#i can't even express my thoughts on this properly

[coffee-n-some-cream]

I think Leo’a character gets so much more interesting once he pieces together that Splinter is encouraging him to act more like him (partially to validate to his own actions and emotionally distant behavior towards everyone close to him) and realizes that he doesn’t want to do that, even if he would lose Splinter’s approval in the process. The moment he stops idolizing Splinter the way he does, he’ll notice that all his brothers have distanced themselves from Splinter (though Donnie and Mikey are more subtle about it than Raph), and the more he takes after Splinter the more they pull away from him too, and maybe then he starts to realize that Splinter’s approach to relationships with the only showing approval when someone has met his inflated expectations of them really sucks ass.

Okay look i've been thinking about this for a while because i'm writing this au and splinter is kind of a shitty dad in it and i never expected the impact on leo to be as heart rending as it is, but GOD. yes! you are so fucking right.

i'm so sorry but i wrote a whole essay under the cut.

when you're a teacher's pet and you get called one, you take it as a compliment. you know they don't mean it like that, but you like it anyway. because you like your teacher, and you're proud to be a good student, you're proud to get that validation. probably because you crave validation from an authority figure for self worth purposes.

and when it's you parent??? hoo boy.

which is why i love the Splinter Junior nickname, because it carries so much baggage. It can be an affectionate comparison of father and son, it can be resentful that he is a representative of parental authority, it can be jealous that he is so close to Splinter when the others aren't, it can be a straight up insult (because honestly what's worse than telling someone they're just like their father). and i love the idea of leo going from taking that nickname as a compliment to taking it as a slap in the face.

there was a great line in this fic (rlly good btw) where leo realizes that he had a different father than the rest of them. that he has a certain relationship with splinter that his brothers haven't been able to form and asdgkjaslkgd yes???? yes! but at the same time, splinter is his dad too. so while he gets splinter's approval, that approval comes at a cost, and the cost is bending his personality and goals and wants to suit his dad's. it's the classic 'it's your dream, dad. not my dream' scenario. and when leo realizes that he's spent his entire life tailoring his very self to gain his father's approval...

in my notes for my au, i wrote, "if Leonardo’s self-understanding is as a loyal right hand to Splinter, what happens when the ultra loyal right hand of the king turns against the king?" it's his identity. and how does turning against the king recontextualize everything he did in service to the king?

the only thing that could really pull him from splinter is his brothers. because honestly, he loves them more than he loves splinter. and i think, as sad as it sounds, he will realize that he loves his brothers more than splinter loves them. or maybe he just loves them better. more fully. and he's not willing to lose them in the way that splinter is. even more, he's not willing to hurt them the way splinter does. and of course, he needs to heal from the way splinter has hurt him. but another part of him, the part that's still so close to his dad, would want to save him, in a way. save him from the distance between him and his own children.

so yeah. i think at that point, after he's gone through that development, the most hurtful thing you could say is that he's like Splinter.

[da-proti-toku-grem]

feeling like a total asshole today 👍

[suffewingowo]

.

[birdmenmanga]

hope everybody can understand!! feeling that immense loneliness despite the closeness tonight!!

[noxtivagus]

i love talking w others ( apollo especially tonight ) but oh man i shld really sleep it is 3 am

[coatlmaolol]

Went into watching the film 'The Lives of Others' completely blind and oh my god that was such an amazing movie.

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

Hi! Im Hank, also known as Pansy Leatherwork. I'm a fat, butch, tgurl leatherworker based out of Chicago. I started working with leather last June after working a retail position at a large leather shop in my city. One of the big things that led me to leave that job is how they thought they were making stuff that was inclusive to everyone but just frankly... weren't

Where was the stuff for the transsexuals, the fat bitches, the girlies getting paid $15/hr, the freaks that make up the actual communities I exist as part of?, the freaks like me? So I put in my two weeks, started doing phone sex again to cover my bills, and bought some tools and got to learning

Now, just under a year out, I'm genuinely astonished at how well my work has been received. I operate on sliding scale, even on my website, and getting to hear how my stuff gets used or seeing it in action genuinely fills me with an amount of joy I can't properly express.

If what I do seems interesting to you, you can check out my work at Pansy-Leatherwork.com or my Instagram, @pansy.leatherwork

[snapdougles]

wow I love being autistic I really do awesome cool, just one small tiny thing that still bothers me; I wish everytime I spoke it didn't feel like the Archangel Gabriel was descending from the heavens to use me as a human meat muppet regurgitating words until something makes approximate sense falls out, why are my words like that what.

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[arminsumi]

I want to kiss you / キスしたい

G. Satoru

NOTE: i recently started learning to write in japanese for not much reason other than to occupy my mind with something new. this little daydream came to me and i can't stop thinking about it, i think falling in love despite a language barrier is one of the purest and sweetest ways to fall in love.

WARNINGS — it might be fem reader idk, kissing 👍, ur married w him at the end, not proofread lol i'm snuggled up in bed ok

Satoru cant speak english and you cant speak japanese; Suguru is the translator friend. You met him online years ago, who knows how. But you hit it off, and four years of friendship rolled by.

Satoru heard all about Y/n and saw you many times when Suguru facetimed or called you. You and him had many cute, playful interactions, ranging from making hearthands at each other to flipping each other off and laughing about it. Sometimes Satoru would be sat off-camera, overloading Suguru with things to translate, because he had a lot to say to you. One time, Suguru left for a few minutes to get a pizza delivery, and then Satoru got very quiet and the two of you blinked at your screens.

"Hi."

"Hi."

And then you two for some reason started laughing with your whole chests, Suguru walked in with a confused smirk. He joked, "Sooo... what did you and Satoru talk about while I was gone?" He asked, gentle accent coming through in soft waves. "The mysteries of the universe." You replied. Satoru was already diving into the pizza box, but he still listened to you speak; he wondered what you had said, maybe you used some fancy words to say that you liked him? He'd be lying if he said he didn't memorize variations of "i like you" after that. He was paranoid that he could miss you saying that you liked him.

You managed a slow, meticulously-pronounced nice to meet you in Japanese when you finally visited Tokyo. It was at the airport. You and Suguru had shared many hugs — good grief, you'd seen height comparisons many times but none painted a real idea of just how big these boys were. But Satoru? He was loudmouthed on a screen and surprisingly shy in person. Eventually he hugged you and didn't let go. He even got so comfy as to hang and cling to your body like you saw him doing with Suguru in countless photos and videos.

Though you could barely pronounce the little Japanese that you picked up, Satoru felt giddy to hear your pretty voice in his language. He listened to you like you were reciting love poetry to him, fists under his chin and eyes starry. But you were just saying basic phrases, boring things — nothing that articulated your thoughts properly.

He was far too embarrassed to try and speak any English when he first met you, even though after developing a crush on you he did start learning some English on the side. He knew quite a bit, but listening was so impossibly difficult it frustrated him like nothing else. He was also self-conscious of his English accent, though Suguru tried to assure him that he sounded very cute and almost oddly British.

So often instead of attempting to speak tiny phrases to you, Satoru threw a lot of hand motions and signals your way which got the two of you and Suguru laughing — poor Sugie, he was always translating even the smallest things you said even if you muttered them under your breath, because Satoru was eager to know every little thought and expression you had, even if you were simply commenting on the weather.

Once you commented that it was so hot, you were visiting during a heatwave-filled summer. Satoru raised his brows at Suguru expectantly, and you heard a familiar translation;

暑い。

It's hot.

There was such a frustrating language barrier between the two of you, it became more evident when you had finally flown over the sea to meet them.

Yet you and satoru fell in love silently and beautifully, your love flowing like a river in the most unexpected directions. You felt his affection emanating from his irises. You and him joked around, and talked — though you had no idea what the other meant most of the time. Sometimes the two of you gave up and you talked in English, he responded with Japanese, and it went on like that very comedically until Suguru came back to bridge the gap.

Lots of time was spent putting your heads together over your phone, reading translations of what you wanted to say to each other.

One day, when Suguru left the two of you alone in his apartment kitchen so that he could hop to the convenience store, Satoru typed something into the translator and let you read it. Your face warmed up.

キスしたい。

I want to kiss you.

He looks at you expectantly.

You type back to him.

Then kiss me.

それからキスして。

He blushed and hesistated, the two of you making electric eye contact for a while before he boyishly pecked your lips to test if you liked his kiss, but oh that's all the two of you needed to realize just how much you liked each other. You melted into each other like your bodies were made for nothing else but to embrace and be one. He shook a little, tentatively gliding his lips over yours. His hands nervously cupped your cheeks. With the way he handled you so carefully, you'd think you were made of porcelain.

Your reciprocation meant everything to him. His confidence flourished. The soft smacking, wet sounds got louder when he kissed you more passionately. Those gentle hands found their way to the back of your neck, and he softly pressed you closer to him as if he was scared you would pull away. What if you changed your mind mid-kiss? He was overthinking and you wouldn't have even guessed it, because you thought he was in the same blissed out dream state as you were. So high on kissing that the world fell away.

The two of you started smiling embarrassedly, grinning so hard that you couldn't continue kissing. Then the two of you just giggled against each other's faces — a subconscious realization swept him; laughter and kissing are their own languages.

Yes as years passed and you visited time and time again, your Japanese improved and his English improved. When you moved to Japan, eventually you adopted a messy mix of Japanese and English with Satoru. He liked showing off how perfectly he could pronounce things, and you liked showing off that you could write very neat kana.

Years and years and years passed and when you and him were married in your own little apartment, starting a life together, a very fluent Satoru reminisced about how the two of you fell in love despite barely speaking to each other.

"It was your eyes for me." You said.

"Oh really? It was your voice for me. I didn't know what you were saying, but it sounded nice." He said.

"Mmm I liked your voice, too." You said, snuggling your head on his shoulder. He basked in the attention, though it was common, it always felt special for him. The smallest hand touches and wrist kisses made his heart lurch.

"Remember when I always nagged Suguru to translate every little thing you said?"

"Yeah, you worked him to the bone." You chuckled.

"I just wanted to know what you were saying. I had such a crush on you, looking back now it was even ridiculous how much I liked you considering the barrier and all."

"Ooh, did you?"

"How is this surprising? We're married??"

"Oh yeah."

[s1m0nth3swag]

Hmmm I’m kinda curious on how Francis would be like as a dom in bed!

Ohhhh definitely!

I feel like Francis def is too tired to dom most times, but omg, when he isn't tired for once....

This was uhm

Harder to write than I thought! It probably really isn't good so I slapped some headcanons at the end to make up for it a little

Tysm for the ask though, Anon!

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with minimal plot, established relationship, GN!Reader, Dom Francis, Francis has vacation and uses it properly

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

If you were serious, you barely know how you ended up in this situation. You started today thinking it'd be just like any other day, your boyfriend coming home really late from work, so you'd have the apartment to yourself until he returned. Contrary to that belief, Francis had instead taken a day of vacation. He had grumbled something about it being long overdue.

From then, you had thought he'd lounge around all day. He'd probably just sleep a bit more, lay on the couch, maybe help out a little with chores - that's where you were wrong again.

Once the two of you had finished the chores around the small apartment, he grabbed you by the hips harshly. "Francis -" you yelped out, but he already pressed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. If it was up to him, he'd have you right here, in the middle of the hallway. That's just the way Francis was, when he did have the drive to fuck you, he'd barely even think about where.

In the end, you were the one to drag him to the bedroom after he had already pulled off your top and discarded it somewhere. He trailed kisses down your neck and over your collarbone, nipping at the skin softly. "Want you s'bad..." He groaned, grinding his growing erection against your crotch. "Bet you want me too, hm? Can feel how needy you are." He adds, chuckling as he rubs small circles on your waist. You huff and pull him down towards you, kissing him feverishly.

The rest of your clothes are soon discarded - Francis rarely took his time with you. He watched the way you squirmed and whined as he slowly pushed inside you, though. He knew you just wanted to feel him. When it came to teasing, Francis had probably won a gold metal in it at some point. "So good for me, hm? It's always so tight..." he sighs lazily. His hands rest at your hips, pushing you down so you can't grind against him. You whine in protest. "Francis, please.. don't be mean.." You mumble, and he just chuckles as he presses a kiss against your cheek. "Just taking my time, love.. weren't you just complaining about me being too fast?" You scowl at him, but Francis just grins as he keeps pushing into you ever so slowly. Surely, this had to be torture for him as well? If it was, he didn't let it show one bit.

After taking his sweet time, Francis made it up to you by being way too goddamn rough. He practically abused your hole while muttering and groaning praises into your ear. You desperately held onto him, nails scratching his back. "So good, hm..? God, swear you feel heavenly..." Francis groaned into your ear, trailing kisses over your jaw. He placed hickeys and bite marks all over your neck, and you were sure with how he was treating you right now that a few on your thighs would follow soon.

As always, Francis couldn't help but finish inside you after you had reached your climax as well. He watched your slightly fucked out expression and the way his cum slowly flowed out of you, leaving kisses on your thighs, marking you up just like you thought he would. "Always so good for me, baby." He then hummed, placing a soft kiss against your lips while you snuggled against him.

I just really think Francis is a tired man and therefore rarely doms. Just takes too much of his energy.

However, I think he really really loves marking his partner. Like full-on hickeys all over your body, especially your thighs, though (he definitely is a thigh guy). Also very big on praising, though he would degrade you if you asked him to. I just think that in his mind, it's like "in love with my partner, have to tell them how much I appreciate them, especially when I'm literally taking their ability to walk!" Because I just KNOW he likes being rough. He just can't help but love the way your face contorts in pleasure at every thrust.

Francis would also 100% hold you down so he could have his way with you. He'd also slightly choke you because he holds you down by your neck when he wants to watch your reactions (this is totally not because I think that'd be hot. Nah uh.)

Also, I don't really think he is actually that kinky (or he just doesn't know that what he likes is considered a kink because that man has never spoken to anyone about it). I think he always makes sure you cum first, either makes you cum all over again before properly fucking you or denying you an orgasm as he tests how long he can hold one back himself.

Also, with a fem partner, he is so into eating them out. Genuinely obsessed with it.

With a masc partner, I think he'd be the type to touch them while just watching their expressions

he is so big on watching his partner. He just wants to make sure he's making you feel good still, even though he definitely has your favourite spots memorised by heart.

Anyway! Really short omg I'm sorry. I'm currently obsessing over School Bus Graveyard, so uhm! Not many Francis thoughts in my brain. I hope this isn't as bad as it looks to me (it's definitely worse, but I will not be bothered (I will panic about it))

[shoyoist]

── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big. 

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice. 

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze— 

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more. 

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time. 

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. “fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - afab!reader, non/con, implied drug use, breeding kinks, obsessive/delusional behavior, gojo talks about his ex during sex and you can't change my mind. happy valentine's day <3

“This is my first Valentine’s with somebody to celebrate with, y’know.”

Satoru’s slow, melodic voice was just barely outpaced by his idle movements – his hips rolling lazily against yours, each thrust more languid and lethargic than the last. His blunt nails dug into your skin where his hands had your wrists pinned over your head, and somehow, he’d managed to turn the feeling of satin sheets against your back into something rough and cutting. The taste of chocolate and bitter wine clung to the inside of your mouth, but you shouldn’t have been drunk enough for your thoughts to be this clouded, this muddled. A few hours ago, you’d been sure that amount of wine could ever get you into bed with Gojo Satoru, and yet, here you were, suffering silently underneath him as fuck you like he had all the time in the world.

“I mean, there was Suguru, but he wasn’t really the romantic type. I’d be lucky to get a box of chocolates, n’ I was still the one handing out most of the affection. To little thanks, of course.” Were you in his bedroom? You had to be. This was definitely his bed, and with your head lulled to the side, you could see scattered tea candles littered over dressers and bedside tables, forgotten clothes left in crumpled piles on the carpeted floor. You might’ve been wrong, though. When he wasn’t on campus, Satoru lived in a luxury apartment – the best money could buy. Luxury apartments didn’t have bars over the windows and locks on every door. “Not that I mind spoilin’ you,” he backtracked, his voice taking on the faintest notes of a teasing inflection. “It’s just—It’s nice to feel appreciated, sometimes. Suguru was always the selfish type. I’m sure you’ll be a lot sweeter with me, though.”

One of his hands fell away from your wrists, soon reappearing at your chin. Taking you by the jaw, he eased your head back, forcing you to face him properly. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, let alone a proper blindfold, and even in the dim light, his star-bright eyes were almost unbearable to meet. You tried to jerk out of his hold, to straighten your back, but your body refused to respond, your limbs little more than dead weight and numbing static. The only part of yourself that you could feel was your pussy – soaked and hot and vice-like around his cock. You wanted it to stop, to go dry, to make this as unpleasant for him as it was for you, but his public bone scraped against your clit and instead, you clenched around him. A low groan bubbled past Satoru’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he bowed his head and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “Already bein’ sweet with me,” he babbled, now partially muffled by proximity. “Just wanna be my little sweetheart, huh? Wanna be good to me?”

His pace picked up, his hips starting to move against yours in earnest. The force seemed to knock some intangible block out of your throat, and suddenly, little whines and whimpers were flooding out of you, cracked moans trickling past your lips in little, stunted hiccups. You tried to spit something coherent out, to tell him to slow down, to get off of you, to stop, but your tongue was too heavy and your lips wouldn’t cooperate and all you managed was a string of pained gibberish, dented and beaten by pitiful, dazed sounds. Satoru only cooed in response, nipping at your collarbone, the curve of your neck. “So, so good for me.” He drew back, leaving just enough distance between you to slot his lips against yours. His tongue raked over yours, and by the time he pulled back, he was breathless and you were dazed beyond any hope of full consciousness. If he was bothered by your glassy eyes, though, your slack features, you couldn’t tell. He was smiling when he pulled away, his expression nearly as gaze as your own. “Hey, baby…”

If you were able to, you would’ve screamed.

“If I knock you up, think we can do this again next year?”

[bloomries]

eh? is there something on my face?

includes : the demon brothers (lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor).

summary : you catch them staring at your face.

warnings : gn! reader.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── lucifer

It's not often something captures his attention, less hold said attention. Yet, staring at the happy expression- at your laughter and joy- he feels like he could watch you for an eternity and never get bored. Deep ruby eyes boring into the side of your face make your giggles subside though, as you turn to him in concern.

"Lucifer? You okay?" He blinks, torn out of his oh-so-lovely trance and straightening up. Clearing his throat, he fixes his tie and finally breaks his gaze away from you. You furrow your brows, looking down at the mixing bowl you were holding. Had you splashed some food on your face?

"Is there something on my face?" You quickly ask before Lucifer could find an excuse to your first question. Examining you once more, Lucifer sees nothing, yet he can't refrain himself from lying- don't be too worried, he simply wants to be closer to you.

Taking a step towards you, his thumb brushes against your cheek. "There, all gone." He says with a small smile, hesitating to remove his gloved hand. Why? Why did you have to absolutely captivate him mind, body, and soul?

"Lucifer?" Your hand touches his, and you pull away his hand to see nothing on his thumb. "Were you pranking me?" You whine, and Lucifer can only chuckle as he takes a step back.

"Mm, that's exactly it. I got you."

How could he possibly confess he simply needs to be close to you, as fish to the sea, as bees to the flowers, as- well, as a heart to it's beloved.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── mammon

Mammon had the pleasure of being able to curl into your side and sleep the night away, but sadly his mind was too active for him to really make any progress on the front so instead he opted to prop himself up on his elbow and watch you.

He would occasionally snicker at something you mumbled in your sleep or the little expressions you'd make in response to your wild dream. Mammon found it much more entertaining that being caught in his own thoughts.

Its peaceful, quiet. You're there, and it's all Mammon really needs.

Mammon honestly didn't realize he was staring. He was trying to etch every curve and plateau of your face into his memory for all eternity when he nearly shit himself as he met your sleepy gaze.

Recoiling backwards, he hit his head on the wall and groaned in pain, before awkwardly looking back at you. A tired chuckle escaped you, and you rolled on to your side, giving him a teasing smile.

"Hi creepy~" Mammon whines at the little nickname, but you just giggle and move to snug closer to him. "Don't worry, I don't mind if you're a lil creepy." You mumble into his chest, closing your eyes again.

"I'm not creepy," He pouts, wrapping his arms around you. "I'm just stupid in love," He whispered to himself, but in the dead of night it was loud and clear and made your chest all fuzzy and warm.

"I love you too~"

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── leviathan

Leviathan is so happy you agreed to be his model- especially since he made the cosplay costume with you in mind, with your exact measurements and all! He was grinning from ear-to-ear as he snapped photo after photo. "You look so good!" He squeals quietly to himself, moving to get into another position when he pauses his gaze through the lens.

Ah. He just suddenly had a thought. His heart swells in his chest as he stares at you, his smile becoming a little more bashful. You were always so kind, so nice. You were even letting him dress you up in cosplay and take pictures! You always indulged in his hobbies and interest for him. He felt so lucky to have met you!

"Levi?" You blink innocently at him, no longer holding the pose you were doing as you walk over to him and bend down to meet his gaze properly. "You okay? You're staring pretty hard- Was the pose wrong?"

"Huh? O- Oh! Yeah, I'm- ha, I'm fine." He nods, ignoring his shaky hands. "You, you were fine too! But, uhm, maybe we s- should take a break?" Levi still can't find it in himself to tear his gaze away from you, perhaps it's his lovestruck heart?

"Sure! Should we get something eat? Wanna go somewhere or order in?" His eyes widen and he nearly drops his camera.

"Y- You'd go out in cosplay?" You look down at the costume and shrug, you didn't really care what people thought. You look up at him and smile.

"Of course! You worked so hard on it, the world deserves to see it." You giggle, deciding to praise him to see his cute blushy cheeks. He nearly chokes on air, sputtering out a response- this is perhaps the first time he's ever wanted to willingly go out in public!

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── satan

Satan regrets agreeing to Mammon's silly idea as he now sits in a cramped booth with a baseball cap and sunglasses on. Hiding his face behind a menu as he stares at you.

You had complained to him about the waitressing job before, especially a certain costumer who liked to come in just to flirt with you. In an aggravated state he mindlessly agreed to stalk you at work to catch a glimpse of this demon and maybe beat some sense into them. Although that thought has long since perished as his mind is now filled with how cute you look in your waitressing outfit, and how you chat easily with the older couple you're serving.

"Dude, quit starin', you're gonna get us caught!" Mammon hissed, but Satan ignored him. Even if he wanted to, he could take his eyes off you. He still can't believe he's dating you something! And besides, you seemed pretty busy, you probably wouldn't even notice-...

You're walking their way, arms crossed over your chest and a smug look written all over your face. Well, they've been caught.

"Hey handsome." You smile, "You were staring pretty hard- got something you want to order?" You ignore Mammon's sputtering excuses, focusing on Satan who's red in the face from embarrassment- and a tinge of lovesick awe.

Satan clears his throat, well he was caught staring and stalking you at work, probably not his best look. Still, he smiles up at you, "You wouldn't happen to be on the menu, would you?"

"Very cute." You say, your smile is practically dripping venom. "Not enough to keep me from teasing you later, but still cute." Satan can't help but to think it's still well worth it- he managed to get to stare at your face, after all.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── asmodeus

You were trying to study with Asmodeus, but you seemed to be the only one studying. Asmo sighs loudly again, capturing your attention and making you glance up at those gorgeous eyes. "What is it now?"

"I'm bored," He whines, taking your hand that rested on the desk. "Lets do something more fun, yeah?" You shake your head, removing your hand from his.

"I really need to study, but you can do something else if you like." You offer, and he grumbles under his breath that you're 'no fun' but ultimately ends up staying in his place. His inquisitive eyes studying your features.

Resting his head in his arms, he blows some hair out of his eyes to continue his fond staring. It took you twenty minutes to figure out he was staring at you, and when you did you couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks.

"What-... What are you staring at?" Asmo can only grin at your sudden bashfulness. He sits up properly, leaning in close to you with a flirty twinkle in his eyes.

"Your beautiful face." He hums, eyelids lowering a little as he now obviously stares at your lips. "How could I not admire something with beauty akin to mine, hm?" He tilts his head, wetting his lips.

"You," You pause, realizing what he was trying to do. You shake your head, "You really are a demon, huh? Trying to tempt me- well it's not going to work." Asmo pouts in a defiant manner.

"Fine, I'll just continue to stare at your lovely face then."

"Don't be so shameless, lover boy."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── beelzebub

Beelzebub really was trying to pay attention to the movie, but he had something much more interesting to look at. He felt a little guilty, especially since you claimed you wanted to see this movie since you seen the trailer for it, alas, Beel just couldn't help the way his eyes kept shifting back to you.

Your reactions were much more entertaining- every little giggle, gasp, and groan had him smiling fondly. It was when he had glanced over again to admire you that he met your eyes this time. You had a cheeky smirk and his heart leapt into his throat.

"I caught you," You whisper, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do you not like the movie?" You ask, although you're simply teasing him. You had caught him staring earlier too but he didn't seem to notice then, so you'd tease him the next time he turned to stare a little more.

"The movie is fine." He whispers back, leaning in closer so you can better hear him- now it's your turn for your heart to do backflips. "I just like looking at you more," He continues, pulling back with an innocent smile. Does he truly have no idea what he's doing to your heart!?

"I- Is that so?" You clear your throat, shifting in your seat. Beel worries- did he make you uncomfortable? About to ask if you're okay, you speak up again and make his eyes widen a fraction. "I like looking at you too." You can't meet his eyes, but if you did you'd notice the blush that spread on his cheeks, and the cheery smile that formed.

Gently, Beelzebub took hold of your hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Should we go get something to eat after?" And naturally, you agree, because it meant you'd be able to see his face some more.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── belphegor

Belphegor already regrets leaving his room in favor of sleeping on your lap in the common room. His head was laid in your lap, your fingers soothingly running through his messy, tangled locks, and this would be the most perfect conditions to take a nap it- except for that fact you were talking to some of his brothers!

His brows twitched in annoyance, and he finally shifted so his head was facing upwards instead of towards your stomach. He was boring holes into your chin, glaring at you. You should really only be paying attention to him anyways- even better, you two should just go to the attic and take a nice nap.

You continued to talk, not noticing his staring gaze that slowly softened into one of admiration. He irritated thoughts subsiding, instead preferring to think about how lovely you look today and how kind you are to play with his hair.

"I think someone is awake." He heard one of the nuisances say, and you finally look down to catch him staring at you. He blinks in shock- he didn't expect to be caught staring! Blushing, he turns back on to his side, closing his eyes.

"You were talking too loud." He grumbles, hoping you don't tease him for staring. And you don't, although you've got quite the smug glint in your eyes.

"Sorry, Belphie, we'll be more quiet." He huffs, and you quirk a brow. "Not good enough?"

"Can you just come back to the attic with me?" And whilst his brothers complained about him being too clingy and always taking up your time, you helped the big baby (Belphie) up and said your goodbyes- you were just thinking of taking a nap anyways!

And also this is the perfect opportunity to tease him-

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

[sukunasweetheart]

Thinking of breakup angst with sukuna...

Thinking of the build up towards it, the way you have been fighting over the littlest things for months now

It leads you to think about how self centered he can be, how you always feel like you loved him more than he loved you and how crushing it felt to have that realisation fall upon you every time

He can be so career focused sometimes, with the long business trips, work parties, etc. always working vehemently to get higher, threatening to leave you behind

And one particular night, the argument gets so heated that you dont get a wink of sleep afterwards, only staring blankly at nothing as you try to calm the chaos in your head. Sukuna heads out without a word the next morning, and you make the final decision in your head, alone, by yourself.

By the time sukuna comes back home with the intent of reconciliation, he finds that youre packing the remainder of your belongings into a suitcase in the bedroom, ready to move out of his home.

"what the fuck is all this?" he asks, his tone coming out harsher than he means it to be.

"what do you think? i'm breaking up with you. i'm moving out," you can barely stop your voice from wavering. you've cried too much this week.

"oh, come on. you know you don't mean that," he reaches out to grab your arm, but you withdraw away from his hand so fiercely that it even surprises him.

"don't you talk to me like that," you speak firmly, "like i'm being dramatic. why won't you ever treat me seriously? i am leaving, sukuna."

you continue your work, neatly folding up some of your shirts. you're already almost finished. he looks around, and the house looks half empty.

oh. you really mean it. you're really trying to leave.

"no, you're not. you're not leaving. not after everything we've been through together," he tells you defensively, grabbing your wrist, stopping you from folding your last shirt, trying to get you to look at him again.

"like what? constantly yelling at each other until our throats are sore? i'm really sick of it. and i'm sure you are, too."

"don't put words in my mouth. i may have gotten sick of our fighting, but i've never gotten sick of you," sukuna hisses, refusing to let you continue packing your things. you feel yourself getting swayed by his words.

"well, i am. i've gotten sick of you," you say quietly through gritted teeth.

"oh yeah? say it to me properly then. look at me dead in the eyes," he demands, voice getting lower.

"you heard me. i don't need to say it again." you pull away from his grip and try to get this last shirt folded. he grabs you again, by the hand this time, and the piece of clothing unravels once more.

"no, i didn't hear shit. convince me that you really want to leave me - and i'll let you go."

in a fit of anger, you turn to face him completely, but your resolve crumbles away when you see his expression. not the one you'd assigned to him in your own mind, but his true features, under the bright bedroom lights.

he looks serious. he looks concerned. he's asking you to tell him it's not true. tell him that you want to stay.

"...let me go. i'm leaving..." you say, voice finally breaking. like a broken faucet, your eyes begin leaking tears relentlessly and your throat closes up in that painful way that you hate, but nothing compares to the pain in your heart at the thought of really breaking up with this man here and now.

he lets you go...

and calmly takes your things out of the suitcase to put them back. you didn't miss the relief in his eyes that showed up for that split second.

"bring it back! i hate you," you attempt to raise your voice, but really, it's only just your ego speaking.

"you can't even say that you hate me in the correct tone. we're not breaking up," he mutters, hanging up your coats and putting them into the closet.

having been defeated, your legs give way and you sit down on the side of the bed, sobbing.

through the blur of your tears, you watch as he meticulously goes through your suitcase, putting everything where they belong. and you sob harder. he knows too much. he arranges your creams, perfumes and accessories in the perfect order on the dresser. he spends a good fifteen minutes, putting all of your belongings back where they should be.

and by the time he gets back to you, he's like a different man. the mattress dips from his weight as he sits next to you, bringing a box of tissues with him to wipe your tears away.

"we can talk tomorrow since we're both tired today," sukuna tells you as he dabs your eyes with the tissue, "i'll take the day off." you just sit still without responding. now that he mentioned it, the fatigue seems to fall upon you suddenly, like a brick. he coaxes you under the sheets.

soon, you find yourself in bed, in his arms. it's been a while since the two of you had cuddled so intimately. you feel oddly shy, the same way you did all those years ago when you first started dating him. there's a special kind of warmth that sukuna's body emits - and you're surrounded by it under these blankets.

"i'll try to do better... so don't go anywhere," he speaks with a softer tone.

because, it's true, he can't imagine living a life without you.

those are the last words you hear before you drift off to sleep.

the next morning, he's still in bed with you, and you're pleased to see he kept his word about taking the day off. checking the mirror, you're horrified and embarrassed about your swollen eyes from all the crying last night.

sukuna takes a look at you and chuckles without ill intent. but in your flustered state, you slap his arm until he's saying "my bad, my bad" in between laughs.

there's still some awkward tension between you and him, but going through breakfast together seems to melt some of that away, until you're ready to bring up yesterday's event.

it goes better than you'd expected, and after the discussion, the only thing that's left is to wait and see whether things will change for the better or not. whether his promises are empty or not.

"i didn't realise that you were so lonely. 'm sorry," he apologises as he plays with your hand, "i may work a lot, but you're always on my mind, doll."

it's like a huge weight off your shoulders.

and he begins to be more like his playful self again, after the talk.

"i'll need you to tell me that you love me today. since you told me you hated me yesterday," sukuna says with a smirk, hugging you from behind.

"well, you need to earn it," you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

"alright. will you say it back if i say it first?"

"sure."

"i love you."

"..."

"now that's not fair, is it?" he tickles you without mercy.

you burst out in laughter, thrashing around uncontrollably, trying to push him away.

"okay, okay! i love you!" you tell him in between breaths.

seemingly satisfied, he lets you go and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. he'll never let you go.

the following day after work, sukuna comes home earlier than usual, and he doesn't wear a grumpy expression in front of you. he greets you with a hug and kiss. it's a small gesture, but it makes you happy.

and slowly, the relationship begins to rekindle itself.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can i get an immortal villain×mortal hero please please please🥺

I'll give you my croissants 🥐🥐🥐

"How would you like to die?" the villain asked. Their eyes were closed where they sat upon a park bench, head tipped back to the cool breeze and the clear blue sky.

The hero stopped, a little uncertain, but not exactly startled.

"I've tried every kind of death," the villain said. "I can make a recommendation if you prefer."

"I'm not going to die."

The villain's lips twisted - a smile, of sorts. "All mortals die. It is the linchpin of their condition."

"I won't die because of you."

The villain's smile broadened. "Drowning, perhaps. Or maybe suffocation. I don't want to disturb the ducks."

"Why those in particular?"

The villain finally deigned to open their eyes at the question, considering the hero where they stood. The hero couldn't quite read the villain's expression, but their voice remained casual. "Everyone always thinks they can survive those ones. If they just thrash, just fight, hard enough. Then they go very still and very quiet when they realise they can't. You have time to realise what's going to happen to you, see."

"Nice to see you at least put thought into your craft."

"What can I say, I'm a sweetheart. You only get one death."

"But you don't."

"You've done some research. Not enough," the villain added, tipping their head, "seeing as you're still standing there talking to me. But some. Kudos. I guess we'll see if you're brave or stupid."

"I'm not trying to kill you."

"Contain me. Incapacitate me." The villain waved a dismissive hand. "You might save your generation, perhaps, if you get lucky. Are you feeling lucky?"

"I'm not trying to do that either."

"Oh?" The villain sat up a little, finally tuning in properly to the conversation. "Are you not a hero? You dress like one."

"I'm hoping to find a more peaceful, effective solution."

The villain slumped, bored, again. "Mm. This should be good."

"Because I have done my research," the hero said, taking another step closer. "You're immortal. You only kill people when they attack you or are in the way of you wanting something."

"As I said, I'm a sweetheart and a saint."

The hero's jaw tightened. The villain had slaughtered thousands across the decades after all. They were many things, and had lived many lives, but in none of them had they ever been a sweetheart or a saint.

"And what you want most," the hero ploughed on, "other than your comfortable life, is not to be bored. There's no end, after all. So you need distraction. Diversion. Something to make time a little less of of a prison."

The villain was silent for a long moment, watching the hero. "I take it back," they said, finally. "I'm going to drive a knife through your ribs. Nice and slow. You know it's much harder to die from a stab wound than people think? Often it's the blood loss that gets ya."

"And then what?"

The villain shrugged. "Feed the ducks. Go back to my book. Make Christmas lights out of your bones. The possibilities are endless!"

"Sounds lonely."

"You think you're the first to try this, don't you?"

"I think you haven't met me before."

"Maybe I will entertain myself with you," the villain said. "Maybe I'll destroy your life and the live of everyone you talk to from now on. That could be fun. It's been a while since I've been so personal a devil."

Despite themselves, the hero swallowed. Despite their resolve, they considered walking away. Just for a moment.

The villain pushed to their feet, tossing their paperback carelessly aside.

The hero squared their shoulders. They felt their suddenly-fragile feeling heart begin to race. They let the villain stop in front of them, they tried not to let out a desperate shudder as the villain's fingers wrapped around their throat.

"Pick an option," the villain said, caressing their pulse. "Lose air. Lose blood. Or lose everything, but get a few more years before you go. If you ask really nicely, I might even make it quick. "

The hero shifted. They passed through the villain's fingers as if it were nothing, as if the villain were nothing. A ghost. Untouchable.

When the villain turned, the hero sat on the bench the villain had vacated. They made a show of picking up the villain's book, willing their once-more solid fingers not to tremble.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "Phasing. Cute."

"I don't age when I'm in ghost mode. Any injuries I have heal. If someone kills me, I stay dead, presumably. I'm mortal, as you say, but..."

"Hard to kill."

"Hardest you'll find. Or does the challenge scare you?"

"Determined little martyr, aren't you?"

"Not like you have anything to lose experimenting. You have all the time in the world."

"You realise I don't have to honour any deal now that you've revealed your hand? I could just hunt you and continue hurting other people, especially now I know how much it bothers me."

"I'll disappear."

"I have all the time in the world. I'd find you eventually."

"I guess then I'd just vanish again, if you don't want to play ball."

"You really are just the cutest, aren't you?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Maybe." The villain held out a hand for their book. "I haven't decided. Buy me lunch. See if you can keep my interest for more than five minutes."

"Lunch."

"There's a new cafe I haven't tried. Apparently they make their own croissants."

"You want to go to lunch with me?"

"No, I want to go to lunch. All this talk of bloodshed is giving me the munchies! But I'm assuming you're currently planning to haunt me, so you may as well pay. Unless you want me to just...kill anyone who tries to charge me."

"No! No."

"That's what I thought. Great minds."

The hero pushed to their feet, as the villain had, tentatively offering them their book back. They weren't entirely sure if that encounter had gone well or not.

The villain smiled, full of teeth, eyes gleaming.

"For your sake, little hero, do try not to be boring."

And, so, they went for lunch.