#non con kissing

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Earth Kills the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 6.3k

Part two of The Sun Eats the Moon

Synopsis: A retelling of The Sun Eats the Moon in Suguru's perspective

(Warnings: forced relationships, bullying, non con touching, non con kissing)

Suguru liked you. 

It wasn't even a crush. A passing interest, maybe. You were pretty. You had a nice smile. Though, he'd never directly spoken to you, he could tell that you were kind. Not in the artificial cherry most people were. Natural, like honey, never spoiling. You share the same homeroom as Satoru, and he'd always tended to be observant, unlike his friend. One thing he liked about you was how observant you were. You were constantly looking out for your friends, mere acquaintances, and everyone in your vicinity. Often, Suguru wondered if being a people-pleaser was natural or from a fear of not fitting in. 

Suguru is observant. He notices the lingering gaze Satoru gives you when you walk away, hurrying to catch up with the rest of your friends. Satoru then turns back to the carton of chocolate milk you'd left him.

"Cute," Satoru says after a minute. It's more of an afterthought than anything. He pops the carton open. Suguru hears the fabric tear. He hums in agreement. The topic switches to something else, a hot celebrity maybe? Suguru can't remember. That day had been so insignificant to him. It hadn’t mattered to him for Suguru to remember anything further.

A few days later, Suguru noticed Satoru was spending a lot more time with you. 

It was hard not to notice, actually. His friend attached himself to you like he'd die if he couldn’t. Satoru went everywhere with you now. Suguru caught him walking you from school, offering you rides in his new car, following you to the lunch hall. And if he couldn’t go to where you were, he’d drag you back to him. Watching you and Satoru was a bit like watching two magnets. North pole and South pole. So different, yet constantly finding the other. 

“Tryna’ run away from me, now?” Satoru asks, a teasing lilt in his voice as he watches you fiddle with your bag.

You laugh, continuing to fish out your lunch box. “Just grabbing lunch.” 

“Eat with us,” Satoru insists, “we found a great spot up at the rooftop.” 

You meet Suguru’s gaze just then. He’d been silently lounging on a nearby desk, observing the two of you. He gives a smile. You return it. Polite. He wonders if your mother taught you to smile like that.

“I thought students weren’t allowed up there?” You ask Satoru. 

The boy rolls his eyes. “So, who cares? It’ll be fun.” 

You pause, right then. The tiniest of hesitation. Suguru wonders if you’re noticing just how different you and Satoru were. You, the people pleaser, meek, always more than willing to bend towards authority. Satoru was rougher, more resilient, uncaring of signs and rules. The gap between the two of you is astronomical. Could you feel it as well?

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s gone in a moment. You rise, giving Satoru another laugh. To Suguru, it sounds pretty. 

“Well, have fun for me. Besides, I can’t ditch my friends. They’re waiting for me.” 

With that, you give both him and Satoru a tiny wave, before disappearing out of the classroom. Suguru waves back. Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your back until he can’t see you anymore. 

“Got ditched again, hm?” Suguru teases. Satoru only groans, tossing his head back as he leans dangerously on the chair.

“Always leavin’ me for ‘em, too,” he complains, “so fuckin’ annoyin’.”

Suguru can only smile, getting up to follow his friend out the door. He can barely count how many times he’d seen this before, each with a different person. It starts the same. Satoru will cling onto you for a couple more days, and then ask you out. When you say yes, he’d date you for a few weeks before eventually getting bored and dumping you. 

It’s a cruel cycle, something that’s just an inevitability with Gojo Satoru. The boy can’t stay in one place, he’s constantly moving around, never one to stop. For Satoru, Suguru was the most permanent thing in his life. Which made sense, they were pretty similar in terms of ideals. 

A cruel cycle, and Suguru feels a tiny bit of sympathy for you. You were sweet, unlike the type Satoru typically went for. Honey. Natural. Truthfully, Suguru was a little disappointed as well. The type of disappointment he’d feel when someone took the last crab stick before he could. A fleeting feeling, one that ultimately wouldn’t matter. 

◉

From the day they first met, Suguru knew one thing: Gojo Satoru has never been told no before. 

It made sense. He was the only child to one of the most powerful families in the country. Spoiled from day one, some could say. Satoru grew up knowing nothing but wealth and prosperity. They met when they were both still in elementary school, still with high-pitched voices and large eyes. Suguru’s family was fairly affluent as well. Now that Suguru thinks back, perhaps their meeting had been orchestrated by meddling parents in order to form more connected. It didn’t matter, either way. It had benefitted all three parties, after all.

Yes, Suguru knew from the moment Satoru pointed at him and declared him his ‘best friend’, that Satoru had never been told no before. 

Satoru was the Sun. The universe revolved around him, catered to him. Suguru supposed he wasn't much better considering he too spoiled his best friend in that sense. They were different. They'd been born different, coming from families who cherish them with wealth and power. Suguru supposes it was natural for them to be so intertwined. Like calls for like. 

Suguru isn’t aware of the exact details, but he knows you rejected Satoru. 

The boy doesn’t have to tell him. His friend is uncharacteristically quiet during that weekend. He has no interest in the arcade, or the next basketball tournament his team is going to compete in. Satoru just sits on top of Suguru’s bed, casually sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. Suguru glanced down at the abandoned PlayStation remote. He’d lost yet another game against his dark-haired friend with no complaints. Satoru didn’t even play

You’d really done a number on him, Suguru thinks to himself. Suguru would assume it’s heartbreak, but he knows his friend better than that. Something burns in his chest, but he’s pushing it away before he can figure out why. Nipping it in the bud. It was a cruel thought. A bad one. He should ignore it.

Well, it’s done. It doesn’t matter anyway. Satoru would eventually get over it. He’s not known to sulk. 

He’s not there to see what Satoru tells them, but he’s there to see the effects. 

It starts out small. Or perhaps just not noticeable enough. Gojo Satoru has always attracted attention, whether it was satisfactory or not. Lackeys, Satoru often calls them because they're too far beneath him to even be called equals.

Suguru notices their sudden interest in you before even you can. A harsh word here and there. Giggling at the word 'easy'. You peacefully trek on, not noticing the abuse until it turns physical. That starts at the end of Monday. 

By Tuesday, they're already shoving you down each chance they get. You get surprised when it happens the first time, then the second, then the third. You have soft skin, plushy, Suguru could tell. He wondered if it was getting marked now. He wonders if you go home, peeling of your uniform, staring at the bruises of hands on your skin because you’re so fragile.

(They never go too far, not enough to completely injure. Suguru knows this because one time, one of the idiots had pushed you too hard. You’d stumbled, nearly hitting the back of your head with a metal locker. Satoru had seen. Suguru doesn’t know what Satoru did, but that particular one was gone the next time and the rest got the memo to scare, not injure.)

Satoru never takes part in this, but he keeps an eye on you sometimes. Tuesday evening comes and they both silently watch you through a window. You move through an empty hall, before they arrive again, slapping your binders out of your hands, chortling with each other. They're too far away to hear, but Suguru could bet it would sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru watches his best friend. Satoru looks impassive, face blank as he stares down at your figure. Akin to a child watching ants burning through a magnifying glass, instilled with that innate desire to see them explode into ash. 

When the lackeys leave, you bend down on the floor, collecting your stuff. Your hair covers your eyes, so he can't see your expression, but he can see your shoulders tremble. Were you-

A corral of people run to you. They lean down, picking up the stuff you had missed. You look up, your eyes are shiny but you're laughing when they say something. You wipe at your eyes, standing up as they lead you out of the hallway. Suguru had seen them hanging out with you before. They all seemed like they supported each other, supported you. 

Suguru feels his frown deepen, conflicted. He doesn’t like it.

"It's not nice to pick on the weak, Satoru," he quietly says. 

Satoru's eyes trail your figure out the door. He gives a small hum.

By Wednesday, your friends disappear from your side. 

The abuse is getting worse, noticeable to the point where the rest of the student body is heavily avoiding you. Teachers won't raise a finger at what's happening. As much as they like to preach about their 'zero tolerance for bullying', Suguru knows they'll willingly turn a blind eye when matters involve Gojo Satoru. No teacher wants to deal with the wrath the Gojo family is more than willing to unlease for the sake of their heir.

Yet, you aren't getting it. You don't break, don't bend. He can feel the humiliation roll off of you in waves, yet you don't react. Which was strange because he knew your archetype. A people-pleaser, constantly bending over backward for other's sake. You want nothing more than to become part of the crowd again, completely invisible. You’re community-oriented. You thrive off of companionship. This ostracization must be killing you. Suguru doesn't get it until he spots your face, just once, narrowed eyes, anger. 

Pride. He'd forgotten other people had that too. Though, Suguru admires it, a part of him knows it shouldn’t last.

Suguru thinks he does it because he pities you. You're a little naive. Suguru has your thought process figured out. You think if you take the torment long enough, Satoru would eventually just forget about you all together. Once he's done with you, you'd focus on picking up the pieces that used to be your life. It's not a bad plan, if you weren't dealing with Gojo Satoru. 

The boy is a hurricane. Fast, unrelenting, unforgiving. Satoru won't stop. He won't stop until you're ruined and broken. Turned into a mere asteroid of what you once were. 

So, Suguru decides to give you a push in the right direction. 

The students have already created a wide circle for you by the time he steps in, bending down, picking up the stuff you had dropped. You're silent until he hands you his pieces. He doesn't bother responding to your timid thanks. 

"Give in," he tells you, watching the way your eyes widen as you look up at him.

You're weak. Physically, emotionally. He could easily pick you up with one hand, crush your body with his fist. Satoru could eviscerate your body from existence. You don't stand a chance with him. With either of them. 

His advice to you is good. Reasonable. And yet, he sees the face you make, the way you slowly get up. You won’t listen. That same burning feeling in his chest starts. It's gotten more painful. 

You don't listen to him until you lose nearly everything. Just as he warned you. Friday comes. You become Satoru's. And it's a little too late for everything. 

◉

Suguru doesn't think you ever learn that Satoru loves messing with you. 

Or, perhaps you do, but you can't help it. You're too honest, too open. He often wonders if that's how you were raised. To be honest, open, vulnerable. Your parents must have filled your thoughts with delusions, coddling you with words of cheap motivation. The world is your oyster. You just had to reach out and take it.

Maybe now you're finally realizing, sitting on Satoru's lap, that all men aren't created equal. 

Clearly, you weren't happy about it. Yet, you aren't complaining, sitting there pliantly legs firmly crossed, hands curled into tiny fists, staring rigidly on the floor. The first few times Satoru had done this in public, you were always biting your lip, tears threatening to fall. Now, Suguru thinks you just dissociate, coming back when Satoru laughs at something, jostling you in his arms. 

It's a bit like watching a helpless bird on the ground, twitching and spasming after it had just collided with a glass window. Pitiful, but there was nothing that could be done. It's the inevitability of it all that makes him pity you more than anything else, really.

Every so often, your eyes would catch his. It's a quick glance, as though you were wondering if he was watching. He can barely catch it, but Suguru is observant. Much like you. It's meaningless, and your gaze returns to the floor. Your fists tighten. 

Granting you mercy, Suguru stops looking at you during those times. 

He's not sure how Satoru sees you. Perhaps, you're akin to a dog for him. Though, that might not be very good for you. Satoru hadn't been very good with animals when he was younger. Satoru had always been rough with any pets he came into contact with, pushing and tugging. Suguru doubted that had changed. 

Satoru's is your official title. It isn't a relationship. It's an ownership. Unequal from the start. The one who holds the leash in the end, will always be Satoru. 

It took a while for you to fully learn that. 

Suguru didn't mean to catch the two of you. Looking back, it was probably because Satoru couldn't care less if someone was watching. Maybe Satoru was being obvious on purpose. It was a little while after school had officially ended. Suguru knew your usual routine would place you right at the library, scrolling through books. Satoru would most likely be there too, pestering you about this and that. It's the scene Suguru prepares himself to walk into.

Instead, you're wedged in between the white-haired boy and the wall, there's no space for you to do anything but sink. You're already crying (when was the last time you smiled?), trying to pull away but Satoru isn't letting you. He's gripping you by the chin, forcing eye contact. His sunglasses are off, tucked on his collar. 

Suguru's close enough to hear. You're begging. Apology after apology. It's barely a whisper, but they're spilling out of you like a prayer. He can't discern the context, but he knows enough. 

You made Satoru angry. 

He's still smiling, but it isn't sincere. Almost bordering on mania as he tightens his grip on you, forcing you further into the wall. Suguru doesn't think Satoru has ever hit you before, but now he's wondering if quick violence was preferable to this. 

"Don't be like that," Satoru chides as another squeak leaves your lips, "Where was that smile you were givin' him, hm? C'mon, pretty girl. You were wearin' it just a second ago." 

"It-it wasn't like that, I swear," you continue to plead, still not realizing that it's too late, "he was giving me his notes. Please-please Satoru-" 

"Wrong answer," he cuts you off, you flinch at his harshness but Suguru decides Satoru's being nice to you. He's been known to do worse, "we've been over this before, haven't we? Or did your stupid brain forget?" 

You're choking down another hiccup. It takes a minute for you to calm down enough to speak clearly. Ever impatient, Satoru's hand digs into your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Satoru," you say, "it won't happen again." 

He tilts his head, waiting. You wilt under his gaze. 

"I'm sorry...’Toru." 

Satoru gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and Suguru can practically see your lungs sag with relief. His mania is gone, replaced by something much more lighthearted and carefree. Suguru'd seen it before, but it was certainly something watching Satoru go from one high to the next. Even to Suguru, it's terrifying to witness. 

Suguru decides to make himself known right then. He comes out of the shadows, acting as though he'd just arrived. His friend lazily gives him a wave, curling an arm around your waist. You try to scrub away your tears with your forearms, unaware of how much Suguru had seen. Another mercy Suguru grants you. He doesn't acknowledge it. 

The three of you sit in the library for half an hour until you're done pretending that you're studying. When Satoru walks you home, Suguru follows. He notes that you barely hesitate to give Satoru a chaste kiss on the lips, and he wonders how often his friend has demanded one from you for you to be so casual about it. 

He thinks he gets it when he and Satoru are walking on the street without you. To Satoru, you aren't a dog. You aren't a pet, something that he keeps to see bark.

No, you are just Satoru's. 

◉

Towards the end of the year, Suguru realizes that Satoru loves you. 

He's nicer to you, now. Suguru doesn't think you've realized how softer Satoru's gotten, but the change is there. He spots less marks on you now. The biggest evidence he has is that stolen moment of you and Satoru. You'd accidentally fallen asleep during lunch break, dozing off on your desk. Satoru was right next to you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. Satoru loves you. 

You've changed too. Adapted, he should say. You cry less, now. Each time he sees you, you look more and more put together. As though, you're done mourning. The final stage of grief. Acceptance.

Despite how much nicer Satoru is to you, he's still just as clingy. Suguru notices that even now, none of your former friends speak to you. No one at school does. It's an unspoken rule to not mess with Satoru's things. 

Suguru can still remember the last guy who hadn't gotten the memo. A new student. Freshly transferred. Suguru had heard the conversation. The guy was hardly interested in you. It was nothing more than small talk. The pat on your shoulder had been thoughtless at least, friendly at most. 

Satoru beat him until the boy was bloody and had a broken nose. A week later, he'd transferred again. 

You're off limits. To everyone but Suguru. 

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets. 

So, sometimes when Satoru can't walk you home. Suguru does. 

It was just the beginning of spring. The school year was starting to end. The school itself was starting to slow down. Teachers were getting less and less strict, less work was given out. It didn't matter. Colleges had already been picked. They were all close to the end. 

You don't say much when the two of you are alone. Suguru understands. It's hard to say much of anything when you're crushed by the weight of Gojo Satoru. But Suguru could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of relief when he came to pick you up and not his friend. You're clearly happier when it's him. Suguru decides he likes how that feels. It's a quick feeling of superiority. Something that quickly disappears when your eyes flick down. 

He knows where your house is, but he lets you take the lead anyway. Suguru figures it's the least he can do, give you that sense of control when nothing you do ever really does anymore. 

You and him have forged a shaky companionship. He's not sure what he is to you entirely, but you seem reliant on him in some way. it’s his fault, he thinks. He wonders if it has to do with the contraception he'd given you. He can still remember the trembling hands as you took it from him, curling the packet into your grip. That day he went home and his fingers felt strangely itchy. 

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

When he asks you a question, you answer. At least you aren't mute, though Suguru doesn't think he'd blame you if you ignored him. Your voice is stilted, with enough words to answer the question, but still not enough to fully sate him. 

And then, you break. 

Just a bit. 

A tiny piece of you shatters, and you show yourself to him. 

He'd been talking about something insignificant, college, his plans. Just ramblings. Somehow, Satoru comes into the conversation and he's talking about the area of his friend's college campus, how Satoru mentioned that he's looking for apartments for the two of you to stay in. And then, you're uncharacteristically scoffing. 

"Right," you say, head faced down on the sidewalk as you kick a rock, "because I'm following him there." 

Suguru can't help but place the sarcasm in your voice. The bitterness. He's heard it before, but it's a fascinating thing hearing it come from you. And then Suguru realizes that you accidentally gave something away. 

You were leaving. 

Somehow, it never crossed Suguru's mind that you were still rebelling, even now. And yet, he can't shake off the heat in your voice, your words. 

You seem to realize this too, freezing. 

He lets you falter for a few more moments before giving you a reprieve. 

"Satoru's idealistic like that," he let out. 

Your shoulders lower, and for the sake of both you and him, he doesn't press any further. 

He doesn't let himself let it go, even when he drops you home, arriving to his own house. Always cold. The mansion's lights are always off. No one's ever home. And Satoru's out of town. 

It's better this way, Suguru thinks as he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. No distractions, he can think better, as he replays your words over and over again. You were leaving. You were leaving. You were leaving Satoru. 

The night passes. When Satoru comes back to town, he's joyful as always, an arm slung around your shoulders. Suguru watches the way he coos at you, saying how much he missed you. You take his affections the way you always do, with a strained smile and wavering eyes. 

You glance at Suguru. Suguru stares right back. 

For a moment, Suguru thinks he understands why people are so enthralled with solar eclipses. The moon is seen as an underdog in most instances. It must be thrilling when a weak satellite can cover the sun's rays. Even for just a little bit. 

Suguru doesn't tell Satoru. He pushes the burning in his chest, ignoring the itchiness in his fingers. Things are better this way, right? After all, the two of you come from completely different worlds. It's nonsensical to think otherwise. 

Two weeks before graduation, you disappear without a trace. 

And Satoru breaks. 

It's a slow dissent. It comes in stages. The boy is angry at first, searching for you at school, when he can't find you there he loses his facade and demands where you are from your parents. They can't give him a clear answer because you're an adult now and you barely told them a thing before moving out. Suguru doesn’t think they knew what Satoru was to you. He doesn’t think they ever will.

The heat fades day by day, Week by week. Satoru starts to deflate the longer you aren't in his hold, his to mangle, and grab, and keep. He stops taking care of himself. His skin became paler, cracked lips, hollow cheeks. His eyes turn into this grayish blue that Suguru can't bring himself to look at for too long. He loses weight day by day. 

Suguru had never seen him react this way before. Satoru was always shining. He was the sun. Now, the center of the solar system was dying. He can feel himself dying with it. 

Satoru hadn't just loved you. Satoru had been obsessed with you. He breathed you in, inhaled your essence like oxygen. You'd been a part of him; a necessity. And then, you tore yourself away, leaving him bleeding on the concrete.

Guilt. Suguru feels it in his stomach, rising to his throat, threatening to stain his clothes. It's too late to say anything now, so he keeps it huddled deep inside of him. Suguru hopes it'll never come out. He helps the best he can, being there for his friend, his best friend. 

It takes a month for Satoru to start eating properly again. A few months later he starts regaining his usual physique. The gray in his eyes stays for a bit longer than Suguru likes. Suguru supposes he should take what he can get.

A year passes like that. The evidence of what you left behind fades, like bruises disappearing on skin. Suguru and Satoru become college students. Then, they graduate.

When Satoru joins the business, Suguru, his right-hand man, his second, his best friend, is right next to him. They’ve always worked well together, but that doesn’t change as they shift into adulthood. Despite how different Suguru and Satoru were, Suguru liked to think that their personalities were stagnant; unchanging even to the times.

What Satoru feels about you remains stagnant as well.

Suguru doesn’t think about you often, these days. Barely a few times a year, when he feels nostalgic enough to get out his old high school yearbook. He’d page through, spot your smiling portrait face. He’d find himself staring at you far longer than he liked too.

At first, Suguru thought Satoru was the same. Much like how one thinks about a lost toy they cherished when they were younger. The resentment would fade with time. Satoru didn’t speak about you for years.

Suguru hadn’t expected the girls, however.

He doesn’t notice the first one. He sees her, but he doesn’t internalize it. She’s hurriedly putting on her clothes after a clearly exciting night, so Suguru respectfully averts his gaze. He’s more focused on his exasperation at how Satoru had missed yet another meeting with the board. They would be less than pleased if they discovered Satoru didn’t show up because he was hungover.

The second time it happens, Suguru has a passing thought of how familiar the girl looked, despite being sure he’d never seen her in his life.

The third time it happens, Suguru realizes all the recent girls Satoru’s been bringing strike an uncanny resemblance towards you.

It’s not anything too obvious, but all of them would look a bit like you. Most would have your skin tone, your hair. One had your eyes, not the color, rather the shape of it. Satoru had kept her around the longest.

Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. Part of him wonders if Satoru is even doing it on purpose.

Suguru loves Satoru like he would his own brother, but his recent hobby was starting to get on his nerves a bit.

“So much work,” the man complains, “Why can’t we just send all this off to Ijichi?”

“He has his own work to complete,” Suguru reprimands, “the sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we can finish.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but moves to another page of meaningless paperwork; Something that would be scanned into their system and then tucked away into a random file cabinet. They currently sat in Satoru’s grand kitchen, lounging on the barstools after Suguru had pounded Satoru’s door in. Satoru had let him in with an irritated look, complaining that it was the weekend and he had ‘stuff’ to do.

“He’s my assistant,” Satoru retorts, “my work is his work.”

“The reason why we’re in this mess in the first place is because you kept pawning off your job to the poor man in the first place. You’ve given him wrinkles from just the stress of being in your vicinity.”

“That’s insulting,” Satoru counters, “my presence is nothing but calming.”

“You do the exact opposite, actually. A black hole that sucks the soul out of everyone who hangs around you.”

“You hang around me all the time and you don’t have wrinkles.”

Suguru smiles. “It’s because I don’t respect you enough to listen to anything you’re saying.”

Satoru’s about to respond, when another voice interrupts him. Alluring, feminine.

“Satoru,” she coos, “When are you getting back here?”

From his seat, Suguru has a clear view of Satoru’s bedroom. Only her head is peeked out, and Suguru notes her bare shoulders. Your eyes, and your lips this time. She’s tilting her head, mouth curved in a coy smile.

Of course. Suguru can only roll his eyes. There’s that same burning feeling in his chest. During the years, it hasn’t really gotten any better.

“Coming, coming,” Satoru calls back, “just a minute, babe.”

“Stuff to do, hm?” Suguru drawls with amusement. Satoru flips him off.

"Worry 'bout yourself," Satoru says, "when's the last time you got any, huh? Honestly, when's the last time you've taken a break? A vacation?"

"I can't," Suguru replies, "I'm always stuck babysitting you."

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour, ‘Toru." The woman interrupts. "Can’t you just do it later?”

Suguru hadn’t even noticed it. He brushed it off, barely hearing their conversation as he shuffled around the papers.

Satoru had.

He hums. Straightening his back.

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. You should head on home.”

At first, he thought Satoru was talking to him. Then, he hears the woman’s annoyed huff.

“Hold on, you’re kicking me out?” She asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Satoru says, not sounding very apologetic, “I got a lotta’ stuff to do and you’re not gonna wanna stick around.”

His tone is light, but Suguru can’t help but place a sense of annoyance in them. The anger. His posture is stiff, almost like he’s primed for a fight.

‘Toru. She called him ‘Toru.

You used to call him ‘Toru.

“Seriously, I-”

“I hate repeating myself: Get the fuck out.”

There’s silence, and then Suguru can hear her mutter to herself as she shuffles inside the room. She comes out minutes later, not quite dressed, but presentable. She shoots Satoru a glare, to which he only waves off. The door shuts with a noticable thud.

“Back to work,” Satoru says, “do you feel hot? The AC has been acting up, lately.”

He carries on like that, back to normal, as though he wasn’t about to snap just a few minutes ago. Suguru follows suit, not aknowledging the outburst, much like he doesn’t aknowledge most things regarding you.

Later, Suguru laughs about the hypocrisy of it all. Satoru brings home physical reminders of you, but he refuses the remnants of you. The most intimate parts, he’d kept hidden away from his life, yet he still wishes to touch, to feel. He wonders how you’d feel if you knew that Gojo Satoru is wrapped around your finger, even now.

◉

Satoru had done something yet again. It's always something with Gojo Satoru. Suguru should have left him to deal with the legal team himself, but here he was, trailing beside the firm’s directors as the man droned on and on how well Mr.Gojo would be well taken care of how here our clients are family. He forces himself to push away that feeling in his chest, scorching his throat. He was getting sick of the constant blabbering. He’d glanced away for just a second.

And then he saw you.

You, not some remnant, not some picture, not someone similar. You. He knew it was you. A little older, a little taller. You’d switched the high school uniform for a blouse and a pencil skirt. Suguru stares. He’s tempted to say your name, seek you out, as though you’re old friends-

He reels himself back in.

You disappear through a frosted glass door, completely unaware of his gawking. You hadn’t seen him. Good. The firm’s director didn’t notice his pause, carrying on as though nothing happened. Suguru smiles and laughs at the horrible ice breakers, but he also steals a glance at the name of the door you went through.

Later, Suguru looks up Higuruma Hiromi. A well-established lawyer. Worked at the firm for nearly a decade.

You are his sole paralegal.

Law. He had never considered it for you. Now, he thinks it’s a little fitting. He can’t help it. He looks you up. You have no social media, most likely from a remnant fear, but he finds where you went to college, what your area of study was, where else you’d worked, your life. Questions he’d had for nearly a decade he finally has an answer.

Honestly, Suguru was a little mad it was all so easy.

He can’t see the entire scope of your life, but he knows you were happy after high school, away from Satoru. You seemed happy when he caught that glimpse of you. There was a slight smile on your face, you never did that with Satoru around.

Satoru’s a little pathetic, a thought he has to concede to. He’s still hung over you, while you clearly hadn’t thought of him in years.

Suguru stares at your picture a little more.

The burning feeling comes back again. Hotter, melting.

Oh.

Suguru is disgusted by you.

You, that bitch loitering in Satoru’s bedroom, that greedy firm director. Disgust, that sick feeling crawling down his stomach, seeping into his bones. He’s disgusted by the weak.

He’s even more disgusted when they think they can defeat the strong. Decieve them.

You always thought you were better than Satoru, better than Suguru, even from the beginning. Even when you rejected him. Even when Satoru’s goons were torturing you, you still thought you could get out of it somehow. Even when Satoru had his hand on your shoulder, claws sinking into your flesh, you were still looking for a way out. It was like watching a rat trapped in a cage, pathetically sniffing around for an exit.

The weak could never escape the whims of the strong. It was a truth of the world, something he’d always known and yet it’d take a decade for him to put the words together. The weak could never make a fool of the strong.

You are weak. A mere satellite floating along, before getting trapped in the Earth’s gravitational force. Suguru could crush you with one fist. Satoru could evisirate you to atoms.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

“I’ve put together a legal team that will represent you.”

Suguru places the neat stack of documents onto Satoru’s desk. The white-haired man barely gives them a glance. Suguru knows Satoru won’t ever look at them, even when your name is hidden somewhere within the sheets, along with Higuruma’s. Suguru wonders how long it’d take for Satoru to figure it out. It’s a shame he won’t be there to see it unfold in real-time, but perhaps, once Satoru puts the pieces together, he’ll thank him.

Here, in the present, Satoru types away at his computer, barely paying attention to Suguru’s words.

“Oh, great,” Satoru says off handedly, “thanks, man.”

Suguru sighs.

“Uh, I love you?” Satoru tries again.

“Never repeat those words to me ever again,” Suguru responds, “I wish you’d be a bit more interested in this, considering it’s your fault the company is in this mess in the first place.”

Satoru gives a hushed hum of agreement. Suguru smiles.

“In other news: I won’t be here next week.”

That catches his best friend’s attention. Satoru gapes at him.

“You’re quitting?”

“No, idiot. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking a few weeks off. I already put it in the calendar that you never check so why did I even bother.”

“A vacation? You never take vacations, even when I beg you to,” Satoru squints at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Eventually, Satoru will figure it out. For now, Suguru wants to enjoy this.

“I worked hard this year. I should reward myself, shouldn’t I?” He reasons, “oh, and I have a surprise for you showing up in a week or so. Let me know what you think of it.”

“A gift? For me?” Satoru beams. “You really do love me.”

“Don’t push it.”

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then Suguru supposed he would be the Earth. Close enough to receive the star's radiance, but with a strong enough magnetitic field to shield from solar winds. 

If Suguru was the Earth, then Suguru supposed you would be the Moon. A tiny cratered satellite he tugs along with him, forever in sight of the burning sun. 

[hurtthemgently]

Gore and Kisses.

Warning for extreme gore, body horror, blood, creepy/intimate whumper, medical inaccuracies, vivisection, non con kissing

Cutting open a chest cavity while they scream behind the gag, an incision starting at the base of their sternum, traveling down their chest, over their stomach.

More strangled cries as the incision is torn open. Whumper wipes tears away with a kiss.

“Shhh shh, no need to cry. You’re so beautiful like this. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep you alive and awake through all of this.”

Their hand goes into their chest cavity, grasping a writhing intestine. The sounds whumpee is making are no longer anything resembling screams. Short gasps and squeaks. Whumper pulls the intestines out, and begins pressing soft kisses to the quivering organ.

They let the intestines rest on a hook while they cut deeper. Stroking the exterior of the lungs creates the most beautiful choked gasps. They pull ribs out of place and whumpees eyes roll back. That’s not allowed. They pat whumpees face, smearing blood, searching for consciousness. Pursing their lips, they grab a bottle of the chemical they need to keep them awake.

Once administered, whumpee struggles anew.

Whumper smiles, going back to making incisions. They finally reach the organ they were looking for. A frantically beating heart. They lean in and stroke the inside of whumpees ribcage before kissing along the bones.

They press one final kiss to whumpees heart, feeling the erratic pulse on their lips. They sigh, covered in blood, enamored.

Regrettably, they start stitching whumpee back up. Putting bones and organs back into place, they make sure to be gentle, always so, so gentle, with their precious whumpee. Once they’ve healed enough to withstand it, whumper will open them back up and repeat the process all over.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere coworker (part 8)

Tw: noncon touching, noncon kissing, afab reader anatomy, violence, toxic family dynamics

Masterlists, part 1, part 9

Thanks for the asks about cyprus guys, it do be helping me to unclog that authors block for this stimky

Especially the ones who wanted to know more about him, got the idea from themm

"...She's sick and she has a cert' to prove it. I'll ask her to send an email after this call."

You were awoken by Cyprus's voice early morning. Softly grumbling under your breath, you pushed yourself up and rubbed your eyes. Realizing that you were lying on top of his bare chest the entire night. A calloused hand holds you in place by the ass, while the other held onto his phone that is being pressed against his ear.

"Me? I told you. I'm not coming in today. An emergency came up." The annoyance on his face evaporated away as soon as he saw that you were awake. You grunted in displeasure as he pressed an audible kiss on your very sleepy form.

You tried focusing on his banter with Jane. But everything was gibberish to you as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Cyprus gently pushed you back down onto his broad chest as he saw you swaying side to side, obviously not at all fit to go to work.

You pressed your cheek against him and closed your eyes, letting your consciousness slowly drift away again.

"You figure it out, you're the manager." He barked before hanging up on her. Cyprus stretched his arm to open the drawer of his nightstand, dropping his phone next to yours inside it.

The brunette turned his attention to you. He groped your buttocks, it made you stir a little, but it looked like you were too tuckered out to care.

"Hey."

You replied with a weak hum.

"I want to smoke."

You let out a grunt of annoyance. Struggling to push yourself off him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cyprus pressed you closer to him.

You said that you're trying to get out of the way so he could do his thing.

He huffed. "You're supposed to stop me."

You said that he is an adult. You have no right to tell him what to do or stop whatever urges he may have. You told him that you wished he would extend the same courtesy to you.

"Oh yeah? Well, I have the urge to fuck you stupid right now." This woke you up immediately, making you push him away and creating as much distance as possible. You would have run away if it wasn't for him caging you against the bed.

You began whining and whimpering, about to break into a loud scream, until,

"Relax. I'm not doing that today." His voice took on a condescending tone. However, his fingers are still digging into your soft flesh, keeping you in place under him.

"Help me fight the urge to smoke." He ordered. "I won't let you go until you do something about it."

You frowned, forcing your brain to think early this morning.

You asked when and why he started smoking. His eyes darted to the side as he actively recalled the first time he did it.

"I started when I was twelve." He rolled to your side, but his arm still kept you in place. "My sister tried her best to keep me away from it, but I was a little shit. I stole a pack from her handbag and the rest was history."

You asked what kept him going. He shrugged.

"I looked... cool. And it calms me down, I had to work after school, to pull my own weight around the house. Juice boxes and candies weren't enough to soothe my nerves after a long night of dealing with fucking morons." Cyprus absentmindedly played with your hair as he reminisced about his youth.

You asked him what work he could have possibly done as a 12-year-old.

"You know, like. Shady ones. I would sell random shit on the streets, become a delivery boy for some local gangs, weirdos paid me to leave dead animals on doorsteps of specific people..." He trailed off.

You asked what he used the money on.

"Well, firstly, to keep the lights on. Secondly, on more cigarettes."

You asked how come the money from his mother and sister wasn't enough, that a young boy like him had to be robbed of his childhood to work. To that, he scowled, but not necessarily at you for asking such a question, but it was more like he wasn't fond of the memory.

"Looking expensive was apparently more important than her kids getting three meals a day." You waited for him to elaborate on that.

"We had a coffee machine when we couldn't even afford the right coffee. She had to outshine her so-called friends at church, wearing a new dress every week in her favorite color; gold. While we had to go insane and sleepless trying to put food on the table." He spat, feeling resentment for his mother for prioritizing her image.

"My sister was just like me, she had to juggle her studies while raising me and my mom." He mindlessly touched the back of his shoulder again. You wonder if his sister did something to him on that body part of his.

You asked if he still resents his mother for being materialistic.

He sighed. "...A little."

You asked him if she still is like this.

"Not anymore. It took me running away for a few days to sober her up. She was still shit at managing her money- my sister had to handle that on her own, but at least she knows she was a massive idiot back then."

You asked him how old he was when he ran away.

"Fifteen." A guilty look crossed his face. "My sister freaked the fuck out. It wasn't pretty when I finally decided to show my face again." You eyed the hand that touched the same spot as before.

You asked him if she hit him before.

"More times than I can count. She uses anything and everything, but it's mostly her cha- Slippers." He laughed.

You asked if she usually hit him on the spot that he kept rubbing whenever she was mentioned.

"Oh... no." He turned around to show you what he was touching. It's a long, large raised scar with mild discoloration, but it's clearly healed a while ago. You thought he had that while fighting. "She fucking stabbed me with a kitchen knife. Only once. But it hurt like a bitch, especially when she screamed that I was her biggest burden."

You offered him words of sympathy this time. He snorted.

"She didn't mean it. Because I heard her yell the same thing when she stabbed my mom in the hand. Plus, I was only 8, it wasn't my fault everything was the way it was."

You asked him if he gets to stab her as revenge. He chuckled at your question.

"Nope. My mom did, though. I stole her money and told her boyfriends that she has some sort of contagious disease instead." He pursed his lips and stroked his chin as he thought about the past deeply. "Yeah, I held a grudge against her for a while. I kept stealing her shit and laughed in her face whenever she breaks down. I have taken dodging and blocking seriously ever since I got stabbed."

You asked when you stopped being an asshole to his sister.

"About... fourteen. When I realized that my sister was more of a parent than my mom would ever be. It was awkward as hell, trying to make up for being this devil who's been sabotaging her for years."

You asked if he ran away out of guilt. He looked at you confused.

"Why would I..." He paused and thought about it for a while.

You continued, explaining that maybe he didn't want to be a burden to his sister anymore, so he thought running away was the solution?

"I ran away because I was sick of my mom leeching off me. She was the burden."

You asked if he thought about his sister when he took off.

"Yeah, I thought about how she's going to be fine without me. But I was mostly thinking about how I'm finally free from my mom siphoning my hard earned cash into her wallet."

You asked Cyprus what made him come back. He was chewing on his bottom lip throughout this conversation, possibly to try and suppress the urge to get up and smoke.

"My sister managed to find me one day and tore me a new one. She set my ass straight and put me back into school, kept an eye on me until I turned 18. Then, she told me that I'm free to fuck off and do whatever."

You asked him what he did.

"Finished university. I had some financial backing from my mom and my sister, but I still had to work like a dog to pay off my tuition fees. Thanks to them, I'm here today. Playing with my girl's cute and squishy ass."

You realized that he was fondling your rear during the entirety of this conversation. It made you slap his hand away.

He snickered when you angrily hit him on the chest.

"Oh come on, you liked it." Cyprus brought his face close to yours, to which you pushed him away with your palms.

You said that you did something about his urge to smoke. You asked if he would let you go now.

"Nope."

Exasperated, you let out a whine. Asking what more does he want.

Cyprus puckered his lips dramatically, even to a comical extent and made loud kissy noises. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, silently telling you that he isn't content just giving you kisses on the cheeks or forehead.

You told him that you're not interested in doing such things with him. But he cuts you off mid sentence by shoving his lips against yours.

You struggled, having Cyprus's unusually long tongue muffle your screams. But it only took a couple of seconds for you to calm down and grow limp in astonishment.

He is a... really, really good kisser. You grew more and more embarrassed each second you lingered, pathetically fighting back but clearly enjoying the dance of tongues. You liked the warmth, the erotic sounds he makes without the help of his vocal chords, the slickness and his rhythm. It's oddly satisfying and enjoyable.

He smelled of his body wash, a strong, earthy masculine odor mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke.

You couldn't tell what he tasted like except for the fact that he tasted nice.

You were too distracted by his skills to notice that his hands slipped under your oversized shirt that once belonged to your boyfriend. He's kneading your breasts and buttocks, perhaps adding to the pleasure train that you're experiencing.

However, despite not being a smoker, your lung capacity is much more inferior than Cyprus's. You panicked, repeatedly whacking him on the back as you tried to get him off you so you wouldn't pass out from oxygen deprivation.

He slowly pulled away from you, retreating his lewd hands along with him, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lips to his full ones. You're the only one panting in the room, Cyprus was calm and collected, yet you're there greedily gasping for air with your chest rapidly rising up and down.

"Thanks for the meal, princess. Next time, I'd like to know how it tastes down..." He brushed his fingertips against your clothed clit teasingly, making you jerk your hips away and squeeze your thighs together to process the sudden exciting stimulation. "...here. I bet it'll taste fucking delicious." Purred Cyprus with a pair of grey, bedroom eyes.

He laughed as you shied away from him. "You're funny" Cyprus cooed, tickling your sides until you audibly cackled.

He sat on the edge of the bed, yawning and stretching. He puts on his glasses as he rises from his seat, stretching his back muscles and arms even more.

"Oh and, thank you, doll." He looked back at you.

You asked what for.

"i don't feel like smoking anymore." He bent down to give you an appreciative kiss on the temple. "For now, at least." Cyprus continued.

"Come out in ten minutes." He said, walking out of the bedroom door and into the kitchen. You hear him start to gather the cooking vessels, utensils and ingredients needed for breakfast.

[mattholicguilt]

for everyone who has read the cupid scene in house of hades and thought...

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Growing Closer to Revelations

Summary: Everyone Knows AU, Danny navigates the easiest problem he's had in a while.

Author's Note: You know what's super helpful when you already don't have a lot of time to write? Getting sick!

Also though check the tags for this one there's potentially triggering stuff near the end

...

Danny has a problem.  He has several problems, actually.  And most of them have something to do with Valerie.

The two of them have taken to eating lunch together in a classroom that Valerie says is almost always empty at this time.  And Danny tries to feel bad about bailing on Sam and Tucker.  Theoretically, he wants to hang out with them.  And they’re still his best friends, in a very non-theoretical sense.  But it’s hard to want to see them when Valerie is actually someone he likes spending time with, and when she’s not constantly telling him how terrible he is to his face— even if she wouldn’t know that’s what she’s doing either.

Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to have heard anything that they were saying the first time she dragged Danny away from the lunch table, because Danny wasn’t sure if he’d be able to avoid a Phantom rant from her if she had.  Valerie had dealt with a lot as a result of him.  She had the right to be angry.  But so far she hadn’t mentioned Phantom once, and it was a more than appreciated reprieve.

But the fact that she hadn’t heard what they were talking about meant she really had just noticed him looking miserable and dragged him away to make him feel better, which was leading to… the problems.

The first of which being that he’s really starting to enjoy spending time with her, more than he has with Sam and Tucker in a while.  He’s pretty sure Valerie’s picking up on that too, which has to be the reason she keeps asking him to hang out after school any days they both have free.

Sometimes Danny has to bail or arrive late because of a ghost fight, but amazingly, she never seems to mind.  In fact, more often then not, she says that something happened to come up for her too and she would have to cancel anyway.  So apparently they’re both very busy people constantly being pulled in a hundred different directions, which weirdly enough makes them work for each other.  It’s so relieving, he feels himself waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never does.  There’s an ease to all of it that makes the idea of hanging out with Sam and Tucker instead just feel even more exhausting.

That’s the second problem, though.  Sam and Tucker notice.  Because of course they do.  The three of them are very used to spending time only with each other, of course they’re going to notice when Danny stops doing that.  He spots them a couple times in the hallways, and he still has class with them and he’s talked with them before school once or twice, but they’ve never mentioned Valerie.  At this point, he kind of wants them to.  It’d be better than all of them never acknowledging it and him waiting anxiously for them to say something.

The third problem is similar— Jazz notices.  There’s been an awkwardness between the two of them for a while that Danny doesn’t know how to breach, but he can tell she’s noticed.  Mostly because she smiles at him whenever she does ask how his day went and he tells her that he spent most of it with Valerie.  Danny doesn’t like the feelings that come with Jazz being proud of him for ditching Sam and Tucker.  He already feels guilty about it, the fact that Jazz thinks it’s the right thing to do just adds another layer of that guilt as well as irritation at her (which also makes him feel guilty, because really, he knows she’s just trying to look out for him).

Danny spends most of the time, however, dealing with the simplest of the problems, because even though it’s really not simple at all, it’s completely disconnected from Jazz-Sam-Tucker-Phantom bullshit, which is such a nice difference that weirdly enough, it’s a problem he’s enjoying having.

That being he’s pretty sure he’s developing the lamest crush of all time on Valerie.

Not lame because Valerie’s lame, mind you.  Lame because he’s lame.

Valerie started as, and probably still is, significantly more popular than him.  Even though she’s lost quite a few friends because of losing her money (which was because of him), she’s still nowhere near the bottom of the totem pole Danny’s dangling at.  She could probably still ask someone to beat him up if she wanted to, not that he thinks she wants to anymore.

But while hanging out with a total loser is one thing, dating him would be a total other thing.

…Not that he thinks she wants to date him.  He’s not still not a hundred percent sure why she’s doing the first one.

But that means his last and simplest problem can be summed up as “I like a girl who’s out of my league.”

Which is nice.  It’s so nice.  What he wouldn’t give for this to be his biggest problem.  Heck, he’s used to this problem.  He’s had this problem since he noticed Paulina, which was way before Phantom stumbled onto the scene.

So, rather than complaining to anyone about how his love life is doomed, or how unfair it is or how she’d like him if she got to know him, like he did to Sam and Tucker about Paulina, he finds himself just enjoying time in Valerie’s company.  Because even if the idea of actually dating her is doomed, she’s a nice person to like.  Spending time together proves that to him well enough.

“Okay no way, now you have to tell me the story!”

“Sure, as soon as you get done trying to deny that you’ll use it as blackmail material for Dash later,” Valerie says, smirking at him.

“Hey, that is not true,” Danny says, crossing his arms.  “Why would I bother trying to deny it?”

Valerie snorts.  “Believe it or not, I do actually still like some of the people I’ve been friends with my whole life.  Even if I know they’re not perfect.”

Danny huffs a laugh.  “Oh, don’t worry, I believe it.”

Valerie winces.  “Right.  Sorry.”

Danny grins at her.  “Know how you can make it up to me?”

“I am not telling you the fourth grade vomit story!”

Danny groans overdramatically and leans back against the desk he’s sitting at.  “Why do I even bother with you?  Clearly you do not care enough about me to give me the things I need in life.”

“Yeah, because that’s my job,” Valerie says with a roll of her eyes.

Danny sits up, considering.  “Tell you what,” he says.  “If you tell me the fourth grade vomit story, I’ll tell you about the time Sam tricked Tucker into eating a vegetable and the disastrous consequences.”

He sees Valerie perk up, and knows he has her.

Unfortunately, before Valerie can say anything, the bell rings overhead, signaling the end of lunch.

Danny sighs, defeated.  “That’s not even fair.”

“Sorry, guess you’ll have to bring your bargaining skills next time,” Valerie says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny says as they stand up to gather their stuff.  Valerie, unfortunately, had the foresight to stuff her lunchbox in her bag when she finished, meaning she stands up already ready to go.

“Hey, uh, wait!” Danny calls, stopping her at the door.  “You wanna… walk to class together?”

Valerie smiles.  “Sure.  Long as you don’t mind carrying my bag.”

Danny smiles back as he stands.  “You got a deal,” he says, and takes Valerie’s bag from her as he reaches the doorway.

“Don’t think this means I’m telling you the story on the way, though,” Valerie says as she pushes the door open.

“Dang it!”

…

“Look, I’m just saying, if I could fly, I’d get places much faster,” Danny says as they round the corner of the park trail and start back towards the entrance.

“I mean, I guess I can’t deny a statement that vague.  How fast are we talking?” Valerie asks.

Danny thinks back.  “Across the country in a couple hours.”

“No way.”

“Planes do it!”

“Planes fly hundreds of miles an hour!”

“Who’s to say I can’t?”

“You’d have to actually be able to fly, first,” Valerie says, giving him a look.

“That’s not the point!  This is all hypotheticals anyway!”

“Well if it’s all hypotheticals how about you just give yourself the ability to teleport places?  Then there’d be no travel time.”

Danny snorts.  “Man, I wish.”

“Look, being able to fly fast doesn’t mean you should,” Valerie says.  “There could be buildings in the way, or people.”

“Well…” Danny hesitates, unsure how far he should go.  “Then I’ll just turn intangible like a ghost,” he says, keeping his voice light and casual and ‘this is all a hypothetical, Valerie!’ in tone.

“See, and then I would turn back to ‘just give yourself the ability to teleport’ if you’re adding whatever you want to this hypothetical,” Valerie says.  “Look, I wasn’t disagreeing with your first statement.  Yeah, you could probably get places faster if you fly there.  I just don’t think it would be that fast.”

“Oh, because of your in-depth experience with flying places,” Danny says, crossing his arms.

��And your in depth experience with turning intangible like a ghost?” Valerie asks, crossing her arms right back.

Danny sticks his tongue out, and Valerie does the same a second later.

There’s a moment of silence while they’re both thinking, and then Valerie says: “Now, the sunsets on the other hand…”

“Oh my god, the stargazing.”

…

“Dang, you weren’t kidding about picking things up quickly,” Danny says, from his spot on the chair he’d dragged down to the lab.  His parents had been more than a little surprised when he told them who he’d invited over, but he wasn’t grounded anymore, and he isn’t in any kind of current trouble for once, so they didn’t object.

“I have a natural talent for kicking butt,” Valerie says with a grin, without looking away from the computer screen.

“No kidding.  Try not to beat my high score, would you?”

Valerie knocks out another Doomed enemy without breaking a sweat.  “No promises.”

A chime rings, and Danny glances down to the corner of the screen to see that Sam has signed on.

“Who’s Chaos?” Valerie asks, peering at it.

“No one, don’t worry about it,” Danny says, hoping Valerie won’t ask.

She looks at him for a minute, and he can tell she’s guessed something, but after a second she shrugs, and goes right back to destroying all of the enemies Danny struggles with in this game.  Now he just has to hope Sam doesn’t talk to him either.

But while he sees her Avatar show up on their level after a while (he and Tucker had found out she was Chaos a while ago and they’ve been begging her to teach them her tricks ever since), she doesn’t talk to him, which is weird, because Valerie’s playing with his Avatar.

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, and instead just watches as Valerie attacks without knowing who’s on the other side of the screen.

He’s not surprised when she starts struggling a bit.  Sam is better than him and Tucker combined, and while Valerie is good, it is her first go around with the game.

“Man, this guy is good,” Valerie says, leaning into the screen.

“Yeah, I don’t know anyone who’s ever been able to beat Chaos one on one,” Danny says with a shrug.  “I can’t do it either.”

For some reason, however, right as Sam is about to finish Valerie off, she instead stops and leaves.

Danny blinks, confused.

“Wait, why’d they leave?” Valerie asks.  “Is that a strategy or something?”

“Not one I’ve seen her use before,” Danny says.  “We’ve allied a couple times, maybe she just wanted to spar without actually killing me.”

“I guess so,” Valerie says.  She turns the avatar around looking for Chaos a couple more times, but nothing is there.

Though that doesn’t sound like Sam either.  She’s definitely toyed with him by beating him up in game a couple times, but she usually finishes him off for lighthearted gloating rights.  He doesn’t know what’s so different this time.

They don’t see her again, though, and eventually Valerie gets back to kicking enemies’ butts and gets her health back up.

She beats the level she’s on just in time for there to be a knock on his door and Jazz to stick her head in.

“Sorry to bug you,” she says, as they both glance over.  “But is Valerie staying for dinner?”

“No,” Danny says immediately at the same time Valerie says “Sure.”

Danny winces, and glances over at Valerie, who’s looking at him confused and slightly hurt.  “What, you don’t want me here?”

“No no,” Danny says, waving his hands.  “That’s not it at all.  My parents’ food just has a tendency to… come to life, partway through the meal.  It’s not exactly their best foot forward.”

Valerie’s look shifts, and she gives him a smile.  “Aww, you want me to like your parents?”

“I don’t know if ‘like’ is the appropriate word,” Danny mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘view as normal.’”

Valerie laughs a little.  “I already know you’re not normal, Fenton,” she says, nudging him in the side.  “That’s what I like about you.”

“Yeah?” Danny asks, smiling at her.  “Really?”

Jazz clears her throat.  “Hey, still here.  So is she staying for dinner or not?”

“Uh,” Danny glances at Valerie.  “Sure.”  He looks back at Jazz.  “But tell Mom and Dad to use the meat that doesn’t have eyes yet.”

Jazz huffs a laugh.  “I’ll do my best,” she says, and ducks back out of the room again.

“Seriously,” Danny says, turning to Valerie.  “If you really want to stay, prepare yourself for it to have eyes.”

Valerie hesitates.  “Is it harmful to eat?”

Danny pauses.  He wouldn’t really know.  Jazz seems fine.  “I don’t think so?”

Valerie nods.  “I’ll take that.”

Danny smiles a little, caught off guard.  “Maybe I should stop thinking about you as normal.”

“Maybe you should,” Valerie says, smirking right back.

Thankfully, when they’re called downstairs later, the food looks relatively normal, apart from the chicken being slightly burnt.  Danny glances over at Jazz as they all sit down, but she gives him a nod.  So it really is normal then.  Maybe they do want to put their best foot forward, with Valerie here.

But they might not have needed to bother.  Because for Valerie’s part, she digs right in as soon as they all start eating, not seeming at all phased by the potential for the meat coming to life in the middle of the meal (though this stuff is probably less likely to).

“So,” Dad says, grinning at Valerie.  “Danny hasn’t brought you around before.  How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh yes, did you meet recently?” Mom asks, thankfully giving Valerie a moment to swallow her bite of chicken.  “Danny doesn’t really have a lot of friends.”

“Mom,” Danny hisses, narrowing his eyes at her.

“We met pretty recently, yeah,” Valerie says, seeming unbothered.  “We were uh—” she glances at Danny, and they both realize simultaneously they probably shouldn’t say how they actually met.  “Hiding in the same spot during a ghost fight,” Valerie finishes, breezing smoothly past the pause.  “It was a long one, so we just started talking.”

“A ghost fight you say?” Dad asks, leaning forward.

“You kids weren’t doing any of the fighting, right?” Mom asks before Dad can continue.  “If a ghost attacks, you should make sure you’re safe and let the professionals handle it.”

“Oh, no of course not,” Valerie says, waving her hands dismissively.  “That’s what I meant.  You know, ghost fight, ghost attack, same thing really.”

“Right, right,” Dad says, leaning forward again.  “Now back to the ghost part.  Do you have opinions on them?”

Valerie glances to the side, seeming a little uncomfortable.  “Uh, I should hope so?  I mean, that Phantom prick kind of ruined my life,” she says, and Danny goes still.

“Oh, well you don’t need to talk about that if you don’t want to,” Jazz jumps in immediately.  “We understand if that’s personal.  Ghosts are just kind of a topic around here, but we don’t have to talk about them.”

“Of course not,” Mom says, and Dad nods in agreement, even if he looks slightly disappointed.  “Just know plenty of people have been in your position,” she says to Valerie with a sympathetic smile.  “Phantom is one of the larger menaces we have to deal with.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Jazz calls, leaning towards the center of the table.  “Let’s talk about anything else!  Valerie, what’s your favorite subject in school?”

Danny laughs a little, partly to make it seem like he’s unbothered by what just happened and partly because that’s such a Jazz thing to say.  “Of course you jump right to school,” he says.

“It’s something we can all be sure we have in common!” Jazz protests, sounding a little intentionally overdramatic with a glance at both their parents and Valerie.

“No that’s fine,” Valerie says.  “Uh, I don’t know.  Does gym class count?”

Jazz wrinkles her nose, and Danny can’t help but laugh.  “Not to her,” he says with a grin at Valerie.

“I like being active!” Valerie says, holding her hands up in defense.

“Ugh, you would,” Danny says with a smile, making sure Valerie can tell he’s joking.

“And what’s your favorite subject, lunch?” Valerie asks, her tone just as teasing.

“Well, I mean, they took away recess years ago, what else is there to compare it to?” Danny says with a casual shrug, and Valerie laughs.

Plus Valerie’s there during lunch, and he doesn’t sit next to her in any classes, making it a definite plus, but he’s not going to say that aloud.

He glances over at Jazz to try and include her in the conversation again, only to find her looking very uncertainly right at him.  He blinks at her.  “What?”

He turns to look at his parents, and finds them both smiling.  “What?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” Mom says.  “Just thinking about dessert.  I’m afraid we don’t have anything fancy, would you be okay with some ice cream, Valerie?”

Danny glances at Valerie to see if she knows why everyone’s being weird, but she just shrugs and says, “Sure,” in response to Mom’s question.

Mom brings in ice cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles, and they all talk a bit more as they eat, but Danny can feel the energy of the night wrapping up, and he’s not surprised when afterwards, Valerie says she needs to start heading home.

“Do you need a ride, sweetie?” Mom asks her as they start for the living room.  “We could drop you off.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Valerie says.  “I can take the bus.”

“Absolutely not, young lady, we can’t just leave our guest to take the bus home,” Mom says.  “Hang on, I’ll go grab the keys to the Ghost Assault Vehicle.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“It’s just a souped up RV,” Danny explains as soon as Mom’s out of earshot.  “And if Mom’s driving, we’ll be fine.”

“Aww, are you driving me home, Danny?” Valerie says.  “I didn’t realize I needed two escorts.”

“No, he’s not,” comes a sudden voice before Danny can say anything back.  They both turn in surprise to find Jazz standing there with her arms crossed.

“We need to talk, Danny,” she says.

“What?  Why?”

“About your homework,” Jazz says with a subtle glance at Valerie.  “Do you have any idea how much you’ve missed this week?”

Danny groans.  “As a matter of fact, I do, Jazz,” he says.  “You say it like I don’t have the knowledge constantly looming over my head.”

“Well, I’m going to help you come up with a plan to get it done,” Valerie says.  “You definitely don’t have a half hour to waste to drive Valerie home.”

“So I’m just going to let Mom drive home the friend that I invited over?  That’s kind of rude, Jazz,” Danny says.

“Too bad,” Jazz says.  She grabs Danny’s arm and starts pulling him for the stairs.

“What?  Jazz!”

But Jazz is insistent, and Danny only has enough time to look back and mouth ‘Sorry,’ to Valerie before they reach the stairs.

Valerie waves him off, thankfully seeming unbothered, before Jazz drags him up the stairs and out of sight.

It’s only once Jazz pulls them both inside of her room that she lets go of him.  Danny starts talking before she can turn around, though.

“Okay, seriously, what is with you?” he says, raising his hands up in exasperation.  “I wasn’t kidding about that being rude.  And why are you suddenly being a stickler about homework, you haven’t done that since you learned… you know.”

“How long have you known that Valerie hates Phantom?” Jazz asks quietly, crossing her arms and completely ignoring his question.

“Uh, I don’t know, I always kind of figured after that whole ‘ruined her life’ thing?  Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Because I’m tired of seeing you hanging out with people who bad mouth you right to your face.”

“Hey,” Danny says, narrowing his eyes to a glare.  “First of all, Valerie doesn’t know that’s what she’s doing, so it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Second,” he continues, “since when is that any of your business?  It’s not like I don’t have a lot of experience with that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, and that’s a problem,” Jazz says.

“It’s hardly my biggest problem.  It’s not one I can’t deal with.  And Valerie never brings up Phantom unprompted anyway.  It’s okay.”

“Danny, it’s not—” Jazz takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose.  “Just because she doesn’t talk about it doesn’t mean you won’t know,” she says.

“Like how I know Mom and Dad would rip me apart molecule by molecule if they found out?  It’s really not a big deal.  I can handle it okay?  I promise.”

“It’s not about whether or not you can handle it.”

“Well, what’s it about, then?”

Jazz opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by Mom calling “Danny!” from downstairs.

“Where are you, we’re driving Valerie home!”

“See, Mom knows it’s rude too,” Danny says, gesturing back at the door.  “I’ll be going now.”

“Fine, but we’re going to talk about this when you get back, right?” Jazz calls after him.

“I don’t know,” Danny says, sending one last glare over his shoulder.  “Probably not.”

He walks off before Jazz can reply.

…

“Okay so uh, here’s the thing,” Valerie says as the three of them climb into the GAV.  “I don’t exactly live in the greatest apartment.”

“That’s okay,” Danny says.  “We’re not going to judge you.”

“No, I just mean, you guys live in a house with a bunch of fancy lab equipment and have an entire Ghost Assault Vehicle with gadgets on it as your car.  Don’t… expect that.”

“Don’t worry about it sweetie,” Mom says from the front seat as she pulls away.  “I know Jack and I might be a little out of touch from time to time, but we certainly don’t expect everyone to be rich.”

Except she used to be just that, hisses a voice in Danny’s head.  He tries his best to shake it away.

Valerie gives a slightly bitter chuckle.  “Just a bunch of leftover ghost problems really,” she mutters, and Danny winces, looking away as he fidgets with his hands.

“We’ve certainly had our fair share of those,” Mom says.  “Danny’s right, we’re not going to judge you.”

Well, judging is one thing.  He’s definitely not judging.  But a lack of judgment doesn’t stop Danny’s stomach from curling up in guilt when they pull to a stop in front of Valerie’s clearly falling apart apartment building.  He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face, lest Valerie take it as something else, but when she climbs out and waves at him, he still feels very small as he waves back.

“See you tomorrow?” Valerie asks, clearly still nervous.

Danny shoves the guilt down and smiles at her.  “Definitely.”

Apparently he’s hidden his feelings well enough, because Valerie’s smile turns a little more confident.  “Next time, we’re hanging out at my place.”

“Deal,” Danny says with a nod.

Valerie grins at him and heads off towards the front door, waving as she goes.

Danny climbs up to the front seat as soon as she heads inside, and then Mom turns to him before she pulls away.

“Well then,” she says, and she has a knowing tone in her voice that makes Danny realize he’s in for something embarrassing.  “She’s a cutie, isn’t she?”

“Oh, my god, Mom,” Danny groans.

“I’m just saying, teenage crushes can be very sweet!” Mom says, turning to pull away.

“Mom!”

“You have my full support if you want to go for it, sweetheart.”

Danny buries his head in his hands.  “I’m getting out and walking home.”

“Just make sure you’re both comfortable with whatever you want to try!”

“Kill me twice.”

…

The inside of Valerie’s apartment isn’t much nicer than the outside, but Danny can see effort to make it more of a home.  There’s Christmas lights hung up in the living room, though that could also be because there’s no overhead light built in.  Either way, the lights look nice, and there’s a couple of posters hung up on the walls, though most of them seem to be referencing something called Scalpels and Secrets, which according to the posters looks like it’s exactly as good as it sounds.

They aren’t there for long before Valerie and him both end up in the kitchen, helping Mr Gray make potatoes.  He washes them and passes them to Valerie, who cuts them up and slides them to the other side of the cutting board, and Danny puts them on a tray and shakes some spices over them, and the tray will go into the oven as soon as they’re all there.

“Do you guys make dinner like this together a lot?” Danny asks, picking up another handful from Valerie’s cutting board.

“Yeah.  We both tend to get home pretty late, so it just makes it go faster,” Valerie says.

“It’s nice,” Danny admits.  He smirks a little bit.  “And none of it’s glowing.”

“I’m sorry?” Mr Gray asks, looking over at him in bafflement and slight concern.

“My parents’ food has a tendency to glow green and attack you,” Danny says.  “That’s kind of just what happens when you live in the same house as an interdimensional portal.”

Mr Gray stares at him for a moment, then seems to shake himself.  “Well, I can assure you none of these potatoes will try to attack you,” he says, passing the last one to Valerie.

“We’re already off to a great start then,” Danny says, and Valerie laughs a little.

“Your parents’ food wasn’t that bad,” she says.

“I’ll be sure to tell them you said that,” Danny says.  Valerie laughs again.

“You two seem to get along well,” Mr Gray says with a smile at them.  “How did you meet?”

“We got stuck together during a ghost attack,” Valerie says, likely for consistency’s sake so they can tell both sets of their parents the same story.  “It went long, so we just started talking.”

“Sometimes life happens that way,” Mr Gray says with a smile and a nod.  “I’m glad you two met.  Valerie seems happier since she’s started spending time with you.”

“Dad,” Valerie grumbles, looking away.  Danny does the same, feeling his cheeks warm.

“What, am I not supposed to take note of someone who makes my daughter happy?” Mr Gray asks.  “I don’t know if you know this Valerie, but I like it when you’re happy.”

“Dad.”

Mr Gray chuckles a little, and Danny takes a moment to be glad that Valerie wasn’t in the car last night when Mom was teasing him.

He turns and notices he’s picking up the last of Valerie’s potatoes, so he adds the spices to them and does one more shake over all of the potatoes, and then passes them off to Valerie, who carries them over to the oven, which Mr Gray has pulled open.

“That’s gonna be delicious,” Valerie says as Mr Gray shuts it.  He sets a timer for half an hour, and then turns to face them both.

“Well Danny, since Valerie seems to have gotten a crash course in dinners at your house, you should know that we have a tradition when we eat dinner here.”

“Oh?” Danny asks.

“I hope you’re ready for cheesy medical dramas,” Valerie says with a grin.  “We’re watching Scalpels and Secrets.”

…

They manage to get part of an episode in before the potatoes are done, and when Mr Gray heads into the other room to get them, Valerie pauses the show and turns to him.

“Thoughts?”

“Oh, uh,” Danny says.  “It’s, um…”

“We like it because it’s bad, Danny.”

“Then it’s really bad,” Danny says in relief.

Valerie laughs.  “That’s the fun part,” she says.  “I’m almost never having more fun than when I get to sit here and make fun of Kelly for being an idiot and Stacy for being a bitch.”

“Valerie!” is heard from the kitchen,

“For being a jerk,” Valerie amends without missing a beat.  Then she mouths to Danny ‘She’s a bitch,’ and Danny muffles his laughter.

Mr Gray comes back in with three plates of potatoes that look smothered in butter, and sets a bag of shredded cheese and salt and pepper on the ground in front of them.  He hands Danny, then Valerie their plates, and takes his seat again in the armchair.  Valerie immediately goes for the cheese, so Danny picks up the salt and pepper and shakes some onto his potatoes, then trades with Valerie when he’s done.  They both pass what they’re holding up to Mr Gray afterwards, and he takes them and starts on his plate as Valerie plays the show again.

They eat the potatoes as they finish the episode, which ends on the most ridiculous cliffhanger of all time (Kevin is trying to decide whether or not he’ll tell Kelly he’s cheated for what is, according to Valerie, the fourth time).

“We can watch the next one tomorrow night,” Mr Gray says as it finishes.  “I have some work to do.  But I can do the dishes if you two want to head up to Valerie’s room to talk.”

“Uh,” Valerie says, leaping up.  “Give me a minute first!  It’s… really messy.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Danny says.  “You should see the state my room is in most of the time.”

“No, I just need to put some— things— away!  Won’t take two seconds!”

And with that she all but runs off down the hallway next to the kitchen, leaving Danny alone with Mr Gray.

Before it can start feeling awkward, however, Mr Gray chuckles and turns to face him.  “Don’t worry about it,” he says.  “She gets like this when she wants to impress someone.”

“Impress someone?” Danny asks, surprised.

Mr Gray smiles knowingly at him and doesn’t say anything.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.  Just know typical shovel rules apply, and you better not hurt my daughter.”

“Wait,” Danny says, holding up his hands.  “I don’t— she’s not— I mean we’re not—”

“Okay!” comes Valerie’s voice, and she appears at the entrance to the kitchen.  “You can come back now.”

“Keep the door open,” Mr Gray calls, as Danny heads after her into the kitchen.

“Dad!”

Danny looks down to hide his face, which he’s sure is bright red.  He keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the floor until they reach Valerie’s bedroom.

“Sorry about him,” Valerie says.

“That’s okay,” Danny says, finally looking up.  “You’re lucky my parents didn’t—” he stops.

He has no idea what Valerie was putting away during the tidying of her room, but she left up  the countless newspaper clippings and photographs and drawn up targets of Phantom.  There are conspiracy articles, like ones about who Phantom is dating, and ones that are closer to accurate, like pieces about public opinion on him shifting.  There are also tons of photos pinned and taped to the wall, some of which he doesn’t have the slightest clue how she could have gotten.

If this is everything she feels comfortable with him seeing, what did she feel the need to hide?

Danny feels a little sick to his stomach.  He tries to shake the feeling off, but after a second of him not saying anything, Valerie notices.

“Oh god,” she says, turning to follow his gaze.  “Okay I uh, I understand how this looks, but I swear I’m not creepy and obsessive.  I figured you wouldn’t mind because your parents are ghost hunters, I just… please ignore these.  I swear I don’t spend all of my free time thinking about Phantom.”

“That’s okay,” Danny says, trying to force as much of a casual tone into his voice as he can manage.  Even his parents don’t have a hate shrine to him.

Then again, he didn’t completely ruin his parents’ lives.  Maybe it does make some sense.

“I just…” Valerie sighs, sitting down on her bed.  “I’ve been meaning to take some of these down too.  I mean, Phantom’s not this much of a thing with me anymore.  Like, he’s still a dangerous ghost and I— someone needs to stop him, obviously, but… just, especially after everything first happened, I was pissed at him.  I still am pissed, I’m just not as lonely as I was.”  She looks up at Danny, and then jolts upright and looks away.  “I mean uh, because my old friends aren’t being quite as huge of jerks anymore.  Obviously.”

“Yeah,” Danny mutters, looking down at the floor, as the only place he can put his gaze and not be met with a picture of Phantom.

After a second, however, Valerie sighs again.  “And you too,” she admits in a mumble.

Danny looks up.  “What?”

Valerie shrugs, looking embarrassed.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I like hanging out with you, Danny,” she says.  “It’s nice to have a friend I can just spend time and do normal stuff with,” she says.

Danny keeps her gaze and smiles a little.  “I like that too,” he says quietly.

Valerie smiles back at him, and neither of them say anything for a moment.

Finally, Valerie clears her throat.  “So uh, ignoring all of the Phantom stuff that I’m taking down anyway… sorry about my dad.  My life is way too complicated right now to date someone anyway.  I don’t think he gets that.”

“Huh, that’s different,” Danny says before he thinks it through.

Valerie blinks at him.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, my life is crazy complicated right now too,” Danny says.  “That’s why I want to date someone.”

Valerie gives him an intrigued look.  “Okay, again, what do you mean,” she says.

“I mean, I have so much going on,” Danny says.  After a second, he moves forward and sits down on the bed next to Valerie, and Valerie easily shifts aside to let him.

“It sounds nice to have a break from all of that, I guess is what I mean.  Not in the long term committed partner way, just in the going on dates to have fun kind of way?  I don’t know.”  He shrugs.  “It’s not like it matters anyway, my options are pretty limited in that department.”

“What makes you say that?” Valerie asks, tipping her head.

Danny stares at her.  “Uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Valerie, but I’m not exactly as popular as your old friends.”

Valerie blinks, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.  “I mean, that’s not what I—” she stops, and they both look at each other for a moment.  Danny can’t tell if she wants him to ask or not.

Then after a second, he sees her look away, and he knows that answer is “not.”

So instead, he shifts his position to dispel the awkwardness and says “Like, can you imagine me walking up to Paulina and asking her out?”

Valerie snorts and covers her mouth, meaning he’s succeeded in moving the conversation on.  “Okay, no, I can’t,” she says.  “She’d definitely laugh at you.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” Danny says with a grin.  “I have to make my choices on more of a ‘who’s low enough on the totem pole to be a real option,’ basis.”

“Well, you sure know how to charm a girl,” Valerie says.  “I’m astounded they’re not all falling at your feet already.”

“I know right?” Danny says.  “With all of the loserness and unreliability of scheduled activities to offer?”

Valerie narrows her eyes slightly.  “That’s not all you have to offer.”

“It is to someone like Paulina,” Danny says.

Valerie rolls her eyes.  “Because Paulina’s too shallow to pay attention to anything else,” she says, and Danny… doesn’t know what to say to that.

Thankfully, Valerie keeps going.  “I mean honestly, even before she kicked me to the curb the second I had any hardships in life, she wasn’t exactly my best friend.  She just… isn’t exactly the most supportive person.”

“I don’t imagine any of them would be,” Danny admitted.  “But I can relate.  Not having supportive friends can really suck.”

“Yeah, I guess you’d know too, huh?” Valerie says.

Danny doesn’t agree, but doesn’t deny it either.

“Well, whoever it is you’re talking about,” Valerie says.  “And of course I don’t have the slightest clue who it could be.  I think they’re crazy to not be treating you well.  You deserve it.”

“Uh, thanks,” Danny says, though what goes through his head is She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew.

He glances up at her wall.  She really wouldn’t.

He shakes it off and turns back to her.  “You too, by the way,” he says.  “Everyone who treated you like that is a jerk.  I just uh, thought that before too.”

“Thanks, Danny,” Valerie says with a smile.  “I like to think I’ve upgraded a little.”

Danny smiles back at her.  “Me too,” he says.  He tries not to feel guilty about the fact that he means it.

…

Mom comes to get him not long after that, and Danny spends the drive home trying to work out his thoughts.

It’s definitely nothing new, caring about someone who hates Phantom.  He knew Valerie had an issue with him before.  The only thing that’s changed is now he’s aware of the intensity.

When he thinks about it, he can’t blame her.  When she says he ruined her life as Phantom, he can tell she means it, and he can tell why.  It’s just another of the increasing list of screwups he doesn’t know how to make up for.  Losing Valerie’s father his job, apparently dropping Sam from a highwire during his time with Freakshow, blasting Tucker into a wall and giving him a concussion.  If any of them want to hate him, well, they definitely all have their reasons.  He could be doing better as a hero.

And honestly, if he can deal with his parents talking loudly about wanting to rip him apart molecule by molecule, he can deal with Valerie hating him enough to decorate her room with that hatred.

At least she’s never tried to kill him.

…

He’s out late on patrol, partly because he gets back home late and partly because he doesn’t want to ask Jazz for help and keep them both up, which means he’s out even later.  But as a result, despite all her best efforts Jazz can’t get him up in time to drive them both to school.  Instead, he runs out the door with toast in his hand, yelling back to his parents that he’d run to make the bus.

A ghost sense throws a wrench into that plan.  He sighs, ducks down a side street, and transforms, then takes to the sky, casting his gaze around.

After a second, he spots an octopus ghost a street over, diving towards a car parked on the side of the road.  There’s a mother and daughter cowering inside it.

Danny heads quickly for the ghost, but the octopus soars straight through the car, pulling the girl along with it.  Likely by accident, judging by the way the octopus starts shaking its tail.

Shifting gears, Danny ignores the ghost and heads for the space right under the child.

“I’ve got you!” he calls.  “You can let go!”

The girl stops screaming just long enough to look down at him, and the second she spots him, her face brightens.  She lets go of the octopus and lands safely in his grip, and Danny lowers them both to the ground.  The octopus heads towards the sky, meaning it’s probably not going to cause too much trouble, so he lets it go for now.

Danny feels a sudden jolt from the girl in his arms, and looks down just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck.

“Hey, easy there,” Danny says, shifting his grip.  “I don’t want to drop you.  You’re alright.”

He turns back towards the car to see the girl’s mother running up the sidewalk.

“Daisy!” she calls as soon as she spots them both.  “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

“Mama, he flies!” Daisy calls.  She turns to grin up at Danny.  “Can you do it again?”

Danny laughs a little.  “I don’t know if your Mom has another one of those in her,” he says, passing Daisy back to her mother.

“Oh thank you so much,” the woman says, hugging Daisy close to her chest.  Daisy hugs her mother just as tightly as she hugged Danny.  Hugs are a thing for her, it seems.

“No trouble,” Danny says, giving the woman a smile.  “I should probably go grab that ghost now.”

“Thank you so much,” the woman says again.  She sets Daisy down on the ground, and grips her hand tightly.

Daisy waves back at him as the two of them start towards their car.  “Bye Mr Invis-o-Bill!” she calls.

Danny holds back a groan and manages to smile back at her.  He watches the two of them for another second with a small smile, then turns and takes to the air again, heading after that octopus.

Before he can get very far, however, he hears “Hey, ghost scum!”

He spins around to see the Red Huntress raising a blaster at him.  This time he doesn’t bother to hold back a groan.

“Look, I’m busy, can we do this another time?” he says.  “I do actually have somewhere I need to be.”

“Yeah, me too, but you don’t see me complaining,” Red Huntress snaps, and she raises her blaster again.

“I wasn’t even— I’m kind of dealing with a different ghost,” Danny says, turning intangible as the blast shoots through him and up into the sky.  He stays intangible and turns to look after the octopus ghost that’s definitely long gone.

“Only ghost I see here is you,” Red Huntress says, and Danny sighs and turns to face her again, dropping his intangibility.  She doesn’t try to fire her blaster again, but she doesn’t lower it either.

“That’s because you have amazingly terrible timing,” Danny says.  “Where are your new sidekicks, did you drop them?”

“It’s not like they follow me everywhere,” Red Huntress snaps.

“Heck of a team, you three,” Danny says.  “Look, seriously.  I’m tired, and I have places to be.  Can we just skip this for today?”

“Not on your afterlife,” Red Huntress says, and fires her blaster.

Danny sighs again.  “Yeah, I figured,” he mutters.  He dives out of the way just in time to avoid it and darts back the way he came, though he stays clear from his house.  The last thing he needs is his parents to notice the fight and join in.

He hears Red Huntress chasing him, but there’s too many people around for him to feel comfortable using intangibility, lest the blast go through him and hit someone else.  So instead, he turns so his back is facing the ground and flies backwards, keeping his gaze on the Huntress as she chases.  What he really needs to do is to get away long enough to change back and just start heading back to school, but Huntress is right on his tail.  He’ll just have to get to a less populated area first.

He starts flying for the end of the street, trying to keep an eye on Huntress while also avoiding slamming into any buildings.  Just as he reaches the turn, Huntress fires a blast at him.  Danny gives a quick glance down only to see people looking up at him, so he groans, braces himself, and takes the hit in the chest.

Thankfully he manages to hit the ground next to the people instead of landing on top of them, which would have defeated the purpose.  It does, however, give him a chance to go intangible and sink below ground.

He can’t see anything underground, so he doesn’t fly too far before heading back up, this time just staying intangible.

The Huntress is looking around, but makes no sign of having seen him or knowing where he went, so Danny lets out a small breath and heads down a side alleyway.  He ducks behind a dumpster and changes back.  A peek out from behind reveals no one in the alley.

Danny sighs.  He’s definitely going to be late for school.

Right as he’s about to step out, however, the Red Huntress lands in the alley with a loud sigh.  She looks back out towards the street, and it must be satisfyingly empty, because she hits a button on her suit, and her armor retracts back into a backpack.

And then Valerie Gray looks up and locks eyes with him.

Valerie’s eyes immediately snap wide open, and her hands go to her mouth.

“Oh god,” she says faintly.  “You— you didn’t see that!  I’m not here!”

Danny stares at her.

Valerie groans and drops her head into her hands.  “No no no,” she says.  “That’s not— ugh, what are you doing here?”

“I was hiding from an octopus ghost,” Danny says weakly.

“No,” Valerie groans again.  “Okay, okay, look, you—” she stops, and moves quickly across the alleyway, then pulls them both behind the dumpster.  “I can explain.”

“That you’re the Red Huntress?” Danny says.  He grabs the straps of his own backpack to hopefully keep it from being obvious that his hands are shaking.

“Kind of?” Valerie says weakly.  “Look, I… back when Phantom first destroyed my life, I got the suit in the mail from… an anonymous benefactor.  It started out as a way to get revenge, but then I saw how many people were getting hurt by all ghosts, not just him.  I— I had to do something.  No one was supposed to find out.”

Danny’s pretty sure the backpack plan isn’t going to work out.  He shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

So, nothing new.  He’s used to people hating him.  He was just wrong about the intensity.  Again.  It’s fine.  This is so fine.

“Danny?” Valerie says, and Danny looks up to see abject terror on her face.  “Please, I— I wasn’t trying to lie to you.  Please don’t tell anyone.”

Danny definitely can’t breathe right, but Valerie’s scared, so he tries to tap into that to force the feeling away from himself for as long as he can.  He clenches his hands into fists until he can feel his nails digging into his hands, and focuses on that to ground himself.

“Hey, of course I’m not going to tell anyone,” he says, proud of how steady his voice comes out.  “Val, that’s— that’s amazing.”

And it is kind of amazing, to hear his own motivations echoed so plainly back to him.  He hadn’t realized the Red Huntress had any motivation apart from destroying him.

Apart from… oh god.

Valerie looks up at him, a nervous hope on her face, and Danny shoves his own feelings down again.

“You… it doesn’t change how you see me?” Valerie asks.

Danny opens his mouth to say no, but can’t get it out, so he switches gears instead.

“Of course it changes how I see you,” he says, and rushes on before Valerie’s expression can change.  “It makes you that much more amazing.  I mean you… you don’t have to do this, no one’s making you, and you don’t owe it to anyone.  And it’s dangerous, but… but you do it anyway.”

Yeah, he can focus on that.  That’s a good part to focus on.

That, and how terrified he’s going to be to be fighting the Red Huntress from now on, because he knows he’s fighting a human and more than that he’s fighting Valerie—

No no, that’s not a good part to focus on right now.

“And that’s amazing,” he says turning back to Valerie.  “Sorry I— I feel like I’m just repeating myself but—”

He’s cut off by Valerie wrapping her arms around him and kissing him.  It’s barely a second before she stops and pulls back though, looking startled at what she just did.

“Oh shit I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” she says.  “I’m so sorry.”

Danny swallows.  “It… it’s okay,” he says, giving a smile that comes out much more confident than he feels.  “I mean, Val, I would have thought my feelings are pretty obvious by now.”

Valerie laughs.  “Yeah,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck.  “Neither of us just ever said them out loud.”  She smiles widely up at him, looking a mix of grateful and ecstatic.

“You’re amazing too, you know?” she says.  “You just— wow, you just rolled with that.”

“Yeah,” Danny says weakly.  “I’m a little amazed with that myself.”

Valerie laughs and takes a step closer.  “Can I kiss you again?” she asks.

Danny takes a deep breath and shoves this realization far, far down so he can process it later, and instead smiles back at Valerie.  “Yes.”

[wri0thesley]

dottore kisses you like he’s charting new territory. it is not a romantic notion; he pries your mouth apart at the corners with his gloved fingers so you gag on the taste of them (and when you make a frightened noise, he warns you next time he’ll find an open-mouth ring gag). bites with sharp teeth at your lips until you bleed; thrusts his tongue into your mouth and learns the shape of your own teeth and tongue and the insides of your cheeks. devouring; all-consuming, violating.

he wipes a bead of blood and drool from your chin, as he pulls back, savouring the taste of you in his mouth. scribbles something in a journal and smiles at you with his teeth sharp and his eyes bright and a gleam of single-minded madness in his eyes. you did very well, he tells you. but he wants to try the ring gag anyway. perhaps a clamp for your tongue. a drug that will make your mouth numb. oh, he has so so many ideas for you . . .

he says it is for his research; that he has to learn every part of you by heart. but the truth is . . . he just loves how docile you have learnt to be. how well you bear it. how utterly and completely under his power you have become.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Yandere!Mahito x reader

sorry for the long wait! I cant write smut and i kept rewriting parts cuz id be like ‘wait he’s being too nice, fuck i forgot he’s a terrible person’ and just delete like five paragraphs. 

I’m def missing a few warnings. let me know what i gotta add

(Warning: General existence of Mahito, tw rape/noncon, unsafe sex, dark content, overstimulation, a tad too much licking ) 

word count 2.9k~

Part one is here

Look Pt2 

18+ content below

You often wondered what was better: to live in ignorant bliss or know the cruel truth? 

You asked your friend this question once. She told you that she’d prefer to live with the truth, that living a lie would be absolutely mind-crushing. 

You instantly knew she couldn’t see them either. 

A snap of fingers brings you back. Mahito’s grinning, tilting his head as he observes you. He looks amused. 

“Pretending not to see me won’t work again. Nice try though, it’s kind of adorable how stupid you are,” He leans forward, roughly pinching your cheek. 

It hurts. You try not to wince. 

“I-I wasn’t,” You weakly argue, “I swear.” 

You weren’t lying. There was really no use in pretending anymore. There was no use in fighting back either. He’d won. 

No, it was more like you had lost from the start. 

Mahito hummed. His fingers started playing with the end of your shirt. 

Oh, right. 

You weren’t surprised. Mahito had heavily hinted how deep his obsession with you went. The looks, the sensual touches. You expected something like this. 

Expectation didn’t make it any less nerve-wrecking. 

Your hesitance seemed to excite Mahito further. You’d barely touched your shirt before hands were gripping the hem to pull. Rebellion was instinctive. You jerked your shirt back, then you felt something sharp.

A claw, much bigger than Mahito’s other four fingers, was nestled beside your stomach. You could barely understand how he could change his body like that, how that could even be possible, when he pushed. He gently tapped on skin, not enough to draw blood, just a silent warning. Behave. 

You immediately stilled. 

“Good.” Mahito tugs your shirt off. “Much better.”

It isn’t cold, but you still shiver. The stinging in your eyes was back. You hunch over, covering your chest with your hands. 

You’re not looking at Mahito anymore-you can’t- preferring to keep your eyes shut. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least he doesn’t seem to voice any complaints. Instead, he leans closer and you could feel something wet caress your bare shoulder. 

A hot wet tongue tails over your clavicle, leaving a line of drool on your skin. You feel disgusted, dull sparks explode from where he touched you. He gripped your waist as his mouth found your neck and he bites. 

You manage to suppress your shriek. It hurts. It was like Mahito was planning on actually eating you. He wanted to rip you apart, you were sure of it, leaving only bones behind. 

He pulls away and, through slitted eyes, you can see his mouth is stained with blood-your blood. He’s panting, barely restrained fingers are running over your chest. They’re trailing down the strap of your bra. His hands are feverish, greedy. He looked like he needed more. 

And you couldn’t stop him. 

Mahito isn’t asking you anymore, more interested in just ripping your clothes off himself. He doesn’t bother trying to figure out the bra clasps, not when he can just slice the front, barely missing your flesh. You don’t have time to react before he’s meeting sensitive skin. 

His hands are cold, it’s all what you can think as they travel to your tits, traversing your burning flesh. His fingers are too firm, pressing into your skin, hands of the inexperienced, but it’s sending shivers of something up your shoulders. And then you’re barely thinking because his face nuzzles into the crook of your neck again and bites again.

You aren’t ready for it, not with his touches being an already huge distraction. You aren’t ready and something small and needy pushes through your throat. A sigh. 

You stiffen and Mahito’s pausing. His hands retract a bit, as if suddenly unsure and he’s pulling away, looking up. He tilts his head and you feel heat flood your cheeks. The taste of shame is fresh on your tongue.

He grins. 

“Hey,” He whispers breathily, “Think you can do that again?” 

It’s anger, you know it’s anger, and you’re about to scream before Mahito’s ducking back down, fingers clamping over your tits to squeeze. 

He’s touching you everywhere, not giving a moment of reprieve. To him, you respond beautifully, reluctantly arching your back, giving him gasps and moans that seem to grow louder the more insistent he gets. He’s rough and you’re sure there’ll be marks tomorrow, constant reminders of what you’ve done today. 

It’s so much and you’re barely noticing his hands trail down, past your stomach leaving cold trails in his wake. You don’t notice until you feel a tugging on your skirt and your eyes fly open as you realize far too late. 

“Wait,” You start, trying to shift away. He doesn’t let you, “Wait, just wait please-” 

You’re forgetting his threats, squirming and the beginnings of a rebel taking shape. Mahito’s quick to suppress, fluidly reaching over to pin you against the soft cushions. One hand on your hip, the other around your neck. He’s not squeezing. There’s just the tiniest hint of pressure, waiting. 

His eyes are wide, giddy, as he scans your face, the redness in your eyes, your tear streaked face. You try to sink into the pillows as he leans closer, his tongue darting out to lick your cheek. Your tears, you faintly realize. You wondered if he could taste what he did to you, if he could distinguish the feelings of anguish, dread, fear, all nestled in salty water. 

“Please.” You say again. A whisper. A beg. 

His smile widens, but he doesn’t answer. He loves this. You know he does. After weeks of being unresponsive, Mahito can finally see you look at him, tremble, fear him, hate him. 

He wants you to hate him even more. 

You know you’re giving him exactly what he wants, but as he slides down your skirt, the fear in your heart palpitates again and you can’t help it. You can feel your heartbeat quicken on Mahito’s thumb. He’s feeling it too.  

The skirt pools on the floor, the only thing you’re in is the ripped up bra and your panties. He shifts again, the hand leaves your neck as he sinks to the floor, right between your thighs. He leans his head against your thighs and you can feel his gray hair swish against your legs. It’s oddly soft. Almost human-like. 

Everything about him is almost human-like.

“You’re oddly protective of this area,” He hums, eyes flicking up to engulf your looks of panic. 

You don’t respond, but he isn’t really looking for an answer. Mahito instead focused on your rising heat, fingers just barely caressing the soft skin of your thigh. His hands suddenly clamp down in a squeeze. You jerk. He laughs. It’s cruel. 

You think you could handle it when Mahito’s finger starts moving closer, just barely skimming your panties. You expected it. Predicated it. There was no way to get out of this. There’s still this feeling of dread that comes when he places a forefinger on your clothed slit, just barely moving up and down. There’s something else too. Something that you’re trying to push away. It’s strong, an urge, and you’re praying you’re stronger. 

But his actions are growing bolder and the shame gives away to a dull spark of pleasure. You flinch. Mahito notices. It’s all the motivation he needs because he’s humming, head moving closer to latch onto your clothed pussy. You squeak, hips jerking as you try to shift away from the sudden heat. His hands keep you in place, as well as a sharp glance up. 

His mouth is dripping with hot saliva. It completely soaks your panties as his tongue lurks out to press against the cloth. The heat and pressure engulfs your pussy and a gasp threatens to break from your mouth. You’re sucking in cold air, hoping it's enough to cool your body. 

It isn’t. 

He’s not quiet either. Mahito lets out a loud moan, pressing further into your clit. It sounds so dirty, and something warm swirls in your stomach again. 

He leans back, and you think he’s finally done with tormenting you but the demon is just pulling out your panties. He lets the cloth fall to your ankles. 

Mahito grins, clearly enjoying what he’s seeing. The satisfied look on his face makes something in you jolt. 

“Is this what you were hiding?” Mahito reaches to push into your folds, “You’re dripping.” 

Humiliation is suffocating. For once, you are glad these horrid sights are for you only. 

He’s ducking down, this time paying close attention to your clit. It’s so much worse now. Your hands are reaching down, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to tug. He doesn’t even seem to care, humming in delight. 

He didn't know what he was doing. His moments are too fast, then too slow, there’s no rhythm for you to hold on to. It’s mindless. Inexperience. 

But it doesn’t matter because it’s working. It’s working and you’re sinking into the cushions, gasping as his tongue swirls circles around your clit. He’s slow, taking his time, building something up from scraps of you. Your hands no longer try to push him away but just hold on as your hips start to move on their own, reacting to his messy rhythm. 

Unconsciously, you pull him closer.

He’s voicing his appreciation, actual words muffled by skin. You can feel his tongue raking up and down your slit, crudely taking it all in. His teeth carelessly bump against your clit. You hiss at that. He doesn’t bother apologizing. 

Despite his attention diverting, he doesn’t let himself get too distracted. When your hand comes up to muffle your pathetic sounds, thick fingers wrap themselves around your wrists, yanking the appendage down to your hip. His groan of disapproval reverberates through you, and you suppress as shudder.  

You barely get a hint, there’s just the slightest tease of a breath, the smallest lick, before his mouth is enveloping your clit to suck and you’re gone. 

There’s an implosion, a sagging wave of pleasure and relief. You throw your head back, not even bothering to clamp down the scream as something good washes over your body. You are barely remembering to breathe. It’s too much and you feel yourself falling back to earth but you can’t you just can’t because Mahito’s picking up the pace, going faster and faster and- 

Oh. 

“You’re not stopping,” You gasp, “Why-why aren’t you stopping-?” The question is cut off by a dull moan, pulled out of you by Mahito’s feverish tongue. 

He doesn’t answer, more intent on pressing harsher, pushing deeper, and you’re dizzyingly wondering if he’s trying to kill you, if this is how you’re going to go, trapped by unyielding pleasure. Too strong. Too much. 

You’re forgetting the position you're in, your reluctant willingness, and you move to pull away, just for some relief. A harsh bite on your thigh makes you yelp. 

Mahito’s still smiling. But there’s a warning in his eyes. A dull sort of annoyance. 

“I’m not done yet,” He frowns, “So stay still.” 

Warmth meets your oversensitive pussy again and it’s finally finally clicking in your messy mind. He’s experimenting. Exploring. He wants to know every inch of you. Every single step to make you crack. Every human weakness. 

One down, a thousand more to go. 

It’s after your second orgasm when he finally pulls away. The lower half of his face is covered in remnants of you. He’s greedily licking it up, not letting a single drop go to waste. You don’t have the mental capacity to be disgusted, breathlessly watching as he lifts himself off his knees, eagerly crawling over your exhausted body. 

He’s not done with you, he’s not kind enough for that. Hands cage you on the couch, not leaving much room to escape. Lowering himself on top of you, Mahito’s quick to resume his earlier ministrations, glazing his tongue across your bare shoulder. Your skin is hot under his mouth. You jerk, arching your back, hoping to get away from his touch. All it does is give better access to your neck, which Mahito quickly indulges himself in. 

“Fuck,” He pulls away, “I really can’t get enough of you.” 

You peer up at him. Much to your dismay, he fiddles with his pants, impatiently jerking the fabric down. You try not to look but, much like a car crash that’s too horrific to not gawk at, you’re staring at the bulge in pants, flinching when something hot and blunt rests against your thigh.

“I haven’t really found a use for this,” He breathes lowly in your ear, “Well, I guess until now.” 

He’s not patient, then again you never pegged him as someone who waits. He’s quick to angle himself with your wet hole, before thrusting his entire length in one single movement.

It hurts. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. His hands move to settle on your hips, but other than that he doesn’t move. When the pain subsides, you peer up to look at him. Mismatched eyes stare back. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. 

Without warning, he gives an experimental jerk. You wince, and your walls clench around his cock. He grins. 

“That’s it,” He coos, starting a messy tempo, “Just like that.” 

He doesn’t start off slow, why would he? It’s not like he’s your lover, overwhelming you with complete adoration, hoping you like this just as much as he does. He doesn’t care about your comfort, your likes, your preferences. Mahito just wants you to lay like that, underneath him, twitching and moaning and pliant. He wants to use you like a sex doll and you just have to take it. 

Your mind is screaming all this to you, but your traitorous body is humming, slowly becoming more and more aroused by his movements. Your walls continue to betray you, letting his movements become less jerky, more fluid. Out of curiosity, he angles his hips a little forward, coincidentally hitting that spot inside you. You mewl. 

“So loud,” He breathes, “I think you might like me.” 

Not coherent enough to form words, you just glare. Offended, he continues to press on that spot, giving a lecherous grin when your eyes widen and you throw your head back in a silent scream. 

He wasn’t watching before, but he certainly is now. You can feel his gaze raking over your face, drinking in every expression, every tremble, every gasp. Unlike you, he seems barely affected by what he’s doing. He’s far more interested in what he’s doing to you. His eyes are crinkled in a leering stare, and there’s a wide grin on his face. Disturbing. Unsettling. 

He’s a fucking creep. 

But you don’t have the luxury to cuss him out, do anything to really make him know it, because he’s picking up the pace, going faster than what should be humanly possible. When he starts to lean dangerously forward, your hands shoot out to grab his shoulders, pushing him as far away from you as you can. His fingers run across your body, tweaking your tits. Another moan spills out of your throat, reluctant pleasure overwhelms you. 

He catches your mouth before you can shut it, jamming two fingers past your lips, depressing your tongue. Your eyes widen and it’s instinct to bite, lurch. He doesn’t let you get far, forcing your head back into the soft cushions. 

You feel him spread his fingers on your tongue, pressing against the inside of your cheeks. He approves of what he sees because he laughs, rolling his hips in a way that has you keening. His fingers act like a gag, making you unable to anything but hum pathetically in his hold. 

“Oh,” Mahito suddenly coos, “You’re drooling.” 

Of course you are. Mahito doesn’t look the slightest bit disgusted, if anything, he looks eager. 

You can’t do anything but shiver as he invades your space once again, removing his fingers to replace it with his mouth. It isn’t a kiss, it barely even resembles one. There’s too much teeth, too much pressure. It’s too greedy, too domineering, too much. 

But you’re starting to see him be affected by this. Blood is rushing to his face; he looks drunk. Mahito’s grinning in pure euphoria, watching as you writhe and squirm underneath him. You think he gets off to this. How helpless you are beneath him. 

He’s barely touched you, but it takes little time to finally fall. It’s sudden, this time. There’s no build up or slow wash of relief. It’s almost blinding. You see white as something something something barrels through your body. You seize, squeezing his cock tighter as you mindlessly ride your orgasm against him. 

Mahito’s not far behind. He gives a short groan, humming into your mouth, before he gives a final shaky push. You feel something warm disperse into your pussy. You can’t even think to scream before he’s stilling above you, just moments away from feeling the pangs of overstimulation. 

You two stay like that for a while. He doesn’t move, still deep inside you. He allows you to catch your breathing, barely even moving, content to just listen to your harsh breaths, your mind still fuzzy to truly understand what happened. At some point, your hands had moved, now lazily wrapped around his shoulders in and effort to stabilize you. 

You’re breaking out of the haze when Mahito starts laughing. It’s giddy, slightly breathless. He breaks away from your lips, moving to bury himself in your sensitive neck. You can feel his hair again, soft on your skin. 

“See?” He says, nuzzling your neck. 

“I told you it’d be fun.” 

[hurtthemgently]

Defiant whumpee+intimate whumper

Cw: non con touching and kissing.

Whumper runs a hand through whumpee’s hair. They shiver and pull away, only to have their hair grabbed and yanked

Glaring as whumper lifts their hand to kiss their fingertips, setting their jaw at the too-light touch

Struggling as whumper presses kisses up the back of their neck

Kicking and yelling while whumper sits atop them

Cursing and insulting whumper whenever they start giving them unwanted affection

Making a disgusted noise when whumper presses a kiss to their cheek

Whumper doesn’t care that they fight and curse, in fact, that makes it even more fun to toy with them

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Nsfw yandere Tamaki Amajiki (or any character in bnha you see would fit the line) x reader force feeding because he’s insecure about the reader leaving him. Based of this line please “you’re not leaving me, so eat up.” Thank you!

I love force-feeding! Thanks for your ask, I do, however, want to be wary of including anything that directly addresses any form of fatphobia. Don't feel bad for asking, though! This is a very personal topic for me and I have not added fatphobia to my list of what I won't write for however, I want to be transparent about how I feel about this with my followers.

That said, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Subject: BNHA, Tamaki Amajiki aka Suneater

Title: Toxic Feast

Trigger Warning: Force feeding, non con, grinding, obsessive & possessive behavior, drooling, kissing

Tamaki ground his crotch against your distended stomach, moaning in your ear from his position on your lap. It didn't hurt but you were uncomfortable, stuffed full of the dinner he'd made you. And by dinner, singular, you meant dinners, plural, four to be exact. But that had become the routine with him, desperate to keep you full for his own fetish he disguised as "concern."

"You're so full," Tamaki whined. "You feel so good. You're full, right? You don't want anymore?"

You shook your head, dizzy from eating.

"That's okay," he panted, "that's okay. Once you start feeling hungry I'll get you something else, anything you want." Drool dribbled down his chin at the thought of getting you to eat again, you could practically see his thoughts as they formed, sorting through all the different food he could make to shove down your throat.

His hips ground faster against you, his precum staining his pants and your shirt. Tamaki pulled your head back to kiss you, his long tongue fill your mouth. His breaths were coming faster now, sharper. The noises he made grew needier and louder. He was close.

You tried to say his name but moving your mouth just let his tongue slide in deeper, rooting through you to find any space to fill. He didn't want to consume you but be consumed by you, to fill every breadth of space inside you with himself. It was a sickening form of love and you couldn't escape him even if you tried. Despite his thin frame, Tamaki was strong.

He broke the kiss, gasping your name as drool ran freely down his chin. The animalistic sounds of his pleasure made your core squirm even his he bullied his cock against your stomach. And with a final, growl he came, his seed rapidly soaking into his pants and your shirt.

He slumped onto your lap, nuzzling his face into your throat, his flat stomach against your distended one. "You're too pretty when you're full," he huffed. "I can't control myself." Slowly, he leaned back grabbing your face with his hands. The tips of his fingers sank into your cheeks, hard and unforgiving as his gaze darkened. "Promise you'll never let another guy feed you."

As if you wanted that. But you knew how to play this game and return him to his docile, albeit needy, self. "Promise," you said.

He calmed down, returning to resting his head on your shoulder. "You're never gonna leave me, okay? We'll be together forever. You and made and all the food you can eat."

[diseaseriddencube]

I love ranking things I need to like, dump my Alastor shipping thoughts all over the place

radiodust: 2/10 I see why this was popular when it was just the pilot, but ugh uyrjdhgfhjskdfjhgfhjskkdfjghjkls I just don't see it. I love the way they interact on the old hunicast streams, not romantically but in the "get this disgusting spider away from me :))))" way, it's perfect. In fics, I do sorta enjoy Angel as a caretaker when Alastor is getting whumped, but that's about it.

radiostatic: 10/10 but in a one sided rivalry way, and the fact that they used to be friends????? omg. I thoroughly enjoy Vox being a massive simp and trying his hardest to get Alastor's attention as an enemy, and not even getting reciprocation. loser behavior. love it. he whacks off to glitched out pictures of alastor while cursing about how much he hates him the entire time.

radioapple: 10/10 i wouldn't have even CONSIDERED this pairing until Lucifer appeared and they randomly just decided They Are Gonna Fight. they are enemies to enemies. they'd kiss each other but only if they thought it would piss the other off. put them in a room together and they instantly start making petty arguments and insults. they are in a constant pissing contest and i wanna watch them like it's a drama tv reality show. there's hatesex and neither of them are happy about it.

radiorose: 9/10 i'm pretty on board with the rest of the fandom with this one, it's a qpr. I like the idea of Rosie being the one person he views as an equal, and someone he can be comfortable and intimate with. they have tea parties every weekend and gossip around like old ladies. they're like Kiss On The Cheek and Holding Hands sort of intimate, and more emotionally open. I think it's adorable and they look so good together. it's too soft of a ship for me to give a 10/10 to, i need violence and hate and horrors. married for tax benefits.

alastor x valentino: 0.5/10 i hate it so bad. but that .5 is just because there's a weirdly large amount of fics I loved with this ship as the premise, like I get excited seeing this in the relationship listings. (it's because all the fics are a non-con horrorfest-)

alastor x adam: -15/10 why. disgusting. the best alastor whump fics usually include him though, but I hate it as a pairing, it's only good because Alastor is getting his ass handed to him bloody and gored.

charlastor: 0/10 I see why people like it, but it is like a visceral Nope from me. I don't know why I dislike it but it just doesn't vibe with me whatsoever.

alastor x niffty: 2/10 there's a surprising lack of content from the canon and the fandom for this, so it's hard to even gauge their chemistry. i feel like it's a situation where alastor thinks of her like "oh yeah she's like my daughter I guess, i forget her name sometimes but she's kinda cute, I'm also a neglectful father, haha she's so silly"

alastor x husk: 0/10 no. i read like, one good fic for them and that's it they literally have nothing going for me.

alastor x mimzy: 3/10 needs more content and context. in old drafts they were actually dating but even then i just don't really see it? i need to see them hanging out casually to really feel the vibes. their friendship wasn't introduced in the best light, but i think it has cute potential.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 28)

Tw: Non con touching and kissing, reader blaming themselves for said non con touching and kissing, religion mentions

Gimme anon asks and comments n reblogs

vote below i will only consider first 20 voters

Part 28.5

Evangeline and Montgomery seem disappointed when you said you're not interested in either clubs.

They wanted to say something, but you told them you're heading to class. You retrieved all your items and rushed to leave.

"Wait a minute, darlin'. You forgot somethin'." Said Montgomery.

You fell for his bait and turned around.

Your blood pressure spiked when he pressed his dry lips against yours. Lucky for him, he pulled away before you could deliver a sucker punch to his jaw- you tried, but you missed.

So you spit in disgust, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.

"Here." He grabbed your wrist and shoved two $20 bills again. You mentally calculated the total amount of money he gave you so far. it's around $125 at this point "This time, I'll call ya'."

He grinned, patting your head like a dog before pressing another kiss on the forehead. You pushed him away this time, but he was unfazed.

"Wow, Monty! You're a true Christian, molesting a student that's probably three decades your junior, I know a lot of pastors do that!" Evangeline was loud enough to make heads turn in the library. Murmurs started resonating throughout the building about what they just heard.

"You fuckin' bitch-" He whisper-yelled, but was cut off by Evangeline.

"Fuck off, old man. Take a bath while you're at it." The dissonance is jarring, she was smiling so politely and kindly, but her tone and words described her otherwise.

Montgomery stormed away, not sparing you or her any more glances.

You turned to the Blonde. She was giggling to herself like she just witnessed the world's funniest joke.

__

In the end though, you told Evangeline that you're going to skip your lecture and go home.

"Well, can I hang out with you at home?"

You scratched the back of your head and grimaced.

You told her no and muttered a short apology.

"Aw." She pouted. "That's okay."

You nervously turned around and walked to the car park. However, she wrapped her arms around yours and followed you.

You asked her what was she doing.

"Oh, since I have nothing to do here, might as well get on the same ride. Daddy will send me home after dropping you off."

You asked if she has to be this close to you. Her chest is pressing up against your side as she hugs your arm. It's soft and too warm for your liking.

"We're friends! Nothing more, nothing less. This is totally normal." She leaned her head against your shoulder.

You told her to please not touch you. She frowned.

"You're not letting a man dictate your life, are you? I think Sir Yves is too controlling, besides, I'm not doing anything bad, I'm just walking with you to the parking lot!" She's not letting you go, maintaining her iron grip on your arm despite you obviously trying to wrench it away. She is deceptively strong.

So you became silent and complied. Wanting nothing more than to go home, lock yourself in your air-conditioned room and cry to Yves. Perhaps even spend all your allowance just to fly to Yves. You can't take it anymore, everything is so scary, weird and confusing.

Yves would know what to do.

You were trapped in your own mind as you made your way to Mr. Jones's car with Evangeline clinging onto you.

She finally released you as you opened the door. Evangeline went to the other side.

"Hello Mx. (Name) and... Evangeline." Mr. Jones sounded down. He kept giving you and her anxious glances, mostly disappointed ones towards his daughter.

But Evangeline's sunshiny demeanour never faltered. She greeted her father as she buckled her belt.

He drove off without a word.

There was a blanket of tense silence draping over the three of you. When the car came to a stop at a traffic light, Mr. Jones was the first one to break the quietness.

"Sir Yves called me earlier. He was describing your behavior, Evangeline." He sounded careful, not wanting to offend his beloved daughter or his important client.

She sighed. "I know, daddy. It was wrong of me to do that. It won't happen again."

"He sounded very unhappy, Evangeline. I... I'm sorry for talking about this in front of you, Mx (name). I just... I'm..." He trailed off, struggling to find the words that he wanted to say.

You told him that it is okay. You don't mind, he can continue on.

"Thank you, Mx. (Name). Please don't be pressured to stay silent, tell us if you're uncomfortable and we will stop." You nodded. Suddenly, Evangeline's cheery attitude darkened.

"Daddy, you're not being professional. (Name) is still your client, you should not mix personal matters with your job."

You knitted your eyebrows in concern. What is going on? And what a hypocrite! Evangeline literally hopped on the same car as you, if anything, she's the one who isn't professional.

"I know, sweetie but... this is concerning Mx. (name) and your actions and... what's going on?" He asked, he is worried that his daughter is going through something that's causing all these issues.

"What do you mean, daddy?" She was feigning ignorance.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when his eyes landed on your figure. Best to settle this in private.

"I'll talk to you later. I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Mx. (Name). I just want to find out what's happening in my daughter's life. You understand, right?"

You said yes and told him you have no problems with this. To that, he breathed out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Mx. (Name)."

Neither of you shared any words as he drives on. You saw Evangeline boringly looked out of the window as she props her cheek against her fist.

She doesn't seem mentally present here, but her other hand is sensually stroking your thigh up and down.

You alternate between her and her hand. Holding onto that glimmer of hope she will realize what's she doing is fucking crazy and snap out of it.

It seems like she isn't stopping anytime soon and neither is she paying attention to what she's doing.

You looked at Mr. Jones. He's doing his job, not noticing what's happening in the back seat. He has a troubled expression on his face as he handles the steering wheel.

Only when her hand got too close to your crotch, only did you pretend to drop your phone. You pushed her hand away as you bent down to pick your device up.

But she didn't care to have her eyes on you. Opting to stare out into the distance instead.

You let out a loud shriek when she slid her hand down the gap between your skin and the waistband of your pants.

"Mx. (Name)!? Are you okay!?" The sudden alarm almost caused Mr. Jones to swerve his car.

You were about to point at Evangeline and accuse her of touching you, but...

Poor Mr. Jones. He's already having a rough day, you can see it in his eyes that he's about to cry if anything else goes wrong today. He's been nothing but nice to you, it would definitely crush him to know his daughter is a predator.

You looked up at Evangeline. She wasn't smiling nor frowning, you don't know what she's feeling at the moment.

So you... just said nothing. You composed yourself and made a barrier between you and her, using your increasingly bulky bag. Without Yves, you're just stuffing everything inside that sad sack.

Eventually, the energy in the car was lowered. Everyone calmed down and the ride was completed without any further hitches.

Unbeknownst to you, Evangeline was staring at you through the window's reflection this whole time.

__

You cocooned yourself in your blankets and stayed far away from your phone. It's buzzing like crazy, it could either come from Yves, Montgomery or Evangeline.

You didn't want to face any of them. The latter two for obvious reasons. Yves, because you don't know how to explain to him what has happened.

You haven't told him about Montgomery's daily visit and touches. You don't know how he will react to them especially when you're the one accepting his food, money and keychain. You could have said no to both of them, but you let them stay regardless.

You were spineless enough to let them drag you around and You're afraid as to how Yves will react to your uselessness.

Feeling betrayed and saddened, you thought Evangeline would have protected you. But she was flip flopping between Yves's side and Montgomery's. Now, you have to protect yourself from her.

Maybe Yves is going to be upset at you instead, for physically and emotionally cheating on him. For not doing enough to stop it. For not telling him earlier. Making you complicit in their predatory behaviors.

The buzzing from your phone wouldn't stop, so you covered your head with a pillow. Sobbing into it and yearning for comfort. Doubtful that you could get it from Yves anymore.

You were about to drift off to sleep in a puddle of your own tears until suddenly...

"(Name)! Wake the fuck up, you lazy ass!" Your housemate banged their fist on your door.

Hopping out of bed, you screamed that you're coming. Great, now what? Is she going to fight you for shedding hair around the house? You frowned, wiping away the tears and sniffling.

You opened the door just to suddenly have a phone aggressively shoved into your face. You were about to take a swing at her until a very, very familiar voice rang out.

"(name), dear?"

You gasped, instinctively reaching out to try and hang up. But your housemate was too tall, too fast.

"Hey, your boyfriend's been calling you and you weren't picking up. Go talk to him and tell him you're not dead!" She scolded you.

Running out of energy, you gave up and she slowly lowered her phone to your hands.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes. Switch to your own phone if you guys aren't done by then. Don't break it!" You nodded and slammed the door shut behind you.

You took a deep breath and called out for him.

"You were crying."

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that. You were rendered speechless as you tried to keep your sniffling at bay.

"(name)." He whispered.

You gave him no response.

"Jones told me what happened." You held onto a breath as your eyes shot open.

"It was not your fault." Yves softly assured you.

This made you cry out noisily, out of relief, fear and shame. You sobbed and hiccupped, wiping your eyes with your palm.

You're starting to feel anger rising up. He saw it? Why didn't he stop Evangeline from doing what she did? Or at least acknowledge it and tell her off? You understand that you would excuse your own flesh and blood for a lot of things, but not this.

You told him you were sorry through shaky breaths and weeps, apologizing for not telling about Montgomery, about choosing to eat his food because you forgot to bring Yves's premade meals, about enabling his behavior even though you shouldn't.

You told him everything that has happened during his absence. Not a single detail left out, you begged for his forgiveness and promised that you wouldn't keep anything from him again. You just wanted help to get out of this situation.

"(name). I am not blaming you for what Montgomery or Jones's daughter did to you." His calmness is helping you slow your heart rate.

"None of it was of any fault of yours." He repeated.

"They are fully responsible for how they act." He continued. "It sickens me that they dare to accuse you of influencing them, when you have done nothing except to protect yourself."

You sniffled and wept harder. You didn't understand, you told him that you didn't run or fight them. You must be partially at fault, at the very least. You were compliant and you should have been firm with your rejections.

"I know you, (name). You tend to freeze and fawn in stressful situations. You were merely protecting yourself, and you shouldn't think otherwise." You could only hear the compassion, sympathy and love in his voice. There wasn't a trace of mockery or disdain. That realization that Yves is truly not criticizing you, gave you an intense, never-felt-before surge of consolation throughout your body.

While allowing you more time to let everything out of your system, Yves deactivated the hidden cameras and microphones he installed in Mr. Jones's car. You will not be using his services anymore.

You berated yourself for being so weak. You wished you had a fight or flight system instead of... freeze or fawn. Yves should be enjoying his time overseas, relaxing before his conference, but he's stuck fixing your problems.

He is better off not having you as his partner. That way, he would be unburdened by your inability to survive without him. You think Yves is going to find someone else who knows how to stand up for themselves, someone respectable--

"(Name). That's enough." You were instantly snapped out of your self-deprecating spiral by his stern voice.

"Thoughts that do not serve you have no place in your mind. I vowed to always be there for you. I am not a man who would go back on his words. I mean everything I say." Yves's strictness was evident in both his tone and uttered syllables.

"Don't you dare think for a moment that I would ever leave you." Yves's words are akin to a subdued thunder, dangerously threatening and gravelly. This marks the first time witnessing a taste of Yves's fury, it rattled you to the bones and you were grateful that your eyes were spared from seeing his unimaginable expression.

In the end, your brain felt... empty. You were whimpering, but it's almost like you're afraid to commit a thoughtcrime against Yves. You become extremely cautious of what goes through your head.

The sounds of him scribbling something on a notepad filled the silence. You coughed a bit from your mucus and tears as typing could be heard in the background.

You're now sitting on the floor, cross legged. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you're content having him on the line as company.

You have no other words to say and neither did he. You're okay with that, much to your surprise.

You heard him softly take a breath,

"(name)." His intonation is now back to being gentle and nurturing. You acknowledged that you were listening.

"I want your absolute honesty." You gulped, fearing what he's going to say next.

"Do you want me to return home earlier?" Direct and straight to the point. You started stammering, that is such a loaded request. You can't possibly tell him to cut his trip short! Yves probably hasn't even stepped foot into the conference hall yet--

"(Name)." The hardness of his voice suggests that you be quiet and listen to what he has to tell you next.

"A yes, or a no."

Yves gave you some time to think after his curt addition.

You licked your lips and made your decision.

[gimme-a-thrust]

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Close-ups of Valentino making his moves on Angel, mostly, and shorter versions of the kiss than I saw on Google. This is, absolutely, for Reasons.

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[belovedharringrove]

bullshit.

steve didn't remember why he and billy had started arguing. they were at a house party that billy had been invited to and he had decided to drag steve along despite parties not really being his scene anymore. they had been having fun and drinking together and steve started to let go and next thing he knows they're storming out of the house and arguing about something.

"she kissed me! i wasn't even paying attention to her!" steve heard himself hiss angrily and... oh, yeah. some girl had kissed him. now he could see flashes of a blonde that was like a grade below him at school pulling him close by the collar of his shirt and kissing him despite him trying to get away. that's why they were arguing.

steve heard billy let out a mean laugh. "oh, really?" the blond scoffed, taking an angry drag of his cigarette and blowing it towards steve's face, making his nose wrinkle. "you're such bullshit." he said and steve.

steve froze. suddenly it was halloween 1984 all over again and he was in tina's bathroom as the first person he ever loved told him he was bullshit and that it was all bullshit and their love was bullshit, and despite being outside he could feel phantom walls closing in on him as his breaths started coming out faster and faster and his chest felt like it would collapse.

first nancy and now billy. both people he loved with all his heart and soul telling him he was.. was that really everything steve was? just bullshit? he felt like the world was turning too fast for him to keep up with and like all the air had left his lungs and like he had a stone stuck in his throat whenever he tried to breathe in.

"-teve! steve, what's wrong?!" he heard through the wind rushing in his ears and he hazily focused on billy, standing in front of him and desperately cupping his cheeks, blue eyes wide and panicked. "baby, talk to me!" he was saying and the knot in steve's chest loosened the slightest bit, enough for him to...

"i didn't want her to kiss me." he managed to gasp before he burst into tears, feeling billy pull him close and mutter apologies into his hair for not believing him and for being an asshole and not letting him defend himself before he made assumptions and steve.. he was probably gonna give billy hell for this later but for now he just pulled his boyfriend close and absorbed the comfort that he never got back in 1984 when he got his heart broken for the first time.