#he has been trying to find him since then

[sukunasteeth]

Stitches

Sukuna has never made you wait for him.

He was always on time, always there before you, and if circumstances arose where-in he couldn't be, you always knew an hour before. You were never left to wonder or worry.

If Sukuna says he'll be there, he's there.

So when you wake up to his cold and empty bed, after hours of waiting for him to return home from work, you want to assume the best case scenario.

He's just working late, you assure yourself when your eyes find the clock on the nightstand and it tells you that it's two o'clock in the morning. Maybe he was so entranced in whatever he was tending to that he had forgotten to call you and tell you he'd be late. It had never happened before, but there was a first time for everything.

You try not to trip over your own two feet on your way to the bathroom, ignoring the dread that immediately darkens your thoughts upon checking your phone for the hundredth time that night.  

No call. No text... Did he tell you in person earlier in the day and you had simply forgotten?

What if he's hurt?

You round the corner of the hallway.

What if he's in trouble?

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't even register seeing the bathroom light peeking out from under the door.

You push it open.

What if he's-

Standing over the sink, dripping in blood, and using a fishing line to sew up an enormous gash splitting into his side?

You're frozen in the doorway. 

Faced with the unfortunate answer to the questions that had been progressively plaguing you the entirety of the night. Shock grips your throat and has a cold sweat breaking out over your skin.

You haven't seen him so roughed up since the two of you were in high school. Sukuna, always hungry for a test of strength, had often walked you home with a bloody nose or a ripped open pair of knuckles, but this would be the first time you've seen him look like he just rolled out of a fight club ring. 

He's taken off his suit jacket and his usually pristine white button down has been torn to shreds. The pieces that are left of it have adhered to the deepest of his wounds, soaked in crimson. He's holding up the hem of his shirt with his teeth, glaring down at a particularly large slice in his torso as he feeds a needle into the skin and puts himself back together again. One of his eyes is swollen and there's a small cut to the side of it. You can tell that he'll have a black eye come morning. Sukuna must see you in the corner of it, because he suddenly turns to look at you. The edge of his shirt falls out of his mouth, but Sukuna doesn't seem to notice, too surprised by your presence.

The two of you take each other in. Silently appraising the situation.

Before you can react, his surprise is already morphing into a resigned, disappointed sigh.

"Aw shit."

"What the HELL?!" You don't recognize the voice that escapes you in your panic. Raspy from the sleep still coating your throat, disjointed as your tonsils remember themselves and yet forget how to operate in your shock. You're across the room in a flash, nearly tripping headfirst into him in your haste. "What happened?! Y-You're hurt. Why are you hurt? Jesus, that looks so bad- oh my god. 'Kuna-"

"Shhh," He's hushing you. You're close enough for him to reach out with his free hand and pull you even closer, he doesn't seem to notice the streak of fresh blood he leaves behind on your wrist. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"You're covered in blood!" You whisper in horror, you search his eyes for even an ounce of alarm, and find only his usual nonchalance lounging there. As though this was nothing out of the ordinary.

He even looks down at himself like he wants to refute you, but when he picks up the collar of his shirt, finding the shredded pieces of what remained of it, he seems to think better. 

"Little bastards didn't do half bad, actually." He mutters to himself. He almost sounds... impressed. "Any deeper and it could have really been a pain in my ass."

"What happened?" You ask again, desperate.

"Just some kids waiting outside of the office." He rubs at the back of his head, and you notice another small cut there over a raised bump that seems to be swelling at the base of his skull. It must be tender, because he grimaces when he grazes it. You do too, just from watching him. "Trying to make some pocket money off of me and Uraume. They should have at least waited until we were both alone." When he pulls his hand away from his head, there's fresh blood glistening on his fingertips. He sucks his teeth. "Amateurs."

You take a deep, steadying breath- willing your heartbeat to slow.

You were the one who decided to fall for a man constantly looking for a good fight. At this point, you had only yourself to be disappointed with.

Without another word you turn your back to him and head straight for the shower. You needed him to wash off. You wouldn't be able to tell which parts of him needed attention in the mess that was currently coating his skin and you were already preparing mentally to tend to him. You spin the dial to ‘hot’ and turn back to him, trying your best to glare. You didn't think it was working very well. Especially because he's smiling softly at you.

"Get in." You command, pointing to the tub.

Sukuna scoffs softly, turning back to his needle and fishing line.

"It's fine.” He brushes you off. “I'm just going to rinse the cuts as I go-"

"Sukuna." You don't mean for it to come out as demanding as it does. Sukuna was hurt. You wanted to be gentle with him, but you can't help how overwhelmed you are at the sight of him battered to such a degree.

He slowly lifts his head like he was giving you time to think about the way you had just spoken to him before he meets your eyes again. You're too roused to take it back. "Get. In."

You can tell in his momentary silence that he doesn't recognize this shade of frustration on you. He's watching you like he's trying to take in every detail of it. Engrave it into his brain. Part of you is reminded in that moment that it wasn't Sukuna's anger you were in risk of pushing, but rather his excitement.

He folds up the fishing line and loops it around the sewing needle, placing it onto the counter without turning to look at it.

Your unrelenting stance falters a bit as he crosses the room after you, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he goes. His eyes never leave yours, testing your will.

When he makes it to you, he's brimming with pride. His belt clinks when he unloops the first notch. 

"Yes ma'am." He purrs.

...

An hour later, he's as clean as he can be and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat. You're perched in his lap, having already finished stitching shut the larger wounds that needed it. Now you're down to the last small cut left, which is on his cheek. It didn't require much attention, it was a tiny graze compared to the rest of the gashes you had tended to.

You can feel Sukuna watching you with a smitten little smile, like you had just spent the past hour silently telling him how much you adored him with your gentle but stern touches.

It ticks you off.

"Stop looking at me like that." You mutter, pressing the last of the steri-strips against his skin.

He doesn't even pretend to stop. You refuse to meet his gaze as you do a final examination of your handiwork. Finally, with him properly patched up and without a single drop of fresh blood in sight, the pain in your heart eases. He was okay. 

"...Why didn't you have Uraume help you with this before you came home?" You pretend to reassess one of the gauze strips on his bicep, but it's really just an excuse to nervously pick at the cotton while you're underneath his gaze.

There were plenty of people at the office who knew how to deal with wounds to this severity, professional medics that could have sewed him up twice as fast and sent him home just as clean as when he had arrived. So why did he wait so long for help?

Sukuna hums and his bandaged knuckles glide up and down the outsides of your thighs. "Maybe I like watching you play nurse."

"Kuna~" You groan hopelessly, letting your head thunk against his shoulder. "Quit teasing. I'm mad at you." You announce.

It only serves to widen his grin, which you can feel pressed against your hair as he kisses your forehead.

"But you're so cute when you want to be mad at me." He mocks your tone of voice and chuckles when you press your thumb into the bandage on his bicep in an attempt to punish him-just a bit.

Quickly, he snatches your hand, locking the both of your fingers together and gently nudging your head with his own. Silently asking you to look up again.

You're trying your best to pout at him, but you're surprised to see softness where you expected to find mischief in his expression. There's a warm fondness to his gaze. One you usually only see him wear when he's watching you talk about something you're particularly passionate about.

"I'm sorry I made you worry." The genuineness of the statement softens the hard lines of your face. And just like that, you completely forget that you’re supposed to be mad at him. His fingers trace the space between your brows where he had just made an angry knot disappear. "I do hate it when I do that."

Maybe it was a tactic to get off the hook. But it was a good one. It even has you feeling guilty for being hard on him. 

"I don't like seeing you covered in blood." You whisper, finally meeting his eyes. The glimmer there is triumphant.

"I'll hose off out front next time, how's that?"

You bite back a laugh at the image, trying to keep your stern disposition. You lean in, so as to impart the severity of your tone. "No next time."

Sukuna leans in closer, "And I'll have to get you a nurse's outfit."

"No next time!"

You were in love with the epitome of mischief. There was always going to be a next time.

#sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #fluff #I just want to give him a bath #and wrap him up in a towel #and smooch his cheek #Kuna has been bloody for months at this point #tw blood #short and sweet

[frmisnow]

✧˖ ?! — I LOVE TO LOVE YOU! (SMUTTY)

summary. agreeing to finally spend the weekend over at your boyfriends, you find him clingier (& hornier) than ever!

notes. let me tell you i've been STRUGGLING w writers block but i just wanted to give yall smth bc i have like 2 TOUGH weeks of exams coming up :( so i do hope you enjoy, much love!!! ₊˚⊹

warnings/includes. bf bf non idol? jungkook x f! reader, he's clingy & horny so basically the summary!, established relationship (she just doesn't live w him), a drabble, giving head + kitchen sex mentioned

when you once again agreed to spend the two free days with jungkook, you were as always not prepared for him rotting around you the whole time.

it didn't matter where you were — preparing something for dinner? you bet your ass he was hugging you from behind, evidently slowing down your cooking progress, giggling manically. typing it away on your laptop, trying to get a school paper done? he'll magically show up from behind (you swear you did NOT hear any footsteps), closing the laptop carefully while leaning over the chair to place tiny kisses down your neckline, mumbling something about you not being supposed to work since the weekend was there for him to love you.

and let me tell you: jeon jungkook takes his loving towards you during saturday and sunday (pun intended) VERY seriously. I'm telling you: consider yourself lucky if he even lets you out of bed!

he has to have his hands on you 24/7 and if he doesn't he'll swear he might just die at least that's what he always says.

you have to take 'he loves to love you' pretty literally because when it comes to jungkook and your special little weekends together, he always always puts your pleasure first.

jungkook bets he could eat your pussy for hours at a time and he'll go to many lengths to prove just that, he'll overstimulate you on accident- and then looks up to you with his boba eyes all inoccently like he actually didn't mean it.

i swear he always gets a boner around you! and he'll full on blame you for it! 'it's just cause you look like that!' adorned with that silly pout but be careful with how you respond- he might just fuck you on the kitchen counter... that man has no mercy.

all the way at night on saturday, when he's done with you, tucked you into bed, snuggled up to you all tightly, he'll whisper: "it's so sad that you don't live with me" into the air, every fucking time.

but maybe it was good that only those two days belonged to him since you really didn't knew what kind of animalistic human you'd turn into if you did the things you did together, seven days a week.

#bts ff #kpop smut #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x you #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #bangtan smut #bangtan fluff #bangtan fic #bangtan x reader

[sjneater]

✧˖°.— SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY

⟡ pairing: boothill x fem!reader ⟡ cw: NSFW! riding, dacryphilia (??), petnames; darlin cutie, real fluffy at the end ⟡ word count: 1.4k ⟡ authors note: WHEW. i’ve been waiting for this man to be playable since his first leak i cannot believe he’s real ANYWAYS! GOODLUCK ON UR BOOTHILL PULLS!!!! also this got REALLL self indulgent towards the end forgive me jfhfghhn (p.s this was written before it was revealed boothill can’t swear but I refuse to write a fic where I have to using ‘fudging’ sorry boothill nation 💀)

“Mmf- fuck…darlin’ slow down” Boothill groans as he looks up at you with a rosy flush decorating his skin and unshed tears clinging to his eyelashes, you continue to grind onto his cock at a pace that has his head rolling back in his chair the cold metallic joints of his fingers caressing the skin of your thighs. 

At least he has some human reaction you muse to yourself.

“What? Can’t take it?” you drawl each syllable of your words out in time with your walls taking him deeper. “That’s a shame… Are you gonna make me do all the work?” You plant your hands onto the smooth surface of his chest trailing your fingers down the metal ridges of his abs and then landing them on his waist. 

Boothill releases a shuddering breath against your neck another reminder of the very human effect you are having on him. “Don’t tease me, m’ not gonna last” he whines into the underside of your jaw using the sharp edges of his teeth to suck and mark the skin there. 

The heat of the room is swiftly increasing with the way he laps at the skin of your neck like a man dying of thirst and your hips continuing to meet his in a steady rhythm. The wet sounds of your kisses and his deep moans fill the air but you can’t find the energy to care about how loud you both are being. 

A devious idea forms in your mind and through the haze of your lust, you manage to run your fingertips along the rim of the slits lacing the area of his hips and the effect is almost instant.  

“Haah! F-fuck!” He hisses into your mouth his back involuntarily arching into your body, the cold chill of his metal coating against your flesh causes you to shiver. “You tryin’ to kill me cutie?” His hand comes up to rest on your waist as he forces you to grind against him, the ridges and groves of his cock causing you to gasp into his mouth which he swallows with a kiss. 

You huff out a laugh as you try to compose yourself with the feeling of his cold length inside of you. “Are you actually gonna fuck me properly now…” You move your body across his and place your head underneath his jaw. “Or do I need to find someone else to do it…” 

Each syllable of your words tickles the skin of his ear causing a full body shiver to course throughout his frame. The rough plated surface of his hands grip the flesh of your thighs and you know you’ve won when you see the grey of his irises overtaken by that signature red glow. 

The sharp metal of his fingers dig into your skin as grips your sides and pulls you off his cock, the obscene squelch it makes causes a rush of heat to travel through your body and you find yourself not being able to meet his eyes. 

“Don’t tell me that you’re embarrassed now.” He breathes the words into your neck before grinding you against the tip of his cock, the sensation causing you to lull your head back letting out a gasp of pleasure. He chuckles at your reaction still rubbing himself against you. “Where’d all that talk from earlier go hmm?” 

Your response dies on your tongue as he lets go of your waist letting gravity slam you onto his cock, his full length now nestled inside you, he reaches so deep you swear you can feel him in your lungs, the ridges of his cock against your walls causing you to pant into his shoulder. 

“You’re not gonna find anyone else though are you darlin?” His words are strained and laced with desire, clearly you aren’t the only one effected. 

Those possessive hands found their way back to your thighs as he almost fully withdraws from your heat before slamming back in, steadily creating a rhythm. “You’re mine to fuck, to use yeah?” His thrusts are forceful inside you, the jagged metal of his digits digging into your flesh as he forces you to meet his pace, your moans echo around the room melding into the other sounds of the squelching wetness and the dull sound of flesh against metal. 

“Are you gonna come just from this?” His voice has a distinct teasing lilt to it a fact that you would normally despise but you don’t have to brain space to care. You nod fervently, lewd moans still being punched out from your lungs with every snap of his hips. The force is so much that you find yourself gripping onto Boothill’s shoulders and you are fairly sure if there was flesh there you would have left marks across his skin. 

“Go on and come for me darlin’.” He commands with a gravelly voice still slamming into you at a in-human pace, your lewd moans still echoing around the room. 

Tears begin to form and cling to your eyelashes before running their path down your cheek and as they do you feel a familiar metallic finger on your face wiping them away and placing delicate kisses underneath your eyes. The way Boothill contrasts his rough and forceful thrusts inside you with the tender care and attention he lavishes your face in has you shivering and hiding your face into his shoulder kissing the skin there, the part you know he can feel. 

Boothill maintains the rhythm you have built up until that familiar coil in your stomach tightens and tightens and you start stuttering on top of him, a gasp is pulled out of you “I’m- close I’m-“ you repeat your words bordering on delirium from the pleasure. 

“Come on my darlin, let me make you feel good.” Boothill wraps his arms around your back forcefully rolling his hips upwards into the spot that has you gasping for air, you feel yourself drawing closer and closer to that edge, eyes wet from the onslaught of pleasure. 

“I’m gonna- I’m coming ah!” Your voice is hoarse and shrill as stars dance across your vision. 

“That’s it, that’s a good girl”. His voice dropped into a lower octave as he spoke into your ear causing a full body shiver to rack throughout your frame, the biting cold of his metallic fingers causes goosebumps to reveal themselves on your skin as you huff a laugh at his digits drawing nonsensical shapes into the skin there. 

He places a chaste kiss on the top of your head drawing his hands back up to cup your cheeks rubbing soothing circles into your flesh. You glance up at his face and notice he still has a soft blush clinging to his features, the lighting of the room giving him an almost ethereal glow. 

“Was it… good for you?” You ask him apprehensively tucking your face into his neck. Realistically speaking you know this is a foolish question, your partner will never be able to feel anything as pleasurable as you do and that knowledge has you with a gaping gnawing hole at the bottom of your chest and an all encompassing numbness in your throat. 

As if he could read your self deprecating thoughts his hand is pulling you from underneath his neck to stare him directly in his eyes. “Hey no more of this, anythin’ we do together feels like heaven darlin’ so don’t worry your pretty lil head of yours.” He punctuates his statement by sealing his lips on top of yours, his hands threading through your hair pulling you closer. 

“I may not be able to feel everythin’ but what I can feel… is pretty damn good” he whispers reverently into the skin of your neck using the sharp edges of his teeth to mark and tease the skin there. 

When he’s decided he has sufficiently marked you he leans backwards in his chair and the fact that you two are still connected becomes very much apparent as the ridges of his cock bump against your walls causing a breathy moan to escape your mouth and you don’t even need to look down to know a smirk is decorating his lips. 

You get up to remove yourself from him but a firm grip to your waist has you placed firmly in his lap. 

“Let’s just stay like this darlin’” he rumbles as he continues drawing shapes into your skin, the soft timbre of his voice has you melting under his touches. You find it increasingly harder to keep your eyes open as he showers you with affection and he seems to notice your internal struggle as a low and husky chuckle reverberates through his body. “Get some sleep for me now yeah?” He whispers against your temple before placing a delicate kiss there. 

“Mm, if you don’t clean me up while I’m out I’ll kill you.” You half-heartedly slap at his chest earning you another husky giggle. 

“Of course darlin’ of course”. 

#honaki star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #boothill #boothill x reader #boothill smut #hsr smut

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Want Some Help? | Jeon Jungkook One Shot

Summary: When your boyfriend can't seem to satisfy you anymore your roommate decides to lend a helping hand. Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook (crackhead roommate energy) Word Count: 4.7k (got a little carried away but when don't I 😂) Warnings: Explicit language, smut and cheating. He spits in her mouth at the end lol and hella pet names. Aight that's all you're getting lol gotta read the rest to find out. a/n: This is the last thing I'll be posting before I go on a little hiatus. I'll make a post in a couple of days to explain but I'll let this circulate a bit before I do. I hope you enjoy it! (barely edited lol) Requested by a lovely anon 💜

The sounds in my room are obscene to say the least, more from Brian's side than mine today though. I don't know what it is but something about him isn't doing it for me anymore. Is it the fact that I have a new Adonis for a roommate? Perhaps, but Brian's need to overcompensate for it makes situations like these even more awkward than they need to be. 

"You like that?" he asks, him being so close to cumming with me barely working my way up to it. "Yeah" I respond breathily, trying my best to play the part so this can hopefully be over sooner rather than later. "Fuck" he groans at the sight and sound of my little gasp when he just barely hits that spot but I know he won't be able to figure out how to do it again. 

Brian isn't a selfish lover but the dynamic between us has changed ever since Jungkook moved in... 

He hasn't been as focused on me which now that I think about it is pretty damn selfish. I'm just making excuses for him at this point. He's more focused on his ego and playing it up for my roommate than he is into loving his girlfriend. I don't know how much longer I can be in this relationship if he keeps acting like this. 

"Shit I'm close, are you?" he asks and I nod my head furiously, thanking whoever might've been listening to my plea and seconds later he's cumming inside the condom and I do my best to copy the moan that I let out when he's actually done a good job at satisfying me and it seems to be convincing enough since he's giving me that cocky grin before he kisses me again. 

"You wanna shower?" he asks and I shake my head, "You go ahead, I'll shower later. Plus, didn't you say you had work early tomorrow morning? I'll let you get cleaned up in peace so you can head out" I say and he nods his head before going to the bathroom and throwing me a towel before closing the door and turning on the shower. 

Luckily he didn't try to clean me up because there's definetly not much to clean since I didn't cum.

Once I'm finished and I've made myself somewhat presentable I put on my robe and head out into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water. "Have fun?" my roommate says from the living room couch as I pass by on my way to the kitchen. "Shit Jungkook you scared me" I say, holding my hand to my chest. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Have a good time tonight?" he asks again, his eyes dragging up and down my form, lingering on my chest and when I look down I see that my nipples are very visible unbeknownst to me since I hadn't cared to think about the fact that Jungkook might've come home. 

I wrap my robe tighter around me and cross my arms as I head into the kitchen. "Yes I did thank you very much. Did you?" I spit out quickly, hoping to avoid talking about my sex life with him. "It was alright. I had a long week so I decided to turn in early but um..." he trails off as he watches Brian walk down the hallway and into the kitchen, giving Jungkook a stern look before coming over to talk to me. 

"You alright?" he asks before placing a way too intimate kiss on my lips in front of Jungkook who I see has turned his head back to the TV and isn't bothering to pay attention to the game Brian is trying to play with him. "Yeah I'm fine. Are you heading out?" I ask, very hopeful that this visit will come to an end and thankfully luck is on my side this time. 

"Yeah I gotta get going but I'll come over again soon" he says, looking over at Jungkook before giving me one last kiss and heading towards the door to put on his shoes. "Text me when you get home!" I say and he winks at me before walking out leaving me rolling my eyes once the door is shut. 

I slump against the counter, glad it's finally over and when I look back over at Jungkook he's not too interested in whatever he has playing on the TV anymore, his focus solely on me. 

"What?" I ask him, brows scrunched together and trying to figure out what his deal is. "Why'd you fake it?" he asks and I choke on my spit, caught off guard by the unfiltered question. "Excuse me?" I ask, scandalized that he had been listening enough to even catch onto something like that. 

"You probably wanted it to be over huh?" he asks, assuming what the answer was and unfortunately that was the case but I'm not letting him have the satisfaction of being right. "I don't know what you're talking about" I say, turning on the sink to fill up my cup again but before I can even pull it out from under the tap he's taking it out of my hand. 

"Hey!" I call out, trying to grab it but he holds it just out of reach. "Can't keep you satisfied anymore?" he asks raising a brow at me, a smug look on his face since it seems he can read me like a book based off of my body language alone. "He keeps me very satisfied thank you very much, not that it's any of your business" I say and reach for my cup which he thankfully relinquishes. 

"I know you're lying" he say and I cock a brow at him, not knowing how he could possibly know the truth. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" I press, placing the cup on the counter and crossing my arms over my chest, forgetting the fact that I'm completely naked under this and giving him a better view of my cleavage. 

"You're not very quiet when you do it by yourself you know. What do you use? A dildo? One of those little roses? Maybe both?" he questions leaning in closer to me and making my eyes bug out of my head. "How did yo-" "These walls are paper thin doll, so believe me when I say that I can hear every little thing you do to yourself in there. But please, don't stop. I would hate to be deprived of that pretty little voice of yours even though it is quite distracting sometimes" he says, grabbing my cup and holding it between us as a clear invitation to leave if I so desire. 

I take it and rush back to my room, slamming the door behind me and I can hear him chuckle from the kitchen. Fuck he really wasn't kidding when he said these walls are thin.

I flop down onto my bed facedown and scream into my pillow, utterly mortified that he's heard me ever since he got here. I need to wear a muzzle at this rate  since there's no way I'm stopping just for his sake. A girl's got needs and if Brian isn't going to fulfill them then I've gotta do it myself. 

I get up off my bed after I finish my little temper tantrum and change the sheets before taking my robe off and jumping in the shower to hopefully wash off all of Brian's scent. I can't stand to think about him anymore especially after what Jungkook said about him...

After finishing up my shower and drying off my hair I reach into my drawer to get my tried and true rose bud to help me out tonight. Yes he guessed right but I'll be damned if I ever let him see it.

I lay down and try to turn it on and after I've used it for a minute or two it just shuts off. "Fuck" I groan out, forgetting the fact that I had forgotten to grab new batteries for it. The TV remote has the same size batteries right? It's worth a shot to go check since I'm pretty sure he's gone to bed already. 

Walking out to the living room in my robe again I'm met with Jungkook still sitting on the couch watching the same thing he had been when I first came out here. 

I try to turn back around once I've seen him but he stops me by asking me if I needed something. "I just wanted to borrow the batteries from the remote but you're still using it so no worries" I say and try to leave but he stops me again. "I'm pretty sure I bought a new pack of batteries not too long ago" he says and I sheepishly admit I used the last of them. 

"Oh okay well here, I can just finish this up on my laptop" he says while taking the batteries out and putting them in my hand, giving me the source of my pleasure for tonight. "T-thanks" I stutter and close my finger around them as if they would disappear if I let them go. "Is everything okay?" he asks and I nod my head while walking down the hallway, not knowing that he's hot on my heels. 

"What do you need the batteries for?" he asks as we're a few feet away from my door making me jump. "Didn't know I was behind you?" he chuckles and I glare at him, hoping that'll make him back off but it does the exact opposite, causing him to smirk and glance around my room and soon notices the rosebud that I stupidly left in the middle of my bed. 

"I was right" he smirks leaving me groaning and rolling my eyes as I storm into my room, not bothering to close the door since I know he's not going to leave me alone anytime soon. 

"What? You know I'm just teasing you. You're free to do as you please doll, I'm not gonna stop you. I was even nice and paused my movie so you can have your fun too" he says, leaning against my doorframe and since he's being shameless I will too, deciding to switch the batteries out and turn it on to check but unfortunately it does the same thing and dies less than thirty seconds after I turn it on.

"Shit" I curse under my breath and he stifles his laughter by covering his mouth. "Yeah yeah laugh it up. You're just lucky all you need is your right hand to get off. Can you just leave me alone?" I ask, laying back down on my bed, exacerbated and ready to call it a night since the odds have flipped again. My good luck for the night being Brian's quick departure. 

I don't pay attention to how high my robe has ridden and it seems as though one of my legs has slipped through the gap giving him a full view of my upper thigh and hip, one wrong move leaving me exposed to him. 

He gulps but I don't bother to notice and only do when he clears his throat. "What do you want?" I say, throwing my arm over my face trying to hide the shame that all of this has caused me but fail miserably. "Want some help?" he asks and I sit up right away at his words, "What?" I ask, my reaction as dramatic as if he had grown two heads. 

"Do you want some help? I can get you off real quick if you'd like? It'll be like one roomie helping the other" he offers as causally as if he had asked to borrow five bucks. "You're joking, right?" I scoff but it seems as he very well is not as he take a step into my room and he watches for signs for protest but I give him none. 

"Not really no. I'm simply offering to help a friend in need. That's what we are right? Friends?" he questions as he takes a step closer. 

He calls out my name when I've stayed silent for a while, not being able to take my eyes off him even if I tried. As long as he stays in this room he's got my attention. "R-right, friends" I respond and he takes a seat on my bed, a respectful distance away but it feels as if he was already on top of me. 

"But Brian-" "Doesn't need to know" he says, cutting me off and making it harder and harder for me to say no. He scoots closer to me and takes the rosebud out of my hands, unbothered by what it's used for and simply places it on the nightstand next to me. "It's your move" he says, leaning closer to me, his breath fanning my face and I look at his eyes, mine going back and forth before his look down at my lips. 

"Tell me to stop" he says, making things easier for me but when he's mere millimeters away I lean in. 

It's soft and sweet at first, our lips connecting and breaking a few times, still giving me an opening to pull away and say stop but after a few more kisses like that he deepens the kiss. While keeping our lips locked for longer he angles his head a bit more, his tongue now in my mouth and soon he beckons me to do the same and I do which gives him even more of a green light. 

He places his hand on my cheek and angles me just right before he switches up and presses down on my shoulder a little and leans in closer as a silent plea for me to lay down. 

I crawl back on the bed instead and he follow as I lay down on the pillows with him hovering over me. "Fuck been thinking about this view for a long time" he admits and before I can say anything in response his lips are already on mine again.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, toying with the tie that is seconds from coming undone of it's own accord. "Yeah" I say, adrenaline pumping through my veins at the thought of doing this, of cheating with my roommate who is someone I won't be able to run away from after this.

He pulls the belt and in one smooth motion it's undone.

The way he looks at me as he takes both sides of the robe off of my body is a sight that could make me cum untouched if given the chance. Watching his eyes darken up as they roam all over my body until he's tracing them back up to mine where it's as if a whole new man is hovering over me, one that looks so insatiable and ready to break me at any moment. 

"Fuck you're so pretty" he say, leaning back down to kiss me but soon trails his lips down my neck and to he valley between my breast. He settles on kissing one of them and slowly brings his lips closer to my nipple where he looks up at me for permission which I give right away. He smirks and puts his thumb and pointer fingers into his mouth and places them on the opposite one twisting and toying with it before he places his mouth one the one in front of him. 

Once his lips make contact my fingers immediately lace through his hair, needing to ground myself with something and he hums around in in approval when I tug on it a bit. 

"You sensitive here doll?" he asks when he lets go of it, the cool air causing a chill when it hits my damp skin, him having made a mess of it from his clear desire to do this. I let out a whimper in response and he nips at it before switching to my other breast to give it the same time and attention he gave the first.

My hips start to buck up after a couple more seconds of him switching between my breasts and lips when he hears those pretty voices he had talked about before, wanting to taste them on his tongue this time. 

"Someone's eager" he says against lips but I turn my face to the side leaving him kissing the column of my neck until I'm squirming about leaving him smiling against my skin. 

"Does my doll want more?" he asks and I whimper in response, not being able to bring myself to utter words of confirmation when I have a man like him already causing me so much pleasure, but it's not enough. 

I need more.

"Jungkook please" I breathe out, done with this teasing and so worked up already from not gaining release earlier. "Please what?" he asks trailing his lips back up to mine and kissing them one last time before pulling back and waiting for my answer. "Please help me cum" I plead, wanting what he had promised me earlier. 

He chuckles dryly and places a kiss on the corner or my mouth before responding. "Here I am taking my time with you but you still only want one thing. Don't you like it when I play with you like this?" he asks, trailing middle finger down my torso until he's come in contact with my clit, sliding further down past it and checking to see what my true physical reactions have been to his ministrations. 

"Seems like you do" he says, circling around my entrance with that same finger when he feels how wet I am. "This all for me?" he asks and close my eyes once he's dipped one of his fingers in while using his thumb to draw circles around my clit but once my breathing picks up a bit everything stops. 

"What?" I pant, confused as to why he would stop. "I asked you a question. Is this all for me y/n?" he rasps, looking down at where his fingers had once been and cursing when he notices how wet they are. "Y-yes, all for you" I choke out and he leans in as if he was going to kiss me but stops before I can even brush my lips against his. 

"Can you say my name princess?" he whispers, posed as a question but we both know the only way this continues is if I comply. "Jungkook" I whisper out, his name now tasting different on my tongue. It's almost if I have to put more effort into pronouncing each letter, my throat suddenly running dry. 

"Louder doll. It's the least you can do to help me forget how you've moaned his name in here time and time again. Probably another sad excuse of an act to fake your high" he says, going back to playing with my center, his finger going in and out at a faster rate now before easing his way into putting in a second one. 

"Fuck Jungkook" I groan, this time a little louder than before that grants me a kiss on my neck, his motives to stay away from my lips being to hear all of my reactions to what he's doing to me. Wanting to discover new sounds and reactions that sound more genuine and are ones that I can't even hope to hold back with the pleasure he's giving me.

"That's it, keep going. Want your voice to be the thing I remember most about this, hear it over and over again, ingrained in my memory. That way when I forget how you taste it'll be something that I'll still be able to come back to. Hearing how I make you feel, not yourself and definetly not your sorry excuse of a boyfriend, me. Let me hear how I make you feel" he rasps in my ear making me shiver and arch my back off the mattress. 

"Jungkook please, please" I beg with my ego gone, the only thoughts in my head being him and how incredible it'll feel once he's made me cum. "Just like that doll, scream my name if you need to, I don't mind" his calm cool and collected tone of voice driving me mad. How can he be whispering these things in my ear and taunting me like this while I'm a complete mess under him, barely being able to breathe let alone think straight. 

I pulse around his fingers and he can tell that I'm close when I let out a moan after he hits a certain spot, hitting it over and over again, knowing that that's going to be the thing that'll make me come undone. 

He leans back and looks down at me, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips make me insane, his calm and cool façade in my mind broken when I see the way he's watching me. Taking in every gasp, every moan, every whimper of his name and it makes him want to try even harder to get me to that high, needing to see what I look like when I cum.

"Just like that doll, you're doing so well, sound so pretty" he murmurs and with a few more words of encouragement I'm coming undone. When I try to look away he grabs my chin and makes me keep eye contact making everything seem even more intense. 

Once the rising and falling of my chest has slowed down and his playful fingers inside me gain him whines of overstimulation he finally takes them out. 

I expect him to get up and wash his hands but instead places them in his mouth, moaning once my taste hits his tongue leaving me swallowing dryly, needing that glass of water now. 

"Open your mouth" he says after he takes his fingers out and I comply curiously, doing as he asks and the next moment I feel him spitting in my mouth before smashing his lips on mine one last time. 

After kissing me senseless and exhaustion flooding my system my kisses become sloppy and he laughs against my lips before finally pulling back. "Where are you going?" I ask and he laughs again at my groggy state. I'm going to go get a towel to clean you up" he says and I sit up quickly, my mind slowly clearing up. 

"Wait, what about you?" I ask, taking note of the tent in his pants but he simply chuckles and brings back a warm towel just like he said. I had expected the same treatment Brian gave me today but when I try to reach for it he pulls back. "No you lay down, you're still out of it" he says, trying to be serious but also satisfied that he only had to use his fingers put me in this state. 

After he finishes cleaning me up he gets up and throws the towel in the laundry basket and comes back to sit on the bed next to me, cupping my face and studying my features. "You okay?" he asks, clearly sensing regret already. 

"Yeah I'm fine. I just never thought I would do something like this" I admit and he mouths a quiet 'Oh' and takes his hand off me but I grab it before he can get too far. "I'm sorry I'm just confused and clearly not thinking straight" I say, trying to backtrack knowing that I've hurt him by saying that. 

"Thank you for doing this for me" I say timidly and he laughs. "What?" I ask, clearly not understanding what about this situation is funny. 

"I'm sorry" he says, his laughing soon dying down and I wait in silence until he's finally composed himself. "I'm sorry it's just not everyday that your hot roommate thanks you for finger fucking them" he chuckles and my cheeks heat up, thoroughly embarrassed now that he's put it like that.

I reach behind me and grab a pillow and throw it at his face which makes him laugh even more. "Jungkook stop this isn't funny" I whine and he stops a couple minutes later. "Alright alright I'm sorry, you were just getting way too serious about it" he explains and wipes away a fake tear. 

"This is serious! I just cheated on my boyfriend with you" I exclaim and he shakes his head, placing the pillow I threw at him out of my reach and sighs before responding. "You and I both know that you've been ready to end that relationship for a while now" he says and I open my mouth but the words die in my throat.

"That's what I thought" he says and we sit there in silence for a moment while I pull the sheet over me. "Just break up with him already, I can clearly see that you're miserable" he points out and I hate that he's right. 

"Why do you care? Should I break up with him so I can mess around with you?" I ask and he shrugs his shoulders. "We can do that if you want to, but from a friend's point of view I think your life is so much better without him" he says and I sigh, knowing again that he's right, telling me the things that I've thought about over and over again but just never did anything about. 

"I'll talk to him" I say and he nods his head. "Good because with the number I did on your neck he's definetly gonna know that something went down" he laughs and my eyes go wide, forgetting to tell him to not leave any marks but I know I'm fucked. 

"Here" he says, grabbing the hand mirror I have on my dresser and I know from one glance that hoodies and turtlenecks will be my new signature look until this all clears up.

"Jungkook" I growl and he giggles, never taking my scolding tone seriously. "What? Don't act like you didn't like it" he chuckles and I sit up, grabbing that pillow and throwing it at him again. "I hate you" I huff but he laughs again before placing a knee on my bed and making it dip under his weight. 

My breath hitches as he inches closer and I can't do anything but lay down, slowly trying to run away from his lips in my mind but falling back into that same position we had been in for who knows how long.

Once I'm flat on my back and he's hovering over me again I swallow as best as I can, making him let out a dry chuckle. "Wanna run that one by me again doll?" he asks, cocking a brow at me and I press my thighs together, hating myself for doing it but needing some sort of something to keep me sane but it's of no uses when he leans in closer and I hold my breath, not knowing what he's doing or where this is going but when I close my eyes I granted with that same chuckle again. 

"Goodnight princess" he says against my lips, his weight gone off my bed seconds later leaving me sitting up in process. "Wha-" "My pretty doll needs to figure out who she wants to play with if she wants more" he taunts and I cross my arms and pout a little, hoping that'll get him to come back. 

"Aw don't be like that. After all the work I put in to help you feel good. I thought you would've been more grateful, not greedy" he taunts and I roll my eye before uttering a quiet 'Goodnight'. "Thanks for giving me memories to help me fix this" he says, looking down at the very clear outline of his hard on and I swallow again, intimidated from finally being able to see his full size. 

"I promise, if you make up your mind...I'll make it fit" he teases and winks at me granting him a scowl in response. He grabs the door handle at the same time I grab the pillow and throw it which he blocks by closing the door. "Goodnight doll" he says one last time and shuts it behind him. 

I spend the rest of my night willing myself to sleep and when I finally start to doze off I start hearing Jungkook's soft moans and grunts leaving me wide awake again. Now I really know he wasn't lying...

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @hehurst23 @ye0nvibezzn @olimpiiaa @hrtsj1m @bangtans-momma Rest of the tags continued in the reblogs 💜

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#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #kpop fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook and you #jungkook and reader #roommates

[hanafubukki]

Summary: In which, Lilia can hear your thoughts but doesn't tell you.

An accidental potion mishap with Grim led to some interesting side effects. While you didn't seem affected at all by the fluid spilled on you, Lilia, on the other hand, was the opposite.

He covered his smile with his sleeve.

This is will be fun.

Lilia curled his legs around Silver before slamming him to the floor.

“It’s not fair! It should have been me! Me!”

Lilia quickly buried his face into Silver’s shoulder.

“Father?”

“Khufufu~ it’s nothing.”

Lilia always loved his get togethers at Diasomnia’s lounge. It was entertaining to see how the residents were behaving.

Today was no different.

You had shown up with Sebek, planning to study for your upcoming exam.

Sebek’s grilling you on various important figures, but what would make it more entertaining…if he just moved his arms and…

“I shouldn’t have come here. He’s too cute. I won’t be able to focus! Was that his stomach?? Someone save me. Oh Great Sevens.”

Lilia finished his stretching before hiding his laughter against Malleus’ arm.

“Lilia?”

“Nothing to worry about Malleus.”

Malleus stares at him before looking at the pair on the other side. He closed his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee, “As you say.”

“Damn it, why is his laughter hot?”

“I have rarely wanted to be stepped on in my life, but I’ll make an exception for him.”

Lilia almost tripped as that thought suddenly invaded his mind. How rare. He hasn’t floundered in such a way since his early 200s.

“YN~”

He twirled around to face you. Your shocked expression has his lips twitching into a smirk.

“How did he-”

“Hi, Lilia. How are you?”

You trying so hard to keep a calm expression gave him a feeling of satisfaction.

“May Sebek never find out that I want to fuck his greatest mentor. I will literally never hear the end of it.”

Up high in the balcony seating of NRC cafeteria, the students of Diasomnia slowly edged away from a certain table.

Their respected Vice Dorm leader stared at his lunch with a maniacal look.

“Ahhhh stay away from me! What do you mean you could hear my thoughts?!”

“Come now Dearest~ I want to have a chat~”

“No! Tsunootarooouu put me to sleep for a thousand years! I can’t live like this!”

Staff and students watched as their Prefect ran away as if hell hounds were on their heels. With the devious smirk on one Lilia Vanrouge’s face? There might as well be.

The simping is strong today ☺️💞, okay but seriously, these are actual thoughts I’ve had before with Lilia 😂💚🌺

#lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland #diasomnia #twst lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #mention: malleus draconia twst silver and sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland x you #lilia vanrouge x you #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst fluff #lilia Vanrouge x Mc #twst #Disney twst

[cassandracain52]

so I’ve seen lots of fics about Bruce coming back and finding out things like Tim loosing his spleen or Damian getting shot (on multiple occasions by different people) and he almost always finds out by either having dug into the Batcomputers records and stumbling across it or just seeing it on scans or something after Tim or Damian is injured

but imagine for a moment Bruce finds out, not on his own, but by the others telling him.

And by “tell him” I of course mean that they all automatically assume that he already knows about all of it(because he’s the worlds greatest detective so obviously they don’t need to say anything) so they never bring it up until they mention it one day in passing and nearly give him a heart attack.

for example:

Bruce: Tim, I need you to come with me to speak with Dr. Thompkins down at the clinic about that new drug that’s been circulating

Tim: Oh, sure thing, just let me grab my mask

[Bruce not saying anything but looking at him confused because Tim is already fully suited up and wearing his domino mask?]:

[Tim, now wearing a surgical face mask]: Ok, I’m ready! [Bruce just staring at him, waiting for some explanation. He doesn’t get one.]:

Bruce: Tim

Tim: hm?

Bruce: Why are you wearing a face mask..?

Tim: Oh! Well Dr. Thompkins got mad at me last time I came to the clinic without one because there’s a lot of sick people there and I should be more careful since I’m immunocompromised-

[Bruce, immediately cutting him off]: Wait, what?

[Tim, slightly confused]: She got mad at me when I didn’t wear one last time..?

[Bruce, equally confused and growing very concerned]: No, not that. You’re immunocompromised?

[Tim, now completely lost because this is all common knowledge?]: Uh, yeah??

[Bruce, even more concerned]: How??? What do you mean??

[Tim, getting annoyed and rolling his eyes]: Well that’s what they call you when you have no spleen, Bruce.

Bruce: What.

[Tim finally realizing that, just maybe, they skipped a step]: I have no spleen? It got stabbed so Ra’s took it

[Bruce, about to have an aneurysm]: RA’S DID WHAT-

______ Or like him finding out Damian had his entire spine replaced

Bruce: Hey, do you think it’s strange Damian’s so small?

Dick: No?? He’s ten?? Ten year olds are small?

[Bruce, audibly concerned]: No, I mean don’t you think he should have grown some by now? Is he not eating enough?

[Dick, immediately relaxing]: Oh, that? Yeah, it’s fine

[Bruce, still concerned]: Are you sure? I was taller than that at his age

[Dick, waving his hand dismissively]: Nah, he’s fine. I think the spine replacement just stunted his growth a bit

Bruce:…

Dick:..?

[Bruce, near hysterically because all his kids somehow keep losing pieces of their insides and none of them seem bothered by it??]: his wHAT- ____

Dick has to spend the next several hours trying to stop Bruce from making everyone do a mandatory medical examination so he can make sure none of his other kids are missing anything

Dick promises that it was just the two things

Bruce is not reassured

#He finds out Jason got his appendix removed and nearly goes into cardiac arrest #Like I’m all for the angsty reveals #But just imagine #They forget to reveal it at all #Bruce spends the next few days trying to find a way to bubble wrap all his kids #dc comics #batfam #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #chat post #headcanon #Bruce’s Google history that night: why aren’t my kids worried about missing organs #Or bones? #Wasn’t gonna post this now but my drafts keep messing up so here it is

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild II

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: SMUT, porn with a plot, sexually explicit language, cursing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, nipple play, locker room sex, swimmer lingo

word count: 5.5k

part 1

tags💜: @midnightwrriting @no1runawaymilkdad @ihave-aboringlife @blahhucantmakeme @laniirackssss @blood-bloss @lmaoyani @geminiflanagansblog @ruyaas-world @hrlzy @povobsessed @stephstephstephsteph @chakin @10ava01 @lem0ns77 @velvrei @hdhdhdndhdndk

masterlist

a/n: sorry if the tags aren’t working, I tried to include everyone that wanted it. lmk if you have questions on anything. hope you enjoy!!

A week has passed since the last time you’d seen Art and you try to rid any thoughts of him from your mind as you enter the women’s locker room, the day so early that the sun has only just risen. You’d only spent a few hours with him, but he feels more important to you than a mere acquaintance, especially considering you’d let him have more of you than most people would ever get to. You try to tell yourself it won’t matter if he shows or not, but deep down you know that it will. Regardless, overthinking won’t help you in the water so you shove it down as you steadily pull on your tech suit, careful not to rip the delicate fabric. Your headphones are currently blaring your hype playlist in your ear, but you slide them off once you notice movement to your left as Chloe opens her own locker.

“You ready?” she asks you, pulling out her own racing suit from the depths of her swim bag.

“Not really,” you admit, giving up on stretching your tight suit to your full body frame for the time being as you opt for a tie-back bikini top instead. Your shoulders are ever so grateful. “I’m so nervous.”

“Why? Because of your race or your little tennis boyfriend?” she teases, lips quirking into a classic Chloe smirk. As your best friend, she was the first and only person you told about your interaction with Art at the party and, of course, she had been teasing you about it since. While during practice it was amusing, you are not in the mood for jokes right before a race, especially one of such importance.

You furrow a brow, shaking your head to signal that it’s not the time for such jests concerning the blonde. As the good friend that she is, Chloe immediately understands as she moves to help tie your suit straps, a simple task that you are unexpectedly failing at due to the pressure of the meet ahead of you.

“You’re going to do great,” Chloe comforts, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder once she’s finished with your straps. “I’m sure of it.”

“What if I don’t break the record?”

“Who cares? You can try again next time. If that’s the worst that can happen, you don’t have anything to be nervous about,” she smiles in assurance. “Besides that record is as good as yours -” she makes a gesture to your tech suit that has the most magical of time bending abilities if wielded by the right swimmer. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Nothing can stop you now.”

“Thanks Clo.” you grin at her appreciatively, and though your nerves don’t settle in the slightest, you feel more comfortable living in cohabitation with them now. They’re so much easier to manage when you’re not alone.

It’s only minutes before the rest of your team has arrived and you have hours before your event is scheduled to take place, yet it only feels like seconds before you’re being seated in the waiting room amongst your competitors, tech suit finally fully on. Rousing music plays through your headphones though you are sure to skip any songs that seem even the slightest bit romantic. You try to slip into the right headspace, the line between confident and cocky that has always aided you in not panicking just before you step up to the blocks in the past. You try to find it, using any method at your fingertips, but it’s no use. You can’t seem to find it no matter how hard you try and suddenly it feels as if the weight of the world is crashing down on you when the door opens and your event is called. You stand with the other women and together you line up behind the blocks.

The sun shines much higher up in the sky than it had been when you dove in during warm ups, blaring down to reflect off the red of your cap that bears the Stanford logo in white along with your last name. You take your rightful place behind the starting block of the middle lane, and though you already wrote your heat and lane in black sharpie on your forearm just to be sure, you can’t help but worry that you’ve already missed your race.

It’s only when the head announcer calls your event on the loudspeaker that you stop dwelling on it, her voice echoing through the stands that seem so much taller now that you're in the center with so much pressure resting solely on you. You rake though the rafters to your left, hoping to be comforted by the sight of Chloe or one of your other teammates until you realize that they are more than likely preparing for their own events in the warm up pool.

It's then, just when the swirling hurricane of emotions is hurtling toward you, that you see him. He’s seated in the first row, blonde curls circling his head like a golden crown and a wide smile lighting up his face when he sees that you’ve finally spotted him, one that you can’t help returning as he mouths sweet wishes of luck to you.

Art came. He actually came!

The storm subsides and all of a sudden you’ve lost all your inhibitions. Instead of buzzing anxiety, you are filled with a new light and the confidence of a record breaker. It’s all so clear with Art in the stands and as his presence wafts away your storm of worries, you come to the realization that you can do it. You know you can.

The whistle of an official blares through the speaker and on cue you slide on your goggles and mount the block. You’re really starting to feel the compression of your suit as you bend into your diving position, waiting for the magic words. The signal that it’s time to race and leave everything you have in the pool as you go.

“Swimmers, take your marks…” 

You take one last breath before the sound blares and you dive off the block. It all comes naturally to you and with the help of your suit, you find yourself breaking out farther than ever before.

You only have a few strokes until you’re at the end of the pool when out of nowhere, the girl in the lane beside you starts to catch up to you until the two of you are neck and neck and it doesn’t escape your attention when she flips a split second before you’re able to.

You know it’s not about winning, you told Art that, but it’s as if a fire has been lit behind you and you’re suddenly determined to go for the gold. You push yourself harder than you ever have before and though you're not sure where the energy has come from, you know it’s exactly what you need. You’ve failed if you’re able to get out of the pool without stumbling.

Before long you catch up to the swimmer beside you, taking your first and only breath as you summon the last of your power, pushing through the water like a jet-ski. At once you’re behind the flags and unlike before, there’s no one beating you to the touch pad resting on the side of the ending wall as you slam your hand down and come up for air.

The crowd erupts with applause once you finish and at first you’re under the impression that it’s because of your win until your eyes glaze over at the scoreboard and nearly burst from your skull at the sight of the result.

You had accomplished your goal. There it was, a time faster than the Stanford record glowing right beside your name. But you didn’t just pass it by a few flimsy hundredths. Your new record was more than a second faster.

You can hardly believe it and you know if the proof weren’t right in front of you, there’d only be disbelief instead of this crashing wave of accomplishment and pride. Though you’re in severe oxygen debt from the race, you find yourself screaming in excitement at your gigantic accomplishment.

“We have a new record!” an official announces through the loudspeaker once the other girls have returned to the starting wall, followed by your name and new time. You search for Art again once you’re out of the water, all but failing to suppress your grin as you find him clapping in the stands and smiling down at you as if you were the most precious stone in the world.

Your teammates are filled with the same immense pride when you join them in the locker room once the meet is over. You’ve since changed from your tech suit, switching out the tight fabric for your cozy hoodie, tie-back bikini top, and a towel tied around your waist. The suit in question now hangs in your locker with the rest of your clothes that you had been in the middle of putting on before the congradulations began.

“I fucking told you!” Chloe shouts, clapping you on the back like you had just won the lottery. You imagine such a feat couldn’t match the pride you feel now.

You almost say that you can’t believe it, but the words stall on your lips. You actually can believe it, this is something you’ve been working tirelessly for. And now, after a long hard race, the record title is finally yours.

“Did I see a certain blonde in the audience?” Chloe smirks, nudging you as you wave goodbye to one of your other parting teammates.

“Maybe,” you drawl, trying your best to hide your growing grin, but the thought of the man makes you feel like flying through the air as year worth of buried emotions bubble up to the surface. You haven’t felt anything like this for a very long time.

“You know what that means…” Chloe whispers to you after you pull away from a hug with one of the other girls who like everyone else, is on her way out. The night’s party is being hosted at a house that’s a longer commute than usual in honor of the women’s tenth annual win and unlike your teammates, you aren’t in any hurry to get there knowing the a portion of the celebration will surround you.

“Drinks on you?” you guess, pretending you are clueless as to what she’s getting at. You hope it’s enough to deter her from whatever inevitably grotesque she’s about to say, but you know it’s to no avail as she laughs and shakes her head.

“Nice try,” she smiles, nudging you with her elbow. “I meant that he’s definetly going to fuck the shit out of you next time you see him.”

You cringe bashfully at her words, hitting her on the shoulder as she backs away from your shrunken form.

“Chloe!” you chide, though you both know no real anger lies within your tone. She’s been like this since the day you’d first met her: always the same old loving, indecorous Chloe.

“Just saying.” she shrugs before turning to say her goodbyes to the last lingering one of your other teammates.

You turn to open your locker, finally ready to change out of your damp towel until you’re startled by the clacking footsteps of unfamiliar tennis shoes heading in your direction. You assume it’s another random spectator who had bypassed the many signs clearly stating that the locker room is for athlete occupance only, but at once you find you’re very wrong when you turn to see who it is.

Art stands before you and though it was his decision to invade the women’s locker room, he looks as surprised as you.

“Hey,” he says, almost breathlessly. You’re thankful when you notice that Chloe is fully dressed to your left, just pulling on her knit cardigan.

She smirks smuggly at the sight of him, swinging her bag over her shoulders before sending you a wink and a swiftly muttered, “Told ya.” Without another word she exits, leaving you and Art utterly and completely alone.

“You realize this is the women’s restroom, right?” you jab as you hear Chloe shut the door behind her, though it’s all in good fun. As far as you know, no one is coming anywhere near the locker room for the next several hours.

“I was waiting outside for you,” he states, gradually lifting his hands from their tense place in the front of his jean pockets. “I thought everyone else had already come out, but I guess I was wrong.”

“That’s just Chloe,” you laugh, gesturing in the direction of the exit path your best friend had just taken. “Don’t worry, she won’t tattle.”

He chuckles, amused by your jest before he takes a slow step closer to you. Like a sparkler to your stomach, you become acutely aware of the tension between the two of you, growing like the blush colored blossoms of a cherry tree in spring. “I’ve thought about what you said.”

This makes you smile.

“And?”

“You were right.”

You’re heart flutters, so light that if it weren’t encaged within your chest you’re sure it would’ve floated away. He pauses to take another tense step in your direction, now only a foot away.

“Do you know how Tashi and I met?”

“I don’t, actually,” you say, words laced with a twinge of sarcasm.

“Right,” he laughs, realizing the folly behind his question. It was more rhetorical than anything, but he begins the story like a spider spindiling its web. “Well it was only about a year ago. We met at the US open. Patrick and I both went after her and you know what she told us?”

You wait for the answer.

“She said she’d give her number to whoever won our match. That was the first time I ever lost and it was to my best friend.”

“That’s who was at your match, wasn’t it?” you ask.

Art nods solumnly, though the pain that had been etched on his face from your last meeting has vanished, as if the thorn in his side has been replced by a budding rose.

“I didn’t know Art, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he urges. “It’s all okay now. I’ve realized that none of it matters anymore and it’s all because of you. If I’m being honest, I thought maybe if I won my match, then Tashi would leave him. But it’s not what I want anymore. I don’t want to be the winner she’s running to. I don’t want to have to earn her love.”

“What do you want?”

There’s a pause, a distinct moment where the glint in his blue eyes from the bright lights above conveys a clever message to you than any words could. Then he speaks.

“I think you know what I want.”

It’s all the confirmation you need to know that he’s finally playing the same game as you. He’s unbearably close now as his head reaches up to gently rake through your stringy wet hair. You welcome his touch, breath catching in your throat at the feeling of his fingers as his lips hover just above yours. If you’re being completely honest, you haven’t stopped fantasizing about it since the night of the party. Since the moment he had kissed you.

“You were right,” he whispers as his hot breath tickles the tips of your top lips with every placid word. “I don’t care about winning anymore. The only point I want to score is you.”

“That’s a really bad joke.” you remark, pointing out the obvious from his corny declaration. But Art doesn’t share your smirk, his face settling in an expression that’s much more sensual.

“I’m not kidding.”

You feel the immediate shift in energy as your smirk fades to parted lips and Art’s longing gaze moves downward from your eyes. What little space left between you is squashed as you allow him to pull you even closer, noses prodigy one another as Art’s fingers drift from the tips of your hair to cup the back of your head. It’s almost salivating the way he looks at you and you’re suddenly eager to remember what he tastes like.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks through a whisper, so quietly that if you hadn’t been right in front of him, you surely wouldn’t have heard it. It’s milliseconds before you’re nodding exuberantly with more urgency than a speeding ambulance (something you might need if your heart decided to beat any faster).

“Pleas-” you start, but Art’s on you before you can even get the word out, covering your lips with his until all you can taste, smell, and feel is him. Everything is him.

He’s gentle with you at first, testing the waters as his lips pass smoothly over yours. You lift up your hands to invite him in, squeezing the toned flesh of his arms before you drag them slowly up to the nape of his neck. You toy with some of the curls that rest there, twirling them between your fingers while sinking into the sounds he makes in return. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth, and at once his tongue melds with yours. You match the new intensity, swallowing each low groan.

Unlike your last encounter, it’s Art who pulls away this time, forcing you to scowl at him in confusion, eyes squinting and lips puffy. He twists his head to the left, glazing at the wide space behind him as he slowly moves the both of you backwards to the nearest flat-board bench until one of its edges grazes the top of his shin.

“What are you doing?” you ask through a whisper, leaning forward so that your lips titillate the tip of his ear which sends inadvertent shivers through his whole body. Art turns back to you, smirking as he leans in for another sloppy kiss, earning a salacious sound from you before his lips shift from yours and trailing from the corner of your mouth to the line of your open jaw where his teeth scrape against your skin. You can feel him grinning as he makes you emit the softest of moans.

“I want to make up for the other night. I said some things - I’m not proud of.”

You give a giddy chuckle as you cup his cheek, amused by the fact that he thinks his past behavior was inexcusable until Art’s head dips to suck on the tender skin of your neck and you can’t help but whine. You’re glad you have the lung capacity of a swimmer otherwise you might’ve fainted from the near constant lack of oxygen.

“Art, honestly-” a sudden gasp is ripped from you as you feel him nipping at your sweet spot, crumbling like a tin can under pressure. “-it’s fine.” you barely manage to finish your sentence.

He places a few more steady kisses to the column of your neck, working his way down to your clavicle. You tip your head back, an unintentional effect from the sensation of his lips as he lays the last just near the edge of your collarbone before raising his head to look at you and it’s almost as if he can see right through you.

“Does that mean you don’t want what I’m offering?” he questions, glancing down at the steady movement of your chest as it rises and falls beneath your hoodie. You don’t recall when in the last few minutes he managed to move his hands down to your waist, but you can feel them now as clear as ever. He grips the sides of your hoodie, nimble fingers sliding under the thick gray fabric until they find the skin beneath and his touch feels like fire, sparking flames along your hips with every small caress. It’s so hot that you aren’t sure how Tashi could pick anyone over him. You aren’t sure how anyone could deny him for that matter.

“No…” you admit and at once his hands start to travel higher and higher until they reach the bottom band of your bikini, inflaming the whole of your torso as he meets the straps still tied neatly together in the middle of your spine forming a perfect bow. His fingers follow the provided path, meeting at the center of your back as he starts to twirl one of the tails of the knot around his pointer finger.

“May I?” he asks, his tone so deceivingly politely as he gently tugs on the string. He waits patiently for your consent as his eyes pan up from your chest to your expression. You can’t get the words out, already too overwhelmed from the sizzling sensation of his touch, but you make sure to nod with the utmost enthusiasm. Who were you to tell Art Donaldson no when he was so eager to touch you? And you, in turn, were so eager to feel him.

He smiled at your agreeance and instantly unfastened the tie of your suit, pulling on the strand until the entire bow came undone. He lips pressed against yours once more before he settled down on the bench and raised the hem of your hoodie just enough to expose your stomach, peppering kisses to every inch of you.

You released your hold on him to assist in pulling the hoodie over your head, tossing it behind you where it lands in a crumple pile near the metal door of your locker. Without any tension left to hold it up, the triangle cutlets of your bikini slump to reveal two perfect pebbled nipples, leaving the towel looped around your waist as your only source of coverage.

Usually you’d feel insecure being so bare for a man that’s practically a stranger, but from the dazed look Art gives you as he takes in the sight of your figure, you find that you don’t mind it in the slightest.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Art mutters almost involuntarily, sending shock waves down straight to your core. The words came bursting out before he could find the strength to hold them back, his brain too busy processing your beauty to have any control over any sort of filter. You return your hands to his head of blonde curls just as he presses one last kiss to the center of your abdomen, exactly below your rib cage.

The movement is so sudden that you can't count the seconds that pass before he grabs at your breasts, each hand perfectly cupping the mounted flesh. His mouth is slower, trailing kisses up the valley of your chest.

His thumb works the sensitive skin encircling your nipple, running over the hardened peak in an unperceivable pattern that forces another well earned moan from your lips. It’s encouragement for his other hand that immediately drifts upwards to mirror the actions of the other. Every pinch and slight movement is like gasoline to your fire, all pouring in a downward stream to the part of you that grows more needy with every passing second. You could cry from the sensation of it all, the intensity only growing when you feel him pass his tongue over your left nipple. You try to suppress any sounds this time, teeth biting down on your lip as you curve your head back, but it forces its way out despite your efforts. You grip the hair fixed to his crown and pressure him forwards so that he remains in place.

“Shit, that feels - really good.” you praise, your phrase strung together like an old beaded bracelet as changes in pace break apart each word. When Art does part from your breasts, it’s to press wet kisses down the line of your abdomen as flickering thumbs replace his mouth. He pauses as he reaches the softest portion of your stomach, stopping just above the knot that is covering your very bare lower half, and though you don’t recall informing him about your lack of undergarments, you are sure that he already knows.

“I need to taste you,” he whispers against your skin.

He doesn’t ask you for permission anymore, but instead glances up at you from his spot on the bench and it’s everything you need to understand what he wants from you. And of course you want it. You’re sure if he wastes a second longer to tend to your throbbing center, you might just pass out in his sturdy arms.

“Please, Art, I need you,” you’re able to get out, though it’s breathy and delicate from the way that he’s rendered you.

He’s quick to oblige as he takes the top of your towel cover in between his perfect white teeth and yanks the fabric hard enough for it to fall to your feet. He’s on you in an instant, one of his hands moving to support your shaky frame as he slides a knee between yours to spread you open.

He coaxes every cry out of you with his tongue, wet and skilled as he traces it along each fold, his nose bobbing against your swollen clit not dissimilar from his left hand that still lies atop your breast. You press him closer to you as he swirls his tongue around you, over and over and never in the same way more than twice in a row. It’s overstimulation at its best, overwhelming you until you're trembling in his grasp and before you know it, you’re riding the edge of the wave to pure pleasure.

“Fuck, Art! I’m- I’m-“ you can’t even finish your sentence, he feels so good. He hums against you in amusement, the vibrations of his voice meeting your core in a melting sensation that you find yourself grinding into uncontrollably.

“On my tongue,” he promotes against you before licking a steady stripe along your center. It’s then that you know you’re done for. Your cry is almost inhuman as you leap off the edge, diving into the heart of the wave as Art finally relinquishes his hold on your breast and uses the newly unoccupied hand to pierce into your arousal, calloused fingers curling into you as he helps you down from your high. Even after you cum you know you still have more in you. And you can tell from the growing bulge in his pants that Art isn’t done with you either.

He stands to kiss you with dampened lips as the taste of your own arousal invades your senses, but you withdraw from the embrace after only a few seconds to ask him your burning question, desire already regrowing like a flooding river of need.

“Art, I need you,” you start, pulling at the canvas material of his button up. “Please, please fuck me.”

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before pressing his mouth towards yours and back you up to the wall of lockers that are neatly arranged behind you.

Granted by his permission, you unfasten each button of his shirt until it’s enough to pull it off him which he happily helps you accomplish. You can’t tell who’s more desperate for you to feel the dense muscle of his chest as he places your palms face down on his pecs, granting you the assurance you needed to explore his body.

You take your time, squeezing and prodding just as he had done to you until one of your hands is low enough on his stomach to palm him through his light wash jeans. The soft whimper he returns is nearly enough to send you over again. He pulls back as he lets you undo his belt, eyelids fluttering after you’ve unbuttoned and unzipped the only thing keeping you from him. You’re quick to pull him out, not at all shocked by how hard he is and it’s a major ego boost knowing it’s all because of you.

“See what you do to me?” he whispers against your lips as if you needed more proof of his longing for you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Please,” you beg. “I need to feel you.”

Art is quick to oblige as his calloused fingers grip the soft skin of your hips, so rough that you can feel every callus from his racket as he pushes you against the lockers, thrusting up into you. While he’s dying to continue, he hesitates so that you can acclimate to his size. It takes no longer than a second as you release a guttural groan and wrap a leg around his waist, aiding him in hitting even deeper within you.

“Fuck!” you cry, throwing your head back against the cold metal as Art nips at your neckline again. You’re drowning beneath the blissful rocky wave and from the sounds that he’s making, almost re-enacting one of his matches just for you, you can tell that Art is too.

It happens so quickly that your mind struggles to understand it, spinning wildly as the wave pulls you under once more along with Art who finishes in a similar amount of time. You lean into his chest, breathing heavily as you take in the heavenly scent of his undoubtedly expensive cologne and slightly wincing as he pulls out of you slowly. He ducks to pick up your fallen towel as he starts to clean you up.

The realization that it’s over doesn't quite hit you until Art helps you get dressed, buckling his belt back up only once you’re decent and in return you hand him a spare shirt so he doesn’t have to redo every button on the one you’d nearly torn off him.

“Thanks,” he smiles gratefully, pulling on your shirt which fits tighter around him than it would around you, though it’s nothing to complain about as every miniscule ripple of muscle is on display.

You’re both thinking the exact same thing as you exit the locker room, hand in hand with the same guilty expression on your face as you pass an incoming janitor who is too busy scowling to ask Art what he was doing in the women’s locker room. It’s obvious from the encounter that it won’t be your last and as Art drives you to the planned frat party, you’re even sure that it’s not the last of the night.

Time proves you right as you’re seated next to Art a few weeks later, curled into his side as you share a large plate of the appetizer combo at a local Applebees. It was the only thing open after a long day of matches and meets and steamy rendezvous in between. The two of you were going on steadier than the trunks of ancient trees as you continue to support each other, you attending all of Art’s matches ( even if it meant skipping a practice or two) and Art cheering for you at all of your meets. You’re not sure if it’s the consistent attendance, but the both of you were only getting better at your respective hobbies by the day, particularly Art who hadn’t lost a match since meeting you.

You’re both jokingly arguing over who gets the last quesadilla when a familiar woman stops near your table, joined by a man you’d never seen before, though you recognize him from several of Art's detailed stories. He straightens beside you, gathering himself to greet the new company.

“Hey guys, long time no see!”

“Art,” Patrick nods to his friend before smiling to you and offering his hand, one that you take without a second thought. “I’m Patrick.”

“I know,” you admit. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You must be Tashi.” you turn to the girl and you can’t help, but analyze the peculiarities of her expression. It’s clear she is content with her own man of choice, but something about the way she looks at you tells you that she’s still involved in the tennis philosophy you managed to screw out of Art. She looks at you like you’re a player she’s lost to. And from what Art’s told you, you're certain it’s the first time Tashi has lost.

“It’s nice to meet you.” she fakes a smile before pulling Patrick to the door, careful not to stay long enough for the conversation to lead anywhere important. It’s awkward and strange, but you know it’s for the best. You’re not particularly interested in anything she has to say anyways.

“Did you see that?” you ask, pointing in the direction of the doorway that the couple had used for an easy escape.

“What?” Art wonders, looking towards you in anticipation.

“I think she’s looking for a new winner.”

Art leans in to peck the apple of your cheek, assurance that no matter the circumstance, he’ll never be available to the likes of Tashi Duncan again.

“Must be because I’ve won,” he reasons, “-because I have you and there’s nothing she can do to separate us.”

You smile at his sweet words, praying that he never ceases to use his talent for affectionate poetry as you lean in to kiss him. Whether he wins or loses or even never plays again, you couldn’t care less about the outcome of his career. As long as Art’s happy, you’re prepared to take on any challenge you’re put up to, whether on the court or in the pool.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson fanfic #stanford art!!! #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #challengers #challengers fanfic #swimmer life #swimming #smut #mike faist

[revealed-in-a-delusion]

One of Us

Part one

Part Two

Synopsis: when you were younger, you were saved from a special grade curse by a sorcerer, he became your one-night stand and then, later on, your child’s father. You weren’t going to try and reach out to him about that one, but years after you found yourself standing in the Jujutsu High gardens ready to beg for your son’s protection. Tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, reader is a mom to Gojo’s child, reader is a non-sorcerer, your son is called Yasu, possible angst (depends on what you really consider as angst :’)), mentions of violence, a bit of foul language, curses are gross. Notes: English is not my first language, so even though I checked for mistakes and typos I made along the way, there can still be some . Sorry for that!

“Five.”

It’s been a really good day so far. It wasn’t deathly hot, but the sun was shining through the big fluffy clouds, and you could almost physically feel the ice cream you bought five minutes before already melting in the grocery bags you were carrying. Yasu was carrying some of the stuff in one of his free hands, the other deceptively loosely wrapped around your own — he was definitely a certified mama’s boy, so there was no way for you of getting away from his grip even though you were feeling like your arm was about to melt right out of it.

“What’s that?” you looked down on Yasu as he stared right in front of him, only rarely fixing his gaze on people passing by.

“Five,” he repeated. “Ugly things. I counted five in the last five minutes. That’s one ugly thing per minute.”

Walking a bit slower now, you carefully looked around, seemingly more concerned by not noticing any ugly things than how Yasu was by noticing so many. Knowing your son, he could easily call anything or anyone ugly really (you were… working on it), but also knowing your son, you were certain the ugly things were exactly the ones that somewhat made you have your son in the first place.

Ah, yes, there they were. As a non-sorcerer, you struggled with seeing curses that inevitably appeared everywhere where civilisation thrived. Or, better to say, you struggled with them way less than your definitely non-non-sorcerer son, who, although mentioning them very rarely, you were certain has been seeing them throughout his not-so-long life on everyday basis. Since the day you met your first curse face-to-face, you’ve been seeing curses or at least noticing something was off in the places the curses most certainly could appear. When it came to really small curses, which looked surprisingly like creatures from some Tim Burton fantasy-related stuff rather then curses, you were mostly oblivious to them until Yasu would point it out. The older he was getting, the less he would talk about them though. Either to not worry you, or he actually did not care. The second option was as possible as the first, since no curses tried to approach or interact with him. Because of that, although still cautious, you’d also grew way more indifferent to living in the world full of various curses.

However, the ones Yasu has mentioned just now were a bit unlike and way more eerie than the ones you were used to see. As you noticed one, it was already looking at you, for a while, you more sensed than deducted. The only thing it could do, really, since all it had were some cloud-like clot of a body and creepily impressive amount of eyes. Each and every one was following you both.

Or was it staring at your son?

“That is indeed a very ugly thing,” unnerved by the curse, you still tried to regain your composure and smirked at Yasu. He smirked back.

“Said so,” he shrugged and threw the grocery bag he was carrying over his shoulder. It was light enough for him to do so very smugly. “Oh, before we get home, can we have some donuts from that new bakery? I kinda thought the strawberry ones could be crazy good.”

You turned your head back for a second to find the eye-full curse still attentively watching your steps. Then you looked back at your unbothered son. You has almost believed his act of toughness, but he hadn’t been telling you about curses he’d been seeing for quite a while now. If he wasn’t bothered, would he say about it at all?

You sighed.

“Sure.”

The ice cream did not survive the trip to bakery, so, as soon as you got home, the messy remains of what was originally a bunch of ice cream sandwiches were thrown in the freezer. It was already past lunchtime, and you were too weak for your own good when it came to your son, so here you both were now, in the kitchen, you cutting the carrots for the soup and Yasu munching on one of his ‘crazy good’ strawberry donuts.

“You’re going to choke, baby,” you disapprovingly chuckled, bending a little back to give your son a side-eye. “Don’t bite down on it so much, it’s not going to run away.”

“How do you know that?” he argued with his mouth full, but still obeyed, slowing down and even taking a huge gulp of coconut milk. It was so cold that when Yasu put the glass down on the table, the condensate still immortalised his hand in a wet handprint.

“Good boy,” you murmured with a smile, getting back to vegetables in front of you.

After the donut was finished, Yasu was free to go to his room, however, he proceeded keeping you company. Most of the times he was a chatterbox, as loud as a whole bustling street, but you’d been walking around the city for the whole first part of the day, it was hot, and the table was appealingly cool — Yasu laid his cheek on top of it and was now silently watching you leisurely cooking late lunch.

After a long moment of peacefulness, Yasu suddenly jumped from the chair he was melting on. “Need to pee,” he informed, running almost like it was exactly one second before a disaster.

“Thanks for the info,” you chuckled, shaking your head and turning around. “Wait.”

He stopped at the doorway, bouncing a bit on his feet, and readily opened his mouth, receiving a peace of carrot from you before sprinting down the corridor. “Thanks!”

You heard a door opening and closing, and then, after about two minutes, opening and closing again. However, you never heard footsteps coming back to kitchen or at least going to turn on the TV in the living room. Thrown off by it, you decided to quickly check on Yasu and, since it was gonna be just a second, didn’t even put down your knife, only sliding it down your apron on both sides to clean it.

“Hey, baby,” you walked in the hallway, softly smiling in the direction you thought your son would be, “do you mind giving me a hand with cleaning the—“

He was standing there, frozen in place. Door to your bedroom was open wide, and Yasu was looking there, jus as wide-eyed, not like a deer in the headlights, but more like a dog that spotted something that could pose a huge threat — he wasn’t moving, but his whole little boy’s body was tense. He was scared. And he was focused.

“Yasu?..” you called out, suddenly afraid of talking too loud, and made a trial step forward. It was dark in your bedroom, and Yasu’s unblinking bright blue eyes seemed a few shades darker as well.

Wait. You hasn’t closed curtains in your bedroom yet.

It all happened within seconds. You saw it all like it took forever. Yasu slowly turned his head towards you, opened his mouth, but not a single word escaped his lips — you lunged forward, knife falling from your hand, your first instinct was to wrap yourself around your son, to protect him with your whole existence; the darkness lunged forward from your bedroom as well, almost like it was copying your movements, reflecting your thoughts and, what was the most terrifying — its main target was also your son. You changed your directions in milliseconds, turning in front of Yasu and putting your hand out. It disappeared in the darkness, immediately going numb.

Finally, you saw it too. It was not anything like darkness — it was a deformed, hideous pile of eyes and rotten body, constantly moving in chaotic ways, almost like there were thousands of maggots under a thin layer of coal-coloured flesh. It had a huge mouth-like line, and you definitely knew it was a mouth now that it had your arm almost fully in it.

“Mama!” Yasu’s high, scared voice broke through the ringing in your ears and the wall of cold sweat you broke into as soon as you saw the curse in your bedroom. It was definitely a curse.

All over again.

The mouth of the curse was gigantic, but it was obviously toothless, because your arm was in it, but it was still yours. It started to burn, and the burning became progressively worse with each passing second.

“Yasu, run,” you growled through your gritted teeth. You knew you could do literally nothing against it, and even if Yasu theoretically could, you were absolutely not going to try it out. There was no chance you would risk your kid’s life in attempt to save yours.

You slowly turned your head, struggling since burning was already almost impossible to ignore, and saw that Yasu was still standing there, staring where your hand disappeared behind the boiling cursed flesh. He was frozen still, and you jerked, yelling.

“YASU,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, “RUN!”

The curse twitched, shortly opened and closed its mouth, swallowing your arm even further down, and now you screamed because of the staggering pain — the burning had become unbearable at this point, nearly blinding you, felt like you were about to lose your consciousness at any given moment. Luckily, your screams snatched Yasu right out of his torpor, and he fled away, making your pain a little more bearable.

At least he will be safe, you thought, trying to lock your gaze on his back while you mostly felt than saw how the curse started swallowing you even further down. It didn’t matter at this moment, nothing mattered really, except you not knowing where Yasu would go after that. You started to black out, your thoughts became gooey and slow, and you started closing your eyes, thinking, hey, this case would probably attract some sorcerers, and Yasu didn’t have anywhere to go, right? He was something, really something, maybe a little bit mean to strangers and he tended to talk a lot, but he was also most certainly a sorcerer, and sorcerers seemed like a dedicated… cult? Bunch? Some weird curse anti-fanclub? Whatever they were, they wouldn't leave one of them on the streets, right? They wouldn't…

In the final moments, before closing your eyes — you stopped feeling any pain at this point — you smiled at Yasu. Wanting to see his little cute face one last time, you even managed to imagine him grabbing the knife you dropped at the kitchen doorway and dashing back to you.

What a sweet child, you thought. It was always destined to end like this, huh?

Your head finally went blissfully silent.

If this is heaven, it sucks, you thought, but if this is hell, they should bring it on because that's embarrassing.

Your head hurt like it was smashed in two, and it was spinning like you were riding on a deathly wheel for the past twenty four hours. Your mouth was a whole desert, and you winced, trying to move — it was a total mistake. Your whole hand rewarded you with a sting of pain similar to sensation of putting it in a pot of boiling water.

“I’d advise you not to do that,” as soon as you heard a male voice, you shot your eyes wide open. That was your second mistake, as it made your head hurt like it was split not in two, but in four now. You groaned, and it made your throat feel even worse. Third mistake, really. “Told ya!”

His voice was a little too cheerful for your taste (and condition), you haven’t heard your son’s voice — and your son would definitely not shut up right now, because you were definitely unconscious for some time and for some reason and—

Wait.

Wait.

“Where is my—“ you shot up on your bed, and it was your fifth mistake for the past three minutes. You tried to look around, fighting for your life against sudden dry urge to puke.

“Son? Oh, he’s fine,” you couldn’t quite focus your gaze on the man. Why was he even in your hospital room? According to all the white around you, that’s definitely where you were. “More than fine, actually, given he didn’t need our help with the whole first grade curse, y’know?”

You huffed, not following his really fast babbling — it did really remind you of someone very familiar — and rubbed your eyes, squinting at him. Your vision started slowly coming back to you.

“I would say ‘good to see you again’, but I’m not sure you can,” he said, leaning a bit forward. He had really distinguishable features, starting with his impressive height and finishing with how he was blindfolded and had this head of unduly familiar white hair.

“Yasu [Last Name] is fine,” he repeated again, his voice suddenly going way more serious. “Or should I say Yasu Gojo, hm?”

You looked at him blankly. Blinked. Blinked again.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Notes: it is literally my first time writing something in English (aside from my English assignments lol) and posting it, so I hope you enjoyed! Some advices are defo welcomed as long as they are not blatantly rude. Also, I'm sure there are plenty of fics with this idea, but I swear I haven't read any before writing this, so I'm sorry if someone had already written something similar.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo

[nathaslosthershit]

A Big Decision (Teen Dad!Oscar AU)

(Part 8 of Teen Dad!OP au [Can be read on its own])

Summary: It is time to pop the big question

The twins had finally gone down for a nap after spending so long fighting it. The kids, at age three, have started to fight them more and more, leading their parents to start discussing if it's time for naps to stop. Honey, being a stay at home mom, had needed the nap time as much as her kids had in the past, giving her time to catch up on chores or just rest for a little, so she was really trying to get as much time as she could with it. But maybe it truly was over.

She was surprised to see Oscar pacing in their living room once she went back downstairs.

“Well, aren't you home early?” She says as Oscar immediately wraps his arms around her, burying his head in her neck and kissing it.

“Missed you all, did what they needed from me extra fast so I could get home earlier. Thought we could maybe go out tonight?”

“Oscar, it's a friday night. Do you know how impossible getting a babysitter would be? The kids also take a while to warm up to babysitters, I don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Good thing I thought ahead then. Lando had a free night and has been begging to see them after the last ‘betrayal’ when they wore Sargeant hats. Even better, he said he would do it for free if it meant working towards being the favorite.”

“Oscar, you can’t get your coworkers to babysit your twin toddlers for free by dangling favoritism in their faces.”

“It was his idea! I am just capitalizing off of it. I got us a nice reservation too, we just need to let him now in the next…” Oscar checks his wrist where his watch usually rests but finds it missing, “uh now. So I need an answer quickly, are we going to stay home and eat the same leftovers we have had for the past two days, or are we going to make Lando Norris the happiest man alive by letting him watch our kids for free while we have an amazingly romantic dinner?” Oscar quickly asks as he takes his ex-fiancee, now girlfriend, in his arms.

“Fine, let's go out, we could use the night off. Let Lando know I appreciate him watching them for us.”

“Perfect, why don’t you go out, do something nice for yourself, I'll take over with the kids. We still have time before dinner tonight.” Oscar suggested in a strange tone as he kissed all surface area of her face.

“What is up with you today? I don’t mind it but you are so much more touchy.” She laughed.

“Don’t worry bout a thing.” Was all he replied as he walked away. “Tonight will be the best yet, I promise.”

That’s when it struck her, why he was being so weird. Surely, he was going to propose.

After the huge fight in Suzuka, she had called the engagement off, causing them to ignore each other’s existence unless it came to the kids, for seven weeks. Since they had gotten back together, life had been blissful. Sure, it was most likely the ‘honeymoon’ phase of their relationship, but even so, they had been so ready to marry each other before things started going downhill. Maybe days after they got back together isn’t the right time to get engaged, but they had been to hell and back together since they got pregnant at 18 years old, they were it for each other, always would be. 

Oscar taking off of racing had also been a blessing. It had been hard for him, certainly. But he had needed to learn how to put his family first again, a priority that got harder to keep up with since joining Formula 1. 

As she sat in the nail salon chair, getting what were hopefully her engagement nails done, she thought back to how far they’d come. 

Arriving home with her nails done, and after getting the most amazing massage, Honey was giddy as she greeted her, hopefully, soon to be fiancé. After an hour and a half of filling her head with wedding plans and thinking about their future when she would finally get to be Mrs. Piastri after 7 years, she was more excited then she was the first time he proposed. 

This excitement continued from the moment she stepped into the shower, till the moment she sat in her seat at the restaurant. Oscar had hired a driver for the night, saying it was a night all for them, no need to be careful of how many drinks they were going to have, he had also told her he had plans to take them to the beach after where they could finish the night with a picnic by the water and stay as late as they liked. 

There was one thing that was off about him though, while she had expected nerves, she had also expected excitement from him and soon noticed the more giggly she was, the more upset he seemed to be. Maybe he realized she had caught on?

She finally asked what was up after he spilt his drink.

“Seriously Osc, what is wrong with you? You claim this is such a nice night for just the two of us but you are a mess right now!”

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m like th-”

“Bullshit. I thought I made it clear how awful of a liar you are Oscar Jack Piastri, just tell me. Please?”

Silence filled the air as he stared at her, words failing.

“I will get up if you don’t-”

“I had a meeting with higher ups at McLaren earlier today and was told if I don’t come back then I am out of the contract and I agreed to come back for the Spanish Grand Prix!” Oscar blurted out.

Again, a heavy silence landed on the couple, both of them daring the other one to speak first.

Then, without a single word, Honey got up from the table and walked to the car leaving Oscar at the table, tears starting to fall.

Part 2 out now!

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Hey could you write a fem!reader x Spencer reid where reader was kidnapped by an unsub?

liaison!reader

all your belongs were left in your bedroom, phone included. there did appear to be a struggle, a chair was knocked over and your purse was slipped onto the floor with the contents scattered about. there was a dent, almost a punched hole in the wall near the door. specks of blood left behind.

“i- i was supposed to meet her. we- we always leave the office together, but she was staying behind and- and insisted i go home. it’s my fault.” spencer was shaking as he recalled seeing you just last night in your office. the two of you were talking for a while and you told spencer to head home, said you needed to finish some paperwork you forgot earlier.

if he just walked you home- “it’s not your fault.” hotch’s stern voice stopped spencer’s racing thoughts. “reid, i need you to focus. has she mentioned anything within the past week about strange occurrences happening? feelings that she was being watched?” jumping into ssa mode, looking for breadcrumbs on your trail.

spencer closed his eyes and shook his head, fingers twitching at his sides. “no- nothing. but maybe they- they were following our route after work. saw the opportunity when she was alone.” again the thoughts were screaming at him.

hotch just nodded and pulled out his phone, “garcia, i need you to pull up the security footage from last night. i need all angles of y/n, she’s currently missing.”

three days. it’s been seventy two hours since you were taken. spencer tried not thinking of the statistics that came with the chances of surviving a disappearance, but everyone knew they dwindled each second the clock hit another hour.

but there hasn’t been a body reported yet, so your chances were still high. the team is assuming that the unsub is planning to keep you hostage for up until a week at most, so they have four days left.

he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. he didn’t bother leaving the office, just camped out at his desk or in the conference room to lay on the couch as he thought. he wanted to tell you he loves you, that each second you spend together is a new memory he can always look back at clearly and yearn for more.

he can’t say he’ll protect cause that would be a lie now, but he’ll always try his hardest to stop this from happening again. spencer would wrap you tight into his embrace to keep the outside world from ever laying a harmful finger upon you.

“reid,” a call of his last name. he spun in his desk chair to see hotch running from his office. “we found him, now we just gotta get her.” spencer never moved that fast in his life than when him and hotch bolted for the stairs.

“y/n! y/n, it’s reid! y/n!” spencer ran through the houses layout with hotch and swat behind him. he didn’t care about himself in this moment, just finding you alive and breathing was his goal.

“found a basement,” he heard over his inear. he scurried down the stairs just as they bashed the heavy door down. he was about to call your name again when his was called first.

“spence,” a whisper in the dark space. flashlights flickered around the room before landing on you, chained to a brick wall as you sat on a dirty mattress. you were disheveled and bruised, you started to sob when spencer pulled you into his gentle hold.

“i got you. i got you, love.” spoken into your ear as his palm caressed the back of your head. your were a shaking leaf and he held you closer and let his lips press into your temple. “i got you.”

#erin writes spencer #erin’s blurb requests #a 1k special #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x liaison!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

[evilminji]

Oh... oh no it's all coming together ( o.o)

Ya'll remember my Danny haunts Space Games post?

That but MORE SO. Harder. Like... ZONE GAME DEVELOPER PASSION PROJECT harder. Because? Special Interest chemicals go brrrrr~☆

And you KNOW... you absolutely FUCKING KNOW! That Danny was minding his business, going about his life, hyped as FUCK for the new Space Game 5 (a niche game but so what? It has REALISTIC physics! It's set on THE MOON!).

Has NOT stopped rambling on about it.

Been driving everyone insane, because it won't be out for MONTHS.

When~?

Youngblood, probably, goes "So what? That sound BORING. There barely anything to DO in that! Not like one of OUR Super Cool ZONE Video Games™. OURS are way better! And we gave LOADS more options then THAT! Now can we get back to-"

Freeze frame, record scratch.

Wait. WHAT!?

Danny is violently answers out of that eternal child faster then you can say "Dude! Chill!" Got them manic Obsession Eyes. Oops. Youngblood forgot Danny is Space Obsessed. But also PROTECTION Obsessed. Meaning he can't LEAVE where he is protecting.

You know.... FOR SPACE.

He needs a work around to feed his Obsession. Video games do it. Since he can go INTO them, but leave at a moments notice, if trouble happens. It's like being both IN SPACE but also AT HIS POST! Double Obsession Feeding! Happy chemicals! Mmmmm, content ecto-goo~

But now? NOW?! He's learning there is BETTER Space?!

WHERE IS THE BETTER SPACE?! *kicks open the portal*

It? Is a terrifying time for everybody. Thanks A LOT, Youngblood. It takes like... five Amazons and Pandora herself tackling the little menace, to get him still long enough to get a semi-coherent answer out of him. Stop him trying to shake down random ghosts for answers they can't GIVE.

Youngblood is grounded.

DANNY has an Obsession-crash headache, is really embarrassed, but honestly no one blames him. No one acts their best when they're Obsession gets suddenly triggered that hard. It was a poor man offered El Dorado, a scholar all the secrets in the world. He got swept up in it.

That SAID, yes, there IS a video game shop near here. There are, of course, countless such shops. It's the Zone. There are countless EVERYTHING. It's the nature of the Zone. Just don't harrass any of the developers and all will be well, Phantom. They're not afraid to put YOU in time out as well.

Deal! ( /☆.☆)/ *grabby hands*

There? Are so, SO many games. For systems Danny's never even HEARD off. Alien ones, new ones, long dead ones. Zone exclusives. It's less a shop and more a sprawling maze.

His grin is FERAL.

Space. Gaaaaaaames!!!

The more realistic the BETTER. Give him that living vicariously like an Astronaut DREAM. But fantasy maybe! Or in the future! Or deep space! Alien mayhaps! There are a few. The blended Obsessions that are kinda like his. Space and video-games instead of Space and Protection.

And? Oh~

Oh they are so SO realistic.

Impossible to play on any Earth computer, too. Not a single chance. Wouldn't even TRY and run. But! He is a Fenton! And he WILL have his Space Games! If his parents can make a portal in their basement? HE can make a Bank of Ectoplasmic Supercomputers in his spare room! Or Bedroom! Depends on renting prices!

He GUTS every landfill for MILES for usable parts.

"Liberates" parts from Rogues, left and right. Fuck their evil plans! He has computers to build! The Justice League? Baffled. Alarmed. Nooooot his problem!!!

He completes his works and? Oh~ the smile is both terrifying and fangy.

Spaaaaaaaace~☆

He starts College. On line, of course, he refuses to leave Amity. And Online can be done at his pace, at his hours. So? For once? He's actually doing WELL. Even BETTER? It helps him remember to leave them games every once and a while. Eat something. Be human.

But... well... it's like a slow flip of his Obsession starving. Now that he has all the Space he could ever want? He... suddenly finds Amity... peaceful? Which is GOOD! It's... it's GOOD.

.........just not for him.

He can almost physically FEEL him mind unclenching it's death grip on the town. Finger by finger. Hands releasing, letting go, as they... reach for something. As he starts taking NOTE of crime rates in major cities. Alien attacks and Rogues, Heros spread too thin, people getting HURT.

In need of PROTECTION.

He... he doesn't WANT to be that fickle. He LOVES Amity! It's his HOME. He wasn't protecting it just because he craved something to protect! In the end, he drags it out longer then he probably should, argues with himself, ignores the problem. Is STUBBORN.

It's only after Dani starts talking about coming back to Amity to stay with him, do the college thing like he did, that he realizes...

Amity's not his Haunt anymore.

They talk. She's excited to help him find a nice shit hole of a city to protect, but also worried because he looks really gaunt. He may LOVE Space... but...

It's the GHOST in him that loves Space. The Astronaut. The Kid who refused to die, who ate a PORTAL TO THE EVERYTHING and crawled out still exsistant, who told Death not only "not today" but "not EVER"? That kid had something to protect. Was and is and always will BE, protection. Himself, his friends, his family or the town. Doesn't matter WHAT it is.

He refused to go, so he could protect them.

The part that DID, though, was starlight. And yeah, he needs it. Feeds it desperately. But it... doesn't exactly support his human half, you know? Doesn't anchor him. Make him want to eat and sleep, be human and alive, connect with people.

Space makes him ghosty.

Dani ultimately convinces him, after spraying him down with a hose and shoving a cheeseburger down his face, to move to Metropolis with her. They get ALIENS! Have Aliens HEROS! BIG DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTS. With lots and LOTS of people who need help! Plus? Gotham is within a day trip!

And UNLIKE Gotham, the Ecto isn't RANK AF in Metropolis.

Seriously, it smells like a burst sewer pipe over there.

Danny agrees. Can totally afford a modest lil place thanks to some patents. Makes one HELL OF A SCENE moving in. With his giant, ominous, futuristic, weirdly day glow green glowing bank of super computers... in this, "we love our Alien Blorbo" Metropolis.

Cause Green and Glowing sure ain't welcome round these parts! No SIR! Somebody call the COPS!

Danny isn't even half way through, when Superman lightly touchs down, a forced grin plastered to his face. The "please, God, not another Rogue. Not a new one. Please!" all but RADIATING off him.

Hmmmmm....

Danny... kiiiinda forgot not everyone was as "I see fuckin NOTHING, man" as Amity natives. Awkward. Welp! Fenton Oblivious Gene's, ACTIVATE!

"Oh, HIIIIIII~☆ Superman! What brings you round these parts? Gosh, it's an honor! Dani! Come meet SUPERMAN!"

Clark knows what he's doing. Danny knows, Clark knows what he's doing. They are both from the Midwest. They ain't gonna break first! You kidding? Clark still has to ask. Inserts himself by INSISTING on helping. A welcome to Metropolis! Ha ha! (How long we gonna lie for, kid? How long? I can do this all day.)

Clark? Learns that Danny has become ABSURDLY knowledgeable about terraforming, spacecraft, aerospace engineering and anything else related to Space Survival. Thanks to... his "games".

Which Clark is PRETTY sure? Are creatively set up, alien, training programs. Cause both of the Fentons are DEFINITELY at least partially non-human. But, eh. Who is he to judge? The "mad scientist" vibe, though... THAT is his to judge. Which he does.

Routine check ins!

And pasta bakes. Because good lord, Fenton, you are skin and bones! And? If it helps with both Watchtower maintenance AND some killer articles? Because Danny is a fountain of Space related knowledge who loves to share it? That's between Clark and the weird, semi-feral, gremlin he's adopted! (Yes, honey, he KNOWS Danny is a grown man. But I did it with BRUCE-)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing #zone video games au #space games au

[latenightdaydreams]

Please can you write about ex boyfriend Konig can't moved on from reader. He sneaked in her house and raped her. She resist him at first but then he just dicks her down.

You Can't Leave Me (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, rape, stalking, toxic ex, p in v, oral

1.8k word count

🚫

.

.

It’s now been eight months since you’ve broken up with König. When you found out about the trackers he put on your phone and car, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Since then, you’ve moved into your own apartment an hour away from König. Your phone number has been changed along with all social media deactivated.

The last several months have been hard, but you’ve been pushing through so well. Too well, actually. König never lost track of you. He knows your new address, phone number, job, and schedule. You changed your scenery, but not who you are. So, when you left one day, he knew where to look.

Of course, you move to your favorite city. You know König hates the city. He never wanted to move here. You move into the apartment that is only ten minutes from a bookstore, one that you become a frequent customer of quickly. König knows you like the back of his hand. There is no escaping him.

One thing he didn’t expect was you finding someone so quickly. It’s only been eight months. You were together for five years. It should take you longer to move on before realizing there is no one else for you. What the fuck is this?

König walks behind you at a distance as you walk to your date. Wearing a yellow summer dress compliments your body, paired with white sandals. Is that…make-up? That’s not right, you don’t wear make-up; you don’t need it. You’re so naturally beautiful. 

He watches you walk into a café. A very handsome brunette man stands and hugs you. His hand resting above your ass, comfortable with your body as if he’s touched it already. When did he miss this? He glares at the two of you before walking away and going to your apartment.

While you’re out on your nice little date, König breaks into your apartment. Not really breaking in when he finds your spare and uses it, right? He enters your apartment for the first time, taking a deep breath. It smells just like you.

König walks throughout your home, looking at the new photos on the wall of your city friends. One of you with this new guy. He knocks it over. He continues on to your bedroom, seeing your bed is messy; you never make it. His eyes drift to the floor where he sees a pair of black underwear. With little thought, he stands and walks to them. A little white stain, you were aroused? By what? Who?

König lifts the underwear under his mask and to his nose, taking in a deep breath. Exquisite. He shoves the underwear into his pocket and keeps looking. Stepping into your bathroom, he turns the light on. His eyes fall to a little purple case near the sink. It can’t be. Is his little Schatz on birth control?

A sharp stinging feeling deep in his gut travels up to his heart. The mental image of that pathetic worthless man going raw into his Kleine Perle disgust him. You’re whoring yourself out, he knew you’d be lost without him.

He turns the light off and sits on the toilet, pulling out your panties to sniff while he waits for you. An hour passes and he began to grow worried that maybe you went back home with that loser. Right as he was going to check his phone, he hears your keys in the door.

You enter your apartment while on the phone. For safety, you always call a friend while walking.

“Yeah, I’m home now though. I love you, Ann. I’ll see you Tuesday.” Once you hang up, you kick your shoes off and place your purse on the hook.

As you pass your photos in the living room, you notice the photo of you and Finn has been knocked over. A wave of anxiety rushes over you. You try to reason with yourself. It’s almost been a year and you’ve never seen König. He’s probably moved on the same way you have.

You enter your bedroom and turn the lights on. The door closes behind you as you take off your dress, tossing it into the hamper. You grab out a pair of pajamas, placing them on your bed. Reaching behind your back, you unhook your bra, tossing it aside. When you do, you look down at the floor and notice your black pair of underwear is missing.

Maybe you put it in the hamper? Slowly, you walk to the hamper and look inside. At that moment, your bathroom door opens. Your eyes go up and meet the dreadful pale blue eyes. Your heart beat sky rockets, your feet moving ahead of your brain as you turn to run.

König is fast. He reaches out and wraps his arms tightly around your stomach. Lifting you in the air as you kick and scream, slamming you down hard on the bed. The air leaves your lungs and your screaming stops. König pulls out your underwear from his pocket and shoves it into your mouth. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, pulling off his belt with one hand and tying your hands together.

When you try to kick him to get away, but he just climbs on you, resting his weight on you. “Where are you trying to go, Hase?” He growls.

Your screams are muffles as you try to squirm away from König.

“I saw your birth control pills.” He grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls your head back. “That is still my pussy. You are still mine.”

You shake your head no and try to break free from his grasp. His 6 ’10 280 lb body is just too big to fight back against.

König’s hands begin to travel along your mostly naked body. Your skin is just as soft as he remembers. His finger hooks your panties and moves it down. You buck backwards like a horse and try to kick him. A heavy hand comes down and spanks your ass cheek, you whimper.

“Stay still. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” König finishes pulling your underwear off completely before standing off of your body and getting undressed.

“It’s a shame you thought that you could get away from me. Bigger shame you decided to give away my body to another man. You know I don’t like that.” You can hear his pants drop to the floor finally.

König walks to your body and drags you to the center of the bed. He joins you on the bed, spreading your ass cheeks and pushing his face between them, taking a deep breath.

“That’s still my fucking pussy.” He grabs your ass and jiggles them before climbing over you, one leg on either side of your thighs.

His heavy cock slaps against your cheeks. He spits in his hand and rubs it around the tip of his cock, rubbing the tip along your folds. The feeling of his cock being pressed up against your entrance makes you squirm your hips, but that doesn’t stop König.

König spreads your ass cheeks with his hands so he can have a clear view of your pussy. He looks down at you and pushes himself into you. You tense up, only making yourself tighter for him. A loud moan leaves his lips as he buries his cock deep inside of your pussy.

He doesn’t allow you any time to adjust to his enormous dick as he slams his hips into you. You shake your body, trying your best to break free of his belt around your hands. Eventually you manage to spit your underwear out.

“Stop!” You cry out as you kick your legs as you writhe under him.

“Just take my cock.” He groans.

One of his hands comes down on your head and pushes your face into the pillow, holding you there as he picks up his pace. He rams his cock hard enough to cause pain, forcing the full length of his cock into your tight cunt. Your cries are muffled.

König yanks his head back and forces your head up. “What? You can’t handle my cock anymore?”

“Fuck you! Get off of me!”

“What? You don’t like my cock anymore?” He asks in a condescending tone.

“No!”

“Shut up.”  He pulls his cock out of your pussy, grabbing you by your hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

König puts you on your back and slaps his cock on your lips, rubbing it back and forth. You try to turn your head but he grabs your jaw and forces you to stay still. The tip of his cock presses against your lips pressed tightly together.

“Open.” He lightly taps the side of your face.

Your mouth opens and König shoves himself inside. He forces his way into your throat, finger tracing the outline of his cock appearing. You gag, causing spit to come out of your mouth and on to your face. König keeps pressing in until his balls are resting on your face. Not being about to breathe, you kick and arch your body.

“Shhhh, calm down. You can take it.” He pushes even further.

König begins to rock his hips, fucking your throat. His heavy balls hitting your face over and over. This causes you to gag again and you throw up, turning your head to the side and vomiting on the floor. He laughs, “Are you going to be a good girl or should I keep going?”

“I’ll be good.” You pant with tears in your eyes.

“Gut.” König growls as he walks to the other side of the bed, joining you.

He lays behind you, lifting one of your legs and tells you to hold it. His hand covered in your spit handles his cock as he slips it into your pussy. Your gummy cunt welcomes him back. König grabs your face and turns your face to his.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Mine.”

“Say it, Schatz.” His voice trembling as he bullies his cock deep inside of you.

You try to suppress the orgasmic feeling his cock gives you. As much as you like Finn, his cock is nothing compared to König’s. No matter how toxic König is, you can’t help but to miss him.

“Yours.” You moan out bashfully, hating yourself.

“What was that?” A grin crosses König’s lips.

“It’s yours!” You angrily moan.

“Fuck yes!” König rolls his body on top of yours, your leg pushed over as he grasps your hip and thigh. As he thrust into you, he pulls your back to meet his thrust.

Pitiful mewls freely leave your lips; a mixture of shame and euphoria consumes your whole body. You look back at him, your eyes meeting, as you see the same possessive glare in his eyes as he always has. Will you ever escape this man?

#tw: noncon #please read the warnings #konig #konig x reader #konig cod #könig #konig x y/n #könig x reader #könig smut #könig cod #konig smut #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig x you #konig x reader smut #cod smut #smut #cod konig #könig call of duty

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Another Merlin au prompt! This time featuring Morgana, because I haven't been giving her enough love recently!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In a season 4 au, the Cailleach never tells Morgana that Emrys is her destiny and her doom. Instead, she merely tells Morgana that Emrys is her destiny. So, instead of fearing Emrys, Morgana believes that Emrys is the key to achieving her destiny and conquering Camelot. Thus, she starts her hunt to try and find an ally in Emrys.

Through the Druids and the Catha, Morgana learns that Emrys is the Old Religion's god of magic and is destined to come to the mortal plane in the form of a human to bring magic back to the land after a great tragedy. Morgana hadn't heard of Emrys before since Morgause (in her hubris) did not focus on educating Morgana in the gods and goddesses that they were supposed to worship, instead focusing on teaching her powerful, dark magic and battle strategies against their enemies.

So, Morgana spends most of seasons 4 trying to find Emrys and ally herself to him. Morgana eventually learns from a druid that defected to her cause that Emrys has already taken his human form and lives in Camelot, working in secret to bring about magic's return to the land. Morgana was shocked by this, since it was possible that Emrys had been in Camelot even before she knew of her magic, but also pleased, as having Emrys already established inside Camelot would make a takeover much easier!

Morgana, from there, starts attributing her every victory and defeat to Emrys in some way. She succeeds in killing Uther through the enchanted necklace? Emrys must have been in on her plans and delivered the final blow while Arthur trusted him to try to heal his father! Her plan to drive Arthur and Gwen apart through shade Lancelot succeeds? Because Emrys ensured that no one suspected the shade before he did his job, of course! Her magic fails during her takeover of Camelot? Emrys must be angry with her for trying to conquer Camelot without him! She makes it out of Camelot alive even without her magic? Praise Emrys!

Morgana's beliefs are further solidified when Aithusa heals her. She asks Aithusa who she is, how is there another dragon? Aithusa is too young to speak, but she instead shares images and ideas with Morgana. In Aithusa's memories, Morgana couldn't quite see the face of the dragonlord who hatched Aithusa, but she knew how that magical power felt! It must have been Emrys, as the druids also told her that he was the last dragonlord! He must have sent this young dragon, his own kin, to heal Morgana and keep her safe before their destinies came to fruition!

When they're captured by Sarrum, Aithusa called out for her dragonlord, and after a couple hours in that damned well, a golden light filled the entire space, and their magic-binding chains were removed, allowing them to climb out of the pit and escape. There was no doubt in Morgana's mind that Emrys was the one who saved him, but to her disappointment, he was not there when they escaped.

(Merlin, back in Camelot, performed a ritual to send his magic to aid Aithusa, wherever she was. He could sense her cries and her fear, but he couldn't pin down her location, so this was his only way of sending help.)

By season 5, Morgana's patience was growing thin. She knew that Emrys probably had some grand, years-long plan for how they were going to conquer Camelot and let magic reign, but she wanted the throne that was rightfully hers! But to do that, she needed Emrys. So, she sought out the Diamiar to ask how she could find Emrys. Unfortunately, she never found the Diamiar and was forced to retreat.

Fast forward to Kara being captured and Mordred begging for her life and getting locked up with her. In this au, Merlin helps break Mordred and Kara out of the dungeon and helps them leave Camelot safely, leading to Mordred not growing bitter against Merlin, but still holding animosity towards Arthur for not being merciful towards Kara.

Kara takes advantage of Mordred's newfound anger towards Arthur and convinces him to join Morgana's forces. Morgana welcomes Mordred with open arms, but he's hesitant to tell her Emrys's true identity after Merlin saved him and Kara. However, after Morgana tells him that the only way that they can defeat Arthur is with Emrys fighting alongside them, Mordred reluctantly tells Morgana Emrys's true name: Merlin.

Morgana is absolutely shook by this news. How could her ultimate ally, the key to her victory, be one of her worst enemies?! He was Arthur's most loyal lacky! He saved Arthur's life repeatedly, keeping her from the throne! He had poisoned her!

Morgana was in absolute denial over this news, until she started thinking over it. When she had first told Merlin about her magic, he had tried to help her and led her to the druids. Yes, he had poisoned her, but that was the last push she needed to join Morgause. Perhaps that was his plan from the beginning? To ensure that she joined her sister and fulfilled her destiny in becoming a high priestess?

And his position as Arthur's closest confidant and servant gave him the anonymity to not be noticed by the nobility and the perfect place to manipulate Arthur, weakening him and his kingdom from within! Emrys truly was a mastermind with a plan to take down Camelot! And to think, she had fallen for his disguise as a cowardly servant as well! He was effortlessly playing all of Camelot for fools!

And oh, Morgana could see his vision! Emrys- Merlin- would crush Arthur's heart, his very soul, by revealing his power and his glorious destiny of returning magic to the land. All Merlin would have to do was pull the rug out from underneath Arthur, and Arthur would be so heartbroken and weakened by the betrayal that Camelot would be ripe for the taking!

Perhaps Merlin would revel in Arthur's humiliation? Wrap obedience spells around the king's mind and make Arthur his servant? What glorious justice that would be!

The most powerful sorcerer in history, magic incarnate, living in Camelot and having the absolute trust of the king! Everything was poised so perfectly! Morgana had to give Emrys credit for this, he had set everything up, from Morgana's rise to her true power to surrounding Arthur with commoner knights who owed more to Merlin than they did to the king, so that Arthur's end and magic's rise was inevitable. She did wish he would have told her about his plans sooner though. They could have been working together all this time!

Still, this meant that all of the pieces for magic's takeover of Camelot were in place! All she had to do was reach out to Emrys and let him know that she was ready, and they could conquer Camelot!

Mordred tries to warn her that Merlin is trying to fulfill the prophecy is a different, more peaceful way than what she has in mind, but Morgana brushes that aside. Emrys was her destiny, the key to her success!

However, after luring Merlin into the crystal cave and finally offering an alliance with him so they could take over Camelot, Morgana was shocked to be vehemently rejected by Merlin, with Merlin telling her that there was no way that he would ever betray Arthur, Emrys or not.

Morgana was not really expecting that and was forced to revise her plans. She needed Merlin to be on her side if she was going to have any chance at taking the throne from her undeserving brother, but Merlin, despite all of his power and destiny, was reluctant to join her and take his rightful place of power.

It was rather confusing for Morgana. Why would Emrys truly want Arthur on the throne? Was Arthur already his thrall, and he didn't want to lose his puppet king? No, if Emrys had Arthur under his power, magic would already be returned to the land.

Perhaps it was some sort of odd affection that Merlin had towards Arthur? That must be it! Merlin had been forced to tolerate Arthur for so long that some sort of forced feelings of connection towards Arthur had wormed their way into Emrys's heart!

So, Morgana goes on a campaign to win Merlin's loyalty over to her by 1) trying to undermine Arthur's rule and make his look like a fool and 2) make herself look like the better option. She has dozens of spies in Camelot and has sorcerers who can scry for her, so she knows when Arthur treats Merlin like a fool and dismisses his thoughts like an arrogant prat, and she chooses those days to send Merlin gifts, like spell books filled with useful curses, enchanted jewelry to make him more powerful, and the severed head of an assassin who managed to land a cut on Merlin while he was trying to kill Arthur (on Morgana's orders, but that's just semantics).

Morgana also sees how Merlin's living situation with Gaius isn't great, so she sends him things like new luxurious clothes and rich foods, which are things that she supposes that he'll have to get used to after he takes his rightful place as the conqueror of Camelot.

Merlin, however, remains suspicious of these gifts and knows that Morgana is trying to tempt him to her side, so he ignores them for the most part. Eventually, Arthur finds out about Morgana trying to bribe his manservant with extravagant gifts and loses his mind over it. He knows that Merlin would never betray Camelot to the likes of Morgana, but the fact that Morgana has set her sights on Merlin puts him very ill at ease.

And this, of course, devolves into a tense game of tug-of-war between the Pendragon siblings. Both of them are tripping over themselves trying to prove themselves to be more deserving of Merlin's loyalty, while Merlin just wants to go back to sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation of this prompt! I think that seeing a high-stakes sibling rivalry between Arthur and Morgana over Merlin would be pretty funny!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

Also, please let me know if there are any other Merlin characters you'd like me to feature! I'm working on some Gwen-focused and Lancelot-focused prompts, but let me know if there are any others you'd like to see!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my rambling! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin au #morgana #emrys #merlin prompts

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

#challengers x reader #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #taylor swift #so high school #ttpd #the tortured poets department #the anthology

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I know | Megumi x Reader Ft. Gojo

Request: Megumi and the reader no longer know how to meet on the sly without looking too suspicious, but Megumi adamantly refuses to let Gojo know about their relationship. What if the reader is a student from Kyoto and everything happens during the exchange event? And, conveniently, Megumi doesn't know that there are cameras installed throughout the forest monitored by the teachers.

Pairing: Implied!Megumi x Fem!Reader; platonic Gojo/Megumi

Content Warning: Fluff, main focus is Gojo and Megumi, Megumi is a moody teen

For @yaninnaacu

Satoru likes to tease people. For his own entertainment and to try to build friendships with them. It also didn’t hurt if, in the end, his actions made their lives a little better and brought some happiness to them. A small laugh in a harsh world like this could mean a lot, the right push could change someone’s entire outlook.

So, he likes to play the fool, try to get people to let their guard down so he could wiggle in through an unknown crack and maybe make their world a little easier to breathe in and it wouldn't be a lie to say his own as well.

This holds doubly true for one precious student in particular.

“You seem excited. Ready for the big exchange event?”

Megumi stops his stretching, rotates his neck a few times to get out the last of the cricks, before turning to face him. The training grounds are empty tonight, save for the two them, and Satoru has never seen Megumi this interested in training.

“Not particularly.”

He says that but the Megumi that Satoru knows would never be this determined. Megumi may not have realized it but Satoru has been watching him train ever since he came back to the school. He hasn’t had much time to watch over the other students since training Itadori, but he knows that they’ve been making strides. Megumi included.

“I heard about what happened with Aoi,” Satoru says, poking around in the younger boy’s wounds to see if he can find the reason for this sudden burst of passion. “I thought you’d be interested in fighting him.”

“I’m over it.”

“Really?” Satoru says with a laugh. He has no reason not to believe Megumi, but he still has the suspicion it might be a little deeper than that. “Something has to be on your mind. You’re not normally this energetic.”

He racks his mind, trying to find the last time he remembers the kid having any sort of pep to his step so to speak. He’s always been a bit…restrained except when—

“Oh.”

Gojo smiles.

“I remember now.” Satoru chuckles lowly and dares to pat the boy on the shoulder. It’s a little harder than he was aiming for and Megumi jerks forward with a scowl. “It’s because your girlfriend is coming. Her clan enrolled her into Kyoto, right?”

If there is one thing about Megumi, it’s that he doesn’t change one bit with age. That glare is still just as scary as it was when he was five.

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Megumi corrects, his eyes downcast. “We’re…friends.”

“Still!?” Satoru really, really doesn’t mean to sound insensitive but he is honestly surprised. Megumi always treated you politely and with more regard than others. Granted that bar was so low that people in hell could trip on it but to Satoru it was noticeable that Megumi held some type of soft spot for you. Satoru clears his throat to try to regain his composure and hopefully stop Megumi from stabbing him with his eyes. “Ya’know events like these provide the perfect opportunity to impress someone; show them what you’re made of.”

Satoru means it. He genuinely wants to help, and he doesn’t think you’d be adverse to giving Megumi a chance if Megumi would only give himself the chance first.

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“Don’t be that way,” he says, extending his arms out in an effort to offer his time to his little student. “How about you train with me one more time before the event?”

“No thanks,” he disagrees immediately, and Satoru deflates over the fact that Megumi didn’t even stop to think about it before grabbing his pack and walking away.

Megumi isn’t willing to take that step yet, he guesses.

The morning of the Goodwill Event comes faster than most. The teams set off while Satoru and the other teachers find a cozy room to set up in and watch the festivities. Everything seems to be going well so far with the teams fighting and breaking off in different directions.

It isn’t long after when Satoru picks out one student from Kyoto different from the others. Satoru could tell that the other students were aiming to pick each other off one by one, and he had his ideas on why that was the case. However, the crow focused on you noticed you weaving through the forest, ignoring the other students in the vicinity, as you made your way to a very specific destination based on your speed and concise path.

That is until you’re stopped by one of the curses released into the area.

“Utahime, it looks like your little busy bee is engaged in battle with a curse.”

The other teacher doesn’t turn her direction, focusing on another screen.

“Fushiguro is on a direct path towards the fight as well.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, his blindfold widening with the strain. Sure enough, the two of you collide on both screens, and it isn’t but a matter of seconds to take out the curse together. It isn’t unusual for the two schools to fight together; after all, the rules did state that exorcising curses was the top priority. Next, would be—

“Now, what will they do.” Satoru tilts his head to the side, watching Utahime as she brings a hand to her mouth and mutters behind it. “Normally, I’d have no doubts that she can beat him. However, given the terrain, she’s at a disadvantage.”

Satoru hums to himself, wondering the exact same thing. The two of you should be pretty evenly matched in this situation; but as he watches the screen, he notices that neither of you look interested in fighting.

In fact, Megumi is touching you, hand crossing over your face and moving your head around. Satoru can barely make out the sight of blood on your face with the screen this zoomed out but it doesn’t matter as Megumi wipes it off. There’s only a small moment where Megumi lets his forehead press against yours as he cups your cheeks.

Gojo raises his blindfold over one of his eyes, just to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. Surely, he is when Megumi briefly kisses you. He can barely contain his laughter. He knew it! There was no way you two weren’t dating!

“Stop talking to yourself, 'hime, and look.”

Utahime looks back up at the screen, her face scrunching. “Are they?”

“I knew it,” Gojo repeats his thoughts. This time he does laugh as he kicks up his feet and throws his hands behind his head.

“What are they saying?”

“I never took you for a voyeur.”

“Will you shut up!” she says before glaring back at the screen. Her eyes search out for Megumi, who has already headed out of this broadcast area to the other. “Where is he going?”

“Looks like he’s headed straight to Kamo. I can’t imagine him smooth-talking the information out of her but there it is. My students really do take after me. I’m so proud.”

“You’re insufferable,” Utahime replies, scoffs, then returns to watching the battles unfold.

After the events of the Goodwill Event and the chaos of that Special Grade intruding on the event, Satoru takes the time to check on all the students injured during the fight. He makes his last stop Megumi, who had spent the longest time getting the spores taken out of his stomach before being patched up by Ieiri.

With his hand on the door handle, Satoru stops outside the door to his room. He can sense two people’s energies from behind the wall, one from Megumi and the other from…oh…looks like someone came to comfort Megumi before he could get the chance.

The words from behind the door are low.

How are you feeling? Does it hurt?

Satoru laughs to himself when Megumi obviously tells you to stop mothering him and that you’re worrying too much. He doesn’t know why the little guy still has such a hard time letting someone care about him, but it comforts him to know that you’re not willing to accept it as he hears a harsh “stop being stubborn and let me see.”

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize when he presses on the door too hard. The door squeaks inward causing him to tumble in a little clumsily on his tall limbs and for you two to pop up like spooked deer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he dismisses clumsily – caught red handed. “I was coming to check on my favorite student, but it looks like his girlfriend is already taking good care of him.”

It’s adorable how your eyes widen and your mouth gapes as you sputter out an incoherent excuse. “No, I was just uh—” your fluster only increases when you finally realize you’re still holding the edge of his shirt in your hand while his hand is gripped on your wrist obviously midway in stopping you. You aggressively push his shirt back to him, making him hiss as you tap his stomach. “This is a misunderstanding, sensei.”

“It’s alright,” Satoru says, raising his palms and flattening them to let you know it’s fine to calm down. “I already know. No need to pretend.”

 “How do you—”

“Funny thing about the event,” he starts, taking one long step in the room to the nearest chair. He spins the chair around, sitting in it backwards with his legs hugging the chair and his chin rested on the curve of the back. “Teachers keep a close eye on the students, accessing their battle prowess and team strategies. It just so happens that to do that we need visuals. Mei Mei’s crows…recording devices…cameras…yeah I don’t think there’s many blind spots to miss any battles or when a pair of students want some alone time together.”

Backing away from Megumi, you place your hands in your hands and bow your head towards him. “Sensei, we didn’t mean to do anything against conduct. I just…wanted to help Megumi and the vesse—Itadori.”

“I’m not lecturing you, so there’s no need to be so formal,” Satoru tells you, not that he minds having someone who gives him a little respect around him. “I want to give you my blessing.”

Megumi is the first to object, his nose stiff and scrunched as he bares his teeth at Satoru, mostly in surprise. “No one needs your blessing, and you’re not my parent.”

“Ouch. So touchy,” Satoru remarks, his smile stretching as he glances back over to you. It’s cute how he gets so worked up over something so small, well, he guesses young love isn’t so small, and he can’t help the little urge he has to tease him. “He’s so grouchy. Honestly, you’re way too good for him.”

Megumi hisses. “Get. Out.”

 “No, it’s okay,” you say with a smile, stand, and gently press your hand to Megumi’s shoulder. “I should get going. I’ll come check on you later, Megumi.”

You make a beeline to the door, pausing only to give a short bow.

“Good night, sensei.”

“Good night,” Satoru waves casually, as if he didn’t know that bow just now was to hide your flustered face as you scurry out the room. “She ran off…Cute.” Despite your actions being endearing, the same couldn’t be said for the side-eye he was receiving from the dark-haired boy. “Don’t look at me that way. How come you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Because you’d act exactly like that,” being the answer.

“Okay, okay. You’re not completely wrong,” he agrees. He willingly fell into Megumi’s irritation, riding the waves of it to hopefully end up on a small island where forgiveness was waiting.

Megumi didn’t give him that.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out already? I’m recovering.”

Satoru thinks if Megumi has the energy to keep up his attitude then that must mean he’s doing well, which is good given the nature of his wounds from earlier. Satisfied, Satoru decides to give his charge some peace.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll talk about you lying to your teacher later.”

He doesn’t give any mind to the growl Megumi gives him or when the boy ignores his wave by adjusting his gaze to the flowers on the nightstand.

Satoru would lie to say that attitude doesn’t hurt sometimes, but that’s okay. Even if Megumi was distant about it, even if he still didn’t want to give in and accept the fact that Satoru very much cares about him, you care about him as do his other classmates.

If Megumi could remember to accept that and to allow the rest of you to hold onto him and learn to hold onto you in return, then he’d be alright.

So, Satoru stops at the door, because he just has to make sure that Megumi doesn’t make the same mistakes that he did. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Satoru sighs when he doesn’t receive a response. “You should treat her well. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I know,” he reassures him bluntly.

“You can always ask me for anything,” he offers, without the bravado and grandeur, and he lays himself out, extends an invisible hand for Megumi to reach towards, just as he always has whether the boy wanted it or not.

And Megumi falters, if only for a brief second, he lets his eyes meet Satoru’s a bit more softly, with less caution, and his voice has lost all the bite that was there moments ago.

“…I know.”

Megumi forces his eyes back down and refuses to look at him. It reminds him of the kid who let his guard down enough to fall asleep next to him for the first time many years ago.

“Good talk then!” he remarks with a thumbs up and a laugh. Otherwise, he might not keep his composure that the warm feeling coating his being makes. “Make sure to get some sleep. We want you well rested for tomorrow’s events.”

Satoru doesn’t expect a good night as he grabs the door but he doesn’t expect Megumi to call out to him either.

"Hey."

It’s with a tinge to his ears that Megumi finally looks at him again.

“...Thanks.”

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fluff #dad gojo #gojo fluff #megumi and gojo

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would LOVE to see a TFA!Megatron x human reader of some kind. I love him so much, such an intimidating and scary but fun version of him 🤭 I want it to be in the First Contact AU still, but why not sorta spice things up and make it have soulmates in it? Wouldn't it be cool to have a giant alien warlord from space destroying cities to find their soulmate? 😳🫣 lol if this idea sucks de bout it, but I'm excited to see your works that's transformers g/t related!

- ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST CHAMELANON! PLEASE ENJOY!!! God I love TFA Megs so much. He's so hot AUGH!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: TFA Megatron x Human Reader (Soulmate Au)

Word Count: 2961

Summary: Soulmates exist, and you have one. Proof exists in the form of soulmarks: a red thread-like tattoo imprinted on a person's arm. Only when one meets their soulmate and touches them will the soulmark disappear. Unfortunately, you have yet meet yours. After many lonely days wishing you would be reunited with your Other Half, a chaotic encounter with the leader of the Decepticons has you realizing one thing. And it is that soulmates persevere across time...and space.

Soulmates are real.

  Since you were a young child, this is what you have been told. Soulmates are real, and every person has one. The special red thread that connects two people twines between the left hand’s fingers, up the arm, snaking under the clavicle and ending directly over the heart. Bright like the blood running through your veins, it is your life force, your compass leading you to your Other Half, with your hand outstretched to touch theirs…and only then will the red thread disappear.

  You’ve spent hours staring at that red line, tracing the pattern it makes on your flesh. It’s been a constant presence throughout your life…and it has never gone away. No matter who you’ve met, who you have fallen in love with, who you have fallen out of love with, it is all the same. The thread remains, and you continue to carry a lonely heart within you.

  “Give it time,” your loved ones tell you. “You’ll find them. It won’t happen in a heartbeat. You need to be patient.”

  Yes, you know. Patience, after all, is a virtue. Plenty go about their lives and never even see their thread go away. An existence without your soulmate can be a perfectly happy one. But you want to know who your Other Half is. You want to be one of the lucky few who can be counted as soulfully complete.

  Sitting in a coffee shop with a hot chocolate cupped between your hands, you find yourself once again observing your thread. The morning is cold; you can feel the wind trying to bite you through the shop’s large glass window. People bundled in their coats, scarves, and gloves hurry by, heads down and minds focused on whatever tasks they have at hand. Looking out, you observe them with a blank stare, not really observing them at all.

  “Anything I can get you right now?” The older woman who owns the shop comes up to you, offering a plate of freshly baked cookies. “Chocolate chip? They’re right out of the oven!”

  You offer her a thin smile and shake your head no. She understands; she’s seen you forlornly watching couples pass by. Sighing, she sets down the plate. “You know,” she says. “I didn’t meet my soulmate until I was in my early 40’s.”

  You raise an eyebrow. She sees your surprise and chuckles. “I know, right? A little late to be meeting my Other Half. But hey, it happened. And now look at me! I’m living a good life, running a successful business, and I got to see my thread go away. Those are all things I never thought I’d get to experience. All I had to do was wait a little!”

  You cringe. Yes, waiting. It seems all you’ve been doing is waiting, waiting, waiting, all for a soulmate who might never come. You and your damn waiting.

  She notices your mood go sour and sighs again. “Listen, all I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t lose hope. You’ll meet your soulmate. I know you’ve probably heard this before, but…you need to give the world time to sort things into order. That’s all you really can do when you're dealing with the threads of fate.”

  You mumble a quiet “Thank you” and try to look appreciative, when you feel anything such. She says no more, but leaves you a cookie before heading off to tend to the other customers. You watch her go, then lift up your left hand. Your thread is vibrantly bright, showing no signs of fading any time soon.

  Yeah, you think sadly while you bite into the cookie. No hope lost whatsoever.

  You are walking out of the shop when it happens. The door’s little chimes clink together as you swing it open and bid the owner farewell. And then, a pain unlike any other hits you with the force of a freight train. It tackles you and makes you stagger, knees buckling and bringing you to the ground in a matter of seconds. Your heart starts slamming against your ribcage so hard you think a bone might crack. Pushing your hand against your chest, you pant and watch your vision swim as you attempt to get to your feet, yet fail and fall down once more.

  Multiple people help you up, each one asking if you are alright. You hold out a shaking hand as if to assure them, but no sound comes out of your mouth when you try to speak.

  Someone says, “Call an ambulance!” You want to tell them you are fine; unfortunately, you can’t seem to form any coherent words. All that rises up from your throat is a thin, wispy whimper.

  The chaos continues when out of nowhere, an explosion erupts further down the street. People scream and scramble back. The people holding you let go, and you nearly topple right over again. Shouts of panic and confusion fill the air, confirming that no one has a clue as to what is going on.

  Two dark shapes scream through the sky. You look up just in time to see a fighter jet fly past with a bomber plane following behind. For a moment, you think this is some sort of military aerial show-why such a thing would be happening in the middle of winter, you don’t know-but it’s the only conclusive argument you can decide on what you are seeing.

  But then the two planes start descending. They roar over the crowded street, then begin morphing and shaping themselves into creatures completely different from the disguises they previously sported. You recognize them: they are Cybertronians. Robots from outer space who have become borderline celebrities in Detroit since arriving here months earlier. These two, however, aren’t members of the heroic Autobots who help protect the city. They are Decepticons. The villains, the destroyers. The bad ones.

  The smaller of the two stretches his arms over his head. He laughs maniacally as he watches people run. “Look at them, Lugnut! They’re scurrying away like little ants!”

  The other Deception growls and pays no mind to his partner. “Silence, Blitzwing. Lord Megatron has a mission for us to complete. We must distract the humans while he finds the one he is looking for.”

  Blitzwing’s face swivels and changes into an icy blue expression. He surveys the humans around him with an air of disgust. “I don’t understand why Lord Megatron cares to capture one of these creatures. They are far too weak to be kept as pets.”

  “It is not my place to question him, nor is it yours. We are here to do as we are told and give our lord the time he needs to complete his mission.” Lugnut grabs a car and throws it into the air. It crashes down with a heavy slam, windows shattering, metal crumpling, alarm screeching out the vehicle’s pain. You watch in horror, unable to fathom that you have a front row seat to this show of destruction Detroit is about to face.

  Yeah, no, you think. I’m not sticking around. These Decepticons obviously have no regard for human lives. If you remain here, there is a high chance you will end up dead. You need to run, now.

  “You're not going anywhere, little one.”

  The voice is deep, and it pulses through your mind like a gong. You clutch your head and bite back a shout of pain. A strange feeling builds up in your chest. It makes your heart beat faster, and your thread begins to burn with an uncomfortable warmth you have never felt before.

  A third vehicle appears from the sky: a strange helicopter with two blades and a massive cannon mounted beneath its cockpit. Your hair whips back when it lands. The Cybertronian’s body condenses and rises, metal folding over metal, creating a gigantic figure with narrowed red eyes that immediately land on you the moment they open. Your jaw drops; this is easily the biggest mech you have ever seen. And you recognize him. Megatron, the feared leader of the Decepticon forces, and the worst bot you could run into right now.

    Lugnut drops to his knees and bows. “I serve you, Lord Megatron!”

  Megatron does not acknowledge him. He remains focused on you. You are finding it hard to breathe.

  Blitzwing walks over to the taller mech. “My lord, the Autobots will be arriving soon. What should we do?”

  “Continue destroying what you can.” Megatron’s voice is a deep rumble of thunder. You feel the wind get knocked out of you when you hear it. His voice. His voice. Why are you so focused on his voice?

  Your thread is beginning to burn. You slap your hand over your left arm and squeeze, hissing through your teeth. Megatron notices; he looks intrigued.

  “Have you found what you are looking for, master?” Lugnut asks.

  “Indeed I have,” Megatron replies. “And I don’t intend to let it escape me. Resume your orders. Keep the Autobots back for as long as you can. Once I have what we came here for, I will sound the retreat.”

  Blitzwing and Lugnut do not question him any further. You, on the other hand, are questioning everything. Why is this robot having such an effect on you? Why can you hear his voice in your head? And why, why is your soulmark on fire?!

  He’s here for me. There’s no solid confirmation that has been given to you about this, but you know deep down it is true.

  He’s looking right at me.

  Shit. Fuck.

  Your legs want to move. But your brain forbids it and forces you to remain put, even as other people go running by you, their screams mingling as one high-pitched wail while Blitzwing and Lugnut destroy anything they can get their hands on.

  Megatron remains still. He tilts his head with the air of a curious predator who is searching out the weak spots of his prey. You cannot drop eye contact with him. Something about his piercing gaze has you rooted to the spot in which you stand.

  Only when he begins lumbering towards you do you snap out of it and run with the rest.

  Everything is a blur for you. You nearly get shoved to the ground multiple times by the panicked masses who are fleeing. It feels like Detroit is crashing down. Police drones are flying in to fight back against the Decepticons, but you don’t think for a second they’ll do any damage against them. After all, they hardly ever do.

  “Don’t run from me, little one.”

  There is pain. So much pain. It is too much for you to handle. It causes you to collapse, clutching your head and writhing in agony.

  “You are so much more fascinating than the rest of your pathetic kind.”

  The ground trembles. Each step signals the robot drawing closer and closer.

  “Why can I feel what you feel? Why does my spark tremble with your fear? I don’t understand it. I need to understand it. So stop running, and come here.”

  You need to keep going. Grunting, you struggle to your feet and stumble forward in a haphazard fashion. You don’t even bother looking back to see if the robot is close. You just need to run. You need to hide.

  Your miracle appears in the form of a parking garage. Squirming under the partially closed grated gate, you find that it is abandoned; no one is in here with you, and the cars are all empty, abandoned by their owners. You retreat into a corner dark and covered with shadows. It should provide you with the necessary cover you need in order to hide.

  You remain in there for what feels like hours.  It goes awfully quiet outside. Any remaining civilians are long gone. Somewhere close, you think you hear the sound of mechs duking it out. Your breathing echoes off of the parking garage’s walls, giving you a further sensation of complete unease. Perhaps hiding in here wasn’t the best choice. Maybe you should have continued running with other people to a safer spot. Allowing others to be in your presence would endanger them…but now you are alone, completely defenseless to those who wish you harm. The robot who is currently stalking you can kill you without even thinking about it. By hoping to protect the city, you may have ensured your own doom.

  You hear stomping outside. Too loud to be human, too heavy to be an Autobot. Your heart tugs eagerly on its strings in an attempt to break free. It’s a mutual sensation of utter fear and strange wanting.

  “Where are you?”

  You see the massive head of the mech appear right underneath the gate. A shriek nearly escapes you, and you have to slap your hands over your mouth to quell it. A single roving red eye searches the garage, unblinking.

  “I am not known for my patience, human. If you do not show yourself, I cannot guarantee things will end up well for you.”

  The eye settles on you. It narrows and a low growl emits from the robot’s intake. “There you are.”

  You have no chance to react before Megatron’s hand smashes through the gate. You scream when his fingers curl around you. Tightly pressed against his palm, you struggle and kick your feet while Megatron slowly draws you out into the open.

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Stop! Please!”

  Megatron growls again and gives you a warning squeeze. “Fighting me will get you nowhere. Cease this at once, or suffer the consequences.”

  Well, that’s threatening. You immediately go limp and snap your mouth shut. Megatron snorts, satisfied. He brings you closer to his face, studying you. You shrink back, flush with panic and terror.

  “What is your name, human?” he rumbles.

  You stutter out a barely coherent reply. “Y-Y-Y/N.”

  “Y/N.” He repeats it to himself. “Y/N…a fitting name. Tell me, have we ever met before?”

  “I…I d-don’t believe so?” you say.

  “Hm.” He regards you, turning his hand left and right so he can examine you from all angles. “How very interesting.”

  “W-What’s interesting?”

  “Your mark.” He pushes his thumb under your left forearm. “It’s gone.”

  You follow his gaze. Indeed, where your thread should have been-the thread that has been with you for your entire life, a presence in which you believed would never leave you-there is only bare skin. There isn’t a speck of red to be seen. The burning that accompanied it before is gone too, and now there is a sort of settlement weighing on your chest. It is an instinctive rush of fulfillment, like this was meant to happen.

  You feel faint. Nothing makes sense anymore when you look back at the robot. “You…You're my soulmate?” you squeak.

  “Soulmate.” Megatron stretches the word out into a slow drawl. “So that’s what your species calls it. Yes, you can say that. My kind has a similar phenomenon that affects us.” He opens his mouth and breathes in deeply. “You smell of fear. I can see in your eyes that you know me. So this city is aware of who I am, hm?”

  You don’t dare answer. You're way too terrified of how close his massive teeth are to you. You don’t want to think about what might happen if you find yourself between them.

  “There is no need to be afraid of me. Our sparks are linked. I would be killing a piece of myself if I were to eliminate you.” He sighs. “As disappointed as I am to discover that my sparkmate is a human, I can learn to work with it. I wish to know more about you, Y/N. I will know why fate tied us.”

  “I need to know more.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “Foolish little thing, you cannot get away from me.”

  “I will get to the bottom of this.”

  His thoughts are loud and overwhelming. You shake your head and feel tears gather in your eyes. “Please…It’s too much. Your thoughts-”

  “Ah. Is that primitive brain of your overloading? I can hear it. Don’t think your thoughts aren’t in my head as well.” He rises to his full height. “I am sure we will both learn to get used to it. If not, I will have Shockwave create something that will bar my thoughts from entering your mind.”

  “Wait! Wait!” You look down. The ground is far away from you. Everything sways queasily when Megatron begins to walk. “No! Put me down!”

  “If you vomit on me, I will not hesitate to drop you,” the Decepticon says gratingly.

  “Y-You can’t take me with you!” you yell at him. “I can’t be your soulmate! There has to be a mistake!”

  “The spark doesn’t lie. Your mark is gone, and I can feel the completion you bring me. There is no question that you are my Other Half. What I want to know is why.” He shakes his head angrily. “It is a burden to have such a weak creature by my side. But I will learn to understand. Perhaps you can show me the few strengths humans possess. Do you think you can convince me to spare your race, little one?”

  He’s taking you. He’s not letting you go. You feel faint with horror at the realization that you aren’t getting out of this. Whether you believe it or not, this alien robot is your soulmate.

  You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted. But this isn’t how you thought meeting your Other Half would go.

  You hear one last thought from Megatron echo ominously in your mind. It sends shivers down your spine. “You are mine now.”

  After that, you pass out.

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