#that's the one that slaps the hardest

[epicqtefail]

the music when you run with Alice still gives me goosebumps

[possamble]

I'm not allowed to be on social media for more than two seconds today but I just wanted to say that Laios will absolutely have his own reaction to all this as someone who would die for Falin but has also imprinted on Marcille as his Emotional Support Comphet White Girl Not-Girlfriend along the way

[olive-riggzey]

Listen, you CANNOT tell me that they didn’t meet at least ONCE

Please accept my headcanon that Rondo just keeps growing out his hair to wear it like Sazantos, thank you

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan has someone she'd like to impress.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,893. Rating: all audiences, bar a few swears.)

Chapter 42: The Ball

“Pre-senting..!”

The stage was set, the Great Hall adorned in its finest. A band played upon the dais, the floor before them awaiting its dancers. Every candle was lit, every banner unfurled—each one proudly displaying the sigil of the Inquisition.

This was their party. People of all ranks were in attendance. Advisors and dignitaries, to soldiers and mages. All, except for four.

The door thundered open. A chamberlain cried their names:

“Lady Erridge of West Coldon, Lady Samient of Samient, Baroness Touledy of Val Misrenne..!”

The Ladies strode in, none finer than they. Lady Erridge wore her pinkest, most ruffliest dress yet; Lady Samient wore her tightest, of dark, snakish leather; the Baroness wore her most glamorous, a gown in passionate red—with mahogany cane to match, of course.

“...and Lady Trevelyan, of Ostwick!”

Trevelyan emerged, last of all. The ballgown she wore? Unrecognisable.

The black brocade was gone, the lace ripped from its seams with wicked delight. All that remained was perfect canvas of purest navy, onto which it could be painted—with shining, silvery thread.

Her mother would’ve fumed at the very idea. But what good was learning embroidery, if one did not use it in defiance?

Each Lady had taken up a quadrant of her own, yet the stitches they sewed were all the same: dozens upon dozens of tiny, shimmering, stars.

Trevelyan sparkled with every step. Diamonds glittered around her neck, lent eagerly by the Baroness. Every candle’s flame glistened upon her.

Even the night sky could not compare.

Were it not for the band, the room would have been stunned to silence. Whispers of admiration made their circuit. Trevelyan joined the other Ladies, all of them frightfully pleased with their handiwork—and quite rightly, too.

“So this is what you were all up to yesterday?” asked the arriving Lady Orroat—herself in fine doublet and breeches—laying her eyes upon the dress for the very first time. “It’s beautiful!”

A look of panic came over Lady Erridge. “I did those ones!” she blurted, her pointing finger at some collection of stars.

The Baroness laughed at such a display. “Yes, Lady Erridge is indeed a fine seamstress.”

“Oh, certainly,” Orroat agreed, placing a kiss upon her seamstress’ hand, quelling her worry in an instant. “Always has been.”

Amused, Lady Samient whispered to Trevelyan: “Seems her Ladyship has reversed her position on your knowing Lady Orroat.”

Trevelyan giggled. “Good. For I could hardly say we should make such as handsome couple as they.”

The Ladies settled, the partygoers returned to business—yet the music that accompanied their conversation furrowed into quiet. Attention was drawn to the dais from whence it had come, as the ever-elegant Lady Montilyet took her place upon it.

“Friends of the Inquisition!” she called. “Thank you for coming. I do not wish to keep you from your pleasures, so this will not be long—but, if you shall indulge me, I would like to say a fond farewell, to some of our departing guests.”

She raised a glass in the direction of the Ladies, and sang their praises each.

Lady Erridge and Lady Orroat were wished all the best, for the wedding that was to come, and for the future of their Coldon, reunited by love. They took each other’s hands, met one another’s doting gaze, and held tight.

The Baroness was sent hope, for a swift victory in Val Misrenne—but also admiration. She had more than proven why she was capable of defying the Chantry so: a steadfast determination, that they should all aspire to. With a smile, the Baroness bowed.

Lady Samient’s message was subtle. A safe journey home, all she was promised—but those who knew, knew what that meant. Absent-minded, the Lady reached for and toyed with the pendant at her neck, a twisting halla’s horn.

“Of course,” Montilyet continued, “one of our guests is to remain. Gathered friends, may I please introduce to you our new Arcanist”—she held her glass high—“Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick!”

Applause went up, echoing off the walls, filling the room with joy. Trevelyan laughed in delight, and caught glimpses of her friends amongst the rabble. Varric’s arms flew up; somewhere, Dorian hollered; even Sera clapped—though none, it seemed, were as enthusiastic as Dagna herself!

“Tonight, we celebrate!” Montilyet declared. “So please, enjoy!”

The band launched into triumphant fanfare; good humour and good company were the orders of the evening. The Ladies, all aflutter, went about these goals with giddiness and verve.

“Won’t you come dance?” asked Lady Erridge, having already roped her fiancee into it.

Trevelyan smiled, but shook her head. “Later,” she told her. “There’s someone I wish to see, first.”

Lady Samient picked up her slack. “Come, Lady Erridge!” she offered, instead. “I’ll dance with you.”

Appeased, Lady Erridge escorted her away. Trevelyan was left to withdraw from the dancefloor, and wander towards the more stationary attendees. Her eyes flitted from person to person, searching for one in particular.

A hand caught her shoulder. The Baroness, apparently having already procured a drink, leant over, and tilted it forward.

“There,” she whispered.

The crowd parted, as if by her will. True to her word, at the other end of the room, was stood precisely the man Trevelyan had been looking for.

Commander.

Maker, he had only become more handsome the longer she had known him. That rough-hewn jaw of his, a dishevelment of stubble upon it; the subtle waves in his hair, hints of his rebellious curls; those dimples upon his cheeks—the thumb-prints of the divine, left where the Maker’s scultping hand had gone astray.

And his weary eyes, whose gentle gaze found her, and drew her closer.

Trevelyan admired, as she approached, the coincidence of the navy blue doublet that Lady Montilyet had undoubtedly advised him to wear. Hm. She liked him better in red. Suited him more, perhaps.

Though truly, it mattered little. There was nothing that could dull the shine of him; true gold, after all, did never rust.

He straightened to greet her, a little smile pulling at his mouth. And he would have greeted her, perhaps warmly, perhaps sweetly—had a scout, uniformed and on duty, not appeared at his side.

Ah, fuck.

They whispered something to him, below the hubbub that came back into focus. Trevelyan crept nearer, but heard nothing of the Commander’s reply. Yet, when the he looked to her again, his smile was gone.

“Arcanist,” he said, with a bow. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. Urgent business.”

Bloody typical.

“Of course,” she told him, magnanimously. “Duty calls.”

“At inconvenient times,” he added.

“No duty is ever convenient.”

That seemed to amuse him, at least. “True. I will try to return soon,” he told her. “I assure you.”

“Yes, Commander.”

She curtsied to him, and allowed him to depart. The scout had lingered by the rotunda door. The Commander followed them through.

Gone.

Trevelyan looked down at her pretty, sparkly skirt, and fluffed it up, pointlessly. Not quite the moment she’d been hoping for.

Oh, well. She would have plenty of time for moments with him in the coming days. If he didn’t get called away by something or other during those, too.

Stowing her frustration, Trevelyan returned to the party. There was plenty more to do, besides.

She watched the Ladies dance, and clapped along. She saw Dagna, who was endlessly excited for the things to come. She met with Lady Montilyet, and spoke of her new quarters (ready tomorrow)! And she found Dorian, who was, as always, terribly good conversation.

Yet still no Commander.

The noise of the band and the chatter and the stomps of the dancing were beginning to blur in her brain. Dorian noted her change in temperament, as she peered out of the door to the garden. No. Too many in attendance; the party had spilled out into it. It was no less busy out there than it was in here.

“Try up there,” Dorian suggested, indicating the mezzanine above. It seemed Sera had been banned from it today, as no there was no skulking to be seen. “It has a balcony, if you need some air.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan. She’d had little cause to ever stray up there before—but now seemed as good a reason as any. “I shall see you later.”

Dorian waved, off to see the Baroness. Trevelyan found her way around the dancefloor, and escaped up the stairs.

The moment she reached their peak, already was she calmer. Even mere feet above the maelstrom, the music came quieter, and the conversation mere ambience. Better.

Her attention turned to the mezzanine. It was furnished well for a somewhat hidden space, with a luxurious chaise and portraits of figures Trevelyan did not quite recognise. The candleabrum here were not lit, leaving all illumination to that of the moons, who trickled their glow through a pair of glass doors—beyond which, as promised, was a balcony.

But Trevelyan felt at ease enough to stay inside for now; and indeed, she found the view of the party below to be quite of interest. The dancers, from above, weaved such wonderful patterns. Outfits, in all colours, were arrayed like a painter’s palette. She could watch, as those she knew flitted from one group, to another. An enjoyable pict—

The rotunda door opened, drawing her eye. The Commander. He strode into the party with such determination, it was as if it did not even exist around him. Trevelyan followed his path, as it led him, direct, to the Baroness.

They moved to the side. He whispered something. Urgent business? Oh, no.

But the Baroness smiled. Wider and wider. She asked him something; he nodded. She placed a hand over her heart, and sighed. Trevelyan did the same.

She took a step back, from the barrier. If the news they shared was what she hoped, then she was rather glad she hadn’t kicked up a fuss at his departure. Because if it was what she hoped, then it would be well worth it.

She had to see the Baroness.

And she would have, if not for the feet hurrying up the stairs. The Baroness? No cane. Then—!

The Commander appeared at the landing, startling himself as much as he startled her. Determination abandoning him in an instant, he padded onto the mezzanine, and did his best to bow.

“Arcanist,” he said. “Forgive me, Dorian told me you were here.”

Crafty bastard. Still, she asked, “Is everything all right, Commander? Your urgent business?”

He smiled—such a relieving smile—and nodded. “Yes. The Inquisitor has reported in.” She could hardly believe his next words: “We have victory. Val Misrenne is safe.”

As she’d hoped. Better, even. Trevelyan brought a hand to her mouth, a beaming smile beneath it. She shook her head, out of sheer incredulity. By Andraste. She could not fathom how dear Touledy felt.

“Thank the Maker,” she breathed. “Or, I suppose—thank you, Commander.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think it is the Inquisitor and the Baroness’ forces who should have the credit of it.”

“Very true. Though your involvement is still very much appreciated.”

Compliments did not seem to sit well within him; he kept his gaze askance, mouth struggling to form a reply. Awkwardness prevailed, ‘til his fortune changed, and his eyes chanced upon the balcony doors.

“Forgive me, I didn’t meant to disturb you—her Ladyship, the Baroness, thought you should know. You were… headed outside?”

Trevelyan followed his gaze. She smiled. “Preferably not alone.”

“Oh. I could—”

Trevelyan stepped for the doors; he followed. They opened—a portal—to the tranquil night beyond.

The stars shone in greeting. Trevelyan curtsied; an acknowledgement of their mutual beauty. She found relaxation upon the finely-carved stone of the balcony balustrade, and felt the Commander’s presence, a warmth in the absence of the sun, as he came to rest beside her.

“It’s... a nice night,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied, “and a lovely view.”

The entire courtyard was laid out before them, from the tavern—as lively as the party they’d left behind—to the stables—quiet, at this time of day. Moonlit stone, punctuated by glowing torchlight. Beautiful, truly.

Yet it seemed the Commander’s focus was elsewhere, for his hand fumbled within his jacket.

“I, ah, have something,” he told her, “that I believe is yours.”

At last, he seemed to locate it, and freed it from its concealment. White cloth, that flashed in the moonlight. Embroidered, with leaves Trevelyan recognised.

It was far cleaner than the last time she’d seen it.

Trevelyan smiled. The little napkin slipped pleasantly from his fingers, and into her own. She noted the warmth of his proximity, still lingering within the weave, and the sweet, earthy scent that had been left by his possession.

“Technically,” she teased, “I believe it is Lady Montilyet’s.”

“I hardly think she’ll miss it.”

“I certainly hope so.” She tucked it away—safe. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Thank you for the use of it,” he said. “Though, speaking of Lady Montilyet, I had hoped to say—you took the offer... to become Arcanist.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

The Commander stammered, “For you—I mean. I mean, I am glad. That—despite how you came to be here—you have found enough reason to stay.”

Trevelyan laughed a little. It seemed as though he had a mountain to climb whenever they spoke. She appreciated his attempt to scale the peak regardless.

“Plenty of reasons,” she told him. “I know that I ought to have left, and truly have started my life afresh… but that would have been dishonest, to what I truly want.”

“May I ask… what is it?”

“What?”

The Commander almost met her eye. “That you… want?”

She bit back the smile that threatened to betray her. The night air wasn’t cold, but she hid goose-bumps upon her skin. “Well… I suppose there is one thing—”

Feet clattered up the stairs. Trevelyan stopped herself, turning just in time to see, stumbling into the doorway, a giddy Lady Erridge.

“Lady Trevelyan!” she called. “Oh, Commander, there you are! I came to see if you wanted to dance!���

The Commander shook his head. “I’m… No, thank you. I don’t really dance.”

Erridge giggled. “I know! I wasn’t asking you, Commander! Come, Lady Trevelyan! The Commander shall have plenty of time to whisper with you when we are gone!”

Though the interruption was not exactly ideal, Trevelyan could not deny the sentiment. She curtsied to the Commander, somewhat apologetically.

“It seems I am summoned away. Urgent business, I believe they call it.”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward; it made her skin tingle. “Another time, then.”

“Of course.”

Trevelyan permitted Lady Erridge to take hold of her hand. The Lady threw a quick farewell to the Commander over her shoulder, and whisked Trevelyan away, tumbling down the stairs. They burst back onto the main floor of the hall, just as the band queued up another jig.

“Come on, come on!” Lady Erridge ordered, pulling Trevelyan into the congregating mass of dancers. Already amongst them were Lady Samient and Lady Orroat, left to partner up by the absent Erridge.

“Over here!” they called, of a little clearing beside them. Trevelyan and Erridge took position, all anticipation. They joined hands—properly now—and waited for the song to start.

And start it did! Strings and wind erupted into a prancing melody of alternating highs and lows. Trevelyan followed her Ladyship’s lead, bouncing around the floor, clapping her hands, kicking her legs into the air. Skirts clashed and flew, an explosion of fabric and colour.

It was a wonder how Lady Samient danced it so well, in a dress so constricting—but dance well she did! As hands parted and partners changed, Trevelyan found herself parading around in the arms of said Lady, each of them smiling up a storm.

As one song ended, so another began. She was to dance with Lady Orroat, too, of course—it was only fair—and then dear Erridge wanted another.

Eventually, quite exhausted, Trevelyan took the next song’s end, and made her exit.

Fortunately, she found the Baroness on the edges of the dancefloor, an audience to their frolicking. She greeted Trevelyan with a smile and an embrace—for which they both knew the reason.

“I am so glad for you,” Trevelyan said, as she recovered her breath. “Are you all right?”

The Baroness nodded. “Relieved. When I leave tomorrow, I know I will be returning to my town at peace. But—this has not come without loss. It is not over, not truly.”

“Of course.”

“But we could have lost so much more. That Val Misrenne and its people still stand is worth celebrating.”

“Absolutely.”

Trevelyan hugged her once more, yet the music’s sudden and effervescent return caused her to jump. With a laugh, she glanced back to the dancers.

“You know, I am surprised Lady Erridge has not called you up for a jig!”

The Baroness chuckled. “No, no, my leg is far too frail for that.”

“Really?” said Trevelyan, glancing to it. “I remember you saying you still dance, once.”

“I do.” She grinned. “But the leg is an excellent excuse.”

Trevelyan caught her meaning. “Lady Erridge’s enthusiasm is quite difficult to match.”

“Indeed. She has the stamina of a demon. Though I’m sure Lady Orroat could find some use for that.”

Trevelyan laughed. “Your Ladyship! Please, I feel so terrible teasing her!”

“Then you should not like to hear what we say about you and him.”

Confused by who ‘him’ was, Trevelyan followed the Baroness’ line of sight, to a nearby throng of guests. Weaving between them, was—she should’ve guessed it—the Commander.

“Oh, Maker…” Trevelyan groaned. “You all have far too—”

She turned back, and realised the Baroness’s mouth was half-open, her cane being raised in the air.

“No, no—!”

“Commander!”

He heard the call. His head whipped round. No stopping it now: he was headed in their direction.

“Baroness!” Trevelyan hissed.

Touledy smiled, gave a suggestive flick of her brow, and said nothing more. Though Trevelyan was almost glad of this—the Commander ought not hear anything she had to say right now.

“Ladies,” he greeted, upon arrival. “Is there something you require?”

“Why, yes,” said Touledy, all too confidently. What was she up to? “Lady Trevelyan here wishes another dance, but I am afraid I am unable to”—she flashed her cane—“would you be able to dance with her Ladyship, in my stead?”

“Oh.” The Commander softened. "Are you all right?”

Trevelyan noted, rather indignantly, that the Commander asked this question with the same sort of gentle voice that he often put on for her. This was a concept which, she suddenly discovered, she did not like. Why, oh why, did she have to make him befriend the other Ladies? Fool.

“Yes, thank you,” the Baroness answered. “But her Ladyship must have a dance.”

Trevelyan rolled her eyes. “But Baroness, the Commander does not like to dance.”

“I could try,” he said.

Trevelyan stared at him. There were a thousand questions she thought of in response to his saying this. But somehow, the only one she could quite manage was:

“What?”

He repeated the sentiment: “If you would like to.”

“Oh.” Well, there was little chance of her saying anything other than: “Yes.”

The Baroness smiled, clearly relishing in the success. “Go on, then,” she said, “enjoy.”

Easier said. At least Trevelyan had done enough jigs with Lady Erridge to know what she was to do with them, now. In her mind, as they walked to the floor, she went over the steps. Left, left, kick, clap. Switch. Then to the right? But—

The music grew in volume. Yet it sounded like no jig she’d ever heard. Trevelyan realised that the band had betrayed her. Not a jig. Not at all.

Sweet, slow strings floated across the hall. A… romantic melody, that had couples approaching the floor. Dear Maker fucking Andraste shitting Void.

People linked hands and put them on waists and Trevelyan realised that she was in the midst of it now, surrounded, and there was no escape, and she would have to do those things herself.

She faced the Commander. Maker, why did he have to look like that and be like this? This sort of thing was far simpler with unimportant suitors that one could so easily discard after, even if one did step on their toes.

He offered a hand. Trevelyan’s shook.

But still, they met.

Her fingers slid into his palm, felt the warmth that emanated beneath the leather of his glove. The feeling of his skin, however rugged or tender, was cruelly left to the imagination. She savoured it regardless.

Her other hand gathered up her skirts, like the rest of the dress-wearers were doing. Almost in position. There was simply one last thing to emulate—

The Commander’s hand moved for her waist, hesitant in its approach. The first touches of his fingertips—gentler even than that of cotton or down—caused her body to tense. She did not know how she was to bear his entire hand.

But his hand stopped short. It instead hovered over the fabric of her dress, as if afraid to press any further.

Disappointing.

Nevertheless—the music began in earnest. The dancers began to move. The Commander took a step, and Trevelyan followed. Her nerves hit a peak.

And then, began to fade.

Because dancing with him was unlike dancing with anyone she had danced with before. It felt different. Better. Warmer. Safer. It almost did not matter if she was dancing well or not. It was only him that mattered.

There was no need for extravagant moves, or flourishes of the hand. This was enough. Sweet, simple, swaying in one another’s arms. More than enough.

“You should dance more often,” she whispered to him. “You do it well.”

He smiled, soft, and simply said, “All right.”

Her words must have bolstered his resolve, for his shoulders relaxed, and his grip around her hand firmed and strengthened. Its pull drew her closer; his other slipped around her back, fitting perfectly into the mold of her body. The gap between them was more indistinct than ever.

Yet in that closeness was comfort. She could have stayed like that for an eternity.

But the music slowly, gradually, dulled away. Other dancers reappeared around them, the party audible once more. It was over.

They came to a standstill. Trevelyan’s hand fell reluctantly from his grasp; his trailed away from her waist. Yet still she smiled, for nothing could take it from her lips.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“I shan’t make you dance another.”

“That’s… all right.” He rubbed his neck. “Will you, ah, be stargazing tonight?”

She played with her dress. “Most likely.”

“Good.”

She curtsied, he bowed. He left, she stayed. Her feet still wobbled, a little.

But she would have to recover quickly. For she turned to her side, and saw complete what had, until now, been only a disruption in her periphery: the Ladies, gathered together, in keen observance.

Trevelyan shook her head, and, before they could open their mouths, told them firm:

“Not one word.”

[edelwoodsouls]

it’s been a week and i still haven’t finished alex rider season 3 because if i finish it then it’s done :(

[nympippi]

Necromancer Finney AU: Adults in general aren’t sure how to feel about Vance. On one hand, he’s got that infamous short temper. On the other hand, he’s been through quite a bit, even before the Grabber incident. Ultimately, it’s generally agreed that Vance is a victim of terrible circumstances and is reacting accordingly to them

I’m actually unsure on this one because I do think maybe in a town like Denver they’d definitely sympathize with him, and feel for his pain but at the same time I think Vance would hate it. Because it’s only after Vance has to undergo massive amounts of trauma and pain for the adults around him to see him as a kid and not some criminal.

it’s showing him that the adults had potential to care but they never did. And instead of working with him, they work against him labeling him as a troubled child who would end up seriously hurting someone. …I don’t know, I’m not too sure on my stance or have any ideas on the adults in tbp but I do headcannon Vance to dislike adults to a serious degree and it only gets worse after his kidnapping.

[tru-daddy]

found out they're nerfing helminth nourish right after i get it subsumed...

[border-collie]

How do you get your off the farm trial dog interested in driving forward for agility? Sandwiching boring jumps between amazing awesome A Frame and wonderful Dog Walk.

[prolibytherium]

Went from the ambitious hubris of 'I'm gonna do two large complete paintings for this zine' to 'if I don't get one of tgem to a presentable state by the due date tomorrow I will DIE' REAL quick

[iwasforceedagainstmywill]

Some of you will never understand because you're too busy being thirsty for them, but I need more found family vampire stuff

[mechahero]

If I were a big boy, I wouldn't cry But since I'm not a big boy I'll have to close my eyes And picture what it's like

[loverscrossmp3]

there is NOTHING a girl’s trip to the record shop can’t fix

[luvevee]

What da dog doin

[arolesbianism]

Oni pmd back on the brain in particular the backstory stuff. it's not fair that the one time I get to put Olivia into a time loop in an au is in the fucking pmd au and only in the worldbuilding

[homunculus-argument]

Imagine having an alien encounter, but the first person who makes contact has no idea what the fuck these creatures are or why they're in her backyard, and when they try to approach her she just gives the first one a brisk open palm slap across what she figures must be this creature's face. And the alien just goes "oh woah that's sharp. I like it." And they start looking for more people who do that.

Gradually they start mapping out which humans are most likely to just flat-out slap them, and figuring out how much of it is nature vs. nurture, start introducing the hardest slappers to each other, with a surprisingly good success rates as the kind of people who would be down to slap an alien life form are also the kind of people who are down shag somebody who would also do shit like that. While some people insist that these "breeding programs" are dehumanising and an insult to human dignity, the people who would slap an alien without hesitation are treating it like a free matchmaking service, that works better for them than Tinder anyway.

Eventually the descendants of the most powerful slappers have developed into a distinct new type of human, who have honed their slapping skills and capabilities to perfection, and any alien who isn't experienced with getting slapped by humans could no longer handle it, and one brisk smack would just make their head explode.

And that's pretty much what humans did to chili.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐂𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍’

—OFFICER! TOJI F. x F! READER

᧔♡᧓ in which your officer boyfriend catches you at a party that you lied about going to

᧔♡᧓ content: rough smut, age gap (reader is in college), angry sex, jealous sex, possessive toji, handcuffs, breeding, choking, hair pulling, ass/tit/pussy slapping, praise, degradation, daddy kink here and there, begging, orgasm denial, passing out, pussy eating, semi-public sex, sex in police car

᧔♡᧓ requested by @valleydoli 💗

᧔♡᧓ wc: 3.1k

Toji couldn’t fight the annoyance on his face as he pulled up into the small neighborhood. Loud music blaring through the air as colorful lights beamed onto the dimly lit street. There had been a number of complaints. The neighborhood’s residents ringing 9-1-1 one after the other.

To say he didn’t care was an understatement. Out of the whole department Gojo Satoru just had to dispatch him to break up a stupid college party. His police vehicle came to a stop a little down the block, the tall man stepping out with stonic features and a sigh as he made his way closer to the source of vulgar tunes which seemed to shake surrounding houses.

Toji stalked up to the front door, the smell of hard alcohol and weed hitting his nose as he banged on the door. Forceful enough for the sound to ring throughout the noisy inside. A drunk boy no older than 19 swinging the door open with a grin. “Hey man! O-oh shit. Hey officer, what can i do for you?” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard under Toji’s harsh gaze as he tried his hardest to appear sober.

Toji peered over the boy and into the room. Sweaty bodies grinding against each other while others made out, almost every hand nursing a plastic red cup. “Do me a favor and just keep the noise down alright, if not shut this whole damn thing down.. what the fuck.” The officer spat bitterly, jaw clenching with a scowl when his eyes landed on someone. His someone.

You.

He couldn’t believe it. You had been so persistent on spending the night at home. Claiming that you had piles on piles of work to complete. Did you crave attention that badly? One measly night he had to work overtime and this was the shit you pulled? Clad in a lacy dress which had a deep v cut and barely reached your mid thigh. Your body, his girl’s body, on display for everyone to see.

He could see the eyes roaming your figure top through bottom. His blood boiling as he visibly seethed, shoving past the lanky teenage boy to make his way over to you. You were grinning happily, one hand in your hair and the other ghosting over the hand that rested on your hip. Giving the girl behind you the dance of her life.

The music lowered, Toji’s eyes twitching at all the loud gasps that echoed through the room. All eyes on his large frame as he towered over everyone in the room. Muscles bulging through his tight shirt with each hard step that he took. All eyes but yours. You were too into what you were doing, and your boyfriend couldn’t help his rising anger as he got closer and closer. Spotting familiar brunette and green hair sat on a couch with their lips on each other’s.

Of course. You were dragged here.

You giggled loudly, taking a swig from the girl’s cup and letting the bitter tasting liquid scrape at the walls of your throat when you swallowed. Your friends’ eyes widened as they pulled away from each other, desperately trying to get your attention as you swayed your hips. Those hips that only Toji was allowed to see move.

A hand grabbed the flesh of your arm tightly, your head whipping around to snap at the stranger before your brows furrowed. Taking in that broad chest that you’d gotten to know by heart. Your eyes timidly trailed upwards, a small whimper caught in your throat when they met his darkened ones. The man’s head tilting to the side as if daring you to not comply. He would not hesitate to get you out of there over his shoulder if he had to.

“T-toji.. h-hi i-“ you stuttered, looking down at your feet as you shuffled nervously. Eyes darting to the girls who eyed you apologetically.

“Shut up.” His voice was firm, and your thighs clenched as you held back another whimper. You could feel everyone’s eyes boring into you. “Fuck. You know what? Everybody out.” His voice raised at the end. The bustling college teens wasting no time before they scattered, afraid at just the mere sight of the man. “And you.. oh you’re in for it now.”

All the alcohol seemed to leave your system when Toji pulled your arms behind your back. Cuffing your hands as your face heated up in embarrassment. “T-toji w-wait.” The man ignored you as he pulled you out of the room, not caring about how you stumbled over your own two feet to keep up with his large strides.

“She really disobeyed you this time huh?” A familiar voice rung out, a teasing smirk on Gojo’s face as he walked up the few stairs that you’d just descended from. “Good job Y/n.” He winked, a deep chuckle leaving his throat as he thought back to exactly why he had sent Toji out here.

It didn’t take long to reach the vehicle with the speed you were being pulled at. Toji’s hold on your arm never loosening in the slightest. “Get in.” Toji spoke meanly, holding the door open with a gesture for you to get inside.

“But-“

“Get the fuck in Y/n.” He never called you by your name often, only when he was mad. It was always some sweet petname that made you feel all warm and tingly inside. Sliding into the vehicle you kept your head low, the door slamming behind you not too long after.

You squirmed in your seat. Giving into the tension filled silence as you watched his grip on the wheel tighten until his knuckles were pale. Thoughts of you letting any other man touch you coursing in his mind.

Toji undid the first two buttons of his shirt, using his fingers to prod the tight fabric open as he rolled his neck. Taking the pair of handcuffs off his suited pants before rolling the vehicle to a stop.

“Toji ‘m sorry.” You mumbled almost shyly, face getting hot as your arousal dampened your lace panties.

He ignored you. Taking a step out of the car and into the night’s darkness. The vacant road scarce of any sources of light. Your door swung open, eyes widening in a doe-like pout as you looked up at him.

“Don’t. Not after that shit you just pulled.” He warned, expression still hard as you climbed out, the slam of the door making you jump with a yelp. A small whine left your throat as you were flipped around, chest pressed into the vehicle’s side with your hands still bound behind your back.

He roughly pushed your dress up to your waist with a scoff. “Going out dressed like you want to get laid. Am i not enough for you baby?” His fingers found their way to your clad folds. Brushing over your clit with a hum. “Do i not fuck you enough? Is that little pussy so desperate to be filled?” He didn’t give to a chance to answer, his palm landing heavily on your pussy making you jerk with a cry. “Look at that. She’s all wet f’me. Such a greedy fucking cunt yeah?”

You whimpered loudly, Toji’s voice deep and husky in your ear as he kissed up your neck. Allowing you to lean back onto him with your head on his chest. Soft moans falling past your lips as you let yourself grind on his fingers. Another loud cry filling the air when he landed it hard on your ass instead.

“I shouldn’t even be touching you.” He whispered venomously, voice laced with clear disappointment as he pushed his fingers past the thin fabric, pressing the pad of his middle finger onto your clit before rubbing small circles. Watching the way your lips parted in sweet noises as you let your eyes flutter shut. “Should just drop you home and leave you all desperate and needy.”

That made you whine with the shake of your head, pushing your ass back onto his crotch in want. “Or will you just call someone to come fuck you like a little slut?” You cringed at the sound of your panties tearing, Toji’s muscles straining against the confines of his shirt’s fabric as he rolled up his sleeves. Quickly working to free his hard cock before pushing you into the back seat of the car with a smirk. Handling your body until you were face down, with your ass up on display for him.

“Look at yourself.” He forced your head up to gaze at your reflection in the window. “Gonna fucking destroy you baby. Do you want that?”

You nodded, eyes prickling with tears as you clenched in anticipation. You wanted his cock so bad. “Ahh f-fuck.” Another slap to your ass.

“So you do have a mouth.”

Words. He wanted to hear you say it.

“P-please fuck me daddy.”

“You can do better than that princess.”

“Please. Please fuck me. Need you so bad. ‘M aching f’ you. Want you to fill me up.” You begged.

“That’s it. That’s my slutty girl.” You mewled loudly at the intrusion of Toji’s thick cock. The man bottoming out inside you with one quick thrust making your knees buckle underneath you while your back arched. Feeling Toji’s fat tip immediately prodding at the increased tightness near your cervix.

“Shit.” He cursed, breathing getting heavy as he nestled his cock within your warm walls. Forgetting just how much he loved that little cunt of yours.

He started off rough, forcing his cock deep as you rocked harshly against the soft seat. Loud moans dripping off the tip of your tongue as his cocked kissed meanly at your g spot.

Your pussy stretched to accommodate the quick thrusts of his girthy length. Feeling his veins scraping deliciously against your gummy walls as he hammered into you.

You cried out when Toji’s hand found its way around your throat, pulling you up to his chest with your hands flush between your back and his chest. Drool filled babbles spilling messily onto your skin at the force of his hips.

“Haah— T-toji f-fuck,” you keened loudly, your chest riding and falling rapidly as your brain turned to mush. Unable to think of anything but how good he felt inside of you. Lewd squelches mixed with skin slapping burning its way into your brain. A constant reminder of Toji’s abuse to your sensitive cunt as your vision blurred.

“That’s it baby. Take it real nice n’ deep. You’re practically swallowing me in right now.” He breathed. Hand tightening around your throat as the other travelled down to your chest, barely having to tug at the black fabric for your tits to spill into his large hand. Rough fingers twisting at your pert nipples as he palmed the soft flesh.

“Ahh— so good. Feels s’ good daddy.” You cried, Toji’s hand landing two consecutive slaps onto your breasts.

“Gonna stuff this pussy real full. Breed her with my cum till you know your place.” He growled lowly, his frustration seeming to reemerge as he stroked his cock with your tightness. Allowing himself to poke at every corner of your warmth, ruining your slutty pussy to your tears.

“Wanna go out dressed like you’re available. Single. Like you don’t have me taking care of that ache between your legs every single night.” His pace quickened with every word. Snapping his hips up mercilessly till his balls reddened your puffy clit, mouth hung open in whiny mewls as your stomach tightened.

Your tears flowed freely as you were shoved back into the car’s seat. Your mind dizzy at the plowing of his cock into your sweet spot. Toji’s hand moving to grip at the delicate flesh of your hip with other torturing your clit. Rubbing mean, hard circles onto the swollen bud.

“Tojii— ‘m gonna, ahh- ‘m gonna cum.” You whimpered, catching sight of the traces of mascara staining your cheeks alongside your messy hair. The sight being enough to make you call out his name incoherently as your eyes rolled back. Legs shaking violently as you clenched around him. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—“ you chanted, letting out a broken scream as you squirted messily. Completely drenching Toji’s cock in your wetness.

Toji’s movements stilled, his fingers digging into your hair with a sharp tug upwards. “Oh i’m sorry? Did i say you could cum baby?”

“Sorry, nngh- c-couldn’t hold it.” You hiccuped, knowing that you were in trouble.

Toji shook his head, pulling you back so you lay flat across the seat. Shoving one of your legs up beside your body with a grunt. A shiver raking through your body as the cool air breezed through your sopping pussy.

You let out a groan, your attempt to close your legs stopped by Toji’s strong hands shoving them apart. Groping at both sides of your ass before his palms made contact with the skin. A bubbly whine catching in your throat when you tightened around nothing.

Toji sunk to his knees on the ground outside, the forest to his back as he began pressing soft kisses to the sides of your thighs, his tongue licking a long stripe up your slit.

He groaned, grip tightening on your thighs when his tongue darted out once more to lap at your sweetness. Sloppily running between your folds before swirling around your clit. It didn’t take long to get you where he wanted you. The overstimulation going straight to your foggy brain as Toji got lost in your heat. His eyes fluttering shut with a hum as he tried to pull you impossible further onto his tongue. Your constantly flowing slick mixed with his saliva dripping sloppily onto the ground below.

Your fingers clawed at nothing as you began to tremble, crying out loudly as your eyes closed shut. Your tear stained cheek pressed into the seat as you drooled adorably. A smirk adorning Toji’s face when he curled his thick fingers into you.

“Ahh— ‘s too muchh. Gonna cum again.” You mewled desperately, toes curling as another coil tightened in your stomach. Toji stopped sucking at your clit, pulling away from you while his fingers sped up. Paddy tips poking directly into your spot with ease. “Yeah? Gonna cum for me already?”

You answered with a high pitched moan and a small “uh huh”, feeling yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge before it all came crumbling down. Toji removing his fingers before standing up, and only then did you notice how much of his chest was on display. He leaned down to kiss away your tears, brushing away any hair stuck to your forehead. “Only good girls get these privileges baby, i’m a cop, you should know this.” He cooed.

His cock prodded at your hole, sinking into his rightful place deep within your warmth before beginning to fuck into you. He knew your orgasm had barely just died down, and he was going to fuck you to another just to leave you hungry.

Your boyfriend’s head found its place in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your ear before he grinned against your skin. “You won’t be leaving the house for days when i’m done with you.” He promised, tone gruff as he felt his cock twitch in indication of his own high.

“Haah— ‘s so muchh.” You breathed as you melted into him, his touch hot on your skin leaving short quivers in its wake. “Toji— o-oh fuckk.” You were sputtering out strangled noises of pleasure, Toji’s husky groans in your ear adding fuel to the fire as you let out a cry. Your pussy gushing onto him before your orgasm could even hit.

Toji cursed loudly, his grip on your hips allowing him to pull you back onto him as roughly as he was slamming into you. “That’s it baby, pussy’s gripping me so fucking tight.”

“‘M so close— so so close.” You gasped, basking in the small skin to skin contact of your hands on his exposed chest.

“Gotta fucking earn it. Tell me, who do you belong to princess. Who owns this slutty little pussy hmm? Who fucks you this good every night?” He questioned darkly, rolling his hips in a way he knew would drive you crazy.

“Y-you. You do. ‘S all y-yours— fuck. Please can i cum? Need to cum so bad.” You almost sobbed, Toji kissing your cheek sweetly with a breathy moan. “All mine. All fucking mine. Go ahead slutty girl. Cum f’ me.”

You let go noisily, vision clouded as your moans spilled uncontrollably past your lips. The burning sensation in your stomach slowly easing as you allowed yourself to let go. Making a mess on the man’s cock while he worked himself deeper inside you. Burying his cock as far as he could before pumping you full with a contented sigh.

“Let everyone know that you’re taken. Get you pregnant with my kid and keep you locked away. Only for me.” His cum painting your walls in hot spurts as his abs tensed. The throb of his cock slowly dulling as you milked him dry.

You whimpered, feeling the thick substance slowly seep out of you when he pulled out. All the alcohol finally catching up to you as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Letting your eyes blink shut before you went limp in his arms.

Toji groaned with a stretch, smirking down at you and your fucked out form.

So pretty.

He tugged down your dress and tucked himself back into his pants. Removing your hand cuffs before taking you into his arms gently. Laying you down more comfortably with a quick kiss to your forehead. Watching as your chest rose and fell softly, face contorted into a peaceful one despite how stained it was from your tears.

He slipped into the driver’s seat, allowing the car to reach the perfect temperature for you to rest it. Finally pulling off from the side of the road. He laughed shortly when he checked the time, contemplating whether he should even bother going back to work. He’d much rather stay home with you.

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, rolling his eyes when he saw the name written across the screen. Satoru.

“Hello.”

“So, fucked her good didn’t ya? Made your girl cry huh Fushiguro.” The white haired man laughed into the call. Gojo had been tempted to say it over the radio, but he didn’t know if you’d be awake or not.

“That’s why you sent me out there isn’t it?” Toji scoffed, one hand on the steering wheel turning it into your apartment complex while the other worked the gear. If you were awake you’d be going crazy. Him driving was one of your many weaknesses.

“Yes, and you’re welcome. Tell her i said hi when she gets up. Bye Fushiguro~” The call beeped to an end and Toji shook his head, trying to hide the small smile creeping up onto his face. Fucking Satoru.

Glancing back at you he allowed himself to openly smile, he could never stay mad at you. It was time to show you that.