#who could. no wonder no one could keep up. no wonder i had to LIVE in the tag to keep up

[biolumien]

Hi Hi! first time requesting like this and I just recently finished watching the latest episode of Kaiju number 8. I was wondering if your could write something for Vice Captain Hoshina.

I was thinking something along the lines of a reincarnation storyline? Maybe Reader is a renowned painter or something. And one day they come across a dream of Hoshina in their past life and they paint his face. And Hoshina is suddenly bombarded by a few officers/cadets a few days later about a sudden article blowing up online with a painting that had extremely similar structure to his face. And maybe they'd end up meeting because of it?

I love your writing. Particularly the one with the glasses reader that I read a few days back. You're free to change things as you see fit. And I'm sure whatever you come up with will be very nice. Sorry if my words are confusing. I don't speak english language that well. 😊👌 Thank you if you decide to write for this ask.

notes: ok the way i am. actually obsessed with this i hope you enjoy!!

every 'one line' drawn.

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings, i think wc: 1768

in your dreams, you always see the same face. red eyes watching your face, purple hair framed over his face and the feeling of a callused hand on your hand, on your cheek. and every time he leans into kiss you, you find yourself pressing your face closer to his, as if desperate, and then you wake up. 

and when you wake up, you always feel the telltale trickle of a tear down your face, the feeling of salt on your tongue. 

there’s no time to wonder what the dreams ever mean, what with your job as a painter. you lived commission to commission—and while your customers were always high brow and paid generously, still meant that you couldn’t be lost in daydreams forever. 

and in your studio, with the pungent smell of turpentine and linseed oil, with your hands inevitably smeared with oil paints, it was easy to forget the stranger whose hands felt rough and weary, and yet held your face with measured gentleness. it was easy to forget him—up until you went back to bed, and you’d always be back in the same dream. 

“i keep seeing you,” you murmur in your dream. “who are you?” 

the man laughs. 

he seems sad, for a second. 

“a dear friend,” he responds. you see it on his face, the way his lips twist at his words, that it’s not quite true. and he leans in again, watching your face. “it’s okay if you don’t remember me.” 

“but i do,” you say in protest. you think you remember this face. “i want to.” 

you must remember this face, surely—this face that, upon your words, looks sadder. and then you wonder if he’s even real—or if this is simply your subconscious, saddened that you can’t remember. saddened that your mind replays this moment, again and again, a repeated brushstroke pulling open the blank canvas underneath. 

“we all want things we can’t have, sometimes,” the man says. 

he leans into kiss you, 

and you jolt up out of bed, awakening to a phone call from your manager. 

“hello…?” you mumble into your phone, pressing it against your cheek as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “it’s rare you call me randomly like this…” 

“tis no random call,” your manager responds. “you’ve received a request to exhibit some of your works from a museum. will you do it? i hear the pay’s pretty good.”

“mmm… any specific theme?” you ask. 

“not really. they said to let your imagination go wild.” 

“hm.” 

you touch your lips, and when you close your eyes, you see a hint of those crimson eyes again. 

“alright. i think i’ve got a pretty good muse this time,” you say. 

[…]

hoshina wasn’t exactly someone who was very in the know about art. his job, for one, meant that it’s not like he would exactly be interested in art in general, and it’s not like he was even spending his days off on art museum trips or admiring the local art scene. 

so why was it that everyone seemed all abuzz about art today?

and why did it seem like there were more eyes on him than before? not that he particularly abhorred attention or anything, but the eyes seemed to be looking at his face specifically. 

his eyes flit to some of the new officer recruits—iharu, reno, kafka… fuck, even haruichi and aoi? what the hell was going on—huddled around a laptop. haruichi’s brow furrows as he stares at the illuminated screen, and then flits up to look at hoshina. when hoshina stares back, harder, haruichi’s gaze immediately ducks back to the laptop.  

okay. 

well, something was definitely up. 

hoshina strolls over to the recruits, who immediately seem to start panicking—the panic is written across kafka’s face more obviously than the others, and reno elbows kafka in the side. 

“what’s all this about? if you’ve got time to huddle you’ve got time to run laps—” hoshina starts, leaning over at the screen before—

“about that, vice captain,” iharu says. 

hoshina’s in stunned silence staring at the screen, because… isn’t that—

“holy shit,” hoshina says. 

“holy shit indeed,” haruichi says grimly. 

on haruichi’s laptop screen is a painting of— him. hoshina’s damned face, brows gentle and a softened smile on his face. it was a beautiful painting, and yet—there was something sad about the smile, the brows belying deep sorrow. 

“this painter’s pretty well-known, too, aren’t they?” kafka asks. “for like… the psychedelic stuff.” 

“no,” reno says. “they’re like our modern-day monet or something. impressionist paintings.” 

“impressi-what? how do you know this much about art, reno?” iharu asks, wrapping his arm around reno’s neck in a headlock. reno coughs, slapping iharu’s arm. 

“shut up,” reno chokes out, but even as the bickering picks up, hoshina’s gaze is still transfixed on the painting. 

it’s him. no doubt about it. 

“i’ve never talked to them before,” hoshina says after a moment. at once the arguments rattle to a halt, but in the empty relief of silence is the carved truth—that the painting is definitely of him, and its painter was a person who he’d never talked to before in his life. 

“the artist is going to be doing a panel about their exhibition soon,” haruichi says, glancing up at hoshina. “i think they can get me a ticket if i ask.” 

“… just don’t expect me to lighten your laps around the training course,” hoshina says with a chuckle. 

[…]

you hated speaking in front of an audience. cliche, of course, the introverted artist that squirrels away in in their studio—but that was often your reality. you liked to say you wanted your work to ‘speak for itself’, as it were, so you didn’t often make public appearances. 

but your most recent exhibition, featuring the painting of your mysterious dream visitor, created far more buzz than you could have asked for. suddenly everyone and anyone wanted an answer as for who your muse was, why he had a very striking resemblance to soshiro hoshina of the japan anti-kaiju defense force’s third division, and had you gotten permission from hoshina to do it? did you have a specific message surrounding your work?

“just stick to the script,” your manager says to you. “i talked it through with some of the reporters and i wrote some answers for you if you’re scared.” he hands you a slip of paper, and your eyes scan the page, and you swallow the lump in forming in your throat. 

“i shouldn’t have done the painting after all,” you say.

it was strange. in the days and weeks you’d worked on the painting, you hadn’t seen your muse in your dreams at all. you’d been forced to rely on only the memory of the dream–which only seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier until it became barely a wisp. and now, in those ensuing weeks that the painting has been on exhibition, you almost felt embarrassed of the painting–its vague subject matter might have been charming and a little kitsch, but charming and a little kitsch wasn’t supposed to garner this much attention.

“nonsense,” your manager says. “it’s a wonderful painting.” he pushes you by the back, gently urging you forward. “they’re ready for you.”

you push past the door separating you from the reporters–and then are immediately flashbanged with cameras and lights, and jumbling, layered voices creating a discordant symphony that made you wince.

“um. thank you… for…” you wince as your grip fumbles on your microphone, nearly dropping it, the feedback screeching across speakers. “um. sorry. i’m not exactly the best public speaker–my repertoire of events… like this, isn’t many. but thank you for attending this panel… surrounding my exhibition of my latest work. i’ll answer… a few questions.”

the reporters looked like a jumbled blob for the most part–a thrumming organism of similar faces that melted together into one homogenous mess, a splotch of badly-mixed paint on the palette that you’d scrape away with a knife and discard. 

reciting your manager’s written responses wasn’t the hard part. as you continued to banter, your eyes swept across the crowd.

what were you even doing here?

you wanted to crawl back to your studio, already, and go back to painting. at least then the idea that you’d dreamed up some man who bore a striking resemblance to someone who already existed would fade away with time. and then your eyes found that telltale shade of crimson and purple–for just a moment. and you think his eyes meet yours, too–crimson eyes the exact shade as the one in your dreams. 

his eyes widen. 

“... as you were saying?” a reporter’s words float back to your ears, ephemeral, and you pause.

“can we… no more questions.” you shake your head, finding your vision swimming, blurring, and you raise a hand wiping tears from your face. “sorry. something just… came up–”

and you push into the crowd, trying to find the face from your dreams.

that had to be him, right? his face? it was like as soon as you saw him, the underpainting of your memories flowed back to you–a heartaching loss pounding in your chest. something was wrong. something was missing, because you’d forgotten–and now that you’d remembered it, it hurt. 

“i’m sorry,” you say. 

“you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” the man says to you, and leans in to kiss you. “i’ll find you again in the next life.”

“i’ll remember you,” you say. 

the man watches you, a somewhat sad look on his face.

you press your thumb to the corner of his lip.

“and when i do, i’ll do something big. to capture your attention. and then your eyes will be on me forever.”

you finally manage to catch the man in the crowd, and you realize you’ve seen him before. only once or twice, though–on a small poster or on television. soshiro hoshina, of the third division. you did know this man–but just barely.

he lets out a surprised noise as soon as you collide with him, and you gasp breathlessly. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, looking up at hoshina. “i just… have we…”

“met?” hoshina answers your question, cocking his head, blinking down at you.

“yes,” you say. “i think… i think so. maybe. we… you look familiar.”

hoshina blinks, and then smiles.

it’s so different than the way he smiled at you in your dream. the corners of his lips quirk up, his eyebrows relax almost as he watches you. 

“i thought so too,” hoshina says, and you hear relief in his voice. “so… um. hi.”

“hi,” you respond, and he laughs.

[lucysarah-c]

I apologize if this has been asked before but what do you think Levi's kinks are? :)

Hi, sweetie! Oh, do not worry, no need to apologize! I haven’t received this ask before, and even if I did, it’s not a biggie. I could just attach a link to that ask here <3 Do not worry.

MH, Levi’s kinks… good question.

Power play for sure. Have you seen this man say that “pain is the best discipline”? He's always 100% down to teach you your place, at least in the bedroom. Outside of it, he deeply respects your position. Inside the room? Oh baby girl, he wants you to know he’s in charge and could spend his entire life reminding you of it.

…Shibari or tying up. Have you seen those uniforms? Levi sees that harness and deep down he wonders how pretty you would look all tied up. This one is a bit more tricky, so he and you may work around it to see how much of it you're both into.

Overstimulation, absolutely. Those Ackerman powers are a blessing; he knows he can last for hours. Can you? Oh, it's okay, baby, don’t be scared. He'll just have to keep fucking you, and if by any means you end up feeling like your legs are made of jelly from all the times he made you cum… well, I guess that’s the consequence of dating humanity’s strongest soldier. I think he could just feel getting hard, or getting cocky by feeling how you shake against his face as he keeps eating you out like a thirsty man who had been traveling across a desert. The idea that he left you completely and absolutely destroyed makes him feel so cocky. You can accuse this man of many things, but leaving you unsatisfied in bed isn’t one of them.

Degradation and praise kink. Depending on the situation and his mood, he can go either way or BOTH at the same time. “Aw, you look so pretty riding my cock. You’re doing amazing, girly. Mh? Enjoy that dick?” you will nod as you ride him with all your life “I bet. What a dirty little cock whore you turned out to be.”

Alright, maybe this one isn’t popular and maybe it's a bit OOC on my part… Corruption kink. At multiple times in his life, as the famous former thug who lived in the most dangerous part inside the walls, the idea of getting you, looking at him with doe eyes through your eyelashes, faking innocence or truly having it… I can literally picture him thinking, “Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t have much experience or doesn’t know how to make me feel good yet. I’m a very good and patient teacher… have an entire lifetime to mold her into perfection.” He likes to save the best for last; this man would enjoy every single little detail of seeing you fall into the beautiful dark pleasure he can show you.

Those are the ones that come to mind rather quickly…

I’ll give you (as if my ramblings are worthy material to be gifted, lmao) 2 kinks that I DON’T think Levi has and I believe are very popular.

Breeding kink. Like this one, maybe depending on the situation and if it’s a “game” kind of thing. But I feel Levi is a person who takes paternity very seriously; it has to be a VERY particular scenario for me (at least canon Levi) where he’s like, “fuck it, yeah let’s risk getting you pregnant.” BUT it’s a kink I can see A LOT more in Post-War Levi; it’s not that he doesn’t want to breed you… he’s just too responsible to take the risk.

Daddy. HAHA I feel like if you called Levi that in the middle of sex, he would freeze a little and be like, “Sir? Yes. Captain? Absolutely. What did you just say? Just… no.” I dare to say that if you bring it up playfully, perhaps as a joke, he will wrinkle his nose and say, “If you want to fuck Erwin, just say it, but don’t bring that shit into my bedroom.”

I had fun writing this one; I feel it’s a classic “Levi’s blog” ask that surprisingly I’ve never received before! Thank you for that! Hope this was good enough.

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @twruui @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[hobicakess]

Wonderful World — JJK One-Shot Series

SUMMARY: The world had gone to shit just like many had theorized. The living was not only fighting the dead, but they were also fighting against themselves and each other. Jeon Jungkook has been in the field by himself for months, living off of scraps, his own rules of survival, and barely enough water. Along the way, he finds a ditzy girl spoiled girl ironically Princess and her crusty white dog. He understood they'd be a handful, but he was Jeon Jungkook, and he could handle anything.

RATING: 18+ (im not the momma you are in control of what you consume.)

PAIRING: Jeon Jungkook x Bimbo!reader

CONTENT WARNING: apocalypse!au, gore, blood, ditzy!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual established relationship, jungkook is sighing every three seconds, eventual smut, crusty white dog (yes that's a warning), minor character death, named reader, corrupt dystopian society, meanie jungkook, princess is just a girl, more to be added AUTHORS NOTE: i am back in my zombie apocolyse era!!!! this is heavily inspired by zombie land because i love it sososo much. the post for this story will be in shorts pushing 1k- 3k? words and my ask box is always open to request and thoughts for this series. If you are new to my blog welcome hottie! be sure to check out my other works, you"ll love it over here xxx

Jungkook had strict rules.

Four sips of water a day, only eat when his stomach is cramped to the point of when he couldn't walk, never sleep over an hour, don't let anyone in. He didn't need extra weight slowing him down from his destination. Was he being hard on himself? Maybe. Since losing his group in an unexpected ambush all those months ago he couldn't bring himself to be softer on his habits even if he had more than enough resources to keep him alive and breathing for the year. He was guilty, and angry. Angry at himself and angry at the world for what it had come too. Despite his personal angst Jungkook refused to die holding onto the hope he would finally reunite with his six soulmates.

Another unspoken rule of his was to never walk upon the main roads. Stay away from those maniacs dressed in military clothes and those who drove military trucks. So he stuck to the shadows, camouflage into the trees with stealthy movements. Quick and quiet, never stay in one place longer than two days. He's been in here for at least a day spending that time securing the area and everything around it before he could properly set up his base in the abandoned thrift store he found. Hopefully he could get as much rest as a person could during the end of the world. As he tracked back to his base swiftly moving through the tree-line with the new finds he managed to scavenge. He stopped when he heard a squeal that didn't sound like the parasites that took over the world. Peeking through the green he saw a woman. A frown taking over his handsome features as his eyes rake her clothing.

A tiny pink cropped tank top, tight denim shorts that had jeweled pockets, ripped black fishnets and wedged heels that threw him off more than the unethical outfit. On her back was a clear backpack and inside was a tiny sleeping dog who was unaware of the life or death circumstances their owner happened to be in. Surrounding her were geeks groaning and growling, taking swipes at her. Their only objective is to eat,eat, eat.

Jungkook didn’t deal with other people, for obvious reasons but he was still the selfless Jeon Jungkook who couldn’t turn his back on anyone, especially a woman clearly in need of his help. So he quickly jumped from the trees, holding onto his crow bar tightly and as he approached the woman and the group of zombies.

Until she screeched, "You broke my nail" pulling out a knife from her thigh garter taking down all four of the dead. Breathing heavily she blew a curl from her face as she turned, jumping at the sight of Jungkook's large frame looming over her with his crowbar up as if he was ready to attack her. She squeaks gathering herself into a tiny fighting position as she points her knife at him and he notices the handle was decorated with a dark skinned hello kitty print.

“You’re literally so sexy. I’d let you kill me as long as I’m in a chokehold.” Her big brown eyes trailed to his beefy tattooed and tanned arms causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. Clearing his throat he put his weapon down turning on his thick soled heels back into the ditch disappearing into the greenery. She wasn’t in any danger anymore so he wasn’t needed.

“You know it’s not very nice to leave a lady unattended in the middle of a road especially during an apco-" he was quick to grab her, shoving her down against the tree trunk. He smacked against her mouth, as a group of military men began to drive along the side of the road closest to them. His eyes met her wide ones as she blinked her wispy lashes at him. His gaze trails over the freckles that danced over her button nose, and cheeks, slight blood splatter caked there along with her forehead. She giggles quickly as he removes his hand from her mouth revealing a bright and pearly smile.

"Kinky." his lip curls in annoyance as he turns his back on her again.

“You can’t just leave us! Me and Minnie are great company.” He stopped walking when he heard the name of her dog minnie. Who's been surprisingly quiet through the whole ordeal. Looking over his shoulder at her, he then shaking his head, he continued on taking longer steps.

“Okay I get it silent and boarding, dark and mysterious, tall, tanned, and handsome.She rambled on scurrying behind him.

“Whew you know what hulk- ACK!” a thud echoed through the trees making him turn seeing her fallen to her knees in mud. She sniffles as she tries to stand on her feet, failing miserably only getting her hands dirty in the process.

"They leave me all alone, take my stuff, then I break a freaking nail because of those nasty freaks, now I'm covered in mud following around an avenger who doesn't even. . ."

She's fully sobbing now, fat tears falling down her chubby cheeks as she gives up moving. "Just strike me downnnn"

Again his selfless heart was aching as he winced. He grumbles as he stomps towards her reaching his own hand out for her to take, after all this he couldn't find it in himself to just leave her not now. She sniffles as she looks up at him, then stares at his hand. With another pretty smile she takes it, letting him pull her upright, allowing her to rub her muddy hands on his black tank top with a defeated sigh.

“Thanks Thor.”

Huffing he began walking again this time slower so she wouldn't lose him. As he gets to the brick wall that seperates the forest from the store. She stares up at it and swallows hard. “How are we gonna get up there?”

Rolling his eyes Jungkook pulls his backpack off of his back, throwing it over the wall. He reaches towards her and she gasp, “You are not throwing my precious Minnie over that wall!” Stepping back from him a pout set on her lips. He shrugs and begins to climb up, leaving her there to watch as he disappears over the wall. Pouting and huffing, she removes her backpack from her back, strapping it in the front just in case she falls on her ass. “I'm way too pretty for this”

Scaling the wall she walked along it ignoring Hulks loud huffs and tapping of his boots. That's when she found a hole there big enough for her to fit through happily making her way through.

Jungkook might just leave her there on the other side of the wall. Hopefully she'll use whatever's there in her brain to find her way over the wall with her crusty white dog who he wished he could sleep like. He jumps at the tap on his shoulder turning to her standing behind him hands behind her back as she gave him a closed lip smile puffing the apples of her cheeks rocking back and forth on her wedges. “Guess what hulky.”

He raises a pierced eyebrow as she points in the direction she came from. “Found a hole in the wall!! You didn't even have to climb over silly.”

The happiness in her face fell as Jungkooks face hardened. Storming over to the said hold, cursing. He could have sworn he sweep the whole perimeter. How could this have gotten under his nose? He turns back to you standing pouty and confused. Since the first time meeting him Jungkook opens his mouth to speak.

“Good job princess” his voice deep and hoarse from not using it for months.

"OMG how'd you know my name" She smiles practically bouncing on her feet from the praise and his attention, twirling on a piece of her hair like a school girl with a crush. Shaking his head he turned back to fix the wall.

Inside of the thrift store, Jungkook listened quietly to her ramble about her love for thrifting and how she would rather thrift than online shop. Then he watched her get teary eyed again over not being able to online shop anymore. “It's just not fair!!! Like I was living the most barbie dream girl life, ya know?”

Accepting the tissue he handed to her staring at the sleeping dog in her lap. “Then bam the Internet shuts off, then boom my freaking neighbor tries to eat me.”

“Like I'm just a girl! I'm not fit for this at all.” Blowing her nose into the tissues finishing her tantrum while Jungkook debated on what to say. “I watched you knife four geeks by yourself, I think you're doing pretty good.”

“ Really?”

“Really?”

She giggles sniffing, as she held out her hand. “I’m Princess Marie sorry for the late introduction ‘s very rude.

Clasping his hand into hers, “Jeon Jungkook. Don't worry about it too much.”

His gaze drifted to her bloody broken nail.

“Let's clean this up, kay?”

Eagerly she nodded dark curls bouncing.

“Mmkay kookie”

Jungkook wouldn't admit it out loud but being in the presence of another human being that wasn't trying to kill him was nice. He knew that princess and her crusty dog would be a handful but he was willing to deal with it. Plus he missed being called by his favorite nickname.

- © hobicakess ! do not steal, modify, copy, plagiarize, nor repost any of the works on this blog without given permission!

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Epilogue

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: Eighteen months after you and Colt have declared your love for each other, there's just one thing that could make life better — actually getting to spend time together.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: You know I couldn't resist a little epilogue for these two :D I hope this brings you all as much joy as this series has brought me, and I appreciate each and every one of you who has taken the time to read and/or respond to this story. Thank you :)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. The steps leading up to the apartment have never seemed so long, and Colt honestly can’t clear them fast enough so he can get home to you.

Home. What a word. What a feeling. Colt Seavers has had a home before, but home has never felt so warm, so kind, so welcoming as the one he shares with you. And his soul is at home wherever you are.

It’s been eighteen months since he confessed his love for you on the airport greenway, eighteen months since the two of you started a relationship that has weathered all sorts of trials. Lengthy separations, serious injuries, art-related frustrations, meddling outsiders — sometimes it seems like the whole world has conspired against the two of you.

And still, you are his. You choose to be his every day. Your love has never wavered, and his love for you has only grown stronger as you’ve shown him what it means to be beloved.

Colt still smiles to remember the night he proposed. The two of you had barely been officially dating for four months when he couldn’t stand it another minute and asked you to marry him. You were slightly less impulsive about the idea — you took a full two seconds to agree and ask how soon you could get married. Neither of you had ever been more sure about anything than knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together.

Marriage hasn’t been easy all the time. Colt’s work takes him all over the world, and yours keeps you busy 24/7. Sometimes weeks will go by without you getting to spend time together, and sometimes the moments you can steal are spent simply falling asleep on each other’s shoulders. You and Colt have learned to treasure every second you get to spend together, hoping that one day, you’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company. Colt feels a flutter of excitement knowing that time may come sooner than you think.

For now, though, both of you have a full two weeks off from your different jobs. Colt’s latest movie finished filming yesterday, and you’ve been done with your latest Broadway set design job for three days. Colt has been on a plane for the last fourteen hours and is bone-weary, but all he can think about right now is getting through that door and seeing your smile.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. Colt hits the top of the steps, and the hallway is flooded with soft golden light as you fling the door open, clearing the distance between you in half a second and throwing yourself into his arms with a beaming smile that makes his heart feel like it will burst with joy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, the two of you are snuggled together under a blanket on your couch, listening to the gentle night rain outside. You’re both thoroughly worn out — you had three weeks’ worth of catching up to do — and now you’ve both settled in for the simple pleasure of basking in each other’s presence.

You sometimes catch yourself wondering if this could all be a dream. Is it possible that you could actually be married to Colt Seavers, world’s greatest stuntman and the kindest, most dedicated man you’ve ever met? The way he showers you with his attention, the way he is so intentional about demonstrating his love for you, all his unconventional ways of letting you know he’s thinking about you even when you’re hundreds of miles apart… sometimes, it feels too good to be true.

The past three weeks haven’t been easy. You always miss Colt when you’re both far from home on jobs, but this past separation has seemed to last an eternity. Every night, you fell asleep longing to be with him, and every phone call, every text message seemed so inadequate to express how much you missed him. You’ve found yourself craving a time when the two of you will be able to spend every evening this way, wrapped in each other’s arms and unworried about anything else in the world.

Like this moment. He’s almost asleep, his cheek resting against the top of your head while you’re curled up in his arms. In these quiet moments, listening to his steady heartbeat and enjoying the abundant amount of heat he manages to give off at all times, you’re tempted to wonder how any life could be this sweet.

The two of you have been good for each other in more ways than one. With you in his life, Colt has started showing more caution in the stunts he performs. He’s still the same fearless daredevil he’s always been, but now he takes a few extra minutes to make doubly sure he’s safe when he leaps off a building or dives straight into a pool of dark water. It’s amazing how a person starts caring about themselves a little more when they know someone else cares for them.

Colt isn’t the only one changed, either. Before, you never thought twice about staying awake for three days straight to finish an elaborate set piece, or going without meals for a full day, or obsessing over a job almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Colt has made it his mission in life to check on you throughout the day and make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and somehow you’ve made it a habit, too.

With your head tucked under his chin, you feel Colt stir slightly out of his sleep. You start to shift away to give him more room to stretch out, but he just wraps his arms around you tighter and smiles down at you.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

Your heart swells with gratitude at his simple ways of saying I love you. “I missed you, too,” you reply, reaching up a hand to thread through his hair. He sighs and closes his eyes at your touch.

“So, what are we going to do with our two weeks off?”

You hum in answer to his question, pretending to think it over. “Actually, I was thinking about just getting a ton of work done in advance,” you tease him, grinning at the way his face warms into a smile. “Just locking myself in my studio, working all hours of the night…”

“That’s fine,” Colt tells you mildly, reaching one hand up to stroke down your arm. “I was actually planning to work, too. Your car is seriously lacking in scratches and dents. I thought I might borrow it to practice for a car chase through the neighborhood.”

You lean forward to press a kiss against his shoulder. “While you’re doing that, I could repaint your truck with some psychedelic decals.”

“I could also work on smashing through windows in the living room.”

“At least put down a tarp first,” you instruct him, your kisses gradually working up his shoulder to his neck.

Colt grins and tilts your head up with his fingertips. Your lips meet in a sweet, unhurried kiss that makes shivers travel the length of your spine. Even after all the kisses you’ve shared, the feeling never grows old for you. His lips are soft, gentle against yours, his arms holding you close to his chest.

“I don’t care what we do,” Colt whispers against your cheek. “As long as we have the chance to do this anytime we want to.”

You smile and nod in agreement, relaxing into his arms and letting your head fall onto his shoulder. The rain continues to fall steadily outside, the soft lamplight cascading through the windows and casting a golden shade over Colt’s skin. The contentment and warmth of this moment envelopes you, but something still tugs at the back of your mind.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask softly, wondering if Colt is still awake to hear you. “Being apart so often for so long?”

Colt senses the hesitation in your voice and lifts his head to look down into your eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asks. You’re touched by how serious he sounds.

“Not terribly,” you answer honestly, not wanting to sound as forlorn as you’ve felt the last few weeks. “It’s hard sometimes, but it makes catching up even more fun.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Colt smiles. He doesn’t ignore your question, though, and he pushes himself up so he’s sitting up straight beside you, tugging you over so you can sit up on your knees and face him. He takes both your hands in his. “I don’t know how much longer,” he tells you. “Are you trying to say you’re ready for a change?”

“Not necessarily,” you say carefully, caught off guard by how serious he suddenly seems. “I don’t think either of us is ready for that. But to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. Being able to see you every day, both of us coming back to the same place every night…” You hear the wistful note in your voice and try to curb it, not wanting Colt to feel any pressure from you.

But he finishes your sentence for you. “...spending evenings together like this instead of with a goodnight text across the country.”

You nod, realizing that Colt has been feeling exactly what you’ve been feeling. “No matter how much I love designing sets, I get so tired of sleeping in hotels and only seeing you on video calls.”

“I know,” he says, reaching up to comb some stray hairs behind your ear. “Me, too. I thought about it more this last trip than ever before.”

You beam a relieved smile at him, suddenly feeling like you’ve released a huge burden just by sharing your feelings with him and knowing he's been going through the same thing. “Maybe we should start thinking about a new arrangement,” you reply softly.

“Are you suggesting divorce?”

You laugh out loud at his serious tone, and Colt laughs with you as he pulls you into a hug. “You are so ridiculous,” you say through a grin. You give him a peck on the cheek, thinking the conversation is over now that you’ve gotten that worry off your chest, but Colt surprises you by disentangling from your arms and launching into another serious tone.

“What do you say to this,” Colt proposes. “One more job each, and then we think about going into business together?”

You sit bolt upright at that. “Going into business together?” you echo in surprise. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“What, you’ve never heard of married people going into business together?”

This is almost too much to process. “Colt, you’re a stuntman,” you remind him. “I’m a set designer. Those aren’t exactly compatible professions.”

“They could be very compatible if we started a joint venture as movie consultants,” he insists. His eyes are beaming with pride, and suddenly you realize that this isn’t a spur-of-the-moment suggestion from him. “That way, any company that hired us would put us on the same jobs, and we could each do our separate thing on the same sets. I could be a stunt consultant, and you’d be an art consultant. We could expand it as we needed to.”

Colt’s grin is infectious, and you impulsively reach out to frame his face in your hands. “Am I crazy, or does it sound like you’ve put some thought into this?” you ask in disbelief.

“I already told you, I missed you,” Colt shrugs. He takes your hands in his, then flips one over to kiss the inside of your wrist. But you’re not finished asking questions.

“What do you mean, ‘stunt consultant’? That sounds dangerously like you’re thinking about a career shift.”

“Not necessarily,” he continues, using his fingertips to trace the inside of your wrist now. “It’s more of a way I could pick the jobs I want instead of being Tom Ryder’s faithful shadow. Plus, I’d have the chance for more of a stunt coordinator job one day.”

You’re amazed at how much thought he has put into this idea, as well as how it so perfectly solves the problems you’ve been wrestling with for the last three weeks. “I thought you weren’t interested in climbing the ladder,” you counter with a smile.

“I never have been,” Colt admits, still swirling his fingertips over your inner forearm. “But if it means I have to be away from you all the time, I’m willing to take a little leap.”

“How long have you been thinking about all this?”

“Not long. I ran into Dan Tucker on this last set. He gave me the idea for the joint venture.”

“Remind me to send Dan a bouquet of flowers.”

Colt grins wide at that, and he leans forward to close the distance between you, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of your mouth. “Does that mean you’re interested?” he murmurs.

“I might be,” you say, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “If I think I’d be compatible with my future business partner.”

“I can arrange for some compatibility exercises.”

You smile at his response, sliding your arms around his neck as he moves to pull you into his embrace again. “Will there be a fee for training?”

“No charge,” Colt mumbles against your jaw.

“Good benefits?”

“Lots and lots of benefits.” His lips are moving down to do something wicked to the skin of your neck, but you pause him briefly by lifting his head up to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes are focused on you with the intensity that melts you every time you see it.

“Let’s do it,” you declare, hardly daring to believe that this perfect idea could become a reality. “I don’t know how, but let’s make it happen.”

Colt gives you a smile that seems to brighten the entire room. “You got it, da Vinci.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Believe me, it’s good to be home.”

Colt demonstrates his statement by pulling you into his arms and dipping you back so you’re laying across his lap. You laugh and pull him down to your level, resting one hand on the back of his neck while he kisses you. His kiss is gentle, almost mischievous somehow, as if he’s already planning his next move to surprise you.

“I suggest a two-week vacation right here,” you say breathlessly when he finally lifts his lips off yours. He kisses the tip of your nose as you continue, “I don’t care if we don’t do a single thing, as long as we’re together for all of it.”

“Mmmm, now you’re talking,” he tells you in the husky voice that always sends goosebumps over your skin. Another kiss, this one on your forehead. “But I bet we can think of lots of things to do.”

“You think?” you ask slyly, and your smirk prompts Colt to gather you up in his arms and stand, an impressive show of strength even from him. Your grin widens, and you capture his lips in a kiss that leaves you both heated and flushed. This is worth all of it, you think. All the lonely nights, all the uncertainty — it all fades in the heat of his gaze, this man you love with every fiber of your being.

“Definitely,” Colt replies against your lips, and you can feel his smile even through the words. “In fact, if we’re going into business together so soon, we’d better get started on those compatibility exercises right away.”

[fraugwinska]

DoubleTrouble No. 2 - Missionary Impossible

Yes, we did Team up again - the wonderful @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self wrote another DoubleTrouble fic, based of a hilarious FranticFanfic game result (If you are a writer and have some friends who also indulge in fanfiction, check the game out: www.franaticfanfic.com - Your throat will hate you but the laughter makes it worth it!)

This time we give all of you Vox Lovers a real Treat! Mine is the Readers POV, while Barbie provided Vox's POV - get the TV's dirty version right here.

And now, without further ado:

Explicit Sexual content - Minors DNI - 18+ - 6.5k words

You had to admit: Breaking into Lucifer’s personal vault was your boldest and most impressive job yet. You had your concerns - normally you didn’t take jobs that seemed too shady or downright wrong to you - but you didn’t steal anything powerful, just a bottle of his vanished wife’s perfume. You shake your head at the memory. Most certainly one of her many, still very active superfans, kind of icky to be honest. But money talks, and boy did that client talk.

The only downside had been that for the first time, the 666 Evening News had a picture of you.

Granted, blurry, obstructed and absolutely not usable at all - but it still irked you to no end. They didn’t call you the ‘Traceless Thief’ for nothing.

But even though no one was more the wiser about your identity, even though Lucifer begrudgingly stopped looking for witnesses, even though the gossip on the streets about speculations who the Traceless Thief could’ve been died down - ever since that night, you felt like you were being watched.

The next jobs you take go without news coverage and media attention, and yet, you grow more and more paranoid. Hell has many eyes - figuratively and literally - and you feel them all on you. But there is work to be done and a living to be earned - and the tiny alibi antique bookshop you keep definitely doesn’t provide. No one sane wants old shit in hell - and the rare specimens that do and visit the dingy little space under your apartment come and go, disappointed in the stock you barely keep.

Which is fine by you - you only really need it for one thing. The PO Box.

The wonderfully boring, uninteresting PO Box of the ‘Dusty Pages’ bookshop was your portal to the real money. Hell had become a lot better the day you mastered the powers the underworld granted you: No physical barrier could contain you. Being intangible granted you freedom, and to return to the profession you were best in: Stealing Shit.

Of course, noble causes like overturning corrupt governments by breaking into officials homes and publishing their many crimes was still stealing, if you ask heaven that is, and it landed you in hell. You gave up being salty about it, and made the best out of the situation.

“Hey Frankie. How’s the wife?” The post office clerk, a grumpy looking crocodile in an ill-fitting checkered suit huffs.

“Still fucking annoying, as always. Each day I’m getting closer to bribing an exterminator to kill the bitch just to shut her up for good.”

You chuckled, leaning on the counter and tapping your fingers on the scratched wood.

“Aw, did you burn the meatloaf again? You know Alice hates that.” Frankie gives you an exasperated look, which you meet with a mocking grin.

“You want something? Except for getting on my nerves?”

You shrug, twirling a tiny key on a string around your finger. Frankie, and by proxy Alice too, were parts of your harmless, boring, inconspicuous appearance. Just a normal young sinner, just a normal errand to run, keeping normal small talk with the clerks.

“Just checking my PO Box. I’m waiting on a few rare books I ordered to restock.”

“Uh-huh. Tell someone who gives a shit.”

The crocodile turns away, adjusting his small, round reading glasses and eager to ignore you. Perfect.

“Always nice to chat with you, Frankie.” you say and saunter over to the little door with the number 13. The quiet click always sounds satisfyingly like a little exclamation of joy and like cashflow, and under the ‘Old Crap & Thingamajigs’ catalog you found what you were hoping for. A thick envelope and a letter - new jetstream-bathtub, here you come.

God, why were the VoxTech maintenance uniforms so fucking skimpy?

You grumble silently, cursing yourself that you haven’t grabbed the male one. But that would’ve been suspicious, and you couldn’t afford to be suspicious today. Not if you want to get the job done and live to tell the tale. 

The Vee Tower is full of cameras, hundreds of tiny, red blinking lights next to crystal clear lenses, and dead spots were hard to find and a rare occasion. So, when you couldn’t shift through the walls, you had to look like you belonged. And apparently, a fucking laced, black mini-skirt and a top with puffy sleeves that looked more like a fetish bralette was what it took to ‘belong’. The whole point was blending in, not being remembered - and all the female employees from cleanup and maintenance looked the exact same as you. So, unless one was walking around with a bag full of personnel files on hand, you looked like anyone else on this floor.

You stepped into the elevator, the keycard your client had sent you along with the money and initial job offer in hand. Wherever that person got those precious credentials, you were grateful for them because it gave you an easy way to bypass all the layers of security that VoxTech imposed. All that hassle for an incriminating photo.

You sighed when you pressed the button to floor 66, where the CEO of VoxTech enterprises had his private apartment. Vox.

The name was even more intimidating than Lucifer's to you. While the king of hell was aloof, inactive, disinterested in the ongoings of hell, Vox was the absolute opposite. He knew every little secret. VoxTech had millions of eyes and ears. It was a well known fact that he kept his all-seeing spycams on the whole pentagram and his pliant audience in his steely grasp. Always on top of the times, on top of the news, on top of the sales and on top of any business, shady or not, in hell. In the eyes of the citizens of the Pride Ring, Vox and his partners Valentino and Vevette owned practically everything. He had the largest audience in the history of hell, the sharpest wit and the keenest, calculating eye on the prize - a charming manipulator that was considered very much dangerous and not to be underestimated. Which is why you had to plan your gig for a time you were certain he wasn't around.

A shame really - you couldn’t deny, despite his ruthlessness and questionable business practices with which he had built his empire, you kind of admired the self-made TV-demon that rose to overlord status and made quite a big name for himself in stellar time. That, and he was nice to look at too, even with a flatscreen for a head. Oh well.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to the job at hand, and with confident steps, you glanced up and down the corridor. There were a few cameras pointed to the apartment door, but you found a dead spot not far off, and with a content smile, you walked over as if to inspect the carpet, just to shift as you were out of the camera's angle, your body transpiring through the wall, and with a quiet thud, you were inside.

That was the moment the lights went out.

A power outage was the last thing you had expected - in the Vee Tower of all places. The one place in hell that burst with electricity, and you would laugh at the irony if you weren't so tense. The timing is suspicious,and with a beating heart you shuffle forward, trying to phase through the nearest wall.

What the fuck?

You furrow your brows and huff, irritated. The wall is - well, a wall, and while that was a normal state for others, for you? Unimaginable. Your hands are resting against the concrete and steel, normally easy peasy to walk through. But you feel the hardness under your fingertips, much more intense than it should and almost stinging.

Conventional route it is, then, you think begrudgingly and slowly make your way through the corridor, listening into the stillness of the apartment. The corridor led into a spacious living room - flat, modern couches that screamed money and luxury arranged in a half circle, surrounded by various screens, all turned off. In the middle you see the outlines of a metallic, lavish coffee table, empty and clean like in a catalog. It was the kind of space that wasn’t really meant to be lived in, but to show just how much you had that you didn’t really need. A show.

You scanned the room. There was an open arch leading into a kitchen - also polished and top notch empty, not the cluttered mess you had in your apartment - and a closed, narrow door, likely a storage room. But at the opposite end of it, you see a faint, blue stripe of light, teal blue, luring you towards it. A night light maybe, or some indirect mood lighting shit that was all the rage since LED’s hit the Pentagram a few years ago, shining through a cracked door. Intentionally inconspicuous, your brain whispers, but anything was better than the dim darkness you were stumbling in now. 

When you reach the glowing gap and peek cautiously into the adjacent room, one hand almost on the handle, a groan makes you freeze before you could register what you are looking at.

Oh satan.

Vox.

A LOT of Vox.

The overlord was fucking home, and not just that. In his bedroom - your target location - naked, an impressive and glowing cock in hand, working himself in a way he would definitely not appreciate anyone seeing him in. You felt your neck and cheeks flush with heat - another thing you did not expect nor calculate for. But you can’t look away - as surreal and absolutely dangerous this situation is - his deliciously large hands and the sheer sight of his luminous length glistening with precum as he strokes himself cuts your breath short with highly inappropriate lust. The screen in front of him was bright, and for a moment, you were so enraptured with him that you didn’t recognize the silhouette he was pumping himself to.

You.

It’s you.

In this ridiculous maid costume that was unconsciously riding up your ass, sneaking through the corridor, not even half a minute ago. With growing horror you watch yourself taking tentative steps through the living room, the you on the screen hesitating before deciding to move to the left, one arm reaching out to a cracked open door.

“Fuck, yes.”

The words were barely said when your brain kickstarts.

Fuck, no.

He knew. He knew you were here.

In a flight of panic, you bolted for the corridor, back to the door, back to the safety of not-fucking-here, but you couldn’t even make four steps before your wrists were bound by cables shooting out of the walls surrounding you. You ready yourself to slip through them, but again, your powers leave you high and dry again. Helpless, you back away into the nearest wall, and the door opens fully, with the TV demon standing in the frame. Tall, intimidating even butt-fucking-naked, and a cocky smile on his HD face.

“Hello, my dear,” he almost coos and takes a few steps towards you as you writhe in the restrictions, desperately trying to slip out and get the fuck away. “I’m so glad you got my invitation!”

“Invitation?” That makes you still against the cables, your eyes darting over his face, confused. What the hell does that mean? You weren’t invited, you had a job to... Oh. Oh shit.

“You’re the client?”

His face was answer enough, and you would have slapped yourself for your stupidity if he hadn't had you in an iron grip. A loud game-show ding startles you back into the here and now, he was so much closer than before…

“Sure thing, doll! How else was I supposed to catch a slippery little thing like you without scaring you off?”

He traces his fingers down your cheek, his tips sparking with static electricity. How fucked up are you that this turns you on? Not being able to suppress the need to glance at his still shining and ripped cock again, you swallow hard. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Apparently left outside of this apartment, along with your usual foresight and dignity.

Cables wrap around your thighs and with a yelp you feel yourself getting lifted, legs parted by the wires. You almost topple over but are caught by his hands on your arms and faced with a smirk when you press your back into the wall, stabilizing yourself with a reddened face.

“Those didn’t come with the uniform,” He has the audacity to wink at you, nudging to the black lace panties you wear - excuse a girl for not wearing granny panties in the workplace - and you want to retort something snarky to him, when he looks at you that way. 

Within a moment, you realize two things.

Firstly, with the way he was roaming your body, his eyes lingering not only on your face, but your tits and the flimsy underwear concealing your very obvious wet arousal - you were fucked one way or the other. Which should’ve terrified you. Emphasis on ‘should’.

Because the other thing was, that even though he had bound you, even though you were at the mercy of this powerful sinner who tricked and trapped you here, rendering your power useless with whatever-the-fuck… he didn’t seem malicious, but rather… curious? Fascinated? Playful? You can’t really pinpoint it, but something tells you that - if you play your cards right - you might get more out of this make-pretend job than a jetstream-bathtub and hopefully all your limbs intact. And most importantly - you have nothing to lose.

“They're from my personal collection - lucky coincidence that they match the overall vibe of your staff's... uniform." It takes a lot to steady your voice as you talk, with the way his clawed hands run along the insides of your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He cocks his brow, as if he's pleasantly surprised, and licks his lips before he answers, his voice sultry and dripping of sexual tension.

"Mh... Luck favors the prepared, I always say. Oh, and speaking of slippery and prepared, sweetheart..."

You gasp as you feel the soft fabric being pushed aside and long fingers running lightly through your drenched folds. Fuck, you can already tell just how skilled those fingers must be. How great they'd feel deep inside you. Involuntarily, you buck your hips to guide them to where you wanted them most - onto your clit and burrowed to his knuckles - the desperation just dripping from you as he chuckles and lets his thumb glide over the throbbing pearl teasingly teasingly as he pushes one of his digits in. Your head rolls against the wall behind you with a needy moan escaping your lips and you have to bite them to stay focussed for what you were about to do.

"What a sight. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, doll, seeing you all desperate and fucking..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, replaced by a low, long and stuttering moan. Half shocked, half aroused, he looked down to his throbbing cock, then his head snapped up to you, grinning down on him. You moved your hips again, grinding down on his unmoving fingers, frozen in place at his confusion, confirming your suspicion that he didn't know about your other power. Not as strong as your intangibility, sure, but strong enough for him to feel - and see - the ghostly hand you envisioned around his dick, continuing what he started, pumping him in leisurely, slow strokes. 

"Didn't know about that move, doll." His hand comes alive again, and even though his voice glitches a bit he adds another one, much more tenderly and almost softly, properly prepping you. And judging by the circumference of the cock you feel through your spectral hand, it was more than precaution, but nothing less than a mercy. Mercy you were ready to beg for, given his thumb would continue the delicious circles it drew, just the right pressure, just the right pace to push you near the edge without tipping you over it.

"You're just a whole mystery, huh?"

Now fairly certain your head wouldn't roll at the end of this encounter, you let your last reservations slide. It has been too long since you were in the hands of a skilled lover, one that didn't disappoint, that didn't come too soon or drilled amateurishly into you in search for the g-spot they never found. This one knew what he was doing, finally, and by satan you wouldn't waste this opportunity. Make it a night to remember, and who knows? If you fuck his brains out, maybe he'd be knocked out long enough after for you to make a quick and easy exit. You imagined the spectre hand to twist, its thumb mapping the soft ridges around the crown. That seems to do the trick for Vox, and the look he shoots you deeply satisfies. "Fuck me, that's good."

Playing into this sentiment, you didn’t stifle the moans his damn fingers stroke out of you, the way they glide in and out, pressure on all the right marks without fail is too good to hold back. Your skin felt on fire, even without him touching anything but your pussy, and you felt no energy left to care that your clothes - if you would call them that - seemed to fall apart on your body, skirt pushed up to your waist, top loose around your shoulders and almost down enough to let your boobs fall out. You must look a mess, but then again the overlord didn’t seem to mind - quite the contrary. He looked outright hungry, eyes glitching occasionally with a particular squeeze of your hand or a poignant lustful moan from your lips.

“Do you have to concentrate to do that?”

“A little.”

His fingers hitting that one sweet spot inside you, cutting any other, more elaborate explanation short. Fucking hell, that you had to get tricked and trapped by an overlord to find a man that doesn’t think ‘foreplay’ is the interview before a soccer game was a fucking travesty. Grateful for that fact you withdraw from your own pleasure and decided to reward him, regaining your concentration enough to imagine a second hand to pay attention to the firm, very plump balls of his, rolling them in its palm and giving them a gentle, tentative squeeze.

“Cool party trick though, isn’t it?”

As if you challenged him, there’s a subtle change in his demeanor - his eyes more inquisitive, his fingers more eager and fervent, and a third one joined the others, stretching you oh-so-deliciously. For a moment you think you’d lose control, the ghost hands flickering before you got a grip on them again, determined to not tip the scales so soon. But you had to admit - it was tempting, to give into this implied command: Submit, let me take care of you, let me fuck you dumb.  

Little did he know, you were all about equality - or nothing at all. And if he was allowed to plow you with three fingers, surely he couldn’t protest against a third hand.

You weren’t sure how you’d manage it… the power was new, still waiting to be mastered, but you willed a third hand into reality, joining the one on his balls, softly working their way down and massaging his perineum. It strained you to no end, operating the conjured hands while Vox was adamant to make you cum on his fingers alone, but with how the cables shook and loosened around you, you were fairly certain it was enough to show him you meant business, your message clear: If anything, baby, we will fuck each other dumb. 

You watch with almost painful arousal how his screen flashes from the three-way-stimulation, his teeth slightly baring from the sensation but without losing his cocky smirk, as if to show his resilience.

"You'd be the life of any party I know, sugar, if you can pull shit like this out your sleeve."

With a wince from you, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping, empty and fucking whining at the loss, eyes sharp and with a dangerous glint in them. "But you're not the only one with a few secret talents."

He kneels down then, opens his mouth, and you can't believe your eyes as a thick, long, very analog blue tongue unfolds and licks his lips hungrily and almost impatiently. A hand around each thigh spreading you almost impossibly wide, the hot breath feels chilling against your slick opening, and a brush of the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit makes your toes curl and your muscles tense with expectation. Your gaze, locked with his, breaks only when your head throws back and you moan out his name as he truly begins to eat you out. 

No teasing or games, no building up the tension - it's unmerciful, frenetic, his tongue alternately flickering on your clit with its pointed tip and pushing deep into your core with an almost unbearable thickness until there was no space left to be filled, tasting every little centimeter inside. Instinctively, your real hands twitch in their restraints, wanting to reach out, grab his head, the frame of his screen, fucking anything really just to have something of him to hold onto and push. Your hips can't hold still, but he made sure not to lose an inch as his hands gripped your ass down and into him as if he heard your thoughts, drawing you deeper into his maw as he devours you. Your spirit hands fade in and out, your mind unable to keep them steadily corporeal - he was too good, his tongue was too good, not once did his rhythm falter nor the damn thing slow down, giving you no chance to collect yourself.

Finally - oh god finally - his cables loosened enough for you to dart your hands towards him, finding a saving anchor on his arms. You literally felt like you were drowning - wet and out of breath, senses fogged by that wonderfully violent tongue swiping and licking and prodding and fucking pulsing. When he hummed into your cunt, all dams broke, and you could only stutter “fuck, cumming - oh my God-” before you snapped and you fell into the depths of your orgasm.

Whatever prick, mouth or fingers you had on and in you before - this erased them all. Never before felt your head so light, your cunt so heavy and hell so divine.

His relentless licks make you mewl with every stroke as he rides you through your high, but he just doesn’t stop. Greedy, rawing your abused cunt to a point where moans turn into almost pained whimpers and your body twitches and squirms, begging for him to relent.

Mercifully he understands, and when he stands up, you only passingly realize with a pang of bad conscience that your spectre limbs have dissipated somewhere along the line, leaving him high and dry - only metaphorically, because his cock was soaked in leaking cum.

He hooks your legs over his arm, his other snaking around your waist to lift you from the wall, and you made no motion to resist it, being that the prospect of his soft sheets on his bed were much more preferable than color-coated concrete on your back. The short walk over feels like the eye of the storm - a short illusion of a safe space, and you use it to assess the damage.

For one - the ‘clothes’ you wore were useless now, they did nothing clothes were supposed to do - The sleeves were half-ripped from the bralette, hanging by a thread, and the top itself so far down your tits were fully out, nipples dark and flushed, while the skirt was nothing more than a drape at this point, hiding the mess on your thighs and reddened, puffed lips.

Then you look up through your lashes, up to the best lay you ever had, down below as well as up above. You should plan your escape, should use the time you had now to calculate what to do to get the fuck out while you could - Instead your horny little fucked-up brain was busy imagining how you could draw this out, make him so pussydrunk he’d send another decoy job weekly, just so you could return to that magic tongue again and again.

You were right. The sheets felt soft and obscenely expensive. You spread your fingers, the only real motion you were still able to make for now, taking his roaming gaze and the appreciative expression on his screen as a badge of honor. Your senses tingled, and you blinked one, two times, listening into your powers. The walls of his apartment were prepped by him to prevent you from leaving - electricity most likely, something intangible itself - but the ceiling and floors weren’t.

“Got another round in you, baby?”

You look up to him as he wraps your legs around his waist,lining himself up to you, tip ready and loaded. But he doesn’t push in. He waits, and you could cry as he does so.

Fucking hell, the ruthless media overlord half of hell fears to the point they piss themselves is waiting for your consent.

It’s this unexpected, contradictory duality that draws your lips into a smile. Trapping you in his territory, able to kill you with his goddamn pinkie, and yet the only thing he does is make you cum on his mouth and wait for a ‘yes’ to fuck you mindless - how could you not fall for that? Even more, how could you not test your luck with that?

With regained strength you reach for his dick, fingers wrapping firmly around his girthy base. His body follows your gentle guidance, and he lets himself glide into your ready heat with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine - such an earnest sound it makes you want to return the favor tenfold. And you just knew the way you could.

“You don’t need to worry about my stamina,” Voice like honey, you refocus your mind, visualizing the wicked idea that had entered your mind.

A soft hand. Long, flexible fingers, slick and smooth and ready. It formed as you thought it, stroking the cleft of his ass, halting at the tight ring of muscle it found, testing his reaction with a teasing, light press against his opening.

The reaction was priceless. Face glitching, hips jerking violently forward into you as its fingers pass his entrance and slide into him, coming to a halt at that one, very sensitive spot. His breath is ragged and eyes fucking wild, but the way he bends down, gripping your hands to entangle them with yours and pressing as much midnight-blue skin against yours tells you that he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“Worry about your own,” you whisper against the skin of his chest, grinning at the way he shudders at the sultry tone of your voice and the challenging eyes of yours, hilted in your pussy still, taking the ghostly fingers like a good boy.

“Whatever you did to your apartment, you only did it to the walls - the floor is fair game - ah fuck-”

He found some of his senses back, his thrust surprising your nerves with a sudden jolt of electricity - added by him or imagined by you, you can’t tell. He fills you so perfectly, as if molded just for you, big and hard and absolutely sublime, and when he brings his knees up more and bends you at the waist he manages to push in even deeper, pounding almost at your cervix with increasingly feverish, tough thrusts. Again, he wanted to break your concentration, but this time, you were prepared. You let your body do what you trained it to do - it goes hazy, misty, almost translucent in a blue-ish hue, revealing the vision of his buried prick deep inside you, teal glow in navy mist, before you solidify again and find the strength to grin up at him.

“If you cum before I do, I’m out of here.”

There was a wicked glint on that screen of his, and he upped the pace of his snapping hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"Guess you'll have to move in then, baby." His voice sounds almost distorted, his body starts to spark with fizzing bolts of electric energy, and when he grips the headboard with one hand to gain more momentum to fuck even faster and stronger into you, you almost want to take him up on that quip, convinced his apartment was equipped with more than just a boring jetstream hot tub.

Your spirit fingers stroke in a come-hither motion over his prostate, over and over, varying in pressure, intensity and speed, and each swipe makes him moan a little louder, driving his dick a little deeper into you. It's becoming a race towards a finish line none of you wanted to get to in the first place, a fight of wills and bodies, pushing you to your limits judging by the way your oversensitive pussy clenches, begging for release once more. But by Satan himself you did not intend to lose without a good fight, your fingers raking over his lithe back and the sharp edges of his body, lingering, scraping, writing wordless praises into his skin in red streaks.

“In fact, sweetheart,” he says as he pounds you and your pants become out even louder, “I’ll make you cum so hard you don’t want to leave - you’ll scream my name so loud they’ll hear you down in Wrath, know exactly where you’ll be living from now on.”

Vox, too, is close, you can see it, hear it, most importantly feel it. One hand remaining on the headboard, the other scoops you up by your neck, pulling you onto his face in a kiss so breathtaking and fierce you almost pass out. It's sloppy and lustful, it's lips against lips and tongue on tongue, and your ability to use either becomes redundant when you and him both simultaneously cry out, orgasms overlap and intertwine, you cunt clenching tightly around his pulsating length, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum into you as your own release drips onto the soaked sheets below. Your eyes roll back, the fingers buried inside his tightened ass vanish and your muscles relax. With his hand still on your neck, claws digging into your skin, he slowly brings you back onto the mattress to let you fall together with him.

Silence settles for a second. A brief moment of stillness and clarity, sweat cooling your skin, hearts slowing down and breathing returning to normalcy. You feel the aftermath of his touches everywhere. His marks litter you from top to bottom: Your wrists and thighs are covered in red streaks from the tightness of his cable bondage. Your whole skin tingles from the waves of his inherent electric current. But most telling of all was the pooling mess inside of you, already leaking.

You let yourself feel the weight of his body on yours - it's an intoxicating feeling, the heat radiating off his dark blue skin, and the subtle charge beneath, a hidden hum underneath your fingertips, telling of the immense power of an Overlord you just let fuck you senseless. Now would be the time to run - his screen was completely blue, turned off while he recovered his breath - if you wanted, you could disappear, and he wouldn't be able to stop you or track you down. But when you searched the depths of your mind and body for regret and the sense of danger it brought - there was none. Only satiated warmth, an afterglow you could bathe in, like a warm, healing balm, easing your aching bones and bruised skin.

And just in that moment of resolve, Vox’s screen returned to show his face, and he lifted his head slightly to look at you with eyes as bright and vivid as the neon signs lighting up the streets of the entertainment district outside his windows.

One Month Later

“Thanks babes, I was about to lose my shit when Velma and Kelly fucking quit on me. Bunch of pussies, those two, seriously.”

You shoot Velvette a smile over your shoulder, adjusting the last couple of details on six of her girls, ghostly blue hands hovering around them - clipping a collar here, buckling a shoe there. You pity the two foolish girls - the runway show had Velvette occupied tonight, but tomorrow - well, you were sure Vel was about to annihilate their sorry stylist asses for blowing her off last minute… and not just with a snarky post on Sinstagram.

“No problem, Vel, that’s what I’m here for.”

The small woman laughs sarcastically, but not in the usual mean way, but a playful one, a friendly one. That was one of the things you could pride yourself on - That Velvette, social media queen and judge of what’s hot and not, fell in love with you almost as fast and hard as Vox did.

“Darling, we both know that no one really knows what exactly Vox hired you for. What was the job description he pulled out of his flat ass again?” she raises a cocky brow, sipping obnoxiously on her iced coffee to go in her hands, holding out another, identical one for you. “Ah, yes, ‘ASS’.”

You take the drink from her, smiling mischievously back at her. When Vox came up with that title, he didn’t even notice the ambiguity of its abbreviation, and you let him stew over it for almost a day before you told him, silently convinced your fingers left a memorable impression. “It’s ‘Administrative Services Specialist', and what can I say? My resumee was very convincing.”

Velvette snorts into her vanilla foam. “Funny name for your cunt love, but you do you. Now shoo. Didn’t you and flatface have a date tonight?”

You wave her a quick goodbye, sipping up the cold drink in one gulp and throwing it into the trash as you bypass it, hurrying down the hall and plucking the private keycard from your back pocket. You scan it at the elevators, noticing the other employees backing away from you, and you couldn’t hide the grin that flashed your face. No one dared to ride in that elevator with you, a very badly kept secret that it sent you one way straight to Vox’s apartment, and every one of them would rather chew glass than be caught by whatever awaited the opening elevator doors.

And Vel was right - you had a date with Vox, a special one at that.

Barely three weeks ago you actually did move in - call it a whim of insanity, call it fate - and since that, your days were filled with a job in the Vee Tower that you actually liked (no one shed a tear at the ‘Dusty Pages’ closure notice) and the nights were spent naked, sweaty and blissfully explicit under, on top and any other possible way with Vox in his bed. You learned something new about yourself - with the right partner, you were almost insatiable. Another thing you learned was that Vox seemed to feel just the same. Lucky coincidences indeed.

But date night was something special. Giving up the alibi bookshop was easy enough - but you were adamant that you still wanted to do your other jobs.

Not because of the money - Vox provided generously, and wouldn’t take a cent from you (although you managed to convince him to let you buy him at least snacks and small gifts, an exception you abused to the absolute limit). No, you actually liked to sneak through the night, liked the thrill of moving in the shadows and shifting through secured buildings. Liked the excited arousal you felt after a completed heist.

To preserve your secret, you and Vox decided that you wouldn’t reveal your main power to the others at Vee Tower, the only other people who knew were Velvette and Valentino.

The latter wasn’t your biggest fan, and who could blame him, giving that you were living with  and fucking his ex-lover, but he had his own flings and things to take care of, and after a few occasions where you stepped in to help him out at shoots and with his scripts, he at least became cordial towards you.

But date night was where you went out to do a job, secured through Vox for one of his many business partners, and the pool of people the TV demon had on hands that needed or wanted something of value was a bottomless pit from which you could choose the ones you liked the best. And your digital lover not only organized your gigs - he became your eyes and ears, your literal partner in crime.

The doors open, and Vox stands waiting, leaning, in the doorway, arms crossed and a grin on his face.

“You’re late, doll.”

“I know I know, but Vel needed some helping hands - you know I can’t leave her hanging.”

“Oh, I saw.”, he chuckles, his screen switching from his face to images of you from the security cameras on Velvettes floor, close ups of your face, your tits and ass sprinkled in between. ”You know I can never see enough of you, gotta keep those cameras on.”

You scoffed, but did so with a smile before you kissed him and ran off into the closet, undressing quickly while he followed you, letting himself fall down on his bed and watching you intensely as you peeled your clothes from your body and slipped into your signature skintight suit. By the time you were changed his cock was hard, straining his pants which you acknowledged with an appreciative smile.

You both exchange longing looks, but time is ticking. You put the newest addition to your equipment in your ear - a tiny, wireless headset, directly connected to Vox, bend over the bed, your tongue running over the warm line of his lower lip and sigh as he groans with want.

“I know it’s usually payment upfront, baby, but we’re already behind schedule.”

You can’t seem to tear yourself from him with those big hands on your ass squeezing tightly and that goddamn tongue in your mouth, your mind half decided to tell your client to fuck off and fuck the demon in front of you senseless. But he gently pulls away, his eyes burning not only with need, but also with pride. A look you loved to see on him.

“And besides, you are so much more voracious after a job well done.”

He slaps your ass as you pass him, and you shift through the wall, now almost as eager to steal that stupid looking red duck from some dingy, rundown hotel as you were to return to his waiting cock to cash in your salary.

[beneathstarryskies]

I get off on you getting off on me

Header by @actuallysaiyan

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: cucking (Satoru is the cuck), creampie, jerking off, oral sex, fem!reader, degradation, hints of NanaGo

Inspired by this Kento x Reader x Hiromi by @actuallysaiyan

Everyone knows you’re the apple of Satoru’s six eyes. He adores everything about you, and if neither of you is on a mission then chances are he’s clinging to you or following you around like a lost puppy…Or he’s got you locked away in his apartment, trapped underneath him while he grunts, “Just one more time, I promise.”

 He���s so clingy and possessive, that you would never imagine a scenario where he’d allow anyone else close to you intimately. Not that Satoru is jealous. No, he doesn’t get angry when he sees you chatting with Kusakabe or even when you go out for coffee with Ijichi. He won’t ever stop you from enjoying those things, but he makes sure he finds a way to remind everyone once more that you’re his. Whether it be sending you a large bouquet or showing off a little PDA. 

So when he asked one morning, “Would you fuck Nanami?” you nearly spit your morning coffee out all over the table. He’d asked as casually as if he was asking about the weather. 

“Satoru!” You gasped after barely managing to keep from choking. Your face heats up so much you’re pretty sure you could fry an egg on your cheeks. 

“It’s just a question,” he shrugs. “Would you fuck Nanami?” 

“I’m not even going to answer that,” you stand up from the kitchen table. You kiss the top of his head as you walk around to the sink to rinse out your cup and breakfast plate. 

“Why not?” Satoru stands up to follow you. He wraps his arms around your waist and lays his head on your shoulder. His crystal blue eyes are wide, his eyelashes framing his gaze in a way that’s all too beautiful to ignore or resist. 

“Because it’s a dumb question,” you chuckle. Nanami is a complete professional. Even if you do catch yourself admiring the way he fills out his suits from time to time and wondering what he looks like underneath all those layers. 

Once on a mission with him, you’d been injured. Nanami had draped his jacket around your shoulders and carried you to safety. He’d been so kind and gentle with you, whispering comforting words as he’d tended your wounds. The way he’d calmly whispered, “I know, I know. It hurts,” when you’d winced while he banaged you up had lived in your mind for weeks after, making it so you flushed everytime you saw him for weeks after. 

Would you fuck Nanami? Hell yes. Anyone in their right mind would. Are you going to admit that to your mischevious boyfriend who holds your whole heart even if he is an absolute menace? No. No good can come from entertaining Satoru’s whimsies. 

“I would,” Satoru admits. “But what I’d really like…Is to watch him fuck you.” 

“Satoru Gojo, have you lost your mind?”

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you pout. You push his hands away in an attempt to escape. 

Satoru follows you through the apartment, stretching himself across the bed as you pretend to be very focused on getting ready for the day. 

“You don’t have to answer just yet. Just think about it.” 

“I’m not going to!” 

But you did. 

Once the idea had been planted on your mind, it took root with ease. Trying to fill out reports and attend faculty meetings had turned into a battle with your own dignity. Sitting across the table from Nanami while he talked about something mundane related to training with Itadori, meanwhile, you can’t stop thinking about being bent over while he pounds into you and then looking up to see Gojo watching with hungry eyes. You try to imagine the sounds he would make. Does he moan? Does he growl? Or maybe…he whines? You think about his big hands on your hips, pulling you in—

“—are you listening?” The annoyance is clear in Nanami’s voice as he pulls you from your thoughts. His lips are pulled into a tight frown. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Sorry, Nanami, my mind is just wandering.” 

“Hm, I see,” he sips his coffee. 

“Oh! Hi! If it isn’t my two favorite sorcerers in the same room,” an all too cheerful voice echoes through the teacher’s lounge. You groan as Satoru plops down on the sofa next to you, draping his arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t you have students to tend to?” Nanami asks him, a strange tone clipping his words and you can barely tell he’s looking at the way Satoru is touching you. 

“Of course, but I just wanted to take a break,” Satoru lounges next to you. “You know what we haven’t done in a while?” 

“What?” You ask, praying to break the tension. 

“We haven’t all gone out for dinner in so long,” Satoru smirks. “What do you think, Nanami?” 

“Dinner would be nice,” he agrees. You feel like you could combust just from the idea of continuing to share the same air as both of these men, outside of the confines of work. 

“We should go out! Maybe…Tonight?” 

“Tonight’s no good!” You blurt out. 

“Oh? Do we have plans?” Satoru asks. You sink deeper into your seat as you search for a suitable lie. 

Nanami leans forward, his brows deeply furrowed and his lips in a tight frown. His eyes move from you to Satoru inquisitively. “You’ve already talked to her, didn’t you?” 

“I might have dropped hints,” Satoru shrugs. 

You feel like your mind is momentarily stunted, and then you remember the conversation you and Satoru had shared in the morning. It’s difficult to imagine Nanami being in on such a mischievous thing, but the way he’s looking at you…

“I thought we’d agreed to have a conversation about it later, at dinner,” Nanami scowls. 

They had planned this, without you. Your mind bounces between anger and curiosity. Who had mentioned it first? How did it get brought up? But then one startlingly delicious thought blocks out all others: Nanami wants to fuck you. 

“I want to try,” you say, hiding your shy face behind your sweaty palms. You feel warm, calloused hands on your wrists, lowering your hands from your face. It’s Kento who has moved them, now so close you could kiss him. 

“You need to be sure,” he says softly. 

“I’m sure,” you insist. “But maybe…Promise not to plan things behind my back again?” 

“I promise,” Kento says without hesitation. 

You look at Satoru, who is whistling while looking away from you. You nudge him in the side and he acts as though he hadn’t heard you. 

“Satoru,” you narrow your eyes.

“Alright! Alright! I promise!”

** 

It’s difficult to contain your excitement throughout dinner. Satoru had advised you to follow his lead if you feel too nervous. That’s what you were prepared to do: let Satoru guide things along. After dinner, you were trying to keep your cool while cleaning up. You’re standing at the sink washing the dishes when you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” Kento says against your ear before placing a kiss on your temple. His eager hands grip at your dress, bunching it up at the waist. He pulls you against him, and you can feel his length pushing against your ass through his neatly pressed pants. 

“I-I just need to clean up.” 

“The dishes will still be here in the morning. I’ll help you then.” He turns you around and kiss you heatedly. It’s like in that moment all of his pent up desire begins to seep out of him into this kiss. You’re both flushed when he pulls away. 

You gasp, “Satoru—”

“—is waiting in the bedroom.” 

Kento lifts you bridal style and carries you from the kitchen to the bedroom. Satoru has changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and is seated on the bed against the headboard. Already he’s palming at himself, making the outline of his cock prominent. 

“Don’t get yourself too worked up, Satoru,” Kento chuckles. “We haven’t gotten started yet.” 

Kento sits you down on the edge of the bed before kneeling in front of you. His hands are gentle as he takes off your shoes and sets them aside. He caresses your stocking-covered legs before reaching your thighs, almost grabbing the clasps to your garter, but he pauses. 

“If you want me to stop at any point, just tell me. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, I’ll stop.” 

You nod your agreement, then he pops the clasps off your stocks and rolls each one down your leg with pristine care. You bite your lip when he leans in to press his mouth to your thigh. It’s a mix between a bite and a sloppy kiss on your skin. 

Satoru leans up to watch what’s happening, his eyes focused intently. His mouth hangs slightly open as his fingers twitch with the need to rub his cock again.

“You’re beautiful,” Nanami whispers. He finally stands up and begins unbuttoning his shirt. 

Your hands are trembling when you reach out to touch him, helping him untuck his shirt from his slacks. He gasps when you start for his belt. He runs his hand through your hair, brown eyes fixed on your face while you open his pants. You push them down to his knees and he does the rest of the work to kick them off before his boxers join the pile of clothes forming on the floor. 

“Shit,” you whisper while taking in the sight of his hard cock, already leaking precum from the red tip. You grip his length gently and begin stroking his cock. 

“Fuck, are you gonna suck his cock, baby?” Satoru asks eagerly. Before you can answer Kento is shooting a stern look. 

“Not a word from you, Satoru.” 

You smirk at his words. It’s not often someone speaks to Satoru in such a way. You can almost imagine him pouting against the headboard, but you choose to keep your attention on Kento for now. You drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, drawing out a deep moan from his lips. 

He caresses your cheek lovingly, “Good girl.” 

His praise spurs you on to take his cock in your mouth, just the tip at first. You kiss and lick the weeping head before pushing your head lower, managing to make it halfway before he proves too much. 

“Don’t push yourself too much,” he says as he guides you off his cock. He leans down to kiss you while reaching behind you for the zipper of your dress. You have to stand up for him to pull it off your head, then he guides you to lay down beside Satoru. 

“You’re a lucky man, Satoru,” Kento grunts as he looks at your body laid out before him. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, “Is this okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He pulls your panties down carefully, revealing your wet cunt to his hungry gaze. Instead of tossing them aside, he puts them on Satoru’s lap. Then, he lays on his stomach between your legs and hoists your thighs over his broad shoulders. The second his breath hits your pussy, you shiver. Instinctively you reach for Satoru’s hand as though using him to keep yourself grounded. 

“I’m here, baby,” Satoru whispers soothingly. He remembers how nervous you had been when he went down on you the first time. He knows it must be a bit nerve-wracking to share such a vulnerable experience with someone new. Although, he has to admit the whines leaving your lips when Kento drags his tongue over your pussy for the first time making his cock twitch. You squeeze Satoru’s hand to stave off the urge to push yourself closer to Kento’s mouth. 

“Mm, so sweet,” Kento growls between licking and suckling on your cunt. 

“It feels so fucking good,” you whine. 

Kento moans in response. His ministrations are already making your toes curl in anticipation. Satoru watches your chest heave as you start to arch your back. He can tell you’re close already. 

With a few more swipes of Kento’s tongue, you’re coming undone. He pushes his tongue into your clenching hole to taste your arousal flowing out. When you come down from your high, he sits up on his knees. His chin glistens with your juices, and he sloppily wipes it away on the back of his hand. Then, he grabs your waist to pull you down the bed a bit. 

“I need it,” he growls as he guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. 

You release Satoru’s hand to wrap your arms around Kento as he pushes into you. He kisses you sloppily, making sure it’s an open-mouthed kiss so Satoru can see your tongues sliding against one another. Your tightness around his cock already has his balls drawing up. Another thrust has him bottoming out, and he drops his head to your chest as his mind momentarily grows dizzy from the way you’re squeezing him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Y-yes,” you pant. “Please, baby, fuck me.” 

Kento doesn’t need more invitation to start rocking his hips slowly. 

As Kento fucks you, he nuzzles against your neck. You look over at Satoru. 

Satoru watches on with flushed cheeks. His large hand continues moving over his bulge. Sticky precum forms a dark stain on his sweatpants. He lets a soft moan escape his lips as he watches Kento take you. 

“Mm, I can’t believe how you’re getting off on this,” you say suddenly. Kento looks up at the sound of your voice, then realizes you’re teasing Satoru. He’s shocked to hear you being such a tease when you’re usually so sweet and doting to your lover. 

“Look at the mess he’s making of himself,” Kento urges you on. 

“Fuck, don’t be mean,” Satoru whines. 

“No?” Kento chuckles then pulls out of you suddenly. 

He rolls you over and helps you move between Satoru’s legs so you’re draped over him. Your head is on Satoru’s chest when Kento enters you from behind with a single snap of his hips. You cry out and arch your back. Satoru can feel the warmth of your heavy breaths sinking through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. Your tits just graze against his straining cock as Kento pounds into you. 

“Is this mean?” Kento asks, smirking at Satoru. 

“It’s fucking hot,” Satoru whimpers. “I love watching you fuck her.” 

“You hear that, sweetheart? Satoru loves it.” 

“Hnn, me too,” you moan and look up at Satoru. “He feels so good inside me, ‘toru.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Satoru pleads. “I’ll cum in my pants if you keep lookin’ at me like that.” 

“Poor little Satoru,” Kento starts pumping his hips harder and faster. One hand is firmly on your ass while the other reaches around to tease your clit. “She’s so fucking wet for me. Just dripping all over me.” 

Satoru’s cock pushes uncomfortably against his sweats, at this point so sensitive that even the soft fabric is too much sensation. He lowers his pants just enough to take it out, letting it throb against his stomach. 

“I’m close,” you moan. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock, baby?” Kento rubs your clit. “Go on, sweetheart. Let me feel you.” 

The coil snaps, releasing your pleasure. Your head falls against Satoru’s chest and you white-knuckle the sheets as you ride out your orgasm. You’re just coming down when Kento’s hips stutter, and he grits his teeth as he cums inside you. He continues thrusting a bit longer, pushing his seed deeper inside before pulling out. He grabs your hair and pulls your head back so he can kiss you roughly. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs against your lips. 

You follow him as he moves to Satoru’s side. Your lips keep meeting in sloppy kisses, and you can feel Satoru’s hands on your hips. 

“Please,” Satoru whines. “Baby, I’m so hard. Please.” 

Kento wraps his arms around you, pulling you to straddle his lap as he sits against the headboard. 

“Should we be nice to Satoru?” you ask Kento, looking at the pathetic state Satoru has found himself in. He tugs weakly at his cock, trying so hard not to do anything without your permission. 

“That’s up to you,” Kento assures you. You lean in to whisper in Kento’s ear, only to make the anticipation more intense for Satoru. “She says you can jerk off.” 

Satoru doesn’t even complain about his lot. He fists his cock and begins jerking himself off. His intense gaze stays fixed on you and Kento, feeling both jealous and aroused by the way you keep kissing and touching each other. It’s so clear you’re gearing up for round two. 

“Baby, look at me while I cum,” he pleads. He moans when you turn your attention to him, for a moment you pull away from Kento. Your hands are soft on Satoru’s cheeks as you cup them, then you kiss him. Just one soft kiss is all it takes for him to release. Strings of sticky, white cum spurt onto his stomach and chest. 

“Fuck, fuck, I love you,” he whines. 

“I love you too,” you kiss him again. Then you take Kento’s hand and pull him closer. You kiss him sweetly and cuddle against him. Satoru leans in to kiss Kento on the cheek. 

“You love me too, don’t you Nanami?” He asks, with that mischief in his eyes again. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Kento scoffs. 

[horror102]

Haunted House

(Michael Myers x Fem reader!) WARNING! Fluff, Angst, Worded gore, Killing, Flash backs, S3xual! frustration.

Alone in Haddon-Field, It was early October and you lived in the Myers house, sounds dumb but it was listed for a cheap ole' price because of the history and that's what you needed in order to get back on your feet.

Though you could've never expected what was awaiting you, now you're feeding some mysterious presence who swoops up the food you leave around.

At first you were spooked, thinking it was some huge rodent but then came to your senses and realized no mere rodent could demolish such food in ease and in such a barbaric way.

You even thought about calling the cops, but then it made you realize it could've just been some poor child or teenager that had been starving for the longest, so you kept feeding them.

Yet the longer you fed them, you began to wonder what huge child could be devouring this much? They nearly ate six meals a day! And seemingly was still hungry.

So you called the cops and came to the best conclusion some homeless man was living in your home!

Sadly they found nothing, not a single trace of a person or even a rodent! You were never into anything that revolved around spirits but eventually you thought you might've had a hungry one.... Sounds dumb you thought.

So you tried not feeding them, keeping the fridge empty and only ordering takeout, whilst throwing the left overs away,

It must've angered whatever you had been feeding, because there was broken glass scattered everywhere when you woke up, and the trash created by you're leftovers had been rampaged and eaten.

You almost felt bad but the police commanded you to stop feeding whatever it was a stating it would likely go away on its own. But it was clear the poor thing was starving, so reluctantly you kept feeding it.

One day you decided to be smart about it and leave a note. stating "Whoever you are, or what. You clearly are hungry I'll continue to feed it as long as you don't bring destruction to my home, our home.''

Though you couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking... If only you had known.

"Our home? this is my home." It thought, demolishing the food and writing on the note with the blood on his hands stating. "ThIS IS nOt YoUr h0me" in sloppy writing.

And he refused to listen and broke the plate anyway, yet what he least expected was to come. He heard small footsteps jog down the stairs and a lower voice commanding him.

"Hey! What did I say about destruction?!" she yelled, she had her eyes closed trying to be brave by not looking at the stranger, yet she heard a loud thump as it stood.

she opened her eyes trying to be bold only too cower in fear as she realized the size of the thing, not just anything, a man. A myth? He wore a pale mask and a jumpsuit. He stared at her.

"Holy shit." she gasped, backing away slowly, only for him to walk slowly towards her. Knife in grasp.

"Food, I bought some more food for you in the fridge."

He was starving even though he knew you were just trying to manipulate him, so he started walking away, though suddenly she called his name.

"Michael, is that you?"

she was curious, wondering if this man was the reviving legend she heard so much about. He knew she was oblivious to how utterly dangerous he was, and he was not a person any soul should be around.

So he drew his knife, and walked towards her. As scared as she was she bolted upstairs, locking the door. Though if he was Michael Myers, this was his home so she had no way of escaping.

He knew this place better than you could ever.

Scared? Yes you were. The man was nearly 7'0 and he was big and burly. If he wasn't such a maniac he would be considered attractive.

You heard loud thumping, coming towards your room. Well whoever it was before it belonged to you. The door slammed open, breaking the lock as you cowardly hid under the blanket like a child.

Peeking out of the side of it to watch him, he walked right past which was so obviously you. Just too stand near the window.

Was this what they were talking about? They said he didn't attack kids, because he didn't see them as a threat, even though you were an adult did he not see you as a threat?

So you carefully lifted the blanket and spoke.

"I'm sorry for intruding its just this was really the only place in my budget!"

He thought you were stupid for talking to him, to a killing monstrous machine. No emotion what so ever, but its not his fault. He was born this way.

"I'll move out as soon as I get stable, I swear!"

Move out? For some odd reason he didn't want you too, likely for the food he thought.

You didn't know what to do so you just sat there.

Eventually you found yourself asleep. And God did he think you were stupid, going to sleep, in front of one of the most evil individuals known to Haddon-field.

Obviously you were weak and dumb, so he had no interest in killing you.

He stood over you, you were so fragile and small compared to his frame. He walked out, and into the new added basement when they re-modeled the house.

He just couldn't understand why would she easily go to sleep around an  individual 'like him?' did she feel safe? No fucking way, he cursed. almost slashing himself for that pitiful thought.

And why would someone like him want that anyway?

-

Eventually this became a common thing for the two of you, to randomly see him in the corner of your eye, and making food for the two of you.

Leaving his plate in the microwave wrapped up for him to eat, he at least had enough sense to put the plate back.

Though the farther you went into October, the more he disappeared. And sometimes there would be tiny red smudges that resembled blood, yet you didn't dare call the cops.

Well because it could be your blood on his hands next if you do.

You started to notice he hadn't been eating your food. And honestly you began to worry, wondering if he was hurt or captured. So as dumb as you were you went out too look for the missing murderer.

At night, so it'd be more likely to see him even though he was hard to spot in general. Though u didn't see him so you just put all the plates in the mini fridge in the basement. You notice his little things down there so you left it alone.

As you walked upstairs you heard a knock on your door, and hoping it was Michael you jogged to it, opening it you were met with an unfamiliar face, they wore a police uniform.

"Sir?"

"There's been a series of murders ma'am we have reason to believe he's coming here soon, so evacuate."

"What? No way! I live here and no ones gonna drag me out of it."

Of course you knew what he was talking about and honestly you had hoped the killer would come back home, it got lonely with him gone.

"Jeez I wonder if he's okay"

you accidentally said out loud and the officer questioned what you meant but you obviously dismissed it. Taking a closer look at the officer you realized he had a warrant unfortunate for you he had a asked to come in.

So you agreed, and walked him to the table, completely unaware someone had been watching the both of you.

He wondered if you called the police, angered he still watched. But realized you didn't so he calmed, yet he couldn't but help realize how flirtish you had been with the officer.

Smiling, giggling and seemingly the officer shared the same feelings, for some odd reason he was filled with rage, wanting to grab the man by his vest and slice his throat but he knew it would be a dumb move.

So he waited, the officer explained since she didn't want to leave the house he'd patrol it for twelve hours of the day, she reluctantly agreed and bid her farewells. The officer was on his way out and Michael had vanished, waiting for night to come.

Though on his way out, Michael heard something. "Poor Michael, I hope the poor guys okay." He never heard someone speak of him so fondly before, not even as a kid.

He ignored the beating in his lower area, and the throbbing on his heart and went away, he thought so fondly of that woman he didn't know how to react,

obviously he was a grown man so he had gotten aroused and angry because of it. He didn't know how to deal with such a thing, he ignored his thoughts yet not his actions, watching her sleep and shower.

Just to make sure she didn't drown, or die in her sleep.

He had no clue why he cared, or why she cared about him but the feeling was mutual.

He went into the basement and ravished on the food she had put in his little fridge, she even put snacks and drinks, new blankets and pillows. So odd that she really cared.

He noticed everyday before he left out she did too, he followed her as she went to the library, and he watched her look him up, he almost found it amusing, she wanted to know about him.

He remembered she looked up if teleporting existed because of how fast he moved, to be honest he didn't know how he did it, he really just left when he wanted. And he was so big he wondered himself how people didn't notice him.

He was interested in you, you were funny, and considerate.

Sometimes he shamefully let his guard down around you and your comfortable presence, he didn't notice he just did it. Like all his senses went blank once he was with you.

He was a psychopath, he couldn't enjoy something. So what was this? Obsession, Desperation?

quickly it got late, and the officer had been on his phone in the car. Not patrolling shit. Michael stood in front of the car, and eventually the officer took notice of him, stepping out the car with a taser in hand.

The officer told him to speak, which obviously he didn't do. Michael pulled out his knife and the officer tased him, obviously it didn't do much. So Michael put his knife right in the mans abdomen,

the man collapsed, on his knees, Michael being as ruthless as he was he ripped of the mans dispatch so no one could contact him until he bled out.

He put the bottom of his boot in the mans mouth and placed on his weight down on one foot dislocating the whole of his bottom jaw.

Quickly Michael vanished into his home. Hearing a thud and scream come from upstairs, he went towards the sound, wondering if you had been in danger.

And he supposes he was right you had attempted to lift your bed on your own and was crumbling under its weight.

Michael scoffed and lifted it, you were surprised he had helped but you thanked him. Yet you smelled a strong stench of metal and you had blood stains on your mattress.

Yet the most obvious sign was the knife dripping.

"Michael."

A gasp left her lips and the taser head was stuck in Michaels stomach.

"You didn't"

She was backing away, what did she expect. He was a cold blooded murderer.

"I thought-"

Thought what? That he'd just stop killing all of a sudden?

You can love a monster all you wish, the monster can even love you back, but that doesn't change it's nature.

she took a deep breath, inhaling the stench of death, what did you expect. You mentally cursed yourself, and for a glimpse Michael saw a hint of disgust in your eyes.

Yet he stood there breathing heavy, covered in blood and sweat. You turned your back to him, grabbing the blankets and pillows throwing it on your bed.

Trying to pretend you weren't terrified even though he saw your body shaking.

He took a step towards you, your back on his chest and breath on your neck, his knife near your arm when suddenly both your eyes snapped towards the sirens.

And to his surprise even though you were terrified you told him to hide in the closet. The police barged in the door, yet instead of hiding he grabbed you with a knife to your throat.

You were a fucking idiot because even in this position you trusted him, so you didn't fight back.

The police kicked the door down and aimed the gun at Michael.

"Let the woman go!"

He pressed the knife on your throat, not deep enough to cut you. He tossed you towards them causing most of them to drop their guns, quickly you rolled out the way running down the stairs. You were going to fast and knocked yourself unconscious.

-

You woke up dizzy and in a bed, Michael standing in the corner. He was drenched in blood, and it was obvious it was not his.

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time. 

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen. 

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason  in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker. 

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

[translucent-sun]

Cody laid awake, lost in thoughts. He’d been trying to resist the temptation to ask Obi-Wan this one simple question for months now. There was no point in asking if questions about the past, Cody knew that. Nothing he’d do, no answer he could possibly get, would be able to change a thing that happened, how things went. And yet, he needed to ask. 

“Do you think,” he started, speaking quietly into the darkness. “If just one little thing had been different back then. Do you think everything would be different today?” He stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t even know if Obi-Wan was awake. If he heard him. But the question that’s been burning inside his mind for so long was finally out now. It was free. 

To his relief, or dismay – Cody wasn’t sure – Obi-Wan gave a questioning hum in return. “Of course. Every small decision or act shapes the course of the future.” Cody huffed. He didn’t know what kind of answer he expected, but it should have been this one.

“What I mean, is,” Cody elaborated. “If – You know there were some of us, some of my brothers who managed to remove their inhibitor chips long before we even knew what they were capable of. If I’d been one of them… We could’ve been together this whole time. We could’ve had a life. I caused you so much pain. None of that would’ve happened if that one thing had been different.”

“Or you and I could be dead,” Obi-Wan countered matter-of-factly before he continued more softly. “I know those thoughts are hard. I have so, so many regrets, so many things that make me wonder what could’ve been if I’d done something differently. About you, about Padmé, about – about Anakin.” His voice broke off almost unnoticeably, but Cody still caught it. “But all you’re doing is torturing yourself by asking yourself those things. We can’t change what happened, but we can make sure none of it was for nothing.” Cody felt Obi-Wan’s warm fingers against the skin of his arm, wandering down in search of his hand. “We’re here now,” he whispered, interlacing their fingers and squeezing gently. Cody sighed.

“I know you’re right, but it’s so easy to get lost in the past.” Obi-Wan stroked the knuckle of Cody’s thumb with his own, continuing the movement on his wrist, then his palm, separating their hands just slightly. It tickled, and for a split-second Cody considered pulling away before Obi-Wan suddenly stopped. Cody could almost hear the smile in his voice when he spoke.

“You know what I wish we could do again?” he asked. Only when Cody hummed in question did he continue, rising onto his elbow, hovering above him. “I wish we could go back to Coruscant, just once, and spend another night in the lower levels. Remember the stuffed Rodian peppers and Tsiraki we had at this little stall?” Cody huffed.

“The one that shushed us away and closed down when he saw a police droid nearby? How could I forget,” he chuckled at the memory.

“That one,” Obi-Wan said, chuckling now too. He leaned back just slightly. “I miss the food. And I miss the feeling of– this doesn’t make sense. I should be, and I am glad that we don’t have to keep us a secret anymore. Well, you know what I mean. But I miss the thrill of being close to you in public, on Coruscant. Being seen and knowing that no one down there knew or cared who we were. That’s something I wish we could do again. Here we’re just that strange old couple.” 

Cody smiled for a moment before locking his eyes on the ceiling, the smile disappearing.

“I don’t know…” He huffed. “Everyone always thought you’re so strictly by the rules. That we both were. I wish we could have told more people. It was exciting, even the sneaking around was fun, but I never liked having to pretend. So I am glad that we can now just live our life and be seen as whatever they choose to see, as long as they can see us. The risk is a different one now.” 

Obi-Wan smiled just slightly and Cody followed the movement of his lips closely. 

“If only it was us they were seeing. They’ll never see Obi-Wan holding Cody’s hand. They’ll only ever see Tem and Ben.” He huffed, drifting off for a second. “Sometimes I forget that this isn’t my name, I’ve been using it for so long.” He shook his head. “Either way, it’s made-up characters they see. In a way, we’re hiding more than we ever have before.”

Cody hummed. Obi-Wan was right. He hadn’t seen it that way before, but it was true. Though it didn’t really matter.

“My name was made-up to begin with,” Cody shrugged. “I love you. I don’t care whether I call myself Cody or Tem or anything else while loving you. It doesn’t matter what names we use, because it’s us loving each other.” 

Obi-Wan smiled before letting himself fall back onto the mattress. 

“You are such a smart-ass. Can we go back to sleep now?” Cody chuckled.

“Fine.” 

The bedding rustled beside him and a kiss was pressed to his lips, and without another word they went back to sleep.

[concreteangel92]

Thou Shall Not Kill - Chapter 2

AU Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis.

Warnings: none in this chapter

Chapter Index Here

This chapter is pretty much a filler but I promise things definitely get more interesting moving forward as they are now working together on the case and the killings continue.

Again please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

Tags: @Ima1986 @hayleylatour @reyadawn @thatchickwiththecamera @thefallennightmare @calleyx13 @english-fucker @darling-millicent-aubrey @malerieee @ithoughtbynowidfeelbetter @softvgold @lilhobgobbler @glccmreid @badomensls @madomens @loeytuan98 @iluvmewwwww75 @rosebushjhj @livingdeceasedgirl @lilrubles @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @hellayeahsworld @lookwhatitcost @doomhands-jr @nojoyontheburn @poisongirl616 @bakanerd @sacredthefran

MASTERLIST

A coffee was sat down in front of you on your desk causing your eyes to go up to see Detective Davis in front of you.

“You look like you need this”

You smiled, mumbled a quick thanks and took a small slip while taking your eyes back to the gruesome scenes before you.

“You know, you can take a break detective, it won’t kill you”

“No but it could kill someone else”

Noah smirked and pulled out the chair in front of your desk.

“Come on. 15 minutes”

You stared into his dark brown eyes and sighed while slumping back into your chair.

“Fine. 15 minutes and then back to it, we can’t afford to waste a single second”

You pushed the photos and various papers away and held your coffee in your hands. You looked over at your new partner, it had been two days since you’d been assigned with each other, so far you had been working together well. You’d brought him up to speed on every last detail of all the killings and had started to put together a profile of the killer, that was proving to be more difficult.

“So detective Davis….”

“Noah, call me Noah please”

“Noah….what brought you to LA?”

Noah took a slip of his coffee and leant forward onto your desk.

“It’s the city of angels right? Who doesn’t want to come here”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the irony of his statement.

“Found any angels yet detective?”

Noah smirked slightly and never let his gaze fall from yours.

“Maybe”

You cleared your throat and took another sip of your drink, you looked over your new partner, taking in his many tattoos, it was refreshing to see a detective as covered as he appeared to be, you could see colour peaking out from his white shirt collar and on the back of his hands and fingers. You wondered how far they went over his body.

“Let’s keep it professional” a statement meant for both you, Noah definitely wasn’t shy to flirt with you, even if it was subtle. Something you wouldn’t allow yourself to be distracted by.

Noah chuckled, still not removing his eyes from yours - he certainly wasn’t afraid to hold eye contact you noted, something that proved he was very self aware and confident.

You couldn’t help but psychoanalyse Noah, he was very hard to read, he’d come across friendly enough while you’d been working together but he was definitely a closed book. Something that you wanted to break through.

“Ironically I doubt you’ll find any angels here Noah, fallen angels maybe, but this city isn’t known for its innocent.”

“Well it’s probably more exciting then where I’m from back home”

“What made you move then?” You couldn’t help but press the question again.

“Most of my family have passed away and I fancied a change, see what exciting prospects the city offered me”

“Well exciting is one word for this I suppose”

“I live for a challenge detective”

You finished your coffee and smiled.

“Then I’m happy to say that this case should be that for you”

You pushed your mug to the side and pulled back the case files you’d already spent hours and hours going over.

Noah leant forward and picked up a file.

“You know, I’m really impressed that you figured this out, that they were all connected, I doubt anyone would have seen that”

You felt your cheeks go warm.

“Thank you…someone would have seen it if it wasn’t me however”

“After how many more deaths though? To have seen it this early, that’s raw talent detective, don’t sell yourself short”

You smiled and brushed some of your hair behind your ear, the blush still evident on your face when Noah continued.

“Are you religious at all detective?”

“No. Never been one for fairytales myself”

Noah smiled “ahh but sometimes they make for great bedtime stories”

“I believe in the here and now, what I can see and hear and piece together. I don’t have time for bedtime stories detective Davis”

Noah let out a small laugh “I understand that. My family were religious but I never took to it, as you said, I believe in what I can see, hear, smell….touch. Somethings I don’t think god would approve of”

Your eyes went up to his again catching his underline meaning and you couldn’t help but smile yourself.

“I’m sure we have all done things that god wouldn’t like, we are in LA for a start”

You were both startled by your phone going off.

“Detective Y/L/N”

The smile was pulled off your face as you looked at Noah.

“We’ll be right there” you put the phone back on the hook. “There’s been another murder”

[bbcphile]

In Memory of Kiah

cw/tw: death, medical assistance in dying

If you’re wondering why I kind of disappeared from the Mysterious Lotus Casebook tag and stopped posted WIP Wednesday things, here’s the explanation: One of my closest friends, who has been dying progressively and increasingly painfully over the last two years, told me about 3 weeks ago that they were going to pursue medical assistance in dying because it is legal where they live. It was originally scheduled for the end of July, then moved up to the end of June, and then on Monday, they moved it to Wednesday (yesterday), because their life was agony and they couldn’t wait any longer.

I’m lucky that I had enough advanced notice that I was able to say goodbye–both by sending them a message telling them in detail how much they’ve meant to me and thanking them for everything, and then in one last phone call the night before–so I’m glad they knew how much I loved them and that I could be there for them emotionally, even though I couldn’t physically be there for the end itself, because they live too far away. We met on Tumblr through the chronic illness community because we share the same genetic connective tissue disorder and many of its comorbidities, and I will always be so, so grateful to Tumblr for bringing us together.

I wanted to post about them here because it just felt wrong to keep going like nothing had happened, and because I wanted to do something to pay tribute to how good a person they were and how much I miss them. So, some words about Kiah: 

Kiah was one of the kindest, funniest, intellectually curious, loving, and fiercely protective people I have ever met. I loved that we could talk about anything, including the terror of living in a failing body or how to come to terms with being disabled when you were always an overcommitted overachiever who defined yourself on external metrics of success, analyze media together during watch parties, and laugh together about literally anything (including during our last conversation, where we were both bawling our eyes out, but also somehow laughing about how absurd it is that you can’t really cry hard and talk at the same time and how that seems like a real design flaw). We didn’t share any fandoms, but we still had fun sharing details about our blorbos and fandom activities: I loved hearing about their cosplay adventures, and they always wanted to keep up to date on the metas I was writing. Even once they went blind and couldn’t read my metas on tumblr anymore because it wouldn’t work with their screenreader, they had me send them Google doc versions so their computer could read my posts to them because they didn’t want to miss any of my analyses. And when they were too sick to listen to the full posts, they asked for summaries because they still wanted to keep up as much as they could. 

They were always so caring and compassionate: when they first called to tell me in January that they were going to do medical assistance in dying, and after I had told them I understood and supported them and we’d talked about how they felt about it, they asked me how I was. I had told them that while I was heartbroken, I would handle it, because I didn’t want to make them feel responsible for comforting me when they had their hands full with processing everything and feeling their own grief. They said that while they appreciated my not wanting to make it harder on them, they didn’t want me to feel like I had to be ok in front of them, because they wanted to comfort me and support me even in this if they could, since they didn’t have that much time left to be there for me and they wanted to make it count. (yeah, I’m sobbing right now.)

None of those descriptions could even begin to do justice to how much they meant to me, but I hope this anecdote will:

I couldn’t be with them at the end because I’m a country and an opposite coast away, but I hated the idea of not being able to say goodbye in person or hold their hand if they were scared during the injection. So I played piano and imagined they could hear it.

Most of you probably won’t know what that means or why it would be a big deal. Here’s why:

I used to be a musician. Music was my life and my most important means of self-expression, and was absolutely going to be my career. But in high school and college, an extensive series of very traumatic things happened that made me essentially have to give up performing. For the better part of the last 18 years, literally up until I sat down to play for Kiah, even just the idea of performing for someone or a neighbor overhearing me play was triggering enough that I would have a full-blown panic attack and dissociate so badly I would literally go from concert pianist level ability to mostly forgetting how to read music and having to count ledger lines. But my desire to do something so that maybe, just maybe, I could make Kiah’s final moments better apparently trumped my trauma, because I was able to do it. I had wanted to play some Rachmaninoff, Brahms, or Chopin, but apparently those are still too closely tied to Events and I started to have skill loss issues again (fucking dissociative amnesia), so I switched to a piece I had played long ago enough that it was reliably in my mind and fingers (and that I could sight-read if I forgot it partway through). 

And I played it.

I hope, somehow, they were able to hear it.

I also recorded it.

And I’m going to share it here.

It kind of feels like serving my heart up on a platter, but that feels kind of appropriate for this tribute to them. 

I think they’d be happy, knowing that I’m “doing it scared,” as Tumblr recommends, and that my attempt to give them the biggest gift of love and support I could think of, somehow, even if just temporarily, gave music back to me.

Also, I think they’d get a kick out of the fact that you can hear me giggle a little at one point in the recording when the sheet music falls on my hands, both because it’s a great middle finger to perfectionism, but also because laughing through the tears (and yeah, I was crying while playing this) is very much a chronic illness and disability thing, and feels like a good metaphor for much of the last few months.

So. All that to say:

Kiah, I love you. I miss you so much already.

Here’s Robert D. Vandall’s “Lakeside Retreat.”

[bengiyo]

Wonderful day in Thailand. but now for the important questions.

Of all the ql thai couples, what couple would be the biggest headache for Namnuea? And why?

Rose💜

See, this is an interesting question. I've been thinking about it for days, and now I just want a follow up show about Wiwa Square tackling all of the new gay weddings. I'd love this as an episodic show where the challenges the classic BL couple is dealing with reflects something going on with Nuea's or his people's lives. Any Thai fans following me, feel free to propose this to your people and make this happen. Just make sure I get to watch it.

The Wedding Plan Wiwa Square Spinoff Show Guests

With that in mind, I'd like to see an episode for the following pairs:

Sarawat and Tine

I just know that Tine is going to be the one they expect to be dramatic as hell, but it's going to be Sarawat freaking out about everything being perfect in a fantastic meltodown. We could have Lom talk to Sarawat and share how the closet affected both of them.

Teh and Oh-aew

Teh wanted to come out at the end of IPYTM, and wanna see the glam these two could pull off. I just know they're going to have an epic fight. This would be a good episode for Lom and Nuea to have a big fight.

Patts and Saengtai

Honestly, I want this episode because I feel like we didn't learn a lot about Patts beyond his relationships with Nara, his grandmother, and Tai. It would be a great chance to delve deeper into his character and see these two trying to communicate properly now that Tai is not holding back. These two also kissed really good, so this would be a good episode for Nuea and Lom to have a steamy moment.

Mork and Tawan

Let's be real: weddings are expensive. Mork's poverty was a huge part of his story in My Ride, and I think it would be really cool to see Wiwa Square work on a small budget for Cheep and Dej, Mork's gay uncles. It would also be an opportunity to talk about wealth and aging while queer.

See-eiw and Cake

The benefit of these two being friends to lovers is that their families saw how close they were the whole time. Despite the unfortunate PSA at the end of My Only 12%, this would be a great episode to focus on families around weddings. We'd get to see Cake's mom stepping in to fill the mom role for See-eiw, and this could be an opportunity for Lom's mom to reenter the fold.

Yang and Phumjai

We need a good episode for hijinks. The Love in Translation cast would be perfect for this. Yang is also Chinese, so we could focus on some cross-cultural traditions.

Charn and Tinn

I'm sorry, I just want Nawin to meet Neua. It also means Silvy could cameo. This would be an excellent episode for the side characters to take center again because they decide to keep Nuea away from Charn or something.

Phun and Noh

I just want White and Captain to get back together every few years and reprise these characters for little check ins. This episode would be a good time to talk about long-term relationships and their challenges with guys who are just a few years older than Neua and Lom.

Khai and Third

Speaking of White showing up in BL! I'd like to see Third struggling with his perfect wedding plans. This would be a great time to reflect on how weddings have been presented in media, and they could spin that either way by either leaning into the tropes or actively subverting them. That would be in line with the ToL goals.

Pluem and Kevin

These two had fantastic chemistry in Ghost Host, Ghost House. This could be a good episode to reflect on how weddings feel when some of our loved ones didn't get to live to see the day. I think this could be a really touching reflection on grief softened by how comfortable these two always manage to look with each other.

Pharm and Dean

I honestly don't think these two would have a lot of problems within themselves for the wedding itself. For this episode, we could really focus on wedding logistics. We could have something go really wrong with a caterer at the last minute and have Pharm step in to save his own wedding while Dean uses his connections to fix other things blowing up around them. This could be a good episode about Nuea and Lom having problems maintaining a good work-life balance.

Cairo and Gavreel

We need to do an international episode, and I'd like to see a crossover with The IdeaFirst Company in some way. Gav and Cai have been separated multiple times. I like the idea of them finally getting to marry at a destination wedding.

Shin Ki Tae and Lee Wan

I just wanna see these two again. This would be another international episode, and we could get back into some of the unresolved abandonment issues Shin Ki Tae is happening, and we could have a cross-cultural dialogue about making things right.

Im Han Tae and Han Ba Ram

Another international episode. They could use this episode to talk about the ongoing challenges of being a public figure and a star if these two are successful.

This was a lot of fun to think about! I really want this show now.

[aayakashii]

Hello! I see you're familiar with both Twisted Wonderland and Tokyo Debunker. May I humbly ask for some headcanons for the Vagastrom boys + Kaito and Luca with a reader that's basically Jack Howl?

Sorry for taking a little while to answer!! But yes of course!!! Some of the headcanons are a bit longer than others, and I'm truly sorry for that ㅠㅡㅠ some of them were just easier to write about dkfhdkdj anyways!!

Vagastrom boys + Kaito and Luca with a reader that's like Jack Howl

Alan Mido

He was absolutely flabbergasted and speechless when he realized how strong you are, after you offered your help in the garage.

At first, he wasn't going to let you help him at all – what if you got hurt?

But after seeing you effortlessly lift a whole tire and bring it to him, his resolve faltered.

You kept insisting you wanted to help him, your face beet red while you tried to explain that it wasn't because you were worried about his health...

Not at all!!

You were just bored and had nothing to do, so why not lend a hand, right? Right??

Sure...

He let out a quiet laugh and patted your head, then asked you to bring him a few tools.

And he surely wasn't going to comment on how your face lit up when he finally accepted your help.

Haizono Sho

It was, probably, 5am.

Sho decided to start pre-preparing a few of the things he needed for his food truck since it was actually very successful!

He worked alone and wanted to keep it that way, but it was almost becoming too overwhelming.

It was after he finished washing and drying all his kitchen tools that he heard the sound of steps coming towards his truck's way.

He looked at the clock: 5:30 AM. Who the hell was awake so early?

He peeked outside and was met with your flushed face as you were jogging fast and waving.

Sho quirked an eyebrow and wondered why the hell were you RUNNING so early in the morning...

And apparently, you were running for a while too, sweat dripping heavily from your face.

He was dumbfounded when you told him that you have a habit of running super early in the morning every day.

You happily offered to assist him with his kitchen, and, in normal conditions, Sho would eagerly accept your help.

You were the one who convinced him to go for his business after all!

At that moment, he had to turn you down though...

Please go take a shower first, and then you can help.

All that sweat could be a health hazard!

Kurosagi Leo

Leo was dragging you to an arcade.

He had the brilliant idea of an arcade date livestream, and he was still using you as his fake s/o, so...

The live comments were eating it up, calling you two adorable, asking you two to go to this or that attraction.

One of the comments caught Leo's eyes, though.

Someone asked him to test his strength against yours.

Leo smirked, knowing all too well that his ghoul strength could probably wipe you out.

But he accepted the "challenge" anyway.

He decided to hold back a lot in order to avoid humiliating you too much.

Just a little bit was enough.

To his surprise, though, as soon as you positioned yourself to punch, you hit the bag with a loud BANG!

His eyes widened as he saw the numbers on the game's screen go up, the people surrounding you two whispering wows and stopping to look at your score as well.

To Leo's despair, you got a score bigger than his.

You turned towards him, smiling victoriously even though you knew he had held back.

Leo's eyes twitched in extreme annoyance as he saw the live comments saying you were his top and that he was your fragile princess...

Next time, he wasn't going to hold back!

Fuji Kaito

He was absolutely distraught.

How was he going to be your knight in shining armor then?? You were probably stronger than him!!

Please don't try to pretend you aren't stronger, it just stings a lot more...

His pride is absolutely shattered, not gonna lie.

But at the same time, he was totally excited after he saw you lunge at a Frostheim student who was talking smack about him behind his back.

Chaos ensued, and Tohma had to intervene, sternly scolding you and Kaito as well.

He didn't even try to stop you, after all. He had the responsibility to do so! He's a ghoul!!

Tohma's scolding went into an ear and out of the other though.

Kaito stared at you, your frown, and the way you rubbed the back of your head in embarrassment, looking extremely endearing to him.

He was suddenly getting very comfortable with the idea of being protected by you instead.

Lucas Errant

Kaito was distraight, now Luca? He's 100% excited.

You must be so disciplined to be so strong! He needs to know your routine! How about you two train together from now on? (Kaito vetoes the idea)

No, wait: what about you two spar?!

Poor Luca was so excited by the idea that he forgot he is still a lot stronger than you since he's a ghoul...

You sheepishly told him that that isn't the best idea, but that you'd be up for jogging with him or keeping him company in the college's gym.

His favorite pastime became going out to eat some hearty meal with you after you two train hard together.

He thinks you'll be an invaluable person to help him with everything from now on (including his personal mission, maybe...)

If you two were already attached to the hip (alongside Kaito), be ready to see him a lot more from now on!

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Random stuff from Guardian Angel AU.

Angst bitch.

1: Nasty rumors Susan spread about Adam got to a point that one of his neighbors spitted on his face and called him a man crack whore when she saw him outside and near her kids. She also said she’ll call the police if she saw Adam near her kids again.

That was the final step into making Adam a full hermit.

2: Every parent tells their kid to stay away from “The weird man in 1A”, some even take it to a step further with saying he could hurt them. So, Adam is seen as a creepy criminal among kids. They run away from him if they ever see Adam at the halls.

3: Lucifer isn’t the only person who brought him food in Adam’s life. A nice lady named Rosie used to put food on his doorstep once every month when she noticed he barely got out and how terrible he looked. She worked with children, so she didn’t wanted to be seen with Adam much, but she also began visiting Adam once every six months, they had tea together and Adam felt like he saw a tiny light in his endless darkness.

But this only went on for two years. Rosie died because of a heart attack four years ago. She was the last person who lived in Lucifer’s apartment.

3: Charlie saved Angel and Vaggie. Angel from his addictions and Vaggie from self harm and suicide. I guess it’s in Morningstar’s genes to fall in love with a soul they saved :>

4: Adam played a song for Lucifer when he was still on Earth, which he gladly listened. It was the first time Adam had played his guitar for a long time.

And when Lucifer was forced to leave him, he played, sometimes even sang, the same song almost every night for two years. Because he missed him and it made him think of him.

Lucifer’s heart exploded while he was watching Adam do this from Heaven. He began listening it every night to sleep as well.

—

Hehe

Dude whhhhy 😭

Yeah getting spit in the face is not only fucking gross but an understandable reason for Adam to stay away. He ended up telling Lucifer about it but wouldn't tell him who.

And that would hurt especially with how the situation with his own kids went.

Awwww Rosie and Adam being friends I'm so soft for their friendship. Shame she died. That only served to isolate Adam more. Everyone leaves why bother making friends? No one likes me anyway so that was made easy.

I WAS GOING TO SEND AN ASK ABOUT ADAM WRITING LUCIFER A SONG!!!!

Yeah, the Morningstars definitely have a type as well ;)

Ahhh sweet angst.

What if Lucifer had to look up his onlyfans page? You know, to see what he was working with and how deep Adam is in this world. He sees all the photos and videos. Spoiler he's in deep.

Adam has thousands of subscribers. And hundreds of posts. It's surprising he would do this line of work because of his past. But maybe, it was Velvette who told him "You're gorgeous, why not make a profit off your looks? Here I have a website you can use."

Adam tries it and when he sees how many people want him and shower him in praise and compliment him and tell him how wonderful he is.

Just another addiction on the pile. Only this one makes money and he hates himself afterwards.

Bonus points if someone in the building is subscribed and wanted more face to face time. Even if it doesn't go THAT far they make sexual comments at him any time they see him. (A man most likely)

And that was another thing to keep Adam in his house. The money is great but he hates that it comes from this and it's a never ending cycle.

[imaginespazzi]

Bestie, now you got me invested in the exes to lovers fic haha, saw some of your responses to another anon so I thought I'd tack on a few more thoughts:

Wow 9 years since they broke up, damn - the angst is really gonna ANGST huh, but also the TENSION after so many years apart oof.

Oh man, I wonder how P felt when she first heard about Azzi having a kid. Like I'm sure she would have been happy for her but also them having a family by that point in their lives is something she must have always dreamed about and aw, my heart already hurts a lil bit for P.

Also, imagine Azzi's daughter knowing who P is immediately when she first sees her and P is completely stumped by it. I feel like either Azzi or more likely Azzi's fam would still have so many pics around where P's in it so I feel like Azzi's kid would already have an inherent familiarity with her. Would be even cuter if P was kinda her favourite player (outside of her mum obvs) - I could also totally see Tim being the instigator of that, like he'd definitely be keeping track of all of P's basketball achievements and watching her games and his granddaughter's just his lil sidekick 😌

Agree with other anon that having them on the Valks would be nice haha, yk life imitating art and whatnot 😉. But also, Mystics would make a lot of sense if Azzi's a single parent, so she's close to her support system BUT Tim and Katie would also definitely be the type to move to wherever Azzi is if that's what she needed so I think GSV still works!

Also, them ending back up on the same team in the W - I'm guessing it's cause one of them gets traded or is a free agent, but then the question is did they choose the team knowing the other is there or was it out of their hands? Hmmm.

Anyway, just some food for thought, hope it helps somewhat (and apologies if it doesn't!)

In other news, what's your assessment of the W season so far? I still haven't fully immersed myself but am trying to keep up! I fear this is just how I am with basketball, even with the NBA, I don't usually pay as much attention until after the All-Star break or the playoffs 😅 I'm glad Indy's staying out of the lottery picks though (and hopefully it stays that way) 🙏

And you work with kids?? Naw love that lil piece of Nivi lore!

-🙋‍♀️

YAYYY I'm glad you're invested 😌

Then tension's gonna be interesting because even though they've been broken up for nearly a decade, they've still had to see each other a fair amount because of the W and there's just a lot of pent up tension that's going to blow up when they're on the same team

Paige definitely did not take the news the best. I haven't quite decided how this child came to be but there are definitely ways to really torture Paige with it if I choose to be sadistic about it...

Azzi's daughter definitely knows Paige, not just of her but she's met her at games before I think and she's basically awe-struck by Paige. I have so many ideas about this relationship like I think I'mma enjoy it the most to write.

I do kinda want them of the Valks cause it would just be so fun and I lowkey want to name Azzi's daughter Stephanie (after Steph) so it would just work out really lovely and then Paige would be the one who moves teams and I think that'll probably have to be a trade because Paige isn't willingly going to torture herself ya know? Which tbf I guess is kinda unrealistic because who the fuck would trade Paige but ya lose some ya win some with logistics 😭

I love my kids on most days but the bad days....oh the less said the better but it's definitely a good curveball for my baby fever lol.

[mourningliliesmorningglories]

"Your clothes in the dryer. Your hair on the shower wall. Your toothbrush is too much. Your shoes empty in the hall."

James felt the absence before he saw it. He wondered how long he could keep everything resembling something normal. He wondered if he was the cheese that rots in the mousetrap. Regulus was everywhere, haunting him, taunting him. Regulus had belongings scattered all over his room; books on the bedside table, a quill on the desk since he disapproved of the glide of a biro, a grey blanket cast carelessly over the window seat. He remembered them wrapped up in it, Regulus telling him that their brains were 75% water and even then, that water was already on its way to become something else. The rain. The snow. The condensation on his window. James doesn't know how much water they shared. He hoped he'd feel him in the rain or the snow or in the condensation and know. You borrowed this water from him, ergo he is still here.

"The books on your shelf that you never read. The hunting knife you kept by your bed. The flowers you dried and tied up with twine, suspended from the ceiling."

Regulus knew that you couldn't be in two places at once. He couldn't love him and keep him. He couldn't succeed and lose everything. He didn't mean to not say goodbye, but omission is wishful thinking. James' face was undeniably hopeful when they parted for his final summer break. He couldn't say he was scared of the future or the person he had become. Regulus knew that just because something is left unsaid, it doesn't lose its meaning. A bag packed with hidden intention is still deceitful. A goodbye kiss is a goodbye kiss, even when only one pair of lips knows. Regulus could not live the life he desired and the one he was destined for. Regulus was named after the stars and so he trusted that his future had been written in them for as long as the cosmos existed. Yet he was selfish, quill to parchment, master to servant. It was unfair of him to make the request to Kreacher, to deliver the letter in a moment of quiet. It was unfair of him to give the directions ‘To James Potter, on his kitchen table, at dawn of the chosen day.’

"You tell me you love me, like it'll be the last time. Like you're playing out, the end of a storyline. I say I love you too, because it's true. What else am I supposed to do?"

It was the tail end of summer in 1980 when the letter came. Settled on the edge of the dining table in Godric's Hollow, as if knowing James was always the first awake, it sat addressed to him. He would know that handwriting on his deathbed, it stayed sat in his lowest desk drawer. The envelope was crisp with time, the ink faded from black to grey. The parchment had fared no better. Yellowed and splattered with faint water marks. He saw the words on the page and yet, not a single one made sense. James thinks of Harry, still flushed red with the newfound world, and Lily, who shone brighter than sun, who guided him home. James had made a life he couldn’t give back. He’d committed to woman, son and war. He thinks of all he lost to get here and why it came back. It feels like flying along the coast. Sea as far as the eye can see. Then abruptly, land.

"Begin, be done. Break a vow, make a new one. Call me if you need a friend, or never talk to me again. But please stay."

To the moon,

If you are reading this, I am dead, and you have moved on. Know I did not leave without saying goodbye because I wanted to consider that I might see you just once more. There is something I must do because I believe it may save you. I’d search one hundred oceans and one hundred caves. I’d drink from the cursed cup and yet not ask for your forgiveness. ‘I used to love you’ is not a phrase I shall entertain. There is only love. Nothing else. Even this I do selfishly. I would love to go back to how we were, wrapped in grey blankets, tracing shapes in windowpanes. Know that all my goodness is owed to you, my life is an oath in ode to you.

Please live. Please burn the letters and look ahead. Do not miss the lilies bloom.

R.A.B

wc: 770 // @jegulus-microfic