#to a job they know they will have in a heartbeat

[lenkist]

Good job, detective

Detective!Agatha x fem!reader (3.2k words)

summary: you’re a newly minted detective who just cracked your first murder case, and the entire police department decided to celebrate with a small party—naturally, Agatha Harkness was there.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, g!p agatha harkness, smut, dirty talk, penetration, blowjob, mommy issue, explicit language, age gap, praising kink, outdoor, unprotected sex, slight footjob

a/n: I was a little high on edibles and listening to Crush by Ethel Cain while writing this. Let me know if you guys want part 2!

Case closed. The bad guy got caught. You did it.

The air in the bar is filled with the smell of spilled beer and the stale scent of whiskey that lingered from the bar’s low-lit corners.

Tonight, the place felt even smaller than usual, the laughter of the police officers in the corner fading into the background as you kept your eyes on the one person who hadn't yet congratulated you on your first solved murder case: Detective Agatha Harkness.

She was sitting by herself like she always did. A worn cigarette dangled from her lips, ash falling off in slow, lazy bits. Her beer, the cheapest they had, was halfway gone, and her navy cargo pants and dark flannel looked as though they’d seen too many long nights like this.

She looked at ease, but the slight tension in her posture told you she wasn’t entirely relaxed. Maybe she hadn’t been for years.

“Good job, newbie,” Herb said, clinking his beer against your shoulder, snapping you back to the present.

You offered him a polite smile. Herb was one of the few people in the department you found easy to talk to. “Thanks, but it wasn’t just me. Agatha helped a lot with the case.”

“She did,” Herb said, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. You didn’t need to look to know he was watching Agatha. “She can be tough, sure, but she’s one hell of a mentor—and an even better detective. The best we’ve got.”

Your heartbeat quickened, and you felt your cheeks flush as you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed, your voice quieter. “She’s really good at that.”

You’d been watching her all night, trying to figure out if she was as untouchable as she seemed. Now, drunk and buzzed from the alcohol, you figured you might as well try.

You waited until the last of the other cops had filtered out and the bar had quieted before finally making your move toward her.

You wobbled slightly as you approached her booth, the floor beneath your boots feeling unsteady. Agatha didn’t even look up. She didn’t need to. She already knew you were coming.

“Detective,” you said, your voice slurring just a bit. “Thought I’d join you.”

Agatha looked up slowly, her blue eyes narrowing just the slightest as she took in your unsteady stance. She didn’t smile. Didn’t say a word for a long moment. The only sound was the faint clink of her beer hitting the table.

“You’re drunk.” She muttered, voice rough like she hadn’t spoken all night. Her cigarette dangled from her lips, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light.

You didn’t care. You were tired of playing it safe, tired of pretending you didn’t notice her, that you didn’t feel that pull when you were around her. “So what?” you said, voice a little more defiant than you intended. “Doesn’t mean I can’t talk to you.”

She took a long drag from her cigarette, eyes still locked on you, sizing you up. “It means you can’t think straight,” she said, voice flat. “And you’re about to make a fool of yourself.”

“Maybe I do want to make a fool of myself.”

Agatha snorted softly, shaking her head as a sly smirk curved her lips. “I know exactly what you’re doing,”

“Oh?” you replied, tilting your head. “And what’s that?”

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as if she were interrogating a suspect. “Trying to sleep with your senior detective to fast-track your career. It’s cute, really.”

“It’s not about climbing the ladder,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of her scrutiny. “I just wanna have a drink with you, that’s all. Celebrating our success on the case. We worked so hard together, didn’t we?”

“Isn’t it, though?” Agatha countered, her eyes narrowing like she was analyzing every detail of your reaction. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks that way.”

“I’m not interested in hiding my desires, detective,” you said softly, looking down and seeing a noticeable bulge on Agatha’s pants. You wet your lips. “Can’t say the same to you, though.”

For the first time, Agatha didn’t look away. But she didn’t smile either. Instead, her gaze darkened, and she put the cigarette out in the ashtray between you. “I’m not the one you want, kid,” she said, voice a little more serious now, almost a warning. “I’m trouble. And you’re better off without it.”

You scoffed, your head swimming a little more with every word she said, but you pushed through. “You think I’m some little rookie who’s scared of a little trouble?”

“Yeah,” she replied, voice thick with that Southern drawl. “I think that’s exactly what you are. And you think you’re the first one who’s tried to make a move on me after a few drinks?”

Her words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t back off. You weren’t going to let her get away with pushing you away like she had with everyone else.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, the alcohol making your thoughts fuzzier. “But I’m more fun. You’ll see.”

Agatha tilted her head, studying you carefully. You could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, and for a split second, there was something soft there— curiosity, maybe. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold, distant look that made her so damn good at shutting people out.

“I’ve been down that road, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low, cocky. “I don’t need another mess in my life. Especially not one that can’t even hold their liquor.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine,” you said, your voice firm now, the alcohol starting to fuel your stubbornness. “I just think maybe you’re a little scared of me.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Scared of you?” she repeated, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’ve been around, kid. Don’t flatter yourself.”

You leaned in closer, your chest almost brushing against the edge of the table. “Maybe I’m not the one who’s scared,” you said softly, words coming out before you could think. “Maybe you’re just too afraid to let someone in.”

She didn’t confirm, or deny. She didn’t need to.

Instead, Agatha stood up suddenly, her movements slow, deliberate. “You’re drunk, rookie, get rest. Go home,” she muttered, her voice almost tired now. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, she walked out of the booth, her figure disappearing into the dim light of the small bar.

You watched the smoke from her last cigarette curl in the air, and it seemed to mock you, reminding you of the way Agatha had pulled away from you without a second thought. But you weren’t going to let it end like that. Not tonight.

You weren’t a fool. You could tell by the way she looked at you—half dismissive, half something else—that she wasn’t immune to whatever this was. That flicker of vulnerability that she quickly buried every time you came close, the little moments where she didn’t pull away fast enough. She might have tried to shut you down, but you could see it, just beneath the surface.

And you weren’t backing down.

You pushed yourself away from the booth and stumbled a little as you made your way to the door, your boots clicking a little too loudly against the worn wooden floors. You had no idea where she went, but you had a feeling you didn’t need to look far.

Agatha was at the far end of the empty parking lot, leaning against her car, a cigarette in her hand. The glow of the streetlamp cast a shadow over her, making her look even more like she belonged to the night than she had inside.

You walked toward her slowly, your thoughts still clouded by the alcohol, but your steps steady.

She didn’t look up when you stopped a few feet away from her. “Thought I told you to go home,” Agatha’s voice was low and rough, and she didn’t turn to face you. Her thumb flickers a cigarette’s butt.

You didn’t take a step back. “I don’t think you told me that,” you replied, your voice more confident than you felt. “You just tried to get rid of me.”

“Same thing.” She took another drag. “You’ve already had your fun for the night. Go back inside, have another drink with the others. Let them keep telling you how great you are.”

“They’re all already gone home.”

Agatha shrugged. “And you should too, kid.”

Then, without warning,

You stepped forward, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from her, the tension so thick between you two that it almost made the air crackle. Agatha’s breath hitched as you grabbed her crotch.

Fuck it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You said you didn’t want me, liar,” you said softly, your voice low, your chest tight. “You’re hard, detective.”

Agatha didn’t say anything right away. But when she did, it wasn’t with words. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing the back of your neck before pulling you in. The kiss was slow, deliberate, testing, like she was still deciding if she wanted this, if you were worth it.

You moan into her greedy mouth. Your hand squeezes her bulge, earning a sweet moan and a soft hip buck from Agatha. You’re practically throwing yourself into her arms. That pulled-up sleeve of her flannel is making your head dizzy. She’s such a handsome woman, and you want nothing more than for her to ruin you, to have your fingernails clawing onto her veiny arms as she choked you in bed.

When she pulled back, her blue eyes were darker than they had been before. Her breath was shallow, but she still didn’t say anything.

“Agatha?” you call for her, unsure if you have pushed it too far. “I—”

“Get in the car,” she demands, pulling your hair with force. “Now.”

Swallowing hard, you took a step back and reluctantly broke away from her embrace. As you walked towards the car, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear coursing through your veins. This was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, but the idea of being with Agatha, having her in every way possible, was intoxicating.

As you reached the car, Agatha slid into the driver's seat, her eyes never leaving yours. You could see the hunger and desire mirrored in her gaze. It made your heart race even faster and sent a surge of adrenaline through your body.

"You’ve been bad," she whispered, breathing hard. She didn’t even bother to take off her clothes. Agatha just unzipped her cargo pants and freed her hardened, big, thick cock, and sighed in relief.

“God, Agatha—”

"Look at the mess you made me, hon."

You couldn't help but lick your lips in anticipation. The sight of it was overwhelming, and you felt a surge of arousal that you had never experienced before. You knew this was wrong to fuck your peer, but all you could think about was feeling that perfect cock inside you, being impaled on it and taken by the woman you had been so drawn to for months.

Your cunt clenched around nothing with the thought of Agatha’s hands on your hips, fucking your pussy. “Please.”

"Begging me to fuck you already, huh?" she said, her voice low and sexy. "I bet you'd be great at anything I asked you to do."

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment, feeling a warm sensation spread through your body. "What do you want me to do next?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward to press her lips against yours in a gentle, possessive kiss. "I think it's time for you to show me just how good you are," she said, her voice low and husky. She reached down, grasping your hair gently and pulling you toward her cock. "Suck me off, baby," she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative.

You didn't need to be told twice. You eagerly took Agatha's cock into your mouth, savoring the taste of her leaks like a sweet honey.

She groaned in pleasure as you began to suck and stroke her, feeling her cock twitch and grow harder in your mouth. She’s so big that you can’t even fit it down your throat without choking in tears.

“It’s fine, baby, take it slow.”

You nodded and ran your tongue over the head of her cock. You could feel her thighs trembling as you worked your way down her length, teasing the sensitive areas with your tongue and lips. Agatha moaned loudly, her hands gripping your hair tightly as she enjoyed the sensations.

You moved faster, knowing that you had to bring her to climax soon. You could feel a powerful energy building within you just from pleasuring her, and you knew that this was something you wanted to do for her again and again. Her hips bucked against you, both her hands now gripping your hair as she began to lose in the sensation, each movement pushing her cock deeper and deeper.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, her voice a low growl. Her head was throwing against the seat, her eyes were closed and her lips parted in messy moans as she held your head still and fucked into your mouth. She looked high and drunk in absolute pleasure, and that made you feel proud of yourself. "Yes, just like that."

You could feel the tension building within her, and you knew that she was close. Her breathing grew ragged, and her grip on your hair tightened as she neared the edge.

"I'm going to cum," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Yes, right there."

And then it happened – Agatha's body stiffened, and her cock throbbed in your mouth as she came. You felt the warm rush of her climax as she flooded your mouth with hot fluids. Your eyes rolled in pleasure and your nose pressed against her pubic hair. She cried out, her voice a mix of pleasure and relief, as she rode out her orgasm.

Eventually, she softened and pulled out of your mouth, collapsing back onto her seat. You pushed yourself up, catching your breath. You’re dripping wet and Agatha noticed the needs in your eyes.

Then, Agatha commands. “On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, moving to the backseat, getting down on all fours with your ass in the air. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and you pushed yourself back against Agatha's legs, yearning for her touch.

You’re so ready to get fucked out of your sanity. You‘re a mess, drunk in alcohol and Agatha’s touch.

"That's it, baby," Agatha crooned, her hand running up and down your spine, sending shivers through your entire body. "Just like that."

With a grunt of effort, Agatha positioned herself behind you. You could feel the head of her cock probing against your entrance, testing your readiness. You whimpered softly, a mix of fear and excitement washing over you.

With a fierce grip on your hips, Agatha thrust forward. You felt the head of her cock push past your tight entrance, stretching you in a way you never thought possible. A gasp escaped from you as she continued to push deeper, and you felt every inch of her cock slide into you. It was both painful and exhilarating, the sensation overwhelming.

"Oh god, yes," you cried out, your voice shaking with emotion. "Fuck me, Agatha. Fuck me hard."

Agatha didn't need to be told twice. She began thrusting into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body. The slapping sounds of her hips hitting against your ass filled the car, punctuated by the occasional moan or gasp from either one of you.

Your hands reached back, gripping onto the seat belt clasps for support as Agatha pounded into you relentlessly. Her breaths came in short pants, her muscles tense with exertion. You could feel her heart pounding against your back, in sync with your own rapid heartbeat.

"This is what you want, huh?" you nodded, chanting her name like a sacred prayer. She growled, her grip tightening on your hips. "This is it, right? Getting fucked by an older woman’s cock, is that your kink?”

“Yes! Mommy,” you cried out, “yes, yesyesyes.”

Your body responded to her words, your pussy clenching around Agatha's cock with each thrust. The feeling was indescribable, and you knew that this was something you would never forget.

"Fuck, Agatha," you moaned, lifting your hips to meet each of her strokes. "I'm going to come so hard."

"Good," Agatha murmured, her voice thick with desire. "I want to feel it, baby. I want to feel you come apart.”

Her words sent you over the edge. The pleasure built up inside of you, rushing through your body like wildfire until finally, it exploded out of you in waves of bliss. You screamed out her name, your pussy clenching down on her cock as your orgasm washed over you.

Agatha groaned as she felt your pussy contract around her cock, the sensation pushing her closer to her own release. "Fuck, hon," she hissed, "I'm right there with you."

Her hips bucked harder, each thrust more messy than the last. You could feel the tension in her tight grip on your hips, her veins popping up on her neck and her arms as she neared her climax. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing that you were driving her to such heights of pleasure.

"Cum for me, Agatha," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Cum inside me."

This was all it took. With a final, powerful thrust, Agatha cried out, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cock jerked inside you, shooting pulse after pulse of hot cum deep into your pussy. It was intense, almost painful in its intensity, but so incredibly pleasurable. You wondered how many women have had Agatha cumming inside them like this, the thought made you feel a wave of jealousy right through your chest.

As Agatha's orgasm subsided, her breathing slowly returning to normal, she pulled out of you with a soft pop. You felt a warm, wet sensation between your legs as her cock slipped from you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

Her eyes flicked down to her slick, cum-covered cock before returning to you with a wicked smirk playing on her lips. She scoffed, flipping your body effortlessly onto your back. Your eyes followed her movements, now lying on your back as you watched Agatha try to catch her breath.

"Tired already, detective?" you challenged playfully. Your feet shifted towards her thigh, feeling her up through the rough fabrics of her cargo pants before pressing your feet on her sensitive cock, teasingly giving her a foot job that caused Agatha to buck her hips and whimper in sudden pleasure. You were certain that you could make her cum again, or even drive her to overstimulation if she’d let you.

She stopped your movements with one firm grasp.

"Not enough, huh?" she asked, gazing at her own cum running down between your legs and looking back at you like she couldn’t believe you still wanted more. “Are you trying to get yourself knocked up or something?”

“Maybe,” you teased, giggling softly before grabbing her collar and pulling her into a kiss. “You’re incredible,” you whispered, your fingers slipping into her hair. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Agatha’s smirk widened as she cocked her head, her southern charm slipping effortlessly into her tone. “Well, sugar, ’course you haven’t,” she drawled, her voice dripping with a honeyed confidence that made your cheeks burn. “I’m exceptional.”

[sanjisprincesss]

Hey lover

The first thing you noticed as you stirred awake was warmth—a solid, comforting warmth. You opened your eyes to find him beside you, still fast asleep. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across his face. His features were relaxed, lips slightly parted as he breathed in steady, peaceful rhythms.

You smiled to yourself, feeling your heart swell at how serene he looked. It wasn’t often that you got to see him like this, unguarded and free of the weight he carried every day.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted closer, resting your head against his chest. His arm instinctively tightened around you, pulling you closer in his sleep. The subtle scent of him—clean and familiar—made you feel at home in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

For a moment, you simply stayed there, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. It was a reminder that he was here, that this wasn’t some fleeting dream.

Eventually, you felt him stir. His breathing changed, and his fingers brushed lightly against your back. You tilted your head to look up at him just as his eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and low, but the soft smile on his lips sent warmth flooding through you. “Morning,” you whispered back, reaching up to smooth the messy strands of hair falling over his forehead.

He chuckled, pulling you closer until your foreheads were almost touching. “Did you sleep well?”

“With you here? Always.”

His smile widened at your response, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. I’d hate to think I wasn’t doing my job as your human pillow.”

You both laughed softly, the sound blending into the quiet of the morning. It was moments like this—simple, intimate—that reminded you how lucky you were to have him.

“Can we stay like this a little longer?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, pulling the blanket over you both. “As long as you want.”

And so, you stayed wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet comfort of the morning before the rest of the world came calling.

[existence-is-useless]

Look, a lot of these critisisms are very anti capitalist. Like, yeah, their wages are automatically taken away. But they lose less than what I lose in rent. So they're losing less than me. And yeah, there's a good chance that they hate the job and so even though the place they're working might suck and they want to get a new job, there's lots of people who are stuck in terrible low paying jobs. That's capitalism. And yeah, you have to notify your employers if you've been in prison. That sucks and is unfair, but they at least know a place that will hire them regardless cause that's where they work. Denying the parole is wrong and should be stopped, but the guy who trained me got an early release, so I assume that the place I work doesn't do that. And like, it's better than sitting in prison for a few years with limited contact with the outside world, stuck losing money from the fact that you can't work.

My dad was in and out of prison most of his younger days. Mainly for aggravated assault and other violet stuff, so I went to him and told him what it was like. He seemed to think it was good. I believe his sentiment was: shit, I wish they had that when I was in.

The prison system is terrible and needs to be reworked, but I think this is an improvement. And like, they can quit. Literally, it's an optional thing for them. They can quit and get fired, just like me.

But like, if they didn't have this opportunity, they would just spend the time in prison which has been proven to be isolating. This isn't locking people up and keeping them away. This is rehabilitation. This is ensuring that they have access to a paying job. They get fully hired on once they do get parole. That seems like they're less likely to feel pressured to go back to whatever it was they did to get sent to prison.

If I was in prison, I would volunteer in a heartbeat.

[egglain]

MORE CHOSO WHO CRIES WHEN HE CUMS/THANKS YOU/LIKES EDGING HIMSELF PLEASE DADDY 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Giftwrapping

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Choso x AFAB!Reader Content: dickcember day 19 - protected (then unprotected), broken condoms, ribbons, d/s undertones, mild sensory deprivation (restricted movement, blindfolding, gagging), anal toys (choso) wc: 1.7k

thanks for the ask :)) written for afab!reader- hope that's ok <3

Choso gets shy easily.

It’s not that he’s upset about crying or being needy— they’re normal emotions, you’ve told him. He knows that objectively; he feels good and his body is responding in the way it's supposed to.

But he can’t help but feel embarrassed sometimes.

Kisses on his cheeks or the reddening tips of his ears have him averting his gaze. Gropes to his chest make him hide his face behind soft hands. Palming the flesh of his ass draws out a yelp; one so loud he has to hide under the collar of his shirt.

Choso gets shy easily.

Which is why you never expected him to be into stuff like this.

Gentle fingertips met the bridge of a tattooed nose, ghosting over the blush spreading there. Just above your touch, a satin blindfold obscured his vision, purple to match the ribbon binding his wrists above his head.

Slowly, you rocked your hips against him, jostling the cock lodged deep inside.

The fabric of the blindfold was dark around his eyes, soaked with the fat tears he couldn't help but shed. In his gaping mouth, your wet panties, now drool-slicked as pretty white teeth clamped desperately onto the fabric. His chin jutted out defiantly, despite the quiver in his reddened lips.

Picking up the pace, you bounced a little quicker on his length, hands firm on the centre of his chest.

Beneath you, his strong core shook with an impending orgasm. Ripples rolled through each muscle in his abdomen, tensing and untensing in time with his throbbing cock.

It was too much for the poor boy.

Choso fussed, feet scrambling to find purchase on the bed to fuck his hips up into you– but it was no use. That stupid ribbon kept his ankles bound together. Kept his legs bound together up to trembling thighs. Kept the vibrator lodged inside.

A sob wracked through his body as you halted, sitting stone still on his dick, now leaking like a faucet into the stupid condom you rolled on him.

You felt bad, but not bad enough.

Not bad enough to let him off the hook.

It had been hours, now, of this game.

A game Choso loved and hated; one that he could never stop playing, too content with getting drunk off the feeling.

You’d ride him until his legs spasmed, until he was trying to buck up to chase his peak.

Then, you’d stop.

Motionless, you’d let him sit snug inside, no friction to push him off the very edge into his release.

Then, after ten agonizing seconds, you’d move again.

He had lost count of how many times he’d had his orgasm ripped out of his grasp before he could taste it. He knew feeling like this— debauched, desperate— would be natural for anyone in this situation.

But the way you were stroking his cheek and cooing at him, so soft and sweet, had his body burning up.

“Good job, baby.”

He had been still and patient as you counted down in your head, the soft staccato of his heartbeat pulsing a pretty rhythm inside your cunt.

A tired head lolled to the side, softly suckling on the sullied gusset of the panties on his tongue. Drool rolled down his chin– mostly his– as the pleasure in his cock melted into a dull ache.

Slowly, you began to move again, clit grinding against the short black hair at the base of his cock.

A groan reverberated through his chest as you thumbed at his pecs, running the pads of your fingers over his pebbled nipples. Choso arched deliciously into the touch, arms shaking overhead as the pressure sent shockwaves through him.

His soft chest was so sensitive; you couldn't help but spit on his tits, sending sparks shooting to his curled toes. Deft fingers swirled around rosy areolas as you bounced on his length, trying not to lose your head.

He felt so good like this– pliant yet rock hard, throbbing against your cervix in soft thu-thumps that matched the pounding of his heart.

He groaned wantonly through the fabric, spit bubbling and dripping over his lower lip. You leaned down to chase it, kissing up his chin so slow.

He bucked in your grasp, body convulsing as his cries darkened his blindfold further. Fat tears rolled out from under the fabric, leaving glistening trails down flushed cheeks that disappeared into his hair.

His pretty display had your core heating, navel filled with blunt pleasing pressure. You couldn’t help but flutter around him, clenching down when ass met pelvis. Clearly, Choso was feeling it too— his moans melded into whimpers, high and whiny in the back of his throat. His chest stuttered with shaky breaths, and he spat out the panties with a little gag.

“You okay, baby?”

You slowed down, reaching up to tangle one hand with his. He squeezed it in his grip, hips lifting off the bed minutely to reach deeper inside. The movement shot shivers to his legs, toes pointed almost painfully. The low hum of the vibrator inside— just shy of his prostate— was driving him crazy.

His gasp had you impossibly wetter.

“Please… can’t do it anymore.”

“Please what, love?”

“Let me fuck you please… please please please just let me fuck you. I want to cum— I need to cum so bad.” It was babbled and wet, through sniffles and whines.

Slowly, you lowered yourself to his ear, hips grinding down on him once again.

“Then cum for me.”

Before you could finish, he did.

Arched off the bed, clamping down around his vibrator and thrusting up into you as much as he could, he came so hard he couldn’t breathe.

You rode him through it, chasing your own pleasure. Choso’s spent cries of overstimulation had you barreling off the edge, soaking his base, pelvis, and balls.

Slowing to a halt, you peeled the blindfold off. His eyes, unfocused and puffy with tears, softened at the sight of you.

You made quick work of the ribbons binding his wrists, brushing feather-light kisses to the reddened skin.

“You okay, Cho?”

“I’m great.”

He was giving you that dopey look— spit-slicked lips tugged into a goofy grin.

When he was like this, fuzzy after his orgasm, it was impossible to be shy.

The vibrator buzzed low inside him, keeping him riding the delicious edge between his post-orgasm butterflies and delicious overstimulation— it was mind-numbing.

He rolled his wrists experimentally, cracking the joints there, before helping you off his cock. He moved to yank off the condom as you untied his legs, blinking blearily down at himself.

His tip was all white and wet.

Little strings of thick cum connected his tip to his index finger as he touched it.

The condom broke.

“Baby…?” His voice cracked as you finished with the ribbon, throwing it over the side of the bed. “Something bad happened.”

He tugged the remaining flimsy latex off his base, stuffing it into the wrapper to toss later. His eyes were glued on your back, chest tight with fear. He hated seeing you upset, especially when it was because of him.

Yet, you crawled back up to his side as docile as ever.

“What’s wrong?”

Splaying a gentle hand on his spit-soaked chest, you rubbed big soothing circles on his sternum.

He took a shaky, steadying breath. Choso couldn't meet your eyes, opting instead to run his nails over the ribbon-chafed skin of his forearms.

“The condom sort of… broke… I didn’t know until I went to take it off.”

“Oh baby,” you mumbled, kissing his forehead. “That’s alright. Mistakes happen.”

Shifting, you brushed fingertips between your legs. The digits came up glossy, connected with little webs of thick cum.

Choso watched the movement, pupils dilating.

Before you could blink, he was on you again, pushing his toy just a little deeper inside to work his prostate while he split you open. Immediately, the stimulation had him quaking, arms shaking by your head as he caged you in.

“Sorry— Sorry I can’t—“ He babbled, eyes filling with tears as he humped you messily, tip battering your sore cervix.

You gripped onto his back, hooking your legs around his waist to keep him in deep, and were rewarded with the prettiest little moan.

“Feels too good— can’t stop,” he hissed, teardrops falling onto your cheeks as they dripped out dark eyes.

His thrusts were messy— cum-slicked and desperate— as he reached one hand down to your chest, groping the flesh there.

You arched into his touch, head thrown into the pillows as your cervix made out with his glans. Precum branded Choso onto the entrance of your womb, and you were cumming before you could even process that you were close.

Nails digging into his back, you gasped as Choso leaned down to suck at your nipple.

You rode out your orgasm pressing back into his cock and up into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

The telltale clenching had Choso’s cock melting, and the pretty tit in his mouth had his mind doing the same.

“Wanna fill you up— please… let me suck this titty and cum in you please— wanna cum like this—“

It was nonsensical, all grunts and whimpers as he pressed tears to the flesh of your breast.

You stroked his hair, still buzzing from your orgasm.

“Let it out, baby.”

He hiccuped, eyes fluttering back into closing eyelids as his dick stalled deep in you.

“Thank you— thank you, thank you, ‘m cumming—“ He rolled his hips into yours as he fucked his second load deep inside, spurting his creamy seed onto your womb. “I’m fucking cumming, thank you, thank you, thank you, can’t stop—“

He sobbed as he fucked you through it, cock so overwhelmingly overstimulated, sending shockwaves of pain-pleasure through his bones.

As his arms gave out, he collapsed onto you, suckling on your nipple weakly. You hummed, stroking his hair nice and slow as he blinked up at you with glassy eyes.

Choso gets shy easily.

But never when he’s like this.

dividers by @strangergraphics <3

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (09)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

chapter warnings: stalking, creep behaviour, reader receives an inappropriate package, mentions of Richard Ramirez, mentions of a threesome.

a/n;; AND WE ARE BACK TO UPLOADING BABY!! Have an early Christmas Gift <33

Something feels… off – that was the best way you could put it. A few months have passed since you started your part-time job at the cafe, but you can’t help but shake off a sense of uneasiness. You couldn’t really put a finger on it, but it’s as though someone was watching you; maybe even following you.

You feel a pair of eyes wherever you go around campus, sometimes even up to the front door of your apartment’s main entrance. It can’t have been Seungcheol or either of the boys because while Mingyu and Vernon had done an absolute shit job at “keeping a close eye” on you; you knew they would never go to such lengths to cause you such discomfort.

“Nonnie?”

“‘Sup?”

You were both sitting in the cafeteria with Vernon halfway through his food while you were poking at the sad excuse of a meatloaf. “What would you do if you felt as though someone is following you everywhere?” Vernon’s ears perked at the implication that you may be dealing with a stalker, becoming alert as he gave you his attention. “Have you seen the guy?” he asked, growing worried when you shook your head.

“When did it start?”

You shift a little in your seat, “I don’t know… Maybe a few weeks after getting that job at the cafe?”

Vernon frowns. He knew you were pretty, hell, that was the reason why several boys from his major came up to him to try and get your number. He’d always reject, saying that he wasn’t comfortable giving out your number so easily; or that if they wanted your number, they should grow a pair of balls and ask you themselves. But, he’d never think that someone would go as far as stalking you.

“Have you told Seungcheol about this?”

“He… He’s still avoiding me…” you mutter sadly, “I mean, yeah, he does reply to my texts and he even gave me the study materials I needed for my exams; but… y’know, he’s still being avoidant…”

‘Damn… It’s been months and he’s still hung up on that wet dream.’

“But, he should at least know this is going on, right?”

You shake your head again. You recall the many times Seungcheol has gotten you out of trouble, or gotten himself into trouble for you while growing up. While he brushes it off as something he’d do for you in a heartbeat, you can’t help but feel as though you were burdening him. You remembered there was one time you had accidentally broken one of his mother’s China, you were maybe 10 years-old?

Your parents had gone on a short business trip to New York and thus, you stayed with the Chois. You had accidentally bumped into a chair and the plate fell out of your grasp. Seungcheol took the blame for you, telling his parents he wasn’t looking when he set the table. He had gotten an earful from his parents, telling him he should’ve been more careful because the broken shards could’ve hurt you.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Cheollie? I-It was my fault, why are you–”

“I know, pup. But, whatever trouble you might get in, I’ll always bail you out, yeah?”

“But–”

“No ‘buts’, pup. I’ll protect you no matter how big or small the mess is.”

“Look, ___, I don’t know what’s making you think you’re a liability,” Vernon pauses to take a sip of his orange juice, “Because based on my observation, Jesus, I sound like Wonwoo hyung now… But, based on my observation, he’s more than willing to do anything for you. Study materials, late night snacks, emergency pad runs – he never says no to you.”

When you suggest that he may be doing it because he feels a sense of responsibility towards you, that he’s spent a majority of his life looking out for you; thus he’s compelled to do so even when you’re an adult, Vernon dismisses it immediately. “Look, I’ve seen Seungcheol hyung with some of the girls he’s dated. Sure, he does the usual boyfriend duties but, I don’t think he’s ever been as doting on them as he is with you.”

You look back down at your uneaten cafeteria food, feeling your appetite leave the more you stare at it. “You aren’t a liability, ___. Cheol cares for you like you mean the world to him.” You sigh as you set the fork down, pushing the tray of food away from you. “Maybe I’ll tell him if things go too far… You know any good food spots that’s still affordable? The cafeteria food today is just… nasty… I don’t know how you managed to eat this?”

“Oh, you got the meatloaf surprise,” he answers and motions you to follow him, “I usually go for the chicken katsu or jjajangmyeon! Not the best, but they’re sure as hell better than the meatloaf.”

“Speaking from experience, I presume?”

“Girlie, I had the worst food poisoning in my entire life! Anyways, have you heard of this Open Mic the school’s planning to host?”

“This assignment requires you to work in pairs,” your professor announced, “And, I’ve done you all a favour by choosing your partners for you.”

The class groans, you included as you cross your fingers and beg the Academic Gods to give you a reliable partner. “I understand that you’d all don’t want to get paired with someone whose work ethic you aren’t familiar with, but believe me when I say that it wouldn’t kill you to work with others.”

You continue to chant your prayers quietly as she begins to read out the names. “Lee ___ and Lee Chan.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve worked with Chan for a group project while you were both freshmen and you’ve mentally noted him as one of the more reliable classmates. Though, your course doesn’t require you to do much group projects so that freshmen project was the first and last time you’ve interacted with, until now that is. Chan gently knocks the empty desk space next to you to pull you out of your train of thought.

“___, right?” he asked, a big smile on his lips as he took a seat next to you, “We were in that one project two years ago, right?”

You let out a small laugh, “That’s me and yes, we were.”

“I’ve seen you around campus with Hansol and a few other seniors! You work at that cafe near campus too, right? How’s the job treating you?”

‘That’s… a lot of questions…’ you think to yourself. But, you politely answered his question anyway. You tell him how you never knew cafes put so much sugar in their drinks until you started working, leading you to order your drinks with less sugar. “The pastries are freshly baked, too! I don’t know where news or rumours of them being leftovers or stored overnight came from, but they aren’t.”

You notice how Chan leans in slightly, his eyes scanning your face.

“Y’know, you’re actually prettier up close.”

His statement… To say it weirded you out would be an understatement – you were creeped the fuck out. Could he be the guy that’s been giving you the heebie-jeebies as of late? You sure hope so, or maybe not. But, either way, you tried to brush off the anxiety that’s beginning to rise in your chest.

“T-Thanks…?”

Chan opens up his laptop, tapping on a few keys on the keyboard and moments later, you receive a small text from the chatroom of the platform your school uses. “I sent you a link to a Google Doc! We could just write out our parts and brainstorm how we can link them together once we’re done!”

You nod your head, clicking into the link.

“Do you live nearby, ___?”

“Mmm… No, I actually commute to school. Occasionally, Vernon would pick me up from Sujeong Central since it’s a five minute walk from my apartment.”

It takes you a moment to realise you’ve just exposed your residential address. When Chan asks if it’d be okay to go back to your place to discuss the assignment, you reject immediately. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude or harsh,” you explained, “I’m just uncomfortable with having people I’m not familiar or close with over at my house.”

The boy nods in understanding, muttering a small apology before turning his attention to the professor as she explains the assignment.

Mingyu and Wonwoo leaned against the former’s black 2022 Genesis G90. You were working your night shift and the group, excluding Seungcheol, have taken it amongst themselves to be your personal bodyguards. They’d drive you home if you’d work the night shift, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe and not having anyone trailing you.

“Any luck in finding out who this creep could be?” Mingyu asks, looking into the windows of the cafe and returns the small wave you gave him.

“So far, zero,” the older replies, “Whoever this creep is, they’re good at covering their tracks or not being caught.”

“Do you think they’re from our university?”

“Given the location of this cafe, I’d say yes. But, we also have to factor in the dodginess of her residential area.”

“Do you think we’d catch this guy? I honestly hate seeing ___ getting so worked up over this…”

“We just need more time.”

Lost in their conversation, the two men failed to notice you picking up a box on one of the cafe tables. There was a printed paper stuck on it, stating that it was a little gift addressed to you. You thought it was cute, a customer having a crush on their barista like in the movies or books you’ve read. But, when you opened it – it was far from a romantic gesture. Mingyu noticed you frozen in place, a look of fear on your face as you stared into the box in your hand.

Nudging Wonwoo, they entered the cafe and approached you to ask what was wrong. When the older male peeks into the box, he immediately grabs it to set it aside. “Do you remember who sat here?” he asks.

You shook your head. It had been a busy day and with the amount of customers coming in and out, the crowd just blended in together; and why would you remember the face of a random stranger?

Mingyu continues to comfort you as the older begin to examine the contents of the box – several pictures of you around campus and in the cafe were printed out, alongside a pair of… men’s underwear. ‘With men like these existing, it’s no wonder why women choose bears,’ he thinks to himself, remembering the hot internet debate a few months prior.

“Do you still want to go home?” he asks as closes the box, “I’ll hold onto these until we catch the bastard.”

When you shake your head, they suggest you stay over at their place for the time being. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s nice of you both to offer me that, but I don’t want to –”

“Mingyu hasn’t been bringing girls in since hell week of his semester started,” Wonwoo adds, allowing you to resume your closing shift, “He’s cleared up his schedule too, so you’re safe from hearing two or more models having sex.”

“And, what about you?” you questioned, “I remember Cheollie mentioning you both had a threesome before.”

The man only shrugs, “Only if I feel like it. I’m either studying, gaming or streaming the majority of the time.”

“Well… If it’s safer, then I suppose I’ll take you both up on that offer. But, I don’t have any spare clothes… Should I head back home to get them?”

Mingyu mentions some of the models he slept with left their undergarments and several clothes behind. “Some of them could be your size, plus you can keep them too!”

“Wouldn’t they want them back?”

“Nah, a lot of it has been sitting in my closet for years now.”

“And, they’re loaded – they could just buy another one.”

Given how many girls Mingyu would have over, it’s no surprise that their apartments would have feminine hygiene products. But, it does surprise you to see how expensive the products were. “Oh, a majority of the models I know and fool around with only use luxury or high class brands.”

“And you bought it just for them?”

“Believe me, ___,” Wonwoo hands you a cup of tea, “If Mingyu isn’t shoving his dick into every female model he finds attractive, he’d be a good boyfriend.”

They lead you into a spare room, letting you get comfortable before they start going over the details of the creep that’s been giving you trouble. “My bet is on that Lee Chan you’re partnered with,” Mingyu says as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, Wonwoo asking him why as he takes a seat on the empty gaming chair at the desk.

“I mean, if you think about it, he said you were much prettier up close; which is already creepy in and of itself. Plus, he asked if you lived nearby and if he could go back to your place to work on the assignment!”

“On one hand, that’s a fair point; but maybe the kid is just a loser in a cute boy’s body that doesn’t know how to talk to girls, too. He probably lacks some kind of social cues.”

“Are you defending a creep’s actions now, Woo?”

“Jesus, Mingyu, I’m only giving the kid the benefit of the doubt.”

When you tell them that it’s unlikely Chan is your stalker, Wonwoo is quick to end that train of thought. “___, I’m only giving Chan the benefit of the doubt. But, that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook just yet, considering the things he’s said to you.”

“But, he looks like a sweet guy!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Just because he looks like a sweet guy, doesn’t mean he’s actually a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, like that Night Stalker dude from L.A.,” Mingyu chimes in, “Think his name was Richard Ra… Ramuda? Ramida?”

“Richard Ramirez.”

“Yeah, him! Sure, he’s got some looks, but dude’s a literal murderer! Hell, I can’t believe people would want to bang him!”

“I mean… I would fuck ghostface if given the chance…” you mutter under your breath, getting a judgemental look from the model. Thankfully, Wonwoo justified your statement. “I’m with her on that ghostface statement. It’s a niche market or target audience, it has its appeal.”

“You’re both freaks, but at least that’s a fictional character. Moving on from both of your masked people's kinks, ___, I think it’s best you let Seungcheol know about this.”

You insisted on not telling Seungcheol, continuing with the whole not wanting to be a liability defence and that you were a big girl now; you can handle yourself just fine! No matter how hard the two men tried to persuade you, you wouldn’t budge. For a brief moment, Mingyu could’ve sworn he saw Seungcheol inside you because he too shared the same stubbornness. Realising they can’t get you to change your mind, the men gave up and bid you goodnight.

“You can stay here for as long as you’d like!” the model tells you, “Maybe, even forever!”

Wonwoo scoffs, “As if Seungcheol would let her.”

gamerwoo: hey hyung cheol: sup gamerwoo: ___ would kill me if she found out i told you this gamerwoo: but just a heads up gamerwoo: she’s got a stalker gamerwoo: will let you know when you need to step in

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @minhui896

[adoring-jjk]

pls write a longer fic about shy nanami around reader he has a crush on😭🙏🏼

nanami going to the bakery after work after being drained from the job and just needing a sweet treat to recuperate. the last thing he expected to see was you, clearly having had the same idea.

you turn from the counter and head for the door, ready to leave with your pastry when you come face to face with him, pleasant shock evident in your face, pure surprise on his.

your face brightens up when you see him and it makes his heart stutter his chest, but he also notices the slight drop of your shoulders, about an inch compared the start of the day––work tired you out as well.

"looks like we had the same idea," you say playfully soft, lifting the pastry bag slightly.

he nods, clearing his throat in case his voice plans to embarrassingly fail him, "it appears so."

you smile at his response, finding his formal way of speaking charming and a little amusing.

he doesn't say anything for a few seconds so you contemplate if you should take the chance to ask him if he's free, but fear of bothering him. you bite your lip as you look around for a second before deciding to bite the bullet.

"would you maybe want to sit with me for a bit while we eat our desserts? decompress from the work day a little? i'd enjoy the company." you look at him sheepishly hopeful and his eyes widen a fraction, not expecting you to ask that.

he stares at you in shock, feeling like a fish out of water as he tries to process what you've said. "uh...um-"

you shake your head, putting up a clearly forced and somewhat embarrassed smile to smooth over the rejection. "ah it's okay, i know that's probably not your ideal way to relax, you probably don't want to be sitting in a public place, much less with a coworker." you step aside, ready to bolt, "have a good ni–"

"i'd love to."

you both pause, holding your breaths.

"really?" your voice is smaller than before and for some reason it makes him want to hold your face in his hands delicately.

he nods again, cheeks pink, and not just from the cold. "please. pick a table, and i'll join you shortly."

you smile, your own cheeks feeling warm. "okay."

"i won't be long." he pushes his glasses up and squares his shoulders back, preparing himself for this 'date'? "and for the record, this sounds like a perfect way to relax."

he walks away before you notice the blush rising even more on his cheeks, leaving you with a drumming heartbeat and a smile with a mind of its own on your face.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-three of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I realize I am not letting this one go, but what do you think, are you more into the barbell look or should we put a ring on it?” Bernard muses, giving both his nipples a meaningful pinch as he does, and then a tight little twist. Kon isn’t actually sure if it’s more embarrassing to have someone pay so much attention to a part of his body that most of his other partners haven't, or if it’s more embarrassing how affected he is by the attention. How affected he is by the idea, even. 

“Told you I was the kept boy type, man, c’mon,” he says, trying for a laugh as he says it, and Bernard grins at him and cups his pecs and pushes them up a little bit again. Kon tightens his grip on his ass like–a reflex, maybe, or maybe more like a response–and lifts his cheeks a little bit more too. Bernard probably doesn’t, like, see that or anything, but–but it’s kind of embarrassing to realize, and he knows, like–obviously Tim saw, but since he’s straight behind him maybe he didn’t realize it was, like–like why he . . . 

“Yeah, so what if we kept you?” Bernard asks, his grin turning sly, and Kon stops overthinking because he is suddenly literally just incapable of thinking. That–that is–

It doesn’t help that he heard Tim’s heartbeat accelerate when Bernard said that. 

“Just saying, libido like yours, you’d do better if you were doing the kept boy thing for a couple,” Bernard mentions casually, since it’s apparently blatantly obvious that Kon is likelier to fall off his dick and also the bed than string together a coherent reply right now. “Or, you know, just getting regularly gangbanged by an entire superhero team, but that seems harder to arrange on the daily, you know? Like, more a special occasions kind of thing.” 

“I–you–” Kon attempts, face blushing and gut burning as his hips stutter, and Bernard just keeps up the light, easy chatter like he’s not literally on the guy's dick right now. 

“Like normally I’d suggest the Birds of Prey or just any Amazon expats, obviously, but right now I guess you’d be more into . . . I dunno, Young Justice’s always seemed pretty femme-heavy and I feel like Tim would have some weird feelings about letting Batman Inc borrow you, so maybe see about meeting yourself a few nice Titans?” Bernard suggests, squeezing his pecs again; rubbing and massaging at the muscle for a few moments. Kon is pretty sure he’d be boiling in the literal vacuum of space, hot as he suddenly feels. “Or maybe check if anybody in the Green Lantern Corps has some job-related stress to work out? Or like, what’re the Outsiders up to these days, actually, that’s also–” 

“Please,” Kon half-chokes, not even sure what he’s asking for, and Bernard takes his hands off his chest to wrap an arm around his waist and tug him in closer against himself, which isn’t even something the guy’s actually physically capable of doing but also isn’t something Kon is any kind of capable of not letting him do, and then wraps his other arm up around his neck to grip the back of it, and Kon somehow ends up less riding the other and more just–just rocking a little bit in his lap, pulled down fully onto his cock and just–just full of it. All of it. Just–all of it, while Bernard coaxes him into just–just barely rolling their hips together over and over and . . . 

“How’s that, boy?” Bernard asks, scruffing the back of his neck again. “Comfy?” 

Five seconds before the first time Bernard fucked him Kon would absolutely not have had any concept of having a dude’s entire dick up his ass be something that could count as “comfy”, but right now . . . 

“Don’t pull out,” he half-pleads, half just begs, and Bernard tugs his head down just enough to let him press a kiss against his temple and squeezes the arm around his waist again; rolls his hips up again. Kon stifles a whimper. 

“Naw, not gonna,” Bernard promises. “Not ‘til you’ve come again, at least.” 

“Not even then,” Kon half-mumbles, feeling a little bit–dizzier, kind of, every time Bernard’s nails scritch the back of his neck; slumping down heavier into him without really meaning to or anything. “Please? Please just lemme keep it a little longer? Feels so–feels so good, makes me feel like you want me.” 

“Aw, of course I want you, boy,” Bernard coos, and then just starts petting him outright. “You’re super cute. Super fun to pet-sit, too. And I already told you you could cuddle my cock if you wanted, didn’t I?” 

“Wanna,” Kon pleads, feeling all warm and melty and heavy and barely remembering to roll his hips in counter to Bernard’s; barely remembering to keep his hands on his ass where the other put them. “Wanna–lemme cuddle it, lemme cuddle you, I’ll be a good boy, promise, promise, promise–” 

“‘Course you will, boy,” Bernard hums, rubbing a flat palm up the underside of his fade. “Robin told you to be, didn’t he?” 

Kon melts.

[theartofcollapse]

Her Intern - Casey Novak

a/n: i'm taking requests, so feel free to dm me :) summary: Casey begins to develop unexpected feelings for her intern, Y/N. pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 5.1K

masterlist

Casey Novak was never one to flinch in the face of the unexpected. As an Assistant District Attorney, her job demanded quick thinking, ironclad resolve, and a moral compass that rarely wavered. Yet here she sat, staring blankly at the case file in front of her, completely derailed by something, or rather, someone.

You.

Her new intern, Y/N. Bright, capable, and passionate about justice in a way that reminded Casey of herself when she first started. You were sharp, your insights always cutting straight to the heart of the matter, and your enthusiasm was infectious. But it wasn’t just your intellect that threw Casey off balance. It was your smile. The way you’d bite your lip when you were deep in thought. The way your laughter would echo softly in her office when you’d share a joke.

And that’s what terrified her.

She had never been attracted to women before. Never. But here she was, feeling her cheeks warm whenever you entered the room, her heartbeat quickening when your eyes met hers.

It was enough to send her into a tailspin.

That evening, she found herself at Forlini’s, nursing a glass of wine and waiting for Olivia Benson. She’d called her friend in a semi-panic, vaguely explaining that she needed advice. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Olivia said as she slid into the booth across from Casey.

“I feel like I have,” Casey muttered, running a hand through her auburn hair.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Casey hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. How was she supposed to explain this without sounding completely unhinged? Finally, she sighed and decided to just rip off the Band-Aid.

“There’s… someone,” she began.

Olivia’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “Ah, so this is a crush talk. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Casey winced. “That’s the thing, it’s not a guy.”

Olivia blinked, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful. She leaned forward, giving Casey her full attention. “Okay. Tell me more.”

“It’s my intern,” Casey admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “Your intern?”

“I know it’s inappropriate,” Casey rushed to say. “And I’m not acting on it. God, I’d never act on it. But I… I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s brilliant, and she’s kind, and…”

“And she’s a woman,” Olivia finished gently.

Casey nodded; her throat tight. “I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. It’s throwing me off. I don’t even know what to do with these feelings. Am I going crazy?”

Olivia reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on Casey’s. “You’re not crazy. Trust me, I’ve had my share of confusing feelings about people I never expected to fall for. Sometimes the heart doesn’t care about what’s ‘expected.’ It just knows what it wants.”

Casey stared at Olivia, her chest tightening. “But what if I don’t know what I want? I’ve never even considered..”

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Olivia said firmly. “This isn’t about labels or figuring out your entire identity in one night. It’s about acknowledging what you’re feeling and letting yourself sit with it. And if you want to talk about it more, you know I’m here.”

Casey exhaled, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. Olivia always had a way of cutting through the chaos in her mind.

“Thanks, Liv,” she said softly.

“Anytime,” Olivia replied with a smile. Then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she added, “But for the record? You’ve got good taste. Y/N seems pretty incredible.”

Casey laughed; the sound surprising even herself. 

The next morning, Casey walked into the DA’s office determined to keep her emotions in check. She reminded herself that she was a professional, and whatever strange feelings she had for you didn’t change the fact that you were her intern.

But all her resolve flew out the window the moment she saw you.

You were perched at your desk, typing away on your laptop. Your brow was furrowed in concentration, and a strand of hair had fallen across your face. Without thinking, Casey stopped in her tracks and just watched you.

It wasn’t until you looked up and caught her staring that she snapped out of it.

“Good morning, Ms. Novak,” you said brightly, offering her one of those smiles that seemed to light up the entire office.

Casey’s heart did an unprofessional little flip. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even.

You tilted your head, studying her for a moment. “You okay? You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”

Casey cleared her throat and brushed past you toward her desk. “I’m fine. Just a late night.”

This was getting ridiculous.

The day wore on, and Casey tried to throw herself into work, but you were always there handing her files, asking for feedback, discussing strategies for cases. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and as much as Casey hated to admit it, she found herself looking forward to your conversations.

But it also made her job harder. How was she supposed to focus on cross-examinations and legal briefs when her thoughts kept drifting to the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your goals?

By lunchtime, Casey knew she needed a break. She grabbed her coat and told you she’d be back in an hour, then headed to the park for some much needed fresh air.

She was halfway through her walk when her phone buzzed with a text.

Olivia: How’s it going? Still freaking out?

Casey rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She quickly typed back.

Casey: Yes. But I’m handling it. Sort of.

Olivia: “Sort of” isn’t exactly reassuring. You want to talk tonight?

Casey hesitated. She appreciated Olivia’s support, but she also knew she couldn’t keep running to her every time she got overwhelmed.

Casey: No, I’ll be okay. Thanks, Liv.

She put her phone away and took a deep breath. She needed to figure this out on her own.

When she returned to the office, you were waiting for her in her chair, flipping through a case file.

“You’re back!” you said with a grin, standing up. “I was just going over the deposition for the Simmons case. I had a few ideas I wanted to run by you.”

Casey nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. “Let’s hear them.”

You launched into your thoughts, pacing the room as you spoke. Casey watched you, completely captivated not just by what you were saying, but by the way you said it. The passion in your voice, the determination in your eyes.

It hit her all at once: she was falling for you.

Hard.

And she had no idea what to do about it.

That evening, after you’d left for the day, Casey sat alone in her office, staring at her reflection in the darkened window. She thought about what Olivia had said the night before, about sitting with her feelings and not rushing to figure everything out.

Maybe that was the answer. She didn’t have to act on her feelings or even fully understand them right now. All she had to do was acknowledge them.

And maybe, just maybe, she could let herself enjoy the way you made her feel, terrifying as it was.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of late nights and high-stakes cases. Casey buried herself in work, thinking the chaos of her job would be enough to keep her feelings for you at bay. But no matter how many hours she spent in court or how many legal briefs she pored over; she couldn’t escape the growing connection between the two of you.

And, to make matters worse, you seemed completely oblivious to the way you were throwing her world off balance.

One night, after everyone else had gone home, you knocked lightly on Casey’s office door. She looked up, startled to see you still there.

“Y/N?” she asked, setting aside the stack of papers she’d been pretending to read. “What are you still doing here?”

You stepped inside, holding up a thick file. “I wanted to go over the witness prep for tomorrow. There are a few things I think we should address.”

Casey sighed, gesturing for you to sit. “You should be home. It’s late.”

You smiled as you took the seat across from her desk. “So should you.”

Casey rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “Touché. Okay, let’s hear it.”

As you walked her through your notes, Casey found herself hanging on every word. You were so sharp, so intuitive, it was impossible not to admire your mind. But it wasn’t just your intelligence that drew her in. It was the way your eyes sparkled when you got excited about an idea. The way your voice softened when you spoke about the victims they were fighting for.

Before she knew it, an hour had passed, and the two of you were still talking.

“I think that’s everything,” you said finally, closing the file with a satisfied smile. “Thanks for staying late to go over it with me.”

“Of course,” Casey replied, her voice softer than she intended.

For a moment, the room was quiet. You glanced down at your hands, then back up at her.

“Can I ask you something?” you said hesitantly.

Casey’s stomach tightened. “Sure.”

“Do you ever get scared that you’ll mess up? That you’ll make the wrong call, and it’ll cost someone everything?”

Casey’s heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “All the time,” she admitted. “This job is terrifying. But you can’t let that fear stop you. You just have to do the best you can with what you have. And trust that it’s enough.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That helps. Thanks, Ms. Novak.”

“Casey,” she corrected gently. “You can call me Casey.”

Your eyes widened slightly, as if the offer surprised you. But then your smile grew, warm and genuine. “Okay. Thanks, Casey.”

Something shifted in the air between you. It was subtle, but Casey felt it.

She quickly stood, breaking the moment. “We should both get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You nodded, standing as well. “Goodnight, Casey.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

As you walked out of her office, Casey let out a shaky breath. She leaned against her desk, her thoughts spinning.

For weeks, she’d been trying to suppress her feelings for you, convincing herself that they were a distraction. But now, as she replayed your conversation in her mind, she realized something else.

Her feelings weren’t just a distraction. They were a source of inspiration. You reminded her why she’d become a lawyer in the first place, why she fought so hard for justice, even when the odds were stacked against her. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

The weeks that followed were a quiet evolution. Casey remained as professional as ever, maintaining the boundaries that were expected of her. But beneath her polished exterior, she allowed herself the smallest moments of indulgence, moments where she let herself appreciate you without guilt or panic.

Like the way your focus sharpened when you were cross-referencing evidence, your pen tapping softly against your lip as you thought. Or the way you carried yourself with confidence and compassion in the courtroom, even during the toughest cases. Casey noticed it all.

And she also noticed how natural it felt to have you in her orbit.

One particularly late evening, the office was quiet again, save for the sound of papers rustling in Casey’s office. You were there, as usual, seated across from her with a cup of coffee in hand. The two of you had developed an easy rhythm, debating legal strategies, tossing ideas back and forth, and even exchanging dry quips when the cases became too heavy.

Tonight, you were working on a high-profile trial, and the tension in the air was palpable.

“This witness is our best shot,” you said, your voice steady but thoughtful as you scanned the notes. “But I’m worried their credibility might take a hit if the defence brings up their record.”

Casey leaned back in her chair, watching you for a moment before responding. “You’re right. We need to get ahead of it. Acknowledge the record before the defence can weaponize it and then redirect the jury’s focus back to the facts. It’s a risk, but it’s the only way to keep their testimony intact.”

There was a beat of silence as you made a note in the margins of the file. Then, without looking up, you said, “You’re really good at this.”

Casey blinked, caught off guard. “At what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely around her office. “Making tough calls, strategizing, keeping everything together. It’s inspiring, honestly.”

Casey felt a warmth rise in her chest at your words. She cleared her throat, attempting to downplay the compliment. “It’s just part of the job.”

You finally looked up, meeting her eyes. “It’s more than that, Casey. You care about these cases, about these people. It shows.”

Her name on your lips sent a small shiver down her spine, but she kept her composure. “I appreciate that,” she said softly.

The moment lingered, a quiet understanding passing between you. Then you broke the silence with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all sentimental. Guess I’m just tired.”

Casey chuckled, the tension easing. “It’s okay. I’ll allow it this once.”

You laughed, and the sound felt like a balm against the stress of the day.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, you finally stretched and stood, gathering your things. “I should get going before I fall asleep in your office.”

Casey stood as well, walking you to the door. “Get some rest, Y/N. We’ll pick this up in the morning.”

You nodded, giving her one last smile before disappearing down the hallway.

Casey lingered at the doorway for a moment, watching you go. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

This was enough, she decided. She didn’t need to analyse or act on her feelings, not when she could have these moments with you. You were in her life, and that was enough.

Over time, your dynamic deepened. There were no grand confessions, no sweeping gestures just small, quiet moments that slowly built a foundation of trust and understanding.

Casey found herself looking forward to your presence, not just for your insights but for the way you lightened the weight of her work. And though she never said it aloud, she hoped you felt the same.

A cold winter wind swept through the streets as you and Casey exited the courthouse. It had been a long day, closing arguments for a particularly brutal case had drained both of you, but the jury was deliberating now, and all that was left to do was wait.

“Want to grab a coffee?” you asked, tightening the scarf around your neck as you walked beside her. “I think we’ve earned it after today.”

Casey hesitated, glancing at her watch. She rarely allowed herself these little detours, preferring to keep her professional life strictly business. But when she looked at you, your cheeks flushed from the cold, your smile hopeful, she found herself saying, “Sure. There’s a place a block over.”

The two of you ducked into a small café, the warmth inside instantly soothing. You placed your order and found a quiet table by the window while Casey waited at the counter for her coffee. As she stood there, she caught herself glancing in your direction. You were scrolling through your phone, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Casey felt a now-familiar tug in her chest.

It was a strange, delicate feeling, this quiet pull toward you. She’d always been good at compartmentalizing her emotions, but with you, it felt impossible. Every time you were near, her guard slipped just a little.

When she returned to the table, coffee in hand, you looked up and smiled. “Thanks for this. I needed it.”

Casey sat across from you, her fingers curling around her cup. “No need to thank me. I needed it, too.”

The two of you sat in companionable silence for a moment, watching the snow flurry outside the window. Then you turned to her, your expression soft.

“How do you stay so composed all the time?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “I mean, today’s case was… awful. And yet, you were so steady, so in control. I don’t know how you do it.”

Casey’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity in your voice. “I don’t always feel steady,” she admitted after a moment. “Most of the time, I’m just as affected as everyone else. I just don’t show it.”

You nodded, as though you’d suspected as much. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Casey’s heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her coffee, hoping you wouldn’t notice the faint blush creeping up her neck. “I’m just doing my job.”

“You do it really well,” you said softly.

Something in your tone made her look up, and when your eyes met, she felt that pull again, stronger this time, almost tangible.

Her pulse quickened, and for a brief, reckless moment, she wondered what it would be like to let her guard down completely. To tell you the truth about the way she felt.

But then she reminded herself of who she was and what was at stake.

She broke eye contact, taking a sip of her coffee to steady herself. “Thank you,” she said finally, her voice measured.

You didn’t press her further.

Casey woke up the next morning feeling unsettled. She had dreamed of you again, not in any explicit or dramatic way, but in a quiet, tender moment that felt more vivid than reality. The two of you had been standing in her office, the room lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp. You were smiling at her, and she’d reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against your hand.

The dream had felt safe, comforting, but now, in the harsh light of morning, it left her rattled.

Shaking the thought from her head, she got ready for the day and headed to the office.

By the time she arrived, you were already there, flipping through a case file with a look of concentration. Casey hesitated in the doorway, her pulse quickening at the sight of you. It was becoming a habit, this quiet moment of watching you before you noticed her.

“Good morning,” she said finally, stepping into the room.

You glanced up, your expression brightening. “Morning, Casey.”

There it was again, her name, spoken so easily by you. It shouldn’t have made her heart stutter, but it did.

“Big day today,” you said, gesturing to the stack of files on your desk. “Jury’s coming back with a verdict this afternoon.”

Casey nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Let’s make sure we’re prepared, no matter which way it goes.”

The hours passed in a blur of meetings and last-minute preparations. Casey threw herself into the work, but every now and then, her gaze would drift toward you.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that she allowed herself a break. She sat alone in her office, staring at the untouched takeout pasta on her desk.

“Get it together,” she muttered to herself.

But the truth was, she couldn’t. Not entirely. You’d become a fixture in her thoughts, and no amount of logic or professionalism could change that.

For so long, Casey had prided herself on her control. But you were unravelling her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

And it wasn’t just the attraction that threw her off. It was the way you made her feel seen, understood. The way your presence brought a sense of lightness to her otherwise heavy world.

She thought back to her conversation with Olivia weeks ago. Sometimes the heart doesn’t care about what’s expected. It just knows what it wants.

But what did she want?

The thought haunted her for the rest of the day, even as the jury returned with a guilty verdict and you both celebrated a hard-fought win.

That evening, as you packed up to leave, you paused by her office door.

“Good work today, Casey,” you said, your smile warm. “You were incredible in there.”

Casey managed a small smile in return. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

You laughed, the sound sending a familiar warmth through her chest.

“See you tomorrow,” you said, giving her a little wave before disappearing down the hallway.

Casey watched you go, her mind a tangle of emotions.

The precinct was buzzing with laughter and conversation, the air filled with the scent of mulled cider and pine. The annual Christmas party was in full swing, a rare moment of levity in the chaos of their work.

Casey had almost skipped the event entirely, but she’d let Olivia talk her into it. “You work too hard, Casey. You deserve one night to just be human,” she’d said with a smirk.

Now, standing by the bar with a glass of wine in hand, Casey regretted letting herself be persuaded. She felt out of place among the twinkling lights and festive chatter. But then she saw you.

You were across the room, talking to Detective Tuttle from Vice. You were wearing a simple but elegant black dress, your hair falling loosely around your shoulders. You looked radiant, and Casey’s breath hitched as she watched you laugh at something Tuttle had said.

And then Tuttle leaned in, a little too close.

Casey’s grip on her wineglass tightened. She tried to focus on the conversation around her, but her attention kept drifting back to you.

Tuttle was laughing now, his hand resting lightly on your arm. You didn’t seem to mind, you were smiling, your eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did when you were genuinely amused.

Casey felt a wave of something she couldn’t quite name. Jealousy? Protectiveness? It was a sharp, unfamiliar pang, and it unsettled her.

“Careful, Novak. You’re glaring,” came Olivia’s voice, low and teasing, at her side.

Casey turned sharply to find Olivia holding a beer, her expression far too amused.

“I’m not glaring,” Casey said, her tone clipped.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. You’ve been staring at Y/N and Tuttle for five minutes straight.”

“I’m not…” Casey stopped herself, exhaling sharply. She looked away, taking a sip of her wine.

Olivia smirked, leaning in slightly. “You know, if you’re feeling territorial, there’s a simple solution.”

“I’m not feeling territorial,” Casey snapped, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.

Olivia just chuckled, taking a sip of her beer. “Sure, Casey. Whatever you say.”

Casey tried to ignore her, but when she glanced back at you and saw Tuttle leaning in again, this time whispering something in your ear, she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

Before she could stop herself, she set her glass down and crossed the room.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

You looked up, startled. “Casey! Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”

Tuttle straightened, clearly surprised by Casey’s sudden appearance. “Novak,” he said, nodding politely.

Casey barely acknowledged him. Her attention was focused entirely on you.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” she asked, her tone leaving little room for argument.

“Uh, sure,” you said, glancing at Tuttle apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to him. Who cares about him?!” Casey mumbled under her breath.

She led you toward a quieter corner of the room, her pulse racing. She didn’t know what she was going to say, she only knew she couldn’t stand watching someone else flirt with you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked once you were alone, your brows furrowed in concern.

Casey hesitated, suddenly aware of how irrational she might seem. But the words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I didn’t like the way Tuttle was looking at you,” she admitted, her voice low.

You blinked, taken aback. “Tuttle? He was just being friendly.”

Casey shook her head. “It wasn’t just friendly.”

Your lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across your face. “Why do you care?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Casey felt her throat tighten. She could deflect, make an excuse, brush it off. But as she looked into your eyes - wide and questioning - she realized she didn’t want to hide anymore.

“Because I like you,” she said softly, the words trembling on the edge of a confession.

You stared at her, your expression unreadable. “Casey…”

“I know it’s unprofessional,” she continued quickly, her voice quiet but firm. “I know I’m your supervisor, and I’ve tried to push these feelings away, but I can’t. You’re important to me, Y/N.”

The silence between you was deafening. Casey’s heart pounded in her chest, every second stretching into an eternity.

Finally, you spoke, your voice soft. “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Casey let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. But seeing him with you, it made me realize I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore.”

You looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in your eyes. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at your lips.

“I’m glad you told me,” you said gently.

Casey blinked, her breath catching. “You are?”

You nodded. “I’ve always admired you, Casey. And I’ve always felt something. But I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way. I mean, you’re you, after all.”

Relief washed over her like a tidal wave, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe again.

“Maybe we should talk about this,” you said, your smile widening. “But somewhere less public.”

Casey chuckled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”

The precinct’s Christmas party ended with a warmth Casey hadn’t expected, both from the holiday spirit in the room and from the lingering glow of your smile as you’d left together to talk.

The two of you found yourselves in a quiet dive bar down the block, the buzz of the party left behind. It was cozy and dimly lit, with only a few other patrons sipping mulled wine or beer.

Casey fiddled with the corner of her napkin, her nerves showing in the way her fingers fidgeted. You sat across from her, your eyes warm and patient, giving her the space she clearly needed.

“So,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Where do we start?”

Casey looked up at you, her lips pressing together in a tight line before she exhaled and finally spoke. “I don’t know. This isn’t something I’ve ever… dealt with before.”

Your head tilted slightly, a soft smile on your lips. “You mean liking someone you work with?”

Casey hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I mean… liking a woman.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and Casey rushed to explain. “I didn’t even realize it at first. I thought it was just admiration, or respect, or...” She paused, closing her eyes briefly. “But then, you’d smile, or laugh, or just walk into the room, and everything felt different.”

She opened her eyes, meeting your gaze, and there was something vulnerable there, something raw. “It scared me. It still scares me.”

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against hers. “Casey, it’s okay. I know this is new for you, but you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Casey stared at your hand on hers, the warmth of your touch grounding her. “What if this complicates things?” she asked quietly.

You smiled, squeezing her hand lightly. “It might. But I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”

Her breath caught at the sincerity in your voice, and for a moment, all the fears and doubts melted away. She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think it is.”

The two of you stayed there for a while, talking about everything and nothing. Casey found herself relaxing, her usual guarded demeanour softening as she let herself just be with you.

The next day at the office, things felt surprisingly normal. Professional, but easy, like always. It wasn’t until later in the day, when you brought her coffee without her asking, that she caught your knowing smile and felt a flicker of something new, something exciting.

Olivia caught on first, of course.

“So,” she said casually one evening as she leaned against Casey’s desk. “You and Y/N seemed pretty cozy at the Christmas party.”

Casey didn’t look up from her file. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Olivia smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.”

Casey sighed, finally meeting her gaze. “It’s… new.”

“And?”

Casey hesitated, then allowed herself a small smile. “And it feels right.”

Olivia grinned, clapping her on the shoulder. “Good for you, Novak. Just don’t let McCoy catch wind of it. You know how he is.”

“I know,” Casey said, rolling her eyes. “We’re keeping it discreet.”

And you did. At work, nothing changed. Your professional rapport remained strong, your banter sharp, your respect for each other unshakable.

But in the quiet moments, when no one else was around, there was a new kind of intimacy. A lingering glance. A brush of hands as you passed her a file. A shared smile that spoke volumes without a single word.

One evening, weeks later, the two of you were working late in her office. The building was quiet, most of the staff long gone, and the only light came from the lamp on her desk.

You stood by the window, gazing out at the city lights, your arms crossed over your chest.

Casey watched you from her chair, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “What are you thinking about?”

You glanced back at her, your expression thoughtful. “How lucky I am to be here. To work with someone like you.”

She stood and crossed the room, stopping beside you. “The feeling’s mutual,” she said softly.

You turned to face her, your eyes searching hers. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, tentatively, she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m still figuring this out,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to figure it out with you.”

Your smile was gentle, your hand coming up to rest on hers. “You’re not alone in this, Casey. I’m right here.”

And in that quiet moment, with the city glowing behind you and the world feeling far away, Casey leaned in, her lips brushing softly against yours. It wasn’t rushed or dramatic, it was gentle, tentative, and filled with the kind of emotion she’d spent so long trying to ignore.

When she pulled back, her heart pounding, you smiled at her, your eyes shining.

“I think we’re going to be okay,” you said softly.

Casey smiled, her fears fading in the warmth of your presence. “Yeah. I think we are.”

[defrogatory]

idk if this holiday pay is worth this shit today.

[jinkitsuragi]

censored version

[skeletons-in-ur-closet]

i think i wanna try testosterone one day

[oh-meow-swirls]

it's kind of weird to me that they didn't bother releasing sushi and tempura internationally at all but at the same time i'm kinda glad they didn't cuz like. yo-kai watch was financially failing in the west by the time 3 released. i feel like if they had released sushi and tempura the franchise would've completely tanked before we got sukiyaki which would've sucked. honestly if anything i feel like it's more surprising that we got all three versions of 2 instead of them just releasing psychic specters but tbf i think yo-kai watch was doing well in the west when 2 released. 2 is just inexplicably what killed the franchise despite being a masterpiece-

[goldensunset]

i didn't think i cared much for n's final battle theme bc i'm a sucker for melodically strong pieces aka certified bangers. but i must say it does a good job at making you uncomfortable when you really listen to the details. it's got tritones, clock ticking sounds, heartbeats, fire and lighting sound effects for reshiram and zekrom, up and down flights, ominous choir, plenty of dissonance. i woke up in a cold sweat at like 5am today with it hauntingly stuck in my head for some reason and that makes it deserving of my respect

[lususnatura]

blamore is going to spend father's day listening to all of the voice messages that sacha left him on his phone because he doesn't want to forget his voice... and will likely be crying as well, so yeahhh. unfortunately, father's day is a hard day for him, as it is for a lot of people and for a plethora of reasons which is totally valid — but blamore's to be specific is because it misses it's dad so much 💔

[deepfriedtrout]

hold on. trauma team!schnetto au. i think i’m cooking.

i’m gonna read a recap of dr. kimishima and little guy’s parts before i elaborate more on this.

[applecherry108]

[to the tune of the Lego Movie’s “Everything is Awesome”]

Everything is stressful! 🙃

Every-thing causes anxiety! 🙃

Everything is stressful!! 🙃🙃

When you have ADHD! 🙃🙃🙃