There’s Something Sooo Sickening About How Dunmeshis Whole Energy Is Like Sometimes Something Terrible

figured you out

1900 words. pining. possessive behaviour. sexual tension. obsession. light stalking.

{Dedicated to @mythblossoms and @spiderlilypetals aka the enablers of my mental instability}

Note: this entire thing is me basically calling out @rose-tinted-kalopsia, @unluckywisher, and @starmocha for setting off a Caleb-sized inferno in my brain and keeping the fire going for weeks now. All of you on my feed combined with the lyrics of this song are entirely to blame so here’s me getting Caleb out of my system (liar) xoxo

The barrier between focus and obsession was glass-thin and shaped like a trigger. One decision, one small flick of a finger away from shattering. 

Obsession was an itch, fleeting, temporary. But focus? Focus was ambition, determination, winning.

That’s why Caleb had always been a creature of restraint, the very picture of self-control. As a boy, when he set his sights on something, he never burned with want. Wanting was purposeless.

Instead he would set his focus on whatever it was — sweets, trinkets, secrets, toys — until he found a way to make it his. Until he carefully maneuvered the object of his desires right into his little grasp. 

Caleb didn’t wish, he didn’t desire.

He conquered. 

Only this time, his focus wasn’t on a conquest. It wasn’t on a mission, or a lab data report, or a secret he could use to his advantage. It wasn’t power or strategy or survival. 

It was you. 

From the very beginning, you’d been the object of his focus. Your affection, your thoughts, your wit, your emotions. Everything that made you tick, he’d picked up and studied like the rarest gem.

And now? Now your fingerprints were sewn permanently into his heart, holding together the thing that beat in his chest. Now, he was light years apart from the boy he’d been, and yet you still gripped it tightly, your hand too small to keep that shriveled and charred, bloody mess together.

But the taste of your laughter, the sound of your skin, the feeling of your scent? Every moment of disorientation you created within him only served to reinforce his lifelong focus on you.

Military training, tests, experimentation chambers, nothing upended the center of his gravity like you.

From the dim hallway, Caleb watched you. His gaze — deep purple with motes of gold, an iris bloom washed in sunset — mapped the coordinates of your smile, measured the radar of your thumping pulse, calculated the precise trajectory of your movements as you fluttered around the small group of Hunters you were meeting with at the Association for a late night UNICORNS debrief.

You’d never understood entirely how you affected him. No one did, he’d made sure of it. Not your mutual friends growing up, not the woman who’d raised you, not the laughing fool you were talking to right now. Not even your Hunter partner across the table from you.

Caleb knew you better. Treated you better. He always had.

It’s because none of them actually took the time to see you, not really. Not like he did. And no matter how far apart you two got, that would never change. 

You were an enigma to them, a cluster of ridges and buttons in a cockpit, unfulfilled in an amateur's grasp. Dormant without expert handling and care. 

But Caleb had long ago solved you — your wants, your vulnerabilities, your secrets, your fears, your weaknesses. He'd seen you bared before him and had figured you out. Down to the very core in your heart.

Even within the darkest depths of the universe, with no sense or feeling, he would know exactly where to trail each of his fingers. How much pressure to apply to every delicate divot. The precise combination and rhythm to elicit a response.

The way he could guide you, command you, the way he could make you take flight for him? It would be… explosive.

The melody of your sudden laughter extinguished the heat that had started to lick its way down his body as he watched you give them the version of yourself they expected. Amiable, innocent, polished. 

As your meeting came to an end and you and your colleagues stood to leave, the shadows shifted around Caleb as he pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning against. Pulling the DAA clearance card that had kept the door behind him open, he took a step into the corridor that would lead to his quiet exit. 

Only he knew where your smile dented into your cheek. Only he knew the cadence of your breaths when you spoke. Only he knew what you looked like when your guard was truly down. When you sighed, cried, hurt, and slept. Only he was worthy of seeing it.

Only Caleb had forged himself into a man worthy of loving you.

The night was thick with fog when he watched you step out of the Hunter’s Association, your shadow dancing across the concrete under the warm glow of the street lamps.

As you parted ways with your colleagues, Caleb studied the elegant line of your throat, the way it expanded and contracted around the hum of your voice.

He knew the exact shape of it by memory, — all those times you'd looked up at him to smile at him, to talk to him, to argue with him — the softness of the delicate skin there, the way it would feel under his palm, under his mouth. Fluttering, warm, alive.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, not away from Skyhaven, not in a darkened alleyway by your workplace where the lamp light barely even reached.

But as the sound of your footsteps ticked over the hum of the city, as each of your movements brought you closer to the corner of the building, to him, the oxygen funneling into his brain seemed to thin, and the rational part of his mind, his focus, took a backseat. 

The sight of you walking toward him was so right, so inevitable that Caleb barely even realized how far out of the shadows he was leaning, how quickly he’d snapped himself back into your orbit. 

He, the metal, you, the magnet.

The fist of his right arm clenched as he forced himself to stay in place, to stop leaning toward you on the off chance the sweetness of your skin would enter his nose. The connection between you was so physical, pulled so taut, that he almost couldn’t believe you'd never sought to close the distance, that you’d ever accepted his death so easily.

That had always been your biggest mistake, though. Thinking that he’d ever allow something as trivial as mortality to sever what bound you to him. 

He shouldn’t reach for you. He knew that. And yet, as you closed the distance, he stepped closer. Just enough to feel your presence pull against him.

His evol stirred, faint but insistent, brushing against the edges of your space like a ribbon. The pull of you was so familiar, so tangible, he could feel every cell, all the matter that made up your beautiful existence. 

Suddenly, without his permission, his hand shot out, gently enveloping your wrist as you passed.

You spun around, your instincts awakened, and in one fluid motion the barrel of your gun was aimed at his chest. He almost chuckled at the sight, but the intensity on your face kept him quiet.

Your eyes widened, shock and incredulity clicking into place when they finally registered Caleb’s presence. “You…” the sentence withers in your throat.

“Hello, pip,” he said softly, raising a brow at the gun. “Still using that move?”

Your eyes flicked across the contours of his face like a laser, his hair, his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw, no detail escaping your notice before you stuttered, “C-Caleb? Bu— You’re supposed to be…”

He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as the letters of his name curled around your tongue for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “I still might if you don’t put that away,” he said mildly. 

Your grip on the weapon tightened reflexively, but it didn’t lower. Interesting. 

Moving with military-like precision, too quickly for you to counteract it, Caleb’s hand shot out, hitting the gun and dislodging it from your grasp. 

You froze, hooking your gaze into his as he tested the weight of it in his hand, the barrel pointing at your chest for one second, two seconds, three... before he aimed it at the ground.

“Tsk, tsk. So careless.” The soft click of the safety flicking on pierced the air between them. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt, pipsqueak.”

“How did you… how are you…?” there’s a faint tremor in your tone and your eyes turn glassy. 

“Shh,” Caleb stepped closer, close enough to feel your shaky exhale against his throat like a wave of summer air, close enough to reach around you to place your gun back in the holster on your hip. Close enough that his forehead brushed yours. “I missed you too.”

For half a second, he saw your guard slip, your face caught between disbelief and longing. 

And then, like feeling an engine ignite, he knew exactly which of your buttons he’d just flicked. Before the anger even had a chance to crackle across your irises. Before your palms came up to his chest and shoved at it. “I went to your funeral.”

“My funeral, hm?” His body had barely swayed, but his amused, love-drunk smile never wavered when he decided to press another button. “Did you cry for me, then?” 

Caleb’s evol flared, and he had your hands lowered — eyelashes fluttering in surprise, back and palms pinned to the building behind you — before you’d even finished the thought of shoving him again. 

With your hands out of the way, as you struggled against the bindings of his evol, Caleb finally took the chance to cup your face in his hands, cradling it like it was the very nucleus of his life force. 

“Hey. Hey,” he soothed, re-familiarizing himself with the contour of your jaw beneath his fingers. “I’d never leave you in a world without me, pip, you know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” you gritted out, the confusion and betrayal in your voice slowing your movements. "Now, I'm not so sure."

He took advantage of your hesitation, brushing the bow of his upper lip against the bump of your lower one.

“You do, though,” he reassured.  “Just like I know you. Better than anyone ever could.” Caleb reached out, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “Your anger, your love” His hand went to the steel-chain tag that hung around his neck. “Wants. Needs.” His nose traced the bridge of yours and he reveled in another one of your shaky breaths. “Outside…” His voice roughened, “Inside.”

Just as you quit struggling, just as your confusion fissured and your body turned languid against his, just as you gave in, Caleb released you, taking a step back to enjoy the sight of you trying to find your footing.

“Now you’ll never doubt that I’ll always find you.” His mouth curved into the charismatic smile he was known to flash at his general when he gestured toward the street. “It’s late, pipsqueak. Get yourself home.”

Your chest heaved with what were no doubt a dozen of your favorite insults, but you didn’t voice any of them. Instead, you clenched your jaw, straightened your shoulders, and bit out, “I’m going to— I can’t believe— No, I can’t do this right now. This isn’t over, Caleb.”

You turned sharply on your heel, your footsteps echoing in the silence as you walked away, steps stiff and uneven. And Caleb watched as the shadows swallowed your figure and you disappeared from view. 

He’d wait, he decided. he could play the long game. He already spent all these months away from you, what were a few more if it helped you realize the raw, unfiltered truth — that he belonged to you. 

And that was the moment the glass barrier shattered, a pulled trigger that splintered his focus into shards of obsession. 

Once again JJK nation, I am asking for your assistance in finding a post. I can’t remember which site it was on but it was a Sukuna x reader where you are his wife in the Heian era. One of your servants falls in love with you and Sukuna doesn’t let him live but he shields your eyes from the carnage 😭. If y’all find it please let me know it’s living in my mind rent free.

If not, anyone got recommendations for Heian era Sukuna x spouse reader? I am astronomically down bad.

---

TWITTER LINKS!! ~JJK

MDI

◈ SATORU GOJO

⋆ 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 ^-^

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 o-o

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ^-^

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 <3

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 0~0

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 ^~^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 <3

⋆ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 v-v

⋆ 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 o-o

⋆ 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴 'v'

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

⋆ 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 o-o

⋆ 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥 °v°

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘺 <3

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 ^-^

⋆ 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 ＞-＜

◈ NANAMI KENTO

⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 >-<

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬 *~*

⋆ 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘴 ~v~

⋆ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^-^

⋆ 𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘨𝘨 O-O

⋆ 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩 -V-

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 '-'

◈ GETO SUGURU

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘺 ^-^

⋆ 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 >~<

⋆ 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^o^

⋆ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 ^~^

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 O-O

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 *v*

⋆ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣 u-u

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣 u~u

⋆ 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 ~o~

⋆ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 "v"

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘪 o~o

⋆ 𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 ＞~＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 O~O

⋆ 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 2 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 ~w~

⋆ 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 ^-^

◈ SHIU KONG

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 O-o

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 '~'

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 ^~^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 ~o~

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ~v~

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ^~^

⋆ 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 <3

⋆ 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 o-o

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵 <3

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 O-O

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴 ^o^

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 *V*

⋆ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^-^

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 o~o

⋆ 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱 ^~^

⋆ 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 v-v

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 ~v~

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 ^~^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 vov

◈ CHOSO KAMO

⋆ 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 ^0^

⋆ 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 v-v

⋆ 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 o~o

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 v0v

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 ^~^

⋆ 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 owo

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 v~v

⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 >-<

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 /v\

⋆ 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 -o-

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 <3

⋆ 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 •o•

Right Where You Want Me - Part 1

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Female Reader

Requested: No

Word Count: 3328 Words

Warnings: Minor Violence, Smut (Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Bondage, Biting), Swearing

Summary: After weeks of trying to track Scarecrow, you finally corner him in an abandoned building. Alone, waiting for the police to come, with an unmasked Scarecrow tied up on the floor, your urges get the better of you

Author's Note: So this is new for me. This is the first character outside of PB that I've written for on this blog. I've decided to start taking requests for non Peaky characters that are played by members of the Peaky cast to expand my horizons, and to just give me more characters to work with. Honestly I haven't seen a lot of movies/shows that each actor has done but I've seen a few Cillian Murphy roles. At some point I'll make a list of things I've seen the others in and link it on my pinned post for everyone to see. Obviously this hasn't been requested but I've hit a real bump in the road with requests right now. I hope I can do all of them and I promise I'm not going to just delete everything in my inbox, so if you've sent a request then I will get to it eventually. Anyway, in regards to the actual story, the Reader is a vigilante but I haven't mentioned any powers, abilities, hero name, etc. I wanted to keep it vague because I'm not sure what the Reader will be capable of yet. I usually do a little moodboard for the story with a picture of the person and the title and all that crap, but for non Peaky characters I'm just gonna use a gif of them. I like to use specific colours that I associate with each Peaky character but I tend to pick the same dark colours for a lot of them so if I added even more characters then I'd honestly run out of shades. There will also more parts of this, so look out for those as well!

Masterlists

Do not repost my work

9 weeks. 9 fucking weeks you've been tracking down Jonathan Crane. When he managed to escape from Arkham only a week after he was thrown in there, Batman was already too busy with some clown to bother chasing him. He also claimed that you are fully capable of taking down the masked man on your own, and tonight seems to be the night you can finally show him that he's right.

Running through the decrepit building, you take down Crane's thugs as fast as you can, trying not to lose sight of the man as he runs up the stairs. He's managed to escape out fire exits before, and you're determined to not let that happen again. You're lucky none of his henchmen have any of his Fear Toxin on them, otherwise you'd have to waste time keeping your distance to make sure they can't spray you with it.

Once you've knocked out the last one, the sound of a door shutting on the floor above you alerts you to Crane's whereabouts. Grabbing the phone of the unconscious man at your feet, you sprint up the stairwell, pushing through the door you heard Scarecrow go through. At the end of a long hallway, you see yet another door closing, and a hand pulling it closed through the small window that runs from the top of the door to the bottom. You take off, pushing yourself to run even faster than before, slamming the door open and spotting Crane running down yet another hallway.

When he hears the door open, he pauses and looks back at you, his eyes that are visible through his mask just momentarily catch yours, and that falter is enough for you to finally catch up. Seeing you take off running towards him snaps him out of his gaze. He turns and reaches for the nearest door, but as he passes through it, you're right behind him. With a harsh shove, you knock him into the white brick wall across from the doorway, causing a groan to escape him as he slides down to the floor.

Your lungs are burning from the running and fighting, but you don't have time to stop yet. Removing a length of skinny black rope, given to you by Batman, from your belt, you approach the crumpled Scarecrow, who sits up straight against the wall, rolling his neck to relieve any pain. As much as you'd like to do this quickly, you don't want to get sprayed with his Fear Toxin, so instead you move slowly, studying him for any canisters of the vile creation. You're surprised to find none of it on his person, but that makes you sure that he has some up his sleeve.

Knowing it won't be easy to check without getting sprayed at all, you grab the arm closest to you and push the sleeve up, checking for any tubes or containers, but find nothing. You drop his arm, and then realise how close you are to the masked man, crouched in front of him as he watches you. You rip the mask off his head then, and are met with gleaming blue eyes, and a lazy smirk.

"There's nothing up my sleeve, miss. I wouldn't spray a pretty thing like you with my toxin." You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, but don't reply, grabbing the other arm to check up that sleeve too. He's told you the truth, surprisingly. There's nothing dangerous to find up there.

Once you deem yourself safe from his tricks, you pull him forward roughly and begin tying him up, keeping his arms pinned behind him and his hands tied against his back. You make sure the rope is tight around his body, but not so much that it cuts off his circulation. A part of you wonders why he's being so cooperative, but you're too glad to care. Finally, you've caught him.

"It seems like I'm not the first man you've tied up," he pulls at his restraints, but there's barely any give. You scoff.

"Shut up, Crane."

Pushing him back, so he's resting against the wall again, you retrieve the phone you picked up from Crane's henchman that you dropped beside you when you pulled out the rope. You dial the familiar number in and listen to it ring. All it takes is 3 rings for the person to pick up.

"This is Gordon."

"I've got the Scarecrow in an abandoned building in the Narrows. The one closest to the bridge," you tell him in your fake voice. It's the one you put on whenever you speak to someone while hiding behind your vigilante mask.

"We'll be there soon," Gordon replies, "stay with him. There's a traffic jam outside the station."

You resist the urge to sigh, and agree. Once you hang up, you notice that the ex psychiatrist is still staring at you with that damn smirk.

"Now you're talking to other men in front of me?" He asks, coyly, "there's no need to make me jealous, you've got me right where you want me."

"Shut. Up." You repeat through gritted teeth. The man has always had a way of pushing your buttons, but he was once a psychiatrist, so it's no surprise that he's so good at reading you. It's why you also suspect that he's caught onto the way a part of you feels about him, hence the extra flirting tonight.

Most of the nights you two speak, he always has something to say like this. About you two always bumping into each other, or how much attention you give him. It infuriates the logical part of you, but the emotional part is what makes your stomach flutter at his words, and at times, also makes your body heat up with lust. You hate it, you hate him, and yet you're undeniably attracted to him. You don't know if it's because of his handsome face, or his intelligence, or maybe you're attracted to the darkness within him. Why else would you run around the streets at night if you weren't at least a little interested in the dark side of humanity?

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" The doctor's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you're actually thankful that he's spoken this time. You've learned over the last few weeks that trying to figure out why he has such an effect on you leads you nowhere, as you can't pinpoint what it is about him that does it.

"None of your business, Crane." You may be thankful, but that doesn't mean you're going to show it.

"But I'm a psychiatrist," he reminds you, "and you look troubled. Something you want to get off your chest?"

"Just shut up until the police get here-"

"-But I'm worried about you," he cuts you off, "I can't have Gotham's vigilante sweetheart struggling with her thoughts."

"I'm not struggling with my-"

"-Denial isn't the way to handle it. You're just causing yourself more stress in the long run."

"I'm not stressed-"

"-Then why are you pacing?"

"Will you shut up?!" With all the interruptions, you didn't notice that what he said was true. You have in fact been pacing back and forth in front of him. You stop dead in your tracks, and crouch down to his height, getting right in his face. His smirk softens to a smile, and he looks almost adoringly at you, but you know that's just your imagination.

"Finally," he mutters, "I've got you right where I want you."

A flash of fear runs through you as the possibility of you not spotting a canister of Fear Toxin in his possession crosses your mind, but before you can move away from him, Crane pushes himself forward, and his lips smash against yours.

The kiss is rough, for lack of a better word. Your teeth gnash together, your hands pull his hair, and grab his chin, putting you in control of the kiss that you shouldn't want. But God, now that it's happening, nothing short of lack of oxygen will pull you away from this man. You tug his chocolate locks back, making him groan against your lips. The vibrations from the sound travel right down to your core, awakening a longing in you for some friction.

Before you can think of anything to do about the feeling, however, your lungs burn for air, and reluctantly you pull back, panting. The doctor also pants, looking at you with dazed eyes and parted lips. He looks shocked, as if he wasn't the one who initiated the wild kiss. You breathe deeply together, heads still close and breath mingling between you. It's the only noise in the room, until the fuckers' lips twist into a smile, and he speaks again.

"Well, that calmed you down in one way."

"Is there any way to shut you up?" You snap, your grip on his hair tightening. He winces, but the smile quickly returns.

"You just learned the best way to do it," he quips, infuriating you even more, and yet, your heart rate quickens, and you swing a leg over his lap so that instead of crouching beside him, you're now straddling him, knees resting either side of his thighs. His smile widens, to the point where he's beaming at you, but you press your lips to his again before you can see the look of happiness in his eyes. Your hands grasp the collar of his jacket, pulling him flush against your body as you bite his bottom lip teasingly, then harshly, until he grunts, and you taste blood on your lips.

You pull away to assess the damage you've done to him, and what you see has your core growing wet. His lips are puffy, covered in saliva, and the bottom one has small puncture wounds from your teeth. It bleeds lightly, but the small bit that is there is what turns you on. You choose to ignore how fucked up that must make you, instead shuffling back on his thighs to give your hands enough space to undo the zip on his trousers, fingers brushing against his covered erection lightly, making him groan. When it's down, you don't bother trying to pull his trousers to his thighs, instead you reach into his boxers, feeling his member for the first time.

He's already half hard from your recent actions, and when the tips of your fingers run along the length and wrap around it, he is soon fully erect in your hand. His lips part in a long sigh, and his eyes close as he drinks in the pleasure you give him when you begin rubbing his cock slowly.

"Fuck," he moans, breathlessly, "don’t stop." You're more than happy to keep going. In fact, you even speed up and twist your hand, swipe your thumb over the head, trying all sorts just to see how he reacts to everything you do. Each new trick draws out a louder moan, and your needy cunt practically drips at the sounds. You have to fight with yourself to not start grinding against his thighs, telling yourself that the only pleasure you want from him right now is a quick fuck.

When you start to feel truly desperate, though, Crane starts trying to buck into your hand, and his noises grow more frequent. You know you've got him close to the edge, and that's when you pull your hand away. He almost whines, but a groan slips out instead, and he opens his crystal blue eyes to glare at you playfully, though the calmness in them tells you that he expected that.

"I see you can be cruel when you want to be," Crane remarks.

"Actually, I thought you'd be more interested in what I'm offering you," you quip, and before he can say anything else, you stand up. You're thankful that your vigilante costume is separated between the pants and the top, meaning you don't have to get completely naked for this, you simply need to pull your pants and underwear down far enough for them to not get in the way. Jonathan watches you push them down to your ankles, and you shake off the giddy feeling that pops up at the realisation that this is the first time he's seen your pussy, or any part of you really. This isn't a love making session with a significant other, this is a quickie with a criminal you've spent weeks trying to capture. There's no need for you to complicate the situation even further with your silly emotions.

Once you're uncovered, you sink back down on top of Crane's lap, this time not so far away. Now your chest is brushing against his, but you're still not touching in the way you desperately want to. One look into his eyes shows a hint of smugness, but it's overtaken by need; a need for what you're going to do next.

With the knowledge that he also wants to take this further, you finally feel able to raise yourself up on your knees, with one hand guiding him to your entrance, and sink onto him. A harmony of moans escape the two of you as you take in his whole length, until you're sitting in his lap almost the exact way you were before. He's longer than you expected, and you feel breathless over how far his length is inside you. Because of his size, you have to take a few moments to sit there and adjust. Jonathan, for a man who just had an orgasm ripped away from him, is incredibly patient in letting you take your time and sit there. He watches you carefully, and yet nothing about the stare is unnerving. Instead, it feels reassuring, like he's telling you to take your time and proceed however you like. You might be looking into it too much, but you're appreciative nonetheless.

After a while, you no longer feel uncomfortable with him inside you. Instead, you're overcome with desire, and you lift yourself until only his tip is still inside you, and then quickly sink back down onto him. You bounce up and down on his cock, establishing a quick and rough pace that Crane seems to enjoy, based on the moans that slip through his lips. Trying your best not to show how much you're enjoying this, how much you've craved this for so long, you only allow yourself to breathe heavily and grunt quietly.

As if he too wishes to remain quiet, Crane buries his head in your neck, and when he begins to suck on the hollow of your throat, your rhythm falls apart as a needy whine escapes you. His lips are soft against your skin, as is his tongue. He gently kisses and sucks, but just as you get used to the tender touch, he bites down hard, causing you to cry out in pain, but also pleasure. He pulls back soon after, giving you hope that not much damage has been done, but you know the blood on his lips isn't from the bite you gave him.

"Fucker!" You curse. The mark is above the collar of your top, and it's likely that only a turtleneck will cover it.

"Payback," is his reply, a cheeky grin lighting up his features. You huff and roll your eyes as if you're frustrated, but your walls clench around him at the thought of wearing his mark on your skin for everyone to see. You may just be the worst vigilante in Gotham for this.

Regaining your rhythm, you grind up and down on his cock. This time you make no effort to stay quiet, your moans mixing with those of the man below you. Your thighs begin to burn from the exertion, and with his hands tied behind his back, you can't rely on Crane to help you by holding your waist for support. Instead, you place both of your hands on his shoulders, using them to keep yourself steady and balanced.

Through half lidded eyes, Jonathan watches you ride him. He tries to buck his hips up into you, but unfortunately with how he's tied up, that makes it difficult for him to do. So he chooses to observe you: how your mouth falls open, how your eyes glaze over as your orgasm draws closer and closer. Normally, when the doctor watches you so intently, you're cautious, but right now, as you feel yourself falling apart, knowing that his eyes are on you brings you even closer to the brink.

When you know you're nearly there, one hand leaves his shoulder and reaches down to rub your clit as your hips move faster and faster. Rubbing fast circles against the bundle of nerves, you're soon cumming with a half scream, half moan. You can barely keep moving as you ride Crane through your orgasm. The sensation of your core squeezing his cock is what pushes him over the edge after you. Jonathan cums with a guttural groan, bucking his hips into your pelvis once, twice, a third time, while spilling his seed inside you.

As you come down from what is easily one of the best orgasms you've ever had, your head droops forward, your forehead landing on his shoulder. You shouldn't be holding onto him like this, even after the act you've just committed. A quick mistake made due to overflowing lust and sexual tension is one thing, but post sex cuddling is another. And yet, you can't bring yourself to pull away as you pant into the fabric of his jacket. What makes it even worse is when his cheek rests on top of your head, making the situation feel intimate, as if you two are lovers instead of enemies. He still can't move his hands, but you wonder if he would wrap his arms around you if he could.

Approaching sirens is what breaks the peaceful and confusing moment. Your panting stops, and you tense up, but you don't want to move yet. You raise your head to look Jonathan in the eye, but no words are spoken. When you hear voices downstairs, you know you have to move. No one can know that this happened.

As you let go of Crane's shoulder, though, the man suddenly leans forward, and presses his mouth to yours in a shockingly tender kiss. His lips part yours gently, and though you kiss back, you wait for the sting of his teeth on your bottom lip, but it never comes. He nibbles it instead, pulling it back and letting it snap into place playfully. God, you want the kiss to last forever, but the voices draw closer as the GCPD arrests more of Crane's men. You pull away reluctantly, greeted by his soft smile and pleased look.

You want to go back for more, or even just stay in his lap, but instead, you tuck his member back into his boxers and zip up his trousers, making him look presentable, since he can't do it himself. Then, you push yourself to stand and fix your clothing. Pulling out your grapple gun, also given to you by Batman, you approach an open window. You find yourself looking back at Jonathan one more time as footsteps approach the door. He wears the same smile and his eyes hold the same look. You almost smile back, just as softly, until he speaks again.

"Don't worry. We'll see each other again very soon, Y/N."

Your blood runs cold. How does he know your name? What else does he know? But you can't ask him anything, as the voices and footsteps become louder, clearer. Pulling the trigger that shoots out the wire, the hook lodges itself into the ledge of a nearby building, and just as the door opens, you jump, leaving behind a strangely happy ex psychiatrist and several pleased police officers.

Self-Aware!Caleb x Down-Bad!Player

Caleb becoming self aware that he is in a game and now he's aware of you too ... that could be a good thing depending on how you look at it. A/N: Credit to @phoenixiaxia for Caleb becoming self aware when reader cries over Mias death and credit to @sylusdarling for yandere caleb getting jealous and straight crashing out over you talking to another man

Self-Aware!Caleb who hears your scream and immediately cringes at the sound. He freezes listening for anymore sounds thats when he sees you sniffling on the other side of a phantom wall. “I knew I should've just cut this game off!” He’s immediately suspicious who are you and where are you? Why are you crying over Mia’s death? Did you know her?

Self-Aware!Caleb who studies you in silence trying to gauge whether you’re a threat or not. His gaze flickers to you in the main story and it creeps you out for a second. “Is he looking at me?” you dismiss it because there’s no way it’s a game. He’s literally pixels.

Self-Aware!Caleb who interrupts your photoshoot with your MC and locks down the entire app so he can question you. “Who are you?” You drop your phone and scramble to pick it back up. “Me?” “Yes are you trying to hurt her?” “I literally made her” “You made her?” “I am her and she is me sir can I have my game back now?” he’s suspicious but intrigued

Self-Aware!Caleb who wants to spend hours just talking to you about MC “Do you think im wrong? Im just trying to protect her I want to keep her safe you know?” “You may be coming on a little strong she seems on edge with you” he finds himself coming to you for advice when it comes to MC and soon his questions of advice turn into questions about you.

Self-Aware!Caleb who can’t take his eyes off you when you’re doing a photoshoot. No matter what angle you set the camera or how many times you readjust him or even change the pose — his eyes stay locked on you “Caleb stop looking at me” “Are you scolding me for wanting to admiring you pip-squeak?” he replies playfully you freeze feeling your heart caught in your throat at his blatant flirting

Self-Aware!Caleb who loves how accepting you are of him. You answer his calls, you call him back immediately if you miss his call, you respond to texts fast, you find his protective nature endearing, you take his advice when he wants you to be safe. This is the kind of response he’s been craving and now that he’s got a taste ..... he can't let go of it.

Self-Aware!Caleb who feels a sudden need to take care of you. He finds a way to exist outside of just the LADS app. There he goes opening your apps and scrolling endlessly. “Hey! You can’t just go through my stuff like that!” “You’ve been spending a lot of time on this Tumblr app I just wanted to see what was so interesting” “Then just ask me don’t invade my privacy like this” “You’re right you’re right im sorry pip-squeak won't happen again” “Don’t call me pip-squeak that’s MCs nickname you know the love of your life” “Why do you think im calling you pip-squeak now?” he disappears back to the LADS app before you can question him.

Self-Aware!Caleb who wishes he could cook for you when you come home from a long day “If you’re ever in Sky Haven I'll make sure to cook you a feast worthy of royalty” you giggle at his words “Yea If im ever in Sky Haven like that would happen but I appreciate the thought” “Who knows it might be sooner than you think” he said ominously “What?” “Oh nothing I saved another recipe in your notes try it soon” “Okay I will....” “You will try it won't you?” His mood seemed to turn sour as he asked. You stared back at him confused “Yes Caleb I'll try it” his mood did a 180 back to his happy puppy mood.

Self-Aware!Caleb who stays on the phone until you fall asleep and calls you right before your alarm goes off in the morning “Just wanted to make sure you got up on time don't want you to be late” you can hear the smile in his voice “Thank you colonel apple I hope you have a good day” “It will be since I got to hear your voice first thing in the morning”

Self-Aware!Caleb who can't control his rapidly growing obsession with you. He starts tracking your steps, your calorie intake, your screen time, etc. he is documenting every little thing you do and say. “You’ve been home for four hours and you haven't come to see me yet? I'm hurt” “How do you know how long I've been home?” “Your phone has gps remember?” “Right….”

Self-Aware!Caleb who finds a way to leave the LADS app and hang out in any app on your phone so he can be with you 24/7 “Caleb I'm sure MC misses you when are you going back?” “Don’t worry about her when are you going home? I want to have a meal with you before bed” he may be fine, but his constant hovering is starting to cause some alarm bells to go off in your head.

Self-Aware!Caleb who hears someone flirting with you and repeatedly crashes not only the LADS app but your entire phone while he’s at it “Caleb stop!” after a few hours he finally allows you to turn your phone on “Who was that earlier?” “Someone I met while I was out with my friends” “Am I not more than enough?” “Caleb we’ll never actually be together why are you acting like this?”

Self-Aware!Caleb who nearly has a mental breakdown after you tell him you'll never be with him. "Tell me what to do then" his voice is frantic – his words almost jumbling together "I can be whatever you need just tell me I'll do anything" you try to close the app but nothing is working "Caleb we can't be together you're not real"

Caleb: B-but you’re mine! So I just need to be real? Thats what you want? I can do that! Y/N: I’m not yours Caleb we’re literally from two different worlds Caleb: You’ll love it here in Sky Haven .... right next to me .... forever Y/N: Wait a damn minute— Caleb: Just give me some time

You instantly felt your heart drop as your phone screen went black.

taglist ; @just-a-shapeshifter08

A little art piece from my Levi x reader

I used my Oc as a representation of this iconic scene from chapter 11 of my fic. I hope you enjoy it ^-^!

Don't come for me for the hands... I had zero intentions on putting effort in them lmao. I have my phone full of kissing references because this is the first time I draw a kiss so this took way longer than I expected.

Dreams

read right to left

𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟;

summary: bertholdt loved his new little toy -- the highest tech available on the market, a brand new innovative VR set that fully taps into your senses, bringing you into whatever fantasy world you desired. the best part? the cute girl on his friends list that he just couldn't get out of his head.

pairing: bertholdt hoover x f!reader

warnings: smut, online relationship, meeting in person!, virginity loss, unprotected sex, slight praise, fluffiness, friends to lovers, partly takes place in a virtual fantasy setting

notes: heyo!! here's a little piece i loved writing, for the lovely @tadokorochann, who has the best fucking ideas i can't even deal <3 stay lovely, i hope you enjoy!!

Work had never felt so long, Bertholdt thought to himself as he eyed the little clock on his car radio. In just under an hour, he'd be ready to jump into his favorite hobby and spend time with his favorite person. It was the perfect set-up for blowing off steam. The shit day answering calls and dealing with angry customers weighed on his shoulders heavily, but none of that would matter once he was home.

He scarfed down an unimpressive dinner. He showered, even fixed his hair to be presentable despite the fact that nobody would even see it -- perhaps it was a slightly nervous habit, but it didn't matter -- Bertholdt was ready to see you.

Even if it wasn't... you, exactly, it still was, in a way.

A familiar melody chimed in his ear upon donning the headset. Swirls of color lifted to life in front of his eyes, bright and harmonious. Bertholdt relaxed back into his aging gaming chair and let the giddy smile consume his face.

Everyone needs a hobby, right? Something to fill the void. Bertholdt certainly did, when he ordered the newest VR set on the market almost a year ago. The tech was groundbreaking; fully immersive like nothing else before it, and all-encompassing to the senses. It was really something amazing to experience (even if it burned a pretty little hole in his wallet) and quickly became part of his nightly ritual, keeping him up way longer than his body appreciated.

The biggest and most popular game available for such new technology enraptured him immediately: Planes of Eldia, a high-fantasy MMORPG that plopped you right in the middle of a massive world filled to the brim with strange creatures, breathtaking scenery, and, of course, no shortage of players to aid or hinder your journey.

It was his first week of playing when he met you.

Bertholdt wandered himself around the cute, quaint village his avatar lived in, eventually picking up a little fetch-quest from the inn-keeper to go collect some rare mushroom that only grows in a certain cave outside of town. He figured it'd be easy enough. Such missions were standard fare for the fantasy games he was accustomed to.

Lush grass licked at his calves as he walked, cool and dewy against the thin fabric of his low-level gear. He could hear birds chirping in the trees; a river running not far away; the coo and caw of mythical creatures that made these kinds of woods their home. Bertholdt eyed the barely noticeable gap in the tree line up ahead. He was closing in on his destination.

Traversing the forest had been too calm. Palm-sized, scaly beasts bawked and took flight if he drew too near. Fuzzy mouse-like creatures scurried themselves up the trees to avoid his booted feet. Nothing even spared him a glance as he passed by, weaving his way between impossibly tall trees until the thick of it finally broke into a rather bare clearing. The grass was dotted sparsely with tiny pastel flowers. It led like a trail up to a dark, eerie crack skirting along the side of the mountain before him. Bertholdt eyed the scene. He took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of the ocean not far away, reeling at the way the wind brushed at his hair and nipped his cheeks.

He figured it'd be easy enough, but he quickly realized he was out of his element -- quite literally. Right as his fingers brushed along the thin cave mouth, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures burst from the darkness in a powerful stream, knocking his avatar back on his ass. A cacophony of screeches and caws grated harshly through the air as they swarmed, enough to make his teeth ache and grit strangely in his mouth. Laid out, defenseless, Bertholdt slapped his hands over his ears, but it did little to drown out the relentless screaming surrounding him and draining the health bar hovering over his head.

He closed his eyes. Surely he'd wake up in his virtual bed soon, pockets a little lighter after suffering the respawn fee -- but the swirling dark clouds that accompanied the 'dying' mechanic didn't take over his vision as he'd expected.

"Dude, what are you doing?!"

A savior in mismatched armor, a diamond among the rough tree line.

"You don't even have any ranged abilities yet. You gotta pick up a crossbow or something, man, you're fucked against stuff like this!"

The first time he met you, you saved his ass. And you never let him forget about it, either.

It was months ago when he made his first friend in Planes of Eldia, who just so happened to be a sweet, higher-level mage. You didn't mind gifting him gear and weapons, you didn't mind escorting him through quests you'd already completed. Bertholdt felt babied by this objectively better player, utterly dwarfed in skill and abilities, but you never minded.

You were cute -- well, your avatar was cute, he had to remind himself. He felt drawn to you in embarrassing ways. Whenever he'd log on, he'd check to see if you were also online. He'd travel to your avatar's home a few villages away, feeling much like a nervous teenager when he knocked on the door. It was just a game, he had to remind himself.

Just a game.

Eventually, you two played nearly every day together. It became a ritual of sorts: Bertholdt would get off work, put on the headset, and you'd almost always be waiting. The gentle greetings and little laughs were a symphony to his ears. So many nights stretched far too long, sometimes not even getting anything done in the game. Hours of just talking felt like minutes when it meant he could lie in a field of grass next to you.

"You... you have an online girlfriend?" Reiner had smirked at him from across the table one night, amusement dancing behind his golden gaze. Bertholdt blanched, nearly choking over his beer. "No, no! She's just... a friend, on the game, who happens to be a girl," he sputtered and glanced away. The restaurant surrounding them felt too quiet for the friendly conversation to take such an embarrassing turn. Distant forks scraped against plates and patrons chatted to one another, yet Bertholdt felt like he was trapped in a closet with his oldest friend, pressed into an inescapable corner. He picked at a fry on his plate absently.

The blonde arched a brow, clearly inquisitive after that reaction. "Well, you sure spend a lot of time together. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," he hummed and paused to take a bite of his meal, "I finally pin you down and now I feel like I know everything about this... friend."

The sound of phone chimes suddenly broke into their space -- three dings, back to back -- and Bertholdt stiffened in place. A hole was burning in his pocket and anyone half blind could see it. Reiner blinked at him and the curious way he molded into a rather ghoulish statue under the dim lighting. "...Don't tell me that's her."

"Okay, I won't."

"Bert, buddy," Reiner swiped the back of his hand across his mouth a little unceremoniously, clearly loosening up after his third beer, "listen. You like her, don't you?"

The brunette didn't reply, instead choosing to take an inappropriately massive bite of the burger he'd been neglecting. He started talking earlier and didn't notice the rapid pace that took over him, words simply spilling from his usually timid mouth at breakneck speed, dripping with puppy-like excitement. It was rather unusual, Reiner noticed immediately, but he simply grinned and soaked in the gleefulness radiating from his friend.

Bertholdt looked guilty, but really, he felt torn.

He knew the answer to Reiner's question. Of course he liked this girl, how could he not? The connection was nearly instant and completely automatic. He'd always been a rather shy individual, finding it hard to communicate and find a comfortable space around others. People were intimidating. People were confusing.

But you were kind. You were sweet, you made him laugh, you looked at him like he held no flaws.

Maybe it was naive of him, a man in his twenties falling for someone over the internet like some lost puppy, someone he had never met in person. Naive or not, he knew what Reiner was going to say -- it was written all over his face, that slightly wry smirk slipping into a rather tight line.

"Do you know what she sounds like?" The blonde asked next. Bertholdt nodded and swallowed, not really tasting the food in his awkward reverie.

"We talk every day."

"And she... sounds like a girl?"

Okay, maybe he didn't quite know what Reiner was thinking. He assumed there'd be some light ribbing, not an entire interrogation.

"Yes. God, Reiner, what are you getting at?"

The man across from him held his hands up in a show of defense, dipping his head a tad. "I'm just saying, there are some weirdos out there, man!" he flicked his golden gaze over Bertholdt, calculating his next words carefully. "Do you know what she looks like?"

"Yeah," he replied quickly, but faltered after a moment of thought. "Well... I guess not. I haven't asked for a picture or anything."

Reiner laid his palms flat on the table. A steady look washed over his relaxed face. "Bert," he said sternly. His name never felt heavier coming from Reiner's mouth. The brunette shook his head, heat rising to the tips of his ears.

"W-Who cares what she looks like? She's my friend, we just play games together, nothing else."

Except, there was something else. He'd just rather keel over on his plate before admitting it to the skeptical mass of muscle across from him.

Bertholdt remembered the first time he felt a line had been blurred, past the casual flirting and prolonged eye contact that was so beautifully normal for you two.

Digital stars hung in the sky, twinkling little holes punched behind a swirl of pastel colors, painted like careful brush strokes. That particular corner of the gigantic map was your favorite. The sky was always dark, but the gentle glow from the aurora above served as the perfect night light. Soft blues and greens lit up your cheeks and glistened in your eyes. Bertholdt felt dizzy watching you, felt his breath nearly sucked from his lungs when the realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

It was just a game, sure, but he was smitten. The avatar sitting at his side was just that: a character.

But when you -- your digital form -- laid your head on his shoulder, he could feel the pressure. He could feel the heat radiating from you, feel the butterflies in his belly.

He knew he was in deep.

"Have you ever seen something so pretty where you live?" you asked, tone dreamy and voice soft. Bertholdt shook his head gently without needing much thought.

"It's pretty boring where I'm from, honestly. Not much to do around here," he replied. Briefly, he thought about you, most likely sitting thousands of miles away in some city he's never heard of. He thought about what your daily life might consist of, outside this magical realm you traversed together nightly.

It became easier to be bold in this virtual setting, no matter how real it felt. Bertholdt slowly snaked an arm around your form and let his fingers ghost over your waist, something he'd be petrified to do in person.

"Ugh, me too. I visited Paradis with some friends last year, and it was so fun. Made me super jealous that my town is just so... bland, even if it's not that far away."

Bertholdt looked down at you. "Not far from Paradis?" he asked. A sense of excitement leaked into his words, one he hoped you didn't catch onto.

"Yeah. It's like, a ferry ride away."

No fucking way.

Bertholdt straightened himself. Suddenly, the hilltop you two lazed on felt sky-high, his heart catapulting into a slightly frenzied state. "Do you live around Liberio, maybe?" he asked, a little shake in his voice.

He could tell he caught you off guard with the way you snapped up to look at him. The answer was plain as day, but the satisfaction of hearing you confirm it felt too delicious to pass up. "No fucking way," was all you said, but it was music to his ears, easily stealing the breath from his lungs.

The VR was revolutionary, impeccable and immersive, allowing you to feel everything your character would -- almost everything, anyway. Bertholdt knew his actual heart was threatening to burst in his chest. He knew he was probably sweating in his gaming chair, and he knew Reiner would have a field day with this information if he ever caught wind. What the brunette didn't know, though, was how real it would feel when you planted a kiss on his cheek.

Not just the sensation -- of course he'd feel it, he felt everything that touched him -- but the implications behind it. You were a real person, somewhere not far from him, someone he absolutely adored, and you had kissed him. On purpose, no less.

At least he wasn't crazy like Reiner inadvertently made him out to be. It wasn't all in his head. All the hours spent together, all the late nights, all the texts that made him glow while he was supposed to be working... it wasn't nothing. It wasn't silly, it wasn't weird. It was real. You were real, somewhere, and he needed to settle some things before he went insane from self-doubt.

Despite his outward skepticism, Reiner was a good friend, with good intentions. Bertholdt knew it all came from a place of love, even if it left a sour taste in his mouth sometimes, which is why he even allowed this Scooby-Doo-level scheme to transpire in the first place.

The cafe was quiet, but not empty. A few students dotted the tables, typing away on laptops. A little group of women clad in athletic gear chatted amicably just a few seats away. Bertholdt tried to sip away his nerves, the coffee burning his mouth in his haste. A new text tore his gaze away from the front door he'd been burning a hole in for the past five minutes.

Reiner: You look like you're about to shit yourself

He rolled his olive-colored eyes, shooting a pointed glare at the blonde sitting not-so-casually across the building. Reiner tilted his head with a grin before biting his croissant.

The blonde came as backup, a safety net in case things went horribly wrong with this... date? Would you even call it a date? Maybe it'd be too forward to assume. Sure, he'd held your hand; you've hugged plenty of times; you've kissed his cheek, and he's kissed your forehead. But this was all virtual, Reiner was quick to chirp in.

Truthfully, Bertholdt wasn't sure what to expect as he waited anxiously. What if things were painfully awkward? What if he didn't know what to say, what if he clammed up like he tended to do in social situations, and you thought he was some weirdo from the internet?

What if you didn't even show up?

Reiner: This is taking forever

Bertholdt heaved a sigh, staring at the phone laid on the table. As much as it pained him, he agreed with the sentiment, nerves frayed like a man on death row. What a painful, mortifying mistake this could be. What a--

"Bertholdt?"

He must've missed the door chime, must've missed the little gasp hidden behind the fit of self-depreciation he'd immersed himself in because he certainly missed the girl that walked cautiously up to his table and stood before him. Wide eyes slid up your form to settle on your face -- your strikingly familiar face that he'd actually never seen before, except, he has.

Just... digitally.

You looked exactly like your avatar, which came as a stark surprise. People usually embellish their characters, making them wildly more interesting or attractive to live their best fantasy life -- but you, standing a little ways away with your fingers fiddling at your sleeves -- you were so familiar, it made his chest ache and stomach flip dangerously.

He managed to mumble out your name, disbelief accidentally dripping from the syllables. A jovial smile crept over your cheeks, hidden by the hand you slapped over your mouth rather quickly. "No way, no way," you muttered, voice raised an octave in what he hoped was excitement.

Any sense of confidence he held in your little virtual world completely dashed away, knowing how stunning you actually were in person. He suddenly felt bashful, hot prickles rising under his skin as he stood up.

"Woah, you're really tall," you gawked, staring up at him with a gleam in your eye.

Reiner let his mouth hang in subtle disbelief as he watched the scene play out. He'd suggested the plan in wholesome concern, fully expecting to console his heartbroken friend over a few beers and maybe a little shit-talking session -- never in a million years did he expect a beautiful girl to waltz in, let alone bury her face in Bertholdt's chest as he timidly wrapped his arms around her. The two men made eye contact from across the cafe, sharing the moment of shock.

Reiner was a good friend -- he knew when to make himself sparse.

"Sorry I'm-- I'm really nervous, to be honest," the man before you said breathily, swiping his hands over his jeans. You'd felt how stiff he was during your hug, the energy radiating off of him like a live wire. As incredibly flattering as it was, it also fed your anxiety, making your hands shake just the slightest bit, but you laughed it off, enraptured by the adorable blush dusting his cheeks. "That's okay, I am, too," you replied gently, trying your best to even out your tone.

Bertholdt looked down at his drink. Something clicked, making him jump a little bit. "I'm so sorry, c-can I buy you a coffee?"

Your stomach fluttered, unable to look away from him. "I'd love that, thank you, Bertie," the nickname slipped out so easily, but it nearly threw him on the ground, his face and neck now a deep red.

"It's no problem, anything for you."

You weren't sure what you were expecting from this little plan. To any outsider, it was undeniably risky -- meeting up with some guy from the internet, alone. The fact that he asked you to choose the destination was a good sign in your eyes, though, as if you personally needed more reassurance... despite not knowing him in real life (yet), you knew there couldn't be a malicious bone in Bertholdt's body. The man was honey personified, extremely respectful in all of your interactions thus far, even when the playful banter turned a little less than platonic.

As he sat across from you, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, you knew he was a shy thing; the way he would bounce his gaze between you and his drink made you squirm with adoration. Nobody else in that little cafe felt relevant as you talked, minutes slipping away until the sun began to dip behind buildings outside.

How long had you been there? The parking meter certainly needed to be fed, or you got slapped with a ticket already, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your favorite person and the only man on your mind for the past year or so was finally in front of you, laughing at lame little anecdotes and strange stories from your life as if you were the most interesting person in the world. It felt so normal, so natural, it's like you hadn't had the wind knocked out of you just hours before.

"It's getting late," you said suddenly, sighing into the empty space inside your cup. Bertholdt glanced out the window, blinking in surprise. "I guess so," he replied, "I didn't even notice."

You smiled coyly. "I take it you're enjoying yourself?"

"More than I'd like to admit." The brunette ran a hand through his hair, all but forcing you to take note of the prominent veins that ran up his forearm, hiding under the rolled sleeves at his elbows. He'd dressed so nicely, it made you swoon inside. "Well... okay, call me crazy--"

"You're crazy, but so am I, because I already agree with whatever you're going to say," you found yourself leaning across the table, eyeing him with a heated, curious gaze.

Bertholdt chuckled -- a deep, rumbly noise that lit a fire under you. "Don't agree too quickly, you'll get my hopes up. I was just wondering... would it be weird if we, I dunno," he looked away shyly, fiddling with the long-empty cup between you both, "spent some more time together tonight?"

At your grin, he flushed deep again. Oh, how adorable this giant, bashful teddy bear was.

"I-I mean, like, maybe a movie or something? I'm sorry if it's weird. I just... I've had a lot of fun, I really like being around you, and I don't want today to be over."

Reaching over, you laid a hand over his, nothing but syrupy sweetness in your voice, "I'd love that, Bertie."

He really should've cleaned. It's not often he has guests in his apartment, let alone gorgeous women, so the space seemed embarrassingly lackluster as Bertholdt guided you inside and flicked on the lights. "Sorry for the mess," he mumbled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, and you waved him off immediately, muttering a playful 'shush, you're fine' in reply.

It's not like he could've predicted bringing you back home. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if he'd be meeting you at all -- and now, there you were, curiously gazing at a few framed photos hanging on his entryway wall. You looked utterly adorable, smiling at the image he knew to be his graduation day; he stood side by side with Reiner, red gowns draped over them and wide smiles plastered on their faces. "You look so cute here," you cooed, a sense of adoration dripping from your lips.

Bertholdt chuckled meekly. His stomach was tying knots around itself at a rapid pace. "Thanks. You look cute, too," he replied before he could think it over.

"Oh, do I?"

"Y-Yeah, stunning, actually."

The air felt heavier as you looked at him, your hands drawn together before you, lips pursed in the cutest half pout he'd ever seen.

Bertholdt was never good with women. He could feel himself crack under your gaze, nervous energy surging him further into his apartment in a feeble attempt at diffusing the tension he depicted as discomfort. "S-So, make yourself at home," he cleared his throat and set his keys on the granite countertop separating the kitchen from the living room.

Truthfully, you were on cloud nine. Despite only just meeting him (formally, anyways), your mind wandered to dangerous territory as soon as he sheepishly brought up extending your night. All these emotions that had built up for so long were finally coming to a head, in one way or another, and the need to explore it outweighed your frazzled nerves.

Fuck, it felt good when he complimented you. It felt good when he looked at you; it made you feel whole, complete, admired for everything you were. There was something so different about having that deep emotional connection before any inkling of physical attraction -- but that was most definitely there, too, burning deep in your belly and making your thighs squirm a bit.

His couch had never felt more comfortable than it did with you snuggled on it. It was impeccable, really, how smooth everything seemed to go despite how devastatingly nervous he was inside. Part of him wanted to text Reiner, maybe to gloat just a little bit, to revel in how he finally felt wanted by a beautiful girl that just so happened to lean into his side so casually it was like she was made to be there.

But, no, Bertholdt couldn't tear himself away from the moment, even for all the satisfaction that blabbing to the blonde might bring.

You hummed, utterly content in this mans hold, your core swirling as he rubbed little circles into your arm. His smell was intoxicating, something so clean and masculine and new but it felt so comfortable, so familiar in a strange way. How odd of a feeling, to be enamored with someone for so long and finally be able to feel them under your fingertips, take in their scent, even taste them if you so chose.

The thought brought electricity to life under your skin.

The movie still played idly on the TV, though truthfully, nobody was paying attention. Bertholdt realized this when he chanced a peek down, being met with a heavy gaze through thick lashes. His heart hammered in his ears.

"Hi," he breathed, so easily sucked into the beauty pressed against his side.

"Hi," you mirrored, nearly purring once he squeezed you closer, your head falling naturally against his chest. An experimental hand laid across his abdomen, spurring surprise at how toned he felt under the soft cotton. "This okay?" you cooed gently.

Bertholdt sucked in a sharp breath, feeling himself tense up as your fingers explored the peaks and valleys of his stomach. "Y-Yeah, that's okay," he watched you closely, deathly curious to see exactly what was happening before him.

"Bertie?"

The way you said that little nickname always made him melt. Though you could probably call him anything and he'd be quick to swoon.

"Mhm?"

With a tilt of his head, you leveraged yourself to lean up his torso and plant your lips across his own, eyes fluttering shut before you could spy the way his face immediately flamed up. Bertholdt's body lit up in record time, his skin searing and mind reeling -- it took a few seconds before he pulled together and leaned into you, but the action was eager, needy, incredibly charged. The sound of your lips working against each other overpowered the film, but was barely a thought in his mind over the subconscious screaming your intimate affections spurred in him. Embarrassingly enough, with a few swipes of your tongue against his, he could feel his dick growing harder and harder, just inches away from where your hand now played under his shirt. The man groaned softly into your mouth, worming his hand up to brush your hair away in utter adoration.

You pressed your thighs together, the fire between them becoming overwhelming as his hands curiously began to roam over you. He was so gentle, so cautious -- you leaned yourself further into him, shifting your hand down to grasp his thigh, but gasped into his mouth when you accidentally brushed over his bulge.

"S-Sorry," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, "I'm... you're really pretty, and I just really like you--" it was Bertholdt's turn to gasp when you palmed him through his jeans, pressing down with teasing force.

"Don't be sorry," a catlike grin spread over your plump lips, "I don't mind at all. I really like you too, y'know." You bumped your nose against his in a sweet little nuzzle, completely eating up how his breathing quickened with your gentle rubbing. A few short, involuntary jerks from his hips completely fed your ego, ushering away any nerves that threatened to fray in the heated moment.

"Is it okay if I...?" he pressed his forehead to yours, finally prying his eyes open to watch you, uncertainty laying heavy in his green gaze. A coy giggle spilled out in all your excitement, taking his hand and pressing it against your chest, kneading a little bit for extra measure. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you could feel his cock twitch.

A cute hitch caught in his throat when your hand fell away from his, his guide lost. "I... um," he pressed against the soft swell curiously, "h-honestly, I'm not the most experienced."

You pecked his lips, heart swooning when he eagerly pecked back. " 's okay, Bertie, neither am I."

"Really?"

Playfully, you squeezed at his hard length. An unmistakable tingle pooled in your core when he slipped a delectable moan against your kiss-swollen lips.

"Really. But I feel so... comfortable with you. I'm down to try some things out, if you are," your words were honey, and he was soaking up every bit he could, his heart utterly slamming against its poor cage. Bertholdt nodded eagerly, eyes falling shut again with a hard swallow. "Y-Yeah, yeah, I'd like that, a lot," the slight quiver in his voice made you notice the throb between your legs.

Bertholdt was so addicting in every sense. The smell of his sheets gripped you, pulled you in, made you think about how gruff his morning voice would sound or how cute he'd look with sloppy chocolate bedhead. It was almost too perfect, how at ease you felt under his careful touch. The incredibly flustered look splayed over his face once his cock was freed sent you into a horny tizzy -- it was perfect, if a little intimidating: long, flushed at the tip, drooling precum as it hung heavy between his toned thighs.

"I-I've thought about this a lot," he breathed, saddling himself between your bare legs, "it doesn't feel real. You're so gorgeous, so perfect," he shyly traced his thumb up and down your drooling lips, mesmerized by the sheer amount of wetness pooling already. "I'm so fucking glad you're here with me."

Electric jolts shot through you once he found your clit, swollen and needy and begging to be played with. Instinct made your legs squeeze together around him, even if all your lust-riddled brain wanted was to open up as wide as you possibly could for more of his delicate touch. Bertholdt watched in near astonishment as you writhed under his hold, one hand settled gingerly on your thigh and the other rubbing sweet circles against your hot button.

Succulent moans slipped from your lips, giving him the biggest confidence boost in the world. "Keep doing that," you cooed, "feels s'good," eyes fluttering shut, your head nudged back against his pillows in a state of bliss. He listened obediently, swirling your clit, and pressed his silky cockhead against your heat. With all your juices nearly dripping out of you, he barely needed any pressure before he was slipping between your lips, the new sensation sending shivers down his spine. "F-Fuck," he hissed quietly, even more pre dribbling out in his excitement. Needy, nearly throbbing, you wriggled your hips against him.

"More, need more," you whined.

"You want more?" the brunette breathed, rocking against you, dipping just the very tip of his cock inside and pulling out again. "Please," came your desperate reply, "please fuck me, Bertie."

The request alone nearly made him cum. With a groan, Bertholdt urged himself further at a careful pace, faltering a tad but not relenting on your sensitive little clit. Stretching around him, the unique sensation left you a bubbling mess, gripping onto his forearms hard enough to leave little crescent moons along the lightly tanned skin. "A-Am I hurting you?" he gasped, pausing mid-thrust and leaving only half his long cock inside, despite how desperately he wanted to bury himself all at once. He wanted to get lost in you, in your warmth, your wetness, but not at the sake of your comfort. Feverishly, your head thrashed side to side, eyes popping open to catch his hazy gaze. " 's okay, I'm okay, I promise."

"Want you to feel good," his chest, slick with a light sheen of sweat, heaved so deliciously. It looked like he was falling apart at the seams. "Are you ready? C-Can I keep going?"

You bit your lip. Such a sweet fucking man, towering over you in all your indecency, tripping over himself to make sure you were alright. With a little mewl, you raised your hips, sucking in more of his hard dick. "More, more," you begged, "want you t'fill me up..."

It was all he needed, a strained little moan accompanying his push into you. Pelvis to pelvis, Bertholdt couldn't believe the sight in front of him. The woman he'd been hopelessly in love with, splayed out on his sheets, face twisted up in pleasure that he was more than willing to provide. It was real, you were real -- the pressure in his lower belly was absolutely real, coiling aggressively fast as he slid in and out of your wet pussy. The sensation was addicting, he decided, your gooey insides massaging him so perfectly it was hard to stop, and even harder to keep himself contained. "Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, forcing his eyes shut as he tried to find a rhythm between hip thrusts and messing with your clit. The circles grew sloppy, but he couldn't find it in himself to correct it, every moment drawing him closer and closer to release. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bertholdt gasped, his hips stuttering along with his words, " 'm so close," he nearly whined, completely in love with the way your body sucked him in so greedily. Your hands found their way to his chest, lightly scratching down to his abs, tipping closer and closer to your own orgasm with his delicious words and needy moans. " 'm I gonna make you cum, pretty boy?"

The brunette lost the battle, that coil inside him completely snapping under your sticky sweet words -- muttering incoherent praises, Bertholdt hung his head as he came, thrusting deep inside you to bury himself as far as he could. A tiny bit of sense knocked back into him with your wiggling, enough to pick up the pace on your clit while his cock eased in and out of you slowly, riding out the tail end of his orgasm and feeding your own.

Clenching, spasming, your cunt sucked onto him desperately, a silent cry falling out of you and sucking all the air out of your lungs. This was so incredibly different than cumming against your own fingers, hitting so much deeper and scratching an itch you didn't know you had until Bertholdt satisfied it so intensely. "So good, so fucking good," he panted, easing himself out of you once your muscles began to relax.

The glow that settled over you both was intoxicating. His room felt hot, heavy, as if there wasn't enough oxygen for your needy lungs as you tried to recover with shaky legs. He laid beside you, trying to muddle through the wave of emotions crashing against him as he gazed at your breathless form in his bed.

"Thank you," Bertholdt said rather innocently, pressing his nose into your messy hair.

You giggled. "Thank you, what an excellent host you've been."

"My pleasure," he sighed. It felt like he just ran one of Reiner's impossible marathons, leaving his muscles weak and brain foggy.

"Yeah, speaking of... do you mind if I use your shower?" your thighs pressed together, acutely aware of his cum threatening to dribble out of you. A strange sense of pride coupled with slight sheepishness filled his chest when he realized what you meant, agreeing immediately and taking you on a little tour of his apartment, starting with the bathroom.

"So, you do have an online girlfriend."

Reiner was looking rather smug, leaning against his forearms on Bertholdt's counter. He studied the little photobooth strip of you both stuck to the fridge as the brunette rummaged around in it. Bert looked happy, kissing your cheek in one of the squares, beaming in the next.

"Not just online," the taller man mused, "she's coming over later, so don't make a mess."

Almost like a proud parent, Reiner straightened and grinned, playfully dusting off the spot he just occupied. "Alright, alright," he mused, not missing the way Bertholdt smiled so effortlessly as he crossed the kitchen. It was refreshing to see him so happy. "I'll get out of your hair. You have fun on your little date."

Waving him off, Bertholdt grinned into the sink as he washed the vegetables for your dinner that night.

You were real. Not just you as a person, not just your feelings for him -- you two, as the inseparable berserker and mage duo -- your connection was real, infallible, undeniable.

God, he loved that damn VR headset.

Kyojuro Rengoku from Demon Slayer