#I'm gonna get murdered for this one probably
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something lost, something gained
Summary: After being snatched by human traffickers while exploring an abandoned schoolhouse, Lucy fights to survive as she waits for Cooper to find her. (3.9k words)
(warnings for: attempted sexual assault, biting, blood, face slapping, groping, violence, murder, aftercare, hurt/comfort, cooper trying his best in a bad situation)
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Link to AO3
Awaking with a languid groan, Lucy's eyes flittered open for only a moment before slamming shut again as a dull pain to her temple made her wince and gasp. Raising her right hand to press at the skin, she was surprised to find her left hand moving in tandem and her eyes snapped open as she realised that her hands were bound together.
Gazing down at the coarse rope which encircled her wrists, panic arose in Lucy's chest as she glanced around the small, cell-shaped room and immediately understood that she was not anywhere recognisable. It didn't even look like the same building she last remembered walking into.
"Cooper?" Calling out with a dry, uncomfortable voice, a sense of irritation laced the anxiety which rolled through her. "What the fudge? Why am I in here?"
The door to the cell creaked open and Lucy glanced up from her slumped position to see a man she did not recognise fill the doorway. He was very tall, head almost brushing the top of the door frame, with a mop of raggedy blonde hair hanging limply across his shoulders and something in the way he looked at her made her skin crawl with unspoken danger. An instinctive disgust which made her mouth tighten.
"Finally awake." The man spoke, his voice sharp, light and slightly pitched. "We were worried we'd done some real damage to your head there."
At his words, Lucy finished her earlier assessment as her fingers once again grazed the hard lump which had formed on her temple - the skin feeling raw and wounded under her fingertips. Dragging her fingertips away, she found them flecked with her own blood.
"Who are you?" She asked, wide eyes darting across the limited space. "Did Cooper put you up to this? Or my father?"
"Don't know who any of those people are but we saw you going into that old schoolhouse with a ghoul so we snuck in, waited for you to split, and gently smuggled you out."
Gently smuggled.
The wound on her head suggested otherwise.
"Why?" A reflex question, one Lucy didn't think she wanted the answer to as the blonde man took a small step in her direction to stare down at her with a lecherous smirk.
"Cause you're in our territory and you're ours now. Me and my buddies have a little side business going on and you're our latest catch." His gaze roving across her white tank top and blue pants, one of his hands settled on the visible bulge of his groin as he winked at her. "We take them, break them, and pass them on to be sold. 50/50 share. And, baby, let me tell you, you're gonna fetch us a pretty price."
The panic in her chest now clawing at her heart as she scrambled her back against the cool stone of the wall, Lucy felt sweat break out across her body as she took in his candid admission with open-mouthed horror.
"No. You can't-"
"Yeah. I can smell the vault on you so I know you probably aren't rolling with the same diseases as all the other cunts we pick up."
Flinching at the term, Lucy fell back into what she knew best as old defense mechanisms kicked in to protect her as best they could.
"Let me go and I'll get you whatever you need. Caps, meds, weapons. I know people who could hel-"
"You?" Laughing openly at her offer, the man steadied himself against the doorframe. "Maybe that bulky ghoul we saw you with could have worked some muscle for us but you haven't got shit we need. Well, aside from-"
His hand still groping sleazily against his bulge, the man stepped fully within the cell and kicked the door shut before him. An action which made Lucy jump as her body shuddered and tensed to the point of discomfort, sensing the danger and violence to come.
"You see, cunt. I'm much nicer than my two friends out there and I'm willing to cut you some slack. Wrap your lips around my cock and suck it like your life depended on it, and I'll tell the boys that you're willing to be a good girl for us. They'll even leave their nasty 'breaking in' toys at the door if they think you're gonna be a good girl."
As he spoke, his body inched closer towards Lucy and her fingers shook terribly as she struggled against the rope holding her wrists, vision quick to blur as genuine fear rocked through her body.
He's going to rape me. Repeated in her head like a cruel, merciless mantra. The elders had told them what rape was, explained that they needed consent to ensure that everyone in the vault was happy and able to share their bodies without problem. They knew, in the vault, they all knew what was okay and what wasn't.
"Cooper!" She hollered out, voice breaking on the second syllable as she attempted to back up against the wall enough to scramble to her feet. "Please, fudge, someone help!"
A memory rose, unbidden in her mind as Lucy rolled her back against the wall. Not long after her body had started to change, one of the elders, a slender old guy named Ernest, had caught her in the gardens. He had asked her questions about her changing body, questions that made her heart feel heavy in her chest as a sense of how wrong he made her feel forced her to back away from him.
He had moved to grab her, his hand wrenching her arm away from her chest when her father had appeared from nowhere. He had been causal in his greeting but even as a child, she had noticed how tight her dad's smile was and how quickly he ushered her back to her room so he could have a quick chat with him.
Ernest died soon after. One of the first to be lost to the latest famine as the crops failed due to an unknown blight. She hadn't questioned it then, too many good people had been lost, but now, in this moment where that same childish fear weighed heavily at her limbs, she wondered if her father had killed him for what he had tried to do.
Kicking out with her feet as the man dropped to his knees before her, his fingers were quick to lock around her ankles - pulling her free of the wall and stealing the breath from her lungs as her head collided with the floor.
"Please, no. Don't do this! No!"
"First times always the worst."
Flashing rotted teeth at her as he straddled her waist, his hands pinned her own roped palms to her stomach as he burrowed down into her space. His breath was awful, smelling foul and rancid, and it sparked a retch in Lucy's throat as she twisted her head to the side. His tongue trailed across her cheek, tasting the grime on her skin as he growled in her ear.
"Just gotta remember to be a good girl and-ARGH!" Breaking off into a pained scream, the man reared back as blood poured from his mouth to drip down on her tank top.
Spitting out the large portion of tongue she had ripped free with her teeth, Lucy used her attackers moment of stunned pain to knock him free of her body. Crawling on her knees, she almost made it to the door when a rough hand wrapped around her hair.
"Stupid cunt!" The words lisping due to his injury, the man's hand was like fire in her hair as he snatched at her scalp viciously. "Gonna break your fucking nose for that."
Yelling as her hands locked around a small shard of metal that lay by the closed door, the man's foot having accidentally knocked it within the cell as he entered, Lucy gripped it tight as she spun on her knees, digging the shard deep into the closest foot she could reach before pulling it free with a vicious twist.
A fresh cry of pain broke free of her attacker as he crashed to the ground, his hands tight around his foot while he snarled obscenities at her.
Fuelled by adrenaline, fear and rage, Lucy pounced on him like a cat, knocking his back flat to the floor as she stabbed the metal as roughly into his throat as she could. Memories of her fraudulent husband flashed before her eyes and she hollered a vicious snarl as she dragged the metal through his skin until the blood flowed and the gurgling of his throat ceased.
Breathing heavily, she stayed in that position until his glassy-eyed stare repulsed her, the scent of fresh blood making her heave anew. Body shaking and mind rattling, it was only when a new voice broke the silence that she jumped as though an electric bolt had fired across her spine.
"Fuck, Petey. She's killed Owen."
Rolling off the corpse, Lucy was quick to take her earlier position - her stained fingers clutching the metal shard as her back pressed against the wall once more.
"Owen was always a dipshit. We'll be better off without him." The taller of the two newcomers added.
Looking just as filthy as the first guy, Lucy's eyes were wild as she pointed the metal at each of them in turn.
"L-let me go. I'll do the same to you." She stuttered, a sinking feeling of despair making her skin feel cold and clammy. "I've killed people before and you'll be next."
Glancing between themselves, both men burst out into a cruel laughter and their movements were quick as they descended on her. Fingers already trembling, it was easy for them to wrestle the metal from her hands and pin her to the floor; their much larger bodies easily holding her knees apart as they pressed them to the floor with their own legs.
Rough hands fished inside her tank top and Lucy found herself unable to do much but bare her teeth and fight off a sob as her chest was pulled free of her bra; breasts spilling over the fabric as matching grunts of approval escaped her attackers.
"They'll do nicely. Fuck, might not even sell this one, what do you think?" The one named Petey asked, his free hand gripping at her chin painfully as he tilted her head to the side in a crude inspection.
Cupping her left breast as though weighing it in his hand, the other man flashed a yellow smile at her.
"Could play with her for a few weeks without going to the others. Would you like that? A few weeks with us and then a ten minute walk up north to meet the rest of the boys?"
Refusing to answer as a fat tear rolled free of her eye, Lucy chose to remain quiet and not give them anything as she struggled in vain.
"You owe us for you did to Owen." The second man continued, his face an open leer as he released her jaw. "So I'm gonna fuck you and then Petey is gonna fuck you and then we're both gonna fuck you. Then you're gonna open those pretty lips wide for-"
"No."
A sharp hand collided with the side of Lucy's face, the blow catching her across the mouth and bursting her lip open in an instant as the taste of copper flooded her mouth.
"Not asking, cunt."
Their hands were all over her, one set fondling her breasts while the other pulled at the hem of her tank top to expose her stomach. They were everywhere and the feeling of them, hot and heavy atop her body, made her feel sick - her throat constricting and panicking as her breaths came short and fast.
The vague sound of the door slamming open touched at her senses but it felt so far off that she didn't think much of it until all hell broke loose.
A fresh splatter of blood sprayed across her face, the sensation matching by a booming gunshot which made her ears ring in the small space as the taller of the two, Petey, collapsed dead atop her - a hole leaking blood and brains from the front of his forehead to her exposed chest.
In shock, both Lucy and the remaining man stared at the corpse for a second before Lucy felt half the weight on her body disappear as the final attacker was pulled free. Her eyes unfocused and blurred with tears, she saw the flash of familiar, tattered leather which hurled her would-be attacker against the wall.
Sounds of exertion were quickly followed by a fresh death gurgle as Cooper's knife flashed in his hand for only a second before being drawn across her attackers throat; the arterial spray swiftly coating Cooper's clothed chest as he let go of his prey and allowed the fresh body to drop to the floor.
Not trusting her eyes, Lucy tilted her head back and cast her gaze to the dingy ceiling as her thoughs spiralled into a messy haze.
After a moment, Cooper's face swam in her vision and the close sight of him sparked a myriad of emotions within her; shock giving way to genuine relief before settling on fear as she took in the genuine fury which blazed in his stark white eyes as they darted across her battered face and disjointed clothing.
He wasn't angry with her, she knew that, but the sheer rage which rolled from his coiled frame made her want to curl into a ball and hide away from it. He smelled of leather and blood, the scent of fresh violence making her nose twitch as the corpses of her attackers lay motionless, crowding the floor of her cell.
"S'alright, I got you, sweetie." Cooper's hands were firm but gentle as he wrapped them around her shoulders, hoisting her enough that she were able to lean against the wall in a sitting position.
Despite everything, his voice was like a balm and she relaxed into his touch as her trembling fingers were gripped within his own - his knife glinting once more as he quickly severed her bindings and let the rope fall to the floor. In an instant, her knees snapped to her chest as her arms looped around them, her body curling in on itself as a wave of nausea made her throat feel tight.
Still on his haunches before her, Cooper studied her for a solid moment before matching her position as he leaned against the opposite wall, his legs outstretched and his back straight against the cool stone.
"Fix yourself, darlin'. I'd offer but I don't think you want another monsters hands on you before the day's out."
Keeping her knees tight, Lucy brought trembling fingers to her chest - her relief at being saved having made her forget about her state of undress - and she tucked her breasts away back into the off-white bra with a lifeless motion, the skin feeling sensitive and sore due to their abuse. Made decent, her arms were quick to loop around her knees once more, her chin sitting atop her knees as a gloomy, far-off expression graced her features.
"Did they-" A half question which Cooper quickly thought better of as he abandoned ship and adjusted it on the fly. "You okay?" It was a quiet ask, the words so low that Lucy knew she could ignore them if she wanted to.
"No," she stuttered, feeling weary despite the adrenaline which still pulsed in her veins, "but I have to be because what else is there. So I have to be."
Making a small noise of agreement in his chest, Cooper's gaze rose to the ceiling as he plucked his hat from his head and dropped it to the floor by his open lap.
"That you do, darlin'. Nothing else for it."
They sat in silence for a bit, the only slightly pained sounds coming from Lucy's throat as she adjusted to the various aches which afflicted her body. Her face was the worst as her temple throbbed like a bitch and her burst lip felt huge and ugly against her mouth. The bodies forever doomed to lay in messy piles, Lucy's eyes ghosted over them and settled on the growing patches of blood which each steadily leaked to the cell floor.
"You killed them all?" She said, already knowing the answer and unsure why she even asked.
"Not all of them. One of them was already dead when I got here and I'd recognise the teeth marks in that hunk of ripped tongue anywhere." Despite the guarded nature of his tone, there was a spark of warmth as he flashed his, well, her, finger at her, and Lucy swore she heard the slightest hint of pride leaking through. "You did good, sweetheart. You fought like a hellcat and you didn't let them win."
"Didn't win." Lucy mumbled miserly. "You did."
"Oh, I have no doubt you would have gotten them both in the end. They might have taken a few strips from you, but that fire in your belly would have scorched them dry."
Mouth upturning at the praise as she fought off the urge to cry, Lucy swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands as her breathing quickly grew erratic.
"All these bullshit lessons you've put me through and it still wasnt enough." She blurted out with a desperate gasp. "They're evil. I hate it here. I hate their cruelty. I hate their hurting. I hate-"
Finally unable to hold back the swell of emotion which threatened her, Lucy broke off on the final word as a heaving sob replaced any chance she had of cohesive speech. It was something raw and unfiltered, mourning the loss of some part of herself that would never be returned as she was forced to mold herself into a creature of violence and hate just to survive in their world.
Cooper, to his credit, let her cry without any false sympathies or interference. His face lacked any judgement, the hole in his face flexing slightly as he inhaled and exhaled steadily, eyes never shifting from Lucy's sobbing frame. Something difficult to pin down flashed through his gaze as though a multitude of possible outcomes were pushing at his thoughts.
After some internal debate, a grunt slipped free of Cooper's lips as he leaned across the short space and pulled at Lucy's shoulder.
So lost in her own misery, Lucy didn't fight the pressure of his strong hand as he pulled her to the side, dropping her to the floor in such a way that her head pressed against the upper part of his legs as she faced away from him. It did nothing to stop her tears, but it did give her something to lean on as he immediately retracted his hand to fold his arms fully across his chest.
Cooper's thighs were like unyielding steel beneath her head, giving Lucy something solid to pin her senses on as she fought to quell the quiver of her lip and the shudders which continued to wrack her body. Their journey had been hard and the hunt for her father was a disaster of interference and dead trails of information.
This was just the latest set-back in a long list of utter shit.
Offering her no other physical support, unsure if it would cause her to act out or break down further, Cooper waited until her breathing was a little more even before speaking again.
"Be sad." He paused, allowing the rare piece of advice to sit heavily in the air between them. "Be angry. Feel that fire in your gut burn so hot that you get the fear it's gonna burst free and raze everything around you to the ground. Hell, curse the day your momma brought you into the world if that's how you feel. But don't break."
Stopping once again, Cooper felt a rare moment of genuine pity for the woman as he glanced down at her. Lucy Maclean, who foolishly tried to choose peace in a peaceless world, still had a lot of learning to do when it came to the way that same world worked.
He could only show her so much, some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and if she could take them, then he would do his part to keep her whole.
"Whatever they do to you, survive it. Skulk off, lick your wounds, come back stronger. Get that revenge your blood sings for." Speaking as much to himself as her, Cooper allowed her a peek into his own thoughts, an insight he knew she wouldn't fully understand quite yet. "Never let them break you. Better off dead than broken in this world."
Gathering herself enough to shakily speak, Lucy gripped Cooper's knee with clawing fingers as she clung to him like a lifeline.
"There's more of them. Ten minutes up north. That's who they were- who they were going to sell me to."
"More side-tracking bullshit." Cooper sighed but his voice grew more contemplative as his gravelled tones mused on her words. "That said, been a while since I hunted down some proper vermin. No bounty. No rules. Might be fun to let loose for once."
He let the idea hang in the air, curious if she was hinting at what he suspected she was.
"You coming with me?"
"Yeah."
Unseen by the shaking Lucy, a pleased smile split Cooper's lips as he glanced down at her steady answer.
It wasn't often he took on a companion, far less one that he'd actually indulge, but the odd woman intrigued him with the hypocrisy of her very existence. A vaultie with a edge, naive blood screaming out for wrongs to be righted just like his own as she fought alongside him like a harpy.
It did help that they both wanted her dear old daddy strung up like the traitor he were.
But revenge would see her right.
She was owed a debt by those who had tried to take her, a debt of honor, and he would see that she avenged it in a glorious explosion of violence that would help keep her nightmares at bay as they would leave no doubt that the beasts responsible were well put down and unable to haunt her.
By gun or by knife, she would get at least that.
He had seen the broken ones. The ones used and abused by so many across the wastelands that they gave up everything and became husks even more devoid of humanity than the ghouls who lost the battle and went feral. It was a fate worse than the many deaths he'd experienced in his time.
No one deserved that.
Especially not Lucy Maclean.
His hand ghosting over her head, fingers only an inch away from her fine head of mousy hair, Cooper tilted his head to the side as he took her exhausted frame in.
"Sleep for now, vaultie. Time for this little killer to save her strength. So take it for what it is and when you wake, we'll see about righting some of the wrongs that happened here."
Feeling more safe with the violent ghoul who had shown her the new reality of her world than any other of the awful creatures she had met since leaving her vault, Lucy's eyes fluttered close as his voice washed over her and exhaustion claimed her before she could do anything to muse on that odd feeling of safety.
#mind those warnings! Cooper really does his best here and ive tried to keep things as in character as i could given the circumstances#cooper howard x lucy maclean#cooper x lucy#ghoul x lucy#lucy maclean#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout fic#fallout 2024#fallout#I'm very pleased with this one ngl#so if it flops im gonna drink strychnine#cooper howard fic#lucy maclean fic#fallout fanfic#vaultghoul#ghoulcy
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Okay! As joked about, here’s my...essay-thing about Romance-Default Chemistry Brain Worms Ruining Media (as referenced here). It's less an essay and more some barely organized thoughts, but that post did get some traction so here y'all go.
Now, you may notice I turned off reblogs on this post. That’s because I’ll be going into my opinions on a complex subject matter that also touches on some controversial(TM) areas of fandom, and I’m really not looking to get screamed at or doxxed by randoms. Seriously, I already had one hit post that got me anon hate, I’m not looking to make it two. This is between us, okay? Okay.
Additional disclaimer: I AM gonna throw some shade at specific ships and fandoms, but I assume you guys read my rules and know the ships I hate but decided to stick around anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
So, What’s Chemistry?
For the sake of this TED Talk Essay Thing, I'm going to define chemistry as "when characters click in a way that makes their interactions especially compelling and interesting to experience." If you watch them interact and think "wow, I'd watch a show with nothing but them", that's chemistry. Note that this does not have to be romantic. Chemistry can come in all flavors: friendship, family, rivals or outright enemies, mentor-mentee (not always the same as family!), Not Romantic Or Platonic But A Secret Third Thing (drift compatible), and of course, romantic. People tend to focus on romantic chemistry as the prime example, but the other examples do exist (otherwise Found Family wouldn't be the trope it is).
Now, chemistry is a tricky thing. It's a combination of a lot of factors (writing, acting, direction to name a few), and if any of those factors don't work, the whole thing is off. (As an example, I personally did not think Deborah Ann Wohl and Charlie Cox had as good chemistry as Charlie Cox and Elodie Yung in Daredevil s2, and it kind of tanked the whole tension of "will Matt go for Karen or Elektra"). Chemistry is also open to interpretation. Some people might disagree with me about the previous Daredevil point, for instance, and some people might, say, interpret platonic chemistry as romantic chemistry. This is just a natural part of the subjective nature of art and in a vacuum, wouldn't be an issue. As mentioned in the original post, the issue becomes when every character interaction is viewed through a romantic lens.
But Wait, We’re Not Just Talking Any Kind of Romance!
Because guess what besties, even the major types of chemistry come with subtypes. I just wanted to clarify that, in this essay, when I talk about romance, I mean a played straight romance. Not a toxic romance or a tragic romance or anything like that. I mean the narrative wants you to believe these people are legit in love and could get married and have babies with little to no hiccups.
I bring this up because a common point of contention in fandom these days is the “well not every relationship has to be sunshine and rainbows! I find messed up romances compelling! Are you saying that there’s no place for explorations of toxic relationship in fiction?” And that’s not what this post is trying to say. I’m not the BIGGEST fan of toxic relationship stories myself, but they’re not my enemy at the moment. My enemy are the stories that try to sell me on happily ever after when the foundation is made of dry sand and swiss cheese. In fact, this is a point we’re going to talk about later, because people conflating the two is part of the bone I have to pick.
How Did This All Get Started
So 100% this isn’t something that has a singular root cause. It’s more like a slow buildup over centuries of storytelling. If I had to point fingers at one trope in particular, it’d definitely be the whole men and women can’t be friends and any relationship between them is just a prelude to romance of some kind. Someone in a reblog of the original post pointed this out before I could, but this has always been a thing and the only thing that changed is that fandom mutated the concept and made it gender-neutral. Now ANYONE’S interactions are just preludes to romance. Original content cemented the idea in our skulls, fandom just kept building the bricks. Circle of life or whatever.
So if this has been a widespread issue, why did I single out YA lit and fanfic? For YA, it’s for three reasons. One: YA is a huge genre even outside of its age range, and therefore extremely influential. Two: It’s what a lot of fandom content creators consume when they’re at their most prolific and before they get into creative fields themselves. Third (most important): YA lit is really bad about flattening all romances into Played Straight Romances. Granted, so are other genres (rom coms and the shitty “well yes they argue like they’re gonna kill each other but they’re in love, don’t you see” trend), but again, I really feel like YA has a stranglehold on modern content creators and fandom in a way that Meg Ryan movies don’t.
As for why I singled out fanfic, well, obviously, fandom creators consume fandom works, so they’re going to influence them and their outlook just as much as traditionally published original works. Also, fanfic has a MASSIVE influence on creative fields now. It’s terrifying to think about, but it’s true. Fanfics are on the regular published as novels (50 Shades, After, the sTeM-iNiSt books that started as R*ylo fic). A hugely popular YA series started its life as in-universe fanfiction in the author’s other novel (Carry On series). We’ve even hit a point where people are writing fictionalized versions of fandom drama and publishing it as YA books. It’s very surreal.
Effects on Fandom
The overall effect of this phenomenon on fandom is that it makes fandom spaces utterly intolerable. I vividly remember being afraid to get into Welcome to Night Vale because 90% of the fan content was about the Cecil/Carlos and I didn’t want to live through that again after too much time in the Supernatural fandom. Turns out, there’s more to WTNV than the ship! Who knew, right?? But if we want to talk specific examples, here’s four.
Muscles Out Any Conversation of Non-Romance Things: If you don’t ship Accepted Fandom Ship(s), good luck finding content. If you write or draw things that aren’t Accepted Fandom Ship(s), good luck getting traction. God help you if you write gen, because nobody’s reading that. (This is me being a lil salty I won’t lie, but that said, people who read my stuff I love youuuuuuuuuuu.) You want to talk about character interactions in a way that doesn’t relate to romance? Have fun, someone’s gonna derail the conversation. It’s intensely annoying.
Misrepresentation of Media to Outsiders: Okay, so, imagine if someone tried to sell the new Interview With The Vampire show to you based purely on the fact that it has two men in love and neglected to mention any of the rest of it because they themselves were solely fixated on LouStat as “omg so cute.”
Yeah. I bet you anything that if I did a blanket poll asking my followers if they’d ever had triggering media sold to them as something softer by Shipper Types, I’d get a lot of horror stories.
Unthinking Consumption of Weirdass Shit: This one is gonna be controversial so let me start by repeating a previous disclaimer: I am not saying every relationship has to be sunshine and rainbows all the time. I am also not saying that there’s ZERO place for certain subject matter in fiction, as long as it is handled with respect. I’m not calling for us to throw the metaphorical baby out with the bathwater. However, if you have Fandom Brain Worms so bad that you look at interactions between a teenager and a grownass adult, or God forbid, siblings, and think “oh they’re so cute they should kiss and be together forever!!” with zero consideration for what the actual ramifications of something like that would be? Stop. S t o p. Get some help.
Ship Wars + Other Dumb Bullshit Arguments: Basically, if every character interaction is viewed through a romantic lens, but a character has chemistry with multiple characters, people start getting weird and argumentative about it. This is more than just annoying, because ship wars can seriously turn into smokescreen for actually, legitimately harmful viewpoints and nastiness. Racism is a big one st*r w*rs fans I mean what.
Additionally, if you combine points two and three (misrepresenting fiction due to your own shipper goggles + unthinking consumption) you get utterly brain dead takes about how a work that is, say, meant to portray a toxic relationship and explore the ramifications of that is actually the most romantic thing ever. It’s exhausting to watch. And this mentality actually leads into some of the ways that Shipper Goggles ruin non-fandom works.
Effects on Fiction
Limits Interesting Stories: This is basically the same thing as “fandom is entirely about ships” except at the source level. If everyone can only view human interaction through a romantic lens, we’re losing the chance to see other types of stories. Now, fortunately, the market isn’t so one-note that we don’t have these kind of stories at ALL (bless the Found Family trope for its resilience fr), but I do still find it telling that a lot of the stories that take off on, say, BookTok are romances or have a heavy romance element.
Removes the Ability to Truly Explore Dark Subject Matter: This one is kind of related to point three in the fandom section, but if the shipper goggles are gonna only show you Played Straight Romantic Chemistry, then you can’t really say you’re actually exploring dark romance. You’re just writing the same plot with extra trauma added for zero reason. As an example: 50 Shades isn’t a genuine exploration of power dynamics and abuse. It’s a kinky romance that acts like the male lead’s flaws are equivalent to not putting the toilet seat down. It’s an easily solved problem and the power of love can fix him or whatever.
Limits Conflict + Interesting Subject Matter: Related to the above point but a different flavor. Also, this one actually has some overlap with how fandom interprets media, so consider this a “both sides of the coin” problem. If you see all chemistry as romantic, and a specific kind of romantic, that means any problems the leads face have to be easily overcome, not a big deal at all. This is BORING. This LIMITS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. This takes away from interesting questions and explorations of how, say, two fundamentally different people could end up together, or how a genuinely shitty person could come to grow and change given the right support and not just a singular moment of “oh I should stop being shitty.” It negates the drama and heartbreak of tragedies, the real world relatability of relationship where they’re not right for each other but stay together regardless, all the epic highs and lows of actual lived romances in favor of...what, he’s mean to her a lot but they still stay together forever? Is that all? Oh, he just dumps his toxic worldviews in thirty seconds and everything is cool now? Oh, he stopped being mean to HER and that’s somehow shorthand for him no longer being a fascist? (D*sney WILL answer for their crimes one day) BORING. YOU’RE ALL BORING. FOOLS! CHARLATANS! Anyways.
Authors Fighting For Their Lives Out Here: As with fanfic, good luck if you write gen fic (unless it’s found family, my beloved). Have fun watching your attempt at a nuanced take get dissected into the dollar store version. Also, I just know there are authors out there trying to write regular-ass siblings who have to live in mortal dread of what certain people might try to read into their works. This is seriously limiting for writers, because like. You don’t WANT those people as your fans. But you know if the siblings look at each other for longer than three seconds, someone’s gonna make it weird! And you can’t control that, but the thought is all-consuming! I seriously hate it here!!
How The Two End Up Devouring Each Other
So, all of this is bad, but the way that fandom and fiction intersect now only make things worse. For starters, fans and creators are more connected than ever, which can influence how things go. For example, say you're a a mid-tier CW show about monster hunting. Keeping those fans satiated is going to be priority #1. This means that fans talking about their wildest dreams for certain characters (say, two characters who honestly shouldn't be speaking anymore because SOMEONE won't go to therapy and is making it everyone's problem) are going to catch the attention of the highers-up. And those fans are going to be pandered to in order to keep viewership numbers high. And that’s going to lead to exactly the kind of writing issues I mentioned above.
Meanwhile, as mentioned, fanfic is becoming hugely influential on the fiction market. This is in no small part due to the fact that a lot of former fanfic writers are now non-fandom writers. That is NOT a bad thing on its own; where it BECOMES a bad thing is when they start bringing their bad fandom habits over with them. That just injects MORE of these mentalities into the fiction spaces. And then on top of that, the market starts replicating these already tainted works because they’re major money makers, and the curse only spreads.
Then fandom gets their hands on them. Then the tropes and shipper goggles mutate and solidify. Then that infects the fiction spaces. The snake eats its own tail.
Well That’s Depressing, Any Suggestions On How To Fix This?
Boosting works that aren’t the usual nonsense (fanfic and traditional fic) helps. Be more thoughtful with how you engage with media and how you discuss it, especially when sensitive topics are involved. Carve out spaces that aren’t so romance-centered and just vibe in there. Remember, the block button is free. Also, like, don’t be afraid to indulge in the occasional crack ship or “what if” AU where [insert bad guy here] isn’t as evil and therefore the ship works more smoothly, but just remember that it’s not canon. “Remember that it’s not canon” should be a rule on this site, honestly. I have to remind myself sometimes.
Anyways, if you’re reading this, I’m about to do the funniest thing ever and post some ship fic, so stick around for that I guess lmao.
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It continues to give me the warm fuzzies that basically every person at work has said they'll miss me. And it's not really utility, even if I'm useful; I am not in a critical position. There are many people who can do the things I do, even if the majority are less experienced. I'm not management, or a lynchpin, just a long-time worker bee.
But people like me, and I just handled a Crisis Situation well enough that the AD took the time to personally thank me, and my manager was like 'not only am I willing to be a reference you can use my personal phone number if that's easier' and even some of the newest additions said they're going to miss me on desk, and I just.
I love my job and my coworkers and it's really nice that the people there know it and love me back.
#I told mom about Crisis Situation#and tonight when dad got home she was like COME IN AND TELL YOUR DAD#and then both of them were like WHEN COMPANY COMES NEXT WEEK TELL THEM TOO#haha#I mean dad did follow it up with 'no you may not drive across the country alone we will figure something out'#I'm gonna work on him about it we tried the thing where all of us are in one vehicle#Tuesday screamed the whole time and mom wanted to kill her and also me#I shall remind him of that#I think he will probably come around#if I could convince someone to come with I would probably make it an actual road trip#'come to TX for the eclipse!'#'we will drive through the deep south and hit some Neat Shit and then go up the coast!'#like you could make that a fun drive#I'm not gonna do the long version if I'm solo tho bc my parents are convinced I will be murdered#which is silly; I have not infrequently been in Situations and strangers have been kind#also the odds of getting strangermurdered for no damn reason are SO low#and the incentives to murder Me Specifically are also very low#and if a white cishet-passing woman dies 90% of the time it's a romantic partner and I'm aroace so like#I really wonder what they're imagining is gonna happen#babble tea (blacklist this for less chatter)#tea writes tag novels
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((fun fact at 2 am! fluff was originally just gonna have the yarn whip cut off and have it permanently disabled but i figured the stakes would be made higher if he just. lost the arm (hand?? nub??? thing) entirely. shows how serious of a situation this is and how these guys are not afraid to cause severe harm either if needed, as a scare tactic or literally just Because. plus it provides more angst for everyone else))
#not story#not an ask#i'm one of those people who just#likes to write edgy shit#i get to be evil and see how people react yknow#i like surprising people and causing chaos#but it's not all edgy i promise#i'm totally not planning for it to get Worse. definitely#no one's gonna die so calm down#or at least probably not#there will be attempted murder tho#imagine all this shit in a kirby related thing#kirby lore is dark af as it is for a cutesy looking game#i love the juxtaposition of looks cute but is super edgy#always a big fan of that#anyway sorry enough rambling#i dont have any new asks#and recent art has been shitposts or huge spoilers#so Yeah
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Well I have done a dumb thing today. It's gonna be fun though.
Summary of events;
My streaming buddy has a points redeem on Twitch to make her do voice acting. She was told to do Yoda, and her impression was... not the greatest. I made a joke about jumping in VC with her and doing it, because I could probably do it better- Yoda voice is weird but not really that hard to do, so long as you don't make your sentences too long- and she said it was because I had practice writing him. I've only done it once, in Credit to the Order, but ok.
Then I remembered that Monday would be my Fallen Order stream, assuming I was well enough, so I could do a thing there.
And then I had the same thought about Friday, which is what we call a Twitch and Bitch session where said friend would be in a call with me for two hours and entirely unable to escape.
And then I made The Mistake.
Which was make a joke about how I'd been given a twenty to do it (I hadn't). And then another joke about how, for a twenty, I'd do it in class on Tuesday, which is a 2 hour lesson. So not too bad.
The issue is that I'd missed that a specific friend of ours was present. This friend of ours is weird, has an odd amount of disposable income, and also a fondness for attempting to break the streamer by giving them money.
I got told that I would be paid a twenty, and not long after that got an email notification informing me that I had been paid a twenty.
So, long story short, I'm now doing Yoda voice in class on Tuesday and will only stop if the teacher directly asks me to. Voice acting is optional, since I've been told the grammar is the important bit.
Helpfully there will be proof, because I have a buddy in that class with me who sits right there at the same table who has agreed to be my character witness to me having done a Yoda impression until I'm told by the teacher to shut up or the lesson ends, whichever happens first. Said witness will probably be dying of laughter the entire time but hey, that part's not my problem.
(I've also agreed that if the teacher does immediately tell me to shut up, I'll just move it to a different lesson, which for this week my group doesn't have tutor monitoring anyway and I'm fairly sure that teacher would find it fucking hilarious and let it slide. So either way it's happening.)
It's going to be such a disaster and I cannot wait to do it. I really hope the teacher finds it funny enough that I'm not immediately shut down tho.
#long post beware#my life be like#uni stuff#voice acting#star wars#just uni things#this is going to be absolutely unhinged#i can't wait#but also i don't think i'm gonna be able to do the voice acting for too long#because it'll probably murder my voice#but hey the grammar bit is the important bit#and that can keep going all lesson#also i'm probably going to get murdered by one of the others in the room#but as long as the teacher isn't complaining that won't stop me!
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ok OC character building/rambling time under the cut
(before I start I just wanna say that we are collectively psychotic and that's the end of that sentence do not @ me for any tropes/negative psychosis stereotypes talked about here. thanks.)
Ok so Nestle, right. The dude kills his SO. we've got that figured out for the Plot™. But like… what's his Motive behind it, y'know?
And… We have… About 4 angel characters in the story. All fill the role of guardian angel in some way. All know each other. Soooooooo.…
What if,,, Be it Before or After the Murdering, the Angel Council (a placeholder name) starts talking 2 him. Now the four of em have different ideas in mind for him and it is A Mess and they don't Get Along and Nestle's like, "this is fine :)" and moves on with his life and continues to commit crimes and generally being an Overall Nuisance to people around him Oh also did I mention that these 4 angels are supposed to make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble. they don't do that. they're too busy arguing abt what path they should put Nestle on.
So while they're arguing Nestle's out doing Whatever the fuck. Probably not murder. Probably. Most likely vandalism and theft and also physical assault but not MURDER, no, that was a one time thing it's fine he's fine! Meanwhile In Heaven everything's going to shit because the four fuckos cannot come 2 an agreement thus meaning they can't make sure Nestle acts nice and not violent thus meaning he is still Out Here. Committing Crimes. </3 Rip
But eVERY NOW AND THEN. They Do collectively decide on shit to tell him and they're all like "HI HEY HELLO. WE'RE YOUR GUARDIAN ANGELS. DON'T DO X THING OK BYEEEEEEeeeee" and Nestle's like "Huh. ok! :)" and stops doing X thing midway through and like ups and leaves. His friends r like "hey what" and he's like "yeah the angels told me not to, ciao" and they're like "ok go off. not the weirdest shit that's happened this week"
Just a Small Idea rn in general. We need some way to connect Thee Angels to Thee OG Crew in the story so,,, we'll ofc still keep thinking of ideas this isn't finalized at all but the idea of "one guy with multiple guardian angels who are all shit at their job" is. so funny 2 us HFJDJjajdjf
#talky#oc talk#yes i am purposefully playing around w the 'InSaNe MuRdErEr HeArS vOiCeS oOoOoH!!' stereotype but listen 2 me right now.#***I*** am the psycho clown-ass motherfucker and ***THIS*** is my goddamn circus. If i wanna fuck around w stereotypes related#to my brain bs i damn well will. and i will write it in a way that's funny to us as a whole#bc at the end of the day no one aside us and like 2 friends will read totchb tbh#I think all this would happen After Allan gets yote tho#thus meaning we still need a motive for the murder.#amd other things ofc. like i said it's all small ideas n tidbits I'm brainstorming here#so in short:#Nestle does a Violence. Allan Dies. Angels get a Notif™ thts like#'hey this guy needs guardian angels 2 keep him from being more damned. y'all r in charge.'#the angels have 2 figure out how 2 work together to keep this one guy alive#unrelated I'm feeling deja vu shit rn. the fuck.#anyways meanwhile Nestle's like 'well this is weird. go off tho.#Uhhhh anyways my life is in shambles suddenly I'm gonna go swing my bat at things bc of it. ciao.'#will also probably Indeed give him (and others in the story.) My Symptoms of Unreality Brain Disorder#Hmmmb and actually thinking abt it more. He has friends outside of Allan#(in theory. i haven't Put Characterization into any of em yet but Eventually i will)#what if They egged him on and pushed him over the edge to kill Allan..... Hmmmmb 🤔🤔🤔 perhaps.#i am falling down the characterization brainstorming rabbit hole I'm gonna stop now ajdjsjdj#ask to tag#totchb
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Unkind and controversial opinion but if christans were the minority that they think they are and we're as "persecuted" as they think they are the world and a lot more people would be safer and happier and the world would be better.
#I've been in the church my whole life my social life was just church i lived in breathed church#they beat it into the kids brains into thinking they're gonna be persecuted we get told all the time#we're told young that someone is going to line up all the christans and tell them to stand forward and shoot them#i remember one kid proudly saying hed let a man murder his little sister over denying christ#i also remember one time#the pastor going up and asking the whole church to raise theyre hands off they've ever been persecuted or discriminated for being Christian#everyone BUT me and like a two year old raised they're hands#they go on and on and on about how in the future we're going to have to go to church in secret#or how they'll make us burn our bibles or go to jail or some sjit#I've spent my whole childhood hearing these stories and when i was like ten-thirteen i believed a bunch of em not gonna lie#I've heard over and over and over again how Muslims are forcing the laws inthe middle east to match theyre relgion#and how they want everyone n the world to be Muslim#but funny how it's the racist shitstain christans who send missionaries everywhere and how they want everyone to be christan#how many songs lyrics go every knee shall bow every tongue confess youare the only one true god#it's fucking christans who froce they're beliefs and convictions on every one else#and they all have the biggest fucking victim complexs while they ruin everyone's lives#i remember being so horrified at the things the kids my age were saying they would do to prove they're loyalty to God#I'm sorry but my first instinct is to protect my younger sister if someone is telling me deny god or they'll shoot her then I'm denying god#and I'm not sorry if that damns me too hell forever either#i am such a ball of white hot rage i could probably keep a solar system n give some life around me#god im so full of anger right now#god i just wish people would be fixing decent and kind to each other but i guess that's too much to ask#ignore me in stupid I'll probably delete this just been a bad? day week month year? and bitch got anger issues and relgion issues#just issues in general
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You know, capitalism is another one of those words that sadly is like problematic in that it's functionally useless because people just toss it out and then everyone gets so hung up debating the meaning of the word capitalism that the whole point is lost
That's why I don't ever really use it. It doesn't really matter if it's capitalism or if it's cronyism or... whatever, I think it's bad when companies make record profits while prices go up up up
I think there's probably an issue and it probably needs to be solved (and I'm afraid you can't convince me less regulation is a magic bullet)
I like currency and exchanging currency because it seems like a good way of moving goods and labor around, but I also strongly support welfare and think that any group of more than 50 people is probably starting to get corrupt
Don't trust the government, but sure as hell don't trust corps...
I don't know, my original point is that sadly capitalism gets tossed around too much to mean anything anymore... but I just see too many argumentative people online so I'm tossing out my stances to avoid getting side tracked debating what I mean
What I really really mean is just fucking say what you're saying and don't bother saying capitalism cause you'll just make people argue and miss your point
#this is about me reblogging a post the mentions the word capitalism#and I sometimes do that and have people get in and argue about if something is or isn't capitalism#and it's like yeah mate and honestly I hear you; I'm not sure that it fully 100% fits here and if it does it's so broad it's meaningless#but like... read the bit before they said capitalism and have a think on that instead#like let's focus on the description of the situation and how we feel about that description more than a single definition#I honestly don't really care what things are called half as much as the actions being taken and how effective they're likely to be#don't really care if something's called hatemurderdeathism if it's making things better with no policies I hate#obviously there's some things where I'd be like 'hmm... let's not call it that; cause that implies some specific bad stuff'#but like broad strokes shit... capitalism socialism libertarian... what the fuck ever...#is there a strong social net while people are free to trade goods and services?#then I probably am mostly for this plan#fight about the name but leave me out of it#...that's another big part of why I don't call myself anything#takes too long trying to explain your definitions and get people to agree that it doesn't actually mean fascist murder#(cause whatever label you run under I bet I've seen someone call it a fascist murder)#nah; I'm not any this or that group... given up on that a long time ago#I'm just a stupid idiot with various ideas I'd like to talk with people to see how we can move the needle more in that direction#like the less people starving and being homeless direction#and the more worthwhile and productive work and less busy pointless work for megacorps direction#which I think means a shift to more small businesses... which is actually part of why I'm for a UBI#pretty sure I know at least one person on here with a business idea (and knowing them it's a good one)#but they just lack the financial stability to start the business#so I actually want a UBI cause I think it would be good for the economy#never gonna say I can't be stupid or wrong; but that is one of my motives#...whatever... none of this matters; really ought to hurry up and die but I procrastinate that as hard as everything else
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Well, either I left my bedroom door open when I left for work this morning, or someone has been in my room
#it's either the apartment owners snooping around after learning i have pet rats#or it's a murderer and they're gonna get me#today is sunday so. probably not the first one#and i haven't seen anyone in my apartment#so I'm gonna assume i just forgot to close my door#edit: ok i had dinner and I'm much less anxious now
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"Oh my god he’s dead- we killed a vigilante, OHMYGODOHMYGOD—" A hysterical voice screeched out, decidedly feminine and loud enough that the comn line picked it up.
"He broke in here for no reason first! We have probable cause as to why you brained him with our wok!" The second interjected, calmer than the first, but there was still a line of tension, like they were uncertain about what they were saying.
"Oh my god, oh god we’re literally so dead Batman’s literally going to murder me and you and us and—"
"We're already mostly dead, he can't kill us. Although I thought he had a no killing rule anyways, so maybe we’re safe? Ancients, that is a lot of blood. You think we should call an ambulance?" Static filtered through the comn line before stabilizing again and wow. The residents of the apartment were really just having a full conversation over an unconscious Nightwing- in earshot of a microphone recording every word- like this was a normal occurrence. Maybe it was a normal Friday night for them, Barbara couldn't exactly judge.
"I'm not calling an ambulance, they might arrest him. Hell, they're probably gonna arrest us! Danny, we're fucking unresgistered metas in Gotham, I’m a clone—"
"—Not metas and I won’t let anyone arrest you—"
"—It's the same thing to the government at the end of the day. You're right though. I think I hit him too hard, we're going to lose the deposit with the amount of blood getting everywhere. Head wounds bleed a lot right? Maybe he's not dead."
"He's not dead, we'd know if he was."
"Oh. Right. Man. That is a lot of blood, our IKEA rug is ruined. I liked that rug, you think we could ask him to buy a new one when he wakes up or is he on the normal vigilante salary of nothing?"
“Mhm. I'll go get the med kit, you handcuff him to the table so he doesn't jump us when he wakes up. Keep the mask on- I don’t want to piss off whatever buddies he’s got listening in.”
#fanfic#wip hell#danny fenton#danny phantom#dani phantom#nightwing#barbara gordon#dpxdc#dc x dp#dc comics
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"sure thing"
pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader
summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out?
content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare.
a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples
welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!
creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune
wc: 7.8k
“Who?!”
No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said.
“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.
“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind.
“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers.
You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.”
Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.”
You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path.
“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back.
“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket.
He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.”
Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?”
He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. ��Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”
You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t.
Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s.
“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?”
Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you.
“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying.
“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong.
~
It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches.
You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment.
You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.
It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you.
You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike.
You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now.
You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.
You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him.
The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.
The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside.
You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.
You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it.
You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet.
You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face.
“Hey, Dean,” you call.
He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease.
“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo.
Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night.
“Yeah. Long day at work.”
A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?”
You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you.
“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there.
Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance.
You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.”
His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?”
You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”
There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.”
You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life.
You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight.
The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.
You’re shocked when it’s the other way around.
“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder.
Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines.
You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs.
You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.”
His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool.
“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone.
He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride.
You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention.
“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish?
You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman.
You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself.
“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive.
His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?”
His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.”
Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours.
There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps.
“You’re a sorcerer,” he says.
You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet.
You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.”
A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?”
You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?”
You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like.
He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then…
“So, what’s your technique”
You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual.
“Bet I could find out.”
That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.”
He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…”
You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.”
You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks.
“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job…
You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.”
His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?”
Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth.
“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing.
You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?”
Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal.
“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.
He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.”
The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to.
When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”
You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit.
Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now.
He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.
He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone.
You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid.
You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.
“That was Versace,” he whines.
You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle.
“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end.
His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans.
He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever.
A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.
Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles.
You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to.
You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs.
Now. Now, while he’s not looking.
You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now.
You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please…
You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land.
Fuck.
He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework.
“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly.
This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight.
You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it.
You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better.
He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?”
You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over.
You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.”
He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls.
His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.”
You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see.
“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs.
Your lips part. “You knew?”
That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?”
Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him.
But you have one thing on him.
“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”
There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.”
You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.”
His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.”
You freeze. He notices.
He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?”
Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–”
He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation.
“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.”
Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo.
“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?”
Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced.
His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display.
“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin.
You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.
His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes.
“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?”
You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree.
“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…”
He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides.
“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone.
There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again.
“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.”
He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.”
You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes.
He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased.
He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.
Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.
His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.
“I think you like this, gorgeous.”
Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.”
He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”
He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue.
You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right.
Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you.
“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.
“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault.
“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.
God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes.
You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.
Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.
It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away.
He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?”
Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you
You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone.
“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.
A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.
“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick.
“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole.
He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out.
“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.”
He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages.
You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.
“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.”
You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut.
Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.”
You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.
A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”
His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you.
A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth.
“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him.
He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.”
His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same.
“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.
“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.
You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant.
You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs.
You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind.
“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”
You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”
His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be.
You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you.
“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death.
“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest.
He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?”
You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.”
He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?”
You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe.
You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”
You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.”
His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?”
You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.
There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been.
“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free.
“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position.
He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”
You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind.
“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you.
He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.”
There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?”
He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”
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AITA for coming out at my sister's wedding?
I (32M) recently realized I'm bisexual and I have my first bf (45M), he's a rescue helicopter pilot (this will be relevant later). I'm out to my sister (41F) and my coworkers, including her husband, who I have worked with for years, but not to my parents or most of the other guests. Everyone has joked that I'm a little too close to my best friend (32M), and we might as well get married, but he's straight and has a gf. They're not relevant to this story, but to give context to how much my sexuality probably shouldn't be a surprise, even if it took me by surprise.
I told my sister and her husband I was bringing a plus one, and they both knew my bf, they were supportive of it because he makes me really happy.
Everything kind of started at the bachelor party. It was just me, my brother-in-law, and my best friend, and we did the usual stuff. We stayed a night in a hotel, went out to get drunk, sang some karaoke at our usual spot. It should have been a super chill night. Until my best friend and I lost the groom??? But it way more stressful than The Hangover makes it look.
He'd been taken by these guys who tried to kill him (no, I don't know why) and we didn't realize he was missing until less than an hour before the wedding. My mom kind of threw a fit about us being late, and then blamed me for losing the groom, which is kind of a normal reaction from her. My dad didn't yell as much but again, this is a normal reaction, I'm kind of the disappointment child. Basically, we had to find my brother-in-law because he still needed to marry my sister.
Before anyone worries: they did get married. He's fine. The hospital says they're discharging him tomorrow to go home. They're gonna reschedule their honeymoon so he's well enough to enjoy it.
Long story short, it turned into a rescue mission, and driving would have taken too long, and my best friend suggested we ask my bf to borrow his helicopter again (long story, but we had to borrow him for something a few months ago, it's how we met!) so I asked him for the favor. My mom asked who he was, since my best friend just used his name, and I told her he's my boyfriend, and she freaked out about it.
When we go to the hospital with my brother-in-law, my parents both yelled at and scolded me for taking attention away from the biggest day of my sister's life by pulling some "stunt" with my bf (to SAVE my brother-in-law from being violently murdered), and I think my dad somehow grounded me?
AITA?
#evan buckley#tommy kinard#kinkley#bucktommy#maddie buckley#chimney han#madney#margaret buckley#phillip buckley#buckley fam#eddie diaz#911#911 spoilers#911 spec#911 spec fic#911 on abc#911 fic#911 fanfic#alex writes things#1k
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Hiiii!!! See your doing writing requests for Hazbin, Its my hyperfixation so I am in need of more content 👀 so I'd like to request maybe Vox general or NSFW headcanon ( either one is good lol-) with a afab reader maybe? This is my first time requesting something like this so sorry if I'm a little nervous or bad at requesting. I think this is how people are supposed to request? XD
General Dating Headcanons | Vox
a/n: You're totally alright dear! You said everything just fine! As I've stated before, I got early access to the first two episodes, and it's been so interesting to analyze vox's character! I hope I can do him justice!! He's starting to grow on me now. I'm gonna stick with a gn!reader just because these are general headcanons and I want them to be suited for anyone!
fandom: Hazbin Hotel
wordcount: 1299
cw: SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL, swearing, vulgar content, stalking, death and mentions of death/murder., toxic/absuive relationships.
(PLATONIC):
Vox’s got eyes EVERYWHERE in hell. There is no escaping his line of sight unless you go completely off the grid. Which is pretty difficult to do when the entirety of pentagram city is covered head to toe in VoxTech.
However, if you don't pose a threat to him, he really doesn't give a shit about you otherwise, and won’t pay that much attention to your life.
When you first fell into hell, you were mostly confused as to how you wound up here in the first place. That quickly subsided into fear as you noticed the large variety of demons and sinners casually walking down the sidewalk like it was an average tuesday.
You’ll never forget the sight of seeing a demon gnaw off the arm of another and swallow it whole, like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
You wander aimlessly down the streets, keeping to yourself and being very cautious of those around you. Your clothes were in tatters, and you didn't have any form of money whatsoever, what were you to do??
You had two options: Somehow find a job in this new horrific realm, or, die.
You didn't care too much for the latter.
This is how you stumble across one of the largest studios/clubs in hell, owned by probably the most feared overlords in pentagram city. The V’s.
You get hired to be nothing more than a waiter/waitress, to serve the patrons of the club, mostly serving them their drinks.
You weren't too fond of the work uniform either. It left nothing to the imagination, and exposed alot of skin, far too much to your liking. The job actually paid somewhat decently though and it was enough to be able to sustain a living. You were quick to rent out the nearest apartment.
One day, while you’re out on the main floor, making your rounds, your eyes briefly lock with the TV demon across a sea of sinners. Call it cheesy, but it was almost like a spark went off the moment he laid eyes on you. Which is something that doesn't happen often with the tech-savvy overlord. Who were you??
He lazily beckons you over with a claw, to which you obediently follow, although it doesn't hide the sheer nervousness written all over your face, He gives you his drink order in that sultry, velvet voice of his, eyeing you up. You gulp slightly and are quick to bring him his order. He thought you were so cute trembling for him.
He begins to stalk observe you closer after that. If you have any electronic devices he’ll watch you through your screens, trying to get a glimpse into what your life was like outside of work. The things you enjoyed doing in your free time, favorite shows, foods etc.
He def goes through your search history.
He would start showing up more in the sections you worked at, oftentimes minding his business, but occasionally striking up a conversation with you.
You did have to admit he was quite the charmer, his smooth voice was hypnotic to you.
OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. If he notices some creep won't leave you alone while you're working, he’ll take care of them personally, it’s never a pretty sight afterwards. He cant have anyone taking what's his.
You're oblivious to his stalking and possessiveness, you don't think much of it, maybe that's because he puts on a friendly face when you’re around him.
But after some time of getting to know you, He’s the one that eventually asks you out on a “date”. You’re skeptical at first, but decide to accept his offer. And also partially because you were afraid of what would happen if you said no.
(ROMANTIC):
Ngl it’s kind of a situationship in the beginning.
Vox is a busy man, it’s constant work maintaining the studios (especially valentinos temper) and managing the entirety of hell's technology. So, he may ghost you at first.
That being said, He will still keep an eye on you. He often watches through your phone while you sleep, just to make sure you’re safe. Hell is a dangerous place after all.
Speaking of, you’re now under the protection of the V’s, so that’s a plus! You never have to worry about another demon laying a finger on you. They usually never get close enough to anyways.
He very easily gets jealous. He won't show it on the outside because he has an image to uphold, but you can tell every time from that crazed look in his eyes.
Vox is a possessive lover; he wants to keep you all to himself. If he could, he’d keep you locked up by his side all day.
CONTROLLING. He HAS to know where you’re at, at all times, and who you’re going to be with (lest you face one of his tantrums). Also dictates what you wear, He likes to dress you up to his liking, like you’re his own personal doll.
Insecure much?
Say goodbye to privacy btw. He constantly has you in the back of his mind and a watchful eye on you. It can be kind of suffocating at times. The two of you have gotten into a few arguments because of this.
Valentino gets jealous of you too. How dare you take his boy-toy away from him? He’s often giving you the stink eye and will threaten you behind vox’s back. You’re too scared to tell Vox, because you don't want to face Val’s wrath.
You know briefly of his and Val’s “relationship” it all had seemed very one-sided and completely unhealthy.
You're often having to calm Vox down. The man has a very short temper and is easily provoked.
Imagine you pressing little kisses to his screen after he found out about Alastor’s return. He remains stoic, but secretly enjoys your affection.
Some of the pet names he loves to call you include; Doll, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart, Babe.
Pretty old-fashioned ik, but he's a classy man alright?
He tends to be pretty touchy, always having a clawed hand on the small of your back, or an arm wrapped around your waist. It’s more of a possessive trait of his, to keep what's his close.
He loves having you sprawled on his lap while he’s in his screen room, you stay nuzzled into his side, often taking naps while he does broadcasts.
He TOTALLY spoils you btw. He’s one of the most powerful overlords in hell, ofc he has the money to show it. Whatever dingy apartment you had before, forget about it bc this man has you living in a penthouse suite in one of the most expensive apartment buildings. He sees you looking at something in a store or online?? Boom, it’s yours now.
He loves buying you clothes, as I’ve said before, you're his “doll” and he loves playing dress up with you.
And if you buy him something?? He’s taken by surprise at first, he’s never really been on the receiving end of that affection, so whatever it is you give him he’ll cherish it.
If you ever have someone bothering you, or want to get rid of, you just say the word babe. He’ll be feeding them to his sharks >:)
The man is emotionally constipated, ok?? All he’s ever known from relationships is what he shared with Val (and trust me that was a train wreck). He’s rough around the edges, short-tempered and isn't always easy to get along with, and he’s incredibly possessive which can be suffocating to deal with at times. This probably stems from him not wanting to actually be alone, He doesn't want you to slip out of his grasp, so he keeps a tight leash on you. But underneath all these flaws, he really does love you and care about you. At the end of the day, He just wants someone that will stay.
#hazbinhotel#hazbinhotelxreader#xreader#gender neutral reader#vox x reader#vox#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin x reader#headcanons#dating headcanons#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin
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𑄽୧ glory hole with eren & jean𔓘 ᰍ
kinktober day 31: who's pussy is this!!!
✿ eren yeager x reader x jean kirstein
✿ warnings: sex clubs, p in v, glory hole, eren & jean treat u like a pocket pussy
The music in the club is loud, and you have to talk loudly to even hear one another. Eren and Jean laugh in their booth, watching a new dancer struggle on the stage.
She's cute, her small body moving in adorable ways, but they both know she's inexperienced. They have seen all of the good dancers in this club, bending their bodies in a way they didn't think was possible.
"What are my regulars doing here?" a familiar voice interrupts their entertainment. They notice Connie, the owner, standing by their boot with a sly smile. They both fist-bump him, just like they used to do in high school. Connie has always wanted to own a club, and he knew that once he had it, his friends would be coming in every week.
"We installed something new last week," Connie tells both of the men. Jean's eyebrows shoot up while Eren asks Connie what's the new thing. Their friend just smiles, telling them to go look into the basement.
"No way, man. I don't wanna get murdered." Jean huffs, he's scared of the basement. Connie once took him in, and it was the scariest experience in his life, talking about the amount of spider webs.
"If you go, you're not going to regret it," Connie says. Some girl comes up to him, wrapping herself around Connie's body. He smiles at her, kissing the top of her breast.
"I'm busy." he mouths at them before letting himself be taken to the side by the foreign girl.
"Man, I really wanna see the basement," Eren says, drowning the rest of his whiskey. Connie is a smart man when it comes to sex stuff, and he wants to know what he came up with. Maybe he installed some toys that fuck girls in front of people.
Jean groans in disapproval but decides to give it a shot. He quickly swallows his glass, the burning liquor always bringing tears to his eyes.
They both stand up, and Eren leads the way to the basement. It's a lot tidier than before, and there are even posters on the way down. There's only one door unlocked, probably the door the surprise is in.
They stare with wide eyes at a hole in the wall. There's a sign next to it saying 'fuck here'.
"He's not normal," Jean exclaims. They both know what it is. Connie installed a glory hole just for the two of them.
"Is anyone inside?" Eren calls out, making Jean punch him in the arm. Eren chuckles at his joke, it was a good one, wasn't it?
"You're a dumbass." Jean scolds him, coming closer to examine the hole.
The first thing he notices is a pussy peeking through the hole. It's a pretty pussy, all pink with a cute clit between juice pussy lips. It seems like it's already wet. He brushes his fingers against the folds, noting that it's already wet.
You jump when someone touches your pussy. You heard what seemed like two men come into the room. Connie promised that they were his friends and they needed some fun. You volunteer to work in his club, loving sex too much.
Another hand caresses your slit, this hand is rougher than the first one. The first one was rough but delicate at the same time. He was being gentle with you, but on the other hand, had one goal - to make you fall apart.
"Who's gonna fuck her first?" you hear one voice ask, you aren't sure about which hand belongs to that owner.
"You really wanna fuck her?" the other voice asks, the other person is more hesitant. Maybe he doesn't wanna fuck you, even though you want to be fucked.
"Yes, I do, jean. It's a free pussy." you hear one of them chuckle. You hear the guy unbuckle his belt, and you almost shake him in anticipation.
You're nervous, this is something you wanted for so long. sweat rises on your forehead as you finally see a dick poking through the hole. It's so close, but still so far.
His tip rubs against your opening, carefully pushing inside of you.
"Shit, she's too tight." Eren moans, sinking the rest of his cock inside of your pussy. He never had a pussy this tight in his entire life. You're sucking him right in. He feels bad that he can't see the owner of this delicious pussy. His arms brace on the wall separating you from him and Jean. Sweet little moans leave your mouth with every thrust he makes, making Eren laugh.
"She's a moaner." he mocks you, deepening his thrusts. He's pretty sure you can take a lot more than what he has to give you, but he's trying to be generous with you.
"Fuck, I won't be able to last long." he moans, speeding his thrusts so he can catch his orgasm. He doesn't care that you won't cum, you're only a hole for him.
You know he's about to cum, and you try to clench down on his cock even more. He has a nice cock, big enough to satisfy you. You yelp when his hot cum fills your body. You just wish you could see how much leaks out.
"You stretched her out too much for me." Jean rolls his eyes, showing Eren to the side so he can take his place. A slutty moan rips through him when he pushes himself all the way in. It's tight, unbelievably tight. You just took a big cock, but your pussy feels like a virgin's.
"She's good, isn't she?" Eren smirks, his cock hardening again as he watches his best friend pump his cock inside of you. Jean can only nod, your pussy left him speechless.
Connie is a dumbass, but something he has fucking good ideas.
Your body moves up and down with every stroke of his cock. This one is different, he's slower, but he makes sure to hit your insides as deep as possible. He's also a bit fatter than the first cock. You just wish it's the "gentle hands' s" dick.
You feel yourself being slowly tipped over the edge of your high. You cum around his cock, squeezing even tighter. It catches him off guard, and he can do nothing else then cum right inside of you.
"What was that?" he breathes as he tries to get over the orgasm he just had. Eren laughs next to him, "Seems like you made our fuck doll cum."
Both men dress themselves up again, fixing their appearance before going upstairs to the club.
Connie is already waiting for them with a girl wrapped around his body. He wears a cheeky smile.
"You look like you enjoyed it," he says, making you stand in front of him before wrapping his arms around your middle and putting his chin on your shoulder, "Y/n here sure had a lot of fun with you too."
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Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.
(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)
"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"
"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.
"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.
"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.
". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.
Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.
"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."
"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"
"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"
Kon . . . blinks.
"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"
"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."
"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"
"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?
"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."
"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.
Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.
Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .
Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?
Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.
Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.
It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.
But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?
Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.
Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.
Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.
. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.
Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.
Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.
Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.
"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.
"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"
She stares at him.
"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."
"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."
"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"
"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"
"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.
"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.
Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.
"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.
"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.
"Definitely not," Kara says.
"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.
"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."
"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.
"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"
"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.
Eh, whatever.
He calls Tim.
"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.
"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."
". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"
"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."
"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."
"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?
Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.
. . . then again, Bernard did ask.
"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"
"Yes," Bernard says.
"Bernard," Tim says.
"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.
"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.
"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"
"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"
"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"
"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."
". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."
"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."
"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.
"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."
"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.
"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."
"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."
"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."
". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."
"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."
"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"
"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."
"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.
"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.
"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."
"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.
"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.
"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.
"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."
"Kon!" Kara chokes.
"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"
"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.
"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."
"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"
"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."
"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.
"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."
"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.
"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.
"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."
"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.
"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.
Spoilsport.
"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.
"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."
"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.
"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."
"How is that obvious?" Tim says.
"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.
"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"
"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.
"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.
"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."
"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."
"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.
"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."
"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.
". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.
"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."
"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.
"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.
"You kinda implied–"
"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.
So it definitely happened to her, yeah.
"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"
"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.
"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.
"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.
"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."
"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."
"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"
"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.
"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"
"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.
"I'm just asking," he huffs.
"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."
"Right?" Kon says.
"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."
"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"
". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."
"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.
"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.
"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"
"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.
"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."
"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.
"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."
". . . um," Bernard says.
"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."
"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."
"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.
"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"
"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"
"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.
"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."
"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"
"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.
"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"
"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."
"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"
"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."
"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.
"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.
"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.
"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.
"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."
"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"
". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.
Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".
"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."
He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.
"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."
"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.
Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?
Definitely best.
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Okay okay, I have another idea-
Yandere dad Nanami x Nanami reader
I've made yall see the menace Fushiguro reader who we all love and adore, but let's talk about Nanami's daughter who is an absolute angel and polar opposite to Fushiguro reader.
Child reader is just the most well behaved kid, listens to her father always, and since Nanami is raising her, she's also going to be very good in her studies because papa Nanami is a very good teacher. I mean, reader is definitely on top of her class and has a whole wall dedicated to her awards and medals. She just has to show off her math skills when she plays cafe (because obv she's gonna be a baker who bakes fresh bread daily for Nanami to buy and make sandwiches) and uses Monopoly money.
And when I say reader is polite, that is the understatement of the history. She just cannot bear to offend anyone! She has to put "-san" with everyone's name and has to address them correctly. "Yuji-san! Megumi-San!" And "pervert-San!" Which is Gojo, because of course Nanami has told her to beware of him and only address him as "pervert-san".
"But my name's Gojo!" He tells you, but you're so distressed because dad told you to call the white haired man wearing a blindfold/glasses "pervert-san" and it'd be rude to address him as anything else!
And Nanami adores his kid so much. She's such a perfect child, never breaks rules (don't talk to strangers or Pervert san.) and is such a goody-goody. He is a present father, he makes time for you. The Jujutsu sorcerers can wait, the world can be saved by someone else, but he needs to attend your school play at all costs. And even when hes not around for the day, he has raised you to be a very responsible child- like you even go get the groceries on your own when dad is late! (Like that Japanese show in which they send kids to shop on their own)
But of course, there are times when he needs to be away for longer periods, so he needs to hire a babysitter. His top choices: Shoko(although hes a little hesitant since you have a morbid curiosity learning and Shoko would happily let you accompany her to the morgue), Yuta, Maki, Megumi + Yuji + Nobara.
Who is NEVER allowed to babysit you? Gojo.
Gojo babysits anyway. (He fr steals you from Megumi trio)
And Nanami just comes home to Gojo and reader eating takeout and he's just like "Y/n, how could you let Pervert san in your home and eat with him?" And reader's just on the brink of tears and is trying to defend herself "b-but you said to be polite to guests! And Pervert-san bought food for me. Wouldn't it be rude to not share it with him?" *reader's teary eyes* and then Gojo is like "you'd rather let your child starve? Can't you see how tiny she already is?!" *Gojo's teary eyes* and Nanami pops a vein "it's not cute when you do it!"And then kicks Gojo out of the house.
Even though reader can dress herself up appropriately, she still has to have her hair done by Nanami, no matter what age. At some point, reader probably realises that it's something Nanami needs more than she does. It's a tradition, you think, but it's actually a coping mechanism for Nanami to deal with the fact that you're "growing up" and don't ask him to watch cartoons with you or read you bedtime stories anymore🥺
And Sukuna??? He takes one look at you and he's already decided he's gonna be mean to you, but then the more time you spend with him and Yuji, the more he realises.... its just not worth being mean to the only person who is so sweet to him and actually greets and talks to him like he's an individual person and not just a parasite inside Yuji's skin. Like reader just goes "Sukuna-san! I'm painting Yuji-san's nails but he can't pick a color. Will you help?" And he's like "Alright, fuck it I'm taking this brat with me when I comit mass murder. She's safe."
I feel like Nanami will allow reader to have a fairly normal childhood, so he keeps his yandere tendencies at a bay. It's when you start growing up and as he says "the others try to taint you with momentary pleasures" that his yandereness begins to show. Honestly, it's just more of his protective tendencies coming to light than anything else. He thinks people don't have your best interests in and sometimes he's right, but how else will you learn if you don't experience it?
Also, if you do end up having cursed energy and the ability to see curses, I think that's when Nanami starts spiralling down. He does not want you to become a Jujutsu sorcerer, he wants you far far away from the Jujutsu world completely. He can't- he can't allow what happened to Haibrara happen to you. He can't allow your innocence and naivety to be tainted by the horrendous world of curses. He'd rather risk you hating him forever as he locks you away than allow you to put your life at risk for others.
You are his priority. Your safety is his priority. You'll understand in due time why he did what he did, so while his heart does break hearing you cry and beg to be let out of your room, he doesn't regret putting you in there one bit.
Nanami sighs as he continues prepping your dinner. Guess he'll have to add some crushed sleeping pills so that you don't get sick from crying your bodyweight out (or more like he can't bear to see you in such a pitiful state.)
God save the poor souls who do end up kidnapping you.
#yandere nanami#yandere nanami kento#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader
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