#time to dissapear once more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainb0ws-h4t · 3 months ago

Text

Another imagine before I dissapear again

Tw: slight yandere, stalking

Imagine you are a background character in the main plot of Twisted Wonderland. You hold no use in the story's progress, neither do you interact much with the main cast. You aren't aware of this at all, and continue to live your life as a regular student in Night Raven College.

Until a fascinating phenomenon happens that summons a magicless human from another world. Everyone gravitates towards them as they spend more and more time in Twisted Wonderland.

But who wouldn't be enamoured by their presence?

The magicless prefect of Ramshackle who is a denominator at every overblot? The magicless prefect of Ramshackle who melts down the walls of every stone cold housewarden (no Kalim‼️) of Night Raven? The magicless prefect of Ramshackle who fascinates and impresses you with each heroic act they do?

They're lively, strong, and dazzling.

Their name was a common topic in the bustling halls. Heck— some students even became fanboys of the infamous prefect, gushing about them during breaks like a teenage schoolgirl.

You honestly thought you'd just be another nameless student in the crowd of people vying for their attention. After all, you had no involvement in whatever plot was happening currently.

And you were fine with that.

With the shit they've gone through, you'd rather not get involved with any of the things they do daily. Plus, the people they interacted with either scared you to death or just annoying and loud students that you'd rather rip your ears off than listen to them yap.

Until, you've did something that redirected the entire plot entirely.

You strolled through the halls of NRC at an ungodly hour. You couldn't sleep, and frankly— just didn't want to be in the presence of other dorm mates sleeping.

You'd didn't expect anyone to be awake at this time. After all, a test was being held early in the morning. You were confident you could wake up in time for that though.

As you walked calmly through the silent halls, yu noticed a figure standing next to a window. You hoped it wasn't a teacher or anything. Getting caught sneaking out wouldnt look good on your record.

You opted to just sneak behind them quietly. Not like you were being loud anyway.

While you did so, you just happened to notice how familiar the figure appeared. So eerily familiar to that infamous prefect you've grown to admire so fondly...

*Thud*

FUCK.

You weren't paying attention to whre you were walking and tripped on practically nothing. The figure turned around, alarmed and frightened. The original alarmed expression now transitioned into confusion at the display of your pathetic state.

"W-who are you?"

Every living thing dies once in a lifetime,

You died two times in your lifetime.

Awkwardly, you attempted to stand up without looking even more like a moron. "Just another student... Strolling around.."

"And what are you doing here.?" They asked.

"Well,.. I didn't really feel like sleeping right now." The prefect nodded in response, they didn't seem intent on responding with anything else.

"What are you doing here?" You asked suddenly.

The prefect looked up at you at that, making eye contact. "I... Everything..." They kept opening their mouth and closing it. They looked so vulnerable and timid that you doubted that this was the prefect that assisted in every overblot.

"It's just so..." Tears streaked down their eyes.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around them and engulfed them in a big hug. Hoping that the warmth that you can provide would be enough to clear the tears.

"I just w-wanna go home... I dont w-wanna be here anymore." They sobbed, pulling you closer.

That night, you comforted the sobbing prefect and woke up with five minutes left to get ready for the test.

You're not sure if that's what stared it, but the prefect has been gravitating towards you a lot. They sat in the same lunch table as you, they strayed away from her friends more often (with only grim as a companion), walked to classes with you, and even invited you to their ever growing friend group.

Past you would've relished in the attention being showered on you personally by the prefect, but...

Everywhere you went with Yuu (they told you to call them that) was followed by a lingering feeling of multiple pairs of eyes that bore into your skin. You hated it. And that feeling only began to increase whenever you were alone.

There was one time that you escorted Yuu home, and they hugged you as a thanks. A loud thunder rang through the entire campus the second it occured. You slipped out of their grasp and scurried away immediately.

You forgot to mention but..

Yuu radiated a dazzling and alluring aura that everyone was attracted to. Whatever they felt towards Yuu was not your business, but those people they interact with always made it clear they wanted Yuu. It disturbed you in a way. They seemed so dazzled and the way they wanted to be in their presence 24/7 was borderline creepy and obsessive.

One thing you learned about Yuu was that they noticed it too. They were exhausted from keeping up the facade that they had on. And basically— exhausted from the guys that lurked wherever they went. They confessed that they felt disturbed by how erratic their behaviour was around them, but they were too frightened to say anything that might cause them to react suddenly.

You couldn't bring yourself to confess how you felt the same about them.

Those creepy ass leech twins with their menacing grins.

That rule-obssesed maniac that stopped you in a hallway and demanded you stay away from Yuu. (Rule 636? 352? Who even cares anymore?)

Some advanced machinery that circled the garden you were trying to rest in.

You swore you were nothing more than a side character in the story of theirs. You swore that if did get involved with Yuu, it wouldn't even have a lasting impact.

Now as Yuu gushed about how the boys seemed to have lessened their weird behaviour and began to act normal. You couldn't help but feel the curse that was placed over Yuu, was now transferred over to you.

You know you couldn't be alone from this point onward.

Heartslabyul Savanaclaw Octaniville Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasmonia

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 6 days ago

Text

how'd they react to being peppered in kisses or just being loved on in general.

dante

he's giddy and all warm inside as you pepper his face in kisses, this was how Dante wanted his life to be like, just you and him being happy, never having to worry that anything will tear you two apart as all the dangers would've dissapeared through unexplained means.

you brought him alot of joy and love in his life that he sometimes felt like he couldn't truly give back to you as meaningful as you could, and yet that didn't stop him from reciporcating your kisses with kisses of his own; with him holding your face within his hands and peppering kisses across your face as you tried to get away from his slightly sloppy affection with poorly concealed laughter.

he loves being given affection and giving affection also, it acted like a silent way to say i love you in a way, a way to reassure the other that they were there and that the love was still very much alive without ever having to use words to do so. being a demon hunter was one thing when he was on his own, but now he had you, dante couldn't help but be a bit more caucious during missions -despite being able to heal rather quickly in thanks to his demonic heritage- all in hopes of coming home back to you and living his dream in a somewhat domestic afternoon with you.

so dante wouldn't miss a moment of your kisses and affections for anything as it was everything he's ever lived for.

vergil

he's riggid at first, not having been use to given affection so freely, so without judgement since he was a little kid; needless to say Vergil was unsure of how to approach your affection. this isn't to say he didn't like your kisses and affection, he does but has a hard time saying so as his feelings towards his human side, having seen everything associated with it as weak and not worth his time indulging.

however this only made Vergil wish he did at least read something that would've better helped him to know what to do at the very least, after all he was inclined on his demonic heritage and all it entitled, so when you kissed his cheek all you'd get it is an awkard side eye from him as his mind raced on what is an apropriate reaction.

which was a soft, almost missable purr coming from the back of his throat.

now while he may suck with his words, his actions spoke otherwise as he would show that he wasn't as emotionally stiffled as he might physically appears to be. i'm talking poems that go into great depth on how your kisses and affection made him feel light on his feet, how it made him feel like he wasn't entierly capable of destruction, that he was safe and that he never had to look over his shoulder when he was with you; for you were his safe haven and while affection maybe something he has slow to warm up to, his actions told another story that said that the blue demon had a heart.

white rabbit

he's finding it all endearing and adorable as he pratically bathed in your kisses and affection that he once would've batted away without thinking twice. his life has been an harsh ans unforgiving one to say the least, so when you give him kisses or any form of affection was treated as though it was something saccred and rare.

for kindness and open mindedness wasn't something he was greeted with often unless it was your own, and even then rabbit never once took it for granted as he was uncomfortably aware of just how easily someone as good as you would be taken away wtihin a blink on an eye. unfair as life itself tended to often be.

he even indulges with affection of his own in some occasions, never wanting you to be without affection that you give so freely and without another word of complaint of going without. kissing your hand and forehead as often as you did with him, taking pleasure in how you'd smile afterwards and lean into his lips, equally as happy as he was with you.

491 notes · View notes

fixated-cookies · 1 month ago

Note

souljam play.... ooooo... yes... kissing, licking, borderline teasing pv without knowing that shmilk is prob also feeling all that..... omg... or or what if rubbing ur cutee pussy on pv's souljam???? his composure would drop and lose allll sense of control over himself..... this time, its your turn to please this people pleaser of a man! its about damn time HE receives the pleasure instead of giving! BTW SRRY FOR DISSAPEARING,... YOU'VE BEEN COOKING , I AM THE ONE WHO FED U THE IDEA OF CUCKING PV!!!! HEHE... I WILL GIVE MORE IDEAS FROM YOUR LATESTS POSTS... IN THE MEAN TIME, THANKK YOUUU FOR FEEDING US STARVED COOKIE FUCKERS!!!1 LUV U LOTSS /p <3333

CAN I BE 🔮 ANON.... expect me to be right HERE the very moment u post... i eat it up evry. DAMN TIME !!!!!

My mind could only focus on reader rubbing their cunt of pure vanilla souljam and shadow milk cookie feeling, whoops!!!!

SMUT INCOMING

Oh, you’ve cracked open something dangerous. Pure Vanilla Cookie, the ever-giving, ever-sacrificing soul, finally being the one to receive? The moment you press yourself sopping cunt against his Soul Jam, the very core of his being, his breath hitches— a sound so rare, so unrestrained that it sends a thrill down your spine. He's laying down on the mattress you hovering above him. golden locks splayed across the pillows, his usual serene composure nowhere to be found. He tries—oh, he tries—to maintain his composure, to be gentle, to whisper sweet reassurances like he always does. But the second your touch lingers, the moment your cunt graze the delicate jam that holds his very essence, his restraint shatters.

Hes reduced to a mess of incoherent murmurs and shaky gasps. His voice, usually smooth and soothing, now slurred beyond recognition, each word tumbling from his lips in breathy, desperate attempts at encouragement.

“Y-You’re… ah—doing so well, my lo—o… oh…” His sentence crumbles into a helpless whimper, his grip tightening onto your thighs that's around his head, unsure if he wants to pull you closer or ground himself. His vision is hazy, swimming between golden light and the intoxicating sight of you above him. His teeth are barred with drool escaping the cracks.

Oh, the moment you start grinding against his Soul Jam? It’s over.

At first, there’s a sharp inhale—a broken, shuddering gasp—as if the air has been stolen from his lungs. His golden lashes flutter violently, his grip tightening on anything he can reach—your hips, the silk sheets beneath him, your arms—as if grounding himself in reality before he drifts away. But even then, it’s useless.

His Soul Jam is his essence, his very being, and here you are, pressing against it, dragging your warmth against its radiant glow, teasing him in ways he’s never known. His body betrays him, his back arching instinctively, pushing himself further against you, chasing after your touch despite the embarrassment burning beneath his skin. A sound tears from his throat, raw and achingly loud, nothing like the soft, composed voice you’re so used to. It’s needy, desperate, and full of unrestrained longing. His hands grasp your thighs, trembling, unsure if he wants to still you or pull you closer.

“Ah—! W-Wait, I—” His words, usually so elegant, are slurred beyond recognition, tumbling from his lips in broken syllables. His mind, once filled with wisdom and kindness, is now completely fogged, drowning in the sensation of you. His eyes, his beautiful mismatched eyes—they roll back, disappearing behind fluttering lids, his lips parting in a helpless whimper. He clings to you like a drowning man, fingers pressing against your skin as if you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. The benevolent ruler, the gentle healer, the embodiment of warmth and kindness—reduced to nothing but raw, vulnerable pleasure beneath you.

And maybe somewhere, elsewhere deep in the twisting halls of his Spire of Deceit, he crumbles. His usual grace, his theatrical poise—all gone. He’s slumped against a wall, hunched over, his body trembling with something visceral, unbearable.

Drool slips past his parted lips, his breath ragged, erratic. His fingers twitch against the cold stone beneath him, gripping at nothing, as though trying to ground himself, trying to fight against the unbearable sensations rippling through his very soul. “Gh… ahh—haah—” His laughter is ragged, choked, delirious. His head jerks to the side, forehead pressing against the wall, eyes blown wide with something akin to madness. His usual smug arrogance? Shattered.

It’s you. You and Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Your touch. Your warmth. Your—ghhh, your every move, every cruel, slow grind against that wretched light, Pure Vanilla Cookie’s Soul Jam. And Shadow Milk Cookie feels it all.

A sick, helpless groan rips from his throat as his fingers claw at the wall, as though trying to dig himself out of this infernal feeling. His teeth clench, his eyes roll back, his body trembling like a marionette with its strings tangled beyond repair.

“Damn it… haah… you… little… liar…” His voice is nothing but a whisper, a hushed, broken rasp. His usual cocky arrogance is nowhere to be found. He should be furious. He should be livid.

Instead, he’s unraveling.

And there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

---

yalll shadow milk cookie dead at 67!!!!

Anyways, these request are going down steadilyyy I can't wait to open them back up!! btw anon this was amazing you know I had to expand on this idea!!

#shadow milk cookie smut #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie smut #pure vanilla cookie x reader #smut #crk smut #crk #🔮 anon

678 notes · View notes

dcrliings · 14 days ago

Text

✶ 𝖘vt . "i don't think i can do this anymore"

synopsis: how svt would react when you say "i don't think i can do this anymore"

warnings: angst, emotional vulnerability, miscommunication, relationship strain, heavy tension && not proofread! a/n: hello lovies! first reaction so why not add angst am i right? (i apologize in advance because this is gonna hurt like heck) also i apologize, i stop adding scenarios and just did the reactions, i couldn't find more scenarios. hope you like it!!

S.COUPS

he's been out of it for the past few months, overworking himself and coming home irrtated and in a horrible mood, never finding the time for being happy, or you. but when the words leave your mouth he stills. "what do you mean?" his voice is soft, one you've never heard before, and the look on his face had hurt written all over it. "please don't leave me, you're the one reason i haven't gone insane." he says cupping your face. "i'll do better, i promise." he adds, while cupping your face in his hands.

JEONGHAN

you’ve been pulling away for weeks now — quieter replies, shorter calls, no more "i miss you"s. you thought maybe he'd say something. notice, or ask. but he didn’t. for once he doesn't joke, doesn't deflect. doesn't smile to lighten the mood. he stares at you like you're some he doesn't recognize. "i didn't think it'd come to this." he says quietly. "did i stop fighting for us before you did?" he said, voice cracking.

JOSHUA

he's in the room with you, but he hasn’t really looked at you in days. conversations feel forced, kisses are automatic. he says “i love you” but it doesn’t sound like it used to. you tried to fix it. tried to pull him back in, but now you're sitting beside someone who feels a world away. but when you tell him, he's quiet. too quiet, like he's too stunned to speak, as if he had no idea what hit him. "i thought we were okay.. i thought we were just comfortable." he whispers, lifting your chin with his fingers, but you look down. you shake your head. "comfortable doesn't feel this lonely." there's a pause- painful and heavy, before he holds your hand. "please. i can't lose you." he whispers voice faltering.

JUN

lately, it feels like jun is wrapped up in his own world. you're the last person he makes time for, and you've begun to feel like an afterthought. as soon as you say it, he stops in his track. he walks over to you, brushing your hair behind your ear and gently tilting your face to meet his gaze. "i'm sorry." he whispers. "i love you, but if you don't want it anymore, i'll let you go."

HOSHI

you've been giving your all into the relationship, but he's not. he's become distant, always busy with something else. he's quiet at first, taking in your words. it stings, and he knows it's his fault. "i fucked it all up didn't i?" he whispers.

WOOZI

his eyes search your face, his expression shifting. the arguments were far too many these days, and today you'd realized you can't keep going like this. tears stream down his face as he tries to open his mouth, his voice trembling as he speaks: "you were the one thing i thought i could keep."

WONWOO

"what?" he asks. "i don't feel important to you anymore." you whisper looking down, but he immediately cups your face, his expression numb but the little shifts hinting to remorse. "i didn't realize.. i'm-i'm so sorry." he whispers back, "please forgive me, and please don't give up on us yet."

the smile that covered his face earlier dissapeared immediately, and he hung up the phone. "you- what?.. what do you mean?" he asks confusion written on his face as he walks towards you. "i don't feel like your girlfriend, i feel like a roommate. and i'm tired of putting in all the effort." you sniffle, and guilt floods him. "i- i'm sorry, i shouldn't've-.. i'm so sorry." he stammers, his brain flowing with remorse that causes him to stumble over his words. "let me make this right." he adds, while looking at you with remorse filled eyes. but you shake your head, and he realizes it's too late to make things right. paper won't go back to the way it was after being crumpled.

MINGYU

his gaze shifts from his phone to you. you'd called out to him for the tenth time that day, but he'd been ignoring you, not purposefully, but he'd been busy. just like he'd been the past three weeks. "baby, what?" he asks laced with confusion in his tone. "i can't keep being ignored by you, like- like i just don't exist! i'm your girlfriend not a ghost.." you sniffle, and his face saddens. "please- please don't say that." his voice says, faltering slightly. but when he sees your expression and realizes you mean it, his tone changes. "fine," he says, tears brimming in his own eyes, "if leaving will help you, i won't stop you."

MINGHAO

your eyes dart away from him the second the words leave your lips, and the silence that fills the room is deafening. until finally, his voice breaks through it. "i should've known better than to think someone like you could stay." he says it with a bitterness that could make tears well in your eyes in an instant. "that's on me, i guess." there’s no fight in his voice. not because he doesn’t care, but because he does. too much. enough to let you go without begging, enough to respect your words even though they’re tearing him in half. and somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

SEUNGKWAN

you sit down on the chair, eyes facing the floor, but you can feel his gaze on you, the silence speaking for what has yet to be said. "i was scared. i closed myself off out of fear of losing you. but i lost you anyway." he steps back, like the words physically hurt.

VERNON

the words hang in the air, heavy. final. he's quiet at first, merely looking at you. like he's trying to process that you actually said it. then he blinks, exhales slowly through his nose and says almost too softly. "you're right." it hurts, even though you saw it coming. he's not agreeing because he wants out, but because he knows. "you shouldn't have had to fight so hard just to be loved right." his voice remains calm, but his eyes are glassy. not crying, not yet, just.. unsteady.

DINO

you don't say it to hurt him, but because you're tired. because holding on to this relationship feels like standing in the rain, waiting for someone who keeps promising they're on their way. he doesn't respond right away. he looks at you, stunned. like the words haven't quite sunk in yet. and then they do. his eyes drop, his shoulders sink. he presses his lips together like he's trying to stop them from trembling. "i always thought you'd be there." he says it like a secret. "i didn't realize i was running out of chances."

#𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂's #angst #svt #svt imagines #seventeen reactions #svt reactions

388 notes · View notes

catssluvr · 7 months ago

Text

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒆, aaron hotchner

aaron hotchner x fem!reader (916 words)

in which you end up with an injured nose at girl’s night and aaron takes care of you

warnings: bloody nose (surprise), r is tipsy, sweet aaron again 🫶🏻

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

This is probably the last way you would have imagined your day to end up like. This being sitting in the passenger seat of Hotch's car with an ice pack against your very much painful bloody nose.

It's funny to think that working in the fbi wasn't what gave you an injurie but falling against Emily's coffee table sure was. It was definitely quite a fight between you, one of Sergio's toys on the floor and the corner of the table. You just didn't happen to win it, leaving your nose bruised and bloody.

You felt utterly embarrassed for having to call him to pick you up, but you couldn't drive after two cups of wine and didn't want to ruin girl's night. You're sure there's better things for him to do on his day off, specially at midnight.

Though he doesn't seem bothered by it the slightest, his hand resting on your thigh for the whole ride home and stealing worried glances at you once in a while.

"You okay?" He asks once he opens the door, helping you out of your seatbelt.

You're quiet and that worries him. He knows pretty well you're not one to be quite when alcohol is running in your system.

"Mhm. Sorry for this, again." It's probably your fourth apology tonight and he doesn't like that one bit.

"Stop saying sorry." His tone is almost stern but you can feel the affection sweeping through it. "I missed you today, was glad you called." He's too sweet even when you're sure you ripped him out of bed, his crooked quarter zip that's thrown over his sleeping shirt proving you right.

You smile softly at him, regretting it immediately as your nose stings.

Aaron hushes you inside the house, immediately leading you to the bathroom and sitting you on the counter.

He rummages through the cabinets for a moment, pulling out a few cottons and other things you're too dozy too look properly at.

"Oh, sweet girl..." It's only now that he takes the ice pack from your nose that he realizes how painful it must be. There's dried blood right outside your nostrils and the bridge of your nose look another shade.

"That bad, uh?" You mock, holding back a chuckle at his reprehending stare.

Aaron starts cleaning your nose with a wet cotton, mumbling out gentle sorries when you hiss in pain.

You take the time to look at him through half closed eyes. His dishevelled hair, his concentrated expression and most of all his quarter zip paired with stripped pyjama pants. It makes you feel both giddy and guilty that he probably came running to get you once you called.

"You're pretty." You say it before getting to actually think about it. But the fact that you're still tipsy helps you say things shamelessly.

"Thank you, honey. You're very pretty too." He answers with a smile bigger than he intended, just happy that you're finally acting like you normally would while tipsy.

Once the blood is cleaned and the arnica is applied, he reaches for the small band aid box. They all have some kind of cartoon in them, Jack's influence.

"Which one?" He questions with fake seriousness, displaying all the different band aids.

You point to the spider-man themed one, probably Jack's influence as well.

"Very good choice." Aaron pulls it open, carefully applying it over the small cut on the bridge of your nose before pressing a tiny kiss there.

He tells you to wait for a moment before dissapearing into the bedroom, coming back a few seconds later with a large hoodie and one pair of stripped pyjama pants - both his.

You let out a relaxed sigh once you're in them, his scent comforting and similar to what you would call home.

"Gimme a kiss?" You mumble nasally, a chuckle bubbling out of him at the way it sounds more like 'kith'.

"I'll hurt your nose."

"No, it'll heal magically from your kiss." You do little in trying to persuade him, but it's more than enough for him.

Aaron tucks a few strands of hair behind your ears, cupping your warm cheeks and leaning in to place a gentle peck on your lips.

"Better, sweet girl?" It's not really a question, as he knows the answer. His lips trail from your cheek to your temple, lingering there for a moment before pulling to hold your face once more.

"Mhm, much better." You lean into his hands almost involuntarily.

His hands reach under your thighs, picking you up before you can even process it. You let out a surprised gasp, smacking his chest lightly when he laughs.

"You know, my nose is hurt. Not my legs, Aaron." You mumble against his neck, smiling at the way he shivers at the contact.

"Just let me spoil you, yeah?" He shushes you, arms comfortable around you as he enters the bedroom.

Once you're tucked inside the blankets in his so familiar bed, Aaron pulls out his quarter zip. Throwing it on top of the armchair in the corner before rushing to lay beside you.

Almost immediately, your arms find place around his waist. Your fingers trace incoherent shapes on his stomach and your head lays against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to a sleepy state almost immediately.

"Thank you." It's barely a whisper, but he hears it just fine.

He hums, squeezing his arms around you before pressing a kiss to your hair one last time. "My sweet girl."

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

love you,

cat 🤍

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #criminal minds x reader

1K notes · View notes

romancherry · 22 days ago

Text

caged in silk (4) — false alarm

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ after a false dissapearance gave them quite the scare, joel loses control in his task to teach you a lesson.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, dark!fic, dubious consent, unprotected p in v, rough vaginal sex, missionary, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, breast & nipple play, hickeys and marking kink, posessive and dominant joel, submissive reader, sub space, daddy kink, heavy makeout session, crying kink, praise kink, pet names, pussy pronouns, aftercare, manipulation, dirty talk, swearing and other explicit language, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 4.111

author's note ➝ hello again! it took me more time to motivate my lazy ass to write this chapter than actually finishing it. i hope you like it and if you do please leave a comment or motivational reblog 🌸 if i missed any warnings let me know.

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

it was almost midnight when the men realized it has been quiet for far too long. they were so deep in their thoughts and work that they hadn’t realized just how fast time has passed.

joel was fixing the dripping, rotten faucet in the kitchen. marcus was cleaning some rifles, tending to them as if they were the most precious pieces of porcelain. he was so very focused as he tried hard not to lose count on the ammunition. javier sat on his laptop, chain smoking and looking up surveillance cameras in the DEA office in medellin. the only pause between drags of smoke was when he lifted the glass of whiskey and brought it to his lips while listening very carefully on what the american ambassadors discussed – debating important classified cases, blissfully unaware of the hidden microphones javier placed right under their noses before resigning from this god forsaken job almost 3 years ago.

joel glanced at his watch and scoffed when he realized just for how long he’s been working on fixing the faucet. he muttered a low good night to the boys, his voice grumpy and heavy with sleep, before making his way to his bedroom, already dreaming about how good he will sleep tonight with you in his bed.

he expected to find you under the covers, maybe reading, maybe already curled into your pillow like you usually were by this time of night. but when he pushed the door open and found the bed untouched, the lights off, and your scent faint in the air — not warm and recent, but old, like you hadn’t been there in hours — something in his chest coiled tight.

“sweetheart?” he called.

nothing.

he checked the bathroom next, knocking once, pushing open the door. empty. no sound of water. no used towel.

he paused, brow furrowing.

“marcus?” he called out, already stepping back into the hallway. “you seen her?”

marcus freezes his actions entirely and puts the rifle on the couch next to him, his expression already serious. “i thought she was in your room.”

“no,” joel said, jaw beginning to grind. “she’s not.”

footsteps echoed on hardwood as javier came from the kitchen, still holding a half-empty glass of whiskey. “what do you mean she’s not?”

joel turned to face him, voice edged now. “i mean she’s gone.”

the silence that followed was sharp — thick with tension, panic, anger.

javier placed the glass into the sink without looking. “check everywhere. right now.”

they split like shadows in motion — no yelling, no chaos, just the kind of cold, calculating urgency born from fear.

marcus hit the basement first, flashlight already in hand. he searched every corner like he was clearing enemy territory — eyes sharp, movements efficient. no sign of you.

joel moved through the rest of the first floor. he checked the pantry, the garage, the laundry room. doors were still locked. windows undisturbed. “nothing,” he muttered into his radio to the others.

javier moved fastest, pacing the perimeter outside barefoot, his phone already out, checking security cams and motion sensors. “no alarms triggered,” he hissed. “no movement out here in the last hour.”

joel stopped in the hallway, hand gripping the molding beside the doorframe like he needed to steady himself.

you wouldn’t try again, he told himself. not after last time.

he closed his eyes, trying to focus on regulating his breathing and stop the panic from building his heartbeat rhythm until the point of explosion. he tried to think. to bring reason to light – to convince himself that you wouldn’t be so stupid and naive to run away during the night.

why would you want to run? what did they do to you this time? was the picnic too much? have you learned nothing from your last mistake?

his instinct dared to snap his own self out of the building panic and overwhelming thoughts. a wandering, fleeting thought which almost left his brain as quickly as it entered.

the last door in the hallway which led to a guest bedroom none of them ever used.

the door was not even shut. it was slightly cracked. joel pushed it open with slow fingers, the old brass hinges creaking. and there you were.

fucking. sleeping.

your chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, soft little exhales brushing the pillow. the blanket was wrapped around your body, one arm tucked underneath it and the other loose at your side. a book you never finished reading lay on the nightstand. the lamp was off. you’d gone to bed hours ago — quiet and unbothered.

joel didn’t say a word.

he stepped back into the hall and leaned against the wall for a beat, rubbing the heel of his hand over his face. relief poured over him like a wave, heavy and thick. he called it in over the radio.

“guest room.”

a few seconds later, marcus appeared, and behind him, javier — barefoot, heart pounding, eyes wild. they stopped in the doorway and stared.

“she’s fine?” marcus asked, voice hushed.

“fast asleep,” joel said. “like she didn’t just take five years off my life.”

javier ran a hand down his face. “fuck.”

you stirred, a little frown tugging between your brows as if you sensed their presence even in sleep. you turned onto your back, hair fanning across the pillow, lips slightly parted, still unaware.

joel walked in quietly and knelt by the bed. his hand reached out and brushed your cheek gently, thumb ghosting across your temple.

“jesus,” he whispered. “you don’t even know what you did to us.”

your eyes fluttered open, groggy and dazed. “…joel?” you murmured, blinking slowly at the sight of all three men surrounding the bed.

javier’s brows lifted, and he huffed a short breath. “you scared us shitless.”

“i — what? why?” you asked, throat rough.

“why did you have to fall asleep here, sweetheart? you know we never enter this room,” javier asks.

“tired. jus’ wanted quiet…”

javier knelt beside joel, his hand resting over your ankle beneath the blanket. “you could’ve said something, cariño. we tore the damn house apart.”

“yeah. thought you took off again,” joel added.

you blinked, then winced, voice still sleepy. “s’rry. didn’t mean to freak you out.”

marcus crouched on the other side of the bed, his gaze hard and unforgiving despite the quest to find you turning out successful. “we’ll lock every fucking door in this place from now on. don’t pull a stunt like that again, sweetheart.”

joel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and tight. “he’s right, baby. you gave us one hell of a panic attack.”

you mutter one last tiny apology in joel’s ear before he lifts you off the bed and gently carries you to his bedroom, the place where you’ve been sleeping every night since they kidnapped you. each time was more comforting than the last; joel didn’t present himself as a threat and always kept a respectable distance between you two, although he always ached to touch and hold you tight against his chest.

after he places you on the mattress, you notice marcus giving him a suggestive glance.

joel leaves your side and makes his way to his brother’s side. out of your eavesdropping range.

“teach her a lesson. know you got a soft spot for her, but she needs to learn," marcus whispers in joel’s ear, his instructions clear. joel hesitates. doesn’t say anything for a couple of moments. he isn’t a fan of his older brother’s demands. he doesn’t want to break you in. not like this.

marcus senses joel’s second thoughts and scoffs at his brother’s weak spot for you. “if you don’t, i will.”

that made joel’s eyes darken. not with thrill or hunger, but with the overwhelming need to protect you from marcus’ roughness. he failed to do so after your escape attempt and had no choice but to let marcus punish you. this time, he’ll carry the burden himself, in the only way he knows how.

joel nods his head once and gives marcus a look of reassurance and cooperation. once marcus is convinced that joel will keep his promise true, he steps out of the doorway and shuts the door behind him.

joel turns slowly towards the bed, watching the curiosity in your eyes mix with a potion of anxiety. you can tell. his tense stance. the way he won’t look you in the eye – not quite. his mind races. his hands tremble slightly, and you’re not sure why. is it because of anticipation or the tethering loss of control?

“take off your clothes.”

the order makes you flinch, your instincts telling you to back away slightly. your mind is fully alert now. the exhaustion and gentle yearning for the comfort of a warm and soft bed have been gathered together and thrown out the window.

“i won’t ask again.”

shivers crawl up your spine at his intimidating tone. if he was trying to inflict fear upon you, to make you forget about all the times he was gentle and careful with you as if you were a porcelain doll — he has done it. with minimal effort.

you carefully lift yourself off the bed and stand in front of him. there were only a few feet between you. he could take two large steps and you’d be done for. clothes ripped off, a hand wrapped around your throat while he did as he pleased.

you try to banish these thoughts out of your head and presume it’s best if you try to hurry up slightly. you don’t want things to come to that. you still believe that if you cooperate, he’ll be gentle. a part of you tells you that he doesn’t want to do this.

but that part of you is so wrong, my dear. because while joel doesn’t want to scare you away and force you into submission like marcus wants, he is still, at the end of the day – a man.

a man who has built a life out of butchering people for money since his daughters died. a god among men who ripped the soul out of living and well breathing creatures and never felt sorry for it.

until the day you came into his life. when he saw you for the first time and figured you are not a thing to be broken and burned alive. but to be molded and carefully guided into a lifestyle he and his brothers crafted specifically to force you to accept them as your new reality.

in conclusion; he wants you. oh, how much he wants to give into his carnage and tear you apart with his cock. only when he remembers the way your moans filled his ears like a melody when your orgasm flooded his mouth the last time…

god, it’s maddening. infuriating.

but he must not act on primal instincts and think with his cock. no matter how painful it feels. no matter how the majority of the blood in his brain now flows in his cock right now. and he can barely resist anymore.

he watches your lip tremble and eyes grow heavy with tears as you quietly do as instructed.

you start with your socks, quickly discarding them on the floor so you don’t keep him waiting. so you don’t let him think you’re dragging this out to think of an escape.

your loose sweatpants come off next. when you reveal your bare thighs to him, he swears he feels like a medieval man who saw ankles for the first time.

skin so soft. flesh so plump and glowy. his mind drifts off to when his head rested in between them to devour your pussy. how good it was when he felt the pressure of your muscles against the sides of his skull. an orgasm so intense he was worried you’d crack his head like a watermelon. but he loved it so much he made a promise to himself he’ll experience the same pain again when he made you ride his face and smother him with your thighs.

your t-shirt was next to drop on the floor. it belonged to none other than joel. he felt a sense of pride and ownership each time he saw you wearing his clothes around the house. knowing your scent mixed with his drove him crazy because he yearned to inhale directly from the source.

tonight, he would achieve this and more.

the sight of your bare breasts made his heart skip a beat.

he has never seen such work of art in his life. your full chest looking as if it’s been crafted by the gods themselves. like aphrodite chose you as her avatar.

he doesn’t wait for you to take your panties off. in two long strides, he breaks the barrier between you two. his hands immediately jump at your breasts, cupping them in earnest.

he weighs and plays with them in his calloused palms. he is not being a gentleman at all – rough fingertips graze over your buds until they swell. the moment they rise to angry little peaks, his mouth latches onto one while the other is being tended to vigorously.

you quickly grow overwhelmed by his lustful attack. his warm, wet tongue lapping hungrily at your nipple, sucking and drinking as if the elixir of life itself courses through it.

the other poor, tortured nipple – red and aching from the relentless pinching and twirling between his thumb and index. you squirm in his hold, hands grabbing a tight hold of his salt and pepper hair.

you moan, but you don’t think it’s because of displeasure. yes, there is pain. but there is also beauty.

beauty in the way he makes you feel so wanted. so worshipped. he kisses and bites and marks every inch of your chest. he groans in both relief and pleasure when his mouth runs a path upwards on your body and finally stops at the nape of your neck.

not only does he pull a bit of flesh in between his teeth to paint your skin in bruises – he also inhales deeply at the same time as he sucks.

your natural scent – finally flowing through his nostrils. so sweet and musky at the same time, with notes of a warm sleep and the masculine scent of his t-shirt.

when he is satisfied with his work over your neck, his lips trace a path towards your jaw. not once do they depart from you.

you’re both breathless when he pulls you in for a kiss. he didn’t even look at you before he claimed your mouth. he needed to do this before he could stop himself.

his hands are everywhere on the lower half of your body now. he keeps you flushed against his chest, your nipples grazing uncomfortably against his blouse. he grinds and ruts himself against your thighs like a stray dog. makes sure you have nowhere to go too – his hands presenting themselves as a tight and sure anchor over your buttcheeks; smothering, kneading and occasionally slapping the tender flesh until it jiggles like jelly in his palm.

you give up on trying to put space between you. no matter how much force you channel into your hands and wrists, you can’t move this brute wall off of you.

instead, you accept him. pull him closer, even. the act makes him moan into your mouth, deep and rough.

the kiss bruises you. makes you shake in his grip and you’re sure that if he wasn’t holding you now, you’d fall.

he is not here to make love to your mouth. at least not yet.

he kisses you as if he’ll never get another chance to. he needs to explore your hole and claim it with his teeth and tongue before he can soothe the ache he caused.

it’s possessive. controlling. desperate and needy. you don’t bother fighting for control and dominance. you just let him take what he wants in order to indulge himself in the pleasures he has been denying and ignoring for too long.

he shocks you when he takes you into his arms. gathering a handful of your asscheeks before using his sheer power to lift you in his lap.

he drops you both onto the mattress. your back pressed between a soft cloud and a massive brick.

not even once does he break the kiss. he swallows every moan and gasp that comes out of your mouth and greedily licks every corner with his tongue, teeth occasionally lathering attention to your bottom lip to drag and nip it.

his hands move from your ass to fumble with his own sweatpants. he is so thankful to just drag them down his thighs along with his boxers; his cock finally having enough room to breathe.

you try to break the kiss to get a look, but to no avail. he keeps your head in place with his free hand resting on your neck. his fingertips firmly pressing into the sides, a silent command to stay still. his mouth still makes out with yours hungrily as if he’s trying to keep you busy and not allow any anxiety creeping in your pretty little head.

the hand he used in order to free his cock from his boxers moved directly to your clothed pussy. his index ran one trail up your slit to feel the cool wetness sink into the material before gathering it in between his fingers and pulling it to the side.

he didn’t waste any more time. as soon as he cleared the way, he grabbed himself by the base of his cock and gathered your juices on his own leaking head before sliding home in one smooth thrust.

you both broke the kiss at the same time to fill the room with your own moans. once he bottomed out and felt the dangerously addicting way your walls squeezed him, he didn’t know how to stop. he just lost every last drop of control he thought he had and unleashed all the pent up desire he felt for you.

“oh god, babygirl,” joel chanted as he threw his head back, eyes shut in bliss. “fuck, i can’t stop. i’m so sorry.”

he moved his hand from your throat to the back of your head, gently lifting it a few inches to bring you closer to him. his other hand made its way under your knee. making sure to keep your legs as open as possible for him to fuck you as hard and deep as he liked.

“joel, n-no! oh my god – fuck!”

the burning sensation left your tight channel as quickly as it came. it was soon replaced by complete and utter pleasure as your already soaking wet pussy gushed and clenched around him as he pistoned in and out of you.

your walls presented no restraint. your pussy greedily welcomed him as if she has waited her entire life for this moment. to fulfill her duty as nothing more than a cocksleeve – a hole to serve him warmth and pleasure.

your broken moans ambitioned him to sink deeper inside you. he plunged in deep, hard and fast, not giving you any time to adjust as he took whatever he wanted from your willing body. god, he hoped it wouldn’t come to this. he hoped his restraint and control would not shatter so quickly. but when he saw your beautiful naked body and felt you soaking wet through your panties, he knew you were made for him. he knew this pussy had a mind of her own.

“atta girl. pussy knows what she wants, huh? t’be fucked and destroyed by a nice, big cock. fill her up with cum and never let her go.”

he tears his gaze from your swollen pussy to your face and really looks at you.

blabbering, crying, moaning and utterly ruined.

pink sore eyes filled with glossy tears. flushed cheeks. mouth slightly open in a round shape with a string of saliva dripping in the corner. your own finger resting on top of your tongue. a physical guardian to stop more moans and pleas from making their way out.

“fuck, look at my girl,” joel praises. he presses a soft plump kiss in between your eyebrows – an unusual contrast to the way he ruts roughly between your thighs, assaulting your poor pussy as she gushes her release all over his cock and the sheets beneath. he lost count of how many times he made you cum until now. he’s more than convinced you never actually kept count, your mind too blank and pliant to bother yourself with too much thought.

“what’s wrong, baby? cock so good it fucked ya stupid?”

you shake your head in approval, your eyes wide and glossy like precious pearls and diamonds. there’s no coherent thought behind those eyes – he scared them all away. no insecurities or anxiety in the way to stop you from feeling him at full intensity.

and he’s so proud. so so proud he made all the voices in your head shut down for once. his heart swells with how much trust you put in him to break you apart and put you back together.

“that’s a good girl. mhm, the best girl in the whole damn world. my good girl gon’ let me cum deep inside her? hm? swell her belly full a’ babies?”

you nod in earnest, a big bright smile creeping up your face like it’s the best deal in the world. like it’s your whole life purpose.

“y-yes, d-daddy. p-please fill m-me up. wan’ your babies!”

your innocent little plea does it for him. his rhythm wavers as he buries himself to the hilt and cums deep inside you, filling your belly up with a big load.

he stays attached and connected to you both physically and spiritually. he swears he can feel your hearts beating in sync as he holds you close to his chest and soothes your nerves by placing a few wet gentle pecks on your cheeks and forehead.

“shhh, baby. my sweet baby. gotcha now. did so, so well for daddy. my perfect lil’ girl.”

he forces himself to remove his softening cock from between your legs. once he does, he makes sure not to leave you alone and sweaty for too long. he takes off his damp blouse and uses it as a makeshift rag to clean you up. he soothes every cry and unintelligible word that comes out of your sweet mouth.

“here, honey. drink. you did perfect. so proud of ya," he praises as he helps you drink a much needed glass of cold water.

after he’s done cleaning both of you up, he joins you under the blankets. his fingers trace the side of your arm as he looks at your relaxed form. so obedient, full and content.

“bet ya enjoyed your lesson, huh?” joel murmurs, aware of how close you are to drifting off to sleep. “don’ ever scare us like that again, sweetheart.”

“mmmm,” you nod while keeping your eyes closed, although you’re not so sleek in hiding your small grin of mischief, “no promise."

he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at your little attitude. “you’re trouble, sweetheart. what are we gon’ do with you?”

oh, he knows exactly what they will do with you.

and in the bedroom next door and the living room respectively, javier and marcus have figured out a few plans in their mind themselves.

because you may not realise it yet, but joel had just paved the way for his brothers. made their life easier. broke you in and gave you a taste of what your future will be with, under and on top of them.

without needing to even speak to each other, they all know you’ve just become addicted. soon enough, one man will not be enough to satisfy the burning hunger inside you; you’ll need all three to satiate your needs and take care of you.

and honey, they will. in each of their own, unique ways – they will make you forget why you even fought them off in the first place.

180 notes · View notes

hearts4mica · 2 months ago

Note

may i request .. platonic yandere batfam with superhero!reader !!

The reader is a superhero, one who stands apart from the Batfamily, having only allies and friends, never tied to their legacy. Initially, they were just another caped crusader with a ego—nothing too unusual in the world of heroes. However, as time went on, that ego grew, taking root and warping their perception of themselves. Their intellect, physical prowess, vast network of connections, and undeniably striking appearance became the foundation of their belief that they were untouchable. They began to see themselves as the pinnacle of strength and brilliance, convinced that the world was theirs for the taking.

And whenever anyone dared to mention it, they'd brush it off with a sharp retort, "Shut up. Perhaps you're an enemy too?" The words were always laced with disdain, a reminder of their growing arrogance and refusal to tolerate anything less than admiration.

Eventually, their ego consumed them entirely. What started as pride in their abilities morphed into an insatiable hunger for power and control. No longer content with being a hero, they began to view anyone who challenged them—whether through words or actions—as a threat. In their mind, they were above reproach, untouchable. And so, they embraced the darkness, eliminating anyone who stood in their way. Allies became enemies, and the once-heroic figure turned into a ruthless villain, leaving a trail of destruction behind them as they sought to bend the world to their will.

“Hey, the next thing I know—you’ve become the supervillain, haven’t you?”

So what if i’m crazy? The best people are.

platonic! yandere! batfam x superhero? reader

Masterlist!

_________________________________________________

I’m that first-person they talk about in all the books.

_________________________________________________

You always were a zero on the side to everyone you knew.

At school an outcast

At home ignored.

You were a Wayne. But you always felt like a shadow no one cared about you.

You always felt like your family would be happier without you. At night they dissapeared as if they didn’t exist.

But who cares it’s not like you were home at night. Maybe they go out to dinner

At night everything was different. You were a hero free, like a bird.

…

Birds. You hated birds.

And even more robins. Oh Robin how you despised that ‘hero’. He thought he was better than everyone else because he is Batman’s sidekick.

But who cares? definitely not you, you left Young Justice cause it was full of try hard idiotic teens whose parents couldn’t care less about them, who tried to be heroes and someday be part of the Justice League. Who was also full of adults playing dress up.

You stayed ‘friends’ with them tho. No. Not friends you don’t need friends you never did, just ‘allies’ people you wouldn’t care less if they died. People you could use as a stepstool for you own benefit.

You were born to be a hero. Gotham’s only hero

If only those birds didn’t exist.

Isn’t that how hero’s work? Using villians as their stepstool for their own pleasure of being loved and cared for by the people?

It’s not wrong.

At night it was always the same routine.

Go out, beat up some villians, go home

You were tired of the same routine. Over and over again.

You never got the recognition you deserved!

It was so unfair why did they get all the fame, recognition, love.

_________________________________________________

Now you were ‘teaming’ up with some members of the Young Justice.

They were trying to take down a hero and asked for your help. Ha! Of course they would! You were the strongest, bravest, smartest hero of the whole world. And since its the truth you can’t be called “egocentrical”!

They were setting up a plan to bring down the villian terrorizing Gotham and while they weren’t watching you just left and jumped into action. After all you already had all the info you needed.

You just had to defeat him and all the attention would go to you! You’ll be loved by everyone!

But something went wrong when you were doing the plan

Someone sabotaged you?!

A bomb. A fucking bomb exploded making the whole building explode!

You barely survided that stupid explosion.

Who would dare to do tha-…

Them. The heroes. They did it!

They- they sabotaged my plan- no. They set up a trap for you! They tried to kill you!

They tried? And i didn’t die…? Why?

You look back to the ashes of what once was a building

Oh. Oh! You were inmortal! That was the only explainable reason! You.

You were a God

You were the God of the new world. That must be why you never felt part of the family! Because you were above them!

They were gonna pay for what they did.

And that’s how everything started.

_________________________________________________

‘If i could kill you i would but it’s frowned upon in all 50 states.’

_________________________________________________

You believed with your whole soul you were a God.

So every night non-stop you would be here and there.

A robbery at the bank with people with guns? It didn’t matter you were inmortal.

You even took the freedom to interrupt other heroes plans.

At one point a rando whose name you couldn’t care less to remember tried to confront you.

Saying that “oh you ruined my plan! Blah blah blah! Like i didn’t ruin your plan.”

It was not your fault that the villian escaped! It was their fault for crafting such a ridiculous plan!

_________________________________________________

You started treating every hero that dared to look at you wrongly as an enemy

_________________________________________________

Oh this small hero from a small town that definitely needed heroes looked at you slightly wrong for a second?

He was a spy for the villians! He was never seen again.

Even normal people

A small vlogger who had never done you wrong posted a rumour about you supposedly having something to do with the dissapearence about that exactly fellow hero? Their channel gone. They never posted again.

They tried to ruin your reputation! You couldn’t let them do that.

That friendly hero that was always willing to save the day? Gone too. They were trying to replace you!

It seemed that the whole world was against you.

You had to eliminate the scum and just leave the one’s that respect you.

The God of the new world.

A world were only you would rule.

A perfect world.

_________________________________________________

Now only mayhem and blood were on the streets.

Just chaos

Just perfect.

Everything was perfect.

Murder everywhere

Where is the justice?

Dead

They didn’t deserve to live after all. No one did

Just your loyal followers.

_________________________________________________

“After all the only villian left here was you.”

_________________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

I had lots of fun writing this.

Feel free to leave a request if you’d like.

Comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

My Masterlist

_________________________________________________

206 notes · View notes

sturnsdolan · 3 months ago

Text

If walls could talk C.S.

Warnings: Smut without plot, sub!reader, use of pet names, oral (f receiving), fingering, soft dom chris and more

(English is not my first language)

He stopped kissing you to flip you over, your pelvis landing delicately on one of his pillows, you readjusted your hips to make sure he could perfectly see what was between your legs.

"Ass up baby" he called from behind you, caressing your legs by your sides with both hands, trying to hold back all his desires, just to give you the attention you needed. Feeling some weight on the bed you turned your head to find him sitting right beside you, he held your neck slightly with his left hand, forcing you to maintain eye contact, while running his right one through the arch your back had made for him, resting it right on your cheek, giving it a tight squeeze, spreading it in the process to catch a glimpse of your glistening pussy.

"You can't even hide how horny you are huh?" He teased. "I want more of that" Chris whispered to himself while running the tip of his fingers through your wet folds.

Frustration taking over you, you exhaled in desperation pleading with your eyes for him to finally touch you, to fix the mess he'd made.

"Please baby, please" you squirm under his hands, "I know" he mumbled, eyes darkening as he stared at your throbbing cunt, gathering all your wetness on his middle finger, your breath imposible to control from anticipation, he was good at everything he did to you, but his fingers... nothing could compare to the way he made you feel the second they laid on your pussy.

Cutting out your thoughts, a pressure interrupted your mind as you felt two long digits being pushed in your dripping hole slowly, mouth agape, you let your head fall back, his hand holding you steady still on your neck, holding tighter than before, a moan threatens to escape your throat but emptyness took over you the moment Chris took his fingers out fully, you exhale in dissapointment, only to frown your eyebrows in pleasure seconds after as you feel his wet fingers that once filled you, rubbing your clit in circles.

"Fuck yes" you moaned out, mind going blank, it was driving you insane, feeling so much pleasure, but wanting so much more at the same time. Chris pushed his fingers back in, pumping them in and out, "Ahh- Chris keep going" your whines music to his ears, taking your words as motivation, Chris pumped his fingers deeper, curling them as they went in, to reach a certain spot that made your eyes roll back.

"Mmhh Chris f- fuck I can't I-" you pleaded as you lost control of your body, legs shaking, your walls clenching around his fingers everytime he pushed them in, you were close and he knew it.

He pulled his fingers out once again, switching to rubbing your clit faster than ever before, it was so overwhelming tears formed on the corner of your eyes, "C'mon baby give it to me" Chris groaned shoving his fingers back in one last time, even he felt like cumming, seeing you so fucked out just from his fingers drove him insane, your wet sounds made his mind wander to how easy it would be to bury his dick in, how pretty it'd all look coated in your juices, but he needed to focus on you.

"C-Chris I- I'm clo- fuckk" you screamed, hands finding their way into the sheets to ease you from the orgasm that was about to take over you, the knot on your stomach growing as the seconds went by.

Chris's weight had completely dissapeared from beside you, his hand slowly releasing your neck, his fingers kept pumping into you ever so slowly, until you felt him spreading your legs open from behind you, just enough to give him space, his fingers returning to their usual pace.

You were so lost in ecstasy you hadn't noticed Chris laid right between your legs, your orgasm aproaching faster, a series of curses, moans, and filthy words left your mouth, it was the only thing you could think of. "Yes yes fuckk! I'm c-cummi-" just before you finished, Chris's fingers pulled out of you quickly, to be replaced with his tongue, going flat over your clit and entering your hole right after, his thumb immediately circling around your clit, his left hand gripping at your ass, the feeling all together bringing you to the brim. Your body convulsed uncontrollably as you clenched around his tongue, your release coating him, dripping from his chin to the bed, his thumb stopped its movements on your clit to let him fully taste you, his mouth going to placing kisses on your pussy to flicking over it to catch the rest of your sweet fluids. "Chris fuck" you whimpered trying to catch your breath, "Tastes so fucking good" Chris grunted as he used both of his arms to get off the bed, he reached closer to you, his hands finding your waist to flip you over, finally getting to kiss you.

"This is the hardest you've made me cum so far" you confessed as a lazy smile appeared on your face, "Pretty sure I can make you cum even harder" Chris said.

@chrepsi lybae!!

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

190 notes · View notes

kaivenom · 11 months ago

Text

How the Vikings men would bath with you

Masterlist

Ivar the Boneless

It takes a lot to him to trust you enough to see him naked.

Due to his body, he is very self concious so previously to entering the bath, you need to be sure he will let you in.

It is sure to say this is one of his most vulnerable moments, always expecting you to run away or something.

You position yourself behind him and tun your fingers up and down his back.

Giving him massages and hugging him, trying to reasure him that you are not afraid.

Once he gets used to this time of intimacy, having baths together starts to be a more usual activity.

Ubbe Ragnarson

He got to you side and started rubbing your legs and chest with slow almost sensual motions.

Never breaking eye contact from you, even when is hand dissapeared underwater.

With a nod you invited him to join you and what started with his attempt to seduce you is now a relaxing tradition.

Your back against his chest, connecting fingers and talking about nothing and everything.

Feeling his heartbeat against you is beautiful and calming, he also feels safe while doing this with you.

Dark ambience, small candles iluminating the room.

Hvitserk Ragnarson

The first time he entered by accident and you give him the option to join, obviously he didn't refuse.

Then started to be more often, he judt likes to have you in front of him.

After his travels to Algeciras and the Mediterranean sea, he discovers the roman baths, aromatized soaps, etc.

He is like a child, sometimes splashing you while laughing.

But dont get It wrong, he always treats you like a princess.

Now, when you raid together, he always wanders around the town, trying to know if there is some roman baths or saunas.

Sigurd Ragnarson

I somehow think that he doesn't like to bath so the only way for him to get in water is with you.

He tries to stay as much as posible in the water while you wash his blonde hair but he just makes sarcastic comments, makes weird faces and that.

He tries to splash you like a revenge and you end up having a water bottle.

The only place he likes to be in water is on the lake, but ussually is to cold to be there so... big no.

Not even mentioning that in some particular ocasion he threw you there, obviously you pushed him after.

It's the most fun and risky one to bath with.

Bjorn Ironside

He obviously starts bathing a couple of minutes before you do, that's why you always tell him when you are going to do It.

He has this hope that bathing and spending this time with you will make you reward him.

Bathing in such a small place with such a man, you feel a little overwhelmed.

He doesn't tent to do anything but always wants you to rub and wash him, he finds it relaxing

859 notes · View notes

mrsbarou · 6 months ago

Text

TREEHOUSE || Mr. Machete x Gn!reader || homicipher

story synopsis: You meet a strange, lonesome monster as your search for a way out of the eerie complex. Little did you know there's more to him than that tough exterior he shows.

content warning: mr machete x gn!reader (no pronouns used), spoilers to mr machete's route and ending (with some non-canon stuff added) strangers to lovers, mr huge face being a little (huge) bitch, mentions of blood, continuation of his endings, Mentions of mr Hood, Crawling, Mrs Chainsaw

word count: (1.9k)

inspired by "treehouse" by Alex G and Emily Yacina

YOU DON'T REMEMBER how much time had passed ever since you woke up in the strange building complex. The awful headache you started feeling as soon as you opened your eyes was making it hard to concentrate, and the room was nothing but a blurry mess. You were accompanied by the soft buzzing of something, yet you weren't curious enough to find out the sourch of the irritating sound.

When the pain finally subsided you stood up, scanning the dimly lit room for any sort of familiarity, not even slightly surprised when you found none. How did this even happen? The last thing you remembered was dumping another body into that eerie so-called ghost apartment. Everything after that was as good as wiped from your memory.

As you wandered down a hallway, a strange, crawling creature made its way towards you, causing the adrenaline to kick in and your legs to start taking off on their own, leaving you breathless in another room. Your chest heaved as you looked around, feeling your throat burn as the aftermath of that ear piercing shriek you let out. It wasn't until a little while after you calmed down that you noticed the hooded figure in front of you.

Before you could freak out again he extended a hand, helping you stand up. While he had no face, you could still make out the worry he felt through his actions. He let out a few unfamiliar sounds, but stopped as soon as he noticed your eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

His finger pointed towards you, followed by a strange yet familiar word. "you" Trying to imitate the gesture you lifted your finger, pointing it towards yourself. As you did that, he continued, pointing to himself. ”me"

You repeated the gestures, doing your best to imitate the words, and once the man was satisfied he nodded, taking a step back into the room. You hadn't expected him to start teaching you words, but you were convinced it would come in handy. Soon enough you found yourself repeating after him, seemingly ready to continue.

AS YOU WERE about to walk out of the room, a strange figure appeared next to the man you called "Mr Hood." You franctically pointed in the reaction, hoping he would notice, but it dissapeared not long after he glanced to his side.

Although you were frightened by the encounter you continued forward, coming across entities and monsters of all kinds, some friendly, some strange. One of them was Mr Chopped, who you helped out. You took a liking to him, one of the few things that felt truly normal.

During your journey, you also met the creature that caused you to jump into survival mode. You decided to name him Mr Crawling, as that was what he did. He stuck by your side as much as he could, even going as far as helping you find the severed head that damned child had hidden against his will. It was risky, but worth it, seeing Mr Chopped smile as the kid held him out to him.

You knew the building's outlay would change the more time you spent down there, but you were determined to make it out, even if it meant wandering around endless hallways for God knows how long.

Things weren't looking all too positive though. During a moment of overwhelming emotions, you lost sight of Mr Crawling, leaving you all alone and vulnerable. You had to run away from hungry creatures, and even a giant head. But just as you stumbled upon a seemingly new part, a strange whistle caught your attention. You looked up, meeting eye with an unfamiliar creature.

You could tell he was mocking you from that cocky grin playing on his lips, and soon enough you found yourself in another messed up situation — making it out in one piece all while avoiding his terribly big machete! You barely managed to dodge it before he stood right in front of you, hand clasped around your throat. You felt yourself growing dizzy with each passing second, as as you finally collapsed onto the ground an overwhelming urge to kill that stupid guy enveloped you. You felt yourself growing bigger, stomping left and right in hopes of hitting your target.

HE WAS VISIBLY surprised by your switch in attitude, intrigued even, bur before you could even proceed what had happened, the giant head you had been on the run from showed up, whisking you away into a room.

"Dammit!" You groaned, pacing back and forth, thinking of a plan to get out. You even stumbled upon Mr Gap, whose irritating request only worsened your situation. Give you his heart? Did he really think you were that stupid? As you closed the from which he appeared you sighed, catching a glimpse of something in the corner of your eye. It was... A machete?

One moment you were in the room, and the next you were on the run alongside Mr Machete, someone you wouldn't have expected to show up to your rescue. Nevertheless, you were glad to meet a familiar face.

Once the two of you made it to a safe spot you stopped to catch your breath. Curiously, you tried striking a conversation with the individual before you. “Why help me?” You asked, reciting some words you had learned over the course of your stay, hoping he would understand. He simply shrugged. “You funny.” What a weird way to put it. Since he seemed in a good mood you decided to continue the topic. “Know other world?”

His curiosity seemed to have been piqued by your choice of words as he shook his head. “Me not know.” He replied, before asking a question. “Seek other world?" Finally everything was going well! You nodded. “Me seek exit” He hummed thoughtfully as he suddenly started walking again. “Me help seek.”

Knowing it wouldn't hurt to have someone accompany you down these crazy hallways you smiled, following behind the tall individual. You certainly had not expected the radical change in his behaviour, but it was relieving to know he wasn't trying to kill you anymore.

Aside from ocassional, unimportant questions there was a pleasant silence between the two of you. But things couldn't be calm for too long as an overwhelming sound reached your ears. Your eyes widened as you backed away a little, watching as Mr Machete reached for his weapon. “Monster close. Hide." he exclaims, his tone slightly commanding. You squeezed your eyes shut, and the sound of the door slamming open was followed by a scream and other strange noises. Your eyes opened, and you were met by a gruesome scene, the machete piercing a strange, feminine entity. “Monster gone. You safe now.” He replied coldly, watching the blood seep out of her body.

You offered him a smile, thanking him. His lips formed a thin line, and you noticed an open wound on his arm. Before he could continue walking your hand reached for it, causing him to quickly turn around, confused. “no walk. Stay.” You said, reaching for the piece of bandage you had received from Ms Nurse. You had stuffed it into the pocket of your rain coat, perfect for situations like this. Although his eyes weren't visible, you could tell he had a puzzled look in them as you carefully wrapped it around his wound, securing it.

He tipped his head slightly to the side, watching your face as you smiled again. “Good?" You asked nervously, hoping you hadn't upsetted him. The silence lingered for a little longer before he lifted up his uninjured arm, ruffling your hair. “Grateful.” He replied, resuming his usual grin. You felt relieved knowing he appreciated it, and the two of you continued your journey.

THE LONGER THE two of you walked together, the more you started to figure him out. Mr Machete was very strong, but even he knew his limits. Whatever could be pierced by his machete was a guaranteed win, but if it were to go through it — like it went through a ghost they encountered — he immediately fleed, admitting that not everything can be fought with brute force, meaning that you sometimes need to acknowledge nothing can be done. His rough exterior might be scary, but deep down he seemed like a nice guy, and his actions proved towards it.

You weren't all too happy when he threw you across that gaping black hole towards the other side, but it was better than having him leave you behind. He even tried to throw you considerately as to not hurt you. Things were going well until you stumbled once AGAIN with that huge faced idiot. You were seperated from Mr Machete and forced to fight him on your own, and it went surprisingly well.

After your fight you felt yourself growing dizzy, and in his own peculiar way Mr Machete showed worry. “You okay?" He asked, approaching you. With all the power you had left you shook your head. “No blood.." You said, voice faint and almost inaudible. “Blood?" He repeated after you. You rambled on in human language, believing he wouldn't be able to understand you, yet you didn't expect the otherwise cold Monster to slice a deep cut into his uninjured palm, allowing you to drink his blood, ultimately saving you from a black out.

The gesture while a little rough made you realize that he might've started caring about you, and the two of you headed out towards the elevator you noticed into the distance.

YOU DON'T REMEMBER how much time has passed ever since Mr Machete and you arrived into this strange place filled with endless hallways that seemed to have no exit, but in all honesty, you didn't care. As time passed, the two of you became closer. You wandered around daily, some days filled with talkactivity from his side while other times it was you that rambled on. It was pleasant knowing you were comfortable around each others. What started as a way out of that horrible place ended in a relationship you had never expected to have.

And for him, he hadn't felt the way he feels about you before. He wasn't used to showing emotion, nor was he used to feeling them, but he liked it. He had to admit. he only went along with you in hopes of finding a new thrilling experience, but maybe that wasn't as important as it seemed anymore, he had you now after all.

Day in day out the two of you got closer and closer, understanding each other better with each passing moment, and while the memories of the others seemed so distant, fading away deep inside your mind, the warmth you felt each time Mr Machete held you in his arms was so close yet so far, stuck together for an eternity and beyond, unsure of what the future would hold for the two of you. Not like that mattered, as long as you had each others, everything was going to be okay.

Right now you were cuddled up against him, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist as he kissed down your neck. “You pretty." He whispered into your ear as he kissed up. You smiled, you could never get enough of his compliments. “Me grateful.” You replied, already imagining that huge grin on his face. “Me love you.” He continued, letting a yawn escape his lips. “Me love you too. Rest, now?" He hummed in reply, and soon enough you found yourself entering the dream realm with your beloved by your side.

#Spotify #mr machete #mr machete x reader #mr machete homicipher #mr machete oneshot #homicipher #homicipher x reader #homicipher oneshot

344 notes · View notes

noira-l · 6 months ago

Text

𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Caught between the echoes of a love that once felt unshakable and the shadow of someone Satoru can’t let go, you’re left wondering if you’ve become invisible to the man you gave everything to. As the cracks in your bond deepen, you question whether love is enough — or if it’s time to let go of what’s already gone. How do you hold on when it feels like he already let go?

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — satoru gojo x gn reader (mentioning satosugu)

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 — heavy angst, relationship problems, lack of communication, fading love (?)

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 3,8 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — I don't know if this will appeal to anyone, it's quite bittersweet and not necessarily healthy. It's literally bitter. This short text has been sitting in my archive for a long time so I decided to publish it at last, at most I will delete it. Though I wish to thank everyone who took the time to read it.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

You don't know what tempted Satoru to offer you a date back then.

You now think he shouldn't have done it.

You can’t remember the last time you felt truly happy. Not fleetingly, not a passing moment of contentment, but deeply, unwaveringly content.

The school lay in hushed stillness at this hour, its usual clamor dissolved into quiet. You sat at the farthest desk in one of the classrooms, one leg folded beneath you, cradling a cup of coffee between your palms. The bitter scent curled into the air, threading itself through the lingering traces of chalk dust and the aged scent of worn wood.

On the blackboard, yesterday’s equations - half-erased, yet unwilling to disappear. Much like the emotions you had tried to brush away, faded but stubborn to dissapear. Your fingers traced the rim of your mug, thoughts drifting as lazily as the steam rising from the dark liquid.

It had been a long time since Suguru left. Back then, everything had felt raw and unbearablethe, sting of betrayal still fresh in the air. And yet, in the aftermath, in the quiet spaces left behind, you and Satoru had grown closer.

It wasn’t something you consciously decided. It wasn’t something you had to think about, figuring out how to approach him. It was as instinctual, as natural as reading the air in a room or sensing the unspoken shifts in someone's mood. With Satoru, though, it was more than just intuition, you could almost say it was understanding. A deep, unspoken bond that had grown stronger with time.

You always seemed to know when to come and talk, even when no one else dared. On those rare days when his usual cocky grin faltered, when the sparkle in his eyes dimmed just enough for someone paying attention to notice, you were there.

Sometimes it was at the vending machines, where he leaned heavily against the metal, his lanky frame somehow looking smaller than usual. You’d saunter up with a casual air, hand already fishing for coins in pockets.

"Need a sponsor for your sugar addiction today?" you’d tease lightly, holding up so his eyes peeked over the rims, something glimmering in the pale blue that spoke of exhaustion he’d never admit to.

"Nah." he’d reply, running a hand through his hair, as if to brush away whatever weight was pressing on him "I’ve got this one. Wouldn’t want you thinking I’m a charity case."

But you’d stay, letting the silence between you stretch just long enough to be comforting, not awkward. You’d watch as he punched in the code for some brightly colored soda. The machine whirring noisily before the can clattered down. Without a word, he’d grab a second one, tossing it to you with an easy grin.

"Payment for standing there and looking cute." he’d say, back to his usual self, but there was gratitude in his tone, unspoken but clear.

There were other times, though, when he needed more than a soda and some banter. Like the evenings after particularly rough missions, when he’d show up at your door unannounced - his hair a mess, tense shoulders and tired grimance. You’d let him in without a word, offering him your couch and a cup of tea, because somehow you just knew that tonight wasn’t the night for jokes.

He’d sit there, cradling the cup in his hands but not drinking, staring blankly at the wall as if he were somewhere else entirely. As if he needed to void out. You’d sit beside him, not too close, but just enough for him to know you were there. And when he finally spoke - his voice low, words heavy - you’d listen. Really listen. You never interrupted, never offered solutions unless he asked. Sometimes he’d talk for hours, sentences disjointed, something like a rambling, and sometimes he’d only manage a few broken phrases before falling silent again.

When he needed rationality and logic, you were ready with facts and plans, gently nudging him back to a place where things felt manageable.

When he needed humor, you’d crack jokes, your timing always impeccable, drawing out a laugh even on the worst days.

And when he needed affection - though he’d never say it outright -you gave it freely. A hand on his shoulder, a hug that lasted just a little longer than usual, a touch that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

So when he offered you a date, you agreed.

And when he asked if you would become his partner, you were on cloud nine.

Back then, he was just Satoru to you. Not the invincible sorcerer everyone else saw, but a boy, with too much energy and a habit of getting powdered sugar all over his shirt when he ate donuts. A boy who, for all his teasing, could lean against a wall and talk about Digimon for hours with an enthusiasm so pure - it made you fall even harder. A boy who, when you had a bad day, would wordlessly pass you a soda with a cartoonish wink, somehow knowing that was all you needed.

First year was magic. Satoru was charming, generous, and, despite his flaws, someone you loved wholly.

He’d take you to convenience stores late at night, pointing out the most absurd snacks with an exaggerated pitch to his voice, pretending to be a food critic. He'd tease you endlessly at vending machines, pressing every button until the machine threatened to short-circuit, just to make you laugh. Once, he'd insisted on racing you through a grocery aisle, your cart stacked precariously high with ramen and energy drinks. You'd lost, of course, but his cackling laughter had made losing feel like winning.

But slowly, the boy you loved had begun to feel more like an idea. A projection. A shadow of something that wasn’t meant for you.

Four years went by.

You remember what it was like to be young.

Set on everything with determination and a willingness to fix thing. Back then you had the ambition to do it, back then you wanted it.

Now that you're older, you don't have the strenght for it.

Obligations, bills, work and life - everything is weighing you down. Nanami was right when he said that small despairs make you an adult.

And you have a relative abundance of them.

It's no longer about the responsibilities themselves, because you're able to handle that easily, but about the fact that things are no longer the way they were.

You squeeze your cup tighter.

You won't last like this for much longer.

Lately, nothing feels the same. There’s a hollowness, like the echo left behind when all the love you poured into something spills out for nothing. Joy has become elusive, a bittersweet phantom haunting you, like the sugary snacks you occasionally buy to share with Satoru. Those treats, so deceptively sweet, leave a bitter aftertaste that lingers on your tongue and in your heart.

You don’t know when it started to fall apart. Maybe it was never whole to begin with - just a beautiful facade waiting to show its true colors.

Satoru has always been a man of revelations, each one peeling back another layer of who he is. Over the years, you’ve seen both his brilliance and his shadows. Yet, in all of his contradictions, there is one constant he’s shown you: his faithfulness.

The tragedy lies in its direction.

Because Satoru’s faithfulness has never been to you.

Not truly.

You can’t compete with the ghost of his best friend - the same best friend who set a village ablaze, who shattered him with his final words, and whom Satoru has never stopped loving.

It wasn’t obvious at first. The truth revealed itself in fragments, like shards of glass glittering in the aftermath of a wreck. It began innocuously, in the quiet of your shared nights. The first time you crossed that invisible line and slept with each other, you heard him murmur a name in his sleep. Suguru. At first, you thought it was a nightmare. Your boyfriend told you he had them often, and you believed him. But then, one night, you heard something different. A whisper, soft and reverent "Love you."

And then, as though to leave no doubt - "Suguru."

He never used that words for you.

You dismissed it, telling yourself that dreams are strange and inexplicable things.

But as the months passed, you began to notice things that your infatuation had blinded you to before.

Satoru, who could talk endlessly about himself, rarely asked you anything of substance. Sure, he might throw out a casual "How was your day?" now and then, but he never delved deeper. Never asked about your thoughts, your passions, your dreams. You told yourself it was just his nature - that he was too talkative to stop and listen. Yet, you remembered how he used to ask Suguru about everything. Suguru’s favorite soda. His opinion on Digimon. Every little thing.

But you? He never bothered to know you like that.

Even his touch, once comforting, felt distant. Satoru was happy to drape an arm around your shoulders or hug you playfully. But the moment you reached for him - tried to touch him with intention - he’d often pull away, as if the intimacy was too much. Once, you rested your head against his shoulder while he scrolled through his phone. He tensed, made an excuse, and shifted just far enough away that the moment dissolved into awkwardness.

Slowly, the cracks grew wider. You began to scrutinize every word, every gesture, every gift. His presents, once a delight, now felt hollow. They lacked thought or care - impersonal trinkets that might as well have been for anyone. When you finally mustered the courage to mention it, his response stunned you.

He shrugged "Suguru would’ve appreciated it."

He thought you hadn’t heard.

You started to wonder if you were a placeholder - a convenient balm for the gaping wound Geto had left behind. A temporary shelter where he could rest and heal, before moving on to something, someone, better.

You sighed, taking a sip of your coffee. Bitter taste filling your senses.

How fitting.

Then there were other signs. The way his conversations always circled back to him - his laugh, his thoughts, his preferences. His hair routine, his clothing choices, his music taste. You remember them all.

But what about you?

You started noticing how little he asked about you. Your opinions, your likes and dislikes, your routines - none of it seemed to interest him the way Geto’s had. You once mentioned your favorite book, and he’d brushed it off saying "Suguru liked that one too."

He didn’t even ask why you loved it.

The bitterness grew, but you pushed it down. You tried harder. You gave more.

Maybe if you just loved him harder, he’d see it. Maybe if you proved yourself enough, he’d understand.

But no matter how much you gave - your patience, your time, your quiet sacrifices - it was never enough. No matter how much there was on your shoulders. He’d just brush it off, as if none of it really mattered. As if you didn’t really matter.

You thought back to that day on the stairs. You’d been carrying too much - boxes of documents stacked high in your arms, the weight pressing down as exhaustion dragged at your limbs. The day had already been endless, your body running on fumes. And then, a misstep. The world tilting. Papers scattering. The sharp sting of impact rattling through you.

Shoko and Utahime had rushed over immediately, their concern written in the furrow of their brows, in the way their hands found your shoulders, steadying, grounding.

And Sator, your dear boyfriend of few years?

He had stood at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets, that ever-present grin curling at his lips - like it was all some joke, like you weren’t biting back the burn of frustrated tears as the girls helped you up.

"Clumsy as ever, huh?" he’d quipped, the words light, teasing - cutting in a way they hadn’t been meant to.

You’d laughed too, because what else was there to do? A weak, hollow sound that barely scraped the surface of your exhaustion.

Shoko had leaned in, voice low, a quiet tether pulling you back from the edge "He’s an idiot."

And you had nodded, forcing another awkwarda laugh, pretending it didn’t sting. Pretending you weren’t still waiting for something more.

Or the time on the bike trip, when he’d sped ahead without a second thought, leaving you struggling at the back. The wind whipped against your face, your legs burned, and the distance between you stretched farther and farther. He never once glanced back. By the time you finally caught up at the end - breathless, frustrated, fighting the ache in your limbs - he only grinned, ruffling your hair like you were some kid tagging along.

"Took you long enough. You’re so slow - come on!"

Like it hadn’t mattered. Like you hadn’t spent the entire ride cursing under your breath, wondering why he never once thought to wait.

Or that evening outside the archives. You’d been carrying stacks of documents, arms trembling under the weight, your balance precarious with every step. The workload had been heavy that day -too many records to sort, too many reports to file.

And then, just your luck - Satoru happened to be passing by. He stopped, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you struggle with that same insufferable ease.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his lips curling into a lazy, teasing smile.

Relieved, you nodded, expecting him to take some of the load. Instead, he only laughed, stepping back as if the thought had never been serious.

"You’re stronger than you look. You’ve got this!"

And then he walked away.

You stood there for a long moment, the weight in your arms pressing down heavier than before, something inside you sinking just as much. It wasn’t until Ijichi came running up minutes later - breathless, flustered, immediately taking the papers from your arms - that you realized how much the interaction stung. You wanted to cry after that day.

You clenched your jaw at the memory, fingers tightening around the cup.

You couldn’t brush it off as teasing - not anymore. Not after everything. Not after the way each remark, each careless dismissal, began carving into you, deeper and deeper, until the wounds felt too raw to ignore. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you. Satoru wasn’t cruel to you. But he was careless in a way that cut sharper than deliberate malice ever could.

You tried to talk to him. Over and over again.

You tried to bridge the growing distance, to make him see what his actions did to you. You told him how you felt - how his words made you feel invisible, unloved.

He always listened. Always apologized. Always promised to do better.

"I’m an idiot sometimes." "You know I care about you." "You know I love you, right?"

Did you?

Because sometimes, he did do better. For a little while. But it never lasted.

And the worst part? There were still days when he surprised you - when he remembered the smallest detail about you, something you never expected him to notice. When he wrapped you in an embrace so warm, so achingly genuine, that for a moment, you almost believed things could go back to the way they were.

Those moments used to be sweet.

Now, they were bitter - tainted by the quiet, sinking knowledge that they would never last.

You started to think you were a burden, and a burden to him. To his world, to his perfectly constructed image of his bestfriend who is long gone.

Eventually, you stopped trying.

It wasn't a sudden decision. It was a slow, quiet thing - a gradual erosion of effort, of hope, of whatever was left inside you that still believed things could change.

So you did what you had always done best: you worked harder. You buried yourself in tasks, taking on extra responsibilities, pushing for promotions, negotiating a better salary, securing better insurance - things that had tangible results, things that didn’t depend on someone else’s willingness to care. You spent late nights hunched over papers, your fingers stiff from typing, mind too exhausted to wander to the places it used to. The ones where you still hoped.

You told yourself that if you kept yourself busy, if you filled every moment with something else, the ache in your chest would dull. That if you distanced yourself, if you cared less, it would hurt less.

It didn’t.

You didn’t think Satoru would notice. Not really. He had always been good at missing the things that mattered. But lately, there were signs—small, almost imperceptible shifts that told you someone had gotten through to him.

It wasn’t you.

It was your friends. The ones who saw what you had long since stopped voicing. You knew this because one evening, while passing by an open window, you overheard a conversation that wasn’t meant for you.

"You don’t pay attention to them at all, do you?" Shoko’s voice steady, unimpressed.

"What? That’s not true." Satoru’s response came, lighthearted and quite defensive.

"It is." there was no hesitation in her tone "They stopped trying, and you didn’t even notice, right? You should’ve."

You had stopped walking then, the weight of the words keeping you frozen in place, listening to a conversation you shouldn’t have been hearing.

"I—" he started, then fell silent.

"They never ask anything from you, and you take that for granted. They don’t complain when you don’t have time, they don’t whine when you’re busy, and they never expect you to put them first." a pause, then a quieter, sharper addition: "And you just let them disappear."

You had moved away before you could hear his response. You knew Utahime scolded his as well. Nanami also happend to add a few remarks where he could. It didn’t matter anymore. But still, you're glad they're trying.

You knew Satoru had little time. You had never once faulted him for that. You had never admonished him, never whined or complained -not to him, not to anyone. You weren’t someone who needed constant reassurance, weren’t someone who demanded attention. You understood how much he carried, how much the world expected of him.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe you had been so careful not to be a burden that he had forgotten you needed things too. For so long, you had been the one to reach out. The one to bridge the gaps. The one who tried, and tried, and tried - until one day, you realized you didn’t even know how to anymore.

So you've stuck here. Distanced emotionally and physically.

You didn’t start conversations with him anymore. You didn’t go anywhere anymore. If he asked, you refused, always citing work as the reason. It wasn’t even a lie. You had more than enough tasks to keep you occupied - endless stacks of reports, backlogged documents in the archives, additional responsibilities you willingly shouldered just to ensure you had something to do. Something that kept you from dwelling on the widening gap between you and him.

Anything to make you forget about the boy you fell in love with.

Shoko and Utahime noticed. Of course, they did.

"You’ve been busy lately." Utahime had commented once, watching you as you skimmed through paperwork over a cup of tea.

"You okay?" Shoko had asked, her voice quieter, more careful.

You had smiled. "Yeah, just a lot of work." and you got back to it without another word. You never elaborated. Never let on that your workload wasn’t the real reason. But they weren’t fools.

Because everyone saw it.

They saw how your expression shifted whenever Satoru entered the room. How your voice lost some warmth when he spoke to you. They saw the way your posture stiffened, how the exhaustion in your eyes sharpened whenever he draped an arm over your shoulders or tried to inject lightness into the air.

And maybe that was the worst part. That he still tried. That he still threw his arms around you, still cracked his jokes, still playfully nudged you, like nothing had changed.

Did he not see it? Did he truly not notice how the spark of amusement that used to be there had long since flickered out?

Or did he notice, and just pretend not to?

You didn’t know which answer would be worse. But either way, he didn’t stop.

He would still come find you at work, leaning casually against the edge of your desk, rattling off whatever was on his mind - missions, food, something absurd that had happened that day. And you, out of politeness, would respond. Not with the teasing banter you used to return so easily, but with something neutral, something enough. Sometimes you would ask a question - just to avoid silence. Just to make it seem like you weren’t completely closed off.

But you were. And if he noticed the difference, if he felt the weight of the silence growing between you, he never let it show.

So now you’re sitting here, in class, alone. Like every morning.

Coffee sits between your hands, its warmth seeping into your fingers. It’s bitter, too bitter, the way work coffee always is - but you drink it anyway. You’re used to the taste.

These mornings are never quite the same.

Some days, you sit in complete silence, your expression unreadable, your thoughts somewhere far away. Retracing steps, rewinding memories, searching for the moment where it all started to slip - where the warmth faded, where the distance began.

Other days, tears slip down before you can stop them, disappearing into the wood of the desk, vanishing like they were never there at all. On the worst mornings, you sob, quiet and restrained, shoulders shaking under the weight of something too heavy to name.

And then there are mornings like today. Mornings where you smile - bright, convincing, almost effortless. You tell yourself that you’ve accepted it. That this is just how things are. That you tried everything, exhausted every option, and this is simply who he is.

You tell yourself that you can live with it. That it’s fine. That it doesn’t hurt. You pretend. Pretend that everything is okay.

And the kicker?

You’re sure he’s not going to do anything about it. You’ve distanced yourself, drawn the lines, left enough space between you that even he should notice. And yet, you don’t expect him to react. Not really.

Because deep down, you wonder if he even sees it. If he’s aware of what’s slipping away right in front of him. If he even cares.

And maybe - maybe this was always inevitable. Maybe this is just what love turns into. Not the explosion of anger or betrayal you once feared, not a dramatic ending wrapped in sharp words and finality, but something slower. Quieter. A slow erosion of what once was, until all that remains is something unrecognizable.

The door creaked open, and you stiffened, hastily wiping at your eyes before turning away, pretending to focus on the coffee cooling between your hands.

Satoru stepped in, his ever-present grin faltering slightly when he saw you.

"Hey." his voice was light, easy, too easy. Like he was testing the waters "Thought I’d find you here."

You forced a smile, the weight of your mask settling over you like a familiar friend.

"Morning."

He pulled out the chair beside you, sinking into it with that same practiced casualness, legs sprawled, arms draped over the back like he didn’t notice.

"I brought you something." he reached into a small paper bag, placing it on the desk between you.

You opened it to find a box of sweets. The wrong ones. Again.

"Thanks." you murmured, setting the bag aside.

Satoru frowned and hesitated. His fingers drummed against the desk once, twice. His gaze flickered over your face, searching.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." you said still smiliing, the lie slipping out as easily as it always did.

And like always, he accepted it without question.

219 notes · View notes