#[ W ] + [ FINALLY THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING~~!! ]

[lovingmayday]

"do i make your heart beat like an 808 drum?" — ft. shidou ryusei

now playing : your love is my drug - ke$ha

prompt : college!au shidou shenanigans (crack)—helping shidou ace his final exam. gn!reader tw: shidou being annoying and a shit ton of dirty jokes hella suggestive lol maybe kind of ooc i'm sorry

notes : i love shidou sm guys he's like a guilty pleasure. this whole fic is basically just shidou w the meme "he wants that cookie so effing bad".

"i think you look better with the glasses. like a sexy dominant secretary."

how did you get here?

you were in the university's library with shidou—the boy you were supposed to be helping study for your class' final exam. it's not something you usually do, as one of the smartest students in your block, and you honestly wouldn't have bothered. if not for the coach of your school's soccer team's persistence.

shidou was their ace. their star player. it was definitely against school policy but the coach promised you a hefty price from his own wallet if shidou passed the class because of you. and you weren't the type to turn down "easy" cash... boy, were you sorely mistaken.

there was a reason he was called a demon on the field (and, occasionally, off the field). he was a fucking menace.

shidou was sat beside you, cheek resting on his fist as his elbow was pressing on the open books on the table he was supposed to be studying. he stared at you with a dumb smirk on his face and relishing in your frustration.

you sigh and let go of your pen to rub the temples of your forehead. "will me taking the fucking glasses off help??" you ask, at you limit.

"jokes on you, your eyes turn me on more," he replies with the grin that hasn't left his face since he saw you. you had half a mind to slap it off his face but he'd probably enjoy it.

"please, for the love of god, FOCUS, shidou!"

"don't say my name like that bro i'm getting hard."

"oh, for fuck's sake!"

"stop yelling at me! i swear to god i'm going to come."

"how badly do you want me to cooperate?" shidou asks, the first time he said words that couldn't cause you to file for harrassment which made you the slightest bit suspicious.

reluctantly, you reply honestly. "was the past half hour of me basically begging for you to cooperate not enough?"

"the thing is you haven't been appealing to my interest at all, sweetheart. i couldn't give two shits about grades and stuff like that." he leans closer to you when you nodded your head, asking him to continue. "what's in it for me if i listen to you?"

you think about it. he'd probably exploit it. no, he'd definitely exploit it. but you could always mute him if he's spamming your phone or being too much. and then block him once you graduate.

"what if i give you my number?"

"come on, you can give me a little more than that."

you think about it more. he wasn't your usual type but you couldn't lie and say that he was unattractive. besides his face, playing soccer his whole life has definitely helped build his physique. and, clearly, he was interested in you (though, you're unsure if he's like that with everyone). in a different situation, you think he could be pretty fun to hang out with.

"my number and a date."

"deal! how about a kiss too?"

"don't push it."

"sweets, be honest," shidou starts, planting his cheek on the his palm and looking at you, discarding his concentration. "do you think i can pass this class?"

you let out a sigh. you're glad you've been able to get to somewhere with your study sessions—shidou's been eerily compliant—aside from the fact that he keeps getting distracted so often. "yeah, if you get a high mark on the final exam."

"that doesn't answer my question, sweetheart."

"of course, don't you trust your tutor?" you roll your eyes.

"well, i trust you but it's not like you're taking the test for me," he replies as he sinks back on his chair's backrest and lets his head fall back, eyes closing as he relaxes. "the exam's only a week and a half away and i haven't had a mark higher than 76% since middle school."

you blink at him. once. and twice. it's the first time you've seen him so calm it caught you off guard. he looked so different. he almost looked pretty if not for the subtle dejection on his features. you catch yourself staring and you coughed to compose yourself, a light flush blushing your cheeks.

"i can work with that," you say, catching one of his eyes open to gaze at you. you rearrange the papers and books on your desk to restart them. "god doesn't give with both hands, after all."

"...and that means..?" he asks, raising a confused brow and sluggishly straightening his posture.

"it means attractive people are usually not that smart. just study harder if you want to ace the test," you explain as you try to comfort him with a smile. it seemed to work.

he thinks it over and nods his head, looking back at his notes highlighted in neon pink and purple. "did you just call me attractive?" he asks, whipping his head in your direction with a growing wicked smile.

you freeze and your face pales. fuck. "i didn't mean it that way," you try to say as bluntly as possible as you looked away with your face heating up.

"are you blushing?? oh, you know i'm never gonna let this go."

the fucker actually did it, you thought when he sent you a picture of his exam (which was definitely not allowed) with his score on the upper right corner. 93% in red ink. which was 13 points more than you were aiming for.

you ended up giving him your number early. it seemed more convenient since you couldn't always meet at the library at the correct time and the other might not always make it.

you were about to type your congratulations when he sent a text.

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: can i claim my prize this weekend? 😈🏆

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: u sure u dont want to throw in the kiss as a congrats?? i worked so hard for u baby please reward me 🤕 ive been such a good boy

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: your the reason i barely sleep at night 🥱🍆 why dont u take responsibility 😈

YOU: you're*

BLOCK AFTER GRADUATION: god i love it when you talk dirty 🥵🥵🥵

"i still can't believe you have a liscense," you say, giggling to yourself. "and a car?!"

"chicks dig it," he says back, a side of his lip pulling upwards as he uses one hand to turn the steering wheel. he was driving you back to your dorm building after quite a successful date, in your opinion. you enjoyed yourself too much—much more than you should've, in your surprise. "plus, it gives me a lot of freedom for ride me jokes!"

"sure, must've picked up a shit ton of girls with this," you tease, rolling your eyes.

"and guys. jealous?" you could hear the shit-eating grin from his words.

"as if," you sass, ignoring the slight pang in your chest.

silence spreads in the car as you sit quietly, staring outside the car window as you lean against the door.

"do you remember the time you called me sexy and stupid?" shidou asks with his signature cheshire grin, glancing to see you whip your head as your face flushes.

"i never said stupid."

"close enough." he snickers, focusing back on the road. "something along the lines of god can't make you hot and smart at the same time, right?"

you exhale with your nose to calm your nerves. "yeah, i remember."

he fake hisses, sucking in air through his teeth. "he definitely lied."

you shake your head in slight disbelief. "you ace one test and you're this cocky already??"

"baby, i'm talking about you."

it catches you by surprise. you were about to respond but you choke and end up in a coughing fit, his cackles echoing in the car. you pour water down your throat to help you settle down. "you're so??! ok, fuck you."

"puh-lease do!!" he yells out, laughing maniacally. "you don't even believe it! sweets, your hot shit. like, literally hot as shit."

"shut up!"

"you're voice is already foreplay to me. you get me worked up just by telling me i got a question right."

"?? what the fuck?"

"pookie, i have to hold myself BACK whenever i see you," he says, barking the 'back' mid-sentence. "baby, believe me. i would've pounced on you the moment i saw you."

you send him an amused, exasperated sigh as you watch the car pull over to the front of your building, shidou's window closer to the door. you thank him, smiling shyly as you exit his car.

before going in the building, you look back to see shidou's window open, watching you with a small smile. you pause and think it over. you shake your head before walking back to the car.

"you really want to get in my pants, huh?" you ask, a hand resting on top of his car.

"so bad," he replies, eyes glazing over your lips.

you lean over the open window, resting an elbow on the frame as the other hand places itself on shidou's neck. you hear a small hum as you pull him closer, closing your eyes. you barely press your lips against each other before shidou kisses back. you feel shidou's hand reach for your cheek, pulling your face impossibly closer as the kiss gets more heated. he kisses you back with so much fervor like he was starving. when you gasp for air, he takes it as a sign to slip his tongue in and you pull back in surprise, panting.

your eyes open to meet shidou's, starry and dilated. a chuckle almost leaves your mouth from the sight. "you're never getting rid of me," he laughs, teasingly squeezing your cheeks between his fingers.

[justmeexistinghere]

W H E R E S H A D O W S M E E T

pt.3 Turbulence

ˏ*⁀➷pt.2

ˏ*⁀➷pt.1

Summary:

With your mind still tangled in the encounter at the school gate, you drag yourself home—only to find trouble waiting where you least expect it. When things spiral out of control, unexpected allies step in, and you manage to escape with little more than your pride bruised—for now.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･*✧･ﾟ:*⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

-> Geum Seongje x fem!reader (about to be) -> Warnings: violence / physical fights, bullying, blood / injury, swearing / strong language, mentions of past trauma, alcohol (hopefully I didn't forget anything) -> all characters are portrayed as being of legal age -> Wordcount: 3.681 -> 📝English isn’t my first language & this is my first story — thank you for your patience ♡

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧:*⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

On your way home you can't stop thinking about the thing that just happened. Why the fuck did you let him do that to you? Didn't you tell yourself, that you want to punch that freaking smile the second you see it again?

But you froze.

You just stood there like a damn doll, letting him have his fun playing with you. Why did you let him get that close? Fuck.

And why the hell did your heart flip the second his mouth was near to your ear– as if you were the main leads in some cliché kdrama. You shudder at the thought of it, patting your cheeks to get back to your senses and keep your thoughts in line. Disgusting. But him being unpredictable catches your interest, whether you like it or not.

As the slight pain fades away, you shake your head in disbelief on what you were thinking just now and keep walking. Once again you pass the tunnel from yesterday. But this time you are not alone. Footsteps – of more than one echo – approaching from the other end. "Nice to see you again bitch." Sounds familiar. Awesome, just what you need.

You turn your head to check, and—bingo. You square your shoulders and face the source of the voice. One. Two. Three. Your hands grow sweaty. You can’t tell if your body wants you to be scared and run, or if you’re actually excited at the thought of fighting again—feeling that rush you’ve missed.

Exhausted or not, there’s a spark of fighting spirit in your chest. The mix of emotions makes you laugh— a little too loudly, a little too much like that psycho killer from that movie you watched some time ago.

"What's so funny, fucker?" he asks, while tapping a baseball bat against his palm. His knuckles white from gripping it so tight, jaw clenched so hard, you can even see his muscle twitch. He steps forward, his minions close behind, all of their eyes pointed at you with a ready-to-fight, daring look.

You scan all of them, seeing the bruises you left on them, slightly impressed by yourself– you know that's wrong but hey they made you do it so practically its not THAT bad, right? You stay quiet, getting yourself ready.

1. Steadying your breath 2. Stretching your limbs to prepare your still sore muscles as good as you can. 3. Clenching your fists.

As you do so, you feel your nails digging into your palms, sharp enough to ground you in the moment, but not too bad to keep you from focusing on positioning yourself. You act slow and deliberate, refusing to let them see you hesitate. Making clear you don’t fear them without saying a word. Your eyes darken, turning into an ice-cold stare. You thrust out your arm, taunting them with a beckoning hand gesture and a mischievous grin—almost begging them to finally start.

"Ganging up on a girl? Did I really scare you that much?" you pause, searching their faces for a reaction before adding "If that makes you feel better, fine. But i prefer one-on-one so you can watch your friends go down one after another."

The leader laughs, exchanging glances with his companions. He turns and spits right before your feet, then swings his bat in a slow arc. “Such a big mouth. Too bad we’ll have to shut it for you. Doesn’t really suit a girl, y’know?"

Without wasting another second, he charges at you, baseball bat raised high. You fix your gaze on his shoulders, watching for the slightest movement. The moment you see his shoulder blade tense—the telltale sign of an incoming swing—you dodge with practiced ease. He stumbles forward, thrown off balance. You seize the chance, landing a precise kick that sends him crashing to the ground. He lets out a frustrated yell, but before he can react, you counter with a solid punch to his temple. His head snaps to the side, and he goes limp for a second.

Pain shoots through your knuckles, making you shake out your hand. "Fuck," you mutter under your breath, barely audible.

In that split second of distraction, one of the other guys grabs you by the collar and slams you against the tunnel wall. Focus, y/n. Dont get distracted so easily. You pause, catching sight of something beside you— a spray paint can, left behind by some wannabe graffiti artist, you think. Better than nothing.

As the second minion comes at you, determination written all over his face, you roll along the wall, snatch up the can in the same motion, and aim directly at his eyes. With a quick, sharp press, you expect to hit him with a cloud of paint– but... nothing...

Goddamn it!

You barely have time to curse as the minion barrels into you, knocking the useless can from your hand. Slamming his fist right at your ribs, stealing your breath. You stagger, pain flaring up your side, but muscle memory kicks in— you duck under his next swing and drive your elbow into his gut.

"Shibal!" he snaps while coming at you again.

You are too focused on dodging him to hear the thundering footsteps from behind. The leader’s already back on his feet, eyes wild, gripping the baseball bat like he wants to break something—preferably you.

“Hold her!” he barks. Both minions, each holding one of your arms, making it impossible to get out of the situation. The bat arcs toward your face—you can’t move, can’t breathe. Just wait.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the pain you know is coming. The impact is brutal. White-hot agony explodes behind your eyes, as the blow lands. Everything goes black. There’s no sound, no light—just that blinding, electric pain tearing through your skull and down your spine to every nerve ending. You refuse to scream—no way you’re giving these bastards that satisfaction—but your legs buckle and you collapse to the ground.

Somewhere above you, you hear them whoop and jeer, voices echoing off the tunnel walls. Their victory is ugly, loud, and it makes your skin crawl. To soon, you laugh in your head. It takes a moment—maybe more than you’d like to admit— for you to manage to pull yourself together, dragging yourself upright along the tunnel wall, gritting your teeth. You spit a mouthful of blood onto the concrete, the metallic taste flooding your tongue, making sure they hear it. You glare up at them, eyes burning with defiance. No way you’re giving up—not to these idiots.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you rasp, voice raw but steady. Not exactly knowing where that was coming from. Your body aches. You cannot name a spot where it doesn’t, but you refuse to take a defeat. You plant your feet, steady yourself against the wall wipe some blood from your mouth and prepare to fight back. But before the next attack, the oppressive mood gets interrupted by two figures entering the tunnel confident and unhurried, followed by a loud and cocky voice.

"Yo, what’s all the noise? You idiots throwing a party without us?"

You glance up, vision still blurry, not being able to recognize the two that are coming closer. As if you'd know them in first place. Through the harsh fluorescent light, even if its hard, you see the bullies freeze. You sink back to the ground, due to losing the adrenaline.

Who are these two other guys? One of them cracks his knuckles, a wicked grin on his face. “I was hoping for some action today. Looks like we came at the right time.” The leader, who just moments ago radiated confidence, suddenly seems to shrink in on himself. You catch the quick dart of his eyes—searching for an escape, for backup, for anything that might save face. His fingers tighten around the bat, but his knuckles are pale, and you can see the tremor in his grip. When he finally speaks, his voice cracks just a little, the words brittle and hollow: “Stay out of this, musclehead. It’s none of your business.��

You hear the forced edge, the way he tries to spit the words out with authority, but the mask is slipping. One of the boys that just entered wears a red shirt under his uniform, the same jacket as yours, Eunjang High. He just laughs, shaking his head. “You really want to try me right now? Can't you read? No fighting, dumbass. GoGo, what do you think—should we teach these guys some manners?” The other boy shrugs, rolling his shoulders. “Fine. Let’s make it quick.”

One of the minions leans in and whispers something to the leader, voice too low for you to catch. What did he just say? You can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter—whatever it was, it’s enough. The three bullies exchange uneasy glances. The leader clears his throat, trying to regain some dignity. “Yeah, whatever. We’re done here,” he mutters, backing away. Without another word, the three of them turn and hurry off down the tunnel, their bravado left behind with the echo of their footsteps. They just left. But why? Nevermind, let's get out of here.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

You slump onto the cold, gritty floor, every muscle trembling with leftover adrenaline and pain. The sting in your cheek pulses in time with your heartbeat, but you force yourself not to give in to it. Somewhere nearby, you catch the low murmur of the two boys’ voices—just out of reach, like you’re underwater. You let yourself stay there, eyes half-closed, aware of their presence but too drained to care what they’re saying. For a while, you just breathe, letting the silence settle, grateful that—for once—no one is rushing you to get back up until you are finally ready to open your eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” the guy—GoGo, or something like that—asks, offering you his hand. You hesitate for a split second, then take it. As he helps you to your feet, you mumble, “I’m fine,” even though you both know you are definitely not. You wipe blood from your mouth, vision finally clearing. Your legs feel steady again—no more jelly.

“Thanks, by the way,” you mutter, reaching down for your backpack where you’d dropped it, head lowered, already set on getting out of here. “Wait!” one of the guys calls out, just as you’re about to slip your headphones on. You turn, shooting them a questioning look. What do they want now?

“Are you really okay? You look like you could need something delicious,” says the guy in the red shirt, flashing a wide grin. Still, you catch a flicker of concern in his eyes. You hesitate, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to say no. “Fine,” slips out before you can think too much about it. Eating after a fight is exactly the kind of reward you’re craving right now—even if you would’ve preferred to be alone.

Genuinely delighted by your answer, he slaps you on the shoulder. A dull pain radiates through your body, making you flinch. He offers to steady you, but you shake your head, not being the biggest fan of sharing your personal space.

“I’m Baku, by the way,” he says, nodding toward the other boy. “And that’s Gotak.” Gotak lifts his hand in greeting, his gaze sharp but not unfriendly. Your lips form a forced smile. “And you must be the infamous fighter from class 1-1, right?” You sigh, rubbing your sore shoulder. Just what you need—more attention.

"Tadaaa" Baku breaks your silence along with the smell of fried chicken and spices that sourrounds you three after you finally arrive.

He and Gotak had been chatting the whole walk, while you just followed them quietly, listening in. You were too exhausted to participate in their bubbly conversation, but kind of enjoyed having them around. Sometimes they glanced back to check on you, which made you feel included but also a bit awkward. Now, you look up at where Baku is pointing: Ttosikki Chicken.

"Want anything special or the same as us? Its on him," Gotak says while his eyes fall on Baku who is fumbling with his bag. Hesitantly you mutter "Same as you, I guess?" Baku orders happily, collecting new stamps on his card with a bright smile. You and Gotak grab a table for the three of you, then you slip away to the bathroom to check your wounds and clean up a bit.

You grip the edges of the sink. In the mirror, your reflection stares back—split lip, a bruise already blooming on your cheek, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and dried blood. Damn, you look messed up—but hey, it could be worse. You turn on the tap and let the cold water run over your hands, then splash it onto your face. It is refreshing, and that dirty, grimy feeling from before almost disappears as you scrub away the dirt and blood as best you can, watching red swirl down the drain. When your eyes meet in the mirror again, you almost look presentable. Definitely better.

Finally back at the table the two boys are waiting in front of the really delicious looking food for you to finally sit down. "You didn’t have to wait" you say puzzled. "Oh don’t worry, but lets eat!" Baku states excitedly. They eat like they have been starving for months. Amused by the view you slowly start taking the first bite. Damn that's good, you think. Mouth watering even more as you savor every bit. If chicken could solve trauma, you’d be healed by now. Too bad life isn’t that generous.

"What did you call me earlier? Infamous fighter from class 1-1?” slips out after a long stretch of just quietly munching your food. Both boys look up at you. “Right, that’s you, huh? The infamous fighter of class 1-1. What a name!” Baku grins, his raspy voice full of excitement.

“Who even said that?” you ask. The boy in red straightens up, clearly about to launch into some kind of grand tale. Gotak just rolls his eyes, elbows Baku, and snaps, “No need to be so dramatic, idiot,” before leaning back in his chair. Baku’s shoulders drop and he looks almost wounded, but after a second, he smirks and starts his story.

“Listen… So, earlier today at school, Gogo and I were just sitting in class, minding our own business, when some classmates come in talking about this mysterious girl who’s supposed to be a total badass fighter. Turns out, that’s you."

He pauses for dramatic effect, eyes shining.

"Remember those guys you helped? They came to your class today to thank you with snacks. Oh, if you still have some i would mind taking them."

You snort, shaking your head. While he lets out a laughter.

"Anyway, some other students saw it and asked what happened, so they told them. And you know how it is at Eunjang—rumors about a good fight spread like wildfire. Pretty much everyone knows by now. That’s why Gogo and I had to see this ‘fighter’ for ourselves."

Oh damn, you should have known. You just hope the next rumor comes fast enough to get you out of the center of attention.

"We were planning to drop by before class, but you beat us to it. Literally.” He laughs, shaking his head.

A weird feeling rushes through your body. That nickname... The rumor... None of it was anything you ever wished for. But at least these guys seem alright—not judging you for fighting, actually kind of supportive in their own way.

While spending some more time at the restaurant, they ask about the fight, telling you more about the school and how the tunnel is a hotspot for brawls, as if you didn’t already know. Baku turns out to be the top dog of Eunjang, trying to stop unnecessary fights with other schools- especially the Union.

You find yourself relaxing in their presence, a warmth settling around the table. And no, it really isn’t just the hot chicken everywhere. It’s getting late, so you all decide to split up and head home.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

You’re not ready to face your dad, knowing he’ll see your wounds this time. They sting more than before—probably because you no longer have the distraction of the boys’ company. Fuck it.

Alcohol. You’d quit drinking when you quit fighting, but starting with one always seems to bring the other back as well. The numbness it brings is exactly what you need right now. Besides, you can always blame the split lip on being drunk. A drunk person hurts themselves easily... Not the most noble way to face your father, but better than telling him the truth.

You take out your phone and start looking for a bar nearby. Bingo!

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

As you push open the door to a dimly lit bar, the smell of cheap liquor and old smoke welcomes you. The place isn’t crowded, but it takes a moment to find a free chair at the bar— luckily far enough from the regulars at the tables and still close enough to the exit. Just in case.

You drop your bag, slide into the seat, and order a glass of the cheapest available drink. The glass is cold in your hand, the burn of the alcohol familiar and almost comforting. With every swallow, the sting in your lip fades just a little more. Perfect.

You’re halfway through your drink when you feel eyes on you. You look up—and there he is. Windbreaker. Of all people, he’s the last one you wanted to see tonight. Maybe even less than your father.

He’s sitting at a table along with some other shady guys. A lazy smirk on his lips, one eyebrow raised as if he’s been waiting for you to notice him. Great. Just fucking great.

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink, but he doesn’t look away. He lifts his glass, tilts it in your direction, and downs it in one go—never breaking eye contact. You feel challenged. Let him be. Don't give in. You try to collect your thoughts, but your stubborn pride wins out. For some reason, you just can’t ignore him. His provocation feels different— There's something about the way he does it, as if he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

You lock eyes with him, neither of you willing to blink first. Slowly, you raise your glass, matching his pace, and let the burn of the alcohol slide down your throat. You make sure your face stays perfectly blank—no way you’re letting him see just how vile this stuff actually tastes. He signals the bartender for another round, his gaze never wavering. So this is how it’s going to be. Fine. You press your lips into a thin line and accept the next glass, while he won't stop with that fucking smile of him. The unspoken game begins—drink for drink, stare for stare. No words. Just the heavy pulse of music, the clink of glass, and the silent dare hanging between you. The tension is electric, coiling tighter with every round, until the rest of the bar fades away and it’s just you, him, and the challenge neither of you is willing to lose.

You don’t know how long it goes on, but neither of you gives in easily. Damn why is he so good at it? Crazy bastard...

Suddenly the alcohol starts to hit harder than you expected. Your vision blurs at the edges, your head feels heavy, and your stomach churns with each new round. Fuck. You grip your glass tighter, willing yourself to stay steady, but your hand betrays you—a slight tremor you hope he doesn’t notice. His eyes still only focused on you. He lifts his next glass with that infuriatingly calm expression, downs it in one smooth motion, and sets it on the table with a soft clink. He’s not even flushed. You stare at your own drink, the smell suddenly making you queasy. You know you’ve reached your limit. Pushing it further would be stupid—dangerous, even. But walking away feels like surrender. Still, you force yourself to stand, grabbing your bag with more force than necessary.

You indicate the bartender that your drinks will be paid by his table. At least some kind of revenge. Without a word, you turn and head for the door, refusing to look back.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, but it does nothing to cool the heat burning in your chest. You lost. You actually lost—to him, of all people. The thought gnaws at you, sharp and bitter. Your pride stings worse than any bruise. Fucking pathetic, you think, jaw clenched as you disappear into the night.

You know exactly that it shouldn't matter as much as it did. What's gotten into you? But thinking about it made your head hurt even more.

The farther you walk, the worse the dizzy, hazy feeling gets—slowly taking over your entire body. The sudden loss of control sparks a wave of panic, but your limbs are too weak to obey your mind. You stumble through the narrow streets toward home. Almost there, you tell yourself. Just a little longer. Just hold on.

But suddenly, your legs give out and your eyes go black for a second. You brace yourself for the inevitable crash—ready as you can be for the pain—but… wait. Why don’t you hit the ground? Why does it feel like someone’s holding you up? Shit. This isn’t a drunken illusion—you’re actually being supported. But by who?

Too exhausted and drunk to do anything about it, you just let it happen. How you made it home is a mystery. A total blackout. Amazing.

All you know is that somehow, you ended up safely in your bed...

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

to be continued...

ˏ*⁀➷pt.2

ˏ*⁀➷pt.1

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Leave feedback if you want!

picture was generated with AI

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Taglist @slovesyouuu @quaff-le-science

[allegorism]

the way bnha, jjk and demon slayer all started with some potential, then some people started to call them the "new big 3" due to their popularity and immediately afterwards their quality (if they ever had that in the first place) plunged to underground levels..... that's something that should be studied

[inkats]

my boy-coded behaviour for most my life makes my exploration of gender due to newfound freedom era lean more into feminine things but my anti-capitalist feminist value system makes this feel like a betrayal of my moral code.

[badolmen]

I can fix him*

*bad writing, underutilized gameplay mechanics, characters with unfulfilled potential, funded by bootlickers

[no-brand-gays]

it is always a good day to find out that the character you’ve liked the most so far in your watch of love live superstar is a descendent of the samurai who founded the city you live in

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[afloweroutofstone]

The Trump administration accidentally included the conservative editor of The Atlantic in a group chat where they were discussing, in great detail, the US bombing campaign in Yemen

In all, 18 individuals were listed as members of this group, including various National Security Council officials; Steve Witkoff, President Trump’s Middle East and Ukraine negotiator; Susie Wiles, the White House chief of staff; and someone identified only as “S M,” which I took to stand for Stephen Miller. I appeared on my own screen only as “JG.”

...I had very strong doubts that this text group was real, because I could not believe that the national-security leadership of the United States would communicate on Signal about imminent war plans. I also could not believe that the national security adviser to the president would be so reckless as to include the editor in chief of The Atlantic in such discussions with senior U.S. officials, up to and including the vice president...

At this point, a fascinating policy discussion commenced. The account labeled “JD Vance” responded at 8:16: “Team, I am out for the day doing an economic event in Michigan. But I think we are making a mistake.” (Vance was indeed in Michigan that day.) The Vance account goes on to state, “3 percent of US trade runs through the suez. 40 percent of European trade does. There is a real risk that the public doesn’t understand this or why it’s necessary. The strongest reason to do this is, as POTUS said, to send a message.”

The Vance account then goes on to make a noteworthy statement, considering that the vice president has not deviated publicly from Trump’s position on virtually any issue. “I am not sure the president is aware how inconsistent this is with his message on Europe right now. There’s a further risk that we see a moderate to severe spike in oil prices. I am willing to support the consensus of the team and keep these concerns to myself. But there is a strong argument for delaying this a month, doing the messaging work on why this matters, seeing where the economy is, etc.”...

At 8:27, a message arrived from the “Pete Hegseth” account. “VP: I understand your concerns – and fully support you raising w/ POTUS. Important considerations, most of which are tough to know how they play out (economy, Ukraine peace, Gaza, etc). I think messaging is going to be tough no matter what – nobody knows who the Houthis are – which is why we would need to stay focused on: 1) Biden failed & 2) Iran funded.”

The Hegseth message goes on to state, “Waiting a few weeks or a month does not fundamentally change the calculus. 2 immediate risks on waiting: 1) this leaks, and we look indecisive; 2) Israel takes an action first – or Gaza cease fire falls apart – and we don’t get to start this on our own terms. We can manage both. We are prepared to execute, and if I had final go or no go vote, I believe we should. This [is] not about the Houthis. I see it as two things: 1) Restoring Freedom of Navigation, a core national interest; and 2) Reestablish deterrence, which Biden cratered. But, we can easily pause. And if we do, I will do all we can to enforce 100% OPSEC”���operations security. “I welcome other thoughts.”...

The account identified as “JD Vance” addressed a message at 8:45 to @Pete Hegseth: “if you think we should do it let’s go. I just hate bailing Europe out again.” (The administration has argued that America’s European allies benefit economically from the U.S. Navy’s protection of international shipping lanes.)

It was the next morning, Saturday, March 15, when this story became truly bizarre.

At 11:44 a.m., the account labeled “Pete Hegseth” posted in Signal a “TEAM UPDATE.” I will not quote from this update, or from certain other subsequent texts. The information contained in them, if they had been read by an adversary of the United States, could conceivably have been used to harm American military and intelligence personnel, particularly in the broader Middle East, Central Command’s area of responsibility. What I will say, in order to illustrate the shocking recklessness of this Signal conversation, is that the Hegseth post contained operational details of forthcoming strikes on Yemen, including information about targets, weapons the U.S. would be deploying, and attack sequencing.

The only person to reply to the update from Hegseth was the person identified as the vice president. “I will say a prayer for victory,” Vance wrote. (Two other users subsequently added prayer emoji.)

According to the lengthy Hegseth text, the first detonations in Yemen would be felt two hours hence, at 1:45 p.m. eastern time. So I waited in my car in a supermarket parking lot. If this Signal chat was real, I reasoned, Houthi targets would soon be bombed. At about 1:55, I checked X and searched Yemen. Explosions were then being heard across Sanaa, the capital city.

[thebestsetter]

Sae's nutritionist has been having a hard time ever since the athlete started a family with you.

Sae has always followed his diets strictly. Never ate chocolate, avoided sugar the best he could and mainly ate only fruits and vegetables. His behavior was always praised by all his nutritionists because of how easy it was working with him.

Sae started to "disobey" his diet when he moved in with you.

It all started when you began to cook him lunch for after morning practice. You knew he had to follow a strict diet, so you never made something too unhealthy. Sometimes, you even sneaked some sweet treats for him, but it was too little to do any harm, so his doctor just pretended not to notice it.

But this?? This was too much.

"Sae-kun" he said, pointing at the pink princess pot on Sae's hands "W-what is this?"

"My daughter packed my lunch today" Sae smiled softly, just like he always did when talking about you or your daughter. The doctor would've thought the whole ordeal was cute, if not for what was inside the pot: a box orange juice you buy on those vending machines (it's orange color was almost radioactive. God knows how much sugar there is in it), a (very) poorly made pink cupcake, with rainbow sprinkles all over it; and scrambled eggs (thank God at least one healthy thing).

"You can't possibly be thinking about eating this" his doctor deadpanned, but quickly added "T-the cupcake and the juice, I mean. The eggs are fine"

Sae's smile instantly fell, and he stared at the nutritionist with a frown

"What's wrong with my daughter's food?" It wasn't a question. Sae was daring the doctor to say something bad about the cupcake his sweet, lovely daughter made, staring at him with a cold and almost dangerous gaze.

The poor doctor should've stopped there. He really should have. But if he let Sae eat this Chernobyl looking cupcake, he might as well just throw his nutrition degree on the nearest trash can.

"It's not good for your health" the nutritionist said, staring at the Cinderella that was painted on the top of the pot "As an athlete, you know it's important to lose old eating habits. You can't eat this."

Sae stared at the doctor for what felt like centuries, but finally looked at the cupcake and carefully picked it up, holding it in his hands like it was the most valuable thing he ever held.

The way his gaze softened just by looking at that sorry excuse of a pantry almost scared the doctor. One second, he was looking at him with what could only be described as pure hatred. The other, he was looking at an ugly cupcake like it was a masterpiece.

Anyways, Sae's doctor was just glad this was over with. Itoshi obviously was going to throw the cupcake away, eat the eggs, and just order something else to compliment his lunch. It would all be okay.

Or so he thought .

"You know" Sae started, peeling the paper that was carefully wrapped around the sweet treat "It's interesting that you talk about losing"

"Why?" The doctor asked, not really liking Sae's voice

Sae stared at the man for a while, then slowly looked at the cupcake and brought it up to his mouth. Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, he stopped and stared at the man again

"Cause you just lost your job"

"What?"

"You're not deaf" Sae said "You're fired. Grab your stuff and get out of my sight"

"You can't do that!" The doctor screamed at him, which only made Sae roll his eyes

"I can and I did. Out. Now."

The nutritionist knew it was useless arguing with the stoic Sae Itoshi. With a sigh, he turned away from the player to go and collect his belongings

"Just one more thing before you go"

He heard Sae say, which urged him to turn around. The moment he laid his eyes on Itoshi, the footballer took a bite out of the pink cupcake

"This is fucking delicious."

The doctor would NEVER eat a cupcake in his life again.

Masterlist

[zevrra]

𝐢. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

synop: you and vik get caught “messing around” in the lab by jayce; who surprisingly wants to join in on the fun.

wc: 1.8k

includes: straight smut, p w/o p, fem!reader, jayce x reader x viktor, slight vöyeurism, oral (m receiving), slight dirty talk, threesome, bottom!viktor

extra: part 2 is here! reblogs are appreciated <3

“don’t worry,” you whisper, fingers twirling along a red tie before smoothing down the front of viktor’s vest. “i sent jayce out on an errand run and he won’t be back for a little bit. just enjoy this v.” you add with a hum.

viktor looks up through his pretty lashes at you. he leans back against his desk, practically sits on top of it to keep weight off of his leg, as you two stand inside of the lab. he had been working far too hard recently and the only way you could keep him distracted long enough not to think about anything involving his work was to pleasure him. it was the same way trying to get him to sleep every once and awhile, when he would sneak into your room. you had never suggested doing it in the lab though…and the thought thrilled you just as much as it thrilled him; even if he thought it was a terrible idea.

“w-we shouldn’t. not here in the lab and what if—” viktor mumbles but his words end in a soft gasp as your fingers begin to untuck his shirt from his pants.

“viktor,” you chirp as you fall to your knees in front of him, unbuttoning the front of his pants and pulling them down ever so slightly. “you need to take a break. be a good boy and just relax.”

your fingers are just grabbing the hem of his underwear when the door to the lab is being thrown open and jayce’s large figure enters the room. “hey, i was looking for this thing you asked for but i—“ jayce had begun to speak, his eyes pointed down as he entered the room, before he finally looked up and caught the two of his friends in the act.

you freeze in your spot, eyes widening as you stare at jayce from the floor. a scarlet red blush is spreading across your face, you can feel the heat on your cheeks in an instant and you’re sure you match not only jayce’s shocked face but viktor’s as well; and you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him. you probably stay like that for a little longer than you should’ve until jayce clears his throat and you and viktor alike scramble from each other.

“we!” you start as you stand up straight and as quick as you possibly can. “wait it’s not what it looks like! we were uh just uhm—“ you ramble before looking at viktor to help dig both of you out of this hole. but he’s busied himself with trying to zip his pants back up, making it far more obvious if it hadn’t been already. you sigh, turning your face off to the side to stare at a small spot on the floor, unable to look jayce in the eye.

“do…you do this often?” jayce’s voice cuts through the built up silence in the room like a knife.

you shake your head quickly but viktor speaks up for you instead. “never in the lab.” he mutters.

“it’s unprofessional, we get it, let’s just drop it and forget this—“ you begin to add but the sound of the door closing with a lock interrupts your rambling. when you finally bring your gaze to jayce, his eyes are soft but clear in their intentions. and it was his turn to no longer be able to look at the two of you.

“can i…watch?” he whispers under his breath.

and with three little words, everything changes between all three of you.

now, jayce leans against the lab’s desk as viktor leans back against his chest. jay’s strong hands fully support viktor as you’ve returned to your spot in front of him. you had never in your life thought jayce might have been interested in whatever you and viktor had going on. maybe you just assumed he already had a lover and never brought it up again. but now his hazel eyes stare down at you, just as viktor’s amber eyes also watch you, both with a hunger to their eye. it almost made you nervous, being watched, but your fingers once again hook around viktor’s underwear and pull down, ignoring the jitters that hum under your skin.

your hand wraps around vik’s semi hard cock and you give it a soft tug, rubbing right up the shaft until the tip. there was a new feeling in the air around all 3 of you. breaths being held, eyes watching ever so closely, the slight tremble to your hand. it had been different when it was just the two of you enjoying midnight meetings but now with jayce there too…it felt far more scandalous and naughty.

“tell me what it feels like.” jayce whispers, purposely placing his chin into the crook of viktor’s neck, as his hands slowly run up along vik’s chest.

your own hand continues to move against viktor’s shaft, stroking him slowly up and down, moving to press your lips against his head.

“mmph, her fingers are a little cold,” viktor replies with a low groan. his chest rising and falling in quicker succession as he begins to get turned on. “but it feels good.” he adds. and his honesty makes you smile a little.

you move your hand faster in return to his praise. trailing your fingers along his head, pressing your thumb into the slit of his cöck, where he’s growing sensitive and causing him to gasp softly. you take the moment to lean forward and capture the head of his cock inside of your mouth. drinking in the sight of viktor’s eyes fluttering, his fingers tightening onto whatever he can grasp, as your mouth wraps around him.

“keep going viktor.” jayce instructs as you watch him place hot, heavy kisses against vik’s throat. one of his hands groping his thin chest and waist.

“w-warm! it’s so warm and wet,” vik breaks. he’s fully hard now as you suck on his head, making him whimper at the feeling. “feels—ah—really good.” he adds with a groan as his eyes return to watching you.

you can feel his thighs tighten as you swallow more of his cöck, continuing to use your hand to stroke up to your lips. you watch every expression that crosses viktor’s face along with jayce’s fingers that slowly begin to take off his vest. strips him of his vest and then works on unbuttoning his brown shirt underneath.

jayce keeps laying hot kisses along the back of his neck and on his throat, slumped over and threatening to swallow all of viktor’s thin frame.

the sight makes you somewhat giddy and excited to see what jayce does. but it never distracts you from making viktor feel good as well. sucking a little harder, spit bubbling up at the sides of your lips as you sink further down onto his lengthy shaft. your eyes are almost falling close to help you focus as you swallow more and more of him, but jayce’s voice catches your attention once again.

“she looks so pretty like that, doesn’t she, vik? makin’ you feel so good.” he whispers against just as pretty, pale skin. his words cause vik to stutter, hips lifting up and forcing you to swallow the rest of him. and you do so with ease.

you truly wouldn’t have guessed jayce was so good at dirty talk but you welcomed any surprises at this point. viktor simply whines in response, head hanging low, gaze still on you as you continue your routine of sucking him off.

jayce stands to his full height then, hanging over viktor just enough so he could turn his face and capture his lips. viktor’s eyes widen in response but he does nothing to stop jayce; no, instead he’s melting into the kiss. you watch with eager curiosity as their tongues clash together, jayce easily winning in the battle of dominance, as one big hand of his moves up to gently caress viktor’s throat.

fuck, was it hot watching them. you can feel your pussy throbbing at the sight just as you can feel yourself growing wet against your panties. you squeeze your thighs together, slipping a hand down below to press your fingers into your core. the best you can through the pants you wear for the moment but the pressure is enough to make you groan. you move your lips faster along viktor’s shaft, sucking harsher and sloppier to bring him closer to his end.

the change of pace and jayce’s tongue surely has viktor coming undone quicker than usual. for he breaks the kiss with a harsh whine. “i’m close!” vik gasps, tossing his head back onto jayce’s shoulder.

jayce presses a quick kiss against his jaw before his hazel eyes return to watch you suck viktor off. his eyes are hazy and full of lust as he fixes his intense stare on what you do; which makes you shiver with newfound pleasure under his sight. his strong gaze makes you press your fingers into your pussy once again, seeking any form of satisfaction you could get for the moment.

“look viktor,” jayce instructs as his hand smooths over viktor’s lower abdomen. “she’s touching herself.”

viktor’s breath hitches in his throat but he moves his own lust filled gaze down to stare at you. with both of them returning to stare at you, you palm yourself harder through your pants. moving your hips in sync to every bob of your head, needy and desperate as things evolve, all the while you moan around vik’s cock.

it’s all too much for viktor as his hips lift and he thrusts wildly into your mouth. “going to—!” he cries softly, body tightening, throwing his full weight back against jayce.

but jayce is quicker. one hand grabs your hair and pulls you off of vik’s twitching cock before he takes his hand and wraps it around where your mouth had just left. “stick out your tongue. i wanna see the mess he makes all over your face.” he grunts, pumping his fist quickly along vik’s entire shaft. his hand is much bigger than yours and it wraps entirely around viktor with ease, and it makes vik lose all control he might’ve pretended to have.

but you do as your told and swiftly stick your tongue out to catch whatever you can. all it takes is viktor staring at your tongue and jayce’s hand jerking him off to finish his orgasm. viktor forces himself to watch as he comes, fingers grasping and gripping onto anything he can that’s near him as he tumbles over the edge with a sharp cry.

your name, along with jayce’s name, leaves viktor’s lips in a pathetic whimper as he comes. can feel the sticky substance coat your tongue, cheek, and chin with each rope jayce rubs out of him. all the while viktor and jayce watch as he makes a mess across your lips and face, never once looking anywhere else.

not until vik is completely spent, limp against jayce who holds him up effortlessly. the only noise now in the room is the shared panting between all three of you. you lick your lips, trying to clean yourself up just a little, before it was your turn to break the silence.

“let’s keep going.”

[milkmily]

Together

ᝰ.ᐟ❣️⋆˙──────────────────────────

Mr.Scarletella x fem Reader

Smut I Saw like a theory in tik tok where it said (something like this not quite sure) that MC would leave bodies right and Mr Scarletella would think that she'd do all of that for him so he would be super interested in them. So imma use that :D also reader Is in college because I don't like using the term “school” cuz its uncomfortable and i'm writing smut.

Ahead: Unprotected Sex(stay safe:p) and biting also sorry it's super short 😔

“Me want your name.”

This had always happened. Well, like maybe 2 times. But now, he won't leave you alone after you have found out what you have done. What you really are. You just aren't some cute woman who goes to college. You were a murder. Why? Just to get that adrenaline that would come with it.

As you took their lives, you had always had this feeling as if someone was looking at you. Eyes. Always, always, Always on you. At everything you did. But you'd turn and check every corner and nothing. No one would be there. Maybe you were just paranoid. You haven't even been caught yet. So it wouldn't matter. And now here you are, face to face with what has been looking at everything you have ever done. Mr. Scarletella.

“You give your name?”

He asks. You had two options. Try to beat him, even though you knew that wouldn't work, or finally give your damn name to him. You remembered the telephone had told you to not give your name. Mr. Crawling had protected you the first time you had met Mr Scarletella. You threw your crowbar at him and he started to glitch. He asks again and you didn't answer, attacking him but again, it went right through him. And everything changes. You open your eyes and see him face to face with you. You hold your crowbar high and your eyes go wide at what he said.

“You like me? Me like you.” He says and you give him a puzzled look. “What?” You asked as you lowered your crowbar. “Let us go together. You teach name?” You groan and throw the crowbar at him again. And you start to speak back to him. And finally.

“like you.” You say and everything is back to normal. You open your eyes to see an umbrella. You picked it up and looked up at it. It's a normal umbrella. It isn't red. You looked down and saw a hand on top of yours, you screamed and threw the umbrella. You looked around and saw Mr Scarletella looking back at you. “Together.” He says as he is now in front of you. You gulped and took some steps back. You blinked and he's gone, but you feel warm breathing behind you. You felt his hands on your arm as he said again, “Together.”

“W-What?!” You ask and feel his warm breathing on your neck, goosebumps all over your body. “Together.” He says again and you feel small kisses on your neck. You gasp and feel your body heat up. “W-Wait-” you felt his hands start to go all over your body. they'd move from your arms down to your hands and move to your stomach. He'd gently and softly move them up and his hands bumped onto your breast. You softly gasp as his lips meet your neck. “You give.” He says. “You give. Grateful.” He says as he keeps kissing your neck, making you moan. “Grateful.” He whispers on to your neck as his hands move under your shirt.

Oh. You remembered now. The bodies. The things you'd say while killing them. “If someone is here watching, these are all for you.” Oh. “You're returning the favor?” You ask but his hands continue to move higher and his kisses move to your shoulder. You shiver and hold your arms up as the shirt is lifted up to reveal your breast, your nipples hard from being turned on. You should Be scared but…you aren't. You've always been interested in Mr Scarletella. You just never could get close to him or else he will keep asking about your damn name.

And now here he is. His hands cupping your breast as he kissed your neck. Your moan and gasp. You pulled his hands away and he stopped kissing your neck. “Why?” He asks and you turn to look at him. You smiled at him and he gave you his wide smile. “Me like you. You like me?” He asks again. “Me like you.” You say to him as you try to reach up to him. He lowers himself to your height and you cup his face. “You like me.” He says and you nod. He tilts his head to the side as he grins and holds your hand.

“Together.” He says. he moved his hands to cup your breast again, moaning. He knew you were feeling good with the sound you made. The expression on your face. He hummed and looked at you. You were perfect. You may not give him your name, but that can be for later. You were his now. You are his now. No one else's. You are his either way.

He pins you on the floor, straddling you. The floor is so cold against your bare back. You yelp and look up at him who was on top of you, his hands on the floor as he was on top of you, Grinning. His red hair still somehow covered one of his eyes as He looked down at you. You looked at him and tilted your head. “Together.” He says again as he moves his hand to cup your face. His hands are so big compared to yours. He only really only needs one hand to perfectly fit your face. His face got closer To yours, his breathing on your face.

You couldn't help but whimper at how close he Is. You could already feel how wet you were. Your pussy is aching for him already. He grins down and looks down at the clothes you were wearing. He slowly lifted up the coat you had on and pulled your pants with your panties down. You lift your hips up to help him. You continue to look at him as he keeps looking at you. The way he looked at you had your body reacting. And then you asked yourself: He knows what to do already? Maybe he had seen a lot of incidents where people would Go where he is to ya know, just have sex. Or who knows. All you know is he already knows what he is doing.

He looks at you and grins as his fingers rub between your wet pussy lips. You softly gasp and look at his hand. He closed your lips together, making You jump. “Like?” He asks and you nod. He greatly presses his finger to your clit and starts to rub. You open your legs more as he keeps rubbing. He lowers his head as he brings your nipple in his mouth. You whimper and look down at him. He picked and gently bit down on your nipple. “Ouch.” You whine and look up at you. He grins and continues to suck on it.

He brings his hand back up and Teases your other nipple. He starts to rub himself on you. You felt how big he was though his pants already. You gulp and moan.

You suddenly felt something warm and wet rub up and down your clit. You looked down and saw his cock out, rubbing between your folds to get his tip wet with your arousal. You couldn't help but moan at the sight. He was still sucking your nipple and It was starting to get sore. You pull his head away and he looks at you. He grins and presses his tip at your cunt. You open your legs a bit more and your hips closer to him. He lifts your hips Up, making you yelp. You looked up at him and he gently pushed Himself in your cunt. “Together.” He says and groans. You rolled your eyes back quickly as you felt how he stretched you out. You moaned and looked at him.

He starts to move his hips as he looks down at how your pussy would suck him in. He brings His thumb to your flit and starts to rub it. You moan and hold on to your hair as he keeps thrusting.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You were on the cold concert floor, your face on the floor, ass up as Mr Scarletella moved his hips, he was panting fast and groaning as he kept pushing his cock in so deep and fast. “Ah! I can't!” You moan but you knew you wanted more. How many times have you come already? Jesus. He kept making you switch positions every time you came. He First had you laying down as he held your hips up. The next one was you riding him but you soon gave up so he simply grabs your hips and pushes you up and down. He's really strong. He had you laying down again but he held both of your legs just to go deeper inside of you.

Now he has your ass up as he keeps pushing in and out of you. His thrusting became harsher. “Mr Scarletellaaaa- ah! There!” You moan. You could feel how his cock came in and out of you, how warm and wet he felt. You whine and moan as his cock brushes your g-spot. “Together.” He kept saying and moaning. He really loved that word a lot.

You hold onto his hand that was on your hips. You turn to look at him, teary eyes As you moan. You were close again. You needed to cum on his cock again. You whimper and whine as he keeps thrusting into you, this time even faster. You scream and your toes curl as you bury your face on the floor, eyes rolling back as you cum on his cock. You hear him groan and feel something warm dripping out of your pussy.

You pant and whine trying to catch your breath but he quickly makes you turn around and lifts up your right leg. You whine and shake your head. “No-” You say and moan as he pushes his cock in again, slipping in so easily. He buried his face in your neck and groaned. “Together.” He says again and he thrusted. His thrust is a bit slow and more softer now. you wrapped your arms around him as he keeps moving his hips. You could hear a short whine coming from him as you tug at his hair. You whimper and whine. Every thrust Made you so sensitive and feel everything.

Mr Scarletella kisses your neck and whimpers. He's sensitive too. He could feel everything about you. But he just loved that he was finally with you, be with you, be in you. Be together.

A couple of more thrusts and he cums inside of you. He pulls out and pants as he looks down at your pussy that dripped out his cum. He groans and rubs his cum between your folds. He pressed his cock inside your entrance and said, “Together, again…” as he pushed his cock in, making you whine.

Hey @kita-01 and @misaamanekinnie21 , patiently waiting 🫡

[scover-va]

Oh yeah highlight of my night so far probably was when i booted up ultrakill 6-2 (with cheats so i could focus on rambling) so i could show my brother Gabriel’s voice lines in said chapter (i also rambled abt gabriel’s like. Lore and stuff. Mostly his overarching narrative presence in the other layers) (this happened because i mentioned one of gabe’s voice lines references a NIN song, my brother says he only listens to one NIN song, blah blah the stars aligned) and then he asked if he could fuck around in the next chapter w/ cheats on. I was like. Yeah sure go for it buddy. While holding back a big ol grin because it’s fucking 7-1. I only maybe really told him abt the basic mechanics in advance like how to shoot and how to punch/parry. It was extra fun when he thought the minotaur boss fight was over. Like. Surprise, bitch! Anyways yeah then i got him playing thru the game properly. Its been fun watching him so far actually he got to the end of 2-3 before tapping out bc he was tired. Do you know how much lore i got to ramble about. Do you. Win for me

[inkats]

incredibly fucked up what liking a boy can do to you . yes i only come on tumblr to complain about this now. anyway uh. a little. a little too. interested in the kalogeras now. unfortunately. literally didnt care about them or think they were like. unreasonably pretty bf and now. well.

[dazedantics]

Mark wasn't the bragging type. At least, not all the time. He has pride in his comic collection, his action figures, things like that which he always talks about.

But when you finally went to his house for the first time, you realized how little you asked him about himself.

He was rich?!?!

Well, obviously not so high in the upper crust since you went to the same school, but well enough off that you were totally star-stuck just by walking through the front door.

You came from completely different worlds! Why were the rooms so big? There was so many of them too! And everything was such a sleek, modern design, inside and out! The windows were huge! And everything was cleaned to a shine! He had a second floor? Even his yard was so well kept! You bet even his garage looked amazing! That TV is huge! Look at that fridge!

You stared at him for a long while after crossing the threshold, gesturing wildly around.

"What?" He laughed out, rubbing his neck.

"You live in a mansion dude!" You declared, following him in. "Why didn't you tell me I had a rich friend?"

"What are you talking about? No, I don't. You're just being dramatic. C'mon, let's get a snack before we go upstairs."

You walked behind him as he rummaged through the kitchen. "Dude, you have a big ol' pantry. That just proves my point!"

A well lit and fully stocked one too. And is that a dishwasher?

"I thought everyone had one?"

"No!" You exasperated.

He handed you a few bags of chips. "Anything you want to drink? We have water, juice, a few sodas ...."

"Dude. Mark. How on earth are we friends?"

"Uh, cause you bullied me that one time then for some reason decided that I was interesting enough to start hanging around."

He turned off the pantry light, closing the door with a few beverages tucked under his arm. "Alright, my parents will be back in a few so let's get to my room before they start pestering you with questions."

You followed him up the stairs and down the bright hall to his door. "That's not what I mean. And I said I was sorry for that!"

He paused, giving a nervous smile before slipping into his room, "W-wait here for a sec."

"And do you know how long we've known each other? Mark, you are literally only a few streets away from me. How have I never got invited to your house? Do you know how easy coming over would've been?"

"Well, I dunno, why would you want to come over? D-do you want to start coming over?" He stuttered through the door.

You could hear the shuffling of fabrics and thudding of a closet door a few times.

Leaning against the wall, you continued, "I just mean that most people do that. Though my parents never used to let me go over to friend's places, so it wouldn't have really changed anything. But my point is that you've been holding out on me! William's been over plenty of times! And why didn't he ever say anything? Is he rich too? Is this really normal for you guys? God, you are never coming to my house. I live in a shed compared to this. If you got a connecting bathroom in there, I swear to god ...."

"You're overreacting. It's just ... new surroundings, you're excited. You'll realize it's nothing as big as you're making it out to be. Okay, you can come in now," he opened the door, beckoning you inside.

His room was spacy, but rather plain compared to the rest of the house. Minimal amount of furniture, posters, plus his collectables. Very representative of him.

You took a seat on the bed as he closed the door, bringing out the supplies he'd been holding for your project. "Yeah right. Gonna be dreaming of this place when I get home, shoot."

He jumped up next to you, the mattress bouncing under his weight. "Whatever. Let's just get started on this. You brought the research papers?"

"Of course," you dug out the folder from your bag, shifting into a more comfortable position before focusing on the project.

You worked diligently for a while, the two of you comfortable as ever before his parents came home. Their laugher ringing up the stairs as they came in. Mark didn't seem to notice though, jolting up when he heard the knock on his door, his mother's face peeking in.

"Hey, Mark? Do you- oh? You invited someone?"

"Mom!?" He flushed, reaching for the highlighters that had fallen. "Don't you know you're supposed to wait a bit before you come in?"

"Yes, yes you've told me before."

"Then?"

It took a lot to not whip your head at him for his mannerisms.

But his mother seemed to take no offense, merely smiling to you in greeting. "Hi, I'm Debbie or Mrs. Grayson, Mark's mom. He hasn't kept you in here all day has he?"

You smiled, nodding politely as you introduced yourself. "Hi, I'm Y/N. And no, I haven't been here too long. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Grayson."

Her brows raised slightly, glancing over at her son for a second. "Oh so you're, Y/N. Mark's told me a lot about you. If I had known you were coming over I'd have made a nice dinner for you. Mark why didn't you say anything?"

"Because, Mom! It's not that important!" The boy huffed, getting up to usher her out the door. "Now, excuse us, big school project to get back to?"

Watching the two interact threw you for a loop, what was wrong with him!?

"So now you care about your homework?" She maneuvered around him, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes from the familiar movement. She was a happy person it seemed. Tired too. "It's nothing homemade, but we were just about to call Mark down for dinner if you'd like to join us? Ran into your father on the way home, we got your favorite from ... that takeout place you like."

She addressed the last part to her son.

Mark's tone softened a bit, glancing at you discreetly as if he was saying something embarrassing. "The place that puts the little prints on the toast?"

"Mhmm. We'll be downstairs waiting for you. You got five minutes, Mark!" She finished, her son quickly shutting the door the moment she turned around.

He blew out a sigh. Which quickly turned into slight yelp as you threw a pillow at him.

His head whipped around to glare at you. "What?"

"You're rich as heck, dude! No, sane kid would ever talk to their mother like that. Do you know what would've happened to me if I tried kicking her out like that? Privileged rich kids ...."

Sure he wasn't doing or saying anything as bad as he could have, but even his raised voice was pushing it!

Tossing the pillow back, he took a seat by the headboard. "Oh, c'mon, stop with that," he muttered. "We'll finish up that last paragraph then head down. Then ... I can walk you home before it gets too late?"

"You can't walk me home! My front porch will look like a baby's hut to you. And my family will not shut up if they see you next to me either. Is this what happens when you grow up without siblings? I don't even have my own room, dude!"

He gave you a look, seemingly done with all your exclamations, brown eyes fighting the urge to roll. "You're being weird. I'm sure it's not that bad. Let's just get downstairs already."

"If this takeout is more fancy than something from Burger Mart, I swear I'm gonna lose it. It's gonna be like ... A5 wagyu beef or something, huh?"

Your wild imagination wasn't too far off. The food, though in take out boxes, was definitely from some high end restaurant and still warm as if the trip didn't last more than a second. You were suddenly very conscious of your table manners.

But the family went along as if this was a simple ordeal, chatting casually and laughing.

His mother was really nice and friendly, making the act of sipping some wine -that you knew in your heart you'd never be able to afford- look so dainty and fluidly practiced. Not a drop was accidentally spilled onto her neat blouse or fresh pressed slacks.

She was very put together, jewelry minimal but pretty, and hair tied neatly in a well tamed bun. In the real estate business, she explained. It really showed, in her actions and her house. She was a business woman. You only wish to have an ounce of her grace when you were older.

And his dad?

Well ... okay maybe you were a little scared of his dad. I mean you could see the muscles practically aching to break free from the crop in his sleeves! You had no idea what he did for a living and you're not sure you wanted to find out.

But he was very well kept too. Dressed simple like his son, yeah, but you could tell he took pride in himself. He sat up a little too straight, his gestures firm and steady, smile far too charming, voice deep with a practiced confidence, blue eyes holding contact with whoever was speaking ... a bit too long ... kinda felt like he was staring into your soul ....

He had to have been a model or something when he was younger. One you had seen on a magazine in a dentist's waiting room or something.

Cause there was definitely something familiar about Mark's dad.

"Nolan." He'd introduced himself. Shaking your hand with a grip you were sure could've crushed bones if he tried.

Maybe it was the mustache. I mean, rarely anyone decided it was "the look" nowadays. But he wore it proudly.

Whatever it was that rang so familiar about him, you couldn't place. And you were far too scared to ask.

Anyways, the genes in this family were crazy. Mark literally had the cookie cutter perfection that the families in movies had. Was he even aware of that?

His parents even loved each other!

I mean, sure, maybe you were getting second hand embarrassment watching the two flirt so casually in front of your five star restaurant grade dinner.

But Mark was literally living most kid's dreams right now!

The rest of the night went on smoothly though, you watching the family's interaction with a strage feeling settling in your stomach. His parents even walked you out the door with a smile, Debbie offering for you to come again soon.

It wasn't until the two of you rounded the corner, out of sight from his parents, that Mark began to talk.

His cheeks were dusted pink, brown eyes fixed on the ground. One hand in his pocket, the other rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry about them. They're super embarrassing. All the time ...."

"Mark." You stopped. Standing in front of him, hands on his shoulders, shaking for emphasis. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

A statement you would only find out later would become such a cruel irony.

"You better not do something dumb and get kicked out of there. I will literally have no chance at seeing luxury again if you do."

He laughed lightly, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands down. "Hey, if you wanna trade seeing them be gross every second of the day for whatever you got going on in your life, I would totally do it. Did you get everything of yours? Before we're too far away to turn back?"

You nodded, tugging the strap of the bag on your shoulder. "Just so you know, I am so talking to William about you when I get home."

"You're being weird again." He stated, continuing your walk down the street. "It's not that big a deal."

"If you say so, Mister Rich Kid."

"You know ... you can come over again. Even we don't have a project to work on. I-if you want."

"Are you kidding me? Heck yeah I'm coming over again! I'm gonna slowly worm my way into your life. Watch, your mom's gonna be inviting me over to all your obscure family parties. Imma be in your family pictures soon. Won't be able to get rid of me."

He laughed softly, sucking his lip between his teeth. "Uh ... not what I was going for but uhm ... it's a start, right?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Turn here?"

"Yeah." You continued on for a bit longer before pressing a hand to his chest to stop him.

"What?"

"Turn around, go home."

"Oh, uh, is this your house?" He turned, looking at the building you stood in front of. "It's not that different than mine. Just a little smaller, but nothing like you're making it out to be."

You shook your head. "No. My house is further down the street."

"Then why did we just-"

"Because! You can't be seen dropping me off! I was serious about what I said, my family is probably peeking out the curtains right this second."

"I don't mind saying 'hi' if they're that interested."

"Well I do!" You braced both hands to push him back slightly. "They will literally torment me until they know everything about you."

A laugh bubbled up in Mark's chest as he smiled, taking hold of your hands with his. "Alright fine, you have a few days more until I show up at your doorstep randomly. Then I'll be invited to all of your family events."

"Not funny, Mark."

"Yeah it is. Just a little bit." He teased. "But I'll stay here till I see you go inside, okay? Don't get all stressed about it."

"Thank you." You sighed letting go.

You paused before turning away, head angled to watch him as you walked.

"G'night." He smiled, rasing up a hand in parting.

He was such a dork.

"G'night," you waved back, turning fully around till you reached your house.

When you looked back again, hand resting on the door handle, he was still there waiting. And you smiled, shaking your head before walking in.

At least he had a bit of manners to show for tonight.

But William was in for a long night of chatter on your end once you settled into your room.

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[amourane]

flustered and blushing

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff so much fluff that it's insane

w/c: 1.7k

summary: in which you're a flustered mess around theo nott and he absolutely adores it.

warnings: none!

a/n: *screams* i just combust every time i write for theo but this piece especially has me just screaming at the cuteness!!!

Everyone who went to Hogwarts knew who Theodore Nott was. It wasn’t hard to miss the dark chestnut hair that would fall in his eyes and the charming smirk that he always wore. Theodore Nott was gorgeous and he knew it. His popularity often led to him being the topic of most conversations and a receiver of many love confessions. Girls would flock to him and try their best to twirl their hair and flirt with the Slytherin but all they were met with was indifference. 

Theodore Nott would tune out their obnoxious laughter and shrill squeals. He would stare blankly at them, reject their advances without a care in the world. Word got around that the infamous Theodore Nott was seemingly unreachable. His unattainability only made him that much more interesting to everyone else.

You were blessed, as some would say, to sit next to Theo during Charms. Flitwick had randomly assigned the seating at the start of the year and you got stuck with Theodore Nott. He wasn’t bad at the subject by any means it just got a bit overwhelming with all the stares and whispers that were directed at your partner. You weren’t one for attention or drama, always preferring to hide in the shadows and not be seen. Sitting next to Theo didn’t exactly grant you that freedom.

Theodore Nott was handsome. So so so handsome. You couldn’t deny your attraction and as much as you tried to push it down you often found yourself staring. The slope of his nose and the angled jaw. His eyes that pulled your attention away from anything else. You would watch as he scrawled his notes onto the parchment. His quill would glide effortlessly without hesitation and you often would forget to take your own notes. You couldn’t help but feel your heart pound whenever he spoke to you or whenever he would offer you even the tiniest smile.

“Hey Y/n you free after dinner tonight?”

The boy beside you drawled with his chin in his hands. He looked at you expectedly and you blinked at him confused. 

“Sorry?”

“Were you not listening? We have an assignment together, I was asking if you were free so we could get started.” He smirked as if he knew you had been watching him all this time. You felt your cheeks heat up and you spluttered for words. Theo chuckled as he shoved his things into his bag, still waiting for your answer.

“Yeah I’m free tonight.” You mumbled, refusing to look at him. You felt your heart race and you gulped. “Wait where are we meeting up?” 

It was then that you realised looking up was a huge mistake because Theo’s face is mere inches away from yours and you felt yourself flush scarlet at the proximity. You blink like a deer caught in headlights trying to calm your own rapidly beating heart. Theo grinned. He tilted his head to the side as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Words died on your tongue and your eyes locked with his and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

It was all too much. Way too much.

You cleared your throat, backing away in your seat as far as you could. Theo bit back another smile as he finally leaned back into his seat again. You felt lightheaded from what had just happened and you looked over at the Slytherin only to find him already staring at you causing your eyes to bulge out of their sockets and for you to turn away quickly.

“W-Where did you say?”

“The library of course, I’d bring you to my dorm but don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for that principessa?”

Even if you couldn’t see Theo Nott you definitely could imagine his trademark smirk that would spread across his face whenever he was feeling smug with himself. His words registered in your mind finally and you let out a squeak at the implication before quickly throwing your stuff in your bag and saying a goodbye.

You darted down the hallway, desperate to get away from your seatmate and to your dorm. Theodore Nott had always been like this with you. All smiles and suggestive comments. Your heart couldn’t take his charming grin and angelic laugh. Ever since you had quietly greeted him back in September he had stuck by you and you really didn’t know why. You weren’t popular by any means and you had no pureblood connection that would be of any use so you weren’t sure why Theodore Nott had taken such an interest in you.

His words filled your head once more and you felt your whole body heat up at the memory. You flopped down onto your bed, groaning into the pillow as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You just knew tonight was going to be so much worse.

//

“-and I was thinking that we could also talk about non verbal spells since- are you listening to me Y/n?”

You snapped out of your thoughts only to see Theo’s brows furrowed and his lips pulled into a frown. The library was fairly quiet and the two of you had picked a secluded corner to ensure no one would disturb the two of you. Your eyes drifted to the textbook in front of the two of you and you blinked blankly towards your partner.

“Sorry I wasn’t paying attention, what were you saying about non verbal spells?” 

Theo smiled and you felt your heart flutter at the sight. His eyes seemed to twinkle more in the warm lighting and you told yourself that you needed to stop having these ridiculous thoughts. Everyone knew that Theodore Nott had no interest in dating anyone much less you.

“You seem to be daydreaming a lot today Y/n, I’m honestly hurt that you haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve been saying.” Theo pouted but you could see the mirth that spread across his face. He leaned towards you and your eyes widened. “What’s got you so distracted today hm?”

He was so close to you. Too close even. You could smell the familiar citrusy scent that he always wore. It felt warm, you didn’t know if that was possible, but he smelt like what you imagined home would be. The slightly sweet but earthy scent invaded your senses and you felt your brain melt.

Your eyes search his face. The sharp cheekbones and jawline contrasted with the smooth curve of his lips. His dark tousled hair that you couldn’t help but imagine running your fingers through his curls. His long eyelashes framed his beautiful grey eyes. The soft glow of the lamp highlights his complexion and you continue to stare, completely mesmerised.

“Nothing…I just have a lot on my mind.” You replied awkwardly, hoping that he didn’t sense that you were lying.

“Hmm…well I’m always here to talk.” Theo folded his arms as he leant onto the wooden desk in front of the both of you. He buried his head into his arms before turning to the side to look at you, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “But I guess we’d just be talking about me, wouldn’t we?”

Immediately you burst into flames and you tried to stutter out an excuse. You knew he had noticed your staring. There were only so many times you could get away with not paying attention in class. Then again, it was still mortifying to get caught.

A group of girls decided that that was the perfect time to walk past the two of you and you froze as they saw you and Theo together. They looked at you and then the Slytherin beside you. Your jaw hung open, gaping like a fish, unable to comprehend the multitude of events that were thrown at you. The girls mirrored your expression before scurrying off whispering loudly.

“Are they dating?”

“No way I didn’t actually think he was capable of liking someone.”

“Who is she anyway? I’ve never seen her around.”

You felt your heart race and you deflated in your chair, head in your hands. This was not meant to happen. You felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked up to see Theo. His smile wasn’t on his face anymore, now replaced with a worried look.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Of course not!” You cried out softly. “Everyone’s going to think I’m your girlfriend and it’s going to spread across the whole of Hogwarts by tomorrow morning. And and…” You groaned, putting your head back into your hands, too overwhelmed by everything that was happening. 

Silence spread across the two of you.

“Would that be so bad?” Theo’s voice broke the quiet. You looked up, startled by his words. “Dating me, that is.”

“T-That’s not what I meant-” You stammered, scrambling for an apology, but Theo interrupted you.

“I don’t smile and flirt with just anyone you know. You’re special to me Y/n. I like you, a lot.” 

He was looking at you now, his eyes filled with a warmth you had mistaken for amusement. His gaze was soft and filled with affection, a small smile playing on his lips. Your cheeks heated up at his unexpected confession. Your heart pounded, and you gripped your fingers, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you like me too?”

Try as you might you couldn’t find any words to express your emotions or your feelings towards Theodore Nott. All you could muster was a nod as an answer to his question. Theo laughed as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He tugged you closer to him and once again you were face to face with Theodore Nott.

“I want to hear you say it principessa. Tell me how much you fancy me.” 

He was doing it on purpose. He knew exactly what to do and what to say to get you completely flustered and a blushing mess for him. And you would be a fool to say it wasn’t working.

“Theo I...” You whispered finally finding your own voice. “I really like you Theodore Nott, I really really like you.”

A bright beam graced Theo’s face and he pressed his forehead against yours, hugging your body close to his. You wrapped your arms around his waist, melting into his touch. Theo pulled back as he placed a kiss on your cheek. You blinked before you felt yourself heat up at his affectionate action. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed at your flustered state.

“You’re so adorable.” Theo chuckled as he embraced you tightly. “I really really like you too Y/n L/n.”