#what i see is her pissing on her own people for trying to cling on their heritage just cause she doesnt wanna do the same fucking thing

[sleep-0-deprived]

I literally am lovinggg your stories! Especially the yandere ones omg. I usually hate the yandere trope but yours is just so yummy. What about a yandere Logan, him being jealous over his “best friend” hanging around Scott a little too much🎀

Ambrosia (Yandere Logan x male reader) ~! ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒

WC:. 2.5k

Tags: jealous sex, gay sex, slight praising, Yandere themes dark content and gaslighting ect! Blow jobs (reader receiving) pet names, biting, mating press, Logan is a lil mean but with good intentions, anal creampies, little bit of cum eating, slight feminization, Logan obsessing over your scent, dirty talk(referring to readers hole as a cunt) <33

A/N o’m gosh! I love your page it’s designed so cute and I’m obsessed with your writing, specially Logan! I always see you in my notifs and I appreciate you’re likes sm ,I never see enough male reader posts on this man and I’m goin feral over here~ ໒꒰ྀི˃ ⤙ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

It was no surprise to anyone in the x mansion that you always cling to a man like Logan, you were anywhere he was, or the other way around and some people being storm and Scott always tried to warn you how unhealthy it was for the two of you but gosh if you weren’t just a naive man.

Logan would just murmur out “they don’t know a thing doll” while his hands massage your thighs keeping you to himself all hours of the night in his bedroom and that was just fine by you after all this was normal friend behavior right?….he just cares a lot is it!

In the current weeks though, Dr. Xavier had put you on more missions with Scott and occasionally Jean, and Logan was dead set that professor X was against him thinking he was trying to pry you away from him that they were trying to steal you away. Logan would be damned if any of them got to have you, after a long day with Scott you and Jean coming back from a mission you were approached by Logan. “Can you stay with me?…I’m having nightmares again and I really don’t wanna be alone..”

His head drained down to your neck looking over at Scott with narrowed eyes as he spoke in a gruff and mighty convincing tone to you having you all wrapped around his pretty claws practically humming you and massaging your crotch through your jeans getting you to his bedroom leaving a pissed off Scott looking right at you “he never listens to me dammit! I told him he needed to start getting more independence from Logan!” He yelled over at Jean in a hushed whisper

“we can’t make him learn, they are both as codependent as eachother and in a unstable way they are like the perfect storm” Jean just shook her head and turned on her heels heading down her own hallway to her room leaving Scott taking one last glance at Logan’s bedroom door shutting behind the two of you before he himself just headed off to his own room.

“Why are you spendin s’much time with Scott these day…? Do you not like being around me anymore angel?” He’d coo to you his hand reaching between your thighs gripping your cock kissing the back of your neck making you shiver. “Mh—no it’s not that Logan- never”

you’d just whine as he undoes your belt pushing you back down onto his best and slipping his thumbs under your waits band getting your boxers off you. “Of course you wouldn’t would you doll? You’re just a sweet boy” he murmurs gently stroking your inner thighs with your uniform shirt skin tight with the leather hugging each and every plump curve of you w/s waist.

“Yeah I promise Lo, I promise—“ you can’t help but for him like a puppy chasing its owner with your cock leaking a slick mess against the black leather of your shirt driving you insane feeling torn rim rubbing all against his bed sheets, “I know you mean well darlin, think you deserve a reward?”

He lets one of his claws break the skin on his knuckle and traced up your red cockhead. His face dipping clutching at your thighs with a sense of infatuation looking up at you like some god with his chocolate eyes never leaving yours when he pressed a wet kiss against your tip removing his hand off your thigh and holding it still taking one big lick up the side of it.

“Take me more, just a little more Logan, c’mon” you instinctively buck your hips on the bed arching your back just wanting to grip his head and make him deep through you, your brows inching together and the zipper of your shirt feeling to tight with your heated circumstances leaving you unzipping and stripping for him.

“Goddamn angel! you’re like sugar on my tongue doll” suddenly you were his ambrosia, he picked up his pace and took your cock fully into his mouth deepthroating letting his tongue slip licking at your balls while you sit on the edge of the bed reaching your hand down gripping his hair tightly while me massages your thighs with his claws poking out of him like some feral dog breathing in your scent nuzzling his face into your groin making you feel his shaggy beard.

“Lo, I’m getting there- oh fck~!” Your back arches instinctively leaving your pecs pressed upwards to the trailing having rapidly as a sweat line builds up on the arch of your back. “That’s it, just let go for me I’ve got you baby”

his hands gentle up on your thighs feeling your cock start to twitch on his tongue like it was doing laps desperate to explode feeling and rating your bitter ropes shooting him in the throat while he just reaches his work worn hand down to your balls cupping them making sure he milks you good when he looks up at you.

The sensation overwhelming you losing torn grip on his head feeling your cock fall flat when his mouth leaves you bare again, “shh, you did so great angel, so fucki’n perfect it’s pitiful” Logan grumbles and gets up off his knees gripping you up softly by his standards holding York hips letting his claws leave red marks as he slides you up further on the bed with his signature smirk showing off his pretty canines.

“Need you right now Lo….i need you so bad” a broken whisper floods your mouth looking up with a pout presented on your lips when his hand reached around his neck pulling off his war tags, undoing them and reaching down putting them over your head “here, I wanna see you clutching those while I stretch that cunt out” he murmurs right in your ear and leaves you no time to think.

His hands spreading or cheeks apart spitting right in your rim watching it wink at him “you’re all wet like a sopping pussy aint’cha angel” his thumb rubbing your rim pushing it in open making you squirm but his other hand holds your hips down into the bed leaving you a mess with your cock getting hard again and weeping lonesomely between your thighs “add another” you spoke unsatisfied ranting meow already after the sensation of something inside you felt good

“Of course doll, wanna please this greedy hole” his thumb gets replaced with his index finger going in knuckle deep and curling up before he adds a second finger and scissors you with his eyes sole set on your face. “Is this better than Scot? You let all guys get their fingers inside this lil cunt?” His breath halts crossing the line of pure and utter infatuation feeling his cum flavored breath against your rim kissing it as he fingers you.

“Course not Lo! Only let you stretch and touch this..only you” your back arching holding the bed sheets feeling his fingers curling deep enough to leave you breathless when his finger pads rub that bundle of nerves, “I think you’re ready for the real thing, think you’re ready sweetheart?” His voice softens up a little seeing that fragile line of weakness you were tight lining when you laid out and splayed out for him like some pretty doll— no, His pretty doll.

“Yeah, I’m all ready I’m ready Logan” your words slur out drunk off of arousal with a pearly bead of precum rolling down your shaft looking up at Logan biding back your own tears not wanting to wake anyone else in the X-mansion when his fingers slide out of your puckered rim and his other hand slips to your hip grabbing them and pulling you backwards to him.

“It’s gonna hurt for a bit, promise I’ll go as slow as you want it baby boy..” his hands grip his belt buckle and unbuckles it pulling down his pants and throwing them somewhere in his room leaving you batting your lashes at the large bulge in his jeans protruding begging to come out as you try to calm down clutching the name tags around your neck.

“Fuck Lo- c’mon please” your voice whispering his name out like it’s your only prayer trying to get his boxers down with his thighs before he pulls them down leaving his cock standing eager and tall against his stomach with a prominent vein going up the curved side nearly having your mouth water when he spreads your thighs apart opening you up and holding your legs to the mattress letting his cock nudge and nuzzle between your cheeks while he looks down at you clutching his Wolverine tags.

“Just stay nice and quiet, don’t want Jean to hear you moaning…not yet alt least” he hums starting to nudge his tip inside past the gummy rim of muscles watching how it stretches, how the light in your eyes go glossy, how your pupils go wide like a cat when he stretches you—he’s already about to come just from that stupid little look on your face, oh the things you do to him.

His head droops down like a hound shoving his face in your crook holding you down to the mattress with your thighs gripped and wide apart slowly bottoming out into you “dammit doll, it’s like she’s purrin, does this little cunt like getting stretched?”

He groans biting your Adam apple pinching the skin between his canines stripping you of little gasps while he stays mounted on you leaving your cock sandwiched between his hair covered abdomen while the head board creaks when he pulls out a little and shallowly slams back inside you making your hole go wide burning from the sensation leaving your hands shaking clutching onto his tags hanging on your neck like they were prayer beads.

“Right there Lo, c’mon little more oh!” Your jaw slacking up under him going wide eyed when his cock drags along your inner walls pulling nearly all the way out to his tip and shoving back inside leaving you out of breath. “Shh, stay quiet baby doll, doin so good so far- don’t wanna have Scott seeing you like this”

his voice comes out like a choked growl letting his claws come out a little again shredding his own bed sheets while he buried his face further into your neck nibbling and sucking on the bite marks taking in deep whiffs of your scent making you swear his cock was pulsing every time he took a breath in,

“Smells so good baby, such a sweet doll” his hips start circling around and shoving forwards between your thighs letting his spit make for lube with your cock stuck against your belly button covered in Logan’s saliva while you reach your free hand to the back of his hair letting his beard leave red marks on your s/c skin.

“Lo-gan t’much, can’t take it Lo” your voice strangely from your lips letting your eyes gloss over and roll back when his cock head presses bullying your prostate making your rim feel like fire around his cock when he stretches you over and over bordering a painful pleasure. “Don’t say that angel, my pretty boy can take it all can’t he?” His voice speaks pressing sloppy wet kisses against your neck watching your face and how your fingers trembled to clutch his tags.

“I’m tryin Lo, I really am~!” You squeak your feeling your thighs go numb from being gripped tight and shoved to the bed not feeling his thrusts let up once. Logan’s hips start to stutter a little leaving you feeling his cock piercing you and keeping you spread as he slips his hands further up your legs moving from your inner thighs moving under your knees and shoving them to your chest allowing him to reach a deeper angle inside you.

“I know you’re tryin, doing so fucking well, just lay there and spread wide f’or me darlin” he grunts letting you feel how rigid his breath is dampening his beard with his drool licking up your neck mounting you hard leaving you beneath him feeling his body weight with a small huff removing one hand off your legs keeping his left hand under your knees holding them to your chest before he reaches around and gives your cock a firm grasp at the base making you arch.

“Oh~ I’m close Lo- I’m— gon’Ah” your voice cracks in half breaking into shards when your glossy eyes finally spill over with tears of pleasure leaving your ears ringing clamping and twitching around his cock feeling your base shudder under the rough hand cumming all over your own thighs and chest laying fucked out “look at’cha squirting all over yourself angel”

he heaves making your feel every buck and jerk of his hips with his mouth slipping upwards biting at your bottom lobe fucking you into the headboard.“Where do you want it sweetheart? Want it in your tummy or that pretty little mouth of yours hm?..or maybe all over them pouty lips” Logan whispers in your ear leaving his hot breath cooling the drool on your neck making it harder to speak just letting go of his hair trying to point at your belly trying to urge him inside.

“Nuh-uh baby doll, good boys use their words don’t they” he mocks you a little letting go of your softening cock to grip your hip with one hand and holding your right knee up to your chest letting your other leg hoop around his hip and bring him closer. “I wan’it inside me Lo- please inside”

you plead over and over going breathless when you finally feel the pudgy cock head pulling against your prostate letting you know what came next, white streams spewing all through your body making your feel like a little furnace under him while his grip loosens and his muscles tense up holding you steady looking up at you kissing away the tears on your cheeks growing more and more insane over you, enjoying how your skin held its afterglow and how your curves felt beneath him.

“There, there baby, don’t cry, lemme hold you…not letting you go [name] I’m never gonna” your heart skipped at those words never understanding he really meant them, only thinking he was trying to be all sweet to you when his hands leave your body letting his claws pull out of the mattress they were buried in as he crawls from between your thighs pulling out nice and slow with a slick pop.

“Logan” you wanted to tell him you needed more and you really would’ve if the feeling of his chin on your shoulder blade and the arm snaking around your waist from behind didn’t shut you up. “I know sweetheart” the only words that left his lips as he pressed a kiss to Your sensitive skin leaving the air field with a mutual understanding lingering in the air while he holds a you like he’s about to have you ripped away, his embrace tight and firm but holding a world of comfort to your used up body.

[charliedawn]

GOT characters x Reader

"Please. Dance with me."

Sandor Clegane :

Sandor was standing near the exit—ready to call it a night. He was tired of seeing all those high borns dancing and getting drunk on expensive Dornish wine. But when he was about to leave, he felt an arm wrap around his and looked down to find you—clinging to his arm. He was about to ask what the hell you were doing when he noticed how terrified you seemed.

"Please…Don’t let him take me."

You were on the verge of tears. He looked in the direction you were staring at and found some lord with a sleazy smile on his face. He was walking your way and Sandor instinctively raised his hand to clasp it on your arm.

"The lady’s taken. Piss off."

He felt you tense up next to him, but his hand on top of your arm kept you in place as the man decided to finally leave. Once he was gone, you wanted to thank him…But, Sandor pulled away and walked away.

…He needed a drink.

Daenerys Targaryen:

When a man offered you a dance, you smiled and tried to politely decline the offer. But, the man wasn’t having no for an answer. Finally, he grabbed your arm as you were about to leave. Fortunately, Daenerys arrived just in time and stood between the both of you.

"I believe she has been quite clear. She doesn’t want to dance with you."

The man was about to protest, but quickly reconsidered. He left and you let out a sigh of relief. But, as you were about to thank her, Daenerys turned towards you with a soft smile before offering you her hand.

"Would you like to dance with me instead ?"

Her hand was opened invitingly and her eyes showed nothing but good will. So, you took her hand with a smile.

"I would be honoured, khaleesi."

Ser Jorah :

"Would you dance with me, Ser Jorah?"

Jorah looked up at your hand and was about to politely decline your offer when he noticed your uneasy smile and the other man standing a few feet away behind you. He immediately understood the situation and smiled before taking your hand.

"It would be an honour, my lady."

He kissed the back of your hand and you smiled before being led away. You swayed left and tight slowly together and even though Ser Jorah only wanted to dance to help you—he found himself enjoying it as well. You closed your eyes and didn’t even think about your 'problem'.

You just enjoyed the dance until the very last moment when you had to part.

"Thank you."

Whether it was you or him who said it first—neither of you could tell.

Brienne of Tarth :

Brienne had just won her final battle for the tournament organised by your father. She had put to the ground many of your father’s best knights and when her face was revealed…You were immediately impressed. A woman of such strength on your side would surely end in a successful alliance.

So, you waited.

You waited and when it was time to celebrate, your eyes landed on the fiercest woman who had succeeded in defeating most fighters of the court. Her eyes didn’t settle on you however.

You felt a little disappointed by it, but the night was far from over. You tried again and again to get her to see you, but she always seemed to escape your sight. Finally, you decided to give up and sit down. But, you then felt a hand land on your shoulder and when you looked up, you found one of your father’s choices staring down at you with a malicious smile.

You tried to tell him no. He ignored your request.

But, he finally listened when the woman you had been trying to talk to suddenly appeared behind you in all her armoured glory. She didn’t need to speak a word as the man immediately released you and walked away.

"Are you alright, my lady ?" She asked you and you replied with a smile of your own.

"I am now."

Jon Snow :

Many people had warned you about Jon Snow. Some called him the King of the North—others a demon. You weren’t really interested in rumours though, but by the truth.

Hence, you had accepted to go and meet with him.

A war was brewing and you knew that strong allies were necessary. However, when you found yourself in front of the man who claimed to be Jon Snow, you immediately knew it couldn’t be him. The man before you couldn’t possibly be the King of the North. He wasn’t a giant. He wasn’t heavily armed. Or looked like a living dead. He seemed…normal.

"I am Jon Snow."

"..."

You looked him up and down.

Before he could say another word, you threw a dagger at him and he didn’t even flinch as it landed in a tree behind him. You both stared at each other for a minute until you finally smiled.

That man was Jon Snow.

For you saw no fear of death in his eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you, my King." You introduced yourself and bowed before him. "…The man who danced with Death and survived."

Tyrion Lannister:

"No."

Tyrion was aware of your situation. He knew perfectly well of the unfortunate circumstances of your upcoming betrothal. But…He couldn’t bring you even more dishonour by agreeing to dancing with you.

"Do not look so disappointed, my lady. Even though I am sure you are quite lovely, I wish you to spare yourself the humiliation of dancing with an imp."

Such harsh words which ignited a general hilarity that made you red in the face with fury. But, not against Tyrion. You didn’t blame him for his refusal. You knew how it sounded and the pain behind such a request. But, you didn’t want to give up. So…You did something that no person had ever dared. You knelt before him—your eyes staring at the floor in respect.

"I see no imp. I see a valorous and just prince. And I still wish to dance with you. Please."

It made the crowd around you fall silent. Tyrion’s eyes widened and he seemed speechless for a while. But, he finally smiled before slowly reaching for your chin to lift it up so your eyes may meet.

"…Don’t you lower your gaze. You hold more bravery and wit than anyone else in this room. And if that is truly your wish ? Then I would be more than happy to dance with you."

Jaime Lannister:

You were sitting down when you felt a presence in front of you as you ate. Your eyes looked up to find your ‘fiancé'. He was looking at you with such disgust that all food got stuck in your throat. You knew it was but an arranged marriage, but everyone knew that your betrothed hated your family with passion. Your eyes glanced away and met with another man. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

Unfortunately, your betrothed caught the exchange and suddenly grabbed your arm—ready to strike. But before he could as much as lay a finger on you, the tip of a sword was pressed against his throat.

The room fell silence as none other than Jaime Lannister had come to your rescue.

"I believe this is no way to treat a woman—even less a lady."

He then sat down next to you and smiled before eating next to you—an arm wrapped around you. The message was clear. And the man left.

"…You will get in trouble for this." You warned him, but Jaime replied with a cocky smile.

"I am a Lannister. And lions are not scared of insects."

Oberyn Martell :

You were trying to leave the party. This was too much. A man was persistently trying to get a dance with you, but you didn’t want to dance with a man who surely did not care about you. You were almost there when you collided with another man who grabbed you before you could fall to the floor.

You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw who it was.

"Prince Oberyn of Dorne…" You gasped and the man gave you a small smile before looking behind you at the man following you.

"Is this man bothering you, my lady ?"

You gulped and suddenly took his hand. If you were to say anything, your father would blame you.

"Please. Would you dance with me, Prince of Dorne ?" You asked and the man following you seethed.

"You were promised a dance with m—!"

"I believe the lady asked ME for a dance." Oberyn cut him off with his usual charismatic smile. "Unless your title happens to also be Prince of Dorne."

The man huffed before walking away and you let out a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when Prince Oberyn grabbed your wrist.

"Now now…Where are you going, little sunflower ?"

You frowned in incomprehension until Oberyn smiled again and pulled you flush against him.

"…I believe you owe me a dance."

Peter Baelish (Littlefinger) :

Lord Baelish had had your eyes on you for a while and he knew that being part of your powerful family would be extremely valuable. Hence, he asked your father for your hand. But, there were too many contenders for him to even be considered as a good choice. So…He observed you.

You were young, but promising as you danced with grace and proper etiquette with all your possible choices. But, he could see right through you. You weren’t exactly happy to be here. And when one of your possible betrothed stepped on your foot.

He stepped in.

He took your hand and almost pulled you away from the man. You were about to thank him, but Baelish had other plans.

"What will you give me for my rescue ?" Baelish asked you. You sighed. Of course he’d want a reward for acting like the hero he wasn’t.

"What do you want ?"

Baelish seemed to think about it before offering you his hand with a smirk.

"A dance."

Your eyes stared at his hand suspiciously. But, at this point ? You would have accepted anyone’s help in order to escape. He pulled you flush against him and started dancing with you. Your eyes widened as he led you away to the center or the room.

He knew everyone could see the both of you, but he didn’t stop—not even when you tried to pull away.

"Lord Baelish…That’s enough."

Your father tried to stop him, but Lord Baelish only smirked before surprising everyone by kissing you. Your eyes widened and you were momentarily took off guard. When he pulled away, he smirked before glancing challengingly at your father.

"Now…About my wedding proposal ?"

Sansa Stark :

"My lady…Would you please give me the chance of a dance ?" You asked Sansa who hesitated for a moment before smiling and slipping her hand in yours. You smiled before kissing the back of it and led her to the dance floor. Sansa had always wished for someone to take her hand and make her feel like a princess.

She had first thought Joffrey to be the one, but that felt like eons ago. She had long learned her mistake. But, it didn’t mean she didn’t still wish for someone to make her remember what it felt like when her innocence and virtue were still recognised.

And you were more than happy to make her remember who she used to be.

"You are beautiful." You told her truthfully and she smiled.

She even graced you with a small chuckle as you made her twirl and made sure not to touch her that might trigger her in any way. After her awful treatment under Ramsay, you only wanted her to feel at ease. At peace.

And she knew it.

When she looked at you and a smile graced her lips—your heart seemed to skip a beat.

The pretty wolf was still a stealer of hearts, and you couldn’t wait for her to devour yours.

[agaypanic]

Regina's Barbie Part 2

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Summary: After giving you a makeover, Regina takes you to a party. She hates the attention you’re getting and decides to make it clear that you’re not available.

A/N: sorry for not posting in a million years (4 days). my first regina fic got a lot of love and some people wanted a part 2, so here it is!

***

You had been to a few high school parties in your life, but you had never been to one thrown by one of the most popular kids in school. So you weren’t too surprised to see everyone throwing you looks when you walked in, especially when Regina George was clinging to your arm to make sure you didn’t stray too far from her. You may have been dressed in the girl’s clothes with stellar makeup, but everyone could tell you were an outsider.

“Relax,” Regina whispered in your ear, and you had to keep yourself from shuddering at the chill that ran down your spine. 

She pulled you over to a counter that was filled with different drinks, figuring you wouldn’t be able to stand this party sober any longer. You didn’t ask Regina what she had put in the cup she handed to you; you were too busy gulping the strong liquid down.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right back,” Regina said, seemingly distracted as she looked across the room in disgust. “I think Gretchen’s trying to hook up with Jason, that skeez!” 

Then you were on your own. It pissed you off a bit, Regina dragging you to this party just to leave you alone. But you decided to brush it off, pouring yourself another drink and gravitating towards a wall. Soon enough, she’d be back for you, and you could get through this night.

“Hey there!” Some guy appeared next to you, making you flinch in surprise. You recognized him from hallways and assemblies but didn’t know his name. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new or something?”

“Nope.” You laugh, putting the cup to your lips as you thought of something else to say. “I usually don’t have time for parties, but a friend wanted me to come.”

“Well, whoever your friend is, I’ll have to thank them.” Anyone else in your position might have giggled at the attention this objectively attractive guy was giving you. But in all honesty, you were too busy wondering when Regina was coming back to you. “Wanna dance, hottie?”

“No thanks.” You respond, eyes darting to the other side of the room, where Regina seemed to be reprimanding and chasing away the boy that Gretchen had been talking to. You wondered if she’d turn around to face you if you stared at her hard enough. “I’m kind of with someone here.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least not in the way he might’ve taken it. But you were trying your best to get this stranger to back off.

“Did this someone give you that kiss mark?” You flinched when he touched your cheek, smudging the lip print that Regina had planted on you just an hour or so before. It made you mad for some reason, and not just because this man touched your face without asking. “I bet I can give you a better one.”

“Oh my god, get away from her, Travis!” A venomous voice sounded, and you were grateful to see Regina standing next to you, giving Travis a sneer that almost made her perfect face seem not so perfect. “Can’t you see she wants nothing to do with you?”

Travis took a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. Then he squinted, eyes darting between your face and Regina’s lips before he let out a small chuckle.

“Lemme guess…” He said, turning back to you while pointing at the blonde. “Is this who you’re with?”

Regina answered before you could even think of a response.

“Yeah, she is. So go find someone else to try to blow you; she’s taken.”

With that, Travis left, cheeks reddened with slight embarrassment and drunkenness. You were still stuck on Regina’s last sentence when she grabbed your chin, turning your head to face her. She inspected your cheek, seemingly disappointed at the state her once pristine kiss mark was now in.

“You’d think that he’d see this and take a hint.” She muttered, not letting go of your face.

“And what hint would he be getting from it?” You asked, feeling shy. Even more so when Regina’s eyes started staring into yours. “Asking, you know, just out of curiosity.”

“Are you serious?” She asked, raising a brow. You gulped down the rest of your drink so you wouldn’t have to respond. But even when you were done, and your cup was thrown into a nearby trash can, Regina seemed to still be waiting for a response.

“Just a bit…” You replied.

Regina scoffed, stepping closer to you. If that was even possible. You gulped at the extremely close proximity, trying to not look down at her lips.

“Guess I have to make it clear to everyone that you’re mine.” 

Regina used both hands to cup your face and pull you towards her. You made a slight noise of surprise as she pressed her lips to yours, but you were quick to return the kiss after the initial shock wore off. People must have been watching Regina George kissing some girl they’d probably never seen before. But for a moment, it felt like only you and Regina were in this hot and crowded room. 

When she pulled back, Regina smirked at your stunned expression, clearly still reeling from the kiss.

“Everyone, including you.” She said, kissing you once more before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the living room to show you off some more.

***

Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: the best way to spend you Tuesdays is pissed at an old man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Time passes too quickly. The clock counts down to your fate. Again. It feels like you’ve done this already. 

You laugh even though it hurts. You try not to think of what comes next. You just stay in the moment and help Kara clean up the mess the cops made of her place. She’s in high spirits considering. A night in jail can put things in perspective. So can the prospect of life imprisonment. 

You order sushi. You figure if Andy’s paying, you’ll splurge. She doesn’t ask how you can afford it and you won’t explain. Fuck it. It’s your last hurrah. A final little spark before your flame is tamped out. 

When it’s time to say goodbye, you’re choked with tears. You fight not to show it as you hug Kara and tell her you’ll message when you’re settled in your new place. You want to cling to her forever. You sense a reluctance in her as well. 

“You okay?” She looks you over as you pick up your purse. 

“Yeah. Yeah. A lot of change. Tired.” You yawn. You really are exhausted. “I was so worried, Kar. Really. I'm so happy you’re out.” 

“Oh, tell me about it! But hey, I’m kinda a bad ass now. I got street cred.” She flexes her arms and giggles. 

You laugh too. You’re going to miss that. You will hold onto every lame joke and cherish it on those days when you can’t make yourself smile. You know with Andy, those will be far and few between. 

You leave and linger outside the door. This could be the last time your here. You won’t think that it could be the last time you see Kara. Too many ifs, and just as many scary certainties. 

You reply to Andy’s text. He’s waiting around the corner where he won’t be seen. It’s bad enough you’re lying to Kara, but her knowing the reality is worse. At least in this, he is your ally. You meet him there.  

He smiles and kisses you as you buckle your seat belt. Your disgusted by him. You say nothing. If you speak, you might just tell the truth. You lean back and close your eyes. He shifts into gear and the engine whirs softly in the night. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

He asks you that as if it should be. You turn your face to the window. 

“Tired,” your murmur. 

He steers into a lot and you look up at the bright white facade of the hotel lit by spotlights. It’s the kind of hotel you could never afford. You never stayed in one before but you expect one of those roadside motels is more your pay grade. 

It feels like another boast. Look what I’m giving you. Look what you wouldn’t have without me. Yeah, yeah. You owe him. 

He gets out and you follow. That’s how you’ll get through. Let him lead the way. He’s so much older, so much wiser, so why not? Just go along with it all. He knows what he’s doing. Exactly what he’s doing. He entrapped you. He pretended to be his own son and tricked you. 

Your angry thoughts boil over as you enter the hotel room ahead of him. He steps in close enough to brush against you. You pull away sharply and focus on untying your shoes. You drop them and stare at your hand. 

“I need the bathroom.” 

“Oh, it’s just down--” 

He points and you’re already on the move. You rush into the bathroom and lock the door. You want to scream. No, stay calm. You can’t let him get to you like that. 

You stop and lean on the counter. You look at yourself in the mirror and exhale slowly. Sleep. Don’t worry about anything else. You need rest. You can see it in your eyes. You can feel it through every part of you. You push off and go to the door. You emerge and stop short. 

One bed. Your bag is beside it already. You can tell he’s been there all day. You sit on the edge with your back to him. 

“TV has streaming. Tub has jets. Your pick.” He suggests. There’s a fragility in his throat that irks you. He’s acting like he’s afraid of you. Like you have any power in this situation. 

“I’m going to lay down.” You lower yourself to your side and curl up. 

“Shouldn’t you... you want something to change into?” 

You don’t answer. You’re empty. You don’t have anything left. You just want to lay there and never move. 

“Sweetie?” 

“Tired.” You say. 

“Right, well...” The TV flicks on and the menu clicks as he shuffles through. “I’ll put on something for white noise. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Figure I’ll do it now so we can get on the road early.” 

You grumble and shrug. You close your eyes. His presence looms before his footsteps pad away.  

He doesn’t close the door. It’s probably intentional. Does he think you’re going to go in and join him? Has he really deluded himself into thinking you want any of this? That you want him? 

The shower buzzes lightly through the wall, beneath the audio of the TV. It’s some syndicated law show your grandmother had on all the time. You roll your eyes and shift to get under the covers. You nestle in and lets your fatigue cocoon you. Even so, you’re too agitated to fall asleep. 

He emerges as you hide. You catch a glimpse past the blanket. He’s in only a towel. His thick arm is rounded with muscle and his broad chest is covered in hair. Boys your age don’t look like that. 

You shut your eyes again as you burn in shame. You’re so stupid. You remember hearing his voice and thinking it couldn’t be some scrawny kid. You knew it! You knew it and you were too shy to call it out. 

Andy gets closer to the bed. You can smell the scented soap and feel the moisture in the air. The zip and rustle of his bag stir beneath the television. The bed dips behind you and he groans. He lays down and hooks his arm around you. 

“Hey, how ya doin’?” 

“Get off,” you hiss. 

“Huh? Sweetie.” 

“I said I’m tired.” You push him away and roll off the bed. You trip as the blanket catches your ankle. You spin to face him. “I’m tired and I want to sleep.” 

“I know, honey. I just--” He sits up, leaning on his arm. He’s in only a pair of briefs. Ew. “I was checking on you.” 

“I’m trying to sleep. I don’t need you all over me.” 

You come forward and grab the pillow. He seizes your wrist and keeps you from retreating. You tug and growl between your teeth. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Why are we going backwards? I didn’t do anything.” 

“You need--” you twist your arm in his grip. “You need to give me space, okay? Give me a chance to think. I can’t-- Andy. You knew the truth all along, I didn’t.” 

“Backwards,” he drones in an annoyed monotone. 

You drop your shoulders and huff. “Fine.” You let go of the pillow and put your knee on the bed. “Fine. I’ll come back. I’ll sleep in the bed.” 

He lets you go and you put your back to him again. He sighs and his weight shifts behind you. The tension roils over you. Let him simmer. You’re on fire in anger and shame and despair. He can handle a bit of neglect. He deserves it. 

🎮

You sleep. Not soundly. Each time you rouse, you remember where you are. Each jarring reminder adds to your struggle. You scrape together a few hours, if that. 

You crawl out of the bed as Andy’s even breaths turn stolid. You can’t bear it any longer. 

You sit in the chair and stare. You don’t bother with your phone or the TV. There’s nothing that can distract you from your life. 

When he wakes, he says good morning. You feel his gaze but you react. He asks a question but you don’t respond. You just sit and watch the wall. His shadow moves around the room, around you.  

He nudges you. You wince and surrender. You look up at him dully. 

“Hey, wanna hop in the shower before we go?” 

You shake your head. 

“Okay, well, you should probably change into some fresh clothes,” he says. He checks his watch and your eyes find the digital clock by the bed.  

You stand and grab your bag and your purse. You carry both to the door and step into your shoes, bending down the backs under your heels.  

“Sweetheart--” 

“Let’s go.” 

“You can’t go out like that--” 

“Who cares? I'll just be in a car.” You grumble. “I just want... it to be over.” 

He silently measures your words. He grabs his keys and slings his bag on his shoulder. He nears and you grab the door handle. “You’re right,” he pulls the door back as he reaches above you. “Can’t wait to be home.” 

Home. That word sinks like a boulder in water. You go out into the hallway and he points you toward the elevators. Across the lobby and outside across the lot, under the dim early morning hue. 

He puts your bag in the car for you. You let him. Then he opens the passenger door and you climb in. He gets in on the driver’s side and starts the car. He asks if he should turn the air on. You shake your head. You can’t feel much of anything. 

He doesn’t ask as he stops at a drive thru. He gets you both a coffee. You thank him only as you sense his eyes on you. You just have to do enough to keep him off your back. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he takes the paper bag of biscuits and bacon and hands it over. “In case you get hungry, sweetheart.” 

Another thank you. Your voice is gravelly and grim. You don’t sound like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. The motion of the cars disorients you. You feel trapped in your body. It’s as much a prison as the house waiting for you at the end of this journey. 

The road sprawls ahead of you. Your vision glazes over. Your head lolls against the seat as NPR drones in your ears. 

Hours and hours. You eat only as he asks for some of the food. You know he’ll accuse you of being ungrateful if you waste the sausage and pastry. You chew and swallow without tasting. You wash it down with the bitter coffee and wipe your fingers on your shorts. 

“There’s napkins,” he rebukes. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Just saying...” he grips the wheel tight. “Why don’t you close your eyes? I know you didn’t get much sleep again.” 

“I’m fine,” you insist. He knows you didn't sleep. Is he so clueless as to not guess the reason?

“Mm,” he grumbles. 

You turn your head and gaze unseeing out the window. His sighs put you on edge. You twiddle your fingers. 

“You’re in yesterday’s clothes and you’re barely talking,” he insists. 

You cringe and put your head straight. You drop your chin and shrug. “I’m sorry, Andy.” 

“I’m trying to be patient,” he lowers the volume on the stereo as he speaks. “But I’m worried. What happened to the girl I know? The one I spent all night mining with? The one who would giggle at the creepers?” 

You nearly shriek. You flip your hands down and squeeze your legs. You bite your lip until you think it might split. 

“Things are...different,” you mutter. 

“I know but we can do it together. We can change each other. For the better. I just need you to meet me halfway.” 

“I’m trying,” you whisper. 

“I’m not saying you aren’t but trust me. I know that communication is the most important part of a relationship. We have to talk to each other.” He explains. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m scared too. I’m nervous. It’s been a long time since I had someone and sweetheart, I just—I’d hate to let you down. I really would.” 

Relationship? Scared? It’s too much. It’s a bunch of lies he’s convinced himself of but you can’t believe them. You can’t make yourself, even if you know you should. 

He’s well off, he’s established, he’s older, he’s confident. He's offering you everything a woman wants; money, a home, a partner, yet you can’t accept any of it.

You didn’t choose this. You never even had a chance in your life to consider it. To imagine who you would want those things with. He’s snuffed that part of your future out along with your trust. You can at least thank him for ridding you of the last of your naivete. 

“Okay, Andy. Trying. Honest. I’m trying but... I don’t know what to say. How to say it.” You run your hands down your cheeks and exhale. “I’m still thinking.” 

That’s true. You have nothing to say. You’re lost. He might know where he’s taking you but you have no idea. It’s not about the house or the city or any of that. It’s about everything. What does he want you to be? Can he figure that out when you never even figured out that question for yourself? 

[adelheidvonschicksal]

hi i love your writings smm 🥺😩💞💞and i was wondering if you can write something for shy quiet , innocent fem reader whos like Literally an angel and very kind who haves healing techniques and also yuji's distant cousin with sukuna ?

A/N: I'm not the best at Sukuna, but here's a try! I kinda wanted to try to write him simped.

His predatory eyes have been on you for a while now.

Initially, it’s barely a development for Sukuna to learn that the vessel he’s stuck in has a cousin. It’s a distant relationship, separated by a couple of centuries, but it’s there. It isn’t a mark for concern until he sees your powers. Healing others isn’t special, but bringing back a missing limb, fixing a soul, the chance you could bring a body back, that’s more interesting.

“I didn’t manipulate their soul. The shape was wrong, so I gave it enough that it could put itself back to the way it wanted to be, and it worked out!”

You didn’t seem to really realize the extent of your own power, chirpily going on with life like a colorful bouncing baby bird from what he could tell. And as his interest in your technique starts to grow, it leads to something else he can’t explain.

Sukuna blames this body that he’s in for the reason his attention always sparks up whenever he hears your voice echoing in this body. Whenever Itadori interacts with you, there’s a torrent of happiness proliferating throughout his entire body, including to where Sukuna’s soul maintains itself. That’s where he decides this interest in you comes from.

That’s where the deliciously darkly satisfied sensation upon seeing fluster spread across your face whenever he decides to interrupt you and Itadori comes from. The way you squeak and shy into yourself, resisting that urge to tremble at his presence – which he can still make out – is mouthwateringly delectable. Sukuna presumed this was an easy way to piss off the other soul in this body, but that isn’t the case.

There’s a rush of something indecipherable when that innocent smile appears on your cherub face. The faintest hint of life threatens to lurch into his chest when you place a hand on this boy’s shoulder, sending that heat all the way down to him.

It irritates him because those actions aren’t caused by him but by the brat whose body he inhabits. It irritates him because he shouldn’t be thinking about these things in the first place. Desiring them. Desiring you. Never having the time to remember what this type of desire was in the first place.

At least not until now.

This body is failing, puddling with its own blood from the loss against a pitiful opponent.

Maybe Itadori should have brought you with him after all instead of leaving you behind at the mission start. Sukuna is already aware of the reason. His “precious little cousin” is the only family he has left after all, by his own miserable words.

(“How pathetic. You think you can’t protect her.”)

The brat was right to leave you behind if he died that easily.

“Uh, Sukuna?”

The King of Curses lifts his head; there’s cursed energy and light flooding this body, barely enough that his own soul clings on.

“Are you still…” a small cough, “in there?”

Sukuna wastes little time cracking an eye open. It’s a worth sight to see. Your cheeks are wet with the beginning of tears, a meek and scared gloss to your eyes when you notice him leering up at you from his head’s position in your lap, and your chest pumped up with a shaky gasp that makes him smirk.

“Isn’t this a surprise? Called on by the little lamb herself.”

Just like the name suggests, you tense and frightened like the fragile creature, a fear so palpable that he can smell it wafting in the air.

“Since this is such a rare occassion, I'll give you three seconds of my time. What do you want?"

Fearfully, you struggle to ask, “You can heal people, can’t you?”

Sukuna isn’t sure why you would ask that when you’re classified as a healer yourself. He’s positive the only reason he’s still here is due to your influence then it dawns on him.

“What’s the matter?” he cackles. “Not enough curse energy left to finish the job?”

When you fail to respond, he knows he’s got it right, and his brain already begins to turn with how many ways he could take advantage of the situation when you finally nod.

“What would I need to do for you to help me heal him?”

“You dare try to bargain with me.” His tone is brusque, pure intimidation mixed with amusement. “What could you possibly have to offer me that’s better than watching this punk sorcerer die?”

You’re as much of a fool as the boy, he thinks. The difference though is that unlike him, there’s more that the King of Curses wants from you: your power, your body, your soul, and the innocence comprising it and displaying in the doe-eyed look that you give him as you gently bite on your bottom lip.

“Please,” you shakily air out, tears spilling out in the weakness of your voice, “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“You.”

“Me?” you ask. There’s a moment of hesitation as your eyebrows knit together. “I-I don’t understand. Why me?” you question; there’s an air of confusion about the question, brewed from the innocent nature that can’t even begin to think what you would have that could benefit him.

“Do you want the deal or not?” he asks, patience artificially short. You’re hesitant, unsure what to say as you stare at him. “I’m not going to keep the offer up for long, woman.”

Slowly, the fear starts to drain from you, which causes him to go silent as your fingers brush your fingers along Itadori’s forehead, pushing the messy blood-soaked tufts of hair away. Your eyes waver, flooding with another layer of tears that collect on your eyelashes, but you quickly blink them away.

“I accept,” you finally relent, a forced smile stretching across your face; a fragile attempt to offer him, or rather yourself, a little optimism and sweetness that sends a lustful pulse down his stomach. “I’m yours.”

There it was, easier than he ever imagined, and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the irony. This boy’s decision to protect you would be the very thing leading you to him.

[youredreamingofroo]

On Repeat

// Click for HQ

Whew,,, I finally finished these! Thank you @elderwisp / @elksun / @living-undead / @dejasenti99 AND @yukikocloud FOR THE TAGS!!!! Holy wow :0

Tagging :

@circusjuney / @butteredfrogs / @mmonetsims / @flovoid

@birdietrait / @venriliz / @retrotrait / @mattodore

plus anyone else who wants to do this! Also feel free to ignore esp if you've alr done this, idk who has and hasn't im sorry 😭😭

// Extras under the cut - below is very long, so open w/ caution if you don't wanna scroll a lot 😭

This has taken the piss outta me (albeit fun), so i'm kinda just gonna explain how I think the featured line in particular is akin to the OC/Ship and not the entire song... as much as I'd love to 😭 Also it's just SUPER hard (for me) to find songs that I relate to my OCs, lyrics as well so skdjhnsjk

Roo's Song Oil & Water by Origami Button "When did I become like the ones I never thought I'd welcome in my home"

The above line in particular is quite literally Roo in the current story/character arc- He's looking at himself from a third person view and going "Oh. I am what I hate." He's looking at his old self, in college, and how he treated Leo, to now, looking at his present self and seeing the way he creeps on Leo, how he clings to him despite being several states over. Roo looks at the progression of his stalker-ish behavior, his obsession, how it went from just general clinginess that Leo could bear, to something completely unbearable after 7 years of no contact, it saddens him. So taking it quite literally, if he was at his own door and he knew how awful he was, he would slam the door on himself. A painful self reflection for him :')

Leo's Song Truth or Dare by Ricky Montgomery "Hiding in the closet, trying not to vomit, didn't even want it"

The entire first verse for this song can be applicable to Leo. As a teenager (15-16), Leo went HEAVY on drugs as a form of escapism from his parents, of course they'd always find him and get on his ass HARD for doing that shit. After a while of being sober, Leo started going to house parties, great idea- Flash forward to his third house party, and he finally cut his year long sober streak for drugs. as many as he could fit in his body. He had terrible influences around him so they encouraged him to do this shit, it didn't take long for his body to feel the god awful effects of taking so many drugs, so he ended up in the bathroom for a while- He tried to hold back the vomit because he was,,, partially enjoying his high, but he couldn't hold it back for long and ended up passing out, but not before nearly gutting himself from vomiting so much. Cut forward in time, and people got worried, bashed open the bathroom door and found Leo's unconscious body slumped over the toilet 🙃 Obv he came out fine, but it's a major moment in his life, because looking back on it, he realizes that wasn't what he wanted, he just wanted attention, he wanted to be cool, he wanted to be rebellious, but he didn't want to (nearly) kill himself. The render isn't one-to-one with the situation, but the lyrics are accurate so :3

Onia's Song Bloodstream by Soccer Mommy Scene used in render "Now a river runs red from my knuckles into the sink and there's a pale girl staring through the mirror at me"

Overall, the song talks about how the artist (Soccer Mommy) has lost her childhood innocence and how she wants to go back to her childhood and putting Onia's Sheep in Wolf's clothing motif aside, Onia misses being a child, and misses not knowing the pain and burden of being the complete opposite of what her parents wanted, so she spirals over this a lot, and like the lyrics say, "a river runs red from my knuckles into the sink," She tends to lean towards harming herself, in this case, her hands, and her knuckles- I can't draw or simulate blood in either blender or GIMP, so the red light is supposed to simulate the blood-sodden sink that she's standing over, and of course, "pale girl," is Onia, she's staring at herself, but additionally I like to think she's staring past the mirror, or staring through it (wink wink), she's spacing out and thinking about who she should've been, or who she could've been.

Hero's Song Following Eyes by Soccer Mommy "An awful feeling started creeping over me and what I saw was like no horror I had seen"

I'm keeping this short and sweet. It's not easy to find a song (that I like) that's about being haunted or cursed so. I had to re-use her song from her intro post, which isn't bad, but I did hope to find a new song kdsjhnsjk Anyways. Hero's cursed, pretty much anywhere she goes, she is forced to perceive ~the horrors~, sometimes she's forced into a blank space, a void (SOMETIMES,,, not a lot,,, rarely moreso), where she'll be tormented for who even knows how long, this moment in particular, she was walking along this catwalk in the dark, she eventually felt something that felt similar to someone dragging their fingers up your spine, in a moment of fear, she turned around and just. saw. She looked onto this,,, being, what she saw was "like no horror I had seen,,," Although to be fair, the creature isn't all that horrifying (which in my defense.. I'm a blender novice so </333)

The Hiraeth Song Nomu by Good Kid "Four eyes entwined draw four separate lines and none of them point to you"

I think this song overall is a perfect example of Roo and Leo's relationship both after Leo's confession and after Roo tried to reconnect with Leo. After Leo confessed, he tried to keep their relationship going, but it didn't work out, so he gave up (Roo didn't realize Leo was pulling such a weight and he just let their friendship fall out) After Roo tried to reconnect (aka the CURRENT storyline), Roo has been trying to keep things together and has been trying to make things work, but Leo has long-since given up on their friendship as a whole. Now in terms of the lyric above; Post-Confession, every conversation they had together would not be the same, they couldn't look each other in the eyes, their eyes would connect momentarily and separate almost immediately; Nowadays, if they WERE to be living together or near each other, they just would NOT be able to talk to each other, because Leo would be fed up with Roo and trying to avoid as much eye contact and general verbal+physical contact as possible with him. Roo, on the other hand, is just terrible with eye contact so he would have a terrible time trying to engage in eye contact with Leo.

The Ithanel / It's All Wrong Song From Eden by Hozier "Babe there's something broken about this but I might be hoping about this oh what a sin"

Ithuriel and Nanel's entire relationship is inherently toxic, they are not toxic to each other, but the underlying (or moreso, the OVERWHELMING OVERLYING) dangers of this relationship makes it toxic, broken in a way. Nanel risks her life going to see Ithuriel outside of work-related interactions and Ithuriel risks her life by just. seeing, talking to and loving Nanel. Whether they know (they do) or care (they dont) about these dangers, they still want this relationship, they live on, literal, prayers that they are not caught and that they can continue to love each other in peace, but overall, their relationship, in the eyes of the heavenly council (ehhh W.I.P term for IAW lore stuff), is a sin, and nothing but a sin.

Ithuriel's Song What You Mean by Rome Hero Foxes "Cause every little god damn thing you do makes me wanna get close to you"

The lyrics speak for themselves... Ithuriel is very dedicated to Nanel, and literally every waking moment of seeing and knowing Nanel drives Ithuriel up the walls because she loves her so much.

Nanel's Song Future Me Hates Me by The Beths "It's getting dangerous, I could get hurt, I know, I've counted up the cons, they far outweight the pros."

This is semi-foreshadowing, but Nanel knows that her and Ithuriel's relationship is forbidden, wrong (not cuz its gay necessarily,, 😭), and the way Ithuriel's heavenly role works means that their relationship status and every interaction outside of a required interaction is a risky game of one or both of them being punished and sentenced to death. But ! Nanel loves Ithuriel wayyyy too much to let how insanely dangerous their relationship is to get in the way of them loving and being with e/o.

Nirvana's Song 1999 by Beabadoobee "And I'm not wasting time again, closure instead of s^x, and I'm not wasting time again" Idk if I need to censor s^x but i am justttt in case...

Oof, Nirvana... Nirvana has always been sxually active, she's always had one-night-stands with other men, she's tried to continue things after that ONS, but it never works, she's tried to have relationships with women, but they just use her for s^x. She's tired of wasting time with people who just want her for her body, she's tired of s^x, she just wants, well, closure, she wants someone who will love her for her, she wants a relationship without s^x, or at least isn't s^x-focused, she just wants to know someone will love her past her body. Although aforementioned is all just a habit so she will unfortunately end up right back where she started and continue this uncomfortable and sad spiral.

[cringefailvox]

Yooo you have an Alastor + Vaggie-centric AU 👀👀👀 what are some of the details if you don’t mind me asking jagsjajhsjsk

OKAY SO. back in april, birdsaretoddlers and i were talking about the potential hilarity of a vaggie/charlie/alastor poly dynamic and then we accidentally got way too into vaggie/alastor as a concept, which spiraled into a whole au that has unfortunately not left the discord server but MAYBE. SOMEDAY......

the barest bones of it are essentially that vaggie represents everything that alastor finds most pathetic & baffling in other people: dogged, singular loyalty to a cause & a person based on sheer loving devotion, with no ulterior motives or plans beyond protecting and supporting that person. and of course she rubs him the wrong way extremely frequently, just as much as he gets on her nerves. she's nearly codependent with charlie while alastor would rather chew off his own foot than be tethered to someone in that way. he's the type of sinner who exemplified vaggie's mission as an exorcist, the kind of demon she wouldn't have thought twice about cutting down because he clearly deserves it. he's never felt remorse in his life and vaggie has been walking on her knees for a thousand miles in the desert repenting since the day she fell. they are diametrically opposed.

AND YET. alastor recognizes a lot of his own traits in her as well! she's guarded, secretive, violent, has a lot of trust issues, and possessive of what she considers hers. alastor knows exactly what that's like. but vaggie is mystifying to him, because he cannot for the love of g-d understand what kind of sentimental nonsense could drive her to recklessly put her life on the line for charlie over and over and over again, with no regard for her own safety and NO other motivations besides?? LOVE??? sounds fake but ok.

vaggie also sees some of herself in alastor too, as much as it rankles—she's reminded viscerally of herself in the early days after losing her wings and her eye, suspicious and traumatized and deeply mistrustful of charlie's good intentions. couldn't even fathom that kindness could be genuine in hell. she looks at alastor and all of his trust issues and decides "redeeming this guy is impossible, but i really think i could at least get him to stop biting," you know, like you'd think about a reactive shelter dog who keeps growling at your handful of treats. you'll never be able to take that dog out in public without a lot of precautions and low expectations, but at least at home, it'll trust you not to hurt it if it lays its head in your lap.

for alastor's part, his whole interest in vaggie starts off as a way to cuddle up to charlie (and piss off lucifer), but he rapidly gets way too invested because there's no such thing as doing anything ironically for long, and it's kind of his Move, yk? he worms relentlessly into someone's life until he firmly has their attention, and then when he realizes he's in too deep and tries to withdraw and they cling, he's like "?? leave me alone??" (bird: "the ol vox special gets him literally nowhere") but now VAGGIE is invested too bc she's reluctantly fond of this creepy weirdo who eats deer carcasses in his room and for some reason let adam almost kill him defending the hotel, he doesn't get to just crawl away and die from his injury now that she's finally starting to like his freak ass. of course alastor is a nightmare patient and vaggie's bedside manner is atrocious so they're really bad at it. but they're trying and that's what matters!!

(also, charlie is weeping with joy in the background of all of this—her two biggest supporters, getting along!! kind of!! she's so proud of them both!!!! [alastor has completely forgotten that this venture started off as a way to manipulate charlie. get polycule'd, idiot]).

hopefully one day we'll manage to turn this into an actual fic, but for now enjoy these highlights :]

[purple-obsidian]

Thank you for answering my last ask, can I have your take on if the girl in ur last fic hadve gotten just a TOUCH more frightened after the knife incident and started openly weeping when jason started touching her (i feel like she was already on the brink) would he keep going? I don't think that would feel consensual to her, especially after the knife thing. It already feels like she's ½way a prisoner, given the fact that he just goes and re-abducts her when she tries to leave. Does he already understand that what he's doing is very dubiously consensual, and he's going ahead anyways bc he dgaf, or if she were to point out that Jason's got the threat of violence constantly hanging over her head and that she can't safely deny him without jeopardizing all her bones and her mental welfare then it would bring him up short? It really seems like Jason understands she doesn't really want him physically (at least not in the way he'll have her) and he's just gonna plow on ahead bc she did not specifically say no. “Will you get mad at me if I say no?” I think he would. I think he understands shes afraid already.

[fic referenced]

you're welcome, anon!

if reader had been more outwardly emotional and made it very clear to him that she didn't want him touching her, he would have stopped. i am not saying that jason's behavior is right or correct in any way (this is dark fiction, remember) but if reader would have told him to stop or pushed him away, he most likely would have gone to the couch or just turned over and internalize the rejection, giving reader the silent treatment.

to answer the next part, does jason know that what he is doing isn't exactly consensual or right? its complicated. i want to give a quick disclaimer and say that the reasoning i'm about to explain is not any sort of justification for similar behavior irl, this is just what is going on in the mind of a very traumatized, very broken fictional character with a devastating backstory.

the first few weeks reader was living with jason, he probably would have let her leave if she said she wanted to. if she disappeared? he would have gone looking for her, absolutely. and also be pissed that she didn't tell him where she was going, and that she went out on her own. in my little au, joker planted doubts about jason and reader's relationship in his mind just like he manipulated jason's feelings towards bruce and the others. so upon their initial reunion, jason was skeptical and angry, and was kind of expecting her to leave. but after weeks of constant reassurance and promises, he finally started to believe reader, even though his insecurities remain. once he started putting the smallest bit of trust and faith in reader, that's the point where he would not allow reader to leave. even if she wanted to, jason has it in his head that she promised to be by his side no matter what, and he would cling to that and use it to guilt her and justify him keeping her, potentially, against her will. [he wouldn't force himself on her physically, but he would for sure keep her from leaving.]

homeboy is in the middle of trying to de-program all the shit joker put in his head, he is constantly second-guessing his relationships and the people around him, and his relationship with reader is the only steady presence he is allowing himself to trust. so if she decided to go, at this point, he would fight tooth and nail to keep her. he would most likely be in denial, and cling on even tighter.

he can see that reader is scared, but he is so scared himself that it's hard for him to focus on anything else. the physical and psychological torture he went through has, in my mind, left him so broken when it comes to bonds and relationships that some of his logic is just not there anymore. i imagine this makes it even harder for reader, too, seeing him work on establishing himself in gotham's underworld and being so cunning and sharp when it comes to executing his plans, but being so sensitive and snapping at her and his men if the wrong thing is said.

joker taught him that fear is the ultimate tool for control. jason may deny it, but he's taken those lessons to heart, whether he realizes it or not.

appreciate your thoughts, sorry this took a while to answer.

xoxo sid

[idkifimawake]

Unum x reader hc +oneshot

this would be like a sunshine x grumpy trope. Reader isn't like a symbol but just an angel(no specific gender), To eat a god is a visual novel

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

bro would probably cling onto like a leech if you were taller than him

probably has hidden behind you so you could scare off Quattor from trying to attack him

probably use you to scare Septem or other symbols off so he can go to do what he wants

If you're more on the quiet type and just grumpy but not talkative I believe he would be more touchy and soft with you, speaking for you in conversations because you don't want to and would give big hugs to you whilst pampering you with kisses and if you did try to talk he would listen to you intetively , paying attention to every single word

if you're more on the talkative type who talks back who's grumpy and sassy , I believe he would gossip with you and giggle when you make snarky comments back to people who were pissing you off , you'd probably snap back at Nulla or Septem if they made Unum mad , he would probably be madly in love in these moments he would try to rouse you to see how mad you would get at him , you two would probably make fun of Quattor ngl

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Quiet reader:

It was a calm day in Unum's domain , apart from his wives staring holes into your face , they were always planning ways to kill you in your sleep, but you couldn't sleep , you weren't made to sleep and what even was sleep? You were just a tired angel , a strong one at that.

"Darling." Unum appeared behind you , hugging your chest area , pampering you with kisses. You gave a small smile. "Come on , let's sleep together." He said quietly, pulling you over to the bed , he looked quiet exhausted for once. You didn't necessarily sleep but just rested , Unum didn't mind this and just liked to hold you like a plush to sleep whilst you talked about a new hyperfixiation. Both of you lied down on the bed, as you began to talk for the first time of that day about a new game you had seen. He smiles , falling into a deep slumber.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Talkative reader:

It was a few days before the festivals , the symbols were meeting up. Unum was practically jumping with joy, he was clearly excited to see Quattor again. Why? So he could make fun of her. You were taking a smoke break on the balcony whilst Unum was doing whatnot in the room. You blinked and you were in the restaurant Nulla owned and Unum was behind you.

"Do we really have to be in this dump of a place , they don't even let me smoke here." You muttered , crushing the cigar in your bare hands , letting the ash stain the floor. Unum giggled , his shark like teeth baring out.

"Come on , I wanna see Septem again, I also want to see if there's a new gift from Mother." He said , grabbing onto your hands and yanking you to the tables. You groan as he pulls you over to the main tables , there you can see Septem there , sipping some wine, he looked over to you two giving a thin smile with not a single hint of happiness.

"Its gonna be a bloody long day today." You mumbled , as he pulled you over to sit next to him.

@soffis-mbm

To eat a god

[theophagie]

Re: Loona, Octavia, and their fathers, especially this part

No one will ever convince me that Loona didn't have at least some not so good thoughts and feelings about Stolas when it comes to his effect on Blitz, but if anything is going to endear someone to you or at least make you see them under a new light, them saving your dad's life at the risk of their own is probably it......... Points to Stolas-Loona. I still think that they'd be awkward as fuck with each other, but points to them

But in light of this...... I'd like it if Loona got to be a little done with Octavia. A little over it. A little "I deeply sympathise with your fears and pain, I feel for you and understand you now just as I did the first time we met, but goddamn it all that was for my dad" mixed feelings-ed about it

Thinking about Western Energy. It's a huge shame that there wasn't enough budget to give her any voiced lines... Different circumstances notwithstanding, while Blitz wanted to be there for her, he would have gone to save Stolas if M&M hadn't volunteered, and we don't know how she feels about it, if she feels anything about it. I think that Seeing Stars is a good source of information... something that Blitz did/said hit her where it hurts (her fear of abandonment, of not being good, etc)? K, let's be pissed at him for a while while ultimately knowing that he cares, that he's trying, that his screw ups aren't all that there is to him or to their bond. I imagine that her inner process in WE was the same/it would have been the same if he had gone to Stolas? Which is why I think that this angle would be really interesting to explore, especially when you take into account two things: Loona is very perceptive and attuned to other people's emotions; Loona was the age that Octavia is now when Blitz adopted her

So. Yeah. I'd like it if Loona got to have a confrontation with Octavia. Because she gets it, she gets it so much, and she wouldn't begrudge Octavia's initial anger and grief. But Octavia lashing out, Octavia taking it to mean that Stolas doesn't love her... Octavia, 17, just now getting a taste of what 17 years of her own life were like......... Octavia, who's so insecure and clings to the memories of how absorbed with her her father used to be so much, who would have been okay with Blitz dying, Loona's first chance at having stability and freedom in life (and Stolas' too), as well as love. I want her to have Thoughts about it soooo badlyyyyy. And I think that it'd be really interesting if Stolas and Octavia were made to reconcile thanks to her, in a "I can better understand the other person's point of view thanks to you" way

[empressgeekt]

I'm curious now, if someone made a reaction fic with canon watching your stories (not me because I suck at those), how do you think they would react? Especially if Branch was still gray?

Oh I play out this fic plot in my head on almost a daily basis.

If I were to put, Grey Branch, Poppy, Viva the snackpack, and Brozone into a room to watch my aus, both fics would probably start the same. Shock on both sides (brozone to Branch's state, and The Snackpack to Branch's alter ego as Bitty B), but eventually they'd all settle and start watching. Though, Brozone would definitely not that Creek at first glance. Viva would cling to her sister and the Snackpack would welcome her, but they would be very confused when she starts acting paranoid about the bergens like Branch, and Creek would..be Creek...getting on her bad side. Bruce would have to step in explaining that Trauma doesn't work the way Creek is trying to simplify it (he read a lot of the vacationer's psychology books before his kids were born). Needless to say, by the time that everyone has sat down the room is tense.

For Burning Branches it's pretty clear that this is an alternate universe so, they kind of just sit back and enjoy.

The Snackpack would get to witness the abuse a tiny grey branch would get in the tree, while Brozone gets to see Branch follow in there footsteps and escaping on his own. Branch himself remembers a few of these events but doesn't remember leaving so he interested in seeing where he counterpart went. Practically everyone panics when they see the head injury on screen, Floyd even starts crying at the sight. Once the rock trolls get involved it draws a lot of surprise from the whole group. Floyd and JD aren't too surprised they've been around the block before, and have a basic gest of the other tribes. Bruce is in the same boat as a few Techno trolls have washed up on Vacay island. However none of them had seen rock trolls in person and their dulled nature are a little disturbing, considering what dulled means for Pop trolls. Clay and Viva are paying rapid attention to the rock trolls on screen, because considering the environment their people live in these guys know how to survive and protect themselves. The Snackpack has mixed reactions, Cooper wonders if theirs another tribe that looks like him, Poppy just wants to help these guys find happiness cause they are way to serious in her opinion, Creek calls them brutes (impressing no one), while the rest of the pack are either confused/fearful/curious. Branch is just awed, this troll, the rock king no less, on screen took his other version and saved him. Not only pull him from the water but take this trolling stranger into his home and raised on-screen Branch as his own. It's made veery clear that the pop and rock tribes do not get along, and yet this king was willing to risk his power and reputation to care for Char, King Peppy never kept Branch for more then two days until shipping him off to the next foster family. He even seemed mad on Char's behalf, something Branch had never thought anyone would do. The amnesia is something that hurts Brozone, learning that in one world there brother forgot about them. Branch is a little envious of Char, after all losing his memories was pretty starting a new life with a clean slate. Sure he watches Char struggle, but he also watches Char thrive, regaining his color, learning to love music again, making friends, having a family behind him, heck even getting Poppy for a love interest. Sure, it's an arranged marriage between the tribes, and makes the theater very awkward, but there's a clear connection between the two of them. By the end of the whole first movie all the snackpack (minus Creek) and Bruce are shipping Poppy/Char (Choppy? We should call them Choppy), and they get pissed when John Dory on screen interrupts their wedding.

For FOF, it's more of confusing reaction since this could still be their actual future.

Branch makes notes to look out for Keith, cause just in case there might be a trolling who's a little weird ending up in the foster system after losing his dad and he doesn't want that to happen. Kid seems sweet and not that judging. As the au goes on, Branch feels all sort of embarrassment, from them witnessing his panic attacks and how they called him cute for the more wholesome reactions when it comes to Keith. When the whole wolf incident comes on screen, Poppy ask Branch if he would really do that for the village, and everyone is shocked when he nods. Creek tries to say the the forest is over dramatizes in this and that the critters aren't that cruel in real life, Branch just rolls his eyes only to hear John Dory come to his defense, as a survivalist himself he had to deal with predators, and everything on screen is necessary. FOF Branch is a lot harsher on his brothers and the interactions on screen are a lot more charged. Branch isn't sure how he feels about this counterpart. There's a feeling of justice at watchin his brothers get what's coming to them, but it also hurts that he's hurting them. He doesn't hold the same anger that FOF feels. Smidge kind of wants to meet her FOF counterpart, someone who uses her strength to save others, she's down for it. And Asks Branch if he could set up something like that in there world or at least train her, to help him in the forest. Branch is confused by that. Creek completely denies that he would betray everyone, but strangely Branch doesn't believe him. FOF Branch's wounds are scary to think about for everyone but Branch forces himself not to react. Broppy makes once more everyone uncomfortable, Branch feeling awkward, Bruce teasing, Poppy blushing, Creek giving the grey troll the stick eye. It's harder to different Canon from AU with FOF since Char is less Branch like.

There's just so much that could happen that i can't fit it into one post, but if anyone wants to make one to these they have my full permission. Though that might want to wait until the final product is finished.

[jaetyun]

infrunami.

"can you come back to me? cause i was blind to see that you were right infrunami."

heeseung x f!reader

this is the original draft to the now smau, see if you can spot all the changes i made from oneshot ver to smau ver! also warning it ends very abruptly because its unfinished lol

wc: 4.9k

You couldn't remember how your life was before Ningning. Your best friend had moved to your street in the 3rd grade, your houses straight across from one another.

Ningning seemed straight out of a dream you had, with her closet full of the Justice you never got to own. Her hair was always perfectly groomed, and a pretty headband in place to keep it down. She was the kindest person you had ever met, and though you hadn't met many people at the ripe age of 8 you had guessed she must be the nicest person in the world because why else would she hand you sugary snacks from her lunchbox every day?!

She was comforting. Predictable even. Which is why it was such a shock when you met her older brother, Heeseung. He was the most confusing person in the world- scratch that- the *Universe*. He was always looming in the background, his closet being anything but flashy. Seriously, a black Nirvana shirt in elementary school?!

Because of this, you found yourself constantly trying to talk to him, to figure him out. Even though his shy demeanor pushed you away, you'd always come running back. Heeseung would never admit it, but he appreciated your company. A lot.

In middle school, it became even harder for Heeseung to express this sentiment. 'hey Yizhuo, is Y/N coming today?' became 'I hope to God your little friend isn't staying over', it was just a product of hormones and deep teenage angst. He couldn't help it!

As you both grew, he figured your childish interest in him would disappear. It was simply curiosity, nothing more. so when you stayed clinging onto him, Heeseung was left shrugging you off, his disinterest only feeding into your infatuation with the boy.

"You with barcode boy again?"

"Piss off, limp dick!" You sneered, tugging Heeseung closer to you as you both strode in the hallway.

"You don't have to do that y'know.." He muttered words barely above a whisper. You turned to face him, tilting your head. "Do what?"

"Defend me. or hang out with me in general" He looked away, staring at the lockers instead of making eye contact with you. You stared at him for a moment before looking away, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Don't be stupid." Heeseungs parted lips closed, unsure of how to respond.

"I'll always be here, Seung. Nobody will hurt you under my watch" You proudly grinned, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He just nodded, the same tight-lipped expression he had before.

"Yeah, guess I couldn't get rid of you if I tried."

You snorted "Was that the goal?"

"Damn it! You caught me" He smiled, finally turning to face you. You grinned, softly meeting his gaze.

"I take it back, only *one* person can hurt you"

He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head.

"Who?" You quickly unlinked your arm from his, punching the now-open area right above his waist. You gave his ribs one last shank for good measure before pointing to yourself with your thumb.

"I can!"

As the years passed, that mostly held up. What started as relief turned into humiliation, as he continuously got comments about your company.

What was even worse than the teasing was you: A generally popular cheerleader about half his height and a year younger berating anyone who dared to talk about Heeseung. How was he *ever* supposed to get a girlfriend at this rate?

It didn't help that you were practically an arm away at all times, given that you were with Ningning 90% of the day. Heeseung understood you just wanted to keep your oath, but he felt more than ever like a sad loser who resorts to being with his sister's cheer team rather than being his own person.

Heeseung tried to reason with himself. The people snickering were most likely just jealous! High school kids weren't known as the most accepting people in the world, so he took it with pride.

At least.. he tried to.

But the only thing worse than the people in his grade were the ones in *yours*. The glares the cheer team sent his way never went unnoticed, the already self-conscious boy only curling over himself more throughout the years.

He could hardly talk to you inside school anymore, with your presence becoming an honor more than a regular site. It didn't help that his friend was almost always whining about sneaking off to the library to play games on the computers, a sheepish smile on his face as you nodded in understanding.

He knew you were growing up, and that you'd change, that you'd both change. Heeseung told himself it was natural, that he shouldn't feel so bad every time he saw your new friends. People change, and they go with people who suit them. It became increasingly clear to him that you two didn't suit each other after all this time. It was time for your childish interest in your friend's older brother to leave, and for that interest to be with people who suited you. People that weren't Heeseung.

"You don't have to do all this for me"

"But I want to" You smiled, lazily swinging your backpack off your shoulder and placing it on his desk. You took out an old hoodie Heeseung had overgrown (It didn't quite fit you either, but trying to take it from you was like talking to a wall), swiftly sticking your arms through the holes to cover your sweaty cheer uniform.

"Which episode of Mob Psycho were we on?" He sat up, closing his laptop. You hadn't noticed, too busy grabbing materials from your backpack to see his uneasy expression. "15 right?"

"You should be with Yizhuo right now" You glanced up, eyebrows furrowing.

"She's with the team, they're out bowling" You laughed it off, looking back down at the perfume and makeup you had placed on the black wood. He cleared his throat, catching your attention again.

"That's what I mean. You should be out bowling" He offered, watching the way you waved him off with a laugh. "I like hanging out with you, don't worry about it"

"I know you do.." He trailed, Heeseungs expression saying what he didn't have to. You squinted, your hands slowing from your bag.

"Do *you* not like hanging around *me*?"

Before he could clarify, he felt the teenage angst start kicking in. Fuck, fuck! The last thing you needed was the wrong idea, but before he could stop himself from construing his own words puberty went to work.

"I just don't understand why you keep lingering around. you're forcing something that isn't working!" He threw his hands up, watching you mirror the gesture. "You think I'm forcing us? Is that what you really think?"

Heeseung's jaw tensed, of course it wasn't. But it'd be selfish of him to keep you to himself. "If you actually cared you'd leave me alone."

You scoffed, throwing the hoodie back into your bag as you spoke "I told you I wouldn't leave you anytime soon. You never seemed to be bothered by it until now"

"I don't need charity work. You're a cool girl, but you're supposed to be Yizhuo's friend, not mine."

"Y'know what? You're right, I should've been bowling right now. But instead, I'm watching anime with a fucking loser. 'Cause I liked you more than them, my bad for not getting the hint it wasn't mutual"

You gestured to the perfume left on his desk, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "I don't want it anymore. The scent reminds me of you, tell Ning it's a gift"

You shut his door on the way out, leaving him alone in engulfing silence. Well shit, this isn't remotely what he wanted. Fuck puberty. He'd rather drag you back in here and argue with you than sit by himself, the only thing he had left to think about is your words. You had done exactly what he asked, and he made it impossibly clear what he wanted. So why isn't he happy with the result? Why did it feel like this was gonna come back to bite him? Heeseung was no master of social cues, but even he knew he couldn't text you with a simple 'Hey soz lol I was having a bad day 🙏💯" and expect you to be happy. Making his sister talk to you for him was possibly the second worst idea he had ever had in his 16 years of life (The first was the time he convinced Ningning to get into the toddler swing in middle school. She broke her hip.)

Heeseung felt at a loss for words. At a loss of emotion even, complete suspension of thought in his mind.

He glanced at the perfume, squinting to see what scent it was.

Japanese Cherry Blossom from Bath and Bodyworks. A scent so feminine no man would ever willingly keep it, let alone use it. He had to give it to his sister, he was never gonna be caught *dead* with this in his room.

*spritz*

It was surprisingly strong. No wonder you used it after cheer practice, it makes sense how you never smelt bad even when sitting right next to him, the laptop on each of your thighs so it's an equal viewing experience. The smell was the only comforting thing to Heeseung at this moment, no well in hell he was getting rid of it. He took the bottle and shoved it into the corner of his nightstand: Out of sight out of mind!

--

As Heeseung expected, now that you were out of the equation the teasing went down by a mile. It also helped that any rumors of the two of you were shut down by the entire team, all of them seemingly having a consensus it was no hard feelings. Or at least, a consensus to tell people that. Heeseung also found himself becoming slimmer and gaining muscle, most all his time was devoted to basketball to take his mind off that night.

But moving on would be simply too easy. Whatever God or deity exists was most definitely on your side, or at the very least, not Heeseungs.

When he found out you had gotten with one of his middle school bullies, he was distraught. you had seen how much Sunghoon bothered him every day, the nickname 'barcode boy' still being used on Heeseung all these years later.

Though he and Sunghoon were on decent terms now, he couldn't help but feel as if it was a targeted decision. Getting with someone you knew hated him after having a blow-up fight sure was an odd coincidence at best and bafflingly petty at worst.

"You guys are seriously so cute" Kazuha gushed, your phone in her hand as she took the role of cameraman for your insta.

Sunghoon had his arm wrapped nonchalantly around your shoulders, a peace sign being his attempt at posing for the camera. You puckered your lips, kissing his cheek as the camera flashed. "Thank you, Zuha" You took your phone back, blowing a kiss that she quickly snatched before Sunghoon had a chance. you showed him the photo, smiling up at your boyfriend.

"Still can't believe how long it took for me to realize you liked me"

He shrugged, a sheepish laugh escaping his lips. "Didnt exactly express it well"

Ningning tilted her head "I thought you two hated each other, I know Y/N did for a while"

He shook your shoulder, a proud smile on his face. "Nah, I was just jealous of Heeseung and took it out on him" You tutted at the name drop, the simple mention of him still catches you off guard. Ningning snorts, leaning onto the diner's table in sudden interest. "What? You thought they were into each other?" You nervously laugh along with them, your eyes darting wildly now that your brain has been kicked into high alert with the new conversation topic.

"Still did up till she asked me out"

"God, this is so cheesy" You deflected, your head buried into his chest from embarrassment

Heeseung had arrived a few minutes ago to pick his sister up, watching the conversation in horror. He knew you'd be there, that was a given, but he figured it was a girl hangout and he'd possibly have the chance to talk to you. Instead, you were curled up next to Sunghoon, who had his arm wrapped around your back. The casual mention of his name drove him crazy, he hated how you were no longer protective over him. He hated that he lost your loyalty.

"Speaking of Heeseung, where is he? He should've been here by now"

You stiffened under Sunghoon, resisting the urge to rip away from him and look at your best friend after she offhandedly said he'd be here. Right next to you.

Sunghoon noticed, speaking for you "You need your brother to pick you up?"

"I don't have my license" she reasoned, scrolling through her contacts to find him. "And unlike all of you, I'm on good terms with him"

"Hey! I never hated Heeseung" Kazuha crossed her arms, clearly offended. Ningning looked back up at her, an unimpressed expression on her face "You talked shit about him every time Y/N couldn't join us"

Heeseung almost yelped when his phone audibly rang, revealing his presence at the front entrance. He cleared his throat and shoved his phone into his back pocket, big brother mode turning on.

"I just got here, Gyu was holding me up" The table physically relaxed, a relieved look on everyone's face. Ningning stood up, kissing Kazuha on the cheek while saying her goodbyes. Sunghoon gave Heeseung a short wave, an awkward wave back from the latter before they were on their way.

Heeseung wished that was the worst part about you dating Sunghoon, the fact that they had middle school beef. Something as stupid and trivial as that, and that deep down you were happy and living your best life while he was bitter he wasn't in it.

He wished the worst part wasn't the fact that Sunghoon, your first love, tried to fuck your best friend. Heeseungs little sister.

It certainly didn't help that you gave him a second chance and reassured everyone you knew it'd be a one-time thing. until it wasn't, and you walked in on him and another girl

Heeseung remembered you rushing into their house, broken sobs as you begged for forgiveness from Ningning.

He had just made a new bad decision that had to make the top of the list (beating out the broken hip incident by a long shot), and it was the moment you told Ningning what happened.

His biggest regret was not running out of his room and hugging you, comforting you, just *seeing* you. Instead, he chickened out like he always did.

How many regrets can one person blame on puberty? At what point does it become your personality, just a part of you that you can't deny?

Heeseung listened through a closed door, whispering how he was gonna beat Sunghoons ass into next year. Lies, he knew he couldn't do anything. He was simply the barcode boy, the boy that couldn't stand up for anyone or anything. He felt so useless, wishing he could do more than listen

The cherry on top was he was graduating that year, shipping himself off to university that summer. Without a proper chance to say goodbye, you went 3 years without a single word exchanged with one another.

-

"She's going to some preppy art school an hour away" Ningning complained, throwing herself onto her mattress without a bed frame.

"You'd rather have her come to us with our tuition rate? hard pass" Heeseung was on the opposite side of the room, placing boxes in a miscellaneous order. Ningning rolled over, now on her back as she continued to whine.

"Going to art school on a full-ride scholarship is about as embarrassing as wearing a varsity jacket after high school"

She peered at her brother who was in fact, wearing his varsity jacket after high school.

"Mom paid a lot of money for this!" He reasoned, pointing toward her. "You better watch your mouth before I leave you to unpack by yourself" She sheepishly smiled, mumbling an apology.

"Why do you have so much shit??" He continues to nag, opening the boxes to see what in the world could've made them so heavy and full. "You're gonna end up throwing half of this.." He trails off, not finishing his statement as his attention began to drift. Peeking through one of the box's flaps was a picture frame of the 3 of you. Heeseung could only half listen to what Ningning was saying, too preoccupied with flipping the box's lid with his backhand to get a better view. It's been years and there are absolutely 0 reasons he should still be hung up over you, but the sense of yearning for what could've been has been looming over his head like a notification he couldn't swipe away.

"They're filled with memories you heartless asshole!"

"That's what a hoarder would say" He scoffs, now kneeling over the box with the picture in his hand. Ningning fell silent, pulling herself up to get a better view of Heeseungs dejected sigh. His eyes flashed with so many thoughts and memories she couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking.

"She came to the party crying when you guys had that fight. She kept asking me if you never liked her" His heart sank to his ass, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to shit out all the guilt pooling in his stomach. "It was for the better, she's happy"

"Have you been happy, Heeseung?"

He closed his lips together, forming a thin line over his teeth before pushing it back out to make a pout. "That's irrelevant"

"Not when she would ask how you were doing every day"

"I thought you were just being a caring sister!" Heeseungs frown was met with Ningnings evil cackle, putting her elbows on the bed and sliding so she was on her stomach.

"God no!" She snorted, tilting her head as if a thought bubble had appeared on the side of her temple. "it was always 'Is Heeseung okay? what's he up to? Has he made any new friends?' and I'd always have to be like 'well...'" she trailed, smiling mischievously when she saw his annoyed expression.

"Wait.. she was checking up on me?"

"The whole time." She hummed before shrugging "Not sure if it makes you feel better or worse, but I hope it helps you make the right choice"

He furrows his brows, placing the frame back into the box carefully, and he could barely spare his sister a single glance when his gaze was busy lingering on your giddy smile.

"What choice?"

"She's coming to the party later tonight."

Party was a bit of an overstatement, it was closer to a medium-sized get-together. Now that Ningning was a freshman at her brother's university, he gathered his friends (reluctantly after they practically begged to see her) and some of their acquaintances to hang out at Jake's fraternity house. Although it was optional, everyone was also welcome to bring a plus one. Heeseung had joked she was gonna bring you but hadn't expected her to take it as genuine advice.

"Does she know what it is?" Ningning brought her hand up to her shoulder, shaking it loosely. "So-so??"

Heeseung deadpanned, tilting his head in a final show of how unimpressed he was, leaving Ningning to drop her head with a sigh.

"I'm just saying. I want you to be happy again Seung." She lifted her head back up, and pursed her lips as she thought for a moment. "Y/N wants you to be happy. I'm her carrier pigeon" She finished, finally drawing a short laugh out of her brother.

"Yunjins my plus one" Heeseung breathed out, his expression turning sour at the mention. Ningning furrowed her eyebrows, her mouth tugging itself into an unamused smile. "Okay? You're not trying to fuck my friend are you?"

He quickly shook his head, hands coming up defensively. "No! She just never liked when I was around other girls."

Ningning face curled into disgust at the insinuation "You last talked to her when she was 15, I think she can handle you having a girlfriend."

"Not my girlfriend" He groaned, standing up to resume his task of relocating all the boxes.

"Whatever, just don't be stupid!"

-

An hour into the party, Heeseung was sure his sister had just bluffed. He had yet to spot you, which was embarrassing when he took a good look at himself in the mirror.

He had worn his best sweatshirt, paired with baggy jeans he only wore on special occasions. Though it wasn't obvious to any onlookers, to Heeseung the fact that he had dressed to impress you only reminded him of the anxiousness he possessed as a teenager.

Staring at his reflection, Heeseungs eyes widened once he peered down lower, a strip of pictures you two took in a photobooth sticking out his pocket slightly. Yeah, definitely resembling himself 3 years ago.

Now exiting the bathroom, he could hardly hold back the frown etched on his face, his mood undeniably soured.

"Didn't know you cared so much about losing beer pong" Jake teased, an arm slinging around his friends as the other arm handed him a red solo cup. "Hey, no hard feelings. just had to get back at you for the other day"

Heeseung tried his best to put on a more lighthearted expression, the corner of his lip quirking at the mention of his victory. "I've always been better at basketball" He nonchalantly shrugged, Jake's unimpressed glare working the other corner up into a full smile.

"But seriously, what's with the attitude?" Heeseungs eyes perked up the question, a confused furrow of his eyebrows functioning as a reply. "You look like you wanted to leave since you got here"

"Ah," He started, his gaze faltering when he realized he wasn't as secretive with his emotions as he had hoped. "I just, I dunno.." He continued, open hand going to the crook of his neck as he scratched absentmindedly. "Guess I acted weird cause of someone"

Jake frowned at the vague answer, tutting as he unlinked his arm from the other boy. "You can't wear your best for a girl you've been ignoring all night"

Heeseung winced, slowly moving his eyes from the crowd to his friend. "Am I that obvious?"

"Dude, you are *not* as slick as you think you are." Jake laughed, taking the untouched cup back into his own grasp and taking a sip. "Yunjin thought you were mad at her"

Heeseung blinked, worry turning into confusion. Jake was so incredibly close to hitting the mark, and then completely avoided it in true Jake fashion.

"Well I'm not"

"Tell that to Yunjin, she's been with Yizhuo and her friend the entire time. By the way, do you recognize her? figured I'd ask 'cause no one else does" Jake points to their general direction.

Absolutely nothing could've prepared Heeseung for the sight.

The reason he's been ignoring everyone, the reason he was nervous to show up today, the reason he had a stupid photobooth strip (that had to be at least 5 years old at this point) stuffed in his pocket.

There you were, laughing away with a small group of girls right by the assortment of drinks.

All he could do was gulp, a silent nod was all he could manage. "Knew I should've asked you first! Who is that?" Heeseung was utterly unresponsive, his eyes boring into every inch of you. Jake watched for a moment, cracking a grin eventually. "You're helpless," He chuckled, giving his friend a light shove in your direction. "Go talk to your girl!"

It completely flew over Heeseungs head that Jake had intended to tease him about Yunjin, his mind now coming up with a plan. He had to show he wasn't the same kid he was when you last saw him. He had to prove that he had grown.

And that he was really.. really sorry about that night.

The same question kept repeating in his mind: how can he act cool? What should he do to show you the best first impression he can?

What would Jake do? What would Jake do?! Since Jake always seemed to have a roster at any given moment, Heeseung figured he had to be doing something right. so if he just used the advice from his somewhat womanizing friend...

"Guess who?" He spoke lowly in your ear, covering your eyes with his hands.

Holy shit. Heeseung wanted to curl into a ball and roll off the face of the earth from how corny and absolutely *not cool* he was being.

You softly gasped, arms tugging away at his and turning around in complete shock. "Heeseung?" Your eyes beamed, looking him up and down as if you couldn't believe he was real. Though in a split second, all emotion drained from your face as you glanced back up and made eye contact. "What the hell was that?" He opened his mouth to respond, but he was quickly cut off by Yunjin.

"You guys know each other?" Her curious glance at the close proximity made the moment suddenly awkward, both of you nodding wordlessly.

The question was.. hard to answer. With your complicated relationship, neither of you were sure how exactly to answer without going into detail.

"We grew up together" Although you said it as more of a question than a confident response, you earned a nod of approval from both Ningning and Heeseung. you turned back to Yunjin, smiling as you took his arms and crossed them over your shoulders to prevent him from running away.

"This is the first time he's ever approached me first actually" The passive-aggressive comment had made one thing clear to him: you were most definitely still mad at him.

"Really? He's not that shy.." Yunjin looked back up to the boy for confirmation, earning a sheepish laugh.

"I used to be"

"Aww, that sounds kinda cute" She smiled, eyes never leaving his. Ningning groaned, a waving hand in dismissal

"Can you guys *please* not flirt at my party? Save it for the ride home"

You turned around, an unreadable expression as you glanced at Heeseung. He blinked as if he was asking you a question with his eyes, one you answered with an annoyed eye roll. "Looks like there's some catching up to do"

Ningning's eyes rose in realization, mouth forming an 'o' as she slowly nodded. "I guess I never told you, did I?"

"Let's not talk about it right now! It's so embarrassing" Yunjin had a shy smile, staring down at her cup with a finger circling the rim.

Your eyes never left Heeseungs, a passive-aggressive smile stabbing daggers into him. "A *lot* of catching up."

you let go of his wrists, waving a short bye before signaling to the bathroom. As if Heeseung was in a trance, he watched dumbly before walking after you wordlessly. He resembled a puppy as he mindlessly followed wherever you went, waiting outside the restroom with an awkward lean against the wall.

When you exited, your eyes widened with another unreadable expression. You had since stopped your motion of rubbing the excess water onto your skirt, arms crossing as though you were about to say some snarky remark to Heeseung. He cleared his throat, trying his damn best to fake nonchalance. The one question popping in his head over and over: What would Jake do?

"Didn't notice you there" You snorted, face visibly relaxing. "You didn't?"

His demeanor faltered, hands combing through his hair as Heeseung longingly glanced away. "Nah."

You took a wide step to the left, using your hands to gesture to the room behind you. He blinked, unsure of what your body language is implying.

"If you're not here for me, you need to use the bathroom." Heeseung eyes slightly widened, his eyebrows jerking upward before it falls back to his neutral expression. Your eyes crinkle as you smile, stepping back in front of him. "You're the exact same dork you were when I last saw you."

He couldn't mask his expression this time, his eyebrows furrowing in worry and his eyes now losing focus.

There's no way he was the same person. That's not possible, not when everyone treats him so differently. He must have changed drastically if he went from being bullied to having a best friend in a fraternity.

"I am?" You nod, your hard expression softening into a chuckle.

"I can still read you like a book."

"You can?"

"You've never been good at hiding secrets anyways, but you did the thing you always do when you're caught in a lie"

His mouth falls open, the defensive mode automatically kicking in for him. "I don't do anything when I lie" The teenage angst was about to take over until Heeseungs parted mouth closed, realizing what had just happened within his brain.

Fuck, maybe he hasn't changed.

You mimick the eyebrow flicking, your eyes widening and your eyebrows quirking up like a twitch.

"Is that you trying to hit on me?"

"Were *you* trying to hit on *me* when you did it?" You both blink for a moment, the pause only catapulting the two of you into a fit of laughter.

[admiringlove]

[1:00] . . .

as the dim evening sun cast long shadows across the college campus, you found yourself reluctantly attending a party, all thanks to atsumu’s incessant pestering. the day had been nothing short of a nightmare, and your mood was about as gloomy as the approaching night. the barista had gotten your order mixed up and in the process of getting your right drink, you’d embarrassingly walked into class late. then, you’d embarrassed yourself again by slipping and falling in the middle of the cafeteria—simply because you hadn’t read the sign that said the floor was wet.

the bass-heavy music thumped through the house, drowning out any semblance of conversation. you felt out of place and awkward, clinging to the solitude of a corner, clutching your red cup with a weak smile in a white sweater and jeans.

atsumu had disappeared into the throngs of people, leaving you alone to fend for yourself. you should have known better than to trust him with your night, but you didn’t have the heart to refuse him. your eyes darted around the room, seeking refuge from the growing discomfort.

you were aware of familiar faces around you. perhaps you convinced yourself that the girl you exchanged smiles with in the hallway was someone who knew you, or that the guy who once kindly retrieved your dropped pen had some awareness of your name.

you wanted desperately to leave. yet, dealing with atsumu meant dealing with someone with an uncanny ability to catch wind of events happening clear across the country. he could rival a news station or an international radio, for all you knew. the prospect of leaving without him knowing seemed futile; either someone would spill the beans, or atsumu would uncover the information in his uniquely unpredictable way. understanding the ways of that guy's brain was a feat beyond comprehension.

you wish osamu was here. or suna. but god knows where those two were.

"oh my god, it's you!" you felt someone tap at your shoulder. you turn, seeing someone from high-school. no, no, no, this is not what you expected when that piss-haired setter said "all the cool people will be there" or something like "how long will you sulk at home".

"hi, kira," your voice falters as you meet her gaze. she used to share managerial duties with you back in the high school volleyball club. memories flood in of the numerous times she'd relentlessly targeted you just for your friendship with the twins and suna. her animosity persisted even when you extended kindness. there was that one instance she trapped you in the broom closet post a volleyball match, and you'd sat in there surrounded by cleaning supplies. osamu eventually discovered you, with your hair plastered to your face from hours of confinement and sweat.

"look who made their way to tokyo," she grinned, "didn't know you had it in you."

you almost scoff. after the dreadful day you'd had, you didn't want to deal with her. this wasn't high-school anymore. you were adults. hopefully, she'd grown a brain by now.

"yeah, i'm trying to pursue physiotherapy," you nod along. she rolls her eyes, "what, so you wanna follow around atsumu for the rest of your life? don't you have your own interests?"

"i'm sorry?" you furrow your eyebrows, "where did you get that from?"

"everyone knows that the only reason you even have a social life is because you grew up with the twins," she says, matter-of-factly. you grit your teeth, clutching your cup. you'd had enough for today. you really did. you were trying your hardest not to say anything back.

"in fact, the only reason osamu never went for me is because of you," she takes a sip out of her cup, "i wonder why he even looks at you like that when i'm literally right here-"

emphasis on 'trying' your hardest. fuck that, you think.

"look, i've had enough of your bullshit," you spit out, "either get a life or leave me alone. not everyone wants to fuck their friends. now, if you'd excuse me-"

that's when she does it. spill her wine all over your white sweater. you look down at the stain, wool sticking to your skin. horror fluctuates through your face for a moment before you say, "god, real mature of you, kira. ruin someone's sweater just because they don't want to be near you. fuck."

"good luck getting the stain out, you little shit," she whispers in your ear, walking away. people give you stares, and suddenly you feel like you're back in school. whispers fester themselves into your ears and you feel small. you wish you could tell atsumu off right about now. that this party would suck and end up making your already shitty day worse. but he was nowhere to be seen and your eyes felt heavy. you weren't even sad—just stressed and angry that your sweater got ruined.

osamu gave you this sweater a few months ago for christmas. you hated that you wished he could've been here to save the day or something. you hated that you always wished for that. for him to see you, care for you, or save you. the weight of the day, the wine-soaked sweater, and the longing for someone who wasn't there pressed on you, a symphony of discontent crescendoing in the backdrop of the party's superficial revelry.

when were you going to learn that no one would come to save you?

and so you ran, out from whoever's house this was. tears threatening to drop, you sniffed in a sharp breath as you clutched yourself. your throat felt dry, and when your eyes landed on a smiling suna who widened his arms to say hi, you turned the other way. he seems confused, calling out for you—but you keep walking. you should've never come.

when you reach your apartment, closing the door behind you swiftly, is when you finally let yourself cry. why couldn't you simply walk away? why couldn't you ever pick yourself in a group of people? was it really that important for you to stand there after the first insult about how you made it to tokyo? why was she even there, anyway? as you collapsed onto your worn-out couch, the weight of teenage angst pressed against your chest. the city lights flickered outside your window, mirroring the turmoil within. tokyo, with its bustling streets and neon signs, felt like a maze of emotions, and tonight, you were lost. suddenly, everything about your home seemed suffocating too.

your phone rings. you ignore it.

but then, notifications start piling in out of nowhere. you hear the specific 'ding!' of the groupchat around seventeen times before you pick up the phone.

videos, texts, and calls stare back at you. two videos that suna had sent, then spammed the chat along with atsumu. calls and texts from osamu, asking for where you were.

the doorbell rings.

you look up from your screen, blinking profusely. lips parted and brows twisted into a knot, you walk up to the door—still in the soiled sweater and black jeans—and open it. a panting osamu stands in front of you, holding the side of your door for support as he looks up and says, "hey."

"hey," you mumble, "what are you doing here?"

he narrows his eyes at you, standing up straight, "what do ya mean 'what am i doing here'? i texted and said i was comin'. didn't you check your phone?"

"not really, no. i was just about to, though," you shake your head then you look down at your sweater,, "i've had quite the shit day."

"i see that," he chuckles, "can i come in?"

you swing the door open wide, and he slips off his shoes at the entrance, shooting you a sheepish grin. "might wanna check the group chat now," he suggests.

with a sigh, you retrieve your phone from your pocket, fingers dancing across the screen to open the groupchat first. suna and atsumu's inquiries about you fill the screen, but as you scroll further, a wave of emojis and messages like "DESERVED LMAO" catch your eye. and then, a video.

you tap on it, and suddenly, the screen is alive with the sight of miya osamu vehemently berating the woman who had insulted you. the clip unfolds with him ordering her to leave, or face even harsher consequences. a barrage of swear words fills the air, leaving you almost breathless as you try to process the intensity of his acts.

"what's wrong?" he asks, when you toss the phone onto the coffee table. you shake your head, "you don't have to come rescuing me every time i'm in trouble."

"well, honey," he smoothly looks at you. you shake your head, "no. do not use that word. you've lost pet name privileges."

"hey, that girl trash talked ya and terrorized ya for all o' high-school. and now she ruined the pretty sweater i got ya. that's the first gift i gave ya after i confessed!" he says defensively.

"no one even knows about us, 'samu!" you chuckle. he looks at you judgily, as if asking whose fault it is that your relationship is so private. you pout, changing the topic, "although i'm sad about the sweater. it's all pink now."

"i'll get you another one," he groans, walking to you, "i'm learning how to crochet from ma on video-chat every weekend. granted, i can only do granny squares for now, but i promise you'll have a new sweater in no time."

"you're going to make me a sweater from scratch?" you coo, "what a great boyfriend you are."

"stop cooin' at me like i'm yer childhood dog," he grunts, "let's get this sweater off and you in the shower."

"what, so you can join me?" you raise an eyebrow. he gives you a cheeky smile, and you shake your head, "i feel like shit. maybe afterward."

"pizza and movies?" he immediately suggests.

you grin, "that too. maybe some hot chocolate."

"on it."

note: headcanoning that atsumu and suna come to reader's apartment and find osamu there the next morning and wreak absolute havoc.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[yuechihua]

you're a man or you're a dog.

summary: You hate Sou Hiyori, but you can't bring yourself to stay away from him. Neither, it seems, can he.

notes: 5k words, author's notes, spoilers for up to chapter three, power play, unhealthy relationships, mild violence

You’ve never liked Sou from the beginning.

That trembling, rabbited body, the doe-eyes peering up at you under sweeps of teal hair, the fidgeting hands tugging at the ends of his frayed scarf or his beanie or the zipper corners of his jacket. The flash of fragile bones, sharp and bird-like, shifting beneath his wrists, the thumbprint bruises under his eyes, the soft, creamy skin. 

He reminds you of dependency and weakness so pathetic everyone lets their guard down. But you’ve always hated children that tug on your clothing and small animals that peer up at you with wet eyes, begging for mercy and love.

No, you don’t like the way he postures and hides, how he slinks up to you as if he’s sizing you up when the rest of the group departs to their various tasks on that very first day of being trapped. The calculating gaze of a cornered animal, bearing his smooth stomach and drooping tail, a feigned act of clemency.

“I, ah, I don’t know where to start,” he says to you. “What are you thinking about going…?”

“Oh, maybe somewhere where I can help someone else,” you tell him pleasantly.

“Oh wow. That’s really admirable, in a situation like this, to put someone over yourself.”

“Well, what else can you do? Getting along with everyone seems like the best way to survive.”

The silence that follows is weighted with your respective derision. He doesn’t bother approaching you again during that first main game, though you could feel the heat of his gaze on your back. Calculating where you fit in his plans, the people you talk to, weighing the few cards you show of your hand and how they stack up to his.

It pisses you off how obvious he is, and how much you can’t stop watching just to see what he’ll do next. The unseemly desperation, the way he acts like a man drowning, clinging to any piece of debris he can. You would stick to smiling, to saying the right supportive words to Sara and the others, to skating by just so through cooperating and letting the others make their plans for you to follow. 

It’s how you’ve been since you were young. 

When your elementary school classmate accused you of liking a different classmate more than her, you could only apologize and reassure her as she huffed and cried, even though you never considered her your friend at all. Your high school boyfriend liked that you were “so good at listening,” even though you hated the sweaty, awkward arms he slung around your shoulders, his self-aggrandizing speeches. Your boss at work would rib at you, your misbuttoned suit jacket and gloomy demeanor and mistakes on client spreadsheets, and you would just smile and laugh along and promise to do better next time, even though you would have to clean that asshole’s own mistakes tomorrow. 

But that was how you got along in the world, and if you had a complaint, you would vent it in front of your staticky television screen, your only friends the greasy takeout chicken wings from the local convenience store and a sweating beer bottle leaving a ring of condensation on the table.

When the others react in mixtures of shock and horror to Sou’s various betrayals, you can only watch him, biting back your own barbed remarks. A scared dog, no matter how well-trained or mild, will bite when cornered, so how could you have expected any different?

Isn’t that how it is when you try to do more than you should? you want to tell Sou, watching his face as his votes pile up in that very first game. You did this to yourself, like an idiot.

It’s not as if you want others to die by your hand. You don’t delight in the suffering of others, and you act as nice as they expected you to be, but you would never gladly throw yourself on the chopping block for the sake of a stranger. If you were to act as a martyr, the only people left to savor that sacrifice would be the people left behind. You would be gone, and self-satisfaction doesn’t carry beyond the grave. No, your life, as shitty as it is, is your own.

Still, you can’t wash your hands of Sou just yet.

“Kanna is going to stay with Sou to keep a watch on him,” Kanna announces in front of the remaining group one day (or night? Or afternoon? There’s no way to keep track of time here). 

Kanna is someone you never know how to deal with, not with her innocence and determination, and whenever she approaches you, you slide the responsibility of her care or her childish questions onto a more responsible, kinder adult.

So it’s not out of concern for her when you finally speak up, the words leaving your mouth before you can think them through. “I’ll stay with him,” you say. 

There’s a ripple of surprised faces turning towards you at your declaration. You know that, what with how you’ve never volunteered to do anything first, that it seems surprising, if not suspicious.

But there’s something about Sou Hiyori. Something that you can’t just leave alone, like a loose pebble in your shoe, irritating you with every step. How easy he is to read. How pathetic.

“But… Kanna has to—”

“Kanna,” you say kindly, patiently. “You’re young, and I wouldn’t be comfortable letting you stay with Sou by yourself. It would be better for an adult to look after Sou. I don’t want to worry over what might happen if you were left alone with him.”

Kanna curls her fingers together, picking at the ends of her shirt. It’s a habit strangely similar to Sou. She looks lost as she darts a glance at Sou, and then at you, and then at the sea of faces around her. “... Okay,” she says at last.

“Come on,” you tell Sou. You stop just short of yanking on his arm, but he flinches back from you as you approach, as if he can sense the thoughts in your head. “You should rest.”

The only sound for the next few minutes are the disjointed melody of your footsteps, Sou dragging himself after you with that perpetual slouch as you march briskly to his room.

You’re jerking the door closed when Sou finally speaks behind you. “Hypocrite.”

“What?”

“Hypocrite,” he says again, and your knuckles tense on the door knob. “Did you feel good? Acting like a caring adult in front of everyone. Playing the part of a good person.”

You let out a breath as you turn to face him. He’s standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around his body, braced for some sort of impact.

“I’m just doing what a reasonable adult should,” you say coolly. “She is a child.”

He flinches slightly at that, the hidden dig in your words, and you can’t tear your eyes from his slender frame. But it’s not enough to stop him from opening his mouth. “You’re lucky, you know? You have that entire group wrapped around your finger. Or… is it that you’re the one wrapped around theirs? Always saying ‘yes,’ and ‘please,’ and ‘of course.’ You’d lick their shoes if someone asked, right?”

He’s trying to get under your skin. That’s how he operates.

You can see the pointed calculation behind every word, but it’s still the truth. It’s the truth, and you’ve always known it even if you tried not to think about it. But to hear it from him, said with a mocking intimacy, that careful dissection of all your secrets and all your layers and your pretensions, from someone who, at the end of the day, is just the same as you, is humiliating.

This is why you’ve always, always hated him, right from the beginning. The way he watches you in the same way you watch him with nothing but contempt and judgement. But what else do you do when you’re weak, when you have nothing but the desperate desire to survive, even when it means clinging to someone stronger?

Like a dog. Begging, with your stomach bared, hoping to be spared, throwing away your pride.

What other choice do you have, then, to act like an animal?

You advance towards Sou, and he has the decency to back away, skittish, infuriating prey down to his core. But there’s nothing behind him but the length of the bed, knocking against the back of his knobbly knees, and he’s trapped.

Trapped by the finger you shove into the middle of his chest, pressing into bone, hard enough that he winces and that some purple-red bruise blooms on his fragile skin under his clothes, you imagine.

“You would know about licking shoes, wouldn’t you?” you say quietly. “It’s what you did at the beginning, like a pathetic little bitch.”

“You’re disgusting,” Sou breathes. “They’re going to vote you off to die, and you’re going to thank them.”

He still hasn’t moved, and the finger on his chest becomes a fist, knotting in his scarf, and you savor the strangled noise he makes when you yank him up, his breath hitching as his neck strains to keep you in his sight.

It would be so easy to break him. To pry your fingers into the gaps of his facade and pull the piece apart until they shatter. That soft heart, that fragile skin, that nauseatingly familiar weakness.

You could do it. You want to do it. God, that’s what you wanted from the beginning. You wanted to watch him break, for him to look in your eyes as he does. You would savor every taste of his raw, animal fear.

“Can’t mouth off anymore?” you breathe. “Nothing to say?”

Sou doesn’t make any attempt to push away from you, but his cheeks are a mottled patchwork of lipstick red blush and ghostly white skin. But his words are as mocking as ever. “So this is what you’re really like.” 

You shove him back against the bed, where he lands with a squawk, his body bouncing on the covers more wildly than the force you used should necessitate. He comes to a rest, a shivering crescent moon, his red scarf blooming like blood across the pale slash of his neck.

His eyes, though. Bright pools of liquid. They track your every movement with a nervous, excited intensity. He’s not pulling away from you. Instead, it’s more like he’s waiting. 

“Do you get off on me treating you like this?” you say.

“…What?” His response comes a little too late to be convincing. Not that the blush staining his face helps, either. 

“Is this what you wanted from the start of our conversation, Sou?”

“You’re full of yourself.” 

“If you beg me, maybe I will do something to you.” 

His breath hitches in his throat. You watch as it’s trapped there, like a fluttering bird, the words on the edge of his tongue. 

He’s considering it. 

It thrills you that he is. 

But Sou swallows that breath, and gives a defiant jerk of his head. “I’m not desperate.” 

Not yet. But this is enough for now. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, and Sou skitters away to the other side, flailing upright as you settle over the covers, legs crossed. You look up at the ceiling, counting the dark specks as you speak. 

“I’m not sleeping on the floor. You can, if you don’t want to share a bed. Although… I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want.” 

“I don’t want anything from you.” When you turn to look at him, he’s settling under the covers, facing away from you so all you can see is his beanie, framed by loose strands of teal hair like a fuzzy halo. 

“Really?” you press. 

He doesn’t answer, and you close your eyes. 

Whenever you see him after that, if you smile or your eyes linger for too long in his direction, Sou stiffens, and inevitably finds some excuse to scurry away. It’s an effect you enjoy a little too much, how aware he is of you. 

Once, while collecting tokens, you find him in the abandoned corridor. 

You hardly do little more than step in front of his path and his body shudders to a halt. When you take a step forward, he takes a step back. But there’s nothing but rubble behind him, and nowhere further to run.

You push forward until you can pull the beanie over his hair, a rougher gesture than it needed to be. Sou’s body is a tense line, but his eyebrows are furrowed, as if he’s waiting for you to do something else. 

“It annoys me how sloppy you are,” you tell him flatly. “Your stupid beanie was about to fall off.”

“You’re not even trying to pretend to be a good person anymore, huh?” 

You tilt your head. “Do I have any reason to be nice to you?” 

Sou looks at the ground and kicks at a loose rock. “If everyone knew what you were really like, they would all turn on you.”

“You’re the only one who makes me act this way,” you say, and, emboldened, skate two fingers upwards along his arm. Sou doesn’t look up, though you can feel how he trembles at the slow trail of your movement.

But you withdraw your hands before you can reach his shoulders, and when he flicks his head up, you only smile before you leave.

You chase him down, and he runs, and then you back away at the last minute, leaving him wanting more. Here, finally, is someone who’s weaker than you, that you don’t have to suck up to. The hunt is thrilling beyond belief. 

You get your enjoyment where you can until the main game, until there are more corpses, the bodies of people you’ve come to know and even somewhat care about piling up. And through the nausea, relief burns brighter than anything else. At least it isn’t you. At least you made it another day.

After the second main game, you look at Sou. Sou, or Shin, or whatever he wants to call himself, can’t tear himself away from the garden of Kanna’s body, of red flowers and twisted skin. When he finally notices your gaze, the hatred that flashes across his face is so searing you can feel the heat of it across the room.

Like a bad habit you can’t shake, you hunt him down when he runs, cornering him in his room again.

But he’s the one who touches you first this time, placing his hands on your chest and shoving with shaking arms. He has all the force of a plastic bag being blown around helplessly in the wind, and you’re unmoved by his pitiful attempts.

“Did you come to gloat? Laugh? Or were you going to pity me? Huh? Don’t tell me you were worried. You, of all people, worried?”

You grab his wrists before he can push you again, and it’s surprising how slender his wrists are, how with one hand you can easily circle his wrist, his thin, jutting bones digging into your flesh. You wouldn’t even need to use too much pressure until his bones snap.

“You make me sick,” Sou says, his chest heaving with each shallow breath. He makes no attempt to jerk out of your grip. “All of you make me sick. You all chose to kill Kanna. I don’t know why I ever expected anything better.”

“You’re the one who pushed her into that situation in the first place,” you say. “I’m not going to feel bad for you. If there’s anyone to feel bad for, it’s the people who died. Not some whining loser.”

“Fuck you. You’re not any different. No one on that damn team really cares about you. You’re just convenient,” he spits, “an idiot who’ll come running when they call, who they can throw away as soon as you aren’t useful anymore. You’re just some pathetic, useless, bottom of the barrel dog, so just keep wagging that tail of yours—”

Sou’s words cut off in a strangled gasp as you roughly jerk him closer. There’s no time to think, to process, to even consider what you’re doing as you bring your mouth to the back of his tender, creamy neck, and you bite.

Like a starving dog, you sink your teeth into his neck, and Sou flails wildly as you soothe the teeth marks with your tongue, pressing lightly against the indentations you’ve made. This time, you let go of his wrists as he backs away and touches the back of his neck. There it is again, that blush, staining his face as he runs his fingers along each mark. 

“You did say I was a dog,” you remark, trying to keep your tone composed, even as something sharp and excited and hot sits at the bottom of your stomach, some emotion that makes your pulse speed and your blood sing.

He always taunts you, and you always react, and neither of you ever learn your lesson. You hate him. You hate him, and he always hands you the perfect excuse to rip him apart in some way.

“So you what? Bite me?”

”Want me to do it again? You can show that off, if you want. Let everyone know the sort of things you like, how you really want to be treated.”

Sou’s fingers are still pressing against his neck, as if trying to recreate the force of your bite. His scarf has flown loose in the force of your movements, revealing delicate skin and collarbones, the shine of his collar.

Every fragile bird-like bone in his body screams at you to crush it. To snap it open, to pour the marrow in your mouth. You could bite the strawberry heart in his chest, drag your teeth through the meat mid-beat, just to know what it’s like to swallow his pulse. You could break him so easily, his papery skin bruising under the lightest of pressure. There’s nothing wrong with simple fact, and the fact is that he’s weak, like a lamb sent to the slaughter. No, what’s wrong is that you want to be the one to snap that gentle lamb’s neck, laid meekly on the altar, and how that lamb lifts his head just so to meet your hands.

Sou’s delicate fingers finally drop to tug his scarf into place, obscuring the bite on his neck. But it’ll be there, like a collar, lingering on his skin. He’ll know it’s there. You’ll know it, too.

“I hate you,” he says.

You laugh. “I know.”

After that, there’s not much time to talk, not with a new floor to explore and more trials to face. More puzzles, where you run around like rats in a maze, where any hope of escape is snuffed out as you’re shuffled into a new game.

But what throws you off about the new floor is Midori, and the scarf around his neck. It’s the same as the one Sou always wears. 

And, as your eyes are always drawn to Sou, you can’t help but notice the way he shrinks back from Midori, how he’s distracted, on edge and fidgeting with his pale, spidery fingers, like he’s trying to run away but he can’t.

You’re not stupid. You can put two and two together. And it pisses you off that someone else makes Sou look like this, that Sou has history with someone, anyone, else, that the sight of his pain and his fear doesn’t excite you, but that it only makes your stomach curdle, sour, rotten milk in your throat.

Midori only approaches you once, when you’re exploring on your own. He melts out of the shadows, and the two of you only stare at each other impassively, sizing each other up.

“You’re empty,” Midori says, head tilted to the side to an unnatural degree, the imitation of a human. 

“And you aren’t?” you snap.

He smiles at you, like the two of you are sharing some private joke, but the curl of his mouth is mocking. “Oh, I’m just saying we’re alike.” Midori casually drags a hand down the length of his scarf, red fabric rippling. “That’s why he’s so fascinated with you, I suppose. But you’re just so… boring, at the end of the day.” 

The implication is clear enough, and it makes that sour, rotten milk feeling flood your mouth again. He’s just taunting you. Trying to push your buttons, just like Sou loves to do. Maybe that’s where Sou learned it from. He’s had years, after all, to pick up on Midori’s mannerisms, enough time for Midori to mark him deeply. 

You stalk restlessly through the halls after Midori leaves, aimlessly peering into rooms and mumbling quick “hellos” to anyone who sees you, not pausing to hear their responses. It’s not until Sou is in sight, with his slouched back and ratty beanie, turning just in time for you to pin him against the wall, your arms caging him in.

“Shin,” you say.

“Don’t call me that,” he says, hunching his shoulders, trying to withdraw in on himself. But his posture is already terrible, so there’s nowhere for him to go.

“Sou. Whatever.”

“What do you want?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? Because Midori is right. You are empty, and you want to have your fill of this man in front of you. You want to fuck him up. To gorge yourself on him, to drag your nails down his skin, red tracks in the snow. To leave nothing behind for Midori to feast on, because he’ll be all yours.

But—would you just be chewing on the same pieces that Midori once did?

Your face must betray some of your thoughts, because Sou opens his mouth, then closes it into a firm, impenetrable line, eyes scrutinizing you.

“I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” he mocks. “Anyone can walk in on us like this, you know. Is that what you want?”

“Shut up, Sou.”

“Make me,” he breathes. His hands are open at his side, palms flat, fingers spread, ready to receive whatever you give him. “I know you want to.”

You could. You could bite him, mark him, kiss him as if you were real lovers. Pull his hair, or finally let your hands wander lower than the plane of his chest. Here it is, the control you’ve always longed for, offered from a pliant, willing, animal body.

You lower your head, just a fraction, and his throat bobs. “I can’t.”

“Were you just taking a big game, then? Coward.”

“You’re the one who wants me to do something.”

“No shit,” he hisses, face flushed. But you can’t take your usual pleasure from his bratty confession, or his red face. “So do something. I’m telling you to do something.”

Why is it that his first reaction to your odd moods is always to offer himself to you? To use him? You wouldn’t have hesitated before. It would have excited you to hear that he wants you in some measure, that he’s willing to admit it. 

You bite your lower lip, worrying absently at the flesh. Sou’s eyes track the movement, his gaze heated as he watches the slow movement of your mouth.

“Is this what you did with Midori?” you say, quietly.

His face shutters closed, all excitement hardening into cold steel, blocking any path forward. “Is this what this is about? Did he say something to you?”

“Does it matter if he did?”

“Why would you listen to him?” Sou snaps. “He’s one of the people who trapped us here.”

“But the two of you have a history. That matters.”

“It doesn’t,” he breathes, “Quit acting like some jealous lover.”

Your hands seize the end of his scarf, that stupid fucking scarf, the one that looks just like Midori’s, that probably is Midori’s, the one he never takes off. 

He doesn’t wince as you seize the end of the scarf and pull, even when it tightens around his neck like a noose before it slips off, even when it must burn his skin as it leaves behind red marks on the column of his slender, ivory neck, bisected in half by his collar.

The scarf pools on the floor like red blood as you bring a thumb to press gently on the mark on his neck. 

“Quit it,” he says, slapping your hand away, as if a tender touch is more unbearable than your previous cruelties.

“You wear his scarf, Sou. How do you want me to take that? Because I’m not going to be his fucking replacement, some cheap way for you to hurt yourself–”

“Are you stupid?” he says coldly. “Do you think I need to go to you if I want to hurt myself?”

“Then help me understand,” you snarl.

“He was my only friend. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Sou snaps. “He was the only one who ever wanted to look at me, or touch me, or spend time with me. He was the only one who loved me. Do you know how much that meant? Even if he just… wanted to hurt me, even if he liked it when I was scared, I… I would have…” Hurt wells through the cracks in his voice, the shattered pieces of his facade. It’s not Sou Hiyori who feels this way. It’s Shin Tsukimi.

You can’t bring yourself to look away, nor can you bring yourself to hold him when Sou roughly swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. This isn’t your pain, and you can’t do anything to take it away from him. You’re little more than a distant observer.

“So that’s why you’re looking for anyone who’ll treat you like he did? So I’m just–”

“Shut up. Don’t talk like you know me. You’re not a therapist.” Sou’s hands are fisted in your shirt, yanking you down, his grip on the fabric uncomfortably tight as he forces you look him in the eyes. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, close enough to see his dry, flaking skin and chapped lips and greasy hair, the exhaustion weighing every inch of him down. “And don’t act like you didn’t want to do what you did. If I didn’t want you to—if I thought you were the same as him—I would never have—”

“Never have what?” you breathe.

“Let any of this happen.”

If he’s lying, then you can’t tell. But maybe Sou doesn’t know, either. His relationship with Midori means he only knows how to live like a scared dog, waiting for the next kick given under the promise of love.

For reasons you can’t explain, you let the weight of your head fall on his delicate shoulder. It’s uncomfortable, because he’s all skin and bones, and you can feel the sharp edge of his shoulder dig into your forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Shut up. Just let me do this.”

“This isn’t what our relationship is.”

“We don’t have a relationship at all,” you say sourly. “We’re just some assholes who’re using each other to get off. Which is something we haven’t actually done yet, by the way.”

“Are you serious? I literally just told you–”

“Not like that,” you interrupted. “We’re not going to do it like that.”

“What? You’re going to be gentle with me?” he sneers. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“Don’t be such a brat,” you snap. “I just meant if I’m getting something out of this, you have to get something out of it, too. That’s how mutual use works.”

What you don’t tell him is that you wouldn’t do anything, not with Midori hanging over the two of you. A living ghost, who’s watched the two of you from the beginning, who could be watching the two of you right now. None of the moments you shared with Sou, not even this one, really belonged to the two of you, not with Midori around. Voyeuristic freak.

Because you don’t want to be like Midori. You don’t want to be a bad habit Sou picked up because he’s looking for someone else in you. Maybe it should bother you that Sou couldn’t conceive of a love without violence, a softness without teeth, a kindness without ulterior motives. 

But maybe it should bother you more that you don’t know how to treat him in any other way than this.

“Sou,” you murmur against his skin, your voice vibrating through the thin fabric and flesh and weak muscle and hollow bone. “Would you vote for me in the main game?”

“... Yes. But you would do the same to me, wouldn’t you.” Not a question, but a statement, words as hard and sure as bleached bone.

You chuckle lightly, and his skin shudders. “Yes. Yes, I would. I hate you.”

His hands are stiff at his sides. Sou hasn’t made a move to touch you at all, but he hasn’t pushed you away, either. “And that’s why I let you do this, you know. At least you’re honest.”

“Cute. So no one else can touch you like I do?”

“What do you think?”

“Use your big boy words. Aren’t you capable of that much?” you say. “I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“You disgust me.”

“Sou.”

“... No. Okay? I wouldn’t let anyone else touch me. You’re the only one who can… do this.”

So, in some small way, Sou is yours. But it’s not enough. It’s not enough at all. In time, you’ll dig elbow-deep into his chest cavity, and make a space for yourself there. You’ll erase whatever Midori has done, and you’ll mark him so deeply so that all that will remain in him will be you.

[oddeyevibes]

The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Summary: On another hero hunt, Garou sets his sights on a S-Rank Hero by the name of Gorgeous Gladiator, a magical girl hero, and gets more than he bargained for.

A/N: Have you ever fallen on your back so hard the wind gets knocked out of you? It’s not fun and it hurts so bad that you want to eat somebody lol. Nothing romantic in this but maybe in a future fic. Wrote this cause I recently started OPM and fell for Garou so hard that I wanted to break the bricks off of him.

So far, Garou has not made it a point to add female heroes to his hunts. Mainly based off the fact that there’s not a lot of high ranking ones.

Tornado of Terror proved to be evasive, she wouldn’t give him the time of day and clearly regarded him as merely a nuisance that didn’t deserve her attention.

However, there was another one that was way easier to get to.

Real name? Unknown to public, obviously. But you’re hero name? Gorgeous Gladiator. A magical girl looking hero surrounded in bright colors. Honestly, to him you looked like a joke.

He didn’t understand what children (or anyone for that matter) saw in you because to him, you were like an aged out idol trying to desperately cling to the popularity of your youth. (That was rude bitch)

‘Pathetic.’ He thought when he watched coverage of you defeating a demon level monster and posing for the cameras.

Though, he will admit it was cute watching the crowd of children mimic you. During one post-battle interview, you struck your signature poses and spouted your signature line.

You.

“Gorgeous Gladiator, I save the innocent!” You hit a Pirouette before winking at the camera with a peace sign. “And destroy the villainous!”

And the kids watching the broadcast followed suit. Each of them flashing their own unique pose.

In hindsight, he wonders if those kids noticed something about you that the adults never caught onto because some of their poses made them look like little henchmen to a villain, not the pupils of a magical girl.

He probably would have completely changed his mind on targeting you but you found him first.

The Day of The Encounter

He had just wasted some weak hero desperate to prove himself by trying to take out the infamous ‘hero hunter’.

Of course, said hero was beaten to a pulp but just as Garou was about to walk away…

“Gorgeous Love Boop!”

He turned to see you posing as you sent off an attack. A pathetic one at that. A small, slow moving attack that was making its way to him…………………

………………♥️……………

Slowly but surely.

You were in your civilian clothes holding a bag of groceries. You didn’t look like you were ready for a fight.

“You messing with me? You know who I am and this is all you—”

A sudden urge overtook him as he jumped back from the small bubble. He watched with intensity as the bubble collided with a pole and merely popped.

‘It…it wasn’t a bomb?’ He thought. The bubble was so small and slow, it was clearly supposed to throw people off. ‘It wasn’t a trap?’

Your giggling cut the tension. “Aww, is the big bad hewo hunter scared of bubble gum? And here I thought you’d be a threat.”

“You…” He growled.

“Oh well.” You shrugged and turned your back to him.

That pissed him off, unaware that he was playing into your hands.

The monster dashed around to your front, launching a punch to your face. You caught it with ease, shocking him. Your palm enclosed his fist and while it looked like you were softly holding his fist, Garou’s perspective was VASTLY different.

Around his fist was a grip so tight, it felt like you were trying to crush an egg. Your fingers dug into his hands and he was sure you were trying to draw blood.

“The other heroes called you a monster. I wonder what color you bleed…monster.” You had said that last bit with such malice, that he forgot the dynamics in play.

Garou was so focused on your hand squeezing his that he failed to notice the bigger red flag. His eyes looked up to see your mouth contorted into a menacing grin. Your canines baring and everything.

You were like a hungry beast.

You came to him.

You were looking for him.

The hunter was being hunted.

Like a scared animal, Garou attacked again, attempting to send his other fist into your face but once again, you caught it.

“I was starting to think you were purposefully avoiding me, hunter. I’ll admit, it hurt. I was SO excited to hear about you and waited like a kid waiting for Santa Claus. But then you never showed up when I defeated those monsters. I even made sure not to look exhausted to show I was ready for a fight just in case you only fight heroes that are ready. But then I thought of something worse, maybe I wasn’t even on your list because I was a woman. Y’know some heroes are sooo 1700s. They have such backwards views on female warriors. I don’t mind the ones who wanna be gentlemen and all but the ones that annoy me are the ones that think they’re stronger than me cause they’ve got dicks when they couldn’t even beat a wolf level threat at tic-tac-toe. I’ve been fighting monsters for years while they were still trying to get girls to talk to their sorry asses. Being a villain wouldn’t have worked out too much for me, y’see? My patron and I realized that a long time ago. But a hero? It’s perfect. Villains ain’t got no morals. No chivalry. No code of honor. They never cared that I was a little girl and they always went all out. The monster problem in Japan was a dream come true but there was competition for the big fish and then you showed up, hunter. My precious golden goose sitting pretty on my alter of blood.”

Your rambling had caught him off guard and all he could think was:

‘What…the fuck…is we…DOING?’

“So let’s dance, MONSTER!” Then, you delivered a mean knee to his jaw (with sparkly vfx to add insult to injury) stirring him out of his shock as he was pushed backwards.

He was hunting you and you were trying to be found yet he wasted time and energy on nothing heroes and you were waiting for him. Like a demented princess in a tower waiting on a knight with a dagger behind your back.

There was no dragon around your tower. You WERE the dragon and the princess was an illusion made of nets.

You flashed your normal peace sign as seen in the interviews, but you slowly positioned your two fingers in front of your forehead, mimicking a demon.

That set off your transformation in a cloud a smoke that overtook the whole area. It’s flashy on tv but in real life? Garou saw it clearly, this was a deliberate tactic.

He felt his edginess flare up.

‘Where did you go?’

“Since sneaks are allowed…!” You shouted, you voice carried a menacing echo.

He felt the air shift behind him. He spun around and blocked you kick attack. You had tried descending onto him with an axe kick and the force was something else.

With your attack blocked, you jumped back a bit.

“So, monster, you gonna go all out? Or are you just a pup?” You asked with an evil smirk.

You kept calling him monster. Sure, all of the heroes he had beaten bloody called him a monster but there was something…deliberate about how you did it.

Like……ohhhh.

It was deliberate.

No one will stop you from beating a monster to a pulp. Oh…so you were a monster too.

“Ok…I understand it now.” He said calmly.

“Oh? Do you now? Well then, what’s it gonna be, monster?”

Finally getting into it. Garou smirked. “Let’s dance, hero.”

The grin on your face grew larger. You wasted no time in charging towards Garou again, swinging your scepter toward him like a bat. Much like the kick, he blocked it.

But you wasted no time, snapping out of his vision. He tried anticipate it.

‘She’s coming from up top again!’

He felt his balance shift as you appeared behind him and ducked down, delivering a sweeping kick to the back of both of his ankles, effectively sweeping him off his feet.

Another opponent probably would’ve fell straight to the floor. But Garou wasn’t going to let himself become your next sacrifice.

Once his back touched the ground, Garou kicked up back onto his feet, clearly quicker than you anticipated which allowed him to punch you square in the stomach, sending you sliding back.

The punch hurt. There’s no point in denying that. You can see how so many lower ranked heroes get clonked out so easily and badly.

“How’s that…hero?” Garou chuckled.

You began nodding. “Yeah…yeah…I understand it now.”

“Well, then stop holding back on me! Or else I’ll kill you, right here and now.” He spoke the last part with such a menacing tone.

“Am I not going all out now?” You asked with an annoyingly sweet voice.

He glared at you for a moment. “You haven’t used your plastic toy at all.”

“It’s called the Scepter of Eternity…in public.”

“And in private?”

“The Scepter of Sacrifice. I only use it for serious threats, though.”

Garou didn’t appreciate your little jokes.

“Aw come on. It was just a joke, monster. Monsters can take jokes, can’t they?”

He flashed out of your vision.

“Apparently not.” You muttered.

You then quickly pulled out your scepter and braced yourself for his next attack. Firmly gripping the rod, you resonated with it causing it to glow your signature color and with a determined look, you called out one of your spells.

“Love Love Protect!”

A hardened shield enveloped you in time to catch Garou attempting the same axe kick you did earlier. When he tried to distance himself, he found that he couldn’t move.

Your voice was haunting. “What type of monster hunter would I be if I let catches escape?”

Sparks of electricity then began to materialize around the shield as you raised a hand and snapped your fingers, sending a shockwave of electricity outward and nearly roasting the hero hunter.

While the shield did let him go, he was shocked. Pieces of his clothes began to show weariness and parts of his skin were on their way to smelling like burnt flesh.

Garou knew that if he faced you, that Scepter of yours would be a challenge. He’s seen your fights in bits and pieces on the news. You didn’t exactly NEED it to use magic but it seemed to help for stronger attacks. Additionally, when you need it to, it can transform into other weapons.

One such battle you had turned it into an axe and decapitated hordes of zombies. Another battle saw you wrangling monstrous pigs with it as a lasso.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have egged you on to pull it out but his ego won’t allow him to beat an S-Rank hero at only half their strength.

When shit gets rough, he’ll just have to separate you from the scepter.

Garou charged towards you at break neck speed, leading the both of you into a vicious scramble. One that saw him needing to counter every one on of your attacks.

Blissfully ignorant of the destruction around you. You’ll deal with that earful from the Association later. Right now, you needed this. Months and months of dealing with mindless monsters who couldn’t last longer than ten minutes.

You NEEDED this.

There Garou stood, bruised and bloody. He was struggling to maintain his breathing as a cut above his eye kept leaking. You were doing better…only slightly. The benefit of being a magical being but that didn’t mean you were in the clear. Garou had successfully marked your skin with some bruising hits. Sure, you can heal faster than he could but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

A savage uppercut sent flying into the air before Garou appeared above your ascending form and brought a vicious axe handle down onto you torso, sending you flying hard into the ground, creating a small crater.

The air was knocked out of you but you couldn’t take a moment of reprieve. You knew that. Garou came down again, this time looking to practically put a dent into your stomach with a falling stomp. One that you managed to dodge in the nick of time with a roll, leaving Garou’s missed attack to create an even bigger crater.

Garou could only watch as your signature color washed over you and you charged at him. He prepped himself to be speared but that wasn’t the case as you launched yourself into the air to deliver a powered dropkick that sent Garou completely though a nearby clothing store.

You thought you would’ve had a moment to catch your breath but Garou was no longer going to let you keep your current strategy going.

‘She keeps sending me off to catch her breath…she’s testing me…she wants to see how safe it’ll be to up close and personal. I should let her think she can get closer and strike.’

He had managed to catch himself before he hit a wall and quickly charged back towards you. He managed to catch you off-guard with an elbow to the gut, sending you flying backwards with your spine hitting a lamppost but if Garou thought he had you, he was wrong because then he saw you rip the lamppost out from it’s mechanical roots before you launched the pole towards him in a fit of rage.

“THAT HURT, YOU DICKHEAD!” You shouted.

“Wha….IT WAS SUPPOSED TO! DO YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?!”

You let out a fierce war cry before charging towards him at nearly light speed.

‘Is this the spear?’

Nope!

Instead, you firmly wrapped your arms around Garou’s waist, lifting the hero hunter off of the ground and squeezing tightly, fully enveloping him into a straining Bear Hug. Garou felt like his bones were being ground together and you were not trying to let him go any time soon.

This proved to him your style. You mixed in professional wrestling into your book of moves but since most of your enemies were giant monsters, it was clear that you never had more opportunities to use more of these up close and personal moves.

But this was his opening.

He took the opportunity to chop you on the back of your neck. The pain causing you to loosen your grip on him but you did so by throwing him overheard towards where the lamppost once was.

Now the both of you both needed a moment. The rage fueled adrenaline was now wearing off and the spine inflicted on your spine was going into effect. Meanwhile, Garou wanted to get his breathing back to normal.

But your faster healing struck again, as you summoned your scepter once more. Garou began prepping himself for whatever attack you had in store.

CRASH!!

A thunderous sound of destruction a few blocks over caught the attention of the both of you.

You looked at each other, Garou could see your eyes desperately darting over to the source of the noise.

You’d be in trouble wouldn’t you? This close to a monster attack and didn’t immediately rush to the scene? You’d probably be hit with some penalty.

Another opportunity! But just as he was about to charge at you, he heard screaming. Screaming that sounded like children. You both exchanged glances before you huffed.

“Get yourself cleaned up, monster, we’ll finish this later. Love Love Cloud!” You shouted, manifesting a heart balloon object big enough for you to ride on and flew to the sound of the noise.

Garou could only look on in frustration, spitting some blood onto the ground before running off.

This was DEFINITELY not over.

[soleilnomoon]

i would love to place an order for Meringue Cookies, Dark Chocolate, Jelly Beans, Candy Necklace, & Blan Manje, with Caramel & Honey. Side menu # 1 for Boa or Nami. either is fine! with a g/n reader! These stories are a blast to read!

anon i am so so sry this took forever 😭💕💕💕 but i finally finished and i'm actually happy with it; also ty for requesting, i love boa hancock sfm i wish more ppl wrote for her.

4.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst angst angst bc that's how i vibe & smut, and if you squint real hard there's some fluff somehow i think. hancock is a brat as usual and reader ain't shit, but they go great together <3 feat. cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, a lil bondage, hair pulling, some pussy slapping, more stuff that idr anymore ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა (if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't ;_;)

tagging lil’ kaia bc she asked so nicely ❤︎ @cvvor

“our love would be death” — anaïs  nin

sea salt sifts through the wind, warm and fine enough that most don’t notice its intrusion. it lands on your nose and lips, coats your tongue when you exhale through your mouth; no matter how many times you try to wash away the taste, it still lingers. a persistent annoyance that refuses to leave you alone. it’s a bitter, yet familiar taste — one that fills your heart with memories you’ve long wanted to keep buried. you’re no stranger to heartache, but this is different.

you find that you can never sleep through the entire night without dreaming of your ex — of how you begged them to stay, of how you told them you couldn’t live without them. pathetic, you tell yourself one morning after another restless night — you know you need to find a way to move on, but there’s no way you can, not when you carved so many pieces of yourself to give away without much thought.

what you’re left with is a battered heart that can barely function on its own; it flops pitifully in your chest, rattling against your rib cage weakly. every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to face the truth that you’re all alone — again.

boa hancock doesn’t know why she even fucking bothers, but she can’t seem to stay away from you. it’s a privilege, in her opinion, for you to be graced with her presence, let alone be allowed to touch her intimately. so, when she finds you staring wistfully out of the window, sighing to yourself again she snaps.

“y/n, look at me,” she commands loudly, voice piercing through your body like a thick arrow that keeps you frozen in place. you know better than to disobey her, even though you want to; you know you’re being unreasonable, but the heart always wants what it can’t have, right?

not that she cares about any of that. in her mind, your ex is an ex for a reason. she grabs your face with her hand, squeezing tightly, delicate brows furrowed together as irritation drips down her spine. she could easily kill you and you know it. “i’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she boasts, although there’s something melancholic about the way she says it.

you narrow your eyes at her, mouth moving before you can think better of it. “and what of it?” it’s not often that you challenge her like that, but today you’ve had enough of her games, of constantly catering to her whims and desires, of her veneer that she insists on keeping even when she’s alone with you.  

it dawns on her then what the actual problem is. “you’re still in love with them.” anger seeps through her pores, and she knows if she doesn’t walk away soon, she might say or do something she’ll possibly regret.

you flinch, eyes widening — she’s not entirely wrong, but she’s not right either. you’re just stuck in limbo, unable to move on because you refuse to do so; after seeing them so happy with someone else, you can’t fathom finding any sort of happiness yourself. so, you cling onto the past, even when it threatens to destroy your present life.

for some reason, this pisses you off — that hancock is so much more perceptive than people give her credit for; that she’s not afraid to tell you the truth, despite how your friends sugarcoat everything for you. the rage that’s bubbled deep inside of you for months finally pushes out; you can barely think or see properly, and you forget yourself when you practically shout back at her.

“and you’re just jealous because for once, you’re not the focus of my attention.” you’re not sure why you say it, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like shit.

there’s rarely a moment where hancock finds herself in absolute shock, but your venomous words cut into her bruised ego with vigor. it's a harsh reality that she refuses to accept, so she lashes out at you again.

“you’re pathetic.” her tone is cold, and she steels her face enough that she almost looks bored with you. hancock releases her hold on you and swivels on her heels to walk away. you don’t bother calling after her, but she pauses in her gait to look over her shoulder at you. “i’m done playing with you, get out of my sight.”

the dismissal is the first slap of many and her insistence on blatantly keeping her back turned while she ignores you is another. something in you breaks, but you know you’ve angered the pirate empress enough for one day. you don’t hesitate before scrambling to your feet and leaving her alone. after you close the door, you hear a shriek that’s accompanied by what sounds like a large vase shattering. you don’t bother checking on her, because you know you’re not wanted in her presence right now.

you should’ve seen this coming. one doesn’t simply think about another lover while in the presence of boa hancock; it’s absurd and theatrical, but it’s an unspoken rule that you keep breaking over and over. in the back of your mind, you know you should go make things right with her, but you just don’t know how.

hancock’s frustration continues to build throughout the day. she doesn’t know why someone — you, a commoner who should be groveling at her feet daily — can be so insolent without remorse. she’s smashed several expensive sculptures, shredded her mattress and bed sheets with large scissors, and cursed out every staff member in kuja palace. her anger only intensifies when she hears someone whisper your name, so she locks herself in her bedroom, refusing meals or assistance from anyone.

you’ve always thought that the pirate empress was annoying, self-centered, and unnecessarily mean without reason. you’ve told her this on several occasions, stunning her into silence — a feat that most cannot achieve. hancock would normally sentence someone to death for those sorts of callous remarks, but for some reason she spares you. maybe it’s because despite her incomparable, unrivaled beauty, you don’t helplessly pine after her.

and she absolutely hates that about you.

hancock’s not someone who’s used to being treated like a regular person, and yet that’s what you do to her. you barely hold any reverence for her, give her the minimal amount of respect owed as a citizen of amazon lily, and you don’t flinch when she threatens you publicly. most are afraid to be associated with you, out of fear for incurring the snake princess’ wrath — not that you care, you’ve known that your personality can’t be tolerated by most because you tend to happily go against the grain.

you’ve always found her beauty to be intense and intoxicating — imposing like the sun, forcing a heat to surge through you that has yet to dissipate. you hate that your attraction to her impedes your daily life, especially when you’re plagued by dueling thoughts of her and your ex. you’re barred from entering the palace, and you’re thankful for it as you don’t know how you’d be able to face hancock after all that you’ve said. you know that you should apologize profusely, but a woman like hancock requires something extravagant and elaborate — something that’ll prove that your adoration and loyalty is genuine and not forced.

the first few days are relatively easy; you work tirelessly to keep your mind and body busy, and you’re so exhausted by the end of the day that you sleep without dreaming. when a week passes, you start to notice that certain things are off; you didn’t make it a habit of frequenting the palace that often, but you were there enough that the staff didn’t give you a hard time when you showed up unannounced. you tell yourself that distance is good — it means you’ll be able to finally focus on the things that are important to you.

but, when you sit and think about it, you’re not quite sure if that’s entirely true.

after the second week, you start getting antsy. your friends keep pestering you, asking why your mood keeps shifting day to day — you’re intolerable and grouchy, snap at minor things and make mistakes all day. your heart, as tired and as worn out as it is, still skips a beat when you think about hancock despite what you try to tell yourself when you’re alone. somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that the only reason why you’re thinking about her, is because you miss fucking her.

the lie is tough to digest, but you keep repeating it and sooner or later you’ll believe it, right?

soon, everything reminds you of her.

on a warm night, a small festival is held, and you wander around listless and slightly tipsy. memories of the first time you met boa hancock — outside of all the fanfare that her royal title awards her — plague you relentlessly. you remember the warmth from that night, similar to this one; you remember how highly oppressive and unbearable the humidity was; and you also remember that you were on your third drink when you unceremoniously bumped into the pirate empress.

at first, her sisters demanded you apologize, but you were annoyed and had just been dumped so you chose audacity instead.

hancock’s irritation was evident, despite her not saying much — and it wasn’t until your rambling struck a nerve that she fired back. it was the first time he’d let her walls down, and her sisters watched in shock as both of you went back and forth over nothing. hancock called you all sorts of terrible names, and you sneered and laughed in her face. the fact that you weren’t cowering in fear or salivating over her beauty set her skin on fire in a way she didn’t understand.

you remember her dismissing the other gorgon sisters, insisting that she’d be able to handle you on her own. and she did, in a way. if anyone were to ask her about that time, hancock would easily admit that she regrets meeting you that night — but it would be a lie. the only thing she regrets is allowing you to infiltrate her heart, to settle without permission, to make her feel less than when she knew she was anything but.

her brattiness is unappealing on the surface and you normally wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who boldly wears such an ugly personality with pride. somehow, hancock has made the trait endearing to you, in a strange way; she’s so unapologetic with her behavior, that you find it rather comical. why people take her seriously is beyond you.

but, despite all of that, you do miss her.

you miss seeing the way her nose would scrunch and wrinkle when she was disgusted with something insignificant and minute; you miss kissing her in the middle of arguments and watching her easily melt underneath your touch; but you mostly miss hearing her complain about your lack of etiquette, about how odd she finds your views on the world, and about how you see her more clearly than anyone else on the island.

that sort of vulnerability terrifies her, and it’s why she’s been so miserable without you.

her sisters pay you a visit one morning and implore you to talk some sense into hancock. they tell you about how her temper tantrums have gotten uncontrollable (even for them) and how she barely eats or bothers leaving the palace these days. that bit surprises you, as hancock thrives off the validation from the populace. at first you mean to refuse them, but when you take note of how marigold anxiously fidgets with the gold bracelet around her wrist and the way sandersonia has dark circles under her eyes, you give in.

after taking a long, long soak in the bath, hancock pads back to her room naked, deciding to keep the windows open so she can air dry properly. you find her shortly after, out of breath from running over to the palace; she didn’t lock her door — and why should she? she’s the empress, after all — so you enter her room with ease. because she’s been so out of it lately, she’s been sluggish in her reactions to certain things; especially since she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

with the door shut and locked behind you, hancock’s mind clears a bit; she blinks slowly, her dark eyes honed on you, taking in your thick thighs and toned body. as usual, hancock’s face only features an impassive expression, and she keeps her tone flat when she addresses you.

“why the hell are you in my bedroom?” she grabs the silk robe that’s draped over her mattress and puts it on in a rush.

before you can answer her or move closer, she picks up a large pillow and chucks it at you in the hopes that you’ll get the hint and leave her alone. you sidestep the attack, lips pressed together as you hold back a laugh; she can’t honestly think that a pillow will stop you, can she? hancock keeps throwing things, anything within her reach that isn’t nailed down to the floor or wall. you try to reason with her, try to make your way closer, but stop when you see the way her lips quiver.

she keeps fumbling with tying her robe properly, keeps looking down at her trembling fingers — the same ones that have tugged on your hair more times than you can count — but still she won’t say anything else to you.

after a minute, hancock manages to compose herself once again, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights the urge to berate herself for looking weak in front of you — as if you care about any of that. your silence compels her to swiftly make her way towards you, long legs shimmering in the sunlight, captivating you so much that you forget you’re supposed to be angry with her.

“look at you,” she stands tall, her pride giving her the confidence she needs to verbally tear you apart. “you’ve come begging for my forgiveness, right?” she doesn’t wait for you to respond and simply flips her hair over her shoulder before continuing. it’s all she can do to keep her composure around you; she knows if she gives you even a fraction of an inch, you’ll take a whole damn mile. “i should have you gutted for entering the palace without permission. you should know your damn place.” while her words are harsh, her delivery doesn’t quite match the expression on her face. maybe it’s because you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you entered her room; or, maybe it’s because she’s standing much closer than necessary but can’t physically move herself away.

did you cast a spell on her without her knowledge?

while her eyes do narrow at that possibility, she highly doubts that you could, as there’s no one on amazon lily that doesn’t succumb to her treacherous beauty. but you continue to defy her expectations and you never know when to quit. which is why she just wants to grab you by the neck and toss you out the window; maybe if she actually kills you this time, she’ll be done with you forever.

except, she could never bring herself to harm you — not really. so she continues with her rant, reminding you that you’re beneath her, that you should be happy someone like her gave you any attention at all, but the more she talks, the more you want her to just shut the hell up.

“you’re right,” you say, cutting her off without remorse or any regards for your own safety, “and i deserve all of that,” and possibly more, but you don’t add that bit in. it becomes a little difficult to focus, what with hancock watching you with a different kind of intensity than you’re used to. “i… should’ve just explained myself properly before. but, more importantly,” you decide to take a risk and gently grab her by the hips.

silence wraps around her, blending into her thoughts, warping her perception of everything that’s happening. your hand is warm — much too warm, hot almost; she can feel the heat through the flimsy fabric as she presses her body closer to yours. whatever it is you want to tell her doesn’t matter — maybe she’ll pester you about it all later, but right now all she wants is you.

so, you give in and allow yourself to be more selfish than usual.

when your lips brush against hers, she completely comes alive — the longing you both felt for weeks, the irritation and unsaid words, they all prompt her to wrap her arms around your neck. it’s something short of a loving embrace, but you know better. your kiss goes from slow and tender to something much more fevered and enthusiastic; her lips are soft and supple, wholly inviting and terribly mesmerizing. you back her against the wall as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on it roughly, her patience practically nonexistent from all her wanting. you laugh at her in between kisses, breath warm against her skin — a feat that simultaneously annoys and arouses her — and remind her to play nice.

when she tugs on your hair again, you bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but run your tongue along the miniature wound to soothe the sting. she inhales sharply, the pain not noticeable, but the way you suck on her lip makes her head spin while also leaving her breathless.

 a woman like hancock doesn’t beg, but when you grab her ass roughly — aggressive, yet completely undoing — she lets out a whimper so pathetic she’s almost ashamed of herself.

she should slap you, but all she does is roll her hips forward once you spread her legs and run your fingers against her folds. in a fit of desperation, to excuse her reactions, she tells herself that it’s because she hasn’t been touched in so long — but deep down she knows the truth; she knows it’s because there’s no one else she’d rather have here with her, and that is a terrifying revelation. still, she’s very receptive to your touch, her back arching as soon as you spread her with your fingers.

her arousal drips down slowly, and while you’d love to take your time with her, you also know that if you don’t hurry up you might actually lose your mind. you trail kisses down the length of her neck, and hancock presses her lips together to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. it’s ridiculous the way her body can easily be commanded by you without much effort; she wants to hate you for leading her down this path, but she can’t ever bring herself to do so.

love makes people incredibly foolish and tender indeed.

“that won’t do,” you remark lightly, gliding your fingers back and forth, barely grazing her clit. her breathing stops momentarily when you open her robe completely and drop to your knees in front of her. “why are you holding back?” you don’t ask her because you actually want the answer; you ask because you know it’ll annoy her greatly.

you tease her entrance with your fingers and a shiver fires through her entire body; with her lips parted, you strain your ears a bit, but you hear through her all of her light panting, her softly saying please, please, please. she’s trying so hard to hold it together, and you commend her for her efforts by inching your fingers inside of her slowly. hancock’s façade finally shatters, and you hear her moan audibly as you plunge your fingers in and out of her pussy. you love the way she clenches around your fingers — warm and tight, soft in a way that just doesn’t make sense to you — and the way she moves her hips once your tongue playfully swirls around her clit.

you drape her long, shapely leg over your shoulder and scissor your fingers inside of her pussy; you hum against her skin, thoroughly enjoying the way her chest heaves and how she can’t seem to stop moaning your name.

if only she was always this compliant.

a heat passes through your body as her nails rake against your scalp, and if you weren’t so hellbent keeping her steady, she’d probably fall over by now. you eat her pussy with vigor, swapping your fingers for your tongue; you thrust it inside without remorse, and she quickly becomes a whimpering mess as she chants “yes, yes, yes.” you mean to tell her to keep it down, but a part of you also enjoys it when she lets go and gives into her desires. you don’t want to get caught, but the thrill of it incites you to lap at her pussy — greedy and eager, as if it’s the most savory meal you’ve ever had. her wetness drips down your chin, glistening along your lips but you don’t stop.

she watches you in a trance, unsure if she’ll ever be able to let you go after this. possessive by nature, hancock never thought she’d find herself in this sort of position, but there she is, completely under your spell. every swipe of your tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge — a dangerous dance that she does without thinking. she brings her free hand to cup and knead one of her breasts — hefty and round, moaning repeatedly, voice already straining as she shamelessly rides your face.

you love it, though and when you suck on her clit roughly, lightning wraps around her veins, time slowing down around her, causing her vision to blur. she’s so wound up, that the orgasm takes her completely by surprise — her hips buck wildly and you hold her firmly as you work your fingers back into her pussy. you pull away just to give her a haughty look — one that she catches by accident through her tear-stained lashes — voice low and husky as you continue teasing her. “you’re doing so good,” you lick her clit hard enough to have her eyes roll back, “do you trust me?”

it's not fair of you to ask her genuine questions right now, but you need to know.

hancock swallows hard, unable to think properly, but answers without hesitation: “y-yes.”

her voice is sweet, much more demure than you’re used to; your heart suddenly feels much too big for your chest, the beats growing louder and thunderous; a dangerous combination when coupled with your cowardice. but you know better than to cower away, so you muster the courage to quietly respond with, “good, i’m glad.”

you’re not sure why you ask her that, but you keep thinking about it when you have her naked on her bed with her hands bound above her. thanks to you, her normally blemish-free skin is littered with bite marks and dark red bruises — small and harmless, but you do feel a sliver of remorse when you realize she’ll have to cover herself up for a bit when she’s outside of the palace. you tell her she’s a masterpiece worthy of exhibition, and she tells you that you’re insolent for stating the obvious.

she’s so beautiful and vulnerable in this position — flushed cheeks, tears in her eyes, legs shaking as they’re spread wide for you; her pussy is swollen after you slapped it a few times when she gave you lip a few minutes ago. out of habit, hancock wants to run her mouth again when you hover over her, but her words never come out. she looks up at you, silently wondering why you keep coming back to her. the melancholy that accompanies those thoughts is heavy enough to make her want to cry, so she ignores it. she wraps her legs around you as you rock your hips against hers, cunt still dripping — eager and inviting.

fucking hancock is like being trapped in a feverish dream, one where you fall over and over, unable to predict if you’ll survive in the end. it’s an unending maelstrom — powerful and unpredictable, wild, and all-consuming. sweat pools at your temples, but you don’t slow down until you wrench another orgasm out of her. her voice grows hoarse, and she claws at your chest; you lick the tears off her cheeks and kiss her in a way that deludes her into thinking that she’s your one and only.

when you finally cum, it’s with her name on your lips. your hips stutter and your breath is uneven — for you, your pleasure comes mostly from watching her unravel underneath you. hancock never lets you stay over, but she’s surprisingly soft with you afterwards, even letting you run your fingers through her silky, ink-black hair.

the intimacy scares both of you, but you can’t stop yourself from touching her like that. and even though you’re both sticky and sweaty, skin burning in a way that doesn’t make sense, you still stay close to one another.

she opens her mouth several times, the compulsion to curse you out for driving her mad grows weaker as time passes. she watches you fall asleep and she admires your features without restraint. she refuses to tell you that you’re much more attractive than she’d like you to be; she’d rather you be hideous with a shitty personality, but that’s not the case, is it? she’s hopelessly enamored with you, and you with her.

nothing will ever be perfect between the two of you, but you don’t need perfection or superficiality — not with her; you like dealing with the true, raw version of herself. there will be a moment — not now, but in the near future — where you’ll be brave enough to finish your confession; but for now, you keep it to yourself, tucked safely away in your heart, and enjoy the way your limbs are tangled with hers.