#that's because they are already canonically plus-sized

[blimbo-buddy]

Hey guys new little warrior cats tag game: Share your plus-sized headcanons in the tags!

I'll give some of mine to start off: Princess, DarkStripe, DoveWing, TigerHeartStar (though he's a little more on the stocky side), ShadowSight, BigTeeth, BugEater, TurtleTail, RedTail, MouseFur, MapleShade, BrokenStar, YellowFang, RavenPaw (after moving to the barn), Shnucky, MothWing, SquirrelFlight, LeafPool, ClawWhistle, Purdy, FrostPaw. Just to name a few

[gamebunny-advance]

Hm.

I am thoroughly convinced that the reason most people make DJSS taller than NJ is because they’re referencing the “chalk doodle” from the credits, where the DJ is drawn taller than NJ, even though in-game DJSS is probably the shortest adult in the main cast.

[satoruxx]

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 

"who's the rookie?" 

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 

"maybe she's strong?" 

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 

ii. routine 

"can i ask you guys a question?" 

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there. 

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 

but you can't. 

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 

"—so that makes you her family then." 

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 

"…yes." 

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 

"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 

"me too." 

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 

"oh? and why's that?" 

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 

"shoko?" 

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?" 

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you. 

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 

"i know." 

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 

there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 

that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now. 

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 

"suguru—" 

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 

nobody has laughed in a while now. 

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 

"better late than never, right?" 

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 

"'m not crying." 

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 

he doesn't. 

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 

you accept your fate then and there. 

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again. 

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added: 

both of you stfu you're failing too 

you had drawn a heart next to her name. 

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 

"want help?" 

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 

"…are all of suguru's things." 

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 

"guess not." 

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 

"let's get started then, hotshot." 

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 

but it's enough for the two of you. 

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

"so do you." 

"i am," you admit honestly. 

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 

"hey." 

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 

you frown. "what are you talking about?" 

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

[gyusimp]

°•Lord Muzan feels tired after work

⚠️ WARNINGS: NSFW | Smut content | Fem reader | Fingering | Semi-oral | Minors DNI!

Finally the one-shot I promised! I changed the initial idea so I basically rewrote the whole thing again because of a dream I had and it gave me all the inspiration I needed lmao it even gave me an idea for another longer fic with Muzan. I ended up doing it in the canon Taisho Era so enjoy!

Art credits for the creator (not mine)

It wasn't physical fatigue that he felt, after all, the progenitor of demons was tireless. He was rather fed up. Fed up with his employees, his servants, humans in general and how exhausting it was to be the only perfect and intelligent creature among them. His day had been full of problems today.

The current role he had was that of a young and rich businessman, owner of a company importing foreign products whom he murdered in order to carry out his plans and continue increasing his fortune. He forged a few papers, impersonated some people and murdered others and so the company was his now but that included all his stupid and useless employees. He was so fed up with damn humans, sometimes he avoided dismissals, it depends on their mood and how efficient they were at some point then Muzan fired them, otherwise he just called them to his office simply to kill them.

Then a few months later he met you, a young and beautiful woman in the business world with a company dedicated to natural medicine and importing medicinal plants. You were an essential piece in his plan to conquer the sun. He married you when he had the chance to but you eventually found out that he wasn't human. How come you were still alive then? You discovered it on your own, you didn't make a fuss or try to run away from him, you simply let him know that you already knew through small clues or ways of acting, like you were in charge of closing all the curtains in the house during the day but you didn't ask the servants to do it for you. Your loyalty to him remained despite knowing what he was and that was not lost on Muzan.

One night, he told you what this was all about, if you hadn't left despite knowing his condition then you had to stay alive. Muzan gave you the choice if you wanted to become a demon or not but whatever your answer was, you had to serve him for your entire life. The fact of being immortal did not tempt your human weakness but you told him that by having the ability to walk under the sun, you could be his eyes in the light of day and help him do different things so you both ended up accepting. You were legally his wife, so in front of everyone Muzan treated you as such although there were times in private where he was still a little soft on you, plus, he is an attractive looking man which led you to feel some things more for him , taking on mind his demonic nature.

Today had been a terribly long day, the fatigue in Kibutsuji's body caused the veins on his forehead to stand out strongly under his skin, his red eyes appeared and his pupils turned into vertical slits like a cat's.  He took off the black trench coat he was wearing and left it on the coat rack at the entrance, his fangs grew to normal size after having hidden them all day, as did his sharp blue nails, making one of his servants tremble who should have already gone home. The man next to him was observed with indifference, his skin was pale and he was sweating coldly having seen the small transformation of his master, then he remembered the stories of those man-eating creatures that the women of his town told the children.

"A monster! This man is not human!! MISS KIBUTSUJI, THERE IS A DEMON IN THE HOUSE!" the man shouted trying to alert you.

His shrill screams tried Muzan's patience and when the man turned to walk up the stairs towards you he was cut into pieces in less than 2 seconds. The reddish and thick liquid splashed Kibutsuji's face making him sigh and wipe it with a handkerchief as well as his hand, the drops dripped on the stairs and when he walked next to him he moved it with too much disgust using his foot and continuing his way towards your room upstairs.

Like a gentleman, he knocked on the door before entering and upon hearing your voice he entered the room. You hadn't heard anything but his murderous look told you that he wasn't in the best of moods so you didn't say anything. You went to the bathroom in the large room and put on a pearl-colored sleeveless sleeping dress with a matching silk robe. Just like your husband, you preferred to dress in a Western style, you left your hair down and went out. You found him sitting on the edge of the bed, with both hands together mumbling some things, noticing how stressed he was and without saying anything you knelt on the bed behind him and started massaging his shoulders. You were involved in the world of medicine since you were little, so you knew the points where stress usually accumulates. Feeling your hands exerting pleasant pressure on his body, Muzan couldn't help but tilt his head to the side and put aside everything he was thinking, he took off his tie and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. You continued caressing his neck, shoulders and back until slowly his muscles relaxed and his veins stopped showing under his skin.

"Can i...?" You asked, bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt.

You unbuttoned the entire garment and got rid of it completely leaving his naked and well-worked torso exposed, you continued massaging his shoulders and back until he felt good enough to close his eyes and lay his head on your chest, feeling your breasts very close to him. Your hands were soft and light, with a sincere and warm touch making his thoughts go elsewhere. While you continued doing your thing, he got rid of his belt and unbuttoned his pants without you realizing it, then grabbed your wrist with some force and brought you in front of him so that you were sitting astride his lap. As soon as you sat down, he took it upon himself to stare at you and open the robe you were wearing to see your breasts under the thin fabric of the nightgown and how your nipples were beginning to stand out. He took off your robe and then grabbed the hem of your nightgown to pull it up and take it off as well. A few seconds passed, he lightly patted your thigh to make you lift your butt so he could get rid of your panties as well, leaving you completely naked under his gaze. He gently took your hand, still looking at you, and brought it up to his face to caress it against his cheek and kiss your palm elegantly.

"You are a rather attractive woman...worthy of bearing my last name." You felt so lucky when he took the time to compliment you since you knew his disdain for almost everything.

You melted at his touch, at his kisses, but an unusual sensation on the skin of your hand made you look in that direction. You saw how a mouth began to form in Muzan's palm with teeth, tongue and everything. You knew about all the changes and transformations that his body was capable of so it no longer surprised you at all since he also knew how to use those changes to your advantage. Muzan smiled at you with seductive malice and with his free hand he grabbed your waist while the hand with his mouth went straight between your legs, placing his palm just below your pussy. You couldn't help but moan and startled a little when you felt his warm breath hitting you, you felt his tongue come out from his palm and begin to suck and lick all your folds. You looked at Muzan with a huge blush as you grabbed his shoulders. While his palm was in charge of your center, he brought 2 of his fingers to your hole, making you arch your back as you felt him enter and arch his fingers inside you. Both sensations made you begin to moan his name and move your hips on him to increase your own pleasure as he hardened dangerously beneath you. His entire mouth sucked on your pussy, playing with it with his teeth and pressing your clit against his tongue over and over again as he moved his fingers and the mouth on his face kissed and bit your neck and collarbones. You were starting to get very wet, the saliva and your juices between your legs making you feel very hot and slippery. Muzan's free hand took you from behind to bring you closer to him and caressed your back until it went down and reached your butt, then he went to your bust and began to knead one of your breasts between his fingers, causing you endless moans.

"Aa-aah...Muzan! Aah!" You could barely speak properly.

You rubbed your center on the palm of his hand while the mouth beneath you devoured you completely, you listened to the wet sounds that leaked beneath you and imagining the dirty scene aroused you more and more. The simple act of letting the Demon King fuck you as he pleased turned you on no matter what. Muzan was going too fast and every rub on and lick on your folds was killing you, you clung tightly to his shoulders making scratches that regenerated immediately feeling your orgasm getting closer to the point of not even being able to stay upright. Your head leaned down, leaving your left hand on his shoulder while you held on to the bed with your right as if your life depended on it, never stopping moaning or moving.

Muzan watched you from above, proud of the mess he made of you, of how he was able to lower such a prestigious and elegant lady to such a level, making her beg for more as if she were a prostitute. You were close, he knew it by the way you squeezed his fingers tighter than before and he didn't want to let this moment pass him by. Muzan grabbed your chin to make you look into his eyes.

"Look at me...you're about to cum, aren't you? I want you to look at me..."

You tried to raise your face towards him but lust was stronger than your five senses, your body was heavy with pleasure and you could barely open your eyes properly. You didn't heed his request and that might make him angry so this time he held you tighter, digging his nails into your soft flesh making your cheeks sting.

"I told you I want you to look at me when you do it...it's an order." He demanded.

You clung to his shoulders without stopping moving and he increased his speed, you squeezed him again and just when you felt yourself on the edge you looked down but forced yourself to half open your eyes and look up again just as you screamed of pleasure as you feel all your whitish and slippery discharge come out from your core, wetting all of Muzan's hand under you where his mouth did not waste a single drop.

"Your taste is very pleasant, dear. I would never get tired of it." He licked his lips.

You were shaking in his lap, sweating all over your body, and a huge blush came over you again when you looked down and saw the mess you had left in his pants. Muzan smiled evilly at you and pushed you on the bed to change places and position himself over you after having completely gotten rid of all his clothes.

Your hair was a mess on the bed, your chest rose and fell trying to normalize your breathing and you could feel your sensitive folds throbbing after such a strong euphoria. You finished having your orgasm, you were wet and slippery and Muzan wasn't going to waste that.

"It's my turn, precious."

He told you, showing you his fangs in a smile and in less than you expected he opened your legs to position himself in the middle of you, he took one of your legs behind your knee and placed it on his shoulder without letting go and then entered you with a single thrust making you moan intensely. He didn't care that you had not yet adapted to his size, he began to stretch you and move repeatedly inside you until he aroused you again. You could hear his soft moans and grunts in your ear as he moved, you took him by the shoulders again and adjusted your legs so you both felt better.

Even though this was only the second round for you you felt almost dead tired, your legs and waist were starting to hurt and you envied the way your husband wasn't even sweating. A pleasurable sensation formed inside you as you felt the crashes of each of his thrusts against your clit and the pressure you felt on it again and again causing you to stretch your toes and squeeze Muzan very tightly again. He loved feeling you that way, you drove him crazy with pleasure and you noticed how the veins appeared again on his back and arms but this time it was due to the strong arousement he was feeling. He had the nerve to lift his head from your shoulder and moan heavily as he closed his eyes and increased his speed, feeling you suck him deep.

"Fuck...you're perfect nngh, you're even better than those 12 fucking idiots." He moaned, complimenting you.

You loved pleasing your husband and even more so seeing that you were doing a good job. Knowing that you could manage to put the Demon King in such a vulnerable state turned you on more, making you eagerly wait for his orgasm and the second one on your part, but on the other hand it made you nervous. Muzan's arousal was as strong as 10 men combined every time he fucked you and his release was just as intense or even more so, so when he tilted his head back after you cum again, you felt a huge amount of his falling inside you reaching the bottom of your insides, spilling the rest between your legs until forming a whitish stain on the bed, under the two of you.

The way Muzan felt his scent permeate your flesh once again made him feel powerful, it was a way of claiming you as his because no matter how many times you showered or cleaned yourself, how many days went by without him fucking you, Muzan let his cells inside you, so that any creature that knew of his existence would also know that you belonged to him.

[lovetei]

Okay so, someone headcanon that Lucifer interact with Cerberus very seriously like no baby talk or any normal petowners behaviour…? This is actually kinda canon now? In the recent Lucifer’s card. He be trying to get his lepus doing smth by acting like they’re business partners and the lepus keeps electrocuting him in the progress lol.

And just imagine MC being the lovely troublemaker they are keep sneaking in the underground tomb to see Cerberus to give him belly rubs, snacks and all of the things Lucifer didn’t do because MC feels bad cuz Cerberus can’t experience all the “good boys stuff” he deserves

Then one day, Cerberus just break out and just running around the house to find MC cuz they forgot to give Cerberus his daily without Lucifer knowing snacks, and daily cuddle too! What a crime. How would the bros react to that?

I was surprised Fluff and crack dominated the poll I created last post 😭

But this cute as hell.

I'm back on my long post era :b

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MC who thinks Cerberus is just a giant puppy that deserves love cause he's a good boy

Warnings: Grammar errors, spelling errors, long post, Mentions of starving, Mentions of eye bags, Mentions of some real threats

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER:

He's a very serious pet owner

He doesn't punish his pet though, no fasting or whips just some soft scolding and lecturing

On the other hand, there's you who as a pet fever, always hyperventilating when you see Cerberus

He figured that you might turn his stoic and monstrous three headed dog into some giant puppy

So he made sure that he adds one more barrier, specifically preventing you from entering the tomb

But guess what? You're the shit.

Ain't no barrier gonna stop you.

So you sneak out late at night while struggling to hold all the large sized snacks you starved yourself to get your hands on just make Cerberus feel like the good boy he is.

Of course, Lucifer noticed this but he's not really sure and he does not want to confront you about this.

Like, what if you're not actually going to the tomb to pet and give Cerberus belly rubs? He'll look like a fool.

But it just kept getting worse.

The eyebags around your eyes

And how Cerberus gets more and more whiney

What the fuck is on about you two

So as a punishment, he decided to give you a break (Wow)

You're not allowed to leave your room until the dark circles under your eyes disappear.

And to his surprise, and prediction, Cerberus managed to break out of the magic he applied on the tomb that prevents him fron going out without his permission

He's both disspointed and proud.

Disspointed because his dog is disobeying and proud because his dog is actually really strong.

And as to his guesses, he ran up straight to the HOL and broke the door open.

And just like in those movies

You guys met halfway and life dramatically cried out as if Lucifer prevented two lovers from meeting each other.

He's just standing on the background like :l

Cause he expected this much.

MAMMON:

He liked the dog don't get him wrong

It's just that, he's not as crazy as you are about them

Plus that three headed tree pisser tried to kill him multiple times

And he's NOT happy about it

It's not like he can get any time to bond with the dog too since Lucifer is keeping a tight leash on him both literally and figuratively.

That might stop him

But not you

As your first man, he already know you're up to something the moment he saw you, through his crows, carrying large sizes of food, now human food, dog food.

He also knows that you're someone who don't actually want someone to know about this little secret of yours

So he just kept quite and stood at the bay

Watching you sneak around the house, trying to get to the tomb by yourself

Who knows? Something might go wrong and he needs to be by your side to save you as your babysitter and as your first man.

He started getting worried as soon as he saw those eye bags though

So he admitted that he knows what you're up to and suggested that you stop

You got mad

Of course

He knew it

He snitched on you by the way

He didn't straight up told Lucifer that you're going out to meet Cerberus

He just pointed out that you have like the worse eye bags ever and subtly said that you might be on some late night rendezvous.

He's glad that Lucifer gave you that time out.

He's sorry for snitching on you too but your health comes first before some belly rubs and dog treats.

When he heard the door of HOL crashing down though

He knew damn well who it was

He actually opened (broke) the door for you.

LEVIATHAN:

He's not that much of a dog person

More on reptiles and amphibians

But he understands why you're all crazy about dogs

I mean it's a common thing among humans right?

He's pretty sure Lucifer won't let you near Cerberus though since all about the string, guard dogs type while you're all down for cutesy belly rubs and treats.

Then one night, when he's about to get water after playing video games all night he saw you

Sneaking out

And he thought "What if MC actually have a hidden identity like in those anime?! That would be so cool!"

And so he followed you

And saw Mammon following you too

Mammon explained what's happening to him.

He's actually surprised you would go this far.

He started following you every night too of course

Even though he knows that you can knock out Cerberus with a single hit if you're actually serious

He even started watching anime about dogs and reading managas about them too then recommending them to you

He just loves the expression you make when you're so excited and your heart is melting because of the cute illustrations.

Wait

Is Mammon snitching?! On you?!

He's surprised cause, what the fuck, he's actually the last person he thought will snitch on you

It's understandable though, 'cause he's actually near on doing the same.

He's just glad that you got mad on Mammon instead of him

So you got your rest and you're not mad at him, it's a win win for him.

He also got to record the whole dramatic reunion between you and Cerberus.

SATAN:

He's a cat person

He can barely care

About Lucifer and his pet

But if it's you then... Maybe he can bare with it.

He just loves how you look at dogs like how he looks at cats.

You guys really are soul mates.

But why would you starve yourself for dog foods..?

He got a little mad because of it but he knows you just love Cerberus so much

And that you want to treat him like the good puppy he is because the so good Lucifer FAILED to do so.

He knows you're sneaking in and out of HOL to go in the tomb and meet Cerberus

He applied a few spells that made you seem more approachable to animals and be more sneaky without you knowing too.

But his guts are just telling him to close this book and follow you.

And so he did.

And he saw not one,

But two of his brothers trying to act sneaky and following you down to the tomb you knowing

He didn't expect this to be honest

He thought Mammon would be too dumb to find out and Levi will be watching too many animes and play too many games to even notice.

But he guess he underestimated their feelings for you

That doesn't mean his is in any way less than them though

That's why he's here

Although he knows that Lucifer would find out sooner or later

He didn't expect Mammon to be dropping hints when you're his absolute partner in crimes

What a traitor

He would've killed him and fed him to his crows if he did that to him.

But he knows that Mammon is just as worried as he is

Plus he knows to himself that he will be telling you to Lucifer if this gets any worse.

So he is really no better than Mammon

Putting you on some sort of time out and forcing you to rest is a good way of punishment, he expected it, Lucifer spoiling you.

But Cerberus barging in the HOL is not something he thought would happen.

He knows how disciplined Cerberus is, he's Lucifer's pet after all.

He also thought the dramatic meeting was cute and he chuckled a bit.

ASMODEUS:

Oh... Dogs?

He doesn't like stray fur on his clothes though...

But he guess he can understand you.

Cerberus is indeed one big, fluffy dog after all.

Despite being locked down inside the tomb

Cerberus is actually squeaky clean and always smells good.

He's one of the dogs Asmo will be okay being close to.

He can understand you buying him treats and sneak one or a couple of times

But sneaking out in the middle of the night just to give him treats and belly rubs?

Even starving yourself to buy him food is outrageous

You could've asked him for help, he has all these money from modeling just rotting away

Waiting to get spend on some shoes and pearls.

Like Mammon, he dropped subtle hints, commenting on your eye bags but Lucifer seems to not take him seriously as he thinks that Asmo points out even the slightest difference.

He's dissapointed, he means, it's your health on the line here!

So he resorted into confronting you

He thought that maybe following you to your late night sneak outs and pretending to catch you will work

He didn't expect Mammon, Levi and Satan following you too though

He's looking at them all shock cause what the fuck?

And then when he's about to scream Satan just pulled him and covered his mouth with his hand.

When you're about to leave though, he tried to break free from Satan's grasp and proceed with his plans but instead earned shushes from everyone.

Out of all people

He didn't expect Mammon to snitch on you

He actually thought that Cerberus snitching on you is higher than Mammon telling you on.

But he's glad to hear that you're under house arrest and is prohibited from tiring yourself

You really need this rest, honey.

He's one of the people that took care of you that day, actually.

He painted your nairs and gave you a spa day inside the bathroom.

And then he heard a loud crash

He just rolled his eyes and stopped fanning your wet finger nails and just let you run out of the room

He must confess he thinks the reunion is dramatic but it was cute

All the heads of Cerberus whining and crying

But your nails dear!

BEELZEBUB:

Beel loves Cerberus too!

It's just sad that Lucifer won't leg him take care of him as much as he wants to

Cerberus' main job is to protect the tomb where their grimoires are located at so he understands why.

Lucifer doesn't want Cerberus to end up all cutesy greeting each 'visitor' that enters the tomb like he's friends with them

He want Cerberus to not even think twice and attack anyone who would enter the tomb except Lucifer himself.

But aside Lucifer, Beel is the second most close to Cerberus as he's the one that take him to walks most of the time

And when he found out that you like dogs too

Specifically Cerberus

He looked at you with obvious adoration in his eyes

Cause, finally, someone can get him

He wants to treat Cerberus like a good boy too almost just as much as you but Lucifer won't let him

But you have a plan?!

Wait, why are you starving yourself..?

That's bad...

If you just want to buy Cerberus dog food and treats you can use his money

But why do you insist that you want to buy his food yourself?

By what money? The money you got from starving yourself?

He knows he can't stop you though

So he just cooked extra portions when he's on duty and insisted that you share foods with him

So, problem number one solved

But now there's another problem

And it's you sneaking out late at night just to feed Cerberus!

Look at yourself MC!

You barely get any sleep!

He actually decided to start feeding Cerberus himself after he saw the dark circles under your eyes

But after he saw Mammon, Levi, Satan and Asmo hiding behind a big rock he already knows he's late and that you're in the tomb again

When Asmo tried to go out and confront you though

His heart dropped

Cause "What if MC thought were stalkers?!" "MC will think we're controlling!"

Though, Mammon snitching on you is something he expected

People might think that he'll die loyal and never snitch on you but he knows better than that

He knows that Mammon will put your health above everything and would snitch if needed

For him, house arrest is a light and well thought punishment

He doesn't know why you need to receive it though

He means, you did nothing wrong, you just feed and play with the dog

He thinks the dramatic meet up is cute too!

He's standing on the background looking like ^^

BELPHEGOR:

He likes Cerberus

He has fluffy fur and would carry him when their together

He's unbelievably large too so he's like a giant, moving bed for Belphie

And he understand why you would go crazy over Cerberus

He is indeed one of a kind considering how he has three heads

But he can't understand why you would go through such lengths just to play with the dog

Don't get him wrong, he knows that you like Cerberus and sees him as a giant puppy

But Cerberus guards their grimoire and that grimoire is very important to them

So he's also one of the people that actually prevents you from going in the tomb to play with the hell hound

Lucifer trained them to be a strict guard dog for a reason

And he knows it and it's for his own good too

Though, he knows his explanations won't stop you considering how you're starving yourself to buy him dog food and toys

And even wake up late at night just to sneak out and give it to Cerberus

He wants to protect you of course

Cerberus is still a hell hound that's above thrice your size

So he did the unthinkable and stayed up late

Wanting to spy on you

He saw you sneaking your way down the hallway and so he decided to follow you

And then he saw them

Not Cerberus

But Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and even Beel spying on you too

He guess he underestimated them

He just joined them behind the rock though and rested on Beel's shoulder

He's more assured now since his brothers are watching over you too

But when he heard the sudden rustle made by Asmo trying to struggle to confront you

His eyes shot open and helped Satan on strangling him down

Hell, he almost turned to his demon form

You falling ill is something he's scared of, but you getting mad at him is another

And both are as bad as the other

Actually, the way he glares at Asmo as Satan covers his mouth is terrifying

He might as well just point a knife at his neck at this point

And then the next morning what woke him up is not Lucifer

But the door of their house falling down and creating a loud thud

And is followed by loud howls and whines he knows too well

He's wide awake now and is staring at the two of you, dramatically hugging each other as if Lucifer kept you away from each other for years

Wait

What

Mammon snitched on you?!

Oh... So you've been on an house arrest since earlier this morning and not even a day passed and Cerberus is already running after you?

Wow

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[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Things you can write instead of the 'Y/N wears someone's tee shirt and it's sooo big on her' trope aka ways to avoid fatphobia in your fanfics.

So - this is a discussion I have had on my blog many, many times before. (Not just on this blog, but also on my previous blogs.)

But in general the 'Y/N wearing skinny canon character's shirt' trope (especially if that shirt is described as being 'oversized' on the reader character) - it's a big yikes from me. And it can turn off a lot of potential readers. And in general, it's not very friendly to plus-sized people in the fandom. It is fatphobic, because it automatically describes the reader character's body type as being super petite at worst, and at the very best - they are thin, because stereotypically, most of the popular love interests that we write for are also thin.

So how can you avoid this trope?

Well typically, this trope is used to show intimacy in a relationship. Whether it is used to show FWB upgrading to something more, or used to show comfort and intimacy in a long-standing relationship, usually wearing a love interest's clothing means the same things - comfort, familiarity, and relaxation around this person. Being comfortable enough to share things like their clothing, especially without asking.

So, here are some ways to show intimacy in a relationship without using this tired trope:

Have the characters share clothing or accessories that don't have a set size. Something that is truly 'one size fits all'. This same trope can be done in a size inclusive way using something like a scarf, or a hat, or even jewellery like a necklace - this could work especially well if the character has some kind of signature hat or something that they are known for, and they want their lover to wear it. Personally I think wearing someone's scarf to keep you warm during the winter months is a deep form of intimacy.

Reverse the trope. Have the canon character wear something that belongs to the reader character. It is very size inclusive to say that the canon character is wearing the reader's tee shirt or sweatshirt and it is oversized on them - the reader could be thin and simply buy very large shirts for themselves because they like a big fit, or the reader could be plus-sized and their clothing fits baggy on their lover. It works well in my opinion.

Have one of the characters cook for the other. This is a very easy way to show intimacy - if you want to show their relationship upgrading as more serious in your story, especially if you're going for them upgrading from FWB to more serious lovers, then having one of them cook breakfast for the other after sleeping over is a great way to show that they are getting more emotionally serious about the relationship. Also, in a long-standing relationship, cooking someone's favourite meal is a great, quiet way to show that you know them well and that you care.

Have the characters exchange a key to their home or apartment. There are a lot of steps between declaring a relationship official and marriage, and this is a good one to show your characters participating in. Especially if you want to show them slowly upgrading their intimacy. Or show in your story that they already have a key to their love interest's apartment to show that kind of familiarity and ease in the relationship.

Have the characters use the bathroom together. So many people default to shower sex - but that is not at all practical irl and not something a lot of people actually do. If you want to show real intimacy, show your characters showering together in a non-sexual manner, or show one of them brushing their teeth at the sink while the other is in the shower and show them casually having a conversation while they do it - show that casual nudity means nothing to them, and their routine is always shared. This is a great way to show that familiarity and comfort in a relationship.

Have the characters wear each other's perfume/scent. This is like a size inclusive, non-visual version of the tee shirt trope - having the reader character wearing your love interest's cologne or even their signature scent in the form of a body wash (again, the bathroom thing - if they used the same bath products, then they will smell the same) - have the people around them recognise that they are in a serious, comfortable, long term relationship because they now smell the same. Like an unconscious claiming of the person you love, them always being with you, floating in the air around you.

Idk, this is just a few. But I think there's lots of ways to avoid the trope in fics

[14dayswithyou]

heyyy (happy early bday Ren, we all love u<3)

So I was wondering, does Ren/REDACTED love Angel or us, behind the screen? I know Ren is aware of him being in a game but..👀 is it the character Angel, or IRL us?

Also, is there a canon weight for Ren? Is he insecure about it or does he just ignore it but is aware of himself being heavy?

(btw how much inches can Ren take?🤨)

✦゜ANSWERED: Ren with Angel/the player has already been answered here (vaguely), here, and very recently here.

I personally put Ren around 102kg... Though I'm not entirely sure how accurate that is, considering his height and muscle mass. He's not insecure about his weight either because the only opinion he values is Angel's — plus he's already aware that he's heavy, given his towering height in comparison to everyone else around him.

As for inches; he's willing to take whatever your size is. Anything else would feel wrong to him.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Hiya, this sort of came to me after your latest post and I'm not sure if you did this yet or not but if you did you can ignore it.

The 4 kings (and who ever you want to add if any) with a plus-sized s/o who's like self conscious about it.

It's probably already a thing in the fandom that these demons will be death of our insecurities. They love us no matter what we look like.

My little headcanon is that they like our imperfections even more because they, created and not born, perfect, don't see such things. It's interesting and cute for them.

Satan doesn't care how you look, as long as you feel good. If you don't have a problem with your appearance, he doesn't either. It doesn't change the fact that he will want to go to the gym with you, but the reason is not about looks, it's about Gehenna culture and the cult of power.

Mammon is big himself. Yes, it's all muscle, but look at him. You will always be tiny and cute, no matter what you look like. Besides, the bigger the bottom, the more happiness you will bring him. And you both want to be happy, right?

Beelzebub loves it, and it's canon. You look so beautiful when your clothes are a little too tight, he could stare at you for hours. Stare with his hands, exactly. A little more body here and there just makes it feel better in his hands.

Leviathan has more important things to worry about than your appearance. You look what you look like and that's it, compared to his perfection everyone pales anyway. Regardless of your size, you will always fit in his coffin.

[weirdmageddon]

I'm taking the plunge because why not:

What are some headcanons regarding small, silly things that happened during the 3 year trips on the Golden Yard and Meteor?

oh lets go i love this sort of ask. no meteor crew stuff sorry im kinda tired but

on the prospitian ship:

the crocodiles are never recovering from that shit bro. un-stonks

alchemizing sessions. probably with mundane household devices like toothbrushes or something. patterned toilet paper. davesprite absolutely remakes the sbahjifier for himself but i think he also likes to hand draw them from time to time. also john and jade alchemizing bathing suits and going swimming on lolar and hanging with the turtles. casey can come too. floaties on casey

the sbahj canon diverges. so many sbahj in-jokes exclusive to the prospitian ship. unfortunately the retcon make it so none of this ever happens :(

he’d never say it but davesprite likes it when john and jade fall asleep on him doing whatever, it makes his presence feel wanted and appreciated by the people he sacrificed his self and humanhood for good for. sorry for immediately going into davesprite but good god is he tragic. oh yeah heres more. he’s still part dave and shares the same history with john and jade that alpha timeline dave does. john gave him his shades on his 13th birthday in december 2008, he sent john the con air bunny and jade a physical copy of sbahj as furries in the mail. he is identical to alpha dave in relation to his friends before the timeline splits off. dont forget that 4/13/2009 was also his first time meeting his online friends john and jade in person, even after 4 months chronologically of sburb grinding—nearly a year with all the time shenanigans—and going back to day 1, since john and jade were dead in his timeline

tries not to cry cries anyway but only when he knows theyre asleep. pov when the weight of everything suddenly hits you (you are an emotionally repressed 14 year old)

also because he’s fucking fluffy and absolutely knows it and probably thinks to himself “yeah this is the best possible use for these otherwise pointless breast feathers” and yall already know he craves cloth mother plus probably has nesting instincts

(source)

adding on to that also i think people forget sprites are actually fucking LONG and his wingspan is fucking huge he could be a pillow and a blanket at the same time

i wrote davesprite jade cuddles and john thinking about mushrooms and davesprite thinking about how they contribute to the ecnonony

^ john toked too hard on the lowas mushrooms by accident one time

it feels like pajama parties would be a common occurence just the vibes im getting. literally jade is seen sitting on a pile of squiddles and theres plushies fucking everywhere you know they got up to plushie mayhem. do you think they ever alchemized them. look how lived in that room is they all contributed something

jade resumes gardening :) but theres no sun :( but she alchemizes some plastic plants :D but its not the same :(

canonically the imps in johns house just gave up tormenting him and started hanging out and having snacks on movie night

PENIS!

imagine looking up into the sky and seeing a giant casey the size of a planet sleep. jade resizes stuff for fun like this just to introduce some novelty to their lives

this is something

davesprite has beavis and butthead do america (1996) in his collection somewhere in his apartment on lohac

yall theyre watching johns fuckin spongebob dvd box collection. you KNOW john owns the spongebob squarepants movie (2004). and the best thing is it brings all of them together without any of them objecting. they all love spongebob

when the episode jellyfish jam comes on johns like “wow, pretty much this exact scenario happened to me with the imps.” (arthur flashback sfx)

DAVESPRITE: yeah well you didnt have a giant sound system did you

jade warps dave’s bro’s sound system from lohac and sizes it up. they put on stadium rave and the entire fucking house shakes

[dotieeee]

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 8

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 8 Warnings:

Noncon elements, drugging, somnophilia, Snow being creepy af, experiments conducted on children (because it isn't Hunger Games without it lol), jealous Snow if you squint, violence

Replay Level 7

Ready? Level 8 Start:

You’re startled back to your senses when your communicuff beeps in your pocket. Not even halfway through the week and you’re already feeling the effects of not getting enough sleep since you began working for Coriolanus Snow. Even during the weekend before, when you were supposed to be resting, or going out for coffee or shopping, or whatever the hell it is that young adults such as yourself do during their spare time, you were hiding in your room, paralysed with worry for the direction your uncle’s project has gone to.

His name and yours, now part of the mindless slaughter of district children whose only crime was to be born poor in the wrong place.

You get nightmares almost every day now since you began working at the Citadel. Not that you can remember any of them; they slip from your grasp like smoke the moment your Uncle Cas wakes you. Every time he gently shakes you back to reality and tells you that you’ve been crying out for your parents again, all you see is his face, worn beyond his years of working, toiling, taking care of you, worrying about you, making sure you were happy. Knowing what you already know about where his life’s work is heading, kills you inside just thinking of telling him.

You play the voice message, thankful it isn’t from your tyrannical new boss who always seems to find new ways to hog your time all to himself. It’s embarrassing enough you got woken up by him to find his coat draped on you, with F3 arriving for his shift just in time to see him plant a kiss on your head. This morning, you had hardly placed your bag down on your desk when F1 made teasing remarks about you being in denial.

What’s the old saying? About denial not only being a river in Egypt? Did it also say anything about being willing to drown oneself in it to be put out of misery?

The message you play is from F2. She says there’s a shipment waiting at the gates for Acacius Innis, which they suspect are the drives your uncle supposedly ordered for his station, and you need to sign off on it as his replacement. Maybe he ordered them before discovering he was going to be promoted.

You take your barely coherent self to the entrance where a man in courier uniform flipping through receipts on a clipboard is waiting for you, a few medium-sized boxes stacked by his feet with the Innis Tech logo and a District 3 seal. He looks up from his clipboard and greets you with a smile as soon as you get near him. You know that greying hair and the lines at the corner of his eyes.

The bartender at Strabo’s party.

“Sign here, please,” he says as he hands you his clipboard and a pen.

He doesn’t seem to recognise you, but even in your sleep-deprived state, those features are unmistakable. He acknowledges your signature with a tip of his hat, a small ‘thank you,’ and walks away.

Maybe he works two jobs, you surmise. You think nothing of it any further as you head back to your work, while a couple of peacekeepers lug the boxes along. They take them to your office where you pore through their contents – as expected, they’re just empty drives, plus a single floppy disk with a blank label. You stow the disk in your drawer, thinking it must’ve been just a freebie or some playful inside joke between your uncle and his ex-wife.

It's almost nine by the time your final batch of unit testing is finished, and when Coriolanus Snow arrives in your office to check your progress, you give him the news he’d been waiting for:

“We’re ready for integration testing.”

The perversely delighted expression that grows on his face is something you’d never like to see in many other circumstances.

This night’s sleep proves elusive, just hours of tossing and turning, drifting in and out, only for you to fall asleep then wake up again with your uncle’s worry-plastered face, your lack of proper rest affecting the both of you. In the end, you don’t get any more shut-eye aside from the three or four hours you already had. 

As you take your third cup of coffee at a quarter past eight in the morning on a Wednesday, that’s when you know you’re eventually going to crash. You just hope to anyone who bothers to listen that it doesn’t happen during your presentation to Volumnia Gaul.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re making your way to the designated testing room a few doors away from your office. The night shift crew from last night scrambled to finish the set-up according to the end-of-day report from F3, and since you’re early anyway, checking for last-minute adjustments can’t hurt.

You flick the lights on inside the room, gasping at the sight that greets you.

The space is humongous, with its high ceilings and carpeted floors. The room slopes towards a flat centre which has already been fitted with several computer sets, just like you instructed, arranged in the form of a pyramid, with the three in the middle set-up with multiple screens. The entire set faces a total of twenty-nine monitors built into the wall: twelve on either side, with four more below the largest one at the centre. To your left are three windows made of glass, covered from the inside with curtains you can’t see through. You find it peculiar that three more sets of computers are installed just before the windows, but you decide to ignore it, thinking it might just be something they couldn’t remove before this day. The thing is massive, after all.

You look around, your eyes landing on the glass observation deck where you assume Dr Gaul would stay. From that cushy little box, she would observe the entire experiment with her piercing, mismatched eyes, revelling in the future horrors your work will bring about.

The door to the testing room echoes as it opens, making you almost jump in place. You can’t tell whether it’s the nerves, or the caffeine, or the lack of sleep that’s making you more agitated than usual, but also maybe it’s because of the person who had just arrived, taking calculated steps towards you with his footsteps echoing despite the carpeted floors.

“Good morning, Nellie,” Coriolanus Snow greets you with a tilt of his head and a smile, and as warm as that greeting might look, it’s often hard to tell what lies behind that mask of his. Whatever it is isn’t good.

Still, you greet him back just as warmly as if the fact that he’d be evaluating your performance today isn’t bothering you at all. “Good morning, Coryo.”

Your mentor comes close inches before you, invading your space as always. He peers into your face with those striking blue eyes before worry etches into his. “Sugarplum, you have not been sleeping well,” he deduces correctly. “Are you okay?”

You wave off his concern with a shake of your head. “I’ll sleep better when the tests are over.”

“Tell me about it,” he says with a chuckle. He pauses for a while, his gaze never straying from your lips. You quell the need to move away from him. As an afterthought, he assures you, “You’ll do perfectly today; I know that much.”

You wish you had the same confidence he has in you as you have for yourself.

The twins arrive for a final inspection thirty minutes before your presentation to Dr. Gaul. You spend the rest of the remaining time inspecting the equipment with them, ensuring everything is in place. Every monitor mounted on the wall is turned on, and the computers begin powering up, prompting the screens to flash the Hunger Games screensaver. They check the computer facing the glass windows last, which as far as you remember, isn’t on the list of equipment you had asked them to prepare. You ask them why it needs a look over, but their response is vague.

“It’s the first agenda for after lunch’s presentation. Mr Innis supervised the testing for this before, so we’ll take care of the demo,” F2 says.

Volumnia Gaul arrives exactly at nine, escorted by two stoic peacekeepers in their grey-blue uniforms. Today, she wears her usual lab coat, pristine white morphing into scarlet, her gloves made of leather of the bloody shade. You join in when everyone in the room welcomes her.

“Mr Snow.” Her drawling voice greets your mentor. “You have been hard at work, you and your little apprentice,” she glances at you, drumming her gloved fingers together her smile widening in anticipation. “Now I gather you’ve a little show for me, Mr Snow. Let the theatre commence!”

At her cue, Coriolanus officially welcomes her to the integration test, while you initiate Begin Game on the main command console.

You step aside so you can show Dr Gaul the main command console’s user interface: everything from camera control, drone management software, motion tracking and the tribute odds system, the vital signs tracking software, and overall game environment controls software, each displayed on a single monitor hooked on main – everything you and your uncle spent blood, tears and sweat on, contained in a single computer station.

“...In other words,” you conclude, “The main command console is the brains of the entire operation. It oversees everything, even the consoles used by the gamemakers, the mentors, and the operators. This is what we use to begin the Game, and it’s programmed to automatically save game data when only one tribute remains, which it detects because of the vitals tracking device. Override requests go to this console, as well.”

Dr Gaul’s eyes are glowing, but you know that it isn’t because of the lights on the monitors. A despicable grin dances on her features as she chuckles lowly to herself.

“My, oh my, what a promising start, Ms Innis,” she says softly with delight, her eyes shifting only from screen to screen. “This is just magnificent.”

You move on to the console beside the main, the one you’ve programmed as the gamemaker console which F1 will demonstrate. She navigates the interface while you expound the functions: the ability to shift camera angles, alerts for donations made to a tribute on the tribute status screen, tribute status and odds percentages onscreen...

“...and most importantly, the game environment control. Basic commands such as the activating of traps and releasing of any mutts...availability, of course, depends on the environment.”

F1 chimes in, “If I may direct your attention to the test arena being flashed on the monitors, please.” He waves a hand to the camera angle showing the Citadel basement: nothing but grey walls and decommissioned equipment archived or otherwise abandoned.

“Putting that useless old space to use, I see,” Dr Gaul smirks.

“The team has installed several mini explosives in the space, which we can activate with a single click,” says F2.

“That, and an artificial weather control system – bring on the heat, or the cold, or the rain,” F1 adds proudly. F2 runs a command on the console, letting artificial rain down on a small section of the makeshift arena, which darkens the grey walls and initiates a spark in one of the abandoned equipment.

“Some of those might still be plugged into an electrical source, which could prove hazardous,” you comment, but F1 brushes off your concerned look.

“Oh yeah, we hooked it up to a separate source,” he just replies vaguely.

“Add acid rain.”

Everyone’s heads turn to Dr Gaul at her suggestion. Her smile just widens, revealing her white teeth, her eyes brimming with barely contained excitement. She drums her fingers together and elaborates, “Acid rain, acid rain; melt their skins, o what great pain!”

You turn away to feign browsing through the console’s tabs, while Coriolanus clears his throat and casually suggests adding burn medicine and burn relief ointments to the mentor inventory.

F1 and F2 merely nod, and you three move on to the mentor console.

“We decommissioned the bulkier communicuffs from the previous games to make way for this,” you gesture to the computer F2 navigates. A wave of nausea hits you, but you attempt to mask it by leaning into the back of a computer chair for support. “The mentors will be assigned one of each console, which they will use to send items and gifts and track their tribute’s odds.”

You go on further by establishing the best modification yet to the way the mentors send their items: mentors can now send multiple items at once, with a maximum weight of five kilograms.

“That way, we minimise drone damage and repair costs. Also, before the mentor hits send, they will get a preview of how their tribute’s odds will approximately change when they receive and use the items, thus helping drive mentors’ decision-making in looking out for their tributes and ensuring their win.”

Your boss’s boss tilts her head in curiosity. “I just love it when they get competitive – that drive, you could almost smell in the air, it just makes it all the more fun to watch.”

You nod once at F2, who clicks on a bottle of water and a slice of bread on the inventory and hits send, and all of you watch with bated breath as the drone circles the area and drops it gently on a flat surface, directly on top of an ancient analogue computer.

“We don’t have a tribute registered as an official player yet, but once we do, it will deliver the goods just like before, but with better accuracy rates owing to enhancements in the facial recognition software,” F2 explains.

Dr Gaul hums. “And what of the sponsor system?”

F1 takes care of the operator console demo, and your mentor chooses this moment to draw closer to your side, his face radiant with pride. I guess that means he likes your performance. His eyes then hone on your hand still clinging to the chair’s backrest, but before he can say something, you approach F1 and look over his shoulder as he explains how the last console works.

Pretty simple, actually: the operator receives a call for a sponsorship; they enter the sponsor’s bank account details, the amount or the item on the system and their designated benefactor, the system alerts the mentor who received the gift and gets an alert on their console, and an alert goes to the gamemakers’ and the main as well.

F2 adds helpfully that the operator console should be run by a representative from the Citadel’s finance department, to which Gaul agrees.

You surmise it’s the same entity running the betting system where the Games rakes the most money.

To finish the demo, you mention the existence of backup computers on standby in the event of a hardware malfunction. While it’s unlikely as all the equipment is brand-new, it’s something your uncle would do: to be one step ahead of everything.

Something you wish you would’ve done before ever engaging with Coriolanus Snow.

The first part of the integration tests finishes with you and your team opening the panel for questions, which you all answer with practised ease. When she seems satisfied with everything, she announces lunch on her, and within minutes, you’re being driven by a large van to The White Knight, where you’re all waited on graciously by the restaurant staff. Everyone takes their seat at a rounded table, with you beside Coriolanus, who has taken you here for dinner a few times since last week.

And all of those times, you made sure to order the angel food cake.

Today, however, you can’t bring yourself to eat that much, so you skip the cake, thinking it doesn’t deserve a half-assed digging-in, and opt for an affogato instead. That counts as dessert, right? Still, the ever-observant Coriolanus squeezes your thigh gently under the table, making you peer into his face, subtly questioning you. You just flash him a smile and concentrate on your dessert. You could slap that hand off too, but then he takes it off slowly, dragging your skirt up a little in the process.

You lose whatever remaining appetite you have, but you push through. Only half a day left, and you can maybe just hand in your resignation tomorrow and forget about this whole thing. And then maybe live in the woods, after.

Everyone is taken back to the Citadel at twelve-thirty, and Dr Gaul gives the go-ahead for the second part of the integration test at one.

Nursing an incoming headache courtesy of the espresso from lunch, you miserably accompany F1 and F2 to prepare for their demo on the computers right before the glass windows. Dr Gaul makes her entrance on time, so you stand back and watch with Coriolanus as the siblings take the reigns on the stations they set up before the windows.

F1 runs a command on his computer, which turns the lights on behind the curtains before they’re drawn to the side, and what you thought were initially windows reveal a shocking sight – something else you hadn’t been expecting to see.

Behind each glass pane, separated by thick walls, are three captives, one male and two females, all of them looking not much older than in their late teens. They seem to have been awakened by the sudden blaring of lights inside their enclosure and are stirring awake from their cots. They look a little thin and pale, but there is not an ounce of confusion in their expressions, as if they had been there for a while and are used to being woken up like so. The brown-haired male mouths something that you read on his lips as ‘hello.’

You could feel your own eyes widen at the sight of them, your mouth opening on its own accord to let out a protest, but your throat dries up as a cold, firm hand closes on yours. Coriolanus Snow’s cold cerulean orbs, pinning you to place, spell a single, well-understood warning:

‘Don’t.’

F2’s voice floats in the space as she introduces the second stage of the integration test.

“What you’re currently seeing is one of our many additions to the game interface: we’ve inserted a microchip into the test subjects you see in the windows which transmits real-time data to our system: heart rate, pulse, blood pressure, and other vital signs, plus levels of cortisol, serotonin...”

F2 drones on with her explanation of how the microchip works, just as you watch while the three teens are served food through a small slot at the far end of their cells. 

“We will spend the next three hours observing how the chip works and how it transmits data that could influence audience betting, sponsorship, and decision-making. Mr Innis designed a learning algorithm that makes use of motion-tracking software to study the tributes’ every move in real-time, which contributes largely to the accuracy of the odds on our screen. We hope to gather their responses to a number of stimuli we’ll be exposing them to within the said time to demonstrate the software’s capabilities.”

When they begin eating, F1 begins explaining to Dr Gaul, who approaches the computer screens to look at the data, how the system measures hormones related to food intake, among others.

You could feel your head start to throb and can’t help wincing at the pain. Coriolanus’s hand is still on yours, he feigns looking over at the computers then meets your eyes, shooting you a questioning look.

Are you okay?

You blink once, indicating you’re fine and break the eye contact just as he releases his grip on you. He doesn’t really care, you know that much; his only concern is the success of this presentation, and you’re not about to fuck it up for him. Instead, you peer curiously at the food they served the three teens, noting how little they’re given: a slice of stale, brown bread, a small bowl of soup, and a single bottle of water.

The male, however, finishes his meal rather quickly and raps on the glass impatiently, mouthing something you can’t quite make out.

“Their enclosure is soundproof, even their walls so they can’t hear each other; they can’t see through the glass, either. In each cell, however, we placed a screen on a corner of each wall, where they could see and hear us individually when we address them through the intercom,” F1 says. That’s when you notice that each computer station is equipped with a small, built-in camera on top of the monitor.

F2 nods and elaborates, “We figured they’d be more likely to cooperate if they see a face guiding them through the experiments.”

You take the remaining computer station beside F2, activate the teenage male’s intercom and place him on speakers.

“...Hey, hey, I can see you!” He shouts at the screen, waving frantically. “Can you hear me? Been talkin’ for a while now, did anybody get that?”

“No, I’m sorry...” you say through the microphone. You scan through his uploaded background information on the computer. “Callahan, you’ll have to say that again, please.”

“Whoa,” Callahan stares in wonder at the intercom screen in his room. “Uh, I was just askin’ when ya’ll’re gon’ let me out, but...it’s nice to hear from anyone, really. Been cooped up here a long time.”

You inhale sharply as you turn off your mic. This is going to be a long three hours. “Honestly, I don’t know,” you confess to him on the mic. According to all the files on the test subjects, they're promised a sum of money and a year’s worth of grains once they’re sent home. In seventeen-year-old Callahan Brody’s case, home is District 3.

Where the Innises began building their empire.

“Our timetable is based on the success of the experiments you’re recruited for,” you add.

He bats his eyelashes at the monitor, his eyes innocently bulging in awe. It’s odd to see him ogle at the piece of tech, knowing he’s seen much more impressive stuff in his line of work if his file is to be believed. “Hey, as long as...I’m not talkin’ to meself all the damn time.”

Coriolanus approaches your side, placing his hand on the back of your chair.

“Whoa, you’re really pretty.” Callahan chuckles bashfully at the screen. “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ stuck here for days if it means I get to see you.”

He was staring at you and not the tech, you belatedly realise. Your glance automatically goes up to your mentor, whose hardened eyes betray his displeasure at the interaction, no matter how blank he keeps his expression.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this sooner,” you say.

F1 casually mentions an increase in oxytocin and testosterone levels detected by the software on Callahan’s profile tab.

You could feel Coriolanus’s ire radiating off him in waves.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Callahan asks through the intercom.

You give him a false name for the experiment’s sake. This a scientific pursuit, you remind yourself. You and the siblings take turns getting him to talk about himself, so the software can continue logging his vitals in the process.

He tells you that his favourite food is roasted chicken and gravy, but that he only gets to eat it on special occasions. During his spare time, he likes taking apart the family radio and the old television that he inherited from his grandfather, and he had two siblings who’d help him put them back before their father got home. He says he used to work for one of your family’s factories before he came here, confirming the data logged on his file. He talks about the assembly line he was a part of before A.I.-powered machinery replaced him, rendering his job, and him, obsolete. He says he was just one of the hundreds laid off and replaced by robots.

Does your uncle know about this?

“I used to be a computer technician,” he continues. Really? That isn’t on his file, you note. “But then I lost my drive.”

You had to put your hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh brought about by that unexpected joke.

“Nerd.” F2 pokes your arm teasingly as she laughs along.

F1 verbalises a spike in endorphins in between soft bouts of laughter. “Sorry,” he tells Dr. Gaul, whose eyebrow is raised in mild amusement. “We’re a sucker for puns.”

“Of all the people they could get from the districts, they settle for another nerd,” F2 says under her breath.

Callahan seems to be delighted to entertain. “Hey, I got ‘nuther one: why do programmers hate going outside?”

F1 quips excitedly. “Ooh, I know that!”

“Because outside’s full of bugs.”

F1 and F2 both crack up, with F2 suggesting ‘we should keep him.’

You decide to play along with Callahan if only to get a rise out of your mentor, the only one who isn’t finding anything amusing out of the exchange.

“What’s a computer’s favourite snack?” you ask him on the intercom.

“What?” He and your computer engineers ask in unison.

With suppressed smile you say, “Chips.”

The laugh you get out of your subject from District 3 records the spike, while Coriolanus rolls his eyes in exasperation. He suggests moving on to the other test subjects, and the three of you oblige, repeating the same experiment.

The girl beside Callahan’s cell is significantly more reserved, and it takes a while for the three of you to elicit a response from her. Tansey Page, barely fourteen with her curly red hair and wide, almost scared eyes, is from District 11. Based on her file, she’s been living with an aunt, her only living relative, since her parents perished in the war. Her aunt had been unable to work due to a bad fall from a nectarine tree from which she never recuperated, and Tansey had to earn a living for both of them at the age of nine. As your software does its job logging spikes to her vitals, you can’t help but think about how dire her situation was that she had to enlist for this test and leave behind an aunt who barely seems to have the capacity to take care of herself.

Once Tansey opens up, you discover she’s a soft-spoken, sweet girl who loves jellied blackberries. She says she loves to read, but since they couldn’t afford books, she would often copy stories by hand on paper from borrowed books. Hearing her recount this pains you, but you follow the siblings’ example and not let it affect you. Besides, there isn’t anything you can do for her at this point but succeed in the tests so they can all go back home to their families in the districts with the payment they’re promised.

The third and last subject, Audrey Mills, blond and pale with shifting reddish eyes, is the most difficult to work with out of the three. She barely looks at the screen in her cell, just huddled on her bed with her knees to her chest, only tensing slightly when she hears anyone of you three ask her a question through her intercom. The uploaded file tells more about her than she does: she’s from District 7, aged sixteen, abandoned by rebel parents who are presumed dead, and raised by her grandmother who recently passed away. She was targeted by a trafficker nicknamed ‘The Wolf,’ probably due to her unique features, but she fought him off and murdered him by bashing him on the head repeatedly with a blunt axe. It took four peacekeepers to haul her away from the body, and unlike the other two teens, she didn’t willingly sign up for the tests and was sent here with only the promise of being pardoned for her crime.

In the end, F1 gives up with an annoyed sigh, and having only an hour left for the tests, he decides to move on to another pursuit.

“This last portion of the test will showcase the software’s ability to record vital signs in the event of negative stimuli. The subjects will be injected with a slow-acting compound laced with a hallucinogenic that targets the amygdala, or the fear centre of the brain, and mimics anything the test subjects may define as hostile. We hope to gauge the effectivity of our software by recording any physiological and hormonal changes on each subject as they would in a natural, stressful environment.”

F1 fishes out a walkie-talkie from his lab coat and through it, he says, “Begin with Test Subject 3.”

Even before you can open your mouth to object to the experiment, two peacekeepers enter Audrey’s cell from a concealed door behind her bed, followed by a female nurse carrying a large syringe. Audrey puts up a fight and tries to evade what to her would be an unknown chemical being forced upon her, but her weakened state proves no match to the peacekeepers who pin her arms and legs to the floor, while the nurse injects her with the compound. She just lies on her belly, presumably screaming, and they eventually leave her alone in her cell, having done their job. She gets to her feet and back to cowering on her bed, visibly shaken by the way she was manhandled.

These are the kind of tests Uncle Cas had to endure conducting under his supervision.

F1 commands through his walkie-talkie for Test Subject 2 to be injected with the same compound.

You and F2 exchange looks. She explains, trying to keep her voice straight, “We’re dosing them at the same time because it takes about fifteen to thirty minutes for the drug to take effect,” she glances sideways at her brother and asks, “Aren’t we going to give the dose to Test Subject 1?”

F1 considers the question, but replies, “No, we leave him as control. Besides, he’s the only one that didn’t piss me off today.”

You watch numbly as the peacekeepers and the nurse from a while ago enter Tansey’s cell. Compared to Audrey, Tansey keeps perfectly still, her eyes fearful and wary and darting from between the peacekeepers’ guns to the syringe needle. She exposes her arm mutely to the nurse, who promptly sticks the syringe into her before stepping out of the enclosure and taking the peacekeepers with her. The wait begins – a long, depraved contest of who gets affected first between Test Subjects 2 and 3. 

Tansey’s breathing rate begins to increase at the fifteen-minute mark. She slowly rises from her perch on the cot while she stares with wide eyes at something in the air. Her heart rate increases, according to the system, along with rising levels of adrenocorticotropin.

“Cortisol levels are also rising,” F2 observes aloud. “Test Subject 2 exhibiting signs of stress.”

“What are you seeing, Tansey?” you ask the teen.

But all you get from her is panicked screaming, so you put her to mute at once, helplessly watching as she flails her arms and runs around in her cell in an effort to swat away whatever she’s seeing, which seems to be attacking her from the air in all directions.

“I think she’s seeing tracker jackers...” you whisper to no one in particular. “Which makes sense, given her work environment...”

You’re about to ask if they also developed an antidote for this compound, but a dull thud on the glass startles you – Audrey just banged on the glass with her palms, her vitals are a disarray, and her blonde hair is matted with sweat. She keeps glancing behind her and screaming and hitting the window with her balled fists, almost like she’s begging to be let out.

F2 urgently asks through the intercom, “Audrey, I need you to describe what you’re seeing.”

For the first time today, Audrey opens her mouth to speak, her voice hoarse and filled with despair. “The Wolf.”

“She’s hallucinating her attacker,” F2 says as she turns her mic off.

“That means the drug is working, and the software seems to have an accurate read on all physiological and hormonal spikes. Control subject is fine and his vitals are stable,” F1 notes in a matter-of-fact tone. “Everything in their cells, by the way, is being captured by our motion tracker and being fed to the algorithm in real time.”

But, what for, when you’ve already covered that portion in the first part of the integration tests?

You spend the last fifteen minutes of the tests completely dumbstruck, petrified and wishing everything to be over so you can put this horrible job behind you and move on with your life. You keep stealing glances at Coriolanus, but his face is as stony as ever, and Dr Gaul just seems to be having the time of her life watching the test subjects run about in their cells letting out screams only they can hear, tormented by horrors only they can perceive.

By the time F1 declares the tests a success, you’re barely paying attention to his words – you just stare at the computer monitor, waiting for the save progress to reach a hundred percent before you can shut it down. Coriolanus places a hand on your shoulder, which you take as your cue to stand while your department head gives her verdict.

The Head Gamemaker dons a pleased smile as she delivers her final feedback. She seems absolutely thrilled with the tests so far and commends everyone hard at work on seeing the program to completion.

Dr Gaul clasps her hands together as she asks, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I heard your team mention a trial Hunger Games using the test subjects?”

It can’t be, it just might be your physically and emotionally exhausted state mishearing her. You just blink, careful to pay more attention.

F2 gives an affirmative nod as she adjusts her glasses. “It’s called grey-box testing. The idea is to pool in end-users, ideally those who have partial knowledge of the internal structure, to help us test the software. We have F3, whom we’ve already asked prior to this, and Mr Snow has also volunteered himself and his apprentice, Ms Innis, to participate as test mentors.”

Dr Gaul nods her head in approval. “Indeed. I am glad that your team understands the exigency of this project, Mr Snow. The Twelfth Hunger Games is upon us, and I’d like to see this thing of beauty put to great use.”

Your world is in a tailspin. Your grip on the back of your computer chair is the only thing that keeps you from falling. Your hands are shaking even as you pretend you only had to grab the bottle of water on the station behind you to dissuade your mentor’s worried looks.

So, this is what they were recording them for, you conclude. To top it off, your boss has enlisted you as a test mentor, which means you will be responsible for the death of one or more of the teenagers you had just observed minutes ago being needlessly tortured so more could take their place this July.

Unable to control your lightheadedness any longer, you fall sideways with nothing to break your descent but the chair you had been sitting on.

A pair of strong arms is on you at once, gathering you and carrying you bridal style, ignoring your weakened protests. Everything is a blur, and you get dizzier in its hold, but you fight to stay conscious no matter how fleeting. The world only steadies when you’re set down on what feels like soft leather.

You wince at the bright light that floods your eyes. There’s a muffled voice you can make out that seems to be calling your name. When your vision and hearing clear, you finally make out the source of that blinding light: a penlight held by Dr Gaul herself, which she turns off; that voice belonging to none other than Coriolanus Snow whose hands are clasping one of yours. 

“There she is, your little pet. Poor thing is fatigued, by the looks of her,” Dr Gaul chuckles lightly and raises an eyebrow at him. “You ought to keep your hands away from her every so often.”

Coriolanus merely exhales in relief, but his jaw remains tense. “She is merely preoccupied with the program, Dr. Gaul. She hasn’t been sleeping very well for the past weeks.”

The woman simply clicks her tongue in impatience. The sound of peeling latex gloves breaks the quiet in the room momentarily, followed by the opening of a sliding door shelf, the clinking of glass bottles and the closing of said shelf. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the doctor hand your mentor something you can’t see.

Gingerly, you sit up on the infirmary bed, and Coriolanus helps steady you by placing his hands on your shoulders.

Dr Gaul’s voice echoes in the room. “I’d like you to be in tip-top shape, Ms Innis, so I will give you the day off tomorrow. I will delay the trial, but only for a day more. Take her home, Mr Snow. Get some rest, both of you. Come this Friday, we’ll continue.”

She turns on her heels and walks away. Coriolanus’s sharp eyes follow his mentor’s retreating form until she disappears from the room. He then turns to you, his concerned blue orbs raking your form.

He cups your cheeks as he whispers, “You gave me quite the scare, my sugarplum.” He kisses you on the forehead, then asks, “Tell me what you’re feeling. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Other than my head pounding? I’m fine, I guess. I just need some sleep,” your hushed tone says. And other than your tights sustaining a rip on the right thigh from your fall on the computer chair, everything else on you seems to be intact, so you try to stand. The floor seems to move the moment you get to your feet, and Coriolanus catches you before another stumble.

“You’re coming with me to my place,” he says firmly.

You begin protesting, “Coryo, I can just go home –”

You’re interrupted by your own yelp of surprise – to your mortification, he carries you in his arms just as he did when he brought you to the infirmary.

He raises a chastising eyebrow at you. “I’m having none of your complaints. You’re in no state to walk, or to go to your home – it’s too far. My apartment is closer.”

You can’t find the words to argue this logic, so you burrow your face further into his coat in embarrassment. He carries you to his car and instructs his driver to head to his home. You count a few blocks before you arrive at the entrance to this new luxury apartment building. You remember this building from a flyer; despite its ridiculous markup, it targeted uni students, promising luxury features that somewhat rival that of The Corso’s.

It takes a while for you to assure him that you can walk fine on your own, but he relents in the end with a purse of his lips. You could tell he’s displeased by your refusal to be carried like a damsel in distress, but he settles for putting his arm around your shoulders as he walks you across the building’s fine lobby and to the elevator. It’s his private elevator, he says – a perk of owning the largest penthouse spanning the entire top floor. That and exclusive access to the rooftop, he adds.

All this extravagance bought and paid for by the family of a man he presumably betrayed, you bitterly think.

This begs the question: how much longer you can overlook the possibility that he had Sejanus executed?

You silence that snide voice in your head, only because it just served to amplify your pain.

He’s greeted by a maid right in his foyer, who takes both your coats, before he instructs her curtly to make some tea. With his hand on your lower back, he leads you to his spacious living room with windows overlooking the Capitol bathed in the orange gleam of the setting sun, and you can’t help but look around you in amazement at the sheer elegance of his unit. You could see why it would appeal to students; it certainly favoured contemporary interior decor compared to that of The Corso’s art deco leanings. He ushers you into the velvet crimson loveseat in a corner near a window adorned with silky throw pillows.

“Take your shoes off and lie down if you want,” he suggests. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

You lean against the backrest with a sigh of relief. Finally, a friendlier surface than the computer chair you’d been lounging around in all day. You’re almost tempted to do as he instructed and make yourself comfortable, if it isn’t for the fact that you’re technically in enemy territory, and you’re a war prisoner being lured with the promise of freedom in exchange for betraying your side.

Instead, you make do with hugging one of the pillows, cursing yourself for landing in this situation – after all, it’s partly your fault that you’re here instead of home where you’re sure you're safe, and most importantly, away from Coriolanus Snow’s clutches.

Coriolanus is back within minutes, taking a seat beside you. He’s taken off his waistcoat and unbuttoned his white shirt halfway through, you observe. He rolls up his sleeves as the maid enters with a steaming teapot, cream, and sugar bowls on a tray along with two sets of teacups. She sets them all down on the coffee table in the middle. He instructs her to bring out the cake from the fridge as she exits.

He pours you a cup of tea, the inviting aroma of a rooibos and valerian root blend drifting in the living room air before he adds just the right amount of milk and sugar as you would make it yourself.

“Drink this, sugarplum. It’ll help, trust me,” he says as he pushes the teacup towards you. He pours some himself, only adding two cubes of sugar and a lemon wedge squeeze, as is his occasional preference. You watch him take a sip before you do.

And of course, your cup tastes perfect. It’s almost scary how he knows the littlest of details, including how you take your tea, of all things.

The maid arrives with what looks like a matcha-flavoured angel food cake from The White Knight before he instructs her to go home early for the night.

You try not to be nervous at being left alone with him in his apartment and focus on the tea.

Coriolanus takes the liberty of slicing you a piece of the cake and placing it on the empty plate the maid had brought in. He urges you to eat.

“I noticed you didn’t order that angel food cake you seem to be partial to when we had lunch. I thought you might like to have a bite after such a successful day.”

The smile he gives you is full of pride, while you feel nothing but shame at the abomination you had just willingly participated in. Still, you take a few bites of the cake to placate him. You’re in his turf where his rule is absolute, and heaven forbid any missteps on your part that would warrant any sanctions.

He watches you quietly for a short while over sips of tea while you contemplate the best exit strategy. Even with your slice of cake gone and your cup of tea empty, you come up with nil excuses. Surprisingly, the food helped a bit with the nausea, and you could feel your limbs starting to relax further into the couch. You can’t even fight your yawn, only stifling it with your hands, as you sink into the pile of throw pillows.

Okay, maybe just a little nap…surely, he wouldn’t mind.

The last thing you see as you drift off to blackness is Coriolanus and his lopsided grin, his slender fingers brushing off the hair framing your face.

According to Coriolanus’s watch, it took about thirty minutes for the sleeping draught he put in the milk bowl to take effect, but he allows ten more minutes to make sure you’re deep in your sleep and won’t be waking in at least a few hours. He still had some of the draught in his medicine cabinet as he’d used in the past, making sure not to touch the other bottle he’s supposed to give you courtesy of Dr Gaul. 

He spends the rest of the ten minutes just admiring your face, finally deep in your own little world, blissfully unaware of your reality. For the first time in a long while, he’s completely alone with you, so allows himself this little treat of brushing your cheeks and stroking your hair. He wonders what you dream of. He wishes it was filled with the things you love. He wishes he was in it somewhere.

He eventually decides that this loveseat is no place for his sweet, little sugarplum to spend the night in.

He carefully removes your shoes and places them neatly by the foot of the couch. He carries you with ease like a prince claiming his princess bride before walking off to the sunset. He is gentle when he sets you down on his bed. He doesn't need to close his door; it’s just you and him on the entire floor, after all. He straddles your hips as he climbs on top of your sleeping figure. His eyes greedily take you in: your hair spread out on his pillow, your lips slightly parted, the curve of your neck beating your pulse...it’s what he’s dreamed of for so long; you sprawled underneath him ready for his taking...

He finally just lets his intrusive thoughts take over and licks that enticing pulse point of yours.

The moment his tongue latches on your skin, Coriolanus knows he wants more. He hurriedly unbuttons your blouse and gently peels it off your torso, exposing the swell of your breasts, modestly covered in a cream-coloured bra. Watching your exposed bosom rising and falling in steady breathing has his blood rushing from his head to his groin.

And then you had to let out a tiny, adorable whine from the back of your throat.

Coriolanus groans in frustration as he wipes a bead of sweat off his temple. The rational part of him tells him to stop, put your shirt back on and keep away from your sleeping figure because he’s aware your first time with him shouldn’t be while you’re asleep and unable to respond to his touches. He knows you’re a virgin and he’d prefer that you remember your first experience with him, and that taking you on the night of your wedding means you’d have no reason to refuse him as your husband.

But there’s this other side of him – primal, impatient, irrational, and ravenous,  that part of him he normally conceals from you, most especially – that’s threatening to surface. The part of him that knows he’s been so good to you, and he’s waited long enough for even just a taste of how right at home you’d make him feel when his rock-hard cock is burrowed deep inside you...

As his gaze dips further down the skirt you’re wearing, now slightly hiked up and revealing your stocking-wrapped thighs, a thought successfully marries his rational and irrational side: he doesn’t have to fuck you tonight – he can still save you for your wedding night and still get to taste you and satisfy that painfully growing erection of his.

He seals your lips with a searing kiss, which eventually dips to the valley between your breasts, which he then squeezes through your bra. He fights the entire time not to suck on your skin and leave bruises, figuring you’d easily see if he did. He kisses and licks and massages every part of your body he can reach, while his hand travels underneath your skirt. He gathers the material to your waist, revealing your lower half and peels off that pesky pantyhose, careful not to aggravate that little tear.

And once again, Coriolanus pulls away to admire the sight of you, on his bed, in your underwear, his breathing turning shallow in anticipation.

Just a taste, he assures himself, as he removes your panties, leaving your cunt bare to him and sending more blood to his already-engorged cock. He hastens in taking your legs apart and hooking them under his arms, and from there, he begins his worship.

The kiss he plants on your inner thigh slowly travels downwards, and he allows himself to suckle on your soft skin while still avoiding any visible welts. He does the same with your other thigh, but this time, he suckles and bites down on a tender spot near that hole in your stocking, and he only stops when an angry little red blotch begins to bloom on the flesh. He kisses it one more time for good measure, just before he dives in to feast on his main course.

Coriolanus moans indecently when his tongue begins to part your folds. He chuckles to himself when he feels you jerk a little in his hold – his sweet, delicious sugarplum, so sensitive to his touch...

What was that thing they used to say as children? I licked it, so it’s mine.

He runs this tongue over his lips before continuing his quest of lapping at your cunt, making sure he takes everything you offer him. He sucks on your clit as he listens to your breathy little whines, your body tensing in your sleep as he drinks and licks your juices – you taste just like honey on his tongue – he’s parched like he’s been that way since he can remember, and your cunt is the only thing that could quench that life-long thirst, and he doesn’t stop drinking you in until your entire body is tensing up and your thighs are quivering in his arms. He pulls away in time to watch your pretty face, frozen in pure bliss, your mouth parted as you let out those airy little moans and whines.

Did he just give his little sugarplum her first-ever orgasm in her sleep?

Your limbs relax eventually as he releases your thighs. Still drunk on the taste of you in his mouth, he quickly takes his shirt off and wastes no time unzipping his pants. He can only ignore his raging erection for so long, after all.

Like he’s done countless times, he takes his cock in his fist and begins pumping himself as he watches you – as per usual, he indulges himself in fantasies about you, moaning and screaming his name, writhing underneath him in pleasure and making a mess of his bedsheets, except your face in his mind is clearer than ever before, now that he’s seen the expressions and the sounds you’d make as he makes you come around his cock again and again. He imagines himself taking you over and over even as you stay limp underneath him, too fucked out to moan anything coherently.

It doesn’t take Coriolanus long to reach his peak. With a loud, guttural groan, he finishes on your stomach, making sure he doesn’t spill anywhere else even amidst the waves of pleasure engulfing him. He brings his forehead close to yours as he steadies his breathing and lets his high fade. Once he’s regained his composure, he pulls away from you, zips his pants back up and gets off you completely, opting to sit beside you as he leans against the headboard to collect his thoughts.

He knows he couldn’t leave you in your half-dressed state for long lest you catch a cold, so he begins to erase any evidence of the little bit of fun he had with you. Shame, really, when you look so inviting covered in his spend.

He starts by gently wiping his cum off your stomach with a damp towel, ensuring that he leaves no trace of himself on you. He finds wiping you clean easy and satisfying, vaguely wondering what it would be like to have the two of you soaking in a bathtub together and doing the same for him. The next task, getting you back in your stockings, isn’t as easy as the previous, given that he has to arrange the run on the cloth back where he remembers it to be. Miraculously, he too, gets that task out of the way, and putting your shirt back on proves way less challenging. By the time he’s done, the only sign he’d been on you is the little love bite he left, now purplish-black, conveniently camouflaged by that little tear on your stocking you’d be quick to dismiss it as a byproduct of your fall.

For now, that little beast in him has been sated and has retreated to the far corners of his psyche. He kisses your crown as he tucks you in the covers, but notices how troubled your expression looks.

Are you having a bad dream, he wonders?

You stir in your sleep as you turn away from his side of the bed, muttering a word he couldn’t catch. He climbs back in beside you, leaning against the pillows, his eyes landing on the vial of smelling salts on his nightstand. If this worsens, maybe he could use that to tear you away from the dream that’s bothering you.

Then he hears sniffling.

You curl up in a ball beneath the sheets as the sniffling grows more audible. He peers further into your face, finding fresh trails of tears on your temples.

Coriolanus almost internally panics.

Did he do this to you? Had he somehow given you a dream you’re now struggling with because of what he did? He rubs his face as he thinks of the possibilities.

Maybe you’re dreaming of Sejanus. Perhaps in this dream, he’s breaking your heart, or he’s hurting you, maybe even cheated on you and you had caught him in the middle of messing around with another girl.

Things Coriolanus would never, ever do to you.

He finds comfort in the thought somehow, and he can at least hope this dream version of himself would come in and punch the daylights out of dream-Sejanus for making you cry.

“Mommy…”

It’s faint, but he hears it.

“Mommy, wake up, please…We have to find daddy..."

Ah, you’re dreaming of that day.

Coriolanus recalls the day Sejanus approached him with good intentions (like always, he couldn’t help his nature) and began talking to him about you. It was one of his many deluded attempts at igniting friendship with him. He didn’t really care back then whatever he had to say, much less about you, but then he had to reveal how your parents died.

Such needless deaths brought about the vindictiveness of rebels who were bitter about your parents choosing the correct side.

And Coriolanus knew, better than anyone, and certainly better than Sejanus, what it was like to lose a parent the way you did.

For a moment there, he sees his younger self in you, calling out for his dead mother in the middle of the night and waking up realising she’ll never come back.

His heart wrenches at your pain, so he gathers you in his lap as you sob in your slumber. He’d never thought he’d see you this vulnerable around him, so it gives him an odd sense of ease knowing he’d seen a side of you you’d normally hide from him, and making you feel safe in his arms like this is something a dutiful husband would definitely do.

He almost ignores the phone ringing in his living room in favour of keeping you in his embrace.

Except the call drops and the phone rings insistently three more times, making him gently peel you off his lap and wanting to yank it off the plug.

Instead, he picks it up. What compelled him to do so, he doesn’t know, and he can’t pinpoint whether it was a good or a bad decision.

“Coriolanus. This is Acacius Innis.”

Fuck. Just when he’s finally got you to himself.

Acacius Innis inquires more persistently on the other line.   “Is my niece with you?”

“Yes, Mr Innis. She –”

“Why?”

Coriolanus does not appreciate Innis senior’s tone, nor the way he just cut him off. “She almost passed out at work this afternoon, sir,” he says. “My place was the closest I could bring her to.”

A pause on the other line. “I’m coming over,” says Mr Innis.

“I can bring her over instead, sir –”

“No, I’m picking her up,” Innis says, as sounds of scuffling are heard in his background. “I know where you live. And, young man, if you so much as try anything funny with my niece, if you dare lay a finger –”

“I have no such intentions, Mr Innis,” Coriolanus replies with just as much conviction.

My tongue did all the work. He licks his lips, extremely pleased he could still taste you on them. “Nellie is safe with me; you have my word.”

“Good to know. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Coriolanus hears the click of the receiver, followed by the dial tone.

The meddling prick.

A sharp sensation in your nose stirs you awake, followed by fingers softly stroking your hair to help you come out of it.

“Sugarplum, I’m sorry to have woken you up, but you were crying in your sleep.”

The compassionate voice of none other than Coriolanus Snow makes you rise at once and assess where exactly you have ended up.

You remember falling asleep on his couch, and yet, here you are, on a bed with his shirtless self, and a just few seconds ago draped all over his lap, apparently crying in your sleep again.

"What was I saying?” you ask as you wipe your tears with your palms.

“You were calling for your parents,” he explains. “I assume you were dreaming about the day they died.”

Damn this day. You just had to fall asleep in his presence. It’s a stupid move, you berate yourself. You extricate yourself at once from what obviously looks like his bed. Coriolanus's eyes follows you with a doleful look. “I had no idea you still had nightmares about them.”

He too, gets to his feet, picking his shirt up from the sheets and putting it back on. What the fuck even was it doing off? He approaches you with eyes cold enough to freeze your blood. “And we know gave us this pain, Nellie. We’ll make them pay for it. Every single one of them.”

You’re relieved when he finally leads you away from his bedroom and back to the living room where your shoes are. You sit on the loveseat so you can put them on, but he’s on his knees at once, assisting you with your shoestraps.

“Your uncle knows you’re here,” he says as he ties your laces. “I told him you had a long day and you were resting. He’s on his way to pick you up. He also mentioned a subtle, tasteful threat of bodily harm if I ‘tried anything funny.’”

He looks up at you, smiling as he brushes his knuckles on your cheek.

“Like I’d ever harm my little sugarplum.”

The two of you retrieve your coat in the foyer, and you quietly thank him for letting you stay at his home. Instead of responding, he just fixes your hair and wipes your cheeks with his thumb, which later brushes over your lips.

Please, don’t let him kiss me…

“Coryo? Please…” you whisper shakily.

But then he releases you, donning a satisfied look. “There, all better.” When you look at him with questioning eyes, he adds, “I don’t think your uncle will ever forgive me if he thinks I made you cry.”

“Th-thanks.”

“You can thank me by getting better,” he says lightly. He leads you to the elevator with his hand on your back. “You have the entire day off tomorrow, so get all the rest you need. In fact, I have something that may help you get better sleep.”

He fishes this small, crimson vial from his pants pocket and places it in your hands. The cork stopper on the bottle is still sealed with wax.

“That should help. Take a teaspoon before you go to bed. It’s a non-addictive formula they developed at the Citadel. Tell me if it works for you so I can get you more.”

You nod and mutter your thanks. “Coryo, can I ask you something?

“Of course, sugarplum.”

“When do you think I can start working for my uncle again? Now that I’ve already finished fixing the code?”

His eyes darken at your question, but he blinks and it’s gone, replaced by simple curiosity.

“Why, sugarplum? Are you that eager to wriggle free from me?” he jests. 

“No,” you deny, no matter how much his observation rings true. “It’s just that he’s been looking unwell lately, and he won’t tell me anything. He’ll never tell me if he’s sick or what, and I worry about him.”

What you said is partly true, but you also just want to be done with everything that has to do with him. If you don’t work for him anymore, you won’t ever have to interact with him ever again and be part of whatever he’s building. He’s not your friend, no matter how much he tries to make it look like so. He’s dangerous, you know that, and the faster you can keep him at arm’s length, the better.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sugarplum. I know the past week has been stressful for you. For both of you. But you don’t want to leave the program now, do you? Not when we’re so close to accomplishing what your uncle had started. And if you really want to help your uncle, finish his work, and help build his legacy.”

So, it seems you’re stuck with him, and you’ll still be participating in the trial Hunger Games this Friday.

The air is knocked out of your lungs as you’re pinned against the cold, steel walls of the elevator, and the gasp you let out is silenced by Coriolanus’s mouth latching onto yours.

Having caught you off-guard, you attempt to push him off, but he’s always been leagues above you in physical strength. As his tongue finds yours, you simply close your eyes and let him.

However, just as soon as it happens, he releases you, just in time for the elevator door to reveal the lobby with a ding.

“How about I recommend people I know who’d be perfect as his apprentice?” he suggests as if nothing happened. “After all, I have a track record for finding the perfect one. I’ll have it sent to his desk next week.”

You’re exhausted beyond words, not having the will to snap, so you just nod along. Through the glass doors, you spot your uncle leaning against his car with his hands inside his coat pocket, looking more cross than you’ve ever seen him in public. Still, you have never been more relieved to see him.

You open your mouth to greet him as you step outside, followed by Coriolanus, but Uncle Cas’s eyes land on the tear on your stocking. Acacius Innis’s eyes harden, and the next thing you know, he’s lunging at the younger man behind you. You hear a dull thud, indicating he landed a punch somewhere.

“Uncle Cas, no!” You squeal, wrapping your arms around his torso and attempting to wrench him away from Coriolanus.

“What the fuck did you do, you little – !”

“Uncle, I fell, and I tore my tights. He didn’t do anything!”

Uncle Cas simmers down upon hearing your words. “Is this true?” He asks Coriolanus.

Your friend holds a slightly bleeding lip with his thumb, but he smiles just as disarmingly as if he wasn’t at all fazed by your uncle’s outburst. “Yes, sir. It was merely an accident.”

Your uncle huffs to himself. For a moment, he seems like he's considering punching him again with the way he furls his fist, but then he dips his head in apology. “Then you’ll have to forgive me, young man. I truly am sorry for jumping to conclusions. Are you alright?”

Coriolanus merely chuckles, but it's bereft of any humour. “I was a peacekeeper once, sir. I have certainly taken much worse.”

This was a clear challenge, and you wish with all your might that your uncle wouldn’t take the bait. Fortunately, the older man just tenses his jaw and nods. “Once again, you have my apologies. I thought you had hurt my niece, and it was wrong of me to not reign in my temper.”

Snow straightens to his full height and graciously replies, “I completely understand, Mr Innis. I’d protect Nellie just as ferociously as you would.”

Your uncle all but drags you to the car’s passenger seat and follows you inside, taking his place in the driver's seat. Now, even with everything that happened that day, this is a bizarre sight, as Acacius Innis has not driven a car himself in a long while. You remain quiet as the engine roars to life, almost swearing to yourself that you hear him mutter “insolent fucking cunt” under his breath as he drives off at full speed.

Enter Level 9

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!

Sorry for any typos, I am not the best of health rn and I will be editing this when I wake up 😊 please stick around!! Snowball has more tricks up his sleeve 😈😈😈

[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 04 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07

Wordcount: 7k

Warnings: smut (Steve is obsessed with you, okay?), drinking, drug use, canon level violence (series), body image issues (series)

Notes: Hey! Here we goooo people. Things are getting very exciting!! Thank you to everyone who has read the first few chapters - I appreciate all the interest! While I’m grateful for every single ‘like’ on the chapters, a comment or reblog goes a long way to let me know how you are enjoying the story :) I’d love to hear your thoughts and feelings and predictions!!! ( if you see me in the wild, i’m @simmerandcry​)

--

“Hello?”

“Hey you. What’re you doing?”

“Attempting to build some boxes but Herc just decided to nap on them..” You could hear voices echoing beyond wherever Steve was calling you from. “What’s going on?”

“Can you come hang out?”

God, you wanted to see him. To say you were falling for the man felt juvenile, but you couldn’t figure out any other way to describe it. 

The apartment offer had really sent you further into the depth of it - considering you knew you’d be stupid not to take the new apartment. But the fact that Steve had taken it upon himself to either come over every night until you moved, or invited you and Hercules to his place, or called you and stayed on the line until you fell asleep - how could you not be head over heels for the man?

You were trying to stay level headed and calm about the whole thing. Trying and failing, really. Because you knew that if you spent a few extra moments to use your rational brain, some things about Steve and his lifestyle did not align with yours even a bit. Despite that, you remained vigilant on the task at hand and decided that ignoring everything else for the time being was your best bet.

“Hang out?” You leaned against your kitchen counter, taking in your half emptied cupboards. Truthfully, you were tired of packing and had made a lot of progress already. Plus, you’d managed to take a few days off work coming up to aid in your apartment transition. “Where are you?”

“At the club. Can you come hang out?” 

You laughed to yourself. “Shield is open on Tuesday nights?”

“For the owner, it’s always open.” Steve’s voice grew softer, quieter. “I want to see you, baby. Please?”

You were falling hard.

 --- 

At first, you were relieved that your landlord agreed to your quick release from your agreement - but it barely left you with enough time to pack and get your shit together. 

Now that your week was over and your life was mostly packed away into boxes, you could see the exciting next steps occurring. Steve had arranged a few people to help you move, you had a whole new apartment to decorate, and your mom was coming to visit at the end of your week off. Those were all promising, exciting things.

With a final over dramatic sigh, you flopped down on your bed and reached for your phone. Your entire night had been consumed by packing up your bedroom and you’d been desperately waiting to hear something from Steve. Anything would do, really.

You hadn’t seen him since earlier that week when you had ventured to see him at the club. What you had pictured as a quiet little evening with him had actually been much more - considering you showed up and it seemed like his entire close circle of friends were at the bar too. Though they kept their work related talk clipped and quiet, you had a feeling those sorts of evenings weren’t all that rare.

Everyone you met had been very friendly, at least. It was a bit intimidating to walk in and have to meet so many new faces, but you had a feeling this was a rare occurrence - Steve bringing in someone for them to get familiar with.

You could see it especially in the way he blushed at Sam and Bucky’s commentary and in the way he kept a protective hand on you as you sat at the bar and talked with Nat, who described herself as Steve’s ‘real right hand woman’ and Yelena, who managed bar operations at the club. When Kate showed up and saddled up beside her girlfriend Yelena, you could see Steve’s shining grin as you filled Kate in on your dreams to open an animal rescue in the future.

It was nice. But you had secretly been hoping for some time with just Steve.

For a reason you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you and Steve still hadn’t escalated the physical side of things beyond making out. Even when you woke up in bed together with his very obvious morning excitement, attempts to go just a bit further always fell away. 

It didn’t make much sense - beyond the physical signs, Steve’s words were often flirty and edging well beyond appropriate language. 

Unfortunately, as much as you could rationalize the pace, it was really making an impact on your sanity and self-esteem. Maybe Steve just wasn’t attracted to you. 

S Rogers [8:33PM]: have you eaten dinner? Can i bring some thai food over? S Rogers [8:34PM]: I can help you finish packing? You [8:37PM]: I’ve given up on packing but yes to thai food!! ty :)

Maybe he just wasn’t interested in you that way. 

Maybe he was seeing someone else, too. You’d never discussed anything about exclusivity and maybe it was too soon for that and and maybe-

Maybe.. Augh, you had to stop yourself from spiraling.

Selfishly, you had never been so attracted to another person and you wanted to indulge. You wanted to feel Steve’s hands all over your body, feel his lips explore beyond your neckline, see every detail of those tattoos on his chest. 

You wanted Steve, all of him.

A knock at the door and an additional buzz from your phone let you know Steve had arrived. You stood from the bed and pulled yourself together. You had long since changed from your work clothes into a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top, mostly to avoid overheating as you packed and cleaned the space.

Truthfully, your anxiety about Steve would typically convince you to cover up with a sweater, as a layer of protection from any sign of rejection, but with an insane urge of courage, you just powered on ahead and headed towards the door to let him in.

What was it Claire had said to you? To stop playing it safe, to take a leap of faith?

“Hey!” You greeted him with a big smile as you opened the door, stepping out of the way so he could come inside. Beyond his full arms of - oh god, he was in another blue suit. This one was much less formal than the first you had seen him in, lacking both a vest and button up underneath. Instead, the dark blue sports coat matched his slacks over a plain white t-shirt. Once again, you found yourself staring at the tattoos peeking out near the neckline.

You watched him swallow and hinge his jaw slightly, matching your grin. 

“Hi.” Steve came in quickly, shutting the door and side stepping most of your boxes. “You’ve been productive.”

“I am so ready to move on from here,” you admitted, leading him towards the kitchen where he unloaded the bag from his arms. “My shower hasn’t had hot water in days.”

“I’m relieved you’ll be out of here, too,” Steve replied, shaking his head firmly as he unpacked the bags. “I wasn’t sure what your spring roll preference would be so I–” As he turned back to look at you, Steve trailed off, eyebrow raised as he caught your stare from across the room. “Are you okay?”

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you went ahead and bit the bullet. “I just need to be straightforward and ask you something, alright? Are you seeing anyone else?”

Steve’s eyes blew out wide for a brief moment before narrowing again, tipping his head curiously as he watched you. “What? No.”

“I know we haven’t discussed like, dating or what we are to each other, it’s probably way too early for that but I.. we haven’t had sex yet and I was thinking maybe it’s because you’re with someone else too and you don’t want to be with me and–”

“Oh no, it’s not that at all, I swear.” With a slow breath, Steve leaned against the counter and dragged one hand behind his neck.

You swallowed hard and watched him closely. Oh god, he was either going to let you down easy or.. Wait. You let him collect himself, because if you were reading him correctly… The man was nervous. Were you making him nervous? 

You were making Steve Rogers nervous. Damn.

He cleared his throat, clutching the countertop behind his hips with tight fists. “Listen, I don’t do this. I don’t date or - or pace myself, very often. But with you, with this..” His teeth grazed over his bottom lip carefully. “I guess I don’t know what it is yet - what we’re doing here, what you want–”

You prayed for guidance and wisdom and forgiveness from anyone who might be listening, because when the words finally escaped the back of your throat, you had no idea what you were in for. With a sharp inhale, you cut him off. “You, Steve. I want you.”

Steve took that as permission enough, propelling himself forward. His hands flew up to your face, holding you steady as he crashed into you, his lips studying yours with unquestionable promise. 

Your hunger matched his - as your own hands grabbed onto his waist, pulling him even closer. And when his hips pushed against yours, a groan sounded off within him. From deep in his chest, it reverberated into your own. With one hand, he moved to cradle the back of your neck and when he -

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped as he fisted at your hair, exposing your neck as his lips and tongue continued their journey of exploration. “Steve..”

This man already had you whimpering. 

He released his hand and moved back slightly, peering down at you, barely hiding his smirk as evidence of his affect on you showed on your face. Your warm cheeks, deep breathing, swollen lips. 

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” One of his hands returned to your cheek, dragging his thumb down and across your lips. “Because I’ve wanted to do this for weeks now, wanted to know what you taste like and how to make you whimper and shake and..”

All you could do was nod, opening your mouth slightly as he pressed his thumb against your tongue. As if testing the waters, he pressed it just further and your mouth closed around it. 

“Oh, sweetheart - I’m going to ruin you. You gonna let me?” 

You batted your eyelashes and nodded hard as he slowly removed his thumb. “Yes. Yes please.”

Suddenly, the chaos and disarray of your entire apartment was gone. Your bedroom especially was a mixture of half packed boxes and clothes, though that was the last thing on your mind as Steve guided you towards your bed. Effortlessly, without even breaking away from your mouth. 

His lips ravaged yours - like every single opportunity to taste you and feel your tongue was something he needed to savor. You couldn’t hold back though - letting your hands roam all over his body, pushing away his suit jacket. He tossed it down on the ground and you pulled back. 

“Wait - do you need to hang that up?” 

Steve raised his eyebrows, a playful smirk growing across his face. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

You matched his grin, toying with the buttons on his shirt. “You’re clearly a suit guy. I can only imagine your dry cleaning bill and–”

He cut you off with another kiss, hands scrambling to caress the smooth fabric of your shorts against your skin. And then his hands stopped, snaking beneath the waistline and firmly gripping your backside.

“Fuck,” he hissed out, growling against your neck. “I have been dying to touch you, sweetheart. This fucking ass..”

Your responding laugh caught in your throat when he let go briefly, only to grip you again with even more force. Steve was an ass man, good to know.

“Okay, I’ve gotta have you..” He quickly pulled your tanktop up and over your head, then nudged you back on the bed. 

You thought you’d be nervous - finally being exposed to Steve like this, almost entirely naked under the terrible lights of your bedroom. But instead you felt excited and, well, safe. Because the way he was looking down at you as he undressed, a look that was crossed between carnal rage and admiration, you knew it would be okay. That Steve wanted to be there, in that exact moment the same way you wanted to. 

All your maybes floated away.

You reached behind your back to unhook your bra and started on the waistband of your shorts next, but Steve stopped you. 

“No, I want to..” He let out a deep exhale as he joined you on the bed, left in just his own boxer briefs. He dragged his hand across his mouth, grinning as he scanned over you. “Damn.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, fighting off the urge to shy away from his stare. His own body was impressive, to say the least. He couldn’t hide his tight muscles under his clothes but finally seeing them, seeing how his skin was littered with tattoos, how the gold chain around his neck rested against his chest - damn was right.

Steve crawled up towards you, laying at your side, hands gripping your hips as he pulled you in close. His lips went to work again, ravaging your neck with a series of wet kisses until he got to your shoulder. His teeth grazed your skin as one hand came up to your chest. 

You didn’t waste time either, trying to focus as he explored your skin. You reached down and pressed your hand against his box briefs, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest as you palmed his length. He was hard already and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him.

“Fuck..” You couldn’t help but beam as Steve took in a sharp breath, promptly dropping his hand to stop yours. “If you..” He stopped himself again and closed his eyes. “I’m trying to pace myself, sweetheart.” Before you could even argue, he was adjusting to lay you flat against the bed. With one elbow he propped himself beside you, while the other continued to explore.

Steve was thorough and thank god for that. Both his lips and his fingertips found places on your skin you weren’t certain another person had touched before - the delicate skin between your breasts, the nape of your neck, every inch of your soft stomach. Every decision seemed intentional, calculated - as if he wanted to savour every second and capture every piece of you in his mind forever.

You were lost in a state of mind you hadn’t succumbed to for a long time. A swirling mixture of excitement and nerves washed over you as he inched closer and closer to your waistline. 

“I wanna see you come, baby,” he spoke slowly, cautiously tugging on the edge of your underwear. 

You met his eyes, sensing he was asking for permission, checking in to make sure you were okay. You nodded quickly, chewing on your lip in anticipation. “Yes, please.”

He was off like a mad man, grinning as you lifted your hips and he peeled away your underwear. And when he grazed his fingers across you, against your slick, he didn’t waste anymore time. 

It echoed in the back of your mind that Steve had mentioned he didn’t do this, he didn’t date but damnit, he clearly knew what he was doing. While his fingers circled your clit, he watched you closely - as if part of his strategy was catching every clue you gave him to ensure maximum satisfaction.

And when you gasped –

“Right here, baby? Is this good? Are you gonna come for me?” He didn’t relent as you grabbed the sheets at your side, bucking your hips into his hand as he worked. “Look at me, look at me baby. I want to see you come.”

You were nearly panting as you finally looked up at him, catching the biggest grin on his face as his ministrations continued. He played you expertly through your climax, whimpering out his name as he carried on, slipping a finger into you as you shook. 

The man certainly had a strategy now. You were literally putty in his hands, shaking again and again as he laid his entire palm flat against you, working both your clit and reaching for that secret spot inside you too. 

“Again, baby. Come on.” He dipped down this time, lips finding yours in a fervor you hadn’t ever experienced before. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, I could watch you forever..”

He relented soon enough, when you clamped your hand on his to finally slow it down. Your head was spinning still, almost completely forgetting you were in your mess of an apartment with this adonis of a man grinning in pride at your side. And shit, this was still just the foreplay.

“That was..” You stuttered, reaching a hand up to pull him closer. “..thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he returned with a laugh, finally leading his hand away from you. And then he even had the audacity to lick his fingers clean and you nearly died all over again. 

“I can.. If you want me to or we can..condoms..” You nudged your head to the side table. “Top drawer.”

Steve was grinning again, hurrying to shake off his boxers and hover above you before reaching towards the table. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as he grabbed from the drawer, although your eyes grew wide when you considered that he might find your–

“Oh  - and what is this?” 

“A girl has needs, okay?” You swatted at his hand as he gripped your vibrator. “Steve, there are more important matters at hand here..”

When he clicked the bottom button of your bullet vibe, you nearly died.

“Small and mighty,” he muttered out, licking his lips momentarily before returning it to the drawer. “We’re using that next time too.”

Your mouth dropped open at his casual, authoritative tone. “Okay.. yeah, we should.”

“That’s my girl,” Steve laughed in agreement, kneeling beside you on the bed as he put on the condom. “Ride me, baby?”

Under typical circumstances, it wasn’t your ideal way to start a sexual relationship with a person. It had taken you some time to feel comfortable on top and although you did love how it felt, the angle and position of your body often left you feeling a bit insecure. But then you considered the situation - here was Steve, laying down on your bed, hard and ready to have sex with you. Clearly he didn’t give a shit about what your body looked like - or even better, maybe he enjoyed it. 

“Baby, please. I want to feel you.” 

All it took was him licking his lips and you were decided. 

In an attempt at being graceful, you straddled him and angled yourself above him. Lord, the man was certainly blessed physically - from his broad shoulders to his tight waist to his cock, he lived up to his Big Dick Energy. And shit, as you sunk down - you were nearly ready to come again already.

“All the way, sweetheart.” Steve was already breathless as he gripped your hips, bucking his own up gently to elicit a moan from you. “I swear you were made for me.”

You were beginning to think the same thing. 

You did your best to start slow, adjusting to his size as you moved on top of him. But Steve really couldn’t hold back, apparently. He guided you to control the pace and it didn’t take him long to really take the lead. 

You folded yourself down and pressed your lips to him, as he pistoned his hips upwards into you. Christ, you were done for in moments - between his controlled thrusts and the way he was whispering into your ear, another orgasm crashed through you. 

“I want you, baby. Since the moment I saw you, since you crashed into me, I’ve wanted this.” He cradled you against him, soft flesh against the strong build of his own chest. And finally, finally, you could feel it coursing through your bodies - the same energy, the same connection, the same longing that finally spilled over. Whatever was stirring your heart and mind and soul, it seemed to match Steve too. 

With another rush of thrust, Steve reached his own peak, letting out a feral groan as he shook. 

“Thank the universe for giving me you, baby.”

 -- 

Although moving was always a tumultuous process, you were so grateful for your mother and her innate ability to organize your life. She ventured into the city to help you get set up in your new place and it had been beyond helpful - the time with your mom was exactly what you needed.

“So, when do I get to meet him?” Your mom finally asked the question you knew she had been dying to ask. Throughout your entire last few days, from unpacking the rest of your boxes and bins to rearranging your closet to shopping for a new couch - you just knew it had been on the tip of her tongue. In all honesty, you had been surprised she had waited so long to let it out.

You took a step away from your bookcase, casting a smile her way as she stacked a few plates into your cupboard. “Mom.”

“What? I’m not an idiot, love,” your mom replied, matching your pose with a hand on her hip. “Some generous friend of yours gets you a deal on an apartment, sends you flowers twice since you've moved in a week ago, makes you smile throughout the day as you check your phone..”

“I just.. We…” You sighed, scrunching up your face and taking a few steps towards her. “Mom, I like him so much. After I moved in and everything was a mess he packed a whole picnic lunch to eat on the floor with me, using a box as a table. A picnic, mom! I mean, most of it was straight from the deli down the block but..” With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes. “I don’t know if it’s going to last. We’re very different in a lot of ways.” You leaned against the counter, letting out a long breath. Truthfully, it was the first time you admitted that out loud. And it scared you.

You liked Steve - a lot. More than you could remember ever feeling for someone else before. At first, you worried it might be some strange puppy love infatuation. But the more you actually got to know Steve, the more your heart felt knotted up in your chest. 

And god, the sex. You didn’t have the heart to tell your Mom that just days ago Steve had you pressed up against those exact kitchen counters she was unpacking on.

“Different isn’t necessarily bad,” your mom finally replied, with one of those knowing sort of nods. “Especially if the foundation is good, the big stuff and the long term - if those can align, different can survive, I think.”

You smiled. “Yeah, maybe. I’m just trying to… be realistic.” 

You were plagued with doubt in the back of your mind - not because of Steve, necessarily. But because you weren’t a stranger to blind trust and pain, both you and your mother had experienced that enough when your dad left. Didn’t your mom think their foundation had been good?

“Love,” your mom took a step forward and grabbed your nearest hand. “Don’t stress about it too much, okay? But if you’re too cautious, you’re going to miss out on a lot.” You knew she was speaking from experience and god, that broke your heart. “Now, I will drop the topic for the time being but I think I deserve to see a photo of him at least. The Mom tax.” Her eyes dropped to her watch. “Oh, I’ve gotta get going soon.”

“Maybe a photo,” you nodded with her. That seemed like enough of a compromise. “Herc needs some air - we’ll walk you.”

Your mom was capitalizing on her trip to the city and managed to book a coffee catch up date with an old friend and honestly, you were grateful for it. You appreciated every reminder that your mom was doing okay on her own these days.

The cafe was just a few blocks away, tucked between a little bistro Steve had actually taken you to a few days ago and.. 

“Mom,” you paused at the crosswalk, gripping Hercules’ leash as you turned your head and grabbed your mom’s attention. “Did you tell me who you're meeting for coffee?”

“No, I don’t know if I did,” she replied with a shrug. “Last month an old classmate of mine from college reached out to check in, see how life is, how work is going. When I told her I was coming to the city, she insisted we grab a coffee if time permitted.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, proceeding across the street and turning down toward the cafe. 

“What?” Your mom let out an excited greeting as she pointed ahead on the street and waved. “There's Sarah!” You both looked ahead and sitting outside the cafe was your mom’s college classmate Sarah Rogers and, well, her son Steve.

“Well, remember how I just said I might show you a picture of the mystery guy? Turns out you do get to meet him..” You recalled what Steve had told you when you had talked the day before, that he was busy with work and was having breakfast with his mom and when you approached them, exchanging hellos and hugs, you met his eyes with a coy smile.

“I swear I didn’t put two and two together until this morning,” he said quietly as you broke from your hug.

“What a small world!” Your mother exclaimed, gratefully telling Steve her preferred coffee order as he excused himself inside to get the drinks. “What are the chances?”

“This is all because of your lovely daughter,” Sarah offered you a smile and reached across the table to grab your hand. “Did she tell you how she saved my Steve’s life?”

“What? No, she has been quite tight-lipped about all of this, actually.” 

You really wanted to jump in and stop the whole thing from unraveling, but you knew there wasn’t a chance in hell you could stop two proud mothers from doting over their children. 

When Steve came back outside, he handed off a coffee to your mother and your preferred beverage to you, then politely suggested leaving your mothers to catch up. You were quick to agree, telling your own mom she could message you later when she’s back at your apartment.

Steve grabbed Hercules’ leash and you all headed for a walk to a nearby park, instead.

“Was it too soon to introduce you to my mom?” You nudged him with your elbow, garnering a laugh from him.

“Sweetheart, you met my mom twenty minutes after meeting me. I think it’s okay.”  

 -- 

Steve’s gallery wasn’t very large but still felt impressive, not that you had much experience when it came to art. But the walls were covered in beautiful canvases with incredulous price tags, you had a hard time even breathing near some of the pieces.

When Steve had first invited you to accompany him to an event at the gallery, you had been nervous. And when you realized it was a private fundraising party for a mayoral candidate, packed full of expensive suits and names you recognized from news media and social scenes in the city, your nerves had escalated to near panic.

Luckily, Steve had insisted you invite a friend and Wanda had been more than willing to be your safety for the evening. Wanda had been especially excited to be the first of your friends to meet Steve, too. And you were grateful to have her at your side, considering you had barely seen Steve since you had arrived with him earlier.

Although maybe it was better this way, because you both really needed to cool off. When you made it to Steve’s apartment earlier, full of apologies for running late, you worried you’d upset him by your tardiness. But the moment you stepped through his door in your sparkling cocktail dress, which flattered you in the exact way that made you feel sexy, it seemed all your concerns about Steve’s reaction had disappeared.

And when he fell to his knees and shoved your dress out of his way, you knew being late was not an issue. Steve made sure you knew exactly how he felt about your dress and your body, very thoroughly.

“What are we looking for?” Wanda tipped her head to the side, grabbing your hand and sliding through the crowd to stop in front of another canvas. She raised her glass and took a sip from her cocktail, letting out a slow exhale. 

“Steve told me that somewhere in here is a painting of his..” You trailed off, craning your neck to look for him in the crowd. You were trying not to feel weird about this whole thing - the room full of beautiful, powerful people talking to your man.

Your man. Well, Steve wasn’t yours. Not really. You still hadn’t discussed all that but you knew you were sort of exclusive, or at least he wasn’t dating anyone else. But who was that blonde woman talking to him? 

“Oh my god. Is that Tony Stark?” 

All your thoughts came to a halt when you followed Wanda’s wide eyes. Yes, that was Tony Stark and did he just–

“Oh my god. He just hugged Steve? Your boyfriend knows Tony Stark?”

You shook away Wanda’s hand as she grabbed your wrist. “Steve isn’t my..” It wasn’t long before Steve caught your eye, noticing both you and Wanda staring from across the crowd. You watched as he ducked his head and whispered something to Sam, who had been flanking his right side. 

Moments later, Sam was heading towards you and Wanda. 

“Hey - there’s someone Steve wants you to meet,” Sam said, motioning his hand back towards the center of the room. 

You knew this whole event was important to Steve, given the sheer volume of donations rolling in for James Rhodes and how his campaign was already stirring up news headlines. You hadn’t seen this side of Steve before, the work mode where business related things were of the utmost importance. 

Honestly, you were still actively ignoring the mystery that was Steve’s job. Guns, hushed conversations, late night work meetings - none of those added up to anything particularly savoury. It was better to remain ignorant, if a little naive. Just a little while longer…

“And why can’t Steve summon us himself?” Wanda giggled, proudly placing a hand on her hip as she finished off her cocktail. 

You smirked. “That’s a great point.”

Sam just laughed and lifted his hands, innocent despite his task at hand. “The man is busy kissing ass. Don’t kill the messenger.” 

You let out a dramatic sigh and pointed ahead. “Fine. Lead the way, Sam.”

You grabbed Wanda’s hand, following Sam through the crowd of people until you met up with Steve and his circle. Very quickly one of the servers came to replenish your drink as you slotted yourself at Steve’s side, rising to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. You paused near his ear. “Hi. For future reference, I don’t want to be collected by some minion, okay?”

You returned to your feet and Steve’s hand cradled your back, eyebrows twisted as he searched your face. He looked worried and you were grateful for it. You waved your hand, dismissing the whole thing and mouthing to him that it was okay.

“I’m sorry,” he returned quietly. You squeezed his hand and remained under his arm, happily shaking hands with Tony Stark and a handful of others as Steve introduced you. 

It made you melt - how happy he was to include you, boast about you, have you at his side. Although it was a bit intimidating to suddenly be on first name basis with both the DA and tech mogul Tony Stark, you soon realized that they were just people and it seemed one of their favourite past times was poking fun at Steve.

Most importantly, to your surprise, Wanda had very quickly found herself lost in conversation with someone from Stark’s circle. You had missed his job title, but his nickname Vision had stuck out to you immediately. And it seemed his philosophical viewpoint and natural energy had Wanda laughing and arguing with him very quickly.

Later, as the crowd dispersed around your group, Steve took you by the hand and steered you back towards the rows of canvases and frames on display. The whole gallery had an energy that reminded you of Steve - with exposed brick sections from the original warehouse structure, with updated lighting and flooring to match. Something that felt both vintage and up to date, classic Brooklyn with a twist of something new. 

You stopped in front of a vibrant floral piece, tipping your head slightly to analyze the strokes and colours. There was something about it that felt familiar, like your mom’s garden at home.

“I like this one,” you uttered out quietly, as Steve slotted himself behind you. He extended his hand around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You can have it, if you want.”

“Steve.”

“It would look very good above your couch,” he insisted. “I know the guy who owns the place, he’ll give you a good deal.”

You just laughed and turned around in his arms, capturing his lips in a quick kiss as you met his eyes. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he continued, leaving his hand to rest at the small of your back while the other momentarily cradled your cheek. 

“It’s fine,” you said with a small smile. “I just.. I don’t know how things operate in your work life, but I’m not part of that. So I think we should just communicate directly, okay? No fetching by colleagues.”

“You know, the minute Sam walked away from me - my gut feeling said it was the wrong call.”

“You’ve gotta follow your instincts, Rogers,” you laughed and fell forward into his embrace. “I’ll forgive you for it this time, though.”

Steve’s hands trailed up your arms slowly, moving to cradle your cheeks again as he delivered another kiss to your lips. “Gonna come to the club with us after this wraps up?”

You tipped your head as if deep in thought, tugging his hands away and holding them between your chests. “What does a night at the club look like for you?”

“Nothing too raucous anymore. I try to keep a level head since taking ownership,” he responded. “It’s just a carry on of all the strategic conversations and networking garbage. Lots of drinks will be flowing though. Or anything else you might want?”

You could sense he was trying to ask a bigger question so you shook your head. “Nothing but drinks for me usually. Will there be champagne?”

“If that’s what you want - I can get you a champagne fountain, baby.”

“A bottle would be fine,” you said with a giggle, sliding your hands under his suit jacket. “You’ll dance with me?”

“I don’t really dance but I can find us a nice dark corner to hide in. Show you my office..”

--

Once the event had died down, everyone seemed to be piling into SUVs waiting outside to head to Shield for the rest of the night. You hadn’t been out to any club in a while and were sort of looking forward to it, mostly because you had a feeling you wouldn’t have to wait in line to get in or wait for a drink for the rest of the night either.

In fact, when you got to the club, it only took four steps from the vehicle to get you inside, with Steve’s hand at your back leading you in. Immediately a security guard ushered you all upstairs to a roped off area that looked down on the rest of the dance floor. 

Once you were beyond the velvet ropes, you realized the wild exclusivity of the area. Already, bottles of liquor sat in ice buckets, a set of waitresses appeared with more drinks and as more of the group piled in, you had a feeling this wasn’t a place where just excessive drinking occurred.

You dropped down onto one of the lush couches with Wanda, happily taking a bubbling glass of champagne that was offered to you from a bottle Steve had popped. 

You clinked your glass with Wanda’s and scanned the area. On the opposite couch, Nat was knocking back shots with Bucky and to their side, it seemed no time was wasted when it came to the beyond drinking activities. Sam, a blonde woman you hadn’t met yet and a large football player of a man were portioning lines of coke - and even asking if anyone wanted in for their next round.

“What about you, lady friend of Steve?” The large man met your curious gaze, though you were very quick to shake your head. “I can get you anything you’d like.”

“No thanks,” you waved dismissively, finishing off your champagne before getting to your feet. “Wan? Should we dance?” 

You weren’t that closed minded when it came to places like this, given what you already knew about Steve. In fact, he had even told you about what nights at the club usually looked like for him. He had told you that years ago, he’d party all night with no memory of what he had been doing. Now? He stuck to business conversations, liquor and the occasional cigar. You had a feeling the rest of his crew could be a bit more rowdy though. 

But damn, you hadn’t seen people so effortlessly snorting drugs in a long time. Since some outrageous college parties, probably.

“Oh, me too, me too I want to dance. Nat jumped up from her seat and grabbed your hand, weaving through the array of suits standing around talking. “Stevie - I’m taking your girl downstairs.”

Steve gave a raised eyebrow look as you passed him by, not before you paused to press a kiss against his cheek. “I’ll be okay.”

“She’ll be fine! She’s in good hands!”

The first thing Nat did when you got back to the lower level was steer both you and Wanda towards the bar. Immediately a bartender took notice of you and had drinks ready. You gave a small wave to Kate and Yelena, who were both managing bar logistics far from where you were standing and you quickly tipped back whatever Nat had offered you without question.

“That was a test!” Nat shouted in your ear, grinning at both you and Wanda as you recoiled from the vodka. “You're both tough, I like it.”

You shouted back, slamming down your glass on the barside. “Are we dancing or what?”

The dance floor at Shield was huge and the playlist wasn’t half bad either. Normally, a hot sticky night of dancing at this sort of bar wasn’t your ideal but the liquid courage and electricity from Nat and Wanda definitely helped set the mood. 

You were having fun. 

God knows how many songs had blasted through your ears before you felt warmth at your back and a familiar arm snaking around you. 

“Baby..” Steve whispered against the shell of your ear, pressing himself against you. All of himself, even. “I wanna show you my office.”

“Dance with me,” you shifted against him, throwing your arms around your neck as you looked up to meet his eyes. “God, you’re hot.”

He grinned and pulled you even closer, swaying his hips slowly against yours. “I told you I don’t dance, sweetheart. Come on..” 

--

You had a feeling Steve didn’t really want to show you his office. Okay, well maybe he did. 

Very specifically he only wanted to show you the couch in his office.

“You sober enough to make good decisions, sweetheart?”

A flurry of hands and lips and steps landed you on his couch, then he promptly had you perched on the side of it, gripping the armrest with your ass in the air, with a perfect view of yourselves in the reflection of a mirror propped up behind the door.

“Holy shit, baby.” Steve was practically growling as he gripped your hips, thrusting into you with an unexpected urgency. He hadn’t even bothered letting you take your dress off, simply pushing up your skirt and tugging your underwear to the side before he slid in. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Steve, fuck.” You fisted the fabric of the couch as he slowed down, immediately chasing his pace as you backed up into him. 

“Yeah, take what you need, sweetheart.”

You had insisted he forgo the condom this time, trusting both your birth control and your exclusivity discussion to keep you both safe. And well, you had told him to up the ante a bit too - a little harder, a little faster. And fuck if that didn’t make him feel even better this time.

“Come for me, come on my cock. I want to feel you..” He doubled down as you started to shake, pressing you down against the cushions as he sped up. “Seeing you down there on the dancefloor, you looked incredible - so fucking sexy –  my girl. All mine.”

It didn’t surprise you when he pulled out and spilled against your ass. You hated to admit how much you liked it, the idea of him marking you up because shit, all this talk about being his, behind Steve’s girl? It was sending you to another universe entirely.

“Sweetheart, you okay? That wasn’t too much?” You had collapsed onto the couch, catching your breath as Steve cleaned up, quickly pulling his boxers up and buckling his belt again. He crouched down beside you, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You with me?”

“Yes, just coming back down to earth.” You laid your head down on the pillow and smiled. “That was… very enjoyable. Loved getting to see your office, great couch.”

He cradled your cheek and kissed you, hard. “I think I want to show you the desk next.”

 -- 

Steve thought he was ending his night by crawling into bed with you. Thelast few weeks following the event at the gallery had left him busier than he anticipated and when you both finally coordinated a date night, you deserved his full attention.

And, well, he had given it to you. From walking around the botanical gardens to dinner at one of his favourite restaurants to fooling around on the drive back to his place, Steve had more than indulged in you. Now, after another sweaty romp back at his place plus more action in the shower, the last thing he needed was Bucky calling him in the middle of the night.

“What?” Steve practically barked under his breath, carefully removing himself from the sheets and stepping out of the darkness of his bedroom. “Didn’t I tell you I was on do not disturb tonight, Buck?”

“Special circumstances. Castle is holding some idiot who made a scene at their warehouse, stirring shit about boundary lines.”

“And?” 

“You told Russo you wanted to know when Rumlow left his mark again - it was one of his guys.”

Steve gritted his teeth, weighing his options. He knew what he needed to do and unfortunately even your sleeping body warming his bed didn’t stop him from following through with his own rules. Brooklyn was his territory and he couldn’t have anyone else making a mess of that. “Can the guy still talk?”

Bucky laughed. “Barely. He’s in good spirits apparently - especially mouthy, says Castle. I’m downstairs, let’s go.”

A heavy sigh escaped Steve, from the depths of his chest. He knew what he needed to do, but damnit, his heart and soul were resisting. Why did this entire thing feel like a test?

“I’ll be down in five.”

Steve did his best to remain quiet as he got dressed again, stepping out of his closet to see you stirring in bed. His bed. God, there you were in his bed, resting, beautiful.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’m leaving Hercules in charge.” Steve looked briefly to your sleeping pup who was curled up in a new dog bed in the corner. “I’ll be back soon.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, trying not to shudder as you grabbed his hip.

Through a muffled yawn, you let go and fell back into the pillow. “Be safe, okay?”

Steve left one more kiss on your forehead and headed towards the door, leaving you safely tucked away at home as he ventured into the darkness of the city.

--

CHAPTER 03 - CHAPTER 05

Thank you for reading!! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Up next: what makes a good person? What happens when business mixes with pleasure?

[streets-in-paradise]

The Cheer Factor - Eddie Munson x (Fem) Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Eddie malfunctioning when the reader wears thight shirts. Also, most of this oneshot ignores canon events.

Summary: A dissapointment with the fitting of your Hellfire shirt frustrates you and you are too caught in your self conciousness to notice Eddie won't stop looking at you.

Notes: For my dear fríend Luna, fic inspired in one particular plus size girl problem we share. We brainstormed this idea together and i gave it full form here.

Tags: @losersclubisms

Maybe it was an issue of being the only girl in the group, guys didn't seem to mind about that sort of thing. Nobody ever pointed it out since you joined Hellfire, so you just pretended to ignore it.

The club shirt you were wearing was not the size you would usually go for, there was a problem with the fitting you discovered only after trying it on. It wouldn't be the first time that sort of thing would happen to you. You would typically wear baggy-looking oversized shirts for a reason. Many ' easy to stretch' shirts with the ríght fit have been defeated by your voluminous torso before. One of your personal favorites, that you got in the biggest size available at the store, would cover you barely down the belly buttom.

You still felt cute on that one, but you wished the fabric wouldn't get irredemably stucked in your tits on its way down. It was uncomfortable and frustrating, specially when you could tell the shirt could have been a good fit if it wasn't for that detail. That was the case of your Hellfire one, too thight in the chest because it wasn't oversized enough.

Admitting that you felt too fat to wear it was too embarrasing, so you hoped it would just stretch with time of use. Eddie was the onlyone who heard your initial complains after the first try on, but he would insist on reassuring you because he was your friend. You guessed he didn't want to hurt your feelings pointing out the truth when you asked, telling you over and over that it looked perfect everytime you would suggest to change it.

For so, you kept it despite remaining skeptical. The encouragement of your handsome friend inspired you to do it, since you enjoyed it peraphs a bit too much.

However, you couldn't see that his words were the purest truth born from the rawest deepness of his being. He was in love with your body, blessing the mistake making you stop hidding it. The tightness of the fabric enhaced your natural curvy shape and he was convinced that the club's logo had never looked better than it did in your chest. More than once he got distracted looking at you, but somehow managed to hide it through some pathetically improvised jokes. Luckly for him, you never seemed to notice because his overall quirkyness would confuse you.

In school you were mostly covered with leather or jean jackets, but things were different during the first of his campaigns you were involved in. The long hours invested in playing would make you toss any insecurities aside and as the time would pass you would take off all extra layers. From his privileged spot in the game table he would get to see your movements reflect your emotions and would never remain completely inmune to the sight. Joy causing you to jump on your seat a little bit, or anticipation making you lean over with your arms pressed against your tits would get his attention even if you didn't intended it.

It was one unexpected way to make things more interesting, his already high energy would increase for the gorgeous new player cheering him through charming beauty. Eddie had one new reason to look foward Hellfire time and he appreciated it despite how delightfully tortuous it could be. He would be drooling, but burying the evidence in shame because you were friends and he didn't want to ruin it with his lustfull admiration.

However, it was only a matter of time until someone would ruin the delicate balance of misunderstandings allowing him to cover his tracks. The youngests of the group, new additions coming some time after you, eventually did it. 

They just wanted your help. 

“ We have terrible news … and it’s about Lucas.” Dustin was whispering to you at a prudential distance from the group, in a pleading tone. “ Eddie is going to kill us, please help us to soften the impact of the bomb.” 

You had a vague idea of what he meant, aware of his friend’s involvement in the basketball team. 

“ What makes you think he would go easy on me? Sorry, Henderson. If you piss him off there isn’t much I can do.” 

He was terrified, or otherwise he wouldn’t have made that suggestion.

“ Take off your jacket in front of him as we speak.” 

Mike was almost as horrified as you, but the pure desperation made him actually consider it as a possible last resource escape tactic. 

“ To be fair, we have overcome hardships thanks to your tigh shirt before.” 

You could have killed them before Eddie would, if it wasn’t because they somehow validated your perception. 

“ IT WAS TOO SMALL! I KNEW IT!! “ You cheered yourself, completely ignoring their issue for an instant. “ Back when I joined Eddie insisted it was perfect and nobody ever questioned him.” 

Caught up in your thoughts as you were, you completely ignored the implications in their comments. 

“ Thanks for being honest, boys. I will talk to him later, maybe a private conversation would work better to make him favorable to your purpose.” 

At least you tried so, but he began to ramble about fighting a cultural battle that needed loyal soldiers as soon as you brought the issue. His crusade against popularity was bigger than anything and he clearly interpreted it in a very all or nothing way. Despite you were understanding of his viewpoint, you promised the youngsters to intercede in their favor and you did your best. 

“ No offense, Eds, but sometimes you can be full of bullshit. “ You cut him off. “ And with that I mean you are not being strategic, not even from a military standpoint. The enemy nation is stronger than us and with better socio-cultural resources, we can’t beat them by force. Our way should be subtle cultural infiltration, to get them like a parasite corrupting their structures without their acknowledgment. Sinclair could be the key to start a secret invasion and we should encourage his double filiation instead of contributing to its destruction. If one of us mixes with them, the cultural exchange could benefit our public image.” 

Although nicely articulated, the speech didn’t convince him much. 

“ We don’t need their validation, our level of underclass is way beyond that.” 

“ They define the legitimate practices of the school environment, we have to cause an impact in their culture if we want to redefine the rules. “ You corrected, amazed for how well you were pulling that argument.

Maybe you would have done well at debate, although you clearly weren't that good because your conclusion missed the point speaking more of you than of your defended ones. 

“ The kid has the highest chances for that, it’s not like I can try to set bridges with the cheerleaders. They hold the beauty standard and I don’t even fit in my own uniform.” 

Aggressively pulling down the fabric of your shirt in a comically pointless attempt to make it fit as you thought it should didn’t cause the wanted effect. He wasn’t laughing, the anger became frustration as he attentively observed your struggle. 

Eddie raised up to grab your hands and stop the mistreatment by himself. 

“ You are challenging conventionalism, that’s why it looks so well like that. Conformity would be hiding your freaking amazing body in a tent-shaped shirt hoping the world won’t notice it’s different.” 

You felt called out, but also very shocked by the direct meaning of his words. He sounded exasperated yet somewhat seductive and there was no mistake understanding it that time. 

“ You mean it’s cool that I’m doing that, or you actually think I’m pretty?” 

For him hearing you was very frustrating, he wondered how many years of social indoctrination had you endured to end up so blind to the beauty driving him mad. 

“ Of course you are pretty!” Eddie insisted, a soft glimpse of desperation in his tone as he said it. “ You are our pretty girl, we are all lucky to have you among us and you make me the happiest. Since you are up for cultural translations, you bring the cheer factor to the club.” 

The response got you more confused than the phrase itself. 

“ You looked very cheerful to me from the very same day I met you, it’s not like you need me to cheer your campaigns.” 

“ I need you more than what you could ever imagine.” He interrupted you, regretting the double meaning later.” You, my friend, possess all the virtues cheerleaders affirm themselves in on the foreign culture. You are positive, a team player, enthusiastic, dedicated and beautiful. What you bring to the table is the closest to cheering that Hellfire will ever have. "

Your silly giggling made him smile, satisfied with the outcome of his partial confession. However, he wasn’t expecting you would be trapping him in a frontal hug. 

“ Eddie, you are so sweet!” You whispered to him in gratitude. “ That’s the nicest thing I have ever heard! How did it occur to you?” 

His capacity for thinking was completely blocked by the sudden sensation of your body gently pushing against his. 

“ You are an unlimited source of inspiration, sweetheart… Wanna know something more I have been thinking?” 

Your eyes were back at him, head nodding affirmatively as you awaited for it. 

“ You know, cheerleaders are pretty girls doing acrobatics while wearing short skirts and guys in the crowd go insane about them while they cheer for their jock boyfriends… It’s basically a power display reinforcing the hierarchy… Do you promise me you are not going to hate me if I continue?” 

Your smile reassured him to close his point. 

“ The power those girls have in their short skirts, you have in that tight shirt, and you are ours. “ 

His glance was locked in your chest and the heat in your face became unbearable. 

“ Eds… My eyes are up here.” 

“ I made my choice…” 

The chuckling he caused made him aware you were enjoying the attention and that only encouraged him to escalate laying his head on your chest. 

“ This is the most comfy pillow I have ever tried, I could fall asleep like this.” 

His goofiness allowed him to get away with it, you were very pleased following his jokes and enjoying every instant of his praise. The most obvious outcome of your fortuitous talk was witnessing a great confidence boost in your attitude leading to unimaginable consequences. 

The whole table went dead silent when you saluted Chrissy Cunningham as she passed by in the cafeteria and she responded to you kindly. When confronted about it, you simply said you have been approaching her asking for advice because you were working on how to translate the moral principles of cheering to the club’s language and she didn’t mind indulging your respectfull curiosity. 

[lara-cairncross]

Heey! First of all, I love your pixie au sm, I'm glad you're okay with us asking questions and stuff. I was a little unsure about asking

Anyway, I saw your last post with April and I had to ask, do you intend to show us what their first meeting was like? Like, have they known each other since April was a child? I suppose they were already that size since they were born that way, but what about April? Did she "kidnap" one of them like in the movie? If so, which one?

It would be so cute to see the others on a "rescue mission" for their brother. I was thinking about Donnie being the kidnapped one, maybe in a fight with Leo? Idk, but I would definitely love if Donnie and April had a moment together

I'm sorry for the long ask, hope it's okay :]

Happy to hear you love it 🥹🩵🩵

Uhhhh, eventually, yes! I would definitely like to write/draw out the boys' first meeting with April! I'm not sure how likely that'll be to actually happen, but I'd love to do it at some point :D

Yes, they've known each other since April was aboutttt eight maybe? And the boys were quite young for fairies too! I've changed D*sney Fairy canon a little bit by giving fairies more of an adolescent period, since I liked the idea of fairies being "raised" for a handful of years by the whole community until they learn the ins and outs of the world a bit more! Plus I wanted an excuse to draw the boys at slightly younger ages hehe

I'm not sure about the kidnapping arc, honestly? If it did happen, it would be a very short-lived affair lmao. The boys met April when they were still new enough to not really fear humans yet, so it wouldn't be much of a rescue mission-- more like, "Oh hey! You met a human!!! New friend?" from the other three turtles! They'd all think April was the coolest thing ever from the moment they met her :D

Donnie wouldn't be the one to be kidnapped, either. I was thinking Raph instead! He has a history of getting tangled up with a whole slew of dangerous animals because he finds every single one of them absolutely adorable-- I can imagine him doing the same when he sees April, and her accidentally "kidnapping" him because of her own fascination! Kind of a mutual big-sibling adoption process ❤️💚

[yokohamapound]

can i get hcs of dazai and fyodor with an s/o who has big boobs and gets insecure abt them like rly big boobs, i’m talking DD’s and up😭😭

FungusWitch: This is the slut who got me into BSD in the first place so you can all blame her. <;3

Hi there! Amulet here! FungusWitch very kindly offered to let me guest star as a writer on YP, since I gently bullied her into watching this show in the first place! That said, enjoy these! :D

Dazai Osamu

Listen. Let me tell you something. LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. Dazai Osamu loves all women, he flirts with basically any woman in his vicinity, young or old, tomboy or girly girl. He has a great appreciation for all ladies of any shape and size.

That being said, Dazai loves a pair of calcium cannons. The way they strain against your shirt when you try to button one up, the jiggle when you sit down, how when you get sweaty from a workout or step out of shower/bath and water trickles down your clavicle and disappears down the glorious valley of your tits...

So when he picks up on your insecurity about your boobs, whether that’s how you always avoid low cut tops, or cover yourself with your arms when you’re feeling scrutinised, he’s floored. How could you think there was anything wrong with yourself when he spends so much of his time thinking about drowning in them tiddies?

Needless to say, Dazai wastes no time in assuring you that you have nothing to be ashamed of - your breasts are wonderful, the more of them the better, and he makes sure to lavish lots and lots of attention on them. Especially during sex.

Oh, the sex. Foreplay with Dazai is already a drawn-out affair because he loves watching his lover fall to pieces, to strip away each layer between you (both physical and mental), but once he hones in that there’s something about yourself you don’t love as much as he does?

Oh, it’s ON.

He buys (i.e: steals) you clothes that emphasizes your chest and begs you to try them on in the comfort of your bedroom. He hoots and hollers like you’re walking down the catwalk in Paris and eventually you gain enough confidence to wear more revealing tops in public - Dazai’s like your one-man cheerleading section.

Also he likes to wedge his hand down there when his fingers are cold. Feel free to punch him.

Not to mention, if anybody gives you shit about how big your breasts are, Dazai will pop up like a phantom, the shine leaving his eyes as he looms over them, exuding malice even as he smiles.

“Hm? Did you have something to say to her? Why don’t you speak a little louder - I don’t think I quite heard you.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor canonically likes pretty people, so if he’s with you he probably doesn’t especially care what size your breasts are.

But make no mistake, he likes them. He tends to run rather cold thanks to his anemia, so being able to warm his hands up by cupping your deliciously large, soft breasts appeals to him greatly. Plus it amuses him when you yelp because of how chilly his hands are. (Do not try to punch him - unlike Dazai, Fyodor will punish you~)

Also unlike Dazai, he will pick up on your insecurities easily because he isn’t shamelessly drooling over the sight of your tits quite so much. He’s very good at reading people’s body language and planning for what they do next, so the way you always hunch forwards like you’re trying to hide yourself, the way you rub your back and wince...it’s clear as day.

He doesn’t like his beloved speaking negatively about herself, so he’ll lightly scold you when he hears you complaining about your breast size and wishing they were smaller.

“Nonsense, myshka. They are a part of you, da? Then surely they are just as worthy as your care and praise.”

He likes how womanly having such big breasts make you look, especially the contrasts between his thin, lean body and yours. He likes to rest his head on them after a long day of malicious scheming to purge the world of sinners. You may run your fingers through his hair if he does this - it’s one of the few times he takes his ushanka off.

 Unlike Dazai, he won’t try to completely cure your insecurity, because he isn’t your therapist and he likes his lovers to have a little vulnerability to exploit. Even if Fyodor adores you, he also adores his mind games too.

But he does put in some work to have you accept your body. He likes to show you off when he gets the chance, buys you fabulous outfits that shows off your figure and that includes your breasts. He’ll never indulge your requests for a high neckline - it seems mean but it’s a brand of tough love. He believes in a little short-term discomfort if it leads to long-term satisfaction.

Speaking of satisfaction, he too will lavish attention on your breasts during sex. He especially loves to leave little bite marks and hickies on your boobs and your nipples will be tender and overstimulated by the time he’s had his fine.

Oh, and nobody ever breathes a word about your bust size to your face - they just need one look at Fyodor’s cold, violet eyes and feel the icy claws of terror clamp around them.

If that ain’t a confidence booster, I don’t know what is. <3

[blessedbucky]

Spoilers for the Suguru ending of my "choose your own ending" story! This is a special treat since Tumblr has helped get the story up to almost 900 hits! I'm so grateful for you all that I'm dishing out some porn! I might post Satoru and Nanami, if anyone is interested. Also, it's Suguru's birthday and he deserves a happy fucking ending, damn it!

warnings: it's porn, canon suguru so he's got his cult, lil' bit of self-consciousness while a plus-size girlie rides it, breeding kink (is it truly a taylor fic if that's not in there), suguru getting off on his normally chill waifu getting jealous

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Seriously?! What’s gotten into you?!”

“Your dick, if you’re amendable to that, my lord husband.” The title is something you’ve never used with him before. You feel his dick twitch in his pants, so he obviously likes it. “Then, your come. I’d really like lots of that.” You stretch out, playing with the belt of your fancy yukata but not completely tugging it free yet. You’re feeling a little high off seeing him so flustered and red. “Can I have some now?”

Suguru sputters, “Here?!”

“What’s got you acting like such a virgin? Haven’t we done nastier shit?”

He scrubs a hand across his face, growling in frustration. “It’s not about the act. It’s the location. This is where I meet with all the monkeys that follow me. I’m already going to struggle to keep a straight face as it is, hearing you talk like that.” And yet…the hands that he’d put on your thick thighs to support you slowly inch up. “I have an image that I have to maintain when I’m here. Me daydreaming about all the come that’ll be dripping out of you on this very floor won’t exactly help with that.”

“Pick a different room, then.” You’re pouting, you know. Then, because you can be just as manipulative as him, you offer, “I can ride you.” You finally tug the belt of your yukata away. It loosens, not completely falling away, but the front of it pops open enough to give a tantalizing view of the valley of your breasts. “Suguru,” you whine playfully. You think you can physically see his brain stuttering to a stop, melting, and just straight up leaking out of his ears. “My pussy feels really empty right now. Aren’t you going to help me with that?”

“You are the fucking worst,” Suguru snarls before he’s ripping at your yukata.

You have to admit that this position isn’t exactly a favorite. It’s being done with Suguru, and that simple fact alone means that you love any position. And while you’re admitting things, this is one of the best for getting deep. Depth is a craving of yours, easier to handle than underused nerves firing off. So, seriously, you’re not complaining. There are some other positions that you prefer more, is all.

But Suguru fucking loves it.

You know why. He’s told you as much. It puts you and the body that he adores so much on full display. These days, you are…a little bit better about accepting your body. You can’t hate it as much anymore. That said, you think you’re allowed to feel awkward when it’s just…jiggling so much. There’s no different way to position yourself, no way to somewhat hide it—every move makes every single thing jiggle.

But…

Fuck it.

You’ll put on a show.

Tilting back, you reach around to brace yourself on his knees. The place where you two are connected is clear, his thick cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy. His hands are out of reach now, so you pick up where he left off with one of yours, pinching at your nipple. It’s harder to move fast this way, but you’re grinding down, trying to get him deeper, deeper, deeper. All your muscles are burning, trying to hold and lift yourself up enough to slam back down.

That familiar heat is building in your gut. If you fall over the edge right now, he’s sure to follow right after. “I—ah!” Words, words, words. “Ugh, why are you so sexy, Suguru?” You slam down on him, body rippling all over. If you move any more, you are going to lose this train of thought. “You drive me nuts. Just make me forget everything. I needed to tell you that I got so busy that I forgot to take it yesterday and today.” You huff. “It probably won’t take, but…if you don’t want to take the risk…just…just pull out, okay?”

Suguru barks out a hoarse laugh. “And again, I say, you’re really just the fucking worst.” He’s reaching out, gripping your wrists, hauling you down so your chests thump together. “Do you know what a menace you’ve been today, hmm?” You’re cradled against him while he rolls over to get you on your back. “Greeting me at the door like that—like my perfect little wife. The way you terrorized that woman. What was it, my love? Hmm? It wasn’t only the tea, I know. Did she look at me the wrong way? You looked like you wanted to claw her eyes out.”

“Don’t use the past tense—ah!” This is your favorite way to do it. To have his massive body blanketing yours, blocking out the entire world. “I actually thought about slipping some poison in her stupid fucking tea.” That feral thing inside him is awake now, his own eyes crazed as he tries to mark out a spot inside your body for himself.

Suguru’s breath is hot on the shell of your ear. “You have tested my patience and restraint today. Doing all you’ve done like you didn’t plan on seducing me. You beg me so beautifully for my seed and now you want me to think twice?” You dig your nails in the meat of his ass and lock your ankles around his, your body desperate to keep him inside you. Every snap of his hips makes you cry out. “You’ll get it. You’ll get as much as I can stuff in this lovely pussy.”

“Please, please, please—”

Suguru’s hand snakes up, draping loosely around your throat. “You better not spill a fucking drop,” he warns huskily. “Or else you’ll be the one licking it up off the floor. I won’t take the chance of some filthy monkey prostrating themselves to me tasting my love for you.”

[sugarakis-p2]

Date with a devil

You finally give the man-child from your online game streaming team a chance to buy you a drink. Just when the date from hell is going well, he kidnaps you and uses your body mercilessly. Leaving your head spinning, your heart and nether aching for more.

Warning: Non-Con, Shigaraki Tomura x plus size Reader, Bondage and Discipline, Rope Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Kidnapping, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Vag Fingering, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Size Kink, Large Cock, Large Breasts, Drinking, Cussing, Light BDSM

You nervously fidget as you wait for your date to arrive.

You sigh, grab your purse, getting up to leave for the sixth time that night. You were already feeling iffy about this date, to begin with. You met him on a game chat. He was polite at first. Overly polite and well-spoken. You thought he might be a dad in his forties. Then later, he started with the serious game lingo. Soon he was a regular on your channel, finding the best gear and creating some of your most popular content when he threw his ominous tantrums. Sometimes they are aimed at you when he wants to be the lead on missions, and you make the call to have some of the other content creators get footage.

A year of flirting later, he had finally asked you out for a drink. But this was Tenfingerdeathpunch. He wasn't smooth, and he definitely wasn't pleasant. It had been a while since you went on a date. You gained weight as you got older and are an American. Men weren't beating down your door, and he was a lot more brazen when you two were alone. Flirting so hard the thought of it makes you blush. He sends you pictures of his torso. Each one has been steadily creeping lower and lower. You both always wore masks when it was video feed. Only he also distorted his voice and created a fake background. You chuckle to yourself when you remember the time a meme was made from one of his tantrums using an old cartoon character called Skeletor. We wore that mask quite often. Honestly, it has paid the bills more than once. It also showed he had a sense of humor.

Ten was also creepy, threatening, and sounded like a little incel man baby. You didn't ask for those pics. He sent them to you because you lost your cool and started insulting his appearance and anything else you could think of that would hurt. You were not expecting a pic of his pretty abdomen, and the tip of the outline of what you have to assume is a monster cock. Ten, who could not read a room, immediately caught onto your eep.

"Oh, you like it?" You could hear his smirk.

"No, I don't. Shut up. I'm going to have to cut all this footage. Neither of us looks good," you sneered.

"That's not true. You think I look good," Ten mocked. You hung up on him. Since then, he has been hinting at things but asked genuinely a few days ago. You look in the mirror at the back of the bar and knaw at your lips in worry. Make that you gained a lot of weight. Your chest is so big you have only seen the tops your toes for years now, and they are brushing the tabletop. This little round booth is not doing you any favors, you take up most of the space, and it will be too intimate. You both have yet to see each other. You can still make a getaway.

"Toughgirlsheart?" A voice rasped. You look up to see a slender young man with light blue hair shadowing his bright red smoldering eyes, surrounded by scars and scratch marks. Same with his neck, his lips dry and cracked. His clothes are clean but a bit ill-fitting and ragged at the edges. You instantly know why he only sent you a pic of his shirtless torso. You're not going to lie. The scars are jarring when you first see them. But he has a nice body. Your cheeks heat when you combine that mental picture of his abs with his handsome face hidden under the scars.

"Y-yeah. Ten?" You answer. A grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You are even prettier than I imagined. Let me buy you a drink," Ten said sweetly, raising his hand to call the bartender over, while staring intensely at your chest and lips. You narrow your eyes.

"Brazen as ever, Ten," You say, rolling your eyes.

"Two six fingers of Pappy's on the rocks," he ordered. The bartender paled, taking in Ten's appearance and his ragged clothing.

"Sir, that is rather exspen-," The bartender said when Ten sighed and pulled out a platinum diamond card. Oh my god, he was loaded. No wonder he was such a brat. The bartender goes to get your order while you snap your mouth shut.

"I get less picky the more I drink, but I'm not going to let our first date start with cheap trash," Ten said. Spoken like a true alcoholic. When your order came, There was no doubt in your mind. You both liked to drink, at least, his eyes never moving from your chest. 

"My face is up here" You hiss. His crimson eyes dart up and he smirks.

"I didn't think I had to play meek with you. Aren't you American? Aren't you made of tougher stuff? I was hoping you could handle me. Especially now that I can see how damn hot you are."  

He's so smug and sounded annoyed having to tell you how hot you are. You don't know if he's being sincere or sarcastic. You take a sip of your drink and decide to stay for the drink, at least.

"Oh, my god. This tastes like worship," you gasp in delight.

"Dark smooth smokey tones. The best part is it's 92 proof," Ten grinned. You start talking about drinks. He was charming. Talking about gaming for hours. Drinking the entire time. You deeply regretted sticking around later when you both started getting tipsy. But grateful you stuck to your gamer names. You don't want this brat doxxing you if he decides to throw a trantrum.

"Why did you put in Dreamcaster1995? He's weak when it comes to dungeons. He is much better with pvp. He's a pussy, and everything about him sucks," Ten snarled, scratching his neck. You rolled your head back in exasperated drunk melodramatics.

"This fucking guy," you slurred before pointing your finger at him. You really want to jab his demon eye out at this moment, so this will have to do, "Look. Of course, you would have been better."

"If you knew that, then why him?"

"Part of being a good leader is trusting your team and helping them too. It can't all be about you. Of course, you would have been better, but he has a channel and has helped me in the past. Plus, there is no doubt he would succeed, and watching people struggle a little makes for interesting content too. As a team member you have to help people achieve there goals. Seriously, did you invite me out to harp on this some more?" You lectured.

You are about to get up and leave when his hand shoots out, wrapping four fingers around your wrist. You want to slap him, stopping when you notice he is listening. You could see the gears locking into place as he came to an epiphany. A strange horrid grin splits his expression.

"You're right. You're so right. Please, don't go. Let me buy you another drink. I like talking to you. This is nice," Ten said, vulnerable. A single finger scratched at his neck. His eyes hooded with sincere gratitude. He looked beautiful. You let him pull you close. The side of your breasts presses against his hard chest as he whispers in your ear. Divulging a little secret to keep you there.

"I asked you out because no one else kept me on their team. You are always so patient and buttery sweet with a sharp tongue. A perfect balance of a leader and I admire that. I wanted to learn from you. That's the original reason. But now I really want to bury myself in you. I meant it all the way. I was hoping you could handle me," He rasped, licking your ear and pulling your hand to touch the monster bulge pressing against your thick thigh.

He was not being sarcastic earlier. If that cock was an indicator, he was definitely attracted to you. That thing was much bigger than you thought, and heat prickled over your skin as you lightly squeezed to be sure it was not his leg. How does he have enough blood for that thing? You wondered. A needy, sad part of you really wanted to feel him inside you. Your quirk made you crave, mostly alcohol but there's other ways to get drunk.

"You're disgusting," you breathe back. No real bite to your words, and he grinned.

"Yeah. But not to you. Your skin is hot and flushed with the liquor. That blush over your tits is driving me wild," Ten growled. Pinching on your nipple, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips. You don't know what it was, but you do not pull away. You let him grope and kiss until you notice people are watching and feel shy.

"Ten, this is embarrassing. People are staring," you mumble against his mouth. He pulled away abruptly.

" IS it that embarrassing to be seen with me?" He seethed.

"What? No. I just don't want strangers staring at me like I'm a fat slut," you snapped back. He really knew how to get under your skin.

"A. Fat. Slut," he repeated slowly and smiled, "You're so fucking cute. You are tempting me to do terrible things. I heard that the bigger the girl tighter the cunt. I don't have to be gentle with you, do I, tough girl?"

He pounced on you and left you breathless before you could answer his disgusting question. He is much quicker than you expected. His kisses quickly adapted to get better and more passionate. His tongue entwining and playing with yours like a controller. They are still wet but not drowning. You are about ready to take this back to your place. When some pro hero sidekicks walk in to relax after work. Ten pulls his hood up and leans in.

"So. How many do you think you can take?" He asks quietly. You laugh and then stop because he is not joking. Alright. At a certain point, it doesn't matter how big your cock is. Crazy murder talk should be a line. You are about to tell him it's getting late when his face hardens as he spots someone in the mirror, "I'm going to pay the bill. Stay here."

He darted away before you could even answer. Leaving you panting and fanning yourself. He's as aggressive as you thought he would be and you did not mind that part at all. Sometimes you wonder if your quirk makes you thirsty for more than liquor. You see, Ten is talking to some girl. A perky little blonde who looked like she was gushing at him. He said something to her and followed her outside. Your heart plummeted into your gut. Of course, he would run off with a young tiny thing. You finish your drink when he pops up in front of you. Startling you, damn he's fast you think.

"We're going now," he snapped.

"Yes, I am," you tell him, obviously irked, when he flashes you your car keys. The stern look in his eyes is all the warning you need. You follow him to your SUV. Heart racing that he stole your keys and knows which car is yours. A big red flag in your book. The thing had a giant sponsor sticker on the side. Ten would defiantly recognize it, but this was too much. You are making excuses for his bad behavior like this was normal. Your instincts told you that you did not want to get into a confined space with him.

"I can't drive. I'm too drunk," You say quickly as Ten opens your door.

"Tsk. We both know your quirk works best when you're drunk," he growls, tossing your keys at you. You catch them quickly. He knows your reflexes are inhumanly sharp the more you drink. It gives you the edge when gaming, "At least your body is honest. I would not ask for a ride. But an acquaintance is in trouble, and the person who dropped me off is not picking up his cell."

You must have lost your mind. You're really getting in the car with him. But it really sounded like his friend was in trouble. The kind that if you call the cops, they will only make it worse. He looked so sincere too. He's a spoiled rich boy who doesn't understand how many social rules he breaks or more likely doesn't care. You mentally write it off as another thing not to like about Ten. That doesn't mean you can't help or be better.

"You owe me," you huffed. You hop into the driver's seat. Ten already programmed an address into the gps. It's another private bar you never heard of. It looked very exclusive. You become embarrassed. You assumed he was running off with that girl or trying to get you help chase her. She must have come and told him about his sponsee, she looked way to young to drink. It's not unusual for heavy drinkers to be sponsors and sponsee's for alcoholics anonymous. There was a long awkward silence as you drove.

"So, you're stalking me?" you asked. Not fully sincere. Ten took it seriously and snorted.

"That's rich. You post everything on social media. Is it really stalking if you admire someone and they invite you? Besides, what if you were a serial killer? I have met plenty of crazy women," He rasped. You thought you heard a thud from the trunk. It was probably energy drinks tipping over, you think and forget about it. You want to forget about this whole date and ignored his snide comment.

"I watched you win the 55-boss tournament wasted. I noticed you never live stream, and you slurred in chat more than once. I also noticed your baggy hoodies stretched out in the chest, and you played better drunk. I had my suspicions about you. It's part of the reason why my acquaintances are in trouble. Do me a favor and wait for me. I need to grab someone from inside," he says cryptically. As you park with a sigh. This guy can send you on a roller coaster of hate and lust. It was getting exhausting. 

"Why did you throw my tits in the mix? Nevermind, that's just a Ten thing. You know you don't come off as the cuddliest. You're downright prickly. But you are also surprisingly caring, so I will wait," you say honestly. Ten is on you again, your reflexes are more than fast enough to block him, but your arms are weak, and you don't mind he is leaving you breathless. This was the best yet. You shuddered, and your toes curled.   

"I am glad you are being candid. I prefer the authentic you. You're fast but not strong. I like that. Don't look in the trunk," Ten purrs.

"What?" You asked his retreating figure as he went into the building. You suddenly had a creeping suspicion about the thud you heard earlier as more time passed. You check to see if there is anyone else around. Your heart is pounding as you step out and walk to the back suv. Ten had to be just messing with you. He wouldn't be crazy enough to put something in your trunk, would he? You pop the trunk to have a blonde, bubbly girl launch herself at you with a knife. She would have plunged that thing right into your eye if you hadn't dodged. It was damn close when she fell on you.

"You are so cute. I couldn't help myself. It's Tomura-kun's fault. He had to be so mysterious about his type. I see he likes them thick and busty, or he could have been boring and meant your personality. You really gave him a taste for fame. All he ever talks about is his headlines, meme's made from him, and this date he's going on with this adorable gamer girl," The blonde psycho giggles.

"Get off me!" You scream.

"Toga! Get off her. Kurogiri quickly. Charge your damn phone next time," Ten hissed.

"I was just keeping her from escaping," Toga whined.

You woke up in some strange room tied to a bed. Spread eagle. Some horrible man with half his face that looks like a scab is fondling your breast. You screamed, and he smiled. It sent a violent chill down your spine that you choked on your screams.

"Master. This is just rude. I know I asked to borrow your power. I'm grateful, but she is mine," Ten rasped.

"I wanted a little fun. It's so rare when I meet new people. I like buxom sweet girls." He grins to Ten and leans in to talk to you, "It is a very straightforward quirk. Betray me or any member of the League of Villains, and you will go boom." The scab said, showing you a video of that exact thing happening to people. You believe him. You believe him so much you burst into body-racking sobs.

"You can let the girl go to her new home. She won't be talking," All for one said, leaving with his travel life support. Ten waited and then shooed away the shady guy in the room. The man looked like he was made of clouds when he wisped away, leaving you with Ten. He cleaned your face and waited for you to stop crying.

"Breathe, baby. You're a tough girl, remember. I really was trying to help you. I didn't want you to meet Toga. She can be a bit obsessive and stabby. You inspired me, so I was trying to protect you. I was hoping I could trust you. You just had to go and be a bad girl, though. Right after we were having fun," He rasped with a glare. Reaching out his hand to untie you, his glare burned into you with an intensity that was more infuriating than anything he had done up until that point.

"You repulsive ghoul! Your sinister smile makes me sick. I know for certain that nobody enjoys being around a creep like you - least of all me," you sneered at him. He paused, pulled his hand back, and scratched at his neck.

"No. No. No. That was all you. You wanted me. You felt something for me. I know it. Quit denying it, or I'll make your body tell the truth once more. Your body was truthful. It's screaming out for me even now," he growled. He kissed you deep and roughly. Becoming frustrated when he didn't get a response. His nails tearing into his delicate pale flesh, "This worked before. I know it did."

"Not every lady gets a slobbering pussy from a little nipple play and a make-out session. The whole world isn't a hentai or eroge, creep," you scoffed. You wish you could kick him.

"Oh. If that's true, I can take it to the next level, right? After all, you were dishonest and disobeyed. All of this is really your fault. I was happy with some kissing. I was going to let you go if you had just followed a simple rule of trust. I would have taken my time with you and let things build slowly. A few more dates, more pvp. Allow you to get used to what I'm about to do to you. But you made this personal." His fingers playing with your panty line under your skirt. Your body betrays you with a pathetic squeal and jerks towards his fingers when he brushes your clit over your panties. You wished the world would open and swallow you as he grinned triumphantly.

"Your panties are soaked. Although it's grown cold. Let's see if I can get that slobbering pussy you mentioned," Ten chuckled. You shake your head violently back and forth. This was torturously good, and you didn't want to give Ten any more satisfaction.

"I'm sorry, Ten. You're right. I was being dishonest. Let's stop. You win," you moan. Struggling against your restraints.

"But your pussy wants my attention," Ten purrs, licking two of his fingers, pulling your panties aside, and shoving them knuckle deep. You groaned and bucked against him. Oh god, you are so embarrassed and humiliated by yourself.

"No. You are the worst!" You wail.

"Careful. All five fingers will turn you to dust. Mmm. So wet and warm." He rubs and twists his fingers inside your body, working them in and out, trying to unlock your secrets. Parting your lips to stare at all of you. You squeal and try to close your legs to him.

"No more. I came already! You win. Game over," you pant and plea. He pulled his eyes away from the slick fold to narrow his eyes.

"You really know how to piss me off. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. You are driving me insane. This pretty puss is blushing. This little bud it is hard and ripe for me to bite on. Your walls are gripping my fingers. Sucking me in like the greedy little slut you are for me. Oh, right, there is the spot. You got tighter and wetter. Right. Here," He smirked.

His fingers work harder on your sweet spot, making your back arch. Ten looks down at you with hunger in his eyes. His tongue traces a slow, sensual path up your inner thigh. He lightly parts your outer lips again, two fingers lightly pinching your clit and spreading again, making you shiver with anticipation. He buries his face between your legs, and his fingers slowly plunge into your body, heating your core as his tongue lathes over your clit.

"Fuck. I thought you might be tangy, but you smell like soap and taste like nothing. Did you prepare yourself for me before the date even started?" He chuckled.

"You gross me out," you gasp.

Ten fiercely nipped your clit for that, sending a spark of pleasure through your body. Your hips involuntarily buck against his face as Ten lightly sucks and kisses your clit, intensifying the pleasure coursing through you. Your breath quickens as the intensity of the sensations overwhelms you. He can feel your arousal intensifying with each passing second, and he moves his tongue in circles around your clit. His tongue flicks faster and faster, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy when he abruptly pulls away. Leaving you with no stimulation and feeling hollow inside. You whimper at the loss of his digits. Ten looms over you, his face glistening with your juices as he grins down, inches from your lips. You can hear his pants unzip. He wipes his face, his tongue slurping his fingers before it reaches between your legs. Tearing your panties away with one harsh jerk. You can feel him jerking his length over your throbbing crotch.  

"Now that is a slobbering pussy. You even managed to moisten my lips. But I gross you out. Maybe I should just stop here. What's with the sad look, tough girl? I thought I grossed you out. But it really looks like you want more. Isn't this like in those boy-love mangas that you read? Being tied up and giving control to a man that makes you feel good? If you are honest with me, I will give you this," he says, smacking the head of his cock against your clit. You jerk and whimper, a wet swack with each swat of that hot thick thing.

"You were stalking me. No one knows what I have hidden under my bed," you pout. His crimson eyes bore into you so intensely with an expression you could not read. It sent a shiver of fear down your spine.

"I had Toga gather information. She is very skilled at it. I didn't know the closer she got to you, the more she would want to kill you. I couldn't have that. We have been having some team bonding issues, and I didn't know that part about her quirk until later. You inspired me tonight, though. I invited you for a drink because I guessed right about your quirk. I originally tried to get you here, but you were not having that. See where being stubborn and defiant got you? If you had just given in and had been honest, none of this would have happened. Imagine my surprise when I saw you all dolled up, with a clean, freshly shaven pussy ready for me, considering how disgusting I am," he mocked.

"You really like hearing your own voice. Please, finish and let me go," This is the closest to begging you will do. None of this would have happened to your ass. Ten has always been the kind of guy that will do something fucked up and blame it on the victim. He saw a flicker of emotion cross your face, one that displeased him. His features hardened, and his gaze narrowed menacingly, causing you to stay silent and avert your eyes.

"Your right. I much rather hear your voice," He grinned wickedly. He shoves his face between your legs, pressing his lips to your swollen, shaved lips, exploring your most intimate places with an eagerness that speaks of a deep craving. Ten's tongue dances and swirls, savoring the sweet nectar of your pleasure like a connoisseur of the finest delicacies. His hands move up and down, caressing you with a passion that is both tender and intense. As his mouth devours your essence, his hunger for you intensifies, and you can feel the intensity of his pleasure in every fiber of your being.

Your body trembles as your orgasm builds and finally devastates you. Quivers run through your body as the crescendo of pleasure crests and crashes, leaving her breathless. Ecstasy shivers through your veins, and you can't help but scream out in joy. His tongue continues to tease you until your crying and horse from the intense bliss it's painful. He's completely sated, then he pulls away, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. He looks down at you with a satisfied smirk and contentment. You cry out in painful bliss, and surprise, he uses his thumbs to spread you open. His cock slipped from your tight wet hole. Hitting your clit, continues to rub himself over your hard nub, wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, driving you mad.

"Look at that little flower blossoming for me. I parted those petals nice and wide for me. I should have used three fingers; I'm almost four fingers wide. This might hurt you. My rosy little pussy is tight. You can handle it, though. Am I right, tough girl? Be honest," he hissed. Losing patience, he grasps your waist with one hand, gripping the head of his cock and pressing it harshly at your entrance, pushing his manhood firmly against your core. You gasp with pleasure as he presses in, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

"No. I can't. I can't handle it," you say truthfully and desperately. With one powerful thrust, you felt his searing heat fill you. You felt yourself being pushed to the brink of your limits, and the sensation was excruciatingly intense.

Ten groaned, folding over you as the pressure from your cunt caressed him. His lips crushed against yours, his grip on your waist tightening as his other hand gripped the back of your neck. He took your moans, each one boosting his ego more as pride swelled his chest. Being inside his tough girl was agonizing bliss for him too. You tried to raise herself, but the restraints kept you in place, and he kept thrusting, trying to bury himself deeper. His desire grew increasingly intense, and he growled in frustration as he pulled out. His eyes burned passionately, and he wanted nothing more than to stay inside and keep you close.

"Not yet," he said, his voice laced with desire. "Let's savor the moment. I really want to make you scream." He paused, then ran his tongue along his lower lip before giving her a knowing look. "Not me," he said, leaning in, taking your lower lip between his teeth in a gentle nibble.

"Please," you whimpered, desperately trying to move your hips, but his iron grip refused to let you go. You weren't sure if you were begging for more pain or pleasure, but you knew you had to try something. The thin straps of your dress snapped, and your bare breasts spilled free. His mouth immediately found your taunt nipple, his arousal-slicked hand reaching for his jacket pocket. You watched in horror as he pulled out your vibrator, the one you kept at home. What was he planning to do with it? He ruthlessly thrust the toy inside you, his mouth releasing your nipple with a wet pop. Your lips locked as teeth and tongues clashed against each other. You tried to turn your head from his kiss. Then you felt the sharp slap of his hand against the tender flesh of your cunt. Leaving a trail of burning pain to cool in the cold air. A warning growl in his throat, and you knew it was a warning not to push his buttons.

"I'm sorry…" You whispered against his lips, tracing his bottom lip with your tongue, "I just need you so badly. This is torture."

"Come on, tough girl; hold out for another twenty minutes. I need to stretch you out a little more," Ten growled, his voice low and tantalizing in your ear. His hands roamed your sides, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He settled between your legs, the heat radiating off him. Throwing his head back, Your muscles clenched over his hot length, the warmth of you pulling him into the deepest depths, drawing him in inch by inch.

"Fuck, you're still so tight," he groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Good girl. Take my cock. Not so tough now." He chuckled, pushing further until you felt like you'd be split in two.

"I wasn't tied up or had your cock inside me when I was being tough. Tough guy," you spat back. He responded with a sharp pinch to your nipple, causing you to yelp in pain. He did not like you talking back. His fingers trailed down your body, gripping and ripping your dress in two. The sound of fabric tearing was lost among the moans of pleasure that escaped your lips as he buried himself deep, to the hilt. His tongue pressed against your parted lips, and his hands roamed your body, making you squirm in fear. He moved his hips in a relentless rhythm, pushing you further and further until you were screaming in pleasure and stretched pain. He grips your thighs and drags his hands all over your body, making you squirm in fear from those hands. The dress was now nothing more than dust. You are left trembling with pleasure beneath him. It is confirmed he is op, and his quirk is deadly.  

"Did you ever touch yourself?" He whispered, his breath hot on your skin as wet kisses pressed over your collarbone. "Toga says you saved those pictures of this, he mocked, pulling his shirt off. A gasp escaped you as you were left speechless. His teeth teased the sensitive skin of your nipples before twining his action on the other. His gaze locked with yours, his eyes smoldering with an unspoken question. "Did you ever touch yourself?" He asked again, his voice husky.

"You know I did..." your moans intensified as he increased his pace. His hands traveled up and down your body, exploring each of your curves. His thrusts became harder and faster as you felt your body trembling with pleasure. You through your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, as you felt the waves of pleasure wash over you.

He let out a deep groan, his grip on you tightening as he moved faster and faster. His thrusts sent shock waves of pleasure through you, and you could feel the pressure building up inside you. You screamed his name, and he growled, "Good girl. Finally, honest."

He released the restraints with a single touch, pulling you up to him and wrapping his arms around your body. You gasped as he ran his hands up your sides, your skin tingling with anticipation.

"Can we keep my hands tied?" you asked, a hint of embarrassment in your voice.

He chuckled and nodded, a devious glint in his eyes. Taking the restraints, he tied your hands behind your back and pulled you close.

"You are mine," he growled, his breath hot on your skin. "Fuck me. Ride me hard, or I will be harsh with a new punishment."

He held you at the waist and the back of your neck, helping you to move faster and faster as you rode him. The sensation was intense, a pleasure that threatened to consume you entirely. You moaned and gasped as he drove you higher and higher, the tightness of the restraints intensifying the pleasure. Your pleasure was so intense that you couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy as he leaned back and drove up into you.

The showers of slippery suds, hands covering your breasts with a teasing peak of skin underneath. The dirty phone calls leaving little to the imagination, the small sounds of Ten believing he's on mute all led up to this moment. You came so hard on him he stopped and gritted his teeth in pain. You felt your body quiver and tremble as he pounded you, and you felt a wave of pleasure so intense it almost knocked you out.

He forced you back onto the bed, a menacing look in his eyes. He flipped you over. His hand pressing down at the back of your head, he drove himself into you, his other hand gripping your tied wrists. You felt the force of each thrust as he pounded you from behind. You screamed out his name as you felt yourself come undone, and he looked down at you with a satisfied grin. His soft hair clung to his sweating flesh, chest heaving as warmth spread deep inside you. He slowly moved in and out of you, drawing out his own pleasure, and you could feel the intensity of the desire slowly slipping away.

Exhausted and trembling, you collapsed onto the bed, and he kissed you softly on the forehead. He unties you gently, his touch surprisingly tender. He draws you into an embrace and holds you close, his body warm against yours. You never expected such tenderness from him after the sex, but you can't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety in his arms. He kisses your forehead and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, and you can't help but feel a rush of emotion. He may not seem like the type of guy to show such affection, but here he is, loving and caring, holding you close. Pulling out his phone to take pictures of you covered in  his  sweat and cum. Posing with you like a creep. You would call him that, but he fucked you stupid, and you need a break.

The smoky guy you assume is Kurogiri comes in with two glasses and a craft of juice. You squeal and try to cover your cum dripping pussy. Ten, however, didn't bother to cover up at all.

"Um, thank you," You squeaked to Kurogiri.

“Get out,” Ten snarled at Kurogiri.

Kurogiri bowed and quickly left the room, leaving behind a stack of warm, moist towels and two fluffy robes. You quickly grabbed one of the robes and covered yourself, blushing furiously.

"Um, thank you," You said, embarrassed.

Ten simply nodded in response, and you both began to dry off. He grabs a towel and yanks the robe away from you. He starts to clean your body. You squeak in fear and shrink from his touch. He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"You don't have to fear me," he snarled. "I know you won't turn on us. Not a word of this will ever cross your lips. You're going to be an invaluable asset. A real prime piece. I was always going to take you and use you. But you were such a brat I had to break you for your own good."

"Really?" You ask. Not daring to disobey as he pulls you in to continue to clean you up.

He stared at you with a crazed gleam in his eye, his voice a low growl. "Yeah. I admired your skills," he said, his lips curling into a sinister smirk. "You had a large following and helped gain me some anonymous notoriety." His eyes glinted with a maniacal intensity. "I was going to kidnap you and have you spread my message." He paused, a twisted grin spreading across his face. You cock your head at him.

"What you are saying is that you will give a place with free rent, electricity, wi-fi, and garbage removal to make some propaganda?" you asked.

"That was the idea. But now I might just keep screwing you. I will destroy the hero society one way or another," He chuckled. Laying back to play with your hair.

"No," you say firmly. "Sign me up for kidnapping. I'm dead serious. The world out there is harsh. Our government makes us feel like failures for being unable to afford their outrageous housing costs. I used to be able to play games for fun, but the day I started making it a job, it stopped being enjoyable. I spend so many hours editing and creating content just to pay the rent. My quirk will kill me if I keep having to use it to entertain others. So, if all I have to do is upload a 5-minute propaganda video each day in exchange for a roof over my head, then use me as much as you need. Ten, this is the only warning I'm going to give you. When you cross that line, it will become a job; destruction might lose its fun. When that happens, I wouldn't mind maybe dating. Doing it slowly, like you said."

He gazed intently at you, his eyes sparkling with emotion. His lips curled into a tender smile. His gaze was so intense it was almost tangible. You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks, and his words rang in your ears, "I can feel my heart already falling for you. By the way, call me Tomura."

You  are standing in the bedroom, waiting for him, heart racing as you hear his footsteps coming closer. He stopped behind you, and I felt his strong hands gripping my hips tightly. His breath was hot on my neck as he leaned in and whispered, "You ready for this?"

You could only nod, unable to find the words to express your anticipation.

He started to move, pushing you down onto the bed. Letting out a gasp as he pressed his body against yours, his hardness pressing into you. He started to thrust, his movements becoming more and more forceful. You could feel your legs shake and tremble beneath him as he pushed harder and harder.

Your breathing becomes ragged and erratic as he continues, and you feel your body going limp. Lightheaded and drooling, your senses spun as he continued to fuck you roughly. Feeling your orgasm building, and just as it was about to crest, your whole body rocking in ecstasy, laying there, panting and trembling, trying to catch your breath. I had never felt so alive and so satisfied before. Tomura stopped and rolled off of you.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You screamed as men burst in and snatched you from your comfy bed. Your heart raced in fear as you realized this wasn't the hero. It had to be the cops. You started to get nervous when Tomura disappeared after the yakuza thing. You had been discussing a lot of quirk singularity conspiracy theories and the Meta liberation message, touching on the heteromorph plight. You had plenty of heteromorph friends, but you never asked them what horrible things they had to deal with daily. You started to feel good about what you were doing for rent. You had no idea what this could be, but you had a sinking feeling it was the nutty eugenics religion.

They brought you before a skinny man. The man's voice was filled with contempt as he spoke, "You'll be working directly under me for the social media saturation. We are looking for young males and a heteromorph demographic. I've seen some of your work, and I must say, I was only mildly disappointed. He said he wanted to see you."

"He?"

"Yes, him," the thin man spat. "The leader. The boss. The man, I'm sure, only has malicious and depraved intentions for you. Brace yourself. Take her to him. The rest of us have real work to do."

Your heart raced as the door slammed shut behind you. You were thrust into a dark and mysterious chamber, the only sound of swords clashing and ringing off the walls. In the corner, you could make out the silhouette of a pale man in a bed. At the same time, a scaly, reptilian figure shouted for healing spells. You get closer to get a better look at the guy in the bed.

"Ten?" You ask timidly. Those red eyes land on you. A grin splits his mouth in two. Before you can escape, he grabs you and pulls you down to the bed, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate kiss. You can feel the intensity of his embrace, and you know you won't be leaving anytime soon.

"My tough girl," he purrs. Tomura's gaze was intense as he slowly moved his hands over your body, making your clothes turn to dust. He pulled you closer and ravished you before you could even say hello.

"Tomura!" you gasped in surprise as he kissed you hungrily.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer," he said before continuing his passionate assault.

Your skin felt alive as his hands explored your body, and you soon forgot everything else.

"I should probably go," Spinner said with a rosy blush.

Tomura paused for a moment, and you both smiled. "This is my friend Spinner. Spinner, this is my girlfriend. She'll be doing your interview later. Right now, I'm going to fuck her brains out," Tomura mumbled around your nipple.

You covered your face and said it was nice to meet him, then Tomura resumed his passionate onslaught. You knew you'd never forget this moment. Ten grabbed your face and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. His tongue explored your mouth hungrily as if he hadn't tasted you in years. He pulled away, and you felt his hardness pressing against your lips, and you knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him. His salty flavor invades your mouth. He slowly pushed himself inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his thick girth filling your throat completely. You felt yourself start to tremble, and he held you tighter, his hands gripping your head as he thrust into you. He bucked his hips harder and faster, pushing you to the brink as he fucked your throat. You cried out in ecstasy as he drove deeper and deeper down your throat. He pulled away, his eyes burning with desire.

"Open wide," he said, his voice low and commanding. Finally, he let out a deep groan and slowed his movements. Shooting his hot load on your tongue. He reached around and snapped several pictures as he moved, capturing the moment's intensity before he let you swallow. You collapsed into his arms, exhausted and full.

"Be honest. That don't look in the trunk was a set up so you could doe this?" You asked. A knowing grin quirked his face.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "I missed you so much. I'm not going to let you go. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk. I want to give you a pearl necklace."

You smiled up at him. He was as lewd and brazen as ever.

"I missed you too," you grinned.