#those are a little bit unsettling...

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

firm believer in darry who is constantly begging the boys for peace n quiet but is INSTANTLY paranoid the second he gets it

[practically-an-x-man]

ok well that one's going straight on the favorites list for sure. absolute masterpiece. one of the most genuinely unsettling horror movies I've ever seen, and I've seen a LOT. It's all the slow descent into madness that the Shining movie wanted to be, the acting never missed a fucking beat (this is the guy's FIRST LEAD ROLE and goddamn did he command every second he was on screen), played super well on the 70s talk show on-air/off-air setting, then throw in some Cronenberg-style practical effects and I could not look away

[tearlessrain]

rabbits scare me for the same reason babies scare me. not because of the harm they could do to me but because they are so small and constantly trying to die and there are so so so many ways to accidentally kill them.

but also slightly worse than babies because babies don't have razor sharp incisors that they might use to take you down with them.

[fragmentedblade]

I think I've become an official HI3 player. I check the HSR leaks hoping for iterations of HI3 characters now

[yeonban]

I was listening to an interview of Gagne's about her sociopathic condition and some of these parts really resonated with Tobias. Like her mentioning she's masking "right now" (during the interview) otherwise she'd be smiling and blinking far less, the story about how as a child she felt a pressure building up in her and when another kid who was sitting next to her annoyed her at the wrong moment she stabbed them and the stabbing made her feel startlingly euphoric, the way she was discussing empathy as something learned from society and intended to gain something from (a dopamine release/good feeling) because she doesn't understand any actions that are done by neurotypicals for no reason, her experience having to mimic her neurotypical sister to fit into society, the relief she felt when she met her husband who didn't shy away from her despite her unburdening herself to him about all of her (the bad, scary & unnerving qualities/actions/etc included)... there are a bunch of differences between her & Tobias' experiences too, obviously, but at least THESE parts were very on the nose. Especially one declaration that stood out to me: "Doing something morally unacceptable was a way to force a pop of color [in my life]" which is exactly why Tobias does anything he does. That pop of color. That derived amusement. The odd joy that follows which is the only thing he can really feel out of the positive cluster of emotions.

[just1cefor4ll]

—Darling you’re glowing

James Potter x f!reader

summary. you intrigued the James Potter. now he’s trying to get you out of your shell

warning. not proof read

Transfiguration, middle of the week, had started like any other class— the room buzzing with quiet chatter as McGonagall set up a demonstration on cross-species switching spells. You sat a few rows behind the usual Marauder formation, watching with mild interest as James Potter lounged sideways in his seat like he owned the room. He always acted like that—comfortable, cocky, clever enough to get away with all of it. But you noticed something different today. He wasn’t as loud. Not as sharp with his jokes. He kept glancing toward Remus, who looked paler than usual, shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t slept.

You knew what tomorrow was.

You always noticed the patterns others ignored.

McGonagall’s chalk scraped across the board as she launched into the complexities of Animagus transformations. And that’s when James opened his mouth—casual, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Turning Snape into a raccoon wouldn’t be a bad idea, no? He fits the description and might finally be of use.”

It was “normal” to see James or Sirius tormenting the poor slytherin boy, however no one made too much of an effort to stop it due to being scared or not caring.

But this time, you didn’t let it slide.

You leaned forward slightly, not loud, not sharp—just clear enough for him to hear.

“Useful, sure. Especially if you’re trying to keep a werewolf company at night.”

James froze.

Just for a second.

Then, slowly, he turned in his seat, eyebrows raised. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you—really looked at you—was different than before. Like a switch had flipped.

Sirius leaned halfway out of his chair, blinking. “Wait, what?”

You tilted your head calmly. “You four aren’t as subtle as you think. Disappearing from the common rooms every full moon, and then Remus not returning for a few days afterward.. strange, don’t you think?”

Sirius’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

James just blinked at you, stunned—then finally, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not his usual cocky grin. Something smaller. Curious. Almost impressed.

“You’ve been watching us.”

“Someone has to,” you said, eyes flicking between him and Sirius. “Merlin knows the professors aren’t.”

Remus, from beside them, looked like he might vanish under the desk. James noticed, and his smile faltered just slightly. He turned back to face forward, voice quieter now.

“You’re not going to tell anyone.”

It wasn’t a question.

You shrugged. “Why would I? Not my secret. Not my business.”

James didn’t respond right away. Then; “Most people would’ve run the second they figured that out.”

You met his gaze, steady. “Most people aren’t me.”

And that was the end of it. At least, for now.

After that day, James started to notice you. At first, it was just little things. You sat alone in every class, always in the back. You left the Great Hall early, books in hand, head down. You walked the castle corridors like a ghost—there, but never really with anyone. It was strange, and a bit unsettling. Hogwarts was loud and chaotic and full of chatter. You were none of those things.

James didn’t really know what to do with that.

You were outside walking along the Great Lake, the morning fog barely beginning to lift, adding to the mysterious atmosphere that always seemed to cling to the school grounds. The water was still, a sheet of silver glass stretching toward the horizon, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from something just beneath the surface.

As you made your way along the winding path, the silhouette of the castle loomed through the mist—familiar, yet distant in the haze. The chill in the air nipped at your fingers, but you didn’t mind. It was quiet out here, peaceful, the kind of quiet that let your thoughts wander.

You stiffened slightly as the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence behind you. Turning your head, you saw him—James Potter strolling toward you with his usual group trailing behind: Sirius Black smirking, Remus Lupin looking vaguely amused, and Peter Pettigrew struggling to keep up.

“Didn’t expect to see anyone out here this early,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. You glanced at him, then quickly back at the lake. “I like the quiet.” He nodded, stepping beside you. “Yeah.. it’s nice before everyone’s up and shouting about homework and Quidditch.” He nudged a stone with his shoe. “You come out here a lot?” “Sometimes,” you replied softly, unsure why he was talking to you at all, especially with his friends watching. James didn’t seem put off by your short reply. “It’s kind of cool though, isn’t it? All the fog. Looks like something out of a ghost story.” You gave a small nod. “It does.”

Sirius whispered something to Remus that made both of them snicker, but James ignored it.

“I don’t think we’ve ever really talked,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re in my year, yeah?” You hesitated, then glanced at him. “Yes.” He smiled like that was a win. “Thought so. I’m James.” “I know.” That made him laugh. “Right, of course you do. Everyone knows. Sorry—stupid thing to say.”

“How’s Remus?”

James blinked, then turned to look at you more carefully. “He’s okay. Bit worn out, but he always bounces back.”

You nodded slowly. “Good.”

James looked at you properly now, brow furrowed. “How do you—? I mean.. I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“You haven’t.”

He smiled faintly, curious now. “Right. Mysterious.”

You didn’t return the smile. “You take care of him.”James sobered at that, nodding once, serious. “Always.”

You gave a small, almost invisible nod and turned slightly, ready to leave.

Then, like he was trying to keep you there just a little longer, he said, “I’ve got a match this weekend. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Should be a good one.”

You stopped in your tracks, humming in response.

“You should come,” he said, bold now, easy with it. “It’s more fun when there’s someone interesting in the stands.”

You raised a brow again. “Is that your way of inviting me?”

“Is it working?”

A pause. Then, quietly: “Maybe.”

James smiled, a little softer this time. “I’ll look for you.” He turned to leave and waved. “See you there, ghost girl.” “Wait— Potter.” You raise your voice a bit, cheeks warming at the sudden attention all four boys put on you. “It’s Y/N.” James smiled, nodding before going off with his friends, Sirius shaking his form and smiling excitedly while the other two boys watched, amused.

You didn’t know why you decided to go. Maybe it was finally time to get out of the common rooms for the weekend instead of spending it rotting in bed, studying, or sleeping for hours on end.

The students and professors were in a competitive mood, filling the halls with a tension you hadn’t quite experienced before—this was your very first match, after all.

You tugged your scarf tighter around your neck as you stepped out onto the grounds, the wind catching at the edges of your cloak. The crowd ahead was already gathering, voices loud and buzzing with excitement, a sea of red and gold clashing against yellow and black. You kept your head down, threading your way through the throng with quiet determination, trying not to look like you didn’t belong.

The match played out like a storm—fast, chaotic, impossible to look away from. James flew like he’d been born with a broomstick in hand, weaving through bludgers and bodies with the kind of recklessness that made the crowd scream in delight or horror, depending on their colors. Hufflepuff held strong for the first half, but once the snitch was spotted, it was all over in a blur of motion and gold.

Gryffindor won.

You hadn’t planned on waiting, but somehow you found yourself lingering by the edge of the pitch after most of the crowd had cleared. The adrenaline was still in your veins, buzzing under your skin like static, and you didn’t want to go back just yet. Not when your heart was still thudding from something you couldn’t name. You weren’t there long before you heard footsteps pounding across the grass behind you. James, of course. Still in his Quidditch robes, hair a wild mess, cheeks pink from wind and glory.

“You stayed,” he said, half-surprised, half-relieved.

You turned to face him, arms crossed, but your face betrayed you—lit up with a kind of breathless energy you hadn’t felt in ages.

“I—” You hesitated. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

James blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah?”

You nodded, and then it all started spilling out, quick and animated.

“It was so fast. One second you were up, then down, then—you nearly got taken out by that Bludger, by the way—and then you just dodged like it was nothing? I thought you were going to fall right off the broom, I genuinely stopped breathing. And the way you looped around the pitch when you saw the Snitch? That was—like—how did you even do that?”

He stared at you, absolutely floored. Not because of the words—though there were many—but because it was you. Talking. Really talking. More than the usual quiet, clever one-liners. Your eyes were shining, hands moving to match your words, like the match had flipped a switch in you.

“I mean, I knew Quidditch was big here, but I didn’t expect that. It was exciting, but also stressful, and I think I might actually have heart damage from watching it. Is that normal? Do people just live like that?”

James laughed, breathless and stunned. “Merlin, you’re adorable when you talk this much.”

You blinked, suddenly aware of yourself again. The words cut off mid-thought. He held up his hands, still grinning like you’d just handed him the moon. “No, don’t stop. I just—it’s nice. Hearing you.” You looked away, suddenly self-conscious, but the warmth didn’t fade. If anything, it spread. “I guess I just.. got caught up in it,” you murmured. “It was kind of incredible.” He stepped a little closer, eyes still on you like you were some rare thing he’d never seen before. “So does that mean you’ll come to the next one?”

You tilted your head, considering.

“Only if you don’t almost die again.”

“No promises,” he said, eyes glinting. “But I’ll try. If you’re watching.”

And this time, you didn’t hesitate.

“I will be.”

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[ariichive]

JAGGED.ೃ࿔

caleb’s jealousy was uncontrollable and never goes away as quick as it comes.

cw: fem reader, not entirely smut but still gonna tag as 18+ mdni, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, teasing, gagging, kissing, marking, mullet caleb, biting, threats, violence, pet names, stripping, yandere, established relationship, stalking, manipulation, you both have a few screws loose... not proofread rip wc: 2.1k

whenever you returned home to caleb, he was always there with a warm smile and an even warmer embrace.

no matter how long you’d been gone—an hour, a day, a week—he greeted you like you’d been away for years.

the familiarity was gone today, it just felt cold and unwelcoming; something that has never happened before.

something was wrong. unsettlingly so.

"caleb?" you called out for him, only to receive no answer. he had to be here; he never left without telling you when he'd be back.

your heartbeat quickened as you stepped further inside, locking the door behind you out of habit. the air felt off—not in the way of an intruder, but in the absence of something vital. of him.

you called again, voice softer this time, hesitant. still, nothing.

the only light was from the pretty moonlight seeping in through the window, leaving your vision a bit distorted. you managed to find your way to the bedroom, making sure to be quiet in case he was sleeping or was listening to music.

the tension was thick as you seen a familiar silhouette sitting at the edge of the bed; your heartbeat didn't slow down or feel the usual comfort it did when you seen him.

"caleb, i was calling for you... are you okay?" you eyed him cautiously, shadows casting against his features. he didn't answer you, but the quiet hum he let out made it known he was listening.

"is everything okay..?" you tried once more to get him to talk.

"y'know, dear, it's so hard to stay mad at you. especially when you call my name so sweetly... like i couldn't ruin you any chance i get."

you gulped and took a cautious step back.

"what... what are you talking about?" you forced out, your voice smaller than you wanted it to be.

caleb tilted his head, finally moving—finally looking at you. his eyes, usually so full of warmth, were unreadable in the darkness.

"you’ve been careless," he murmured, tapping his fingers against his thigh like he was trying to keep himself in check. "running around, not paying attention, letting your guard down... do you know how easy it would be for something to happen to you?"

he didn't give you the chance to answer him. "i followed you. i followed you that entire time you were gone."

he turned towards you, allowing you to finally see his facial expression. a simple, blank smile with dark eyes.

"you didn't notice... you didn't notice me following you or the looks you got from other men." he let out a humorless laugh.

“you never even looked around,” he continued, his voice low and unsettling. “too busy, too trusting... always so trusting of them.” he tilted his head again, and the way he said them made your skin crawl.

you took another step back, your eyes darting to the door, to the window, anywhere but his face. you wanted to run.

"it was just an errand run...i don't think anyone was-"

“do you really think they weren’t looking at you?” he asked, his smile never fading. “that they weren’t admiring you? wanting you?” his laugh echoed again, sharp and bitter. "it was pitiful to watch those meaningless people look at you that way."

now, he stood up, extending to his full height. "caleb, you're being delusional." it wasn't the first time he's been jealous, just never to this extent.

"delusional?" he echoed, his voice dangerously soft, and the way he said it made your skin crawl. his smile stretched just a little wider, like a predator savoring the moment before pouncing.

"you think i’m delusional?" he repeated, stepping toward you again, his eyes never leaving yours. “you think they—those strangers—are any better for you than i am?”

you instinctively took another step back, your heart racing in your chest, the fear seeping deeper into your bones. you needed to get away.

"they don’t see you like I do," caleb continued, his voice low, the edge in it sharper now. "they don’t know you like I do. they don’t care about you the way I do." his eyes darkened. "you belong to me."

you flinched at his words, your hands trembling as you tried to push the panic down

"caleb," you whispered, your voice shaking now. "you’re not thinking clearly. please, just—!"

but he was already taking another step toward you, his eyes wild now, the control slipping away as his anger simmered to the surface.

you tried, truly, to bolt to the door as quick as possible.

caleb’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist with terrifying speed, pulling you back with an iron grip that made your breath catch in your throat.

"where do you think you're going?" his voice was low, dangerously calm. it was the kind of calm that made your skin prickle, a warning that sent every instinct inside you screaming.

you tried to twist free, but his hold only tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. your pulse raced in panic, your mind screaming for escape.

"y-you need space to clear your head, i... i can sleep on the couch." your words seemed to only anger him more.

caleb's grip on your wrist tightened and his eyes darkened, lips curling into a twisted sneer. "you think you can just leave like that?" he spat, his voice low and full of venom. "you think i’ll just let you sleep somewhere that's not beside me?"

you could feel the air between you both growing thicker, charged with a dangerous energy that made the room feel suffocating. your mind raced, grasping for anything—anything—that might calm him down, that might give you a chance to slip away.

his hand that was holding onto your wrist traveled up your body, rubbing into your skin gently. when he got to your collarbone, he increased the pressure, surely trying to leave a mark.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your face, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you—but instead, he bit your lip.

the unexpected pain caused you to whimper and flinch away from him.

his hand slid further up your neck, and the pressure on your collarbone only intensified. it was suffocating, the way his touch had gone from gentle to possessive, to painful. you tried to move away, but his grip was unrelenting.

“i’ve been patient,” caleb continued, his voice low and rough, a mix of frustration and something darker. “but you’re making this so hard. you’re making me prove to you how much you need me. how much i need you.”

he paused for a second, and that's when you felt something cold wrap around your neck: the silver necklace you gifted him in childhood.

the action caused your heart to speed up. “you look gorgeous marked by me,” he whispered gently as he placed his forehead against yours.

with a cautious approach, you wrapped your arms around him and tried to calm your breathing, hoping he was finally calming down.

well, your actions seemed to only make things worse.

“y-you’re still so sweet, so soft, even after i treat you like this?” there was a vulnerability in his eyes that immediately hardened.

his body tensed against yours, his nails digging into your back ever so slightly. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured, almost to himself. his voice wavered, filled with something unsteady, something desperate. “too good.”

his forehead was still pressed to yours, but his eyes had darkened again, flickering with a storm of emotions. “you should hate me right now,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "you should be afraid of me."

he pulled back just enough to search your face, his gaze burning into yours, as if trying to understand why you weren’t running. why you weren’t screaming.

his hands slid down your arms, then back up, his touch almost reverent. "but you're still here," he murmured, his head tilting slightly. “even after all this. why?”

you swallowed thickly, trying to steady your voice. "because i love you, caleb."

the thin string keeping him together snapped.

he quickly lifted you, your legs wrapping around his torso. he threw you onto the bed, crawling on top of you. "i love you too, so much." he used the chain around your neck to lift your head to the same level as his.

your breath hitched as the cool metal of the necklace pressed into your skin, restricting your movement just enough to make your pulse race with something between fear and disbelief. caleb’s face was dangerously close, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a feverish intensity.

“you have no idea,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, “just how much i need you.”

his grip on the chain tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you were completely at his mercy. his free hand trailed along your jaw, his touch achingly gentle compared to the rough way he handled you moments before.

his lips found yours in an intense kiss, the hand wrapped around the necklace moved to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, his other hand moving to the buttons on your blouse.

he paused for a second, looking into your eyes, "are you okay?"

you nodded and pulled him back into a kiss, your own hand tugging at his shirt that barely concealed his toned body. he sent you a small smile as he took off the article of clothing.

your blouse slipped from your shoulders, and he took his time, pressing his lips to every inch of newly exposed skin as if committing each spot to memory. "so perfect," he murmured against you, his breath warm, his voice filled with something raw. "all mine."

when you let out a particular whine when he reached your sensitive spot, he moaned and bit down harder. he glanced up at your face, noticing you were biting your lip, tearing at the fragile skin.

his brow furrowed as he brought two fingers up to your mouth, gently shoving them down your throat. "only i can bite your pretty lips, okay?"

you whined around his fingers as he continued marking up your chest and neck.

his fingers pressed down just enough to make you gasp, your teeth and tongue brushing against his skin as he watched you with dark, lidded eyes. "that's it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "bite me, sweetheart."

your body trembled beneath him as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on your skin, his lips trailing lower, teeth grazing sensitive spots just to feel the way you reacted. every sound you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on you tightening with every little whimper and whine that left your lips.

he pulled his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down your chin, smearing the spit along your jaw before cupping your cheek. "you're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, soothing over where you'd bitten too hard. "mine to love, mine to take care of."

you tugged on his hair, the grown-out mullet soft in your hands, making him let out a whine of your name.

his reaction sent a shiver down your spine, the sound so raw and desperate that it made your grip tighten instinctively. caleb's breathing grew heavier, his lips parting as he looked down at you with a mixture of adoration and hunger.

"you know what you do to me, don't you?" he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. his hands slid down your sides, fingers squeezing at your hips before settling there, holding you in place. "you drive me insane."

you smirked slightly, tugging at his hair once more just to hear that sweet sound again. "good," you teased, voice breathy, "it's only fair."

"'s not nice to tease, pipsqueak."

"what are you gonna do about it?" you taunted, fingers still tangled in his hair, giving another playful tug.

his grip on your hips tightened, and in a swift movement, he flipped you beneath him, pinning you against the mattress. his hands caged you in, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch.

"oh, sweetheart," he purred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "you really wanna test me tonight, huh?"

your heart pounded in anticipation, but you held your ground, looking up at him with a teasing smile. "maybe."

caleb chuckled, low and husky, his breath fanning against your skin. "guess i’ll just have to remind you who’s in charge then, won’t i?"

before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing every word, every breath, until all you could think about was him.

bonus:

as you lay in his arms, you couldn't help the nagging thought at the back of your mind. "hey, caleb?"

he hummed in response, pulling you closer to his chest. "you... you really followed me the entire day?"

"yeah, it's a cute little pastime. get to see you window shop and stuff," he said with no shame whatsoever. "what kinda boyfriend would i be if i let you out alone?"

"a normal one."

he let out a small laugh, "go to sleep, [name]. we can't have you ruining your sleep schedule. need me to tell you a story?"

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: HUNGRY FOR MORE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made. PART 2 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p –> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3K words.

author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)

“looks like your little killing spree’s gonna have to come to an end,” you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and it’s almost unsettling—he looks a little too smug for a killer who’s just been caught.

“i don’t think so, sweetheart,” the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. he—satoru gojo—has been your target for a couple weeks, and now that you’ve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little… unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoru’s shown so far. 

also, the criminals usually weren’t this good-looking.

you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coat’s pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesn’t make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.

“so, you’re one of those guys who don’t care what happens to them?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoru’s muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. “what’s with the smile?”

satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. “y’know, you’re rather brave, comin’ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.” he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. “okay, okay, relax. i’m not gonna do anything to your pretty face.”

“what did you do?” you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if he’s completely and utterly shocked that you’d ever accuse him of anything.

“besides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.”

“i’m not an idiot,” you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. “you’re not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.”

satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “fiesty, aren’t we? it’s alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.” he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. “put down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.”

you wait a second, scanning satoru’s overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. “what are you hiding?” you ask again, eyes hardening.

“a lot of things. but i think you’re talking about what i did to your boss, right?”

“you have five seconds before i shoot you.”

satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, since you’re bein’ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. you’re a smart girl, shouldn’t you have figured that out by now?” when you don’t immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. “and here i thought that the girl who’d been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.”

“shut it,” you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoru’s ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, he’s been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. that’s how two of your subordinates lost their lives to him—by underestimating your city’s notorious killer.

so you decide to bide your time.

“ran out of options?” satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. “you gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? ‘cause i’m right here, honey, and i could be your savior.”

“that was actually the shittiest line i’ve ever heard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. “are you seriously proud of that one?”

“well, it worked.”

he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, you’re the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoru’s other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breath—which is unexpectedly minty—on your cheeks as he grins down at you. “you really think i’d use a line as shitty as that if i didn’t know it’d make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.”

you use every curse word you’ve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. you’re quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission. 

satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. “not gonna fight back? that’s no fun.”

“the fuck you want me to do?” you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didn’t value your life, you probably would’ve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldn’t be worth much. 

“i dunno. didn’t that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?”

you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. “y’know, you’re not giving me a whole lot of options.”

satoru laughs. “if i did, that’d defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”

at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.

“so, i’m gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,” satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. “if you behave, i won’t hurt you that badly, ‘kay? keep that in mind.”

“thought you liked your girls feisty.”

“oh, that’s true,” satoru muses thoughtfully. “yeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,” he grins after a moment of consideration.

“what the fuck?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your “tough” demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru can’t help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isn’t a whole lot you can do at this point.

“if you wanna stay alive, you’ll be a good girl and you won’t scream,” satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. it’s so at odds with who he is and what he’s done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.

satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. “i’m gonna let your hands go now, m’kay?” when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. it’s jarring, the way he just… changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty,” he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. “this’ll be a lot more fun for me if you don’t resist, yeah?”

oh, fuck it.

“okay,” you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you don’t really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive… and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?

as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, “you can handcuff me after i’m done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.”

yeah, it’d be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. there’s no way he’s just going to let you drag him off to jail, but there’s a reason he’s stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. it’s hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoru’s survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.

which, for tonight, includes you.

“you have thirty—no, twenty minutes,” you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.

satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. “haven’t i already made it clear that i’m the one in control here?” he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. “c’mon, let’s get these clothes off you.”

within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. “i’m cold,” you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoru’s hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact. 

“you really are an idiot, aren’t ya,” satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. “lettin’ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley… what kind of detective does that?” satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. “fuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy i’ve felt in a while,” he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. “do you not have sex with other guys?”

“don’t have time,” you swallow what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this man’s fucking fingers?

“aw, look at you, you’re so cute,” satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. it’s true—you really haven’t had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. it’s almost like you spent more time tracking the man who’s now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine pitifully, squirming around satoru’s fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoru’s fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. “g-gojo—”

“call me satoru, baby, and you’re not cumming until i say you can.” with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. “heh, don’t worry, i’ll make you cum more than you knew you could once you’re stuffed with my cock.”

although you’ve determined satoru’s “promises” to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after he’s spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. “this might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.” after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. “uh uh, keep ‘em nice and wide f’me,” satoru tuts disapprovingly.

and true to his word, it hurts—a dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadn’t felt in a long time. satoru’s hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoru’s lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kink—it just makes sense. 

“s-satoru, it won’t fit,” you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you can’t possibly take any more of him—he might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.

“yeah, that’s it, knew you could do it,” satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that he’s all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. “just like that, pretty girl. jus’ like that.”

soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his “cool serial killer” act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. “shit, i forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tight—” he mutters through gritted teeth. “‘m gonna cum inside, ‘kay?”

you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didn’t matter—all your pathetic little head could think about was satoru’s dick, and somehow, you forget that he’s a killer when he cums inside you. it’s hot and thick and it almost knocks you over—when was the last time you felt this good, if ever?

the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoru’s praises on how well you’re taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. “who knew the pretty detective i’d had my eye on would be this good to me?” he cooes, grinning snarkily.

satoru’s earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. “y-you said you’d let me arrest you after,” you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re in no condition to be giving orders,” satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether that’s from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you don’t quite know. “we should do this again sometime,” he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that you’re still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.

“but you said—” you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.

“you didn’t seriously believe me, did you?” satoru tuts, shaking his head. “i’m a serial killer. i’m not gonna turn myself in just ‘cause of a detective’s pretty pussy, baby. you should’ve known better, doll.” satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.

he leaves you with a promise to see you soon.

[willyoubemycherryy]

Intimacy Cues (C. Kent)

Summary: Who better to teach you how to talk body when you never learned the language?

Contains: smut AND plot so it’s long,depressing past, the college au you all secretly needed, struggles with physical touch, struggles with any form of intimacy, one mild panic attack, Clark is understanding but hot, dumb ideas, hugging, bonding, kissing, making out, it starts off shaky then soft but quickly snowballs into horn-e central, size kink, slight dumbification, strength kink, first kisses, virginity kept but not for long just give me till the second part, Clark is a little infatuated, they’re so nasty about each other my word, grinding, kissing (no forreal), prayer bc we all need it

A/N- my stomach is fine, it wasn’t a tumor but a blockage because of something I ate that never digested, causing my tummy to bloat and swell but they fixed me up so I’m back😈

. .* ੈ✩‧₊•

“Nononono- no, stop!!”

This might be the worst decision of your entire life.

Clark pulls away again, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in concern but also exasperation because-

“Hey! It’s okay- you’re okay. Remember…you were the one who asked for my help.” He didn’t say the obvious “but we’re not getting any farther” part out loud but it echoes through your head all the same and you breathe out a deep sigh; regretting it with the depths of your very being but, yes. You did ask him for his help.

Help with what? The answer would’ve ended your social life if anyone who wasn’t Clark had found out.

You needed his help with…closeness- intimacy.

Growing up you were always awkward. Not in a charming way or even unconventional, you just simply didn’t make the cut based by society’s standards. You were always too gangly, too weird, too timid; so imagine the surprise come middle of highschool to now college where you’ve finally grown into yourself.

You know how you like to dress and which clothes look hottest on you, you know what hairstyle suits best for your face shape, you’re still weird but you’re also sarcastic which somehow equals charm to people and you’ve also managed to come out of your shell a bit. Becoming more confident from people naturally gravitating towards you after your blooming stage and even more after letting your friends convince you to join your college’s cheerleading team. You’d become everything you wanted to always try.

Pretty, popular, and fun. The problem?

Thanks to how much of a late bloomer you were, you never got the chance to get comfortable with others intimately during your formative years. Nobody liked you in that way and you were terrified of embarrassing yourself so there was nothing. No first kiss, no first dance with a boy, hell- even now you still get uneasy when others stare at you too long. Hiding behind your image as a college sweetheart made everything you were still to unsettled to try easier. Don’t misunderstand; it wasn’t that you never wanted those things, it’s that you’re not used to others suddenly picking you for those kinds of things after being invisible and missing out on them for almost all your life to the point where you don’t know how to deal with it when those moments do happen.

Still, you acted like everything was fine.

Playing the role of pretty cheerleader- the flirty tease that was favored by many even though that favor was shallow as a tear on a hot day. You pretended. And it was working, nobody knew…or so you believed.

Cue to one of the football teams parties where you’d been flirting with a guy, coy smile painted on your face as you giggled softly whenever he spoke, batting your pretty eyes at him in your little mini skirt. It had been going well until he suddenly leaned closer, focusing solely on you and when you felt the heat of his skin from how close he was- it felt as if the color had drained from your face, leaving you frozen as you became so uncomfortable it was visible; nerves screaming at you to flee until you listened. Spinning on your heels and bolting, trying to calm your breathing enough to will the cotton out of your ears.

You didn’t realize it then but a certain pair of blue eyes had been watching the whole thing. He’s always seen you. Which is funny because you almost always actively avoid him. In fact, he’s seen you enough to know that this isn’t the first time you’ve had that reaction and one day after a particularly rough week of endless pondering over you; he decides to just ask you after practice is over. Clark waits until his and your friends leave, it being only you and him on the field when he starts to walk over to you. The sound of incoming footsteps make you look up and when you see him, he can hear the very second your heart stops; skipping a beat before it quickly begins to thrum out of rhythm.

Honestly, there genuinely are not enough words to describe how attractive Clark Kent was. He was so incomprehensibly beautiful that you avoided Clark altogether just to avoid getting a headache from staring at him for too long especially since the real suffering started when he’d smile. Seemingly perfect pearly white straight teeth but when his grin broadened, his sharp canines would show, leaving you breathless every time. The type of good looking that was flat out overwhelming. Besides being apart of adjacent stereotypes, you two didn’t go together but there was no animosity.

Clark stops and you have to look up at him because of his hulking size. At almost 6’4 he nearly dwarfed you and his proportions matched. Thick, beefy everything- everywhere and you swallow before forcing a smile on your face. While you preferred to avoid him for the sake of keeping yourself out of the psych ward from how crazy he could drive you; you were still curious as to why he came to talk to you. He takes a moment to just look at you, cerulean eyes almost glowing but he doesn’t realize how intense his stare is until you start to shuffle on your feet- dainty hands twitching nervously at your side and that’s when he speaks.

“Hey…I know we don’t usually talk or anything but are you okay?” Even his voice is dreamy but confusion draws on your face because you felt fine; nervous, like you were around any guy you thought was cute, but fine. Clark elaborates at your expression,

“Y’know because of what happened at the party last-”, that seems to jog your memory enough to snap you out of it, eyebrows shooting up as dread overtakes over your face. You whip your head around, making sure there’s no witnesses when you grab him by his sweaty shirt, dragging him all the way behind the bleachers as you slam him against the metal. Clark is caught so off guard that he just lets it happen; lets the pretty thing half his size drag him as you pleased. Your eyes shift as you glare up at him.

You’re positive he’s talking about your little freak out with close proximity guy, the one that made you leave the party completely; walking so fast you nearly burned a trail in the carpet. Heart pounding, you start to spiral.

He wasn’t supposed to see that. He- like everyone else- was supposed to be too drunk to notice anything.

Your nose scrunches, full lips curling in a snarl. “I swear if you say anything to anyone-!” You’re threatening him so fast, Clark falters, raising his hands in defense, debilitating blue eyes widening as he starts to plead his case.

“No no-! I didn’t! I-“, He stutters at your harsh gaze, the feel of your hands soaking through his shirt, warming his chest. He needs to hurry up and explain himself before you start disliking him. “I was just worried! Whenever I see you and a guy, even if you act interested-“, he rushes out, panting as he talks even faster, “the second they get too close you look like you’ll vomit!” Your hostility melts into shock and even more confusion and you let go of his shirt, stepping back as you study him, his words stuck in your mind.

“How..? Are you- you’ve been paying that close attention to me? When do you even see me?” You’re at such a loss for words that it’s hard to string them together to properly question him.

“…I”, he swallows harshly, “I always see you.” It’s pure adrenaline that motors his mouth- he thought he was over the time when lovely faced girls made him nervous but you were unexpectedly feisty. It lit something tingly in him. Your eyes search his face and he spills. “I see how you flirt but you’re sarcastic too. Everyone is so taken by your pretty that they don’t even notice, they just call it ‘wit”, he manages to catch his breath enough to sound less panicked now that you look like you won’t kill him, “I see how even though you’re a flyer, you hate heights-”

“H-how-?”

“Your right leg shakes when they lift you, no matter how stable your base is.” Your mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out, heart racing when his voice goes soft,

“But what I’m saying is- so what that you’re not really what you give off? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. ‘Jus curious why you think it is…”, he blinks those long lashes at you and you find yourself explaining the tale of your sordid social past.

By the end of it he’s stunned speechless.

You? Just how bad was your awkward phase for nobody to be interested in you? Wait so that also probably meant that-

“You’re a virgin?!”

You slap your hands over his mouth with a speed equal to his own, face flushed as you shush him, hissing in a low whisper.

“Jesus Chri- shut up! Are you trying to tell the entire campus?!!” You let out another heavy sigh.

“…yes, I am”. You let your hands fall to the side, refusing to look at him while he’s trying to process; silence filling the space between you. You’ve accepted that your ego will never recover from the most gorgeous being on the planet knowing about all your…truths. That you looked and acted the part of a vixen just to hide that you secretly weren’t.

“…so you’ve never done anyt-”,

“No.”

Well then.

You can’t take another long drag of awkward silence, turning to face the boy who knew you probably more than anyone else did.

“Look- I would’ve loved to remedy this but I-”

“Can’t stomach whenever a guy gets too close due to previous deep rooted societal wrought insecurities…” Bingo.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he gives you one of his disarming grins and a flush creeps up your neck; warming your ears, “I think you’re doing fine now.” You snap your head down to see that you two are standing fairly close or at least closer than you normally allow and you don’t have that itch to get him as far away from you as possible. That’s when you get the idea that- “Oh my god! You can help me get over my thing! This is perfect!”! You’re practically vibrating with glee, excited to finally have all your firsts without that looming of touch related dread haunting you. Clark however is swarmed with various images of him “helping” you and can’t keep his ears from reddening at all the different scenarios where he’d be required to be close to you and begins to stutter.

“W-well, I wa- not that I-! I don’t think that’s a good idea, I mean w-we-”, you cut him off before he can weasel out of it, eyebrows creasing in frustration. You unconsciously step closer, your sweet smell bathes his senses as he stares you down, trying not to gulp too hard. “Please, Clark?”, you start and he swallows harshly at how his name sounds in that whiny tone from your lips.

“It can’t be anyone else because you’re the only one who knows! We’re not close now but we could be-“, and the double meaning makes him tune out completely as he only watches your plump lips move; not even registering the sound coming from them. He was thankful you didn’t ask him why he watched you so closely because the answer was one he wasn’t ready to even admit to himself.

Your lips stop moving after a while and them paired with your begging doe eyes make him cave, Clark nodding in hopeless defeat. He was supposed to be over the influence of pretty girls.

“S’okay, I’ll help you out. Your secret’s safe with me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided smile that was somehow both attractive but made you feel safe and you smile shyly back. You were nervous but you know Clark is a good guy- reckless as hell with his charms- but a good guy. What could go wrong?

•

•

•

Standing in the middle of your dorm room with your arms wound tight around yourself is when you find out that alot can go wrong.

Clark came over and you two came up with a starting plan that seemed the easiest: talk and slowly close the distance between you two until he was touching and looking at you without you getting uncomfortable or pushing him away. It sounded simple enough at first only…. you severely underestimated how you’d react to Clark. The way his deep mellow voice sounded in your ears, how he always held such steady eye contact as he moved towards you, that heavenly jawline tilting when he’d think too long. Already, Clark was big from afar but up close he was even bigger. Strong arms and broad shoulders; chest so thick it was noticeable through his shirt. You were used to others falling at your feet but Clark stood fine and it affected you in ways you didn’t prepare to deal with, so you tried to do what you always did- ignore it.

Matching Clark’s light conversation as you two eventually get more comfortable, gradually gravitating towards each other with slow short steps. The air shifts when you exhale and the breath tickles his chest. This is when you normally get squeamish but you merely hesitate for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself by letting him keep his distance.

His hand twitch and he shuffles a bit closer, biceps flexing as he reaches out, resting his hands on your shoulders; your conversation quiets as he stares at you with perfectly blue lidded eyes and then you feel the stirrings of restlessness under your skin. That impeding urge to get away. Despite the way you feel, the slow atmosphere helps you tremendously to not pull away but your pulse spikes all the same. His hands felt nice. You take another deep breath as you try to come to terms with what you were feeling.

Clark was a guy.

A guy who was standing in your bubble, touching you- looking at you.

A million emotions fly across your face at record speed and Clark doesn’t move any more for the next couple minutes. No, he waits for you; large rough palms warm on your bare shoulders while his pinky idly messes with the thin strap of your top. Your skin was soft. The heavy rise and fall of your chest has him focusing on you more intensely, trying to get a read on how you felt until you break the silence with a shaky exhale.

“We can keep going- you can keep touching me.” He knows you don’t mean it that way but his ears burn anyways as he nods. Taking a second to think before taking his hands off you to take yours, ignoring your big eyes look as he places your hands around his waist- inevitably moving closer and his voice softens like he’ll frighten you away if he were to speak any louder.

“You can touch me too. Promise I don’t mind…this is for you after all.” You suppress a whine because being so close was already hard with you fighting every instinct yelling at you to get gone and go somewhere where nobody could comprehend you but now with Clark staring at you like that, it was even harder. Your eyes flick about the room as you flatten your palms more against his back, mentally rolling your eyes back at how his muscles feel. You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip but Clark does, instantly alert the second he felt your small hands nervously press against him, his eyes zeroed in on the swollen skin dipping under the pressure of your teeth. He feels bad because while he was supposed to be helping you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you were being so shy but hardheaded enough to build up the grit to go for what scared you because you wanted it.

Without taking his eyes off your face, he rubs his hands up to your neck, making you squeak before smoothing them back down your shoulders; repeating the motions with a gentle hum.

The room feels hot- you felt hot and jittery but it’s too much. Unable to keep the waves at bay, goosebumps trickle over your skin and your eyes scrunch in panic as your breathing picks up. He was close. Close and touching you. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes because you know when you do, you’ll be naked for all to see and you scream.

“Stop!”

Nobody can see you-nobody’s supposed to be seeing you, the girl who was never even chose last as you were overlooked entirely no matter how badly you wanted to reach out. Maybe that’s what started your fear. Maybe you were scared of losing experiences because of rejection.

Clark doesn’t move away but he isn’t touching you anymore and you aren’t touching him as your hands fly to the sides of your head, trying to calm yourself down and guilt pours over him. He wants to hug you; comfort you but he knows that pulling you against him in a hug will only worsen things right now so he waits. Closing his eyes to help you feel at ease, listening closely to the beat of your heart until your breaths quiet and he hears it fluctuate back to normal. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels your small trembling hands slide back around him and instead of putting his hands on your shoulders, he moves his arms around them; resting them against your back but not pulling you in yet. It’s quiet besides the hushed sounds of him cooing at you and your breathing. The air now has an underlying current and you shift in his heavy arms, inhaling deeply as you finally look up at his face. Shyly, you cut the silence; voice soft as how you feel.

“…you can open your eyes now..” Clark feels his own heart speed up before he responds, low tone matching yours and electricity hits you when it clicks. This is intimate.

“Are you okay? We can stop and try again some other time; I don’t wanna upset-,”

“I want you to look at me.”

His eyes pop open at your command, peering down at you in such a way that your breath catches; anxiousness rising up you again but you stay right where you are. Willing yourself to embrace the exposed way he makes you feel.

Under the heat of his stare it’s like he’s seeing everything you’ve ever hid or been but his hold is steady enough to let you know he’s there with you and he’s not going anywhere. You still feel naked but more than that, you feel safe. Comfortable enough to not shy away from his warmth, you take another breath; looking up at him through your lashes- it makes his head fuzzy.

His eyes shift from their usual blue to the shade of the sea after a storm and you’re swept away, logic going with you as you slowly glide your hands up his sides to his where his arms hold you. Feeling every dip and curve of his strong build until you reach his hands, repositioning them around your lower back. You move closer but because you two were already standing so close- your chests touch and Clark stops breathing. The soft swell of your breasts move against his body with your every inhale and he finds his senses filled with you.

Your gaze is torn away when you turn your head, looking down as you drop against his chest. Arms looping around him making his own instinctively curl around you, holding you tight to the firm but soft muscle of his chest. You both pause for a few minutes- waiting for the urgent panic but it never comes. Instead, you melt into him with a relieved sigh, warm breath bleeding into his shirt. You two were officially hugging.

And you were in heaven.

You never knew close contact with the opposite gender could be so delightful. Clark was just so big and warm and smelled so good, you bury your face into the meat of his pec almost deliriously, sighing happily. Fuck, you really had been missing out. His arms are firm and heavy against your back, effectively locking you against him. The endorphin rush hitting you has you practically purring; the sounds of your bliss vibrating Clark’s chest and he smiles, letting you get your fix as he enjoys the way you fit into his arms.

Unsurprisingly, you two stay like that for a while. Fitted against each other in the silence of your cozy bedroom. He sees the top of your head move and he’s suddenly looking into your eyes, pupils blown so wide that your eyes are black. Clark has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how cute you look. Your eyes flit down to his mouth to see the peek of his fangs that always show, letting out a small breathy ‘oh’ when you do. You’re still reeling in all the best ways as you rest your chin against his chest, unabashedly looking at his handsome face.

Clark raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the phantom hearts in your eyes and the way your small feet are standing on top of his larger ones while you make no attempt to separate your bodies, completely content with his proximity. He likes you so he likes your closeness and he’s even more elated that you seem to like him being so close too. Speaking lowly so he doesn’t disturb you, he checks if you’re still on the planet with him.

“This okay, sweetheart? Y’enjoying yourself?” The petname slips out but you don’t move or rush to correct him as your blood simmers, a numbingly pleasant heat washing over you so strong it’s hard to think. Running your hands in a slow caress up his back, you feel the muscles flex as his arm twitches and a smile grows on your face as you blink dumbly- brain currently taking a break, you mumble sweetly,

“Mmhm, yeah. Never better.”

And it’s true. You’ve never felt this safe, this free with anyone that wasn’t immediate family or your best girl friends. He was touching you and seeing you but you didn’t care because you knew whatever he was seeing and touching, was safe as it would ever be with him.

Clark huffs out a laugh at your belated response, moving one of his hands in a warm caress up your back, feeling you shiver and he bites his lip again. You were so alluring without even having to try and he breathes to reign himself in since he was currently the first and only to have you melting like this from a hug alone. If a hug got you like this he could only imagine how beautifully you’d respond to-

“Um, C-Clark?” Your soft voice brings him back as he hums, flicking his eyes down lazily at you.

“Yeah, baby?” Your sweet little gasp makes him realize that he just called you another nickname but you don’t seem to mind, flustering prettily in his arms. He leans down closer to your face, only to hear you better, eyes patient as he stares at you.

“I know this is supposed to be about me but how do you feel? You’ve been so good with me..I just wanna make sure you’re okay too.” Clark smiles, moved that you’re worrying about him even with all his experience.

“Yeah I feel good but how about you? Want me to let go or we can try something different?” He would’ve asked if you wanted to stop but he was going off your body language and it was telling him distance was the last thing you wanted and he was right as you shook your head before resting your chin back into his chest, looking up at him with those pupil eclipsed doe eyes.

“I feel great but…”, your voice gets smaller as it takes on an almost needy tone before stopping altogether. You snap your face back into his chest and he’s even more curious to get it out of you but you just can’t say it.

“You really don’t need to be embarrassed. Clothed or naked, we all start somewhere”, he whispers against the top of your head, stroking your back soothingly as you try to talk yourself into asking him before you chicken out, “with me you can start wherever you want and you know I’ll never tell. Or make fun of you..”,

His voice is tender with warmness and it turns your reservations to raindrops as you look back into his eyes. Steeling your nerve, you ground yourself with the way you feel in another persons arms for the first time in your life- his arms and decide to go for it.

“You said- we can try something different?” Your heart begins to race again as Clark’s starts to pound. He can’t keep the heat out of eyes as he returns your stare, nodding.

“Yeah. We can do whatever you want.” His breath wafts across your face, forehead resting against yours and the rate at which you find yourself needing him- scares you. You’ve been depraved of this kind of contact to the point of fear since forever but now…

“Then…can we-“, you blink rapidly, not wanting to verbalize it but not wanting to go without even more.

“Can we kiss please?”

Clark has to shut his eyes. You looked so sweet, felt so soft and even though you couldn’t keep the neediness from seeping into your words, you still asked so politely. Blood rushes through his ears as he feels a familiar stirring in his groin, taking a deep breath because it wouldn’t do for him to lose control now, his voice is heady with pure want when he answers,

“F’course. I’d love to kiss, baby.”

Large hands settle around your waist as you get pulled completely flush to him, legs almost intertwining while your pelvises touch; bodies glued together. The languid heat of arousal thrums through you, making your head spin.

Your lips part when Clark presses his forehead more firmly against yours, lighting you from the inside out when he dips his neck to slot his open mouth over yours.

Immediately your chest burns, heart feeling like each pump is gasoline, fueling the fire hes started in you. Clark’s full lips slide against yours, alternating between suckling at your top lip then bottom lip slowly, coaxing you to follow his lead, groaning his approval and the sound turns you up as you press yourself harder against his body. You feel so good you’re thrumming- heat steadily pulsing through you.

Your heads move from how hard you’re kissing, slick sounds coming from your mouths intensifying as you get rougher, delicious shivers all up your spine. Clark presses his lips fully against yours, moving them open wider with his own, hot breaths mingling as he licks hotly against the opening of your mouth. A bolt of pleasure hits you so hard that you gasp, wrenching your mouth off his as you moan- the needy little thing so whiny it makes his cock fatten in his pants as you pant against each others lips. Fuck. He can smell how wet you are. The sweet, heady smell makes his mouth water with him tossing shame clean out the window.

“Can I put my tongue in your mouth? Please, pretty girl?” You move your arms around his neck to get as close as possible, nodding desperately.

“God, yes-” His mouth is back to consuming yours before you can finish. Opening your lips with the force of his swollen ones, he sucks your bottom lip before lapping his tongue into your mouth. You twitch in his hold, even more turned on when he doesn’t have to move to keep your squirming in place, casual show of strength making you lightheaded as he swallows your moans. Wet smacks fill the air, your grip on him tightening when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. You get wetter and he can tell, growling in pleasure as he suddenly lifts you; your legs locking around his waist as he uses his hold on yours to grind you against him. The result is instantaneous. You melt like cotton candy, chest shaking against his from your pleasured moans as your shared spit wets your lips. Still aware of the fact that you need to breathe, Clark pulls away with a suck of your lips- staring at you hungrily with dark eyes.

He can’t even remember when he picked you up but the tiny undulations of your hips let him know it was a welcome decision. You looked so good. Lips puffy n slick, doe eyes teary and blown out, wet as fuck with your hard nipples poking through your top…you could ask him for every one of Saturns rings and he’d get them for you.

Clark takes a deep lungful of your tantalizing scent before he checks on you again.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’first kiss right?” You nod, cupping his face. You can’t help the way you smooch more pecks onto his pink lips, aching as you answer.

“It was so good”, you drag your nose down his jaw; kissing his ear as you whisper into it, “you feel so good, Clark..”. You have him completely hard at this point, thick and fat as his tip oozes pre when you start to whine. He almost feels bad that you’ve waited so long, being so pent up wasn’t healthy and you deserved to feel good everyday.

“What’s wrong baby?” The low timbre of his voice makes your pulse skyrocket, causing you to absolutely dissolve against him, hips twitching as he helped you rub yourself on him.

“I-I need..-“, you let out a soft cry and he quickly soothes you. Kissing you deeply before pulling away, licking his lips of your taste as he verbalizes exactly what you need.

“Need to cum?”

The heat in your chest blooms up to your face as you nod, suddenly growing shy but still comfortable. You purr as Clark presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, looking at you with pretty lidded eyes.

“Would it be okay if I made you cum princess?”

The utterly wrecked moan that comes out of your mouth has goosebumps scattering up his arms, holding you tighter as you nod vigorously.

“I need words baby”, he whispers. Giving you another kiss to tempt you and it works. He was too irresistible and he knew it.

“Yeah, you can make me cum Clark.” And with that he carries you over to your bed, laying you on the plushness as he takes over your mouth again with a hungry groan, your hands touching everywhere until he pulls away- fangs on display as he smiles making fire sweep through your veins.

Massaging your legs, he rises on his knees- taking off his shirt as your mind checks out from how hot he is, shifting restlessly as the ache in your pussy throbs with the best pain. Whining his name, Clark cooes at you; big hands moving to pull your clothes off. Your nerves are going haywire but you need this- need him to make you feel things, lifting your hips to help him slide your shorts and underwear off, spreading your legs as you let him get a good look at your messy wet hole twitching in need.

Clark swears, hooking his hands under your knees and bending them towards your chest. Exposing you more as he licks his lips, keeping his eyes glued to your cunt.

“Atta girl, jus’ lay there nice n pretty and I’ll give you what you need..”

Part ✌🏽…

[uvobreakmylegs]

Astray

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 2 (coming soon)

Warnings: death, implied torture, graphic depictions of violence, reader isn't necessarily a terrible person but she's not all that great either

Word Count: 7.2k

“Excuse me, miss?”

The voice that called out to you made you stop in your tracks, and though internally you were cursing, you made sure there was a pleasant smile on your face while you turned away from the hamper full of linens you'd been wheeling to the third floor laundry chute, folding your hands politely in front as you addressed the person who had called for you.

A man stood before you, one who was very obviously here as a guest for the banquet your employer was hosting based on the nice suit he wore that was in line with the dress code of this particular black-tie event. The paleness of his skin seemed to be accentuated by the darkness of his short black hair and the equally dark black suit he wore. Though with how clearly expensive his suit was, you were a little surprised at the bandage which covered his forehead. Had he possibly injured himself and wanted to cover it up? His earrings also seemed a bit odd.

It didn't really matter to you, however. Whatever curiosities you may or may not have about him, it was in your best interests to make him leave you alone so you could continue with what you were doing.

“What did you need, sir?” you asked politely.

He smiled at you, appearing to be embarrassed as he scratched at his cheek while saying “I'm afraid I've gotten a bit lost. I'm not quite sure where the main dining hall is. Can you help me?”

“Of course, sir,” you replied, pointing down the hallway he'd come from as you continued “you'll need to walk down to the very end of this hall, make a right, then go down the first set of stairs you come across. You should find yourself outside the dining hall once you reach the bottom.”

“Ah, that simple, is it?” the man said.

How did you even end up over here when the event is clearly being held on the first floor? You thought to yourself.

You kept your outward appearance pleasant as you continued to smile at him.

The man shook his head as he added “now I feel silly. I'm sorry to waste your time over this. You must be busy with all the work that must be done around here.”

“It's no trouble, sir. The mansion's layout can be confusing for those who haven't been here before,” you cheerfully answered.

Now go away. Don't make me escort you there, either.

Sadly for you, the man wanted to talk.

“You know the layout well, then,” he said.

No fucking shit

“They wouldn't keep me employed here if I couldn't memorize that much.”

After hearing your answer, it seemed as though he was studying you. His gray eyes took in every detail about your face, your hair and the way you held yourself. Though the moment wouldn't last long, it was somewhat unsettling.

Maybe he had a thing for maids.

That thought made you cringe internally before another possibility came to mind:

Maybe he recognized the face of the dead girl you were using as your disguise.

You wouldn't have thought anyone would have noticed the likeness, given that the girl in question had died five years prior due to a boating accident in a different country. As the story was kept largely local to the area in which it happened, not many international news outlets bothered to cover it, most not caring much about a single woman dying.

No one working within the mansion questioned you during the time you'd been here, but with guests coming from all different parts of the world, you were aware of the possibility that at least one of them might recognize your disguise and possibly expose you.

Did he know about her?

More importantly, was he going to question you about it and keep you here longer?

“You've been working here for some time, then?” he asked.

Motherfucker

“Yes sir. Nearly six months,” you told him.

Go away

“That's a decent amount of time,” he said.

“I suppose so, sir,” you agreed.

Go away

“May I ask you another question?”

No. Go away

“Of course, sir.”

“Do you know of the diadem the Pelletier's acquired nearly two years back?” he asked.

…. That gave you pause, and though you tried to hide it, he had likely noticed your reaction.

Of all the things he could've asked about, why did it need to be that?

“I do, sir,” you answered.

Suddenly, you were very unsure of where this conversation was going.

“I've heard that it's kept within a vault on this floor,” he told you, “I understand that there is a very thin chance that you would allow for it, but if possible, I was wondering if you might take me to it.”

Are you fucking serious?

“… Sir, even if I do know where the vault is located,” you answered carefully, “my employers would never entrust the vault combination to a lowly maid like myself. There would be no point in taking you there.”

He smiled.

“Just being in the proximity would be enough. And I'd be more than happy to compensate for your troubles.”

“I'm sure you could, sir. But what I'm not sure of is if your compensation would be enough to provide for me when I lose my job after a stunt like that,” you said, “I'm afraid the answer will have to be 'no'.”

Just go away already

“Hm.”

Despite your desperate wishes, he wasn't going away. He was looking you over yet again, and though you didn't see any signs that he recognized your face yet, you didn't like how closely he observed you.

He couldn't tell you were using nen, could he?

“There really isn't anything I can do for you to help me out?” he asked.

You laughed a bit.

“Not unless you're willing to take me in and provide for me so I never need to work again, but I get the feeling you wouldn't want that,” you answered.

After you spoke, you realized how casual your tone had become, which didn't fit at all with the role of the polite maid who worked for the upper class couple that you were currently playing. You then cleared your throat before switching to the tone that was expected of you.

“So I'm afraid that continuing this discussion would be a waste of time for both of us,” you said.

He nodded.

“I agree,” he said.

He smiled after saying that, and suddenly it was like all of the playful charm he'd been using to try and win you over with was gone. The smile seemed incredibly fake, and the coldness you could see in his eyes sent a chill running down your spine.

For an instant, it felt like you were in danger being alone with him.

The feeling went away when you saw him glance back in the direction he had come from, and your gaze followed where his went when you heard a voice that yelled out.

“Minette! What are you – ! Oh.”

The voice that was yelling down the hallway ceased almost immediately, and when you and the man turned to see who had called out your alias, you found yourself looking at the head butler, Nikolos. He looked uncomfortable, most likely because he had been ready to reprimand you but hadn't expected to find you with one of the guests. Evidently he was upset with you, but was not willing to scream at you in front of the man who was speaking to you.

He composed himself, if barely, forcing a smile as he looked at the man.

“Ah, good evening, sir,” Nikolos said to him, “how may we help you?”

Before the man could answer him, you interjected.

“He lost his way,” you said, “he stopped to ask me how get to the dining hall. He was just about to head back.”

Surprisingly, the man played along, affirming your story with a nod of his head when Nikolos looked to him. Although maybe it wasn't too surprising seeing as he'd been trying to bribe you so he could get close to an expensive piece that belonged to the master of the house. Whatever this guy was hoping to gain from tonight, he wouldn't be able to do that if he was kicked out of the event.

“I see,” Nikolos said, adding “my apologies for keeping you, sir.”

“Not at all,” the man answered, a pleasant smile on his face as he continued with “I hope my getting lost hasn't caused issues for anyone.”

“Of course not, sir.”

The man looked back to you one last time as he thanked you for your help.

His smile looked fake again.

But in fairness, the smile you gave back to him was equally fake.

Still, that moment between you had been uncomfortable, as brief as it had been, so you were more than happy when the man finally made his way back where he was supposed to be, and you let out a small breath of relief. Though you caught him looking back at you as he rounded the corner.

Whatever it was that guy really wanted, you got the feeling he wouldn't be giving up so easily.

But that wasn't important right now, as the instant the man was out of sight, Nikolos turned to you, his expression stiff and and his form shaking with badly hidden rage.

“What. The hell. Do you think you're doing?” he hissed.

He was much quieter than when he had first approached you.

“I'm taking the linens to the chute,” you answered.

“Right now? When we have guests and need everyone at their stations? You thinks now is a good time to mess around with the laundry?”

You swore you could see steam beginning to come out of his ears. The other maids weren't lying when they said he was a control freak whenever it came to the lavish feasts the Pelletier's hosted.

“I'm sorry, sir,” you said, your tone apologetic, “I just thought it would be better to get this out of the way and then focus on the banquet.”

“You thought wrong,” Nikolos said, “now hurry up and get to your station.”

“Of course, sir.”

You began to walk down the hall, leaving the cart of linens where you'd left it.

Nikolos stopped you.

“You're just going to leave that?” he asked, pointing to the cart.

“But you told me to get to my station?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

“…. You're either incurably stupid or a smart ass,” he said, “neither option is one that I care for.”

“Get the linens out of the hallway and to the chute,” Nikolos continued, “and then get to your station.”

“Of course, sir,” you replied happily.

Nikolos' eye twitched upon hearing your tone. As you grabbed the cart again and began to push, he called after you.

“Once the dinner is finished, we will be having a very long discussion about your conduct today, Minette.”

“Yes sir!”

Fat chance, asshole

The instant you came upon the room with the laundry chute, you let out an even bigger sigh of relief. You weren't safe yet, but you felt that you were at least halfway done with this operation.

And in your opinion, getting the diadem out of the vault had been the harder part.

Digging through the linens, you found the small messenger bag that you had stashed inside of it only minutes earlier and you couldn't help but laugh a little. That man had tried to get you to take him to the Pelletier's bedroom while telling you that just being in the diadem's proximity would be enough, and yet he'd had no clue that he was standing only a few feet from it the entire time he'd been talking to you.

As much as you wanted to pull it out to look at it, this wasn't the place nor the time to revel in the spoils of your heist. Anyone could still find you in here – most likely Nikolos since you were clearly on his radar. If you weren't where you were supposed to be within the next five minutes he'd be raging.

Best to not be around for that.

Sliding up the door that opened up into the chute, you pulled the messenger bag over your head and secured it to yourself, keeping a hand on the box within that held the diadem.

After that, you took a breath –

And jumped down the chute.

Your fall was broken by the dirty laundry and the multitude of pillows and sheets that you had been padding the bottom with throughout the entire day, slipping away whenever you had the chance to make sure you wouldn't break anything when you jumped down there. That was likely part of what Nikolos had been referring to when he mentioned your conduct, as several of the other members of staff had been annoyed with how often you had left.

Just as you had anticipated, there was no one in the laundry room when you popped out from the bottom of the chute. Everyone else was busy with the banquet. And as such, no one would notice a single maid slipping out through the back.

But just to make sure of that fact, you enacted your zetsu before making your way into the back courtyard.

You felt your heart racing in your chest despite everything going just as you had planned. The only thing that was unexpected was when you came across the smaller back entrance. With everyone's attention being on the mansion and the main gates, this entrance was meant to be locked and bolted. For some reason it wasn't. Odd, but at least it saved you a few seconds that would've been eaten up with you undoing the locks.

You were on higher alert, though, and you kept your movements quiet as you exited through the back and made your way into a wooded area that surrounded the walls of the mansion.

Not too much longer. I'll find it soon and then I can – Ah!

Beneath a tarp, a pile of leaves and some branches was the motorized scooter you had stashed the other week for a quick and easy escape. Though starting up the motor this close to the mansion wouldn't be the wisest idea, so after pulling up the kickstand, you walked the scooter through the trees, looking back every so often to the mansion in case your plans had somehow been discovered and there were people coming out to find you.

There wasn't any such activity, and when you made it to the road, you hopped onto the scooter, started it up and drove off. It was somewhat difficult driving with the skirt of your dress being as long as it was, but you managed. Right now you wanted to have a good distance between you and the mansion before you removed your disguise.

The adrenaline was pumping through you again. Just as it had when you snuck into the Pelletier's master bedroom and input the code to the vault. The chances of you being caught were high and if that were to happen, the half a year you'd spent at that place would've all been wasted. All the time, effort and planning gone up in smoke.

But no one had come in, and you got into the vault without issue, taking the diadem out of its glass case and replacing it with a cheap plastic replica that you'd bought online. Your disappearance would noted tonight, but with any luck, it would take a few days before your former employers would realize the switch. And by that point, you'd be long gone. Your alias would vanish into thin air and there would be nothing to connect you to the theft of the Pelletier's most prized possession.

You drove, getting further and further away from the mansion and closer and closer to the coastal town where a ferry would be leaving soon, one that would take you from Begerosse to Hantane, and from there you'd head east, taking the diadem with you for the sake of the awaiting buyer.

But before you got to that point, you needed to change.

And as a darkened church building came into view, you turned and pulled into the parking lot, heading towards a dumpster that sat in the back. The building itself wasn't useful to you, but what was important was that there would be no one here at this time of night, and you knew for a fact that the cameras that had been mounted on the sides of the church were only for show and weren't actually recording anything.

So no one would witness it when you took off that dead girl's face.

Turning off the bike and setting it on the kickstand, you moved fast, undoing the buttons at the back of your maid dress while you walked to the large dumpster. All other clothing you'd worn during your time at the mansion had been destroyed earlier, so this was all that was left. While a fire wouldn't destroy everything, it would be difficult for any potential investigators to find much that was useful on the remains of the clothes if or when they were discovered.

After fully removing the dress that had hidden your regular clothing beneath it, switching out the black heeled shoes for ones a bit more comfortable and tossing all of it into the largely empty space of the dumpster, there was only one thing left to do.

Death Mask: deactivate

For the third and final time since you had donned her visage, the skin at the edges of your face began to peel off. You grabbed hold of them and pulled so as to speed up the process of removing her face, like you were pulling off a face mask. As the illusion of her features were removed, yours were returned, and within a matter of moments, you were holding a paper thin copy of the boating accident girl's face, the empty holes that made up the eyes and mouth gaping at you while your own face was now restored.

Now you needed to finish the last of your conditions for your hatsu.

Throwing the mask on top of the pile, you pulled out the last two things you'd been hiding in the bag: a box of matches and a small canister of lighter fluid. You soaked the contents of the pile with the lighter fluid before throwing the canister on top as well, and took one of the matches from the box and struck it.

The thin layer of skin that had hidden your face for six months stared up at you as it sat on top of your maid uniform, quietly watching both you and the lit match you held above it.

Ah….. Her name. It was Jennica.

“I'm really sorry you died in that accident, Jennica,” you said aloud, “I hope you're at peace and that you ended up somewhere good. You deserved better than what you got.”

The flames shot up after you threw the match and the rest of the box onto the pile, making you quickly back away as soon as you felt the heat hitting your skin. No time to stay and watch – you got on the scooter again and started it up. Within seconds you were on the road again, keeping an eye on your surroundings and the names of the roads.

By now “Minette” would likely be discovered as being absent, and you could imagine Nikolos trying to keep his composure for the sake of appearances while desperately – and no doubt angrily – trying to find the missing maid.

The thought made you smile; after the six months of dealing with him on a daily basis, that stress of his was well-earned.

As was your reward.

When you were far away enough that you felt comfortable that no one would suspect that you had anything to do with the mansion or the evidence burning at the back of the church, you couldn't help but pull over, leaving the bike running as you parked beneath a flickering streetlight.

You needed to see it.

You'd spent so long on this job, so much time and effort and close calls that were much closer than you would ever admit out loud. So much effort spent on one piece of jewelry. You needed to get a look at it. A proper look, not the quick five second glance you'd gotten before stuffing it into the bag when you were in a hurry to leave the vault.

After pulling it out from the confines of the messenger bag, the diadem sparkled in the lamplight. You could see why this was a piece many would want.

A large, circular sapphire sat at the center, accompanied by a piece of opal on the side that had been shaped so that both gems together resembled the light and the dark of a crescent moon. The rest of the diadem was made of silver, and the material had been bent in places so it resembled the clouds of a night sky, and sprinkled throughout the piece were diamonds that represented far off stars.

It was very pretty, if a bit gaudy. Certainly a product of it's time, when one's status was determined by the amount of diamonds you were able to afford to place on literally everything.

Excessive, but very pretty regardless, and it was little wonder why there were people willing to anything to get their hands on it.

That's enough time looking at it, you told yourself, shoving it back into the bag and quickly driving off again. If you dawdled any longer you ran the risk of missing the ferry.

But this time you couldn't help the smile that reached from ear to ear. You'd done it. You'd actually pulled off the biggest heist of your career. Once this got to the buyer, you'd be set for life. You could spend the rest of your days relaxing on a beach while sipping expensive drinks if you wanted. Or maybe something a bit less extravagant and on the down-low. Maybe you could find a cabin near a lake and spend your time reading under a heated blanket. That also sounded nice. Then again, you didn't necessarily need to be tied down to one place; you could always travel wherever you liked without worrying about cost. Ah, the possibilities were endless.

Get it to the buyer first, you told yourself. Finish the job so you can get your money, and then plan for the vacation that would be the rest of your life.

The smile stayed on your face as you drove, and you knew that this was a turning point in your life.

A major one.

“Boss.”

There was an oddly flat tone to Phinks' voice as he called out, Chrollo noted as he and Pakunoda turned to look in the enhancer's direction.

“Something wrong, Phinks?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Phinks turned to look at him while he pointed to the diadem with his thumb.

“This is fake.”

Chrollo didn't betray any emotion when he heard that. He walked forward and stood next to Phinks, inspecting the piece from where it sat on a small display stand before he hummed to himself.

“So it is.”

At first glance, the piece behind the glass looked to be the real thing. But when one looked closer, it became clear that it was nothing more than shiny plastic.

“This is just a decoy, then?” Phinks asked him.

“It seems to be,” Chrollo answered.

He looked back to Pakunoda.

“The man of the house is still alive, correct?”

“He should be.”

“Have Feitan interrogate him some more. Find out where the real one is,” he said.

“Got it,” Pakunoda said before she left the vault.

Chrollo looked back to the fake. A cheap decoy. Perhaps a bit odd, but it did make sense; while the other items in the vault were real, the diadem was worth more than everything else combined. That the owners would take extra precaution in hiding their most valuable piece wouldn't be unreasonable.

And yet….

Even with that train of logic, Chrollo couldn't help feeling that there was something about this that felt off. Something about this situation didn't feel right, but what it was exactly, he wasn't sure.

His mind kept going back to the maid he'd encountered earlier.

Something had been off with her as well. Not only had there been an air of strangeness about her, she was eager to get away from him, like she was in a hurry to do something else. And while she had been polite with him, he'd been able to sense the growing irritation in her the longer he kept her.

Though perhaps that could've been explained away as a maid who was busy with her duties that came with a high-stress position in a mansion while being forced to entertain a pushy guest when she had other things to do.

But still, the longer Chrollo thought about her, the more he felt that there had been something going on with her. He simply couldn't place what it was yet, nor could he connect anything between her or the fake diadem in front of him.

She had gotten visibly nervous when he mentioned the diadem earlier, he noted to himself.

Phinks had pulled the glass case off of its stand before grabbing the plastic copy. He began to inspect it, turning it around and stopping when he read something on the back.

“Anouilh Museum,” he mumbled.

“That was where the real one was kept for a time before it made its way to auction,” Chrollo said, “it seems this one was originally from their gift shop.”

“Hm.”

There wasn't much else to say about it, and Phinks put the fake back in place on the stand before he and Chrollo went through the rest of the vault's contents. Under normal circumstances, Feitan would get the information out of his victim quickly and they would have the item they were searching for.

Clearly the circumstances were far from normal as Pakunoda returned a short while later with a hint of worry on her face.

“He doesn't know where it is,” she said.

“He doesn't?” Chrollo repeated.

“No. Even with Feitan working him over, he insisted that it was in this vault,” said Pakunoda, “just to be certain, I looked through his memories to see if he was lying, and he isn't. It's supposed to be in here.”

…. Chrollo's feeling that something was off was starting to become more justified.

When Chrollo stood before Benoit Pelletier not long after, the man was kneeling in the middle of the third floor hallway and wheezing out every breath as he cradled an injured hand. Feitan hadn't needed to do much to make him crack, it seemed. The former grandiose man of the house looked up when Chrollo, Phinks and Pakunoda approached him, and when he saw the fake that Phinks was holding, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why…. Why are you asking about where it is if you have it?” Benoit asked. Then despite the circumstances, a small bit of pompous arrogance came back as he asked “are you stupid?”

That annoyed Phinks to the point that he crushed the fake in his hands, much to the man's shock and disbelief as he yelled as to what he was doing.

“It's a fake, dumbass,” Phinks growled at him.

Benoit seemed just as shocked upon realizing that, looking at the plastic pieces that now littered the floor.

“It can't be,” he breathed, “it was real. I… The historians confirmed it….. I didn't buy a fake. It was genuine.”

There was no point in continuing to ask if he knew where the real one was; his reaction was proof enough that the place where the fake had been was supposed to be where the real one was.

“Did your wife know the code to the vault?” Chrollo asked him, “did she move it elsewhere for safekeeping?”

He shook his head.

“I'm the only one that knows….. If she wanted anything she needed to ask me first,” he mumbled, “no one….. No one else could've known.”

“I see,” said Chrollo, “then I have only one more question: what can you tell me about a maid in your employ who goes by the name 'Minette'?”

Benoit seemed bewildered at the question.

“Who is that?” he asked in response.

“You don't know your own employees?” Chrollo asked back.

“We have dozens of maids who work here; how am I supposed to know a single one of them?”

“I see. In that case, your usefulness has run out.”

“Wha-”

He hadn't even gotten out one word before Feitan had pulled out his sword and stabbed it through his head, the blade passing through the top of his mouth and forcing open his jaw as it stabbed through. The blood that dripped down along the blade caused a gurgling noise to emit from his throat as the light left his eyes and his body grew limp. Feitan then placed his foot on the man's shoulder as he pulled the sword out, and the body fell to the floor, blood now beginning to pool around the head as his mouth hung open, gaping like a fish.

“So the diadem was never real, then?” Phinks asked.

“No, it had to be. The fake wasn't good enough to fool someone for long. You were able to confirm it after looking at it for a few moments,” Chrollo pointed out.

“So then….?”

“Someone switched it out.”

“And if it wasn't the owners….” Phinks said, trailing off as he glanced down at the body.

Pakunoda finished the enhancer's sentence as she said “then someone else must have gotten to it before we could.”

“It's beginning to seem that way,” Chrollo confirmed.

The three members of the troupe that were gathered glanced at each other while the face of the maid flashed in Chrollo's mind again.

He'd seen her last in the hallway of one of the upper floors – this floor, pushing a cart of linens toward a laundry chute. He'd been listening in to her conversation with the butler, and had heard him order her to remove the cart before she returned to her station.

Remove the cart and take it to the chute, he had told her.

“There's a laundry chute on this floor, correct?” Chrollo asked.

“Yeah,” Pakunoda replied, “somewhere on the other side of the house.”

“Is the chute important?” Phinks asked him.

“I'm not sure yet,” Chrollo said.

Looking back to Phinks and Feitan, Chrollo gave his orders as he said “Phinks, I want you to go back to the vault and continue packaging the items in there. Feitan, you go downstairs and bring Shizuku back up, and the two of you will help Phinks in the vault. Under no circumstances is she to use Blinky for anything else unless I say so. Tell her that, and remind her if she forgets.”

Phinks and Feitan nodded in understanding, and while the torturer began to make his way downstairs, Phinks lingered as he asked “what about you, boss?”

“Pakunoda and I need to check something out.”

That was enough for Phinks before he made his way back to the vault, leaving Chrollo and Pakunoda to being their walk to the other side of the mansion. Pakunoda was already looking at him expectantly, correctly anticipating that he needed her for a specific reason.

“Paku, I need you to scan my mind,” Chrollo said, “look in my memories for a maid I spoke with who went by the name of Minette.”

He held his hand out, and Pakunoda took it as they walked while she repeated “a maid named Minette?”

Within a moment, Pakunoda hummed as she gained the memories of the maid from Chrollo.

“You think she's the one who switched the diadem out for the fake?” she asked as she let go of his hand.

“Possibly,” said Chrollo.

“That could be an issue if she hid it before she died.”

“If she died.”

“You think she escaped?”

“That's what we're going to see,” Chrollo said, “depending on what we find, we may need to have Shizuku bring back the bodies Blinky cleaned up and go through the remains of the maids one by one.”

“That could take some time. The Pelletier's employed a lot of staff for their day to day needs, and that doesn't include the extra workers they hired just for tonight.” Paku commented.

“I know. It's not ideal, but we'll at least have a few hours before anyone notices something amiss here. If a majority of us look through the bodies we should be able to find her.”

“Unless she left.”

“Unless she left,” Chrollo confirmed.

A few short moments later, Chrollo and Pakunoda were in the same place he'd been not even an hour earlier, where he had spoken to the maid. From there, it was a short walk until they found the room that had the laundry chute.

“The cart is here,” Chrollo noted aloud, looking at the cart the maid had been pushing when he first saw her. It stood in the middle of the room, right in front of the chute.

“She didn't bother to take the sheets out,” Pakunoda commented.

“She took something out,” Chrollo said as he looked over the contents of the cart. The sheets were disturbed, as though they had been rooted through. Had the diadem been inside it the entire time and he hadn't realized? And if that was the case, where did she go after she came to this room?

His eyes went to the most direct answer: the laundry chute at the end of the room.

Chrollo pushed the cart to the side, and once he reached the chute, he pushed up the small door to open it and then pulled his leg over the edge. He then looked to Paku, who hadn't moved.

“Care to join me?” he asked.

“I think I'd rather take the stairs,” she answered.

Chrollo huffed out a small laugh as he playfully asked “what, no sense of adventure, Paku?”

“Oddly enough, I don't see jumping into a pit of dirty laundry to be much of an adventure,” she said, but she smiled as she added “I'll see you below.”

Chrollo smiled back at her, and then lifted his other leg. Shortly after, he was falling down the chute.

His fall was broken by more padding than he had expected. Lifting up a portion of the linens he'd fallen on, he hummed to himself when he found a great deal of pillows and sheets underneath.

So this was where “Minette” had landed.

The path was obvious to him after he'd stepped out of the laundry room; in an adjacent hallway, there was a door that led out to the back of the mansion, and even from where he currently stood, through the window of the door he was able to see a clear path to an exit within the wall that surrounded the structure, one that appeared to have been left unlocked. With all of the focus at the time being on the banquet hall, no one would have noticed the maid slip out that way.

“How likely is it that she got away?” Pakunoda's voice called out to him.

He turned to find her approaching.

“Extremely likely,” he answered.

She stopped when she reached him as she asked “should we still look through the bodies?”

“For now, no,” Chrollo said, “for now the others will continue as planned for the rest of the job.”

Pakunoda cocked her head to the side as she asked “should I assume that the two of us will be looking for the maid beyond the mansion?”

Chrollo nodded, then added with a small smirk “I hope going out into the woods at night is more acceptable than jumping into dirty laundry.”

“It is. Slightly,” Paku countered.

With that, the two exited down the hall and through the back door that lead to the outside. As the two spiders made their way across the large open courtyard enclosed within the walls, Chrollo's thoughts were consumed by one person and one person alone:

Minette.

The maid.

The thief.

Or rather, the fellow thief.

At the very least, a potential one. Even if the evidence he had found at this point seemed to point to that conclusion, Chrollo wanted to see more before he accepted that as fact. If the maid had indeed escaped with the treasure he had set his sights on, there would be evidence of that beyond the mansion.

That evidence was easily found only a few minutes later, when he and Pakunoda came across a discarded piece of tarp left abandoned within the woods. That evidence was accompanied by combination of tire tracks and footprints which had been embedded into the soft dirt of the forest floor. The two naturally followed, only for their journey to be cut relatively short when they reached the road and found no more tracks to find on the dense pavement.

“Depending on when she left, she could be long gone by now,” Pakunoda said aloud.

“She could,” Chrollo agreed.

“Do we intend to follow her?”

“… At this moment, no.”

With everything falling into place and it all but being confirmed that the maid had stolen the diadem, Chrollo turned and began to make his way back through the woods as he said “even if we went by vehicle, it's unlikely that we'll catch up to her. We'll only be wandering around aimlessly since we don't know where she went. At this point, it's better to finish the current job and then figure out the most likely route she took after the fact.”

He noted the way Pakunoda followed him once more as they both headed towards the mansion, but Chrollo's thoughts were consumed once more – on what to do from here, and how this had occurred in the first place.

It was an unprecedented situation – for the Phantom Troupe to have someone swoop in and steal their target before they could.

That fact would inevitably mar the heist, no matter how many others of the high-value items they collected from the mansion. The Diadem of Princess Despoina was the main item he had set his sights on when he chose to have the troupe descend on the Pelletiers, so to have it be snatched away from him by the hands of another thief only left his carefully laid out plan to end in failure.

Yet as Chrollo continued his walk through the woods, he found that he wasn't upset by the idea.

Perhaps that was a bit odd. Others in his position would likely be raging, and while he wasn't prone to bursts of anger like that, being irritated at the situation and the individual who had caused it would have been reasonable. Or even to be irritated with himself, as when he thought back to his brief encounter with the maid, Chrollo quickly realized that everything could have wound up differently had he chosen to act sooner. If he had chosen to kill the maid and the butler that had come barging around the corner, he wouldn't be outside searching for a sign of where she had gone. Instead, he or one of the other members of the troupe would have found the diadem hidden in the linens and that would be that. That the maid was stealing the diadem would be an interesting tidbit which would be easily forgotten in time.

To know now that the outcome he had desired hinged completely on that one action of his should have been annoying, at the very least.

But he didn't even feel that.

Instead, an entirely different emotion was filling within him, and though he attempted to keep his true feelings hidden, Pakunoda was far too perceptive for him to hide it from her.

“You seem rather amused by this, boss,” she said.

Chrollo shrugged lightly as he said “it's not something that's ever happened before.”

“No. But even I thought you would be a little upset over it.”

“I don't see it worth being upset over. If anything, it's an interesting turn of events. That some little sneak was able to get in and out with our intended prize.”

He felt the eyebrow Pakunoda raised in his direction as she said “you sound like you want to praise her, boss.”

“Maybe a little,” Chrollo admitted, “with the members we have in our rank, the fact that she was able to get away without anyone noticing deserves at least some praise.”

“But was that due to skill on her part? Or luck?”

“That's what we'll find out.”

As the lights in the mansion grew brighter as they got closer, Chrollo was thinking of the steps to be taken next; once the current job was done, the obvious action was to have Shalnark look up the fastest routes out of this area. Though Shalnark may not even have to do that much – there was a coastal town nearby, as Chrollo recalled, and he felt certain that if he was in the shoes of that maid, he would have headed there and left as soon as possible. If that was the case, it would be as simple as finding out what ships had left the port during that window of time and getting ahold of any possible security video.

The issue of retrieving the diadem could be taken care of within a few days if that was the case.

But Chrollo had a feeling that it wouldn't be so simple.

There was something about her that still bothered him. But all he could truly point to in that regard was that her voice didn't match her face. It was hardly conclusive proof of anything, and yet that fact felt important. Time would only tell if he was correct or not.

Perhaps that was why he was so unbothered by the theft. Perhaps that theft itself was why he found himself more interested in the person who had committed it. By little “Minette” who was trying so hard to appear soft and sweet while barely being able to hide her true self and the way she wanted to strangle him for holding her up.

Thinking back to that previous encounter, Chrollo couldn't help but chuckle, and he found himself wanting to see her again – to see you again, whoever you were. He sincerely hoped that you had been sloppy when you made your escape and would make hunting you down easier for him, because he wanted to get his hands on you as soon as possible to learn more about you, to learn what exactly your ability was.

And to see exactly how you would react if he was able to take that from you.

The diadem was an afterthought by this point.

[beeschmee]

first date fantasies

pairing: caleb x fem!reader word count: 1.5k cw: MDNI, 18+, jealous caleb has a vivid imagination, fingering, grinding, orgasm denial, pent-up reader, masturbation, light grinding notes: possessive colonel caleb is deadly, but a jealous flight student caleb? give him to me on a silver platter, please. not proofread, as per usual. might write another part to this, not sure yet. let me know what you guys think? c: |ao3

thinking about caleb listening to you ramble on about how nervous you are to go on your first date and how nothing in your closet looks right on you. your cereal goes soggy in the bowl in front of you as your hands fidget in your lap. reassuring compliments and teases escape his mouth on auto-pilot, trying to ease your anxiety.

the fork in his hand bends ever so slightly as he jabs it into the freezer-burned stack of pancakes that he microwaved just a bit too long, too distracted with preparing your coffee to stop it early.

his knuckles whiten as he promises that everything will go fine, that you won't embarrass yourself, and that your date will love you. if they didn’t, they’d be crazy. 

if they did, they’d be dead. 

the thought passes through him so suddenly he almost misses it, but the feeling that sticks in his heart feels like poisonous tar, dredging through his veins, threatening to pull him under.

it’s unsettling, but familiar. you always brought out this side in him. 

he doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t get the chance to before you burst up from your chair, crying out that you should’ve started getting ready seven and a half minutes ago. so specific; he adores it. 

you beg him to clean up your plate, promising to pick up his favorite snacks on your way home so you guys can have a movie night, and run off to your room. 

he doesn’t bother you for the rest of the day. he doesn’t barge into your room demanding you walk to the store with him. he doesn’t tease you through the bathroom door as you use up all the hot water. he doesn’t even text you little memes when he could walk down the hallway to show you.

he does stay away, at least to your knowledge.

he doesn’t want to stress you out when you’re already so high strung with butterflies and nerves that aren’t for him. instead, he pauses every time he passes your door, listening to you rambling to one of your friends over the phone over which outfit looks cuter. he imagines you holding up that floral dress he made sure you knew looked amazing on you, your lip caught between your teeth, contemplating it.

when you finally go to shower in the bathroom in between your two rooms, he leans against the wall, his ear glued to it. your voice is faint as you sing offkey to your newest playlist. 

he imagines you in the shower, carefully dancing in place so you don’t slip, your hands lathering your body in that apple scented soap of caleb’s.

marking yourself with his scent before seeing another man has his blood rushing downward feverishly.

just the thought has his heart racing, the thick bile of jealousy burning in his chest receding bit by bit.

in his room, he lifts the hem of his shirt up to his wet lips and bites down. his hands trace down his chest to the drawstring of his sweatpants, imagining the way his soap would glide down your figure. the thought has him clenching his teeth as he reaches under his pants, grabbing his hardening length. 

fantasies of you showering for him, scrubbing yourself down and dressing up all cutesy just to impress him, play in his mind.

his hand works deftly up and down his shaft, squeezing the base whenever he feels himself getting too excited by the thought of you wearing that white lingerie set he’d seen while doing laundry.

the lace frill perfectly framing those enticing dips in your hips. the little heart cut-out on the front just begging his lips to find their way home to your exposed skin.

your singing is louder now, blending into his daydreams of you bent over the sink, applying makeup with your perky ass up in the air, shaking to the beat of the music.

a groan slips through his lips, his t-shirt muffling his pitiful desire for you as his hand focuses on that sweet spot under his tip.

he’d enter the bathroom, despite you telling him to wait until you were done, his hands gravitating to your skin, your hips, your ass. god, he can imagine the way you’d blush at his touch as he pressed into you, showing you just how excited he was for your date.

the thought of you grinding back into him as he nipped at your neck, licking a rogue water droplet up, his hands reaching around to wrap around your hips. he’d tell you to ignore him, that you couldn’t be late for the dinner reservation he made, and to keep getting ready. 

you’d be flustered, maybe even annoyed at his antics, but you would listen. you always did.

he’d whisper sweet praises in your ear at every step, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach as you greedily pressed your ass against his bulge. your movement would be awkward, your instincts working against your logic.

his hand would ghost down towards the bottom of that floral dress resting on your thighs, before pulling the fabric up as his fingertips trace up your inner thigh. 

you’d freeze and he’d remind you how little time was left before you both had to leave to make it to the restaurant in time. he’d stop his pursuit until you continued brushing blush onto the apples of your cheek. 

he’d reward you then, his fingers reaching the apex between your thighs and tracing lightly over the fabric growing wetter by the second.

oh how he’d want to tease you, bully you for being so needy, but you’re turning into putty in his hand with every light rub of his thumb over your clothed clit. he’d never go under your panties, not before your first date, he had some self control. 

no, instead he’ll get you right up to the point that your whimpering in the palm of his hand for more pressure, more contact, more of him. he’d get you right to the point of falling over before clicking his tongue, telling you it was time to leave.

he’d walk away then, leaving you desperate and bothered in the bathroom as he goes to grab his car keys, telling you to meet him in the garage in five minutes. 

for the rest of the night, he’d make sure to touch you lightly whenever he could: his fingertips playing with the ends of your hair as you walk, his feet rubbing your ankles under the table during dinner, his knuckles grazing your chest as he zips his jacket up on you after you complain about how chilly it is. 

anything he can do to ensure your frustration stays simmering right below the surface until you’re brave enough to touch him back. until your hands are tracing his biceps as he drives you both home, mesmerized with the veins raised just above the surface, not knowing it’s because of his tight grip on the wheel. until you’re crawling onto his lap on the couch when he suggests ending the night on a movie before bed, begging him to finish what he started. 

he’d make sure he did this time as his fingers slip past that white lace, sinking into your dripping cunt.

the shower turns off right in time for caleb’s orgasm to rip through his body, lightning shooting down his spine as shoots his load all over his chest. the shirt stuffed in his mouth silences the way he moans your name like a true sinner. 

aftershocks ripple through his body as he strokes himself sensitive, his cock red and twitching in his hand as the visions of you riding his fingers fade from his mind. 

reality was a cruel enemy, stepping back in to remind him what he couldn’t have. not yet, he always tagged on. the real you wasn’t dolling yourself up in the next room for him. you weren’t pulling that lace up your legs in the hopes he may catch a glimpse of it if the night goes a certain way. 

another man was going to see this version of you tonight. unworthy eyes were going to trail down your body the second you open that front door for him later. caleb can’t even imagine those filthy hands testing how far you’d let them touch you, surely pushing past your comfort zone too early. 

so, he’ll make sure they don’t. 

at the thought, he’s dressed in the blink of an eye, making sure to grab an old cap, sunglasses, and a mask before he’s racing out the door. he knocks on the bathroom to let you know he’s leaving, telling you to keep him updated on when you leave and where you go. you roll your eyes at how parental he sounds. 

it didn’t matter whether you did or didn’t, your location was pinged on his phone at all times, unbeknownst to you. 

he was going to make sure everything possible went wrong tonight, then he’d be waiting at home for you to fall right into his open arms. it’d been a while since he’d seen your tear-stricken face, and the image of it had heat boiling in his abdomen.

if you couldn’t be his tonight, you damn sure weren’t going to be someone else’s...

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝐷𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 (𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦)

Masterlist

Bakugo always had something to say. That you were too loud, that you didn’t know how to stay still, that you were always all over him. And yet, what unsettled him the most—though he’d never admit it—was how easy it was for you to love.

And yet, that shameless and sincere way you showed your feelings was, ironically, one of the first things that broke down his walls.

“Move over a bit,” you said suddenly, standing in front of him.

“What? Why?” he grumbled without budging.

Without answering, you put one knee on the couch, then the other, and with smooth, confident movements, you climbed onto his lap like that was your rightful place. Bakugo tensed up, surprised. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a second, like they didn’t know what to do. You, on the other hand, just settled your weight, straddling him naturally.

“Woman, get off. I’m not a damn chair,” he growled, but his hands ended up on your waist, clumsy at first, like he was trying to convince himself it was to push you away… even though he made no real effort to do so.

“I don’t wanna, Katsuki,” you whispered, leaning in until your face was just inches from his.

“I need space…” he repeated, voice lower now, less firm, betrayed by the faint blush creeping up his neck.

You tilted your head with a small smile, and instead of answering with words, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline. His body shivered beneath yours.

“Damn it, what are you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You brought your hands to his face, warm and gentle, cupping him tenderly as you started kissing him little by little, like you were tracing an invisible map across his skin.

First his cheeks, one by one, with soft kisses that left behind the subtle mark of your favorite lipstick. Then his forehead, right in the center. Bakugo closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath. His fingers now gripped your hips firmly.

When your lips touched the bridge of his nose, he opened his eyes again and muttered:

“You’re completely nuts…”

And then, finally, you kissed his lips. It was short, loud, one of those kisses meant just to let the other person know you care. The sound broke the silence between you. Bakugo held your gaze for a moment, and even though his brow was still furrowed, there was no threat left in it.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he muttered in a rough voice, without any conviction.

But you saw the smile. It slipped onto his face without permission. And the tips of his ears, red as a warning light, gave away what he still refused to admit.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

svsss omegaverse au where only those with profound cultivation ability develop into alphas or omegas. this means both powerful spiritual cultivators and powerful demon lines

under luo binghe’s rule, any alpha or omega in the general populace is brought to bingge’s palace. omega women are added to the harem without question, tho there are a notable few alpha women there as well (shl and lmy).

sy transmigrates into a wandering omega cultivator exploring the world (the world building was the best part of that dumbfuck novel and now he gets to experience it firsthand!!!). his exploration quickly takes him from the few safe remaining human cities and into the wider world.

he’s chased for days by different demon groups until one finally catches him, because junshang’s been hell-bent on finding some particular male omega for the past few months. he’s put out a bounty and everything; whoever brings the right omega gets riches and their choice of one treasure from junshang’s vault.

everyone thinks he’s gonna kill this dude. they assume the omega wronged junshang somehow and he wants revenge. sy is scared absolutely shitless. these guys tie him up in immortal binding cables and beat him up a little bit. by the time they make it to the underground palace, sy looks fuckin rough

and surprisingly, lord luo is not pleased by this. so displeased, in fact, that he cuts the demons down right there in the middle of his reception hall? sy is 100% sure he’s gonna be next and he nearly passes out when bingge approaches. (part of him is screaming because!!!! luo binghe!!! in the flesh!!!!! with an air of power and deadly beauty and strength!!!! the protagonist!!!)

lbg studies sy’s face for a minute, then has servants take him away. he’s bathed (THOROUGHLY!! maybe TOO thoroughly!!! he can wash his own ass!! thank you!!) and styled, and with the cables removed he can finally heal his injuries from being captured.

the next time they meet, lbg seems weirdly angry. his hands are shaking and his face is red, and every time he makes eye contact with sy, he growls and looks sharply away. he’s definitely barely holding back from killing sy!! maybe it’s because sy left the human cities? maybe it’s because he was poking around somewhere off-limits?? sy has no idea what he did.

lbg leads him down down to the water prison, and again sy almost passes out. my mans definitely pukes into the water just from the smell alone. it’s…a gory scene. but what’s most unsettling about it isn’t the emptiness in sqq’s eyes or the desperate grunting that only becomes louder the closer lbg brings sy.

what’s most unsettling is how similar they look. they could be brothers, their family resemblance is powerful. same face shape, same nose, same cheekbones.

and sy gets it then. bingge is done playing with sqq; there’s nothing really left to do to him (though he’s still got his dick…sy was one of the loudest proponents of cutting it off for what he did to ning yingying!) so lbg must be looking for a replacement.

lbg studies them both for a long time, as if cataloguing all the similarities between their faces. the whole time, sy is shaking, trying not to fall over. eventually, lbg must be satisfied, because he looks sy up and down slowly before muttering. ‘you’ll do for now. we can see how you measure up.’

POORLY!!! shen yuan is determined to measure up extremely poorly to that old shizun of lbg’s!! to save his own skin, he’ll be nothing like that asshole!!

thus begins shen yuan’s plan to treat the emperor with such doting, kind respect that he’ll see nothing of sqq in him beyond his unfortunate face!! surely lord luo won’t want to kill someone so kind to him!!

(every measure of shen yuan’s kindness is overwhelming to lbg. after so long he’s found what that other him flaunted in his face. a close relative of his shizun’s, no doubt, (maybe a twin separated at birth?) who became that other binghe’s shizun in that timeline. he’s kind and gentle and so concerned with binghe’s wellbeing in a way…no one has since his mother, so so long ago. that one morning with the other shizun was so sweet, but this—having this omega here in his palace, fussing at him to eat more and dress more warmly when he goes to the north, smiling unrestrained, smelling so impossibly sweet—this is so much better than he could have imagined. luo bingge will convince this shen yuan to be his omega. not as a concubine, but as a proper wife. first wife, maybe. empress, even. whatever it takes to get him to say yes. whatever it takes to keep him.)

[revelboo]

The speed in which you crank out fics is concerning. Like, I appreciate it WHOLLY, but are you good? R u ok?

Rest is overrated, I run on stress and coffee. Yes, I’m good. I can write short form like this pretty quickly if I’m not at work or busy.

Humans Are Weird/Cute Headcanons

Humans elicit one of two reactions in Cybertronians. It’s not like they haven’t seen organic life before, but the fact that we look vaguely like most Cybertronians in form? Our faces, our body shapes, two legs and two arms just like them? It either creates an unconscious association that we look like tiny, organic Cybertronians or that the similarities are just unsettling. Compounding it is the way we move, the gestures we use that are so eerily like their own. To make it worse, we’re just so helpless compared to them. Fragile. There’s a tendency to react to us like we would a newborn kitten. And for that protectiveness to eventually slide into possessiveness.

TFP Knockout

• Primus. The first time he saw you in full racing leathers, boots, gloves, and that helmet, he just stopped short in surprise. Thinks of the rare times he’d seen minicons and how you look like one instead of just another squishy, little human. And while he’d initially just been invested in figuring out how an inferior, little human beat him in a race, it doesn’t take long for him to start looking forward to those almost nightly meetings. It becomes less about winning and more about the bull session between you two after. Enjoying when you stand up to him, argue with him, even though you must realize he could hurt you so easily if he wanted to.

IDW Bumblebee

• It’s honestly such a pleasant surprise how tactile humans are. You seem to have no sense of personal space and he loves it, because it’s less lonely when you’re near. You don’t mind being picked up and carried, your little frame so warm in his hands or cradled against him. Always so curious, your little hands exploring his servos, while you smile to yourself. Then holding out your own hands so he can carefully manipulate them with a single servo. It’s like a game between you, showing off your little, blunt teeth so he will bare his denta for you as you sit on his thigh.

IDW Bluestreak

• Knows he can be a bit annoying to some bots, but you never seem bothered by his chatter. Actually asking him questions, interacting and it means so much to him when you stretch out against him, laying a cheek on him to listen to the sound of his voice rumbling through you. Liking it when he talks, wanting to be near him. The big surprise, though? How protective you are of him, not even thinking twice about throwing a shoe at Sunny for making a rude comment aimed at him, your little face red as you snarl at the much bigger bot, who’s too shocked at the outburst to respond.

IDW Starscream

• Having so little to call his own, he’s extremely possessive of you. It doesn’t hurt that you’re always happy to see him, greeting him when he returns from patrol, fussing over his injuries like you’re trying to take care of him. No conniving or plotting in you and no ulterior motives for seeking out his company. Aside from leeching body heat, and he hardly minds that, enjoys the feel of you sprawled against him, the peaceful silence.

TFP Soundwave

• Even though he initially took you because of the effect your strange organic thoughts have on him to try and understand why he can’t shut you out, it’s impossible to stay impartial. Every day he tries to inoculate himself against your thoughts, strengthening that connection through touch. And when you start reaching for him in return it’s a surprise. Eventually you sing for him not because he asked you to in an effort to distract you and focus your thoughts on something so they’re less painful to him, but because you want to. Because you think it makes him happy and it does.

ES Megatron

• He’d never paid much attention to humans until he’d met Dorothy, he’d fought alongside her and suddenly humanity wasn’t just something vaguely annoying getting in his way, under ped. It’s harder to not care after getting to know humans. Harder to not be overprotective about you after making it his mission to look after you. And maybe he’s a bit overzealous about it, because you’re not Dorothy. She can stand on her own and take care of herself, but you? You need him.

IDW Optimus

• He’s so used to being bigger than most Autobots. Of being looked up to, but you’re even tinier than they are. Small enough to carry in one hand even though he’s awkward about asking you to let him carry you at first. But after the spark twisting anxiety of watching you walking where bigger Cybertronians are walking? Seeing it not even occur to you that you might get stepped on? He insists on carrying you for your own safety, though, truth be told, he enjoys the feel of you in his servos, that little bemused smile you aim at him.

IDW Thundercracker

• He feels guilty sometimes about taking you, but it’s for the best even if you’re upset now. He’s seen enough movies to know how to coax you, win you over. He became obsessed with human love stories, the drama and romance. And he wants that for himself. Needs it. So he tries different tactics, little gifts and acts meant to convince you to love him. It’s so easy in the movies.

TFP Megatron

• The game you two play has become something of a guilty pleasure of his. Watching you pretend. Pushing you to see how far you’ll allow before you snap at him. Pretending you aren’t scared of him, though he’s seen the fear in your eyes once or twice and while it had amused him at first, he prefers you snarling back at him, all attitude. Your fear twists unpleasantly through him, but that angry defiance? So lovely.

IDW Soundwave

• He never meant to get so attached to you after he’d found you in Starscream’s quarters that day. You’re just so small and you’d looked at him in fear, your wild emotions almost crippling him since he couldn’t shut it out. Even after you calmed, days later, he finds himself reaching out a thought. Finding you and monitoring you from a distance. Again and again until he’d finally had to check on you in person again. After all, what did Starscream really know about caring for anyone, let alone a human. And that hesitant, little smile had warmed him when you’d looked up at him.

IDW Jazz

• The fact that you can see through his lies and will call him out on it? It’s a surprise and a relief. Letting down his defenses, letting you in takes time. He’s worn that smiling, carefree mask for so long. But he slowly lets it fall away when it’s just the two of you, feeling the absence of that weight he’d carried for so long. Getting to know who he is under the facade.

IDW Prowl

• Has to protect you since you don’t seem to understand just how small and delicate you are. Standing up to him and any other bot with zero fear. Something about that reckless anger calls to him. Around the other Autobots, he has to be the one in control, the one with a plan no matter what. Never allowed to falter or hesitate. You spark his own temper, making it easier to drop the act. Be frustrated or angry when it’s just you two. Be real.

Next

[sunni-stuff]

Three days had passed since Jellybean, your rescued stray, vanished. Though an outdoor enthusiast at heart, she'd never missed a meal. Now, your phone tracker beeped, signaling proximity. The crafty runt had escaped, but you were closing in. Jellybean's street-smart ways usually brought her home, yet this time felt different. As you followed the signal, hope and worry battled within.

You traveled alone as none of the townspeople were brave enough to help with your search. The mere mention of the North Woods shook them to the core, earning your request swift declines and slammed doors in your face. Whispers and rumors follow you with every interaction 

Secluded and untraceable, his cabin lies tucked away, invisible to prying eyes.

Rumors swirl of his territorial fury. Trespassers beware—this hunter stalks from afar. His domain is unforgiving, and his presence is a constant threat. The lucky ones spot the warning sign; others never see him coming.

Even the butcher, renowned for his toughness, said no, unwilling to even hear you out.

“There’s a man in the woods,” he said, voice unwavering. “You’d be smart to forget the idea.”

The boom of the door closing makes you flinch, jumping back a bit. A man in the woods? Surely not.

Even more absurd than some creep in the woods was the thought that the big, bad butcher was scared of him. This was a man who walked you home at night, who sneered at men and pulled you close to his side when you became uncomfortable. You knew him for a long time and you’d never seen him so much as flinch, but suddenly he was all squinted eyes and hushed tones at the thought of even stepping a foot off the beaten path. It couldn't be true, right?

Well, there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it was the only way you were gonna get Jellybean back. You’re going in that forest, urban myth or not.

Shadows lengthen as you exit your truck. The door closes with a hollow thud. The townsfolk's warnings replay in your mind, urging caution. You scan the area, heart racing. Drooping leaves cast an ominous veil over the forest. The murky depths seem to whisper, both alluring and forbidding.

Anxiety grips you as you take a step further. "Bean?" You whisper, voice trembling.

Silence answers. Twigs crack underfoot, and each snap creates an ominous echo. You cringe, the sounds amplifying your unease. Yet you press on, searching the quiet forest.

Minutes stretch like hours as you quietly call Bean's name, doing your best not to attract any unwanted attention, as the woods loom, hiding unknown dangers. Glancing down, your phone shows her location, unchanged, since she first wandered off. Jellybean's absence at this late hour is unsettling. She never stayed out of the house this long, and not so still, either. You can't help but think the worst, deciding to hurry closer to her, praying to find her safe.

Venturing deeper, the terrain grew wilder. Massive leaves parted, revealing fallen trunks and tilted trees. The more you looked around, the more it became clear that the uncharted wilderness wasn't made for humans.

There was no possible way.

The forest gave little leeway to those travelings through its domain. Predators strayed barely out of sight, lurking in hopes you'd be their next meal. A howl in the distance has you on edge, skin crawling, the feeling of being watched running anxious edges.

"Just keep walking. It'll be okay. The tracker says she's near." You reassured yourself under quite murmurs, trying to will your heart calm.

Then it appeared without warning.

A wolf lurches from the woodland gloom, baring his jagged canines, poised and ready to pounce. He circles you in a slow, menacing loop, foam pooling from his parted jaws. His eyes blaze with a frenzied gleam, wild and driven by something beyond hunger. Some dark, unseen force propels him, and you feel it tightening around you.

You turn and run.

Run as fast as your legs can carry you, tearing through the thick underbrush. Foliage slaps your arms and face, and the weeds clutch at your ankles like skeletal fingers desperate to drag you down. You ignore the stinging scratches, the pounding in your chest. If you fall, if you falter for even a second—you know it’s over.

Run.

The untamed beast snaps its jaws inches behind you, hot breath searing your calves, each bite narrowly missing as he hounds you with ruthless, single-minded determination. You crash through a thicket, branches clawing at your arms, tearing through your clothes, until you stumble onto a barely visible trail where weak shafts of light seep through gaps in the trees.

There’s no time to think. No time to process the sting of cuts or the burn in your lungs, nothing beyond the raw, primal instinct to get the hell away from the rabid creature on your heels.

Then you see it.

A cabin.

Really, a dilapidated shack, its sagging roof overrun with twisting vines, looms before you, barely held together by rotting beams and splintered boards. The whole structure looks one hard gust away from collapse, yet it’s the only shelter in sight. You don’t hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, and charge toward the door.

In your frantic rush, you miss the glint of watching eyes, shining like dark coals from the shadows behind, tracking your every move.

You burst inside, slamming the door shut with a desperate shove, then lean your back against it. Your chest heaves, each ragged breath scraping your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, the weight of dread pressing down on you even harder than the beast’s pursuit.

The aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air, warmth enveloping you. A cozy scene unfolded: a bubbling pot atop a wooden stove, a modest desk tucked away, and a solitary lantern casting a soft glow. The space exuded an unexpected warmth, soft light pooling over worn furniture and the faint scent of old wood calming your frayed nerves. Your pulse slowed as the familiar coziness settled around you. Then, a gentle brush against your leg pulled you from the haze of adrenaline.

You glanced down—and there she was. Jellybean, her eyes wide and radiant, a few telltale crumbs clinging to her brown fur from some long-forgotten snack.

A rush of tenderness overtook the fading remnants of panic. You reached down, catching the elusive little troublemaker as she gave an indignant squirm. “You little—” The half-hearted scold fizzled, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to hold her close. “How—How did you end up here, huh?”

Holding Jellybean close, you feel the weight of your situation settling over you—a stranger in a cabin far from familiar ground, with the last of the sunlight slipping away, trapping you inside until dawn. Outside was darkness thick and impenetrable, the forest itself a living maze you dared not attempt at night.

“Shit,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might stir something in the shadows.

Slowly, you move deeper into the space, eyes sweeping over the bare walls and spartan furniture. There’s something unnervingly sterile about the place—no photos, no knickknacks. Not a trace of personality or life. Who would live here? The rumors of some reclusive figure haunting these woods flash through your mind.

No. You shake your head, brushing off the thought. This was probably just some hunter’s shack. Or a place someone from town stayed now and then, just a shelter, nothing more.

Your foot presses down on a loose floorboard, and a loud creak echoes through the stillness. You freeze, heartbeat stuttering. Jellybean’s ears twitch, but she remains calm. Before you can step back, a low groan seeps from somewhere within the cabin, rolling through the floorboards, shivering up your spine.

Your grip tightens on Jellybean, and you hold your breath, listening.

“I-Is anyone there…?” Your voice barely steady. The words hover in the silence, as though the shadows themselves are holding their breath, waiting.

Then, clear as day, you hear it.

“Help… me…”

The voice is thin and broken, barely more than a whisper. Instinct screams at you to ignore it, to sit tight until morning. But something tugs at you. The sound is weak, desperate—human. The cabin feels suddenly smaller, its walls pressing in, urging you to run.

“Please… someone help me…"

A shiver races down your spine. Curse your altruism. You clutch Jellybean tighter, swallowing back the fear rising in your throat.

“U-uh, where…?” The question slips out before you can think, shaky and uncertain.

Silence stretches taut, pressing against your ears. Then, faint and low, a whining sound rises from beneath the floorboards, almost like a wounded animal. Every instinct screams at you to turn back, to stay safe. But you find yourself edging closer to the noise, heart hammering against your ribs.

Your gaze lands on a small, almost-hidden door near the far wall—the entrance to a cellar.

The pleas are louder here, wavering but persistent, each whisper curling up from the depths. “Help… please…”

You should walk away. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But, against every sliver of common sense, your hand reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush over the handle.

It turns with a rusty groan, and you pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into shadow. At the bottom, you catch the flicker of ember light, glowing faintly as if from a dying fire.

The cellar stretches out before you, a vast, dimly lit space far larger than should exist beneath such a modest shack. Shadows cling to the walls, the only light casting a faint, sickly orange glow that barely cuts through the murk. You step cautiously, heart-pounding, but then you glance to your right—and freeze.

The scene hits you with a nauseating force. Men hang suspended from thick meat hooks, bodies bruised and broken, some barely clinging to life, others unmoving, their faces blank and eyes empty. Their battered forms twist slightly in the air, like grotesque puppets left to dangle and rot. You swallow hard, stomach twisting as bile rises in your throat.

But then the horror deepens—recognition dawns. One face after another, familiar, each one seared into memory. The delivery driver who refused to take no for an answer, the lawyer from the pub whose relentless advances wore you down, the pizza guy who loitered outside your job, watching, waiting. All here. Hung like slabs of meat in this nightmarish cellar.

Your mind spins, the details piecing together in a sickening realization. The butcher. He’d warned them off, told you they wouldn’t bother you anymore. But this? This was something beyond any threat, beyond any punishment you’d ever imagined.

How? How had they ended up here? How did any of this exist beneath an unassuming cabin in the middle of the woods?

You weren’t supposed to see this. This was something that should have remained buried, hidden in the depths where secrets go to rot. The enormity of it presses down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

But then, one of them stirs. The pizza guy, his head lolling weakly to the side, lifts his face. His eyes, clouded and bloodshot, light up with recognition—a desperate spark of life in his hollow gaze. “Help! Please, before he comes back!” he rasps, voice cracking.

He.

The word rings in your mind, cold and jagged. He? Who could do this? Who would do this?

Your voice trembles as the question slips out, a thin whisper in the oppressive silence. “W—who… who are you talking about?”

The cellar door slams shut behind you, the echo reverberating off the cold stone walls, trapping you in the silence that follows. Heavy, methodical footsteps descend the rotting stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. His breathing is deep, ragged, each inhale and exhale marking his slow, purposeful approach.

Don’t turn around.

Your body locks up, instinct screaming to flee, but your legs refuse to move. You clutch Jellybean tightly to your chest, but suddenly, she squirms, thrashing in your arms in a way she never has before. Confusion twists through your terror—Jellybean has always clung to you, never trying to escape. What was she doing?

With a leap, she slips from your grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. She pads past you, moving behind you, and the silence is filled with soft, delighted purring.

You don’t want to look. You hold still, desperately hoping that if you don’t move, you’ll disappear, fade into the shadows. But you can feel him standing just behind you, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud.

And then, a voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and thick with a British lilt, edged with something that both chills and soothes you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a note of affection clear in his tone as he addresses Jellybean.

Recognition strikes you like a blow. That voice—you’ve heard it a thousand times. The same voice that always offered a warm “good evening” when he walked you home at night. The same voice that laughed as he handed Jellybean her treats at the butcher shop. The same voice that warned you, with a peculiar intensity, to avoid these woods.

The butcher.

---

A/N: I don't usually do long writing stuff... but I've had this one in the drafts for too long and wanted it out. I kind of like how it turned out but I can def improve!

[leechqnsgirl]

🎧ྀི♪⋆.✮ too much

notes: based off of this ask

-- you've been feeling a bit insecure because of your recent weight gain, but your boyfriend seems to be obsessed with it.

18+ | nicholas x fem!reader | wc: 1.8k | masterlist

warnings: talk about weight gain and insecurities, piv, cumming inside

****

you haven't seen your boyfriend for a few weeks since he was currently in korea and you were still in japan.

to say you were just missing him is a massive understatement. since you two started dating, the most you went without seeing each other was just a few days. but now? 

it's been about two months. 

you'd been eating a bit more just to distract yourself from your boyfriend's absence.

cooking and baking new recipes, buying new snacks and going out with friends for some comfort. 

you hadn't really taken notice of it until you were trying on some dresses, seeing how a bit of extra chub on your body was visible on some ends. 

in all honesty, it wasn't much but to you it was noticeable enough. 

you know that nicholas would never hate you, or degrade you. but there was still that voice in the back of your head. the one that makes you sit in front of the mirror for minutes into hours, making you question if you're even good enough for him. 

in your logic, nicholas is always working out, he's always in shape but what about you? yeah maybe he has the pressure of being an idol, but you’re an idols girlfriend. 

--

you got a text from nicho saying he'd just landed and he'll be at your place soon. 

you were beyond happy, it's been so long and factimes between you two weren't cutting it anymore. you were so excited that it felt like your mind temporarily numbed that little insecure corner of your brain. 

knock knock. 

"coming!!" you chirped out, rushing over towards the door. you didn't even need to ask if it was nicho. you just knew. 

as soon as you opened the door and he stepped in, he pulled your body against his, digging his face into your neck. 

"god, I missed you so much, y/n." was the first thing he told you, when you tried to step back to get a look at him, he pulled you right back in. "please...let's just stay like this for a bit." he pleaded, making it seem as though those two months away from you drained him, and you were his battery. 

soon enough, the two of you got settled in. you were working on a simple dinner while he went to take a shower. 

he came out, standing by the entrance of the kitchen watching you. 

you hadn't noticed him at first, too busy with the food. and it wasn't until you turned around for something when you saw him. startled at first, but you smiled. 

"hi, babe. just a few more minutes and we can sit down together." you were expecting to hear some sort of a response from behind you. something like an oh okay or alright, honey. but you got nothing. 

you thought he walked away at first, but when you turned to look for a second, you saw him in the same position. leaned against the kitchen entrance. 

and he was looking at you. but not looking at you. 

his eyes were trailing along your body. 

and that's when that unsettling feeling set in, that feeling where you just feel...unattractive. 

you also became aware of what you were wearing. it was a tight tank top and some mid thigh shorts. 

you didn't know exactly why he was staring at you, you just knew that he was. 

"baby..." he said quietly, walking towards you. when he reached you, he lifted your face up by your chin. "why do you look nervous?" his eyes traced your face, but couldn't help to sneak a look a bit below at times. 

"i-i'm not nervous. it's just," you sighed, "its nothing, nicho." 

if there was one thing that nicholas hated about you, it was definitely that you would tend to undermine yourself at times. 

and he could tell you were doing it now. 

he reached behind you, turning the stove off. leading your body to the side a bit, he hooked his hands under your thighs, and out of instinct you held onto his shoulders as he lifted you onto the counter. 

his hands rested atop your thighs, gliding them up and down in a soothing motion. 

"you know, when I first arrived here," he brought his head over to your neck, leaving kisses in between his words. "and I hugged you...I could almost tell something was different about you." he continued on, switching the opposite side of your neck now. you let out a sigh. 

"I shrugged it off though, because maybe I was thinking that since it's been a while. but fuck," he lifts his head up, his eyes meeting yours. "when I saw you in here, in this outfit. I knew what it was." he never said the words out loud but you knew what he was talking about. 

his hands moved to hold onto your hips, a place that had been a victim of your slight weight gain. "and you look so fucking sexy." he practically groaned out the words, looking deep into your eyes before he smashed his lips against yours. 

you gave a small gasp, slightly stunned but soon enough you felt yourself melt into the kiss, lightly tugging on the hairs on the back of his neck. 

you felt his hands travel all over your body. going from your face to your arms to your waist, then your hips and thighs once again. it was like he was getting a feel for it all. it was all new to him. and god, did he love it. 

he thinks you're glowing, you look beautiful, and so the moment he saw you hide into yourself, he knew he couldn't hold his words back anymore. he couldn't hold back anymore.

he broke away from the kiss, tugging his shirt off doing the same with yours.

his eyes were glued to your chest, snaking an arm around you to unhook your bra.

god, and when it fell? he felt crazy. it'd been too long since he even touched you, and given how you look now...he doesn't think he'll last an hour with you.

the breath he let out was audible, and strained, you could practically feel his neediness radiating off him. and the sweats he was wearing did no job at hiding his hard on.

he had to have you bare before he did anything. he had to see you. he wanted to be able to kiss and touch down your body with no restrictions. and with that, he slid down your shorts and panties. leaving you completely bare for him.

he lifted you up, carrying and placing you down so you were laying back onto the kitchen tiles. the cold floors causing a shiver to run up your spine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, I just can't, i-i need you now, baby. I need you here." he felt the room get too hot, beginning to wonder why he had some of his own clothing still on.

it wasn't long before he lined himself up to your entrance. slowly inching inside you, he kept his hands on your hips, squeezing at them. his eyes never left your face, not until he bottomed out completely. kicking his head back with a long moan.

"you're so perfect, baby." he praised, "so fucking perfect."

you could feel him going faster, having you let out loud moans of his name.

he leaned his head down, latching his lips onto one of your nipples. he heard you whimper, moving his hips faster. "bigger for me now, hm?" he mumbled against your tit, he lifted his head, trailing kisses from your tits to your stomach now.

"fuck," he muttered, everything felt too much for him, “you’re so tight.” he moaned, “you didn’t play with yourself while i was gone?” he teased against your ear, biting the lobe gently. 

he didn't expect you to reply, so when you shook your head, saying how nothing felt like him, he felt a shudder go through his body. because, god he couldn't agree more. nothing felt like you either.

he would spend nights awake sexually frustrated because he just couldn't get off. tugging at his cock for what felt like hours, and he wanted to call you so bad but he was always afraid. afraid he’d be bothering you all because he couldn't keep it in his pants. 

“n-nicho,” you whimpered out. he knew you were close, he could feel you tighten around him over and over again. “i know, baby.” he reassured you, doing his best to keep his pace and rhythm up. 

“nicho,” you said, voice heavy, “a-are you wearing a condom?” 

his eyes widened, he’d been so caught up with you that he completely forgot to wear a fucking condom. 

“no…” he said, voiced laced with guilt and shame. “i’ll pull out, okay? don't worry your head baby.” he felt himself right at the edge. 

but fuck, you felt so warm and tight and soft and-

he didn't even trust himself to pull out anymore, everything was just too much. 

you laced your fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to above yours. “don’t nicho...god, i don’t care if you fucking knock me up. i just need you.” 

and how was he supposed to say no? he couldn't even bring up the thought of saying no to you. 

and when he finally cums, hips flush against yours, spilling his seed deep in you...he feels like he should’ve denied, should’ve said no but, fuck, he doesnt think he cares. he waited too long for this, for you.

he’s still panting into your neck long after you both finished, and you keep him there, playing with his hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

your heart aches a bit, realizing that over the last few weeks, he didn’t just miss you. but he missed everything that came with you. 

your hugs, your scent, your hands, your love. 

you could tell he wasn’t himself during sex, he seemed so much more touchy, more hasty and just more desperate. 

you feel him lift his head, rolling over so he's on his side facing you. 

“you’re so beautiful.” he pressed a feather light kiss on your cheek. “and i need you to know that nothing could change that. nothing could ever make me find you anything but.��� he looks at you, placing a hand over your thigh, squeezing it. “would you hate me if i said that you look hotter this way?” he teased, biting his tongue. 

you raised an eyebrow, “so what, are you saying i wasn't hot before?” he rolled his eyes playfully at you. “i said hotter, meaning i always found you hot, babe.” 

you snuggled into him, smiling at his response. 

“do you realize we’re cuddling on the kitchen floor...?” 

he shrugged his shoulders, “we’ll get up, i just wanna hold you a bit more, baby.”