#IT FEELS LIKE I JUST WROTE PART ONE AND NOW WE ARE AT THE END???? I CANNOT
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𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕? | 𝕔.𝕤.
note: hey guys :) this should be short and sweet but i hope you like it anyways. i love soft chris! also last pic is me on my period and that’s why i wrote this + i hate rachel
warnings: none i think just me hating my coworker
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long as you dreaming bout me ain’t no problem,
i don’t got nobody, just with you right now,
11:47 pm
my phone buzzes twice, causing it to brightly light up in its spot right by my face.
“ughh, leave me alone!” i groan, tossing it to chris’ side of the bed.
“what is it baby?” chris walks into our room, shutting the door quietly and placing a water bottle on my nightstand. he sits beside me and rubs my back slowly.
“rachel from work wants me to cover her shift tomorrow. something about ACT testing.”
he raises an eyebrow at me. “isn’t that something you would request the day off for? y’know like, in advance?”
“that’s what i said.” i roll my eyes before proceeding.
“i already told her no, but she keeps insisting because i’m the only person off tomorrow.”
chris leans over to grab my phone, unlocking it and putting it on do not disturb.
“it’s about time you have a day off. they’ve been putting you on the schedule every day now.” he sighs, combing his fingers through my hair.
“i know. and today was shit.” i huff out.
“do you wanna talk about it?” chris watches me intently.
“i just don’t wanna complain too much.”
“baby, i looove hearing you complain. it’s like, my favorite part of every day.” he taunts.
“only if you insist,” i sit up and smile cheekily at him.
he repositions himself so he sits across from me, pulling his knees up under his chin.
“talk to me sweetheart,” he grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles.
“so i clock in, and right away i’m being told to get on the espresso machine. my manager was supposed to work alongside me but she kept getting pulled away for manager things so i was doing both positions at our station, which is fine, but during a rush it can be a lot.” i start to ramble.
“and the second she gets back, i get the feeling that i started my period! and i completely forgot about it because i’ve been so busy, so i didn’t have any tampons on me,” i continue.
chris drops my hand and reaches into his hoodie pocket, revealing a bottle of pamprin.
“i actually got the notification earlier from your period app, so i brought these upstairs.” he smiles to himself, opening the bottle and shaking a couple tablets out on my palm.
“chris, thank you!” i exclaim, popping them in my mouth and taking a sip of the water.
“of course babe, i got you.” he pokes my stomach.
“so what else happened?” he asks me.
“well after that it slowed down a little. but the whole coffee shop was a mess after the rush and since we were closing, we had to deep clean everything. i’m just so sore and i want to die,”
“i get it, babe. did you shower yet?”
“the second i got home. fucking rachel spilled a pitcher of cold brew on my thigh and i was so sticky.”
he nods with a slight smile, moving his body up against the headboard.
he laid back in his spot and motioned me over to lay on his chest.
“fucking rachel.” he tsks while rubbing my back.
“why do you hate her so much anyways?” he drops his head to look at me.
“well, do you remember that one day you came through the drive through right before my shift ended? you were picking me up and decided to get a drink.”
he thinks for a moment, “mhm?”
“well she was working the window, and she came to tell us all there was a hot guy outside. basically telling the girls to come look,”
“yeah i remember a few girls came by, pretending to stock cups or something. that’s rachel?”
my lips drew a tight line.
“remember how she had you pull into a parking spot, saying they’d bring the drink out to you?”
“mhm?” he asks again.
“well, she decided to write her number down on a slip of paper and hoped to give it to you on her way out, along with your coffee. i left before her, so while i was getting settled in the car, she was walking up to you trying to rizz you up.”
his mouth forms an ‘o’.
“what a sneaky bitch!” he chuckles.
i roll my eyes at him.
“chris it’s not funny. my coworker wants to fuck you.”
“well it’s never gonna happen, sweetheart. she’s insane if she thinks that.”
i mess with the drawstring on his hoodie, picking at the plastic end.
“it’s just frustrating. she’s been doing little things to mess with me, since the moment she saw us together in your car. like today with the cold brew, that was fully on purpose.”
he sighs, patting the back of my head. “why don’t you just quit? you don’t need to work.”
“chris, you can’t pay for everything,” i sigh, dropping the thin rope.
“i actually can. besides, i’d much rather have you here at home, happy and free to do what you want with all that extra time.”
i smile up at him, lightly running my nails across his stubble.
“you’re too sweet to me, but i can’t let you financially support me chris. we aren’t even married.”
this time, he rolls his eyes at me.
“so what? we already live together. you’re my shawty or whatever the kids say,” he laughs, picking up a strand of my hair, tickling my nose with the end.
“the kids in 2009, and don’t say that ever again, chris.” i snort.
“no but seriously. i know how much you hate this job. and fucking rachel.” he smirks.
“i’ll apply to a few different places in the morning. and we’ll go from there.”
“no, y/n.” he grabs my hand, holding it between us.
“it’s making you miserable, you can quit now and i’ll hold things down until you find something else.”
“chris, i already told you, it’s not fair to you. you’re not my husband, and you don’t need to provide for me.”
he looks to the ceiling for a moment, pondering.
chris faces me again, grabbing hold of my cheeks. “wanna get married?”
“married? chris i-i’d marry you in an instant but not for this reason. you can’t be-“
he pulls away from me and leans over his side of the bed, digging through his nightstand.
turning to face me, he opens his fist to reveal a ring.
what the hell? i sit up quickly.
“y/n.” he holds the ring up.
“i’ve been wanting to do this for a while. i know my timing may not be ideal, but i hate the fact that i’m not your husband, and i hate the fact that you won’t let me take care of you. married or not, i’m always going to be here to take care of you, to help you, to love on you, especially when you’re having a day like today.” chris takes my hands in his, holding the ring on his fingertip.
“..but i’d really rather be married to you and do all those things.”
“chris, you don’t mean..” i begin.
“don’t act all surprised now.” he wiggles his eyebrows.
“you know i love you, we’ve talked about getting married someday. i think we should just do it sooner than later.”
“chris, i don’t know what to say. i want to marry you, i just don’t think it should be because i hate my job.”
“it’s not because of that. i’ve been planning this, if i wasn’t then there wouldn’t be a ring here. what do you think?”
“holy fuck, chris.” i take his hand and open it, placing my left one in his palm.
“let’s get married.” i smile up at him.
he slides the ring on and tackles me into a hug, causing us both to fall backwards on the bed.
“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you!” he chants while peppering kisses all over my face.
short, sweet kisses turn into a long, heated make out that gets interrupted by three dings from my phone.
“did you not see me turn your phone on do not disturb?” chris huffs out.
“i swear to god if it’s rachel..” i pause, leaning over to pick up my phone.
“she did that ‘notify anyway’ thing. she’s insisting i cover for her tomorrow.”
my phone starts to buzz in my hand, causing chris’s head to snap in its direction.
“absolutely not!” he grabs the phone and clicks it off, throwing it on the other side of the bed.
“fucking rachel. someone needs to punch her in her throat.” he says jokingly.
“h-hello?” a small voice escapes my phone.
“shit, chris i thought you declined the call!” i lunge for the device, end the call and turn the phone off.
“do you think she heard me?” he asks, wide eyed, with a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.
“i don’t care, i’m quitting that job anyways. i have a husband now.’ i beam at him, waving my hand in his face.
“hell yeah you do!” he places his hands on my waist and brings me back down to him.
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hope u liked it 🤍 also this is dedicated to rachel i hate u please quit so i don’t have to! just kidding that’s mean! (i’m not)
comment if u hate rachel too
tags!
@imwetforyourmom @anonymouslyachrisgirl @junnniiieee07 @imtalkinnonsense @wh0resstuff
if you wanna be added comment here!
#Spotify#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fanfic#nick sturniolo fanfic#fanfic#soft chris
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(Disclaimer: i am ignoring every part i found stupid or unnecessary. Also i have a picture limit 😔)
Duke obviously met Batman/Wayne first but I’m skipping that. So he met Alfred secondly, in an uncharacteristic particular way.
(As much as I’m confused as to why Alfred, someone who’s against Bruce being Batman would employ child soldiers himself, and I believe in the self motivated movement of children, this is technically canon).
Alfred made a deal with Duke to do vigilantism and he’d help him do it (he also promised to help find his parents but Duke managed it himself). Alfred saved WAR from an Owl assassin with a tank. WAR was very distrusting of being lead by a mysterious man, so they eventually stopped listening after they stopped a school shooting Alfred ordered not to. Eventually Duke reveals he figured out Alfred’s identity, linking back to Duke’s puzzle solving trait.
Now the Robins:
Dick’s first interaction with Duke is him chastises children wearing his symbol. Dikc, speaking like the truly privileged man he is, acts like WAR is childish for trying to help out. Now, is WAR irresponsible? Yes. Solid advice although ominous. It’s just extremely impersonal to their feelings and lives and motivations.
Since the first interaction Duke ever has with the other Robins, it was Damian that had a very particular dynamic. Damian hated the We Are Robins movement.
If you don’t already know, Damian’s primary characterization is his insistence that he must inherit his honour. One of primary reasons why he takes up the Robin mantle is because he believes it is his right to do so.
Another interesting dynamic was Jason’s and Tim’s reaction to WAR
Notably, Jason Todd was fully on board for WAR on the basis of it’s outside influence from Batman. Understandable considering Jason’s tense relationship from Batman, and his anti-hero status. Tim Dranke on the otherhand, doesn’t have any say to WAR’s existance, as his opinion is interrupted by mentioning Dick’s plot. Or more likely, he doesn’t have an opinion to comment on, which is why he only mentions facts of like the location of where the Robins are.
Again, Jason Todd is extremely supportive of WAR and Damian is not (inbred is a bit much 💀). But Tim Drake still insists on trying to better understand the WAR children, taking a neutral and outsider understanding of the situation. Tim does not support WAR immediately. In fact, despite Tim’s insistence to understand WAR, he never gets the chance to.
This the last and only time Tim ever even tries talking with WAR, during a sneak in. Apparently he couldn’t have done this during his time training the Robins, but doing it while working is fine. His terrible conversation starter gets interrupted, and that is the last and only time Drake ever tries connecting with WAR. Apparently monitoring their private lives was not enough information, all he knows is somebody can play the piano. So much for trying. (Tom King wrote this part tho, so I feel he was supposed to be the one to make it happen, which didn’t happen, so Tom did a horrible job).
(I’m ignoring the scene where Tim downplays Izzy because Izzy was OOC).
Dami beat up the WAR members and agitated them into battle. Another show of Dami’s honor culture, but what was so fascinating was how Duke and the WARs fought back to prove themselves although not wishing to fight.
Skipping to when Dami and Duke get captured, they funnily enough get put into the same cage as Duke insults Dami in his mind while having a reasonable outer dialogue which i found fun.
Despite the weird court of owl part, Duke’s dialogue was a great way to finish off the tension between the official Robins and the WARs. Duke realizes how personal Robin is to Dami, how the symbol is not just about justice, but the ties to Batman it comes with. Y’know what Duke does? He cuts it off. He refuses to sacrifice himself to become a symbol.
They end off on good terms after that. With Dami reclaiming the title of Robin (and WAR’s disbandment), the conflict is gone. But I think it’s worth noting just how much Dami’s influence on Duke’s view of Robin might’ve been. Being Robin kinda sucks. So out of pity, Duke realizes Dami needs some loving support.
(Not a batfam kid but she was in here and I’m working by chronological order). Kate and Duke have a small interaction but they definitely met. Plus I think Duke was retconned to have known Luke through his dad and I think that’s a great addition.
Skips ahead where Jayson seems to train with Duke, their sass competitions tho 💀 Also, Jayson considers Duke as one of his brothers 😆
Classic Alfred advice talks
(You’ll notice that the writers decided to skip showing Duke’s development, this is why we need fanfiction thanks). Basically, Duke started hanging out with Cass for seemingly no reason, but they are a really fun dynamic. Plus Duke got to know Babs first through Cass. (I'm ignoring when Riko met Babs as batgirl and when Babs as batgirl defended WAR cheerfully).
Cass and Duke also train together (i really like the illustrator here aaaaaaaaa Duke and Cass are so cute here 🥺).
This storyline was bad but it really pushed Cass and Duke together as Cass was there when Duke got his new shadow powers and Duke was there when Shiva was being a jerk to Cass for some reason?? They coordinated attacks as a duo so that was nice. Plus, Duke thinks of Cass as his sis. (Is this specifically catered to me? Yeah, yeah…. I’m tots falling for the putting the minorities together thingy like a sucker, but themmmmmmmm!!! 🥹)
Duke and Kate actually teamed up in action once (offhandedly 😔) so that’s neat.
(Hold on I reached my picture limit but there’s a part 2)
#Duke thomas#we are robin#batfam#dick grayson#Jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#barbara gordon#cassandra cain#cassandra wayne#kate kane#luke fox#alfred pennyworth#long post#canon#comic panels
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we will be everything we say - Chapter 6
masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 3.5k // updates Mondays (aest)
Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.
As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.
But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
a/n: TW for mentions of parental death and abusive behaviours. if you're unable to handle that right now and would like a chapter summary, head to AO3 and look at the chapter's end notes! please look after yourself.
Chapter 6: twenty-three and twenty-four
Tension lingered in the air like a heavy fog, accompanying the grey clouds overhead that helped set the incredibly morose atmosphere. It was fitting, considering what was happening today.
Feyre sat with her sisters, side by side, in the front row of the funeral home. It was a small, simple service - their father had never been a very outgoing man, and it had only gotten worse after their mother had died. Elain had been the one to handle all of the correspondence with the florist, a blend of tulips, carnations, and baby’s breath all stark white in large bunches over the casket. Elain barely looked like herself, with the long-sleeved black dress seeming to drain her of life so much so that she seemed to rival the lifeless body of their father in the coffin at the front of the room. It didn’t help that Elain probably took his passing the hardest. Nesta, on the other hand, looked like she was in her element. Cold, sharp, all angles and precision. Her outfit looked like she was ready to go to a board meeting or an interview, all practicality and projecting that strong visage she held so deeply on to. Both sisters knew there were a lot of complicated feelings towards their father that were simmering just barely underneath the surface of that tailored coat and her a-line skirt, but nobody dared speak it. They just wanted to get through today and put it behind them. The three of them could unpack their own baggage at a later date.
Today Feyre was nervous for a couple of reasons - she’d never been very good at public speaking, and yet she was the one who was giving the eulogy. She heard the funeral officiant say her name, rising from her seat and moving to the front of the room like a ghost of herself, hands shaking slightly. Her hands smoothed out her dress anxiously, fingers moving to fiddle with the oversized sleeves of her long cardigan before she gripped the cistern. Her eulogy was true, but simple - he was a caring husband, a father who loved his daughters, a man who never quite recovered from his demons. The details of what she wrote were merely a haze in her mind as she read it off of the paper she had prepared. But that wasn’t the main reason she was nervous.
What really made her nervous today was the pair of piercing violet eyes looking straight at her from the very back of the room, feeling as if they were piercing her right in the gut.
He had shown up. She had been the one to invite him, after all, but she’d be lying if she said a part of her hadn’t wanted him to come simply to avoid having to talk to him at all. How do you pick back up where you left off with your best friend when you hadn’t talked to them in two years?
She already had to pace the apartment for an hour or so as she tried to send the text to him in the first place to let him know, to get the wording and the tone right, to hope to every god known to man that he still had the same number. To hope that he would come at all. She kept it clinical, at the end of the day.
“Hi there, Rhysand. I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to let you know that my dad passed away a few days ago.
The funeral is next week to the day at 11:00am if you’d like to attend and pay your respects. Prythian Funeral Home.
I hope you’re well.”
It was anxiety-inducing enough to have sent the text in the first place that she hadn’t even bothered to see if Rhys had replied. Instead, Feyre threw herself into funeral preparations - inviting all of her and her sisters’ close friends who had known him and any of his previous business associates he had left. It didn’t fill the room, but it made it feel less pathetic than just the three of them, and that’s all that mattered to them.
The whole time Feyre was up there, it was a pointed effort not to meet Rhys’ eyes. If she did, she felt like she was going to break. So her eyes kept flickering around the room. From Cassian to Amren, from Vassa to Lucien, to anyone but him. Him in his immaculate dress shirt and perfectly tailored trousers, his artfully arranged raven-black hair and his hands adorned in a smattering of silver bands he fiddled with out of the corner of her eye.
The rest of the service after that was a blur. Most people had cleared out of the funeral home to head to Elain’s for the wake - she had tried to offer to cook for everyone, but Feyre and Nesta insisted on catering as Elain had already done so much, was always doing so much. She was already letting Feyre live with her for the time being and it made her feel awful asking for much else. Feyre opted to linger behind, talking to almost each and every person who had come. She gathered up the flowers, made sure that they knew exactly which plot to bury him in - right with their mother - and that there was nothing else to be tended to. Really, she was using it as an escape and a moment to breathe. A moment to delay the inevitable.
And yet, Rhys had always had impeccable timing for better or worse. Today was no different.
He caught her sitting outside on the concrete steps of the funeral home, gazing listlessly into the near-empty parking lot. She didn’t turn to meet his eyes, couldn’t bear it, but was so acutely aware as he sat down on the steps with her. Rhys pressed his side into the wall, Feyre pressing into the railing, a gap that lingered heavily between them. Two years of self-imposed exile that she couldn’t help but feel ashamed about, and this is what it amounted to - two people who knew each other so deeply pretending like they barely knew anything anymore on the steps in a town they’d both called home. She could hear Rhys inhale, ready to break the silence, but she raced to go first. She was the one who had pushed him out in the first place, it was only fair that she had to be the one to try and let him back in.
“Thanks for coming today. You didn’t have to.” Feyre’s eyes were trained firmly on her hands folded into her lap. She could hear his breath hitch slightly, whether it was in relief or confusion or something else, she couldn’t tell.
“Of course I had to. Even if he wasn’t always the most… present person. He was still like a father to me. Still let me in his home, eat his food, stay over. It wouldn’t be right to miss it.” Rhys’ eyes flicked up to Feyre’s face and she could feel them practically burning a hole in her temple, her cheek, her eyes, everywhere she knew he was observing. Trying to get a read on her, trying to ask without being demanding.
“That… means a lot, Rhys. I know it’s been a while.”
A dry laugh escaped him. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s an understatement. But I can’t blame you for it.”
Feyre’s heart twisted in guilt and hurt at that. She deserved it - while he had been the one to kiss her, she had been the one to force that distance no matter how much she just wanted her best friend back. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Rhys would have probably been in a similar way. A heavy sigh passed her lips, turning her head to finally face him properly after two long years apart. He was very much the same, yet different. The same slant of his jaw, the same expressions she had known since she was young. But he was slightly taller, hints of tattoos peeking out beneath the collar of his shirt, a mild weariness about him that wasn’t there before. Maybe it had been hidden by his confidence the last time she saw him. It didn’t matter now - all that mattered was that he had shown up.
“Yeah, well… You weren’t the only one that fucked up that day. Don’t shoulder all of that on your own. God knows we’ve all made enough mistakes over the course of our lives, can’t keep beating yourself up for every slight you’ve made.” Not that it was going to stop her from beating herself up about it, but Rhys didn’t need to hear that part.
“I don’t know, I feel like I fucked up pretty bad. Lost my best friend a couple of years ago because I wanted to make things easier for her. Read the room wrong and ended up hurting her instead, it’s probably one of the biggest regrets I’ve ever had.” He turned his head to meet her gaze, eyes full of hurt and regret, yet an ever-present hope lingered behind them regardless. Feyre struggled to keep looking at him without faltering from nerves.
“What a coincidence, I lost my best friend a couple of years ago, too,” Feyre said, a dry chuckle escaping her. “I thought I knew exactly how my life should go and that he was a little bit insane. Pressure from my fiance didn’t help, so I iced him out and now I’m basically at rock bottom. I miss him a lot, but I don’t know if I can get him back. I hurt him pretty badly.”
“Feyre, I-”
“Rhys, if you’re about to apologise, I don’t want you to because you shouldn’t have to. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to be friends or didn’t ever want to see me again after this-”
Before she could continue, Rhys’ hand darted out to grab a hold of both of her own, folded in her lap anxiously until he had bridged the gap between them.
“Feyre, I can’t imagine a world where we’re not in each other’s lives. Living through it was hell, and I’d rather die than experience that again.”
She could feel the dam of emotions she’d been holding inside of her heart begin to crack, tears welling up until they spilled over her cheeks and Rhysand was pulling her into his side, legs pressed together as they gave each other the first hug they’d shared in two whole years. Feyre’s arms squeezed around his waist like her life depended on it, his arms wrapped around hers like a comforting blanket. Like home.
“I missed you so fucking much, Rhys. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, if I’m not allowed to apologise right now, neither are you.” Amusement had snuck into Rhys’ voice, and despite her tears and sniffles she couldn’t help but laugh a little. As her head moved to his shoulder, he moved his own head to rest on hers. Relief and catharsis thrummed through her veins all the way through to her toes.
“God, we’re fucking idiots. I can’t believe we let this go on for so long.”
“Tell me about it. I have no fucking clue what you’ve even been up to for the past two years.”
Feyre broke from the hug, wiping at her eyes with a small frown on her face as she sat up. “Wait, not even from Mor or anybody else..?”
“Not a peep. You said you wanted space, so I tried to respect your privacy.”
She couldn’t help but wheeze dryly a little at that. “So you don’t know? NIce of you to be so chivalrous, but even I’m surprised this didn’t get back to you. Fucking hell, okay.”
Confusion contorted Rhys’s features. “Feyre, I can’t emphasise enough how much I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A tense moment of silence passed between them, Feyre taking a breath as she let the pause hang in the air for just a moment.
“...Tamlin and I split up. Probably about six months ago, now. Wasn’t exactly amicable to say the least.”
His hand came to rest on her shoulder softly. “Oh Feyre, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be sad about it. I know how much everyone else couldn’t stand him.”
“I mean… Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy. Run me through the past two years, tell me how this happened. We have a lot to catch up on anyway, right?”
“That's true. Were you after the full spiel or the summarised version?” She laughed slightly as she turned to him with a small smile. It was nice to be able to sit with him again, feeling at ease for the first time in a long while.
“Whatever you're willing to give me.”
“Well,” Feyre started dramatically, placing her hand over his on his knee. “About six months after we saw each other last, Tamlin and I ended up moving to Seattle so he could do… Business bullshit, I don't know. He very deliberately never involved me in the brewery stuff more than I needed to be, which was usually just as a pretty little toy. I mean, at the time I felt so special, y'know? All these trips, the move, the dresses. Really, it was the smaller things that got me - the food, the comfort. Things that I had to work for before. He told me so many wonderful things and that I was soooo perfect, so it was easy enough to fall into.
“It was kind of a whole ‘boiling a frog’ situation. He would make me feel so safe and loved before slowly coaxing me to do different stuff. Tamlin certainly didn't like me talking to you before all of this.”
“Of course, it's hard not to be intimidated by all this latent natural charm.” Rhys postured, fussing with his collar in a flair of dramatics that made the both of them giggle like they were back to being kids again.
“Of course! But, haha, he definitely wasn't enthused. So he let up for a bit after that. But soon it was getting me to dress up a little more each and every day, even when I was ducking out to get groceries or something. Phasing out things that we had in the pantry or the fridge - snacks would go missing, judging looks, shit like that. Then about a year ago we moved. It got worse after that.
“Literally the only people I knew after we moved were Tamlin and Lucien. Even Lucien didn't wanna be around him more than he had to by the end of things because it was getting unbearable. He could dress how he wanted, eat how he wanted, act how he wanted. He'd be perfectly content. But the minute I questioned things, it was like a fucking heel turn. Sometimes asking who he was on the phone with prompted him to start blaming all his problems on me. Telling me I was nothing but a piece of shit who made him feel depressed and awful. Every time I stepped out of line in his eyes he just got… angrier. Never hit me or anything, but fuck, I think he got close some days.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder tug her in close once more - the warm tears spilled reluctantly down her cheeks, though she'd be lying if she said she was surprised she was crying about it. The only other person who had heard about it until now was the therapist Lucien and her sisters had all pitched in to get her a few sessions with - she didn’t end up sticking with them, though. Not that Feyre hadn’t appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t feel quite ready. But with Rhys? She couldn’t help but spill her guts bare. She gently wiped at her eyes, taking a heavy breath before resuming.
“Anyways, uh… Finally got sick of it a little while after trying to cover up some of the mirrors in the house. I wasn’t painting or drawing anymore, he said that it was a dumb hobby and that it was beneath me. Didn’t have any hobbies anymore, really. No job, either. My entire wardrobe was full of these designer labels and uncomfortable dresses - piles of heels and bags and accessories. Gaudy, flashy jewelry as far as the eye could see. I was so gaunt, I didn’t have any life left in me. I dressed how he wanted, looked how he wanted, talked how he wanted, ate how he wanted. Thought how he wanted me to as well, that I wasn’t worth anything unless I was by his side,” She scoffed slightly, looking up at the sky a little as her head came to rest on Rhysand’s shoulder.
“But I had a kind of lucid moment where I was covering up those mirrors, not wanting to even be here anymore where I was just like, what am I even doing here? I was in such a gilded fucking cage and so sick of it. Tamlin was on one of his rare solo trips at the time so I just… left. Texted Lucien - he’d seen me deteriorating for a while and tried to get me to see things differently before, but it was hard when I was so isolated, y’know? He helped me get all my shit out. Left Tamlin with nothing but a note and that ugly fucking ring. Blocked him on everything. Let Nesta and Elain know, and the rest is history. Been living with Elain back in Prythian since, teaching nighttime painting classes and working as a cashier to try and save up enough money to move out.” Feyre sniffled a little before putting a big smile on her face and turning to Rhys, bringing her hands under her chin to frame it in an effort to lighten the heavy atmosphere. If she didn’t try to take it at least a little less seriously, then she was just going to get in her head about the whole situation all over again, and that’s the last thing she wanted. Not when she had come so far already.
“Shit, Feyre… Can’t say I can beat that in terms of a one-eighty.” Rhys smiled at her slightly, a smidge of sadness mixed with a dose of pride in his stare. She let out a little laugh in turn.
“Hey, go big or go home, right?”
“You never did anything half-assed, that’s for sure.” Rhys took her hand resting upon his knee into both of his, squeezing gently. “I’m just glad you’re happier. That you’re safe. We have plenty of time for all of that ‘I told you so’ type of shit later.”
Feyre simply rolled her eyes, nudging his side with her own. “Thanks, Rhys. But what about you? I can’t just dump all of the ways my life temporarily turned into a tire fire only to not hear about you in return.”
Rhys shuffled a little uncomfortably beside her - he always had trouble when the focus shifted to him in anything more than a surface level, necessary capacity. It was his turn to sigh heavily, looking down at the ground. His head tilted to rest on top of hers, like not a second had passed between when they had been thick as thieves up to now.
“Well, it’s kind of weird. I mean, I’ve done a lot but at the same time not a lot has changed. I’m still close with everybody, especially Cass and Az, but I know that wouldn’t surprise anybody.”
Feyre chuckled slightly. “Well duh, you guys are brothers at this point. It’d be weirder if you weren’t still close.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the two paused for a moment. There was a sentence unspoken between them that they both knew deep in their bones, hanging in the air like a sword of Damocles - it wouldn’t have been as weird as when the two of them stopped talking. But neither of them needed to tell the other that. That fact was as true as the sky being blue or the grass being green. Rhys broke the tension first, not wanting to linger on it any longer than the two of them had to.
“I ended up leaving Prythian about a year ago, though. Dad had died - he hadn’t been in good health for a while, so nobody was surprised. I finally fully inherited the business instead of just being a figurehead beneath him, but I never really had any interest in it. I did well in my business degree but it just… never quite clicked with me the way I think he hoped it would. It wasn’t exactly a huge emotional loss to me when he went. Ended up selling the whole thing and moving to New York, actually.”
“Makes sense - you always struck me as a city guy.”
“What can I say? I have very particular taste.” The two chuckled in tandem, the warmth of it rumbling through Feyre’s throat and chest.
“But anyway, I actually ended up putting my degree to use and started my own business. I picked up tailoring and design from Mom way back when and I always enjoyed it, so why not, right? It felt good - feels good - to still have that connection to her. Started out just selling stuff online before I moved into some actual brick and mortar stores. There’s not a lot, but they’re going well at least.”
Feyre sat up, surprise and delight written all over her face at the news. “Holy shit, that’s amazing Rhys! I’m so proud of you - ‘not much has changed’ my ass! You’re like a big business mogul now.”
Rhys raised his eyebrows at her. “Feyre, I’m literally just a small business owner.”
“Yeah, now, but you’ve always been ambitious. You’re gonna be some thriving CEO type in no time.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Archeron.” Rhys smirked, mussing up Feyre’s hair a little while taking care to make sure the silver rings he wore didn’t catch in the strands. She didn’t hesitate to mess his own hair up in return, mock offense spreading over his features before melting into a laugh.
“But seriously, I meant it when I said not much has changed, in a way. I live in a new place now and I’ve got a business going, but I still talk to the same people. I don’t go out much, I’m a pretty big homebody unless it’s for any of our inner circle. It all feels so… the same. But not, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” With that, Feyre pushed up and off of the stairs, brushing down the back of her dress and cardigan to neaten them up as she stood. She turned to Rhys, reaching a hand out to help him up. It was a handy excuse to touch him again anyway, to feel some of the closeness she had been missing for so long.
Sitting and talking with Rhys so casually felt like a puzzle piece she didn’t entirely realise had gone missing clicked back into place. Everything felt so right and comfortable - like her world had been spinning on a slightly wrong angle, only to be righted with a gentle touch again. He took the hand she offered as he stood up - not that he needed the help. Rhys looked down at her with something that Feyre couldn’t quite pick, something between reverence and relief. She would take either. It didn’t matter so long as they could be in each other’s lives again.
“C’mon, we should head to the wake. If we’re overly late, I think Nesta might lose it a little.” Feyre cocked her head in the direction of her car, a small black thing in the back corner of the parking lot.
“...As in, we go to the wake together?” He almost looked like a lost puppy as he posed the question. Feyre rolled her eyes with a little smile and dragged him by the arm towards her car.
“No shit. You’re my best friend, and I’ve missed you. I’m not gonna have you wasting money on an Uber when we could spend more time catching up on the way there. If I can’t spend my days beating myself up for shutting you out, then I can at least make the most of letting you back in.”
Rhys nodded almost dumbly as he climbed into the passenger seat, looking over at Feyre as the two buckled themselves into the car.
“...I’d really love that, Feyre. I’ve missed you too.”
The feeling that washed over Feyre’s bones was something that she didn’t think could ever be beat - that things would work out and be okay after all, in the end.
#feysand#rhysand x feyre archeron#fanfiction#rhysand#feyre archeron#acotar#acotar fanfiction#friends to lovers
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Of all the bullshit I never expected to be back on with the same intensity of October through December of 2000, Beetlejuice was not it. But I finally got to see the musical yesterday, and the part of me that has adored all 94 episodes of the animated series from the moment I started watching them on ABC Saturday mornings in 1989 just fucking flared—this fond, awful tightness in my chest. It’s the first TV show I ever imprinted on; it’s been with me since childhood. Surreal.
About 4 years into watching the cartoon, I finally saw the live-action movie that the cartoon was based on. I hated it, because it was so malevolent and empty compared to the incredible world-building characters in the animated series. Serious shout-outs to Stephen Ouimette and Alyson Court for all that stunning, hilarious, and often moving voicework.
Now, okay, I need to go back to 2000 again to make this all make sense. I’d watched the show from 1989 until whenever the 4th season ended. It wasn’t until I was in my first semester of college, newly transplanted to New England, that I found a couple folks within my program who had loved the show growing up, too. I ordered all of the episodes on VHS. It was difficult to track them all down in 2000, and it was expensive. But I pulled it off, and we had Friday night watch parties for weeks over the month of October. But that is not where this ends.
I was in the process of winding down the writing I’d been doing on Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow for the entirety of my senior year of high school. Suddenly, I’m in college and watching this fucking cartoon and thinking, there is so much heart in this. How the fuck is there so much heart. I haven’t seen two characters this wholesome codependent in, well, ever. I went looking for forums and mailing lists devoted to the cartoon. I found a mailing list. There were a handful of artists drawing amazing fancomics on there, and they were like, what do you do? Oh. I write. And they were like: do you understand how desperately some of us have wanted fic, but just can’t find it?
That is the wrong thing to say to me when I’m on a downward spiral of realizing I’m not going to escape a fandom without getting myself into a project so long that it’s all I’ll be doing for fucking months on end. If you’re one of the people who knew me back then, you know what I did for those four months in the fall/winter of 2000. I wrote a novel. Sure, I came close to failing a couple of classes, but it was the first time I understood exactly what I was capable of building as a fanwriter. Maybe even as a real writer.
“Time Will Tell” was hosted on a friend’s Angelfire site for a handful of years. People found it via LiveJournal, too, because I linked it there. I put it on AO3 somewhere circa 2012 and took it down again in 2017 because I didn’t feel there was enough interest in it, and also, my 19-year-old editorial foibles and typos were aspects I wanted to amend in it.
The musical took more inspiration from the cartoon than the film. I’m stunned and grateful for that. I found the “Time Will Tell” file buried pretty deep in my Gmail folders. I’ve been reading it since the drive home last night. I just can’t believe there’s now enough of a fandom for me to consider finally polishing it and getting it back online. It’s one of my two oldest surviving pieces of writing.
Anyway, sorry for the Gotham fic delays that I’d been trying to get a handle on. Now that the semester’s over, I feel that getting this thing I wrote twenty-three years ago back to the light of day is the best use of my time for a couple weeks.
If you’re one of the people who read “Time Will Tell” back in the day, thank you. I don’t know how many people out there still remember it beyond maybe ten or so friends I’m still in contact with all these years later. I’m sorry it disappeared for a while.
#beetlejuice#beetlejuice the musical#beetlejuice the animated series#lydia deetz can fuck right off for reminding me she was the reason i wrote first-person pov for the first time ever#and can take all the credit for making me feel less alone as a kid#maybe this is why ghosts never scare me; bj is such a delightful dumbass and set my expectations pretty high/low depending
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Thank you so much for tagging me, @nihil-ism 🖤
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
Currently 15.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
9,329 - you see, my works posted so far are either shorter one shots or ficlets/drabbles.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
The Silmarillion and adjacent works by Tolkien. :) And within this fandom it's almost exclusively about rather niche ships with Mairon. Let's see when/if I will write for other fandoms; I'd love to at some point.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Of Gods And Monsters
Sacrificial
Plaything
Sugar
Sacred
All of these are Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn. lmao
5. Do you respond to comments?
I will respond to every single (first) comment someone leaves on a fic of mine. I thorougly enjoy these little interactions and I want to show my appreciation to people who show me theirs.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
That must be my double drabble Plaything I guess. At least if we talk about the very moment ending the fic. Throwing up from negative emotions and alcohol alike seems pretty... angsty.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
That must be Of Being Born and Little Deaths. Everyone (well...) is having a good time and it literally ends with an orgasm.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
So far I haven't and I'm very grateful for that.
9. Do you write smut?
I love writing smut. And I love weaving character analyses/studies and some poetry into it.
10. Do you write crossovers?
I don't, personally not a fan of crossovers.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I haven't, but sharing headcanons and ideas with others has endlessly inspired many of my fics.
14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
Angbang (Melkor/Mairon). I love them, I will never be over them; they've been with me for ten years now, I could ramble on forever about how important this ship is to me and what it means to me. It's rather popular in fandom though and I feel like there's many great writers out there who have graced us with their brilliant work. That makes me feel like I don't necessarily need to... add to that somehow. I'd love to write (more) Angbang at some point but as far as writing goes my favorite ship is Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn (which many of you might have guessed at this point lol). It's rotten, it's biblical, it's a playground for all things terrible to me. And it's a rarepair (why??) and therefore (in my mind) lies like a bare field before me, ready to sow and play in. 🖤
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
No such thing. My WIP are my children and I will not abandon them. It might take many months but they will see the light of day.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Building atmosphere, pretty lines, poetry, in some parts characterization. (Very) short formats are my strength in general.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Not really able to write anything plot-driven, sometimes dialogue (though I might have started to improve a little), prioritizing pretty imagery and rhythm/sound over meaning/sense sometimes, having difficulties writing longer stuff.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Not really my thing; could get awkard quickly imo.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Visual Kei bands (Moi dix Mois) when I was 14.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Easily my little double drabble Reverence. It illustrates nicely what I talked about regarding my writing strengths for question 17 imo.
Tagging @lvsifer, @curufiin, @cilil, @saintstars, @gardensofthemoon, @elevenelvenswords , @crackinthecup , @swanhild , @a-world-of-whimsy-5 and @i-did-not-mean-to (no pressure ofc and sorry if I forgot anyone, in that case: that's just my forgetful brain at work)
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I’m not ready for Poyt to end😭😩
I’m ngl, I literally JUST finished typing this now and I started crying
#‘the end’ JAJSJSJAK#IT FEELS LIKE I JUST WROTE PART ONE AND NOW WE ARE AT THE END???? I CANNOT#I still need to edit the fuck out of it tho#add some things here and there and delete some things here and there#but still this was such an emotional moment#I’m actually embarassed like I literally burst into tears as I typed the end#oh my god#anon#poyt ask#poyt
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CW: mention of gun violence (in a nightmare. not IRL)
i know for a fact that my period makes me more apt to cry over things because i can have a vivid nightmare about getting randomly gunned down while waiting in line to pick up a pizza then wake up and not shed a tear but when i’m on my period i can have one (1) bad dream about my father yelling at me and i wake up and promptly begin full-on sobbing into my pillow
#cw gun mention#cw gun violence#cw nightmares#cw menstruation#cw periods#Seven.txt#Seven’s Public Diary#anyways i gave myself a headache from the crying so that’s cool#what’s ironic is that while i was laying there feeling all sad and pathetic i suddenly thought of the Reader x Moon oneshot i wrote#uhhh what was it called i can’t think straight rn#‘when i’ve got no one else’ or smthn like that#and i started crying even harder LMAO#alright it’s midnight-thirty i need to drink some water and go back to sleep#everything’s fine i’m just Stressed™️ right now and yesterday was a long and draining day#i’m almost grateful for my periods making me more emotional actually bc it’s like. easier to just cry and let it all out. y’know?#i used to despise that part of menstruation cause it made me feel weak but you know what? fuck it#maybe sometimes we need to let ourselves feel weak. maybe the inability to let ourselves be vulnerable is actually the thing to hate#being weak sometimes is important in a way#if you can’t let yourself break down sometimes you will like. explode or something. maybe not physically but. emotionally. mentally.#constantly being strong and/or dead inside will hurt you in the end. you gotta be soft and vulnerable every so often. me thinks#okay enough midnight thoughts GOODNIGHT my everything is sore and hurting so i am gonna stop talking now and go back to sleep
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me: i figured out how to open my play!
also me: researching brussels zuid/midi station intensively
#these things are important to me so if anyone can tell me which platform is the intercity direct to amsterdam thats lekker#i love it when things are annoyingly accurate and like yea#i would have just used antwerp BUT BUT BUT he's in wallonia theres a running thing with that#bc everyone is like 'oh how was flanders' and he's like... bro#its a running joke with the whole merel rooijakkers verse actually#so in that case brussels zuid/midi makes more sense even though i remember the antwerp platform#orginally the opening was about the value of goud but i think thats too cliche and i should just open the play with dirk-jan leaving#but yeah im the person that phonetically wrote out amsterdam metro announcements in dutch just for that sense of accuracy bc its the detail#and now i have a duty to include that scene#but also merel reveals some crucial information about herself in that scene so thats fun#the part where she explains that shes so connected to language she knows theres nothing that she can't express in that language#(yeah shes one on THOSE ppl)#and then at the end we find out that the breakup affects her so much she can't express how shes feeling#but the fact i phonetically transcribe this shit in dutch? like sat in my little amsterdam room and copied it down...#says a lot about how i care too much about certain details and not too much about others lol#anyways im in my hometown rn what else am i gonna do lmao i hate this place#dutch language found dead
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YONGGUK GAVE US A LIL DANCEY DANCE
#and I’m here for ittttttttttt#plus the song reaches the 3min mark#knew I could count on him#I truly did not know what to expect but he never lets me down#I’m honestly touched & teary eyed rn#it feels so vulnerable and raw and free#is it giving Napoleon dynamite? a lil bit but I mean that in the best of ways#from the beginning of the mv it’s so artsy as to be expected#we know yongguk loves him a chanty intro#bringing back edm (im not quite sure if it’s part of house or not but I don’t think it’s quite house??)#I honestly hadn’t realized how much I missed and needed edm back#and just wow I’m so happy for him#the concert is gonna be so fun#once again bap really is that group for me#I never knew what the end results of that one poll were (where he asked if he should be idol vs rapper/himself yongguk)#and me who doesn’t even use ig brazenly wrote both 😅#but like I can’t even tell which side of yongguk this album is giving#I have a couple interview vids from this cycle to go through but I think I read that he said this is even a new side for him too#or something like that idk I don’t remember#anyways given the song’s title it makes sense that he’s dancing aka moving#but like for YONGGUK to be dancing it feels so special#this is the man who learned to dance to prove naysayers wrong as an idol & now he’s dancing so freely#bap#byg#yongguk#bang yongguk#movimiento
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GOJO SATORU: HUNGRY FOR MORE
✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made. PART 2 | NSFW
contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p –> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3K words.
author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)
“looks like your little killing spree’s gonna have to come to an end,” you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and it’s almost unsettling—he looks a little too smug for a killer who’s just been caught.
“i don’t think so, sweetheart,” the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. he—satoru gojo—has been your target for a couple weeks, and now that you’ve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little… unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoru’s shown so far.
also, the criminals usually weren’t this good-looking.
you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coat’s pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesn’t make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.
“so, you’re one of those guys who don’t care what happens to them?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoru’s muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. “what’s with the smile?”
satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. “y’know, you’re rather brave, comin’ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.” he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. “okay, okay, relax. i’m not gonna do anything to your pretty face.”
“what did you do?” you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if he’s completely and utterly shocked that you’d ever accuse him of anything.
“besides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.”
“i’m not an idiot,” you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. “you’re not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.”
satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “fiesty, aren’t we? it’s alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.” he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. “put down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.”
you wait a second, scanning satoru’s overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. “what are you hiding?” you ask again, eyes hardening.
“a lot of things. but i think you’re talking about what i did to your boss, right?”
“you have five seconds before i shoot you.”
satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, since you’re bein’ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. you’re a smart girl, shouldn’t you have figured that out by now?” when you don’t immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. “and here i thought that the girl who’d been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.”
“shut it,” you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoru’s ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, he’s been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. that’s how two of your subordinates lost their lives to him—by underestimating your city’s notorious killer.
so you decide to bide your time.
“ran out of options?” satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. “you gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? ‘cause i’m right here, honey, and i could be your savior.”
“that was actually the shittiest line i’ve ever heard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. “are you seriously proud of that one?”
“well, it worked.”
he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, you’re the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoru’s other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breath—which is unexpectedly minty—on your cheeks as he grins down at you. “you really think i’d use a line as shitty as that if i didn’t know it’d make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.”
you use every curse word you’ve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. you’re quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission.
satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. “not gonna fight back? that’s no fun.”
“the fuck you want me to do?” you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didn’t value your life, you probably would’ve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldn’t be worth much.
“i dunno. didn’t that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?”
you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. “y’know, you’re not giving me a whole lot of options.”
satoru laughs. “if i did, that’d defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”
at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.
“so, i’m gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,” satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. “if you behave, i won’t hurt you that badly, ‘kay? keep that in mind.”
“thought you liked your girls feisty.”
“oh, that’s true,” satoru muses thoughtfully. “yeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,” he grins after a moment of consideration.
“what the fuck?”
“you heard me, sweetheart,” satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your “tough” demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru can’t help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isn’t a whole lot you can do at this point.
“if you wanna stay alive, you’ll be a good girl and you won’t scream,” satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. it’s so at odds with who he is and what he’s done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.
satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. “i’m gonna let your hands go now, m’kay?” when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. it’s jarring, the way he just… changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty,” he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. “this’ll be a lot more fun for me if you don’t resist, yeah?”
oh, fuck it.
“okay,” you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you don’t really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive… and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?
as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, “you can handcuff me after i’m done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.”
yeah, it’d be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. there’s no way he’s just going to let you drag him off to jail, but there’s a reason he’s stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. it’s hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoru’s survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.
which, for tonight, includes you.
“you have thirty—no, twenty minutes,” you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.
satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. “haven’t i already made it clear that i’m the one in control here?” he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. “c’mon, let’s get these clothes off you.”
within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. “i’m cold,” you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoru’s hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact.
“you really are an idiot, aren’t ya,” satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. “lettin’ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley… what kind of detective does that?” satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. “fuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy i’ve felt in a while,” he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. “do you not have sex with other guys?”
“don’t have time,” you swallow what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this man’s fucking fingers?
“aw, look at you, you’re so cute,” satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. it’s true—you really haven’t had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. it’s almost like you spent more time tracking the man who’s now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.
“‘m gonna cum,” you whine pitifully, squirming around satoru’s fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoru’s fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. “g-gojo—”
“call me satoru, baby, and you’re not cumming until i say you can.” with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. “heh, don’t worry, i’ll make you cum more than you knew you could once you’re stuffed with my cock.”
although you’ve determined satoru’s “promises” to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after he’s spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. “this might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.” after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. “uh uh, keep ‘em nice and wide f’me,” satoru tuts disapprovingly.
and true to his word, it hurts—a dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadn’t felt in a long time. satoru’s hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoru’s lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kink—it just makes sense.
“s-satoru, it won’t fit,” you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you can’t possibly take any more of him—he might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.
“yeah, that’s it, knew you could do it,” satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that he’s all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. “just like that, pretty girl. jus’ like that.”
soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his “cool serial killer” act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. “shit, i forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tight—” he mutters through gritted teeth. “‘m gonna cum inside, ‘kay?”
you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didn’t matter—all your pathetic little head could think about was satoru’s dick, and somehow, you forget that he’s a killer when he cums inside you. it’s hot and thick and it almost knocks you over—when was the last time you felt this good, if ever?
the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoru’s praises on how well you’re taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.
“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. “who knew the pretty detective i’d had my eye on would be this good to me?” he cooes, grinning snarkily.
satoru’s earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. “y-you said you’d let me arrest you after,” you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.
“oh, sweetheart, you’re in no condition to be giving orders,” satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether that’s from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you don’t quite know. “we should do this again sometime,” he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that you’re still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.
“but you said—” you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.
“you didn’t seriously believe me, did you?” satoru tuts, shaking his head. “i’m a serial killer. i’m not gonna turn myself in just ‘cause of a detective’s pretty pussy, baby. you should’ve known better, doll.” satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.
he leaves you with a promise to see you soon.
#osaemu#gojo smut#jjk smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x y/n
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Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.
We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.
I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.
But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.
Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.
And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.
It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.
It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.
And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.
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apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:
Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.
Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.
I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.
I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.
Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.
So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.
Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.
What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.
So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .
honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.
if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.
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I do love creating games in college and all but god 4 years non stop of making a game every six months have left me so burned out that I don't even know if I want a job in the industry anymore
#kia text#nothing for me coming close to the feeling of seeing a story that you wrote being translated into a game#but men it does gets tiring writing non stop something you are not passionate about#don't get me wrong I love the game we are making now but god#it's really hard to balance telling the story with the gameplay#one side the game design team (3 people really) want me to make a character dialogue shorter and simpler#but on the other side the art team (1 person) says that the dialogue fells too simple#like I don't know what you want me to do here#I dunno#just tired of creating stuff that doesn't speaks to me#and the tought part is#in the end nobody really reads the script I write#or the articles I spent days having meltdowns over#just fells like nothing I do really matters#god I don't think I ever heard someone saying “wow you did a good job” apart from my mom#and I don't know if my job is really shit and people just don't wanna tell me#or if nobody truly cares#sorry everyone#i'm just venting#just frustade with things I guess
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man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am
so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!
[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]
They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.
But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)
[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]
Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.
The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.
[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]
Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.
[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]
And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.
Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.
Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.
And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!
And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.
And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.
[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]
There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures
1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.
2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps
3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.
But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!
[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]
Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.
We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)
and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it
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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)
I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.
It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.
⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣
tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time
tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b
When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.
It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆
Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!
I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.
The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.
Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.
And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.
“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.
“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”
“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.
Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”
“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”
Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”
Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.
Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”
“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.
“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”
Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”
Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”
Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.
What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.
“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.
“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”
He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.
"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.
“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."
Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”
“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”
He sighed, “I’m not.”
Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”
He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”
“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.
Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.
With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.
With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.
His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.
His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”
This is ridiculous.
Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.
Nothing.
"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.
He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.
He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.
Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.
After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.
So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.
It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.
Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.
In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.
But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.
Still.
He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.
He held his breath, unconsciously.
With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.
"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."
Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.
Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.
"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.
"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.
But today, they were soft and out of focus.
"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.
"Am I dreaming?"
He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."
"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"
Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.
Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.
"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."
He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"
You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.
"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.
A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.
“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.
“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.
You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”
His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.
"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.
"When was your last time, mon cher?"
Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."
"You're in hell now."
"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.
"Look at me."
Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.
With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.
Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.
He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?
Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.
He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."
Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.
He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.
A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.
"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.
He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.
No.
Not enough.
Too soon.
A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.
He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.
When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.
Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.
He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.
"My doe?"
Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"
"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."
The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.
"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.
Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"
Suddenly, silence.
The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"
"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.
"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.
"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"
Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.
"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"
"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."
"Yet..." She cocked her brow.
"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."
Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"
"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.
She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"
His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."
He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.
But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?
"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."
Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.
For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.
To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.
He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.
Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.
The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.
One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.
You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.
And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.
Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.
He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.
When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”
༻Masterlist༺
#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#fanfiction#alastor smut#alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader smut#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel smut#alastor the radio demon#radio demon#the radio demon#x you smut#smut writing#smut fanfiction#reader fic#x reader#reader insert
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Drunk On You - Itadori Yuuji
-`ღ´- tags: 18+, itadorixreader, pet name usage, afab reader, pwp, alcohol consumption, restroom sex, public sex, cream pie
-`ღ´- wc: 3.1K
-`ღ´- a/n: I didn’t get to go out because my bank account is empty AND there's a dumb storm in my area. So, while bitterly sitting on my phone, I wrote this whole thing in a single text post. Might be errors but fuck it we ball.
-`ღ´- synopsis: Itadori wants to be a protective friend, but he’s still a man and he’d be stupid to let this opportunity slip by. Basically, you go clubbing with the girls and end up creampied in a nasty club restroom. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
Itadori Yuji was a man at the end of the day. He wanted to be a friend and a caregiver at all times to those close to him. But he can only handle so much.
He didn’t care much about going out, but when Nobara and you explained it’s important to have a guy around for safety, he begrudgingly agreed to join you guys. He feels a little out of place being the only guy around when Nobara, Maki, and you are slamming back shots while picking out outfits and make up. Sometimes Yuuta makes an appearance but tonight he’s “busy”.
Yuji didn’t believe that for a second. He probably was just sleeping in after lounging around with Toge. The thought was taken off his mind as soon as you strolled over with two shots. Tequila. No lime wedge or salt in sight. He gulped harshly, before meeting your eyes.
“C'mon Yu, please. The girls won’t drink tequila with me.” You whine to him, cheeks already flushed from drinking. He tries to laugh and puts his hand out to push the shot away, but you persist, dropping the glass. Itadori’s hand shot out to catch it. The liquid spilled across his hand and you continued your begging.
“Look! It’s less full now, you don’t even have to take a full one, so please?” You pout and your eyebrows furrowed together in a faux fashion.
He can’t help smiling at how persuasive you were. You just wouldn’t quit, would you?
“You’re gonna get me in trouble! How am I supposed to protect you and DD like this?” He whisper-yells, all to play along with his role for the night. But yet again, you pushed forward.
“Cmon, Yuu, please? Don’t make me drink alone,” your voice became softer and timid as you said the last part. You batted your eyelashes at him and nudged the shot in his hand up. Itadori always feels warm when you give him attention, and now is no different.
If he took the shot would you leave him? Or would you stay close to him, happy that he listened? Is it manipulative if he wants to do whatever makes you stay close to him?
“We’re leaving in five!” Nobara called out, causing you to gasp.
“Please,” you tried one last time. And Itadori sighed before raising the shot in the air. You smiled with those pink glossy lips and joined him.
Up. Down. Drink.
It wasn’t the worst shot he’s taken but it caused his jaw to tense and his lips pursed together. You laughed at his reaction, getting out a little sympathic “Oh Yu.”
Getting to the club was a blur. He remembers Nobara sitting in the front to control the music while you and Maki sang your hearts out in the back of the car. Then he was in the club, ordering drinks for you all.
He got himself a beer and slowly passed out the drinks. When he turned around, you weren’t there. He sighed in defeat, knowing you probably rushed to the dance floor the moment you heard a solid base drop.
Maki and Nobara, with secured drinks, were already going over to the DJ to request whatever music they wanted. Then there was you, alone in the crowd, twisting and whining your hips to the beat. He hated to admit it, but the way you danced had every guy looking your way, including him.
You rolled your body to the sound, throwing your hair to the side. Your split hem skirt was riding up quickly from the constant up and down your hips and ass did. The bass could be felt through the floor. It resonated in your ribcage as you shook your body. Dropping low, rising again, and you kept your eyes closed knowing any contact made with someone else would result in an unwanted invitation.
It wasn’t until Itadori finally reached you, that you finally let a smile grace your features. He passed you the drink and you tried saying “you didn’t have to” over the music but Itadori pretended not to hear you.
“Hmm?” He questioned and you decided to reach up and grab the nape of his neck. Your fingers slid across his undercut as you pulled him down.
“I said!” You lost your thought as his cologne filled your senses. It made your tongue heavy and you had to swallow before continuing. “I said you didn’t have to!”
Yuji pulled back a little bit to smile at you. “I know that, I wanted to,” he said. The cost of the tab was lower than the cost of some creep trying to hit on you or your friends.
Before you could admit how happy that made you. The intro to your favorite song dropped. You widen your eyes, looking over at the DJ booth to see Maki and Nobara cheering as the song starts. You laugh as other girls in the club start to dance with more vigor. Itadori did his best to raise his drink and stop it from spilling as people started to crowd the floor more.
Soon enough you were wedged between him and other girls. You tried to keep things fun and low risk by making a face and moving your head back and forth to show Itadori you enjoyed the song. He did the same, trying to move in sync with you.
You knew Itadori knew how to dance. You chalked it up to how fit he was but nothing more. You knew he settled with his two steps and light shuffling to the beat for the group's sake. You sipped on your drink, watching him through your lashes.
Eventually you found yourself with you back facing him. Yuji couldn’t help but watch you rock your body back and forth, you whined your hips, tightening and rolling your abdomen. Your ass sat right in front of him, moving up and down. He knew his face was flushed and it wasn’t because of the damn beer he was nursing.
You lose your footing, stumbling back against him. Yuji caught you with a hand on your hip. You looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with him. An unintentional invitation was presented to you both. You could probably blame it on the atmosphere and the alcohol in your system, but you both refused to move back.
You looked forward again. The moves started subtle. A whine with a dip. Itadori watched as you held the same movement for a second, letting him catch up to you. His hand on your hip ran across your front as he pulled you back against him. He rocked side to side, closing his eyes to savor your ass settling on his groin.
He’s supposed to be looking out for you.
Itadori grounds himself as your rock your ass against him. He works to follow your movements, dragging the hand on your hip across your form. He feels hot. His cock was stiffening from the moment you tried to beg him to take a shot with him. He rasped out as you danced on him, causing your ass to shake right on him.
He pulls you up, his chest right against your back. He’s at a loss for words. All he can think about is how fucking good you feel pressing against him. You’re so soft and supple. You smell so good. He tried to make sure moments like this never happened beforehand. He’d opt for other guys coming or making sure your front ways face his front. He’d leave room for Jesus if there was space to do so.
His best friend was grinding on his fucking dick and he didn’t even care to stop you. He fucking wanted it. He’s wanted it for so long. You stood straight, reaching back with a free hand to grab the nape of his neck again. Itadori looked down at your frame. You didn’t opt to say anything but with his chin hooked over your shoulder, he could see right down your skimpy top.
You boobs jiggled with each move your body made. His hand unconsciously started to drift upwards. His fingers played with the hem of your top. His muddled mind tried to work through everything going on. He felt sensitive. Between the people brushing against you both and you latching on to him, he couldn’t be bothered to recognize what song was playing or how your drink spilled over a few times.
But what he did hear, through the people, through the music, was a little soft whine that you bit off as Itadori teased the skin right under your breast. You wanted more. You wanted him to stuff his fingers down your skirt and feel how wet you are under your clothes. You wanted him to bite and suck on your neck just as you dreamed about doing to him.
He’s supposed to protect you.
Itadori lets your little hands pull at his large form. You slowly push through the crowd towards the nearest restroom. The drinks were long forgotten, dropped into the nearest trash can. The haze from grinding on Yuji didn’t pass, even though you both were separated now. You kept a hand wrapped around his as you knocked at the door in front of you. After a few seconds you rattled the doorknob and noticed it was unlocked.
He knew. He knew if he went in there with you, things would change forever. He swallowed trying to get rid of the irritation in his throat. You opened it slowly, not releasing his hand. Itadori wanted to be good.
He wanted to be a good friend for you. So he finally opened his mouth.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” He offered. But he should’ve known better than to stop you.
You continued to give him that sweet clueless look on your face. You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you started to reach for your skirt, lifting it while saying “You gonna fuck me out here then?”
Itadori rushed to push your hands down, shoving the door open. He slammed you against the door frame the moment it was closed.
It was gross there. The floor is covered in alcohol and piss, the toilet is dirty and the sink has plastic cups collecting in it. The music was muffled through the door but you could still feel the base throughout the building. But neither of you cared as Yuji rutted his hips against yours.
You whined as he kissed your skin and grinded his hips back and forth against you. Your hands gripped at his hair and he wrapped around your ass, pulling you up to his height.
“You want me to fuck you?” Itadori rasped out between the kisses. He swore he could feel how wet your puffy cunt was even through your clothes. “You want my dick? Hmm?” He pressed forward. You whimpered instead of answering.
“Talk to me, pretty,” he begged. His hips halted and he pulled his face back to look at you.
Oh fuck.
Your eyes were glassy and your lip gloss tempted him under the crappy lighting. You looked like you were on the verge of tears from all this unintentional teasing.
“Please, Yu, i'm so,” you hiccuped and your hands grabbed at him for emphasis. “I’m so wet, please fuck me. Pretty please?” Yuji groaned before leaning in. He slotted his mouth right over your plump ones. You moaned and reached down for his cock. Your sloppy hands did their best, and after consistently fumbling, you finally got his belt undone.
You sighed into his kiss, letting his tongue overtake yours. His lips moved in motion with yours, tongue swiping over yours every time you pressed forward. Yuji tried to slide a leg underneath your cunt but you finally remembered the task at hand. You went back to fumbling with the button of his pants and moaned when you finally got them undone.
Itadori could faint from feeling your fingers urgently searching for his dick. He knew his tip was leaking in his underwear. He’s been hard for too long and he can’t wait to feel you wrapped around him. He’s jerked off so many times wondering about how good that pussy would feel on his fingers. On his tongue. Oh fuck and especially on his cock.
Yuji opted to hold you back with one hand, tugging down his underwear and pants down just enough that his cock was free. Within seconds your skirt was bunched around your waist, panties slipped to the side and finally his tip caught on your entrance.
“Oh fuck me,” You rasped out as he worked the first inch inside of you. He was big. Your best friend Itadori was fucking big. Without thinking, Yuji drops your pussy on his clock. Your whole body seizes up as you force your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.
Yuji sputtered your name as he bottomed out. Every fucking ridge of his cock was engulfed in your warm wet pussy. He could feel your slick dripping down his balls. He grabbed at your ass to ground himself. You both dropped your mouths in awe. Your whole body felt like it was subjected to this moment.
You clamped down and gasped as Yuji tried to move forward. He gritted his teeth, rubbing his forehead against yours. “Don’t, fuck, don’t tighten up like that, I’m trying not to cum right now.” His admittance caused you to grip him more. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder, nails running across his undercut like before. You finally met his warm eyes, and blushed at the expression on his face.
You’ve seen Itadori in awe a lot. He’s someone who enjoys life at every moment. His smile was infectious and he’s adored things before, but the look he was giving you caused something deep inside you to flip over and over again.
“You okay?” He asked. Itadori was a man. As much as he wanted to slam into you, he was also your friend. He cared for you unlike anyone else.
You sniffled before responding.
“Yeah… just not used to something so big.”
He laughed at that, resting his forehead against you as you continue to rub at his undercut. Didn’t he tell you he wasn’t trying to cum too fast inside you?
“You’re such a sweet talker,” he gets out before kissing your cheek. “Am I okay to move, pretty?”
“Mmhm” you get out, recognizing the initial stretch has passed. “Please need you too,” you get out right as he pulls his hips back. From the first thrust the nerves in your body and firing off. Your pussy feels so raw, each thrust working you open more and more. You felt so full. You felt consumed by him.
Small moans slip from your lips as Itadori works into a regular pattern. You feel him circle his hips as he enters and exits your core. The added motion built more wetness from you.
“Fuck, just like that, Yu,” you whimper digging your nails into him. Itadori had a hard time concentrating. You were gripping him from all over. Your hands tugged at his shirt, trying to ground yourself. Your arms were wrapped around him, keeping him close. And your pussy, fuck, it felt like it never wanted him to leave.
You moaned at every thrust he made, those sweet lips prompting him to keep going. His hands slid from your ass to your thighs, he pinned you against the door and pulled back enough to look down. You whined at the loss of contact but followed his eyes down.
He continued to fill you. Rocking his hips with intention instead of mindlessly thrusting inside your sweet pussy. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, face scrunching up in pleasure.
You dropped your mouth open, letting out a loud moan at the sight. His cock was fucking soaked. Your juices covered everything from his abdomen, shaft, and balls, all the way to your folds, clit, thighs, and even the sorry excuse for panties that you had on. He whined at how you tightened up at the sight.
“Like watching me fuck you?” He questioned only for you to moan and nod in response. You tried your best to thrust your lower half forward in Yuji’s vice-like grip. Your best friend's dick felt soooo good digging in your guts.
“Mmhm, fuck me, Yu. Don’t stop,” you cried out as he picked up his pace. Yuji leaned back in, watching your face as he continued to fuck you just how you like. He was stretching you out so good. The friction he provided had your toes pointed and nerves on edge. You felt your stomach tightening up with each thrust he worked in.
“I’m close,” you get out softly. Itadori groaned. You were gonna cum on his cock. He couldn’t wait. He needed you to. He piston his hips, locking his lips against yours again. The feeling of his tongue teasing yours along with his bruising pace had you whining.
“Fuck, Yu,” you tried to get out between kisses and moans. He nodded, sliding his lips against yours in the motion.
“I know, I know, me too, baby,” he grits out. Soon you felt that band inside you snap. Your nails dug into his skin as your body seized up. You threw your head back, and couldn’t help but close your eyes at the pleasure shot up your spine throughout your whole body.
Yuji felt his balls tighten and fucking groaned feeling you clench and milk his dick. He was cumming. He was cumming hard right inside your pussy. The thought made his dick throb as you continued to clench and clamp down on him.
“Fu-uck, oh god,” Itadori cried out as you moaned. His sperm felt so good, warm and soothing against your beaten walls. You felt yourself calm down first, petting Yuji's jaw to bring him back to you. You kissed at his sweaty forehead humming as he pulled you up.
A pop sound resonated in the restroom, followed by Itadori’s moan. Fuck, you’d be the death of him. He finally set you down, wincing at the sight of your thighs covered in bruises from his fingertips. His eyes trailed upwards to look at your swollen pussy. A mix of cum dripped from your gaping hole. You shuddered as you slid your panties back in place and tried to fix your skirt.
Yuji hissed as he grabbed at his cock, and slipped it back in his pants. Before he could apologize in the post sex haze you’re giving him that sweet smile again.
And something tells him that you’re going to persist with getting him wrapped around your fingers again.
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