Junkyuholic - Eeka

Liv……this senario with Levi.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdbjkgnB/

vi i have been hanging onto this ask for SO long hoping that one day i would be strong enough to write this into a full fic but i need the world to see into your big sexy brain bc this is DELICIOUS

glass houses levi ackerman/f!reader (aot) word count: 1.2k tags: en ess eff double yew, age gap, voyeurism, stripping, mentions of masturbation

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Older neighbour!Levi who has all of his things unpacked within the first few hours of moving in, cardboard boxes broken down and tucked neatly away as quickly as they appear. You don't even really notice it happen; one day the apartment across the courtyard between your buildings was empty, and the next he's there.

So can you really be blamed for the fact that you aren't expecting a spectator when you start to peel your clothes off in front of your open window after a long, gruelling day at work? Your bones are weary, your shower is calling to you, and your neighbour is watching you undress.

The thin silky robe you pull on after you duck down out of sight feels insufficient to cover your body after you've been spotted--the humiliation leaving you feeling acutely bare as you peek your head up over the windowsill enough to see if he's still looking as raptly as he had been a moment prior.

He is.

At least he seems to have a sense of humour about it, if the wry little smile he shoots you with his hand placed over his eyes in a faux-display of coyness is anything to go by.

He doesn't have much by way of decor or furniture--a minimalist if you've ever seen one--but everything he does have that you can see from the vantage point of your own apartment is tasteful and expensive. It's one of the first things you notice when you risk another glance in the direction of his apartment the next morning, the second is a fleeting glimpse of him with a mug in his hand--and the sighting has you skittering quickly away, your heart pounding in your chest as rapidly as it had been when you weren't wearing any clothes, in spite of the fact that now you're fully dressed.

You're not sure what makes you do it again that second night. Maybe it's the cheap wine you've been drinking, maybe you're lonely, maybe you're craving that same adrenaline rush that you'd felt the night before when his eyes were the only thing on your skin.

You take your time undressing in front of your window this time, putting on a bit of a show. You know he's there even without looking. You'd caught a glimpse of him, on that same spot on his couch, with another glass of red wine in his hand--but more than that you can feel his eyes on you again.

It feels even better than it did the first time.

It becomes a routine after that. Your new neighbour settling in with his glass of wine every night to watch you painstakingly strip yourself bare for him. It feels like an eternity passes as you're slowly pulling off every article of your clothing until there's absolutely nothing left, and somehow every night that eternity seems to pass a little faster--leaving you with the feeling that you wish it had lasted just a little bit longer. That his stare had lingered on you just a little while more.

He never touches himself. No matter how tantalizingly you let your own touch linger on your body, how gently you graze the soft dips and swells of your own form. It drives you crazy, leaves you panting and moaning as you fuck your own fingers in the the privacy of your bathroom a short time later--but somewhere distantly you recognize that maybe that's the point.

The day you (inevitably, finally) meet him face to face in the little courtyard nestled between your homes you're taken aback by how handsome of a man he is up close.

He's older than you--that's certain now that you see him in all his glory--but he's aging gracefully. Time has exceedingly been kind to the angular, symmetrical lines of his face.

You don't know what to do. Or say. Part of you wants to turn heel and run for it, but instead you just laugh--breathy and light in the afternoon air.

"Hi," you say through your giggles, a hand reaching up to cover your flushing, burning cheek.

"Hello," he greets you with a polite dip of his head and a little smile of his own.

You tell him your name. Because what else are you supposed to say to the man who's been watching you get naked for the past 9 days? Who's watched you work your own nipples into sensitive little peaks just for the thrill? Who's seen you trail your fingers down down down between your legs under the guise of pulling off your panties?

"I'm Levi," he says, and hearing the way he says it nearly makes you tremble. Watching his lips form the shape of his own name makes you ache in the deepest part of your core.

"It's nice you meet you," you say softly.

Properly, that is.

He smirks slightly, then he hums.

The air between you feels too thin, too charged for a first meeting, too familiar for two strangers to be sharing between them.

"Have you lived here long?" Levi asks, and you have the fleeting thought that if he doesn't stop talking soon you're going to get to used to it, too attached to the very sound of it.

"Two years," you reply. "I moved here when I graduated college and started working."

He makes a little sound of recognition befitting of the small talk the two of you are sharing, but his gaze is piercing. He's appraising you. Sizing you up. Undressing you with his eyes in the same way he's watched you do with your own two hands.

"Well," you clear your throat, taking a step back towards your building, "I guess I should-"

His hand moves quickly, extending towards you. You pause, staring down at it, and the little card tucked between two fingers as he holds it out in your direction.

You pluck it slowly from his grasp, and turn it over in your hand.

Levi Ackerman, CEO ACKERMAN CORP.

You swallow as you read the credentials on the business card. The name, the title. The email address, office number, and fax details. Finally, the neatly scribbled series of digits on the lower righthand corner of the simple but tastefully designed card.

"My cell number." Levi anticipates the question before you can voice it, and your eyes flicker up toward him, greeted with a gaze of molten steel that threatens to drown you under it's weight. "If you ever need anything, or would like to grab a drink."

"I'm not much of a red wine fan," you say, setting out with the intention of levity but the words are too breathless to be teasing.

He smirks, clicking his tongue behind his straight white teeth. "I'll get you anything you'd like."

Your heartbeat thrums under your skin.

"Alright, Mr. Ackerman."

"Levi," he corrects you pointedly.

"Levi," you repeat, and you like the way his name tastes on your tongue. You wonder if he tastes just as sweet.

You turn towards your building, pausing once you take a single step away.

You turn back, glancing at him over your shoulder. He's already started in the direction of his own building.

"Levi?" you call towards him and he pauses, turning back to face you once more.

His brow quirks curiously.

You smile.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood."

Moon Starves Sun

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun(Full part)

Synopsis: The aftermath of 'Sun Eats Moon' in Satoru's perspective.

(Warnings: implied sex, forced relationships)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

(Pretty sure thats all what tumblr's gonna let me post, here's the full part!!!!!!!!!)

A post I made on my previous blog! But I saw you saying tumblr has been cutting your asks a lot so maybe this will help anyone sending in asks!

OH WELL SHIT THATS HELFUL AINT IT THANK U LEV

Creature

This is, of course, for this one special anon ♥ Jokes aside, always remember guys to not read stuff that isn’t appealing to you instead of regretting it later (;

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Hephaestus x GN!Darling!Reader  (However, I did decide on calling them Priestess in this work, though nothing else as indication) Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Planning to set the reader up for sex, Dub-Con, Monster Fucking, Implied Cuckolding, various innuendos, Getting flashed), Forced Relationship, Power Imbalance, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Mention of insecurities and anger issues

Prompt: @sintember Free Day Friday: Creature - Monsters, beasts, cryptids galore. We can’t let those humans think they run the show.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

“So… how do you like him?”

Hephaestus’s hands fell to your shoulders. Large thumbs resting against the back of your neck while his fingers wrapped around your throat, sliding under the golden necklaces he crafted for you. Once again, he let you feel his subtle superiority over you as he leaned against you ever so slightly, pushing you down. Putting you into your lowly, human place by his side. It was just his illusive way of exerting his power over you, but you were so used to it that you didn’t try to stand up straight and push back against him. To stay in favor was the goal when it came to the gods, even with someone as kind and forgiving as Hephaestus was. Being defiant towards him would result in him pinning you down on the ashen floor of his forge until you swore your devotion to him, and later remark how dirty you looked and how it was unfitting of your position.

So, instead, you kept your eyes pinned on the monstrosity before you. You wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, that looks were deceiving, and you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but you had no other words to describe it. It was a creature formed after a man but clearly nowhere near human. And after being with Hephaestus for what must be years on earth now, you knew this was a golem rather than a living, breathing being. It was also, very clearly, not his first try, which unnerved you more. This had been a planned and practiced endeavor, and you weren’t sure how to properly accept such a gift from your benefactor.

You could have had it worse with the god whose eyes you caught. Had it been anyone else but Hephaestus, well… You saw what they did to the other humans; the shameful displays and broken minds. Being a priestess to the god of blacksmiths and various other crafty skills, your worst experience was the nude modeling for his creations in front of other beings interested in his doings. Otherwise, you were a glorified house warmer, just making sure to wipe the floor after Hephaestus came home, dragging ashes after him, and helping him wash and relax after another day of working. You’d also serve him as his personal outlet for various rants and reassure the big, mighty smith when his thoughts turned angry and insecure. In return, you were spared the same awful life that your fellow humans on Olympus had, which you were endlessly grateful for. You could spend your days resting and honing your own skills when he wasn’t at home, Hephaestus never telling you what to do or constantly attend him. The only times you really left his lofty home were the occasional times you two had to go to an outing of the gods or when he asked you to come and fetch a new gift he had made for you from his forge yourself.

But you weren’t sure you wanted that.

“He’ll help you at home,” Hephaestus explained proudly, moving around you and patting the back of the golem who stood closer to the god’s height than yours. He was shimmering, silver iron, a piece of art so delicately crafted that he moved soundlessly despite his massiveness. With toned muscles chiseled into his body, he almost looked as handsome as Apollo. However, when Hephaestus beckoned you closer, the golem holding his hand out to you, you felt the freezing cold of metal against your fingertips, smooth like stone in the ocean.

The hairs carved onto his head didn’t move as he cocked his head at you, probably wondering why you were so warm in comparison. It just was unnatural not seeing the strands move. But his eyes were no better, soulless gems hammered into his head, lips carved into an eternal, gentle smile. He was unnerving, but how could you possibly deny such kindness from your god? Even if it wasn’t the blessing of being allowed to return to the human realm, refusing the golem he had crafted to assist you for the small chores you had to do every day, might shatter what little respect Hephaestus had for his human. You didn’t want to think about the things he would be capable of doing once you lost his favor.

Hephaestus might have been nicer than other gods, but you weren’t an idiot trusting in just the gentle attitude he showed towards you until now. He, too, had his fair share of misdeeds and anger issues, and you knew the crooked ways he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice, his gaze burning on your skin. You weren’t the only one to notice, either. Whenever you two met Aphrodite (much to the chagrin of both gods), she’d give you one of these burning looks as well. Hephaestus at least looked at you with something akin to serenity and delight, but hers was a look so full of pity it was barely endurable. And that while she had countless of mindless humans flocking around her that you felt were much more to be pitied than you.

But who were you to judge immortals and their ways? A lot of what you learned about them in the mortal realm hadn’t exactly turned out to be wrong, but they were definitely different from how you expected them to be. All you could do was hold out your hand as politely as possible, watching in a mix of fear and surprise as the golem bent to kiss the back of it, cold lips lingering reverently against your skin. Your face snapped to Hephaestus as you wanted to make sure it would not upset him, but he looked at his creation in a mix of pride and adoration. As if it was his child.

“T-Thank you…” you stuttered, getting very mixed signals here.

Hephaestus didn’t like you around the other humans or gods. He didn’t want you to participate in games or even to wait on him, hand and foot. He mostly kept you by his side when he could, not allowing anyone closer to you than he was. Even if this was just a golem, you thought he’d hate seeing any kind of contact between you two aside from a quick handshake as you tried to offer.

“You like him then?” Hephaestus asked, finally looking back at your flustered, anxious form, and you nicked, again polite rather than genuine.

“That’s good,” he sighed, and you almost felt like he was deeply relieved, though you didn’t know what was bothering him so, despite you being closer to him than even his family. “You tend to be alone while I work here, so he’s in charge of keeping you company and protecting you.”

Feeling like this was genuinely meant as just another kind gesture from him, you smiled for the first time, slowly nodding in understanding. “Thank you for considering me,” you told Hephaestus, and he smiled back. He looked almost boyish in the way his eyes sparkled and the happiness of his achievement spread over his face. He seemed very pleased with his creation and bringing you joy through it. You usually weren’t as happy about his other gifts, too many necklaces and rings stored away in your closet already. It had become increasingly hard to feign surprise and adoration for every piece of jewelry he made for you. So even though it still felt weird to lay your eyes on the creature, you actually felt Hephaestus’s concern for you as you looked at it, albeit unnecessary since you rarely left his house without him and could maintain it just fine.

“I’m very relieved,” he confirmed your suspicion, dragging a large hand over the golem’s head in a bizarre form of a pet. “There’ve been things I couldn’t do for you yet, so I wanted you to have a companion who’d be able to satisfy your every need.”

Taken aback by the statement, you looked up at Hephaestus, furrowing your brows as you tried to think of what he could mean. Unable to figure it out on your own, you looked back at the golem who, despite his expression being chiseled into his face, seemed a bit mischievous now. Even Hephaestus let out a small chuckle, seeing your surprised confusion, before gesturing at his creation, the golem reaching for the knot holding the expensive-looking fabric he wore in place.

In a swift movement, the garment fell to the floor, and you released a startled gasp, shielding your eyes with your hands and turning around. “What do you think?” Hephaestus asked, pride vibrating in his laugh. “A perfect replica of mine, wouldn’t you say?”

Keep reading

Can i request treasure when their s/o surprises them by coming home early from a trip

Hi, thank you for requesting and I apologise for not being able to do this sooner, I was on school camp!

Treasure Reaction To Their S/O Surprising Them By Coming Home Early From A Trip

Hyunsuk

He would have come home early in the morning from a very exhausting dance practice. He was covered in sweat completely drained, as he walked through the hallway he saw a familiar suitcase in the hallway, he would drop everything in his hands and race up the stairs, only to see you sleeping like a baby. All he had on his face was a beaming smile, he quickly took a shower and got into bed with you, coddling you.

Junkyu

He came home in the afternoon, from a quick photoshoot, that he woke up pretty early in the morning for. He would sigh as he removed his coat while walking up the stairs, all he could think about his fatigued mind and body, and how he would relieve it by sleeping it away, as he opened the bedroom, he saw you putting your clothes into your shared closet, all that fatigue vanished when he saw you. He would rush to you and hug you tightly as possible.

Jaehyuk

He woke up early for a dance practice, and while he was exiting the apartment he shared with you, the second he saw you was when he opened the front door. He would be taken aback at first, thinking that he was hallucinating since he missed you so much. Also, since you hadn’t informed him of coming home earlier than expected, the second that he realises that he isn’t hallucinating, he would start tearing up, and give you a hug, he would hold you in a hug for a while, breathing your scent in.

Yedam

He would be in his built-in studio at home (which also happens to be completely sound proof) you would have entered your shared apartment while he was in the studio working on a few songs, so he wouldn’t have heard you enetering at all. The second you had put all your clothes back into place, you would go into the studio, quietly creeping behind Yedam, then quickly covering his eyes. Now, Yedam would jump from fright since he was so engrossed in the making of his music, thinking that it might be one of the members, but the second he places his hands upon yours, he knows its you straight away. “Baby… I missed you.” He would say while wrapping his arms around you.

Haruto

Would probably be lazing around the house, bored out of his mind without you. But when he hears a knock on the door, he’s confused. He knew it couldn’t be you, since you were meant to come back home from the trip in about two weeks, so he just assumed that it was something that he had ordered online. As he opened the door, expecting it to be the mailman, he would frown seeing you, ‘Am I dreaming?’ Would he the first thought to run through his mind, Haruto would squish your face in different directions, messing up your hair, to see if it was too good to be true. You slapped his hand away made him realise that he wasn’t dreaming, “Why are you back?” He obviously said this with good intentions, poor boy would be confused as to why you came earlier than you told him you would, “It was meant to be a surprise” is all you can say, he would stare at you blankly for awhile before breaking out into a cheesy grin.

Jeongwoo

Like Haruto, would also be lazing around. Singing random songs while surfing the internet. When he hears the door knocking, he would straight away get up and answer it, he was aware of the fact that you had told him you would be coming home two weeks later, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that it was you at the door, you who had come home earlier. But when he opens that door and the smell of your perfume hits him, he throws his arms around you, “Y/N! Welcome home!” Would drag you and your luggage inside and let you rest while he made you some ramen.

Junghwan

He would be halfway through the hallway, frozen. He was staring at you confused, since it was completely unexpected. But that confusion would wash away quick, he would hug you and then show you all the dance moves he had learnt while you were away, while you show him all the gifts you bought for him.

Hey, can I request mashiho, hyunsuk and junkyu as boyfriends instead🥺💘

tysm for requesting (again)!! tbh they all would be the most softest for their s/o im 🥺🥺🥺 rn

Them As Your Boyfriend Headcanons

Mashiho

would be constantly be a blushing mess

every time he compliments you, you end up blushing and vice versa

definitely the type to invest into couple items

whenever he goes on tour he would always, and I mean always buy a couple item

whenever you two have karaoke dates, Mashiho always makes the karaoke room into his very own concert

mans can sing and rap so you two will be having singing and rapping duets!

sorry but your camera roll wil be filled w him

he’s just so cute !!

yall would take the most cutest couple pictures!!

like going to Disney land and getting Minnie and Mickey Mouse ears !!!

posting stuff like that ^^^

whenever someone brings you up he just turns all giddy!!!

y’all would have fanboys from treasure ngl

they just think you’re both too cute

would probably love being the big spoon since he is small and it probably makes him feel manly 🥺🥺

nah jks if you’ve seen how he is with Junkyu then YOU KNOW that he’s 99.9% of the time gnna be the small spoon

since him and Junkyu are pretty close, y’all are gnna have a third wheeler

and the third wheelers probably gnna be you

jks jks!!

but Junkyu would probably be one of the first people mashi would go to advice for anything related to you

whenever you’re upset he would be upset as well :(

he probably wouldn’t know what to do so that’s when he goes to Junkyu

would most likely give you time to yourself

would probably act cute to make you feel better 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

so please communicate with him!!

when y’all fight he’d be so upset aswell :(

like he might not shed any tears but he would have absolutely no motivation to do anything

you two both need to confront each other and fix whatever problem arises!!

the only way you can make up after fights is through a lot of cuddles!!

Junkyu

most optimistic couple you two would be omg

wherever you two go the room just lights up

uk how after a storm there’s always the sun coming up???? THATS YOU TWO

funniest couple as well!!

biggest memes

you two would have so many inside jokes

like if anyone else heard the conversations you two have, they would be like ‘wtf’

y’all have the dumbest inside jokes as well

like whenever you see a black cap you two instantly think of yg balding

you don’t even have to say it you two just burst out laughing

you two would probably have an alien couple type of nickname im srry

okay so; y’all would take the most meme worthy photos ??? like whatever sunglasses you two see you just put it on and start posing

you two would find a wig and make a whole fashion show while wearing that wig omg

he is a sensitive man

despite having a seemingly very outgoing exterior, on the inside he seems insecure

and you’re probably the reason on how he’s slowly getting over those insecurities

you’re going to be reassuring him a lot bc he’s the type to over think ALOT

whenever something upsets him, the only thing that would make him feel better is some alone time with you

you just holding him in your arms whispering sweet nothings as he cries it alllll out

now you see, you’re probably the ‘stronger’ one of the relationship

bc if the positions were switched and you were the one crying in his arms;

he would definitely be crying with you 🥺

it just hurts him to think that the person that is literally the sun of his world is going through some type of hardship

it hurts him vvvvv much

when you two get into fights he would think it’s his fault immediately so that’s why he needs reassurance!!!

if you’re ever upset w him (most unlikely) please communicate with him bc he’ll start making assumptions that you might wanna break up w him :(((

so please talk it out !!

anyways! junkyu: an amazing boyfriend :)

Hyunsuk

the best person to go to for fashion advice

he KNOWS his brands and what accentuates your features

so if you had bad taste in fashion; not anymore with hyunsuk you don’t !!

you two are the power couple

also the fashion couple !

you two both dress up like bad asses

when the two of you walk down the streets people are literally turning heads

the fashion! the power! the vibes!

literal power couple

ppl would take pictures of you two bc of how good you two look

would love to do some raps w you

like some bobby x mino songs 😎

ends with him almost bursting a lung bc of laughter

and it’s bc of u

the type to tease you

if you rap a certain way he’s gnna imitate you for the rest of your life srry

tbh yg has been a piece of shit to him

and everyone knows that

but you’re the one whose threatening to beat ygs ass

and that makes him smile :)

and it does make him feel better

it’s probably rly hard for hyunsuk since only a few members from Team A debuted w him

and since he’s the eldest of the group now he gets stressed

and that’s when you need to hold him and reassure him

(just like Junkyu hehe)

but it’s not as bad as Junkyu

he just needs a bit of reassurance

when you two get into fights he would be more on the mad than sad side

but that’ll soon die down after he realises that he can’t be upset with you

and vice versa

might feel like a disappointment

oh god hyunsuk just deserves better :(

yg treated him like dirt ;(

I’m sad now :((

ANYWAYS

I think he prefers being the big spoon

loves playing with your hair !!

becomes your hair stylist (+your actual stylist)

would make raps about you 🥺🥺

would also have you listen to whatever raps he writes before he shows it to ygs ugly ass

would always send you good morning and good night texts

NEVER forgets to

hyunsuk: soft boyfriend 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hii!! I’m not sure if your still active here or not and if you do these types of submissions but could you write what you think each of the members ideal types or s/o would be like? Or what they would look for in someone or be attracted/drawn to?

hiii, this is a year late response (LOL, sorry) but pls send through 3 members !

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄-𝐓𝐎-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄-𝐓𝐎-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 Yandere Married Boss x Secretary Reader

⟡ AN: RAHHH. IT'S FINALLY HERE. This took me way longer then it should have but I'm really proud of it. The title is a reference to this song if you care. Enjoy. ⟡ TW: 18+ ONLY, NON-CON, Older Male/Younger Female (mid 30s, mid 20s), Abuse of power (Boss/Employee), Infidelity, Face-Sitting, Cunnilingus, Switch Man, Switch Woman, PIV sex, Manipulation, Roofies, Kidnapping, Mentions of Divorce, Mentions of Pregnancy

Every quarter, your company’s HR department sends out an employee satisfaction survey, and every quarter when you reach the “What is your favorite part of working for our company?” question, your answer is the same.

You love the community. Your colleagues are respectful and hardworking; willing to go the extra mile to ensure deadlines are met. You feel as though your work contributes to something larger and that your efforts don’t go unnoticed by your employers. 

Very cute. Very professional. It would be the perfect answer if it wasn’t all bullshit. 

Your coworkers are fine, but not worth a twenty minute commute and shitty benefits. What actually keeps you slugging into work every morning is far less… admirable. It isn’t something you could write on a company survey without consequences, at least.

Your favorite part of your job is bouncing on your boss's cock.

You never intended to be an office siren. When you applied for the job all you wanted was to make rent. This was your first “adult” job, so in adult fashion, you tried to keep things professional. 

Emphasis on tried.

It's just... how could you work to your fullest when you were spending all day fantasizing about those toned forearms pinning you down? How were you supposed to answer emails when you were busy wondering if he looked better in or out of his suit? Everyday he sat five feet away from you looking so pent-up and fuckable, could you really be blamed for getting distracted? The hit to your productivity was a detriment to the company. You were just being a responsible employee by fixing the issue.

Yes, he’s ten years your senior. Yes, there’s a blaring ethical issue with a boss fucking his secretary. But he’s a man of childrearing age and you’re a fertile young woman; it’s not your fault you have biological urges.

Besides, it’s not like he’s absolved from blame. You certainly don’t force him to lie down on the couch in his office and pull you onto his face. The desire for you to cum on his nose is entirely his own.

“Fuck, Y/N.” his groan vibrates up into your core, pulling the knot in your stomach tight. One rough hand lies at your waist, following your hips as they roll against his mouth. The other works at his perked up cock, lazily tugging up and down as he devours your cunt. “That’s it baby, ride my fuckin’ nose.”

He’s been at it for nearly half your lunch break now, lapping and sucking at your folds in lieu of his actual meal - not that you’re complaining. How could you, when his tongue is so adamant? It flicks through your folds greedily to earn more of your juice, savoring the salty-sweet taste he’s become so addicted to. Every slurp, lap and suck is catered specifically to your preferences.

You've done well with him. When you first took him under your wing he’d never even eaten pussy before, in fact, he’d only ever slept with two women. Not for lack of desire, he told you, he just never had the time or confidence to flirt in his twenties. Before he knew it, time got away from him and he was past the age where hookups are deemed socially acceptable. 

Your heart broke for him. A man as handsome as him shouldn't be having mediocre sex. So you, being the selfless woman you are, offered to help him make up for lost time. 

It only took one blowjob for him to overlook the ethics of the situation.

With a gentle hand, patience, and lots of encouragement, you’ve turned the businessman into a first rate manslut. He fucks and eats pussy like a veteran now and he’s always eager to get more practice, he drags you onto his face nearly every time he calls you into his office.

He’s come a long, long way, your little pet project.

Inadvertently, you thrust your hips forward, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose. His tongue burrows itself into your hole, and that’s enough to send you over the edge. Your belly goes taut, your thighs clamp around his ears and you bite your lip to stifle your scream as the contractions roll through your body. Each one sets off fireworks. Fizzing and popping like sparklers in your tummy. Mind-numbing, toe-curling, perfection.

He’s an absolute mess when you climb off of his face. Completely blissed out, face dripping with juices and saliva, glistening in the light pouring through the window. The collar of his pristine white dress shirt is drenched and wrinkled, most likely ruined, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. No, his hungry eyes haven't left that cute little mound between your legs.

“Bend over the desk.” he growls, leaving a smack on your ass as you pull yourself up, and despite the sting you can’t help but smile at his confidence. He’s a far cry from the man he was before you got your hands on him.

You decide to reward him with a little show; swaying your hips teasingly as your stilettos click across the floor, obediently laying yourself over the smooth mahogany, keeping a light arch in your back so he has a nice view of your ass. 

You smile coyly at his reddened face, “You coming, Boss?”

His adam's apple bobs and he makes his way over, eyes dark and dilated, cock leaking beads he positions himself between your legs.

“We only have fifteen minutes before my lunch ends,” you purr, “You think that’s enough time to make us both cum?”

"That’s more than enough~" he growls, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking back so he can purr in your ear, "Do you want my cock in this tight little cunt, Y/N? Do you want me to fill you up?"

You frantically nod, accentuating the act with an exaggerated whimper and needy roll of your hips.

"Beg for it then." he hisses.

If you were in a sadistic mood you might test how long you could make him hold out, but you feel like indulging him today, so you look back at him all teary and doe-eyed. "Please, please, please, Sir. I need your thick cock in my tight little cunt! I can't - Ah! - I can't take it anymore!"

A loud groan tumbles past his lips as he lines himself up, tracing the fat head up and down your slit,  “Slutty thing. That’s alright baby, I’ll give you what you—”

The clink of something falling off his desk interrupts the thought. The object in question rolls a few feet across the wood floor before wobbling in circles and finally lying flat.

His wedding band glitters innocently in the afternoon sun, silently mocking its owner and his mistress.

Ah, the elephant in the room.

Yes, you know he’s married. If the ring wasn’t enough of a tell, the picture of the two of them on his desk is. He's about a decade younger in it, grinning wide as she presses a kiss to his cheek. They took it in France during their honeymoon, he told you. 

You’ve never met his wife, but you can tell from the picture that she’s the quintessential college sweetheart. The type of girl who’s never drank, smoked or had a cavity. The kind of girl you propose too at the park and settle down with in a white picket fence suburban neighborhood. The kind of girl who says “Not tonight, honey.” when you ask to have sex at the end of a stressful day.

In layman's terms, she's boring.

And clearly, she isn’t taking care of him correctly. He was so obviously pent up when you started flirting with him, just a glimpse of your cleavage was all it took to get him rock hard.

Of course it’s morally reprehensible, but you could argue that making him work his dull 9-5 everyday for nothing in return is wrong too. Somebody had to help the guy out. If she wasn’t going to do her job then you’d have to do it for her.

The guilt nearly killed him at first. The day after the first blowjob he dragged you into his office and furiously—or maybe desperately—started pacing up and down the room. Giving you the “We can’t do this. For Christ’s sake Y/N, I’m married.” speech, whether he was lecturing you or himself, you aren’t entirely sure.

Still, you listened patiently as he rambled, and eventually you decided it was best to back off. It was a disappointment for sure but you'd get over it. You were too hot to be meddling in people's marriages anyway. 

At least directly meddling.

You didn’t make any more blatant advances, but you did start wearing dresses and skirts that fell a tad too short to be considered work appropriate. The necklines of your tops started plunging too, showing off as much cleavage as you could without HR getting up your ass. And you suddenly became very clumsy. “Accidentally” dropping things whenever he was around, or leaning over his desk just enough to give him a nice look down your shirt. 

Five days. He only lasted five days before he pulled you into his office, all but begging on his knees for you to fuck him.

And well, you aren’t to blame if he’s the one who instigated.

You watched with a smug grin as he slipped off his wedding band and took off his pants, wasting no time straddling his lap and sinking down on that poor, needy cock. You rode him like a mechanical bull, chest filled with pride as you looked at that stupid picture of him and his wife. The victory made your orgasm all the more sweet.

You always get what you want in the end.

Despite your literal and metaphorical grip on his balls, however, his wife remains a thorn in your side. Your boss has gone completely soft staring at that dumb ring, thinking of his dumb wife who probably couldn’t suck a dick to save her life. No wonder he’s cheating, the bitch pisses you off and you’ve never even met her.

Holding back an exasperated sigh, you give his tie a gentle tug, shifting your expression to something soft and comforting as he turns back, gently tracing your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin to gently tilt it up. And though he obeys the silent command, the shame swimming in his eyes makes your smile waver.

It irks you, for some reason, how upset he is by this. Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe you should have more sympathy, but you can’t push past the desire to keep him for yourself. You may have won, but did you really if his heart is still hers? 

That’s something to address another time. Getting him hard again takes precedence right now, you’re not going to let that bitch get between you and his dick.

You pull yourself off of his desk, grabbing his hand gently. He follows you to the couch—far more hesitantly then you’d like—but he doesn’t complain when you lie him down and climb on top. He never complains when you climb on top. You leave a sweet kiss between his eyebrows and the cute, attention-starved thing burns bright red. Adorable.

“You’re alright.” You caress his stubbled cheek, lulling him with honey-sweet kisses; a siren coaxing a sailor to his doom. “It’s not your fault you have urges, remember? You’re a grown man, it’s not healthy for you to be so pent-up.” 

His throat clicks with a heavy swallow when your hand moves down, gently wrapping around his soft penis, stroking it with feather-light touches, teasingly biting your lip. The rod in your hand fills out shamelessly, and like a bad habit, his eyes flick back down to your pretty cunt. You can tell he’s itching to touch, his morality holding on by a thread, but he’ll always fold to you in the end. You, and your torturous little pocket of bliss.

“That’s it baby.” you purr, picking up his trembling hand and placing it over your clit, “Little circles, just like I taught you.” and as soon as his hand starts moving he’s putty in your hands again, any remaining penitence completely snuffed out.

He’s hypnotized. Pussy-whipped. Rubbing your little pearl with rough pads, working it like a joystick and groaning licentiously as you trace the head of his cock up and down your folds. You line yourself up, leaning forward so you’re hovering just a few centimeters away from his face, close enough to feel his hot breath on your lips.

“We both know she can’t give you what you need. But I can. I’ll make you feel so good~” you purr. One hand finds it's way up his shirt, his heart races in his chest, pulsing wildly under your touch. You can't help your lips from curling up.

You lower yourself so your hole swallows just the tip and his breath hitches beneath you. You clench in response. Just a little squeeze to remind him who makes him feel good, who his cock really belongs too. And if the bubbling moan that passes his lips is anything to go by, he got the memo.

Carefully, with a teasing sort of breathiness, you drag your lips over his neck. Nibbling lightly at his sensitive pulse point and tracing a little heart over his pecs with a sharp, manicured nail before ghosting gently over his ear and cooing with an almost maternal softness, “Just relax. Let me take care of you, okay?”

He melts.

He all but whimpers as you drop yourself down, white-knuckling the sofa, so overwhelmed you swear his eyes start tearing, and when you finally reach the base he groans like he’s seen heaven. You don’t think about his wife, or his ring, or the morality of it all while you bounce on his cock. Not a flicker of guilt passes through your mind when he bucks and fills you with his cum. Why should it? Your job is to ensure your boss's needs are met while he's in the office, and you’re doing just that. His life after five pm is none of your concern, really.

—

About two months later you find an unassuming sticky note on your desk, scrawled over in his chicken-scratch handwriting.

Come to my office at 5, we need to talk.

It strikes you as odd. Normally he’d just come talk to you about any arrangements, lay a gentle hand on your shoulder and bend down to whisper something filthy in your ear, but your boss is nowhere in sight. Not on the office floor checking up on his employees, not in the break room making idle chatter while he refills his coffee, your boss stays holed up in his office all day, and when you walk in to give him his schedule for the upcoming week he only grunts in acknowledgement, never looking up from his computer.

Something is clearly wrong. Normally, he can’t keep his hands off of you—you never leave his office without a slap on the ass and a promise to make you regret wearing whatever curve hugging skirt you put on that day—but he seems to want nothing to do with you, or rather, he seems to be avoiding the fact that he does. The blatant disregard pisses you off, frankly. You put effort into your makeup today.

But more than that, his sudden indifference is unsettling. You can’t put your finger on why; he’s never given you reason to believe that he’s resentful, and despite his dour, professional persona he’s about as intimidating as a newborn kitten. Still, the tension in his office is thick. Thicker than you realize. When you step out you're surprised to find your lungs are aching from holding the breath you walked in with.

You spend the better part of your day trying to convince yourself that you’re just feeling ill. You aren’t nervous. There’s no reason to be. The gut feeling telling you to walk out at five today is just the byproduct of spoiled eggs at breakfast. You’re in control. You always are.

Still, when five o’clock comes your heart is pounding. Alarm bells clang in your head, screaming that something bad is going to happen if you walk through that door. Briefly, an interview from a true crime documentary you once watched plays through your head—the victim was lamenting how she regretted not listening to that “gut feeling” before she got kidnapped—but that’s ridiculous. You know your boss and you’re certain he’s not a kidnapper. The notion itself is ridiculous. You’ll be fine. You’ve been fucking him for three months, him acting weird doesn’t mean today will be any different.

After a few deep breaths you open the door and as promised, he's waiting for you, but not how you expected him to be. Normally, he’d be rolling his hips into his fist by now, impatiently demanding you get on your knees in front of him, but today he’s fully clothed, penis nowhere in sight. Instead, his hands cup a white mug of steaming liquid—an identical one that you presume to be yours sits on the opposite side of his desk—and he seems… tired. Pale and weighted; certainly not aroused in any way.

“You can sit, you know. I’m not angry at you.” he calls vacantly from across the room, not looking up from his cup.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you realize you’ve been staring. With a thick swallow, you make your way over to him, mustering up as pleasant a smile as you can. When you finally sit and get a good look at him, however, the grin drops. 

He looks… awful. Weary and bleak, with red, puffy circles around his eyes like he’s recently been crying, his hair is mussed and a five o’clock shadow is growing on his chin. It’s jarring, to say the least. He’s normally so put together, you can’t remember if you've ever seen him disheveled. He’s a hard man to shake typically, his job demands it, but he looks utterly distraught. For a brief moment, you feel kind of bad.

Gross.

A halfhearted chuckle leaves his mouth, “I’m sorry. I must look pretty pathetic, huh?” 

Immediately you straighten, rectifying your smile. You can’t show cracks. There are no cracks, “Not at all Sir. What can I help you with?” 

A meaty hand waves you off. “Don’t bother with professionalism. We both know we aren’t here to talk about work.” He runs a hand through his already mussed up hair and shuts his eyes, pausing a moment, taking a long breath. You can't tell whats going on in his head - if he's thinking deeply or steeling himself - but you aren't left to wonder long before he exhales and flicks his gaze back to you. “Here," he says, pushing the second cup towards you, "Take a drink. This might be a lot.”

“Oh no, I’m not thirsty–”

“Drink.” he interrupts, and you’re startled by how sharp the command is. It’s far cry from the playful orders you’re used to receiving when he growls at you to get on your knees or bend over his desk. Instinctively, you find yourself rushing to obey.

When you bring the mug to your lips, his face relaxes. The alarm balls start jingling in the back of your head again.

“I’m going to be blunt about this,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “My wife found out about the affair and she wants a divorce.”

Oh. That is a lot.

It takes you a few seconds to process what he’s saying, a few more for it to sink in, but when you’ve finally got a stable grasp on the information, the faucet of emotion is turned on. It doesn’t twist off until your body is on the verge of overflowing.

But not for the right reasons.

Your heart should be sinking, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. You should be on your knees, groveling in shame; apologizing with your whole chest for ruining this poor man's marriage—but you aren’t. Not a flicker of remorse fills your body.

You feel positively giddy.

Elated. Euphoric. You are on cloud fucking nine. Months, you’ve been waiting for this day; when you could finally take your medal and put it around your neck. It’s not really a matter of him being yours, moreso confirming that you’re hot enough to break up marriages. Fuck the morality of it all. You did it. She’s gone. You won. 

You aren’t tactless enough to start jumping for joy, however. You do your best to put on a genuine-seeming soberness and reply, “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, eyes down-turned, “I’m equally if not more to blame. What’s done is done.” 

He stands then, aimlessly walking to the window. It’s all rather dramatic, you feel, but you're not the one who’s marriage just got destroyed. Quietly he looks across the skyline, face clouding with regret as he speaks, “You should have seen her, Y/N.” You really wish you had, “I-I could see her heart breaking in her chest when I admitted to it.”

Oh, the delight that runs through you when you hear that crack in his voice—it makes you dizzy.

“I managed to find an apartment somehow between then and now. I’m in the process of moving in. I thought it was only right to give her space. God, the poor girl…” His cheeks are wet when he turns back to you and another jolt of glee zips through your body. But this one is stronger than the first one. It makes you wobble a little in your chair; you have to clutch the armrests to keep yourself upright.

The bells have started clanging again—painfully loud—and your heart beats in time with each stroke.

“Seven years. We’d been together seven years.” he laments, walking back to you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. It’s searing hot, burning into your skin like an iron. You try to jerk away but your body goes slack and when you try to pick yourself back up again, you can’t. No matter how hard you strain and lift, your muscles won’t move.

A sick, crawling dread fills your chest, the kind you feel when you get to the very top of a rollercoaster. It creeps up your spine and wraps around your chest, squeezing the air out of your lungs. You can hear your pulse in your head now. It's so loud you almost don't notice his large hands hook under your armpits, hoisting your limp body back up onto the chair like a ragdoll. 

You glance up at him but immediately regret it. His face… he looks like a madman. Pale and wild; eyes manic and pupils dilated. He swallows heavily, breath shallow and frenzied as he rasps, “I don’t think I could live without a wife again, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do.”

The bells are deafening now and any ounce of joy you might have felt earlier has been drained to oblivion. You aren’t fine anymore. You need to run. You need to scream. Anything.

But you made the realization all too late. Your vision is going spotty and he’s already hoisted you up in his arms. Despite every muscle in your body fighting with all its might, you can’t make yourself move.

For the first time in your life, you’re completely powerless. 

The last thing you remember before being swallowed by the dark is his hot breath puffing against your ear:

“You promised you’d take care of me, didn’t you?” 

—

You wake up to the feeling of something warm and wet on your clit.

In your groggy, half-conscious state you don’t have the capacity or desire to figure out what it is, all that matters is that it feels good. It flicks lazy little shapes over the twitching bud, enveloping it and your folds in a warm, welcoming heat, and for a moment, you think you could die happy just like this. Your hips instinctively buck up towards the source and a low, wonton moan passes your lips. 

“Mmm, thats it darling. Good girl~”

Your eyes fly open.

Every ounce of blood drains from your face when you see his head bowed between your legs, cheeks messy and shiny with your slick, hips rutting needily against the mattress. All at once, your memory comes rushing back.

Your first instinct is to fight, but your limbs still won’t obey you—even if they would, a shift of weight reveals that your hands are bound tightly to the headboard of the bed.

The bed. There’s no bed in his office. Where the hell are you?

It’s all you can do to let out a low, displeased whine. Weakly shimmying your hips away from him only to have them immediately yanked back. He peaks up from your legs, cheek warm and flushed pink with lust, “Shh honey, calm down.” he purrs, not breaking eye contact as he gives your clit a sweet peck, “Just relax and let your husband make you feel good.”

Husband.

Husband.

Your heart picks up in your chest, galloping like a racehorse as you try to process his words, though, you doubt any reasonable length of time would be enough to truly digest their implications. “W-what?”

He noses gently over your inner thigh, carefully pressing a chaste kiss to the soft plush, “Your husband, dear. And you’re my wife~” he hums pleasantly, licking a long lazy stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, “I’m sure you can feel the ring, right?”

Your heart drops as you shift your fingers. On your left hand, a cold band of metal topped with some kind of stone wraps around your ring finger, the realization sends a bout of vertigo through your body.

He must notice the horror on your face because he chuckles. “It was short notice so I had to use hers, but I’ll buy you a new one if you want…” he trails absentmindedly, too focused on laving at your cunt to give the thought, or your panic, his full attention. 

He’s eating you out just like you taught him too. The irony could make you cry.

A knot the size of the watermelon grows in your stomach. Whether it’s from the fear or your equally distressing impending orgasm you’re not sure. Regardless, it’s there, and your head is spinning, and he’s starting to climb on top of you and take off his—oh god.

You cry and struggle as much as your leaden body will allow but he easily counters it all with one steady hand on your belly, the thumb of which he moves to nurse your spit-soaked clit with easy circles. “I know it’s sudden,” he coos, paying no mind to your cries as he pulls out his hard cock, “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You’re the one who chased after me so desperately after all. I know you were just jealous of her.” 

Loud, wet sobs curl up your throat as he rubs his cock up and down your dripping folds, hypnotized by the lewd, clicking sound your juices make. “P-please.” you beg, trying your best to buck him off of you, “M’ sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—Please let me go.” 

A displeased hum then, “It’s too late for that, honey, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll take good care of you.” his frown flips into a soft smile. “You’ll take good care of me too, won't you? just like you promised.”

You feel like you might faint. The blunt head is pushing against your entrance now, threatening to sink into your heat, and though you’ve taken his cock hundreds of times, you’d rather stick your hand into an open flame then take it again. “P-please.” you blubber, “I’ll do anything, just please—Ah! S-stop!”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, only continues his rambling. “You’ll take good care of our children too, I'm sure.” those deranged, lovesick eyes bore into your skull, “Oh, baby. You’re going to look so beautiful when you’re pregnant, I can already tell. So, so pretty, all swollen and glowing~”

Now, you start screaming. Half of it is incoherent, but what else are you supposed to do when you can’t fight and the delusional psychopath who kidnapped you is threatening to force you into fulfilling his domestic fantasies? You nearly choke as he leans over your body, pushing into you softly with a low, heady groan. “You can’t!” you cry, near hysterics, “Please, you can’t! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! I’ll-”

“Shhhh,” he cuts you off, clamping a rough hand over your mouth, then bottoms out inside of you with one languid push. You feel like you’re on fire, like a million ants are crawling up your skin and down your throat.

Beads of cold sweat trickle down your back as he rocks into you. Behind his mitt you plead for him to let you go, but he doesn’t notice - or more likely, he doesn’t care. “I think I want three." he muses, "Two girls and a boy. But we can have more if you’d like. What do you think, darling?”

He removes his hand then and you greedily suck in air. It proves to be a difficult task, however, with his dick poking it all back out with each snap of his hips. Finally, you collect yourself enough to make one final attempt. You stare up into his eyes, hoping to somehow access whatever humanity might remain there. “Please. I don’t want kids. I want to go home.”

He pauses, ceases his thrusting, and stares back down at you. For just a moment, your chest swells with hope.

But then he laughs. A sick, evil chuckle that rings through your bones, punctures your lungs and splits your heart straight down the middle.

“Oh honey, you are home.” he croons, a snap of his hips punctuates the sentence. “And of course you want kids. All husbands and wives who love each other very much become Mommies and Daddies. Besides—”

His hips start driving into you with a brutal sort of ferocity, and he grins so wickedly you swear you can see the devil in his eyes.

“--Won’t it be cute to tell them how Daddy and Mommy fell in love at work?”

higuruma hiromi, nanami kento, satoru gojo, izuku midoriya, kirishima eijiro, kaminari denki, kotaro bokuto, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, erwin smith, armin arlert

Flickering

💌Yandere!Dabi x F!Reader💌

9.7k words

Summary: 

Dabi seems so nice for a villain at first - chivalrous, even. But you should know much, much better than to get yourself tied up with someone like that.

Tags:

Short smut, consensual smut, progressive yandere, soft dabi for the first part but it does get worse dw 😌, kidnapping, murder, small hint at dabi having body issues, dick piercings, tongue piercing, dabi nice to u :)

A/N: uh oh *accidentally projects romantic fantasies onto dabi and then leaves them out to rot into my usual stuff*

———

It’s a quiet night.

Recently, there’s only been quiet nights. Still, unwavering - caught in an illusion filled with only passing cars and the rhythmic flickering of neon signs. There isn’t much to distract you from the sound of your own footsteps, and there is even less to be concerned about.

Unless, of course, the silence is a concern in itself. Which it is. Because on these streets there’s always a mugging or a robbing or some mis-doing to fascinate the watchful eyes from within the cars. Something to gawk at and something that must be ran from.

But ever since two weeks ago, when you found yourself staring into a pair of blue eyes that outshone the signs, there has been nothing of the sort. Your walk home has been safe and uneventful but you’ve never felt watched due to it - just lucky.

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