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baeshijima · 1 year

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— perfect

your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it

A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.

when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.

it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.

the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.

your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.

you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.

he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.

he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.

that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.

(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)

it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).

and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.

he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.

so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!

when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.

it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.

"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.

should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—

"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.

he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"

silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?

oh god he hopes not.

but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.

and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.

"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."

(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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whateversawesome · 13 days

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Spy x Family Chapter 97: An Old Love Story

Okay, say it with me: FOIL!

You can see it too, right? Looks like Martha x Henry (Henderson)'s story is a foil of Twilight and Yor's story.

Henderson was in Twilight's place; the smart, lonely young man so focused on his ideals that he was blind about who was in front of him and his very own feelings.

Martha was in Yor's place, the strong and graceful girl too young and inexperienced to know her own heart and that she was in love.

This is exactly what's happening with Twiyor, the main couple of the story, and I think we may get to see one of the possible endings for our beloved Twiyor through Martha and Henderson story.

Now, what do we know about these two 🤔...

We know that Henry Henderson has a daughter and a son-in-law. It was mentioned he writes to them, but there was no mention of his wife. This leads me to believe that:

His wife is no longer alive.

He lives with his wife, so there's no reason for him to write to her.

He is divorced.

So, with this information we still can't know what's the current relationship between Martha and Henry, but we can take a guess 😉

From the way the story is being told, it almost feels like it's a semi-tragic love story, doesn't it? We can almost assume that they didn't end up together...or did they?

Theory one: Yup, everyone is right and Martha and Henderson eventually went their separate ways for reasons we'll probably get to know in the next couple of chapters.

If this theory is right, I think it's beautiful that they are getting a second chance 💖They certainly look more mature, confident, and calm (also elegant!). I love the way they look at each other, so much trust and love 😌

Theory two: I know this one is a long shot (and Henderson just said in that panel that "She is merely and old friend") but maybe...they're actually married. Why am I so bold to even consider that possibility?! Well, there's this panel:

The matron is clearly teasing Master Henderson, don't you agree? If she does it, it's because she knows something. Either she knows that there was something between those two in their youth or she knows they are married. I don't know, but they way she said the word "partner" and the fact that Master Henderson is married made me think that Martha is his wife. I know, I know...it's a remote possibility, but you have to remember that marriage is mentioned a lot through different characters and couples during the story, so maybe those two were actually married. (But, it's quite possible it's theory one).

Other things to consider...

How long have Ostania and Westalis been at war?

My guess is that we're talking about two different wars between the same countries; very much like WWI and WWII, where there was a brief period of peace before a second conflict. So, probably the first war started while Henderson was in his 20s and the second war started when he was in his 40s (and Twilight was a kid).

It makes a lot of sense that now they're in a period of "Cold War", just like in real life.

The Garden

I am convinced that the Garden is involved in this. I've talked about this before (read it here). After this chapter, I still think the Garden is going to pop up. Want some evidence?

Do you recognize this guy?

That's right 😏 That's Matthew McMahon. What is he doing there? Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?

And also the way this is phrased:

Odd that there was a mention of the word Garden, isn't it? And the fact that the whole story between those two takes place in a garden...🤔

In addition to that, in a previous chapter, Twilight observes how Martha moves like a soldier. Franky mentioned earlier that Garden people are like soldiers. And the Garden has a history of recruiting young skilled/strong people, like Yor. Things keep adding up.

The Consequences of War

This is a prevalent theme throughout the whole SxF universe: how war (violence, intolerance, manipulation of information, propaganda, politics) has affected the life of all the characters.

No matter their background, nationality or education, we've seen it again and again with most of the characters big or small, like Twilight, Franky, Sylvia, Millie, and now we're about to see it with characters from an older generation like Martha and Henderson.

My guess is that this won't be the last time and this pattern will continue while the story lasts. I think what the story is trying to show us is how war is seen by some (politicians and men in power like Desmond) as a natural, inevitable course of action, but at the same time how brutal the consequences are in the smallest stories. That's one of the things that is truly remarkable about SxF.

#spy x family #twiyor #sxf #spy x family manga #spy x family analysis #spy x family theory #sxf chapter 97 #spy x family chapter 97 #martha marriott #henry henderson #loid forger #yor forger #spy x family meta

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crustyfloor · 27 days

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Till's point of view on his and Ivan's relationship - An (personal) analysis of Till's side of things leading up to Round 7.

As kids, IvanTill's relationship was tulmotious, to say the least.

Ivan would do things to rile Till up as a means of getting closer to Till when they were just starting out, and Till would fall for it.

Ivan would steal Till's things and turn around and give it back like some evil Christmas gift as a means of getting closer to Till, and Till would fall for that too, for some time.

But we all know Till isn't stupid. Till must've noticed after some time that the constant disappearance of his stuff only to be coincidentally found by Ivan every time wasn't actually a coincidence. And Till, being handled roughly his whole life by aliens naturally wouldn't have been so fond of the way Ivan would constantly instigate fights with him. So why did Till keep him around? Why did Till allow Ivan into his space?

Well, I think Till actually considered Ivan a good friend, best friend even (maybe reaching but we ball). Ivan was one of the only people who actually made an effort to get close to him and to have someone in a world like this would mean a lot to a kid like Till. (besides, I don't think the things they did together would be the same things enemies would do.)

Other than that, Till is a high-spirited, compassionate, and emotional character. it's shown in a comic where Ivan and Till spot a crushed flower and Till tells it to cheer up out of sympathy, it's shown in the way Till cares about others around him even if he holds a sort of bold exterior that keeps him from showing his heart often.

Till kept Ivan around because he cared about him enough to look past those things. Till kept spending time with Ivan because he cared, Till let Ivan continue doing those things thinking he was unaware because he cared enough, even when Ivan had taken Till's most prized possession, the flute Mizi gave him. he didn't question Ivan about it (?). And he cared about Ivan enough to see him for who he really was. Not as some perfect pet, not even as too much of a nuisance. But as a person, just like he is.

(But this doesn't mean he didn't still see Ivan as a weirdass)

And then we have the meteor shower scene. (pain&suffering.exe)

Ivan, motivated by his strong love tries to get Till to escape with him in the meteor shower scene. Keyword tries. Because they couldn't get far before Till stopped in his tracks and went right back to Anakt Garden, why? because Till wouldn't have been able to live with himself knowing he left behind a person he loved to die, Mizi. he couldn't possibly leave her there. He cared too much.

Till probably felt guilty, going back to Anakt garden and missing out on the chance of a lifetime because it was all in wrong timing. But imagine just how much guiltier he felt seeing Ivan the next day. He hadn't left when Till went back. And so this was the first thread of their relationship that was frayed and torn.

After this point, Ivan was under the full assumption that he had been wrong about how he thought Till saw him so he gradually started to distance himself too, the antics were dialed up as he fought with Till while intending to put distance by becoming someone Till would hate while remaining in Till’s life and caring for him when Till was unaware because even then he couldn’t force himself to leave Till’s world even if Till wanted to leave his. But Ivan was wrong, Till didn't go back because he didn't like Ivan enough to stay, but rather he cared too much for his own good.

Till noticed what Ivan was doing, and Till thought Ivan hated him for leaving him behind, so as a last effort to pull Ivan back to him and fix his relationship with his best friend, to let Ivan know he wanted him near, he left him a message on graduation.

"You were the one who stole my pencil at that time right?"

That was in response to Ivan's "I hope you'll remember me" message.

Till's response sounds pretty straightforward but it was actually an indirect pointing to a direct message; "I know it was you, I always did, of course I remember you. I see you. Im not even mad at you for all of it...So come back?" unfortunately for Till, Ivan failed to read it like this. Ivan instead saw it as Till finally realizing how bad Ivan really is, he probably even thought Till was mad at him for all of it. So this only motivated him to distance them more until they weren't even talking anymore.

And so after everything, round 7 comes. Till has to compete and win against Ivan.

Till went into round 7 with the full intent to sacrifice himself and let Ivan win because he couldn't continue to live in a world he hated, in a world where he was tormented, was used, and had nothing else to live for. he couldn't continue to live in a world knowing Mizi, his shining light and savior was gone. And that he has to kill his friend, the last one he has left.

But his plan was ripped to shreds as Ivan realized what he was doing and on instinct interfered with what Till was doing.

After the kiss scene, Ivan chokes(?) Till after realizing everything else isn't working. and Till still doesn't fight back properly because he doesn't want to, he doesn't have that spirit any more. not the one Ivan saw in him when they were kids. That's been more or less drained out of him because of the years of trauma and torture, the lost years, everything. He's tired, he's miserable. Besides, what's the point anymore? He's lost Mizi. He's gonna loose Ivan, and if he's just meant to be a lamb to the slaughter then why should he delay the inevitable? Till didn't have that will to live anymore after everything so if Ivan was gonna give him one more out and kill him then so be it. He'd let him. (TP)

Only that's not how it goes, as soon as Ivan's hands leave him Till is disoriented. and then he is shocked, confused, worried? because he didn't expect this, he realizes what is happening, that Ivan had taken the hit for him, that Ivan had once again tossed himself to the side for Till. And not even Till knows why.

And at the end of the day, Ivan is dead, and Till is left knowing that he is truly alone now.

(I go over pencil.exe a little more in another post of mine if anyone is interested in reading)

#All of this is just my take so keep the rocks at bay if you happen to disagree i already have brain damage :)#alien stage #alnst till #ivantill #alien stage till #alnst #i might do this with ivan too but itll take so much longer cause bro has some baggae #fuk you ivan #ill drag myself in the dirt for this one i almsot hit my thumb with my hammer while anaylizing the meteor scene for the umpteenth time #never doing this again actually #/hj #3/31/24 #alnst round 6 #alien stage round 6 #alien stage ivan

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yumeka-sxf · 6 months

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I've been waiting to see Yor's epiphany chapter in the anime and it did not disappoint! I felt like analyzing more than usual because I loved this episode so much~ 💖

I hope that any anime-only viewers who at this point still had the opinion that Yor's just ditzy/submissive, one-dimensional, or whatever negative traits associated with her, have changed their minds. Throughout the cruise arc we've seen so many sides of her character: how she's struggling to understand the exact reason why she's taking on these dangerous assignments when her original reason for doing it (supporting Yuri) no longer exists, how her internal desire to seek her own happiness - live a peaceful life like Olka - is at constant war with her diligence to complete her mission, her yearning to be with Loid and Anya and how sad she looks when she has to tell herself that they're just a cover-up family and she'll have to leave them without a word if anything drastic happens, and how much more confident she is when doing something she excels at - assassinating - yet still retaining her kind and polite demeanor (Unlike Twilight, who dons the mask of Loid Forger, Yor Forger is not a mask for Thorn Princess, at least not in terms of personality. So everything she says as Thorn Princess can be interpreted as her true feelings, including the now two times she's hesitated during fights because of the thought of having to leave the Forgers).

And, in the moment where she's facing death right in the eye, all the doubts she's had since getting this assignment culminate, not only causing the samurai assassin to get the upper hand, but causing her to take a deep, introspective look into her reason for fighting...if it's not for the same reason as the other assassins, what is it?

What's even more amazing is that these things about her character did not come out of nowhere just for the sake of a flashy climax. We saw in previous episodes that not only does she understands that being in the Forger family makes her happy, but most importantly, how she's lived her life only thinking of the happiness of others above her own. And what's most tragic is that, upon finally realizing that her original reason for being an assassin is gone (since Yuri no longer needs support) she's ready to die then and there...until she remembers Olka's words about wanting to live a peaceful life, which in turn makes her remember her core reason for becoming an assassin was to not only support Yuri, but to make the world he lives in all the more peaceful by eliminating the villains in it.

Despite how naive Yor is about many things (due to her upbringing), she's certainly not ignorant about the needless tragedies that exist in the world. And here is where she makes her decision to keep doing her assassinating, not because she enjoys killing people, but because the result of it will make the world a better place...because now, she has even more people whose happiness she desires to protect.

Even if she sacrifice her own happiness by leaving the Forgers, that's not as important to her as preventing tragedy from befalling her loved ones, or the world in general. And these thoughts are so similar to Twilight's reasons for becoming a spy! Coincidently, as Yor has these thoughts, she thinks of how Loid complimented this aspect of her personality way back when they first met...and the thought that the man who she trusts and respects so much would approve of her decision, gives her the final push to keep on going (I love that they reanimated this scene too and didn't just use the exact frames from episode 2).

So yeah, if anyone who wasn't sure of how much depth Yor's character has, I hope this episode shed a lot of light! This is the right way to make a character both cute/sweet but also a total badass who's strong on the outside as well as the inside.

(I will probably reword a lot of this for my upcoming Twiyor analysis posts but I couldn't wait until then, lol).

#spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #yor forger #twiyor #sxf anime

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shy-urban-hobbit · 8 months

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"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #jaskier x geralt #jaskier/geralt #witcher geralt #geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher jaskier #jaskier

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killsaki · 1 year

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final girl. ☆ surely all the girls being murdered in your town having something that fits your own description is a coincidence… right?

izuku midoriya x female!reader

4k words | part 2 (tbp)

cw/tw : yandere!izu, quirkless/loserboy!izu, stuttering, stalking, drugging, thighfucking, facial, male masturbation, noncon, somnophilia (kinda), alcohol, oc side character, kidnapping, murder (mentions).

“you’re not seriously going out, are you?” comes from your doorway, you turn towards the voice in just enough time to catch sight of your roommate inviting himself into your room, as he always does, before plopping himself down on your mattress.

you sigh before answering, knowing he’s about to spout some of his repetitive nonsense.

“of course i am, fuzen.” he blinks at you with his usual unamused expression, heterochromatic eyebrows slightly raised in a way that you’ve come to learn is a signal for you to ask more about what he’s saying. you take the bait. “but, why do you ask?”

“you’re the target of that serial killer.” you purse your lips at his immediate and dramatic response to stop yourself from laughing, you really shouldn't entertain him all the time. he’s mentioned a few things that could probably cost him his job for disclosing the, in his words, eerie similarities, that you have had with all the victims of recent murders.

it started with things like how they all had your eye color, or that they were all described to have your height and build. you passed those off as generic things, but fuzen didn’t. it spiraled into things as specific as one of them having your hair. well, their hair, but it was the same length as yours, the same color, and her body was found with it styled with the same way that you’d fallen in loved with and wore repeatedly that week. one girl was found with copies of the jewelry that you frequently wore, another even had her nails done almost exactly like your new set.

the longer it went on, the more insistent your roommate became about you listening to what he had to say. but you always changed the subject, figuring that the less you know the easier it’ll be to shake off the cold feeling on your back you sometimes get after leaving the apartment.

“i thought you were a stealth sidekick,” you laugh him off, yet again. ”when did you get demoted to a detective?”

“why does your room feel weird?” he asks suddenly, adjusting his sitting position like he’s been made uncomfortable while he looks around your space. “has someone been in here?”

“uh, yeah, me.” you suck your teeth at him before turning back to your vanity and get back to finishing getting ready.

“why don’t you believe me?” he asks, you can tell he’s a little irritated and it makes you feel bad for always brushing him off.

“‘zen… i know you care about me, i’m sorry.” you meet his gaze in the mirror, finding him already looking back at you. “maybe you’re just overthinking because you care about me?”

he nods slowly, before cracking a grin and shaking his head, “nah, i’m probably just jealous because i don’t have a stalker.” he rolls his neck and you wonder how much truth is in his words. “though i’d probably prefer it without the murder.”

“i don’t have a stalker.” you retort while he chuckles to himself before standing.

“you know,” he stretches his arms, fingertips touching the ceiling as the hem of his shirt lifts to reveal his toned stomach, something you quickly look away from. “that habit of immediately denying stuff that you’re anxious about is gonna bite you in the ass one day.”

his mouth is good at keeping you from being attracted to the rest of him.

“but not today,” you speak matter of fact, “because i do not have a stalker.”

“right, yeah.” he sniggers, clearly not believing a word from you. “didn’t you say you felt like you were being followed home the other night? you should think harder on the description—”

“anyways!” you cut him off, knowing that he’s not going to stop talking unless you make him. sometimes you’re not sure if he actually likes having conversations with you or just the sound of his own voice. “shouldn’t you get back to tying some red thread between the pictures and articles hung up on your wall mr. detective.”

“fuck off.” he flips you off from where he’s now lurking by your dresser, leaning against it as he’s focused on checking his phone. “i know you think i’m joking, but they put me on the west end so i’ll be patrolling over by the party if you–”

“oh! my rides here,” you lie, jumping up to slip past him and out of the conversation. “so, i’ll text you when i make it back home since you’ll be on patrol and i won’t see you again tonight, right?”

“wait!” he calls after you, annoyed by your sudden escape, as you slip on your shoes. “text me if something happens with your ride and i’ll walk you back!”

“bye, fuzen!” you yell back, walking out the door. “love you!”

/// /// ///

maybe… fuzen wasn’t just talking to hear his voice. maybe, there’s a small possibility that you do have a stalker.

you could chalk it all up to your roommate giving you anxiety about the whole situation, or that you’ve had a few too many already. but you can’t deny the fact that from the moment you stepped out of your apartment building until you climbed into your ride’s car, you felt something watching you.

it was a hot gaze, a familiar one. it could’ve been a neighbor, you reasoned to yourself as you waited for kirishima to arrive, and that theory sounded best as you repeated it to yourself at the party, laughing with him and his friends and downing drink after drink. until the chill on the back of your neck reappeared, despite how warm your blood is from the alchol. and no matter how much you looked over your shoulder to try and find some kind of source for it, there just wasn’t anyone there.

“you good?” sero asks when you fail to reply to your name being called.

“huh?” you turn to him to find the whole group looking at you with concern, your face flushes at how ridiculous you must look, being so skittish. “oh, i’m fine,” you force a laugh, hoping it seems genuine. “think i just had a little bit too much.”

“no sweat.” kirishima nods towards the glass door behind him and you try to ignore how sero and denki exchange glances. “let’s go get some air.”

“yeah, okay.” you hope the earth swallows you whole as you follow behind him.

you regret coming, regret not shutting your door while getting ready, regret letting fuzen talk his mouth off at you for so long about it. you’ll chew him out about it tomorrow.

you take a deep breath as you walk out the glass door, kirishima’s large palm rubbing soothingly on your back helps settle the nerves. there’s a comforting warmth that takes over the anxious heat as you lean into him.

“sorry i’m being weird.” you mumble as he guides you into his chest, melting into him and the sound of his steady heart beat.

“you’re fine,” you feel the arm holding his cup raise, the pause between his words meaning his downing the rest of his drink that smells way too strong. “don’t worry about it.”

the two of you sway for a bit, his arms around you and your head on his chest with the muffled music as ambiance.

it could be blamed on the alcohol but in this moment, you’re thankful you have kirishima. thankful for how it took absolutely no time at all for you to get comfortable with him, how it felt like an instant connection when he silently prompted the two of you to play tictactoe in the margine of your notes. something that quickly snowballed from passing messages to walking you back to your dorm, and then hang outs as his frat house.

he’s always offered himself as a stress relief for you, making sure you’re comfortable while you’re with him and pressing you about it any time that you seemed tense. there’s been a few awkward moments where you thought he’d tried making a pass at you but he’s always been quick to clarify. plus he’s so warm, like… really warm. his arms feel like a blanket around you. god, how is someone so big and bulky also so soft? you could probably fall asleep like this, surrounded by him.

“hey.” you’re pulled from your thoughts, and from where you were tucked into him. “you knocking out on me?”

“sorry.” you giggle, at his ever playful expression. “you’re just so comfortable.”

the smirk on his face is a harmless one, you think. and it’s awfully pretty.

“bakugou needs me at the beer pong table.”

“i don’t need you, fucker.” you hear the blonde shout from where he stands at the door. did he yell at him before too? “they just don’t want me to embarrass them by beating their asses by myself.”

kirishima laughs. ”you stayin’ out here?” you hesitate, but nod. you feel better, but the thought of facing his friends again so fast is a little too intimidating. “i wont let anyone come out here and fuck with you.” he squeezes your hip before chasing his friend inside. “come watch me when you’re ready!” the redhead calls to you from where he now hangs out the door, his toothy grin clear as day even from this distance.

you only wave back, your dizziness telling you it’s not a good idea to raise your voice right now.

you let yourself stumble back against the wall before pulling your phone out. you try three times to call fuzen and it immediately cancels before you realize you have no service where you’re standing. you curse under your breath as you push off the bricks and force your legs to carry you around the corner of the house. finally a full bar of service, you have to focus on the blurry phone icon while your thumb finds its way there.

why is everything so hard?

you manage to fumble your phone before you’re able to start the call. it feels like there’s a brick in your skull with how heavy your head becomes as you bend over to reach for the device. just as your finger tips touch your screen, there’s big, rough ones which grab at your hips. you don’t have time to scream before your arm is wound behind your back and used to press you against the brick of the house. you lose any hope of grabbing your phone and yelp as your chest and cheek sting at the harsh contact. your vision spins as you blink in the dim light, you can’t even make out the shape of the person behind you.

”don’t scream.” the stranger speaks in your ear, though slightly muffled, it still makes you freeze all the same. the adrenaline delays the recognition of the cold blade at your back, a knife. how were those girls killed again? you immediately nod, further scraping yours skin against the jagged edges of the brick. fear courses through your veins as he takes hold of your free arm and brings it back with the other, wrapping a large hand around both to keep them in place.

you try to plead with him when his knife moves from your back, the threat of it gone, or maybe all the alcohol making you bold enough to speak.

“i haven’t seen your face.” you whisper, hoping it was low enough for him to allow it. “you don’t have to kill me, you could just let me go.”

“let you go?” he asks, surely it’s your intoxicated mind, but he sounds genuinely confused, almost hurt by your words. “i can’t,” he mutters and you whine as your heart hammers in your chest. “i f-finally have you.” you hear the man sigh behind you before he presses his face into your neck, you can hear the echo in whatever metal he has wrapped over his face as he inhales deep against your skin and your body instantly reacts with chills shooting up your spine. “you smell so good.” he begins to pant as his free hand gropes at your body. “so m-much better than any of them did.”

“please… don’t,” you beg when he reaches your breast, where he squeezes it just enough to hurt before clumsily rubbing his fingers over your nipples through the cloth.

“but i knew you would.” he continues as if you didn’t speak, as if your words don’t matter. “you’re the b-best, the only good one, only you.”

his hand drags from your chest down to your waist where he starts to struggle with your bottoms. and your eyes begin to feel with tears at the inevitable.

“please just let me go.” you try again, hoping for just an ounce of pity. “i really won’t tell anyone.”

“i’m sorry.” his body pressed up against you, shoving you farther into the hard wall, ”i’m sorry, angel,” you finally realize just how much bigger the man is than you. “im just–i can’t stop. i need you.” his grip on your arms disappears as he opts to use his large stature to keep you pinned, with both of his hands to work your bottoms down to your knees before he’s humping against your ass. “i wanted to wait– wanted our first to be special.”

the deadweight feeling at the back of your mind aches to takeover, the dizziness, the fear, the effor it takes for you to just breathe right now it far too much, so you succumb to it all– making you completely helpless. all you can do is stand there and hope he’ll let you go once he’s had his fill. not that it’s easy, there’s bile churning in your stomach when you hear the click of his belt, feel the shuffle of him tugging his own pants down.

you have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from crying when you feel the heat of what has to be his cock prodding between your thighs. the only thing keeping any distance between its heat and your most vulnerable parts is the underwear holding the last bit of your dignity together. but once he wraps his arms around you—which squeeze you so tight you think you’ll burst— and he angles you so your hips stick back enough for him to rub between your thighs while pressing up against your cunt, you’re sure you’ll throw up regardless.

he, however, groans at the contact. “s-so warm.” you can hear him begin to pant as his hips start rhythmically pressing into yours, the force alone enough to jolt your body against the wall. “f-feel so good.” you can taste blood as you hold back your sobs. it feels like an eternity passes, each groan and inhale against your nape makes you more nauseous until your body has had enough.

being pushed too far from the fear, the drinks, and the pain, it causes you to collapse on yourself. everything seems like it fades as you fall slack in the stranger's arms. maybe if you die while unconscious, it’ll be okay. at least you won’t feel the pain.

sounds come in and out like you have bad radio service, your eyes too heavy and body too weak to get a good sense of what’s happening, but you hear—

“t-this? my girlfriend drank too much s-so i’m j-just—“ comes from somewhere around you, somewhere close.

“awww!” you hear, whiney and dragged out from some girl who definitely had more than you tonight. “you’re such a good boyfriend for babysitting.” your heart aches when you try to fight, to move, to scream and you’re far from successful.

“i wish my boyfriend let me drink that much.” if you could just tell one person what’s happening, if you could just show even a little bit of struggle, someone could save you. “you’re even carrying her! so cute!” if someone could just see your face, maybe they’d see that this is not who you arrived with, someone could tell kirishima. “you guys get home safe~!”

you feel like a boulder is set on your chest, the weight of your failure weight bearing on you when everything’s quiet again.

/// /// ///

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re able to bring yourself out of your useless state until you’re finally able to blink your eyes open and take in your surroundings. it’s all blurry at first, but the furniture in your line of sight slowly starts to resemble that of the setup you have in your room. there’s your vanity, your nightstand, this is your comforter, a weak smile works its way onto your lips.

you could cry from the relief. whatever happened, whether it was all a dream or something you won’t be able to remember, you don’t care. you’re home.

you toss your head back into your pillow, taking in a deep breath, catching the smell of what's likely your own sweat before you try to stretch your arms out, the needles stabbing into your hands making you feel the need to shake them to fix your blood flow. but they don’t budge, and the sound of metal clanking makes you shoot your eyes open and then you feel it.

your grogginess to blame for you not being able to the cuffs that encase them before. nor the sinking weight that kneels beside you, a large figure looming over you looking that much more daunting with the light behind him illuminating only his towering figure as he hunches over you, huffing and whining with his cock only inches from your face.

your lips tremble when the false sense of safety washed away and you look up past the movement of his hand, slowly taking in the dark green mess of hair that falls around his face, the chunky metallic mask that causes each of his heavy breaths to be echoed before you meet his eyes, the wide, terrifying green gaze that burns back at you makes you wish you were still unconscious.

“o-oh.” he’s so loud as he shoots out his load across your face and the bare parts of your chest, thick and hot where it lands. you cringe as your name is chanted off his lips and you squeeze your eyes and mouth closed, not wanting to let yourself be any more violated than you already feel. your head pounds as you feel the urge to cry, but you can’t seem to force yourself to.

“i didn’t—i didn’t finish earlier,” you hear him mutter above you, “and it hurt—looking at you,” a hand smoothes along your hairline, making you jump at the contact, and he retracts. “s-sorry… you’re just… so pretty.”

“can i…” he starts and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to answer if he actually asks you a question. “can i take a picture? it’ll only be for me, i promise.”

“please…” your voice is weak and you have to try and gather some spit to swallow to allow yourself any more volume. “don’t…” your request is sure to be ignored, he’s seemed to do whatever else he’s liked.

“you’re r-right,” you feel the mattress rise once he disappears from beside you, “another time.”

you try to test your voice again, you’re not sure how long it’s been since what you can last remember, but if fuzen wasn’t on patrol, he’d be in bed. if only you could scream.

“i’ll clean you up, is that o-okay?” you don’t reply, only tense when the warm cloth wipes at your skin. “sorry, again. i feel like such a pervert.”

you open your eyes again once they’re clean, and staring at your curtains, you try to think. you can’t even speak, can’t move, can’t fight. how long are you going to be so helpless?

“are you okay? i know i probably scared you…” you wish you could scoff. “could you at least look at me?”

you don’t move to face him, not wanting to look into those horrifying eyes again. just the thought of him, next to you now, staring at you with them makes you shudder with fear.

“look at me.” he grips your jaw, reminding you how big his hands are as he forces you to turn towards him. you avoid meeting his gaze. not wanting to know if it’s just as piercing as before, instead, you take in the green mess of curls, how they stick about and fall into his face. you can see him staring at you, but still, skip over making eye contact and make out the freckles at peek out from behind the metallic mask that seems to be slipping, making you close your eyes again.

if there was any small chance of you getting out of here alive, there’s no way you can see his face.

“hey–”

“your mask,” you whisper, and his grip loosens as soon as you speak.

“oh,” he mumbles back. you can hear what you guess is him toying with it, but you realize as you peek up, was him removing it. “guess i don’t need this.”

with his face fully revealed, you can feel yourself sinking into acceptance of your fate.

“you’re staring…” you can visibly see him swallow, his eyes darting between yours and the floor. “am i attractive?” a soft smile grows on his lips at him complimenting himself as if you’d really said it. “i’m happy you think so.”

“i have a roommate,” you speak, voice cracking.

“what?” his eyebrows drawn together, face set in a scowl before he pushes himself from your bed. “you need some water.”

“he’s a hero.” you try again, even as he walks away and you’re sure you’re out of earshot. “a strong one, and he’ll be home soon.” you pick your head up to watch him throw the door open, and all of your hope for your roommate saving you drains as you stare down a hallway that doesn’t belong in your apartment; you’re not home…

if you saw any typos, no you didn’t !!<;33

reblogs + asks + feedback appreciated !

#bnha smut #mha smut #my hero smut #izuku smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku x you #bnha x you #mha x you #stalking tw #yandere tw #drugging tw #noncon tw

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akutasoda · 8 months

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don't let me go

synopsis - to you, they were like a sibling and maybe they felt the same way

includes - yosano, chuuya, sigma, tecchou, ayatsuji (all platonic)

warnings - gn!teenage reader, fluff, overprotectiveness?(not controlling), wc - 1.1k

a/n: hii! im so sorry i accidentally posted it before i actually finished so i had to delete it but i managed to screenshot so shh if you saw that! also having serious ayatsuji brainrot. similar posts may be found here and here

akiko yosano ★↷

↪ i feel like you would of either met her through coincidence or you had talen up part time at the agency. either way as soon as you met her and started hanging around her more and more you couldn't help but feel as if she was like a older sibling.

↪she also very quickly saw you as more of a younger sibling. and it stuck, she looked out for you as if you were her very own sibling.

↪also feel like ranpo would be in on it aswell, him and yosano already act as siblings so if yosano saw you as her younger sibling so would he.

↪probably would join her, ranpo and maybe dazai in their gossiping abiut whatever is happening online or in real life. or she would tell you some stories about pther agency members if you promised to keep it secret.

↪maybe if you were really interested in her role at the agency, she would show you the basics. get you acquainted with basic first aid and how she deals with certain injuries. or if you were in school she would really encourage your education.

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪in a similar way you either met him through coincidence or being another unfortunate child to be dragged under the port mafia. but upon seeing you, he couldn't help but see something akin to his younger self in you and became slightly more protective of you. to make sure you stayed as safe as possible.

↪and with him hanging around you more often and keeping an eye out for you, you started looking up to him. like a role model that felt more like an older brother to you. and soon upon your accidental admittance to seeing him as your older sibling, he couldn't help but feel the same way.

↪and with that he became slightly more overprotective over you. not overbearing but he couldn't help but dote on you. he hasn't had a good relationship with his so called 'brother' per say and maybe he could give you a healthy relationship with him as your older brother.

↪you two probably would get into little squabbled about dumb things but it would always be unserious so it was always something to tease the ither with.

↪if you were still in school he he would really support you in getting a good education, if you were under the mafia he would probably try to push you out off it discreetly.

↪or he would take you out and about, giving you the childhood he wished he had. it would be only natural him as your now found older brother.

sigma ★↷

↪how you met sigma in the first place is quite the mystery. but you two became attached pretty quickly. at first it was mainly because in his 3 years of life he had never met someone who hadn't wanted to use him, until he met you.

↪he noticed how you looked up to him. he had no clue why though. but this was the first time so he thought that he couldn't let you down and started to look out for you. originally he wanted to push you away because he was associated with some... not very good people. and he worried that your affiliation with him would put you in danger.

↪so he had just got to try and hide it. and eventually you told him that you saw him more as an older sibling and how could he just push you away when he too saw you as a younger sibling. and for the first time felt like he truly met someone who wouldn't use him.

↪he would be really good at showing you how he managed the casino, trying to actually keep you away from the actual casino, but would teach you how to manage things. he would also encourage your continuation of education as he believes that's important for you.

↪if you did know about his forced affiliation with the decay of angels, he probably would catch you bad mouthing them and try to encourage you not to, he was scaref they would find out but deep down wished he had that kind of confidence to do the same.

↪he would treasure the time with you, it felt like he truly had a family. just two people who viewed each other a siblings and looked out for each other. who knows how much time you two had left together?

tecchou suehiro ★↷

↪you had probably met through being caught upon a mission or by pur accident. but however you met, he felt like he should be looking after you. and with you hanging around when he wasn't doing his duties he just felt as if ot was also his duty to protect you.

↪and gradually you became a natural part of his life, he truly felt as if you were a younger sibling. and you felt as if he was a older brother. and with his occupation as a hunting dog it made it all the easier just to look after you and protect you.

↪definitely teaches you about responsibility, and heavily encorages you to keep in education of some kind. really does just encourage you i whatever you want to do, within reason.

↪he would definitely just look out for you at all times, as his found younger sibling he would be willing to overllok justice if it meant keeping you safe.

yukito ayatsuji ★↷

↪again probably either met you upon unfortunate circumstances in a mission or by accident/coincidence. an unlikely sight to tsujimura and she is slightly worried for your safety but seeing how his demeanor beacomes softer around you she lays off.

↪you started seeing him as a older brother when you started hanging around him. he was sort of like a role model to you. and soon he started seeing you as more of a younger sibling.

↪maybe it creeped you out alittle that he had a basement of dolls, or maybe it didn't, it's up to you. if you're not creeped out maybe he could show you how to make a few or just show you them.

↪but one things for sure he looked out for you. maybe he was under the watch of tsujimura but if someone truly did anything to you he suppose he could pull a few strings.

↪again really encourages you to actually get a education as boring as it may be you'll need it. then again you two could always gossip about the people that are assigned to watch over him when there not around.

#x gender neutral reader #x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #x child reader #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #bsd tecchou #tecchou x reader #bsd ayatsuji #yukito ayatsuji x reader #🌀 anon↩

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yandereunsolved · 2 months

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Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader

cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks

✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires.

✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.

✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous!

James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.

"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"

"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"

✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one.

✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are.

"You taste... a dream."

"Never leave."

"The best prey— never leave me."

✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.

✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.

✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.

✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.

"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."

He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up.

✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.

"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"

He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.

✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.

✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.

You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.

✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.

"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."

He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.

✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.

✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.

✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.

✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.

✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.

✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.

✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.

"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."

As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.

"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #yandere #ahs #ahs hotel #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #james patrick march #jpm #yandere jpm x reader #yandere james patrick march #yandere james patrick march x reader #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #ahs headcanons #ahs fanfiction #jpm x reader #james patrick march x reader #headcanon

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bobeni · 1 year

Text

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎O23 ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ፧ ‎ ‎EGGS AISLE ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏♡ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎

✶ users! › denji, m!reader.

✶ synopsis! › it could no longer be simply considered a coincidence; with how denji always seemed to pop up at the same time, at the same little store, just to see you.

✶ wrdcnt! › 1,586.

✶ cw’s! › fluff, possible ooc here we go, simp denji, trio stuff in the beginning, this is probably unnecessarily long lmao. i used they/them for the reader for one line, btw.

“Aw crap, we’re out of cereal and milk again! I’ma head out to the store to get some more!” Denji shouted as he zipped past two lazy bodies to the front door, snatching his hoodie off the rack with poorly disguised eagerness.

Aki sighed, looking up from the creased daily newspaper. “Again? That’s the third time this month.” His orbs followed Denji’s haste movements to shrug on the clothing.

The blond barely spared him a glance as he tried to fix his bedhead, “Yeah, yeah, I know, right? It’s bogus how Power keeps eating it all.” He feigned understanding just as said girl squawked at the blame now delivered to her shoulders. “What the fuck? I haven’t even touched the cereal since two weeks ago!” She yelled, mouth full of her breakfast, unfortunately it was just amalgamation of bacon and eggs.

“Ya can’t fool me, Powy, I know you sneak around in the middle of night, scarfing that shit down.” The gobsmacked look on blonde’s face was one Denji could remember for centuries.

“You bi一” as she was prepared to scream her indignation, she was stopped in her tracks by Aki’s agitated groan, followed by Denji’s so-called reassurance.

“Don’t worry, though,” the boy flicked the lock open, stepping an inch outside the apartment with every syllable. “I’ll make sure to replenish your stash, so don’t wait up!” Denji grinned at that last part, officially saying his leave to the both of them, the door narrowly missing his behind with how fast he tried to shut it.

With the boy off and out, Aki’s eyes lingered on the door. But they began to narrow in suspicion, prompting him to rise from the coach and walk into the kitchen for further investigation.

However, his investigation ended as soon as it started. The man found not just one, but several boxes of cereal, moderately filled. As well as the milk, as far back in fridge as it was, half full. This made his face scrunch up in confusion as he shut the fridge and leaned against it to turn his attention to Power一who now had a lap full of Meowy, clearly had to have been ruffled by the morning ruckus and sauntered out of their bedroom.

“Power,” Aki started. She nodded in his direction, still stuffing her face. “We’re still good on breakfast一he’s not just ‘going to the store,’ is he?” He wondered aloud, sighing at the thought of Denji pulling some shit.

“Yes, see!” she jabbed a finger in the air, “He’s up to something. Something... I can assume is very stupid.” Then Power just pets a purring Meowy as Aki shakes his head at it all.

Geez, that was close, Denji thought as he strolled down the sidewalk. It was getting real tiring having to think excuses pertaining to various foods they did or didn’t have. Many apologies and more to his family, but he couldn’t let them know the reason why he had those excuses for where he was going一especially not Power, god, he’d probably never hear the end of it.

Oh, what was the reason exactly?

He has a crush.

That’s right, the reason why he began waking up early in the morning and trying to make sure not a single hair was out of place一well, in his own unique way一was because someone is after Denji’s heart. And he’d so let them take it if they pleased.

One day when it was actually his duty to do some shopping, at this little grocery store a few blocks down from his apartment, is where he met you.

He was only there to gather the items on the short list that Aki handed over to him that morning, but when you stepped up next to him while he was eying two freaky looking fish, and the shy offer for assistance flew out of your mouth, he found himself a bit touched.

“But you don’t even work here, though?” was what he said back then, now eying you.

“Do I have to work here in order to help out some clearly indecisive guy?” The little chuckle that you ended your rebuttal with was unfortunately cute enough that it made his heart jump in his chest. When you leaned over to help him pick the better fish, his heart was absolutely drumming at how close you were and how easily his hand could slip into yours.

He didn’t say a single word of complaint when you offered to help him finish up his shopping; he just let his cheeks burn a bright pink while he trailed behind you with two baskets and hearts for eyes.

After that day, every other week or so he’d pop up at the store, yearning to see you, while also juggling his best attempts to make his appearances look normal and coincidental.

It was a flawless plan in his mind. Every day you two seemed to be getting closer and closer; then soon, he couldn’t deny the hope that lingered.

Even if it should’ve been embarrassing一considering how easily he fell for you after only meeting a handful of times. But he couldn’t really find it in himself to give a fuck.

Denji smiled proudly, maybe he could finally get to do all the things couples do with you.

Meanwhile the blond was gushing, it didn't occur to him that had already arrived at the store until he heard that familiar bell’s jingle giving him the signal.

Then he let his eyes wander, searching the store trying to pick you out of the bustling crowd of shoppers. He stumbled upon right when he almost missed you; you were crouched down by a vending machine, mashing away at the buttons.

With a little bit of pep in his step, he made a b-line for you.

“Good mornin’, [name].” Denji jostled the keys in his pocket when he tried to wave. You looked up at the approach and softly smiled at him. “Hi there, Denji. You doing some shopping again?” you made casual conversation as you were inserting money into the slot. Pink dusted his cheeks as he immediately responded with no, in his head. But in real life he stuck with a shy confirmation and told you that he just needed some cereal.

But as you were prepared to say something else, you were interrupted by two bags of chips spilling out of the bottom.

“Holy shit, what did you do?” Denji was cackling at the surprise you exuded.

“I don’t even fucking know,” you chuckled, pushing yourself up from the ground. “But how perfect is this?” the smile on your face was too warm, too soft, he almost ignored the next words that came out of your mouth.

“One for me, and one for you, Denji.”

You held out a bag for him and he stared in disbelief.

“You’re... gonna share with me?” He hesitantly reached for the bag, awaiting your next answer.

Still smiling you told him exactly what he wanted to hear, “I’ll always split stuff with people I like. Obviously.”

Obviously, you said. You also said that he’s one of the people you like. Obviously.

He was so glad it was obvious to you because he clearly missed a chapter or two一but he didn’t care, this was what he was hoping for the entire time. Maybe he’s got it.

“[Name]...” Denji called as you were already munching on your bag of chips. You immediately caught his eye, humming as you wait for the moment the boy was ready to speak.

“I... I just want ya to know that I really, really like you.” The blond laid his heart out on the table. “And I wanna date you and一nd take you out someday...?” He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the chatter of civilians the longer you kept quiet. And he was actually so ready to bolt out of the store right about now if this goes down a road he hadn’t hoped for.

But there you go, exceeding his expectations again.

“I know,” is what you said.

Denji’s eyes snapped open at that and you laughed at the shock written all over his face.

“You know? Wha一Whaddya mean you knew?” Because of the shock, Denji’s voice also was getting louder so you took his hand and led him outside to avoid any suspicious eyes. Though you were laughing along the way, Denji was angry pouting as he tried to shush you.

Calming down a bit, you stuttered out apologies before confessing. “I’m sorry, Denji, but it’s not like you tried to hide it or anything一” his mouth fell open. “I coulda sworn I was being subtle!” That was one of his most natural build ups for a confession, like, ever.

“You have the subtlety of a puppy,” you covered your face as you snort. “But that’s okay because it’s one of the things I like about you.” He flushed red underneath your teasing gaze.

“So... ya really do like me then?” Denji didn’t take his eyes off of you this time. This new smile of yours formed cute little crinkles around your eyes and he thinks it’s one of his favorites.

“If I say yes, would you be my boyfriend?” The sly question had Denji’s heart doing flips. He’d love nothing more than to wear the title of your boyfriend and to have you as his.

So he answered with a kiss.

✶ notes! › i actually completed this holy mf shit i did not have hope. i still think it’s literally too long for my original plan but whatever i’m kinda happy with what i came up with.

#✧ ˖ ⠀ sin’s joint . ❜#i. ֺ ۪ 𝅄 ▸ ⠀ the sky just seems so blue . ❜#ִֶָ𖤐˚ ⠀ csm.#ִֶָ𖤐˚ ⠀ denji.#csm x male reader #chainsaw man x male reader #denji x male reader #csm x black!reader #chainsaw man x black!reader #male reader #black male reader #male reader insert #x male reader

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dira333 · 6 months

Text

Wild Dreams - Sero Hanta x Soulmate Reader

For my Follower Celebration - requested by @fuzztacular

and before anyone asks: Denki's soulmate is blind as a bat without her glasses and mistook him for a friend

“Hey, sexy lady.”

You look up from the breakfast you’ve been preparing.

Hanta’s standing in the doorway, exhaustion pulling on the bags under his eyes. He’s still in his Hero Costume, looking almost as dashing as when he left yesterday evening.

You, on the other hand, are wearing one of his shirts that you pretended to throw out months ago and threadbare pajama shirts, your hair hasn’t seen a brush and you’re pretty sure you forgot to take off your make up last night.

But that’s Hanta for you. Flirting with you even when he’s falling asleep standing up.

“Hey yourself.” You wave your spatula at him. “Do you want to have breakfast with me?”

“I want to sleep with you. In our bed. Just… eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Could we do that?”

You laugh. “You can, but I will be off to work in an hour.”

He takes two steps and drapes himself over your shoulders. “Please?” He whines. “The bed isn’t the same without you.”

“Five minutes.” You agree easily. “Go wash up.”

“YAY!” He presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek and dances out of the kitchen while you finish your breakfast.

You’re not surprised to find him fast asleep by the time you step into your bedroom.

He’s curled into himself, leaving just enough space for you to slip in between his arms.

You close your eyes, trusting your phone alarm to wake you up - and allow yourself to slip dream…

Years before

“This sucks.” Hanta mutters and pops another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What sucks?” Denki’s been fiddlling with his phone, his Nachos precarily balanced on his drink.

“Soulmates.”

“Oh, that again?”

“Yes, that again! I can’t believe I’m the only one in our class who doesn’t have a soulmate.”

“You don’t know that.” Denki repeats his mantra for the hundredth time. “You just don’t have any visible clues.”

“Even Mineta has a Soulmate! He might not have found it yet, but how cool is that? Only being able to see colours when you meet them? That way you know for sure who it is.”

“You could have the same type as Todoroki. Your soulmate is just ultracareful that’s why you haven’t felt any pain yet.”

“Nah.” Hanta shakes his head. “I told you, I don’t have a soulmate. Just accept it and feel lucky about your own.”

Denki levels him with a glare. Right at the collar of his shirt sits his soulmark, four words written out in scraggly handwriting, spelling “What’s up, Dumbass?”

“You shouldn’t give up that easily,” a voice behind him says and Hanta turns, surprised to see the prettiest girl he’s probably ever met.

“I…” He starts, mouth dry, words dying on his tongue.

“Couldn’t help but overhear.” You stick out your tongue as you smile. “But you could be a dreamsharer? Everyone in my family is one.”

“That can’t be.” Hanta shakes his head. “My dreams haven’t changed at all ever since I remember.”

“What a shame.” You put one hand on his arm as you speak and his mouth runs dry again.

“What are your dreams like, then?”

Hanta looks over at Denki who’s eyes are as big as saucers now, urging him to keep talking.

“I, uh… they’re pretty active? Like there’s this new anime that I started watching lately and I keep dreaming that I’m in it.”

You laugh. “Don’t tell me it’s Haikyuu. I keep thinking that I’d make such a great Libero but I keep dreaming of myself as the Ace.”

“You watch that too? That’s funny, it’s the other way around for me! I think the Ace’s are the coolest, especially Asahi or Iwaizumi, but I always dream of myself as the Libero.”

Your smile grows.

“What a coincidence.” You draw the words out and flick your eyes to the front where the doors to the cinema hall open.

“I think you should give me your number.” You say, words coming out so smooth Hanta thinks he’s misheard you. “Just in case we dream of each other tonight. You never know.”

When your alarm goes off, Hanta is dreaming of swinging from building to building, the night sky clear and full of stars above him.

You don’t feel bad to leave him to his own dreams when they’re as nice as today, even less when you know that this has been the last night shift for a while.

Requests are open - Follower Celebration or not.

#my writing #follower celebration #Sero Hanta #Sero Hanta x reader #Sero x Reader #Sero Fluff #Soulmate reader #Soulmate AU

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seoafin · 11 months

Text

dog days are over | chapter four

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): NSFW, fem!receiving oral, menace geto.... word count: ~6.1k

fic masterlist read on ao3

Satoru is mad at Suguru.

You’re sure of it. That was why Satoru kissed you that night in the garden. Once you reached the obvious answer, you were relieved, satisfied, and then panicked. If there was one thing you dreaded the most, it was coming between Satoru and Suguru, especially when they were fighting. To you, it was always better to steer clear of everything their heightened emotions entailed. You are sure Satoru would come to regret it, if he didn't already. You don't know how to face him again.

You blankly stare at the ceiling of your room. It’s been a week since you last saw Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. Or the kids. You had come straight home that night and had fallen asleep in a heap of exhaustion, a brief reprieve before the dull gray sunlight of the winter morning had woken you up again. The memories of the previous night paralyzed you in shock. Satoru kissed you.

It hadn’t been…unpleasant.

Panic seizes your chest. You whip up, tearing the sheets off of you, breathing heavily. You will yourself not to think about it. There is nothing to think about. It happened. Satoru had a score to settle with Suguru. It happened. Satoru gets competitive and sometimes, when he and Suguru really fight, they hurt each other with a singleminded focus that always draws in casualties.

You are a casualty.

You’d be off to Nagoya tonight for a couple of days, assisting the local jujutsu sorcerers with a quick footed curse that had been giving them much trouble. You’d stop by the school to drop off paperwork, and then you’d catch a taxi to the train station where an auxiliary manager would meet and brief you. There was no reason for Satoru and Suguru to be at the college. Shoko would be there, but you knew her schedule well enough to know she’d be buried in her own duties to seek you out. Utahime was visiting on the weekend, and she wanted to finish up her paperwork early before she came.

It’d be easy. If you could just muster the strength to get up and leave your apartment. You don’t know how an everyday task can turn so daunting in a blink of an eye. The thought of running into Satoru makes your blood pressure rise. If you ran into Suguru, you’d probably kill yourself from the shame.

Outside your window, a tree branch rustles. You look outside. There's nothing there.

Slowly, lethargically, you wash, take a shower, and dress. When you leave the safety and familiarity of your apartment, you take a shuddering breath and force yourself forward.

It takes you 30 minutes to get to Jujutsu Tech. The familiarity grounds you enough that you can keep to your thoughts as you make the journey up the mountain and up the stairs, through the torii gate, and onto the campus.

To get to Yaga's office, you cut through the courtyard of the school building straight towards the staircase to get to the third floor. When you reach his office, before you can knock, the door slides open, bringing you face first with a hard chest. You catch yourself at the same time an arm around your waist steadies you.

Just as you think to yourself that this can’t be happening again, you meet a dark green gaze.

“Ah!” A voice exclaims.

You blink as the man comes into focus. “Hideo-kun…”

“What a coincidence,” he grins. “To see you here of all places,” he glances down, at your conjoined positions. “Just like this!”

His enthusiastic attitude is infectious. The anxiety that has been weighing on you dissipates just a little. You manage a smile. “I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say apologetically.

“No worries!” He drops his arms, he cocks his head to the side in a question. “Are you looking for Masamichi-sensei?”

“I am.” You peer past him to find Yaga absent from his usual place behind the large, oak desk. “But it’s fine,” you raise the paperwork in your hand and give it a little wave. “I’ll just put this on his desk.”

“I thought I might be able to talk to him today, but I guess that’ll have to wait,” he muses. At your inquiring gaze, he says, “Just to finalize my transfer from Kyoto.”

“Is everything coming together well?”

“I'm moving into my apartment this weekend.” A laugh. “I still find myself getting lost on the subway though. I never thought a city could be so busy!”

“It takes time getting used to,” you sympathize. You’ve lived in Tokyo your whole life. You are intimately familiar with the streets and back alleys and crowds, but you can understand how someone who has lived his entire life in Kyoto could find Tokyo an urban jungle. Kyoto is quieter, stiller. More traditional. A mesh of old cobblestone streets lined with traditional and modern architecture. “But if you ever have free time on your hands…I’d love to help you get acquainted with the city.”

He beams. “Would you? I’ll take you up on that offer.”

You figure it’s the least you could do. Hideo had helped you as a child. If you could help him in some way now, you would be repaying him. Besides, after Satoru’s behavior last week…

You hesitate, drawing back his attention. It’s been weighing on your mind. You spent the better part of the week formulating an apology in case you ever saw Hideo again. “I’m sorry for Satoru’s behavior last week. He’s not usually so…”

Abrupt? Irritated? Mean? A bully?

You realize that Satoru is, indeed, all these things, and at times, worse. You try again. “He was in a bad mood.” He kissed you. You felt his tongue impatiently run along the seam of your lips like a warning. You felt him in your mouth, a force of nature all on its own and his body pinning you to the wall, his hands hiking up your dress, up your legs, your side, your face. His thigh slotted between your own, pressing into you—

Your smile feels off. There is a warmth in your face that is accompanied by a feeling of slow dread. “You caught him at a bad time.”

Hideo blinks in confusion, before his face breaks into something understanding. “Oh, that was nothing!” Hideo says agreeably, nonchalant. “Gojo-sama is usually much more intimidating!"

“Is that so…” It's odd to be faced with such a narrow view of Satoru. Satoru could be intimidating, but you know he’s so much more. It’s not the first word you’d use to describe him. Boredom comes to him easily, in the casual indifference in the set of his face, as does the distance in his eyes that have always held the clarity of the heavens.

But you’ve never doubted the intention of his gaze when he looks at you. He sees you. As reassuring and terrifying as it is. You think of his hand pressed against yours, the weight and the warmth. You think of him sad. His head tucked into the crook of your shoulder, the redness of his eyes afterward. Taken off guard, he can be quick to anger, but you’ve seen him compose himself in seconds. You’ve seen him silent, the anger brewing in the cloud of his face, the turbulent storm of his eyes, when it feels like even a wrong breath could set him alight.

Then you think of Satoru stubbing his toe on Suguru’s desk in your first year, and the way he curled up on the floor in the seconds after, pale faced. He pretended to walk with a limp for the next three days after Suguru had cast him out of the room for being an annoyance, and when Yaga had sent him to the training yard he had refused, citing grievous injury to his being.

You know him. You know Suguru too, all of the contradictions of his nature. His kindness and his occasional pettiness, the barbed sharpness of his words and how easily condescension comes to him, especially with Satoru urging him at his side. How hard he tries to be better, to wrangle the darkness that beckons him, that bone deep disdain for others that incites the worst in him.

It’s a comforting fact. They make each other better. And worse. Which makes you feel even more horrible for coming in between the two of them. There’s so much confusion. You don’t understand. It feels like you don’t know them anymore. Maybe you never even knew them in the first place. Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed it.

“I never thought he’d ever deign to talk to me though,” Hideo chuckles, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “It was my first time seeing him up so close. Personally, the thought of talking to him so casually makes me break out into a sweat!"

Casually...You suppose...you suppose you do talk to Satoru rather casually, don't you? You wonder if people notice when you call him Satoru. Your days of regarding him as Gojo-san are nothing more a distant memory. You like the shape of his name on your tongue, just as you like saying Suguru and Shoko. It's proof and permission. You wonder if you'll have to revert back to Gojo-san if Satoru decides he hates you. Suguru too.

The nerves underneath your skin buzzes. You hear it in your ears. The distant beating of your heart.

“The two of you went here together, didn’t you?” Hideo gestures to the school. “With Ieiri-san and Geto-sama too.”

“That’s right,” you reply absently, thinking about all the time you spent in these halls as a high schooler. Jujustu tech, your first home.

“I’m jealous. I went to the Kyoto branch, but if I had known you were here I would’ve transferred earlier!”

You would’ve liked that, you think. Though, you’re not sure how Hideo would’ve responded to your despondent high school self. You think he would’ve steered clear away from you. You still don’t know how you had miraculously managed Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. One day you had been alone, and then the next day, you weren’t. You’ll spend your life grateful they decided you worth it.

“I spoke to Ieiri-san earlier too.” Your attention returns to him at the mention of Shoko. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh,” The buzzy feeling fades. You feel more tethered to your feet on the floor. To the ground. You feel warm all over. “Did she really?” You try not to look too happy, or eager. Hideo studies you with keen green eyes.

“You really love her, don’t you?”

Shoko, who had reached out to you for the first time by offering you a drink from the vending machine and a drag of her lit cigarette. You gently refused the cigarette but accepted the drink with shaking, nervous hands. It was the first time someone had offered you a drink.

“I do. She’s one of my closest friends…”

Hideo regards you softly. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

You raise your gaze and he smiles sheepishly, scratching his cheek. "When we were children, you always seemed...lonely." There's an awkward pause. "Well, I should leave you be!” He moves to turn down the hall, and stops. Looks at you and asks, “You wouldn’t happen to know where the cafeteria is?”

You direct him to the cafeteria. Before he leaves he asks for your phone and inputs his contact information inside. He gives you a small salute with two of his fingers.

Once he disappears down the hall, you enter Yaga office. You reach your teacher’s desk, but as you reach down to place your folder in the middle of his desk, you accidentally knock one of the three picture frames on his desk over. It hits the desk, face down. You pick it up to right it when you stop, and stare.

It’s you. Or more accurately, it’s an old picture of you from middle school in front of your school’s gates, staring grimly at the camera as if you’re seconds away from being put to death. It’s a severe expression you can’t quite place. Was there ever a time you looked like this? Clearly, there is, considering the picture in your hands. There’s a cast wrapped around your arm. Something nudges at your brain. A clean fracture. Blinding pain and then numbness. You passed out, slept through the worst, and when you woke up it hurt less. Your arm prickles at the memory.

It’s funny how memory works.

“Have you picked your bags?” Yaga sensibly says from the doorway. “If you leave in an hour, there won’t be as much traffic.”

Your hand lowers as you turn around to face him. “I left my bag with an auxiliary manager.”

You resume looking at the picture, trying to remember when the photo was taken. Yaga approaches you, and puts a hand on your shoulder. “It was a couple months before you graduated. I wanted a picture because I knew I wouldn’t make it to your graduation.”

You glance up at his face, framed by a pair of sunglasses, the familiar heavy set of his eyebrows, and the stern silhouette of his face that you had initially been wary at. He had been gentle with you, kind in a way you forgot adults could be when you needed it the most. You are endlessly grateful for him.

“I didn’t know you had a picture of me in your office.” Smiling comes easier to you now. Happiness too. You know what it means to be happy.

“I’ve watched over you since then,” he says gruffly, but you think his voice sounds thick with emotion. “You’ve grown.”

The words make your throat grow thick. You put the picture frame down on the desk to avoid squeezing it too tightly. “Sometimes,” you say truthfully. “I don’t feel like it.”

Sometimes, you still feel sad and small. You float through your duties of the day, seeking refuge in the comfort of your bed when night falls. Keeping your eyes open becomes a struggle, and the thought of living out the rest of your days until your inevitable death becomes unbearable. Sometimes, everything feels like a dream. A warm, happy dream bound to come to an end. It makes you remember Satoru kissing you in the garden, and the cold truth of reality. You messed it all up. Everything is coming to an end, and it’s your fault.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Yaga studies you, head tilted down. Then there's a hand on your shoulder. It's reassuring.

"It's hard for us jujutsu sorcerers to live a life without regrets," he starts. There's a pause. "But I don't want you to think it's wrong to try. Only you can decide how you want to live now." He pats you on the back. It's almost fatherly. It brings a sad smile to your lips.

You part from him after giving his hand a small squeeze.

You don’t know if you’ve lived a life without regrets, but you don’t regret the way you’ve lived. You’ve made it here, in one piece. It’s a comfortable existence. You are content. You are even given the privilege to be happier than you ever thought you’d be.

“I’ll be off now,” you say softly.

A nod. “Come back safely.”

Before you leave for the train station, you stop by the dorms, making a pit stop at your old room. You know the current students of jujustu tech, as few as they are, preferred the east wing of the dorm so it’s likely your room stayed vacant. You and Shoko’s rooms were in the west wing, a few halls from Suguru and Satoru’s room.

You open the door, taking in the surroundings of the room you had considered your first home.

It looks the same, barren from the lack of your belongings, but the same, as if you had touched it with your cursed technique the day you graduated. From the neatly arranged bed you had spent many nights and days in, to the desk in the corner Shoko had carved her name into. The empty bookshelf. You sweep your index finger over one of the shelves as dust gathers on your finger.

You sit on a bed that isn’t yours anymore and look around the room once more. Things were simpler in high school, you think. It was easy to get caught up in the small bubble of your environment. Your room. Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. Everyday, familiar and new.

A knock on the door draws your attention. When the door opens, your stomach flips, body locking into place as you stare.

“S…Suguru…”

He’s not wearing his uniform. Just a white button up and belted black pants. You wonder why he’s here. You didn’t know he was going to be on campus today. You are wholly unprepared to face him (or Satoru) right now. You thought…you thought you at least had a month at most before having to face the consequences of your actions.

You abruptly stand, forcing your hands to your side, feeling sicker with every passing second. Does he know? Did Satoru tell him? You wouldn’t put it past him. Satoru wouldn’t go to the lengths he did just to not tell him. To gloat. Satoru can be petty like that. You wonder if he hates you. You betrayed his trust. You wouldn’t be surprised if he told you he never wanted to see you again. You should leave now, excuse yourself, before he breaks your heart to the point where you don’t think you’d ever recover.

What would happen to the kids if Satoru and Suguru decided to separate? They’re so happy now, living together in a nice apartment that feels like a home. You’d be responsible for splitting them up—

Suguru waves your phone in his hand. “You left this in Yaga’s office. He asked me to hand it off to you before you left.” There’s a light smile on his face, and you wonder if it’s his way of being kind before he tells you he never wants to see you again. His smile grows wider with hidden meaning. “I’m glad I caught you.”

You don’t know what’s worse. Suguru knowing you kissed Satoru, or Suguru not knowing. Your head is spinning.

“Thank you,” you say breathlessly as Suguru closes the door, and strolls to you, moving to hand you your phone. You hadn’t even noticed your lack of a phone. Satoru is going to be mad if he finds out. If he still even cares. When Suguru’s fingers brush yours, you jerk back with a step.

Suguru watches you intently as you squeeze your phone tight, feeling dread pool in your stomach. You stare at the floor before your gaze flits back up to him. You manage a small smile. “Sorry,” you say, about to side step him, “I should really get—”

He says your name, murmurs it so softly that when it reaches your ear, you falter. He gently seats you on the bed. You have no choice but to wordlessly obey. He follows after by crouching down so you can easily meet his gaze. It’d be a comforting gesture if not for your heart jumping into your throat.

“Is everything okay?” Suguru’s usual easy smile seems gently probing. “Did something happen at the party? With your…friend?” There it is. That odd emphasis, a slight odd discordant note, reminiscent of that night of the wedding. Suguru’s just worried about you. But there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all your fault.

He covers your hands with his own.

Your mouth goes dry. He doesn’t know. Your stomach drops and you can’t swallow. You can’t leave him in the dark, you can’t…keep on betraying his trust like this.

“No, not Hideo-kun!” You rush to correct. It pains you to think Suguru might be judging Hideo’s good character. “Hideo-kun is…” He reminds you of the past. Every painful detail. But amidst the bad, you had also forgotten the good, as temporary as it was. “I want to introduce him to you and Satoru.”

You think this conversation somewhat sounds like you’re introducing a lover to your parents. Then you think that Suguru is probably not going to want to meet Hideo, not after this conversation. You take an unsteady breath.

“Suguru,” you say quietly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. It’s the last time you may ever see him so close, and you find yourself tracing the slant of his kind eyes, the slope of his nose, and the set of his lips. You love him, you really do. You love him and Satoru and Shoko to the point of memorization. You won’t forget him. Your nails dig into the fat of your palm. The truth is heavy on your tongue. “I kissed Satoru.”

It makes you feel marginally better. The act of confession. The truth is out. All the days and long nights you’ve spent agonizing and turning in your bed and even hiding from Shoko, all exposed.

Suguru’s face is unreadable. “I see.”

He’ll tell you he doesn’t want to see you anymore. That you aren’t welcome in his presence anymore, and you’ll take it gracefully.

You’ve been learning to live without them, after all.

Then his lips twitch.

You watch with increasing confusion as Suguru doesn’t scorn you. He simply studies you softly. “How?”

You’re at a loss. You blink at him. “What?”

He looks greatly amused. “Never mind. Why don’t you demonstrate?”

He slides a hand on the bed, by your waist, and rises. He takes your lips with his own, lowering you onto the bed. Suguru is kissing you. He smells faintly of sandalwood, as he always does, but somehow the scent is stronger with him right in front of you. There’s a pressure on your waist. You realize it’s Suguru’s hand.

When you separate, the hand rejoins the other on either side of your face. Suguru is above you, dark eyes lidded in an expression you’ve never seen before. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Like that?”

You stare at him.

He doesn’t seem to mind your silence. He hums. “Or maybe.”

He captures your lips with an eagerness absent from the first kiss. It’s hungrier, more predatory. Wetter, when he opens your mouth to allow his tongue access. It’s a kiss that requires your active participation. Suguru’s teeth gently nip at your bottom lip, and you flicker to life underneath him, mouth widening as if falling open in shock, all as he gazes at you unfathomably.

Your eyes go wide, as Suguru brings a hand underneath your head to angle you closer to him. The warmth of him, the closeness. You never knew a kiss could feel so…good, and you are immediately conflicted. Whereas Satoru’s had been rougher, lips and tongue cowing you into submission, Suguru’s is slower. More thorough, with the same intense heat of Satoru’s.

Your face and thighs feel uncomfortably warm. Suguru’s knee is pressed right against your panties. Everything is too sensitive, and the heat in your stomach makes you want to squirm away.

Suguru’s lips release yours, allowing you to breathe. His lips hover close, the tip of your noses touching as you stare at him. Somewhere between the first kiss and the second, Suguru pulled down his hair, and now the dark strands curtain you into his gaze.

Your hands unclench from where they’ve been fisting his shirt, so tightly you popped a few buttons. You want to rebutton and straighten his shirt out, but your nerves are frayed raw, every one of your senses occupied by Suguru.

You don’t know what to say to him, and with him so close, you don’t even know where to start. Satoru kissed you. Then Suguru kissed you. You briefly wonder if you should be expecting a kiss from Shoko. You’d have to start preparing now. This could all just be some prank they decided to play on you. And a part of you hopes it to be true. It would make more sense than…whatever this is.

But it does. Suguru shares Satoru’s vindictive streak, after all.

His finger brushes your neck, pressing down on the bruise right above your collarbone. A shiver wracks your spine almost violently. You had almost forgotten about it. “This was from Satoru, wasn’t it?”

You struggle with the words. “Suguru this…isn’t the way…to resolve your issues with Satoru…”

He blinks, and up close, you can see the flutter of his dark eyelashes, the way the corner of his eyes soften when he smiles. There’s a laugh on the tip of his breath. “As uncomfortable as this is, this is exactly how to resolve things.”

Uncomfortable…? He must be referring to kissing you. It must not have been a pleasant experience.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, still breathless and flushed. “I’m not…” your face warms even more, self conscious, “good at it.”

“Good at it?” Suguru registers your meaning. His thumb strokes your bottom lip. “It was perfect,” he says decidedly, making you warmer. “Uncomfortable is…”

His gaze lowers. You follow his gaze. There’s an unmistakable tent in his pants.

Oh.

It’s a normal bodily response. It’s not as if it’s because of you.

You look away, as if to save him the embarrassment, but he laughs. Your heart races, feeling the fabric of your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs you’re sure Suguru can feel on his pants, through your skirt. You’re the only embarrassed one here. Suguru hasn’t made any move to rise up away from you, simply seeming content to look down on you, to watch you.

You’d do anything to move away from being the center of Suguru’s attention. To recollect yourself away from him. Every passing second in silence makes you want to curl up in your bed and die.

“Do you want me…to help?” Anything you could do to escape being underneath him. You aren't familiar with it, but it's nothing you can't figure out. You’d think of all the potential ramifications later, as soon as you aren't being pinned down to the bed by Suguru.

“Next time,” Suguru says like a promise, awfully casual, despite the way his thumb had paused on your face at the suggestion. “How about I help you?” He asks cheerfully.

You blink and Suguru is off of you and the bed. You’re relieved, until you feel your legs being spread. Suguru’s face reappears between your thighs, hiking your skirt up to your waist. Instead of your face, now Suguru’s gaze is directed to the wet spot on your panties. You want to die.

A shiver wracks your body, legs instinctively closing if not for Suguru’s grip keeping them open. “Suguru,” you say, voice reedy with panic, “You really don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he replies. There’s a glint in his eyes. “Being here, in your old room. It feels like we’re students again, doesn’t it? Like we’re fooling around.” A teasing smile pulls at his lips. “It really turns me on, you know.”

You’re unsure of what to do with this information. You’re sure he and Satoru fooled around plenty in high school. You once walked in on them in the common showers together when you accidentally walked into the mens shower. But this is—

Something else entirely.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he says softly, almost reassuring. “Nobody’s ever been here before, right?”

It’s less a question, more a confirmation. He’s looking at you to answer him. Your face burns. There’s no reason to answer. He knows. They know. You’ve never kissed a man before Satoru. Once, a man had grabbed your hand on the street, but Satoru’s glower chased him off. You’ve never done anything more.

You nod, a wordless answer because you don’t trust yourself to respond.

He trails a finger down your panties. You choke on a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut to afford yourself some peace of mind, but it doesn’t help. He deftly slides your panties down and off your legs, fully exposing you. You can feel him looking. You grow wetter.

“All this from some kisses,” he muses. “Did you like them that much? I’ll remember that.”

You are too pathetically mortified to respond. It wasn’t…

He leans in close, exposing your wet heat to his interest. His voice lowers. “Did you get this wet when Satoru kissed you?”

Your eyes fly open, wide, meeting his amused ones. It doesn’t sound like an accusation but it feels like one. It feels like a competition. Competitive, the way the two of them have always been. But you…don’t want to think about that. You don’t want to think about anything. You wish he’d just—

Suguru drags his tongue against your cunt, and you squeal, legs attempting to lock shut around his head, but the two hands on your thighs easily keeps you spread. He chuckles, and every vibration sends a fresh wave of heat to your wetness. Before you can catch your breath, he pulls you forward to his face.

You feel the heat of his tongue pressing into you, taking his time exploring your folds with steady, broad strokes. You whimper, feeling your stomach tighten, your hands gripping the fabric of your sweater as the sound of your heart floods your ears. You hear yourself saying his name, over and over and over, and you think he might even like it, because he responds enthusiastically, as if to reward you.

Suguru’s lips are bright with your slick. You can feel yourself dripping, your body eagerly responding for him, despite your own reservations. The rise of your hips against his mouth while his tongue works to elicit even more noises from you. And then Suguru’s hand is taking yours, leading it to his head, all without stopping. Your other hand follows suit, fingers curling into his hair as you attempt to drag him closer, caught up in the pressure building in your gut.

Suguru’s thumb catches on the intentionally neglected swollen bundle of nerves, and you blindly sob out, hips jerking upwards, white hot overstimulating pleasure shooting through your veins. The world slows to still. Suguru takes it without pause, tongue lazily circling your cunt through it all.

You can barely breathe, too sensitive, too sore. Suguru is gazing up at you, all ministrations mercifully stopped. Your chest rises and falls, attempting to get a grip on yourself. Your hands have dropped from Suguru’s hair to your side. You should apologize. It must have been uncomfortable. You hadn’t meant to grip him that hard. His hair…

But that’s the least of your worries.

You unsteadily rise, removing your legs from Suguru’s shoulders, so that they hang off the side of the bed instead. You shakily smooth out your skirt. Suguru easily takes over the duty, pulling the skirt back down to your ankles and straightening it. His hand rests on your thighs, the heat of him felt through the fabric of your skirt, as if in reminder of what he just did. You swallow.

“Suguru…”

“Mhm?” His hands move to your hair, smoothing and fixing and petting, and you can’t do anything but let him.

“I…um. I…” The words don’t form. Your brain is still hazy from the residuals of your orgasm. You didn't know orgasms could be so life shattering. In more ways than one. You’ll never be the same again. Things will never be the same again. The thought makes your chest sink. You feel like a child again, lost and alone.

You’re worn and spent and you still have to make your train to Nagoya. Your head begins to throb. Too many thoughts.

“Tell me about your friend,” Suguru urges gently. “What did the two of you do together?”

You figure Suguru isn’t too mad at you if he’s asking about Hideo. That brings you immense relief. Although it's overshadowed by every other conflicting feeling fighting to take reign inside of you, including more guilt. It’s odd. You thought he’d never want to see you again. Instead he chose to get back at Satoru.

You’re still relieved nonetheless, glad that he’s still talking to you, if anything. Such a small thing brings you happiness. You love talking to Suguru. You love his attentiveness, his patience, his (mostly solid) advice. It makes things feel right again, and you respond to the normalcy of it. The pieces fall back into place, anchoring you to the moment.

“We just talked.” You recall the night. “He was…we briefly knew each other as children. Back when I…” your hands curl shut. You shake your head. “We walked in the gardens afterwards. Then…” Then Satoru happened. “Um…Satoru was…rude to him the other day. And since he’s moving to Tokyo…it’d be nice if you could get along with him—”

“Get along, you say…”

You nod, lips curving despite everything. You think Suguru would like him, in fact. Satoru is usually too impatient for others nowadays, short tempered in a way that has people fleeing in the other direction, but you always thought Suguru appreciated straightforward qualities.

“Hideo-kun was it?” Suguru smiles pleasantly. “No, I don’t think I will.”

You stare at him. “...”

“...”

“Oh,” you echo. “That’s…okay.”

You feel deadly embarrassed, face burning. It isn't as if Suguru or even Satoru for that matter are under any obligation to meet the people in your life. They don't have to like them either. You shouldn't have mentioned it in the first place. You think you should excuse yourself now.

"H-how was Sasaki-san? Did the two of you have fun at the party?” You want to know if Satoru likes her too, but you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask at the party.

“It was just a party,” Suguru simply says, thumb rubbing circles into your ankle, almost absentmindedly. "It was boring, really."

You wonder if romance is a topic he doesn't want to discuss with you. Not anymore. Not after...

You’re unsure why you keep on talking. You want to talk to him. You want him to talk to you. You want to be comforted. “Shoko said the bride didn’t want to get married.”

A grimace flits across his features. “I suppose not.”

You straighten, paying attention to his expression. Interesting. “I didn’t realize you knew the bride personally…”

“I don’t,” The words leave his lips smoothly, convincingly. “Anyone could see she wasn’t happy.”

He’s lying to you. Others may not be able to tell, but you can. Suguru lies too well. It’s when his words come easiest, his facial expressions too sincere and free of all hesitation that you’ve caught him. If anything, he lies too well. You know him enough to know that even Suguru struggles with the words sometimes.

You don’t say anything. It’s not your place. There could be a lot of reasons he doesn’t want to tell you but you can’t help but think it’s because you’ve lost your place as his friend and a confidante. You wonder if he’ll ever confide in you again. You wonder if you’ll ever exchange books and trace over the print of his handwriting in the margins. It’s a horrible feeling. You might cry.

You don’t like who you are when you’re alone. The best parts of you have always belonged to others.

You force the panic into a tiny, tiny box inside of you. You smother it all down until you feel okay again. Everything subsides. A little empty, but functional. You’ve always been good at that, if nothing else. You have a mission in Nagoya, and a train to catch.

You stand on unsteady legs. It's suddenly a little harder to breathe. "I should get going," you say evenly. "I'd hate to keep the auxiliary manager waiting!"

You flee the room.

You take three steps out of jujutsu tech and realize you are missing two things. Your phone and your panties.

#geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #m.jjk #ddao

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thegreymoon · 4 months

Text

The Story of Minglan

I have to study. It's so late and I am so tired. I must pass these fucking exams and I know nothing. But I must also know. WHAT. HAPPENED. WITH. THE. PIRATES. 😭😭

Just a few minutes. Please.

***

I wanted to yell "PRIORITIES!!" at her when she grasped this doll as she was drowning, but.

I remembered that I too have dolls I would totally jump into the river for. However, mine are too delicate and there would probably be no saving them if they got soaked.

***

GU TINGYE??

LMAO, of course 🤣🤣 He's been saving the Sheng siblings from pirates from the moment they met!

***

Ugh, cutie baby 🤗

***

LMAO, what is up with that beard??

I am not a fan.

***

WAIT, WHY DOESN'T SHE RECOGNIZE HIM?

***

LOL, what is this nonsense?

It's literally been days since they last saw each other, a few weeks at best.

***

What a joke, smh. I hate it when writers pretend we are imbeciles and think that they can get away with nonsensical rubbish like this.

The beard is ugly, BUT COME ON! You saw this man literally days ago, he still looks the same and sounds the same. Why was this necessary? This is honestly insulting.

***

I'm still fascinated that Sheng Hong put an old woman, a fifteen-year-old and a bunch of useless maids on a boat and just let them sail across half of China, bandits be damned!

Why were there no men, no guards?

***

I also want to know.

Other than fanservicy coincidence, of course.

***

Seriously?? 🙄🙄

***

Eh... from everything I've seen so far, I am not convinced that she is not better off being the daughter of a water pirate 🤔

***

MTE.

***

Minglan and Tingye, minding their own business:

IRL footage of me:

***

LMAO, I love Shitou 🤣🤣

MTE, where did this come from?

I mean, an army is a great place to build a career if you have no other choices but you have to survive it first! How will it do your illegitimate daughter any good if you were to die?

***

Aww, happy old people make my heart melt 🤗

***

Yeah, because two dead maids are nothing to think about. It's not like they were actual people or anything 🙄

***

Why do all the girls have the same last syllable? Hualan, Molan, Rulan, Minglan, Shulan, Pinglan, etc. But the boys share the first syllable. At first, I thought it was a gender thing, but the Yu sisters, Yanran and Yanhong, also share the first syllable. Also, I thought it was customary in ancient China to give all kids from the same generation a name that started with the same first syllable?

***

LMAO, are the grannies back to matchmaking?

***

Wait, is this the guy he saved in the forest?

***

Ooooh, imperial relatives, you say??

Imperial relatives that Gu Tingye saved and are now his friends that owe him a debt of gratitude? 🤔🤔

My plot senses are tingling!

***

Oh my god. Bandits? Again?? 😑

***

Are you kidding me?

I am not a fan of this Pinglan. She seems like a reckless idiot, in addition to being a boundary-stomping, attention-seeking know-it-all.

***

OK, I am not keeping up.

I don't know anything about Chinese history. Are these characters based on actual real people?

***

LMAO, the blank expressions on everyone's faces 🤣🤣

Sometimes, parents can be so embarrassing.

#the story of minglan #tsoml spoilers #tsoml ep23

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slashthrashandcrash · 1 month

Note

Slightly on the same track as your baby!Legion and how Ghostface would likely not, uh..."perform" without some kind of protection, but what do you think he'd react like if he ever did have a kid?

No, but realistically? Not thrilled. Kid would be a walking sack of all kinds of traceable DNA evidence if it were to be born. He's not the kind of man that would be above inducing miscarriages and then stabbing you in the spine a week later after he's sure.

I think it really depends on the circumstances. Was this baby accidentally conceived while he was Ghostface, or was it under his Jed Olsen/any other alias? If it's the former, he'd probably have no idea he even has a kid after he dips out of town a little while later. If it's the latter, I feel like his partner would reach out to him, since they already assume he's such a sweet and caring guy who would want to be a part of their unexpected child's life! But he doesn't seem like the kind of killer to keep up a persona for 9+ months until the baby is born, so...back to the aforementioned homicide. Hell, he may already take the precaution that anyone he has a relationship/hook up with while under his alias dies shortly before he reveals himself and flees across state lines again, for the sole purpose of ensuring there's no little surprises coming out of witness interviews.

But let's say something happens -- he has his fun as Ghostface with someone, he doesn't realize the protection failed, he didn't kill them immediately afterwards because he was feeling a little too cocky and that sloppiness came back to bite him in the ass. Especially if that partner would be too ashamed to admit they slept with fucking Ghostface of all people, news probably wouldn't get back to him for months, maybe even years later, when he's drifting back again through the area and hears about a pretty face he once enjoyed toting along a kid who's age suspiciously coincides with his last visit...

Yeah, no, he's still not getting involved. Frankly, would you even want him to? Are you going to ask a serial killer to pay child support or take them to soccer practice or something? This isn't even touching on his own upbringing with his father, or his clear psycho- or sociopathic tendencies (which are hereditary) and lack of empathy, this is all the schematics of what would be in his best interest to not risk getting caught. He won't be active in the kid's life...that anyone will notice, at least. He will keep tabs on them frequently, just to see how they're coming along. Any interest in starting fires or killing small animals? Any suspicion about who their dad could be? Any names floating around that might connect him to the child through the investigative grapevine? Are they a good kid, or are they simple good at acting like one?

Of course, stalking your own kid and having trauma related to severe daddy issues, I don't think he's going to be able to help himself from getting just a little attached to them. He still has 0 parental inclination or a nurturing bone in his body, but he'd probably feel a bit of pride when his kid finally stands up to a playground bully and gives them a bloody nose, or seeing them pick up casual mannerisms he himself has that they never would have seen, or just the fact that he has to admit the kiddo is pretty adorable with little bits of his features he can pick out from their face.

I can also see him taking more notable interest in the kid if/when they start displaying the same destructive tendencies as him, more so when they're a teen. At that point, depending on how violent their habits have become, he may fully step in. Kid's going to get caught fucking around and end up in juvie at this rate, which means fingerprinting and records, which further means a police file on them is by proxy 50% of a file on Danny, and that won't fly. He needs to keep them on a tight leash for both of their benefits, pass the torch of the Ghostface name so that the legend will continue, teach them how to do it right if they're so insistent in following in their father's footsteps, test them.

If they accept and succeed, well, what a lovely future of homicidal bonding they can have to make up for lost time! If they reject him, if they think they can eventually turn on him, if he thinks they're going to be too much of a risk...sorry, but they've aged out of that cute little baby face that had made him hesitate before, now they're just useless teen he has little care for when he disposes of them once and for all. Shame.

#ask #anon #i loooooove making danny as legion's not-dad but i must insist he would not be a good father #like would not even try to act like one for public appearances

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starzshopoflove · 7 months

Text

Read the fine print

(141 x F!Reader)

Notes: This is concept is taken from herethereb3dragons on AO3 following a similar plot concept but not the same. Yes this is a omegaverse story I have no apologizes I wanna feed my brain worms.(Will be switching between first and second person in this writing) Summary: Lost your job after finding out your boss was committing federal crimes and the local economy crashes? Omega Re-housing services suddenly deciding to tighten their requirements? Sick of living in a shitty apartment alone everyday with no one to come home too? No problem! Just become a Contacted Companion to a military group overseas and never look back, full proof planning right?! A/N: This is a more intro chapter idk how to explain it but you'll get it when you start reading

WC: 2.4k

I could’ve been a nurse if I wanted too, or maybe I would have opened a cafe. Probably not, I hate blood, well I don't hate it. I just don't want to be around it everyday, I don't mind a cut or a ugly scab but then again that's always on my body. Owning my own business would stress me out, I can barely handle being 3 days behind on work, imagine not making enough to keep the shop open for another month I’d go into shock.

On the other hand I’d probably not be in the position I'm in now If I had my own business or hell a medical degree. To be fair I couldn't predict this, I couldn't predict any of this no one could and if they did there’d be hell to pay from every single person in that fat shiny building downtown. Everything happened so fast, the market value crash, our manager getting arrested for embezzlement, the company housing getting repossessed, all our assets getting seized and sold. I wish I could lie and say it was a blur but it wasn’t, call it a trauma response but I remember every detail of that day from the moment the building shut down to signing away my dignity.

***************************************************************

Everything hurts, your back, your eyes and your legs. Oh yeah and you're sweating, gross right? Isn't it wonderful that they stuck the little archivist all the way in the back of the office in her own little office where she can do all her “important” work. All the way where no one can smell or see where they’re hiding all the omega employees, what a coincidence.

Yeah it's mid september and it's chilly outside but you’re boiling in here now and the fabric of your jumper is sticking to you and everyone in here can smell you now. At this point all you wanted to do was run back to your office, peel off your jumper and wipe away all your sweat while drowning yourself in scent masker. Honestly it's humiliating, getting burnt up in your tiny room then being forced by your superior to trolly off all the files to the accounting department upstairs.

You weren't in any danger of course most people were civilized and wouldnt attack you on sight or in this case on the whiff of unmarked omega scent. It still worried you, but no one could touch you here, not while you were an employee, not while you were safe under the watching eye of the corporate security cameras watching everyones every move.

Doesn’t that make you feel a little safer? Always being watched? Yeah they could fire you for the littlest thing but you could be safe. The camera doesn't discriminate, the camera can't lie, the camera shows what happens and doesn't care if you’re Alpha or Omega.That reminder makes you feel a little safer when you're pushing your little cart into the elevator pushing the button for the 26th floor. It's not as hot in here as it was downstairs.

You lean back a little on the bar between you and the mirror while your eyes stay trained on the little black screen of red letters rolling up as the elevator dragged you upstairs. Do you ever do that thing where you stare at the mirror like your face is gonna change the longer you look at it? You do now.

Just standing in front of it poking at yourself, making sure there's no crust in your eyes, sometimes bearing your teeth to check that you don't have anything stuck in them. If you know what was going to happen you might have spent longer staring at yourself, capturing the moment maybe.

You look tired, you are tired. Hollow eyes stared back at you in the mirror forcing you to look at how empty you were from the inside out. It was always day in day out move on. You didn't have time to think about mating, joining a pack hell even having kids. Wake up. Work. Go home. Trash TV. Sleep.

You try smiling and letting that go seeing if it would change anything. It didn't. Mirrors were more indifferent to you. Check if you’re clean and move on with your day not thinking too much about it. Elevators forced you to look at yourself they always do. There's no one else in here but you, the mirror and those 2 doors.

The little hum of mediocre elevator music churning out whatever pop tune combination the media had coined dead would be your last unknown moment of peace.

When those elevator doors opened and you pushed out your little cart all you felt was the sudden slam of a body knocking your poor cart away. That alone ripped you out of your tired little haze forcing you to look around the room and see what was actually happening.

The accounting department of U&G Food Supplising Inc.? In shambles

The air of the floor felt thick, suffocating. Too many people were up out of their chairs, people were paired off to the side staring into their papers like life was drained out of them. Pale faces, and sweaty hands clambering around wire phones tuned out voices shouting into their speakers. The stress off of them was enough to start scaring you know.

It was everywhere, one of the brokers was seated back in his chair holding papers in both hands with his phone pressed onto his ear yelling incomprehensible jargon into it while his eyes dizzied out on the papers he was holding. Others looked like they already lost hope standing in the middle with empty blank expressions that told you enough, they were probably savoring the last few moments of normalcy.

A heavy buzz cut the air and that's when everything stopped. The market just closed, everything was so quiet. People stopped talking, staring at the big screen hooked up on the wall where a chart was displayed with its thick red line descending into the negatives.

Papers were in the air, Phones were rattling off like crazy, Desks were flipped over and files covered the floor. Out of panic you might have started slamming the button on the elevator faster but you got the other side of the coin and was stumped in shock and maybe a little anger.

All you wanted was a quiet boring life, is that so much to ask for? You got your degree in the most boring field possible, you got a job at the most mundane company that would hire you, you got a quiet little apartment tucked in the dreary part of town where nothing happens and you thought you finally won. Small victories you thought, I wont get forced to mate with anyone here, I can pass as a beta here, I can, I can, I can't.

In hindsight you should've seen it coming, Omega Rehousing Authorities were getting stricter, The company was losing money and you were ignoring all of it. Until now where you were trapped in the corner of the accounting department where everyone was screaming and panicking when all you were trying to do was bundle up all your files and run back to your stuffy little room.

Staying on the ground was safer then standing up I think, you can just stay down here on your knees trying to gather all the papers you can so you can slam on the elevator as hard as possible to get you back to safety. Yeah! Just keep grabbing papers, don't think about the Alpha across the room practically tearing out that betas throat, or those 2 slightly to your right scruffing at each other to grab as much cash as possible. You won't get in trouble right? You're just an archivist delivering papers, you don't know what's happening but that's a good thing. You don't know what's happening and it's bad because now you're holding all your papers to your chest and you don't have any scent masker practically leaking your scent everywhere while there's so much yelling.

Keep ignoring it you’ll be alright, there's police here but they're not here for you, keep ignoring it. Yes the screaming and yelling is getting louder while there are people getting arrested but you're still under your illusion of safety so keep ignoring it. There's nothing wrong, get your papers and leave there's nothing wrong you can't hear anything no one's calling your name just stand up and leave.

But there is someone calling your name, your full name. With your Identification number.

Pulling your head up felt like dragging it out of water and meeting the eyes of 3 ORA agents in crispy black suits and sunglasses did not help with your anxiety when you were stuck down on the floor.

“We’re with the Omega Re-Housing Authority, we’d like to speak with you”

_____________

That's when everything started moving faster and phasing out until I realized I was in a new room. The room felt sterile, steel table, plain gray walls, the uncomfortable plastic chair I was stuck in. My heart was rattling inside my chest and I kept breathing in for more air but every breath felt stale and dry no matter how many times I sipped at the little plastic cup they gave me.

Why was I here? What did I do? I didn't know what was going on, I had all my paperwork, I had a job and a house they can't take me away can they?

That creaky door opening and shutting dragged my attention away to the ORA agent in front of me. They look less threatening without the glasses, it doesn't help much but seeing their eyes makes them look more human. He looked like he was pitying me and that just made the bile in me churn, I felt like I was in trouble.

He took his seat right in front of me, placing down a plain manilla folder on the cold steel table before he folded and placed his hands on top. God, when he looked at me I thought I was gonna be sick. I bet he could feel the fear weeping out of me, I didn't have anything on me. I didn't feel safe without my scent masker or some sort of suppressant. I didn't make it this far passing as a Beta without them, now I felt like I was waving a white flag screaming Omega.

All the anxiety from years of drifting through life poured through you since you got your class as omega. You wanted to hide in a thousand layers never to be seen again. Where no one could see, touch or hear you. An isolation but a safe comfort like how you made your home. The one you will shortly no longer be able to afford.

You tried making friends you really did, you had friends but then something inside you would rear its ugly head out and whisper for you too leave them alone how much you're bothering them can't you see?

So you would let it slip through the cracks. One missed plan turns to another and suddenly you spend every afternoon curled up on your beat couch watching drag reruns on cable tv in your dingy apartment thinking this is better than being out and feeling your stress turn your guts around.

Now look at you! Sitting in a ORA “interview room” probably about to be shipped out to some random alpha in the middle of nowhere shucking corn for the rest of your life popping out babies you can't afford. The worst part is no one would notice!

“You’re not in trouble Ma’am”

‘Yeah thanks for that buddy.’ I wish I could say that but I just kept staring at him, more watching his lips move than hearing him speak. I caught some words here and there of “Bankruptcy” and “Liquidation”. By the end of it from what I can tell is Im unemployed and soon to be homeless. I could move in with my mom, or maybe my sister then ORA couldn't relocate me at least, they won't have the chance to.

The last time I sent my papers my mom passed as the register on my guardian substitute. I'm not sure if they’ll take it again, Beta guardians work but If regulations keep changing they might start demanding she terminate her rights and they assign me to an Alpha.

How sick is that? I spend my whole life fighting tooth and nail acting like nothing scares me, trying to prove I can fend for myself and don't need a pack. I did everything by the book and I still got stuck in the chair everyone told me I’d never end up in.

I should be angry, I should be boiling and here I am shaking like a leaf in this chair playing in the pliant and meek omega stereotype, fantastic.

Sliding the folder over to me on the table the ORA agent opened up the folder, sliding his hands over to his pocket to pull out a fountain pen. He cleared his throat almost condescendingly as he uncapped his pen, tapping it onto the paper in the folder.

Is it weird I forgot he was there? Everything started meshing together when I heard him say I wasn't in trouble. I mean I didn't completely forget, his scent was basically choking me forcing his presence to be made aware. I'm listening now but I wish I could roll over and sink into the floor.

“ORA would like to offer you an employment opportunity, aboard.”

***************************************************************

TERMS OF EMPLOYMENT

1.)i.) Signing party will be placed under the employment of STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL and CAPTAIN JONATHAN PRICE

ii.)Singing party will be taken as a pack member to Task Force 141, bearing responsibilities of archival tasks, moral support, and contracted companionship.

2.) Signing party will be salaried, paid biweekly on fixed income.

i.) Signing party will be provided private quarters on base

ii.) Signing parties quarters will be located by the nearest employer

iii.) Signing party will not be obligated to travel in deployment or relocated without prior consent

iv.) Signed parties quarters will be furnished as usual, any additions will be added upon request.

3.) Signed party is under no obligation to complete orders from any authority not listed within this contract.

SIGNATURE : ________________ INITIALS: ______________

“You gotta be fucking kidding me”

I hope u guys like it please leave a comment if you do and dont be afraid to ask or suggest any ideas you would like too see from me in other works or in this! - lots of love star <3

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the-way-of-words · 9 months

Text

Sing A Song For California

Nick Folio x Ofc (Mel) Content Warnings: oral sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex (don't be dumb like these guys, wrap it up) Contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. This is fiction. None of this happened. If this isn't your thing though, then hit the back button or scroll on. So, this started as a smut prompt (found here) request from an anon for Folio with the prompt of Louder/Quieter and it uh, kinda took on a life of its own. Sorry about that. This is a follow up to All We've Got's Tonight and happens to be PolyVerse adjacent. Seriously, I don't know why I'm like this. But anyways. Have at it! And dear anon, I hope you enjoy.

Tag team: @ladyveronikawrites, @nerdraging4point0, @cncohshit, @jxstthisonce, @shaydayhere, @kingdomof-omens, @no-clean-thoughts

My master list can be found here.

~~~

<NF> So, you're in L.A., huh?

Mel looks up, confused, swings her head around to see she can spot him, but he's nowhere to be found.

<Mel> … You stalking me Nick Folio?

<NF> And if I am?

<Mel> I own pepper spray, you know

<NF> Hah. I promise to behave

…

I may have been checking out your Instagram… and what a coincidence, we're in the same city.

Her cheeks heat. She hasn't seen him since he convinced her to come to his show, days after they met. It's been awhile, months in fact, but it's hard to forget how his hands felt on her body, the heat of him against her. It doesn't help that every now and then she gets a text, or a dm on Instagram; just to check in, say hi. She's very proud of herself for keeping it casual, for not going any deeper, as if she were trying to build something.

<Mel> That is quite the coincidence.

<NF> Would it be too much to ask if I could see you?

It shouldn't be such a complicated question to answer, but it is. If Mel's honest with herself, she wouldn't mind seeing him again; has thought of that night plenty of times in the dark of her bedroom when she's feeling lonely. Not that she'd let him know that.

<Mel> That's bold of you. For all you know, I could be here with a boyfriend.

She isn’t. She’s been in town visiting her sister this week, but he doesn’t need to know that.

<NF> You got a boyfriend, honey?

Honey. The word spreads heat through her. She can still hear the almost taunting way he said it after he left a hickey on her neck. Can see the self-satisfied smirk on his face, proud of the proof they'd been together that'd stay even after he was gone. He's got a possessive streak, she thinks, and she doesn't know if it stokes the fire, or gets on her nerves more.

<Mel> …No. But the thought of you squirming a bit was worth it.

Even though it's probably not the smartest decision, Mel gives in; gives in to the pull in her gut. She might be mad at herself for it in the morning, but that's tomorrow's problem.

<Mel> … When would you have in mind?

They meet at some restaurant Mel knows she won't remember the name of. It's awkward, or at least it is on her side; it feels more like a date than she thinks it should. The place is casual, and she appreciates that, but it still seems a little much for something they both know is just going to end with sex. As loath as she is to admit it though, she missed him, missed his stupid face and the ways he can make her laugh.

There's a get-together tonight, at his bandmates' house, and he wants her to come, if you want to. It's said in a rush, almost like he's afraid she'll say no, and it's cute; how nervous he seems. Mel says yes, in the end, because why not? She's already here, sitting at this table with him… and what’s that saying? In for a penny, in for a pound and all that.

And that’s how Mel finds herself with a beer in her hand, sitting next to Nick Folio in the living room of a strange house, playing the most intense game of Uno she’s ever seen.

“Uno.”

The statement comes from the only other woman in the house, Holly, and Mel’s realizing she might be why the game is so heated. The other woman smirks into her remaining card as the men around them groan, and she can’t help but laugh. They’ve played three previous rounds and the woman in question has won all of them.

“Haven’t you won enough?” Nick asks beside her, eyeing Holly suspiciously, “Are you sure you’re not cheating?”

The woman scoffs, “It’s not my fault you all suck this game…” she trails off to point at Mel, “except her… she’s kept me on my toes the entire night.”

It’s true, if anyone has been close to beating Holly, it’s been her, and even as she tries to keep a straight face, Mel can’t stop the smile that curves her lips up. She’s next to declare Uno and thanks to Nick serving a reverse card, she wins the game, effectively stealing the other woman’s fourth win. Whatever she was thinking a “get-together” full of band dudes was going to be, it wasn’t this. It seems more like an intimate gathering among friends and it’s got her insides at war with each other; she’s a little giddy at the fact that he seems comfortable enough to bring her around his friends, but panic wants to take root in her belly. This is feeling like more than a casual hook up.

Yet despite the pterodactyls flying in her stomach she accepts the high-fives and congratulations with glee.

One by one, they seem to drop. First, Jolly, the tall Swede who plays the guitar in their band, bids them good night; leaving with a kiss pressed to Holly’s cheek. Next is the other Nick, the bassist, who everyone seems to call Nick or Nicholas, referring to the man who brought her here by last name only. Mel finds herself a little curious when he pauses after he says goodnight, leaning into Holly for a split second before seeming to catch himself. He jerks back, putting a little more space between them before kissing Holly on the cheek as well. Then it’s just the four of them.

Conversation flows. The easy back and forth she has with Nick seems to extend to Holly and Noah as well, and Mel takes the time to observe the other two. She’s sure they’re a thing. There’s a closeness between them that speaks of more than casual friendship. Yet before this moment, she was almost sure that Holly and Nicholas were the item. It’s information Mel files away for later, to ask Nick about if she gets a chance. They don’t stay for much longer though, long enough for the woman to pull the promise of a rematch from Mel before she and Noah walk hand in hand up the stairs.

The room feels charged as soon as they’re alone. Almost as if the only thing holding them at bay were the others in the room. Heat warms in her gut when he turns his head, smiling at her a split second before reaching for her. Mel goes willingly, allowing him to pull her into his lap and his tongue into her mouth as soon as their lips meet.

His kiss is as good as she remembers, so is the sound he makes against her mouth when her fingers weave into his hair and tug. He retaliates by slipping his hand under her shirt, working it up her torso until he can pull one cup of her bra down to pluck her nipple. She can feel herself clench around nothing as she pulls her mouth away to whimper.

“Shhh,” he shushes her, bringing her mouth back to his, even as his fingers continue to tease. Mel can’t remember the last time she was in this position; making out in a stranger’s house with a guy she doesn’t really know. It reminds her of times long past but before she can let herself spiral too much about how she’s too old for this and any other reasons she should stop, Mel decides to allow herself another night with Nick Folio and save any self doubt for the day after.

His hand abandons her chest to join the other one at her waist, both of them gripping tight to help grind her down against him. They groan into each other’s mouths, abruptly pulling apart when they hear a thud from the ceiling above.

“Are your friends going to mind if we…” She asks, panting.

Nick chuckles, breathless, “Nah, Holly’s here… which at the very least will keep Nicholas and Noah occupied, if not Jolly too.” He kisses at her neck as his hands leave her waist to grasp the hem of her shirt, distracting her before she can even begin to dissect what he just said. “And if we stay quiet enough, there won’t be a reason for any of them to come looking.”

Whatever thoughts or concerns she had about his bandmates—and Holly—fly out the window when he nips the skin of her throat; her fingers tightening their grip on his hair the moment he sucks at a particular spot. “You are not leaving another hickey on me.” Mel makes sure he can hear the adamance in her voice.

He looks up at her and smirks, “What’s the matter, honey?” There it is again, honey. Her insides turn molten when he says it, even as the cocky asshole continues, “Didn’t you like having something to remember me by?”

“I think you liked the thought of marking me as yours.” She throws back at him, leaning in to capture his lips again before giving him any time to answer. He kisses her back roughly, as if he knows exactly what she’s doing, but he lets her do as she pleases, letting her kiss down his neck to nip at his own throat. She sits back to tug at his shirt, and he raises his arms, letting her pull it from his body and Mel remembers how her mouth watered at the sight of his dick last time. How much she wanted to feel the weight on her tongue, so that’s exactly what she sets out to do.

She kisses a path down his chest, noting the ink now covering the expanse, sliding backwards on his lap until she can get to her knees on the floor. His pupils are wide in the low light of the living room when she looks up at him, his hands flexing and releasing against his thighs.

“I seem to remember you telling me there would be time for this last time. So…” her hands go to the button of his jeans, “are you going to let me have you in my mouth?”

He huffs, “I don’t think you need to ask, but yes.”

Their hands bump against each other as he hastily helps her get his pants shuffled down enough for her to take him in her hand. She wraps her fingers around him, stroking him in a loose grip until his hips lift on their own accord, chasing her hand as she draws back. Nick groans out loud when she licks at the head, wrapping her tongue around it as she closes her lips around the sensitive tip. He whines when she pulls back.

“I think you’re going to need to be a little quieter than that.” Mel says around a smile.

Rolling his eyes, Nick looks down at her, “We’ll see what you say about ‘quieter’ when I get my--”

His words cut off instantaneously, head falling back when she takes him back into her mouth, tonguing his shaft as she works her way down. Mel bobs her head, taking more of him with every pass until her lips meet the base. He’s a mouthful, but she can take it. She lets him rest in her throat as she swallows around him, massaging the underside with her tongue; a trick she learned years ago drives men crazy and Nick is no exception. Tears blur her vision and she finally slides her mouth back, then forward again as she blinks the tears away.

His head is still tipped back when she looks up at him, the long line of his neck exposed and even as his dick is in her mouth, she can’t help but think he’s beautiful like this; lost in the heat of her mouth with his fists clenched tightly in the back cushions of the sofa. Her eyes roll back as he raises his hips to meet her, yet just as they begin to work in tandem he’s patting at her shoulders, running fingers through her hair to her attention.

She hums, continuing to jerk him off when pulls off his cock, “What is it?”

Mel takes pride in the way he rolls his eyes at her, hand closing around her arm lightly to tug her up to him, “Come on… get up here.”

“Impatient, aren’t you?”

“You telling me that if I reach my hand into these shorts of yours, I’m not gonna find you already wet?”

Standing between his legs, she plays with the waistband of her shorts. “Well, why don’t you find out?”

He surges forward, making quick work unfastening her shorts and thank god they have a little give because he doesn’t even bother with the zipper; just tugs them down her legs to let them pool at her feet while his fingers find the real prize. Nick touches her over her panties at first, smirking up at her triumphantly when the pads of his fingers brush against the damp fabric. And when he slips those fingers under the elastic hem, digits nudging through her folds to find her slick opening, she shoots a hand out to grasp his shoulder; something to keep her steady as her head falls back.

“Yeah.. that’s what I thought,” Nick says, and she can hear the smirk in his voice. He teases her, touching her everywhere but where she needs him the most. “Shit, come here.” His hands close around her waist, tugging her down to straddle his lap once again--

Her eyes roll back when she sinks onto him. Fuck, he feels as good as she remembers, splitting her open and filling her in all the right ways. Heat licks at her insides as she moves, want curling in the base of her spine when she closes the gap to bring their mouths together again. His hand weaves into the hair at the nape of her neck, fingers flexing and holding tight, and she moans, the sound swallowed by his mouth. It feels fast, and rough, and desperate, but it's exactly what she needs. Mel falls apart around him the second he presses his thumb to her clit, and he follows straight after, groaning into her mouth as he raises his hips, hilting himself inside her before he stills.

The morning after is less awkward than she expects. They both wake to the smell of fresh coffee and minimal teasing from his bandmates, although Mel’s pretty sure Holly’s presence has something to do with that. While she thought she knew what this was walking into it, every bit of this encounter has felt like something more than just a hook-up between casual acquaintances and she doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. So she doesn’t. She accepts the coffee, and later she lets Nick drive her back to her sister's house instead of calling a cab like she planned.

“So…” He begins as they pull up to the curb in front of her sister’s place. “If I wanted to get to know you more seriously… would you allow it?”

He almost sounds nervous, a far cry from the confident, almost cocky persona she’s accustomed to. His face gives nothing away when she looks at him, eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

She shouldn’t, Mel thinks. She should keep this as casual as possible because he’s a rockstar and while she knows they have something, it's something that’s probably better let be. But that is not what she says. No, what she says is, “Maybe.” Because she’ll be damned if she makes it easy for him. She smirks, leaning in to give him a kiss on his cheek before opening the door, “I guess you’ll have to see.”

#nick folio/ofc #nick folio x ofc #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #rpf #bad omens rpf #nick folio fic #nick folio smut #prompt fic

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