you two are going to fuck on some cafe’s pantry’s floor with cops right there—

“Oh, get that look offa your face,” he whispers, nosing your chin up and stealing a kiss when you’ve met his eyes again. “As long as you be quiet, what’s the big deal?” 

“You have nothing but awful ideas in that head of yours,” you snap in a low whisper, through your gritted teeth. “I’m not having sex with you right now—” 

JJ’s eyebrows raise. His eyes fall down to your slickened thighs, to the panties beneath the dress pooling his waist that he knows are wet with your arousal. 

“Fuck you.” It’s so pathetic to say, such a weak argument, but it’s the only thing that you can even think right now. Your heart is pounding in your chest with adrenaline and need and the fact that you can feel his hard dick straining in his jeans against your pussy.

JJ tips his head in a nod, his lips still quirked. “Aye aye, captain.” 

He undoes the restraints on his jeans, and his fingers disappear into the flyguard. Your eyes bounce between his face and his hands, his expression contorted in pure concentration that would be adorable if it wasn’t so seriously not. His tongue’s poking between his teeth, panting like an excited puppy, and you just want to—

“Hop on, baby,” he says triumphantly, and those stupid lips curl into an even more stupid grin. His hands pat his thighs to draw your attention downward. 

Fuck.

Your eyes must darken at the sight of him, hard and leaking precum, because he starts cackling like there aren’t police on the other side of the door, trying to cuff him and throw him in the backseat of a police car. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy now, baby, I see how bad you want it.” 

There are rare moments that JJ is right. Broken clocks right twice a day, or something like that. When he’s right, he’s always dead on, and it’s infuriating. 

You glance up at the little window in the door, and for then, at least, it’s clear. No shining flashlights beaming into the pantry you’re both camping in… 

You make bad decisions far less than JJ does. Still, like broken clocks, you both align sometimes. 

Lifting your hips off of his lap, his hands grasp at the backs of your thighs, guiding you onto his waiting cock, slapping it lightly against your pussy a couple of times before he lines himself up and drags the swollen head of it down your folds beneath your panties. He doesn’t give any warning before he pushes himself into you, a hard thrust that brings him all the way to the hilt at once.

Your lips fall open in a sharp gasp, and just barely does his hand make it over your mouth before the moan falls out of your mouth. One hand over your mouth, the other on your ass, guiding you into moving.

“As much as I love that mouth of yours,” JJ groans into your ear, low and rough like the words are being pried out of his lungs and torn through his ribs, “gonna have to keep it down this time.” 

He’s such a fucking hypocrite, though — the moment you adjust to the size of him filling you completely, stretching your inner walls to accommodate to him, and you start to move on your own? His head tips back against the door, guttural moans underneath his breath. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he manages, and you slam down on him again, his hand dragging your hips forward to grind your aching pussy against his pelvis in slow circles. “Oh, fuck, baby—” 

“Shut up,” you muffle through his hand, even though it’s getting to you too, his palm stifling every gasp and breathy whimper before it leaves your parted lips. 

His hand clasps tighter around your mouth, his heavy, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “You’re not the one in control here, baby.” 

It’s easy to forget, with him stretching you out and being relatively gentle right now, that he’s higher than he’s ever been. Adrenaline turns people into carcasses of themselves; wearing them down to the bone, using every scrap of energy available. 

His blown pupils are glimmering with it. He’s daring you with nothing but a look to see what happens when you keep running your mouth. His hand relents its hold on your mouth, and the other stills your hips as you stay suspended halfway down his cock.

The whine you let out is something you’ll deny later. The gravelly laugh he lets out is something that indicates he won’t let you. 

JJ smears his hand across your mouth, taking the saliva from the corner of your lips and spreading it across them, your cheek, before his two fingers slide into your mouth. “Not so bossy now, are you, baby?” he asks under his breath, as he thrusts his fingers in and out, as he slams his hips up in that same relentless pace as them. “Not so bossy when I’m fucking that mouth and that pretty little pussy.” 

His words burn from your lower stomach to up your spine, electric everywhere they reach. You can do nothing but take it, your hands on his shoulders for some sense of stability. 

Each thrust has the tip of his cock against your cervix, has his fingers clawing along your tongue as he presses them down on it just enough to pry your jaw open. 

“Lemme see that smile, sweetheart,” he murmurs, those two fingers spreading out into a V, forcing the corners of your lips up and into a wide grin. You sneer, and all that does is make him pound into you harder. “Don’t act so fuckin’ fussy, you’re gettin’ what you wanted, aren’t ya?” 

His fingers press on your tongue again, and your lips close around them again. It’s a good distraction from the way you want to scream. Not like you’d ever put that thought in his head with his ego. 

JJ slows his pace, but each thrust is just as hard, so deep in you that you can feel each of them, each minute detail; the thick head of his cock against your cervix, every inch that stretches you further with each of those thrusts, the obscene sound in the silent room of skin slapping against skin. 

“Baby, m’not gonna last much longer,” JJ pants into your ear, his voice still as rough but with an air of desperation. “Not like this, not with how fuckin’ good you’re bein’ for me, nice and quiet while I fuck your juicy pussy— fuck, baby.” 

He drags his fingers over your lips again, this time down, down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, your navel, until they’re planted right in the hot wetness of your folds. They find your clit and begin to rub the swollen nub, slow and gentle and completely at odds with the brutal fucking. 

You’re good, though, even without his hand covering your mouth. Even with—

A flashlight beams through the glass window above the both of you. Your eyes glance up to see it, and JJ’s staring at the spotlight of gold in the center of the room, just inches from his extended legs.

It flicks left, right, and you see the glimmer in the eyes of the officer right there, face pressed to the glass, hear the doorknob jangle against the chained lock—

JJ doesn’t stop. His pace becomes quicker, more erratic, more desperate. Your jaw trembles with the effort to keep your parted lips from making any sound at all, the precipice so close that you’re terrified of whatever noise is going to come out of your mouth when you cum. 

The beam from the light swings away, disappearing as the officer walks away, muffled words through the walls separating you and JJ from them. 

It’s just in time, too, because you cum with a soft and breathless gasp, your walls pulsing around his cock, your head falling forward to bury into his collar. His moans begin to shudder in your ear, and you know that he, too, is cumming. Feel it seconds later, when your head starts to clear from the haze of ecstasy, as the warmth of his cum fills you, his cock twitching inside of you. 

JJ lifts his fingers from between your legs and pops them into his mouth, the sound of him sucking the essence of you off of them making your legs tremble around him. “Like fuckin’ sin,” he whispers reverently. 

He’s so pretty like this. All spent and molten, softening cock inside of you like an extension of you now. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing stray hairs off of your face in the process. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, just as reverently as before, voicing the same thoughts you’d been having about him. 

“You’re so stupid,” you say in response, not capable of telling him how much you love him, feeling it to be the wrong time, too cheesy, another thing he’ll tease you about later. 

It’s there, though, on the tip of your tongue. I love you. And you do, so much that it aches. This man that’d been your best friend since you could remember anything. This man who sacrificed everything constantly for everyone. 

He wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything anymore, you wanna say. He could rest now, you wanted to say, too. 

But it feels wrong. And there’s always another time to tell him when it doesn’t just seem like bliss-driven thoughts. There’s always another day.

notes, thoguht my grief was over but the ending made me cry for some reason that's how u know this death hit deep bc why am i crying over like four lines in a Smut pls

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Okay, I am here and present, ready to get right into this, my beloved Sharkie!

I LOVE the way you used Bryn's calling out to Hev as a possible symptom of Targaryen madness, but she just knew that it wasn't. She understood it was the one who in effect made her what she is calling her back again, that compulsion she felt to return to a place she'd never been, but felt intrinsically linked to.

“You were born not of fire but of frost. The world cast you out because it feared what you are. This is not your death, my child, but your real birth.” She spoke with both wisdom, her powerful words resounding with a dreadful, inhumane shriek.

I absolutely adored this part! It gave me goosebumps. From the frost touched upon her father in curse, to there she returned. The only correction I would make - and it's totally up to you if you decide to use it in any other works going forward - is to Bryn's voice. To me as I created her, she is quiet, and mostly only speaks barely above a low, rattling whisper. She doesn't need to exert any volume to her voice, the power is there already in her immortality :) But, this is your interpretation, darling. You write her as you see fit for your story!

Loved seeing Holrine pop up in this, too!!

Heavenerys let out a discreet sigh and as she did no white smoke followed. She frowned. Ah, another fantasy of her new condition, she thought. Maybe she was really dead, after all. Just like her heart had stopped beating, her breath held no warmth anymore. She took a quick look at Kairaxès, her frost dragon, who loomed near her like a wraith, his glowing blue eyes mirroring her own.

This part was so visceral, Hev experiencing all she now is in death, and her beloved dragon still guarding her so closely <3

Heavenerys squinted her glowing eyes, trying to understand what that thing was until the realization hit her fiercely. Her entire body stiffened as she recognized him.

Amos.

MY SQUEAL!!!!

The turmoil you described in Hev as she came face to face with him again was PERFECTLY detailed. I ate up the entire scene like warm cookies fresh from the oven! Brilliant!

Finally, after his cruelty, she receives her justice in all that he did to her. A slave without voice, bending the knee to her rather than the other way around. How very, very fitting!

“He’ll do,” she said, glancing at Bryn, her voice as sharp and adamant as the ice around them. “He’ll do just fine.”

Brynhild smiled.

All men were already dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

SHARKIE THIS WAS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT AND I HAVE CHILLS!!

I really can't put into words how much I enjoyed this! Your writing is just... chef's kiss. Amazing. I have so much love for it!

Notes: Brynhild belongs to @darklydeliciousdesires. Lucy belongs to @mischievouslittlecreature. The Eagle belongs to @cillmequick. Yeah, I had to mention them.

The wind howled Beyond-the-Wall, cutting through the heavy fur cloak that was draped around Heavenerys’ shoulders. Her glowing blue eyes, an unnatural and terrifying inheritance of the curse that had plagued her since birth, burned fiercely in the eternal winter. A scourge the wildest part of the North had cast on Amarys Targaryen and her wife, Pollyanna long ago. For months the lost queen had wandered through Westeros, driven by inner voices she couldn’t explain but felt deep within her bones, rattling against her skull. Prior to her departure, she had entrusted her intelligent cousin Thomaryon with the crown to his greatest regret. His beloved wife and the Queen's dearest friend, Lucy Targaryen, had begged her to come to her senses and stay but the voices were clearly stronger.

They were like whispers. Countless, resounding whispered uttered at the same time.

A pull that she couldn’t resist.

And this time, it wasn’t her madness – no, she had long since abandoned the muttered rumors of her “descent into insanity”, ignoring them to preserve the last bit of self-control she fought to keep. Once a legendary beauty and well-respected ruler, Queen Heavenerys had fled everything after Aerthurys’ death on the battlefield, stating that her crown had been nothing but a bane to her existence.�� What about now? Now, Heavenerys had no crown, barely no family left, save for her beloved dragon and the weight of her own sins and nightmares.

"Hev... Please." Lucy said, holding her hands, but nothing was left for her in Westeros anymore.

Kairaxès slithered through the snow like a frightening ghost, accompanying his tiny human mother. His body, white and blue frost fire, shimmered against the frozen landscape. Even though he had never been there, the beast seemed in his element. His breaths came in low, misty rumbles – the only thing the forsaken Queen could hear besides the wailing wind its lament through the vast frozen desert.

When the voice called again, louder this time, she paused, paralyzed. “My child of winter, you have come home.” It came from behind her. Heaven turned around in one swift movement and caught a glimpse of hundred shadows. Among them, a unique figure rose from the fog as though she had always been part of it. Her dark robes flew behind her in ghostly veils just like the long, black coat of Death. The crushing aura she exuded stopped Heavenerys' breath. The Night Queen was tall, her pale skin luminous in the dim light of the smiling moon crescent above them. When her chilling sapphire eyes fell on the Targaryen beauty, a little smirk crept on her thin lips, her eyes gleaming like the edge of sharp a blade ready to shed blood. Almost immediately, Heavenerys fell on her knees, her strength finally giving way after a long relentless battle against the cold. She was not tired, she was drained. Empty. Already dead inside even before the Night Queen thrusted her sword of ice through her frail body. Hot, red blood came out of the poor Targaryen girl's mouth.

Kairaxès screamed in pain and sorrow, collapsing behind his most precious treasure.

Brynhild the Dead leaned forward, the snow crunching under her bare feet and yet she didn't feel its cold biting at her immortal skin. With a motherly tenderness, the Night Queen grabbed Heavenerys' chin between her bony fingers with her free hand, the other still wrapped around the handle of the weapon that were going through the Lost Queen. Then, she forced her to raise her head until their eyes met. Sapphire diving into the cursed blue fire. Heavenerys shuddered under her touch, the warmth she had once known, the fire of her Targaryen blood, was no more than a distant memory now replaced by a comforting cold. She didn't feel pain. To be fair, she didn't feel anymore besides an unexpected sense of peace.

“You were born not of fire but of frost. The world cast you out because it feared what you are. This is not your death, my child, but your real birth.” She spoke with both wisdom, her powerful words resounding with a dreadful, inhumane shriek.

"Kai-Kairaxès..." Heavenerys stuttered, more worried for her dragon than she was for her own well-being. Death, at last, was tranquil.

“Do not cry, child. Your dragon is a creature of winter’s wrath. He'll be reborn as he was meant to be, just like you." The Night Queen's voice howled with the wind and danced with the mist, like a haunted far away melody that lulled her.  "Do you not see? You belong here.”  Here in the endless frost and in Brynhild’s touch, there was something that finally felt like home.

Heavenerys closed her yes, giving in to the comfortable embrace of both darkness and winter.

The eternal winter stretched out across the desolate land, the ice biting deep into the earth and devouring any trace of warmth. Any trace of life. Standing on the jagged edge of the frozen fortress she woke up in, Heavenerys thought about the tale of the Eagle, a mystical Wildling who, stories told, had managed to tame the cold Beyond-the-Wall. She remembered when Aerthurys told her the tale and how she was fascinated at the mention of her army of furious women enslaving men for their own pleasure. Now that Aerthurys was dead and that she was not in her safe castle in King's Landing anymore, Heavenerys came to wonder if Holerine the Eagle really existed or if she was just a fabricated legend. Nothing could really survive in such a hostile place, devoid of shelter and food. Or nothing that was alive, at least. If Holerine existed, maybe she would have tried to join her -- well, hadn't she been brought here by the Night Queen herself.

 Heavenerys let out a discreet sigh and as she did no white smoke followed. She frowned. Ah, another fantasy of her new condition, she thought. Maybe she was really dead, after all. Just like her heart had stopped beating, her breath held no warmth anymore. She took a quick look at Kairaxès, her frost dragon, who loomed near her like a wraith, his glowing blue eyes mirroring her own. His scaled lover was in his best shape though.  When she opened her eyes, terrified, Bryn told her to rest well and be patient. That she will come to understand her place in this new world soon but that, before,  she had give her something to prove that she had no ill intentions. The Night Queen insisted on having her by her side, and, according to her,  the so-called gift would convince her. It had been days and still nothing.

A sudden shiver ran down her spine. She felt Brynhild presence even before her deep voice, sharp and commanding, called out from the depths of the castle.  The ghastly Queen of the Dead walked to her, her beauty as cruel as hers and her smile... Her damn, charming, and frightening smile colder than the bitter snowstorm that was raging outside, "I promised you a gift, my child," Brynhild exclaimed, her tone laced with a wicked amusement and a tinge of pride, " And I always keep my promises," She waved her hand, commanding her ghouls.

In the span of a brief instant, two scrawny and rotten guards appeared, dragging a figure into the hall. The silhouette they escorted was walking with uncertain steps as if it was a puppet freshly brought to life by some kind of dark magic. It might be tall and imposing in stature, but it was moving with hesitation. Heavenerys squinted her glowing eyes, trying to understand what that thing was until the realization hit her fiercely. Her entire body stiffened as she recognized him.

Amos.

Panic washed over her like rogue waves crashing against the shore in a stormy night.

“This is a trick! You tricked me!” The Targaryen beauty screamed with fury, her body responding almost automatically by stepping back but Brynhild grabbed her by the wrist in a firm and quick movement, keeping her from running away. Her cold fingers wrapped tightly around her skin, which was prickling at her touch.

“Look at him.”

She couldn’t. She fucking could not. “I said, look at him, my child. You have nothing to fear.” Then she obliged, eyes threatening to overflow with tears as she looked at him… Until he was close, and she was calm enough to notice them – the three scars across his face, the lifeless blue of his eyes, and the way his head hung in unnatural submission.

Amos was not the man she remembered – or rather feared. His once-perfect face, now veiled with incomprehension and fear, was marred by three scars that slashed across his skin. Three scars he got from a battle, but which seemed deeper than they usually were, as if someone had reopened them.  Yet, the most troubling change was in his eyes. The void-black and dizzying eyes that used to terrify her and that were still haunting her nightmares were no more. Instead, his iris now gleamed with an unnatural sapphire blue.

“Do you like him better now? He’s yours, my dear.”  For a brief moment, the Night Queen’s voice was all she could hear above the deafening buzzing sound that resounded behind her ears.

With haste, Heavenerys broke free from the deep-seated fear and descended the steps, almost running to him – her heart would have pounded hard in her dead chest if the ice of the North hadn’t completely stopped it. Once she broke the distance between her and the Monster, her small and trembling hands didn’t hesitate to cup his face, “By the Seven Gods…” She whispered as her fingers slowly traced the scars and went on exploring the very face she knew so well she could draw each tiniest detail, each mole, with her eyes closed. The lines under her fingers’ pulp felt so familiar and so different at the same time that it almost made her sick. His beard was rough beneath her fingers, hardened by the ambient frost, while his usually scorching-hot skin was so cold she barely believed it was the same man who used to make her burn by simply brushing her. And yet, the maelstrom of physical reactions only confirmed that it was him.

Her breath hitched, panic surging as memories of his violent fits threatened to overwhelm her. The times he had cornered her, bound her to pain and humiliation. Then came something else: softness. The times he had kissed her forehead goodnight before wrapping her body with his strong arms, or when he laughed at her silly jokes amid a serious conversation.

Amos leaned into her palms, his glowing sapphire eyes glistening more than ever: his facial expression of lost little boy shifted to a mix of deep sorrow and hope, like a frightened kitten that found his mother again. Her eyes fell on his lips, chapped but still perfectly sculpted, parting to say something but only silence met her ears. Closing his mouth almost instantly, he brought one of his strong hands to his throat and looked at Heavenerys again. A single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek, freezing midway as it caught the deadly chill in the air.

“I thought you’d like him better without his vocal cords. I took them out with my own hands.” The Night Queen added, impatiently waiting for the woman’s reaction, “I wanted to fetch Aerthurys’ body, but the man didn’t deserve this fate.”

A storm of emotions surged within her while she lost herself in the contemplation of his face – hatred, guilt, sorrow, and unrelenting love that refused to die no matter how hard Heavenerys had tried.  They all mixed, leaving her more confused than she already was. Suddenly, Amos’ hands twitched at his side, as if he was yearning to reach for her but to scared to do so. He finally overcame it and grabbed her hips gently, oh-so gently he was almost unrecognizable. Even after years and a second wedding, his touch still made her feel weak and she hated it. You have nothing to fear. Bryn’s voice resounded in her head, and she understood: as she dived into his eyes, she could feel the faint whisper of the man he was, now trapped in his cruel mockery of life. At first, a pang of sorrow and guilt cut through her cold heart. She had loved him once—so deeply that the memory still left her breathless. But with that love had come suffering. His obsession had been a prison, his control suffocating, his love more a leash than liberation. And now, here he was, the once-mighty Lord Bolton reduced to this husk of a man, mute, scarred, and utterly devoted.

Amos softly leaned more against one of her palms, rubbing his beard to ask for affection. “He still loves you, you see,” Bryn purred and as she did, she circled them like a predator who had just brought a delicious prey to her cub, “But he will never hurt you again. His voice is gone, his will broken. He is yours to command – your nice and obedient little dog.”  A flash of amusement burnt in her eyes, remembering the cruel Bolton’s tradition he created,  “Much nicer than the hounds he once unleashed on his victims though.”

Heavenerys’ dead heart offered one ultimate beat, coming back to life for just a leap, when Amos pressed his forehead to her, letting the ice of their soul mingle.  “Amos…” She breathed and for a brief moment –  she thought she saw a flick of recognition in his eyes, the ghost of his former self but then it was gone in a blink, swallowed by the abyss.

“You’ve made him a slave.” She stated, quietly. “I have made him a good husband.” The Night Queen corrected; her head tilted with pride while she relinquished on the two lovers embracing each other. “And don’t get fooled by the frost of his skin. I kept everything that was… necessary for him to warm your bed.”

Her throat went dry when he kissed one of her fingers, for her body ignited with a sick, twisted rush that coursed through her: maybe he was a monster, but he was her monster. A monster now tamed and caged.

“Kneel.” She dare to risk, and the broken man knelt at her command, shoulders tensed but eyes still desperately locked in her eyes as if he was desperately waiting for praises. Silent he was. Motionless. Waiting. And for the first time ,she realized the power she had over him The Lost Queen’s lips trembled, then curled – not into a smile but into something far darker. This was justice. He had sought to bend her to his will, to make her his perfect queen, bound only to him. But now the tables had turned. He was the one shackled, the one at her mercy, and the glimmer of pain that shone at the back of his sapphire eyes didn’t fail to stir something in her that was no longer compassion— it was satisfaction. Heavenerys stepped back and Amos looked at her with pain, silently begging her not to break their touch. Even zombified, he was still a needy little boy. Obliging, her hand still lingering on his scarred cheek but this time, it was different. Whatever sorrow she had felt at the sight of him was gone, replaced by a cold certainty. Oh Amos, she thought, this time, you kneel. “He’ll do,” she said, glancing at Bryn, her voice as sharp and adamant as the ice around them. “He’ll do just fine.” Brynhild smiled.

All men were already dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

AU family: @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @cillmequick @novashelby @mischievouslittlecreature @shelbydelrey @wonderlanddreamer @peakyswritings @darklydeliciousdesires @lunarubra @wonderlanddreamer

[bentothuglife]

[nyctoaerah]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Who would've known that the man you spent a night with was the very same man that you're planning to kill? It was a cruel twist of fate, cause as you spent more time with him, you found yourself growing attached-inlove even. But, you ended up knowing the truth about suguru’s death, and the thirst for justice and redemption for Suguru consumed you. The pursuit of absolution drove you to consider any means necessary, even if it meant risking your own well-being, your sanity, your very essence. You were willing to sacrifice everything just to obtain the revenge you so desperately craved, even going as far as to ignore your feelings for Satoru. After all, it doesn't really matter, because Gojo Satoru was yours, he was yours to play with, he was yours to manipulate, and yours to kill, and he’s not complaining about it.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit smut, dub-con (kinda since they’re drunk) overstimulation, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), dirty talk, nasty shit all that. Virginity loss.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Op! Assassin! Suguru's adopted daughter! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This story is the revamped version of my previous fic “Devil in Disguise” it has the same plot, but this one just has a better story flow in my point of view;) also available in Wattpad and Quotev! Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I already posted this, but this time, i extended it and actually posted the full smut;33 Also, random fact; Gojo’s fingers are canonically 6 inches;)

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Next chapter

YOU HAD SOUGHT REFUGE in the confines of a random club, craving the numbness that alcohol promised.

You were hoping that the pulsating music vibrating through your bones and swirling burn of alcohol would drown out the  hollow emptiness you were feeling, you wanted to push all of your thoughts aside—to forget about Suguru’s death.

Just that, all you wanted was to drink and feel the buzz.

So how did you find yourself in this compromising position, your body entwined with a random man whose name you didn’t even knew?

How did you end up on his lap, on his bed, making out with him?

The kiss was feverish, your tongue sliding sensually against his, the taste of his mouth was reminiscent of the tangy sweetness of freshly ripened strawberries, yet there’s also this faint tang of alcohol, a flavor lingering from his previous indulgence, perhaps.

A needy whine escaped your lips as your hips undulated against his, seeking greater friction.

“So impatient...” He mumbled as one of his hands gripped your hip to keep you in place, while the other hiked the fabric of your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare skin to his heated touch.

“Can i?”

You whispered, your voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. His breath hitched as your fingers grazed the silk blindfold covering his eyes. 

“Do as you please pretty girl. I’m all yours.”

You hooked your fingers beneath the bandages and slowly, reverently, lifted it away, revealing eyes half-lidded and swimming with lust.

Long, white lush lashes framed irises the deep, captivating blue of the ocean. Your breath caught in your throat—he looked so exquisitely, devastatingly beautiful without the concealing fabric—He was already pretty with the blindfold on, but gods was he smokin’ hot without it—You’re not sure if you’re just exaggerating things, but fuck, did he looked ethereal.

His snow-white hair tumbled down to veil his face in a curtain, softening the sharp spiky hairstyle he had when he was wearing a blindfold.

You bit your lip, watching as the rounded bump just under the skin in the front of his throat bobs ever so slightly at your intense gaze. A slight flush heats up on his skin, and you touched it, pressing the pads of your fingers on his skin.

You scarcely had a moment to bask in the sight before he took the discarded blindfold from your hand and let it fall to the floor, forgotten.

His mouth explored the sensitive column of your neck, tongue tracing lazy, meandering paths.

You arched into his touch slightly, wanting for more contact, craving the delicious friction that might ease the aching tension coiled low in your belly.

“You sure that this is what you want princess?” His silky baritone caressed your ear as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders.

“I don’t wanna take advantage of you, not when you’re drunk.”

“Mhm.. m’ sure.”

Though the drink had clouded your mind, beneath the shallows of intoxication stirred a deeper craving—something you never felt before, you’re sure that you wanted him.

“I’m not drunk.”

His brows arched in doubt as his hand glides down your spine with practiced care, finding the clasp that holds your dress in place, the clasp yields to his deft fingers, baring your flesh to his exploring gaze.

“Your words say yea, angel, but i don’t want no dubious consent. I want full consent.” 

“No, S’ not dubious, you have my full consent.” you murmur, trailing your hands along his neck, tracing the pulsing vein in it before your hands dipped down and slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Your fingers trace slow circles over his taut abs, feeling the contours of hard muscle and flush skin.    

His body was warm, and quite nice, comforting even.

He shivers at your delicate touch—which you found to be quite cute.

You found his words weird, however—It contrasts with his actions, that’s for sure.

“I want you, okay?” you breathed on his ear, eliciting a visible response upon his flesh as shivers caressed his form. He swallowed with effort, aroused yet wary, cognizant of the libations which dulled your inhibitions as his own.

Satoru was in no means a person who likes alcohol, he hates it, infact, however, he ended up drinking, just in hopes to forget about Suguru.

Very much like you so.

But he didn’t really expected that he would end up having a woman on his lap, not that he’s complaining, ofcourse. You’re quite beautiful after all.

“Hey...It’s still dubious, can be counted as non-consensual too. Cause you’re drunk. I don’t wanna take advantage of you, okay?” He said.

You fixated your gaze on him, a brief moment of silent observation passing between you. His movements, though tinged with a subtle languor, was filled with restraint, that surpassed your own faltering self-control.

“Nope.”

you insist softly.

“I’m not drunk.”

His eyes smolder as he considers your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Your speech is slurred.”

“Nope, S’just an effect from you,” You replied with a lopsided grin.

“You take my breath away.” You mumbled, prompting him to blink owlishly down at you.

“Random as fuck.” He chuckled.

“But, i’ll take it. Just tell me to stop and i’ll stop, yeah?”

Your heart fluttered rapidly at his words, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you swallowed thickly, your throat suddenly felt too tight, too dry.

After all, You hadn’t expected such considerate behavior after everything, such genteel conduct took you aback.

“Safeword?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady.

“hm.. Strawberry?” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“Wait...” you say, craving the taste of his name on your tongue, “I still don’t know your name”

His brow lifts in amusement.

“Would you scream it if i were to tell you?”

You shivered as his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck His lips hovered so tantalizingly close that you could almost feel his ghostly touch against your skin, tempting you to lean into it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave any marks, unless you want me to..?”  His voice was velvety smooth, laced with a hint of lust, causing a flutter in the pit of your stomach.

“Do you want me to?” He murmurs, slowly withdrawing his touch from your skin.

You hesitantly lift your shoulders in response, shrugging.

“Speak, angel, use your words.”

“I’m fine with anything,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

A pleasant hum escaped him. “Good girl.”

You looked at him, pupils dilating slightly.

“You never answered my question though. What’s your name?” you uttered softly, your fingertips caressing the contours of his abdominal musculature in delicate strokes, tracing upwards towards his pectorals. As your hands explored the topography of his torso, drawing sensual patterns across his flesh, his breathing became heavier. He let out a hum of approval, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of his garment and lifting it swiftly over his head in one fluid motion and discarding his shirt on the ground.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes instinctively drawn to the pale line bisecting his torso. The scar was long, yet its texture intrigued you. How did he got it, you wondered.  The scar was long, begining from his throat towards his lower abdomen.

It fascinated you.

You swallowed thickly.

“Can i touch it...?” 

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

Your fingers drifted slowly along its length.

“Satoru,”

“My name is Satoru.” he uttered the name, and for some reasons, each syllable was laced with a familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory, muddling your thoughts with a sense of déjà vu.

But you were too loss in the moment, not even able to think clearly, thus, you were oblivious to the fact that...

He’s the person that you’re planning to assassinate.

“That’s a pretty name,” you breathed, your pulse quickening at his caress.

“I’m pretty sure yours is pretty too.” he replied with a soft smile, his blue eyes staring intensely at yours as his thumb swept slowly along your lower lip, parting them like the velvet petals of a rose. An intoxicating shiver ran through your body at his delicate touch.

“[Name],” You mumble and he sighs.

“Sounds like a good name to groan about.”

He murmured and lifted you off him and lied you amongst the silken pillows, your [H/c] tresses fanned out, forming a vivid halo around your flushed features. His eyes lingered over your form, his tongue swiping on  his lower lip to moisten them.

“Alright, Just say the safeword, and i’ll stop, yeah?” He says, earning a nod from you.

“Speak.”

“M-mnh.. yes”

“Good girl.” He praised softly.

“I’ll do all the work, yeah? Just lay down there like a good girl n’ let me please you.”

Slowly, his lips brushed the skin of your neck, eliciting a sigh from you. his fingertips traced your spine down to the clasp of your bra, and a quiet flick of experient fingers released the barrier, freeing your chest to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful.” He complimented.

His fingertips leisurely caress delicate circles around your nipples, coaxing a delicious ache of pleasure to ignite. He lavishes attentions on one nipple, drawing it into his mouth while his nimble digits continue their expert ministrations on its twin, evoking an unabashed moan to escape your quivering lips.

He lets go off your nipples with a pop.

Starting at the base of your sternum, he planted slow, sensuous kisses, inching ever lower towards regions still untouched. When he reached your stomach, he placed a gentle kiss on your belly button.

Moving away from the bed with graceful precision, he knelt before your quivering form and slid greedy hands along your thighs, grasping your hips to pull you on the edge of the bed, so that his head was completely positioned between your legs. A wanton moan escaped you then as he lifted one leg high, draping it over his broad shoulder.

“Relax, f’me pretty girl.” He said, after noticing how tense your body is.

You watched, enamoured as he pressed a line of searing kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—he looked so pretty while doing that.

He hummed as he saw the dampness in your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathily.

“All we did was kiss, n’ you’re already soakin’ wet.”

His lips traced delicate patterns along your thigh, each fleeting caress like liquid fire on your fevered skin.

Fuck, who would’ve known that he’ll turn you in a whining mess with just his kisses?

Humiliation blooms in your throat as you realized how pathetic you are right now, You clasped a hand over your flushed visage, heart pounding erratically against your ribs.

Satoru seemed displeased with that though.

“Hey, none of ‘that” He scolds.

“Lemme see your pretty face.”

You took a ragged breath, though anticipation swirled within you, nervousness lingered at your edges. But then, this is what you wanted isn’t it?

“I-i don’t wanna.” 

He scoffs and shifted his weight, pressing you further into the pillows.

“Do it.” He says.

You shook your head and he sighs.

“If y’don’t take your hands off your face, i’ll tie you up n’ fuck you till you can’t walk.” 

“ S’ that what you want angel?”

“No..” You sighed, not wanting to get tied up, you slowly curled your fingers away from your flushed face.

“You’re so shameless...” You mumble.

“Yeah, no shame at all. Why would i be shameful of myself when I have a pretty lil’ thing like you under me? All soakin’ wet n’ pretty.”

“Besides... I know you like it anyways,” He mumbled.

Satoru’s tongue, hot and wet, darted out to leave a scorching trail against the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Open your eyes n’ look at me, pretty.”

“I want you to look at me while i eat you out.”

This is so embarrassing and humiliating that it hurts, your throat constricts, his words makes you embarrassed, he was just so blunt, so shameless—he was all so sweet and using romantic words when you’re just kissing.

But fuck, did satoru changed once you gave him your consent, pressin’ you on the sheets like that and saying filthy words.

You reluctantly fluttered your lashes open to meet his stare, laying yourself bare as fingertips ghosted ever higher.

“See? That’s a good girl. Now just lie there princess, let me make you feel good.”

You felt yourself swallowing thickly as he hooked nimble fingers into the lacy edge of your undergarments, sliding the delicate fabric down your legs.

It was slow, agonizingly slow, too slow for your own liking.

Your body suddenly involuntarily jolted as a wave of his scorching breath caressed the intimate flesh between your legs.

“So pretty..” His words were a low murmur, infused with a hunger that made humiliation to bubble up your chest, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t... don’t stare,” you murmur back, feeling self conscious, flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath his intense gaze.

“Don’t stare... S’ making me embarrassed.”

With a devilish smirk dancing on his lips, he gave another teasing lick on your thighs. Satoru wouldn’t lie, he wanted to bite your thigh so bad, sink his teeth on your plush thighs, and leave a mark, but he restrained himself from doing so.

“No, m’not staring love, just... studying, don’t be embarrassed” he murmured almost innocently, his words a stark contrast to the boldness of his actions.

“Besides... You’re so beautiful in here... You just can’t just expect me to not compliment it.” He says.

You shook your head. “It’s not that... It’s just.. i.. i haven’t done this before.” You mumble.

“Haven’t done oral before?” He questioned, watching as your face burned as you shook your head.

“I’m a virgin.” You confirmed.

His sapphire eyes widened at your confession and his throat constricts, adams apple bobbing in his throat.

The revelation caught him off guard, each breath he took feeling like a fleeting gasp of surprise. He had not expected this revelation, not from you. Your actions had spoken of confidence and skill, and, damn, you sure did like a seductress.

His hand twitched, the pads of his fingers pressing on your thighs slightly.

“No wonder you’re so shy...”

He pulled back slightly, a tinge of guilt creeping into his consciousness at the notion of overwhelming you. Aware that his dirty words may be foreign to your ears, he gazes upon you with a mixture of empathy and desire.

“We can stop this if you want.” he offers, his gaze intense and probing.

“Shit no.” you murmur.

“Don’t stop. I want you.” The words escape your lips in a breathy whisper, laden with lust, restraint flickers in his eyes, as he caught his lower lip on his teeth.

“If you say so. I have a thing for popping cherries anyways,” He says with a laugh. 

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as his thumb glided teasingly over your clit.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips at your sensitivity, before he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your heated skin as he kissed your clit.

“Sensitive, are we?” he chuckles softly before dipping down to give your throbbing clit yet another teasing lick, releasing a desperate whimper from your parted lips.

His fingers gently spread apart your folds, his face inches away as his tongue teases your slit, the wet muscles licks the slick trail that has gathered on your pussy, eliciting soft whimpers from you as your body instinctively responds with a slight arching of your hips.

“aah.. hnngh, satoru”  You mewled.

“You taste so good... heavenly even.”

With another tantalizing lick, he savors the exquisite taste of your arousal. His hungry mouth then latches onto your pulsating clit, sucking on it gently. Moans escaped your parted lips as you clutch onto the sheets.

He devoured you as if starved, his hunger palpable in each expert lick and fervent suck, transforming you into a feast he couldn’t devour quickly enough—Your moans were like delicious music to his ears, and fuck, did it it make him hard. He whines, grinding against the edge of the bed, seeking friction.

“I can just eat you out everyday and not get tired of it...” he moaned shamelessly, his voice slightly muffled as your hips bucked involuntarily, a whimper of pleasure escaping your lips.

“Love your taste so much.”

Satoru’s tongue moved skillfully around your clit, softly brushing against it to send shivers down your spine. With deliberate movements, he gently licked it in distinct patterns, exploring your most sensitive spots.  

His fingers grip tightly onto your hip, while he eagerly indulges in pleasuring and sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing a titillating sensation that makes your inner muscles contract and a surge of euphoria creates a swirling sensation in your stomach.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” satoru whispers, his words muffled by his persistent oral ministrations. As he continues to pleasure you with unwavering determination, the pleasure he evokes from within you cannot be contained, escaping your lips in the form of unrestrained moans. The pleasure becomes so overwhelming that it threatens to engulf your vision, as though a curtain of stars is poised to blind you from the outside world.  

“Fuck, Satoru, i-i’m.. haaah..” You panted, thighs shaking as your insides contracts, a tingling sensation radiating on your body.

“I know. C’mon. Cum for me, angel. Lemme taste you on my tongue,”

You let out a deep moan, succumbing to the intense climax as you cum hard. Radiating satisfaction, satoru hummed contentedly while skillfully lapping up every trace of your released essence.

“You taste like heaven itself, just like i thought...” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, as he withdrew from your pussy and stood up and pressed his lips against yours. The taste of your own cum lingered on his mouth, intoxicating and arousing, causing you to moan in pleasure before surrendering to his passionate kiss. 

As the two of you kissed, his touch ventured lower, his hand finding its way to your puffy clit again, rubbing it, prompting a chorus of moans from you.

Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger probing your hole gathering your slick before slowly pushing inside.

“Breathe.” He whispers.

“Hngnh, Satoru.” You whined on his mouth as he added another, his fingers were so long and thick, filling you so deliciously. The sensation of his fingers stretching you from within was intense and slightly painful, yet somehow enjoyable in its own way. 

“You’re so tight, you gotta relax n’ let me in.”

You bit his tongue, causing him to let out a low moan.

“There..  you gotta adjust.. that’s it, good girl.” He murmurs, whispering sweet nothings into you.

Satoru’s cock throbbed painfully beneath his straining trousers, yet he focused solely on pleasuring you, expertly thrusting his fingers in and out of you. When he grazed upon a certain tender zone, an eyebrow arched knowingly as your riven flesh clenched tightly around his digits as he pulled away for a bit.

“Ahn.. hnn please,” You panted.

“Oh?” He purred slyly.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” He murmured, once more curling his finger upwards and pressing that spot within your pussy, drawing forth a lustrous moan as your arched your velvet back in pleasure.   

“You tightened around me, did i hit a good spot?”

“this is where you’re weak, isn’t it?” His digits thrust rhythmically into your inner sanctum, coaxing ever more ardent moans of euphoria from your lips.

“How cute.”

A molten pool of desire gathered low in your belly, waves of euphoria washing over your trembling frame.  

Satoru bit his lip as his hand slid stealthily down within his own constrained trousers, swiftly freeing his engorged member to pump smoothly within his curled fingers.

His thumb smeared the precum that was leaking on the tip, using it as a lube to slowly jerk off.

“Aahh... Fuck..” he moaned gutturally, his fingers, still buried deep within your moisture-slicked cunt, he withdrew his fingers sluggishly and raised it languidly to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste your essence.

“C’mere.” he says, sitting upright and patting his lap

His voice was ragged with want as he beckoned you closer. You rose from the rumpled bedsheets and moved to him, sitting on his lap, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed your naked form.

“Kiss me.” He commands.

You immediately kissed him, the taste of your essence still upon his mouth, and it made butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His cock pressed against your skin as he stroked himself.

“haah... Feel that princess? ’m so hard for you”

Breaking the kiss, you gazed down at satoru, drinking in his beauty as your fingers traced the lines of his chiselled abdomen, following each dip and swell. Your mouth followed the path of your hand, pressing feathery kisses along the scar that he had, revelling in each hitch of his breath and twitch of muscle beneath your ministrations. 

Your gaze then lingered on his cock, admiring its size and girth. The tip was flushed red with arousal, and it twitched at your gaze, you pushed his hand away from it.

He seemed to be surprised at that—yet didn’t make a move to stop you.

“Ah, Ah? Did i told you that you can touch me?” He teased.

You nipped on your lower lip, as you tentatively wrapped your hand around his shaft, marveling at its sheer thickness that challenged your grip.

“No... But i wanted to touch you.” You mumbled, You ache for deeper intimacy, craving the solace of flesh against flesh in your drunken haze. 

“Mmnh.. maybe if you’re really that desperate... Maybe i should just give it to you, hm?”

“Tell me what you want.” he says, his fingers entwining in your hair, tugging gently to lift your gaze to his. A moan escapes you.

“You,” you manage to breathe out, the craving evident in your eyes. His eyebrow quirks.

“Be specific.”  he murmurs, his tone commanding and seductive.

“I wanna please you too,” you confess, your words laced with need—all the shyness from before leaving you, only lust remains. He exhales heavily, releasing his hold on your hair.

“So eager to please aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He hums.

“Go on. Suck me off, show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

As you followed his command, you delicately bent down and rested your head on his cock. Extending your tongue, you dragged the flat of your tongue and traced the vein that prominently bulged on the underside of his dick.

Your tongue slowly traced a path up his shaft, moving towards the tip. With anticipation, you opened your mouth to take him in, feeling a bit of discomfort as you adjusted to his size. It took some time for your jaw to accommodate the width of his girth as his tip brushed against the back of your throat. 

You looked only to see that he was only half way in, and shit, you just realized how much he’s gonna hurt your throat.

 “Ngh.. you gotta relax your throat if you want to take me in your mouth.” he moans, sensing your discomfort as you struggle not to gag. Following his instruction, you comply, feeling Satoru's sharp intake of breath as he nips his lip in pleasure.

Despite the sensation being pleasing, it's clear that he craves more.

“C’mon angel, take me deeper.” he urges softly, his fingers entangling on your [H/c] locks, his gaze fixated on your hollowed cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of your tears only serves to fuel his desire to push himself further into your mouth, relishing the idea of watching you Choke on him. The thought of you looking so enticing in that vulnerable state drives him to actually thrust himself deeper down your throat. 

Satoru thrusts upwards, causing your throat to constrict as you struggled to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks and saliva dripped onto his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs.

“That’s it,” he uttered with a sensual groan, his eyes half-closed as he guided your head to move back and forth on his dick. He licked his lips, observing you as you found it difficult to deepthroat him.

He hummed contentedly, the room filled with nasty squelching sounds. He savored the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock like a vice.

Such a poor thing, he thought, feeling your fingers dig into his thighs.  He ran his fingers through your [H/c] tresses before slowly withdrawing from your mouth with an audible pop, a strand of viscous fluid on your lips cheeks flushed and eyes dewy.

“That’s enough, i don’t want you vomitting on my dick.”

Gingerly, he swept the disheveled locks from your face and captured your lips once more, not giving you a time to recover, humming as he tasted himself on you. When at last you broke for air, chests heaving in unison, he met your hooded gaze with a glint of intrigue.

“You suck at this.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his strong hands found your waist.

“M’ sorry,”  

You shuddered involuntarily as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your neck, eliciting a chill that radiated through your trembling form. Soft whimpers escaped your quivering lips.

“Shhh..” he cooed in a velvet tenor, his palm softly gliding along your side before his digits pressed deeply into the plush of your ass. A small gasp passed through your slightly parted mouth at the fervent sensation of his fingernails gingerly clawing your supple skin. 

“I know that y’wanna please me.”

“But there is no need to overexert yourself,” he said as if he wasn’t the one who practically shoved your face down on his dick.

“I enjoyed it,”

“D-did you?” you inquired.

“Fuck yes, your throat’s squeezin’ me so tight n’ it feels good.” 

A swelling sensation arose within your thorax as elation is in your throat, though an acute pain seized your esophagus. Your larynx felt inflamed and raw, as if scoured by sandpaper. But despite the troubles afflicting your throat, you had performed admirably based on his praise, you felt proud.

“Maybe i should reward you for bein’ so good?” he purrs, his hand sliding from your stomach down to your lower abdomen, a low hum escaping his lips as he plunges his fingers into your hole. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, pressing against your g-spot and stretching you again. As moments pass, he withdraws his fingers, your slick coating them entirely.

“I think you’re more than ready.”

“Let’s get you on top, yeah?” he says lifting your form to straddle his hard cock.

He reveled in the sight of you nestled against his towering frame, a delicate contrast to his strong physique. Each ragged gasp you drew in, every flush on your face, and the smudged remnants of makeup only served to enhance your allure in his eyes.

“C’mon, take me in.” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just hold onto me”

Your response was a subtle bite to your lower lip, a silent surrender as you obediently placed your trembling hand on his firm neck, burying your heated countenance in the sanctuary of his shoulder.

“Hm...”

He hoists you up slightly, his firm hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs. The tip of his arousal brushes against your clit, eliciting a fervent sigh as you inadvertently dig your nails into his muscular back.

“Ready?”

A soft whimper escapes your parted lips as he slowly eases into you, the initial entrance is a searing burn, it burns deliciously as he splits you open.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, the searing sensation reverberating through you as his cock pressed against your cervix with a tantalizing ache. “Relax, let me in.” his whispered command brushed against your nape, his lips trailing kisses as his fingers drew deliberate circles upon your quivering skin.

“It’s... it's too much,” you gasped, the overwhelming fullness causing you to scrabble at his back, your nails digging into flesh as you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes.

“T-too much, ‘Toru, please,” You writhe

“C’mon, You can handle it,” He remained motionless, allowing you the space to acclimate to the invasion, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he urged you to yield.

“Relax, pretty, let me in.” 

Your head swims with a dizzying blend of pleasure as you feel him deep inside you, his hand venturing downward to circle and massage your clit. Gradually, you begin to acclimate And he exhales in pleasure  as he revels in the tight clench of your walls around him, the exquisite sensation coiling through him.

 “Do you feel that?”

“You’re taking it so well,” he groans.

“It fits so perfectly well isn’t it? It’s like you were made for me.” he whispered.

“Alrighty, time to move okay ? Put your back into it.” he gripped your hips firmly, he guides your body to ebb and flow along his dick. 

“Up, down.”

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan as you felt the heat of his rigid cock gliding inside of you . His hips bucked, setting a quickened pace that had your breath hitching in pure ecstasy. Your eyes fluttered shut as each powerful thrust hit that sweet spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru” You whined his name.

 “Pl-please," you gasped, your voice laced with need, as you instinctively dug your nails into his muscular back, raking them down with a delicious sting.

“I need… I need you to… kiss me,” you managed to murmur. 

“You want me in your mouth too, hm?” He teased before pressing his lips against yours, your teeths clashing together.

“Fuckk, that’s it...”

His soft expletive escaped his lips as he reluctantly withdrew from the intoxicating embrace of your mouth. His hands slid down the curves of your waist, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving rhythmically within you.

“Your lips taste like ambrosia,”  he murmured, his words accompanied by the clenching of your inner muscles around him.

Fuck, he was drunk in your sounds, drunk in the way you feel, you were just so heavenly.

“C’mon, cum. I know you want to.” he coaxed, a low moan escaping him as he felt your body shudder in ecstasy, tightening around him as you cum hard.

The sensation of your climax sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his own release building rapidly. His abdominal muscles clenched as he inhaled sharply, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him.

“Fuck.. can I... inside?”  he asked in a whimpery voice, seeking your permission in a breathless whisper. You, lost in a haze of pleasure, simply nodded in acquiescence. With a guttural groan, he emptied himself into you.

Even as he already released, his pace did not falter, fucking you as if you’re his little human fleshlight. His grip on your waist tightened as he deftly shifted your positions, swiftly flipping you over so that you were beneath him.

“Let’s go for another.”

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

Your respiration came in uneven gasps as your tongue lolled delicately from your mouth. Your visage was flushed a deep scarlet and a sheen of perspiration coated your form. Your gaze, though half-lidded with lust, remained trained attentively upon him. Situated backwards upon his lap, your legs were parted widely as he nestled his face against your scapular region. Your hands clung desperately to his  biceps.

One of his hands rested upon the slender column of your throat, while the other rests on your chest, playing with your nipples. His cock thrusts rhythmically into your inner sanctum the tip of his dick kissing your pretty little cervix, coaxing ever more ardent melodies of euphoria from your lips.

His hand slid down your body, a subtle pressure teasing the soft curve of your abdomen as he pressed against the small bulge on her abdomen.

“Haah... Fuck.. you feel me in there pretty? M’ so deep in you.”

He let out a low moan, his grip tightening around your hip as he intensified his rhythm.  

Satoru’s respiration was labored, eyelids weighed down as his lips caressed your shoulders delicately. Crimson marks peppered your skin where his mouth had wandered voraciously. Your back met his chest in a slow slide,  your skin kissing his.

The sound of heavy breathing, moans, and skin slapping against each other vibrated through the room.

Your thighs ached dully and muscles sore from prior exultations.

“mnhh.. ‘Toruu, please,” You mewled, squirming.

“M’ tired already, Please... S’ too much.”

You two have been going on it for some quite time now, how many times did he made you cum again? Was it six times? You can distinctly recall experiencing orgasm twice from his tongue, once from his fingers, and three times from his cock. The sensation of being stretched caused considerable discomfort, even though he took the time to prepare you, it still stung.

“Mnh.. my poor angel is tired, huh?” satoru uttered in a mellifluous tone, tracing the swirling contours of your auricle with the tip of his tongue before affixing an ardent kiss on the pulsing carotid beneath. 

“Don’t worry.” Satoru says.

“I’ll take care of you after this... So, just be a good girl and take it all, okay?”

Satoru had already become enraptured in the way you tasted and sounded, drunk on the melodic chorus of gasps and moans that spilled wantonly from you. Though sobriety had returned to claim his clarity of mind once more, for you intoxication still lingered and he knew it.

He wanted to stop, but how could he? You were squeezin’ and taking him so good and deep, and he just needed this release after the suguru incident after all.

He was having too much fun in splitting you in half after all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHORS NOTE:

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS SJKSKSJS, fun fact; i’m an asexual virgin. It's so funny writing this HAHHAHAHA, i literally CACKLED when i was writing “pussy, cunt, cock,” AHHSHSHAH MY IMMATURITY COULD NEVER😭 I WOULD KMS IF I EVER ADDED BALLS.💀

[lazycats-stuff]

hi I love your posts and I wanted to ask if you could do batfamily x newest batbro who was created to be a weapon and when bruce saves him and makes him have a childhood he couldn't make choices like the demon slayer kanao please

Hi! I'm glad you like my posts. I would like to state that I have never watched Demon Slayer, but I went on Demon Slayer wiki to get some info, so if there are some incorrect details, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) never had a choice. Bruce decides to change that.

Warnings: pure abuse, (Y/N) is a weapon for his father, Bruce and the boys are giving (Y/N) a new childhood, (Y/N) is slowly getting accustomed to his new life, (Y/N) trying new things...

In life, you often don't have a choice where you end up and who your parents are. You often don't have a choice. (Y/N) didn't have a choice. A life full of violence and overall dear and submission. Even the slightest sound of fear or pain could get you in trouble.

He has been training with the others ever since he could remember. As far as he knew, he was in a program that created weapons. Human weapons to be more precise. The program's enemy?

The Justice League.

He is the only survivor of the program's regime and training. There were kids with him too, but they were just weak. (Y/N) remembered one morning where they were all blue and just cold to the touch. (Y/N) had no reaction to it.

Why would he?

And reaction will get him beaten and maybe drowned as a form of punishment. Well, not a maybe, it's a sure for drowning. (Y/N) often thought to himself that they had a list full of punishments. He wouldn't be surprised.

He rarely got punished, because he has learnt what will happen when he decided to fight back. He shuddered every time he has remembered the punishment he got the first time he tried to fight back.

It's better if he doesn't remember.

That punishment broke him. Whatever he was before that punishment, he wasn't anymore. He became a shell of himself, allowing them to break him in and build him back up again, just like they all wanted.

Who was behind the project, he didn't know. But did it matter anyway? He is going to stay in the program for the rest of his life or rather until he is alive.

There was time when he thought he was going to die. Oddly enough, he didn't hope to die that day. (Y/N) never thought about killing himself.

They broke his spirit and soul and yet again put him back together.

Now that was something that only truly bad people can do. (Y/N) accepted it. He couldn't do anything else, could he? If he escaped they would have tracked him down and he would be dead for sure. (Y/N) accepted his fate, not knowing that the Justice League caught wind of this program and were ready to just take them all down.

On a mission gone wrong (Y/N) was caught by Batman and for the first time ever, (Y/N) became afraid. He didn't show any type fear, but deep down he wanted to hide.

He heard stories about Batman and how he works. Not to mention his kids... Especially Robin. (Y/N) knew who Ra's al Ghul was and how ruthless his assassins are. Robin is no different.

(Y/N) remembers waking up in a cell, a warm blanket over him. He doesn't remember having a blanket back in the program. A sheet would be pure mercy and some sort of heating?

A pure miracle.

(Y/N) remembers sitting up, confused as to why his enemies are treating him better than his own handlers. But that could be a ploy to get him to talk. Instead of torturing, he would get treated nicely.

Not happening.

(Y/N) rubbed his eyes as he stood up, moving closer to the glass panels. Well, they seemed like glass, but they are strong. (Y/N) looked for a way out, but had none.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he sat back down. Oh this is just great. There is no way out and he is going to get tortured. He closed his eyes as he mentally prepared himself.

He opened them when he heard somebody coming. It was Batman himself, standing in all of his glory.

" I'm not going to talk. " (Y/N) declared and Batman simply took a chair and sat down.

" You don't have to (Y/N). I have all the information that I need my other heroes are going after the person running it. In a few hours the program will be gone and forgotten in history. " Batman declared and (Y/N) was shocked to say the least.

" What? " (Y/N) asked as he couldn't contain his surprise.

" Yes. Soon enough no one will remember the program. After knowing what they do to children, I am more than satisfied. Now there is a question as to what to do with you. " Batman said and (Y/N)'s interest got peaked.

What is that supposed to mean?

" You won't be able to function if you are let in the real life. Now, the other course of action is for you to live with someone. I have decided to take you in. " Batman said and (Y/N) was shocked.

" No. " (Y/N) said quickly. Not happening.

" Yes. You will have to stay here for a few more days until a few things are clarified and set. " Batman said as he stood up. (Y/N) watched him leave.

Oh God.

(Y/N) had to sit back down. He really did. The program will be dead in just a few hours...

Is this what freedom tastes and feels like?

And to stay with Batman, one of the people who made the League, his enemy... (Y/N) shook his head as he laid down. This few minutes are a rollercoaster of emotions and it's just something that (Y/N) didn't feel in a very long time.

(Y/N) is usually a few steps ahead of his targets and there was nothing that could surprise him. But now? He wasn't in control anymore, not that he was anyway, but when he was in the field, he had a certain degree of control.

Now he was stripped from any type of control and any sense of comfort was gone. Having control, a little degree, was comforting enough to (Y/N).

But now, everything was gone. The life he knew was gone.

(Y/N) came to live in the manor a few days later, the boys knowing exactly who he was and what has happened with him. Bruce told them to be nice and tone down everything until he got comfortable. Alfred agreed, knowing that (Y/N) had to be afraid of the change.

Now, Bruce and Alfred had agreed on one thing. And that was something called a choice. Alfred and Bruce gave him his first choice when he was allowed to choose his room. (Y/N) was confused as to how he could choose.

It's just a room, why would it matter? Although, (Y/N) did choose in the end a view with the front of the house. The reason was of strategic reasons, (Y/N) has said and Bruce and Alfred are just fine with that.

It's a step in the right direction.

Jason came by a little bit later, helping him choose some of Jason's old clothing. That was a temporary solution. When (Y/N) slowly got accustomed to the new life, they would go to buy some more clothes.

(Y/N) was slowly slow in picking, but Jason didn't mind. He waited patiently, even offering some of his own advice. Which color is good for his eyes, what would be comfortable to wear around the house... Everything he could think off.

(Y/N) was still suspicious and didn't trust anyone in the house. He didn't like how everyone was pretending to be nice to him. Just be pissed at him and what not. That would make (Y/N) feel better.

Not this.

Dick often asked him if he wanted to learn something about gymnastics, showing him what he could do. (Y/N) was impressed, but has said that those just your average moves in gymnastics. For the record, those weren't any type of average moves. Those were just some of the most awesome moves that (Y/N) has ever seen.

Of course, (Y/N) would never admit it, but still. He can think to himself that is cool. Since that he wasn't really trained in gymnastics, he wanted to do it. It looked like flying and like a test of strength.

Tim was just there helping him with TV shows. Every now and them, he would just take a break from working on cases and working overall and that was broken by watching different TV shows or cartoons, depending on what he finds. That break thing was put there by Bruce and Alfred enforced it.

You don't want to piss Alfred off.

(Y/N) found himself in the living room by accident and was interested by the fact that Tim was watching cartoons. Tim invited him and (Y/N) sat down on the far end of the couch. Tim started the original Snow White from the beginning and and (Y/N) was in love with the cartoons.

Of course he told Tim it was stupid and a waste of time. Tim didn't say anything, instead quietly gathered them on an USB when they were done and when Tim was in his room, simply leaving the USB in (Y/N)'s room subtly.

(Y/N) and Tim never spoke of it again.

Damian has started showing (Y/N) his favorite books, saying that he is the only one who is intelligent in this household. Of course, Alfred is an exemption to that rule. (Y/N) had to unwillingly admit that he didn't read any books when he was growing up.

Damian already knew the answer, but didn't push it or show the signs of knowing. He just got a stack from the library and showed him a couch where he could lay and read. (Y/N) took the books and started reading it.

It has become a nightly thing for both of them, just reading in silence, normally drinking something during it. The two don't really speak about it, they just hang out and that is just about it. It brought them together silently.

Alfred was teaching him how to cook. He started with some simple recipes and slowly moved on to more complex recipes. Alfred saw that he was a fast learner and the two were often found together cooking and just experimenting in the kitchen.

And Bruce?

He helped him with just socializing outside of the house. It has started with just other superheroes and it soon turned into full on sessions to speak. (Y/N) was slowly getting more comfortable and Black Canary was helping him out with therapy. He was against it at first, but has decided to confront his demons.

Slowly but surely, he is getting more and more comfortable and slowly started discovering his personality. Black Canary has even given a green light for (Y/N) to go to school with his peers and Bruce was all for it too. (Y/N) was nervous with the sheer suggestion and they understood.

After a few days of just thinking about it, (Y/N) has decided to go to school. It was a breath of fresh air for him, but slightly overwhelming. His eyes, trained to over analyze everything that could be a possible threat, were analyzing everything and everyone. He met a few people and Bruce was happy to hear it.

Bruce has hoped that one day he would get friends, but hey, one step at the time. Soon, (Y/N) was comfortable with physical affection such as hugs. He liked to receive hugs, especially from Bruce. Although, he is still shy about saying it outright.

Bruce didn't mind, he could see it when he wanted it and just gave him a hug. He always asked him beforehand of course. (Y/N) always had a choice and Bruce would always make sure he knew that. Always.

Soon, (Y/N) became a new vigilante, under a new name, under a new symbol. Bruce was more than proud of his son. Yes, his son. He officially adopted him and waited until his birthday to show him the adoption papers. (Y/N) cried that time in front of everyone. It was from pure happiness of course and he hugged his father, brothers and grandfather by default.

Of course, (Y/N) raised the question of how to call him. Dad? Bruce? Or just plain B?

Bruce said that everything is fine. He didn't expect that he would get called dad. Everyone shared a group hug, showing that (Y/N) he finally has a family that he could rely on. It was an emotional moment for everyone, especially for (Y/N).

After it was said and done, the cheesecake was shared amongst everyone and the celebration went well into the night. Considering that they had no neighbors so there was no complaints on that part. (Y/N) was finally happy in his life.

He finally had choices. People he could rely on. A place he could call home. But more importantly, he is happy. For the first time ever.

[storiesfromafan]

Easy On My Eyes - Benny x Reader

A/N: I decided to turn All I Dream Of into a series (?), as I wanted to do Benny seeing the reader for the first time. Also I have a few other idea's, which I am interested in exploring.

I know, so much Benny haha. But I will say I might have a Feyd series in the works...just not sure I can do his character justice. Were as so many stories on here I have read, and they are amazing!

Tag List: @psychocitylights @wavyjassy

She was all that I could see

She was all that was in front of me

Try to climb the mountain peaks

What if I only ever reach the sea?

Would you stay awake and wait for me?

-Easy On My Eyes by Stephen Sanchez

Benny never had an issue with women. They were always happy to flirt and be on the back of his bike. But when it came to his attention, when they didn't get it as much as they wanted, those women would loose it. And eventually they would walk away from him. Always wanting to change Benny, wanting him to be a person he wasn’t.

Benny doesn't ask nobody for nothing. And he doesn't want nothing from nobody. It's not him, never will be. Yet the one thing he wanted was someone who accepts him, all of him. And at times it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Then there was you. A quiet, sweet little thing, Benny had thought when he first saw you.

It had been a warm spring afternoon. He'd pulled up by the curb of the large park in town, his bike seeming to be playing up. Shutting it off, Benny decided to let it sit for a while and hopefully he could get it to Cal. So there he was, leaning against his bike and having a cigarette. The looks he was getting weren't the warmest.

The next time Benny looked up and around he noticed you, walking next to an older woman, who he guessed to be your mother. The pair of you were carrying a few shopping bags, that was when Benny took in your uniform. And it told him you worked at the grocery shop that you both must have come from. The pastel green and blue dress looked good against your complexion, and your hair was pulled up in a ponytail with a few hairs that had come loose framing your face. You must have been working when your mother went in to do some shopping, making you help with getting the groceries home after you were finished work.

Your mother looked to be the one doing all the talking, while you had a look of boredom on your face. You weren’t afraid to show that side. Most women were brought up to always be poised, proper and wear a warm expression on their face. It was an act, a mask that mothers taught their daughters to do. Young women were expected to be perfect ladies. Yet you might look perfect, your bored expression told otherwise. It was a breath of fresh air to Benny.

When you walked past him, your mother looked to Benny before turning away in fear. Nothing new for him. Yet when you looked to him, your expression was blank. But in your eyes, for a brief moment, Benny thought he saw a spark of intrigue. Not to mention that you stared at him longer then most girls would. Then you had passed him. Benny watching the back of you, and your mother, as you walked on. But then he saw you look back at him over your shoulder for a moment.

That was it. From that moment on Benny knew he wanted to know you. And he had told himself every time you were near that he would talk to you. But something would always stop him from doing so. Call it nerves or being self conscious, but Benny would always falter. And then when his chance was lost, he’d kick himself over it.

So when you were leaving the diner, and a few of the other Vandals were making fun of you. That was it for Benny. He got defensive for you. A quiet woman who didn’t seem to speak up for herself. So it was his job to do it for you. And the surprised look upon your face, looking at him had been worth speaking up. Until you got scared and took off.

The guys who’d been teasing you then turned it on him. Laughing and saying he’d scared you off, how afraid of him you were. And Benny thought they were probably right. Yet he could of sworn he saw hope on your face. So he wasn’t ruling you out just yet. Benny was more determined now to speak to you, to learn more about you.

For the first time in a while Benny had something to chase after. And he wasn’t going to give up, or let it go.

[juaneloriginal]

Hiiiii

@shy-blue-waters im sorry for tagging you again, i know u already saw it but seriously he is so cute 😭

@bullpup-blog he got lost, sorry i took my eyes off him for one second- also i feel like the narrator will try his best to keep his hair in place but somehow it will always go back to the same spot lol

@limelemonleaf your Stanley is so handsome omg 😭😭😭😭 my drawings do no justice to his beauty. my brain lagged in the middle of drawing him phun phact.

@mariade11art bro doesn't know he isn't leaving. ALSO YOU DRAW HIM SO SILLY I LOVE IT, he is so cute 😭, tried to replicate it a little, im not sure if it turned out great-

@tsp-art-stuff-cat i have no clue why i went SO FUCKING HARD with yours, i like learned how to render mid drawing and this came out, i love how it turned out and i really love your tk design so i'm not complaining :3, kinda looks like he is about to kill u

@aiberry just know i'm not done with him, i love him so so much i want to throw him out a window and watch him fall in slow motion/aff

@lexumpysfunland bro is majestic, they glow, i have no clue why i made them green but there they are :3 also i feel like your tk in a way works like a lava lamp

aaaaaand yeah thats NOT it, i just have a ton of exams next week and i have to study (specifically math), DONT WORRY i will still draw the others :3 -- rick-ety im looking at your stanley -- honestly i feel like my drawings weren't that good this time, i'll try to make it better with the rest of the drawings :3

anyways bye :3

[gatorbites-imagines]

*slides a stan buck across the table* can we get more hal and czarnian reader? asking for a client. perchance, hal gets called to come deal with you? but my client doesn't care, you can do what you want with it.

-LB

Hal Jordan x Czarnian red lantern male reader

Headcanons

Clapping my hands and jumping up and down thinking about Hal with a big buff guy. This can be read as stand-alone, or as something connected to my kinktober prompt that this was based on.

After that one time (what happened in the kinktober prompt), Hal follows his plan to… check up on you on the regular. Totally just to make sure your movements are reported, and not cuz he wants his insides rearranged in the best way possible again.

The other green lanterns and the corps they work with, take notice of how you seem more aggregable when Hal Is sent to deal with you, since they can’t kill you or anything, and containing you is very hard work.

In the beginning other green lanterns are super worried about Hal being sent to deal with you alone, until he comes back successful from these missions. Thanks to lanterns flying, they don’t see how badly he’s limping after these meetups.

The few times other lanterns are around, they do notice how you seem to flirt with Hal, in your own Czarnian way, which means manhandling him into less child friendly positions as you growl at him and bite at his neck and shoulders.

Guy probably cracks a joke about how you guys are probably fucking, until someone actually catches you two going at it.

They haven’t heard from Hal for a while, so they send someone to check on him, only to see him twisted into a pretzel in your big muscular arms, tongue hanging out of his mouth and his eyes rolled all the way back into his head, as you lift him up and down like some kind of toy.

They worry for a second that it might be forced, until you slow down with a teasing feral grin on your face, grin only growing when Hal starts begging in a slurred ruined voice for you to start moving again.

The lantern that was sent to check on him returns back to the rest of the corps and just sheepishly tells people that Hal is fine, and has apparently found a… less violent method to calm your rage.

They can’t look at Hal the same after that when he flies off to “check” on you again, cuz they just know he’s going off to hit up a dick appointment.

Your… so called friendship with Hal, also means you could probably be called in by the justice league if they need it. You wouldn’t work with the green lantern corps, or others outside of red on principle, but if Hal asks nicely you can rock up to beat Lobo’s ass.

You and Lobo get along most days though, so you’ll just chase him off, so you aren’t really the best method against your fellow Czarnian.

The only time you actually hurt him bad enough that he needed to flee was after he targeted Hal for one reason or a another. Next time you two meet up for drinks he ends up figuring out that you and Hal kinda have a thing.

Lobo will refer to Hal as “(Y/N)s pet lantern” from then on, and always cackle when the rest of the league, lantern corps, or whoever is there, looks at Hal with a questioning glance, and he cant find it in himself to look at them.

At this point Hal doesn’t even need to stop rages of your most days, he just goes to spend time together without, outside of going at it like rabbits too. He introduces you to earth things, like movies or music.

You are still a red lantern and fueled by rage, but you have perfect control of your anger, something that sets you apart from your fellow red lanterns. So, it’s kinda nice to have someone to just talk too, that isn’t Lobo.

I don’t know if you guys would ever start dating officially, since your corps are so against one another, and you both side with each of your colors.

That is, unless you end up swapping from the red corps to another one that works alongside the green lanterns. But I can’t see one of the last living Czarnians becoming a blue lantern or a green lantern, unless its one of those situations where you dual wield rings without losing yourself.

I also can’t imagine you giving up your lantern status for a relationship, and neither would Hal, so you guys would just keep having some kind of situationship, where you get along outside of battle, but when fights happen you are enemies again.

That’s also why your relationship doesn’t get extremely deep, unless you end up dual wielding rings, like a red lantern ring and a blue lantern ring, like Razer.

But in a situation where you do end up duel wielding two rings, red and blue in this situation, you might even become an ally to the league to some degree. You aren’t a good guy, and you wont stop being cruel just because, its in your nature at this point, but you can be called in to assist if need be.

You only really care about earth cuz Hal loves his planet, and you care for Hal as much as someone like you can. Hal might even be able to pull you out of some of your darker urges or the deep seeded hatred in your person, if only somewhat.

I can imagine you spending time at his apartment, or going on human dates after you get your hands on some kind of camouflage watch that makes you look human.

Hal would probably keep the relationship a secret for a while, since the lantern corps knows how evil you’ve been in the past and still can be at times, and cuz the league would definitely not approve for a long time, until you do something that clearly shows how you have changed.

[yey56]

Villainous x reader that has had a lot of jobs and identities.

DR FLUG 🧪:

He is really curious about your life and how the hell have you managed to enter in so many jobs.

He has a lot of doctorates and has studied several science oriented careers so he's also happy that someone else has some extent qualifications.

Is honestly surprised about your stories. You once told him about working in a morgue as a mortuary assistant and how some paranormal activities happened around you.

You're his first option when he needs someone to substitute him in the lab or in any of his tasks because he knows that there's a high chance of you having already done it before.

Does not understand how you're still alive since most of your jobs have been either live threatening or just high risk.

He will never know the total of how many jobs you have done in the past. Whenever he thinks he already knows everything and that nothing can surprise him you come up with some new anecdotes about another one of your former jobs.

He once asked you if you really had all the qualifications needed for your jobs. You told him that in some jobs you had the qualifications but in others don't so you just lied and pretended (it went well because of your stupid good luck and you golden tongue 😛)

Sometimes you appear with new certificates of several different universities. Hes starting to suspect that you forged them.

You have many forged documents, he once checked your several passports and ID and in each one of them you have a different name and nationality. He's not sure why you haven't been caught yet.

But actually you have, it's just that you make new ones in another location so every police attempt to catch you after your obvious job negligences or some cases you have been accused of scamming are in vain because you keep fading.

He asks himself if you even are called what he calls you. And your answer always will be: we'll never know 🙂

Your experience gives him some calm because you have to have some experience in what you do so he trusts you to not make a havoc of everything you touch (unlike dementia).

Sometimes you two hang out studying something new or trying to teach each other something the other doesn't know. You exchange knowledge while sipping coffe and eating waffles 🥞🧇

Genuinely afraid that someday the justice system would be able to catch you.

Will always have an eye on you. He knows your a menace to his perfec organasation system.

Not gonna lie, the first time he was aware of your falsifying documet activities he was a little afraid you where going to try and use any kind of information against him.

Reader: Flug, whens your birthday

Flug: why? So you can look up my natal chart? So you can figure out my personal data?

Reader: ...So I know when to wish you a happy birthday

Flug:😧😶😶‍🌫️🫥

DEMENCIA 🦎:

You and her together are a really chaotic combination. Not recommended if you value your peace ✌️

Whenever she wants to mess with Flug or with BH she calls for you because you will know what to do in 99% of the time.

For example, she wants to play a prank on Flug but doesn't want him noticing her in the cameras. Then there you are to help her, you disconnect the camera system and somehow convince Flug it has happened out of the blue.

Basically you're the perfect accomplice for any crime she may want to commit.

Remember how I said Flug is starting to suspect that you forged your certificates. Well she bets on her life each one of them are fake, but since your strategy to play pretend always works shes not complaining. 🤗

LOVES to see (and try sometimes) your former uniforms. You have them all put away in your closet and each one of them is different from the last. Heck somehow you manage to get yourself a police uniform. 👮

You are the one making her false identities and forging her documents in case she needs them.

Her and Flug made a bet the she would never get a university degree and that the day she got one he would dress as a sheep (like the sheep jumpsuit Dipper form gravity falls got).

Well she came to you and you did not only forged her a degree you decided that it would be funny AF to have her have a neurology degree.🧑‍🔬

Save to say that Flug passed out once she showed him the document. (You had a pretty good laugh with that)

I mean you're a pretty good team. A chaos agent and a great falsificator that's knows about everything. 💪

She will always have your back in any lie you have.

Like your telling Flug an obviously fake story about your mission with dementia in which you exagerate everything and while he looks at you doubting every word you say dementia comes in and agrees with you adding more shit to the lie.

You have so much fun with her and she's always in for whatever you have in mind. Save to say he's your favourite.🥰

She wants you to break in with her in some bank or prison and do the whole act of pretending to be there working only to then cause havoc and shouting down the security systems.

You joke around a lot, but sometimes the jokes get out of hand:

Dementia: Hey, you know what, I love murder mystery we should watch that.

Reader being absolutely honest for once: well for your information I've been a suspect in four murder cases 😌

Dem:😶

BLACK HAT 🎩

The vast experience is always welcome, the problem is that he has some doubts about the veracity of dome of your capacities but as long as you can work well and not fuck up he's not going to scold you for forging documents or lying in the interview. 👍

Since you clearly have experience in falsifying documents he uses that to make false reports or false contracts to make future clients sign something shady.

Considering that you have worked in lots of fields he can use you for a lot of tasks. Need to restore a old paiting? There you are to do it. His snake pet is suddenly ill or with stomach issues? Worry not, you have worked at a zoo before.

And the list goes on a on. You never get bored there

Really appreciates the wit and the quick thinking you have because it's very useful in a lot of situations. Your just start talking with all of the confidence in the world even though you're probably telling the biggest lie human kind has ever witnessed. 🤫🫢

And the worst of all? It. fucking. works. Even though you seem to have no idea about something you manage to uphold a conversation pretending you know everything about it, and you can keep it up quite a while!!

You also always try to investigate about what you are trying to pretend to know about, just to stay safe.

He's probably the only one that know your real name. But the rest of the crew are always doubting which of your several identities you really are. 🥷

Also the fact that you can change your narrative and pretend to be a whole different person with a whole different life. He adores that, it's very useful for a villain to be able to know how to put an act and get away with it. 😶‍🌫️🫥

Thinks you're valuable to the organisation.

As well as dementia, hes also fully convinced that all of your certificates are false but he doesn't doubt that you have knowledge in those fields. He just thinks you forged the documents and thats it.

Will not believe your obvious exaggerated stories. You're not a reliable narrator since he knows your habit of twisting a little bit the reality or as you put it "selecting the truth".

He doesn't think your completely useless and since you have had lots of experiences in life you are somehow interesting. He feels pity for all of your former bosses, mostly because you confided him that the reason you had so many jobs is because in most of them you got fired. 😐😑

You're the nightmare of employers. 😚✌️

Somehow gets used to your shenanigans and already expects you to generate some kind of problematic situation.

BH, answering the phone: Hello?

Reader: It's reader.

BH: what did they do this time

Reader: No!, it's me, reader. It's actually me.

BH: what the hell did you do this time?! 😤🤬

Reader: it's not like I try to blow things up. It's just sort of happens. Though you've got to admit that the fire is fascinating 🔥

One of his favourites stories you told him was when you were working for an illegal organization that bringed back prehistoric animals to life with the purpose of the tourism of the rich folk.

You were fired because you shot down the security system because in your own words " I always wanted to see a diplodocus close" so since lots of life's were put in danger and some lost in that incident you were fired and sued for that.🦕

Of course you changed identities again and flew away from the place where this was taking place.

You never presented yourself at court. You're not only banned from entering that country but also you have an arrest notice. If you put a foot there you will face life sentence 🫠🙃

Kinda respects your ability to just go away and start a new whenever you go. But will not let you unsupervised.

5.0.5 🐻

Storytelling with him is a MUST.

you have told him so many stories about your past jobs and each one of them has a changed narrative by you but since he loves hearing stories he doesn't think much about it.

When Flug is busy he always asks you to help him with whatever he's doing.

He once catched restoring one of BH's paintings and also wanted to draw so he just brought a notebook next to where you were and stayed there with you.

He makes lots of drawing for you and you either hang them in your bedroom wall or put away in your drawer.

From time to time you gift him little things you have stolen from your former jobs. You worked at an acuarium? You give him a plushie of a whale you kept.

He's confused when you present yourlsef with other names, you have tried to explain it to him but it doesn't really stuck.

Really good listener, if you need to vent to someone it will sure be either him or Flug if you catch him relaxed enough.

Both of you have fun hanging out. You always tell random data about absolutely everything and he just sits there and listens to you.

[spenglersweetheart]

Soooo…I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking up your time or nothing…but…hear me out..

Reader works with ghostbusters and one day while the other three are on call it’s just reader and Venkman. They are working on the mood slime doing different tests and such. Venkman comes in to do his usual annoying and flirting technique when the reader shows him a ring on their finger and grin

“Sorry toots I’m taken by Dr Egon Spengler”

Then they just continue with work while venkmans just confused like “hEs EnGaGeD”

no bc i actually don't mind you're actually helping with writing muse because lately it was dead so you're doing my brain a justice !! :)

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

( note, i could not decide who to put for the gif so enjoy all three of them <3 )

Sorry, Venkman, I'm Taken

technically an x reader but love interest isn't in the story? lol idk what to make of this.

WARNINGS : none! just peter being annoying lol

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO WORK WITH THE MOOD SLIME. While the other three were on a call, you were stuck with Peter Venkman. Sometimes it was bearable. Other times? Well, let's just say he was a bit of a flirt. An annoying flirt. Sometimes you can handle it, sometimes you couldn't. It just depended on how you felt and how patient you were at the time.

This day. You were not so patient.

You were conducting different tests for the slime. He was supposed to be helping. But all he did was pretty much hover over you with his poor flirtatious tactics. You weren't trying to give in to that behavior, as you deemed it immature.

"You're pretty quiet today, toots. You're not your usual self," you hear him say.

Toots. It never fails to make your nose scrunch up in disgust. That nickname made you feel like absolute garbage. But you dealt with it, mainly because you had to work with him.

"That's because I'm concentrating. It's kind of hard when you're blabbering in my ear," you tell him as you look at the cassette tape that's on the pool table.

You're looking at the Farewell to Kings cassette tape that's sitting next to the Jackie Wilson one that Egon has used prior for the experiment. It makes you wonder how it would react to Prog rock instead of the rhythm and blues.

"I wonder what it'll do for this tape," you mutter to yourself, before grabbing it.

You walk over to the radio, Peter following you like the lost puppy that he acted like. You didn't like being so close. It was a thing for you. The only one who could get that close to you was Egon. And right now, you were missing that company.

"Guess we're feisty today, huh?" Peter asks.

"Only because you won't leave me alone," you mumble, "You're supposed to be helping me. You could be doing something useful."

"I am doing something useful."

You close the cassette radio. Turning the tune to Cinderella Man. You turn back around to face him. Your eyes narrow before you walk away. He still follows you around.

"And what exactly are you doing?" You question, crossing your arms, "Because the only thing you have been doing is following me around like a lost puppy."

"I'm observing the mood slime, thank you very much," Peter answered, "I'm observing its reaction to you!"

You rule your eyes. "Oh yeah? And how is it reacting?"

"Very, very positive, toots," he tells you.

He tries to get closer, but you put your hand up so that he doesn't. You happen to raise the hand that had a ring on your finger. You had enough of his flirty antics and advances, and it was about time he knew that you were taken by one of your own colleagues.

"Sorry, toots," you say, almost mockingly, "I'm taken, Venkman. By Dr. Egon Spengler."

His eyes widen in shock while a smirk of amusement crawls onto your lips. His reaction was priceless to you. You just wondered what he had to say about it.

"Wait," Peter says, "He's engaged? Before me? How did Spengs get engaged before me?"

You finally put your hand down. "I dunno. Maybe because he doesn't creepily flirt. He's just himself," you say. You give a smile before walking away. Leaving Peter to think about his life decisions.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, before walking in the opposite direction.

[junityy]

ʚïɞ — words of affirmation with enhypen.

pairing. ot7 x gn!reader

genre. fluff, hcs

wc. 2.1k

note. yayyy last one!! def one of my favs/my fav in the whole hc series, so i especially hope you enjoy this like i hope you enjoyed the rest as well <33

➝ 5 love languages masterlist.

ʚɞ. lee heeseung — 이희승

tells you how beautiful you are

when heeseung tells you you're beautiful, he means it in a way that's actually beyond words. like, he means it. and you can easily tell by the look in his eyes; like you're absolutely mesmerizing (which you are - and even more so to heeseung). and the thing is, when you're getting ready to go somewhere, - especially an event or something - you get it when he tells you that (although it still makes you laugh, as his jaw literally hits the floor every time he sees you all dressed up). but it's almost as if he tells you how beautiful you are even more when you're just sitting at home doing nothing; literally just in your pajamas, messy hair, and doing whatever - like any normal person at home. so sometimes, you might not feel like the prettiest (which is normal), but then heeseung will suddenly tell you how pretty you are out of the blue. and it actually takes you a second or two as you look at him with somewhat widened eyes, meanwhile he literally gets lost in yours - which is not a problem for him though, as he could truly stare at you forever and still find ways to attempt putting into words just how gorgeous you are. and god, you've heard it all - that you're beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, literally unreal, or just that he's at a serious loss for words. heeseung probably thought of every word there is to describe you as beautiful, and yet to him, nothing does you justice, still. there's times when you'll be doing something and he'll just zone off as he looks at you, so full of admiration and with a smile on his face. just how badly he wishes you could see yourself through his eyes.

ʚɞ. park jongseong — 박종성

leaves sticky notes with sweet words for you

colorful, sticky notes. you've gotten so used to seeing them in your home now, you're rather a tiny bit surprised whenever there aren't any. most of the time it's when you wake up and find another note; when jay left before you woke up, and most likely left you some food and wrote down where he went. or when you randomly took a nap but he still had to go somewhere - which is quite silly at times, because you will wake up already knowing he left because he's told you beforehand. yet, he'll still leave you a note, simply because he loves doing it. and especially because he loves imagining your smile whenever you read those notes (which he's right about, of course you smile at them. every single time), just like he's smiling while writing them. probably because jay doesn't ever end a single one of them without an i love you. and it's like.. he could just send you a text as to where he went, but he's not doing that. like of course he texts you, but it's most likely after reading what he left you. it's such a small and silly thing, it only makes you fall in love with him more.

ʚɞ. sim jaeyun — 심쟤윤

nicknames

jake loves calling you by nicknames - he'll call you anything, just for the sake and fun of it. but there's two specific names that he stuck with ever since, and they drive you absolutely crazy even to this day (they probably still would in ten years). the first time jake called you babe, you almost felt your heart drop, and you had to hold back a smile so huge, you were actually embarrassed by it. the second time he did, he simply laughed after seeing you smile like an idiot; like he just confessed his undying love to you. the first time he called you love, you could swear you fell in love all over again, and it took you two seconds to function. love? you'd ask him to pinch you if your feelings for him weren't so very real that no dream could ever fool you. and god, jake's smile as he started realizing over time how insanely bad you loved it when you called him that. it made him smile every time you felt all giddy, and it made you two look like a silly, happy high school couple in their first relationship ever. he just can't help but call you by some nicknames - needless to say, especially (mostly) the ones mentioned above. additionally; when you called him love for the first time, he immediately understood why you felt all crazy and couldn't hide your smile the first time. and so now, he always calls you that. like, always. but you don't really get tired of it - in fact, you're not sure you ever could, as long as it's him calling you that.

ʚɞ. park sunghoon — 박성훈

love letters

of course, sunghoon tells you he loves you to your face, as well as giving you compliments and what not. but he gets rather shy when it comes to openly talking about his feelings, and you know it. and obviously he knows it, too. yet he's just so in love with you, it'd break his heart if you never got to hear - or read, for that matter - just how much he loves you. not that he could ever actually put it into words, but he could try, right? that's when sunghoon started writing love letters to you. and after writing just a few, he realized how much he actually loves it. because while he rather gets shy saying stuff like that out loud, he can pour his heart out on paper and give it to you later. and like, he really pours his heart out; you didn't know sunghoon had it in him to write like that. write about love like it seriously consumes all of him, and like it's the only thing ever. though he could never write you one while you're in the room - let alone watch him - but oh, if only you could, you'd see just how his smile builds up with every word he writes, only thinking of you while doing so. he's so in love, it's written all around him. and what always gets a giggle out of you whenever you read his letters, is literally seeing how perfect he tried to write it - with some words crossed out here and there because he misspelled something, which you know frustrated him in one way or another (and you're right). or how he tries to write it all extra pretty - so, not too far from his usual handwriting, but you can still see at least a tiny difference. he knows you keep them, and knowing you do makes his heart melt a bit. while you don't get to hear all that out loud, it's okay - because at the end of the day, you know sunghoon loves you beyond words. even beyond those he wrote so beautifully just for you, and still continues to.

ʚɞ. kim sunoo — 김선우

"you did well" & "i'm proud of you"

whether it be something big you did or achieved, or the smallest thing ever; you can bet that sunoo will tell you how well you did. sunoo is your no.1 hype boy, and so he'll never make you feel like you didn't do well or that he isn't proud of you. because he is, he always is. he's proud of literally anything you can do by now, and he makes sure to tell you every time. the smile he's met with in return is 'just' an extra; an extra he's absolutely in love with and adores to the max, but his priority is making sure you know. because at the end of the day, sunoo would tell you that he's proud of you even if all you did that day was getting out of bed, or simply taking care of yourself when you didn't feel well. every yet so minor thing, he notices and praises. sometimes even at a loss for words depending on what you did, as you're talented in many areas. and you really, really love him for it, and you're beyond grateful for it. because whenever you feel like you're not doing well enough or well at all, sunoo is by your side to tell you otherwise. he'll never let you talk down on yourself, as you're literally fascinating in his eyes. and while he's your no.1 hype boy (not like anyone could ever take his spot anyway), he always motivates you to hype yourself up as well. at first it felt rather silly in a way (as you've never really hyped yourself up like that), but once sunoo made sure you do, too, he couldn't help but be even prouder when he saw how it actually worked. he could only tell you how well you're doing and how proud he is over and over, but sadly you'll never actually know just how proud he is of you. always.

ʚɞ. yang jungwon — 양정원

texts you throughout the day

the fact that jungwon blows up your phone like his life depends on it whenever you're not seeing each other, is something very, very normal and something you're used to in your relationship by now. yet you would never dare muting him. not when he texts you random updates about his day, how he misses you, and that he loves you. oh, and he's very serious about the random updates about his day. he'll tell you where he is right now, describe the exact situation, possibly (probably) send random pictures, and share his every thought with you. and what he loves most about it all, is that you get genuinely invested - you'll reply to every last one of his texts. and with random updates, it's the most random details ever, his every thought - you'll get it all within a short amount of time. while some would think it's annoying to get spammed like that all the time, you can't help but love it, as jungwon does it every single time. and well, so do you - at least by now. he rubbed off on you in that aspect, so it's no surprise you blow up each other's phones like your lives might actually depend on it. but both of you love it equally as much; because even when you're not together, you feel the need to share everything, and every thought that crosses your mind. and while some would mute him in an instant, considering just how many messages he sends you, you can't help but smile at your phone like an idiot in public every time.

ʚɞ. nishimura riki — 西村 力

"this reminded me of you"

if this is someone's favorite phrase of all time, it's riki's, no question. he tells you this so much, you're starting to believe the boy thinks of you wherever he looks or he goes. because it can go both ways; texting it to you, and saying it to your face when he (most of the time) just came home. as for texting, you can 100% bet that he will send you the dumbest meme or picture ever (which you know damn well he laughed at) with the caption this reminded me of you (and knowing riki like the back of your hand, he'd add a heart or a heart eyed emoji just for the sake of teasing you). you two joke around all the time, so silly messages and moments like that are basically routine - and also your favorite part of it all. you wouldn't trade it for anything, even if you jokingly deny loving it, or joke about it by saying you're tired of it. because riki knows, even when he's not there to see your reaction, that he always gets at least a giggle or a smile out of you. like, always. he simply knows you too well. as for saying it to your face, it'll go as far as him bringing home a single flower, a tiny rock, something absolutely random he got for you, or just something he knows you love, like a specific food or item or something. and well, when you said it's starting to feel like riki thinks of you wherever he looks, you weren't all wrong. completely despite the fact that you can't seem to ever leave his mind, he associates so many things with you now - many of them which he knows you like, so that makes sense. so, the random collection of whatever riki gives/brings home to you makes more than sense, all things considered. and well, although you'll joke around by teasing him for thinking of you wherever he goes, it actually melts your heart every time. you knew you were hopelessly in love with him when he first brought home a literal rock, said it reminded him of you, and you were just smiling at him without even noticing.

taglist @tyunni @geombyu @jaeyunverse @yjwfav @sieuneo @choconyu @czlluvriki @envirae @aureliaxuuu @4xiaojun

[bigfan-fanfic]

A Better Big Three (Peter Parker x Percy Jackson x Dick Grayson x Reader)

Requested by @jayfeather965 for  Can you write a fic on a game night Mariokart with Peter, Percy, and Dick?

Percy is surprised to find out he has the most normal schedule of all of them besides you.

But since he doesn't go out vigilante-ing at night, it actually makes sense.

However, Percy has insisted upon a game night.

Your apartment is a nice one, with space enough for all of you. Dick has paid for a lot of it from the money from his dad, and Bruce was happy to assist Peter because of his own work with the Justice League.

So it's fun to take advantage of this comfy place. Getting to slip a couple of pizzas in the oven, and preparing a space for game night is exciting, especially as you know that unless Dick or Peter has been captured by a villain, they'll make it over to spend all night and most of the morning with you makes it much better.

Percy tends to get a little frisky with excess energy when game night rolls around - this usually manifests in kisses and affection for you, playful wrestling from him, and sometimes Percy remembering suddenly he has a stash of blue candy to share for the night.

Peter arrives home first. Thankfully, Dick's dad supplied a secret basement entrance so that Spiderman isn't seen slinging in through the window in costume.

Percy tackles him excitedly as soon as he's through the door, swinging him around to make sure he gives you both greeting kisses.

Peter's schedule still consists of doing labs and college classes, then web swinging and getting pictures to sell to the Daily Bugle. (Considering Dick is happy to use his family wealth to support you all, but Peter and Percy are reluctant to use it, coming from poorer backgrounds, Peter mainly uses this job as a source of personal income so he can buy things for you all or for friends without getting money from you all (though he has relaxed his view on gifts).)

So more often than not he is exhausted. Which is why it's important to have these times.

Thankfully there's no web slinging or vigilante-ing tonight.

You happily direct Peter to get comfy and relax, ordering him to shower since he smells a little like the subway right now.

Dick comes in, smirking a little at how eager Percy is to see him.

"Did we get a puppy?" he teases, and Percy pokes him in the side. "Awww, come on."

"Stop being mean." Percy gives a mock-pout, and Dick kisses him.

"I think you'd be cute with a little blue collar. Give you a trident token?"

Percy shoves him and rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken, and you giggle.

You propose putting something on tv to watch, but Percy groans, so everybody grabs a couple of pizza slices and prepares to race.

There are high stakes involved, after all.

You play the Grand Prix mode, and each tournament has something bet on it.

It starts simple, like picking tomorrow's dinner, to what movie to watch later, to the more risque things.

Dick almost never wins - he's terrible at MarioKart, but he doesn't mind losing, so he's just happy to play.

Peter and Percy get a little more competitive, and often you end up winning because they end up jostling each other and trying to distract one another.

There are playful jibes and complaints over the items used, but it's all in good fun.

In addition, pajamas are the required attire, but while there is no "strip MarioKart" rules in place, it's almost an unspoken rule at this point that the races continue until at least one person has removed all their clothes.

The night continues swimmingly - sometimes board games get played after, sometimes it turns into movie night - and sometimes things continues with other games until you need to order some more food!

But it's always great to play together and have a break from life, together.

[riddler-green]

I fell in love with your writing omgg:0 so Edward finds out that the person he likes (with whom he is obsessed lmao) is a fan of riddler and even has a crush on him 9v9

Te observo.

Summary: Edward discovers that you are a follower of his alter ego.

A/n: hheeeeeeeey hi! how are you?? after a long pause I'm back! in Mexico it's semana santa holidays! sooo I finally have time to catch up with the requests! besides, yesterday I sprained my ankle but that gives me more time to write and I'll be better soon. (´ ε ` )♡

by the way i hope you like it! and thank you very much for the request! I think I got carried away so I'm sorry if it's not what you expected. (*^.^*)

warning: swearing, obsessive behavior, Fluff!

Words: 3,800

Edward played with one of his feathers, pressing the feather spring to relax from his growing anxiety. He knows that looking at you for a long time is strange but he can't stop doing it. From the first time he saw you, he was completely immobile with wonder, every day he delighted in seeing you. He thought you never knew of his existence, because despite being co-workers and practically working in similar jobs, he was too shy to even speak to you, so he assumed you never even glanced at him. In his mind, he had these innocent little fantasies that someday you would pay attention to him and he would gladly see you without guilt or looking like a freak. But he is a coward, a man who fears what he already knows will happen at some point.

That's why he doesn't try, he doesn't want to face that rejection that already hangs on his forehead, yet he still thinks of you, even in his dreams you appear as a sweet reminder of his memory. He sighs with love for the mere fact that you existed. 

"Hey, I need this document by Monday" Zach interrupts his admiration with an authoritative voice, Edward coughs falsely to distract himself from the fact that he was watching you instead of working "yeah, um, of course" he replies to Zach and the man in the blue suit out of his sight without saying goodbye.

Edward contemplates the files in his hands, sheets after sheets of payrolls that in a couple of hours, he would solve all, back in his mind he wonders if you like numbers too, well, it's not like he could ask you, he arranged the files in alphabetical order and before he started working a scream stops him.

"It's official!" a voice Edward doesn't know speaks again, when he turns to see who it is he looks at a human rights employee pasting a sign on the bulletin board "It is officially forbidden to talk about The Riddler and The Batman!" The employee speaks loudly drawing the attention of the other employees, others ignore him but saw the sign, and others stared at him still processing the news.

Edward gasped, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, did they just ban them from his office? He does not know how to take it, is he considered a danger to the company? His face does not reflect the emotion he keeps inside, Batman and he have taken relevance in the city, as new icons of justice, although the Riddler remains a sensitive issue for many.

"May I know the reason?" he flinched at the sound of your voice, he saw your figure approach the statement already taped to the board and you examined it completely, uh, that surprised Edward, as far as he remembers you were always a model employee, you don't generate problems, your sign in and out sheet is flawless (it's not like he's seen it) your documents are just as good, but seeing you now he worries, why are you angry?

Edward watches as you chat with the human resources employee, apparently not a pleasant chat, as you return to your seat with an angry look on your face. He can't take his eyes off your scowl until you turn up to type something on your computer.

Edward sighs, so many repressed things he has inside his being and unfortunately, it's not something he can get it out, the love he has for you is one of those things he can't undo (he doesn't want to), as for him, it feels like a small stain on his office.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

"Damn KMTJ, don't they know they are doing them a favor?" you whisper to yourself angrily, abruptly typing the last report of the day, there was no need to forbid talking about a certain topic, you stopped typing for a moment. 

Remember the first time you saw him, your idol, yes, that's right, your idol. If someone found out that you were part of that select radical group of Riddler's followers they would probably send you on an all-expense paid trip straight to Arkham, but do you care? No, honestly no, the admiration you have for the masked man is something genuine and devoted. In the past you only engaged with him, you only had ears to hear about events happening in the city and you couldn't agree more, his speeches moved you so much that you never missed any of his videos, and you even participated in some clandestine demonstrations with the significant question mark sign.

Until one day he unknowingly broke your heart.

You stared at the monitor screen as you remembered the precise moment when your heart broke in two, those seconds when The Riddler declared in one of his lives, that he fell in love.

You cried that day and the day after that, and the day after that, your life turned into a mess for the simple fact that you Riddler already set your eyes on someone else. In your darkest thoughts, you wanted that person to reject him or disappear from his life, even though you wouldn't stand a chance anyway.

But then came another problem named Edward Nashton.

The first thing you saw in him was his sad eyes covered by the lenses of his glasses, such melancholic eyes that you only wanted to give him affection and love. But then you notice that glow in his person, a shy and helpful glow that at all costs wants to help others, a caring soul that does his job excellently and brilliantly since then Edward flits through your mind as a reassurer of the suffering that the Riddler left you.

But still, you didn't dare to talk to him, when you watched him walk in the door in the mornings you shrank back in cowardice, you didn't want to suffer another brutal rejection from someone else, oh please Edward must already have a bunch of suitors, you crudely think starting to work again to distract yourself from your frustrating love life.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

One day, Edward received a message from his computer specially made for his other job, a homemade laptop with other computer parts, and a private message from his forum as it happened every day.

>> Hi! This, um, Mr.Riddler I admire your mission and your vision of what you want for this city, I know you probably don't know me but I just want to say that I want to be a part of your mission toward a safer Gotham for the future.

Edward's first impression from you is a, mmhm, another message from a random supportive follower, he noticed another message in the inbox.

>> Extraclassified Documents.zip 

>> I got this information for you, I don't doubt you are a great hacker to find this information on your own, but um, I just want to help you.

>>I swear, this is official information.

>>From KMTJ.

What?

Edward was puzzled when he read the final message. Maybe it was his imagination playing a joke on him, maybe he was too tired from the hours he hasn't slept but he was sure he read it right.

>>From KMTJ.

>>From KMTJ.

>>From KMTJ.

Fuck, is that what he thinks it is? He opens the document and it is what the file name says, it's not a virus as he expected, it's case files that have to do with the renovation, signed by Mr. stone, his fucking boss.

Edward turns away from the screen extremely surprised and puts his hands to his head touching his hair, a mole, there's a mole in his company and damn it, he's helping him.

He tries to figure out who it could be from his colleagues, these files are only possessed by the accountants in his section, which is almost a dozen people including you. He thinks of random names and shakes his head, no one in his office has shown empathy for his alter ego, so, it probably must have been another hacker who wants to help him.

He scratches his neck nervously, this puts him on edge because when he looks at the documents his follower gave him he notices the signatures of all his classmates, including his and yours.

Ha, ironically he thinks how nice your signature and his would look on a marriage certificate.

He leans back in the seat re-reading the documents, should he take this as a threat to his identity? No, he protects all his data like gold, this is probably a coincidence. But then an uncomfortable feeling arises in him, you are also included in these files, and your identity could be at risk.

He types heavily on his computer trying to find out the data of the follower who gave him all this, but he found nothing, a fake VPN, fake data, his follower is smart, mmm, not bad.

How did you get this?

His follower responded at that instant.

>> I...

>>I work there.

Holy cow, his head explodes with anxiety, but little by little he becomes proud of the influence his words have on others, he is not as alone as he expected. 

>>? who are you?

He didn't think when he wrote that, silly Edward, do you think he will answer you, obviously his follower didn't answer.

Edward started printing the newly discovered files while contemplating the board above him, so many things were put on that board it was hard to concentrate on one, he saw the pictures of the corrupt he killed and the next ones on his list, he sees the pictures of Batman and he also sees your pictures, he put them in his work center to calm down when he had seizures. 

Oh, he doubts you'll notice him someday, but dreaming is free.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Mr. Stone kept a straight face stroking his beard and looking at the leaves in front of him, Zach, Edward, and you waited patiently for him to say his next orders, Edward started sweating from nerves and shyness, as he stood next to you the whole moment he was almost sure he could smell you and god, you smell so good.

"The Riddler has been a kick in the ass for this company" stated Mr.Stone rudely turning his eyes away from the sheets to focus on the three standing behind his large desk "You are the best accountants we have in the section, tell me how the Riddler could have so much information on the renovation?" Mr. Stone asked the air and Edward swore he was already shaking, easily excused but all this overwhelmed him, the hard look of his boss, you being so close to him, he can't stand it.

"Thank you for your confidence sir, but believe me I have no idea how that happened" Zach opines smoothing his blue suit, and Mr.Stone does not respond.

"The Riddler is smart sir" you started to speak and Edward turned around surprised by what you said "I fully understand that you think there is a mole in our company, but most likely the mole has infiltrated our system" you explain formally and Edward gawks at what you say You think The Riddler is smart? That strokes his ego.

Mr. Stone takes a moment to respond, he sighs tiredly leaning back in his chair "Yeah that's the same thing I thought, I just wanted to know what you guys think" Mr.stone started to speak again but Edward had already disconnected from reality by then, you flattered him, well, you flattered the Riddler and that makes his cheeks heat up. 

Edward knows he's getting closer and closer to the mole, it's not Zach, he barely knows it's a prime number, however you...

Hahahaha, no.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard Mr. stone say goodbye to the three of you, Zach came out of the office first with phone in hand to call someone as soon as he left, the second to leave was you, with your head held high and making Edward admire you closely, you turned to see him when he closed the door of Mr. stone's office.

"Hey, Edward, right?" you raise your hand in greeting and he quickly accepts "um, yeah, it's me" he clarifies nervously but was glad he didn't look stupid when you spoke to him.

"Do you have any idea who it could be? You know..." you start walking and Edward follows your step listening carefully to what you are going to say "the mole?" you finish your question going down step by step towards the first floor, the glasses man takes his moment to answer "I don't know who it is" he finds it very intriguing as with Mr. Stone you said it was probably someone else in the company but now you ask him this and it only confuses him more.

"Me neither but" you chuckle, maybe lying to your office crush is harder than your boss, you stop looking at Edward, "I think it's a one-time thing" you assure returning to your seat before waving goodbye to him "See ya, Eddie."

He doesn't say anything, but it's impossible not to hear how his heart beats, he was probably having a heart attack or he gets nervous next to you, but hey! You don't think he's a freak.

That's fine with him.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward doubted what he is doing right now, he knows it is wrong, and he knows that anyone could come and catch him looking at the file history in his own office. But really, his curiosity gnaws at him, that feeling that won't let him sleep, there is a follower near him but he doesn't know him nor he follower him, if only he could know, who is helping him?

With the lamp on his phone, he lit up the file history sheet, on that sheet he saw all the company's files, who requests them, what documents were requested, and when they are requested in the pile of file cabinets that are used to store information for generations, he managed to find with a little effort, he saw the last person who entered and left the file room.

It was you.

What?

He almost dropped the phone in shock, he laughed with hesitation, this couldn't happen, you, the mole?

No, this cannot be true.

He read your name again and even saw your signature. You came to that place the same day the information was sent to him. He took a picture of the sheet and quickly started saving evidence that he was there.

It has a lot to think about.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward slammed his door shut, his raincoat barely left him dry as his hair got wet from the rain, he didn't mind the wet feeling on his body, living in Gotham has gotten him used to rainwater not bothering him, he must admit he is in a state of euphoria still, all the way from KMTJ he kept stopping at what he discovered, he kept repeating himself and it didn't tire him, this was better than winning the lottery in his opinion. He could easily shout from the rooftops that he knows he exists and not only that, you also support The Riddler. He had no idea how to continue, yes, you want him, but do you want Edward Nasthon, the other half of him?

It frustrates him, it frustrates him too much when he doesn't know the missing piece of his mental puzzle, in this instance what do you think of him. should he move forward as Edward? should he move forward as The Riddler? He doesn't know what to decide.

He could go on for hours thinking about those little details so he won't end up ruining anything, he took off his blue raincoat and placed it on his chair, he needs to work, someday he will come up with an answer but he needs to get organized. 

You are one of his followers, you, the person he admires from afar every day and feels fulfilled when you smile, you understand it too, you are smarter than many think.

He wrote down everything he had in mind on a whiteboard, brainstorming helps him decide on something.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

You yawned as you took a seat in your work cubicle, it was the first hour of the day and you wanted to go home, to re-watch the recent video of the Riddler, but you need to work, those donations you make are not free.

but before you could start working a card appeared in your files, a green card, you grabbed the card and picked it out, and hid it in your lap to read the contents.

I know who you are, I know you helped me, find me and you will know who I am.

My goodness gracious, it's a miracle you didn't feel a heart attack from whatever is going on, there is no doubt this letter is from your Riddler, you hold the urge to scream from the rooftops that he will deem you worthy of his attention, he wants you to meet him!!!! 

What has hands, but can't clap?

You read the riddle in the letter, written in the same alphabet he invented, and left messages to his followers with that same code.

On the other hand, Edward spies on you from his cubicle covering his smile with his clasped hands, he didn't know how to tell you that he knew, so he planned to let you know with riddles, his specialty. watch you get up from your seat to look for the object of the riddle.

Let the treasure hunt begin!

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

There were many clocks in the office, and you inspect them all, from the receptionist's clock to the desk clock your cubicle neighbor has, until you find a new clue on the second-floor clock, the one outside Mr. Stone's entrance. you looked behind the clock and found a note.

 What kind of mail can a mouse send?

You laughed at the response. You grabbed the note and ran back to your desk, went to your work email, and found a new message from an unknown email address.

I am close to you

but I know you don't know the truth

I am among your coworkers

and I know you can solve my clue

you look around for anyone looking at you, but everyone seems absorbed in whatever it is they're working on, you go back to focusing on the message.

What can you catch, but not throw?

this riddle is a little hard for you to figure out, what it has to do with the office, until the light bulb in your head goes on, from afar Edward sees you approaching the cubicle of the coworker who missed today because he has a cold.

you are happy to see another note under your co-worker's keyboard, you take the note and go back to your desk, you thought that this search will be more difficult or more dramatic, but you are having a lot of fun, even though you may be in a state of danger.

last riddle, but I haven't finished

look for me where the cleaning is located, even if it's narrow I keep a lot of things.

You raise an eyebrow - the cleaning room? Is that what he means? Without a doubt the answer, you quietly make your way to the elevator, looking for the cleaning room.

Edward gets up from his seat and heads for the elevator as well, waiting until you've already left to look for you.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward clenched his hands looking at the door of the cleaning room, he was almost a minute daring to come in to see you, but he is still anxious, too nervous to even be surprised, you love the riddler, but will you be disappointed if he were him? would you tell on him and leave him alone? would you be ashamed?

In his mind, he convinces himself that you are not like that, that you will love him as he is.

but he doubts it.

On the other side of the door you are in complete darkness, standing in the middle of brooms and mops, with your nerves on edge you wait patiently for the person who sent you all those riddles, you smile remembering all the adventures you had to do to get here, you look for the light switch but with so much darkness you can't find it.

They open the door and you are instantly startled, you look at the person who opened the door, the light from outside made Edward look like an angel, someone so beautiful that you were fascinated to behold him. 

"Edward?" you ask confused but at the same time ecstatic, he gives you a nervous smile entering the small room and turning on the light switch. the room gave a yellowish glow and the light from the bulb is not that strong, but the warmth in the place made you more nervous. 

Edward stood at the other end of the room, across from you, as the room is small there is little space that separates you "umm... surprise!" Edward gives an unconvincing laugh, his already hot cheeks coy him, his cowardice starts to work and he doesn't know what to say. 

"you are?..." you don't finish your question, you slowly approach the bespectacled man, Edward starts sweating, feeling cornered he looks at the door he came through but you are so close to him that he can see the details of your face "It's you right?" you want to clarify one last time, he nods his head slowly and looking at you appreciatively.

you shout in joy, and in a fit of euphoria, you hug Edward "oh! it's you! it's you!" you repeat and move closer to him with the hug, the brown-haired man receives the hug in disbelief. 

"It's me!" he smiles accepting your affection, clinging in your arms to feel your presence and soothe him, but before he can get used to it you pull away from him to look him in the eyes "you did all that?" he didn't know what you meant but he agrees with you anyway "yes, I did".

"Oh, Edward!" you close your eyes hugging yourself again "I'm such a fool!" you exclaim with annoyance.

"Why do you say that?" he asks you surprised, for the first time he is so close to someone he is so comfortable in your arms. you laugh softly hugging him "there is a lot I have to tell you" you murmur to him, this was like winning the lottery, you dreamed of razing the riddler to death and then you started dreaming about Edward, but now you are with both of them, you feel that gratification of life.

"Okay" speaks Edward happily, the two continue to function, it doesn't matter that they are both in the small cleaning room, you forget everything else when you are with Edward, this situation feels so intimate and sweet that you just want to hug Edward.

It was worth the treasure hunt.

Edward closes his eyes to calm down and just focus on your touch, the insecurities that plagued him gone.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[avionvadion]

Kalim: You need to go save the rest of Chort's victims!

Everyone else (including El when she hears): He wants Fellow to die doesn't he?

Kalim: genuinely doesn't see the problem

Fellow: Seems I underestimated your ruthlessness.

(Chort is someone who can kidnap a prince, an hier to a fortune, and a retainer to a prince and get away with it. Fellow just got done burning a valuable base of operations down. AFTER failing to deliver.)

?????

This would be AFTER they took down the Chort. Also Eleanora is unconscious for days after the mask is removed. She isn't finding out anything until Crowley drops the bomb on her that Gidel is under her watch because he's just simply "too busy" to do so (CROWLEY YOU SON OF A BIRD!!!!!) and that Gidel will be staying with her in Ramshackle until Fellow "completes his sentence". Little do either of them know, by the time all the students and children are found and rescued (as well as the Chort's little henchmen) Fellow will have made the decision to enroll at NRC so he can learn what he wants to teach.

But yeah. The boys catch Fellow and Gidel when they try to sneak away, unwilling to let them escape, but then Kalim brings up his offer from before about how they'll "figure things out" and asks for Fellow's help in bringing the Chort to justice.

Fellow is terrified, especially because since he was involved in human trafficking he's pretty sure he'll get a death sentence and he does not trust social services to take good care of Gidel (I'm thinking Fellow probably grew up in an abusive orphanage and ran away as a teenager? And that's when he found toddler Gidel on the streets and took him in under his wing) so it takes a hell'a lot of convincing, and a lot of promises from Kalim as an "Asim".

But also, Fellow wouldn't be doing it alone.

Like, the Draconia family has gotten involved. The Chort threatened Lilia and Eleanora, literally killed Eleanora- however momentarily. Malleus is getting Grandmama Maleficia involved, as he needs her to go behind the Senate's backs (do spirits have backs?) to file a formal complaint to the Isle of Paradise where the Chort is from while ensuring the Senate does not find out about Eleanora's existence. Baul and several other fae soldiers are the ones who collect the Chort and hold him in the Valley of Thorns' custody while Fellow is helping the Authorities on Magical Crimes (Magic Police? Magic FBI? I have no idea) search for the missing/cursed students and children, and all of the Chort's accomplices as Fellow would know where the Chort kept the records and would have a decent idea of who his accomplices are as he's been in this business for a while.

So it's not that Kalim is sending him to his death or anything. If anything, Kalim is preventing his death. Although Fellow does get one hell of a scare when they reach the NRC school gate entrance and it's pouring and Malleus is standing all menacingly staring them down, chartreuse eyes glowing in the darkness of night, as he sensed the immediate disconnect and reconnect to Eleanora's name when her heart stopped and began beating again.

Lilia might have to try and stop Malleus while still carrying Eleanora, because they need Fellow alive. He's the only one who can help completely put an end to Playful Land's existence. Malleus can't kill him, no matter how much he may want to.

Ironically, because Malleus gets involved, Fellow has more freedom to speak since (not only does he have the promise of the Asim's family backing) Malleus is keeping the one person Fellow would be too scared of to speak up pinned. No matter how powerful the Chort is, he will never be a match for a Draconia.

Furthermore, the Chort is already beaten. He's exhausted and black-and-blue.

Malleus also most likely keeps a watch on the Chort until his grandmother has Baul and his soldiers, and the proper magical authorities, arrive to collect him and Fellow to escort them to the trial, and after the trial takes the Chort to the Valley to be held in custody. The Senate probably tries to have him executed, but Maleficia vetoes that bull right quick as they need the Chort alive to undo the transformation magic as she does not want to exert what magic she has left in her ancient age freeing who knows how many mortals.

[ikemenomegas]

Omega!Gojo Satoru x Alpha!Reader

I believe we are fated to do the things we choose anyway*

gege akutami is the kind of mangaka who makes fun of almost all their characters. with utmost affection, gojo deserves to be bullied a bit. we love that he's a little heartless, a little frivolous, that he's powerful as a fact, that he cares a little bit strangely, so doing him a bit of justice, here's the mirror to Getou's youth story

tw: canon character death, spoilers for the manga, gojo's emotional constipation and egotism

Toji Zenin cut so many threads the day he arrived on the Tokyo school grounds, but the one between you and Satoru survived. It's already a miracle that Riko was the only one who died that day. The miracle of surviving should have been enough, but now you've lived long enough to find out how much you could love someone too. You get to see how afraid someone is of loving you. Gojo Satoru had one friend. Gojo Satoru had one mate. That was it, that was all he could let himself have.

Springtime Tokyo is still cold. Not as cold as up north in the mountains, but the winter uniforms are blessedly warm. An assistant manager drops you off at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical School on a milky March morning where you are met by Yaga-sensei, the first year teacher.

This teacher has some kind of idea about building community, which is why he's clustered the four of you first-years in the same building, around a loud blue-eyed boy who barely takes one look at you, squinting around a pair of blackout sunglasses, at your purposeful non-expression, before he is grinning, far too wide and it feels like he gets even louder, movements expansive to pull you into the range of an argument he's having with a tall slim boy with long hair tied at the back of his head.

Yaga-sensei just shakes his head and introduces you to Ieri Shoko, who is physically leaning away from the noise as if to escape some blast radius and has the most distant smile you've ever seen in your life on her face.

It's unsettling is what it is. The dark haired boy is just rolling his eyes at the one who had somehow both dismissed you and pulled you into his orbit. The automatic response is to try and get that attention back, but you have at least a little more self respect than that. You climb the stairs to take a room on the same floor to Shoko-san's and leave them to their snipping. You don't see Gojo fall silent for half a second before carrying on bickering, Yaga now stepping in to separate them.

School hasn't quite started yet. It's a boarding school so everyone is just around, getting the lay of the school, setting up their rooms, exploring Tokyo, running into one another and trying to figure out how their pieces fit together.

Satoru has already sorted you all into neat little piles of adjectives

Polite: the boy with the long dark hair, Getou Suguru, although this doesn't necessarily mean nice he notes gleefully. Self righteous and reactive, as in he can be baited into a no holds barred fight, which is new for him. He hasn't been able to fight someone who could hold their ground for more than a minute since he was thirteen. Subversively irreverent.

Morbid: the shortie with the short hair, Shoko Ieri. She discovered her abilities somewhere and even Satoru has to admit some of the diagrams she pulls up are admirably disgusting. Neutral. Satoru has never met someone else who sticks so close to their own whims before but she isn't like anything he expected, dismissive, meandering, goading. And she can't explain how she does what she does, which is aggravating because he can't do it.

And you, the new one. The last to arrive. Fresh meat. Quiet, wary.

You catch him not following you, but showing up near where you are a little too frequently to feel coincidental while you're making a point to meet the upperclassmen. He adds opportunistic and watchful to the list when he notices you do this, but some of the older students seem to find it vaguely endearing - the clan ones like a small animal they can toss treats, the recruited students who aren't trying to suck up to the clan kids with the cautious familiarity of greeting another outsider.

He tries tossing you a treat, granting you some offhanded attention in the common space of what is now the first years' block. Suguru laughs at him when you mostly look confused and apologetically tell him you've never seen either of the movies he wants to debate before refilling your water bottle and wandering back out onto the school grounds with your umbrella.

School starts regardless with some tentative unspoken agreement between the four of you to try and be friends, or at least classmates. There is after all, no one else to be friends with.

Class is boring, so Satoru watches his classmates. Where Shoko is passive and watchful and Satoru is staring into the air, you're openly attentive and Suguru more casually mirrors your attention. Which makes him want to call you another boring small-town bumpkin

Except you are in the same the advanced mechanics elective he is, and you and Shoko become animated discussing the curse anatomy lectures. Yaga takes you away to practice hand-to-hand with his dolls while he lets Satoru and Suguru pummel each other, which makes him think you must be too fragile to handle the two of them. Most people are, so he doesn't think much on it.

Satoru sometimes goes out alone to train when he can't sleep. He lashes out at the wooden dummies on the practice field, ducking under wooden arms and lashing out to see sections of it spin faster. On one of these nights, a week or two into the first year, he sees you standing outside the track, leaning on a railing, face buried in a thick scarf. He's aware of your vague attention, watching him without any particular interest, like how one might watch water sliding under a bridge, but when he sneaks a glance around the practice dummy, you're just as often more fixated on the sky. The moon is full and you're watching the clouds chase across the deep blue expanse, listening to Gojo Satoru's knuckles impacting on wood. And then at some point, he looks over and you're gone, your weird cursed energy signature fading in the dark.

Satoru only sees your technique the first time a substitute makes you spar with everyone else during training while Yaga is away. Apparently the teacher is someone you know because you get into the first argument he's ever seen before you send a spear flying so fast it hits the center of a target and topples it over.

The same teacher makes you fight Satoru, to already defeated attempts at appalled refusal. He'd usually help you push back just on principle, but he hasn't gotten to go on a mission with you yet and his sometimes oppressive curiosity has settled on whether you actually can keep up with him after all.

You can't, but this is Gojo Satoru at fifteen, not fully realized, and the first time he fights you he amends how he feels about "opportunistic". He flies right at your face and swears he makes contact, but you step back at the last minute and he feels an impending impact from his left that is almost the same strength as his own attack. He tries again and you twist out of the way much faster than he had expected. He tries to throw you and you end up descending slowly to the ground, trying to get the teacher to end the bout. Eventually Satoru overwhelms you and breaks your arm when you try to block too many hits in rapid succession. Shoko fixes it, and you wince with gritted teeth and tears in your eyes but don't cry or sob or glare at him with the kind of face that is calling him names you can't say out loud. The demonstration has him, fortunately or unfortunately, folding you into the energy of your little first year group like you'd been there all along.

He's a shaman clan kid, so it's interesting to see you now as not necessarily opportunistic but curious about the other sorcerers, about other people. What a novelty, to be inconsequentially curious. If he'd been too curious as a child he would be either lectured on responsibility or nearly drowned in related gifts meant to appease his moods

You don't appease his moods and the attention of him, one of the strongest sorcerer of the generation, doesn't appease you.

Satoru tries to bait you and things go right over your head. He tries to disrupt your silent, invisible schedule and you let him drag you away with minimal fussing, especially when Shoko or Suguru is involved, but will wander to the side on outings and either find some accidental trouble or something that makes him a little surprised at the intensity of your focus.

He forces you into a combat-determined wager that demands you stop using honorifics with his name and Suguru's name and Shoko's name (without asking the other two) and there's no way for you to get out of it or win so that forces some artificial closeness that becomes real. Language is very important for creating distance, for creating hierarchy and Satoru somehow isn't interested in a hierarchy between you.

He is however far more self conscious of his omega status than Suguru is. He won't say it, but it's a relief when none of you make a big deal out of it when you find out and also a surprising comfort when you and Shoko who don't have to suffer through the literal additional headache of heats try and make them comfortable

For Satoru this involves distracting him by playing video games with him, watching movies, or tossing balls of paper at him while he tries to stop it with his technique. Mostly he's with Suguru, especially if they sync up, but Satoru doesn't have the same heat symptoms as him. During first year even though he sleeps more than he does as an adult, it's typically less than the rest of you might want. Where Suguru gets tired, Satoru will get cranky and mean because he's bored and feverish and Suguru is too tired to entertain him. His family also was never very comforting during his heats so he knows what to do as far as nesting, but having people around is new for him.

He likes to call and text you if you're on missions during these times, which is typical given his clan's sensitivity to him being around alphas at these times.

So even when you're on campus, you and Shoko only spend a few hours with him at a time. Sometimes you play games and the heat makes him almost slow enough to beat on a DS link game. Sometimes he makes you do his homework. Sometimes he likes to throw throwing things at you to see how you use your technique to deal with it.

He adds "sentimental" to the list of adjectives when he realizes he can so easily pressure you in these times into revealing more of yourself to him than you usually do. He's bored and there's only so many things to talk about before you start telling him about an encounter with one of the rare cats that will tolerate living around the cursed energy of the campus, when you grimace and tell him about a terrible noodle stand in Yamanashi province that you still crave somehow, when you tell him about saving fallen leaves in a heavy dictionary you use for that purpose, or the one time you reveal that you've kept every pair of shoes your parents bought you to wear on the first day of school. You tell him these things and it makes him feel like maybe, someday, he might want to tell you things too.

It's not soft but there's a softness to it. A genuineness in the four of you together, in Satoru's and Suguru's growing strength and self surety. Satoru tries to make himself the center of the world, because it's fact that is where he has been all along. But he's not so easily the center of your world. You didn't come from his world.

Satoru doesn't fall. He doesn't think hard about why it becomes so. He barely thinks about it all. He just knows at some point that you're one of his. You're one of his and he wants you to pay him the attention he' accustomed to as center of the world (except he doesn't maybe. He'll be able to say it one day that what he loved was you treating him like he was as human as he could be)

He's terrible at acknowledging whether this possessiveness is anything in particular. After a sparring session, you watch Shoko patch a cut on Suguru's arm with so much longing and a pang of something worms its way in Satoru's chest. He crowds in next to Suguru before Shoko's done, draping over Suguru's shoulders. You don't see the way Satoru's eyes flicker from Shoko's steady hands to your wide-eyed gaze.

He's jealous the way a child is jealous of a favorite toy, hooking his arm around your neck if any omegas outside of school talk to you in the street. If you brush him off when he's trying to use you as a tool for self-affirmation, he sulks around until you acknowledge him in some other way and he will not admit to a single soul why it matters. When he's forced to go home for holidays like oban and returns in a terrible pique, you may fight with him if he lashes out in the worst, most personal ways. You push back and talk to instead of around him or through him and you also don't realize that is why he backs off.

He realizes slowly that he has to be careful with you. He forgets sometimes that you're more fragile that Suguru, that you need help Shoko doesn't need. On what you call the "worst school trip in existence" and Shoko calls "lucky we didn't all die" and Suguru smiles and calls "well we all made it out in the end", even Satoru got injured, yet he feels invincible, like he caught a bullet and threw it back.

When Toji nearly kills him and everyone he ever cared about, he awakens with the power to keep it from happening ever again. He thinks he can carry the world for all of you, for everyone, reveling in his power. He doesn't realize that his presence, the gravity well he made in the monster class's lives, doesn't exist the same way while he's not there because he has a tendency to think everything will be easy for him to fit back into when he returns, or not to think on the fact things could change at all.

Then Suguru leaves and the center of Satoru's world, his reference point, collapses

You're there in Shinjuku the day it happens. It's getting cold again. You're there to meet Shoko. Suguru has gone missing, Satoru is... away. Again. Still. He's been absent whenever he is around anyway. The jujutsu world doesn't have the resources to devote to hunting curse users in particular so the effort to find Suguru has been halfhearted at best and even if he's on your minds, you have jobs to do still.

You're there in Shinjuku and when you don't find the person you're looking for, you find someone else, It shouldn't happen, but it does. You run into Satoru, mind reeling at Suguru's betrayal. You nearly don't see him and he nearly doesn't see you except he sees everything and he's been walking around the district like a ghost.

He appears like a ghost too, tall and pale and ridiculous eyes. You'd tried to see if the world reflected in them once, but now it's more obvious to you than ever that it's just him, nothing more and nothing less.

"Let's go back," he says, and for the first time in months, you return to the college, side by side on the train, feeling like there should be more people in the near-empty car. You get as far as you can before you get to a station that's closed where you can no longer transfer and then you get out and walk in silence.

You walk like there's another person jostling for space between you. When you get to the school, Shoko meets you at the red tori gates. When you get to the mostly empty dormitory building, now a little emptier, Satoru looks at you. And looks and looks and looks. This time, he feels like you might disappear in the pre-dawn light casting your faces in blue.

Maybe it's because he's already lost one precious thing long before he noticed it was gone that he grips your shoulders tight, so tight you almost wince, but turn into it instead, tilting your head as though, were you less careful people, you might brush your cheek against his hand. Just for a little bit of comfort, for a little familiarity.

Then Shoko makes a noise at the top of the stairs, the scuff of her foot, the tap of her palm on the banister. What a terrible day it must be if Shoko is interfering. And you step away.

Satoru doesn't go to bed. For the first time in his life he feels like he doesn't know who he is. He watches your light come on and then go off. He doesn't see you stand at the mouth of the hall leading to Suguru's room with a blanket around your shoulders until eventually you turn away and fall asleep on one of the common room couches, near to where a year of his body in the same spot had left an indent. He doesn't think about the world where you aren't here, where he never sees you again, because he can't quite fathom it.

Because even when he was gone, he never felt like he had let any of you go

It makes him feel sick to his stomach, the closeness of someone else, but it feels worse to push you away so you sit shoulder to shoulder with him some time in the morning. He pretends not to see the new dark shadows in your eyes. You sit and watch the mist burn off and pretend his warmth can hide how the world is a little colder.

*I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you ― Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

[mariana-oconnor]

The Illustrious Client pt 2

Last time we were dealing with a hypnotist, it seemed, who was doing everything short of tying women to railway tracks and twirling his moustaches to show Holmes how evil he is.

Honestly, it's probably a little surprising that it's taken this long for hypnotism to show up in these stories, as it seems right up ACD's alley

And we're about to meet an old friend of Holmes' who has simply never come up before.

...a huge, coarse, red-faced, scorbutic man, with a pair of vivid black eyes which were the only external sign of the very cunning mind within.

"Scorbutic" apparently means affected by scurvy, which I had never come across before. Does that mean his gums are bleeding? The NHS tells me it might also mean red or blue spots on the skin.

Mr Johnson, may I introduce you to the joys of... fruit and veg.

Please stop your gums from bleeding. Please.

...a slim, flame-like young woman with a pale, intense face, youthful, and yet so worn with sin and sorrow that one read the terrible years which had left their leprous mark upon her.

From scurvy to leprosy, once again being particularly flattering in your descriptions, Watson. Though I do love the 'flame-like' here. That's very evocative.

“Hell, London, gets me every time. Same address for Porky Shinwell. We're old mates, Porky, you and I. But, by cripes! there is another who ought to be down in a lower hell than we if there was any justice in the world!"

I like Kitty. I hope she doesn't die. She feels like a parody of a Victorian cockney character. It's beautiful.

There was an intensity of hatred in her white, set face and her blazing eyes such as woman seldom and man never can attain.

I guess women are just better at hating things?

Does it though? Idek, such a weird thing to divide by gender.

"He would speak of someone in his velvet way and then look at me with a steady eye and say: ‘He died within a month.’"

This guy really needs to stop telling people about the crimes he's committed. I get that you're an arrogant dickhead, but surely there must be some room for brains in your head beside all that hubris. Maybe think before you speak? And don't just think 'oh how awesome and evil I am tee hee hee'.

I'm sorry, I just get annoyed when I see bad guys making such obvious, preventable mistakes. At least be good at being evil, if you're going to do it. Do it properly.

"It's a book he has—a brown leather book with a lock, and his arms in gold on the outside. I think he was a bit drunk that night, or he would not have shown it to me.”

Oh for- Do you write it all down? Tell me you don't have a very secret evil diary of all your very secret evil deeds. Please... Please don't be that guy.

I get that this is realistic, because serial killers and horrible people do take trophies. But still...

Also, Adelbert is a name I've heard of before but never actually seen used.

“No good,” said Shinwell Johnson with the decided voice of the expert. “No fence wants stuff of that sort that you can neither melt nor sell.”

Shinwell Johnson here reminding us not only that he exists and that he is a criminal, but also possibly the most competent criminal in this story. Good for him.

“I am not out for money. Let me see this man in the mud, and I've got all I've worked for—in the mud with my foot on his cursed face. That's my price."

Vengeance!!!

Yes. I like Kitty a lot.

"If your head is inclined to swell, my dear Watson, take a course of Miss Violet de Merville."

S-tier line. This is just perfection. I love it.

"I pictured to her the awful position of the woman who only wakes to a man's character after she is his wife—a woman who has to submit to be caressed by bloody hands and lecherous lips. I spared her nothing—the shame, the fear, the agony, the hopelessness of it all."

Holmes going hard. I feel disgusted and I'm just getting the description of the description. This story has a lot of excellent turns of phrase in it. This section is particularly repellent.

"'...you needn't look at me like that, my fine lady, for you may be lower than I am before you are through with it.’"

Kitty is the best and I want her to be in every story from now on. You tell her. Go for the throat. I know it's not going to work, but yes!

"And it did. Their blow fell—or his blow rather, for never could I believe that the lady was privy to it."

So women are capable of more hatred than men, but they aren't capable of things like this. You have a very confused and tangled view of gender, Watson. Who hurt you?

But they eloped, didn't they? But then she'd definitely be privy to that.

"There, black upon yellow, was the terrible news-sheet: Murderous Attack Upon Sherlock Holmes"

Well, I suppose in a way that's better... because clearly he's not dead. And also that means that Holmes will have some sort of evidence against him.

Adelbert really needs to learn not to overplay his hand. If you're so sure that nothing can go wrong, just... wait it out. She'll marry you and everything will be fine. Patience.