#so I mostly just polished it up a bit

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[sysig]

Hey don’t I know you

Bonus:

[bibiana112]

Finished Danganronpa Lapse and tbh nobody gets it like I do because every review I've seen wasn't made by someone who's played zero escape Why did Echo do that? ZTD shifting strats that's why! Lyle's canonically a zero escape nerd who brings up the morphogenetic field as a quick joke and is introduced arguing about the funyarinpa, do I think all these references get in the way and that it's a bit underwhelming when this comes unexplained out of nowhere? Absolutely! But it's so clearly an element the creator was inspired by and wanted to include and play with rather than a lazy last minute deal to fix 'plot holes'

[ayakashibackstreet]

Honestly God bless the people asking the PKC admins for updates on their Discord, the PKC ingrained its 'no badgering judges' ruleset into me (good thing) to the point of me not wanting to bother the staff, even when the website has been down for what's almost 2 years now

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[transgaysex]

i should go to gay bars

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown! Neglected! Meta! Reader x Yandere! Batfam

Part Five

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

A/N: Starting to realize I need to slow down, things are really getting complicated and I want everything to be included. Including proper warnings and important plot details and to really keep things more polished.

A/N: Also, going through the doubts on my writing, but we is gonna persevere, y’all. I’m going to take some time to focus on Obsessions.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior, Kidnapping, Vomiting, Slight Stalking

After running Date’s life, Tim starts to investigate Reader full throttle. Before it was just something he did to relax between cases when he couldn’t shut off his brain. Now, he didn’t want to miss anything. Not a single detail. He’d also been having trouble digging up an information on reader’s small town.

Apparently, they weren’t up to date on their technology. Can’t hack computers for information if the computers don’t exist. Still, it was nice to find out about Reader’s childhood. (Making notes for Bruce to add certain flora and fauna to the Manor’s garden and looking up any restaurants in Gotham that he could possibly take Reader too. You know, as friends.) But, Tim was nothing if not stubborn.

Reader, having a bit of whiplash from Dick’s comforting and sudden departure starts trying to fill their time by hanging out with Cassandra, Duke, and/or Stephanie.

They also call back home informing Nana about the Date incident. Surprisingly enough, Nana was sympathetic. (Though Reader couldn’t help thinking she was using that condescending small town sarcasm. Maybe they’d just been in Gotham for too long?) Regardless, Nana lends a comforting ear and even talks about BFF and their older brother, Childhood Crush, to Reader in an attempt to distract them. Telling them what the two have been up to. (How much they miss you. They can’t wait for you to come home visit.)

Reader, however, is a tad more concerned with Younger Brother. Making sure to ask how he is fairing and if he could come visit them in Gotham for a bit. Just to give Nana and Grand Daddy a much needed break since their age is catching up with them. (Aren’t you so sweet? Caring so much for your real family.)

But, Nana brushes reader off. No need, he’s been hanging out with Childhood Crush and BFF. They’ve really taken him under their wing. (They’d make great a great partners. Don’t you think, dear?) It does arouse Reader’s suspicions, but when they call their Younger Brother, he sounds… fine… Said he was having more fun with BFF than Childhood Crush, but that’s a given. (BFF knows Reader best, and won’t let anything happen to him or Reader.) They’re probably overthinking things about things back home. (That pang of homesickness just doesn’t seem to go away.)

At school, however, things were changing.

Damian wasn’t lying to himself about scaring off Reader’s friends. A few started to avoid Reader suddenly. But, a few, mostly the wealthier ones, stayed close. Not at all bothered by Damian’s sudden campaign. Some even introducing Reader to their closer circles.

Reader’s happy to have more friends, but the loss of Date and Reader’s more down to earth friends weighed on them. Reader’s new group felt like an isolated bubble cage that encloses tightly around them (and wouldn’t let them go.)

Bruce has been pretty strict about who Reader spends time with since the gala. But, Reader, going stir crazy when Cass, Steph, and Duke, respectively, are to busy (have patrol and missions), decides to ask Barbara if they can hang out with her. (A stranger is better than nothing.)

Tim’s seems to be too busy with whatever he’s doing. (He’s technically spending time on Reader, rather than with Reader.) Reader loves Alfred, but they’re always helping him cook. Dick’s gone off on some errand in Buldhaven or Gotham (Reader can’t remember, they’re a bit annoyed by how finicky he can be with giving Reader attention.). Jason might actually choke reader if they suggest hanging out. And, Reader is still pissed at Damian for being a rude little shit (Plus, they suspect he has something to do with their friends leaving them. They just can’t prove it.)

Barbara agrees to bring Reader to work with her at the Gotham City Library. Fully expecting Reader to mostly stay to themselves or possibly sneak off. (As members of the family are prone to do.) She is pleasantly surprised that Reader actually tends to stay by her side. Of course, Reader goes and gets a few books to curl up with. But, they quietly chat with Barbara, occasionally assisting with task, and mostly just enjoy silent companionship.

Reader doesn’t expect Barbara to entertain them, they can entertain themselves. They just don’t want to be alone at the moment. (Reader hates being alone when they’re sad. Hate. Hate. Hates it.) Barbara finds the silent and soft companionship to be a balm for the soul, so to speak. There’s no pressure. No duty. Just companionship. (It’s eases her mind how Reader is willing to stay safe. They’re not being dramatic or doing something foolish. I can get used to this.)

After the day is over, Barbara reports how Reader behaved back to Bruce. (Didn’t wander, stayed close by, wasn’t rude or sarcastic. That Gala had to have been a fluke. It has to be those horrible friends of Reader’s corrupting them.) If anything, it builds a level of trust with Bruce that Reader can be cautious and they won’t have to worry about them leaving. (Running away. Ha!)

Bruce decides Reader deserves a little more trust. (He wants to spoil his child.) Giving them more leeway to spend time in Gotham. But, only with members of the family. Which would be fine, if they were available. There’s, unfortunately, been an Arkham Breakout.

The entire family is on high alert for the next few days, especially since Joker escaped this time. (Hell, no. The family isn’t risking it. They won’t allow it. If Joker does something to Reader he’s dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Batman won’t stop anyone for killing him this time if he dares.) The family prioritize his capture, even recruiting the Gotham Sirens and the Superfamily to get the job done. It’s probably the fastest Joker’s ever been caught. (Joker is definitely pissed over the matter. And, will be making it everyone’s problem next time he gets out. What are you protecting Batsy? What are you trying to hide from me? Are we not friends?

Reader gets a brief introduction to Clark Kent during this ordeal. Before, Reader had only seen Conner and Jon around the manor hanging out with Damian and Tim respectively. (Conner would always try to flirt, which annoyed Reader. And, Jon was avoid on principle of being near Damian. Though, Reader was nice if they caught him alone in the manor. Which was growing more frequent recently.)

Clark is charmed, surprised by the Reader having grown up in a Smalltown. For Reader, it’s nice to meet someone who understands the longing for simplicity. Though Clark personally felt like he had something bigger to achieve outside of his town. Still they appreciate each other’s mindset. (Clark also wouldn’t mind inviting Reader out to the Kent farm. It would be fun to annoy Bruce. Plus, Reader is clearly struggling in Gotham. He’s not wrong.)

With Joker locked up, the family relaxes… Somewhat. They still have the rest of the rouge gallery to catch and have to work overtime to do it. Hardly any of them are seen outside the Batcave, which Reader is eighty-four percent certain is in the library.

Reader spends a lot of time pacing the halls. Looking at the paintings and furniture. It’s lonely. It’s like living in a house that’s haunted by ghost you’re supposed to know, but don’t. (If I have to live in a house haunted by ghost, I’d rather be haunted by the ones that loved me. I wanna go home. I want Momma and Daddy. I hate being alone. I hate it here.)

Stephanie, however, having made plans with Reader, finally gets a chance to take them out into Gotham. It takes a nearly a week, but they do manage to get out into the city together. Stephanie showing Reader all her favorite sights, pointing out landmarks and fun things. It’s possibly the funnest day Reader’s had since coming to Gotham. Arcades, Ice Skating, food trucks, street performers, it’s all new and exciting.

Nothing good last in Reader’s life it seems.

In broad daylight, Reader is forcefully grabbed and thrown into the back of a truck.

There’s a massive down side to being Bruce Wayne’s child. You easily get taken hostage and held for ransom.

Stephanie is helpless. She can only watch it happen too far away to make it to Reader in time. The horror and fear on Reader’s face made her stomach turn violently.

She immediately called Barbara to start tracking the vehicle and the thugs, sending an alert out to the entire family.

Once done she couldn’t stop herself from letting the disgust and shame bubble from her gut out on to the pavement. Just the thought of Reader being hurt making her physically ill. (Give them back. How dare they take what’s mine? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left them alone. They’re helpless without me.)

[frightwrite]

Orc Mercenary: Gurak

A little something from my old blog. Thought reposting it again would be alright since a lot folks seemed to like it.

NSFW

Female Reader x Male Orc

Business had been slow these past couple of weeks. Most of the usual customers hadn’t been appearing as often as they should and you had begun to assume most of them were either dead or had their nomadic adventures further away from your village. The village you resided in was known for supplying adventurers brave enough to explore the lands. Which you, being prominent in alchemy, found it convenient to work on your craft and bring in as much coin from the adventurers as possible.

That evening was the usual routine. Not a lot of folks traveled that far out to your store when it rained, so you spent most of your time keeping yourself busy. You did a bit of housekeeping. Dusting off the old relics, restocking your shelves with potions, and enchanting jewelry up until you got distracted. The bell had chimed signaling someone had entered your little storefront and you had said your usual greeting before looking up, astonished by the sight of him.

The being in your doorway was an orc and he was as intimidating as you have heard from local travelers.. Long tusks protruded from his mouth, a silver ring was dangling between his nostrils and dark tattoos adorned his deep green arms and chest. His black, braided hair had been soaked with the rain. He was well built, that much was evident with the way his leather armor further accented his muscles. But what had caught your attention was the large gash the orc was clutching on his side, dark blood dripping onto your polished wooden floor. 

“Excuse me,” His voice was hoarse as he spoke, “I heard you may have something for this.” He moved his arm away from his abdomen, revealing the deep gash just under the right side of his ribs.

A sickening feeling filled the pit of your stomach when you saw the wound. Blood oozed out of it, dripping onto your floor. You have seen many wounds during your time as the local alchemist, all of which have always made you feel squeamish. You hated the sight of blood. But this put all the other injuries to shame. 

“You’ll need a lot more than just one potion,” Motioning for him to follow you, you lead him to a side room in the store. You usually keep the extra potions in this room and a makeshift sink for your own personal needs. He seated himself on the small cot, glancing around the small room. You assumed he was looking at the various potions and enchantment scrolls sitting about that you had yet to tidy up.

“You’re a witch?” He managed to croak out while you walked over to assess his wound. You chuckled, moving away from the orc to search around the shelves for the ingredients you needed.

“I prefer the term alchemist,” You returned near him, with some herbal remedies along with a mixing bowl. You sat in silence as you crushed and ground the herbs, mixing some of them with a few drops from a potion bottle until it formed a sticky green paste. You scooped up a good amount of the paste on your fingers and turned to your patient. His dark eyes had been watching every move you’d make very intently. 

“I’m assuming that isn’t going to kill me,” He groaned and gave the paste in your cautious glance.

A playful chuckle resounded from your lips as you began to dab the ointment around his wound. “If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now.” 

His face scrunched up in disdain as he let out a hiss from the sudden stinging sensation. You mumbled a quick apology as you continued your work. You had never had an orc as a customer before. Your usuals mostly consisted of human mercenaries and the occasional elven mage. Orcs were rarer in your parts. They kept to themselves in their strongholds and only ever left if it meant there was a blacksmithing or mercenary job for them in one of the major cities.

Taking the bandaids, you began to wrap the cloth around his abdomen, making sure it was tight enough. You stood back, admiring your handiwork with a satisfied hum. “The sealant will work on its own, no need for stitches or bloody needles.” 

“That’s it? No magic words or shiny spells,” The orc sat up to stretch out his arms, giving you a full view of his chiseled features. You blushed and scolded yourself. You shouldn’t be ogling over your new customer.

“I told you I’m an alchemist. If you wanted magic you could’ve asked one of the mages at the college.” You huffed gathering your items together. “You’re better suited for the road now. I won’t charge you anything since this was an emergency. Think of it as my good deed for the day.”

You walked back towards the front of the store, the orc following right behind you. He stopped in front of your desk, eyeing you closely while you scribbled some notes down on parchment paper. For a while you decided to ignore him, going about your business and shuffling around the front desk. But the longer you worked, the longer he stood there in awkward silence.

You paused to glance up at him, a brow raised in confusion. He smiled, shook his head, and said his goodbyes before leaving your store without another word. It was an odd way to end your encounter, but you shrugged it off. The next couple of days went by as usual. You sold some healing potions to a traveling mercenary and sold some ring enchantments to the local blacksmith. The third day was when the orc returned, this time his wounds had healed and only a faint scar remained. Which you had to admit seemed to suit him.

“Hello, Ms. Witch.” He greeted as he walked towards your counter, placing down a neatly folded blanket made of fur that was much larger than anything else you owned.

You rolled your eyes playfully at the new nickname he chose for you and reached out to touch the pelt. Your fingers brushing over the incredibly soft material.

“Woah, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything this soft.” You said in awe. “Is this for me?” You turned your attention to the orc who quickly nodded.

“It’s a gift for patching me up.” He nervously turned away from you and you could have sworn you saw a faint blush appear on his cheeks. “I thought since winter was approaching you might appreciate this.”

“I do, thank you.” You took the blanket and quickly went in the back to place it on a chair. You returned to the front counter with a small stove and a teapot that usually acted as your tiny, yet portable kitchen. You gathered some simple herbs around your counter’s cabinet to make some tea for your guest. 

You poured water into the pot, clicking the stove on to boil the water. As you created a mixture of chamomile and lavender, you briefly looked over Gurak’s wound. “How are you feeling? Did the wound heal up alright?”

Gurak nodded. “Yes, the wound is fine. It felt like my skin was being burnt off. Thought you really did intend to kill me but it stopped after a few days and I ended up with this scar.”

You snorted at his little jest and began to place the herbal mixture into the boiling water. You leaned over the counter to get a better look at the orc’s scar, humming in thought before leaning back. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up with such a nasty wound?”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you.” Gurak chuckled. He watched as you turned off the stove and placed two teacups in front of you. “I’m sure you’ve had more interesting patrons.”

You poured some tea into two cups, handing one to Gurak before blowing gently on your own. “I doubt I have. So far you’re the only customer that’s piqued my interest.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky? I suppose I could tell you my story.” The orc laughed to himself once more, swirling the contents of his teacup which was dwarfed by his large hand. “Unlike most orcs, I don’t belong to a stronghold. I work as a mercenary of sorts, I go where I am needed. Not many of my kind are in my line of business. Would much rather prefer to deal with our own kind. I left to find a better use for my skills, so I offered my services. I got hired for simple tasks, retrieving lost items, pest control, hired muscle for caravans. That sort of thing. Recently, I was hired to retrieve a man’s sword out of a bandit camp. Family heirloom. I’m sure you could tell how well that job went.” 

You listened intently as he spoke, only breaking eye contact every now and then to sip your tea. “I’m impressed. You managed to take on a group of bandits and only left with that gash in your stomach. I wouldn’t want to see what you did to them in return!”

Gurak beamed at your words which appeared to boost his ego. “I am honored you think so.” 

The bell on your front door rang causing you to flinch and turn your gaze away from Gurak’s. You weren’t even aware you had been staring at him. A dark elf stood in the doorway, your old friend Lilith. Her blood-red gaze shifted from Gurak to you, and a smirk slowly appeared on her face in realization.

“Am I interrupting something?” She inquired.

You quickly shook your head, setting your teacup down on the counter. Gurak did the same, giving you a wave before excusing himself. 

“Is it alright if I return?” He asked.

“Of course. I’ll be here.” You waved him off and you were left with your elven companion. You decided to busy yourself with cleaning up your tea set, avoiding eye contact with Lilith. You could feel her eyes burning into your back as you moved around your counter. After a while, you sighed and decided to humor her a little. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” She sang in an overly sweet tone. “Just never took you to be the type to fall for an orc. I always thought you’d end up with a tiefling, especially with that one kink of yours.”

You almost dropped the teacup you had been holding as she spoke. You spun on your heels to confront her. “I didn’t fall for anyone!”

Lilith grinned, the expression silently mocking you as she played with one of your many display jars. “Sure, sure. Believe what you want. But I can tell when love is blooming and there’s something between the two of you.” 

You snatched the jar from her, placing it on the opposite side of the counter. “I’m done talking about it. Now are you going to buy something, or did you just come here to annoy me?”

The elf rolled her eyes before going off to browse around your store for the item she had originally come to purchase. After she left with a few more words of encouragement, you were alone and decided to close the shop earlier since it seemed like no one else was going to show up. 

You saw Gurak the next morning. His face lit up when he saw you behind the counter in your usual spot. Your friend’s words went through your mind and you couldn’t help but feel elated at how happy the orc was to see you. 

“Gurak! I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” You smiled at the orc as he walked up and leaned against your counter giving you a good view of his strong arms. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave my favorite witch alone today.”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from his comment and also the fact he must’ve picked up on you staring at him. You tried to focus on the potions you were sorting, trying to keep your mind off of the handsome orc in front of you and on the labels of each bottle. Gurak reached over the counter, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, which didn’t help your already flustered state. 

“I came to see if you needed any help around the shop today?” He asked. You took a moment to think it through, wondering what exactly an orc mercenary could do for your little potion shop. 

“Hm, nothing in particular…” You started, before seeing the eager look on his face slowly die down causing you to feel guilty at being the cause of that. “But, I think there were some shelves you could help me tighten down?”

Gurak perked up at your suggestion and he grinned, nodding excitedly. He quickly got to work once you helped him find the toolbox you kept in the back of the store. He started by assessing all the wooden shelves in your store before also taking into account the wooden display tables you have, which had seen better days. Despite you telling the large orc he didn’t have to worry about the tables he insisted, and if there’s something you recall about orcs is their stubbornness when it came to things they had their mindset on.

You went back to casually taking inventory of your potions, reading the labels, and marking them off of your checklist while also writing down ones that needed to be refilled. Every now and then you’d glance over at Gurak, watching as his eyes were fixated on the shelves he reworked. Or the way his hard muscles flexed with each movement he made, especially since the tight gray cotton shirt he was wearing instead of his usual leather armor showed the more defined tones of his abs. 

“Enjoying the view, Ms. Witch?” 

You flinched as Gurak’s voice snapped you out of your daydream, causing you to almost drop the frail glass bottle you held in your hand. After letting out a sigh of relief, you shot Gurak an accusatory look.

“You shouldn’t startle people like that you’ll give them a heart attack.” You scold.

Gurak gave you a sheepish grin as he approached your counter and leaned against it. He mimicked what he had done last time, brushing a strand of hair and delicately placing it behind your ear. 

The large orc chuckled as your face heated up again. “You seemed distracted, I thought it would be cute to tease you.”

“Is that why you show up to the shop so much? To tease me?” You instinctively leaned into his touch, reaching up to caress the hand against your cheek, quickly taking notice of how much larger Gurak’s hand was compared to your own. 

His expression softened as he brought his face closer to yours, his gaze briefly glancing down at your lips.

“Have you not noticed?” He muttered. You lifted a brow at his question, silently urging him to continue. “I have been trying to court you since I first met you. I thought I was being forward about it.”

You stared at him with wide eyes at the realization as you thought back to the little gestures of kindness or the lingering stares you and Gurak had shared. With the way he acted, you always thought he was just being overly friendly, but that wouldn’t explain the little moments between the both of you. 

“I wish you had told me sooner.” You let out a laugh, your hands finding their way to caress Gurak’s face. “If I had known I would’ve kissed you by now.”

The look on Gurak’s face turned to one of complete adoration as he relished the warmth from your hands against his cheeks. He turned to press a kiss against the palm of your hand, his gaze focused on the way you stared at him longingly. He brushed his lips against your wrist, pressing a gentle kiss into the palm of your hand before he caught himself. He stared into your eyes expectedly, waiting to see if you would push him away. You gave him a reassuring smile, making your way around the counter over to where he stood.

You jumped up, hoisting yourself against him by wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms instinctively went up to support you as he lifted you by your waist. Placing both hands on his cheeks, you pulled him into a kiss feeling the way he tensed up in surprise before relaxing. Gurak turned and sat you on the countertop deepening the kiss while you ran your hands through his hair, accidentally pulling on one of his braids. A deep moan rumbled from Gurak before he pulled away from the passionate kiss.

He chuckled, caressing your cheek while his large thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen lips. “Eager aren’t we, Miss witch?”

Letting out a pleased hum in response, you placed a chaste kiss against his thumb before gesturing toward the front door. “Lock up the front and meet me in the back.” 

Gurak perked up instantly at your instruction as he placed you back onto the floor. He swiftly got to work on closing the store for the day. You sauntered to the back, quickly moving potion bottles and ingredients away to make more space for the large orc. You started to undress, untying the woven knots that kept your work apron in place. Gurak entered the backroom just as you untied the last knot. You grinned, leaning back on the cot as you outstretched your arms to him. The cotton work shirt slides down to the crevices of your arms, showing just enough of your bare breasts to cause Gurak’s breath to hitch. You chuckled at his reaction, finally allowing the simple garment to fall onto the floor with a soft thud. 

“Are you going to keep me waiting longer, Gurak?” You called out to the orc, causing him to snap out of his daze.

He made quick work of his own shirt, tossing it somewhere alongside your discarded clothes. You finally got a full view of his well-built torso, every roll and chiseled perfection of his muscles reminding you of the near-perfect statues outside the mage tower. 

“Like what you see, Ms.Witch?” He asked, lifting a brow in mocking curiosity.

You were about to retaliate until Gurak’s arms pinned you against the cot. “Oh, impatient aren’t we?”

He chuckled as he leaned down to press firm kisses against your neck, his tusks adding a little more pressure. “You have no idea.” 

You grind your hips in an upwards motion, feeling the growing tent in his pants as he let out a deep groan. He wasted no time peppering kisses down your neck to your collarbone, into the valley of your breasts, and then taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He nipped and sucked on the sensitive nipple, using his free hand to fondle your other breast. His hand was large and calloused, easily engulfing your breast in his palm. Your hands wandered to the back of his head, your fingers tangling themselves in his dark braids as you let out quiet, breathy moans. He slowly traverses down your body, stopping at your thighs.

The teasing smile he gave you caused your cheeks to heat up as you wordlessly spread your legs for him. He hummed, pleased at the site of your arousal. His thumb rolled gentle circles into your clit, making you arch your back off of the cot slightly. Your moans encouraged him to use his free hand to trace your entrance, gathering the slick that was already starting to leak from you. He teased your sensitive folds, replacing his thumb with his tongue as he sucked your aching clit. His large finger slipped between your folds, causing you to let out a string of gasps and moans. His finger already felt like it filled out your cunt and you could only imagine how much bigger his cock would be.

He curled the finger inside of you, brushing up against the spot that caused you to roll your hips in an attempt to feel more of him. Gurak’s pleased moans sent pulses of pleasure into your clit, the sensation causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. You chanted his name over and over as you finally reached your climax, your hands tangled in his hair, grasping at the braids as you shivered from your orgasm. The finger that was inside you was replaced with his tongue as he licked up your juices, humming in contentment as the taste of you coated his tongue. Gurak pulled away, licking his lips as he gazed down at your limp form.

“Have I tired you out already?” He teased, earning him a tired scoff from you. His arousal was prominent now, his cock causing a very noticeable tent. You brought yourself up from your resting position, using your elbows to prop yourself as you tilted your head. You chuckled, spreading your legs open again fully on display for Gurak to see. The predatory look in his eyes sent an excited chill up your spine, yet you still managed to smirk up at him. 

“Hmm, I don’t know, I think I still got a little in me.” You answered back sweetly. His hands firmly held the sides of your hips, pulling you closer to him while he worked his cock out of his pants. He could easily manhandle you if he wanted to, but even with how impatient he was now Gurak still tried his best to have some restraint when handling you.

His erection was finally freed from its confines, and his large cock rested against your inner thigh as he positioned himself at your entrance. His thumb wandered down to rub your slick, his brows furrowing in worry. 

You leaned forward to pat his forearm. “Hey, you okay?”

“I might be too big for you.” Gurak’s gaze switched to you as a sheepish grin appeared on his face. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you won’t, I trust you.” You shook your head, gyrating your hips to lightly grind against his cock. “Besides, I can take it.”

He sighed blissfully, gently leading you to lay back down as the head of his dick rubbed against your slit. He slowly pushed in, stretching you full as his cock buried itself deep in you. He waited a moment, experimentally pulling out just a little then slowly pushing back into you. He kept this slow pace up for a moment, grunting at the way your walls squeezed him. 

You moaned, rolling your hips impatiently. “More….keep going.”

He chuckled, his hand fondling your cheek lovingly before he switched his movements. His hips pulled away from you leaving only the tip of his cock in you. He suddenly thrust into you, causing a pleasure-filled cry to escape your lips. Gurak kept thrusting at a fast pace, intertwining your fingers with one of his hands while the other had his thumb brushing against your lips. You opened your mouth, sucking on the finger while his cock relentlessly slammed into you.

“Mmm, look at you, taking me so well.” Gurak’s voice was wavering, his sentences being cut short every now and then by his own grunts and moans. He rolled his hips a certain way, his cock brushing against a very sensitive spot.

You let out another cry, trying your best to speak. “R-right there…Gurak, please don’t stop..!”

“Shhh. I know, beautiful, I know.” He cooed, rubbing your cheek as the tears spilled from your eyes due to the pleasure. His pace quickened again due to your request, his dick hitting you in jus the right spot. Your back arched off of the bed as the knot in your stomach snapped once more. Your orgasm caused you to shake, your walls clenching around the thick cock still thrusting into you. 

Gurak’s pace became more sloppy as he moved both his hands to grip your waist. He pushed into you one last time before he came, his cum shooting deep into you. Some of it gushing out as he finally pulled out of you with a tired sigh. You were panting heavily while Gurak stared down at you. He pressed a firm kiss to your forehead as you tried to regain your strength. You felt a shift in the cot as he got up, moving around the small room before you felt his presence near you again. A warm cloth could be felt between your legs as he carefully cleaned you up, tossing the dirty rag onto the floor while he handed you the cup of water.

“Here, don’t strain yourself, love.” He muttered, helping you drink from the cup.

Gurak finally laid next to you after gently resting you against his chest. A satisfied hum came from you as he rubbed circles into your back. You started to giggle after a while, burying your face into his burly chest.

“What?” The sound of the orc’s confusion only caused your giggling fit to increase. 

“I still can’t believe you thought I’d pick up on your Orcish customs. Usually us humans just ask each other out for lunch and go on from there.” 

He snorted, playing with a strand of your hair. “Well Ms.Witch, despite my slip up you’ve still earned yourself a mate. Congratulations.”

You let out a loud laugh at his sarcasm, leaning up to press a loving kiss onto his lips. The way he looked at you was enough to make your heart skip a beat. “Lucky me.”

[More Monsters]

[baekuras]

i had a depressive day of sleeping till like 6pm and only eating heated rice

i WANTED to clean up my place and pack for saturday trip and prep a halloween costume and all that but nope-had to pass out for almost a whole day (literally) i GUESS currently trying to hype my anger at that up so I can get the energy to get up and do at least some of those things-its 11pm and i have to work again tomorrow

i also should wash my hair even if the law doesnt permit loud noise after whatevertime or whatever i definitely won’t do it in the morning-especially not when i’m already gearing myself up to do SOMETHING now during the night (time limit 2am bc i’d like at least 5 to 6 hours of sleep still thanks)

[leaawrites]

Take away the pain

Percy Jackson x daughter of Apollo!reader

Warnings: Blood, open body, might be disturbing, mentions of organs, broken limbs, nightmare, mentions of death, mentions of wounds, scratch marks, tight throat, female reader,

Category: angst, a bit of fluff, comfort

summary: after reader has a nightmare Percy comforts her.

Masterlist

Blood. It was everywhere. Soaking her clothes, staining the fabric in a crimson color. Her body felt weightless, but she felt alive. Her limbs were broken, they were shattered, thorn by the ends. Her chest was open. She couldn’t feel it, but she saw it. It wasn’t neatly opened by a knife. She wasn’t slashed or stabbed by a human creature. It was a hole. She was opened by something more forceful. Part of her organs were laying beside her. Her skin was opened.

The stone beneath her feet was flat, sanded smooth by millions of feet walking over it. But hers couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t make her mark on it. She couldn’t polish it with her own. She destroyed it.

Her body was weightless and she wasn’t alive.

Her eyes opened, sweat was soaking the shirt she slept in. Her hair was a mess. Nothing felt real anymore. But it was real. This was real.

Her hands clutched her chest, fearing to feel it soaked. But all she felt was skin to skin. A body moved on the other side of the bed. Percy pulled the blanket up to his face, probably fighting with his own nightmare.

The air in camp Half-blood felt clearer at night. No one was awake at this hour, the sky was dark, nature was silent. A tree moved from the wind, somewhere something else moved through the night, making sounds through the leaves that covered the ground.

Y/n gently removed the blanket from over her body, hoping she wouldn’t wake Percy in doing so. Her feet were soundless on the wooden floor. Tears were pricking on the edge of her eye. Her eye lids felt heavy from the water forming beneath them.

Being a kid of Apollo was great in her eyes. She couldn’t complain too much. However, one thing that made her want to change her godly parent, were the wounds she’d seen. The blood that has been on her hands while trying to safe someone else. She saw people in pain that she wanted to pull them out of, often that was Percy. If there was a way of taking their pain and put them onto her she would gladly do it. But she couldn’t.

Slow rivers were trailing down her face as she sat down on the stairs, watching the outside in hope of forgetting what she saw. It may wasn’t real, but it felt realistic enough to scare her. Images came flashing back into her mind. And every time they did, she shut her eyes, imagining his face. The way he would smile at her whenever he saw her. Until it was forgotten.

“What did you dream about?” Of course he knew that was the reason she was up. Of course he felt whenever she wasn’t by his side, even when his eyes were closed and his body was on stand-by.

Y/n moved her fingers over her neck, scratching her fingernails against the soft flesh. It hurt, she noticed. The simple motion made her throat feel tight, it felt like strings were laced around it, pulling themselves together by the second. A deep breath in the pain began to gave up on paining her even more.

“I was dead,” she said, her voice shaking while she spoke. Percy sat down beside her, looking confused at the raw explanation. “My chest was ripped open, there was blood everywhere and my body wasn’t my body anymore. Percy, I- I was nothing more but a dead, rotting body. Nothing more than flesh split open, with broken bones.”

Percy knew about the dreams she had before. They were mostly about other people dying, never her. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest, the other covered his face.

"It was just a dream," he assured the girl. It pained him to see her so broken over what others called her gift. He didn't know what he would do if he saw what she saw.

"But can I be sure of that? What if it was all just a vision of what will be in the future?" There were a hundred thoughts on her mind. Most of them bad ones. If this was all a vision, when would it happen? When would whatever ripped her open rip her open?

Kissing her head, he softly spoke, “Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” She asked, thinking back on the girl who was in the infirmary a few days ago. She was on a quest, abandoned by her other two acquaintances. He told me he would never leave me, she recalled the girl tell her. Percy wasn’t like this, but what if something acquired him to go away? What if someone was the reason why he wasn’t there?

Percy thought back to his mother. He believed she would always be there, until she wasn’t. But he got her back. He believed, that if you truly loved someone, that nothing could make you turn away from them. “Because I love you.”

It was his only reasonable answer to that question. He would protect her as long as he loved her. There was nothing that could make him turn away when she was hurt.

The pain on her neck left completely when Percy planted a kiss on the back of it. He made the pain disappear. The string detached from another, leaving her to breath freely and purely. The pain from her stomach unraveled when she felt his skin against it. He was what she needed when the pain was too much. With Percy everything felt lighter. Every one of her problems solved around him. He was the light she needed on dark day for her sun to shine.

[satyricplotter]

NSFW Alphabet — Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake

Be warned, I wrote this for myself but it got so long I was like, I gotta publish this, so a lot of the language is raunchy and joking. It's not polished whatsoever. It is also very fitted to my tastes, which isn't necessarily what I'd do for a story. Use of the second person, reader as gender neutral as I could, but I refer to a variety of scenarios with different genitalia.

WC: 6.7k

Triggers and tags discussed or mentioned: body image, biting, breeding, dubcon, noncon, cnc, mutual noncon, sexual assault (as a different category and a reference to Dick's canon) somnophilia, breath play, watersports, scat, blood, bondage, BDSM in general, pegging (implied), dildos, vibrators, toys in general, sensory deprivation, crying, crossdressing, porn, hentai, anal, PIV, cunnilingus, whatever the proper term for sucking dick is, cum, demeaning terms (cum dump, specifically), fingering, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, age play, pregnancy and birth control, thigh fucking, frottage, edging, cumming in pants... maybe more. I am tired of listing things. Simply beware.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dick: somehow I don't think he has much time for aftercare. To me this dude always seems a little on the go and distracted by other things. Like, half the sex you have with him is quickies where upon his departure you gotta tidy yourself up, or they're hours long affairs with few breaks to think about moving. In these latter instances, he takes a long, long time to stand up and get moving after you're done. I think he's always secretly waiting for another last round even when it's clear you're both tapped out. He stays in bed and cuddles, uncaring for the drying substances on either of you. Most often he just kisses you, slow and tender, as he holds you. Eventually you gotta kick him out of bed and clean yourself up and then he's rushing to help you.

Jason: my man is methodical. This is His Job and he has His Way to do it. He keeps his bed crisp, towels at hand, water nearby etc etc. He's always the one to wipe you down, straighten you up if there's still clothes involved. You always whine you wanna cuddle a bit and he's like no. You'll get an UTI. Go pee. We'll cuddle after. And you shuffle sadly to the bathroom. The sheets are new when you come back. He dislikes being rushed and not being able to tidy, so you gotta be very strategic when you know you won't end up in bed.

Tim: Tim's a baby. Tim's the one you gotta clean up, the one you gotta lay down and tell him to stay put. He's very bad with being in the moment if he's got something else going on, so you gotta keep all electronics away from him. Mostly you gather him in your arms and run his fingers through his hair, while he absently traces circles on your skin, and then nods off eventually.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Dick: I think Dick really likes his forearms! A dark horse, of course, considering the stellar butt, but that seems to be a little of a sour point. I think he loves his figure in general, and the graceful line of it. For his partners, I'm thinking the waist to hip area—the tummy essentially, but also the lower back. He loooves to sling an arm around your waist and squeeze, loves to nip at the lower belly, loves a good pinch. He just likes grabbing. The sides of your thighs are always marked with his fingers.

Jason: man's an ass guy. He loves to watch that shit bounce. You can't miss with the bending over. He's behind you immediately, a hand on your hip like hey... As for himself, genuinely I think he likes his hands. They've gone through a lot. You can tell they're pretty banged up. But he's a maker, a fiddler—he builds his gadgets, he pulls the trigger. He's so into precision, I think he appreciates them a lot for the tools they can be. And his fingers pumping in and out of you are never a bad sight.

Tim: He's a cop out and would say brain. He likes his eyes best, I think. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who fixates on any part of his body but rather takes it in as a whole, and as such finds it difficult to like, separate it into pieces unless it's for a specific purpose. Oh, maybe his calves. They're nicely shaped. But his eyes are very pretty and he knows they're charming. As for you, he likes tits (big, small, pecs, etc). Just the chest area in general. Big fan of a nipple. Will suck and bite and twist until you squirm. If you're not sensitive, you simply haven't met him. He'll pavlov your nipples to harden upon seeing him and then smile evilly when you complain. A low cut anything is a direct challenge and he will take it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Dick: nothing will stop this man from coming inside eventually. He'll wear you down talking about how good it will feel to fill you up, or you will eventually come to beg him for it and he'll take the opportunity with no complaint. If you can get pregnant, keep that birth control schedule TIGHT. Nothing he loves more than watching cum dribble out of you. Loves to stuff you with it, loves to rub it over your entrance, loves to watch it squelch as he goes back in to pump you full of more.

Jason: actually very normal about it. He doesn't believe in pulling out, so he wears a condom and disposes of it safely. He does love to cum on your face. That's very much a thing. It's a relatively safe thing to do, and he likes it a lot when you try to catch it all with your mouth but it ends up dripping off your cheek. When your eyelashes are sticky with it—ooh. He knows it hurts if it gets on your eyes, and he apologizes while he wipes it off, but he's already semi hard again so you can't quite believe him.

Tim: if he's topping, he's pretty normal about it. Doesn't feel any type of way about his own cum, though he kinda likes it when you mix it with your own and feed it to him, but that's mostly because he loves your fingers in his mouth. If you're topping (and if you can cum from that inside him), he's suddenly the nation's number one cump dump. Stuff my man up. He can take it. Ooh, he wants to take it. He really, really wants you to blow a load inside him. A lot of the times, it's the feeling of being filled up that has him coming himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dick: he's, like, very into somno, but he hates to bring it up first. The thing with Dick is that he's so good at denying himself things he doesn't care about but the minute he really, really wants something, he struggles real hard not to go get it. And he really wants that pussy (gn). He's the king of guilty fucking. I honestly think he likes being a little ashamed of what he's doing, like it just... Brings flavour to the table. But he's an Upstanding Citizen so while he looks at your ass while you're asleep and imagines what it'd be like if he could just roll your pants down a little and rub the head of his dick against your entrance, he will not speak a word until you bring it up or you find him jerking off over you at the thought of it.

Jason: easiest man to get to sub for you. Doesn't look like it, doesn't wanna admit it, but you get him at the right moment? Oooh baby. He's so easy to unravel, blushing to the tips of his ears and wet all over. You can literally do whatever you like with him in that state. He bounces off your cock (gn) so pretty, though he doesn't enjoy bottoming regularly.

Tim: mfing stalker. He takes pictures of you all the fucking time. You don't know the half of it. And he jacks off to the weirdest shit because it's not so much about how you look in that picture, but the idea of your innocence being corrupted (so corny) (you'd look at it and be like, tim, I can take nudes, you know, you don't have to masturbate to a blurry panty shot taken under the dinner table, you can't even see shit).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dick: this is dick grayson we're talking about. Be real. He's been around. He knows his way around the human (and alien, shoutout to my baby Kori) body. Nine out of ten times, he's the most experienced person in the relationship. And not only does he know what he's doing , he's good at it.

Jason: there's about three universes or so where Jason's not a virgin when he meets you. The rest of them my boy's simply too fucked up and/or busy for love, so he just... Doesn't. It doesn't seem to me like having sex was a priority to him, and while I think he regularly gets propositioned, he's the type of dude that just blinks at you until you slink away in shame, so he simply doesn't get laid until he's in a relationship. At most he's fucked two people before he fucks you.

Tim: this is dick grayson 2.0. he pulled steph, he pulled kon, he pulled bernard. He has by far the widest breadth of knowledge about sex, although most of it doesn't come from first hand experience. He hasn't had that much freaky sex, but he knows plenty about it. He's very adventurous.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dick: oh, eugh, this man think you're a contortionist. He thinks you guys are equals. It doesn't matter how much you tell him he's far more flexible than you, he loves twisting you up into the weirdest positions in the book, and you know what? He's right. You do feel him so much more with your leg up in space and the other one around his ankle.

Jason: doggy. Again, my man loves to watch it jiggle.

Tim: he loves being ridden. Just infatuated with the sight of his cock leaving and breaching your entrance, and your thighs quivering, and how it all gets so wet. I think he'd be more partial to the cowgirl/boy than the reverse bc tits, but yk. Loves to watch you go.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Dick: He's sooooo into getting a laugh out of you with a stupid joke so he can ram into you and watch it catch on your throat. Thinks it's grand. He's the goofiest of them all, but he likes to make you laugh, and doesn't entertain your attempts to be funny. There's only one clown in this bed ☝️ So annoying.

Jason: he can be giggly at the beginning, like laughing into your mouth, but once he gets going, he's pretty serious about it. Not withdrawn, but he doesn't want to joke or, like, have a conversation. He's just laser focused on getting you both off.

Tim: he's alright on the jokes, doesn't particularly bring it to the bedroom. He's a little snappy, but not keen on super goofing around? Rather, I think you'd wanna make him laugh, just to get him to relax, and he'd roll his eyes and scoff but smirk a little. (I'm rlly picturing this with kon rn lmao)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dick: he's got himself trimmed and pretty! I think he just cares about looking good. Not his main concern in life, but, you know.

Jason: he's kinda got to groom himself bc I headcanon that the pit let him some after effects so his nails and hair grows really fast. He doesn't like it, finds it a real chore, but it's like a real bush if he lets it go untamed. And he does it himself, of course.

Tim: I don't think Tim concerns himself much with that, but I also don't think he really needs it. He's the type not to grow that much hair anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dick: he is so romantic. He's the type to whisper things he doesn't mean, not because he's trying to gaslight you into thinking he has feelings, but because he gets caught up in the heat of the moment and also believes those things should be said. He's soft and coaxing, even when he gets mean, and he's very into small gestures in the sense that he holds your hand when you're going to come, he presses a kiss to your temple. Just loving, I guess, even if he doesn't, like, love you.

Jason: he is unbelievably, unbearably intense. You will not be able to shake him off, emotionally speaking. Even when he's trying not to be intense, he can't help it. There is always so much weight and deliberation to his touch. Under his fingers, you feel the skin of your body bloom with heat. And the eyes. Never stops looking. So sharp and heady. You can't look at him for you, but he forces you to look into his eyes when you're about to come, grabs your chin if you don't wanna.

Tim: it depends on how he feels about you. If it's casual sex, he is very casual about it. He's not one to make promises if they can be used against him lol but if he likes you... You can see the saw trap plans he's concocting in his mind to never get you off his dick again just coming alive in his eyes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dick: My take is that dick is so funny about this because he so absurdly prefers coming inside you or fucking your thighs or your tits that whenever he can't and has to resort to jacking off, he's kind of churlish about it? Like right at the beginning when he's just starting, you'd just see him pouting with a hand caressing his shaft almost disinterestedly. He's so funny. Then he gets going and comes and is like oh that was a nice experience actually.

Jason: When he begins to jack off while thinking about you, he's ashamed about it for the longest time. It's not the act itself that brings him embarrassment, but the fact that he used to do it kind of perfunctorily, like just... body upkeep, or whatever. A little impatient with it even, just to get it over with. And he didn't think about anyone in particular, just flashes of the stuff he was supposed to think about. Then one day, after he meets you, he's just going at it as usual and the image of you pops into his head. And he can't stop thinking about it. The question of what you look like, how you'd feel under his hands, how you'd sound—it consumes him. When he thinks about you looking at him slouched over his couch, smiling at him and kneeling between his legs, your eyes fixed on him as you offer to help and take him into your mouth—oof. He's never come so much in his life.

Tim: he is so so hot about it. He doesn't think about it that much and is the type to neglect his dick for ages until he has free time and suddenly he has to unleash two weeks worth of cum upon you. So he starts fisting his dick, shuddering at the feeling of finally getting some release, and thinks, I should share this, and starts recording, but because he is evil, he doesn't let you see. He places the phone on his desk (because he's STILL working, he just couldn't hold it any longer), and begins jacking off under his shirt. So you only see his flushed cheeks, the hair covering his eyes, and the way the wet spot on the fabric grows larger and larger as he goes. Near the end that thing's so transparent and sticky you can almost see the angry red head every time it pushes against the fabric—and then he splutters against the fabric with a cry of your name and doesn't even let it dry before he winks at the camera and cuts the video, just as he's going to lift the shirt. Evil.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dick: well, I already said somno and breeding (I don't think he's into it for the children, like, seriously. Like if you can get pregnant and do, it's not going to be a nice surprise. He'll ride it out! But he's got commitment issues.) And thigh fucking. He's unbearable about it, particularly if you're wearing anything that gives him easy access.

Jason: My good honest man. He likes sense deprivation, I think, but he likes it being done to him. He's almost never not being in charge, however, so it doesn't come up often. If almost like a birthday special to him. He's also very into frottage, but I don't know if that counts as a kink? He likes coming in his pants a few times before the real deal.

Tim: is this a kink? He loves to make you cry. He just really likes bullying you to the point you're bawling. You can fuss and kick all you want, and it just turns him on, because the minute he removes himself, you're whining to have him again. I think that's his favourite way to make you cry, just to edge you unendingly until you're sobbing for him. He also likes age play, but he likes to play the younger part. I don't think quite mommy/daddy stuff (depends on the reader), but a bit of an emphasis on the age gap (think the blurry noona/hyung area in korean, when employed sexually. The terms are not translatable but that's the spirit of it).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dick: everywhere. Does not discriminate. Inside the house, I think he likes bothering you when you're chilling in the couch. If your lying down there, he'll starts running up a hand between your thighs and he'll stop if you can't carry on the conversation. Outside, I think anywhere that is mildly risky—possibly the park? Kinda loves shoving you between trees and eating you out, or fingering you. When he comes onto you outside, it's mostly to get you to come so you have to hang out there, all sticky, thinking of him. He gets really thrilled by you running out of patience and pulling him out of whatever situation you're in just so you can go home and fuck. Sometimes you don't even make it home. You "force" him to fuck in a bathroom or in the car — closest relatively enclosed space you can find. He really enjoys those releases.

Jason: the bed. Give my boy his space and his nightstands! But outside that, no joke, the kitchen. It's more often than not his kitchen rather than yours, so he's there most often and it's where you find him and put your hands on him. Also god forbid you take anything out of the oven. He just shows up, takes it from your hands, presses you against the counter.

Tim: no joke loves to have you suck him off underneath his desk. He thinks it's funny when you bang your head against the top lmao but he also just likes to see you cramped into a tiny space and all over him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dick: Hear me out. He likes implied corruption masked as salvation. That sounds dramatic: what he likes is the tension between helping you and succumbing to his own desires. He is very often the more knowledgeable, powerful, etc party, he almost always has some advantage over you, and he likes struggling against the feeling of giving you what you want and thereby taking advantage of you. It's a weird, false dichotomy, but he likes playing the hero a lot, and that makes him feel sometimes like what he wants is selfish, which means he tends to be secretive and manipulative in order to get it, and he winds up doing stuff that is suspicious and much closer to taking advantage of you than just being upfront would've been. And he unfortunately really enjoys those times. I associate him a lot with the "I can't help myself from doing this" sentiment. So to answer the question lol, when you look particularly put together and he gets to mess it up, or when you look at him with big, round eyes, or when you look really fuckable and are not aware of it, he really likes that.

Jason: He's a slow goer. You have to seduce him. He likes the motion of that, likes having you come onto him, likes it when you're flirty and a little risqué just for his benefit. Likes when you're self assured, and when you're a little mean with him. He could watch you forever, but to really make him spring into action, you gotta tell him how badly you need him. That'll bring him to your side in a minute.

Tim: milfs. No joke. I think he's pretty attracted to cheery people he can make fun of. Oh, he really likes riling you up. That shit gets him fired up in a second. You're arguing with him and he's got to adjust in his pants, and he won't go down without a fight. He really, really likes bullying you lol He thinks it's so hot when you're annoyed

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Dick: no watersports/scat/blood (vampire universe exempt), and so on and so forth. It's a bit silly that he gets grossed out by it when he's so into cum, but, you know. Another thing is, he can't really be demeaning. It's not that he doesn't want to, but it never... hits? Like, he's unauthentic about it, in a way, and he's much better at praise. So it's not that he won't do it, but that it's a little mid lol

Jason: I don't think he can do CNC. Even if you really wanna, he just can't play the part without going limp. It's not in him to do that to you. He can't bear to hear you plead with him over that, it makes him feel gross and uncomfortable. He'll talk bad to you if you wanna, though.

Tim: breath play. He doesn't like the feeling of his airways being cut off even when he's at his most mindless, it always kickstarts his survival mode, and he can't choke you either because he doesn't trust himself to stop.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dick: my good man #1 pussy (gn) eater in the house. He will be there hours. His poor cock will weep unendingly and he doesn't give a single fuck. Matter of fact, that first load after he finally slides into you? Best part of the job. Would not like it half as much without the various orgasms he drew out of you. And he's good at it, obviously. Practiced. I think he's also a decent cock sucker (what an image), but he's way more practiced with a pussy.

Jason: he also likes giving more than receiving, but he is soooooo hot when he lets you suck him off. It's the way he can barely hold back, how he falls apart in your mouth. The way his hands fist your hair despite himself, the way he weighs on your tongue. You have to beg him to let you suck him off first, but christ, if it ain't a gift when he acquiesces.

Tim: receiving, I think. I love to think about him sucking a dick, though. Very pretty. But in general, I think he prefers to be sucked off rather than being the one to give. He's fine at it! And he's not one to shy away from it if you wanna, or offer it when in the mood, but he thinks he's better with his fingers anyway, and he wants his mouth free for your nipples.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Dick: he tends to go more for the slow and sensual. It's part of the romantic vein of his style. He gets really close to you. He is also evil and very rarely loses control of himself, so he will fuck you however he wants, not how you beg him to, and because he's got so much experience, he usually has the better idea of how to get you to come.

Jason: i love him. Can't go slow. Okay, technically, he can, but he's got to work really hard at it. He just likes being inside you so much, he slips into that excitement too easily. His way of fucking is very bruising, very felt, much like his feelings. And again. My man loves to watch it jiggle.

Tim: he's the one man who will listen to how you want it. Mostly because he likes being ridden so you're setting the pace. He usually goes for slower rhythms, though, and if he's toying with you, he goes excruciatingly slow. Also knows to speed up exactly when your patience is about to snap.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dick: again, half the sex he has is quickies so yeah, he likes them lol. I do think they appeal to him as an expression of unbridled want, in the sense of we want each other so much we have no time to savour one another and we still can't help ourselves from having a fleeting taste.

Jason: he dislikes not having time and space to do everything he wants to do, so he is mostly opposed to them. And he is very good at waiting, though the longer he waits, the longer you end up spending in the bedroom. He's also pretty big so he wants to have the room, time wise, to prep you to take him so the slide is easy and pleasurable for you, and the quickies don't afford him the space for that. He'll do it if you come to him real wet, though.

Tim: he thinks they're fun but he's very bad at them in the sense that once he starts doing you, he is very disgruntled that he has to stop. And he always fucking forgets it so he needles you to let him stick the tip in real quick, c'mon, just five minutes and we're done, and then you're having to bite down on his shoulder to pry him away from you before whoever you're waiting for comes in. And he likes the biting, so it's 50/50 whether he actually comes off.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dick: yep. He's a little more conservative with what he's willing to try, and he doesn't like everything or want to implement it regularly, but he's very open to at least trying it ou. He doesn't come up with a lot of stuff himself, and he doesn't spend time researching on his own, but he'll see something interesting and bring it up next time if he decides he likes it enough to play out.

Jason: Jason has... categories. He's very intuitive when it comes to sex. He kind of already knows what he likes and can go off that knowledge to predict what he will like or not. And he's good at making modifications on things he finds uninteresting to better suit his needs, if you still wanna try. He doesn't like roleplaying in general, for example, but he will pretend you're both strangers so you can pick him up at the bar. Likes bringing you to the bathroom stalls and fucking you there.

Tim: oh yeah. He reads a lot. He's very curious. He'll go on the internet and read manuals, read reviews, take tests, etc. He's also much more likely to fixate on a certain kink for a period of time, or to genuinely incorporate it to his regular sexual life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Dick: mr. first robin have been a vigilante since i was nine, have never not exercised, etc etc. Yeah. He ain't stopping.

Jason: the fucking pit. He keeps dying and coming back and it's like they pump more cum in his balls every time. Enough said.

Tim: see mr. grayson. I don't know how the spleen affects him, but I doubt he lets it hold him back. He will stop you after a while if you're topping tho. Doesn't like to be sore much. Which doesn't mean he'll stop altogether, you know, he still has a dick.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dick: he hates your dildo. He's horribly, terribly jealous of it. At first he'd use it to tease you, but then he liked you for real and that thing became his sworn enemy. He despises the fact that he's away so much you have to resort to using it, basically, so it'll always kind of have a place in your bed. He resent a vibrator even more. It's super fucking funny to me. He's game for everything else that doesn't fuck you tho.

Jason: Jay likes gadgets for their ingenuity but I don't really see them coming up too often. A few restraints, blindfolds, maybe a cock ring? He'd like them better if you used some on him rather than him using them on you. He prefers to do the work with his hands and mouth and cock. Good honest work

Tim: I think Tim's game on toys for either participant. He'll make you watch him fuck himself onto a tentacle-shaped dildo, if that's something you're into, and he won't let you touch him. He's a terror with a vibrator, though, particularly if you have a clit? Dude. A remote operated vibe. Anal plugs with tails attached. A fucking machine? Get away from that man. When I say saw trap, I mean it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dick: horrible. He is awful. Worst of all because he's also so very sweet, and tender, and he plays the fool to lower your guard, and then you're lying there, gasping around his cock for the umpteenth time because he will not let you come yet and nothing you say breaks his nerve, and he just. taunts you. He's also soooooo into walking around looking delectable and playing dumb about it. Sure, man.

Jason: this one is on me, but I love a reader who's just off-handedly disrespectful to him. I always pair him with the brats lol I think he handles that well, by which I mean he strips it down to bone raw frankness which is heady and intimidating (metaphorically, I mean, but also strips down as in naked, I guess). He's quippy, also, as a general rule, but that's two way banter so I don't count it.

Tim: horrible part 2. See: loves to make you cry. See: Loves using toys on you. See: loves torturing you. His nudes are not even explicit, they're just suggestive, but you know intimately what he looks like, so the mere suggestion is enough to drive you mad. And then his fascination with you is never ending. It's a cocktail for great and tortuous diversion.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dick: soooo talkative this man will not shut up. You're like, my man, you've been speaking for two hours straight, doesn't your throat need any lubrication? And he's like, you're right and swallows when you come. He's a moaner, I think, but not any louder than average. Will play it up if he sees the neighbour eyeing you in the hallway tho lol

Jason: Grunts and gasps and overall very throaty. He murmurs a lot of stuff into your skin. He's not loud, but his voice is a spear right down your groin. He likes speaking against your ear and sometimes it's all you hear. If you top him, and with some very precise loosening, you can get him moaning so so pretty, but it's pretty rare.

Tim: bitch has the most obscene little whimpers. It activates apex predator instinct on you immediately, like a switch being flipped. It's impossible not to bite him when he starts giving the short, breathy moans. Sounds so needy, and when he gets like that, he can barely string a sentence together, which is just mind blowing considering who he is.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dick: I think Dick has a COMPLICATED relationship with his body. Perhaps it's me projecting a little because I cannot imagine being such a beautiful man and being able to cope with it. First vector to the issue is the fact that this man knows his body from the tip of his toes to the last strand of hair on his head. He is much more in touch with every muscle in his body than the vaaaast majority lf the world, and he has been so since very early in his life. You know that quote from Ursula K. Le Guin, I think, about how dogs don't really conceptualise their size, and cats are the complete opposite, they know exactly where they begin and end and that's why they seem like water sometimes? And then she says dancers also know exactly what they look like, because what they look like is what they do. And that's exactly him, as an acrobat and as a vigilante both. And though he doesn't care much for it, he also knows exactly how well he is regarded for possessing the body that he does. It is flattering, yes, but it is objectifying also. There's not so much the worry that people won't look any deeper than his looks because well, most of the time he doesn't want them to look, and also his loved ones regularly bypass his handsomeness and treat him as a person, so he knows he can live beyond that. Then there is the matter of his continued sexual assault at the hands of Catalina, and the subsequent objectification she subjected him to for the weeks following that first time at the rooftop, which would irrevocably change his relationship to his body. I don't think she ruins it for him, but he does develop, like, a very deep awareness of the power he holds and how easily that can be taken away. There's a lot of deliberation behind his every move, and when he cannot put that much thought into his actions, he freaks. It's also kinda why I headcanon him being so enthralled by so many dub-conish situations, I think it provides him with a playground in which he can explore the extents of his desires and what acting on them means while acknowledging the harm they may create, thus liberating him from the pressure of the worry or the not engaging altogether. I think an instance of mutual non consent (or plain noncon of you, but I don't think most versions of him have it in them) would absolutely obliterate him, and do a lot of bad to his psyche in a way Jay and Tim could withstand much better. He'd think it a moral failure, in a way the other two could resolve, but he'd never forgive himself. It's a point of no return, for Grayson.

Jason: he finds porn really distasteful. He would honest to god rather pay to watch two people go at it than look at a film. He just can't appreciate it for what it is—the stories are corny, the dialogue is cringe, etc etc. I genuinely think my man is on the aspec to some level. He's got a healthy libido, he likes having sex, but it's very person specific. I suppose I'd say demisexual, but I do think he can have casual sex but it's a VERY rare thing for him to feel sexual attraction like that right from the get go.

Tim: he enjoys cross dressing, but he won't go out like that. It's a very personal thing, to him. He strikes me as a dabbler in genderfluidity. If there's something there, he doesn't really care to examine it. He's good at being a man and he's comfortable with it, too, so there's that. But with you, he can just try it out. Of course it's fun to fuck you with a skirt on, but it's not a sex-based thing. And, unrelated but he watches hentai unironically because man's a weeb.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I don't rlly understand this question sbhdhd all those suits are skin tight I think you can tell. I assume this is about cock size cuz we all know Dick's got an ass and Jason's vice president of the perfect titties club with nic coughlan so.

Dick: I think he's a little bigger than usual but nothing that'd give you pause. Well, maybe a little. It's enough to think "that's just unfair" but not to be appalled. Very pretty. Leans slightly to the left. It's got some heft to it, but I wouldn't comment on its girth, and it's very expressive (shshdj?). It twitches a lot, is what I mean.

Jason: fat. So so fat. Fat, heavy, and uncut. Coupled with his full bush—instantly mouthwatering. This one does make you blink a couple times in astonishment. The type that makes you say I don't know if I can't take this but by god, I'm gonna try. He probably has to prep you a decent amount before you can both be comfortable with him inside you. It really fills you up, though and the stretch is craaaazy. Also good balls.

Tim: perfectly average length, longer than it is girthy. Oddly straight. Stupidly pink. Rosy as fuck. Looks like he paid for someone to do his blush this morning, etc. Circumcised. The head is perfect, you always fall for it when he asks you to let him put in just the tip because you like it so much.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dick: high, like, a bit of a concern type of high. The thing with him is you get him started and you both got time? That's your day. Good fucking luck getting out of there. And then he's the sort of man that can't quite keep his hands to himself also, so it spirals pretty fast because it's hard not to want him when you know he's good and tasty and ready for you.

Jason: Pretty normal. He will be the one to say no, let's just cuddle a couple of times. I think he likes the moment of non-sexual affection a bit more, though they are not in competition. He's got a healthy libido and a fuckton of stamina, so it may seem like a lot at times. He'll fall hook line and sinker every time you set out to seduce him, but he'll drag out the start a lot. He's a fan of foreplay anyway.

Tim: Tim can go weeks without having sex if he's got something to be absorbed in. He'll forgo having sex if necessary, as well, even though he likes it lots. It's kind of how like people forget to eat or drink while they're working and then when they look up and realize they haven't eaten since breakfast and it's 8pm they're ravenous. That's Tim. He will blink and the onslaught of pent up horniness will hit him, and he's like, oh I gotta fuck you for several days straight now. You kinda have to needle him to fuck otherwise if he's got a project going on, and he always stops a moment to get you bouncing on his lap, but you're done and he goes right back to work. When he's got free time, he's such a damn distraction, though. God forbid you don't have any time for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dick: Depends on how tired he's feeling. He usually really refuses to go and its kinda cute seeing him fight with himself when his eyelids are dropping and he's barely kissing you anymore

Jason: he stays awake waaaay past you, likes to watch you as you sleep against him or beside him

Tim: very, but again, you gotta cradle him and lull him

[natalievoncatte]

Alex slowed her breathing, finally. She was okay. Kara was okay. Her sister was okay. There was a lot for her to think about after the last few days but right now all that mattered was that she was sitting on Kara’s couch holding a beer, just relaxing with her sister and the two cold ones she’d already slammed back.

Alex stretched out her legs and put her feet on the table. Things were going good. This Children of Liberty were getting mopped up, Kara was… Kara seemed okay, she had a date with Jimmy (James! *James!*) Olsen’s hot sister that she had a feeling was going places, and it looked like the next few weeks or months would settle into a run of the mill routine of alien mop-ups and bank robberies, while Kara was in the running for a Pulitzer.

Alex sighed, contentedly, and then Kara popped up from the couch and said “Lena’s in the hallway.”

Alex smiled secretly to herself.

“Go get ‘er,” she said, stifling a burp. “Tiger.”

Kara shot back an odd look, and Alex wondered when she’d figure it out herself.

After all, filling an office with flowers was not a romantic gesture. Nor were the saves and hugs and little forehead touches. Alex and Nia had talked about starting a betting pool. Shit, there were rumors in the press.

It seemed that Lena and Kara were the only two people in the world that didn’t realize that dropping almost a billion dollars on a whim for someone is not what friends are fucking for.

Kara rushed to the door and yanked it open.

Lena stood in the hallway looking shellshocked and shaken, eyes wide and trembling. Kara half-lifted, half ushered her inside and slammed the door.

“Lena?” she said. “Lena what is it, what’s wrong?”

Alex sobered up in an instant -mostly- and was on her feet. She saw the bulge in the pocket of Lena’s hoodie and fixed her eyes on it. Lena seemed to remember that she had something in there and pulled out a gun.

“Lena?!” Kara chirped.

Alex’s hand flew to the nonexistent holster on her hip; she’d locked her gun in a drawer when she started with the beer. She caught herself, scolded herself. Lena was a friend. To Kara she was more than a friend.

Alex rushed forward instead. Lena didn’t resist as Alex took the gun, a brightly polished and valuable classic Colt Python six shot with a chopped barrel and coco bolo wood stocks, a real high end custom job. A rich girl’s gun, if a bit bigger than a girl would normally carry.

“Whoa, you have a permit for this?” Alex said, trying to be cute.

“I shot Lex.”

Kara tensed, rushing from behind Lena, dipping down as she put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders.

Oh fuck.

“You couldn’t have,” said Lena. “I… it was me, when we fought in Sentinel Island.”

“He used this,” said Lena, pulling her hand out of her pocket with a watch in her fingers. “It’s a portal watch. He can teleport with it.”

“He must have had it as a backup,” said Alex. “Teleported out before impact.”

Kara shot her a shocked look.

“What do you mean?” said Kara, “What do you mean you shot him?”

“Two to the chest, one to the head,” Lena repeated, robotically. “We want ‘em alive but we’ll take ‘em dead. Lex taught me when I was twelve.”

“Lena,” Alex said, as she flicked open the cylinder and saw there were three shells left in the gun. “You’re not making sense.”

Lena looked at her.

“I knew where he’d go. I knew what he’d do. So I got there first. I was going to stop him, make sure that he didn’t get away, then call for help. I didn’t want to do it. He made me.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

Lena looked at her and Alex tensed.

Kara wasn’t wearing her glasses.

Oh shit.

“He was going to kill you. You were becoming his latest fixation. He couldn’t get to Superman so he’d get you. I tried to stop him but I was too late.”

“Me? Why would he care about me?” said Kara. “I’m nobody.”

Lena stared at her, looking directly into her eyes.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Alex almost dropped the gun. She gaped at Lena, open-mouthed. Kara’s eyes went wide and panic shocked through her face.

Alex waited for the excuse, the denial, the deflection.

“Yes,” said Kara. “I am. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, I swear I was,” her voice cracked and began to waver. “I know I lied. I,”

Lena grabbed the collar of Kara’s sweater, and when she pulled, Alex briefly thought that she was lunging in to kiss Kara. Instead she pulled her into a hug and Kara hugged her back, fiercely and protectively. Alex stood there dumbly with the murder weapon hanging from her hand.

“I was too late. I’m sorry. I was too late.”

“Too late for what?” Alex demanded, panic rising hot in her chest. “Too late for what, Lena?”

Still tucked in Kara’s arms, Lena turned her head and looked at Alex.

“He already did it. Turn on the TV.”

Alex swallowed, hard.

She walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning off Netflix and switching back to cable.

She didn’t have to flip channels. It was on every station. Every network. Alex and Kara’s phones were buzzing wildly on the table.

“Oh shit,” said Alex.

***

Should I continue this one?

[amomentsescape]

Could I request slashers with a reader that has the mind of a crow. Collects bones, shiny trinkets and is oftenly mischievous.

+ Hannibal (series) I don't know wither he would spoil you or would collect trinkets in the woods from his previous victims.

Slashers with Crow-Like Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo, Lester, & Hannibal

A/N: I wasn't sure how to title this, but I tried my best. Thank you for the request!

Freddy Krueger

Your collection is more so just interesting to him

Even as a notorious killer, he doesn't really see the need to keep "dust collectors" hanging around

So when he first sees all of the trinkets and random things you have, he just chuckles

"What are you gonna do with all this junk?" he jokes

This earns a stern glare from you, and this has him backing off on the teasing (just slightly)

It takes a little time for him to warm up to helping you find more things to collect

But the one time he did, you gave him such a huge smile that he realized this needed to be something he did more often

Anytime he goes on one of his dream "sprees," he always comes back with a new polished bone for you

(He cleans it himself)

If any of his victims were carrying something shiny, it also becomes yours by the next night

Keys, coins, jewelry, hair pins, etc. are all part of your collection very quickly

And although it took him a while to accept this hobby of yours, he has always loved your mischievous side

You've stolen his hat and glove numerous times now

He didn't even realize it in the moment

But your little pranks only fueled his desire to do the same to you

The amount of times you've found a little bone or finger in your cup has you rolling your eyes

But you've kept everything he's given you so far

Everything

Michael Myers

Michael very much does not care about your hobbies

Whatever you want to do for fun is your thing

As long as it isn't getting in his way or affecting his own hobbies, you can do what you want

All of the little items you have lining the shelves and hanging from the walls doesn't even phase him

You could have a human head on your nightstand, and Michael would just give you a nod of approval

Just don't leave anything out where it can be stepped on or knocked over

Michael isn't one to be "careful," so if one of your trinkets is on the floor, he will step on it and not feel any remorse

"It shouldn't have been there in the first place" is always his argument

And since he is neutral about your collection, he doesn't really think to bring anything back for you

Unless some shiny object literally rolls out in front of him where he can see it, he doesn't take anything

He won't do anything intentional to hurt your collection, but he also doesn't go out of his way to fuel it either

He also doesn't react to your mischievous ways

Your little pranks or jokes elicit zero reaction from him

You've practically given up on trying anything with Michael at this point because he just doesn't respond to your behavior

Just do NOT touch his knife

Jason Voorhees

Jason know literally nothing about decorating or collections

So having you around to put little items in the cabin is really nice for him!

He likes looking around every day to see what's new

He doesn't say this to you, but he finds the bones just a little weird

Has he seen his fair share of guts and gore?

Of course

But he's never really thought to keep any of those... parts

But to each their own he guesses

The moment he learns about your fondness for shiny objects, he is all about supporting it

Any victim of his is immediately searched to see if there's anything that you would like

He even likes to stroll around the woods at times and just look around for anything that shines

He loves to see how happy you get anytime he comes home with something for you

It always manages to make his day

Your little pranks and jokes towards him mostly just cause confusion

He's a bit sensitive to it at first to be honest

The only "pranks" he ever remembers were from when he was relentlessly bullied and picked on

So just be careful where you tread with this because those memories are still very difficult for him

But overall, he really loves your quirks and collections

Thomas Hewitt

Oh, you like to collect bones?

Well, does Thomas have a treat for you

You've been able to rebuild two full skeletons with everything he's given you so far

You actually had to tell him to slow down on how many bones he was giving you

But this overload in your collection honestly works out

He's used to having literal body parts as his decor around the house, so you just adding to that "aesthetic" makes him really happy

It just reinforces that you're part of the family

And when he learns that you also have a love for collecting shiny trinkets?

You better believe he's also going overboard with that too

If it shines, it's yours

Dozens of quarters, keys, belt buckles, earrings, and even cell phones are given to you

Even if the object doesn't really shine, he'll pick it up

Once again, you have to explain that you didn't need ALL of these things

Your mischievous personality is also something he doesn't mind fueling from time to time

If you prank him, he'll get you back

You've hidden his favorite knife and apron before

But once he found them, he was all smiles

He thinks your jokes keep his life exciting, and that only makes him love it more

Bubba Sawyer

Of course, Bubba also fuels your bone collection

He's a bit messy about it though, handing you a bucket of bloody and poorly picked bones, but the sentiment is there

He's also found some creativity with it!

Recently, Bubba has found an interest in jewelry making

Anytime he can, he collects the teeth from his victims and makes you a necklace and bracelet set to have

He gets especially giddy when you try them on for him

It's like hanging up a child's artwork on the fridge

He just feels so proud of himself for making you happy

He also loves to find shiny trinkets for you too

Bubba is easily distracted by light, so it's pretty easy for him to pinpoint different items that he knows you'll like

He sometimes gets a little down on himself if he accidentally gets you something you already have though

He's also a bit sensitive to your mischievous nature

Jumping out and scaring him sends him into an erratic frenzy at first

But when he learns that these are all "pranks" that you enjoy, he warms up to the idea more

He'll try to scare you multiple times a day after that

It quickly becomes very predictable, but you still fake a reaction sometimes since Bubba gets upset if his attempt goes unsuccessful

Brahms Heelshire

As much as he still feels anger towards his parents, he can't help but still care about the upkeep of the home

He wouldn't really care about your hobby in any other situation

But this is his home, and he doesn't think dead animal bones and random trinkets look good scattered all about

If you keep your collection to yourself, then he doesn't really mind

He may raise the occasional brow at you, but he doesn't say much for the most part

Just don't set anything in his parent's room or certain areas of the house

He will throw your items away despite any protest

He doesn't do much in the way of adding to your collection either

He doesn't leave the house and hardly anyone ever comes by

Plus, he doesn't really like the bones you have and would prefer not to add to it

However, there is the small occasion that he finds a shiny nickel under the couch or a missing earring hidden in the corner of the room

He doesn't mind you having these items and will gladly hand them over if it means seeing you happy

In the way of mischievous behavior, he doesn't really care as long as you stick to the rules list 100%

In fact, he finds some of your pranks and decisions pretty entertaining

They give him an excuse to get back at you too...

Norman Bates

He won't lie; the bones freak him out a bit

As long as you explain that you aren't actively killing things to obtain them, he's mostly fine

He has his own interest in taxidermy anyways

But he would rather keep the animal looking like an animal and not the skeleton of one

But as long as you keep them to yourself, he doesn't care

He just doesn't want to see them scattered about the home and motel

He also doesn't fully understand your fascination with anything shiny

He thinks it's cute, the way your eyes light up the moment something catches your attention

But he doesn't really see the charm unless it's actually worth something

But of course, he cares about your happiness a lot

So even seeing an empty gum wrapper on the table forces him to pocket it so he can gift it to you later

Nothing really beats the excitement you show whenever you get something new

With that being said, he isn't really a fan of some of your behavior

Every item has it's place, so he becomes frustrated whenever you move anything

Spying on him or even scaring him just leaves him on edge and antsy

He much prefers a relaxed and quiet environment, that's for sure

Billy Loomis

You collect what now?

When you show him, his reaction goes from utter confusion to slight interest

Considering what he does in his free time, he kind of appreciates your morbid hobbies

When he sees that all of your bones are from little animals, he gets a dark smile on his face

"Wouldn't you rather have the real deal?"

Comes home the next night with a literal FEMUR

You have no idea how he managed it, especially since he isn't one for getting messier than necessary

But the happy look on his face was enough to make you not question anything

And of course, any future killings always involves him coming home with some type of bone or shiny object for you

He just shrugs it off like it's no big deal, but he honestly enjoys seeing you so appreciative

With that being said, some of your schemes can make him irritable at times

He thinks a lot of your pranks are childish, and he's often comparing you to Stu

"Did he teach you that one?" he rolls his eyes

He never really thought he'd be with someone as quirky as you, but he has learned to appreciate it

It makes him feel better about his own morbid interests too

Stu Macher

He stated that your collections were "sick"

In the good way

The first time he saw all the little bones you had, he tried to fit them together in order to build some new hybrid animal

Asks you a ton of questions about everything

"What was this one from?" "Where did you find this?"

He's like a little kid learning a new subject in school

He also has a similar affinity to shiny objects like you

He has a little spot on his desk made up of old coins and random paperclips he just picked up for no reason

He often gets bored when he's out, so anything that glimmers his way must be a sign that he needs to take it

But since learning of your interests, he quickly begins sharing this habit with you

Any shiny object he comes across is picked up

Even if he's not that interested in it, there's still a chance that you might like it

He may or may not have shoplifted a few times purely on accident

His mind just doesn't think those things through sometimes

And when you begin revealing your mischievous ways towards him, you better believe he's going to get back at you tenfold

It's like a constant battle between you two with bad behavior

And you have yet to find a victor

Billy has yelled at both of you numerous times when he somehow gets dragged into the behavior

You and Stu just laugh together every time

Vincent Sinclair

As a fellow person with odd collections, he respects it

He also really loves that you two have something like that in common; it makes him feel "normal"

He has anything from rocks to wax figures to little pieces of jewelry

Since he hasn't had social contact with the outside world, these collections were his friends

The bones you have are a little odd to him, but he's not one to judge at all

He unfortunately doesn't add to your collection with human bones, but he happily supplies little animal bones he finds inside all of the desolate buildings

If there's any jewelry or shiny object on one of his victims, he'll take them and give them to you later since he knows how happy they make you

Vincent is easily influenced and will likely start to pick up on your behaviors as well

Will also begin to collect shiny trinkets so that you two can share and compare

He may also start to become fascinated with little bones and how they would fit back together

With that being said, he doesn't quite pick up on your pranks and funny behavior

He happily stands back and watches though

The amount of times you've jumped out at Bo and caused him to go into a cursing fit has Vincent silently laughing in the corner

He may not always have the guts to stand up to his brothers, but it's nice that you're willing to do so for him

Bo Sinclair

He's definitely communicated his odd feelings about your interests

"Now, why would you wanna do somethin' silly like that?"

With that being said, he doesn't tell you to stop doing anything, he just thinks it's weird

Has compared you to Vincent multiple times in the past

He sort of turns his nose up to your bone collection

He won't even touch it

He says he just thinks it's gross, but in reality, it kind of freaks him out a bit (not that he'd ever admit it)

The shiny trinkets you have though are a little more "normal" in his eyes

Whenever he sees something that shines now, he always lets out a big sigh and picks it up for you begrudgingly

Says you have him "trained"

But in reality, he does love to make you happy

He just doesn't love the little pranks you pull on him

Scaring him, following him around, tackling him in the middle of night are all things he's forced himself to grow accustomed to

He still goes into a pouty fit and tells you to "knock it off"

But his threats only go so far

He soon figures that if he can't get out of the game, he might as well beat you to the win

So be sure to watch your back

He has plans on getting you tenfold

Lester Sinclair

You collect bones...?

Well, good! Because so does Lester

He's always had a knack for picking up any random scraps he thought were interesting

Bo has made fun of him plenty of times for it

But that seemed to die down now that he has you

You've both sat with each other and your collections, swapping random trinkets and talking about where some of them came from

All the while, there's the biggest smile on Lester's face

He's definitely one to give, so he always manages to find a couple items every day to take home to you

But if he finds something especially cool, you may have to "fight" him on it

(The battle never lasts long since all you have to do is give him a big kiss and he gives in)

He truly believes that having you around makes his life so much more fun too

The little games you like to play, and the way you always keep him on his toes really brings him a lot of joy

In a place like Ambrose, there isn't much for change or oddity

So meeting you was truly a blessing in all accounts

Hannibal Lecter

When you first shared your collection and true colors with him, he just responded with a quirk of the brow

Sure, he could give you a bunch of science-y answers on why you do this blah blah blah

But he knows that wouldn't change anything

Besides, he honestly likes your quirkiness

He may look suave and put together on the outside, but he also has some darker and more intriguing interests on the inside

He always manages to surprise you with a new animal bone you have yet to obtain or some shiny object that you have not seen before

You have no idea how he does it, but he never fails to amaze you

Of course, he doesn't share with you how he actually gets these trinkets, but you don't pry

You're just really happy to have someone who encourages your interests rather than shut them down

With that being said, he's a bit of a stinker when it comes to your mischievous side

He knows your intentions almost better than you do

You can't get a single thing past him without him knowing

Because of this, you haven't been able to surprise him with anything

It's a bit annoying

But what he doesn't give you in fun, he makes up for in gifts and spoiling you

[clawsmiic]

"I had to talk to you."

Repost from other account

2.4k words

CW: Heavy flirtation, canon divergence (S4 end events didn't happen), College Student!Steve, Steve has shit eyesight

October 13th, 1989

Steve sighs, leaning back on the drivers side of his 1983 BMW. Burgundy paint starting to chip on the hood, the car becoming less appealing day by day. Girls passing by not even looking in his direction anymore. He was old news in Hawkins after people found out he had finally started at a college half an hour away in Fort Wayne. Just starting his life like everyone else did 4 years ago just wasn't appealing to most girls.

At least not Hawkins girls.

But at this point he didn't care. He was proud of himself for pulling his life together after all the bullshit he had been put through. With saving an entire town too many god damn times. Cutting his dad off when his parents divorced. Moving out to get a rented house with his best friend Robin. Just what he learned he needed over time.

Getting into a good school by himself with no help was just a cherry on top of the fuck you sundae he graciously served his past problems.

He was satisfied with what he had right now.

Dustin walks out of the new game shop in the newest strip mall to grace Hawkins. Steve looks up, pushing his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto his head.

"You made it out before, Robin. I'm surprised." Dustin glanced at the instrument shop a few doors down, then back to Steve. "You get what Eddie needed?"

"Mostly yeah. She's still getting her trumpet fixed?" Steve shrugs at Dustin's question and slides his sunglasses down in place again.

"She probably got distracted looking at something shiny and new. You know Robins crow brain sometimes." Dustin laughs, looking into his bag, shuffling a few things around inside.

Steve looked over at the liquor store at the end of the strip mall. Looking back at Dustin, he taps the top of the car. His head snapped up, eyes a bit surprised at the sudden noise.

"You want anything?" Steve asks, tilting his head back towards the store.

"Coke? If they got it." Dustin simply replied before getting in the back seat. Steve nods and walks to the liquor store.

The bell chimes over his head as he walks through the door. He takes in the warmth of the store and the radio playing over the speakers on the ceiling. Such a nice contrast to the crisp Autumn air outside.

He turns heading down an isle of assorted liquor bottles and bar accessories before finally stopping at the fridge. Humming along to the song over the radio, mumbling the lyrics to 'I wanna know what love is' absentmindedly.

Sliding his glasses down his nose, he squints at the selection. All the labels are blurry the farther he is, he steps forward rubbing his eyes and sure doesn't help with the florescent lighting blinding him from above.

God I need to get my eyes checked.

Opening the fridge, he grabs the 3 soft drinks and a 6-pack for later when he hears a metal scrapping and whoosh next to him. Followed by a muffled but panicked "Shit!"

Looking over, he sees the back of a squatting woman struggling with a metal shelf slipping out of one of the fridges.

Walking over, he quickly puts his things down and pushes the shelf back in. The metal shelf, cold against his warm skin as he reaches into the fridge, fixing the fasteners back into place.

An issue he's all too familiar with working at Family Video. The fridge racks always got loose and every time it happened he was always made to clean them up. He could only imagine the mess a bunch of glasses and beer would have made.

"Thank you so much!" The woman speaks as Steve stands up, slowly closing the door. Looking back, he finally sees your face. His lips slightly part as you continue talking, he can't hear a word you're saying right now.

All he can hear is the very oddly convenient Foreigner song playing over the store radio as he takes in every detail of your gorgeous face. From your shiny hair to your bright smile. The vibrant colored nail polish on your fingers you're waving as you talk. You're unfamiliar, he's never seen you before, but you're an absolute stunner of a woman.

Steve never thought of himself as a love at first sight kind of guy. But right now he was undoubtedly being proven wrong by the spark he was feeling, not to mention the nervous knot in his stomach.

"But really you're a life saver... Thank you." You stop talking, looking at him. Your face falls as he perks up, realizing he's just been staring like a complete idiot this entire time.

"You're welcome!" He spoke, choking almost over how inappropriately loud he was for a second. Feeling the effect of not talking to women for a while really hit him. You look down at his soon-to-be purchases.

"Full Sail Amber. Good beer." You comment, making him look at the floor and nod.

Crouching down, he grabs his things and stands cracking his head on one of the fridge door handles. His sunglasses fell off his face and onto the floor. He stands up wedging his soft drink between his side and arm. Rubbing his head with a hiss.

"You okay?" You ask with a slight chuckle. Bending down, you grab the sunglasses, Steve moves his hand, grabbing the bottom of the door handle to shield your head from injury.

"Yeah, thanks." Before he gets to put his hand out to take his Ray-Bans back, you slide them on his head with a soft smile.

God she's so fucking pretty.

"You're welcome. And thanks again for... Saving me from paying for a full shelf of beer." She turned down the isle to another part of the store.

Part of Steve wants to follow you and try chatting you up, but the slight embarrassment of hurting his head just keeps him from doing so.

He turns, goes to the front of the store and makes his purchases. Heading outside, he walks to his car, finally seeing Robin in her usual spot, the passenger seat. Opening the driver's door, he slips in.

"There you are!" Robin looked at him, her trumpet case in-between her legs on the floor of the car.

"What's with the face?" Dustin asks, Steve looking at him in the rearview, glaring.

"Shut up Henderson." He hands them their sodas, moving to close his car door when he hears the bell from the liquor store chime.

Out you walk, starting across the parking lot to a top-down red 86' Volkswagen Cabriolet. Steve freezes, staring again. He really can't help but stare.

"Oooh." Robin and Dustin both taunt him, making him sigh. He needs more friends, fewer annoying friends.

"She's pretty." Robin says looking at Dustin.

"Too pretty to talk to, apparently." Dustin adds, laughing as he looks back at Steve.

"I talked to her in the store." Dustin raised his eyebrows, pushing his baseball cap up a bit.

"You asked her out?"

"No." Steve watches you load your bag into the back seat and start pulling the top up on your car.

"Not too late!" Robin smiled, taking a sip of her drink. Dustin looked at her.

"He's not gonna do it."

"No, he's gonna do it."

Steve feels like he has a devil and an angel bickering on his shoulders right now. His foot meets the new asphalt of the parking lot as you open your driver's door.

He's quickly out of the driver's seat.

"Holy shit he's doing it." Dustin comments as he shuts the door on them.

He stops at the bumper of his car, hearing your car engine click over. Music pours out of your open windows before you turn it down quickly.

The universe is screaming at him to talk to you when he starts hearing that familiar Tears for Fears song, 'Head Over Heels'.

Please don't pull away, please don't pull away.

He nearly sprints across the parking lot out of fear of missing his chance. Upon reaching the car, he knocks on the back window, pulling you from looking for something in the console.

"Hi..." He says awkwardly, approaching the window. Leaning on the door, he smiles as you smile back.

"Hi. You need something?" He gets so agitated that you smirk up at him.

'Why'd you have to be so God damn pretty?'

"Sorry if this is weird, but I had to talk to you." He started, finally being able to say something. Your eyes go half shut with a soft nod.

"Talk to me?" He nods, clenching the door frame for a second. "Go ahead then. Talk."

His eyes go wide in surprise at your sudden confidence. Steve stammered for a second.

"Uh... At the risk of sounding crazy or desperate... You're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." You can feel your body warm up as he gives the most genuine smile you've seen on a man in a while.

"Mmhm, go on."

"Are you by chance single? Or like... Are you even attracted to men at all?" He asks, sheepishly smiling.

"Yes, and yes." Your smirk slowly turns into a grin as he squats to eye level now, feeling a bit more confident after your answer.

"I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington." He smiles again hearing you reply with your name. "Are you new to Hawkins?"

"I am actually. I just moved here from the city and needed to stay nearby for school."

"Where are you going?"

"Trine University." His eyes go wide, the same school he goes to. What are the odds?

"Really? I actually go there too. Education major." You look him up and down. You never pegged him for the teacher type.

"Software Engineering major."

"So you're smart and gorgeous. Good to know." He smirks, finally feeling like himself when talking as your flush finally becomes noticeable. "You like movies?"

"What kind of psychopath doesn't like movies?" He laughs at your response, leaning in closer to the window.

"Lemme be more specific. The new Halloween 5 movie came out today. You interested in seeing it? Maybe with me tonight at the drive-in theater in Lafayette. We can have dinner after. All my treat, of course." He can see the sparkle in your eyes, that spark he felt looking at you before is still lingering around him.

"What's in it for me?" You playfully ask. He cocks his head to the side, leaning it on his arm for a second.

"A fun night out with a gentleman, I promise I'm fun." You chuckle, rolling your eyes, he knows you want to say yes. "Please?"

He'd never said please before when asking a girl out. It didn't feel embarrassing like he thought it would. You turn your attention back to the console looking for something.

Pulling out a napkin and pen, you quickly write down your number and address. Turning back, you hold it out to him as he takes it.

"I'm free at 8. And dress nicely. You're taking me somewhere decent after the movie."

"I'll take you to the most expensive restaurant I can find if that's what you want. I don't care. As long as I get to see you again." You laugh at his bluntness, it's like music to his ears.

"That won't be necessary. I don't need to be spoiled."

"What if I want to spoil you?" That caught you off guard as you didn't respond right away. He let a soft breath escape his mouth. "You like roses?"

"White roses." You reply, he nods, standing up again and folding the napkin, storing it in his back jean pocket for safe keeping.

"I'll be sure to remember that." You two just stare at each other in silence for a minute. No man's ever looked at you like Steve has right now, it makes your heart race from nervousness.

"I'll see you at 8 o'clock then." You look past him for a moment and back to him. "Tell your friends I said hello since they like to stare so much."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve turned his head. He sees Robin poking her head over the roof of the car and Dustin sitting on the rolled down window frame. They quickly hurry back into the car, noticing they've been caught. He should be embarrassed, but he fully expects their behavior from being friends for so long.

"Ignore them." Steve says, sighing as he looks back at you. "I'll see you at 8."

He turned away towards his car, trying to stay as confident as he was before turning his back. Reaching his car, he pops the door open, clutching it for dear life as he silently collects himself. Robin poked her head across the driver's seat to look up at him.

"You good dude?" She asks, concerned but also excited as he just nods.

You pull out of your parking spot, stopping behind his car and honk once to get his attention. Dustin pops his head out the back window as Robin looks out her open door. Steves head snaps up at you as you lean on your window frame, chin on fist with the most shit eating grin on your face.

"See you at 8 sexy~" You called to him. And then you have the balls to blow him a kiss before peeling out of the parking lot.

Steve silently gets in the car. Robin shuts her door as Steve does his. Dustin sits forward looking at Steve, who's just gripping his steering wheel, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

"Dude, she's so into you, into you!" Dustin breaks the silence as Robin nods.

"And I'd say it's the same for Harrington here." Robin grins as a massive smile spreads across Steve's face.

He starts excitedly thrashing frontwards and backwards. Enough to shake the car and look like he's about to rip the steering wheel from it's column. He lets out an excited yell, causing his two friends to laugh at him.

He let out a long breath, looking at them.

"She says hi by the way."

[fae-papercuts]

Originally inspired as a response to some posts by @banrionceallach and @marlynnofmany. Polished it up and decided it would make a good start to my lil story blog. Enjoy!

Not Our Usual Passengers

“What do you mean, there’s something wrong with the engines?” Captain El'ek'tak said incredulously. “You’re not an engineer, none of you humans are. You’re not even crew, you’re passengers! How dare you claim there’s something wrong with my vessel!?”

The outraged captain puffed up her air sacks, the feathery amphibian inflating as she stared down the trio of humans who had been travelling with them for the past week. They were not what she had come to expect when transporting humans, not one bit.

They were quiet, for a start. One of them didn’t even speak at all, just made an occasional tuneless humming sound when they were concentrating particularly hard on something. That was usually accompanied by a rocking back and forth that seemed remarkably similar to the Ke'tek autonomic stimulation ritual of focus.

Humans weren’t supposed to do that, were they?

The second of the human party cleared their throat softly - something they always did before speaking, which was quite a rare occurrence. The captain appreciated this, actually. So many humans she had transported interrupted her, or spoke over each other. The disrespect was really quite remarkable - but these humans waited patiently for others to finish, and this particular human’s throat-clearing was used similarly to the way El'ek'tak’s own species rustled their dorsal feathers to indicate their intent to communicate.

“Captain, apologies if we caused any offence,” at this the non-speaking human’s eyes widened in surprise, and they shook their head, clearly agreeing in a profoundly apologetic manner, without words. Their apologetic companion went on, “We can’t be certain there’s something wrong with the ship, we just thought you should know that it sounds wrong.”

The first human spoke again, nodding as they added to their companion’s statement.

“Yes, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to assert certainty when I should have stated a suspicion,” they gave a short smile, then their face quickly fell back into a neutral expression. The captain was a little taken aback by this, as that particular human seemed to very rarely express facially - quite the opposite to what she was used to with humans. It was a little disconcerting, but mostly because she had put a lot of effort into learning about human non-verbal communication.

She blinked, and stared at the three for a long moment. “It sounds wrong?” she repeated back, surprised. She had heard of some particularly sensitive species being able to diagnose certain engine issues from the vibrational frequencies, but usually this required extremely highly trained specialists.

The silent human nodded, and raised a handheld device, tapping something onto its screen for a few moments. The other two humans turned and waited patiently as their friend worked, and the Captain watched with a raised eyebrow (this wasn’t a natural Girurian expression. She had learnt it from her human studies, enjoyed how it felt, and how it could communicate so many things at once).

The human held up the device, and it emitted a gentle, slightly robotic tone, “Engine pitch changed one point five hours ago. Rising quarter octave every seven minutes. Hurt very bad fifty five minutes ago.”

Captain El'ek'tak stared for a moment at the human, her feathers rustling vaguely, as she tried to figure out a response. She looked between all three of them. “You can hear the engines, from your quarters half way across the ship?” she asked incredulously.

The most vocal of the humans spoke, while the throat-clearer nodded and the non-verbal one tapped on their device. “Oh yes,” they said, “we’re all sensitive to sensory input, at least for humans. Not a patch on Alirians sound sensitivity, or Hynoids electromagnetic spectral range, or the scent capabilities of the Teraxids - did you know they can smell a single smoke particulate in a standard atmospheric volume of 500 cubic metres?”

The human with the device gently put a hand on the speaker’s shoulder and smiled softly at their friend - who turned bright red and looked at the floor. “Sorry, xenobiological sensory discrepancies is my special interest right now,” they said, before taking a slight step back. It was at this point that the captain noticed that they were fiddling with a strange cube in their left hand, suddenly speeding up how they manipulated the piece of plastic, changing its configuration rapidly. It was a fascinating display of manual dexterity, and considered asking about it for a moment.

“Engine makes the whole ship vibrate. Can hear it any place,” spoke the little device, for it’s human, interrupting the captain's curiosity. The human’s head rose, making eye contact with El'ek'tak. The human’s gaze was intense - more so than even the other humans the captain had encountered. Eye contact was so rarely a positive thing, across a wide variety of species, but with humans she had met so far it had always been considered important. So the captain had learned to look them in the eyes. It had been a surprise when this group avoided it so much, rarely meeting her gaze for more than a split second. Early in the voyage, they had politely explained that all of them found it hard, and that they hoped she wouldn’t take offence. Frankly, El'ek'tak had been a little relieved, as all the eye contact with others of the odd little species had been quite exhausting.

But right now, the diminutive human who never spoke and could apparently tell when engines changed pitch, was looking into her eyes, and the Captain could practically feel this little traveller’s distress. It made her ankle feathers itch, and she was surprised to find herself understanding quite so much from just a look.

The captain nodded, and broke eye contact. The human looked down again, reverting back to their usual slightly-bowed stance.

“Let me check with engineering,” she said, and turned to the panel by her side, tapping a screen to raise the engine-room. Slipping comfortably into her own language, she greeted the pair of engineering crew on duty, and asked them about the state of the engines, particularly frequency or oscillation-related issues. She gave them the time to check on it, waiting silently, still as a statue, while the humans figeted, or rocked gently side to side. Their motion made her a little uncomfortable, but she had learnt that with these three, continuous movement wasn’t a sign of impatience, as it has been for many previous human passengers.

After a few minutes, the engineers returned to the screen, and exchanged a few explanatory sentences with the Captain, before tapping fingers to their foreheads respectfully. The Captain returned the gesture, and ended the call.

El'ek'tak turned back to the humans, to see that the non-verbal one was already tapping on their device. She couldn’t help but rustle her feathers, wanting to reassure the humans, but not wanting to interrupt this overt preparation for communication. The throat-clearing human raised a finger briefly, a clear request for a moment of time, and the Captain found herself surprised again at how wide a variety of perception these humans could contain within a single species.

“Pitch dropping rapidly. Expect normal range in four minutes. Thank you, captain,” said the device, as the human beamed a broad smile at her for just a brief moment.

El'ek'tak’s feathers rustled briskly, and then she replied. “Yes, that’s alright, thank you for bringing it to our attention,” she said, pausing to gather her wits. “The interphasic array had become slightly misaligned. It wouldn’t have been detected by our sensors for another hour, and then we would have had to pause the engines to manually readjust it. Catching it this early, we could simply vary the input parameters to re-compensate, and bring it back into synchronisation,” she explained, relaying the gratitude of her engineering crew.

The most vocal human flapped their hands back and forth vigorously, grinning with delight. “Oh, thank goodness, I’m so glad we could help, and that the engine noise will at least be consistent. We were worried it would be horrible for the whole trip, and we’d have to reconfigure our ear protection all the time! Genuinely helping out the engineers is so great!”

The captain’s eyes bulged with happiness, quite unable to resist the infectious joy of the gleeful human. “I am glad your trip will be more comfortable, and I will pass on how helpful you were to Central, once we reach our destination.”

The throat-clearing human, who had so consistently noticed the captain’s non-verbal communication, smiled too. They actually chuckled a little as they said, “More neurodiversity stuff to go in The Guide To Interstellar Travel With Humans,” seeming pleasantly amused.

El'ek'tak winced in embarrassment. She had already sent in three amendments to the guide regarding natural variations in human cognitive capabilities and behavioural norms since they had left Alpha Centauri, the two weeks of travel offering surprise after surprise from these passengers. But as far as she knew, the guide wasn’t acknowledged by humans - she didn’t even know the species was aware of the now rather sizeable volume of collected knowledge. It certainly wasn’t available in any human languages that she knew of - after all, what would be the point?

The human’s chuckle became gentler, and the other vocal one of the group raised a hand in an extremely close mimic of the Girurian comforting gesture - as close as could be with the wrong number of digits, anyway. The Captain couldn’t help but relax, the effort the human put into the gesture only adding to the positive impact. They flashed another brief smile as their companion explained, “Don’t worry captain. Most of us don’t bother with it, but I find it fascinating. It has been wonderful seeing the updates since our trip began. Please, the more human neurodivergency is documented, the easier space travel can be for people like us.”

There were a few more polite exchanges, during which the captain learned  that the strange device she had notice was an 'infinity cube,' which was apparently a kind of 'fidget toy.' Then the humans left her ready room; a quiet, somewhat surreal collection of beings who had rather put a lie to the notion that humans were uniformly capable of being brash and difficult to deal with.

But they certainly didn’t do anything to diminish the captain’s view of humanity as a species eternally full of surprises.

[asteroshearts]

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."