#watching your phone die in your hands is a very real “slow down for a goddamn second and exist in your physical space” moment

[prazardous]

i never feel more awake, alive or human than when my phone dies and i am forcefully booted out into the real world. it's like damn alright... i'll do something else i guess

[stunie]

“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”

[tonycries]

Girl, I Do This Often

Synopsis. How does he cope with a séx ban? He doesn’t.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, rough séx, unprotected, stuff with pantíes, gaggíng, bréeding, Nanami is a bit mean, overstím, finger suckíng, really desperate boys, light smackíng (Nanami), bondagé + víbrators (Geto), swearing.

Word count. 5.2k

A/N. Guess what, ya girl just turned 19 yippeeeee.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 4 days

On the first day, Toji’s more amused than anything.

A sex ban? With him? Ridiculous, he predicted a full 24 hours before you come crawling back, just begging to be split-apart on his cock. And he tells you so, too - a little over five times as he kisses your pouty lips, muttering a smug, “You’ll be eating your words soon enough, doll.”

By the third day, he’s beginning to think that okay, maybe you were serious about the ban after all. How cute - real cute. 

He’s left to do nothing but complain pathetically on the phone to a very reluctant Shiu. Who doesn’t have much to say other than cut off Toji’s ramblings about “not having your pretty pussy all day” to groan, “Shut the fuck up and beg for her forgiveness. I’m hanging up.”

Toji can only scoff at the thought. Beg for forgiveness? Him? Toji Fushiguro never begs, he never-

That was until the fourth day. 

With you - bent over the kitchen counter in his t-shirt - and nothing but his t-shirt.

“Please, pretty.” Toji drags his lips down your neck, just loving the way your traitorous hips are grinding back into his. “Said m’sorry, right? Don’t ya miss this?”

And you can only look behind your shoulder at the big arms around your waist, muscled thighs pressed up against yours. Angling your head just right to catch the way his hands snake down to your squirming hips to help you draw slow little circles against the rock-hard erection straining against his pants.

So close. So big.

Big enough that you’re almost thinking of throwing this sec ban out of the window altogether - almost.

But that little smirk of Toji’s is infuriating enough that you’re gasping out a breathless little, “I-I’m still mad at you, y’know? You never let me-” The words die in your throat as Toji pulls his pants down just enough for his aching cock to spring free. So angry and painfully hard, leaking hot precum all over your thighs. 

“No no no- hah. Keep talking.” he grits out, breath hot against your ear. Hips pushing and pulling. “Please- keep talking.”

And fuck you didn’t know what was harder - trying to find your voice, or ripping your eyes away from Toji’s cock long enough that you could. 

“B-because you-” you choke out, watching the way he takes his massive cock in his hands. Staring to pump so slow - so lazy - no rhythm or reason other than getting off so filthily to the sound of your voice. “You never let me take-” He wraps your smaller hands around his dick, so hot and heavy in your palms. “-charge.”

“F-fuck-” Toji lets out a low hiss, head thrown back as you thumb teasingly under his sensitive slit, trying to fuck something delicious out. “Yer killin’ me doll. Killing me.” Whether from your words or from the way you’re sliding him so lewdly between your puffy folds, you didn’t know. 

And Toji didn’t either. Hell, he doesn’t even seem to be breathing as he shifts his toned hips so familiarly. Head filled with only you and your heavenly cunt and you. 

“Toji-” you mewl. “Need you so bad.”

If he was any lesser man, Toji would’ve just bullied himself into your dripping cunt already, fucked you into the counter until there was nothing about any sex ban in your pretty lil’ mind. Instead, he’s panting out an absolutely wrecked, “Please. Then take all the charge you want, pretty.”  Fat head lining up with your sloppy hole. “Next time.”

And oh has it really been that long?

Because Toji’s just barely pushing into your plushy walls, and he already feels like he could cum right then and there. The stretch too sinful. Your walls too tight. So cute how you’re already mumbling his name so deliriously. 

“Awww,” he coos, watching awe-struck at the way you flatten your hands on the counter, fucking yourself back into him in short, shallow little grinds. “The s-sex ban was for ah- nothing, huh?”

You’re pulling him impossibly closer by the hair, catching his lips in such a searing kiss. Drinking in Toji’s guttural grunt as you bite down on his lower lip, “Are ya gonna sh-shut up n’ fuck me or do I need ngh- another sex ban?”

“No, ma’am.” he grins, kissing back so mockingly soft. And you know he’s making fun of you with the way he’s twitching so wildly inside your pussy. Veins dragging against all the right spots as he reels his hips back, back, back - only to slam his cock fully inside. “Guess you’re the one mm- in charge right now, huh?”

Over and over again. Fucking you exactly the way he’s wanted these past four days - and then some. 

Hitting your cervix - but it feels like your fucking lungs. Heavy balls smacking against your ass, so hard that he’s sure it’ll leave some obscene marks for him to point out next time. One hand around your throat, the other keeping your slutty, trembling hips in place while you’re torn between running away and bucking back for more more more-

“Right here.”

It’s all you can do to whirl your head around, eyes glassy and unfocused, whining a broken, “Wh-what?” 

“Right…” Trailing down, featherlight, right where he knew he was wrecking your insides. “Here. S’where I belong.” Pressing hard. “N’ m’gonna make sure you don’t forget it.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 1 week

A week. One week of being patient with your silly idea to “spice things up”. One week of pretending like he wasn’t excusing himself during important meetings to have his cock in his hands - thinking of nothing but you and that sinful little dress you had on today.

One week was all it took for Nanami to have a bad day at work. And you could tell when he did. 

By the way that front door slammed, unfamiliarly harsh footsteps sounding against the hardwood floors. And all it takes is one look at you laid out so prettily on the couch and Nanami’s mouth drops into a soft oh! 

One hand immediately loosening his tie, the other snaking down to his belt. Ashen, tense, - and you have half the mind to wonder whether he’s even breathing. 

Not even looking at you as he mutters a low, “Panties off. Spread those legs.”

That was a few hours ago. 

Before you knew it, your husband had you splayed out like such a slut for him on the couch - too starved to even think about making it to the bed. Legs on his sculpted shoulders, panties in tatters on the floor because you were taking too fucking long. Cock so angry and sensitive as he bullies into your snug cunt, stuffing you full of his cum.

Again. And again and again like he wanted to fuck any and every thought of that stupid sex ban out of your delirious mind. 

“K-Kento- what-” he pulls you into a bruising kiss. Just a sloppy clash of teeth and spit and hands everywhere. “You’re ngh- different.”

At this, Nanami has the audacity to laugh - laugh. Hips snapping impossibly deeper, “Yeah? N’ who’s fault is hah- that? Who’s fault is it th-that we ended hngh- up like-” Pushing your knees all the way up to your tits, groaning at the mess of cum and slick pooling beneath you. “-this?”

Cock just ramming into you, prominent veins nudging against your gummy walls so agonizingly. The couch creaking in protest as he uses your pretty lil’ cunt exactly the way he’s been fantasizing this past week.

And when all you can do is let out delirious little moans in response, Nanami raises his hand up, up, up. Coming down on your ass, hard. 

Smack!

“Didn’t you know we’d end up here?”

Oh the words hit you harder than that large palm-print stinging your ass. Tight pussy clenching and trying to milk the fucking soul out of him as you sob, “I- I didn’t-” Smack! You’re jolting at the impact, hips bucking wildly as you gasp, “-I did! Wanted this so bad, Kento. I did I did-”

And yeah, Nanami knew that. He knew you’d pulled this little “sex ban” stunt to make him break - to have him fuck you like the slut you are. But hearing the words from your pretty mouth had his balls squeezing so painfully. 

“Knew it.” he manages to grit out. “Knew you were such a slut, my love.” Words strained with each harsh thrust, “N’ as my slut, y-you can ngh- take one more, right?” You keen at how soft his tone was, like he was whispering sweet little nothings to you instead of promises to absolutely break you. Fingers trailing down to draw lewd patterns on your throbbing clit, “Right?”

And as if to prove you could, he’s squeezing his swollen cock harder into your plushy walls. Faster. Unforgiving. Fat, leaking tip hitting all those sweet spots he’s mapped out, in time with his abuse on your clit.

“Didn’t hah- have to lock myself in my office for nothing, right?” Pulling your trembling hips flush against his toned ones, “Have to get by with j-just a pretty picture this week for nothing?” Hips out of control now. Bruising. Almost painful with the stretch and the sheer pressure of being so full. “S’all for this, right?”

Smack! 

“Oh God, Kento- Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” he nips at your lower lip, “Good enough to fuck- take another one?”

You were sure if he came once more then it might just be the death of you.

You’re not even lucid enough to realize what reaction you’re giving him - all you know is that it isn’t good enough for Nanami. 

Because he lets out a tut, hand dancing across your stomach to where he knew he was absolutely making a mess of you inside. 

“Fine.” And something about the way he says it makes your heart stop, already knowing that it didn’t bode well for you or your poor cunt. “Guess I hafta ngh- help you.” Sure enough, Nanami wastes no time before pushing down on your abdomen. 

The both of you watch - awe-struck and speechless - as your overfilled pussy gushes all around him. 

And shit neither of you can even begin to think of what a bitch it’ll be to clean out this couch later on. Too caught up in the way you’re soaking Nanami’s merciless cock in that sinful mix of cum and slick. Thick, and hot, drooling down the side of your puffy folds. 

“See? Enough space, no?”

You raise your eyes, teary and hazy with lust, up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones and oh-

You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Especially not when he leans down, whispering so raggedly in your ear, “Now I get to give ya another week’s worth more, right?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 9 days

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

You didn’t know how it ended up this way. How that stupid bet about who’d be the needier one made Geto the one with the sex ban. 

How he had you tied across from him so prettily on the bed, a bullet vibrator stuffed up your dripping cunt, unable to do anything but whine and watch as he spreads his bare, muscled thighs.

Tip flushed your favorite shade of pink, matching those panties wrapped around his throbbing cock. So angry and leaking all over his fist as one hand slides up, up, up. The other, fiddling with that tiny metal remote. 

“You’re drooling, gorgeous. So desperate, huh?”

You know you aren’t - but you can’t help the way your face burns at your boyfriend’s low chuckle. Thighs squeezing together at the heavenly sight before you. “N-no fair, Sugu.” you whine. “I want to-”

Intensity setting 2.

But whatever words get stuck in your throat as Geto draws harsh, quick little circles on the intensity setting, smirking at the way you’re so wrecked already. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

“I-I want to-” he mocks your pathetic little whines, acting for all the life of him that they didn’t make his dick twitch so wildly in his hands. “My poor baby. S’not nice, right?” And if you were embarrassed before then it was absolutely nothing in comparison to when Geto knits his brows in mock concern, eyes locked on yours. Hand still moving down his cock, “But isn’t this what you wanted? With the sex ban? Isn’t this-” Hips bucking up to show off how sloppily he’s fucking his fist - and your panties along with it, “-what you were asking for?”

“No.” you’re tugging at the ties at your wrist, “I wanted…”

Intensity setting 3. 

But oh it’s like Geto was well and fully intent on leaving you speechless - and succeeding at it too. 

Because he immediately brings up your panties - flimsy and just so soaked - up to his face, breathing in so filthily. And as if he couldn’t help himself - as if he didn’t want to help himself - the remote falls out of Geto’s hand, “accidentally” locked on the highest setting, first wrapping around his cock to make a mess of himself. 

“F-fuck-” he cracks one eye open, balls squeezing so painfully at the way you were almost in tears trying to get some semblance of friction. “Heh, looks like I’m winning the bet.”

You scoff, but it comes out so pathetically like a whine. “You’re a cheater, I’d have w-won this bet otherwise.”

Ah, how Geto loved your smart mouth - though, he probably loved it even more when you’re fucked dumb. But, right now, bet at the forefront of his mind, the next best thing he could do is shove those sinful panties into your mouth. 

Hand flying up and down his cock faster and faster as you choke like such a slut on it. Greedily eyeing the way your lip wobbles, big fat tears welling up in your eyes, cunt all glistening and quivering as Geto blindly reaches behind to grab ahold of that remote again. 

Intensity setting 4. 

“And you’re too cute.” he drops his head, breath ghosting your lips. “So if you ask me nicely I might just-” Thumb playing around with the intensity, pressing down, hard. As if it would translate to your needy cunt, “-give you my cock, gorgeous.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

It’s all you can do to keen as his fingers get faster on the remote, other hand getting so sloppy on his painfully hard cock. Matching that sinful little ah! ah! ah! leaving your swollen lips. Sinful - and stubborn, still refusing to say those words that you knew Geto wanted to hear so badly. 

“Awww, still not giving up?” At your delirious little headshake, “Then how about this?” 

Intensity setting 5. 

And shit it makes you arch off the bed entirely. It makes you let out a strangled yelp of, “Oh- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck Sugu, m’gonna-” It makes you cum.

“Tha’s it.” Geto can’t help but let go of his aching cock to draw rough, messy little circles on your clit. Grinning at the way you’re so pretty when you cum untouched - all for him. Over and over and- He reaches over to catch your lips with his, tongue dancing with yours, around your soaked panties. 

So filthy and dizzying that he almost forgets about that bet - almost. Because you’re murmuring something so incoherent into his lips. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

God, doesn’t matter who wins next time - he needs to fucking do this again.

“What’s that?” he leans in tauntingly, pulling the fabric out of your mouth, finger still running circles around the intensity. Absolutely addicted to the way you’re twitching and whining at the aftershocks of your orgasm, “M’sorry, gorgeous, this vibrator is too loud. Speak up f’me, hm?”

“P-please fuck me, Sugu.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 21 hours

If Choso had it his way, then you’d both still be at home and he’d be balls-deep inside your sloppy pussy - fucking you over and over into the mattress until the neighbours file another noise complaint. 

But, alas, Jin Itadori was sure to hire a hitman - or worse, Sukuna - on him if he missed another family dinner. Which is how it ended up with you, sat so prettily across the table from him, watching through his long lashes at the way that red dress hugged you so sinfully. 

So right, in a way that made Choso almost jealous. So irresistibly, in a way that had Sukuna looking over a few too many times and-

Choso’s chair almost hits the floor with how fast he stands.

Fuck it.

“Sh-shit, Choso I-” 

“Keep ah- that dress up, baby. Unless ya wanna get it d-dirty.” he’s panting into your open mouth,  tongue so hotly toying with yours as he gives you another harsh thrust. “Though, I don’t ngh- mind.”

And he was telling the truth, too. Choso was in no way gentle with the way he had you sat on the bathroom counter, flimsy dress bunched up at your hips. Strong arms spreading your legs so shamefully while he bullied his cock into you with reckless abandon.

Over and over and-

“Cho!” you yelp, as he hits that one spot so expertly. Flashing you a fucked-out grin as how you’re scrambling to cover your mouth. “Th-they’ll hear.”

“So?”

And it’s all you can do to stop your jaw from falling slack once more - both in disbelief and at the way he’s fucking you so mean. So desperately like he hasn’t in months - years, even. Just unfocused, sloppy movements to milk his cock on your snug cunt.

“I don’t mind hah- that either.” Hand dipping underneath your soaked panties - just lazily pulled to the side - to roll your swollen clit between two fingers. “W-what I do mind is my oh- fuck girl holdin’ out on me and wearing that fucking dress on the s-same day.”

Oh you knew you were pushing the limits of your sex ban by wearing his favorite dress, that it would drive him absolutely wild. You just didn’t know it would be this easy.

“But you promised.” you’re letting out such broken little whines, muffled through your fingers, ones that go straight to Choso’s achingly hard cock. “You hngh- promised we wouldn’t at your family’s…”

The only response you get is Choso rolling his hips deeper into yours, so bruising in a way you knew would make you feel so guilty even when all the marks are covered up. Leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck in time with the way he alternates between hitting your poor, abused cervix and that one spot. 

Gasping out a ragged, “I know- I know I know fuck- Hah- I know.” Words strained - like he was losing a bit of his sanity with each thrust. And needed you to be the same. “But shit, baby. Do you know how p-pretty you look right now? Hngh- how fuckable?”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ dirty.” you mewl, as if you were any better. As if your gummy walls weren’t sucking the fuckin soul out of Choso right now. “Should’ve made the ngh- sex ban even long-”

He bites down at the soft crook of your neck, growling out a little, “Don’t even joke about that.” 

And if Choso expected a response, then he didn’t act that way. 

Hips just erratic against yours, fingers even worse. Not even moving in circles anymore, just messy, sloppy patterns to-

No. 

You gasp at the realization, the deft movements of Choso’s fingers, and it just makes you all the more fucked-out underneath him. Scrambling to grab at the counter - Choso’s hair - his shoulders - just anything and everything to stop yourself from alerting the entire household to what you two were up to. Letting him fuck you like his favorite sextoy, fingers so so messy and spelling out a relentless little C-H-O-S-O-C-H-O-S-

And then you’re cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your eyes. Choso’s massive cock fucking any and every thought of the dinner just downstairs out of your mind. 

“F-fuck fuck fuck- ngh- we’re never coming back here for dinner again.”

And it’s all you can do to drag your nails down his broad back, leaving deep red marks that make his balls squeeze so painfully. 

It makes him throw his head back, gasping out your name so loud. It makes him pull your hips so bruisingly against his. 

It makes him cum, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum into your pussy. So messy with the way it’s too much to bear, dribbling down your swollen folds, forming a lewd little pool below you. And Choso doesn’t give a fuck - doesn’t care if he leaves marks that everyone will see. Or if that slutty dress of yours has a suspicious little damp patch as he swiftly pulls out to snap your panties back in place. 

Whispering lowly against your lips, “K-keep it in till we leave, hm?”

“Cho-”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“The fuck? You brats fall in or something?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 2 days

The great Ryomen Sukuna has always been terrifying - but never before has he been this ruthless. So utterly savage. Destroying every single curse he comes across in the blink of an eye - friend or foe, big or small. 

Why? All because he hasn’t been able to fuck your pretty lil’ cunt in two days. Which, in his opinion, are two days too long. All because of some stupid little experiment about wanting to see how long it would take to see the king of curses crack.

And when those trembling curses heard about this ah- sex ban through the grapevine, well, they wrote it off as another baseless rumor. Ha, Ryomen Sukuna cracking? Never. 

“Please…brat.” he bites down on your earlobe, further pushing up your expensive robes - ones he’d bought just to get on your good side - to sink his cock deeper inside your heavenly cunt. “There I said it. Now jus’ a bit more-”

And maybe you’re a mastermind - maybe you’re an idiot. Because you’re digging your heels into the mattress, pushing off ever-so-slightly from his aching hard cock. So thick and angry as it slips out of your sloppy hole. 

You bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently up at a pissed off Sukuna, “I didn’t like your tone.” Crossing your legs to cover that view he was so fixated on, “Either you beg n’ start all over again or-”

“Fine.” he grits out the word, like it physically hurt to. Though, nothing for what falls from his lips next, “Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

There you had it. And you can’t help but smirk, “Well, I liked that one-”

Nothing more is said - in Sukuna’s eyes, nothing more has to be said. Because he’s got his favorite lil’ human all needy and spread so shamefully in front of him, what more could he want? Sukuna grabs your ankles, pulling you to him like a ragdoll. Wasting no time before he’s splitting you apart on his rock-hard cock.

“Ya don’t hah- know how many curses I killed these past two days.” he kisses your ankles so softly. “How many I wanted to kill.”

And God, if you didn’t know any better you’d say it’s like he wanted to kill you with the way Sukuna barely even gives you time to adjust. Stuffing you full of his cock, so hot and thumping against your gummy walls in a maddening little bump! bump! bump! 

Letting out a strangled moan of, “There you go.” Brows scrunching together, looking wrecked already as he rocks his hips into yours - fast. Hard. hands coming up underneath your ass to arch you deeper into him, “Squeezin’ me so- tight. Heh, almost ”

“Oh hngh- ‘Kuna!” you moan, eyes snapping down to the way your cunt was taking him up so good. Puffy folds bulging around his massive cock, looking like they were sucking the fucking soul out of Sukuna as his massive cock disappears in and out in and out in and- “S’too- much-”

“Shut up.” he drops his head, one hand so bruising all over your body - groping your ass, your tits, playing with your throbbing clit. “Ya wanted hah- me to talk, right? And I say-” The other, squeezing your cheeks together into a pathetic lil’ pout, “Open up.”

It’s so embarrassing the way you can’t do anything but let your mouth fall open so sluttily, tongue lolling out just in time to catch the stream of saliva as Sukuna spits once. Twice. 

So filthy with the way he lets it splatter against the corner of your mouth - on purpose. 

“Wanted the king to beg, huh?” Each word is punctuated by such a harsh thrust, twitching balls stinging against your ass. “Well you got it. H-how does it feel, huh?”

And you couldn’t speak up even if you wanted to. Sukuna’s hand too tight around your face, cock too merciless. Slamming his hips down faster and faster as he runs his mouth, like he was taking revenge for the last two days. Again. And again. And again and again-

Grinning at your delirious little gurgles, “Heh, what? Can’t talk?” 

And as if to prove his point, Sukuna loops two big arms around your waist, falling back on his knees with you sat like such a slut on his cock. Fingers lacing above your head to sink you impossibly deeper and deeper-

“Oh my god- K-” Your breath hitches as he fucks up into you so easily. Feeling more and more like some plaything with each ripple of his muscles underneath your legs. So hard you were sure it would leave marks - both confirming and condemning those rumors you knew have been flying around. His balls on your ass, thighs underneath yours, nails dragging lightly down your skin. 

Resting on your waist, holding your quivering hips still as he grunts, “Now shut up. M’gonna get my fill of the last two days.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 4 hours

To the great Gojo Satoru, this droning, 4-hour meeting with the elders was a nightmare. To you, it was exactly where you wanted him

It wasn’t often that the strongest was tense - jittery, even, like he was about to jump out of his seat at any given moment. But, really, it was almost impossible not to, considering that stern talking-to you’d given him about “no sneaking out during meetings.” Especially when you’re sat across from him looking so beautifully unbothered.

Your smile too pretty, your uniform unbuttoned just enough that it gave him such a heavenly view when you bent over just so.  

Oh, how Gojo wishes he could just-

And that was when he felt it. 

That slow, slight touch up his inner thigh - so fleeting and light that he almost thinks he’s imagining it. But, no, Gojo could never mistake any touch from you. 

It sends his entire skin burning to catch your eye ever-so-briefly from across the table. A tiny smirk gracing those pretty lips as your heel inches up, up, up-

“Gojo, do you have anything to comment on the recent increase in curse sightings?”

He stifles a groan underneath one palm, the other snaking under the table just in time to catch your ankle before you can carefully slip away. “I think…” he manages to grit out, heady gaze flitting over to yours, “-that is a question my lovely wife and I must discuss first.”

Oh? 

And then, your back is hitting a plush mattress before you know it - long before the realization hits you that this bastard just fucking teleported the two of you to your bedroom. 

“T-Toru-” you sputter out, whatever reprimand getting stuck in your throat at how desperate Gojo was acting. Your uniform buttons hitting the floor as he rips open your shirt, hands bunching up your skirt, only having enough patience to just pull aside your soaked panties, rolling your pretty clit between two fingers. Needy. “The meeting-”

“The meeting isn’t here now, right?” 

Words so hoarse it takes you a moment to recognize it as your husband’s. You were only beginning to wonder just what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into when Gojo tugs down his pants just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free.

And oh then it makes sense. Because Gojo was so hard that it looked painful - so so red, and angry. Soaked in enough precum that it made a damp little patch on his trousers, heavy balls twitching at the mere sound of your voice.

“D-didn’t I say no sneaking out this time, Toru?” You buck into his touch, despite your words, eyes locked on the way Gojo stops toying with your clit to pool your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips.

“You did.” Raising his long, glossy fingers to those pretty pink lips, “But this is teleporting, not sneaking out, sweetheart.”

Gojo’s like a man possessed as he pops your slick-covered fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sinful taste. 

Gasping out a wet, “Fuck the ban. Can’t go without ya. Can’t-” One hand sliding his fat tip between your swollen folds, up and down up and down - spreading them apart, just barely dipping into your sloppy entrance. “-can’t live without this pretty cunt.”

And then it’s like something snaps - Gojo’s patience, his sanity, the last of his restraint as he sinks his throbbing cock into your plushy walls. 

Pushing past that first, tight ring of muscle, and at the first feeling of your gummy walls milking his cock, he pants out a strained, “Fuck- oh fuck fuck fuck, yer the stuff of dreams, my girl. This cunt- ngh-” Pushing your legs further apart, fingers back on your clit “-would’ve fucked this cunt right in ah- front of those old toads. But, you’re lucky I’m a jealous man.”

“Oh- oh my god, s’too- too- big!”

God, you needed to spread your legs more - as if they weren’t being folded apart so easily by a delirious Gojo - maybe breathe, try to relax because Gojo was so big. And so unforgiving. 

Feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs as he thrusts in quick, shallow little thrusts to bully himself inside your snug cunt. Jagged - like he was fighting with some absolutely, depraved, feral part of himself. 

You can feel the way your hips are torn between pushing away and grinding back down for more more more- And Gojo can, too.

“No-” he hisses. Brows scrunching in frustration, hips becoming more and more sloppy - frenzied. “No no no no no- hold on, sweetheart. Need this, need this so bad.”

Going faster. 

Deeper. 

You sob, ankles locking around his slutty waist. “B-but Toru-” You make a feeble last attempt at regaining your sanity. Your entire body jolting as Gojo presses so hard on your clit. “-we should ngh- hurry up. W-we’ll be late to the meeting-”

But does it really matter? Gojo doesn’t think so, not when he finally bottoms out in one, rough thrust. Groaning as his sensitive balls smack your ass.

Your cunt so slutty and tight - sucking him up so good despite your cute lil’ pleas about something stupid like “responsibilities”. 

So he really can’t help the way he wastes no time before reeling his hips back - all the way till his weeping tip is just kissing your sloppy hole. Before fucking into you completely - rough. Unrestrained. The same way he imagined taking you on that meeting room table. Over and over and-

“Not yet.” he grins against your lips, “We’re not done discussing the recent increase in curse sightings.”

A/N. Gojo’s came out toooo long I don’t even like this man fr (loud incorrect buzzer).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[baekhyunsbestie]

hiii could you do kyungsoo husband headcannns when you have the time 🥺🥺 i love the way you write sm!!

ofc babe <3333 husband!kyungsoo is the blueprint for a nonchalant ride-or-die 🙂‍↕️ he’s not loud about his love, but you feel it in every little thing he does!!! gets nsfw under the cut! 😚

wakes up before you just to stare at you for a few minutes because you look so peaceful when you sleep. he won’t admit it, but he’s obsessed with how cute you are first thing in the morning. sometimes he’ll brush your hair out of your face, sometimes he’ll poke your cheek just to see you grumble and roll over.

makes everything from scratch. bread, pasta, sauces—he enjoys the process almost as much as the final result. watching him knead dough with his sleeves rolled up and his brows furrowed in concentration? a sight to behold.

keeps a note on his phone of all your fave things—your go-to coffee order, your comfort snacks, the little things you mention wanting. if you ever wonder why he just knows exactly what to get you, it’s because he’s been keeping track this whole time.

he's not big on pda but when he thinks no one’s looking, he’ll slip his hand into yours and give it a tiny squeeze. if you try to call him out on it, he’ll just blink at you and be like, what? like he wasn’t just being soft.

pretends to be nonchalant but melts the second you do something cute. if you cup his face and squish his cheeks, he’ll grumble, stop it, but he’s totally blushing.

can and will fix anything in the house. leaky faucet? fixed. squeaky door? handled. lightbulb out? already replaced before you even noticed. he’s not showy about it, just quietly competent, like he was made to take care of things.

if you're sad, he’ll let you wear his hoodies and curl up in his lap like a little burrito. rubs soothing circles on your back and lets you vent or just sit in comfortable silence.

acts unbothered when you tease him, but if you kiss him out of nowhere, he freezes for a second before pulling you in tighter, trapping you against his chest like you’re not going anywhere.

has a signature dish that he makes for you when you're feeling down. the moment he senses you’re having a rough day, he’s already pulling out ingredients, quietly working his magic in the kitchen until you’re sitting down with a plate of pure comfort.

he gives me very much soft spot by keshi vibes 😭😭😭

he's quiet but not bc he's shy—bc he enjoys making you listen to every sound you make. the soft gasps, the sharp whimpers, the broken moans—he wants them all. if you get too quiet, he’ll fix that real quick. a firm hand around your throat, a slow, teasing roll of his hips, a low, raspy, i wanna hear you.

his lips? dangerous. when he kisses you, it’s slow and deep, his tongue brushing yours in a way that makes your stomach twist. he doesn’t just kiss—he devours. licks into your mouth like he owns you, grips the back of your neck like he’s daring you to pull away.

possessive in the most intoxicating way. when you’re underneath him, pinned and squirming, he’ll just watch you for a second, dark eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin. mine. he doesn’t have to say it—you feel it in the way he touches you, in the way his fingers dig into your thighs, in the way his hips snap against yours with sharp, deliberate strokes.

control freak. he doesn’t rush—he makes you wait. holds you down with one arm, the other trailing slow, featherlight touches between your thighs, barely giving you enough friction. his lips graze your ear, voice thick with amusement. so desperate, love. are you gonna beg?

when he loses control? ruinous. teeth sinking into your shoulder, nails digging into your hips, thrusts hitting so deep it leaves you breathless. he grunts in your ear, low and wrecked, and it does things to you. he growls your name like it’s a curse, like he’s struggling to hold himself back.

eye contact. he needs to see you fall apart. hands gripping your thighs, pushing them wider as he fucks into you with slow, devastating precision. look at me, he murmurs, voice strained, don’t you dare look away. and if you do? he’ll stop. make you beg. make you work for it.

he doesn't stop until he's satisfied—until you are satisfied, wrecked, boneless beneath him, fingers weakly gripping his arms as you gasp his name like a prayer. and then? then he does it again.

aftercare is sweet, but not before he’s completely sure you feel everything the next day. he wants you to remember it—every sharp thrust, every stolen breath, every time he whispered filthy things against your skin. you’ll think about it all day. and he likes that.

[cherrycola27]

Star Spangled Seresin

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Political situations. Unrequited love, one night stand, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

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Chapter 5: New Romantics

If you had asked Jacob Seresin what the best moment of his life was, you would probably expect him to say something about his Navy career, his family, or getting elected to the White House.

What you wouldn't expect him to say would was that the best moment of his life was right now, when his wonderful girlfriend, Jaycee, surprised him with tickets to the Eras Tour.

Jake was the second biggest Swiftie in the White House. You were the first. Just as Jaycee gave him his tickets, Bradley was giving you yours. Taylor was on her second North American leg of her tour and would be playing at FedEx Field.

It was a warm May morning, and you and Bradley were in a good place in your now, very real marriage. Jake and Jaycee had successfully been hiding their relationship for over a year now, with only a few "soft launch" photos on social media. Tonight, Jaycee and Jake planned to go public, and true to her journalism roots, Jaycee already had it planned out perfectly.

You had spent all day getting ready in your Miss Americana outfit before forcing helping Bradley with his Heartbreak Prince garb.

Jaycee had matching shirts for her, and Jake made. Hers read, "Karma is my boyfriend." While Jakes simply read, "Karma." He was so excited to put it on. His eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.

The whole way to the stadium, the two of you talked non-stop about the set list and what you hoped the surprise songs would be. Bradley and Jaycee watched the two of you in adoration and slight horror. They were definitely not the die-hard Taylor fans like you and Jake were.

"So, Wise-woman, what are you hoping she does for a surprise song?" Jake asked you. "I would die if she did 'peace' it the only one of my favorite songs that isn't on the set list that she hasn't done. And I just know I'm going to cry when she does 'Wildest Dreams' and 'august'." You tell him. "What about you Jake?" You ask him.

"I will lose my mind if she does 'New Romantics.' It is hands down my most favorite song. I know she takes requests, and I tweeted her that we were going to be there, and I asked for it, so I mean, maybe she will?" Jake said hopefully.

Jaycee sat back in her chair and smirked. Little did Jake know, Jaycee had been planning this for weeks, and she'd already planted the seed with Taylor's creative team for "New Romantics" to be a surprise song. Sometimes, working in the White House had its perks.

To say that Jaycee was overwhelmed by the concert was an understatement. She couldn't believe the sheer number of people that were there or the number of friendship bracelets she'd been given. She also never would have imagined witnessing the vice president of the United States cry while scream-singing 'Enchanted' to her or seeing her best friend and the president slow dance to their wedding songs being performed live, but yet, here she was.

You and Jake were currently dancing to 'Shake It Off," while she and Bradley sat back and admired the two of you living your best lives.

"So he has no idea that she's going to sing it?" Bradley asked Jaycee as they sat back in their seats. "No clue." Jaycee smiled back at him.

Soon, the 1989 portion of the set had finished, and the stage was dark. Jake waited with baited breath as Jaycee came to stand next to him. They listened to Taylor talk about how she occasionally takes requests for this part of the set and how she had a very important request for tonight.

Jaycee couldn't hear anything else after that because of how loud Jake was screaming when the first few bars of "New Romantics" began to play. She quickly whipped out her phone and began filming him. She couldn't help but laugh when he sang the chorus and looked directly at her during the line, "The best people in life are free."

She couldn't help but smile, and it never left her face for the rest of the night. By the time the show ended, Jaycee had tons of photos and videos on her phone. On the limo ride back, she carefully selected a few group photos, one of you are her, one of you and Bradley, and one of her and Jake with their matching shirts on full display for an Instagram post. After selecting the pictures, she captioned them, "The best people in life (really) are free. #HardLaunch #J&J"

She made sure to tag the correct accounts before queuing the post to drop at exactly four in the morning before turning off her phone. She spent the night with Jake in his room in the White House. All night, he keeps telling her that she should just move in with him, but Jaycee likes the freedom of having her own apartment. It gives her a chance to still be independent. She knows that eventually she'll move in with Jake, but she just isn't ready to yet.

The next morning, when she and Jake turn on their phones, the news of their relationship is the first thing they see. Four media outlets have already reached out to both of them for an exclusive, but Jake and Jaycee have already promised an exclusive to one of her coworkers.

You and Bradley are abuzz now that the news has finally broken. You were sure that Bradley was going to slip up with every sligh comment he posted on their soft launch photos, but thankfully, he never did. You were, however, worried about Jaycee. She was very much like you in the fact that she didn't spend much time in the spotlight. She was used to reporting the news, not being in it.

You knew that there would be a learning curve. Thankfully, Jake was there to help her. Not that she needed much help. After years of working in the industry, Jaycee knew exactly what to say and how to say it. She just got a little freaked out when people wanted to take her photo or if paparazzi would show up.

The first few weeks were fine until one day, when she was out running some errands.

Jaycee had clocked the man in the dark jacket when he started following her a few blocks back, right after she'd gotten her morning coffee. She tried to brush it off, but every turn she made, he was there. She pulled her hat down further over her face and kept her large sunglasses on. When she made another turn, she could see that the man had a camera in his hands. She figured he was trying to a photo of her doing something scandalous for the tabloids.

Normally, photographers kept their distance, but this one didn't. And Jaycee couldn't shake the eerie feeling this guy gave her. So, she discreetly took out her phone and called Jake before ducking into a CVS on the corner.

"Jake." She breathed into her phone as she tried to hide from the man. "What's wrong, darlin?" He asked her, sensing the distress in her voice. "A paparazzo is following me. They have been for several blocks. He has a weird vibe, and I can't shake it. I'm at the CVS on the corner of 4th and West. Can you please come get me?" Jaycee asked him.

"Henry and I are on our way now." Jake replied. But before Jaycee could say anything else, she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder and spin her around.

"Ms. Marchetti, how are you doing?" The man who'd been following her asked as he held his camera up to snap a photo of her. Jaycee panicked. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!" She yelled. Jake was still on the phone. He heard her trying to run away while the man chased after her, asking questions and snapping pictures.

"Henry, step on it!" Jake yelled as his head of security raced through the streets. Jaycee tore down the sidewalk like a mad woman, running into people and bumping into curbs. The photographer still followed her and was shouting at her.

"I just want to ask you a few questions!" He yelled, but Jaycee didn't want to be anywhere near that creep.

She turned a few corners and ran down an alley. She thought she was safe until he spotted her. Jaycee didn't have anywhere else to go. She was at a dead end. She was just about to scream when Jake's voice rang out as he yelled for the man to get away from her. He and Henry quickly stepped in between them, using their bodies to block her from his view.

"Listen, pal, I don't know where you get off on following my girl through downtown and putting your hands on her, but I swear to God if you ever do it again, it will be the last thing you ever do." Jake sneered at him.

"I wasn't meaning any harm, Mr. Seresin. I was just trying to get some stuff for the Sun Journal. Honest." He tells Jake.

Jake isn't satisfied with his response. "That doesn't give you the right to put your hands on her or follow her." He tells the paparazzo.

Henry looks over his shoulder at Jake, who nods to him. Henry then reaches forward and grabs the man's camera. He snaps the lens off before ejecting the memory card and snapping it in and throwing everything on the ground and stepping on it.

"Well, you and I both know that the Sun Journal isn't exactly top news. I didn't think she's agree to a sit down with me. But even though she didn't answer my questions, I got some great shots of her running through the people looking crazy. And a few in the pharmacy. I'll just cook something up." He chuckles.

"What photos?" Jake says as he stares the man down.

"You can't do that!" The man screeches.

"And you can't grab people without their permission. Now, if I were you, I'd get the hell out of here before Henry causes you to meet the same fate as your equipment." Jake states.

The photographer opens his mouth to argue but runs away before he does.

Jake immediately softens and turns to Jaycee. "Darlin, are you okay?" He asks as he wraps her in his arms.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad you got here when you did, Jakey. I don't know what I would have done." A few tears slip down her face.

"I'll always be here for you, Jay." Jake reassures her. "C'mon, let's get in the car, I'm taking you back with me." Jake tells her.

Once the two of them are in the car, Jake let's out a long sigh. "Jay, I know you like having your own space, but I think it might be best if you moved in with me." He tells her.

"Jake—I don't think that is really necessary. Today was just a one-time thing. It just caught me off guard. I'll be more careful next time." Jaycee tells him.

"Jaycee, it wasn't really a suggestion. You're moving in with me." Jake says firmly.

"Jake, you can't tell me what to do. I'm an adult who is capable of making her own decisions." Jaycee shoots back.

"Jay, I understand that, but I need to make sure you're safe. I can't do that if you aren't with me. If you live in the White House, I can make sure you have round the clock security so nothing like this ever happens again. I mean, what if Henry and I hadn't gotten there when we did? Something bad could have happened to you. Jaycee, I don't want to take away your independence, I just want to make sure you're safe. I love you, and I care about you, and I would lose my mind if something happened to you." Jake explains to her.

"Jake, I hear you, and I hear your concerns, but—I just—moving in together is a big step. And the White House? If I live there, I have to give up my job at The Post. My journalistic integrity goes out the door. I mean, I'm up for a Washington Women in Journalism Award for my piece on the treatment of the modern woman in the workforce. I knew dating you would come with sacrifices, but it's still hard. She tells him.

"I know. And it's not fair. We knew that there would be struggles going public. I just didn't expect them to happen so quickly. Jaycee, you know I'd never ask you to give up your life for me. I couldn't do that to you." Jake takes her hands in his. "Maybe I jumped the gun with the whole living together thing. Maybe we could—"

"You're right." Jaycee stops him with a long. "What?" Jake looks at her confused. "What you said about safety and privacy and protecting me. You're right. As much as i hare to admit it." She explains. Jake softens. "What if we did a trial run. A few weeks, maybe. Just to see how it goes. Can we compromise at that?" Jake asks her.

"No. I want to move in with you, Jake. I love you, and I know that you really do want what's best for us—for me." Jaycee smiled at him.

"Really? Are you sure?" Jake checks with her.

"Yeah, I'm sure Jakey. Y/N has been trying to convince me for months. She wants me to be the head of White House PR anyway." Jaycee laughes

Jake joins her and laces his fingers through hers. "So this is a big step." He sighs out.

"I know. But it's a good big step." Jaycee assures him.

The next few days are spent getting her belongings collected. You're over the moon that Jaycee is going to be living in the same space as you again. The day she officially calls the White House home, you pull Jake aside and remind him that even though he is the vice president, you'll kill him if he ever hurts your best friend He knows you aren't kidding.

Later that night, the two of them lay in bed, making small talk. And in that moment, both of them realize that any reservations they had are gone. This is it for them, and right now, they are exactly where they want to be.

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @dakotakazansky @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @dempy @djs8891 @whatislovevavy @blckgrl-sunflower @mayhemmanaged

[typewriterforsouls]

Let's start with something like this...

A few years ago, I was living together with my girlfriend, who I'd been with for a few years by then. We were involved in each other's lives, and I knew her family and treated them as my own. After both of us got tired of living with our parents, we put some money together for an apartment, and started living together. It was an adjustment for sure, and money was tight, but we were happy.

The first few nights we had together were sleepless, and for most of the day we were enjoying each other's bodies to the fullest, being uninterrupted and not worrying about having to get home by a certain time, we exhausted each other as much as we could. However, we were soon after overworked with work and college, and our schedules didn't really allow for us to have sex like we imagined. I seemed to suffer from the lack of intercourse more then she did however, as I noticed myself becoming more agitated and dazed as weeks went by, yearning to fuck like we did during our first days.

Fast forward a couple months, and her younger sister decides to move out of her parents house as well. However, with no real friends, no money, and no job, she didn't have any options but to move in with us. We did make her pay rent, and she ended up finding a job that allowed her to start saving some money while paying off that rent.

Her job ended up lining up with my schedule perfectly, and we ended up arriving at home at the same time every day. I was already comfortable with her as a sister, but in my lustful gaze, I began to look her up and down as I would my girlfriend, admiring her every curve. She was only a year younger, and they both had very similar bodies to one another, a nice plump ass and a thin waist with perky little tits that would poke out of her shirt when she would change out of her work clothes into lounge wear, or even just her pajamas.

One day I get home before her, and although she usually watches the TV after work, I decided to sit in her spot in some loose shorts and put something on the TV, not paying it too much mind as I scroll through my phone, not noticing my girlfriend's sister standing in front of me tapping her foot. "You're in my spot you know, I need to charge my phone or it'll die while I use it..." I look over and see her charger plugged in under mine, and shrug. "Looks like we're in the same boat then. Maybe you should've got home a little faster." I stuck my tongue out at her and she sighs.

She then perks up, not as upset as she gets a mischievous look in her eyes, and sits down right in my lap. "There, problem solved!" As she plugs her phone in and giggles to herself, I'm stunned, feeling her ass press against my lap feels so fucking good, I almost instantly get a hard on, feeling my cock press up against her ass. She was in her pajama shorts, so she could definitely feel as I got hard, and as soon as I did, I saw her jump a little bit and yelp quietly, but she didn't get up. "D-Did I accidentally sit on your phone...?" She looks to her right and sees my phone still in my hand, and blushes hard as she realizes what's going on, but still refuses to move, instead slowing moving her hips, pressing herself against me....

Let me know if you want the rest!

[orchidsncrake]

and watch them fall

pairing: joe goldberg/rhys montrose

rating: explicit

tags: au - canon divergence, s4 rewrite, obsession, strangers to lovers, POV Joe Goldberg, murder, bookstore owner Joe Goldberg, Rhys Montrose is a real person, developing relationship, slow build, eventual relationship, eventual smut, tags to be updated

word count: 3,512

chapter 2/?

ao3

A mugging. First, it was a mugging, and now, it was a jealous stalker. Only Malcolm Harding could afford to die twice. Joe squints at the TV critically, eyes trying to bore through the little screen tucked into the corner of the bookstore. The few customers mill about its cramped floor, fingers drifting over books they won’t buy, reading summaries and feigning interest. An older woman – she must be in her 70s – comes up to the counter and sets a cookbook down, then follows Joe’s gaze to the television.

“Could you turn it up, dear?” Joe nods and grabs the remote from beside the register, cranking the volume. The posh English accents bark into the small building, demanding attention.

" ...Police have arrested Maddie Key for the murder of Malcolm Harding, whose body was found in his flat in London on Tuesday. Law enforcement says Key has supplied a confession, claiming that she did not intend to kill Harding, but when he rejected her romantic advances, she flew into a rage. Law enforcement is seeking charges of stalking and murder, but Key’s lawyers are alleged to be pursuing voluntary manslaughter on grounds of insanity. The autopsy puts his time of death sometime late Monday. This story will be updated as law enforcement… ”

The old woman scoffs, and Joe returns the volume to a low murmur as Maddie Key’s mugshots flash across the screen.  She shakes her head and faces Joe as he rings up her book. “Who goes and kills someone they love? Doesn’t make any good sense to me.”

I do. “No sense at all, ma’am.” 

She nods curtly, makes a chuffing sound, and signs the receipt messily. She tucks the cookbook under her arm and looks at the TV on her way out. “Bloody psychos.” The bell chimes, and the woman is gone. Joe signs, fixing his hair momentarily before sliding out from behind the counter. The landline suddenly rings behind him, and he starts, clipping his hip into the counter’s edge in his haste to get to the phone. He hisses a swear, pressing his lips together in annoyance, and picks up.

“Subtexts, this is John speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, lovely. May I speak to the owner?” A feminine voice chimes loudly, making Joe recoil for a moment. He clears his voice and straightens his posture uselessly.

“Speaking.”

“Perfect!” She bubbles. “My name is Irene Crosby. I’m the PR representative for Mr. Rhys Montrose, I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” She pauses, expecting some sort of fawning and only getting shocked silence. “Well, Mr. Montrose is set to go on a second tour for his memoir since the first was such a hit, and I’m looking to connect a bit more with the common people of London for this one.” Real nice, lady. “And Mr. Montrose visited your bookstore a couple days ago and raved about how… quaint it was! Now, I’d like to offer you the honor of hosting a meet-and-greet for London’s next mayor in your very own bookstore!”

Joe stares at the phone. This woman works for Rhys fucking Montrose. The man he assumed he’d never see again because, hello, why would he?  He’s tempted to say no just because of her pretentious attitude or maybe go full American and hang up without another word, but he doesn’t. In his hand sits his connection to Rhys. Rhys wants to visit him. Or his bookstore, at the very least, which is still something. Still – would it be beyond stupid to accept and welcome him back here? What if he makes a fool of himself? Would it be even worse to decline? He doesn’t even want to imagine the impression that would give, especially if Rhys runs and gets elected. Then he’s just the guy who told the mayor to fuck off and hold his meeting elsewhere. He clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose, forcing his foot to stop tapping.

“When would this be?” He asks, trying to sound more rational than he feels.

“Oh, well, let’s see. It’s the 24th, and the tour is going until the 15th of next month… so, how about Saturday?”

Joe pulls the phone away from his ear to stare judgmentally. He smiles apologetically at a customer when they give him a look. “As in this Saturday?” “Yes, this Saturday. How does that sound?”

“Impromptu,” he blurts. The line goes silent for a long moment.

“Yes, well, you see,” Irene starts nervously. “Oh, alright. Mr. Montrose’s second tour has already commenced, and he wants to add your bookstore as a last-minute venue. This of it as an encore. He said the atmosphere would be charming for a smaller event, as he quickly tires of the extravagant panels.” She pauses for a moment. “So, what do you think?”

He should decline. Hosting a last-minute PR event for one of London's most famous men is a bad idea from every technical standpoint he can imagine. The store is too small, and there isn’t any seating other than some library-style tables and chairs in the back. Never mind the fact that Rhys is, all things considered, a complete stranger. Who sics their PR manager on a bookstore clerk they met once a couple of days ago? Crazy people, that’s who.

Still, is it not flattering to have made a good enough impression to get this opportunity? It’s a compliment, really, and a huge one at that. It’d be rude to decline. If it goes well, he may even be able to buy some armchairs for the store through publicity and increased sales. It’s practical. “What do I need to do to prepare?” Lunatic. 

“Oh, wonderful, Joe!” He cringes at the name but quickly reasons it as a misstep on Irene’s part. No deeper meaning, just a reckless disregard for the most basic information about a person she called. Next, he’ll probably be Jim. “I’ll send over a folder. What’s your email?” He rattles off the handle to her, listening to the smashing of keys in the background. One loud click and the noise stops. “Perfect! Please contact me if you have any questions. Mr. Montrose will be thrilled!” Joe opens his mouth to wish her goodbye or thank her for the opportunity, maybe even suggest a Xanax, but the line goes dead. He sighs, sets the phone in its base, and looks over the counter. The same customer squints at him suspiciously and then looks at the phone. 

“Witness protection,” he says before he can catch himself. The customer only grins, and Joe smiles back faintly. God bless cultural sarcasm. 

***

The clocks are really starting to piss him off. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the occasional car driving by his apartment. Going postal with a hammer on everything ticking in his apartment seems increasingly rational. He rolls over to look at his alarm clock – digital and silent, thank god – and groans. 4am. What an awful time of night. The only people awake now are petty criminals, insomniacs, and bookstore owners obsessing over the potential next mayor. He feels ridiculous even as his mind whirs, throwing imagined images of and conversations with Rhys at him. He knows it’s absurd, and yet he can’t sleep to stop it. Sleeping means closing his eyes, and closing his eyes means being greeted with an absurdly charismatic smile and gunmetal blue eyes. He shouldn’t even know how to imagine his face with such detail, but the television is constantly streaming an interview with him or showing off pictures of his stupid fucking face. Or maybe he’s constantly watching that one news channel and hasn’t changed it in a week. Either or.

He swears and rolls onto his back again, blinking at the ceiling. The irrational anger part of sleeplessness is beginning to kick in, making his skin feel too tight. His own breathing pisses him off. He squirms a bit and lays his hand over his abdomen limply, the other pressing against his eyes. Why had Rhys sent his hyperactive flying monkey on him? And complimented its ‘ambiance’ of all things. As much as he loves it, the only time the media would praise his bookstore would be in retrospect once it’d burnt down. Oh yes, such a lovely little place with its lack of floor space and suffocatingly tall shelves. Such a shame it’s all ashes now. Now, onto Jack with the weather. 

It had to have been to see him, hadn’t it? Joe thrashes out with his foot, tugging his comforters to one side, and removes his hand from his face. He knows he has a certain tendency for presumption, but he can’t discern any other reasoning. London is full of bookstores with nicer atmospheres and more reliant HVAC systems – so why his? He can’t imagine he’d charmed Rhys to that degree or even charmed him at all. Joe’d felt like the one on his back foot when they’d met, vulnerable to the flurry of unfailing comebacks and the smile that reached his eyes. He wonders if Rhys is always that lighthearted, or was it just for his public image? He clearly cared about it, if his attire was anything to go by. He had only been wearing a sweater and slacks, an admittedly casual outfit, but they had been noticeably well-fitting. A tailor, then? However, Joe doubts all the credit is due to the clothing. He’d read from some particularly invasive article that Rhys follows a strict workout routine, including but not limited to calisthenics and ungodly amounts of cardio. That has to do the body good–

Oh, what the fuck? 

That’s… new. Not entirely welcome, either. Joe yanks his hand back from where it’d been creeping down his abdomen and stuffs it under his leg as if it needs to be restrained. As if it’s not part of him. He stares at himself incredulously, shocked by his own train of thought. He shifts and realizes, mortified, that he’s half hard. What is that about? He – he doesn’t like men. Even when Cary, who is objectively the prime specimen of masculinity, had stood in front of him jerking off (a memory that softens him a bit, thankfully), he’d felt nothing but uncomfortable. Why is it now that he’s fantasizing about another man’s body? It wasn’t really fantasizing, was it? Can’t a guy just idly wonder about another’s workout routine? Sure, but you can’t then wonder what he looks like naked and try to jack off about it.

Joe groans, throws the comforters back impatiently, and sits up, running a hand through his hair. 4:30 am. His socked feet thud dully on the floor as he pads to the bathroom, almost making the mistake of turning the light on. He yanks his hand back, not wanting to be flashbanged. He pisses quickly, happy for once that his hamster-wheel of a brain is a turn-off, washes his hands, and wipes them on his sweats. Joe freezes a step out of the doorway. A dark figure ducks out of his periphery, and his head is consumed by his own heartbeat. Had he left the door open?

No, of course not. He’s better than that. Still, as he slides down the hall quietly, he tests the knob. Still locked. He’s not hallucinating, is he? He’s unsure if he’d rather have that or someone in his apartment. Reaching the junction between the hall and the living room, he cranes his head in, half expecting to be hit from behind. It doesn’t happen, and air rushes from his lungs in relief. Emboldened, he scans the entire room and decides it’s empty. As he turns back to the bedroom, the wind whips into his apartment. He furrows his brows and returns to find a window open a few inches. Confused, he shuts it firmly and locks it. Odd

That handled, he pads back and crawls into bed, turning his alarm clock to face the wall. His pillow is warm, and he flips it and smashes his face into it. It strikes him for the umpteenth time how ridiculous it is that to fall asleep, you have to mimic it when the last thing he wants to do right now is lay motionless and control his breathing. The strife of being alive, he supposes. He doesn’t know what time it is when he finally falls asleep, but the last thing he registers is the tweeting of a bird and the flash of rage that goes with it.

***

The email from irenecrosby@gmail.com (how much did she have to pay to get that handle?) arrives promptly in his inbox at 8am. Joe’s phone dings where it sits on the counter as he makes coffee, and he reaches for it, browsing through the slew of PDFs and links attached. He would think he’s being visited by the queen with how exhaustive it all is. The message of each is essentially the same: don’t ask for personal photographs, no recording, and don’t tell your friends. He half expects to find a DNR at the bottom of the list, but he doesn’t. Joe’s phone returns to the counter when the coffee maker bubbles loudly, going about preparing a mug and pulling out the creamer. The kitchen reeks of cheap coffee, but it’s welcome. White blooms up from the mug’s bottom as he sweetens it, then returns everything to its rightful place and settles at his dining table. 

He reads the lists carefully on his laptop and finds that most of what he’s instructed to do is clean. While vaguely offensive because it presumes that he doesn’t ordinarily clean, it is easy enough. He’s to close the bookstore all day Saturday, and the event will start at 11am. The PR team will arrive at 9am, and Rhys himself will be at 10am. It runs until 4pm, leaving an hour after for the unofficial signing session (presumably to affluent customers who have enough money to presume time doesn’t apply to them; evidently, it doesn’t). Another hour after that is allotted to disassembling whatever decorative banners and balloon nonsense the PR team will desecrate his bookstore with. That means eight hours of Rhys in his bookstore, and even the presumed presence of Irene the Hurricane can’t dispirit Joe.

He’s suddenly acutely concerned about what he’ll wear. He wrinkles his nose as he sips his coffee, disgusted at himself. He’s thinking like a teenage girl, but he wants to be presentable for the event. Isn’t that reasonable? A possible mayoral candidate is going to be in his store, and it’s an excellent opportunity for publicity for Rhys and Subtexts, and it’s only reasonable to look good when he knows there’ll be cameras–

Fuck! Cameras! How could he have been so stupid? He can’t be surrounded by cameras; he’s supposed to be dead. While highly effective in obscuring his face, the beard isn’t cover enough, especially when he’s going to be in close quarters with the literal press. And he didn’t exactly ‘die’ under unassuming circumstances. He doesn’t have the luxury of melting into the muddled group of the nameless dead. He sets his mug down and scrubs his hands over his face, eyes darting to his phone. He could cancel. He could call Irene, curtly call everything off, and then hang up before she tries to convince him otherwise. But what would Rhys think? 

He can’t think about Rhys right now. He needs to do the reasonable thing and continue disappearing into London. Oh god, what if someone recognizes him in the back of a photo, and it gets back to the States? He’d have to run again to some even less favorable corner of the world. What if he had to hurt someone to get away? That’s precisely the last thing he wants, and he’d have to uproot his life all over. The skin of his face tightens as panic sets in, and he hardly notices that he’s rocking in his chair. His phone screen suddenly jumps to life, ringing deafeningly into the room. He blinks at the name, finding there is none. Just an unknown number. He’s unsure what possesses him, but he lunges for it, fingers fumbling over the screen until he accepts the call.

“Jonathan Moore?” His voice is shakier than he’d like it to be. The voice that hums over the line almost makes him drop his phone.

“John? This is Rhys. Rhys Montrose.” Joe stands up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. He catches it with a bitten-back curse, then smooths his hair. He can’t think of what to say.

“Oh, Mr. Montrose. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I got a call from Ms. Crosby-”

He gets cut off by warm laughter. The sound seeps into his chest, soothing his panic like honeyed tea. He exhales heavily, lets his shoulders droop, and slumps back into his chair. “Please, just call me Rhys,” he says. “Irene told me you agreed to hold the event, and I wanted to call you to thank you myself.”

“Oh–,” Joe starts, then takes a breath again. He just needs to quit panicking; he’s not some prey animal, and Rhys doesn’t bite. “I appreciate that. I was surprised to hear from her.”

“Ah, yes, well, it was admittedly an unusual ask. An impulsive one, at that.” Rhys exhales, sounding timid. Joe cocks his head curiously. “Which is why I was so pleased to hear of your acceptance. I trust you got the email from her this morning?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been reading through the PDFs, though I’m only part way through.”

Rhys laughs, and Joe can imagine his smile. “To be entirely honest with you, most of them are bullshit.” Joe straightens at Rhys’ swearing. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much. Must be the accent. “It’s all largely bureaucratic and functionally useless. As long as you don’t outright stab me, you should be fine.”

Joe grins, air puffing from his nose. “That’s a pretty low bar to set. What if I had a history of stabbing mayoral candidates?” He knocks his palm into his forehead as he says it. Really?

“I’d still be safe, wouldn’t I? I don’t fit the M.O. quite yet.” Oh, he’s funny now.

Joe taps his forehead a few times, scolding himself. It doesn’t stop him. “I guess you’ll escape the event unscathed.”

Rhys’ voice rumbles with laughter. “From you, at least. Fans can be a bit touchy, but luckily, I have a cockney goon-squad to deal with that.”Goon-squad? “Now, I don’t mean to hold you too long–” Please do. Wait, what? “– so I’ll let you get your day started. Thank you again for accepting. I think it’ll do the book well. I’ll see you Saturday, yeah, John?”

Joe swallows, trying and failing to find a way to extend the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday. Uh, good luck with your ‘goon-squad.’”

Rhys laughs. “I knew I wasn’t going to get away with that.” The call ends.

Joe drops his phone on the table and plants his elbows just to facepalm. Did he just threaten to stab Rhys? He drops his hands and stands up to wash his mug. Mortifying, unintentional threats aside, it had been thoughtful of Rhys to give him a call. Not only thoughtful, but it had dissolved all worry about the event, probably dangerously so. He could dodge a few cameras, couldn’t he? He’s evaded the less-than-rigid line between life and death (at least legally). The English paparazzi are nothing in comparison.

Joe sighs and sets the mug on the drying rack upside down. It had been irrational to panic and even crazier to consider canceling. He can’t do that to Rhys, not when the other had specially requested his bookstore. It would be rude. Worse than that, he’d forfeit a second chance to talk to him. He needs to meet Rhys again. He couldn’t read Rhys as well as he could the others, and the not knowing is killing him. He shakes his head at the grouping; Rhys is not one of them. He’s different. Rhys could be a friend, a confidant – well, maybe not that far. Rhys may be remarkably intelligent even in the first meeting, but he surely wouldn’t be down for befriending a serial killer. No matter how much of a progressive he is.

That settles it, then. Joe’ll clean, help decorate, and hide the corner as the media have their field day. He doesn’t think that’d come off as too weird. What else would a bookstore owner be around a celebrity and his followers but awkwardly-almost-creepily shy and holed up behind the counter? He looks up at the clock; 9am. Picking up his keys, he makes for the apartment door and then locks it behind him. He gazes down the stairs at the wooden floors of his bookstore. Time to clock in, sell books, pretend to care about unprompted personal anecdotes, and not obsess over the fact that Rhys will be back in a matter of days.

[eikaprime]

Hi Eikaprime! I love your way of doing the hypnoshades, but if you chose to not have them be that way, how you would execute Callie's story in splatoon 2? (Okay yeah this is from Popsicles wanting to possibly hear more about that concept you mentioned a while ago - if its okay! Feel free to go 'i wanna keep that a secret' and all)

*uncontrolled, unhinged giggling from the back of the throat that slowly turns to absolute maniacal laughter bordering on hysterics*

How would I do them? Because there are so many possibilities. There are just. SO MANY. Possibilities. I don't even remember what possibility I mentioned. My brain is a black hole of thoughts, ideas, and Terribleness.

Seriously, the possibilities are endless. But maybe the best sort...

*deep breath in, slow breath out* okay, thoughts, line up here. In my Snapshots series (and presumably also in Lucky, though it's never mentioned) Callie gets the hypnoshades as a gift during Final Fest. They're from some anonymous fan, and she thinks they're neat, and puts them on completely unknowingly, and in Snapshots you get a detailed look at how they make the person see and hear things--specifically, whatever the shades are programmed to let the person see and hear. But without those?

Without those, Callie is alone.

That's where it starts. That's where it holds. With Callie and Marie apart. Marie, radio show. Callie, filming. Marie, music show. Callie, talk shows. Long days talking and laughing across a table in the news studio become late evenings, night owl Marie stumbling in exhausted around when early bird Callie wakes up, the two more or less having supfast together. Becomes telephone tag. Becomes answers on messaging machines, never actually catching each other.

They have a schedule for agent business. Gramps and Three are away, doing something important. Someone has to feed Octavio. Someone has to check the kettles. Every day, one of them--cranky, exhausted, overtired--goes in, takes Octavio's dirty dishes, gives him more food, walks around Octo Valley (but no time to search the kettles) and leaves. Callie falls asleep there a few times. It's... comforting, really. Even if it's Octavio, there will be someone there when she gets up. Someone to eat next to. Someone to complain, to tell about her and Marie's schedules, how it never matches up.

And one day, Octavio says he wants to show her something. Callie laughs, because really, what could he show her? He's in a snowglobe. He can't get out. But he says Marie gave him something. And, okay, she'll hear him out.

Marie gave him an opportunity. The real gift is the phone-like object in his hand, with too many buttons, showing Marie. In her radio studio. Where there shouldn't be any cameras. And Octavio says, very calmly, that eight splatoons of elite Octolings have been following Marie's movements. They can take her out at any time. Would Callie like to see? And his tentacle moves to a button.

NO.

Well. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.

From in the tree, where Callie had slept--a place so obvious she hadn't dreamed to look--dropping down on silent feet are elite Octolings. All have weapons; all weapons are holstered. One holds a pair of sunglasses.

Callie has a choice, he says. She can free him now, and accompany his troops below. She can accept the shades and do whatever he tells her while wearing them. Or she can watch Marie die. And trust him, there are ways to keep a squid from respawning.

Callie's sobbing. She's terrified. Not for herself. She has her roller, she could defend herself. But Marie... she'll take the shades. If she can buy some time, she can stop this. She can find a way to keep them from Marie (because who's to say they won't both be killed if Callie goes with them? Who's to say Octavio will keep his word and not hurt Marie when she's not around?). If she ever decides to join them, she should press the switch on the arm. Just tap it. Not even hard. It'll be okay then.

Never gonna happen. She can stop this.

But as Callie puts on those sunglasses--taking Octavio through Inkopolis (and whoever else is watching through those shades), to her dressing room at the movie theater, even into her own apartment, she keeps seeing... flickers. Movement, a flickering shadow that *shouldn't be there* on set. There are Octolings in Inkopolis--just there, in the cafe, not looking at her when she walks by but there. When she tours Inkopolis Power, there's someone watching from the catwalk. When she jogs through the park in the early morning, there's a rustle in the bushes. When she finally gets to speak to Marie in person, alone for the first time since... since... but why was Marie talking to Crusty Sean for so long? Why does she feel these eyes? Octavio said he'd know, and they have a window, and their neighbors... the skin crawls on Callie's back.

She puts in her schedule the day Marie will be gone. Marie will be in Calamari County. She will be safe.

Callie cancels her own train.

She goes below, to stand in front of the snowglobe.

And presses the button on the shades.

@possiblycringe

[jaybird-fanfics]

Villain Roommate |Chapter Thirty Eight|

Dabi slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was you, cuddled up against him. A slow grin formed on Dabi's lips. Yes, this is what he wanted. To not be alone, to be with you. He could hardly believe it himself, that you were in his life again. It was like a very long dream, if it was, he would never want to wake up from it. He moved his hand to stroke your head gently, you stirred causing him to pause. Your eyes fluttered open, and you let out a tiny yawn. You smile as Dabi comes into focus. "Morning." Dabi kissed your forehead. "Morning sweetheart." 

"You want breakfast?" You ask as you sit up, Dabi watched as the sunlight from the window brightened your frame. So this was what heaven is like. "Toya?" He snapped out of his trance by the sound of your voice. "Uh, yeah. Breakfast sounds great." You grinned before kicking your legs over the bed and standing. You felt a little wobbly, but managed to walk into the bathroom. "I'm gonna pop in the shower real quick, then I'll get started on cooking." You tell Dabi. "Mind if I join you? Last night has left me a little sweaty." He smirked. With a red face, you nod, inviting him into the shower. 

You plated the food and sat across from Dabi, both of you dug into the dish you had made. As you were doing the dishes after finishing breakfast, a thought came to mind. One that, hadn't occurred until just now. How was Dabi here? Maybe it was your joy that overtook any amount of logic or sense. But now that you've had time to settle, the question wouldn't leave your mind. "Toya? Can I ask you something?" 

"As long as you keep calling me that, you can ask me whatever you want." Dabi smirked. You turn away from the sink to face him. "How are you here right now? I mean, how were you able to leave Japan without getting noticed? Does Shigaraki know you're here?" Dabi's smirk fell. He leaned back in the kitchen chair he was sitting on. "Thing is, sweetheart." He began.

"All of Japan thinks I'm dead." 

"What?" You say under your breath. Dabi pulled out his phone and typed something in. He turned it around so the screen was facing you. "If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself." You walk closer to him and leaned down to read what was on the screen. 

'Infamous villain 'Dabi' dead.' You continue to read. 'Just days ago, Legaue of Villains memeber 'Dabi' was found dead. Number two hero 'Hawks' reported that Dabi had fell from a third story building and had suffered significant injuries. Heroes and citizens rejoice in knowing there was one less villain roaming the streets.' 

"So, that's it? People really think you're dead?" Dabi nods before tucking his phone back in his pocket. "Ok, but that doesn't explain how you got here." 

"Hawks helped with that." Dabi tells you. "Hawks did? But, why would Hawks help you?" 

"Trust me, I didn't think he would either." Dabi began to explain. "I really was about to die. If the explosion wasn't enough, I actually did fall from three stories high. And I'm pretty sure I had some internal bleeding too. I was pretty much a dead man." 

"Hawks found me, and to my absolute disgust, I begged him for help. And, it might have been the hero in him, but he did end up helping me out. He called up one of his personal doctors and paid them a hefty amount to keep quiet. Shortly after that, he send me on a one way flight here. But..." Dabi chuckled. "He said if I ever show my face back there, he'll make sure I stay dead." 

You furrow your brow. "I've never heard of a hero actually killing villains. Only subduing them before turning them in. He'd actually do something like that?" Dabi shrugged. "I wouldn't put it above him or any hero at that." You sigh. "Well, I guess I have him to thank for you being here." You say with a smile. Dabi smiled as well. "I've been looking for a way out for a while, but none seemed to have worked. None except dying of course." 

"So, what, this is like the second time you had to fake your death? Then again, I guess we're both technically dead now, huh?" Dabi laughed at that. "I guess we are." 

That night, you and Dabi were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. It was a terrible movie, one that you both could laugh at and pick apart. Half way through the movie, the popcorn had ran out, so you got up to go fix some more. As you were away working on that, your phone dinged. Dabi glanced over at it, and read the text on the screen. 

'Hey, was just wondering if you wanted to meet up again for another date. Let me know ok?' 

Dabi narrowed his eyes. Another date? He grabbed your phone and looked closer at the contact. "Mark". Who the fuck was Mark? "Hey, Y/n." Dabi said, still not taking his eyes off your phone. "Yes?" You called back as you took the popcorn out of the microwave and poured it into a bowl. "Who's Mark?" You froze. Oh no, now you're in for it. You slowly turned around, Dabi's sharp glare could have burned a hole through your phone as he stared at it. "Toya...Let me explain." You began. "Oh please." Dabi sat the phone down, his eyes now on you. "Do so." 

"Toya, he doesn't mean anything! He's just...we're not even...I swear this is all just one big misunderstanding! You have to believe me, I-" 

"Slow down." Dabi interrupted you. "I'm not mad, not yet at least. Just take a breath, and continue." You did as he said and took a slow exhale. Then you began to explain. "Maria, my friend I told you about, she set me up with Mark. I told her about you, not everything, just that...I really missed you, and, Toya I thought you weren't coming back. I couldn't live my whole life clinging onto that hope, that you might come back. So, I thought it would have been best to move on...I'm sorry, I didn't know...I didn't know you would come back." You softly cry. 

Dabi took your phone with him as he stood up from the couch and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around you tight. "I would have wanted you to move on." He tells you. "I would have wanted you to be happy with someone, instead of driving yourself crazy over me. It's ok." You hugged him back, crying into his chest. "He really doesn't mean anything." You wipe your eyes from tears. "I promise." Dabi chuckles. "Oh I know. But, I want to make sure he knows that." He says lowly. 

"Right, I'll tell him I'm no longer interested." You say before gasping, as you felt Dabi's lips on your neck. "Yes you will. But first..." A cry left you as he sank his teeth into your neck, your hands clench at his shirt, legs going weak at the feeling of his tongue licking over the bite mark. It was sure to stay for a while, good luck hiding it. He moved your phone up and took a picture of himself kissing at your neck, making sure your flushed face was in frame. He pulled away before typing away at your phone. 

You moved your hand over the mark, flinching slightly as you touched it. "W-What was that for?" You say breathlessly. Dabi smirked before handing you your phone back. "Just showing that asshole who you belong to." He says before going back to the couch. You looked at your phone, eyes going wide at what you saw. It was the picture of Dabi and you, and the words below the photo read-

'Fuck off.' 

You sighed heavily. No point in trying to explain yourself to Mark, and hopefully he won't make an attempt to text you anymore after that. You pocket your phone before walking to the couch and sitting next to Dabi. "You're a real jerk, you know that?" Dabi laughs. 

"I know, sweetheart. I know." 

[rosegunsdaysfic]

No Feelings

Chapter 1

On the evening of October 29, 1949, Butler felt more wretched than ever before.

Primavera, the organization once dedicated to fighting for their countrymen's rights, was no more. The die was cast. Madame, the symbol of Primavera, had left the stage, and it was unlikely she would return. Calm and level-headed Rose could have turned the tide, stopping the deadly machinery before it was too late. But without her, the new leader was unstoppable. Ensnared in a devil's web of false compassion, he had heeded its counsel and chosen the wrong path, leading to inevitable self-destruction.

Who could have imagined Richard would end up like this—a broken, despairing soul, devoid of purpose? Now he's merely a puppet of vengeance, dancing to the cruel tune of a ruthless, mocking puppeteer. And what of Butler himself?

Perhaps he would compare himself to a slave. A powerless creature, obliged to obey his master without question. A disgusting feeling that Butler seemed to have experienced before—it must have been in one of his worst nightmares. The kind of dream you try to forget as soon as you wake up, breathing a sigh of relief that what you saw wasn't real.

But now the nightmare had become reality, and there was no end in sight.

Drowned in contemplation, Butler was slow to notice the persistent, irritating sound filling his office. A phone call at such a late hour was definitely not the norm. However, Butler had a pretty good idea who it might be—and that made him even less inclined to answer.

But... as if he could simply ignore the call with his personal guard watching him.

“I'm listening,” Butler replied flatly and immediately winced at the chuckle that came from the other end of the line.

“Took you long enough.”

“How can I help you, Major?” Butler asked calmly, or rather indifferently, ignoring the remark. In response, he heard laughter again.

“Drop by my office for a moment.”

“Do you need something?” Butler clarified, although he knew perfectly well what the answer would be.

“Nothing except your presence.”

Gabriel's voice and intonation betrayed his mood—he was clearly amused. To be completely satisfied, he apparently only lacked a listener who would obediently listen to his delusional speeches. Butler once again felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat. “I'll come by as soon as I finish my work.”

Gabriel laughed again. They both knew very well that Butler had practically no work left, and therefore such an excuse was nothing more than a way to stall. Nevertheless, Gabriel did not object. “Alright, I'll wait. But try not to be long.”

The phone was hung up, and Butler let out an irritated sigh. In fact, by this point he had no more even of the tasks assigned to him for show, so he once again immersed himself in studying the long-signed papers. The guard kept casting suspicious glances at him, but remained silent—and that was enough for Butler to ignore him. Minutes ticked by slowly as he leisurely reviewed the documents—however, even so, he reached the end too quickly.

There was no longer any way to pretend to be busy, and, rising from his seat, Butler headed to the major's office. The door was slightly open, and the sounds of a pleasant melody drifted out. The same classical music.

Gabriel was sitting in his chair with his back to the door but reacted instantly to Butler's appearance as he said, “You certainly weren't in a hurry.”

Contrary to expectations, there was no hint of irritation in Gabriel's voice; instead, Butler's tardiness seemed to have amused him. Sighing, Butler looked at his back wearily. “What do you need from me, sir?”

He laughed and finally turned to face Butler—in his hand he held a glass filled with a blood-red liquid. “You don't need to call me that now—we're alone here. Come in and make yourself comfortable,” Gabriel said, gesturing towards the chair in front of him and beginning to search through the desk drawers. Butler obediently sat down and only then noticed a half-empty bottle of red wine on the table, next to which a second glass was placed right away.

“You'll drink with me,” Gabriel declared firmly, filling a glass. 

Butler shuddered. He watched in horror as the dark red liquid poured from the bottle, realizing that this devil was now proposing a toast to the successful completion of today's part of his plan, which had turned into a merciless bloodbath. Butler recoiled and managed to stammer out, “I won't drink.”

“It seems I haven't asked you anything,” Gabriel sneered, his smile twisted. “You'll do as I say, Phil.”

Butler gritted his teeth, swallowing all his objections. With a trembling hand, he took the glass meant for him, but as he lifted it to his lips, he realized he couldn't swallow a drop.

Gabriel, on the other hand, drank deeply and talked incessantly. Butler tried not to listen to his chatter, catching only fragments of phrases—yet these formed complete sentences in his mind all on their own. Everything Gabriel said boiled down to speculations about the future of Primavera and the 'Golden Dragon' society: he seemed convinced that Richard was destined for a swift downfall and death in a pointless war. Gabriel grinned, his amusement evident, and Butler barely restrained himself from tearing that grin off his face.

And yet, he couldn't deny to himself that the major was right. If everything was left as it was, Richard would inevitably meet such a sad fate. Pictures of possible future events, filled with the bloodshed of innocent people, involuntarily formed in Butler's mind, complementing the speech of the gloating demon.

“However,” Gabriel sighed suddenly, sounding almost disappointed, “not everything is going as smoothly as I'd like.”

“Oh?” Butler said, intrigued. “Really? Doesn't everything always turn out exactly as you expect? What could possibly be going wrong?”

“The fact that I couldn't finish off Madame Rose.”

At these words, something snapped inside Butler. His heart pounded, and it felt like boiling blood was surging through his veins. Meanwhile, Gabriel continued, “Besides, she's been hidden so well that I can't get to her. For now, she's helpless, but… who knows what she might do in the future. I really hope she doesn't decide to interfere and ruin my plan, otherwise… it will be very unpleasant.”

Even though he spoke those words, a disgusting, sinister smile crept across his face, clearly revealing his intentions: if he somehow found out where Rose was hiding, he would kill her immediately. Butler flinched nervously, staring at Gabriel with a tense gaze. Noticing his reaction, Gabriel raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Is something wrong, Phil?”

“Just leave Rose alone,” Butler hissed, his body trembling with rage. “Isn't it enough that your men almost killed her, that she's… practically dying now?” His chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat, and he fell silent, his hand clamped over his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was quavering, “Forget about her, she clearly poses no threat to you anymore. It's uncertain if she'll even survive.”

Gabriel scrutinized Butler from head to toe, then grinned and raised a glass of blood-red liquid to his lips. “Well, well. I know I once asked you about your feelings for Madame Rose, but now I'm starting to think you were actually in love with her.”

Butler didn't answer. He didn't want to admit to any particular feelings for Rose, even to himself, and even less so to Gabriel. He couldn't manage to regain his composure—he was trembling so violently that his teeth chattered audibly in the silence.

Unexpectedly, Gabriel's expression changed: his gaze softened slightly, and a hint of a benevolent smile twisted his lips. “No need to be so alarmed, Phil. I'm just considering the possibilities. If your precious Rose truly ceases to be a hindrance, then I won't harm her.”

Though Gabriel spoke in a tone that seemed sincere, Butler knew better than anyone how skilled he was at lying with a straight face.

“You haven't taken a sip yet,” Gabriel suddenly noticed, glancing at the glass Butler was still clutching. “It's like you're trying to find something in the wine,” he added, laughing.

Butler set the glass down on the table right away, deciding it was time to give up on the futile attempt to drink the liquid. “I can't drink this,” he confessed, hoping the major would leave him alone. But…

“What a shame,” Gabriel sighed dramatically, refilling his glass almost to the brim with the blood-red wine. “I was just thinking it would be nice to drink to the well-being of your sweet little sister, but you don't want to join me.”

Butler gritted his teeth again in impotent fury. Of all Gabriel's remarks, he hated the mentions of Ange the most. They always struck a nerve, no matter how hard he tried to remain calm and ignore such obvious provocations.

Now, he reached for the abandoned glass and, without looking at the contents, drained it in one gulp. He couldn't help but note that the wine tasted completely ordinary—what else could he expect?

A smug smile played on Gabriel's lips as he drained his own glass, his eyes narrowed on Butler.

[cascadianights]

Fucking hate this sundown country

Hate that I can't even go for a walk

When building up to feeling safer to go on just a walk has taken years

Without being shadowed by a cop for over an hour

I told myself I was being Ridiculous when he sped by at 50 in a 25, that he clearly had somewhere to be and wouldn't return

Then again and again and again, and I'm trapped under the lights of the main street because at least there there's enough people to hear if I scream

(I try not to think of the study that showed most people assume Someone Else will help and ignore it) ((I try not to think of the literal car wrecks and things I've seen that support it))

Phone is only at 20% so I don't know how long I'll have something taking video - I brought my dog, and don't have cell service (one of many bills I can't afford), so I'd almost left it behind

Who would bother me in such a quiet town, and who would I call anyways but the

Cop drives by again, directly in front of me this time, very slowly. I keep my eyes down. My dogs flannel coat swishes, only a few inches from the ground

I was once walking on a side street at night, friend trailing his hands along metal stands and fences, and one stopped us to ask what we were doing here (university campus) and if he was trying to steal the hoods?? Off the parking meters??? He's native

Deep breaths. Talk to your service dog, watch her check in on you every block. Be glad that this is on video because it'll make you look more like a real human being in the court footage. Who doesn't love a well trained, small dog in a coat? She stops at every curb to wait for the command to move forward.

It rarely snows in the valley, but one winter we had a gorgeous blanket fall on the town. My friend showed me how to build a snowperson, how to carve and shape the arms and legs and hair. People stopped and smiled, took pictures and applauded it on my little apartment block.

Until the cop came to ask "what are you doing here" and parked at the end of the street when "building a snowman in front of my apartment" wasn't a good enough answer. He stayed until we left. It didn't take long. That friend was black.

Cross the bridge, don't slow down to look at the river even though it's why you came out tonight anyways. An awful week, the death of the cat I got the week I moved out from home over a decade ago & worry over money and health. Walking the dog to clear my thoughts.

The headlights glare down at me, the 5th time now - but I should have time before he comes by again to turn across a parking lot and retreat to my own street without him finding where I live.

The cop walking in gun drawn on a youth in my care, half asleep and waiting for someone to come by and verify simply that he was on the campus. I'd told him he'd be safe. The cops who stayed outside Pulse that night.

The ones who pulled me over just to make sure what I (cheap car from 93) was doing in this very nice neighborhood at this hour again, and again when I'd drop my girlfriend off in high school.

The one my grandmother married because she had no other choice, who'd beat her black and blue and whose bloodline is a streak of red and dead wives who didn't get away in time.

The ones I know can do anything they want to me. The ones that turned butches to stones and children to markers in a back field. The one mental health crisis or meltdown or panic attack I can't cover or mask that stands between me and a bullet.

I made it home safe. My dog can lead me back even when I can barely think straight through the fog. My phone was at 4%. That's good at least. It would've been shitty to die on my birthday.

[remtrack]

ASKING THEM “WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I DIE?” | JJK

includes fushiguro megumi, inumaki toge and gojo satoru.

gender neutral.

genre; fluff, comfort.

“what would you do if i die?”, your question was anything but serious. you intended it to sound like a joke. all you wanted was for your tsundere of a boyfriend to maybe say something cute.

perhaps a cute “i will miss you”?

but the gaze you were met by proved megumi took your words rather seriously.

“what type of question is that?”, his voice sounds stern, a hint of disbelief behind it. fushiguro drops the pencil from his hands, letting the wood roll on the glass table, stopping when it hits his black pencil case. your face softens when you see his distressed face, the playful smile across your lips slowly fading into a frown. did the boy take your words for real?

“hey, don’t answer my question with a question”, you say as your pointer fumbles with the page corners of your notebook, “it’s just a question, ‘goomi”.

fushiguro raises his eyebrow and shuts his notebook. you could see his name written on the book cover, his handwriting pretty neat. you’ve always loved your boyfriend’s handwriting, you found the slightly tilted font adorable. it suited him. megumi’s fingers move from the brown notebook to your forehead; you yelp when you feel him flicking his fingers against your skin.    

“the hell was that for?”, you mumble, your hand flying to your forehead to rub the surface. from the cracks of your fingertips you could see him send a glare towards your way.

“don’t you go dying on me now”, he huffs before reopening his notebook then resuming his work. by the way his eyebrows keep on furrowing and his lips occasionally turning into a pout, you could tell he’s still thinking of your question.

you suddenly feel bad. the raven didn’t need to hear that question; it made him think about the possibilities that could actually happen in the future. itadori possibly being executed in the future is more than enough to upset him already, he certainly does not want to lose you too.

“baby, i’d never leave you, you know?”, a hand lands on megumi’s. his gaze trails from your hand on his to your eyes. the pet name you used flies over his head, caused by the softness of your fingers. and when he finally registers you calling him “baby”, a pet name you typically reserve for private moments, red hues taint his pale skin. it’s like his brain just short-circuited.

“i know”, he grumbles. softly, he links your fingers with his before looking back down on his book. megumi uses his free hand to continue writing, trying desperately to hide the blush in his cheeks.

the poor boy really would do anything to hide how soft he is for you.

“toge”, your voice makes inumaki look up from his phone. you’re currently sitting by his side on the train, on your way to his favourite bakery. he raises his head, gesturing you to continue speaking.

“what would you do if i die?”, you ask in an oh-so casual tone. you try your best to make it sound like his answer isn’t a big deal, when in truth, your heart beats a little faster as you anticipate a respond.

“bonito flakes!”, your boyfriend grunts. inumaki turns his face back to face forward, but not before he sends you a glare that screams “don’t you dare”.

that was the first time you’ve ever seen inumaki look so scary. matter of fact, you swear it’d be your last time ever upsetting him that way. you watch him from the side of your eye, almost laughing when you see how awkward he looks while crossing his arms. the cursed speech user had gotten so used to having his arms around yours that it feels awkward when they’re free from your tight grip.

giving up on trying to adjust his arms, the boy then links his arm with yours and places his head in the crook of your neck. off-white strands of hair tickles your complexion; nothing you’re not used to. toge more than enjoys being babied by you, and you know that.

it’s not that he doesn’t care enough for you to answer your question; it’s the fact that even the thought of your death scares inumaki toge to the very pit of his stomach. for now, he’ll just bask in the boon of being around you.

“satoru”, you manage to blurt out. around you is catastrophe; curses roaming freely and a bunch of jujutsu sorcerers fighting for their lives. gojo doesn’t even turn towards you, he simply continues moving forward, deeper into the mess but it’s alright to you; you know he’s listening. he always is.

you gulp the thick lump in your throat, caused by terror, “what would you do if i die right here?”, you finally question. gojo doesn’t miss the hesitance in your voice, he could sense it from miles away. as much as you try to act tough around him, you could never fool him. not when the man knows you like the back of his hand.

satoru pauses, and you follow suit. you could see him inhaling a deep breath before turning towards you with a grin on his face.

“well, you won’t”, he reassures you. the confident tone he used was ridiculous to you. how could the bastard be so confident in his skills? you’ll never understand that.

sighing, you run your fingers through your hair in frustration. you admit, his answer calmed you down a little. you could feel your uneven breathing slow down.

“how are you so sure, satoru?”, you argue. it’s your turn to walk in front now, leaving your partner behind.

he’ll catch up soon anyway.

just like you thought, it doesn’t take the sorcerer long to catch up to you. in a heartbeat, you could sense the white-haired man walking by your side. those long legs of his sure has it’s benefits, aside from enhancing his physical appearance.

“’cause i’m here to protect you”, satoru’s words sound amusingly confident. at this point he’s ridiculing the curses around him.

nonetheless, you don’t fight back his words. satoru gojo is the strongest sorcerer after all; and he loves you. you know he always has your back.  

✉ taglist: @aliteama @dearsukuna @cybergoo @hanniemilk @ariasann @soulasdarkascoffee @okusetomura @eidotheiapriv @maat-the-prescriptive @etoilezone @elipres @scarednekozz @iridescentkitsune @crapimahuman @nectar0sw33t @hq149 @bluedelphinium @bokutos-babyowl @behan @tdntu0

[xbeezchaos]

BPD! Scaramouche pt.3

A/N:Y’all are eating this up and I like writing this so here you go. Today we’ll be focusing on two specific symptoms of bpd. Self image and disassociation episodes. How he experiences them (not really. A good chunk is my own experience) and things he does.

Notes: scara x reader, no pronouns used, you helping him through these different episodes and emotions, cuddles, pet names , etc.

He often goes from this depressed and disassociated state:

Staring off blankly at everything and inspecting his surroundings

He ca. be very irritable and snappy with basically everyone because he’s in what he calls “The void”

Touching, hitting and pulling at his clothes, skin and body parts because he cannot fathom how he’s a solid being

Everything being loopy, twisted and feeling distant from him

Having irritability due to how slow everything feels. Even when it’s not slow. To him the worlds in agonizing slow motion

Everything being too loud or too quiet

“Sweetheart, can you pass me my headphones?” He’d hold his arm out, patiently waiting for you to hand them to him.

Not being able to pick up or hold many or a single conversation for hours to days at a time

Struggling to get out of bed or complete tasks

“My love, come back. I need you in my arms, please.” He’d practically whined out the last word.

“You know I’d love to but then good going to make sure that gorgeous face eats and drinks anything at all today if I don’t?” You kissed the top of ups head and left the room to go Make breakfast for you two

Sense of time being jumbled and confusing to him. So he uses way more timers and alarms.

You help by trying to run bu the same schedule. Setting the same alarms so you could shoot him a text to make sure he was on track with his day.

If he was he’ll text you back a long message about wanting to kill someone or himself. Sometimes both or in order of some sort of plan he’s devised on his breaks.

You find it funny and concerning how a simple comment would trigger him to say the most in response.

“Eat rocks and die.” Then he’ll proceed to ignore everyone with his noise canceling headphones on blast.

To this self image crisis and Euphoric mindset;

Cutting/dying his hair cause he realized how good he’ll look with the new image he has for his hair.

I mean. Do you think someone else besides himself picked and did that haircut?

Of course he’ll eventually ask for your help once too much damage has been done. But you’ve grown very skilled with fixing his hair

Getting new piercings. He will think on it first then do it as long as he has money ofc.

Loves getting his tongue pierced. Even if it took a few days before he could talk right again

Buying tons of things he may not need or use later

Likes spoiling you too. It can range from big to small things. Whatever he can think of to make you happy.

He loves the rush he gets when he sees the new things he has or how happy he makes you with the gifts.

Will last from hours to minutes so please be ready for him to come down from it.

Gets tattoos. And will bring you along, so you watch as the excitement slowly morphed into euphoria and he begins to shake and bite at the skin on his nails

How else did he get the gorgeous marks that illuminate in the dark?

He likes having you touch his tattoos once they’re fully healed.

Makes impulsive travel plans and follows through with them.

Tries new makeup or style or something to alter his appearance

Has constant thoughts of not feeling like he’s really himself. More of somebody else impersonating the real version of him.

Can’t look at himself for too long in pictures or the mirror for too long because in his words “that’s not me. It looks like me but something is seriously off. And I don’t like it.”

“I need to be. Not me. I’m doing too well and I’m tempted to fuck that up.” He says that a lot. Mainly to himself but on occasion you’ll overhear

Take his phone, laptop, wallet and whatever else away because he can and will but shit and dive into his savings without a second thought

“Cmon. It’s to cope! I deserve it!”

“Really? What you deserve is a fucking nap, let’s go!”

He proceeds to fight his way from sleeping while you lay your full body weight on him to keep him pinned to the bed with all of his electronics besides the tvs locked in another room

When he came down from this euphoric feeling. He was lucky to have you there because more often than not. He’d start crying.

Note!!!!:So that’s all I can think of right now and I don’t proof read but I’m hoping you guys love this one just as much as the last. If there’s anything else you wanna see or bpd Scara travel on to my ask box cause I’m running out of ideas.

[reds-ramblings]

Here comes my contribution to your prompt game: a one-shot about Jessy and MC finally meeting up for a night of horror movies. But things get out of hand...

Alright, for this one we're going to have to pretend episode 10 didn't end the way it did. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you meant by out of hand but it certainly does fit the description. I had a lot of fun writing this.

Trigger Warning: I'm not sure what to put here but I know there should be something. If you find the content in horror movies triggering you probably don't want to read this.

Horror Queen: Dethroned

MC and Jessy make their way through the supermarket picking out all their favorite snacks for movie night. They fill their shopping cart with popcorn, chips, cookies, candy, and other junk food. Forty-five minutes and $86.35 later they leave the store and head back to Jessy's house. MC arranges all of the snacks on the table in the living room while Jessy pops several bags of popcorn and pours them all into a big bowl. Jessy brings the popcorn into the living room and grabs some blankets and throws them on the couch.

"So what are our movie choices?" MC asks.

"Well, there are just so many to choose from. Let's start with Hereditary. It's about a family that has witch ancestors and they all get possessed and die crazy deaths. Are you sure you're not going to chicken out?" Jessy teases.

"Me? You're the one who acts like the queen of horror but gets terrified over the slightest things."

"That's not the same! Watching it on TV and knowing it's fake is different than being faced with crazies in real life."  Jessy says as she plops down on the couch.

"If you say so," MC says. She covers up with a blanket and grabs the bowl of popcorn and puts it on the couch between them.

Halfway through the movie, both girls are hiding their faces from the horror in front of them. MC keeps covering her eyes with her hands every few moments while Jessy occasionally pulls the blanket up over her face. Jessy peeks over the top of the blanks just in time to see the mother's headless corpse leap from the attic window. Jessy squeals and covers her face again causing MC to erupt into a fit of laughter. Jessy gives her a pointed glance before grabbing a pillow and throwing it at her. After just over two hours of the most terrifying movie, either of them had ever watched MC grabs the remote and turns off the TV. Both of them just sit there staring at the now dark TV screen.

"Well, that was..." MC trails off.

"Horrifying." Jessy finishes.

"So, it's getting pretty late are you up for another movie?" MC asks.

"Duh! I am the horror queen after all!" Jessy exclaims making MC roll her eyes.

"Alright, I get to pick this time. How about Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

"Sounds good to me. I heard those movies are based on a true story."

"Umm, yeah, I don't think that is true." MC laughs.

MC turns the TV back on, carefully selects the movie and presses play. The movie starts kind of slow but it isn't too long before Leatherface starts killing innocent people. The movie hadn't been on very long when MC looks over at Jessy and notices a strange expression on her face. She stares at her for a moment when she suddenly looks over and grabs her arm.

"Did you hear that?" Jessy asks in a panic-stricken voice.

"Oh but you're not paranoid at all are you?" MC laughs at her.

"No, I'm serious MC." She pushes the blankets off of herself and stands up. "I'm going to make sure all the doors are locked."

"Whatever you say, horror queen."

After a few minutes, Jessy comes running back into the room. "MC, someone is trying to get in the back door!"

"Ok, that's enough scary movies for you. I think it's time we call it a night." MC says and just as she finishes the words the power suddenly goes out.

"We have to call the police!" Jessy grabs her phone off the table.

"And tell them what Jessy? That we were watching horror movies, the power went out and now you're losing your mind?"

"My phone isn't working. It says no signal." Jessy grabs MC's phone and looks at the screen. "Yours doesn't have a signal either? This is bad."

MC starts to tell her she's being overly dramatic when suddenly a chainsaw starts up just outside the living room window making both girls scream. Jessy motions for MC to be quiet, grabs her hand, and pulls her up the stairs to her bedroom using her cell phone as a flashlight. She walks over to the walk-in closet and starts feeling along the wall. MC cocks her head to the side and watches Jessy in confusion when suddenly Jessy finds what she is looking for and pulls a portion of the wall out to reveal a hidden room. She grabs her and pushes her into the room before walking in herself and placing the portion of the wall back over the entrance.

"Do I even want to know why you have a hidden room in your closet?"

"It's a long story but hopefully if whoever is out there manages to get in they won't be able to find us." She holds her phone up in the air trying once again to get a signal. "Damn it. Did hey do something to the phones?" She says trying hard not to panic.

"I'm sure there is a logical explanation for all of this even the chainsaw. You have neighbors maybe one of them had a good reason to use be using one."

Jessy presses her hand over MCs mouth to get her to stop talking. The noises from the chainsaw are getting louder as if they are inside the house. The chainsaw turns off and footsteps can be heard ascending the stairs. The footsteps get louder and louder until they are just outside the hidden room. Suddenly the door is pulled open and there is a quick flash of light. Sounds of laughter fill the air and it takes a few moments before the girls calm down enough to catch on to what is happening.

"What the hell?!" Jessy yells.

"You should have seen the look on your faces," Richy says and high-fives Dan.

"Oh wait, you can see it because I took a picture," Dan says shaking his phone at them and then laughs some more. Jessy reaches for the phone but Dan pulls it away. "Oh no, you don't."

"How did you turn the power off and what about our cellphones?" Jessy asks.

"Oh, we cut the power off outside where it connects to the house," Richy says.

"For the phones, we used a signal jammer. You'd be surprised what you can find on the internet and they are pretty inexpensive too." Dan adds.

"Honestly, I'm not sure which one of you guys I am disappointed in more," Jessy says before pushing past Richy and storming out the door only for him to follow her.

"Hey boo, welcome to Duskwood." Dan smirks.

MC angrily takes a step toward him. "Listen here, Dan-iel An-der-son" she emphasizes and pokes his chest with each syllable. "This. was. not. funny."

"You're right it wasn't funny." He says with a serious tone, "it was fucking hilarious!" He starts laughing again.

MC storms out and makes her way down the stairs and into the living room with him close behind her.

"You assholes better turn my power back on and get that dirty thing," she points to the chainsaw, "out of here."

"Yeah yeah, we will." Dan rolls his eyes.

"So does this mean we've officially dethroned the Horror Queen?" Richy jokes and nudges Dan.

"Yes! I'm going to be posting that picture all over social media with the caption horror queen: dethroned"

"Ugh, I hate you both." Jessy huffs.

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[caelus-the-lothrat]

The Eyes: Chapter 3 - "I'm No Hero"

Hey, Sorry I didn't post this sooner, I'm moving into a new place soon (literally this Friday) and thought it would be a smart idea to pack away my laptop and postpone posting anything to tumblr that wasn't via my phone. I whole heartedly regret it and will most likely end up carrying my laptop during the move so I can keep writing for you lovely thrawn lovers like me. please enjoy this Very late but Very long Chapter

~Warnings/Tags~ | potential violence* | post rebels* | a bit of a slow burn (sorry not sorry)* | very long series* | This chapter contains Thrawns POV | Creepy thrawn | Depictions of someone almost downing!!(its not long but its there so be careful)| cheunh translation at the bottom | Not Beta'd we die like clones

Since the run in with the thief, it’s been made it abundantly clear to you that whatever it is you saw, you weren’t going to discover what it was. Which to you was honestly kind of a bummer. Searching for monster added a piece of excitement to your life you haven’t had since you were a child.

In the days that followed you resigned yourself to simply sitting by the river like you used to. you went back to scouring the shore for small stones and dipping your feet into the water on the hottest days. The only differences now are that you would occasionally look up into the trees, sometimes they would just be ordinary, other times the leaves would hold those red eyes.

Since you no longer let your curiosity try to discover who those red eyes belonged to, you also decided to let your imagination run wild. You came up with fantastical beasts of soft purple fur, and large scaly lizards with sharp black scales and wild proportions. You would even draw out these beasts into a notebook. You purchased just so you can put your imagination on paper, they felt more real that way.

Because of your little, lets call it an outburst when you first saw the eyes, your parents have been pushing you to do something more with your life. They wanted you to be something, and subtly (sometimes not so subtly) suggest you go back to school or find a job in town like they did.

They were right of course, you weren’t a child, you shouldn’t keep acting like one. But growing up? Walking away from the small adventures and exploration that your childhood had? That just wasn’t something you felt prepared to do.

Slowly as the weeks past your mind drifted farther from the thoughts of the eyes and settled on what your future should be. you got a simple job selling fruit in the market and spent less time at the river. On the toughest of days, you would spend your entire night at the river looking up into the trees letting the fantasies come back bring you that sense of adventure you longed for.

The eyes always seemed to be there on those days…

The End Of Summer

Time moved differently now; it was faster. There was never time for anything, always a job to do, a friend to help. A chill replaced the warm night air and made it harder for you to visit the river. You couldn’t step into the water, the cool temperature no longer bearable. You resigned yourself to sitting on one of the rocks partially in the river so you could still see the bottom of the river and the tops of the trees.

You could see more into the river now; the slight shadows of fish, the movement of other aquatic life. It was nice… until it wasn’t.

That day had been hectic, you didn’t even get out of town until the sun had fully set. So, for the night you decided to wonder your way to river. Quoting your need for a well-deserved break. You sat yourself on your rock and gazed down into the water. Peacefully watching things move that was until you noticed an oddly large shadow. it was the shape of a fish, but much larger than anything you had seen in these waters. Leaning over the edge to get a better look, your hands slipped, and you fell in.

You screamed as your entire body was quickly engulfed by the river.

You were gasping for air, and trying to swim but the current had already pulled you under. You were raced down the river, flailing and grasping at anything. soon, too soon, your vision went dark, and you lost consciousness.

~Thrawn’s POV~

He kept his distance from them, not knowing how they would react to him. He built a small camp not too far from the river, but far enough where no hikers or people visiting the river would see. When they weren’t there, he fished in the river and when they were he watched. As they slowly started to move on with their life he came more often, hoping it was just his imagination. He learned everything he could from a distance, they had a wild imagination, were adventurous and dreaded the way their life was going.

All he wanted to do was whisk them away, save them from their solitude… or perhaps in reality save himself…

He wasn’t at the river the night you fell in. but he heard the scream and knew it had to be you. He had never run so fast in his life. he knew the area well now, and knew where the current would take you. he saw your form, swiftly moving down river. He watched you as he ran, hoping you would be able to bring yourself to the surface so he could grab you. But you are unconscious, when he noticed that all rational thought abandoned him and he jumped in. At first, he swam with the current to get to you, and when he grabbed hold of your waist, he swam as hard as he could to the side. He had to bring you to the surface.

He pulled you up onto the riverbank with his arms hooked under your shoulders. he checked your breathing, you weren’t. he immediately began to try and resuscitate you. Luckily the imperial navy required cpr training.  He went until you coughed up what water had managed its way into your lungs.

You only looked up at him for a moment before slipping back into unconsciousness.

He sat beside you, catching his breath. a small smile on his face you were alive. In his mind he then began a mental check list of all he would need to do to keep you safe from now on. He would need to wrap you in something, so you didn’t catch a cold, perhaps even make you something to eat when you recovered. When did you eat last? He asked himself.

He rose to his feet and slipped his arms under your back and knees, carrying you bridal style back to his camp. This was the first time you were close to him. He could see your features, clear under the moon light. Devine creature he thought my csezar run'he'ah.

He would protect you from now on. No more watching from afar. He would be there.

~Reader’s POV~

When you woke, the move was full in the sky. You weren’t fully aware of your surrounding until you sat up. A greyish piece of fabric slid from your shoulders. Taking in what was around you, you noticed a small building, made of nothing but sticks and leaves. Straight ahead of you there was a figure standing over what you could only assume to a campfire. How did you get here?

You thought about what happened earlier in the night, the shadow, the fall, the water…

Did someone save you from the river?

You tried to talk, instead of words, it was a vague croak and a cough. The figure promptly, turn towards you.

You stopped making noise as its eyes focused on you… those red eyes.

You froze up as it, He? They? he came towards you, it was slow movements, as if to not scare you. as he reached you he grabbed hold of the grey fabric, and draped it across your shoulders.

his voice was so melodic as they spoke to you

“we wouldn’t want you to get a cold now, csezar run'he'ah?” his basic was flawless aside from whatever he said at the end.

“who are you” you croaked, you voice still hadn’t recovered from earlier, so it couldn’t have been long since.

he seemed to ponder that question for a moment before responding

“I am a soldier trying to go home” his voice full of melancholy

You could only respond with a silent “oh”

Before the silence became uncomfortable, he moved back towards the campfire and grabbed a container. He stirred it a bit and then moved to sit beside you. He was practically on top of you as he scooped a small portion into a spork, then offered it to you. Like a parent would offer a baby a spoon full of food.

When you tried to grab the spork, he pulled it away.

“I can feed myself” you pointed out.

He thought on it and then, handed you the container and the spork.

It was hot, so you blew on it before putting it in your mouth. You at first couldn’t tell what you were eating, but all of a sudden, a regretful taste filled your mouth.

You tried to put on a fake smile for the man beside you, he was watching you tentatively. An uncertain look in his eyes.

How long had he been out here? You thought to yourself.

You ate up as much as you could stomach and offered the rest to him. He stood, walked a ways away from the camp and dumped it onto the ground. When he returned, he tossed the container into a woven basket.

“we require rest, can you move?” he asked, his eyes pinning you in place.

“yea I believe so, my place-“ you started to reply but he swiftly cut you off

“move yourself into the shelter while I put the fire out”

He pointed towards the makeshift shelter, and then moved to grab a small container of water.

You were quite tired, so you lifted yourself up and stumbled towards the shelter holding the fabric he had draped around your shoulders. When you looked inside you saw a small bedroll already laid down and a small pile of woven fabrics in the corner. They were mostly dark in colour, except for one tucked under the bedroll, as if to hid it.

You entered the shelter and pulled it out of its hiding spot. It was your picnic blanket, what was he doing with your picnic blanket?

Before you could ask yourself anymore questions, he was entering the shelter. It was small, but larger enough to fit the both of you.

You opened your mouth to ask him why he had it, but he simply ignored you and guided you to lay down on the bedroll. He grabbed the other fabrics you noted earlier and laid them around the rest of the shelter.

He then gently laid right up against you and took the picnic blanket from your hands. Laying it over the two of you. he then curled into you, an arm around your waist, his legs pressed against yours.

“um..” you silently said, very confused about what was going on.

“Yes?”

You didn’t know what to ask first. You’re a stranger why are you cuddling me? Or perhaps Why do you have my picnic blanket? You settled to ask about the blanket, not wanting to insult this guy. Even if it was beyond inappropriate. Maybe his species was different? What was his species?

“how did you get my picnic blanket?” you asked, voice unsteady.

“I found it; I did not know it was yours” he simply stated

“why did you watch me from the trees?”

Silence, maybe he fell asleep?

“I wasn’t watching you; I was looking for civilisation.” A curt and evasive answer.

Your brain at first thought it was a lie, but the more you thought about it the more it made sense. you weren’t going to let him off easy though.

“How can you find civilisation while sitting up in a tree?” you continued.

“you as quite a lot of questions”

“I want to make sure you weren’t watching me”

“I was looking for signs of life, unusual levels of pollution, fishermen, and boats” he responded with reluctance

Well that solved it. But you couldn’t help but ask yourself more questions.

“so… you saved me because you need me to take you to town?”

You felt like you were getting somewhere

“I saved you because you would have died otherwise” his voice was grim now.

“Oh, So you’re a hero then?”

You must have struck a nerve with that one.

“enough questions” he stated blankly “sleep csezar run’he’ah”

“But-“ you didn’t want the conversation to end.

“Enough, Sleep” he said, his voice commanding.

You sighed and wiggled yourself into the most comfortable position you could with this guy pressed into your back.

Some time passed and you drifted off into quiet sleep, questions could wait for tomorrow.

~Thrawns POV~

He had done his best to make you comfortable, he fed you, kept you warm, but you were a curious creature. When he laid you down to sleep, you decided instead to ask questions, mostly about him. He didn’t want to admit who he was… it made him question who he was now.

He wasn’t a grand admiral, the tattered old uniform you clung to in your sleep was a sign of that. He hadn’t been a member of the defence fleet for almost 20 years now. So maybe he wasn’t a soldier… just a man then? No over 30 years of military experience wouldn’t just disappear the moment he no longer had a fleet to control… would it?

Right before he drifted to sleep himself, he whispered behind your ear.

 “I am no hero, I’m just a man…”

csezar run'he'ah – River Dreamer