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villainsandvictimsalliance · 10 months

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(NO BETA) EXCERPT FROM MY SHIGADABI FANTASY AU, UP ON THE CLIFF:

“... Kurogiri told me earlier that you slept through most of the passage to the cliff. Should I trust you found it a peaceful ride?”

Still encased in nighttime dimness, Touya tried to decipher the tone floating down at him from the head of the table. He couldn't see its owner past the glow of the candles, the darkness that rained down on them from the vaults in the high ceiling. To compensate his lack of visual confirmation, he sketched the man there with his mind, faithful to the memory of how his host, the Count up on the cliff, had looked under the morning sunlight.

Touya remembered it all too well, how they had sat there distracted with their food or the noises of their companions. The Count's hair would flow down and sparkle against the raw terrain of his skin, making it all the more hard to not stare at his eyes of red turmoils and secrecy. The Count was fresh snow on an open wound and Touya thought the color was more common the closer he was to the passage, but not by much. On his journey to the valley, he had met barely a few of human refugees with a similar red in his eyes. Yet the Count's matched his cape and its collar, lined in white fur —it matched his hair.

That thought would've made him frown if spoken aloud. After all, he cared nothing if the Count had had the coat over his shoulders made to match him, if his scars made his all the more raw, if his was the name he hasn't known yet. Curious but trivial things did not matter and they shouldn't. Touya was only interested in the sensation of his mind already wandering, getting uncoordinated. It was the same case as before, when any thought of the Count would lead him into slippery slopes and Touya, or anyone else on that matter, would soonly forget why they were thinking about him at all.

“...”

Once more, Touya looked up to face the Count's silence, allowing the company to chitchat as they pleased. The times they talked were enough to be counted with the fingers of a single hand and, rare as they were, they would startle Touya, raising his attention of the ones sitting or resting beside him. The Count had the soft-spoken cadence of a man home taught by the best tutors money could buy, but his words lacked any politeness or fondness and instead came enveloped in direct orders or demands, cryptical than most, that the habitants of the castle would follow to the letter. Touya did call him a petulant child in the past, if he recall the accident shortly after his arrival. It had been easier back then, to insult him, to blame the anger and frustration he felt on the man that demanded his sacrifice. Touya hadn't known him yet and he did not know him still, which left him with the only other option available: to know himself better, his place in that monster town, his role in that castle. He could only decipher his own heart to set apart any alien feeling, any influence, any invasion.

As for now, it was as if they were not there. Touya had disappear alongside the Count to the world.

He risked a glace at Toga and the gecko boy, each by his left, but they were busy reacting to some kind of joke Jin was telling. Mr. Atsuhiro, by his right side, was not even looking at the table or his dessert, too busy gesturing at their butler as if explaining his excitement about what they had had for dinner that night. No one reacted to the conversation he was having with the Count. No one even looked his way o tried to pressure him to answer, not even the butler confirmed what the Count had said. Could it be...

Could it be that the Count was reading his mind?

Touya made to grab his glass, emptying his mind so violently he felt a snap in the back of his head. However, as soon as he extended his left hand the room started spinning, the smiles of the pictures framed by the walls getting more loopsided by the minute, the food balancing left and right over the tablecloth, a waltz of dresses and coats and hats and spiders—

“Calm down.”

Touya tried to blink it away. There was a solid grip on his chest, tugging to get the nod on his lungs undone. He allowed the unknown pulse to had him as he concentrated on keeping his face clean of panic; not thinking, not allowing anyone else to know how altered he wasat the moment. It took him a lifetime, the type that is condensated in a minute, before the room settled and he was able to hear.

“ —ust like that. Good,” Touya blinked again and again towards the direction of the voice, one, two seats past Mr. Atsuhiro, noticing what he thought was a faint smile hovering on the air and a pair of watchful red eyes on him.

Touya heard it again, this time realizing the Count was not moving his lips, not even vacillating on his strange and curious expression:

“Did I spook you, Dabi?” when he only narrowed his eyes in response, he was allowed to appreciate how the Count huffed with amusement, looking down at his plate, “A-ah. Don't be angry. It's not my intention to read your mind, nor am I doing it at the moment.”

Confusion accumulated on his brow, driving him closer to the table as if he could figure out what the Count was talking about by sheer proximity. He was not talking, was he? Touya could see how he lifted a cup to drink of the wine, responding to whatever Spinner had asked him a second ago.

“I am projecting the words to your mind, that is. I asure you it's a one-way road. Unless...”

For the first time since his arrival, Touya saw the mouth of the Count tilt at the corners with what could only be mischief. It was hard to admit, even harder to explain, what the motion did to him and how it activated his competitive instinct. From his time training with his dad, Touya could recognize a challenge with eyes close, hands bind, deaf to any sound. It was in the air, in the gentle swept of the candlelight, the smooth inclination of the host shoulders until his elbows were resting fully on the table, hands intertwined ao he could rest his chin.

He reminded himself of the original question, the one that started this whole conversation. He had slept, sure, but it jad been due the strange magic that had surrounded him that evening. Memories of his family had seized him as their car climbed downhill, images of his childhood on the Himura state, of Sekoto Peak, of his siblings and cousins running in the distance as he chased butterflies in the hidden fields past the family greenhouse. He doesn't know when he transitioned from merely reminiscing to fully dreaming. The distant howls woke him near the butler's tavern, some hours past midnight, maybe.

When Touya glanced at the Count, he was almost bored, playing with the rim of his cup while gecko boy showed him something on his hand. It could have been a spider, but Touya didn't care. He had an hypothesis to prove, a host to impress, a dare to win.

He pictured himself opening his mouth, forming the syllables with his lips, tasted the sounds of every vowel and sent them crashing to his host pretty ears.

Touya thought, “unless I talk back?” and stared satisfied at the Count as his eyes left the gecko's hands to look at him, red so bright he thought the world had caught fire. The Count waited, moving his fingers against his cheeks as if telling Touya that now he had his attention. “I slept on the ride here influenced by your butler's dark magic, but you knew that. You asked him to use his magic and put me to slumber. Your question, it was not politeness nor politics.”

The Count lifted his cup, drinking the last of his wine as Touya organized his thoughts.

“You wanted me to talk to you this way.”

It was the longest conversation he had had with the man since he arrived at that wasteland. The fact dented Touya's pride. That he had allowed the Count to treat him like a prisoner for so long, that he had allowed the Count to ignore him, his existence, if not for his presence every morning during breakfast and more recently on dinners, where he would not address him at all and leave as soon as the meal was over. He did not ached for his company or validation. He didn't want him to treat him like the rest, with similar silence that always ended on a well though inquiry, maybe a few words of encouragement, disguised by his position as the count so they wouldn't sound very vulnerable. The Count had talked to him before, but always through others, or just a phrase, just a nod. He had sent him a trained dog to guide him through the town, so he wouldn't get lost. He had offered to took him back to his village, ordering a car to wait for him every evening by the gates of the castle. He had gave him the key of his room, accepted him as Dabi and only referred to him as that, despite knowing the truth. Had had Dabi's meals made specially for him as to not upset his stomach, gave him a room specially acclimated to accommodate his wronging sickness.

Everything he knew about the Count, he knew it for his actions and never his words. And it had been enough for him for an entire month now. He had found it comfortable enough to walk and talk and act among them without much fuss. Touya only demanded answers or respect when it was either about his mission to unlock the mystery behind the demon sickness that afflicted him or when it was about his freedom to roam around doing whatever the fuck he wanted. He didn't care about the games the Count wanted to play with the rest of them.

He almost missed the moment the Count stood up, the legs of his chair scratching so subtly the wood of the floor. It was their signal. The meal was officially over.

He thanked the gecko boy —Iguchi— for showing him the cards of a new game he was crafting and nodded once, a gesture meant to acknowledge everyone in the room in a brief goodbye, before he walked out the room and left behind only the trail of his coat disappearing around the corner.

Touya followed the rest, his dessert intact on the plate as they took the dishes to the kitchen to be magically cleaned by the staff. Jin invited them to play cards, an offer he denied without explanation and that Iguchi and Toga immediately latched to. Mr. Atsuhiro had only crossed his arms and let out a single sigh, deciding he could play piano to make them company or supervise the progression of the game, in case it got... Complicated.

Dabi sent them to the game room with a shake of shoulders. They could do as they wanted too.

He didn't want to know.

On the hallway up to his room, he stopped along the way once, in front of the window walls. The moon had partially came out, clouds rolling low over the forest and mixing with the fog. The air was chilling, cold kisses on his bandaged wounds. He extended his pointer finger to touch a pale ray of moonlight, admiring the absence of heat and the silver stiches that differentiate it so much from its daylight equivalent. Beneath it, the edges of his burns became a deep purple, his skin taking and unnatural blue glow. Back at home, they had told him several times that his eyes would get the more scary at night, when they would shine even brighter than the moon or any fireplace made by human hands. He would laugh and smile, big, big enough to show all his teeth, and the kids would run and call for help and their mothers would call him a monster, a zombie, a walking grave.

Then came that sensation to his chest and Touya squished it, set it aflame, reduced it to ashes. He stepped back and turned around, not stopping until the door of his room was locked and his body was resting on his bed, curtains close, his clothes changed and wounds freshly bandaged.

He had felt red eyes on him. That sensation. The tug, the weight, his finger touching the glass of the window. Touya didn't want to know. He didn't want to know if what he had said was right or if it was wrong, if the Count left becuase he left or if he left because of him. He didn't want to know if the others were having fun, sitting on the carpet, fingers touching one another as they laid their cards down.

The night had inflicted irreparable damage on him. He shouldn't had allowed the Count to talk to him like that, through his thoughts, direcly to his mind. Touya shouldn't had fallen so easily for the Count's twisted games, craving the excitement of a new discovery, a challenger to beat, a rival to show off to. Something had been taken and given in return that night. The full moon was whispering of trades and Touya sat by the fireplace, burning piece of paper after piece of paper, until his rage had subdued.

« you want me to talk to you like this. »

Touya threw an entire book to the fire.

He didn't want to know.

#for the ones that don't get it: Tomura is the count up on the cliff and Touya was asked to him in sacrifice in order to allow (1)#the clan todoroki to live as refugees in the valley after they flew the cities due the demon plague (2)#Touya's sick with the demon plague and when Kurogiri told him it was all a test and he could return to his village if he wanted (3)#Touya decided to march on reach the castle and found out everything he could about the plague so he could beat it (4)#the demon plague will either kill you or turn you into a monster if completed —most people on the Count's town is a monster btw #Toga Twice Spinner Kurogiri Mr. Compress... they were all victims of the plague that survived because they met Tomura #Tomura is a sort of witch here and he has the power to help them transition. the only problem is that most human villages would hunt them #Touya here is frustrated 'cause being among the Count and his people proved to be very distracting #aka they keep trying to make him feel at home #Tomura here is softer than in the bnha canon 'cause AFO was not as cruel (yet) but he's way more awkward since he's #you know #very old #he slept most of his years okay? mentally and physically he is like 21 years old but chronologically he's a couple hundred of years #anyway he wants Touya to want to talk to him and he got sad because he realized he was kinda forcing Touya to talk to him lol #hope you enjoyed it!#up on the cliff au #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shigadabi #shigadabi au #dabishiga au #dabishiga #up on the hill au

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ajdrawshq · 2 years

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yknow what fuck this game for giving me brainworms. it should not be this good it should NOT

#god was created by mankind's wish for death among endless war and despair.. god is just a lonely little girl.. god is the moon #god is a witch. god is one of 7 people in the universe who can sing because she took song away from humanity #god has a little sister. god slept 1000 years waiting to kill everything on earth. god sings every day and night to save it #yeah im. im ok im totally ok #stella glow

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literallyaflame · 6 months

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okay. listen. if you ever find yourself falling into a new ideological circle, pay attention. if you notice that you’re among people who define themselves as part of an “in-group” with a pre-prepared human “enemy” to constantly rail against—if everyone fantasizes about the mental state of these loathsome monsters, if they participate in witch hunts or (perhaps worse) poke bears and court harassment on purpose to comfort each other over—get the fuck out. you haven’t been enlightened to some grand conspiracy, there are no evil “enemies” or “degenerates” trying to rip apart the fabric of society, and you do not have the moral duty to “enlighten” anyone to whatever you think the “truth” is. it’s neither safe nor normal to spend hours of your day fighting with strangers on the internet

a lot of people wear this shit like a badge of honor, but it’s also not normal to hide your “in-group” status as a form of martyrdom, relishing when the “enemy” slips up around you. it’s comforting in the moment, but in the long run, you’re alienating yourself from the world outside of your bubble. the more you alienate yourself, the more vulnerable and lonely you become, and the harder it is to reject the comfort of belonging to the “in-group”

i’m writing this from the perspective of someone who grew up in a cesspool of awful, cult-like rural churches—which is its own situation—but i see similar shit happening in online communities all the time, both within and 800 miles outside of my own ideological principles. yes, every toxicass radfem i block seems to be trapped in a version of this vicious cycle, but i also see it happening in random queer circles and niche fandom communities. no one is immune, not even me. i’ve watched people fall into this shit and never make it out. be careful

#some ideologies come pre-baked with this nonsense #because they naturally revolve around an in-group and an out-group #but i swear to god people will start acting like this over fucking #anime shipping wars #which probably seems harmless to most people #but those communities skew very young #and i have no doubt that it can be psychologically damaging #no matter how inconsequential it seems to my jaded 26 year old brain #me when i make a post

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headspace-hotel · 8 months

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There, in the sunlit forest on a high ridgeline, was a tree I had never seen before.

I spend a lot of time looking at trees. I know my beech, sourwood, tulip poplar, sassafras and shagbark hickory. Appalachian forests have such a diverse tree community that for those who grew up in or around the ancient mountains, forests in other places feel curiously simple and flat.

Oaks: red, white, black, bur, scarlet, post, overcup, pin, chestnut, willow, chinkapin, and likely a few others I forgot. Shellbark, shagbark and pignut hickories. Sweetgum, serviceberry, hackberry, sycamore, holly, black walnut, white walnut, persimmon, Eastern redcedar, sugar maple, red maple, silver maple, striped maple, boxelder maple, black locust, stewartia, silverbell, Kentucky yellowwood, blackgum, black cherry, cucumber magnolia, umbrella magnolia, big-leaf magnolia, white pine, scrub pine, Eastern hemlock, redbud, flowering dogwood, yellow buckeye, white ash, witch hazel, pawpaw, linden, hornbeam, and I could continue, but y'all would never get free!

And yet, this tree is different.

We gather around the tree as though surrounding the feet of a prophet. Among the couple dozen of us, only a few are much younger than forty. Even one of the younger men, who smiles approvingly and compliments my sharp eye when I identify herbs along the trail, has gray streaking his beard. One older gentleman scales the steep ridge slowly, relying on a cane for support.

The older folks talk to us young folks with enthusiasm. They brighten when we can call plants and trees by name and list their virtues and importance. "You're right! That's Smilax." "Good eye!" "Do you know what this is?—Yes, Eupatorium, that's a pollinator's paradise." "Are you planning to study botany?"

The tree we have come to see is not like the tall and pillar-like oaks that surround us. It is still young, barely the diameter of a fence post. Its bark is gray and forms broad stripes like rivulets of water down smooth rock. Its smooth leaves are long, with thin pointed teeth along their edges. Some of the group carefully examine the bark down to the ground, but the tree is healthy and flourishing, for now.

This tree is among the last of its kind.

The wood of the American Chestnut was once used to craft both cradles and coffins, and thus it was known as the "cradle-to-grave tree." The tree that would hold you in entering this world and in leaving it would also sustain your body throughout your life: each tree produced a hundred pounds of edible nuts every winter, feeding humans and all the other creatures of the mountains. In the Appalachian Mountains, massive chestnut trees formed a third of the overstory of the forest, sometimes growing larger than six feet in diameter.

They are a keystone species, and this is my first time seeing one alive in the wild.

It's a sad story. But I have to tell you so you will understand.

At the turn of the 20th century, the chestnut trees of Appalachia were fundamental to life in this ecosystem, but something sinister had taken hold, accidentally imported from Asia. Cryphonectria parasitica is a pathogenic fungus that infects chestnut trees. It co-evolved with the Chinese chestnut, and therefore the Chinese chestnut is not bothered much by the fungus.

The American chestnut, unlike its Chinese sister, had no resistance whatsoever.

They showed us slides with photos of trees infected with the chestnut blight earlier. It looks like sickly orange insulation foam oozing through the bark of the trees. It looks like that orange powder that comes in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese. It looks wrong. It means death.

The chestnut plague was one of the worst ecological disasters ever to occur in this place—which is saying something. And almost no one is alive who remembers it. By the end of the 1940's, by the time my grandparents were born, approximately three to four billion American chestnut trees were dead.

The Queen of the Forest was functionally extinct. With her, at least seven moth species dependent on her as a host plant were lost forever, and no one knows how much else. She is a keystone species, and when the keystone that holds a structure in place is removed, everything falls.

Appalachia is still falling.

Now, in some places, mostly-dead trees tried to put up new sprouts. It was only a matter of time for those lingering sprouts of life.

But life, however weak, means hope.

I learned that once in a rare while, one of the surviving sprouts got lucky enough to successfully flower and produce a chestnut. And from that seed, a new tree could be grown. People searched for the still-living sprouts and gathered what few chestnuts could be produced, and began growing and breeding the trees.

Some people tried hybridizing American and Chinese chestnuts and then crossing the hybrids to produce purer American strains that might have some resistance to the disease. They did this for decades.

And yet, it wasn't enough. The hybrid trees were stronger, but not strong enough.

Extinction is inevitable. It's natural. There have been at least five mass extinctions in Earth's history, and the sixth is coming fast. Many people accepted that the American chestnut was gone forever. There had been an intensive breeding program, summoning all the natural forces of evolution to produce a tree that could survive the plague, and it wasn't enough.

This has happened to more species than can possibly be counted or mourned. And every species is forced to accept this reality.

Except one.

We are a difficult motherfucker of a species, aren't we? If every letter of the genome's book of life spelled doom for the Queen of the Forest, then we would write a new ending ourselves. Research teams worked to extract a gene from wheat and implant it in the American chestnut, in hopes of creating an American chestnut tree that could survive.

This project led to the Darling 58, the world's first genetically modified organism to be created for the purpose of release into the wild.

The Darling 58 chestnut is not immune, the presenters warned us. It does become infected with the blight. And some trees die. But some live.

And life means hope.

In isolated areas, some surviving American Chestnut trees have been discovered, most of them still very young. The researchers hope it is possible that some of these trees may have been spared not because of pure luck, but because they carry something in their genes that slows the blight in doing its deadly work, and that possibly this small bit of innate resistance can be shaped and combined with other efforts to create a tree that can live to grow old.

This long, desperate, multi-decade quest is what has brought us here. The tree before me is one such tree: a rare survivor. In this clearing, a number of other baby chestnut trees have been planted by human hands. They are hybrids of the Darling 58 and the best of the best Chinese/American hybrids. The little trees are as prepared for the blight as we can possibly make them at this time. It is still very possible that I will watch them die. Almost certainly, I will watch this tree die, the one that shades us with her young, stately limbs.

Some of the people standing around me are in their 70's or 80's, and yet, they have no memory of a world where the Queen of the Forest was at her full majesty. The oldest remember the haunting shapes of the colossal dead trees looming as if in silent judgment.

I am shaken by this realization. They will not live to see the baby trees grow old. The people who began the effort to save the American chestnut devoted decades of their lives to these little trees, knowing all the while they likely never would see them grow tall. Knowing they would not see the work finished. Knowing they wouldn't be able to be there to finish it. Knowing they wouldn't be certain if it could be finished.

When the work began, the technology to complete it did not exist. In the first decades after the great old trees were dead, genetic engineering was a fantasy.

But those that came before me had to imagine that there was some hope of a future. Hope set the foundation. Now that little spark of hope is a fragile flame, and the torch is being passed to the next generation.

When a keystone is removed, everything suffers. What happens when a keystone is put back into place? The caretakers of the American chestnut hope that when the Queen is restored, all of Appalachia will become more resilient and able to adapt to climate change.

Not only that, but this experiment in changing the course of evolution is teaching us lessons and skills that may be able to help us save other species.

It's just one tree—but it's never just one tree. It's a bear successfully raising cubs, chestnut bread being served at a Cherokee festival, carbon being removed from the atmosphere and returned to the Earth, a wealth of nectar being produced for pollinators, scientific insights into how to save a species from a deadly pathogen, a baby cradle being shaped in the skilled hands of an Appalachian crafter. It's everything.

Despair is individual; hope is an ecosystem. Despair is a wall that shuts out everything; hope is seeing through a crack in that wall and catching a glimpse of a single tree, and devoting your life to chiseling through the wall towards that tree, even if you know you will never reach it yourself.

An old man points to a shaft of light through the darkness we are both in, toward a crack in the wall. "Do you see it too?" he says. I look, and on the other side I see a young forest full of sunlight, with limber, pole-size chestnut trees growing toward the canopy among the old oaks and hickories. The chestnut trees are in bloom with fuzzy spikes of creamy white, and bumblebees heavy with pollen move among them. I tell the man what I see, and he smiles.

"When I was your age, that crack was so narrow, all I could see was a single little sapling on the forest floor," he says. "I've been chipping away at it all my life. Maybe your generation will be the one to finally reach the other side."

Hope is a great work that takes a lifetime. It is the hardest thing we are asked to do, and the most essential.

I am trying to show you a glimpse of the other side. Do you see it too?

#american chestnut #hope #climate change #biodiversity crisis #climate crisis #trees #plantarchy #learning to imagine the future

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year

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Simona Kossak (1943-2007) Polish biologist, ecologist, author, PhD in forestry, and uncompromising conservation activist. They called her a witch, because she chatted with animals and owned a terrorist-crow, who stole gold and attacked bicycle riders. She spent more than 30 years in a wooden hut in the Białowieża Forest, without electricity or access to running water. A lynx slept in her bed, and a tamed boar lived under the same roof with her. She was also an activist who fought for the protection of Europe’s oldest forest. Simona believed that one ought to live simply, and close to nature. Among animals she found that which she never found with humans.

Photo: Lech Wilczek

#simona kossak #biologist poland #ecologist poland #other stuff

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apollohears · 2 months

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DEMO. ( TBD ) ✸ ROMANCES. ✸ PLAYLISTS.

last updated: coming soon !

IIn the upcoming 17+ fictional mystery and romance interactive novel inspired by Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters and ParaNorman, “Day of Dusk,” the story takes a romance-action approach, blending the thrilling mystery of the classic fantasy tales of witches and supernatural beings and witch hunting. You, as the reader, are immersed in a world where witches and dark magic lively coexist, two twines of the same throne, along with a forbidden mutual connection.

Set in a medieval fantasy world, "Day of Dusk" follows a small group of immature yet skilled traveling young merchants offering their famous service from small towns to bustling villages: witch hunting. As the story unfolds, the group is presented with difficult choices that impact the development of just how far one would go for power and love.

You and your group of companions are initially tasked with investigating a sequence of strange child disappearances within the polluted community of Ruel-Mizu. It is at your discretion how your group will unite and explore the fraught and somber history surrounding the vile and dangerous past associated with unveiling the dirty soil that was framed around the town.

You will not only confront formidable witches but also other abominable supernatural entities, encounter numerous unforeseen allies, and potential romantic partners along the way. Making weighty decisions will shape the character relationships and dynamics, ultimately determining the course of the narrative as you uncover the truth.

Through an exploration of forbidden romance, betrayal of those closest to them, the formation of unexpected alliances, and the undertaking of unfathomable sacrifices, "Day of Dusk" provides readers with an unparalleled and enthralling opportunity to delve into the world according to their own decision-making.

Just how far would you go to prove what’s right?

CONTENT WARNING: Day of Dusk is rated mature given that it contains suggestive mature themes, strong language, graphic depictions of violence, abuse, kidnapping, mental illness, death, grief, and other explicit material.

STORY FEATURES :

Play as a male, female, or non-binary; gay, straight, or bisexual; asexual and/or aromantic main character.

Discover friendships, connections, and/or their love with your brash yet seemingly devoted childhood best with a dreadful charm, a haunted prince plagued with a tragic upbringing, a secret poet who strives for a change in pace or a creation made killing machine discovering the meanings to life.

Have your name written in history tales to come, become a hero beacon of hope, or become a feared figure among the community.

Confide in the unrevealed troubles that settle the mysterious past of your royal company's path to break tradition—or steal the heir's power to the throne for your own.

Learn the dark truth about the horrors that lie concealing just how far some would go to great lengths in order to create life.

Forge the future of a community and companions lives with the supporting changes and challenges schemed upon you and all of those who you know or love.

THE RO'S CHARACTERS :

Pavlos Norlenbourne ( M ) — the forsaken royal.

"Being referred to as 'pretty boy' hardly fazes me, given the uproar my mere presence seems to cause."

Annette Meadowcroft ( F ) — the obsessive poet.

"It's within your pitiful, manly, brainless nature to see me as a naive and sheltered woman. It's quite unfortunate considering just how smarter I am than you."

Rune ( ANY ) — the callow soldier.

"If you have the audacity to think that I am some sorrowful god, then the pain of my fraud in human appearance will be all the more agonizing."

Silas/Sophia Amon ( M or F ) — the needling best friend.

"Respectfully, I cannot fathom anyone who wears a damn crown and fancy adoring dresses as anything but fucking unpleasant."

THE WITCH HUNTERS :

Phaedra ( F ) — the lure.

Legion ( M ) — the brawns.

You ( ANY ) — the leader.

Depending on your play style, you have the ability to create, shape and destroy numerous familial, romantic, platonic, professional and community relationship with a full cast of characters whose genders and personalities vary.

✸ Dedicated to all the hopeless romance and fantasy fans who are too engrossed in their books to talk and too shy to write, to my momanager Kass, who always likes to keep things real.

#romance #fantasy #if wip #twine interactive fiction #twine game #itch.io #twine wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #supernatural #interactive story #choices #choice game #dating sim #interactive game #if: dod #if: dayofdusk

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mitsies · 3 months

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. . mitzi's recs: gojo satoru ! . . ao3 & tumblr

⋆ on ao3

˒ intrinsic warmth / thatdesklamp . . this list is in no particular order, but this fic is at the top for a reason. ive been pushing the iw agenda since chapter 3. beautiful writing and a unique, interesting plot; canon-typical violence/angst, eventual smut, poignant emotions, such a wonderful read! . . 19/23 chapters, 175k wc, bonus pieces on @/thatdesklamp's tumblr!

˒ ripverse / seoafin . . a compilation of related fics. again, this author is so talented, and the writing never falls short. stsg, not just gojo. please be mindful of the tags; if i remember correctly, there is a fair amount of mature content. . . 8 works, 55k wc, also found on tumblr under @/seoafin!

˒ the witches' brew / orphan account . . a classic café au. such a fun read; not only is it sweet, it's funny! enjoyed every second of this. . . 2/2 chapters, 11k wc

˒ all that is solid melts into air / grilledtandoorismoke . . an arranged marriage trope! personally, i have no read this, but from my friends: this reader has a very unique personality, making it a particularly interesting read. . . 1/1 chapters, 7k wc, also has a few other pieces on their acct

˒ among dawn flowers (the face of god) / unolvrs . . beautifully written, basically pure angst. referenced mythology makes this especially interesting. reading this was truly painful in the best way conceivable. . . 8/8 chapters, 39k wc

˒ exposure therapy / seoafin . . another compilation of fics by the same author. this is much less angsty than ripverse (god bless), and considers a scenario in which fushiguro toji becomes a teacher. more stsg than just gojo but who gaf the more the merrier . . 3 works, 30k wc

˒ cake batter / uzuisus . . established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi. not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list . . 1/1 chapter, 2k wc

˒ afternoon tea(se) / flintstrike . . gojo torturing megumi. u can't go wrong! so so cute love the banter, a very short and sweet read! . . 1/1 chapter, 1k wc

˒ my apologies, gordon ramsay / innka . . reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! a very fun piece to read, n so so cute. . . 1/1 chapter, 8k wc

˒ a name known only to paper / yeeternity . . platonic, very much only angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. leaves you wishing for more insight into this relationship. reader is gojo's older sibling . . 1 chapter, 3k wc

˒ heart beats / reinerispretty . . another collection! i looove gojo in this so so cute i also adore bff nanami in the last one . . 3 works, 11k wc

˒ the sanctity of a name / celestiales . . SO SENTIMENTAL !! what an adorable work that rly goes into the psychology and significance of his technique + upbringing. so real and raw and very him . . 1/1 chapter, 2k wc

˒ assumptions / tomodachi . . jealous gojo. he's so cute in this!! you guys are married and it's almost his birthday, but while you're planning his surprise party he suspects something else.. . . 1/1 chapter, 6k wc

˒ even with the lights off / frethunine . . another fic that has me floored and pushing the #saveijichi agenda at the same time . . 1/1 chapters, 8k wc

⋆ on tumblr

˒ muscle memory / hyomagiri . . ofc ellie fic first. this is so so precious! ellie's characterisation is, as always, perfection; hes such a loser in this it makes me want to cry

˒ made with love / missmeinyourbones . . dad!gojo fluff and god knows u can never have enough of that. lovely writing, so so heartwarming :,)

˒ family photo / naosaki . . a very long, but very worth it read. art never fails to impress and this is no different; beautiful symbolism and even better writing, such a sweet plot. also dad gojo!

˒ 10:15 am / naosaki . . as opposed to the previous fic, this one is very short, very stupid, and still so so sweet. maybe i'm a little biased though considering it was written for me!

˒ formation b / earthtooz . . a take on that one scene where nobara, yuuji, and gojo think megumi is being hit on. this one always makes me smile.

˒ no good, very bad date / sixosix . . six strikes again with the fluffiest fluff ever. nauseating fluff, even, in the best way possible! he's obsessed w u in this

˒ all mine / jleiji . . drunk gojo. ei's writing is always so so good (even if she's never watched jjk...) he's such a clingy loser in this you're gonna love it as much as i did!

˒ obsessed / ode2rin . . just as the title says, another hit from my future best friend! an absolute gem from mimi! the humour is unmatched, he's such a stupid idiot u will wind up giggling before u know it. also ur married

˒ undercover florist / selarina . . rina is so talented, and i have adored everything she's written, but this will always be my fav :,) flowershop aus are my fav, and UGH this makes me so happy! so in character bc YEAH he would have the audacity

˒ by expensive tiles and elite gym pools / shotorus . . who would i be if sel wasn't on this list! established relationship, satoru is a swimmer, this is absolutely precious :,)

˒ first kiss / saetoru . . exactly as the title says; your & satoru's first kiss. so adorable, makes u miss warm weather. he's such a loser boy in this (common theme in my favs)

˒ clean linen / pupkashi . . such an adorable piece! so fluffy, perfectly encapsulates the feeling of coming home after a long day :,)

˒ everything in twos / alaboadoa . . soph does it again! so sweet with an edge of melancholy (because it's soph and this is jjk), a longing kinda sweetness that makes u want more!!

˒ crazy / saerins . . another piece that's all beautiful and a little sad in a nostalgic, gentle way. so beautifully done, i could read aeri's dialogue forever!

˒ ringing in the new year / itadores . . contains some drinking and, unsurprisingly, a new year's kiss. adorable no matter the season; this author's work feels like a warm hug!

˒ the colour yellow / kashimos-hajime . . angst in a poignant, emotional way. so beautiful. another long read, the longest on this post thus far, but worth everything. usually, i avoid hanahaki, but this is stunning in every way!

˒ first kisses & falling in love / augustinewrites . . i love all of augustine's works, but i find myself coming back to this one the most :,) fluff w megumi & tsumiki & gojo, and confessions!

⋆this writing does not belong to me; they're the products of incredibly talented writers and their wonderful minds! please be respectful whilst interacting with them, and tell them how awesome they are! remember, they do this for free :D

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#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mitz recs

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randomshyperson · 3 months

Text

One For The Road - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Wanda's first mission as an Avenger was also marked by the first time she met you.

Warnings: typical canon violence, fluff and Avengers working together but nothing major | Words: 2.501k

A/N-> This is an extra chapter (can be read separately and doesn't impact the current plot of the fic). It's just about delving a little deeper into what happened before the main story and I plan three of them in total (the other two will be their first kiss and their first time). Good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

They were there to observe. After all, what criminal in their right mind would let the Avengers attend an event where half the guests were wanted by Shield?

But even on the outside, and accompanied by Barton, Steve and Natasha who were basically the most protective members over her, Wanda was nervous.

It was her first official Avengers mission. Not only that, but she had what they called a perfect disguise consisting of an old American football team cap and sunglasses, and Wanda was having a hard time thinking that it would work. Maybe so, because she had only appeared a few times on television, and wasn't exactly the most popular Avenger among them.

But there was also Captain America in all of his glory of an enchanted big body wearing the same outfit. So ignoring Steve's warning about keeping it on the down low, she was forced to use her skills when she noticed that the waitresses were whispering about him - One peek and Wanda could read their suspicion. The blonde among them was sure of who he was, but a little influence from the witch and that certainty vanished. She could go back to serving coffee without further doubts.

Steve could thank her later for that.

Wanda's first mission was simple. To observe, to provide support. It was more about seeing Steve in action than anything else. Learning how the more experienced ones acted or something. She knew that Clint was somewhere high up, perhaps in one of the buildings away from the main square.

In any case, they were all surrounding the large Italian-style mansion on the edge of the island. And Tony in his iron armor was taking care of the offshore area, in case the targets escaped by water.

Everything was going well, and almost tedious to be honest, for hours on end. The gala party was happening loud and clear into the night, but Wanda and the others had the excuse of dinner time to stay at the tables in the cheap corner restaurant.

"We have our first celebrity guest, Captain." Clint's warning over the communicator almost took her by surprise - but Wanda was paying attention to the mansion's large iron door, where she could see the movement in and out of the party. The equally bored security guards finally got something to do - Opening the door to the visually drunk man heading towards the limo waiting for him.

Steve left some cash on the table, standing up before the drunk man had even finished insulting the staff for taking so long to open the door for him. She knew the captain was heading towards the parked motorcycle to follow the car since that was the plan. But she noticed - felt - something different.

The target was an Italian mobster who had attracted Shield's attention by being quoted in a human experimentation scheme. All those involved in the Hydra project, which created people like her and Pietro, were being hunted down one by one. It was an Avengers-level operation because little was known about how far Hydra had managed to go. How many superhumans they manage to create? It wouldn't be smart to send ordinary agents who would probably be up against people as powerful as Wanda.

And well, there was another detail about the target; he had two daughters. According to the files, the girls didn't take part in their father's work. They just enjoyed the money from a crime like two foolish socialites.

Although the two figures were identical to the photographs in the files, something in Wanda clicked when she looked at what was supposed to be the mobster's youngest daughter.

"Steve, there's something wrong." She gasped into the communicator. The waiter looked surprised - he thought she was talking to him.

"Mi dispiace, signorina, cosa ha detto? (Excuse me, what did you say, miss?)" But Wanda muttered excuse me in a very bad accent and got up. At her warning, Steve hesitated and instead of going to the motorcycle, he stopped at the bar.

The mobster didn't leave the scene either, confirming Wanda's suspicions that things were very wrong.

From inside the mansion, two security guards ran out - they shouted that something had been stolen from the sale. And the gate was closed again.

The man, drunk and confused, was searched. The presence of a pearl necklace hidden in his jacket was enough for him to be dragged back by the thugs, who ignored the foaming protests of him and his eldest daughter, who ran inside after her father.

"What's the saying again, thief who steals thief...?" Clint joked over the communicator, clearly from wherever he was, he had witnessed the whole scene.

Although he laughed, Steve began to move forward. "Change of plans, guys. Let's break up the party." He announced, and it was no surprise that the positions of the remaining team members quickly began to reveal themselves.

Everyone left their hiding place to invade the party - Tony's armor was the first to act to hack open the iron gates. Most of the security corps surrendered on seeing the Avengers there, but there was still conflict. Steve just wanted to act quickly before the mobster they had come to capture was executed for stealing a pearl necklace.

And Wanda, well, she followed her instincts.

The mobster's daughter fled the scene - She was supposed to go after her father, but she snuck into the parking lot. Wanda had to run a little to avoid losing sight of her.

The confusion of the party invaded by the Avengers was loud enough to drown out her footsteps, and Wanda managed to hide behind some pillars when the figure reached a parked car. She thought she was about to discover that the mobster's daughter was actually more aware of her father's business than she let on when something much more shocking happened.

Before her eyes, Wanda watched the figure change completely. From the original appearance, only the coat and expensive dress remained.

A shapeshifter? What an incredible thing to witness, Wanda thought. She had only heard stories about Loki and had never seen anything other than Natasha's tools of disguise. This here was truly remarkable.

You hummed low, pulling out a closed suitcase from your coat. The Italian mafia symbol made Wanda understand the whole thing quickly - The necklace was just a distraction. The real theft was what you were carrying.

The coat was discarded on the pavement in the parking lot, but before you could stow it in the trunk, you froze. Wanda had half a second to hide behind the pillar, holding her breath and hoping you hadn't seen her.

Well, worst case scenario, she'd use magic on you.

She risked a peek, but you were no longer near the car. Gone, like the suitcase.

Wanda sighed in defeat, feeling pathetic. Her first mission would be marked with the escape of an enemy. How embarrassing.

But then she was suddenly grabbed and restrained. Wanda gasped in shock, imagining that it was one of the building's security guards. Her magic acted faster than the panic in her system - it went through her body and hit the attacker in the chest, who was thrown to the ground.

"Wow, how did you do that?" The voice that came out was definitely not that of a brute like the party security guards. Wanda turned around panting, ready for another attack, but you were sitting on the floor, back to your original appearance, looking at her as if you had just seen the most incredible creature in the world.

Wanda opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. She was sure she had been grabbed by a security guard, but then she understood: You had changed to look like one. But her magic forced you to return to your real appearance, and Wanda had to convince herself that the way her heart raced and her stomach did two flips was because of the fright, and nothing more.

Her lack of reaction didn't intimidate you. You tilted your head gently. "You're the new one."

You started to get up, Wanda swallowed dryly, taking another step away. Her hands glowed as red as her eyes. "Stay back."

But you looked at her carefully, as if you were studying her. And you didn't seem afraid of your powers, even though a minute ago you'd been thrown to the ground for it.

"Oh, I remember you from television." You suddenly declare, a glint of recognition in your eyes. "The girl from the country who fell from the sky."

Wanda tried to steady her trembling hands. "I'll take you into custody. I know you stole something."

But you didn't pay any attention to the statement - You advanced against her and she backed away instinctively until Wanda was pressed to the pillar again. One hand against your stomach and the other on your shoulder, keeping you at a safe distance.

She could have just hit you with the magic, but she didn't. Just like you, she didn't attack.

"What... are you doing?" She gasped in a mixture of curiosity and fear, both hands controlling your distance were expelling her power. One of your hands moved up and grabbed her face gently - Wanda had to bite the inside of her cheek at the way her skin burned at your touch. Was it attraction she was feeling? No, it couldn't be. You were a complete stranger. She had to convince herself that this was fear.

You turned her face to one side and then the other, your eyes so focused that you seemed to be trying to memorize every aspect of her appearance.

"I've never met another one of us before." You say, and Wanda frowns in confusion. Your hand remains on her chin, and she swallows dryly before taking a chance:

"Us? Like... another Baron Strucker experiment?" She deduces, and you nod softly before letting go of her face.

You move your hand down and hold the one she has against your stomach. "It's so warm. What is it?" You ask tenderly about her magic.

Wanda can feel her cheeks burning but she managed to stammer: "Hm... it’s a form of energy, I think." Jesus, Wanda pull yourself together. Well, who could really blame her for feeling out of place about the whole thing? She was literally on her first mission, being pinned against a pillar in the parking lot of a mafia party by some random thief, blushing under the worshipful gaze of that same shape-shifter while her team blew stuff up in the background. It was too much for anyone.

She tries to gain a little control when she evades your touch, slipping to the side and putting distance between your bodies again. She also ignores how her hand is tingling, as if she was missing your touch from seconds ago.

"How did the Baron manage to give you energy?" You asked curiously but frowned in a worried way.

Wanda sighed. She really was having a conversation with a jewelry thief.

"It was a stone... um, a special kind. It may sound ridiculous, but it was a magic one. It came from outer space, the Avengers actually have a lot of work protecting them. And well, it now sits on the head of one of us and-"

But you suddenly moved - You lifted the hem of your dress just above your thigh, and pulled out a small, hidden pistol. Wanda's heart leaped to her throat. She barely had time to think about reacting, and you had already pulled the trigger.

There was still an arc of magic protecting her when she risked opening her eyes again. You were both out of breath, staring at each other before you lowered the gun.

The shot wasn't aimed at her, as Wanda realized the next second. But behind her, to one of the party guests who was trying to escape the Avengers by running into the parking lot. And well, catching one of them, off guard was quite an opportunity. The man now was writhing in pain on the ground, bleeding from the shot to the neck that you had hit him with. His own gun, loaded to shoot Wanda, rolled off his hand to the grass next to his body.

Wanda should move. Criminal or not, trying to murder her or not, he needed help.

You raised an eyebrow at the magical protection disappearing around her. "You’re full of tricks aren’t, you?” You teased while hiding your gun again, now on your belt. “This was fun, Wanda Maximoff. Unfortunately, I must leave."

She shallows, knowing she really should move her feet. "You can't go... I have- I should arrest you."

You glance towards the man on the ground, practically unconscious now before looking at the girl again. "But he needs your help, and what kind of superhero doesn't help a bleeding victim?"

Her body reacts to your sarcastic words; she rushes to reach the assaulter and stop the bleeding. You don’t miss the opportunity to walk away to your motorcycle.

Wanda is too busy with the guest to notice you are escaping - Her magic do the hard part to patch up the bleeding and she’s stuck there with this man, at least for the necessary time for you to escape.

Wanda bites her tongue when she sees your motorcycle flee out the back exit, hoping none of her colleagues saw her letting you escape.

It doesn't even take five minutes for Natasha to find her, worried about where she was hiding during the shooting.

“What the hell happened here?” Asked the widow but as soon as she saw the gun on the floor, she assumed that Wanda was defending herself. She sighs before the witch can come up with an explanation. “Fuck, I’m just glad you’re okay, Maximoff. Pretty hardcore for your first mission, huh?” Nat jokes, and somehow, she manages a little chuckle from Wanda. The redhead gives her shoulder a soft tug. "Come on, witchy, i’ll take care of this one. Go find the others."

Natasha offered her a hand to help her up, but Wanda didn't want to take it. Her own were stained with blood.

"I think I'll go back to the quinjet." Said the brunette with a sour stomach. A lot had happened in a very short period of time. Natasha nodded quickly.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." Said the widow, forcing a smile when she noticed the way the witch was shaking with adrenaline. "And Wanda. You did alright, okay? More than that, to be honest. You caught the hint that something was wrong very quickly. I’m proud of you.”

Wanda just nodded, taking the opposite path from all the confusion. Completely unaware that a few kilometers away, at high speed, a shapeshifter left the motorcycle's handlebars to press against their own chest. Trying to understand why their heart was racing so much and the feeling of doing something wrong if the robbery had been a success.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff series #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff fics #elizabeth olsen x reader

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catpriciousmarjara · 4 months

Text

DP x DC: Dick's Totally Normal Date?

Inspired by that one juju sanpo where Yuuji thought Megumi was being hit on and he, Nobara, and Gojo pull out their ridiculous Formation B to drive away the potential date. And I thought, 'this, but batfam, but veer wildly to the left, with DP'. So here you go.

Third floor study, Wayne Manor

"Thank you all coming on such short notice", Tim said, eyes serious, one hand on the pile of documents on the table.

His siblings nodded at him, faces grave, except for Duke who just looked confused.

"I'm sure all of you already know why this meeting was called-

"I don't actually know why we are here", Duke interrupted.

He was thoroughly ignored.

-and are just waiting for confirmation. But the wait is now over. I have here the results."

His siblings all leaned forward, except for Cass who was too chill for that, apprehension radiating through their frames. Though Duke was more confused than apprehensive.

Tim sighed. "It's true. Dick is dating."

Gasps ran through the group.

Tim dropped the bigger bomb. "And its not a redhead."

Jason cursed as he leaned back in his chair, face directed at the ceiling exasperatedly. Steph brought a fist down on the table, shaking her head. Cass simply placed an elbow on arm of her chair, chin supported by the back of her hand. Damian just scoffed.

Duke looked at all of them still trying to see what the issue was and why they were even here doing this. Tired of being out of the loop the young man decided to just go ahead and bite the bullet.

"Question!", he began,"Why is Dick dating someone a problem?"

They all stared at him.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Dude, he dated a witch king that tried to make us all into creepy dolls just a year and a half ago. The bastard almost turned everyone in Gotham into literal hamster plushies when they broke up."

"His immediate rebound after that relationship was the alien that tried to hunt him for sport", Steph contributed helpfully.

Jason waved an arm towards her while looking Duke, as if asking him why he wasn't getting the point.

And Duke...really wasn't getting the point. In fact he seemed to be getting even more confused.

"Dick's a habitual monsterfucker, old news, so what? And it isn't as if every single one of you haven't had some kind of romantic relationship with non-humans before. Even Damian's dated Jon! Besides Heira did not turn us all into hamsters. That was a joke. Aaaand Ga-va'se is a great guy and he definitely wasn't a rebound. Also he and Dick broke up really amicably and they still meet up for boba and he gives us really cool alien shit so I don't know why you guys don't like him."

"Duke, Ga-va'se hunted us for sport", Tim said from the side.

"That was because we were in his hunting grounds! Plus he apologized for that!", Duke defended his alien buddy. The guy was really nice! What was their hang up with him? Sure he was a bit murderous but hey, Duke dared his siblings to find one person from each of their social circles who wasn't a bit murderous and insane. Sure he hunted them for the better part of five days in a terrifying alien jungle a galaxy away from home but that was honestly their fault for intruding on the hunting grounds of his people in the first place. Plus it was all a misunderstanding!

"I agree with Thomas", Damian said as he thumbed through the files Tim had distributed among them. Across from him Cass was doing the same thing, rapidly turning the pages. "Partially at least. The Yautja was a worthy candidate for Grayson's hand-

"You just like him because he got you that sword, Demon Spawn", Jason drawled in that assholish tone of his that never failed to incense Damian.

-Shut it Todd! Ahem. As I was saying Ga-va'se was worthy but Heira was an imbecile. Unfortunately there are more Heiras in Grayson's romantic history than Ga-va'ses so it would be prudent for all of us to remain vigilant", the youngest member of the Wayne family finished, closing the file decidedly. "Especially if his current choice isn't a redhead."

Duke had to ask. "Again whats up with the hair colour thing?"

Tim looked at Steph pointedly. "Officer Stephanie Brown please proceed with orientation."

A truly terrifying grin bloomed on Steph's face. She stood up from her chair and walked to the wall, pulling down a projector screen. A click of a button and it came alive, with what looked like an honest to god power-point presentation on Dick's dating life. Tim slid Duke an brochure of all things.

"Dick's choice of romantic partners can be classified into three categories", she began as if she was a lecturer. She was even wearing glasses. "Redheads, which everyone and their third aunt's weird dog knows about, morally ambiguous older men, and extremely dangerous non-humans. There are outliers of course, and overlaps, but generally he tends to keep his choices confined to these groups. Turn to page 3 please."

Duke dutifully turned to page 3, which looked like it contained profiles of the various people Dick's dated in the past. If it was any other family this would be a gross invasion of privacy.

"Exhibit A- Barbara Gordon, great taste, mostly downhill from here I'm afraid. Exhibit B-Slade Wilson aka The Terminator, no I'm not kidding, the entire thing is weird and toxic. And Exhibit C-the weird eldritch thing Dick dated two years ago who I'm pretty sure is Cthulhu's actual cousin who made us all taste colours for a week straight."

"Deathstroke?", Duke exclaimed, weirded out.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Thats who bothered you? Not Cthulhu's cousin?"

Duke huffed. "Their name is Umh'uidrritl and I know where to draw the line."

Tim side-eyed him. "On a whiteboard with an old marker maybe."

"Hey!"

"Back to my very important power-point that no one else is going to interrupt-",Steph said as she glowered at them, "-mapping Dick's dating history shows us that the more volatile of his partners tend to cause trouble post-breakup. A deeper investigation would reveal that while his harem of redheads mainly just stir up delicious, juicy drama, hot tea and angst all around baby, bless their souls, his harem of morally ambiguous older men, and harem of extremely dangerous non-human entities tend to lean towards more destructive reactions. While the former is content with kidnapping and threatening and the assorted standard yandere meltdowns-

"Yandere?", Damian murmured.

Jason just snorted.

-the latter likes to cause damage on a larger scale". The blonde gestured with a flourish and a new slide popped up.

"Exhibit A- That time Gotham almost got gobbled up like a light snack by that space whale pet of the Ryagonian emperor. Exhibit B- That time a Fairy Queen tried to spirit Dick away and almost put the entire city into an enchanted coma, which was honestly kinda festive, I'd never been more well rested. Exhibit C- That entire thing with the tentacles that we are all better off without revisiting."

Everybody in the room blanched at that last one. Duke nodded his head at their reactions. The ink really was hard to get off of clothes.

The screen went dark and she pulled the cord at the bottom, the projector screen rolling up. The blonde turned to them with a smug and satisfied expression on her face.

"In conclusion, despite there being no biological connection between them, and the fact that romantic and sexual preferences are not genetically inherited, Dick has managed to acquire Bruce's proclivity for an interesting dating life, which we all did if we're being honest. Its just that while Bruce dates across the law, Dick dates across realms and his romantic entanglements often happen to be so above our pay grade that its ridiculous. Data has shown that redheads cause the least amount of property damage so whenever he dates non-redheads, we have to keep an eye on the tea-I mean an eye on the situation."

She sat back in her chair with a satisfied air. "Questions?"

"Yes", Tim said miserably. "Did you have to bring Bruce into this? Like ew."

"I had to, yeah!", Steph replied cheerily. "You stole my croissant alienfucker!"

"Excuse you the alien fucks me thank you very much!"

Jason almost gagged. "TMI Timbo TMI!"

Duke frantically gestured at Damian. "Damian's right here!"

The boy in question just looked supremely unimpressed. "I was raised by assassins Thomas."

"Where's Cass?", asked Steph, munching on a packet of chips she produced from somewhere.

"Left this clown fest to assist Pennyworth in drugging father so that he can actually rest."

"Ah", said the whole room. Each one individually resolving to go to Bruce's room and get blackmail pics later. Sibling solidarity at its finest.

"Back to the matter at hand", said Tim, "Dick dating a possibly dangerous entity even remotely around the time frame when the Joker turned up dead is a red flag. And that's why our secret society is meeting today."

"Okay one, you think Dick's new boyfriend offed Joker? Two, this is a secret society?", asked Duke, his earlier confusion now fully evolving into resignation.

"I already filled out your documentation."

"What?"

"Don't worry. Everything's in order."

"Thats not...you know what? Thanks Tim."

"You're welcome!"

Steph chortled at the entire exchange and almost choked on her chips. Karma.

Jason leaned back with his hands behind his head.

"You know, if this guy merked the clown, and has no evil plans or something...I'm all for him actually. Guy has my vote. If they get married I might even decide not to embarrass Dickie at the wedding", he said while Steph hacked up a lung in the background.

"Be that as it may Todd, we still need to monitor the situation. If this Daniel did have anything to do with the Joker's death, then he is a dangerous individual who could pose a threat to Grayson", remarked the young Robin, and then as an add-on, "...and Gotham."

Duke sighed. There really was no escaping this was there? "So what do we have on the guy?", he asked Tim.

"Page 4. Name-Daniel Nightingale, prefers to be called Dan. Father, Vladimir Masters. Mother, Daniella Nightingale. Sister, Danielle Nightingale. Brother and sister are apparently vacationing-

"In Gotham?!, Duke asked horrified.

-and Dan met Dick during a Halloween Party in Bludhaven-

"In Bludhaven?!", Steph asked appalled.

"Why was a supposedly vacationing wealthy European in Bludhaven for Halloween?", Jason asked with a frown.

"European?!", Damian asked scandalized.

-And they hit it right off. As of now, they have been dating for five months and the relationship looks to be going strong. While the records seem legitimate, something's off about them. Also the Joker turned up dead on Valentine's Day. So my verdict...sus."

There was a bout of thoughtful silence.

Then.

"Daniella, Daniel, and Danielle? What the fuck? What are they? Clones?" asked an incredulous Jason, aghast at the unoriginality.

Duke scrutinized the provided photos closely. "Whoa, this Master's guy's genes really stood no chance! They all really could be clones for real."

Steph whistled. "He ripped!"

They stared at her. She sipped her boba unrepentantly.

"What? I'm right! He ripped!"

She was indeed right. He was ripped.

Duke put the file down. "So what's the plan? Do we just follow him around till we find out what he is or something?"

"Okay so the next week Gotham's got a week long 'Joker is Dead' carnival planned-

"Another one?", Damian asked surprised.

"We deserve it", both Jason and Steph reply vehemently.

-and Dick said Dan's taking him to the fair every single day of the celebration. If everything goes according to plan, we can sneak our way into the organizers, stall owners, ride operators whatnot and do some tests to figure Daniel Nightingale out. And if he's normal trouble we prepare for the breakup meltdown. If he's a different sort of trouble we deal with it."

"We gotta be careful though". Steph obnoxiously slurped her boba. "Or else Dick will deal with us."

They all shuddered in fear. Dick Grayson could be a mean bitch when it came to revenge.

"We'll just have to execute it well. Thomas will be adequate for the job. The rest of you fools will just have to step up, especially you Drake", Damian said as he crossed his arms across his chest, nose up imperiously.

The two robins, red and regular, sneered at each other.

Jason 'hmpfed'. "Sounds good enough. If that's it I'm gonna go. I got shit to do". He stood up from his chair and stretched, a symphony of cracking sounds coming from his spine. "Shit I'm old."

"You're just gonna re-watch Pride and Prejudice 2005 again". Tim also stood up, even more concerning popping sounds coming from his spine.

"Damn right I am", said the crime lord as he ambled out of the room.

Steph also got out of her chair and started collecting her trash, Alfred would kill he if she didn't. "I'm all in on this plan Timtam! Clown's dead, Gotham's finally calmed down, I went to bed early...No way I'm letting some ripped Adonis mess with my peace and quiet no matter how mouthwateringly swole he is! And he is swole!" With that she also swept out of the room.

"I'll update Cass!", she shouted from the corridor.

Damian had already disappeared. This left Tim and Duke alone in the room. When Tim also made to leave, Duke finally managed to break through the disbelieving fugue this entire meeting had pulled him under.

"So where's the plan Tim?"

"Oh", said the sleep deprived vigilante, already halfway out the door, "I emailed it you already."

And then there was one.

Duke just stood there processing that last sentence for a long two minutes. He sighed.

"So this meeting could've been an email."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick is rather adventurous in his dating life. Helen of Troy vibes.

The entire operation reveals nothing suspicious. According to all the tests known to man and bat kind, Daniel 'I prefer Dan' Nightingale is a completely normal member of the Homo sapiens species. Not even a metagene. Just generously swole.

Duke being half immortal doesn't really get his siblings' reservations against some of Dick's exes. He doesn't realize that beings like Umh'uidrritl, who was not Cthulhu's cousin but a distant relative by the way, give most people incomprehensible nightmares. He on the other hand thought that Umh'uidrritl and his pet colossal hydrothermal squid were perfectly lovely. Though he and Damian high-key root for their Yautja friend.

There is absolutely no romantic relationship between Vlad and Danny. Dan and Danielle are just little shits who just love the horrified expression that overtakes Danny's face every time he sees their IDs for vacation time. To be clear its the Vlad part that horrifies him, he rocks as Daniella. Vlad, who is reformed here, is also horrified at this. Which is why the two little shits do it. Also the DP characters are all aged up. Could be by a few years, could be by millennia. They haven't deigned to reveal that to me.

Bruce spend the entire week under Alfred's careful supervision, getting rest and relaxation. He had spa days with Clark and Diana. He slept ten hours. He felt energetic in the morning. He hummed a cheerful tune. It was disgusting. He remained blissfully unaware of his eldest son's latest romantic adventure. Good for him.

Alfred thinks Ga-va'se was a splendid young man and that Umh'uidrritl was a lovely partner. He just wishes Master Dick would stop dragging in ruffians like that ill-mannered Heira every now and then. Truly a son of Master Bruce that one. What about that wonderful demon boy from a few years ago Master Dick? Mezarel was it? Oh he was sealed away, was he? Well bat your eyelashes at that man Constantine you and Master Bruce keep around and try to get that boy back will you? Such a well mannered young devil he was!

Alfred becomes that mother-in-law that never truly accepts Dan completely, still holding out hope for Mezarel to make a comeback. I've heard harems are wonderful this time of year Master Dick. A second husband would do you some good!

Dan finds this hilarious. His family does as well. Alfred also likes Dan. They have a weird understanding.

Cass likes most of Dick's exes. Except for Heira. Everybody hates Heira. Although Duke kinda likes him but even sunshine boy has his limits.

Yes the bat-siblings are doing this only for the safety of Gotham, not to also low-key annoy their big brother at all.

Yes Dan and Dick were aware of the hi-jinks.

Yes Cass did think they should just ask Dick.

Yes Dick is aware of who and what Dan is. He met him at a supernatural Samhain gala he literally stumbled into. He just rolled with it, celebrating the end of the harvest with the decidedly non-human revelers, and not only ate the food there but also drunk flirt with Dan.

Dan said, 'You're stupid. I like that in a human' and saved him from being stolen away by some very interested entities. It was the start of a beautiful relationship. Dani sometimes calls them the 'tits and ass duo' and she's right.

Danny is just happy that Dan found someone he loves and could keep up with him. He almost felt like a proud mother at their wedding and then had an existential crisis about it.

The family does find out Dan's real identity. It was after Dick accepted his proposal and it was hilarious. Jason meets Jazz at the wedding. He thinks he got infected with Dick's redhead fetish.

Yes this is all for my Dick/Dan propaganda. I hope you're not immune.

349 notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

im in LOVE w your yandere ddlg fics… can i request one w namjoon? 🫣🫣 i feel like he fits the ddlg concept so well ugh

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦:

pairing: yandere! namjoon x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship au ||

summary: if namjoon’s life were a book, he thinks the day his eyes set on you, it had been the start of a fairytale. where he is the prince, and you, his princess.

word count: 5.5k

tags/ warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff, buff bf namjoon, reader is definitely an ipad baby, she’s also very very spoiled, and very very shy, ddlg themes, non-sexual dom joon, descriptions of murder, a few references to literature, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), dom! namjoon, sub! reader, he’s girthy, size kink, cockwarming, belly bulge, dick riding, female masturbation, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of praise, and she’s a bit of a pillow princess, aftercare

notes: i agree!! he fits this concept so well!! and thank you for reading my other works babes! and here i present my last post of 2022! if there are mistakes, no there aren’t you didn’t see anything

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were Namjoon’s fairytale dream. A distressed princess locked in the wicked witch’s tower— that was this corrupt world that the two of you lived in.

Him, your knight in shining armour, sweeping you off your feet and dressing you in pretty dresses and jewels just like a true princess.

Truthfully Namjoon liked the classics better, words articulated like poetry and feelings forever carved into paper with ink. Little pieces of each author weaved into each book they’d ever written, secrets between pages and fantasies hidden behind flowery words. Hours upon hours of knowledge stacked up in Namjoon’s mind, useless little things that no one had ever cared to ask him about.

Perhaps romance novels were his guilty pleasure. That sickly feeling you get, reading about two people so in love that you have to sit back and realise that your own life is nothing more than a slow burn. Where truly, you’re the side character that is left and forgotten, watching the people around you— the main cast of the story, fall in love and find their god-awful happiness that you can only dream of.

You see, Namjoon had learnt how patience was a virtue. He’d waited year and years for that love story, for the perfect, pure, unadulterated adoration for another human, like in all those romance novels.

Countless flings and unexplainable anger from all the women who had shattered his heart over and over again had led him to you. Had steered him towards the right path. Perhaps like the yellow brick road, him being Dorothy and you, Emerald City. His final destination.

You’d always been awfully shy. Something Namjoon completely adored about you. Something he knew you were a little insecure about; among other things.

His remedy to your doubt, fucking you until all you knew was his and your names. Fucked so dumb you could only cry, clinging onto him like he weren’t the wolf and you weren’t little red, pure white dove chomped and chewed in his jaws like Carol Ann Duffey had described— you locked in his claws as he ripped away at tattered old clothing.

Past relationships had ended on bad terms for you, similar to himself, because it seemed no one had ever taken the time to read into you properly. Hadn’t taken the time to map out your story on paper and analyze you; the perfect specimen, the apple of his eye, a goddess among humans and his pretty little princess.

So soft and so pretty. Something a little sick, twisted, in his mind that he’d been able to lock you away in a cage like a bird, delicate little wings snapped in two where escape was impossible; thoughts of a life without him nothing more than a breathy whisper in the wind.

“Which one do you want today, sweetheart?” Namjoon’s arm laces around your shoulder, tugging you closer into his side. Your Mary Janes tapping gently against the tile floor.

You peer into the display case, fingers tightly clasped around the sleeve of his hoodie; an anchor for your fraying feelings, anxiety creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t rush you, simply raising an eyebrow at the worker behind the counter who gets angsty at your thoughtful pondering. Line of customers slowly building behind the two of you; and Namjoon can hear a few impatient mutters.

“Strawberry, please” you fall back into his side, weight solely dependent on Namjoon holding you up.

Your boyfriend turns his attention back towards the barista, fingers carding through your hair.

“One americano, a hot chocolate and one of the strawberry cakes, thank you” he turns his attention back to you; watching as you rock and forth on your heels.

“Why don’t you go and pick a table out for us, darling?”

You hum, fingers tugging at his sleeve mindlessly once more before you’re scampering towards a table by the window.

Namjoon feels his cock twitch in his pants as you bend over the table slightly, collecting the discarded straw wrappers that had been left on the table; and he watches your skirt raise a little up your thighs, supple skin taunting him.

He doesn’t bother with whatever the barista tells him, pushing his card across the counter as he watches you; legs bouncing anxiously as you grip the hem of your shirt, finally taking a seat.

He waves at you as he waits at the end of the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee thick in the air and Namjoon worries about the impeding headache you’re sure to have.

“Here you go, pretty” he places the tray in the middle of the table, tutting when you go to grab your mug of hot chocolate. You simply fall back into your chair, eyes trained on Namjoon’s hand as he places your drink before you.

“Thank you” you smile up at him as he pulls out the chair beside you.

“You’re welcome” he coos, dragging your chair closer to his own, his neck craning to kiss your temple.

Your smile is shy though your attention is quickly snatched by his fingers that dig around the pocket of his hoodie.

He pushes his phone to your side of the table, hand laying heavy on the back of your neck as you pick it up.

“I’m gonna get a new high score” you tell your boyfriend, turning to give him a determined smile as your tap tap tile game loads.

“Yeah?” he asks, eye smile so pretty you get lost looking at him for a moment. Only snapping out of your own little reverie when he blows on your hot chocolate. “Drink up” he reminds you.

You nod, delicate fingers picking your mug up by the handle, and you watch as Namjoon brings his own coffee to his lips for a taste.

“Good?”

You nod, “Good”

Namjoon’s thumb continues to brush over the back of your neck as you hunch over the table, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you load up one of the songs of your game.

Your mouth falls open when Namjoon’s fingers dig into the back of your hair, tugging your head back.

He watches as your lips close around the forkful of cake he feeds you, endeared smile on his face as a little bit of the cream clings to the corners of your lips. You don’t seem to take much notice as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen of his phone.

Your lips part after swallowing, tongue peeking out to lick at the pad of Namjoon’s thumb before he’s slipping it into your mouth.

“Yummy?” he asks, and you fall back into your chair— game suddenly long forgotten as Namjoon’s thumb lays heavy on your tongue.

You nod, fingers itching for the fork. Your boyfriend simply tuts, “Let me do that for you” his thumb slips out of your mouth, soon replaced with another large forkful of strawberries and cream.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon’s attention is quickly snatched from his laptop when he hears a gentle knock on the door of his home office.

You always seemed to count a few seconds before you opened the door, always mindful that he was often busy; even if he’d made it clear that he was never too busy for you.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he closes his laptop, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not in bed” you whisper, still lingering in the doorway. Frilly-socked feet shuffling anxiously against the carpet.

Namjoon thinks you look like a dream, eyes heavy with lingering sleep, thin strap of your silk nightdress slipping off your shoulder as you curl in on yourself. Always ever so shy, even after years together.

He’d taken his time pampering you that evening. An hour spent in the bath where’d he’d lathered your body in thick suds of soap, sweet smelling like roses that had sat in the summer sun all afternoon, skin warm like petals that had basked in the golden rays of light. Silent promises of a love that will last forever, until he takes his last breath, until the world ceases to exist and his love can longer be— traced under light fingertips that knew your body better than you ever would.

You squirmed as he’d rubbed lotion into every inch of skin your body had to offer— body his temple, your soul his goddess that he worshiped like you were his only purpose in life. Each breath he took, every step he’d continue to take, everything for you.

You’d laid spread across his lap as he’d worked any knots out of your back before dressing you up pretty for bed. Flimsy silk nightdress tickling your skin, brushing against bare thighs, where Namjoon’s hands had the freedom to roam your body until you’d been giggling at him to stop.

His favorite pastime, brushing your hair before bed; his hands those of Rumplestiltskin, each strand treated like intricately created golden thread, gentle as he tugs each knot until perfect.

He’d been there when you’d fallen asleep, bones jelly after he’d fingered you to an orgasm and mind nothing more than cotton candy softness as you’d tugged your precious little bunny to your chest. A gift he’d given you your first date together; and although you claimed you never had favorites , it was always his bunny that remained in your arms as you slept.

And truly he thought tonight he would finish up the last of the project he’d been given, the rest of the week yours; his time cupped in your hands to use however you pleased. The smile you were sure to give him each day after work, worth the pain of a single one nighter.

“I have some work to finish up, why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll be there in a little while” he tilts his head, gentle smile toying at the corners of his lips.

Your lips mould into a pout, “No” you shake your head, voice pulling out a little whiny “You have to come with me, Joonie. Right now”

“But I’m busy, darling” he coos, rolling his chair away from his desk. Legs falling open and he wonders how long it’ll take you to crawl into his lap.

He watches you thrown yourself to the floor, falling to your knees with a dull thump, and he worries they’ll bruise. You don’t seem to care, too pre-occupied with the start of your bubbling tantrum to care about any future injuries; you’ll be sure to milk all of your boyfriend’s sympathy when you he patches you up later. Crying until he’s kissing it all better, and maybe he’ll buy you a gift for being so brave.

He’d seen you scrolling through a few shops online earlier in the day before dinner, rosy-red blush painting your cheeks at a few items you’d hopefully saved.

You hiccup, stuffed bunny clung to your chest as you shake your head. “No, no” you sniffle, “You have to come now” your legs kick a little underneath you.

It was no secret that Namjoon liked to spoil you. Truthfully, he didn’t see the issue— what else was he supposed to do when housing a little princess? If you wanted something then who was he to say no?

Especially when you looked up at him through wet lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks like freshly fallen rain would the petal of a flower.

“Don’t cry” he frowns, heart clenching at the utter distraught on your face; cheeks glazed in saline tears and eyes watery, another miserable cry ready to slip past your lips. “Come here, my precious little baby”

The sob you let out is pitiful, bunny’s fluffy little paw held so tight in your hand as you push yourself to stand. Floppy ears soaking up your tears as you wipe your cheeks.

Namjoon’s hand’s curl under your thighs as you push yourself into his lap, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“oh dolly” he croons, “You’ve been fussy all day, haven’t you? What’s wrong?”

Your arms wrap around his neck, face tucked tightly into his shoulder as you choke on another sob. Bunny tucked between your chests.

His thumb is gentle as it brushes over the top of your thighs.

“Tell me what happened” he rests his cheek against the top of your head, mean little smile pulling at his cheeks as your sobs fizzle to little hiccups.

“Work” you whisper, fingers threading into his hair, tugging rhythmically as you mouth at his neck.

“What happened at work?”

You whine, pushing your body flush against Namjoon’s. His hands wander, grabbing your ass as you rock forwards; bare pussy brushing over his pyjama pants.

“There’s a— there’s a new guy” your hips falter and Namjoon holds in a groan as your weight settles right over his cock.

Namjoon hums, “What about him?”

“He—“ a breathy moan drips off your tongue as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“He what, darling? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he murmurs, fingers mean as he tugs your face away from his neck by the back of your hair.

Your mouth falls open, and Namjoon watches your eyes glaze over, though this time it’s not tears; and he wonders if you can see how ruined you look in the reflection of his glasses.

“Tell me” your thighs clenching at his tone.

You whimper, “He said a bad word, can’t say it”

Namjoon’s head tips backwards, “Go ahead and say it, baby. I won’t get mad”

“Promise?”

He smiles, endeared “Promise”

“He asked me on a date” your fingers grasp onto the neckline of his shirt, and your boyfriend hums, “I said no, because I have a boyfriend”

“And?”

He watches as your bottom lip quivers, breath hitching in your throat. “Said you didn’t need to know, could be a quick fuck in the back room”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks, “What’s his name?” his fingers skim over your jaw, your hips jutting forward. “Name, darling”

“Jimin” you breathe, “Told Nana, and she said she’d talk to him”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hums, “I’ll sort him out, okay?”

“Okay” you nod.

“Well done for telling me, darling” he smiles, an attempt to ease any lingering anxiety you had. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate work when you enjoyed it so much.

Your hips rut forwards, Namjoon pulling your nightdress up around your hips, watching as your bare cunt drags over his slowly hardening cock.

You lean forwards, lips brushing over Namjoon’s jaw as his hands guide your hips. You moan as the head of his cock brushes over your clit.

“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon’s breathing is heavy, one of his arms tucking under your thighs as he hoists you further up his chest, his free hand tugging his pants down.

Your hand travels between your bodies, tips of your fingers brushing over Namjoon’s slit, precum oozing out the tip as your hand runs down his length.

“Up you get” he helps you, head of his cock running through your slit as you roll your hips forwards.

You bite down on your bottom lip, watery whines bubbling up your throat with each nudge of your boyfriend’s cock running over your clit. Arousal seeps past your folds down Namjoon’s length.

You hold his cock against your cunt, Namjoon’s fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t seem to care all that much as your hips roll forward.

“Inside Joonie” you whine, tongue laving over the skin of his neck.

Namjoon takes a hold of the base of his cock, and you use his shoulders as leverage, chair wobbling under your joint weight as you line up his cockhead with your hole.

Your fingers run through your folds, wetness soaking your fingers as you circle your clit gently, Namjoon helping you as the tip of his cock brushes over your hole. And you let out an involuntary whine as the stimulation.

Your arms wrap around Namjoon’s neck, head of his cock splitting you open as you ease yourself down an inch before you’re pulling off slowly.

“Your pretty little pussy is so small” Namjoon groans. Flared cockhead pulling your pussy taught as you try and ease down lower.

You breath gets stuck in your throat, Namjoon’s fingers gently thumbing at your clit as you clench around his length. Slowly starting to stuff each agonizing inch into your cunt.

You whine as you reach the hilt, hips rutting forward messily. You moan at the lick of please that wracks through your body with each slow drag of Namjoon’s thick cock against your walls.

Namjoon pulls your face away from hiding by the back of your neck, tugging you until your lips mould into one, tongue pushed into your mouth, fresh minty toothpaste coating his tastebuds.

You start to bounce in his lap, childish impatience starting to take over as you chase after an orgasm. Always a little greedy when it came to your own pleasure, using Namjoon to get yourself off before you ever allow him to chase his own release.

“That’s it” he moans, unabashed in his arousal.

Namjoon uses his legs as an anchor, holding the two of you in place, ensuring the chair doesn’t tip over as the back of your thighs slap against the top of his own.

You moan as his thumb continues to brush over your clit, a ring of your arousal gathered at the base of his cock with each jittery raise of your hips.

“Doing so well for me” Namjoon groans, “Always such a good girl, yeah?”

“Mhmm” you nod, bunny tumbling to the floor. Long forgotten as you feel the precipice of your pleasure slowly boiling away in your stomach.

“Gonna cum for me?”

Your thighs shake at that, deep groan of pleasure shooting straight to your cunt as you continue to ride Namjoon like it were the last time.

“Go on, cum for me”

Namjoon’s hands find themselves perched under your ass, aiding you as your legs start to grow tired. Muscles in his arms bulging as he drags you up and down his length.

“So small, could use you as my own little fleshlight. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he groans, mirth swimming in his eyes.

Meanly, Namjoon pinches your clit and that’s all it takes for searing hot pleasure to wash over your body, thighs shaking at your release.

You hiccup another sob at the burning arousal as Namjoon continues to ram his cock back up inside you, thick rivulets of your slick coating his balls as he chases his own release.

“Too much” you cry, hands wrapping around his wrists as his fingers dig into your hips.

“I’m close, hold on for me” Namjoon’s head tips back.

Namjoon can feel your pussy as it pulsates around his length; you let out something akin to a squeak as you feel his cock twitch.

Mouth falling open in a silent moan as his warm cum paints your insides white.

You raise up on shaky legs, tip of his cock left nestled between your walls before you’re falling back down on his length; cum pushed deep inside of you.

“Oh my baby” he coos, fingers gentle as they brush through your hair, “Sleepy?”

You nod, words fizzling out on your tongue as you yawn.

Your cunt continues to clench around his cock, even as you fall asleep on his chest.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The bell above the door is obnoxious in announcing Namjoon’s arrival.

‘Pages of Love’ the little bookshop you worked at.

He would have gotten you to quit the shitty little job by now if it didn’t hold such significance in your relationship. He’d first met you here, had dates here, and it made you so happy that Namjoon couldn’t bare to see the sad pout that would be sure to form if he ever suggested you left this place behind.

“Namjoon” the old woman behind the counter smiles, waving him over. “I’m sure you’re aware but it’s y/n’s day off”

“Actually, Nana, I’m here for something else” he smiles, expression saddened and the old woman frowns.

“Anything” she nods.

“It’s about Jimin. He doesn’t happen to be working today, does he?”

“He’s on break right now.” She tuts, “Is this about what he said to y/n. I’ve already warned him about it”

“She came home upset” he shakes his head and Nana sighs.

“Poor girl. She’s lucky to have you, Namjoon”

“Thank you” his smile is genuine, though it drops the moment he steps out the door.

And he waits, waits weeks before he decided what he wants to do with the lowly piece of shit that dared suggest you cheat on him.

Waited weeks as he wrote down every sick little fantasy he had about the ways he’d maul his body. Shredding limbs, gutting him alive. Maybe he’d decapitate him and then send his head to his mother, or chop his filthy dick off and make him watch as he fed it to whatever animal is willing to chew on nearly nothing.

Written fantasies weren’t enough. Namjoon’s fingers always itching, always eager to finally wrap around the boy’s lithe throat and make him beg for mercy until his face is red and pride oozing out of his body with his fear.

“I’m gonna be home late tonight, little one” Namjoon tucks your hair behind your ear, gentle smile rivaling your frown.

“Why?” you ask, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“I have a small job I need to take care of”

“Can I help?”

“Nope” he leans down, soft feathery kiss pressed to you cheek before he’s pulling back, standing at full height.

You look up at him, “You can’t go”

“And why not?” he challenges.

“Because” your defense weak and truly Namjoon wishes he could stay.

“I charged your ipad this morning” and your eyes light up.

“Be quick, okay?” you push yourself up on your tippy toes, hands cupping his cheeks as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Promise” he smiles, “Now be a good girl, and don’t cause any trouble”

“I won’t” you wave him off.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon isn’t exactly sure what he expects to see when he finally gets home, a quick detour to Seokjin’s house to wash off Jimin’s blood and a change of clothes taking longer than he’d anticipated when his friend had insisted on making them both tea.

He can’t help the groan that bubbles up his throat at the sight of you. Skirt flipped up with three fingers, knuckle deep inside your pretty little pussy as you play a colour by number game on your ipad.

“Fucking hell, darling” he kicks his shoes off, jacket long forgotten on the floor as he crouches down in front of you.

You pull your slick covered fingers out of your cunt, gently circling your clit as you blink down at him.

“Couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“I got bored” you whine, legs falling open wider and Namjoon takes that as his invitation to run his thumb through your slit.

His hands hold your thighs in place as he leans down to press a kiss over your clit, tongue slipping from between his lips to lick over the bundle of nerves.

You hips stutter as his tongue drags across your folds, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt at the unexpected nudge of his tongue against you hole.

Your fingers tangle into your boyfriend’s hair as he sucks over your clit, fingers teasing your entrance before he’s pushing two fingers inside of you.

“How pretty” he coos, accompanied by a wet squelch. “The prettiest little pussy, it’s a wonder how you fit anything inside of you”

You squirm, finger stuffed into your mouth as you try and hold back an embarrassed moan.

“Not little” you whine, hips chasing Namjoon’s fingers each time he pulls out.

“Oh, but you are” your thighs twitch as his warm breath brushes over your sensitive clit, hours of mindless toying with your cunt bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.

Namjoon kisses over your mound, kisses over your clit, and then kisses over his fingers as they curl up inside of you.

He can’t help the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the guttural moan you let out when he finds that particular spot inside of you.

“Cum for me, darling” his voice breathless, as he starts to scissor his fingers.

All it takes is one mean little nip to your clit and you’re tipping over the edge; legs shaking as they clamp around your boyfriend’s head.

His tongue continues to flick over your clit, fingers nestled deep within your walls as he helps you ride out your high.

“Enough” you whimper, tugging his head away from between your legs.

You squirm at the glossy sheen that covers Namjoon’s chin when he finally pulls away from your pussy.

“Well done” his hands run up and down your trembling thighs, “Think you can take a little more?”

Your eyes flicker down to his cock, heavy in his pants and you nod; tongue wetting your lips.

“My good girl”

Namjoon pulls you to lay across the length of the couch, fingers tugging your blouse over your head as you shuck off your skirt.

You tug messily at the back of your bra, and Namjoon smiles, bending down to help you.

He groans, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he palms himself through his slacks.

“God, you’re so pretty”

Your squeak when he bites the plush skin, trail of kisses searing as he reaches your neck.

Your hands fumble with his pants, waistband pulled taught as your try and slip your fingers into his underwear.

“Always so impatient, aren’t you?” he coos, “here let me help you”

You pout at the loss of warmth, the loss of his large body completely covering your own; hands grabbing for neck when he sits up on his knees.

Your hips rock upwards, silently begging for any sort of stimulation as you watch Namjoon’s cock spring free, slapping against his stomach.

Your pussy gushes another wave of slick at the sight of your boyfriend with his hand wrapped around his cock, his hands always had been big; swallowing the girth of his cock when your fingers barely wrapped around it.

You can feel the phantom ache in your jaw, countless times he’d shoved his dick into your mouth, splitting it open like he would your cunt with absolutely no mercy.

“You’re staring” though there’s no embarrassment in his tone, eyebrow lifted cocky and lazy smile tugging at your lips.

“Inside, please” you whine, legs falling open enough for him to slot in place.

“Of course, sweetheart”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, eyes squeezing shut as he runs the head through the slit; slicking up his length before he’s pushing at your entrance.

“You sure you can fit me?” you can hear the laugh in his voice, retort on the tip of your tongue only he chooses that moment to nudge the tip of his cock over your clit.

“Joonie” you complain, “please, need you”

And Namjoon watches, lets you, grab onto his length, watching as you rut your hips down until he’s popping inside of you.

Your walls constrict around him, and he’s absolutely fascinated by how such a small pussy is even able to stretch around him.

“Good girl” and he can’t help the moan that follows.

He’s barely thrusting, gentle roll of his hips feeding each inch of his cock into your wet cunt.

You moan like he was ramming into you, always so sensitive, always so responsive to his touch.

“Feel good?” he asks when he finally bottoms out, thighs connected and heartbeats in sync. It’s moments like these Namjoon revels being alive, being one with you. Truly the closest you’ll ever be to one another; and he thinks he finally feels complete when lodged between your sodden walls.

“So deep” you whisper, fingers skimming over your stomach.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders, bending forwards until you’re almost folded in half.

Your moan is breathless when he gently pulls out, only to snap his hips back into you.

Your hands grasp onto the pillows of the couch as Namjoon picks up his pace, your tits bouncing, and cunt squelching with every brutal thrust into you.

“Fucking hell, you are tiny” Namjoon groans, and you whimper as his hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You dare take a look, hiccup of a moan ripped from your throat as you see it. An outline of his cock right bellow your belly button, head nudging the taught skin with each thrust into you, only for it to disappear as he pulls out.

Your fingers splay over it, cunt convulsing around his length as your feel him move under your skin.

You feel it rising, pussy swollen and worn from your previous orgasm. Namjoon seems to know, he always knows when you’re slowly climbing to the peak of high.

His fingers find clit, tight little circles sending jolts of pure, blissful pleasure through your body, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt to soak his cock.

“Gonna cum for me?” he moans between eat thrust, “Be a good girl and cum for me”

The cry you let out is near pornographic, knees knocking against the side of Namjoon’s head as he continues to flick at your clit. Pleasure numbing that when you finally reach your high, your mind blanks, a blanket of fluff consuming you as Namjoon continues to jackhammer into your used cunt.

“Doing so well for me. So close. I’m so close” he groans, fingers finally pulling off your clit as your thighs continue to shake.

When you come to, Namjoon’s thrusts are a sloppy, thrusts barely coordinated as he ruts into you.

And your breath hitches at the final twitch of his cock, he pushes as far into you as he can before he’s cumming.

Thick waves of cum filling you up. He groans as you clench around him, walls still spasming from your own release. And he gently rocks into you, an attempt to push his cum as deep into your soiled cunt as possible.

“You did so well, darling” he swallows thickly, back of his hand wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

You whine as he begins to pull out, mixture of both your releases dribbling out of your hole.

Your thighs twitch when Namjoon parts your lips, hole clenching around nothing as you push another wave of his cum out of your pussy. His fingers scoop it up, circling your entrance before he’s pushing them back between your walls.

“What do you think about a bath?” he hums, watching your eyes fall droopy.

You nod, hands blindly grabbing for your boyfriend to pick you up.

He smiles down at you, arms slipping beneath your body to pick you up as he wanders further into the house.

You wriggle around when he flips the light on, eyes stinging a little at the sudden burst of brightness.

“Alright missy” he sits you on the toilet, and you lean your head against his hip as pee, bones too floppy to even think of holding yourself up.

You remain sat on the toilet as he runs a bath, fussy when he picks you up again though it’s easily soothed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

He thinks you fall asleep as he washes your back, gentle as his soapy hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you squirm at that.

Namjoon is endeared when the two of you finally get out the bath, skin soft and sweet smelling, perfect for kisses. And he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat when you kick your pyjamas away, refusing to put them on yourself when his hands were fully capable.

“Oh my little princess” he kisses both your cheeks, “How about some cake for being such a good girl?”

You see, Namjoon had always been a little bit of a liar. Had told so many lies that truly he didn’t know the what was real and what was not anymore. And if he didn’t know then you never would either.

Every little lie he’d told you from the start, every white lie, every left out detail of his life suddenly seemed insignificant when you were tucked under his chin, sleeping so peacefully, a true sleeping beauty.

And maybe he didn’t really like the classics. Maybe his real love of novels were romances, because he’d always be the prince and you’d always be his princess. A perfect fairytale that would always have a happy ending.

Because if anyone dared scribble out the pages, change his plot, then he would simply erase their existence, and the readers of his life would never know the difference.

You belonged to him. You are his as much as he is yours.

Your life his only reason. Your happiness that little spark of good that still resides inside him. And as long as you come home every day with that same pretty little smile on your face, then Namjoon feels no guilt for the countless people that lay dead, long forgotten by the world as they rest six feet under for daring bring you sadness. Because he’d erased them, with no way to wiggle their way back into the story of his life.

Because what was a prince if he couldn’t take care of a villain that would disturb his perfect fairytale ending?

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