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nothanksofficer · 2 months ago

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1.0 we are all sinners (the one shot ver)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: bo chow/reader. maybe remmick/reader/bo? mostly bo chow/reader for now

warnings: slight but a bit more nsfw, very very slight smut, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation

summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences.

word count: 2k+

concept ver: 0.1

"Because I know everything he knows now. Even how you like to be licked."

"And I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: so it became a bit bigger than i intended, but honestly i wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if i didnt get this idea out of my head. let me know what y'all think! if this gets enough traction, ill think of making a series

Ever since you first came to town, everyone knew that Bo was more than smitten with you. You, the girl with paint-stained fingers, and a smile that was all rainbows and teeth. He was always the first to seek you out. Always the first to ask for your services. Whether it was for a sign, a label, or even just some basic repainting, he always went to you, and never anyone else.

It wasn’t until he finally proposed to you, on one knee and all, that he revealed the real reason he had kept calling you back to his store.

“I liked the art, of course,” he said with a charming grin. “It just so happened I liked the pretty girl behind it even more.”

That’s how Y/N Chow came to be. For two years now, you’ve been at Bo’s side, working at the shop, and occasionally painting some signs (for a fee). It was a running joke in town, that even your husband was no exception, meaning even he couldn’t get it for free.

But whereas the other locals had to pay in cash, Bo paid it forward to you a bit…differently.

“One more time, baby. I still owe you for that shiny new menu, don’t I?” Bo teased. He had his hands between your legs, still slick from your last round. If people knew that the weekly (and in some cases, even daily) signs were just an excuse for your insatiable husband to get his hands on you, you doubted you’d get as many compliments as you did whenever a new one was put up.

Your life had been peaceful, perfect even, for those first two years. So perfect, in fact, that you and Bo were on the brink of taking the next big step together. The two of you had saved up more than enough for it. And even you had to admit you were just as eager to finally have a little one of your own. One who would be a perfect combination of you both.

“I wouldn’t mind a girl. Especially if she’s as pretty as her mama,” Bo whispered as he curled up behind you. It was the middle of the night, and even though he had damn near put you to sleep with that crazy stamina of his, you couldn’t seem to close your eyes just yet. Not with him still pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“Or a boy as charming as his daddy,” you sighed back drowsily.

Your husband, ever the sweet-talker, didn’t even hesitate. “Why don’t we try for both?”

So when one of the SmokeStack twins came barging into the store–one you later remembered as Smoke–you weren’t entirely opposed to the new commission for their new venture. The extra money never hurt anyone. And you would be hard-pressed to say no to Bo’s old-time friends.

Club Juke, they called it. And while you thought the old sawmill to be a strange location for a new club, you didn’t question it…even though you probably should have. The red sign, despite being your own creation, was ominous enough on its own. And yet, you still let Bo lead you inside without even waiting for the paint to dry. The unmatched supply of alcohol should have rang as suspicious. You doubted even the grocer stocks had as much beer and wine as the twins did, and yet, that didn’t stop you from taking the occasional sinful sip.

The real kicker, however, was the music. Sammie, who even you distinctly remember as the preacher’s little boy, was clearly unmatched at the guitar. And his voice, a hypnotic drawl, that could tempt the most pious to the dancefloor. Not even you and Bo could escape his song. And even though it was only your husband at your side, you could have sworn you heard the symphony of the ancestors joining you both.

“You’re glowing, baby.”

“Am I?” You hummed, still lost in the mesmerizing feeling of being part of something greater. Of finally belonging, despite never having really been lost in the first place.

Bo didn’t say anything more, too entranced as you began spinning around him once more, silk skirt flapping behind you. There was a heady feeling that seemed almost electric. And the more you danced, teasing him with passing touches and glances, the more you could tell it was starting to affect him, too.

That all came to a pause, however, when they arrived.

Three voices in harmony, in what you supposed was a catchy, albeit simple tune. Nothing as intoxicating as the heavy blues of Sammie, but still melodic enough for you to recognize the talent behind it. As you took a peek over your Smoke’s shoulder, curious to see who exactly was singing, you were met with shadowed brown eyes staring unblinkingly into yours.

“Picked poor robin clean…I picked his hair, I picked his teeth…”

You tilted your head curiously, more than surprised as the banjo player proceeded to wink at you mid-song. Still, you didn’t think much of it as anything beyond performer’s charisma. And that was almost wiped from your mind entirely when you felt Bo’s hands begin to pull you away from the door.

You didn’t turn back once, not with your husband now by your side. If you did, you would’ve noticed said banjo player still staring after you both. (But you didn’t.)

You weren’t sure what happened in between that moment and now. Only that something wretched was overtaking the place. One that was marked by Stack’s death at Mary’s hands. No one saw that coming. Much less your husband, who once regaled you with their tragic love story a few years ago.

You wanted to feel bad for Smoke, you truly did. But your gut feeling told you that you couldn’t afford to. Not when something haunted and evil was beginning to envelope Club Juke like an oncoming storm.

“We need to leave, Bo.”

“Baby, he just lost his brother. We can’t just leave him now.”

“I know he’s your friend, but we came to help the club. We didn’t sign up for whatever…this is,” you pleaded. “Please, Bo. This is scaring me. Just take me home first, at least.”

“Alright. I’ll go get the car for us. You sure you can pack everything by yourself?” At your shaky nod, Bo pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “You wait right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

If you had known that would be the last time you would see your husband, you wouldn’t have begged as hard as you did. But none of you knew what you were dealing with. Not until Cornbread returned acting all strange. Or when Smoke shot him in the head, to no effect. It only really really hit you when Stack somehow came back….wrong.

Vampires were supposed to be myths. And yet, this…this was terrifyingly real.

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!"

"Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!"

But Smoke put his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."

It was only thanks to Annie that you and the other survivors had an inkling of what to do. Dead bodies, like the one you found behind the bar, didn’t stay dead for long. Bullets to the head would slow them at best. The only ways to stop them, or at least really hurt them, was with garlic or a stake to the heart. And even then, that was just the tip of the iceberg.

The one resounding agreement, however, was that under no circumstance could any of you afford to get bitten. Not unless you wanted your soul trapped, becoming one of them.

When you bit into the garlic alongside the others, it tasted like guilt and regret. It only got worse when you were tasked with first watch at the door. Everyone else was at the back, creating more stakes, preparing more garlic, and modifying whatever they could into a weapon.

That’s why, when you first heard the sound of pained gurgles and squelching, you were the only one peeping behind that slightly ajar door. Which you almost regretted instantly, upon seeing the poor ‘dead’ body being consumed by Cornbread.

You nearly screamed for the others, realizing the gravity of your joint mistake and what it cost the innocent man now bleeding to death outside. But before you could, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. One you’d recognize anywhere.

It was Bo’s.

"Hey, baby," he grinned, and for a moment, you could almost believe it actually was your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!"

Your first instinct was to pull him inside into safety and make sure he really was okay. He looked exactly as he did when he first went to get the car. But...the way he swaggered past Cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart drop.

“Bo…?”

The sound and smell of fresh blood and flesh tearing made you nauseous, almost unbelievably so, to the point it made you take a nervous step back. A frown briefly formed on Bo’s face, only to be replaced by a charming smile again. (The same one you once fell in love with, you thought to yourself painfully.)

“What is it, Y/N?”

Your eyes left Bo’s to stare at the chaos happening right beside him. And yet, your husband didn’t even do more than glance at Cornbread. "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he said offhandedly. "Now, let’s go.”

Bo winked at you, causing you to flinch. Your husband never was the type to do something like that before. Even before he’d married you, he’d always go for words first, then actions second. The only one who ever winked at you like that was–

“Come on. I got the car all warmed up, just the way you like,” he cajoled, turning back slightly as if to show you exactly that. But when you didn’t move to follow him, he sauntered back up to the door with a knowing look on his face. “Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flashed an inhuman silver, akin to the way Stack’s did when he came back undead. You found yourself paralyzed by them, even as he loomed over you from the doorframe. "We can make a pit stop, if you like. Maybe even have some fun on the way back."

“What happened to you, Bo?” You whispered to yourself, desperately searching his face for the man you once married, only to find something else entirely.

Bo’s smile didn’t falter. Instead it grew, as a different voice decided to answer for him. “I did. And ain’t he so much better now, darling?”

“Remmick,” you recognized. The banjo player from before. The one that Smoke had turned away, along with the rest of his group. “What did you do to my Bo?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, darling,” Remmick replied. And yet, despite the smooth charismatic tone of his, you flinched away from the door, like a mouse that had just gotten spooked.

“It’s better this way, baby.” Bo tried to convince you, unbothered by the new addition at his side. “So why don’t you be a good girl now and invite us all in?”

"You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick restated, his words a near parrot of Bo’s. Or was it Bo’s that were a near parrot of Remmick’s?

“That’s not true. Bo wouldn’t…”

“I wouldn’t do what, baby? Do whatever it took to be with my wife again?” Bo quipped back. It was so like him, yet at the same time, entirely not. Because deep down, you knew your husband would never ask you something like that. Not if it would put you in danger.

And yet, this Bo smiled at you lovingly, almost reverently. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse.

"Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?”

Despite Remmick's words, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband."

Your words caused the smile on Bo’s face to falter. But Remmick’s sharpened, eyes lighting up, as if your words were nothing more than a challenge.

"Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsked.

But you didn’t care. Perhaps if you did, you would have realized that your fire only drew in Remmick even more. "You did this to him. You...you monster.”

"Me? A monster? I just gave him what he wanted, darling. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick revealed with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?"

"You're lying."

"Am I? I know everything he knows now. Every little thought. Every single memory,” he gloated. “I even know how you like to be licked."

Remmick's words shook you to the bone. But nothing made you choke like the insinuation in Bo's follow-up. "We promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want us to."

That was the last thing you heard before the rest of your surviving friends finally finally make it to the door, separating you from the captivating duo once more.

#sinners 2025 #bo chow #bo chow x reader #sinners imagine #sinners fanfiction #dark romance #sinners fic #sinners x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #sinners movie #remmick x you x bo chow #remmick #remmick x reader #remmick x you #bo chow fic

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dayndream · 2 months ago

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hi can i get thigh riding with rin & kiyoomi pretty please

✷ THIGH RIDING : PART TWO

NSFW — MDNI. Yes, ofc, sweetie, hope u enjoy. <33 Part one here. Time skip. Warnings: None, just teasing and a bit of manhandling ig.

Including: SUNA, SAKUSA, KITA x fem reader.

𖤩 SUNA RINTARO

This man is completely obsessed with teasing you. He makes you work for your pleasure at first, clearly enjoying the filthy view of you—miserably desperate just for him. While resting his weight on one of his hands, the fingertips of the other reached your inner thigh, tracing soft circles before possessively touching you. Then, he placed that same hand on your hip, moving you closer to him without any effort as his eyes admired every inch of you. Slowly. Lustfully. He wasn't saying a single word, it was unnecessary, his sinful thoughts were incredibly loud, even his breath was. You could almost hear him swearing—impatient under that laid-back facade he was still holding, desiring to keep on watching you trembling on his thigh. “You look so cute being all desperate, pretty girl”, he spoke bluntly with a smirk on his face, lifting yours by the jaw to look deep into your eyes. The eagerness in his grip was obvious as he grabbed your waist, pulling you even closer to him, and consequently, making you grind on his dick. “You want this, right? Want me to fill you”, you rapidly nodded in hopes of him having mercy on you, but no, not yet. He pressed his lips on yours, teasingly kissing you, and just a few seconds later, his lips went down to your breasts, taking one of them into his warm mouth, as he cupped his hand around the other one. You couldn't help but to moan his name, arching your back as your hands made its way to his hair, pulling him closer to you. “Hmm, so beautiful... Say please and I'll give you what you want, sweet doll”.

𖤩 SAKUSA KIYOOMI

He literally can't stop touching you. It's as if his hands were made just for you, to feel you, to possess you. The way he's holding your waist as if you'd disappear—he's craving you, but somehow, he still manages to maintain control over you, over your whole body—claiming you merely with his touch. His lips placed countless kisses on your neck, licking the soft flesh before gently kissing one of your shoulders. Then, his hands went down to your hips, enabling him more control over the way you moved, slowing you down as he pressed your body harder against his thigh—just enough to make you moan louder. “Please, Kiyoomi... I need you, please”, teary eyes of yours looking at his, waiting for him to ruin you, but as much as he desires to satisfy you, he also adores hearing you beg—that sweetly lewd melody of your broken voice, oh, how much it drives him nuts. You heard a deep grunt as he bit his lower lip, strengthening the firm hold on your hips. Your quivering legs gave out, but that was no problem—his large hands were already moving you back and forth on his meaty thigh, making your wet pussy pulsate around nothing as you weakly squeezed his biceps. “I want you to cum like this, understood?”, he said in a strict tone, dark eyes piercing you just for him to deliver soft kisses on you right after, licking your skin once again as his lips made it's way down to your chest. The way he manhandled you made your climax quickly approach, panting his name like a prayer, which only made his burning urge of being deep inside you grow bigger.

𖤩 KITA SHINSUKE

He guides your every move while steadily holding your hips. He's gentle, but a glimpse of darkness is visible in his adoring eyes, awaiting for the moment to show his passionate love, to show the way he craves you. Soft moans of yours melted on his lips as he touched your figure with his loving hands, placing them on your thighs before spreading your legs a little more, moving your hips faster. While moaning his name, your nails scratched his back, making him bite his lips as they curved into a satisfied smile—he'd die just to hear you call out his name on and on like that. He's addicted to the way it sounds, the way your pretty lips pronounce it. Your broken voice, breathy moans, your nails on his back—he instinctively increased the strength of his grip on your hips, wanting you closer, needing you, needing all of you. “Yeah, angel, you're doing so well”, he said even while he was doing pretty much all the job. Something about him manhandling you with such care and eagerness turns you weak on your knees. “Be a good girl and let me see you cum this way, okay?”, his eyes met yours for a moment, a brief one, but just enough to make you feel even weaker. The gentleness of his words in contrast with the control he had on your body is vicious, it's like a sweet venom—almost manipulating you, but of course he wouldn't, he's just that charming, easily enchanting you—however, it's not different from the effect you have on him; the moment he sees you all needy just for him, he feels a huge fire within him telling him to love you the way only he can.

Memorabilia Passage.

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mrsarnasdelicious · 2 months ago

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She should have said it louder for the people in the back!

When Kitty Oppenheimer said:

"You don't get to commit a sin, and then ask all of us to feel sorry for you when there are consequences."

#I do not reblog this for the biblical definition of sinning #I am reblogging this because there are too many people who do shitty stuff and then get upset when they get called out/face the consequence #Own your actions

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heirloomgem · 8 months ago

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Serendipity Series

Summary: (AU) In every lifetime, Sung Jinwoo will make sure to leave a mark on your soul. To always accompany you as your devoted husband to his lovely and cute wife, no matter what...

Watching from a distance, Sung Jinwoo slowly savoured the taste of the wine in his glass, his fingers clenching the fragile stem. He restrained his anger as he witnessed your betrothed humiliate you and revoke your engagement for his mistress. Painting you as a villain to everyone as that foolish of a man flaunts his infidelity called 'love'.

Sung Jinwoo couldn't help but sneer at them and find fate laughable.

He has always been determined to have you as his wife, no matter what. However, fate has a twisted sense of humour. It seems, that in order, for him to have you, you must first endure humiliation and a broken engagement.

If fate is going to play its hand, then don't blame him if he turns the situation to his advantage and claims you as his own. And as for those who have wronged you, they will face the consequences of his wrath.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: Romance, AU, drama, broken engagement, Yandere (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Chapter 1 - Stupidity

In a banquet hosted by the royal family in the palace, your betrothed, the crown prince hugs his first love protectively in his arms and condemns you without hesitation in front of all the nobles in the kingdom.

A smug smirk on his lips as he looked down on you while you, on the other hand, glared up at him.

The anger that has built over the years was on the verge of breaking as your supposed fiance embarrassed not only you but your family with the breakdown of your engagement.

Your name is Eliana Anderson. You are the eldest child of the Anderson household and the prestigious and precious daughter of the Primes Minister Anderson of your kingdom.

Ever since you came of age, you have been betrothed to the crown prince by the king without your father's approval.

You're the only daughter in your family and your father has always doted on you so of course the matters of your betrothal have been a sensitive and meticulous topic to your father. Not wanting to give his precious daughter to some boorish, unruly bastards.

And so receiving a marriage decree from the king, accompanied by a threat to your family, made your father furious beyond belief that you and your mother worried he might faint from anger.

Your father protested with all his might to deny this engagement, knowing how corrupt the current royal family is and how uncontrolled and malicious the current crown prince is but to no avail; the king ignored him.

In the end, you didn't have a choice but to follow, not wanting your family to end up in a difficult situation by opposing the king.

The crown prince does share the same sentiment on not wanting this engagement; however, that didn't stop him from showing his disgust at you. In fact, he seemed to revel in the opportunity to humiliate you whenever the chance arose.

The torment he has shown you since the first day of your engagement has never ceased, and continues even to this day.

And now he's hellbent on not only humiliating you but also destroying and smearing your family's reputation through the mud.

Letting out a breath, you calmed yourself, knowing that acting hysterical wouldn't benefit you nor save your family from the predicament this prince has thrown at you.

However, the urge to slap this idiot prince was so dangerously tempting that you had to close your eyes, and instead, a cold smile appeared on your lips and looked at your 'fiance'.

"If I may ask Your Highness, what crime have I committed that warrants you painting me as a malicious villain in front of everyone?" You coldly asked, your smile darkening as your hand clenched tighter on the fan you were holding.

Suddenly, a coquettish voice interrupted, "Lady Eliana, please stop lying and admit to your sins. Please don't make this harder than it is."

It was the woman whom your fiance had 'fallen' for. A woman who has brown shoulder-length hair, dopey downturned eyes and dressed in a white gown that accentuated her slim figure.

She has that pure, innocent beauty that always seems to attract men who want to unconsciously protect her.

It was the crown prince's 'first love', Amy Wilson, the illegitimate daughter of Baron Wilson, who was currently nestled in your fiance's arms.

Cowering and trembling as tears gathered in her eyes, looking like a small doe in front of everyone as she tried to confront you, earning her sympathy and pitying looks especially the crown prince and his stupid group of cronies.

You, however, were given a dark and condemning look from them.

You couldn't help but spit in disgust in your heart as you coldly looked at her.

She's a woman completely opposite of you, who has sharp and cold eyes, and whenever you look at the crown prince, a lingering disgust shows in your eyes.

Your once slender and petite frame is now tall and lean, the result of the training you have suddenly undergone to learn self-defence as you were pushed as the crown princess.

Truly a complete opposite from your past self. No more the naivety and joy in your once soft features.

Hearing her words, you sneered.

"As far as I know Lady Tr- Lady Wilson, I have only given you fair warnings on your behaviour and to maintain your distance as Your Highness is my betrothed. As for the accusations of harming you, unfortunately, I do not know of them nor have I done them."

You said as you gave them a cold smile behind your fan, patting yourself for catching yourself from calling that woman 'trash'.

That right, you have labelled that woman 'Trash' the moment she seduced the crown prince and tried to harm you.

Why, you ask?

It's not because you love that rotten bastard but because, in your eyes, the crown prince is a rotten garbage. And since there is a rotten garbage, it only makes sense that it has to be thrown in the trash and that trash is none other than Amy Wilson.

Hiding behind the crown prince's arms, that trash gave you a sly look.

You couldn't help but feel a disgusting chill run down your spine as an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach.

As far as you know, your actions thus far have been appropriate as a crown princess. Neither have you crossed the line of letting your feelings interfere nor have you remained ignorant of the situation to let it escalate.

You didn't hurt this woman in any form, only giving her a fair warning and if you did, you have your servants to witness it. As for the 'evidence' they have presented earlier, if experts, the kings and higher people in ranks were to investigate it, they would know it was nothing but fraud.

It's nothing but false evidence made by both the crown prince and his stupid group of cronies who were supposedly the next heirs to some of the most influential families in your kingdom and yet have been seduced so easily under such a contemptuous woman.

Regardless, they were nothing but brats who only rode their family's coattails and were nothing but a nuisance, using their power to abuse those who were weak and under them.

Thinking so, you curse them again in your heart and tried to calm your nerves as cold sweat still continues to run down your back.

"We have given and presented undisputable evidence, Eliana. Stop your nonsense and admit to it." The crown prince spoke with impatience in his voice, shaking his head as if he were speaking to a child.

Your eyebrow twitched hearing him calling you by your name so directly with such audacity.

If it were any other situation, you would have refuted him without reserve however since you were in such a situation, you can't do so recklessly or else your entire family would be dragged further than it already is.

Suddenly, the crown prince caught your eyes and gave a malicious smirk before declaring.

"Since your actions show just how much of an unreasonable and vile you are. How could I accept you as the crown princess and be the future mother of the kingdom! Hence, as of today, Eliana Anderson, you are stripped of your title as the crown princess and from now on Lady Amy Wilson will be the crown princess. Guards! Arrest her and throw her into prison for the crime of harming the crown princess."

You stared, speechless, at the crown prince at such absurdity.

That is when the unsettling feeling you have since you entered this ball completely grasps your whole being as if a slap hit you on the face. A whisper in the back of your mind becomes louder and louder as you feel something within you is on the verge of breaking.

You have always known that the crown prince was a good-for-nothing bastard. A spoiled bastard who only does whatever he pleases but it wasn't to the point of complete idiocy especially when it comes to you as your betrothal was one of the stepping stones on why he became the crown prince however it seems you have overestimated him.

Feeling your arms being restrained by the knights, you struggled. Your control over your emotions slowly slips as your frustrations and anger show.

You tried to regulate your breathing as you looked at the bastard before you, smiling mockingly as you gradually cracked under him.

He turns his head to look at your father who is now being restrained by the knights also when he tried to charge in your defence. A sickening smile on his lips as he taunted your father.

"Ah, Duke Anderson, unfortunately, you'll have to step down from your position as well since the evidence of your embezzlement and illegal actions have been presented to the king. The king has also decided that Marquis Henlyn will be replacing you as the Prime Minister."

Hearing this you curse the crown prince at such an abrupt accusation.

Your father with embezzlement?! Illegal actions?! being replace?!

Such stupidity!

Your father has been nothing but upright and loyal to the kingdom and its people. If it wasn't for him, this kingdom would have long fallen because of its corrupt royal family!

And now he's being falsely accused!? And on top of it, your father is being replaced by Marquis Henlyn who has been rumoured to have smuggled weapons and slavery between your kingdom and the other countries!

Just what kind of parasite is in that bastard's head to have allowed this especially the king!

You gritted your teeth as you yelled, "Your Highness, do you even realize what you're doing?! If you allow this, not only you and the imperial family will be implicated but the kingdom and its people as well! You say my father has done illegal doings and yet haven't you heard that Marquis Henlyn has smuggled not only weapons but has done illegal trading of slavery of our people! My father has been nothing but loyal and honest! Evidence?! It is nothing but a farce! "

Surely even this prince knows how impossible it was to replace your father as his hard work is more evident than this so-called ' evidence'.

Your father's power and authority are the sole reason he's the current crown prince. Removing you and your father would be a foolish move even the king knows this thus the reason he has given that marriage decree without your family's permission and yet why this?!

However, it seems not only have you overestimated the prince but that of the king as well as the prince laughed at you and leaned down as he whispered.

"Do you really think my father cares about your family now that your father has crossed his line? Not only has your father obstructed the royal family again and again, but this time, my father has had enough and since I have gained your father's authority and power, I no longer have any need of your family and my father wholeheartedly agreed to it."

Realization dawned on you as your eyes widened at the truth. A small yet audible sound of snapping resounded in you.

Suddenly a loud heartbroken cry erupted in your throat as you struggled fiercely, no longer caring for anything or your appearance.

Annoyed by your resistance, one of the knights kicks the back of your knees, resulting in you slamming your kneecap onto the floor.

Pain shot through your body. Your eyes reddened and tears welled up, not only from the pain but your control over your bottled emotions have now dissipated.

Gone! Everything you have worked hard for is now gone!

You shook your head and bit your lips until it bleed.

No, this can't be happening!

Even if you hated the crown prince, your position as the crown princess was the only thing that you couldn't let go of.

After all, because of the marriage decree these unscrupulous, unreasonable people have shoved down your throat, you have no choice but to let go of him. Someone so important in your life was exchanged for something you didn't want.

Feeling your cheeks wet, you realize that your tears have finally fallen.

Regret fills you to the point of suffocation as your mind unconsciously remembers the young boy you adored the moment you met him.

How you wish to have held his hand longer...

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay. A relative of mine has passed away and it has been stressful and with work thrown in. It had been chaotic instead which made it harder for me to write and edit.

Though I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the Serendipity Series! If it's not too much, please comment on your thoughts. Thank you!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

#solo leveling #sung jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #AU #Romance #Angst #annulment #divider by saradika #sung jinwoo x reader

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wordsofwhimsy · 2 months ago

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ᴄᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʚ♡ɞ - Trading Places

Pairing: Lensless/No Goggles!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: FILTH, reader fucking wrecks this man, idk if you ain’t into that freaky shit don’t read lmao

Tags: Smut, fem!dom, teasing, masturbation, oral (f receiving), riding

Word Count: 3,238

Synopsis: Mark brags to the other variants about the baddie he’s bagged when you call, and you are NOT happy.

a/n: had to run it back cause of this anon - y'all like that freaky shit huh 🤪

Part One

Part Two – Brunch Edition!

The rooftop’s buzzing — not with conversation, but with static from the torn sky above and the low hum of multiversal regret. Three Marks, one bottle. Broken chairs. The faint smell of ozone and blood.

Mohawk Mark is sharpening a blade that hums when it moves. Shiesty’s tossing playing cards into a wormhole like it’s a trash can. Chill. Quiet.

Then, from the corner, Lensless Mark leans forward with a slow grin like sin warming up.

“You know what I been on lately?” he says, voice thick with that I’m about to say something unholy tone.

The other two don’t even look up. They know it’s coming.

Mark takes a long pull from the bottle, licks his lips, and lets the grin grow. “I’ve been getting absolutely destroyed by the baddest girl in any universe.”

Now Mohawk glances over. Shiesty lowers his cards. Mark keeps going, casual, cocky, obsessed.

“She’s got this walk that makes gravity trip. Like, I watch her leave rooms. Every time. It’s pathetic. She knows it, too. She’ll bend over just to make me lose a thought.”

“Go on,” Shiesty says, already too invested.

“She’s not sweet,” Mark continues. “Not soft. Got a voice like razor wire and hands like she owns me. She’ll dig her nails in and leave them there while she talks shit into my ear like I’m nothing — and I eat it up.”

Mohawk stares. “You’re in love.”

Mark scoffs. “Nah. I’m in danger.” He laughs, runs a hand through his hair, breathless with memory. “Last time? She made me wait. Told me to sit on the floor. Didn’t say a word for twenty minutes. Then she climbed on my lap and told me I better not finish ‘til she says so.”

“…You listen?” Shiesty asks, eyes wide.

Mark looks offended. “Of course I did. I damn near cried when she said ‘good boy.’ You ever felt a praise kink rewire your whole brain in real time?”

“...God damn,” Mohawk mutters.

“I’d kill for her,” Mark says, shrugging. “I have. I’ll do it again.”

Shiesty frowns. “You really out here monologuing like she’s not gonna ruin your life.”

Mark tips the bottle toward him, eyes gleaming.

“She already did,” he says, and smirks. “And I say thank you every time.”

Mohawk and Shiesty just sit there, stunned. Then Mohawk says, “Nah, I need one of those. Where you find her?”

Mark just shakes his head slowly. “You couldn’t. She doesn’t want you. She likes her men a little fucked up.”

“Guess that’s why she got you, huh?” Shiesty teases.

Mark smiles, slow and sharp. “Exactly.” He leans back like he just dropped the gospel when his phone buzzes against the table.

He looks down, sees your name, and immediately lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

“OHHH shiiittt, that’s her,” he says, voice dropping into something low and smug. “Y’all shut up, lemme take this.”

He swipes to answer, leans back in his chair like he’s about to get dessert again.

“Hey, baby—”

“Come here. Now.”

Your voice cuts through the line like a blade. No pleasantries. No softness. Just heat. And venom. And the promise of consequences.

Mark blinks, caught off guard for half a second. “Wait—where are you?”

Click.

You hang up.

No location. No context. No nothing.

Just fury and a demand.

Mark stares at the phone for a beat, then laughs — low and breathless, like he’s been punched in the chest by a dream he didn’t know he was having.

“Fuck.”

“What happened?” Mohawk asks, already invested. Mark stands up fast, pocketing his phone, that wicked little smirk crawling back across his face like sin.

“She’s pissed,” he says, delighted.

“You gonna apologize?” Shiesty teases.

Mark just shakes his head, already lifting off the ground, eyes scanning the city like a predator.

“Nah,” he mutters, voice full of anticipation. “I’m gonna find her.”

Then he's gone — a blur of motion, ripped air and reckless speed — chasing your wrath like it's the only thing worth catching.

—

You’re storming, like the kind of walk that makes people avoid eye contact or cross the street. The one that makes every space you step into feel different. And Mark? He’s always drawn to that storm.

He catches up easily, stepping into your path with that shit-eating grin of his, leaning in like he’s about to give you the world.

“There she is,” he says, voice smooth and dripping with satisfaction. “Didn’t even tell me where you were, but you know I’m always gonna find you.”

You don’t stop walking. Not for him. Not yet. But the moment he catches up, you can feel his eyes on your hand. The way you’re cradling it against your chest like it’s something precious, like it’s a secret.

He slows his pace, not bothering to hide the concern creeping into his voice. “What happened to your hand?”

You don’t answer him immediately, just keep your eyes dead ahead. It’s so fucking obvious, but you’re making him wait. Making him sweat.

“I decked Sadie,” you say, your voice colder than ice.

Mark’s brow furrows, then his eyes widen in disbelief. “Wait—what?”

“She was talking shit,” you say with a bitter smile. “Said maybe if I wasn’t so busy ‘babysitting’ you, I'd have time to notice someone worth my attention.” You scoff, still walking like you’re already miles ahead of him. “So I asked her if she wanted my attention too.”

You slow, and Mark steps closer, his voice low with disbelief and something else—admiration.

“And?”

You don’t miss a beat. You lift your hand and show him. “Then I gave it to her. Right to the jaw.”

For a second, there’s silence. Mark’s frozen. And you can see his brain trying to process the fact that you just punched one of your friends in the face for flirting with him. And that realization hits him like a fucking freight train.

Then, finally, he groans. It’s low, deep, like he’s in physical pain. “Jesus, fuck—you really hit her?”

“I think I busted her lip,” you reply with a devilish grin. “I hope I did.”

Mark’s body moves toward you like gravity’s finally catching up to him. He’s close now, breath hot against your skin, voice thick and desperate. “You’re insane,” he murmurs. “You really just—”

You cut him off, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him forward, your eyes blazing with something he can’t resist. “Shut the fuck up,” you snap, your voice like fire. “Don’t act like you weren’t praying this would happen.”

That’s when his control finally shatters. His voice drops, like he’s already lost the battle. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You look at him, wide-eyed and breathless. “That’s the idea.”

And then you’re moving. Fast. You’re already dragging him into your apartment, no room for hesitation as you slam the door behind you. Mark barely has time to say your name before you’ve shoved him back against it, your body a storm pressed to his chest.

“Do you think this is a game?” you snarl, your voice low, dangerous, vibrating in your throat. “Do you think it’s funny that you have every bitch within ten feet looking at you like they could steal you?”

Mark’s chest rises with every word you spit, his hands barely grazing your waist, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch you.

“I didn’t—” he starts, but you’re already grabbing a fistful of his collar and yanking him down to your level, close enough that your breath hits his lips when you speak again.

“I just lost a friend because of you.”

Mark swallows. Hard.

“And it didn’t feel good,” you hiss. “It felt awful. I hated it. Hated the sound her face made when it cracked. Hated the way everyone looked at me like I was insane. Why did you make me do that?!”

He’s panting now. Not from fear. Not from guilt. But from the way you’re saying it. Like you’re accusing him of lighting the match while you poured the gasoline.

You shove him backwards, toward the bedroom. Mark stumbles, smiling now — all teeth, breathless. “Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You’re so hot when you’re mad.”

You don’t even dignify it with a response. You’re pulling him by the collar again, throwing him down onto the bed like he’s nothing but a body for you to use.

“You think this is foreplay?” you growl, climbing over him. “You think this is me being cute?”

Mark’s arms spread wide against the mattress, his eyes wide and so ready.

“I don’t care what it is,” he breathes. “Just don’t stop.”

You slide your hand up his chest, nails dragging across his skin hard enough to leave marks. “You love this, don’t you?”

He nods, quick and eager. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“You love when I lose my mind over you.”

“I love it when you own me.”

You reach his throat, fingers pressing down — not choking, not yet — just a reminder. A threat. A promise. “I should leave you here,” you whisper, leaning down, lips ghosting over his. “Hard and pathetic.”

He groans, eyes fluttering. “Please don’t.”

You smile, slow and venomous. “Beg me, Mark.”

“Please,” he pants. “Please—use me. Ruin me. I’ll be good, I swear.”

You grip his face, tilting his head to make him look at you. Really see you. Your anger. Your fire.

“Say it.”

His voice cracks. “I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours!” he moans, hips twitching up into yours. “I’m fucking yours, please—don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

And that’s when you fucking hit him.

The slap echoes through the room like a gunshot.

Mark’s head snaps to the side, jaw slack, lip split just a little. His eyes flutter, and for one glorious second, he just sits there, breathing like you knocked the thoughts out of his head. You lean over him, voice sharp and trembling with rage. “Is that what you wanted?”

His head lolls back to face you, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “Fuck yeah,” he breathes, grinning like you just gifted him divinity. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

You don’t flinch. Don’t soften. You just say, flat and dangerous: “Take your clothes off.”

That grin? It twitches — falters — then turns desperate. He’s yanking on his suit, fumbling with the waistband like he forgot how buttons work. You don’t help. You just watch, every bit of his frantic movement feeding the fire in your chest.

When he’s finally sitting there — naked, flushed, fully hard, pupils blown wide — you turn your back to him. Grab a chair. Turn it around. Sit in it backward — legs spread, chin resting on your arms — and he doesn’t even breathe.

Until you slide your hand between your thighs.

He chokes on air.

Your fingers move slow, so deliberate it’s cruel. You dip them lower, gather slick, bring it back up with a shiver that you don’t bother hiding. Then you meet his eyes — and you smirk.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself.”

Mark stills like he’s been shot.

His hands grip the bed. His jaw tightens. His whole existence funnels into watching you.

You drag your fingers up again, a little moan slipping out this time — quiet, breathy, dangerous.

“You want this?” you ask, voice soft and mean. “You want a taste?”

He nods, frantic. “Please. I want to be good—let me be good, I’ll do anything—”

You cut him off with a sigh — bored, disappointed. “God, Mark. Why do you behave so badly if you want sweet things?” He stares, trembling, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile. You lean back in the chair, dragging your hand slow and easy, fingers curling with purpose. You never take your eyes off him. “I lost a friend tonight,” you whisper. “Because of you.” Mark swallows hard. Shame flickers across his face, but it’s buried under hunger.

“You think you deserve this after that?”

“No,” he whispers. “But I want it.”

You let your fingers dip lower again, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

“Well, too bad.”

His mouth falls open. You tilt your head, licking your fingers slowly, smirking at the way he twitches.

“I taste so fucking sweet, Mark,” you purr. “Like candy. Like everything you’ll never get.” He lets out a noise — almost a sob — and grips the sheets like he might tear them in half.

“You like acting out?” you continue, dragging your voice like velvet across a knife’s edge. “Flirting with Sadie while I’m sitting right there? Making me hit someone I’ve known for years because I couldn’t stand the way she looked at you?”

His eyes shine. You lean forward again, voice razor-sharp. “Bad boys don’t get treats.”

“Please,” he begs, whisper-wrecked. “I’ll get on my knees. I’ll let you use me. Just let me taste it. Just a little. Just a drop—” You raise a single finger, coated in slick.

Mark freezes like a statue.

Then you bring it to your mouth, suck it clean, and groan softly — just for you. Not for him. Never for him.

“You don’t deserve a goddamn drop.”

His hips jerk. His body shakes. You’re watching him unravel from across the room, untouched.

And when he opens his mouth again, desperate to beg, you cut him off with one final word: “Sit there. Watch. Be a good boy. And maybe — maybe — I’ll let you lick it off my fingers when I’m done.”

You continue on until you think you’ve had enough. Then, finally, you slowly stand from the chair, wiping your fingers off on his already discarded suit like he’s not sitting there with his cock out, looking one whimper away from sobbing.

Then, cold and calm, you say: “Lay back.”

He scrambles like he’s under command, back hitting the mattress so fast it’s like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You crawl over him. Not lovingly. Not teasing. Like a stormcloud rolling in with the full intent of drowning him.

You stop when your thighs are straddling his chest, and you look down at him like you’re about to devour him. “Open your mouth.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Tongue out. Wide-eyed. So fucking eager.

You hover. Just above him. Letting the heat of you sink into his skin, watching his tongue twitch like he’s trying to catch air. But you don’t give him anything. Not yet.

“See?” you coo, voice venom-sweet. “You don’t even know how to act.”

His breath hitches.

“You don’t get to taste this just because you begged.” You tilt your hips, dragging your slick folds just above his mouth without letting him have a drop. “You flirt with my friends. You make me fight for you. You make me bleed for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, eyes locked on the spot just above his lips. “I’m sorry—I’ll be good, please—”

You lower, just a little. Let him get one lick. And he moans, like he’s tasting salvation.

And then you sit. Full weight. Full heat. Full fucking disrespect.

Mark groans like he’s dying, his tongue instantly latching onto your slit like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His nose bumps your clit and you roll your hips down on instinct, letting out a sharp gasp.

You grab his hair and yank his face deeper.

“Eat it,” you growl. “Like your fucking life depends on it.”

He moans — moans — like you just made his dreams come true. And from the way his tongue starts working? You’re starting to believe they were.

Long, slow licks. Then messy, filthy ones. Then sucks — greedy, unhinged, wet and loud.

You grind down on his face, using him like a toy — your toy — chasing your own high while he drowns in it like it’s an honor.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails digging into his scalp, pulling just enough to make him groan into you — the vibrations making your legs shake.

“God, look at you,” you breathe, throwing your head back. “You love this shit, don’t you?”

He tries to answer — can’t. You don’t let him. You just grind down harder, smothering him in wet, perfect darkness, the sound of your slick and his panting turning the room into a goddamn altar.

You roll your hips once—twice—And then you ride. Full motion. All control. No mercy.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s the kind of face-sitting that turns into a spiritual event.

You’re moaning. Cursing. Saying his name like it’s both a praise and a warning. And he’s taking it all — tongue shaking, jaw straining, letting you fucking use him until your thighs clamp down around his ears and your back arches with a cry that echoes off the walls.

You come with your whole fucking body. Legs shaking. Fingers digging into his scalp. And he doesn’t stop. Not for a second. Not even when your thighs squeeze tight around his head like you want to break him in half.

You finally lift off him — dragging yourself off his soaked face with a shaky breath — and his mouth is still open, lips shiny, chest heaving.

He’s smiling. The sick little fuck is smiling.

You wipe your slick from his cheek with your fingers and slap his mouth lightly with them.

“You think I’m done with you?” He shakes his head. Begging. “Good.”

You move down his body — mount his hips like you own them — and reach back to line him up.

He’s hard as hell. Leaking. Desperate. His whole body shuddering like he’s already close.

You don’t care.

You sink down on him slow and deep, hips rolling as his hands shoot up. You slap them away. “No touching.”

He nods, frantic, hips twitching, already so close from everything you denied him.

You start to ride him — not smooth and sweet — but mean. Deep. Grounding your hips hard, using his body like it’s owed to you. Like he should thank you for every time you bottom out.

And he does.

“Thank you—fuck, thank you—don’t stop—don’t ever stop—”

You slam down harder. Faster. Your thighs slapping against him. His mouth falling open in pure, desperate awe.

“Say it,” you growl, voice ragged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he gasps. “I’m yours, I’m so fucking yours, I belong to you—”

You grab his throat with one hand, pinning him to the mattress, and ride him until his voice breaks into nothing but wet, messy gasps.

“You flirt with anyone else again,” you whisper, “and I’ll ride your face right in front of them. Make you cry. Make them watch you beg while I use you.”

Mark moans like he’s dying.

“Please. Please ruin me. I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll let you do whatever you want—”

You slap him again. Not enough to really hurt. Just enough to remind him what happens when he runs his fucking mouth.

“You’re mine, Mark.”

And then you grind down one last time, burying him inside you, hips circling with perfect pressure — and he fucking loses it. Arching. Shaking. Coming so hard it punches the breath out of him.

His voice cracks like glass. His body jerks. And you don’t move. You sit there. Locked in place. Letting him ride the high while you smirk above him, unbothered.

When it’s over, he’s twitching. Tears in his eyes. Mouth open, totally fucking ruined.

You lean down, voice in his ear, soft and cold: “Good boy.”

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #lensless mark x reader #no goggles mark x reader

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aureentuluva70 · 2 months ago

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OK but like...Gethsemane. Gethsemane, guys. I cannot express enough how important Gethsemane is and what happened there. Not to downplay the incredible importance of what happened on the Cross, of course not, but I find people really don't talk about Gethsemane enough in comparison, so I'm going to do it myself.

Gethsemane is found at the foot of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Fitting its name, the garden itself is full of olive trees, a kind of tree which holds great significance in scripture, probably the most revered plant in the bible. It is a symbol of peace, new life, prosperity, and reconciliation. It was the branch of an olive tree that the dove brought back to Noah while on the ark, signifying that the floods were receding. An olive tree is used to describe Jesus's jewish roots as the stem of David, two olive trees are used as symbolism in Revelations, and the people of Israel are likened to an olive tree and its branches. And this is only a few of the many references to olive trees in the Bible.

Olive Trees were and still are highly valued for their oil, which can be retrieved from the olives themselves. Olive oil was used as medicine, for light, for making food, etc. It was a very valuable resource, and still is.

The very name of this garden, Gethsemane, means “Oil Press”, where oil is obtained from the olives-by squeezing and crushing them. Only by being crushed can this precious oil be obtained.

When the olives are first crushed, the liquid begins to leak out, but rather than coming out as the golden-green color that we are used to, it instead comes out as a dark red hue, looking eerily similar to blood.

Only later does the oil turn into its famous golden-green color.

Like the olives being crushed for their oil, Jesus Christ was being pressed and crushed by the weight of the Atonement in the garden, suffering through such incomprehensible anguish and agony that, according to Luke's account, He literally started sweating blood.

KJV Luke 22: 44: "And being in agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was like great drops of blood falling down to the ground."

(Believe it or not, sweating blood is an actual medical condition called Hematridosis, which is caused by an extreme level of stress.)

Another important thing about olive oil's use during Christ's time: it was also used for ceremonial annointing, especially for sacred rituals performed in the temple, consecrating those like priests, kings and prophets. To be annointed means to be chosen or set apart for a specific role by God, often signified by smearing oil on the body or head, and what is the true meaning of Christ's title as the Messiah?

"The Annointed One."

And yet now, here in Gethsemane, Jesus has rather become the olive. He is the one being crushed, for the sins and pains of the world in the shadow of the Mount of Olives, His blood, like the sacred oil, to be used to annoint us, to not only save us but to make us into something greater than we could ever be by ourselves.

Also, very very interesting that Gethsemane is described as a garden. Only so many gardens are mentioned in the Bible, the most well known and one of the only other named gardens being the Garden of Eden, the paradise where humankind was first created and dwelt with God. Eden was a place of beauty, of innocence, and represented humanity's oneness with the Father.

But when Adam and Eve partook of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, that innocence was lost, and thus the first man and woman could no longer dwell in Eden, and were driven out. Because of transgression, humankind had fallen.

In Eden's garden, beneath a tree, mankind lost its innocence resulting in the Fall, and became seperated from its creator, but in another garden millennia later, beneath the olive trees, that same creator would begin the agonizing process required to save us and lift us, mankind, from the consequences of that fall, to bring us back to the true garden of the Lord.

In the place of the Oil Press Jesus Christ allowed Himself to be pressed and crushed in our stead, letting Himself to eventually be led to the cross, taking upon Himself the demands of justice so that we might not suffer a similar fate, if we so choose to follow Him.

That is what happened in Gethsemane.

#Just...gah! it's absolutely beautiful!#Learning more about the context and symbolism of everything just makes me appreciate the Atonement(and the scriptures) that much more #I honestly have so much more I want to say on this but this is all I could get out #At least in time for today anyway so forgive any minor errors #Gethsemane #holy thursday #Bible #Christianity #Jesus Christ #Easter #Holy Week #Eden

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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casual crazy — fushiguro toji.

“You’re staring.” His voice is deep, casual, but there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You don’t look away. Why should you? He’s a sight, broad shoulders stretching his dark shirt, the veins in his arms just there, teasing your drunken brain into all sorts of bad ideas. “So?” you couldn’t help but garble, setting your empty glass down with a clumsy clink. “Can’t help it. You’re kinda hard not to look at.” His smirk deepens. “Are you always this bold, or is it the liquor talking, hm?”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: smut, romance (sorta), enemies to lovers (sorta), assasins and hitmen, friends with benefits, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, porn with plot, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, bathroom/toilet sex, orgasm, tension, lust, power play, dirty talk, sexual tension, public sex, size difference, dom/sub undertones, drunken flirting, casual sex turned complicated, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, assassin! toji, assassin! reader;

WORD COUNT: 5.7k words.

NOTE: i remember writing this while i was going through the horny thoughts i couldn't avoid. genuinely, need to be done dirty like this, i fear. i made my friend beta read this and they were like, 'actually if he calls me good girl again, im gonna lose it' and the reaction was totally worth it. anyway, i hope you enjoy it as much as we did. i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HAVE A VERY BAD RELATIONSHIP WITH ALCOHOL. You’ve long admitted that to yourself. Yet, you’ve done very little about it over the past few years, no matter the amount of therapy or rehab you’ve done.

There just really wasn’t any escape from the addiction that made you feel alive. But that’s just the life of an assassin, you supposed. You had to have something that keeps you alive, that keeps you going, in this line of work.

Your calloused fingers clutch the sweating glass, the whiskey inside sloshing dangerously close to spilling. You should probably slow down, but the warmth spreading through your veins is the only thing keeping you steady. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Hard to tell at this point.

And then, all of a sudden, the devil hands you a brand-new temptation. One far more intoxicating than the burn of whiskey down your throat. The familiar craving for alcohol vanishes in a blink, cast aside as something far more potent takes hold. Lust. Raw and unfiltered, creeping into your veins like wildfire. Because there he is.

Fushiguro Toji.

The dark haired man looks like he’s danced with the devil and walked away grinning, untouched, undefeated. They even say so, all the other assassins. They say he wears sin like a second skin, so easily, so unapologetic, so effortless. And seeing it for yourself, it was actually impressive.

There’s a weight to him, something heavy and dark, yet he carries it with an ease that shouldn’t be possible. Perhaps that’s why he could live easily as an assassin more than most. That lazy confidence rolls off him in waves, an unspoken challenge to the world.

It was as if nothing—no god, no fate, no consequence, could ever chain him down.

Nothing in the world could bring this dangerous man to his knees.

After all, that’s why he’s Shiu’s favorite out of the scores of assassins like you.

The scar at the corner of his mouth twitches when he smirks, a wicked little tell that gives nothing away and yet says everything. His sharp blue—green eyes was interesting to look at, you think.

In some ways, you know you could not read the truth behind those emotions that spiral through those orbs. Yet, it was obvious what intentions they had. And that makes your skin crawl to no end. It was eager, hungry, cutthroat, knowing.

Amusement, intrigue… danger.

You didn’t care for the precisement emotion.

That’s when you knew you were already lost.

“You’re staring.”

His voice is deep, casual, but there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You don’t look away. Why should you? He’s a sight, broad shoulders stretching his dark shirt, the veins in his arms just there, teasing your drunken brain into all sorts of bad ideas.

“So?” you couldn’t help but garble, setting your empty glass down with a clumsy clink. “Can’t help it. You’re kinda hard not to look at.”

His smirk deepens. “Are you always this bold, or is it the liquor talking, hm?”

You hum, tilting your head as if actually thinking about it. The room sways a little, but before you can fall off your stool, a firm hand wraps around your arm, steadying you with ease. His fingers are rough, warm, and entirely too comfortable where they are.

“Whoa there, [last name].” he murmurs, close enough now that you can smell him. All smoke, steel, and something faintly sweet. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”

“I’m not, Fushiguro.” you protest, frowning up at him. “I just… you’re distracting right now.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and it rumbles through you in a way that makes you grip the edge of the bar. He still hasn’t let go of your arm, and you’re suddenly very aware of how big his hand is, how easily he could manhandle you if he wanted to.

“Distracting, huh?” He tilts his head, watching you like a cat watches a mouse that’s just a little too cocky for its own good. “So, what? You tryna flirt with me?”

Your grin is slow, lazy. “That depends.” you murmur, dragging your fingers up his arm, feeling the way the muscle tenses slightly beneath your touch. “Is it working?”

For a second, he just watches you, unreadable.

Then, he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Damn. You are drunk.” He snickers at you. “Not what I expected from you.”

You pout. “That a no?”

He leans in, just a little, enough that his breath fans against your cheek. “That’s a be careful, doll.” he says, voice like gravel, mischievous eyes gleaming with something that makes your throat dry up. “I don’t play nice. I never have.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the way he looks at you like he already knows exactly what would make you fall apart, but you find yourself leaning closer instead of backing off.

“Who said I wanted to be nice?”

His fingers tighten around your arm just slightly, his smirk curling into something more dangerous. “…Now that’s interesting.”

Toji exhales a quiet chuckle, his grip on your arm firm but not restraining. He could let go anytime, you could have just as much let go. But neither of you move to do anything. Instead, the tension only builds, like waves crashing over itself over and over.

His eyes flick over you, slow and assessing, like he’s deciding whether you’re a good bet or just another bad decision waiting to happen. Not that he seems like the type to care about bad decisions.

“You got a death wish or somethin’?” he murmurs, tilting his head, the scar on his lip twitching.

You smirk, fingers playing at the rim of your glass. “I dunno,” you say, voice dipping lower, hazier. “Depends. Are you planning on killing me?”

His grin sharpens. “Not unless you ask really nicely, doll.”

A shiver runs down your spine. It was one that had nothing to do with alcohol, that was quite certain. You should probably tread carefully, but the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something worth toying with, tasting. You suppose that makes you bold. Or maybe just stupid. You couldn’t decide the distinction.

“So what if I did?” You lean in, resting your chin on your palm, eyes locked on his. “What if I wanted a little danger?”

Toji hums, like he’s amused. “Doll, you’re too confident about it, don’t you think? I doubt you could handle it.”

You scoff, but before you can argue, he moves. Just a slight shift, but suddenly, he’s closer. He shook his head at you, full of intrigue. In an instant, his massive knee brushes yours under the bar, his breath teasing your ear as he murmurs,

“You’re drunk. That liquid courage’s talkin’ for you.”

Your fingers trail up his forearm, slow, deliberate. “And what if it’s not?”

He watches you, blue–green eyes dark and unreadable, his lips hovering just out of reach. The tension hums between you, thick and charged, like a wire stretched too tight. You swear the whole bar fades away, until it’s just the two of you and the heat simmering between your bodies.

All of the noise from the bar counter, the clinking glasses of little cheers, the other patrons dancing and singing, being the obnoxious humans they were. None of that truly ever mattered t at that moment. Toji tilts his head, considering. Then, just as slowly, he pulls back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” he murmurs, tossing back the last of his drink. “But you’d regret it.”

Your stomach twists—frustration? Curiosity? Maybe it was a little of both. “And what if I wouldn’t?”

He smirks, standing from his stool. He towers over you, his presence alone enough to make your breath hitch. “Then that would be even worse.”

“You make it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world.” You hiccuped in reply.

He snickers back at you as he taps two fingers against the bar, signaling for another drink before glancing down at you one last time, his gaze lingering. “Drink some water, doll. Clear that head of yours. An assassin can’t let their guard down.”

You exhale, heart pounding against your ribs.

Well, damn.

You don’t think.

You just move.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. It was like he’s already decided you’re trouble, but he’s entertained enough to stick around and see what kind. Maybe it’s just that you don’t want to let this moment slip away, not when the air between you is crackling, thick with something sharp and wanting.

So when he turns away, you reach out, fingers curling around his wrist—firm but not desperate. Just enough to make him pause. He looks down at your hand, then back at you, one brow quirking up in silent question.

And then you kiss him.

You don’t even give him a chance to smirk, to throw some smug remark about how bold you are. You just let go. You just go for it. Your lips press against his, the taste of whiskey and smoke flooding your senses, and for a second, he doesn’t move.

It’s like he’s caught off guard, like you actually surprised him. But then—then—he takes a moment to exhale a quiet grunt, and his hand is suddenly on your waist, pulling you in just enough to keep you steady.

The kiss is messy, a little too eager, too animalistic. But you don’t care. You can feel the curve of his smirk against your lips, the way he lets you take the lead just long enough to lull you into a false sense of control. Because then, he takes it back.

Fushiguro Toji kisses like he fights. And he liked it that way. It was all too sharp, and devoid of mercy. It was deliberate, like he knows exactly where to hit to make you weak. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he deepens it, tongue sliding against yours, and fuck, you’re dizzy all over again, but this time it has nothing to do with the alcohol.

His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you flush against him, and it sends a spark straight down your spine. He tastes dangerous, and it makes your head spin worse than any drink. And then just as suddenly as he let you have him, he pulled back.

You’re left breathless, your lips tingling, your pulse hammering. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, looking entirely too amused, like he just figured something out about you that even you didn’t know.

His thumb brushes over your lip, slow, lazy. “Huh.” he murmurs, voice husky. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You swallow hard, trying to regain your balance. “Yeah, well… maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

He chuckles, low and deep, thumb still idly tracing your lip like he’s considering whether he wants another taste. “Maybe not, doll.” he agrees, stepping back.

“What are you thinking now?”

His grip lingers just a second too long before he finally lets go. He slyly smiles at you. “I’m startin’ to think I should.”

You should say something witty, something cocky, anything to keep this game going but your brain is still scrambling from the way he kissed you like he was meant to. Toji smirks like he can see exactly what he did to you. Then, with one last lingering look, he turns back toward the bar, tossing a few bills down before sliding his hands into his pockets.

“You comin’, or you just gonna sit there lookin’ dazed?”

Your breath catches. “Where to?”

He glances at you over his shoulder. “Outta here,” he says simply. “Unless you just wanted a kiss and nothin’ more, doll.”

It’s a challenge. A dare. One you have no intention of backing down from. You slide off the stool, shaking off whatever remains of your hesitation, and follow him to wherever he was taking you. After all, you realized you were crazy. You might as well act like crazy, too.

IT DIDN’T TAKE VERY LONG FOR YOU TO END UP WHERE YOU WERE. You and Toji slipped away from the crowded room, making your way to the nearby comfort room. As soon as the door closed behind you, Toji pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss.

His hands roamed your body, gripping and squeezing as he pressed his hips against yours.You could feel his hardness through his pants, grinding against your core. Toji's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

"Someone’s getting quite impatient, isn’t she?" he murmured against your throat, his voice husky with desire. His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts.

Your hands tangled in Toji's hair, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, dueling with yours in a passionate dance. Toji's fingers deftly unhooked your bra, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. He kneaded the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing against your hardening nipples.

A moan escaped your lips, your hips bucking against his. Toji's other hand slid down, popping the button of your jeans and slipping inside. His fingers brushed against your core, finding you already wet with desire

"Fuck, you're so ready for me, aren’t you?" Toji groaned, his breath hot against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, the deliberate motion sending sparks of pleasure crackling through your nerves.

He didn’t just touch you, no. He consumed you whole. He commanded your body, every movement calculated to pull a reaction from you. And he got it. A sharp gasp, a desperate arch of your hips, a needy little whimper that only made his smirk deepen.

He pushed two fingers inside you, the stretch delicious and unrelenting. The slow, slick glide of them made you shudder, your walls tightening around him instinctively. His touch was maddening and all the while measured, knowing, dragging pleasure out of you inch by inch.

“Can you feel it?” he murmured, voice like gravel, like temptation itself. His thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, his fingers curling just right. “Feel how wet you already are? Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight.”

"Hhnnn… your fingers feel so good…” you cooed against him, voice breathy, barely there, your mind slipping under the weight of sensation. “Toji…..fuck…..”

Toji chuckled, low and rough, his amusement edged with something darker—something possessive. "Yeah? Then take ‘em."

His fingers plunged deeper, stretching, stroking, his pace quickening with a ruthless precision. Every twist, every push, every brush against that perfect spot sent you unraveling further. Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter, climbing toward an inevitable, overwhelming crescendo.

Toji’s lips ghosted over your ear, his voice nothing but a sinful whisper. “Let me hear you, baby. I wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

His fingers moved with unrelenting precision, pushing deeper, curling just right, stroking over that devastatingly sensitive spot that made your breath catch. Every motion was deliberate, every flick of his wrist measured to wring another shudder from you.

The heat in your core coiled tighter, pleasure winding sharp and insistent. Your legs trembled, muscles clenching, but Toji wasn’t about to let you squirm away. His free hand pressed against your stomach, pinning you down, his grip firm all too possessive.

"You’re so desperate for it," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, with something darker. "Fucking clenching around me like you’re already close."

A whimper slipped past your lips, and Toji chuckled, the sound rough, pleased. His breath ghosted over your ear, teasing, taunting. "Gonna come for me just like this?" His thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling with slow, devastating intent. "Or do you need more?"

Your body answered before your lips could. Your back arched, fingers grasping for something—anything—to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensation. But Fushiguro Toji had you exactly where he wanted you, held firm in his grasp, unraveling beneath his touch.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, voice a husky whisper. "Go on, baby. Let me feel it."

The pressure inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling, breathless. Toji held you through it, drawing out every last shudder, his fingers working you through the aftershocks, never once letting up.

When he finally withdrew, his fingers slick and glistening, he brought them to his lips, watching you with that same lazy smirk. The one that sent heat pooling low in your stomach all over again. He sucked them into his mouth, tasting every bit of you with a satisfied hum.

Toji then dragged his cum stained fingers down your thigh, his touch deliberate, lingering, as if savoring the way your body still trembled beneath him. His smirk never wavered, that lazy confidence settling deep in his stance, in the sharp glint of his eyes.

"You look real pretty when you come, pretty." he mused, voice low and rough, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. His gaze flicked over you—your parted lips, the rise and fall of your chest, the dazed look in your eyes. "Bet you’d look even prettier coming on my cock."

The way he said it, like a promise, like an inevitability, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. It was all too much, this sensation. You’ve never truly felt it before, not even with your other partners. Fushiguro Toji was the first to take you down this path.

“But I’m not giving it to you easily, doll.” He smiles at you, overtly sadistic. “You gotta work for it, hm?”

“Toji, this is so cruel!”

He laughs. “But isn’t that how pleasure works? You gotta earn it.”

“But I’m desperate!”

"Tell me, doll." he murmured, fingers tracing up your inner thigh, stopping just shy of where you needed him most. "You want more, don’t you?"

You stared at him for a while, groaning as he got to your cunny again.

Your breath hitched, your hips shifting toward his touch on instinct.

But Toji only chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still.

"Use your words, doll." he coaxed, his thumb ghosting over your already swollen clit, featherlight, teasing. "You begged so sweetly before. Let me hear it again."

Your pulse pounded, every nerve alight, but he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted so easily. You know that now. He wanted to hear you say it, to watch you squirm, to make you admit just how badly you needed him.

"Please…" The word came out breathless, barely there.

Toji hummed, tilting his head like he was considering whether or not to give you what you wanted. "Mmm. That’s not enough, sweetheart." His fingers flexed against your thigh. "Tell me exactly what you need."

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck.

He was enjoying everything about this situation.

He liked this, how he was dragging it out, making you work for it.

"I need you, you bastard." you finally admitted, voice unsteady but desperate, raw. "I need you inside me. Please, Toji."

Something dark and satisfied flickered across his face, and in an instant, his teasing patience snapped. "That’s more like it, doll." he growled.

Your breath hitched as Toji held you there, his grip firm, unyielding, like he had all the time in the world to savor this moment, to savor you. His thick, calloused fingers pressed deeper into your hips, holding you steady beneath him, his touch branding you, leaving no room for escape. Not that you wanted one.

His lips ghosted over your jaw, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Takin’ me so well again. You’re such a good girl.” he murmured, his voice deep, rough around the edges, like he was barely holding himself back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

The question hung between you, thick with expectation, and you couldn’t do anything but nod, your body taut with anticipation, with need. But it was obvious that this wasn’t enough for him just yet, no. He still wanted more. And you still did too, pushing against his long massive fingers, letting the edge of pleasure hit you again in the pandemonium of overstimulation.

“Say it.” Toji ordered, his tone carrying that unmistakable edge, a command wrapped in dark amusement. He wanted to hear it, to pull the words from your lips just like he pulled every other reaction from your body.

Your fingers curled against his arms, nails digging into the hard muscle there, seeking something to anchor yourself to as you gasped out, “Feels—feels so good, Toji.”

A low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “That’s my pretty girl.”

His movements were deliberate, controlled, a stark contrast to the raw hunger in his eyes. He wanted to see you come undone beneath him, to watch every tremor of pleasure ripple through your body. His thumb found your clit, circling in slow, devastating strokes that made your breath hitch, made you gasp his name like a prayer.

Toji leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice nothing but a dark promise. “Now show me something beautiful, doll.”

The dark haired man’s fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure. His thumb circled your clit, the sensitive nub throbbing under his touch. Your body shuddered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

"Fuck, you're so responsive, aren’t you?" Toji groaned, his voice strained with desire. His fingers pumped slowly, gentler now, as he helped you ride out the final waves of your second orgasm. "That's it, baby. Let go for me."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure. As your overbearing orgasm finally subsided, Toji's fingers withdrew slowly, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more. His eyes, dark with lust, met yours.

"You okay?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. "More than okay." you murmured, a satisfied smile on your lips.

Toji's grin was wicked, his hand sliding up your thigh. "Good, because we're just getting started."

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby counter. He set you down, stepping between your legs. Toji's lips crashed against yours, his kiss demanding and passionate. His hands roamed your body, touching and teasing every inch.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, doll." he promised, his voice low and husky."I'm going to make you scream my name."

His fingers slowly hooked into the waistband of your skirt, tugging them down along with your already wet underwear, He narrowed his eyes at the wetness that stained your underwear. You watched as Toji's eyes darkened further as he then took in the sight of you, bare and exposed.

“Tell me, pretty little doll……What do you want? Say it for me, loud and clear.”

You barely had the breath to answer. “Please… make me feel good.” Your voice trembled, your hips rocking into his touch, desperate for more. “I need you inside me. I need your cock.”

Something dark flickered behind his blue–green eyes, endless hunger twisting his expression into something wicked. A slow smirk stretched his lips. “With pleasure.” he growled, pulling his fingers from you.

Toji stripped away his lower garments, his thick cock springing free from its confines, hard and heavy against his abdomen. The sight alone had your mouth running dry. He stepped between your legs, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, dragging slick over your swollen folds.

His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to bruise. “Look at me, pretty doll.” he ordered, voice edged with command. “I wanna see your face when I stretch you open.”

You met his gaze just as he thrust forward, spearing you open in one swift stroke. The stretch burned, a mix of pain and unbearable pleasure, your walls squeezing around his thick length as he filled you to the hilt. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your head knocking back against the counter, legs trembling from the force of it.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Toji groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second as he fought for control. “Feel so good wrapped around me like this.”

He pulled back, only to slam forward again, setting a slow, punishing rhythm. Each thrust was deep, measured, deliberate. It was driving the air from your lungs, sending shockwaves of sensation through every nerve ending.

The room filled with the obscene sound of skin meeting skin, your moans tangled with his rough grunts. Toji leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and guttural. “You like this, don’t you?”

“F….fu…..I–I do! I…I liiiiikeeee—”

His teeth grazed your earlobe before he sucked it between his lips. “Like being fucked open on my cock?”

The filthy words sent a violent shudder through your body, your walls clenching around him in response. Toji could feel it overwhelm him. He felt everything. A growl ripped from his chest as his pace turned brutal, desperate.

His hips slamming into yours with enough force to jolt the counter beneath you. One hand slipped between your bodies, his calloused fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough circles that sent you hurtling toward the edge.

“Come for me, pretty doll.” he commanded, voice strained, raw, demanding. “Come all over my cock.”

It was too much for you to even bear. It was all too good, all too intense, all too overwhelming. You could feel everything in your body tightening, pleasure coiling sharp and hot in your core before snapping all at once.

Toji's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise and burn. His thrusts became more aggressive, each snap of his hips driving into you with a brutal force that stole the air from your lungs.

The shitty counter creaked beneath you, the heavy sound of its movement mingling with your cries of pleasure and pain. Toji's breath came in ragged pants against your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin.

"You're mine now, aren’t you?"he growled possessively, his voice low and dangerous. "Say it."

His hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. His other hand slid down to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You could feel drool sliding down both sides of your lips as you shook over and over again against his intense movements.

"Say you're mine." His hips pounded into you relentlessly, his cock hitting your deepest spots with merciless precision. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation, your body shaking with each thrust.

"Please..." you gasped, your voice hoarse and strained. Toji's eyes flashed with a mix of desire and dominance.

"Please what?" he demanded, his thrusts slowing to a torturous pace. "Tell me what you need."

His grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back further. His thumb pressed against your lips, forcing them open. "Beg for it."

Your heart raced, your body trembling with a heady mix of fear and arousal. The dominant side of Fushiguro Toji was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. It made you wet and it made you on your guard. It made you want to be possessed and it made you want to be let go. And yet, you knew what you would choose. You knew what you wanted more than being free.

"Please..." you whispered again, your tongue darting out to lick his thumb. "Fuck me harder. Use me. Make me yours."

A wicked grin spreads brutishly across Toji's face, his blue–green eyes darkened with lust at the sight of your surrender to him, to your lust. To his pleasure. To the horridness and the craziness of all of this.

"Good girl." he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Without warning, he pulled out, only to flip you over onto your stomach. And then all the strength of him, pushed his weight on you once again and pushed inside, earning an illicit moan from you, that now repeats like a symphony.

Toji gripped your hips, pulling them up to meet his thrusts. His hand cracked across your ass, the sting mixing with the pleasure coursing through your veins. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky.

"Like being punished for being such a greedy little slut." His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt.He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight, doll." he promised, his words sending shivers down your spine."Until the only thing you can think about is my cock."

His fingers dug into your hips, his pace becoming more frenzied. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and Toji's grunts of pleasure. He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight circles.

"Come for me." He whispers hotly against your ears. “Go on, be a good girl, doll.”

“I–I can’t!” You cried out, slurring at your words as you moved against him, letting his pace ruin you. “Too….Too good, fucccckkkkk!”

"Do it, doll. Be a good girl f’r me." Toji demanded, his fingers moving faster against your clit. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come apart."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing ragged against your neck. He bit down on your shoulder, marking you as his.The combination of sensations was overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge.Your body tensed, your inner walls clamping down on Toji's length.

"That's it, pretty girl!" he growled, his hips pistoning into you. "Come on my cock. Now."

His command was all it took to send you spiraling over the precipice. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Toji's hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself deep as he found his own release. He groaned loudly, his hot seed filling you up, one thrust after the other.

The air was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and sex still lingering in the dimly lit comfort room of the assassin’s bar. Your legs felt like jelly, like your entire body was going to collapse from the force of his push and pull.

You could feel your body still humming from the intensity of what just happened, yet Fushiguro Toji, the absolute menace that he was, looked completely unbothered about it. It was like he hadn’t just rearranged your entire existence against a suspiciously sturdy sink in this bar comfort room.

His breath was still rather heavy, his body slick with piling golden sweat, but his lazy smirk was back in full force as he finally pulled away. He cracked his neck, stretched like he’d just finished a workout, then gave you a once-over, his green eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Damn.” he muttered, running a hand through his damp dark hair. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You glared at him, or at least tried to, but your legs wobbled the moment you moved, forcing you to grip the sink for support. Toji, ever the bastard, caught it immediately. “I hate you.”

His grin widened. “Aw, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Legs ain’t workin’?”

Your eye twitched. “You—shut up.”

Toji laughed, full and deep, the sound bouncing off the grimy tiled walls. “Tch, that’s what happens when you get greedy, doll.” he mused, zipping up his pants with a satisfied hum. “Didn’t expect you to be such a lil’ freak, though.”

Your face burned, but before you could snap back, a loud bang rattled the door. “OI, HURRY THE FUCK UP!” a voice bellowed from the other side. “Some of us actually need to piss, y’know!”

Oh. Right. The fact that you were in a goddamn assassin’s bar and had just let Fushiguro Toji ruin you and rearrange your guts in the bar comfort room like a couple of horny teenagers had completely slipped your mind.

The depths of the alcohol you had drunk tonight had long slipped away from you and now you were sober. The wanton greed from you had all but disappeared and only replaced by the embarrassment you feel.

You whipped around, hurriedly smoothing down your clothes, heart hammering in mortification. Still trying to make sure his cum doesn’t spill from your thighs, still trying to make yourself presentable.

Meanwhile, Toji took his sweet time adjusting himself and his pants, looking completely unbothered. He even had the audacity to yawn. “Hold your damn horses, you idiots.” he called out lazily. “Some of us were busy.”

Loud groans and swearing erupted from the other side, followed by someone grumbling, “I swear to god, if they clogged the sink again—”

You nearly choked. “Again? What the fuck does that mean, Fushiguro?”

Toji snorted, tossing you a smug look. “Told ya, this ain’t my first time in here for a round. It's always casual. Or crazy Or both. Whichever is preferred.”

You gaped at him, scandalized. “You absolute piece of shit! You fucked me here—”

Another furious bang cut you off, and this time, the doorknob actually rattled. “I SWEAR TO FUCK, IF YOU TWO DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR—”

Toji just laughed, grabbing your wrist before you could fully process what was happening. “Time to go, doll.”

And just like that, he swung the door open, stepping out like he didn’t just defile the bar’s restroom, greeting the pissed-off assassins outside with a lazy smirk and a casual, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You, on the other hand, nearly tripped over yourself as you followed, trying very hard to ignore the furious glares of the men who had just spent the last twenty minutes listening to your, uh… indiscretions. Toji slung an arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward the bar like it was just another regular night.

“You’re buying the next round.” you grumbled under your breath, face still burning. “And get me new underwear and pants, you fiend.”

Toji grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple like an asshole. “Worth it, though.”

You elbowed him in the ribs.

He only laughed harder.

473 notes · View notes

downbad4sylus · 4 months ago

Text

“Caleb… You’re scaring me.”

(part 1, part 2, and part 4)

synopsis: You struggle with what it means for Caleb to remain in your life while in a relationship with Sylus. Caleb, however, is determined to make that decision for you.

content: sylus x afab!reader; use of Y/N; established relationship; slightly nsfw right off the bat (but it’s brief), then slightly nsfw/suggestive again a little later (but still brief); tension; angst; caleb acts like caleb but worse; zayne cameo; mention of stalking; kidnapping; use of Evol; ends on a cliffhanger; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.6k

tags: @zarakem @freddy-2002-blog @browneyedgirl22 @exactlysizzlingdonut

a/n: back by popular demand, here is the third part to the sylus v caleb series! things take a bit of a dark turn and will continue to do so in the final part. i do just want to say that, altho caleb is essentially the villain in this story, i genuinely like him as a LI. thanks so much for all your continued support, hope you guys enjoy!!

Sylus was buried deep within you and all he wanted to do was lose himself in the feel of you squeezing him oh so perfectly, but that was proving quite difficult when your phone kept buzzing on the nightstand.

It had been weeks since he last touched you like this, since he made love to you, fucked you. He wanted to be sure your shoulder and ribs were healed lest he only injure you further. And now he finally, finally, had you squirming beneath him, calling out his name in the throes of pleasure.

Except your annoyingly persistent childhood best friend refused to give either of you a moment of peace.

“Kitten,” Sylus rasped, his thrusts slowing to get your attention, “unless you want me to break your phone so it never rings again, I suggest you turn it off until we’re done.”

“Hah—s-sorry,” you panted, blindly reaching for the phone.

Your hand smacked the screen at the same moment Sylus hit a sweet spot within you, your loud moan echoing through the bedroom. Your fingers grasped the edges of the device and you managed to hold it in front of your face.

“Shit,” you swore, fumbling with the phone to end the call you’d accidentally picked up. “Shit, Sylus—ah—hang on.”

Sylus did no such thing, instead putting more force into his thrusts. You bit your lip to keep from making noise, praying that Caleb somehow could not hear what you and Sylus were doing.

Finally hanging up the call, you turned your phone off and tossed it aside onto the bed somewhere.

“Do you think he heard?” you asked Sylus as you looped your arms around his neck and dragged him closer.

He placed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones. “If he did, then I’d say it’s pretty clear now who you belong to.”

—

Caleb gripped his phone so hard the metal groaned.

There was no mistaking the noises he heard. That you were making. It made jealousy and rage churn in his gut, but there was something else there too. A sense of ownership. You were Caleb’s. Only he should be hearing you make those sinful sounds. Only he should be the one buried inside you, making you feel good.

Caleb ran a hand down his face. He knew one thing for certain: the Onychinus leader had to go.

—

The conversation with Sylus was inevitable and you were dreading it.

He had said he didn’t want you going back to Skyhaven and you hadn’t gone, you’d been by his side for almost the entire time spent healing. But he never said he didn’t want you talking to Caleb.

If you were being honest with yourself though, you weren’t sure how much longer this could continue. Deep down, you knew sooner rather than later, you’d have to choose one or the other. Your choice was clear, one you’d make without a doubt, but the consequences of that choice were what worried you.

Sylus returned from the kitchen, handing you a glass of wine before settling beside you on the couch. You were in one of the sitting rooms at the base after enjoying the meal Sylus had made for you both.

Your boyfriend blew out a long breath. “Sweetie,” he began, and you prepared yourself for the worst, “I think we should talk about it, don’t you?”

While Sylus was hopeful you’d at least lessen contact with the Colonel, he wasn’t naive in expecting you to cut him off completely. But Sylus just couldn’t understand why. The Colonel had only brought instability into your life since he “came back from the dead.” You were bending over backward to appease him the best you could but it was never enough. It would never be enough for the Colonel, not if Sylus was still in the picture.

Sylus knew this would all come to a head eventually, where you would have to make a choice you should never have been forced into. He didn’t want you to have to choose, he wanted you to be able to have the best of both worlds. That was where he and the Colonel differed, something Sylus hoped you could see. Where they were the same, however, Sylus wasn’t going to give you up so easily.

“What exactly do you want to talk about?” you asked, a poor attempt at deflection.

Sylus frowned. “That your supposed childhood best friend has been incessantly calling and texting you since the moment you got back from Skyhaven.”

You winced. Caleb had indeed been blowing up your phone since you’d forgiven him for what happened. Little did you know, that Sylus had found not only a tracking device hidden in your phone but a mirroring program as well. He’d taken out the device immediately and wiped the program from your phone, ensuring there was no backdoor for the Colonel to maintain access. Finding them had enraged Sylus so much that he had to talk himself out of going to Skyhaven and hunting the Colonel down for at least a week afterward.

“I don’t always answer him though,” you protested weakly.

“That’s not the point, sweetie, and you know that,” Sylus admonished. “What happened to boundaries?”

You took a gulp of wine. Sylus was right, so why was it so hard for you to create those boundaries with Caleb? Maybe because he looked or sounded like a kicked puppy whenever you tried. He knew just how to slip past your defenses, and it worked nearly every time.

“I know, I just hate hurting his feelings,” you admitted.

Sylus’s expression softened. He reached for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. “Sometimes your heart is too big for your own good.”

Your lips twitched upward. “I know,” you repeated. “But you’re right, and earlier was too far. I shouldn’t have to worry about Caleb interrupting every time we’re intimate. I don’t want to worry about it.”

Sylus tilted his head, waiting for you to make your conclusion.

“I’ll talk to him,” you declared, resolute.

Sylus lifted your entwined hands, kissing the back of yours. “Thank you.”

—

You were eternally grateful arguments—real arguments—with Sylus were rare because had they not been, you would’ve given in by now.

You and Caleb had been on the phone for almost thirty minutes now, talking in circles as you tried to lay down some boundaries. Caleb wasn’t having any of it, and you were seconds away from exploding on him.

“I just don’t see what the big deal is, pip-squeak,” he said, maintaining the same infuriatingly cocky tone he’d had since the start of the call. “What’s wrong with me checking in on you during the day?”

“What’s wrong is that I’m an adult, Caleb, and I don’t need you checking up on me every hour!” you shouted, throwing a hand up in the air. “I have a life you know, one that has become increasingly difficult to live with you pestering me all day!”

“Pestering?” Caleb repeated. “That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?”

“You aren’t listening to me!”

Sylus poked his head in, concern creasing his brow. Seeing him sent the tears already pricking behind your eyes spilling free. You waved him off when we came into the room, aimed straight for you. While you craved the comfort of his embrace, the second his arms wrapped around you, you’d lose your nerve. With a frown, he took up a spot against the wall.

You couldn’t help thinking about how, being with Sylus, everything was so easy. He never stifled you. Never told you what you could or couldn’t do. He let you handle your own battles, remaining a silent supporter, but would break that silence the moment you asked him to. He watched you thrive, encouraged it even, all while standing by your side. Sure, he was protective at times and he had a bad habit of using Mephisto to keep tabs on you when you were apart, but these things didn’t hinder you. It was as though Sylus was an extension of yourself, the two of you so intrinsically linked, two halves of one soul.

Nothing was easy with Caleb, not since he’d come back.

Where once you and he had an easygoing friendship, knowing each other like the back of your hands, now it was like the man on the other side of the phone was a stranger. You hoped with time, the two of you would fall into the ease of your previous friendship, but he changed. You changed. And now Caleb was suffocating you.

As much as you hated to admit it, there might no longer be a place for Caleb in your life.

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe, Y/N,” Caleb said, his tone edging toward something sharp.

“Keep me safe?” You scoffed. “Like how you kept me safe in Skyhaven and I ended up with a dislocated shoulder and bruised ribs? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Caleb, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have a boyfriend who is perfectly capable of taking care me.”

Caleb chucked, but there was no humor behind it. No, it sounded far more menacing. “Are you sayin’ you don’t need me anymore, pip-squeak?” A chill went down your spine at his tone. “I leave for a year, doing all that I can to protect you, and you’re sayin’ it doesn’t matter? That you can take care of yourself? That you have him to take care of you?”

He laughed again, a terrifying sound. “I’m the only one who can take care of you, pip-squeak, and you’re giving me no choice but to prove that to you.”

Your hand shook. “Caleb…” you breathed. “You’re scaring me.”

Sylus pushed off the wall, reaching you in a few long strides. He motioned for the phone, his eyes blazing with fury, but you merely laced your fingers through his. He squeezed your hand but you shook your head, silently conveying I want to hear what he has to say.

“I only want what’s best for you, Y/N,” Caleb said, his voice noticeably softer. “You’ll see for yourself, I promise.”

“Caleb—“

“I’ll see you soon, pips.”

The line went dead.

You looked up at Sylus, tears spilling once more. “He’s not the same.”

Sylus pressed a gentle kiss to your brow. “I know, sweetie.”

—

“I got you something, sweetie.”

It had been two weeks, and you hadn’t heard from Caleb since that last phone call which was both a relief and incredibly unnerving. Sylus had insisted you stay with him a while longer at the base, concerned that he couldn’t keep you safe anywhere else. But as the days passed and there was no word from Caleb, you had to leave the safety of the base and return to work, to your life. You’d been out for long enough already.

Sylus came to your apartment every night, staying with you until he dropped you off at the Association come morning.

Tonight was no different.

You perked up from where you were laying in bed, doom scrolling, as Sylus waltzed over holding a small box tied with a ribbon.

“What is this for?” you asked, taking it once he crawled into bed with you.

Sylus smirked. “Just because.”

“Such a sly crow,” you teased.

You pulled the ribbon loose then lifted the lid, revealing a beautiful silver bracelet. The chain resembled one of the necklaces he often wore that you’d always likened to a dragon’s tail. Rather than onyx, the baguette gem resting in the bracelet’s setting was a bright red ruby, just like his eyes.

“Sylus, it’s beautiful,” you breathed, meeting his fond gaze. “Will you put it on for me?”

With gentle fingers, he took the bracelet from the box. “I’ll put it on as long as you promise never to take it off.”

Your brow raised. “I’ll have to take it off when I shower, I don’t want to ruin the metal.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, it’s made from platinum, which means it’s highly resistant to tarnishing.”

You huffed a laugh. “You really think of everything, don’t you?”

“Only the best for my beloved,” Sylus drawled.

You smiled, your heart soaring. You offered your wrist and Sylus clasped the bracelet around it, the fit—unsurprisingly—perfect.

You threw your arms around Sylus’s neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you, I love it.”

He pulled you back, lightly tugging on your hair. “I love you.”

He kissed you, softly at first, before it grew into something hungry.

Soon, he had you wearing only the bracelet.

—

The hardest thing about stalking watching you these past two weeks was having to suffer through moments like these. Knowing you were moaning another man’s name. Knowing that man was bringing you pleasure when it should’ve been him buried deep inside you. It should’ve been him running his hands all over your body, memorizing every dip and curve. Kissing you, tasting you.

Caleb’s fists clenched and unclenched as he tried desperately to keep his anger in check.

Just a little longer, he kept reminding himself. Just a little longer and he’d be whisking you away to safety. To be with him, and only him.

—

“Hi Y/N!” Yvonne greeted you with a bright smile. “Are you here to see Doctor Zayne?”

“Hi Yvonne, yes, I have an appointment with him at three,” you said, leaning your arms against the reception desk.

“That’s a lovely bracelet,” she commented.

You glanced down at your wrist. “Thank you! My boyfriend got it for me.”

“He has great taste.” Yvonne grabbed the phone off the receiver. “I’ll let Doctor Zayne know you’re here.”

You turned from the desk, giving her a wave. “Thanks Yvonne, it’s always good to see you.”

“You too, Y/N!”

You made your way to Zayne’s office, your steps confident thanks to the countless times you’d come for a check up.

“Don’t bother sitting.”

Your spine straightened from where you’d been about to sit on the bench outside Zayne’s office.

“Zayne!”

His lips twitched in the barest of smirks. “Come on in.”

You followed him into his office and hopped onto the examination table where Zayne started prodding at your ribs and rotating your shoulder.

“How is everything feeling?” he asked, not lifting his gaze. “Any soreness? Lingering pain? Or general discomfort?”

“Everything’s feeling like it’s supposed to, though sometimes my shoulder will ache if I overwork it too much,” you said.

“Overwork it? Are you resting like you’re supposed to be?” Zayne questioned, finally glancing at you.

You offered him a guilty smile. “I’ve been working out a little.”

Zayne sighed and stepped back. “I expect nothing less from you, but I did expect more from your boyfriend.”

You laughed. “He’s the one who always made me stop! I would’ve kept going if not for him.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes I’m convinced you want to feel pain.”

You kicked his elbow. “Come on, Zayne, you know that’s not true, I’m just really bad at being idle—“

The office door suddenly slammed open, despite the fact that Zayne had locked it.

Terror crashed over you as Caleb strolled into the office, hands in his pockets and a grin stretched across his face.

“C-Caleb?” Zayne stuttered. “I thought you were—“

“Dead? I know right,” Caleb said, joking as if he hadn’t just broken into the office. “Surprise!”

“What are you doing here?” you hissed.

Caleb tilted his head, the smile never faltering. “Can’t I stop by to say hi?”

“We’re in the middle of an appointment,” said Zayne. “And we still haven’t addressed the fact that you’re supposed to be dead.”

Caleb shrugged. “What can I say?” His gaze locked on you. “I guess I’m not so easy to get rid of.”

Then his eyes flicked to where you had been trying to sneak your phone out of your pocket.

Immense pressure surrounded your hand.

“What do you think you’re gonna do with that, pip-squeak?”

Zayne stepped in front of you, blocking you from Caleb’s line of sight. “What do you think you’re doing with your Evol, Caleb?”

Despite not being able to see you, Caleb’s Evol held fast, keeping your hand gripped around your phone like a vise, impossible for you to use your other to free it.

You hoped Mephisto was outside the hospital and had watched Caleb walk in. You hoped that Sylus had seen it and was on his way to you now. You hoped that he would arrive before it was too late.

“It’s in your best interest to stay out of this, Zayne,” Caleb warned, his voice dropping along with his facade. “I’m here to take Y/N with me.”

“Zayne, please,” you whimpered.

Frost began coating Zayne’s fists. “I don’t think she wants to go anywhere with you.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Caleb sighed. “I wasn’t really giving her a choice.”

In an instant, Zayne was crumpled on the ground, the weight of Caleb’s Evol forcing him to his knees. He groaned as he strained against the gravity, his own Evol flaring in response.

But it was no use, Caleb’s Evol was stronger.

You watched helplessly as pain twisted Zayne’s face. “Caleb stop!” you pleaded. “You’re hurting him!”

“He’s in the way, pip-squeak,” was Caleb’s only response.

You slipped off the exam table and fell to your knees beside Zayne. “Please, Caleb! He was just trying to protect me, please!”

Caleb said nothing.

“I’ll go with you!” you screamed, finally getting his attention. “I’ll go with you, just please let him go.”

Indecision flashed across Caleb’s face for the briefest of moments before he released his Evol’s effect on Zayne. The doctor slumped as his breath came in jagged pants.

Your hands flitted over him, unsure how to help. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Give him your phone,” Caleb commanded.

The pressure around your hand dissipated and you reluctantly handed your phone over to Zayne, but not before whispering, “The code is zero-four-one-eight. Call. Sylus.”

“Now let’s go, pip-squeak, I’ve waited long enough.”

You pressed your phone harder into Zayne’s hands. “Call. Sylus.”

“Y/N wait.” Zayne reached for you, but it was too late.

You rose to your feet, spinning on your heel, and strode toward Caleb. His face lit up as if he hadn’t just threatened Zayne, the friend from both your childhoods. As if he wasn’t forcing you to walk out of here with him.

Caleb held his hand out and you took it. His grip was strong, bruising almost, as he led you out of Zayne’s office and down the hall, likely toward a back exit.

You never expected Caleb to go this far, you were terrified of whatever came next, but you’d go willingly if it meant keeping Zayne from getting hurt.

Your hope that Sylus would be waiting outside to rescue you was dashed the second you stepped into the back parking lot of the hospital. There was no sign of him, no glimpse of snowy hair or bright red eyes.

You dug your heels into the ground, forcing Caleb to stop.

“Where are you taking me?” you demanded.

He glanced over his shoulder before dragging you forward. “Somewhere safe.”

You tried desperately to free your hand from his iron tight grip but it was no use, Caleb was stronger.

“Caleb, please stop this,” you begged. “You’re really scaring me.”

He squeezed your hand, as if in warning. “You’ll understand once we’re together, I promise. Just a little longer.”

You cried and pleaded for him to stop, to let you go, but all he said was this is for the best, you’ll see, all the way to the car he’d parked around the corner.

He tucked you into the passenger seat and buckled you in, all while standing in the doorway to ensure you couldn’t make a break for it. His gravity Evol kept you in place once he closed the door and rounded the front of the car to join you in the driver’s seat.

As Caleb shifted the car into drive, you watched silently out the window, tears streaming down your cheeks as you wondered where he was taking you, and what was going to happen next.

—

Several notifications from Mephisto lit up Sylus’s lockscreen, but before he could check them, your contact photo took their place.

Thinking you and Mephisto had a fight, he answered the call and raised his phone to his ear, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“What are you and Mephisto arguing about this time?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Sky—er, Sylus?”

Sylus sat up straight in his chair. “Doctor Zayne? Did something happen with Y/N? Is she all right?”

Why would your doctor be calling from your phone? Why was he suddenly referring to Sylus by his true name and not his alias? He couldn’t help but fear something was terribly wrong.

He was on his feet and moving before Zayne could answer, striding toward the base’s garage.

“Caleb, he’s alive. He came during our appointment.” Sylus froze in place, dread sinking like a stone in his gut. “He took Y/N.”

Sylus knew the Colonel had something up his sleeve, it was why he’d stayed by your side these past two weeks. It was why he had Mephisto shadowing your every move when Sylus couldn’t be there to do it himself. It was why he’d given you that bracelet, equipped with a tracking device should the Colonel take things too far and do the unthinkable.

“Are you at the hospital?” Sylus asked Zayne.

“Yes.”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.”

“And then what?”

“Then we’re going to hunt the Colonel down and get Y/N back.”

#love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace angst #sylus angst #caleb angst

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5ummit · 1 year ago

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AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

#ao3 #ao3 stats #psa #my words #fandom #I doubt anyone is even going to read this but I needed to get it out of my system and at least try to stop this from spreading #if you know me #you know I get Big Mad about misinformation #don't take anything at face value #do your own research

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give-some-lemons · 7 months ago

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“Accidents happen”

Pregnancy headcanons with Silco

Tags: pregnancy; unplanned pregnancy; older man/younger woman; topside reader.

~ when you first met him it was an interesting and pleasant surprise for you to finally see how the famous and so fearful Eye of Zaun looked like. A man who aged like the most expensive wine from your family’s collection with a sharp features, a few grey strands in his hair and, of course, a red eye, which you could compare to a comet drifting in a night sky.

~ everything about him was nothing like you expected it to be — his clothes, behavior, manner of speaking was more similar to a topside one and that… intrigued. A man who hates Piltover and its citizens but wants to live and look like them? You let an evil chuckle out, while he pressed his scarred lips to the back of your hand.

~ for him you were an exotic exemplar, a topside aristocrat who’s father was probably his age, but despite that fact you were still showing interest in him, keeping your sight on his face and body much longer than etiquette allows, saying ambiguous things that a young lady of your status should not even think about, trying to get under his skin.

~ at the late nights he dreamed about those gaze looking at him from the bottom up, those lips on the most intimate parts of his body and this silk hair in his hand while he guides you in a way he needs the most. You were driving him insane, leaving him without any thought except the sinful ones where lust was completely taking control of him

~ it was only a couple of nights between two of you, when your fingers that ran along his shoulder or chest was turning a peaceful evening into an act of passion and pleasures. When his previous meeting was so unsuccessful that the next second you walked in his office you were finding yourself on his desk with his lips on the soft skin of your neck. When you felt an arousal blooming in your lower abdomen just because of the way his fingers moved through his hair or loosening his tie.

~ you loved teasing him especially in the most inappropriate places like his office, filled with people who came for business reasons, and then watch how he slowly succumbs to his lustful desires, making every possible effort for the meeting to be over as quickly as possible. After his partners left the room, you were literally thrown onto a nearby sofa with his slender posture looming over you and his teeth biting into the softness of your skin.

~ after some time, there were certain signals that you wished to ignore: weakness throughout your body, feelings of nausea at the most inconvenient times of the day and mild, barely noticeable pains in the lower abdomen. You were scared, more to say terrified by the fact that a tiny life was already growing inside of you.

~ sitting in his office and discussing another topic, related to your family business you could feel his hand caressing and squeezing your thigh wanting nothing more than to take you right there, leaving all of the stress he had during the day behind and forgetting himself in the softness of your skin. That’s exactly the time when you tell him about the consequences of your passionate nights that already came to life.

~ at first he freezes, studying you with his piercing gaze, most likely searching for any signs of deceit or the most terrible joke he's ever heard in his life. Covered with a mask of indifference, that he mastered for a lot of years deep inside he’s shocked, in the greatest disbelief that it’s even possible in his age. Only when the man lightened a cigarette and inhaled the soothing smoke into his lungs, he broke a heavy silence with his hoarse voice.

— Are… you sure?

A young woman in front of him sighs slightly raising her eyebrows in annoyance, as she always did.

— I called a doctor this morning, how do you think?

An older man emits another puff of smoke with a dark chuckle. Raising a child he doesn’t even wanted with a woman he had in his bed a few times was not something he planned to, especially knowing how hard it is. He already has a kid, a stubborn young woman who he loves with all his heart and he really wishes to just shrug, leaving aristocrat at fate’s will along with his seed growing inside of her, but he hesitates for a split of second.

— What are you planning to do?

She nervously purses her lips into a thin line trying her best not to lose her face, her confidence before him even tho a man can tell the truth just by how her body language changed. She was frightened. An heir of a noble family, an arrogant piltie and a young girl who’s future was brighter than the sky over her head is now sitting with a head of the biggest criminal organization, who probably was suitable for her as a father discussing his child in her belly.

— I’ll keep it.

Of course, what else she could say now, when there’s not so much options left for her. Deep down she probably knows the answer to her own question — he will not help, she’s on her own now and it feels as if the whole world had fallen with an unbearable weight on her shoulders.

— I’ll take care of everything you’ll need.

She finally raised her gaze to the man across from her after a long starring at a smoldering ashes in a bright painted ashtray. Despite that her face didn’t show any emotion her heart skipped a beat fulfilling chest with warmth.

~ in the next days he already was in your family’s mansion talking with your parents about your current situation and you could see that judging look on their faces, mentally returning in those times when you was a little guilty kid who broke something or get a complaint from your teacher. At first they even tried to completely ignore your whole existence without saying a word or giving any glance at your side, but it seems like over time they reconciled with the idea that in a short amount of time they’ll become grandparents.

~ you both reach an agreement that you better to stay in Piltover, to not let rumors spread all over the undercity and to interfere his enemies to use you in their hatred and plans about him. That was the motive of why you needed to stop paying him visits no matter of the purpose. You stayed in your family mansion with his loyal people almost always keeping an eye on you and ensuring that your wishes and orders are fulfilled.

~ even tho he cannot be with you by obvious reasons during your hard times he regularly visits you to make sure that you’re doing well often fulfilling whims of his dear girl and the tiny creature, that develops inside of her. But mostly first one, massaging slightly swollen areas of your body, talking you through nausea and frequent dizziness in your head and, of course, spoiling you. Anything that slips through your conversation be it some kind of jewelry, hobby or food you can later found delivered right to your room with a beautifully written note that makes a smile on your face bloom leaving cheeks painted pink.

~ despite the fact that he doesn’t show it he really cares for your child and you can tell it by his hand that sometimes rests on your belly and suggestions about how it would be better for the baby to listen to your voice or music even if it didn’t form into an embryo yet. Also was the one who insisted on a complete change in your diet consuming more plant foods and animal protein even if you struggle with one of it he’ll make sure you eat it.

~ secretly he wants and honestly waits for another girl, thinking about how Jinx will take care of her younger sister, protecting and spending time together, even tho he’s a little bit afraid of her influence. In the end one hyperactive kid who likes to get into troubles is enough for him. But he hopes that mostly you’ll be the one to frequent with a child at least because he’s too busy and, for his own taste, too old to mess around with a noisy little creature who needs to be watched all the time.

~ when the childbirth finally comes he’s informed immediately after the water broke, by your maid, a woman who had worked for him for lots of years and as soon as this man is free from his duties as the ruler of the whole city he’ll rush to you to be by your side during the parturition. He probably will not be allowed to come near you so he would just sit there waiting for your pain and screams of suffering to be over as soon as possible.

~ holding a little boy on his hands he feels range of emotions while the child surprisingly calmly looks at him studying with its curious blue ocean eyes, just like his own. As if for a split second the whole world had shrunk, leaving no one in it except him and this little one just to observe, figure out how exactly to feel about each other: fear, concern… love? But after a moment passed he was already standing there, holding the small, fragile creature closer to his chest.

~ despite him not loving you in a conventional way, it seems like he developed really warm feelings towards you as one of his closest people, the one whom he values. You were his business partner, a mother of his child who mostly had the same goals as he — protect his son for any cost and give anything to raise him properly, as a person he himself could never be on the streets of his city. Sometimes, while sharing so rare and precious moments of your child peacefully sleeping together, you’d understand him better often comforting him even if he didn’t ask for it, while your head rests on his shoulder or your fingers find his.

~ it took a lot of efforts, mostly from your parents’ side, to finally arrange the marriage appealing on the fact that many people, including other prominent families that was respected by yours, won’t accept this child as an heir without an official confirmation. Through his discontent, annoyed sights and frowning eyebrows he ended up signing all the required papers making you his dear wife, as he often called you. And although it did not give any benefits to either you or him, many from the Council and Chem barons wanted to find leverage and establish control over the other side, but so far without any success.

Few years later

Man was sitting in his office overwhelmed with a pile of papers on his desk and a boy on his lap, who was drawing something in his own notebook which cover was painted and signed with his name with his favorite crayons. Pink and blue. Of course, following his sister in every way possible, but at least his fears were in vain. Even tho boy wanted to imitate his older sibling in many things he was calmer and much more sensible than many children his age, probably thanking to his father’s genetics and education, but it didn’t mean that sometimes he wasn’t capricious just like his mother.

— When will mom return? — the boy asked raising his big-eyed gaze to man’s face.

He sighed on this question. His dear wife was attending a meeting which was related to the family business, now fully belonged to her after her parents’ retirement. As was planned from the very beginning she was the one who took care of their child, sometimes resorting to Jinx’ help who was more than happy to assist. She perceived the girl, who was supposed to be her stepmother as a close friend, often visiting mansion and lingering there for a long time hanging around with her, to his own astonishment and relief.

— I don’t know. — man answers honestly. — Why? You don’t like it here?

Kid continued to stare at his father whom he looked so much like, with his dark hair and light blue eyes, looked at everyone around them inquiringly and at the same time warily. After some time spend with his older parent he even started to emulate man’s behavior and expression, ordering around to a bunch of his nannies which left his mother in touching awe. His blood, his heir who, as he sincerely hopes, will never see his people, people of Zaun in poverty, the one for whom he and his darling partner have to work even harder to achieve their common goals before these child’s eyes could see a cruelty of this two-faced world.

— I like being with you and mom.

He felt his heart melting from such a simple words of his child, this innocent little one who loved him with all heart. Smiling, he leaned over to boy’s forehead leaving a kiss and pulling him closer to his chest. His little family, people for whom he could easily give his life away if he’d need to, who cared for him no matter what, that’s something definitely worth fighting for.

#arcane silco #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane headcanon #silco x reader #arcane #silco

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