#Curse these hands and their inability to draw

[kindred-spirit-93]

goooooood morning!!!

good afternoon hi!!!! :D

sorry for the trash quality. eh pretty accurate tho XD

[sturnlsstuff]

GENTLEMAN | matt sturniolo

loser!matt x partygirl!reader

matt gets dragged to a party, when he meets the "party queen" who definitely doesn't find him terribly boring like he thought she would, which she makes sure he understands.

requested by @mattsobvimyfav . divider credits. @anitalenia

— warnings; smutty smut, sub!matt, soft!dom!reader, making out, blowjob, riding, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, whiny matt (hot alert), pet names (pretty/good boy, baby, sweetheart...) cursing, praise kink lowkey, mentions of weed, cigs and alcohol, — english isn't my first language.

women like you were out of the league for guys like matt. you were a typical popular girl, partying every week and not like normal people did. you were the queen of the dance floor. party queen, that's how people called you. everyone with eyes and a brain admired the graceful way you carried yourself around. never missing parties, always staying until the very end, usually your friends had to carry you out of the building due to the excess alcohol in your blood and inability to stand on your own feet. when you were telling a joke, everyone laughed. when you were taking shots, so did others, that's how convincing you were.

you could have any guy you wanted, but no one was perfect for your standards. you were admired by girls who wanted to be like you and guys who wanted you.

matt was one of those people. he admired you.

he didn't know you well as a person who kept away from people. he was an observer type, only talked to his closest friends, of whom he had few. maybe even a little shy, that's what people called him, but really when he felt comfortable? he could be so interesting.

he had never talked to you before, only ever heard about you or knew what he had noticed. matt wasn't the party type, usually was practically dragged out of the comfort of his room. he didn't like looking for adventures. and today? some girl that his brothers were friends with, and that matt knew by sight, had a birthday and of course chris and nick once again dragged him out of the house for the party, ignoring his complaints. so that's how he found himself in this house full of rich, drunk kids, loud music blasting in his ears, every now and then someone would trip over his legs, causing him to roll his eyes. he sat half the party on the couch in the corner of the main room, arms crossed and beer in hand. he really wanted to go home, but his brothers would kill him if he didn't last until midnight. half an hour left.

unable to bear it any longer, he finally goes outside where the music was a little muffled, giving him the feeling of getting to breathe again. maybe that was the case. being surrounded by so many people was overwhelming. he lights a cigarette, which was his little addiction but helped him relax, and leans against the wall, praying that the minutes go by faster.

he started getting more and more relaxed, finally at peace, tilting his head back and blowing out clouds of smoke until he heard giggles. his eyes immediately opening, noticing you and your two friends coming out from behind the building and walking crookedly towards him, you searching for something in your purse. he would recognize the party queen everywhere.

"... i can't find it!! i swear i had it!!" you laugh, giving up with whatever you wanted to find, your purse slips off your shoulder just by the front door of the house, right next to where matt was standing. he automatically bends down and hands it to you, drawing the attention of you and your friends to him, which makes his heart beat faster. "oh helloooo, thank you," a smile appears on your face, that brings a slight warmth to his cheeks.

"yeah, no problem," he tries to keep it cool, scratching the back of his neck nervously. you look at your friends, gasping playfully, "ohhh, maybe this gentleman will have a lighter—" your gaze goes back to his blue eyes that were now wide. "do you have a lighter??? i think i lost mine!"

"a what— oh—" he snaps out of his trance, staring too hard at you which makes him blush even more. you were so beautiful. he clears his throat, "yeah, uh, i have one..." he hands it to you, your friends giggling at his nervousness, while you thought he's being really cute. "here you go."

"you're a life saveeeerrrrr," you're about to start searching for the cigarettes but he's quick to pass his own pack to you. "oh god, you're like an angel," your grin widens as you take a cigarette from him, putting it between your lips and lighting it up.

"girlll, my song is playing! can you hurry up?" your friend complains, causing you to roll your eyes.

"just go, i'll come in a minute."

"you sure?"

"yeah, go," you repeat yourself and stand next to matt who was leaning against the wall against, his heart pounding in his chest. he could feel your perfume mixed with... weed, perhaps? you give him the lighter and cigarettes back with a simple 'thank you'.

you both stand next to each other in silence that was starting to weigh on him, but he wasn't able to speak first. you both smoke your cigarettes when you finally look at him again. dressed all in black, a beer in one hand, on which you notice tattoos. oh, he's handsome as fuck.

"so" you speak up, getting his attention. "does this gentleman have a name?"

he smiles shyly, overwhelmed by your beauty. "i'm matt."

"matt," you repeat, tasting his name on your tongue. "i like it. suits you."

the way you repeat his name makes him feel both uncomfortable and strangely excited at the same time. he rubs the back of his neck nervously again, blowing out the smoke, just as you say your name too. he gives you a glance, "i know."

"oh, do you?" a smirk appears on your lips as you take another drag. he replies hesitantly, "well, i mean... who doesn't?"

you nod confidently, "right." your eyes travel to his tattooed arm again, feeling your stomach twisting in knots at the sight. he catches it and looks down at his arm as well. "i like them. make you look hotter," you confess.

he blinks, caught of guard by your words. he wasn't really used to people, especially not girls like you, saying things like that to him. mostly because he barely was leaving his house. he feels his heart race, a warmth spreading through his chest. "thanks."

"of course," you respond casually, checking him out once again before looking away with a small smile and taking another drag of the cigarette. you were slightly high, not really that drunk yet and you knew what you were doing. his awkwardness was so cute, there was no way you'd let this man go so quickly tonight. you actually felt like you need to have him.

matt finishes his beer in one swing, putting the empty bottle aside, causing your attention to get back to him.

the more you looked at him, the more he reminded you of someone, but there was no way you talked or even seen matt before. though, you decide to ask, "wait, don't i know you already?"

he raises his eyebrow, locking eyes with you. "me? i don't think so." i would definitely want you to, he thinks.

"oh, 'cause i feel like i do. or maybe you just remind me of someone—"

"i'm a triplet. you probably know my brothers."

"ohhh, wait—" you snap your fingers, trying to remember. "yeah, chris and— and nick? oh, now i know. never seen you before though. lowkey thought they're bullshitting about being triplets."

matt smiles amused, taking one last drag and throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, trampling it with his shoe. "yeah, m'not really out going."

"i see," you nod, smiling back. "i'd definitely remember you."

he chuckles softly, feeling his face warm at your words again. damn, get your shit together matthew. "really, huh?"

"yeah. with this looks and that—?" you point at his tattoos. "i promise, i would remember."

you didn't feel like beating around the bush, you liked him. he was extremely handsome, his hair looked so soft you wanted to run your hand through it, his eyes made you weak in your knees and his lips begged to be kissed. not to mention the aura he had around him, he intrigued you. matt was different than the rest of those assholes you met at parties.

he looks away shyly, the smile on his face makes your heart flutter. literal butterflies — something you've never had before.

you finish the cigarette in a comfortable silence, getting slightly overwhelmed after the weed you smoked before. leaning against the wall, your shoulder brushes against his, drawing his attention back to you.

"you good?"

"mhm, it's that cigarette, give me a second."

he nods, watching as you throw the rest of it aside. "okay. jus' don't go passing out on me."

"hey, i'm not that drunk i can even stand on my hands if you want. look—" you're literally bending over in front of him, hands on the ground, and you're ready to do it, but he quickly grabs your waist, forcing you to straighten up. matt tried his hardest not to look at your ass and the way your short dress rode up. his pants suddenly start to grow tighter but he ignores it.

"you better not—"

with a giggle, you turn around to face him, the feelings of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. "i could easily do that."

"sure," he raises his eyebrow, the blush on his cheeks only growing because of the closeness. "i don't think i'd know what to do with a drunk and unconscious party queen on my hands, if you did that."

"right, okay." you bite down on your bottom plump lip, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "but what would you do with a slighty tipsy and definitely conscious party queen on your hands, hm?"

his eyes sparkle with amusement, heart rate subtly increasing at your promixity. "well, that's a pretty open-ended question," he replies, his voice low and gentle. "depends on the party queen personality and how she's feeling."

oh, he's funny.

"and if the party queen is feeling perfectly fine and have the best personality ever?"

the air between you two suddenly feeling charged with an unexpected, but pleasant tension. matt could feel himself getting more and more worked up. he tried to be the gentleman that handed you the purse a few minutes ago, or gave you a cigarette and a lighter, but it was getting hard. especially now, when he realizes his hands are still on your waist and you don't seem to mind at all.

"oh, in that case i'd probably just try to keep up 'n hope her great personality doesn't find me too terribly boring."

"nah, i think she finds you pretty intriguing actually." you tilt your head to the side, eyes dropping to his lips before moving back up. oh, those lips.... "and if she wanted to show you just how bad?"

he swallows hard, "you mean, hypothetically... if she wanted to show me she's interested?"

"mhm, yeah. exactly what i mean," you lean in, giving him time to push you away, but he doesn't. oh, he would never. he wanted you so bad, knowing he's just one of hundreds of your simps, but it was the last thing on his mind right now. all he wanted is to feel your lips on his.

and he finally did.

closing the gap between you two, you kiss him softly, what he does too after a moment. his initial hesitation melting into reciprocation as your lips move against his. his hands, unsure at first, eventually move down to your hips, pulling you gently closer. your fingers tangling into his messy, soft hair, pushing him slightly against the wall, getting a hum in approval. matt starts relaxing against you, letting you set the pace and tone for your interaction. as you take your time, he finds himself growing more comfortable and excited. he would never think it would happen. with you out of all people.

the kiss starts getting more and more heated, you grow slightly impatient, feeling the ache between your legs starting to grow. you press your body closer to him, hand traveling up and down his chest, your tongues dancing together. once he feels how gently you bite his lip, a small whine leaves him, your mind spins and definitely not because of the amount of alcohol or weed you've consumed.

you break the kiss, both of you panting as you mutter against his lips, "come with me, yeah?" getting a weak nod in response, you're fast to make your way back into the crowded house, dragging matt behind you by his wrist.

his palms start to sweat as you take him upstairs and reach some empty room, pushing him inside. the noise of the party fading behind you two once you kick the door shut and attack his lips again.

matt is overwhelmed but in the best way possible. his senses are filled with your sweet scent, the tension growing in his pants with each second. his eagerness showing in his tentative exploration, but offset by an earnest enthusiasm. he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, surrendering to your lead. he hits the bed and falls onto the mattress, you climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. he gasps softly as your weight presses down on him in the most distracting and exhilarating way. his hands instinctively find their way to your hips again, gripping slightly as he tries to adjust to this new position.

breaking the kiss, you start trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, his head tilts back unconsciously, giving you better access to his skin. his whole body shivers at the delicate touches of your lips, a soft moan escaping him as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, sucking on it to intentionally mark him.

his reaction brings a smile to your face and you look up to see him in such a cute state. messy hair, cheeks reddish, his pink lips swollen from the make out as he lets out heavy breaths.

"look at you, pretty boy."

his eyelids flutter open, revealing pupils dilated with desire. matt touches the mark on his neck lightly, fingers tracing where you'd sucked. "that's..." he clears his throat, feeling his face flush even more. the way you look at him is both intimidating and incredibly hot.

"hm? you like it?"

"y-yeah, that's really... good," he admits.

you just couldn't help yourself, he was so majestic, really. the way he was clearly trying not to rush or throw himself at you, makes you want to give him all the pleasure in the world so he wouldn't be able to forget about this evening, no matter how hard he'd try.

"want more?"

his eyes darken slightly, voice hoarse with lust, "that wouldn't be really... gentleman of me, hm?"

you smile, finding him amusing. "oh, but i'm proposing this to you, not the other way around. so...?" you whisper against his lips, "how it's gonna be, baby?"

this time he captures your lips in a kiss, wanting to show you how much he wants— no, craves you, hoping this is enough of a response.

a wave of heat washes over you, hands traveling under his shirt which steals another whine from matt. you had never been so turned on before in such a short amount of time, automatically starting to move your hips and grind down against him, feeling how hard he was beneath you. pride overwhelms you at the feeling of how much he's affected by you, the want for him even bigger than before.

his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. he can feel you moving on his lap, the friction driving him crazy. your tongue explores his mouth, lips clicking against his. his hands shaky on your body from the desire he felt. "you can touch me, matt..." you pant against his plump lips, pressing your clothed, soaked core against his dick harder.

"y'feel so good..." his eyes are glassy with lust as he looks up at you. his chest is heaving, and he bites his lip, trying to compose himself when he finally allows his hands to explore your body.

"mhm, i can feel how bad you want me," you keep grinding against him, the friction causing you both to whimper. "is really cute.... and hot— you know?"

"please—" his eyes flutter shut from pleasure, your hands teasing him just above the waistband of his jeans. "what is it, baby?" you bite back a smile at his desperate expression.

"just... i need you please— can you..." his breath is coming in ragged gasps now, and he feels both embarrassed and completely exhilarated. his hips rise slightly to meet yours, a natural response to the overwhelming sensation. his body aches for more contact, more friction, more of you.

"can i what? c'mon, you gotta ask nicely if you want something." you're teasing, torturing him purposely, enjoying how adorable he gets when his shyness takes over. "look at me, matt."

blushing intensely, he opens his eyes and stammers out, "can you... i mean, would you... with your mouth?" he immediately looks mortified at his own boldness, his cheeks flaming red as he quickly adds, "sorry, i didn't mean to presume—"

"i think you did mean it though," you smile softly, licking your lips. his words and the image that just popped up in your head makes your pussy pulse. "how can i say no when you're being such a good boy for me?" you press kisses to his neck just as he whines again, your hands already working on his belt. his eyes watching as his jeans and boxers get pushed down his legs. he gasps as the cool air hits his exposed lower half, his body trembling slightly. his dick twitches as you kneel on the mattress between his legs, looking at him in awe. "just relax."

he nods quickly, trying to calm himself. his chest is rising and falling rapidly, hands fumble anxiously with the hem of his shirt unsure what to do with them. is not like he was inexperienced, he was in a relationship before, but having you, the popular party girl that everyone wanted, between his legs was definitely making him more nervous than he would usually be.

you put your hair up into a messy ponytail, his body immediately tensing up. he can feel the blood rushing to his cock, making it throb with anticipation. he tries to relax his legs, spreading them wider to give you better access. you stop just above his tip, looking up at him with a smile at the messy state he was already in, even if you didn't start yet. "gonna say a magic word?"

he swallows hard, his blush deepens, "please."

his eyes dart between your face and his hard, leaking with precum dick, hardly believing this is really happening. but it feels real, when you give him a kitty lick before starting to suck on his tip. a strangled moan escapes matt's lips, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards. the sensation is electric, his hands fist in the sheets beneath him, grasping desperately for some form of anchor. "o-oh, fuck—"

your tongue is swirling around his tip teasingly, before you take him deeper, his eyes roll back in his head, breath catching in his throat. he can feel every ridge and curve of your mouth, the wet heat almost more than he can bear. a shaky whimper escapes him, hands slide up to tangle in your hair, gripping tightly as he fights the urge to buck his hips forward.

he was so big, the choking sounds echoing in the room, saliva dripping down your chin. hollowing your cheeks, you start bobbing your head up and down, nose brushing against his pelvis. "s-shit.... feels so good— mmmm, fu—ckkk--" his entire body shudders, he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, completely captivated by the sight. the sounds alone are enough to make him dizzy with desire. his breathing becomes more ragged, mingling with the wet sounds of your mouth. "oh god..." he whimpers. you're breathing through your nose, focusing on his tip again, your hand working on the rest of him. the sensation combined with your mouth is incredible, almost too much to process. matt bites his lip hard, suppressing a loud moan, but it still escapes as more of a choked groan. "fuck, please—"

he was completely out of it, a big whining mess, his hips uncontrollably lifting upwards, his tip hitting the back of your throat. his toes curl as he feels the mounting pressure, his entire body tingling with exquisite tension while you suck on his dick like on a lollipop, being all messy with it, gagging every now and then. panting heavily, he tugs gently at your hair, "w-wait, m'gonna.... m'so close, wait—" you hum in approval, wanting to taste him on your tongue. it sends vibrations through him, another whimper escaping him. you speed up your movements, matt automatically starts thrusting up into your mouth as his orgasm approaches, "f-fuck, sorry, i.... i can't— shittt, gonna cum— can i... oh—"

he's lost at this point, his head threw back, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as you resume your actions. his hips lift off the bed, pressing himself deeper into your mouth, getting another moan from you. the sight was hypnotizing, his flushed features, the way he tried to muffle his moans by chewing on his bottom lip. you were dripping, clenching around nothing just from watching him.

with a choked cry, his entire body convulses as he finds his release, pulse after pulse of ecstasy flooding through him. his fingers fist so tightly in your hair that he's vaguely aware it might hurt, but he can't seem to loosen his grip. you whimper around him, tasting him on your tongue and swallowing everything. your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip one more time before pulling out with a wet pop. his vision blurs, heart pounding in his chest. he lets go off your hair, your eyes meeting his, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. damn.

his face flushed with heat as he smiles, "holy fuck."

"holy fuck indeed," you lick your lips, the sight so intimate and erotic for him that he feels his spent dick twitch in response. "that was, like, amazing—" he mutters, still struggling to find his voice.

you chuckle, moving so now you were on top of him again, hands on each side of his head. "what a shame that we met so late," you say, running your hand through his hair, a shiver going down his spine.

"i was supposed to leave at midnight," he admits. your eyebrow raises, "oh really?" he nods, "yeah, not a fan of parties."

"well... i'm glad you didn't have the chance to leave then."

"me too." he pulls you into another desperate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, getting a hum in surprise. he was clearly eager for more. your fast to roll your dress up around your waist, grabbing his hand and directing it between your legs. when he feels how soaked your panties were, he can't help but whimper again. "feel it, baby?" you break the kiss, looking at him, his eyes darken with lust. "that's allll because of you."

his gaze travels over your body, taking in the curves he's only ever imagined. he swallows hard, his voice hoarse with need. "please, i need you..."

"you're so cute when you beg," you smile biting down on your plump lip. removing your underwear, you position yourself just above his tip, letting him feel the wet warmth, teasing him mercilessly. matt whines softly, his body tensing with the need to thrust into you and finally feel you. "what was that, hm? tell me what you want, matt."

"need you... to ride me— please—"

"need me, hm? and how bad?"

he whines again, louder this time, his hips bucking slightly in an attempt to get him inside you. "so bad," he pants, his voice barely recognizable in his desperation. "please, please, please..." he chants, his voice cracking with need.

"gooood boy," you praise, his words getting you even wetter. wrapping your hand around his cock, you give him a few strokes before slowly sinking down on him. "begging so pretty— f-fuck...." the sudden feeling of your warm, tight pussy enveloping his aching dick is almost too much for matt to handle. he throws his head back, a loud, wordless whimper tearing from his throat as he's sheathed inside you, a moan leaving your lips as well at his reaction. "shit, you're so big—" you stay still to adjust, lifting your dress higher to be more comfortable. you feel his dick twitching inside you after your words. amused written all over your face when you look at him, "you like it, hm? who would've know you're so naughty...."

matt's hands tremble as they grip your hips, trying desperately to hold back the urge to grind into you. his breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he savors the exquisite tightness gripping him.

"feels good?" you slowly start moving, he nods his head weakly, words caught in his throat as he tries to speak around the lump formed by his swallowed moan. "mmm, holy shit, matt—" his cock is buried so deeply inside you that it makes you see stars for a moment. you crave more of him, so you start speeding up the pace.

"so... good..." he manages to rasp out, his eyes rolling back briefly before snapping forward to lock onto yours again. "you're...too much..."

"yeah? want me to stop?" you mock him a little bit, knowing that's the last thing he wants.

he shakes his head frantically, a sheepish grin spreading across his flushed face. "no, no...don't stop. i meant...fuck, you're just so tight— fuckkk, feels incredible." he bucks his hips slightly, emphasizing his enthusiasm, his nails dig into your hips, his body tensing as he tries to pull you down further onto him.

"you're doing perfect for me, baby—" you moan out, putting one hand on his chest as you start moving your hips harder, your attention drawn to his tattoos. the sight of his arm causes you to painfully clench around him, your pussy gripping him like a vice. he hisses at the feeling, it drives him wild. "shit, just like that—"

you both aren't able to hold back your moans, letting them spill out one after another. each thrust pushes you both into ecstasy, your hand on his chest the only thing anchoring him to reality. matt's hands slide up your sides, then down to your thighs, marveling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

matt notices the way your eyes are locked onto his tattoos and it makes his dick throb even harder inside you. "god, matt— mmhpp, oh my...." you lean forward, needing some balance as your legs start growing tired, your hands on each side of his head. he reaches up to your waist, guiding your movements as he lifts his hips to meet each thrust. "f-fuck— you're so beautiful..."

your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel it as well, which pushes him over the edge too. "gonna cum for me, pretty boy?" you choke out, looking down at him through half-open eyes.

"mhmm, fuck—" he pants, his own face contorted with pleasure. he sees the concentration on your face, the beads of sweat forming on your collarbone. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him even harder. "s-so close... shiiit—"

"me too," you whine into his ear. "fuck..." his grip tightens on your waist as his release builds. his movements become more urgent, more desperate. "tell me... mm— tell me how you want it, sweetheart—" he knows he won't last much longer, not with how perfectly you're stretching around him.

"inside me—"

"y-yeah?" his voice breaking as he feels you clench around him again. "you want me to fill you up?"

"mhmmm—" you moan just as he whimpers again, what pushes you into a state of bliss, euphoria consumes you as your orgasm crashes down over you, your hips stuttering.

once he feels you creaming around him, and the pretty — mesmerizing moans, oh he's too far gone. matt's control snaps, he buries himself as deep as possible inside you, his hips jerking as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep within your spasming pussy. one last moan leaves him, his vision blurring as his release seems to go on forever. "fuckkkk—"

after you both ride out your orgasms, your hips come to a stop, his hands splaying out against your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. matt can feel his release slowly leaking out of you and dripping down his thighs. your breath against his neck tickles his skin.

"oh my god," he breathes out, making you chuckle and you lift up your head, seeing his flushed face. so cute. "made me see fuckin' stars, holy shit."

you laugh again, getting off to lay down beside him, head on matt's shoulder, his heart skips a beat at that. "you're funny," you say.

he wraps his hand around your waist again, not really ready to let go yet. "m'serious."

"okay, mr serious," you roll your eyes. "doesn't mean you aren't funny. and still a gentleman."

"getting into your pants before first date isn't really gentleman of me," he smiles shyly as you look up at him.

"i got into your pants," you correct him. "you gonna get into mine after that first date."

"there's gonna be one?"

"oh, definitely."

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs

[moonyswritinq]

black swan — killian jones x male reader

❝ BLACK SWAN ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Killian Jones was no stranger to using his charms in order to woo beautiful women, Emma Swan being no exception. You couldn’t stand the sight of him flirting shamelessly with your sister, purely for brotherly reasons, so you decide to tell him off. What you didn’t know, was that his eye had been drawn to you the moment he saw you.

PAIRING ➢ killian jones x brother!Swan male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ season 2 & 3 spoilers, sort of one-sided rivals to lovers, tension, kissing, making out, harsh language, guys flirting, insults as flirting, threats

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.4 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I wrote this because I read another similar fic and, no hate to that author, but I wanted to write it better and so that it would be more to my satisfaction. Also, I am well aware of all the requests I still have yet to do, but I fell into a OUAT hole and now I’m here.

MASTERLIST, TAGLIST

Killian Jones finding a woman attractive was nothing special. He’s had his fair share of dalliances over the years. Ever since what happened to Milah, Killian was in no hurry to find the so-called “true love” and settle down. His never-ending adventures at sea kept him plenty occupied—and so did his hunt for his Crocodile.

It was no surprise then that the woman named Emma Swan would draw his eye. She was just his type: bold, determined, and a natural leader. His interactions with her in the Enchanted Forest left him intrigued, and his curiosity of her only grew when they returned to Storybrooke and defeated Cora together. He expected his infatuation with Emma to grow the more time he spent with her, but what he was not expecting, was you to catch his eye instead.

The son of Prince Charming and Snow White, brought to a world without magic together with Emma as babies, put into a foster home. Despite all your bad luck as children, your inability in finding a place to call home, at least you managed to stay together. And as Henry brought her back to Storybrooke to break the curse, you followed with. You weren’t a Saviour like her, not by a long shot. But you did have your own skills and abilities, something that came with being a devilishly cunning detective. However much she hated to admit it, Emma would oftentimes turn to you for help in hunting down a bounty. A difficult bounty for her meant an afternoon of idle searching for you.

You never turned down an opportunity to tease her about it and she never hesitated to roll her eyes at you. Nonetheless, you felt incredible protective of her. You may just have been a few minutes older than her, but that didn’t stop you from putting on the big brother act—something she didn’t always appreciate.

Which is why, when you saw a certain pirate unashamedly flirting with her, those brotherly instincts kicked in immediately. You knew Hook was helping your family in getting Henry back from Neverland, providing passage on his ship, the Jolly Roger, and offering his being a guide on the island. But those facts did not give him the right to flirt with your sister.

You had already been at odds with the man when, at your arrival to the island, the ship was attacked by  a school of mermaids. Hook had stumbled in your direction and taken hold of the most stable thing closest to him—which happened to be you. His hand had gripped your waist, his hook coming to your chest as he fell against you. The closeness of his breath stirred something within you, something not entirely uncomfortable. Of course, it was not his fault that the ship veered to the side and that you had been closest to him when he stumbled, but that didn’t stop you from pushing him away from you the moment the ship steadied.

“My apologies,” he said, quite out of breath. His blue eyes were remarkably clear in the moonlight. “I usually offer a drink before getting so close to someone.”

Your glare was your only answer.

“I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.” He extended his hand for you to shake. You looked at it uncertainly.

“I’m Emma’s brother,” you said simply.

His eyebrow raised. “So you must be the infamous town sheriff y/n Swan. I s’pose good looks do run in the family.”

You began to scoff, but then your brain was able to fully comprehend his words. “I never told you my name.”

Hook glanced away, his confident smirk faltering. He cleared his throat. “I may have, er, asked someone for it.”

You shifted your head to meet his eye. “Someone?”

He let out a sigh. “I wanted to know who the handsome man that was traveling with us is, so yeah, I asked around. Really, you should be flattered.”

You scoffed at the grin that flashed across his face and turned on your heel. Like you’d said—shameless flirt.

Later, while searching Neal’s hideout, you watched him flash that same grin when talking to Emma. He stepped much closer, leaning towards her. You couldn’t stomach watching it. And you told yourself it was because she deserved better than a good-for-nothing scoundrel like him. No other reason.

So you watched from afar, leaned against the cave walls, as Hook winked at your sister. Emma glared at him, unimpressed. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about her falling for his charms. She was much too clever for that. You saw her walk away from him, away from the hand that he had reached forward to her and you smiled with grim satisfaction. But before you could step forwards, out of the shadows, David had approached Hook.

“Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook,” he said. “She’s never gonna like you.”

Hooks eyebrows shot into the air. “Is that so?”

“How could she?” David’s voice was laced with venom. “You’re nothing but a pirate.”

He seemed to want to reply, but nothing came out, and David walked away. Hook’s gaze followed him, his hand running down his face.

“He’s right, y’know,” you said, stepping forward.

A low growl slipped from his throat, Hook turning to face you. He looked almost crestfallen. “Can I not get enough of your bloody family?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking you’d be glad to see me.”

Hook let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, I am very glad, love.”

“There’s that charm of yours,” you remarked humourlessly.

He smiled cheekily. “Doesn’t seem to be working on your sister, though.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. Step after step brought you closer to the pirate. You watched him closely, noting the way his eyes jumped over your figure. “Speaking of, we need to have a chat.”

He nodded absentmindedly, raising his finger to rub against his lips. The movement drew your eye to them. You knew he had noticed your gaze before you managed to tear it away when his lips curled into a smirk. You rolled your eyes. Goddamned pirate.

“If you’re going to stare at me like that, I’m going to get some mixed signals, love.” His voice was as smug and sweet as honey, only managing in irritating you more.

You were not known to be calm and level-headed. Anyone who was close to you knew to keep away when your anger threatened to burst, like an erupting volcano. Emma had once stolen one of your favourite pencils as a child and you had gotten back at her by spilling ink all over her favourite stuffed animal. But Hook did not know you well enough. He smiled sweetly.

Two steps forward and you were stood right in front of him, pressing against his chest. Rum and leather and sea salt filled your nose. The smell of him was overpowering and intoxicating all at once. You pressed one arm against his throat, pushing him back against the cave wall, the other bracing yourself against it. He grunted at the impact, groaning in displeasure, before meeting your gaze steadily.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

The words growled out of your throat, through your gritted teeth. “Stay away from Emma, got it?”

“You may have gotten the good looks of your family. Not the manners, though,” he said lazily.

You cocked your head. “No, that is more my parents’ style.”

“You do have more of a bite than them,” he said. Then he tilted his head, as if in thought. “Huh, well, aren’t you a dark Swan, love? Or do you prefer Black Swan?”

Your brows knit together but you chose to ignore his words. Instead, you said, “I do agree with David that Emma will never fall for you, so you might as well give up now.”

Hook’s eyebrow raised. “If you’re so sure she won’t fall for me, why even bother threatening me? Surely, my flirting must be harmless.”

Your brows knitted together in suspicion. His eyes were annoyingly blue, piercing straight into yours. “Just leave her alone, Hook.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“My flirting with her.” He leant forward a bit, throat straining against your arm. “Swan, are you jealous?”

You opened your mouth to protest. You? Jealous? Ridiculous. Then you noticed that his lips had curled into a cheeky smirk. “No,” you bit out.

Hook blinked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Heard you were quite the detective out in the Land of No Magic.”

Your head cocked to the side. “Yeah, so?”

He simply hummed, head falling back against the stone walls. His eyes traveled across your figure before jumping up to meet your gaze through his lidded eyes, something unintelligible in those swirls of blue. You ignored the warmth that pooled in your stomach at the sight of him like that.

“I will leave her alone,” he said calmly. “You have my word.”

You tried to detect the mischievous thoughts that were surely lying behind his eyes, but came up empty. You had no idea if he was telling the truth or not, but you let him go and stepped back in one swift moment. He cleared his throat, rubbing one hand across his collarbone.

“Fine,” you said, glancing away from his steely gaze. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself then, and you cleared your throat uncomfortably.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, gesturing to where the others had gone.

“Yeah,” you said simply, walking past him briskly.

You didn’t know what had suddenly overcome you or why you were now so uncomfortable in Hook’s presence. For the rest of that day, every time you glanced in his direction to make sure he was heeding your words of staying away from Emma—to which he did—you felt as if your nerves were standing on end. And on occasion, when he happened to be glancing your way as well and your eyes met, you felt shivers travel down your body, forcing you to break his eye contact. You thought you could see a smirk playing across his lips in those moments, but you chose to ignore him.

That same evening, you had found out David and Hook been ambushed by the Lost Boys. Apparently, Captain Hook had risked his life saving David from a poisonous arrow with Nightshade on it. You almost wanted to laugh at the idea of Hook doing something so heroic, but at the sight of David’s serious face you merely took a swig of the offered flask, like the others. You caught his eye right before he turned and stepped away from the others. You followed him behind a tree.

“I heard what you did for David,” you said. He stopped and turned to face you. “Thank you, Killian.”

His smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t leave your father to perish on this island.”

You nodded, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eye. “I must ask, did you do it to get in my sister’s good graces?”

“I thought you weren’t jealous.” His eyebrow raised.

“Answer the question,” you bit out.

His smile dropped as he met your gaze. “No, I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you. And because it was the right thing to do.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you. “So now you’re all righteous, huh?”

Hook cocked his head. “I’ve always been chivalrous,” he said. “And, well, it doesn’t take a genius to know that getting your father killed would not help my courting you.”

You chose to ignore those last few words, your smile holding no warmth. “You’re right. You are no genius,” you said.

 “This doesn’t sound like a thank you,” Hook remarked, raising his eyebrows.

You let out a sigh, looking down at the ground beneath your feet. “I’m sorry.”

He scratched the nape of his neck. “Perhaps you could show me some gratitude to make it up to me.”

His gaze was dark underneath his eyelashes, his lips curling into a smirk. You thought you knew what he was implying. You wouldn’t let him get off that easily, though.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “That was what the ’thank you’ was for.”

“Mmm,” Hook hummed. He took a step closer, so close now you could count his eyelashes. “Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps,” he whispered, face leaning much closer to you. You could feel his breath against your skin. “It’s you who couldn’t handle it.”

Your eyes jumped between his, then to his lips. Those damned lips, curled into that damned smile. Oh Gods, why did you have to be attractive to a pirate. Without leaving any time for you to think your actions through, you took ahold of his jacket and pulled his face towards yours.

Hook let out a surprised gasp, which you swallowed into the kiss. He dragged himself closer, hand clinging to your waist. You felt his chest press hard against you as his lips moved against yours. It was harsh, quick, and angry—just like your feelings for him.

The warmth in your stomach deepened as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him. One hand made its way into his dark hair, pulling lightly against it. He let out a deep moan at the movement, his eyes shooting open and lips pulling away for a moment.

You smiled at the sight of him, red-lipped, cheeks flushed and eyes full of desire. “Too harsh for you, captain?”

He groaned at your words, capturing your lips once more. His hook was pressing your waist against his as his hand grabbed your neck, bringing you into him. He was truly and well intoxicating.

Hook pulled away again, breath coming out in short bursts. “So I’m not good enough for your sister, but I’m good enough for you.”

You cocked your head and shrugged. “I’m not as good as she is.”

He smiled into the kiss when you pulled him closer again. His teeth captured your bottom lip lightly, but the feeling made a smile of your own erupt across your face.

“I don’t know,” Hook said. “I think you’re pretty good.”

“Killian.”

“My name has never sounded sweeter.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, smile still playing across your lips.

“With pleasure,” he murmured while pulling you close again.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear @shobolanya @edit-me-prettyplease @bookholichany @scriblezz

[milswrites]

Unspoken Love

~ Eris Vanserra X Fem!Reader

Summary: All the ways in which Eris shows you he loves you.

Warnings: Fluffy goodness. Nudity (non-sexual). Period cramps.

Notes: This is for everyone who just longs to see Eris happy and in love (and more specifically for @searchingforbucky because I never would have written this if it wasn’t for you)

A Hopeless Prince

Eris had a silver tongue.

Centuries of speaking in court allowing him to become a master at crafting words. The Autumn Prince blessed with the gift of bending truths and delivering commands as though they were the sweetest poetry.

And yet, despite his eloquence in speech, Eris had one problem.

A cursed inability to voice his feelings.

It was a skill the red-haired prince had never required, a mask of cool indifference being the best item a male could wear in court. Emotions were a weakness that Eris couldn't allow himself to have on display, not in Autumn.

Until he met you. Then suddenly and all at once Eris found himself a victim to his own heart's desire.

A single look, that was all that was needed for Eris Vanserra to fall in love. One look and the male was certain he had found his equal.

Yet despite the instantaneous nature of his feelings for you, Eris found his tongue locked in your presence. The three words which he so longed to tell you caged within the confines of his mouth.

Eris loved you.

An all consuming love in which the heat of his desire burned brighter than any inferno he could muster with his own palms. And yet he still couldn't find the words to tell you this. But despite his inability to voice his emotions, Eris fought against his insecurities to make sure he let you know the depths of his feelings in other ways.

He made sure to tell you with the soothing tea he made for you each morning. With the gentle kiss he always laid upon your cheek as you stirred from your slumber. He made sure you knew with his sweet compliments and admiring eyes as he soaked in your radiant beauty for as long as you would allow.

Eris loved you.

He only hoped that one day he would be able to tell you this himself.

A Comforting Presence

Time was a scarce luxury for you and Eris.

Between his courtly duties and your equally busy schedule, quality time together was a rare sight.

Whenever you managed to find a moment of peace, free from your responsibilities and ready to devote all of your attention to the Autumn Prince, Eris always had the rotten luck of being called away to another task.

Which is why you often found yourself in this position; tucked away in a hidden area of the library, curled up with a good book whilst you waited for Eris to finish his daily obligations. The books you read acting as a blissful escape from the usually restless bustle of the Autumn Court.

It was all to easy for you to hide from reality between the inked pages. To allow your mind to freely wander amongst the stories while the time slowly passed until you could see Eris again. Working your way through Autumn's large expanse of literature as each day came and went.

So it was no wonder how in your dream-like trance you didn't notice the watchful figure admiring you from afar. It took three attempts of Eris softly clearing his throat before he was able to capture your attention and draw your gaze from the book in your hands. Tensing, your alarmed eyes swiftly flew towards the source of the sound, your muscles relaxing upon seeing the familiar face of your lover.

You took the time to admire Eris where he stood, shameless eyes raking over his well-defined figure before coming to a stop at the stack of documents which were clutched tightly in his hands.

"Another meeting?" you quietly ask with a sad smile, assuming that Eris had only dropped by for a short respite and a quick hello before he needed to return to his obligations.

Eris approached you, placing a delicate kiss onto your temple before moving to sit down in the armchair beside you. "Actually," he started, the low rumble of his voice cutting through the silence of the library, "I thought I might finish off my work here, if that is alright with you of course?"

You didn't fail to miss the light dusting of redness which blossomed on Eris's cheeks, nor the embarrassed edge to his tone as he spoke. Worried that the male would allow his insecurities to take control, you stretched out your hand to entwine it with his own, locking together your fingers as your thumb moved to rub soothing circles into his skin.

"I'd love nothing more" you answered honestly, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence, Eris beginning to work through his papers and you picking up your story from where you left off. Yet despite your different activities your hands remained placed in each other's, Eris placing the occasional kiss onto the back of your own whenever he sat back to ponder over what he was writing.

The two of you didn't speak; you didn't need to. Not when the comfort of each other's company was enough. It could have been hours until words were exchanged between you once more, the silence broken by a gasp escaping from your lips as you reached an exciting part of your story. Intrigued, Eris looked over to where you were sat.

"What is it?" he asked, straining his neck to peer over and try and catch a glimpse of your book. Interested eyes flashing over to your own wide ones.

"Nothing, sorry! Something big just happened, I'll try to stay quiet" you promised, afraid that if you were to disturb Eris from his work he would leave to finish it elsewhere.

Eris slowly nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to his papers to continue his writings, and yet it was impossible to stop his amber eyes from travelling back to your face. Brows knitting together as he took in the bright glint in your eye and the curling of your lips as you read.

Needing to satisfy his curiosity, Eris asked you once more, "What is it? What are you smiling at?"

"Shouldn't you be working?" you teased, noting the nosy way in which the Autumn Prince was trying to snoop at the page you were reading.

"Work can wait" he huffed, snatching the book from your hands, "I'm more interested in what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours."

And as you sat in Eris's lap, happily chatting away as his work laid unfinished and forgotten, the male promised himself he would always make time for you. Because no job, nor meeting, would ever be more important than getting to see you smile.

A Helping Hand

A groan of frustration tore from your lips as you entered your shared chambers. Distressed eyes meeting the teasing stare of your amused lover who was sprawled across the bed, no doubt having been waiting for your arrival.

A soft chuckle leaving Eris's lips at the sight of your disheveled form, "Difficult day, Little Fox?"

Having finally reached the sanctuary of your room, the weight of the days trials finally settled as your eyes began to uncomfortably sting with tears. Noticing your crumbling composure, Eris swiftly made his way over from the bed to where you were stood, gentle hands coming to rest against your cheeks as his searching eyes scanned over your frame.

Your appearance clearly worrying him as the male immediately pulled you into a crushing embrace.

Face now pressed into the exposed skin of Eris's chest where the top of his shirt was splayed open, you allowed yourself to deeply inhale the familiar scent of your partner. The smell of him alone enough to bring you the comfort you needed. The Autumn Prince held your tears at bay, both by the gentle caress of his hands against your body and the soothing murmurings of solace he offered you.

It was only when your breathing steadied, and the irregular pounding of your heart had subsided, did Eris then allow himself to pull away. "Do you want to talk about it?" Eris asked tentatively, lifting a tender hand to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "Or would you just like me to take care of you?"

Your heart lovingly ached at the male's compassion, his words the same ones you recite to him each time he comes back to your chambers forlorn and dejected after a difficult day.

"Will you take care of me?" you asked your prince, a single tear falling down your cheek. Not at the expense of your terrible day, but at the overwhelming surge of empathy swimming in your lover's eyes.

"Always" Eris replied, kissing away your lonely tear.

The Autumn Prince needn't be told what to do; silently leading you to the bed with a promise of returning.

You waited patiently for the male as he prepared your bath, the male filling the tub with an assortment of luxurious oils and healing salts. It was only when Eris was satisfied with the temperature of the steaming water, did he then return to carry you into the bathroom.

Eris's hands worked to aid you in unlacing the corset of your dress before he gathered the silk of the slip underneath to help remove it from your exhausted frame. Once free from the confines of your clothing, Eris supportively held your hand as he carefully assisted you in getting into the bath. Allowing you to adjust to the temperate waters before moving behind you to wash your hair.

Eris had the hands of a prince, smooth and unscarred, free from the marks of labor. Yet despite the polished nature of his nimble fingers, they worked wonders whilst running through your dampened hair and massaging your aching scalp. Each gentle rub as he worked the pine scented soap into your hair being enough to draw sounds of contented pleasure from your lips.

Your love was an expert at knowing what you needed, and as he worked to was the pollutant worried of the day gone by from your skin, Eris filled your ears with light-hearted stories of his own day.

It wasn't long before the sweet sound of laughter filled the room, memories of your sour day long forgotten as you merrily conversed with your partner.

The only thing that mattered in this moment of time was him.

And as your eyes caught Eris periodically sinking his hands into the lukewarm water to rise its temperature to an adequate level, you knew there was no one else in the world you would rather have take care of you. No man that you would rather love.

A Treasured Gift

Life with Eris meant you needn't want for anything.

He made sure to spoil you with more dresses than you would ever need and your collection of jewels had grown so large they now spilled from the box you kept them in.

But your favourite gift you had received from Eris wasn't the diamond encrusted tiara he had given you for your birthday, nor the prize mare he had surprised you with on the anniversary of your relationship.

No, the best gift Eris had ever given you was his mind, scrawled between the pages of a book. . .

Your lover's nerves were almost tangible as he approached, hands hidden behind his back as he slowly stalked in your direction. Low whispers of self-encouragement upon his lips as he set his determined eyes on you.

It was unusual, to see the usually confident male blanching in your presence, all colour drawn from his usually lifeful cheeks. Eris’s foot tapping restlessly against the floor when he finally came to a stop before you.

You made to greet your prince with a kiss, but Eris's shaky words interrupted your action. "I have something for you" he said, offering you an anxious smile as your brows raised in surprise, thoughts racing as you desperately tried to remember whether this day held any important significance that you had forgotten.

Noting your panicked expression Eris immediately blurted, "It's nothing big! Just something small I've been working on for you."

Eris was slow to draw his hands from behind his back, nervous eyes meeting your curious ones as you took in what he was holding.

"A book?" you asked, taking it from his slightly trembling hand in order to cast your inspecting gaze of the cover. Tales of the heart. Your favourite story.

A book you have read over a dozen times before. So why would Eris gift you a copy of a book you already owned? Sure your copy was tattered and well loved, but did it really require a replacement?

Ever the perceptive male, Eris inhaled deeply before explaining the reasoning of his gift, "I know I'm not the best at voicing how I feel. . . So I thought you could read it instead."

His expectant eyes urged you to open the book, so you did just that.

Peeling back the cover, you were greeted with Eris's familiar penmanship, the black ink which marked the page curling into words which made your heart swell:

You are my everything, nothing more and nothing less.

With watery eyes you eagerly flicked through the book, breath catching in your throat as you observed the ink covered pages. Eris had underlined all his favourite passages, each one accompanied by scribbles of his comments and opinions, the margins overflowing with carefully worded text.

Here in your hands you held a window into Eris's soul. His emotions laid bare across each page, exposing his mind and sharing his thoughts.

This little book, which fit snugly into the palm of your hand, was an offering. An invitation to get to know the male better, to understand Eris in his entirety.

Finding yourself lost for words you did the only thing you could do, pulling the Autumn Prince into a heated kiss of appreciation. Arms flying around his neck in an attempt to draw him in closer, doing your best to pour every ounce of love and praise into each gentle caress of your lips against his.

Anticipation growing in your chest at the prospect of delving into the book later on in the day, eagerly awaiting your exploration of Eris Vanserra’s mind.

A Heated Touch

You were in agony.

Bound to your bed, wallowing in your own misery as you clutched onto your abdomen with the hope of quelling the rising tide of pain.

It was that time of the year, your aching body signaling the unwelcome arrival of your cycle.

Eris had been reluctant to leave you this morning, worried about your ability to take care of yourself. Despite wanting nothing more than to spend the day wrapped in the loving arms of your partner, you half-heartedly pushed him from your bed, knowing the male had an abundance of dull meetings to attend today.

Yet now as you laid under your covers, curled into a ball as you miserably absorbed each aching stab of pain, you wished that you had never sent Eris away. Your suffering only increasing as the hours passed by.

You would search for your lover if you could, call him from his meetings and draw him back to your bed, but with a head like cotton and a body like lead you had no choice but to lay with your torturous discomfort in solitude.

Though thankfully, Eris had other plans. Unsatisfied with leaving his partner to suffer alone during her cycle, he had spent the morning postponing his meetings and delegating his work elsewhere. Anxiously wishing away the time until he was able to return to his chambers and take care of you.

Wasting no time once the rearrangement of his tasks had been completed, hurrying to the kitchen to make you a healing cup of medicinal tea before making his way to your shared room.

Opening the door to find you exactly where he had left you, huddled under the covers and eyes tightly closed as you tried to wait out wave after wave of pulsating pain.

Heart clenching at the sight of you in agony, Eris uttered curses to the gods for bestowing you with a pain that he could not fix. Sympathy flooding into his eyes as he came to sit by your side, raising a comforting hand to brush against your cheek and pull you from your fitful slumber.

"My poor Little Fox" he empathetically cooed, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose as you stirred from your sleep. Eyes blinking open, a weak smile graced your lips as the welcoming sight of your lover greeted you.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, brows furrowing at the wince which crossed your face as you turned your body to face him better.

"Will you hold me?" you pouted lamely, tears threatening to fall now your partner was here to comfort you.

"Of course" Eris answered, needing no further instruction as he moved to climb into the bed behind you, arms reaching out across the sheets to pull you towards him until your back pressed against his chest. A pained whimper drawing from your lips as he did so, Eris cursing himself for bringing you more anguish.

"May I try something?" Eris asked, seeking your permission for what he was about to do. Nausea building in your throat, you feebly nodded. What was the worse that could happen when you already felt like death itself?

Careful not to disturb you too much, Eris snaked his hands around your middle, moving them down towards your aching abdomen before allowing his hands to gradually heat to a bearable temperature.

A deep breath of satisfaction escaped from your lips at his heated touch. The ghost of Eris's flames working to quell your pain and soothe your aching.

"You are never leaving my side again" you giggled in relief, bringing your hands to rest against his own in the hope of absorbing each remnant of heat which Eris provided you with.

"That is something we can agree on" Eris purred, drawing you into his embrace further still, warm lips brushing against your neck as he continued, "There is nowhere else I would rather be."

And as Eris watched you fall into a blissful slumber, contented smiles resting upon each of your faces, the Autumn Prince could have sworn that the three words he so longed to tell you were patiently waiting on the tip of his tongue.

A Lover's Vow

It had taken you weeks to read through Eris's gift. Having opted to take the time to appreciate each little comment your partner had scribbled onto the pages.

Each word you read opening your eyes to a new side of the Autumn Prince, showing you glimmers of a male that felt and felt deeply. Every new thing you learnt about your lover working to crack the mask which he so often wore.

Now reaching the end of your story you didn't want it to end. You wanted - no needed- to learn everything you could about the male, feeling as though this gift had only scratched the surface when it came to introducing you to the mystery that was Eris Vanserra.

You had laughed, you had cried, and now turning to finish the final page you only longed to experience it all again.

Your curiosity would never be satisfied, not when it came to Eris.

Why is why you were pleasantly surprised, that when the final words had been read, a sealed letter which had been hidden between the pages dropped into your lap. The crimson ink which adorned the envelope staring right back at you as your wide eyes took in the message that was addressed to you.

Your happy ending, Little Fox.

You weren't sure why your heart had stopped at the sight of the letter, nor were you able to explain why your hands trembled nervously as you tore open the paper. Shaking as you removed the note which had been neatly tucked inside.

Pearlescent tears began to fall down your blushing cheeks as you read Eris's words, failing to even finish the letter before you had jumped on your feet and began to run.

You were unsure of where you were heading, but the one thing you were certain of was that Eris would be at the end of it. The letter now crumpled within your tight grip as you ran, afraid to let it go and lose the words which you had been so desperate to hear.

So you didn't stop, allowing your feet to carry you towards Eris, towards your answers. Only slowing down to catch your breath when you saw your partner outside, leading his horse back to the stables through the torrential rain.

Uncaring of the fact your clothes were not appropriate for the miserable weather, you closed the distance between you and the male. Mud splashing at your calves as you rushed towards him.

Eris didn't fail to miss your sodden figure running towards him, eyes blowing wide in alarm at your sudden appearance. Worried for your sanity, he immediately dropped the reins from his hands as he ran to meet you halfway.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, concerned eyes taking in the sorry state of your wild appearance, the male moving to grip your arm and move you towards shelter but not before you had forcefully ripped your arm from his hold.

"Is it true?" you asked, your silver tears mixing with the cooling rain which was beating against your flushed face.

"Is what true?" Eris cried, brows knitted together in confusion until his gaze dropped to the letter clutched tightly in your hand and then suddenly it all made sense.

"Yes. . ." he weakly replied after a moment, his surprise at your unexpected appearance having stolen his words.

"You love me?" you pressed further, taking a step closer to your anxious partner, lifting your fist which held the now sodden letter, "What you wrote, do you mean it?"

Eris scoffed at the ridiculous nature of your question, "Mean it? Of course I mean it, I wouldn't write it if I didn't."

"Say it" you ordered, "Please. I need to hear you say it."

The old Eris would have walked away, ignored your demands and fought against his tempestuous emotions. He would have never been able to express how he felt, unable to allow the words to escape from his lips.

Yet with one look at you, saturated hair clinging to your cheeks as you looked towards the male in desperation, Eris could feel his mask slipping. The stone veil falling from his face before it dropped to the ground and shattered.

And for the first time in your life you were staring at the true face of Eris Vanserra.

Tears streaming down his face as he allowed the wave of his once hidden emotions to crash over him.

"I love you" he confessed, burning stare meeting your own, "gods I love you."

A delighted laugh broke from the males lips as the weight of his confession lifted from his chest, hands flying to your smiling cheeks as the truth of his affections continued to flow, "Mind, body, soul, I'm yours. All of me. Mask or no mask, I have always belonged to you. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you this sooner."

"But I knew, Eris" you cried along with your partner, the heated touch of his warming palms enough to burn your tears away as they came, "Even though you never said it aloud I always knew, because you showed it to me in every way that counts. You have never failed to make me feel anything but loved."

"And do you?" he asked through heavy breaths, "Do you feel the same for me as I do for you?"

"Eris Vanserra" you beamed up at the male before you, eyes glistening as you absorbed the rawness of his heartfelt expression, " I have loved you since before I ever even knew you, and I always will. My heart belongs to you Eris, until my dying breath."

Unable to stop the sob which tore from his lips, Eris allowed himself to cry, arms coming to wrap around your middle in a crushing embrace as he sought to stabilize his trembling frame.

"I think I'm going to need a new letter" you mumbled into his chest, the ruined piece of paper having fallen to the rain-soaked ground in the midst of your embrace.

"I'll write you a thousand more if that's what you want" Eris promised, lips coming to softly press against you head as his tears subsided, "But I think I'd rather tell you how I feel from now on."

"I'd like that" you replied staring up at the male you loved so dearly, "I'd like that very much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ahhh I love this fic so much! Thank you @sarawritestories for holding my hand and walking me through this 😂

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

if gods exist, they made you perfect

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, ace novel spoilers (1st novel), pre-relationship, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, light mentions of child abuse (garp), brief loss in ace's ability to control his powers, reader receives a minor burn

pairing. portgas d. ace x black!fem!reader

synopsis. not everyone is going to reach for ace's hand but you always will.

notes. a very indulgent idea that has been living rent free in my head since i've had it and now it is your problem. cover comes from frederic edwin church's twilight in the wilderness (1860). blazing red skies and ace simply go hand in hand.

"The Five Elders are gonna have the biggest bitch fit to ever fit," with how Ace blinks up at you in surprise, he must have been really lost in his thoughts. You broaden your smile as you plop down right next to him. "I don't think anyone's ever turned down a Warlord position before. Can't wait to see how your bounty goes up this time."

Ace snorts lightly at your words, lips stretching into half a grin, "yeah, they are not going to like that."

"It definitely doesn't help you kicked that vice admiral's ass, either," you recall the events of your final moments in Sabaody. A definitive mixed bag of.

It was a beautiful country, that much is easy to say. Still it came with more than you were prepared to witness. It's only luck there hadn't happened to be any visiting Celestial Dragons coinciding with your temporary residency. Somehow you have the feeling that things would have surely been messier if their had been.

The stint with Vice Admiral Draw will be messy enough on its own.

"Garp's gonna be so mad when he finds out," Ace shudders at even your mention of his grandfather and you snicker. "What if he comes to Fishman Island for one of his grand lectures?"

"Don't even joke like that," the back of his orange hat thumps against the side of the Spadille with his groan of horror. "I can feel his Fists of Love right now."

You feel the phantom pain yourself. If you're both lucky, the semi-retired marine is busy visiting Luffy on Dawn Island. Maybe it's not that lucky though. It isn't the first time the thought the man is even harsher on Luffy now that Ace has gone ahead and sworn his life to piracy surfaces. It's a thought you push away as quickly as you have it.

Luffy's a strong kid, he's fine.

He has a spirit that is unbreakable.

"That Draw guy deserved to get his ass beat anyway." There is no disagreement to be had with your statement, Ace murmuring something similar. He's a million miles away from where you are, however, miraculously sat on a ship sailing beneath the waves. "Isuka'll be fine," you say suddenly, cursing your inability to ease into the topic gently. "She's strong and she was on our ass since immediately after we got to the Grand Line. She'll be back to chasing us soon enough."

Hopefully.

It isn't something you can say with resolute faith.

The ensign's sense of reality itself had been shattered in its entirety. Being betrayed by the one you believed to be your savior is nothing easy to overcome. You choose to believe a woman as impassioned as the naval officer will. You won't pretend to know where she'll head next.

Perhaps she'll embark on a path that leads her back to the marines. Or maybe she'll become a bounty hunter.

Wherever her journey takes her, you can only hope it is a path with no regrets.

"It would have been weird having a bounty hunter on the ship, anyway," you clumsily attempt to soothe your friend. There is irony in how Ace became your better in terms of comforting those around you when he had been the most argumentative and unfriendly between you. "That sounds like something Luffy would do."

At the sound of Luffy's name, Ace's lips do quirk into something more real. "Yeah, that kid would invite just about anyone on his crew, bounty hunters included."

You chuckle trying to visualize what the young boy's recruitment process will be. Somehow, you doubt his prospective crewmates will have much say in the matter. "Knowing Luffy, they'll probably want to join anyway though. He's convincing like that."

"Yeah," Ace only falls deeper into his thoughts. The silence that follows is even more glum than the depths. Damn it, you curse yourself.

You've never been like Makino, you recall the kind-hearted woman from your youth. She's always been gentle, dove-like in her approach when it came to matters of the heart. Knew exactly the words someone needed to hear and knew exactly how to say it in a way that didn't feel intrusive to the recipient.

That has certainly never been you. If anything, you're more akin to Dadan and her rough expressions of affection.

You hold back a sigh, closing your eyes.

"Alright, I guess this is how we're doing this," you open your eyes at last. Shuffling, you face your friend who makes a sound of surprise at your movement. You aren't a delicate person nor are you someone with the ability to handle matters of the heart with the delicacy it deserves. It's best to handle it clumsily, the only way you know how. "Ace, the stuff with Isuka; that wasn't your fault. And it isn't on you that she didn't want to come with us."

Isuka liked Ace.

It's impossible not to like him.

Even when he was a brat with more anger at the world than he knew what to do with, you liked him. Thought he was the coolest person you'd ever met in your short 10 years of living and wanted him to like you back. You like him even now.

Everyone in the crew joined because they liked Ace the moment they met him. He's darling in how effortless he makes it.

Even a marine as firm in her beliefs as Isuka couldn't let prejudice cloud her judgement when it came to Portgas D. Ace. Begrudging as it may have been, there has always been a mutual admiration for each other in spite of the opposing occupations.

You're like the sun. Equal parts the harsh rays of summer and the gentle beams of early spring. He's whichever the moment calls for. A warmth everyone wants to experience if they're lucky enough to come across it. The gravitational pull of the universe that keeps the planets in the sun's orbit. You're amazing!

"I don't know what the hell that girl needs," rough as the sentence is, your voice is soft. "But whatever it is, she wasn't going to find it with us. That's why she didn't come."

Ace opens his mouth but you don't give him the chance to argue or sweep your concerns away.

"I'm not gonna sit here and lie to your face and say that this won't happen again," it's an ugly truth. One Ace became aware of long before you met him. Regardless, as much as you hate it, you know it'd be unfair to lie to him. "Because it probably will. There's always going to be people who, no matter how hard you reach for them, they aren't going to reach back. And you can't do jack about it.

Hell, sometimes you can't even do jill. But," Ace's brow furrows in time with your words and your heart wrenches. "But," you start once more, the back of your fingers brushing against his wrist. "for every person that won't, there's going to be someone that does." You cup one of Ace's hands in both of yours with all the care one would give glass.

When did these hands get so much bigger than your own?

Still, you lips curl upwards in your nostalgia, the warmth that radiates from him remains the same. You squeeze gently, almost afraid that if you touch him too hard, he'll break.

"And I know for a fact there are a lot of people who are always going to want to hold your hands. Even if the shit does turn into fire," you chuckle at your quick addendum and despite himself, Ace does too. You've always loved hearing him laugh, it's even better when you're the cause. "The crew. Dadan. Magra. Dogra. Luffy," you squeeze again, your thumb carressing the back of his hand. "Me. We love these hands, they're yours."

There's a spark of something in Ace's eyes you can't quite place and it's unexpectedly hard to look him in the eye for some reason. "Heh," you laugh breathlessly. Without meaning to, your grip tightens around his hand. It's warm.

Really warm.

Shit, it's actually getting kinda hot ain't it?

You see the flicker of orange and your and Ace's expressions are well-matched in panic as you realize the source. Sure enough, your hands were engulfed flames.

"Shit-" Ace swears but despite instinct dictating you back away from the flames, you find yourself holding on to staunchly.

"Shit-" you fight against Ace's attempt to pull away from you as the flames die down. "[First]! Let go!"

"No way, what did I just say?!" Oh god this hurts like hell! "I don't care if it's fire, I'm not letting go!"

You hiss through your teeth, reeling yourself in with a breath but the flames are extinguished as quickly as they erupted. "Wasn't exactly expecting to prove my point so fast but," there's another attempt on Ace's part to pull away from you again but you only hold his hand tighter. You can ignore the sting of your hands but you can't ignore the way Ace's eyebrows knit together. You can't ignore how he looks like he wants to cry either. "See," you laugh breathlessly. "I love these hands, there's no way I'm never gonna hold them.

Dark eyes, wide, look between you and your face and you squeeze his hand again. The sting of your palms is prevalent but this pain is fine. Pain is merely proof that you are alive in this moment; and in this moment there is nowhere else you want to be.

There's nothing more that needs to be said between you, you believe. Facing him, you lean against the wood as you hold Ace's hand firmly between your own. With the hand he has available, Ace slides his hat down to hide whatever expression he's making.

You close your eyes with a sigh and pretend you don't hear the sound of hiccuping. You don't feel the way his hand trembles either.

You squeeze Ace's hand and he squeezes back.

Your hands sting something sweet.

[hwajin]

— look at me, look at me. you're looking?

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: — lee minho | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: minho x gn!reader

req

send me a request!

"Yeah, keep your eyes on- on me babe, look- look at me."

Struggling to find his voice yet he attempted to keep his composure. Minho would never admit to have lost control long ago, over his body, over his mind, over the entirety of the affair he had initiated.

"Touch yourself while watching me jerk off."

Words had cut deep into the air, had emptied your lungs off any oxygen. They had come so casually, so without remorse and you grew shy, embarrassed in Minho's place, him seemingly missing any sense of shame.

His hand, now visible, now not hidden within the confines of his jean but on full display for you, wandered up and down his length, slow and torturous strokes you knew had him breaking sweat, had him seeing stars. Knew he needed more than what he was giving himself and knew you could provide it, though you stayed in your place, back against the headrest of the bed, legs spread sinfully wide before him — if you'd been embarrassed before you sure weren't now, despite the situation surely called for it. And yet, watching your boyfriend's breath hitch in his throat, watching him pull up the hem of his shirt, reveiling tensed up v-line and spasming torse, watching him throw his head back into his neck, against the rest of the chair, delicate veins painting his skin in purple and blue. You wished to paint that neck in yet brighter colours, wished to claw your teeth into silken skin, breaking the barrier, bruising the body.

Your head lulled sideways, own thoughts overwhelming and your eyes rolled back, fingers on your heat quickening in pace, chasing a high, or chasing more, or chasing the touch of another, of him, altogether. Long forgotten about his order, eyes neither on his own nor on his body now, sheer inability to keep them anything but closed stroke through you like buzzing lighting. You were close, dangerously so, chasing and chasing after something you knew only he could give you. Only he could truly provide you.

You sensed shuffling from across you, heard nearing steps and a muffled curse beneath breath, felt hands on your body, finally, eventually, like sweet release in itself, like salvation only he could grant. Your eyes opened momentarily, catching his in surprise, surprising further at the darkness laced within them — he wasn't angry yet determined, grip on you a solid one, all ten cups of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving dents and marks and possible bruises to awe at the next day. Erection prodding against slit, against filthy wetness, eliciting sounds you shyed away from — maybe you did find yourself embarrassed after all, with the newfound touch of his on your skin, with the newfound realisation of your utter neediness, of your desperation, pathetic, almost. Skin blushing, cheeks red and Minho's hand found a place on them, holding your face steady, puckering your lips slightly in the process.

"Told you to look at me, d- didn't I."

Tip prodding at your entrance before he pushed into you, slowly though unexpectadely deep that you nothing but arched into his body and whimpered out in longing, in oversensitivity, in pleasure overwhelming. Receiving a chuckle in response, thrusts of his hips against yours, faster now, more urgent — he was as impatient as you, as egged up, as eager, as edged; he needed release nearly as much as yourself, any plans he'd planted beforehand thrown over board, instincts taking over instead. He wasn't normally one to lose himself, so only drawing a reaction more needing, more wanting out of you — he did lose control now, due to you, because of you and your body, and you clawed onto him, hands on his shoulders, eyes on his ones, his grip never allowing you to convert gaze.

And your faces were contorted. Brows scrunched and eyes frantic, lips laced in sweat and bitten red, bitten bloody. And it didn't take much longer for you, clenching around him in butterfly flaps, voice pitching higher, pleas foaming off your mouth — you had nearly reached what you'd chased, and you could only hope Minho to bring you all the way towards the finish line.

"That's it baby, look at me while you come around me— fuck. Look at me."

Complying though it was a harder task than given — your eyes dared to lose themselves if you didn't focus enough, and you nearly closed them when your high hit you like a loaded truck, weight on your shoulders and pressure in your stomach releasing, body contracting against his own, eyes hooded and milky, thoroughly fucked out as you kept your gaze on him, obediently.

And if he hadn’t lost control already he had now, surely, watching you, watching your eyes lace in pleasure, in satisfaction greater than anything you’d ever known before him, his own thrusts grew static, lowest grunts rolling over and past his lips, and you felt him fill you moments later, hot release within your stomach, within the depths of you, daring to spill out, to stain thigh and sheets and mattress. Panting the both of you, hand yet on your jaw, gazes yet connected – not planning to separate any time soon.

@felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut

[cheollipop]

HIII :D

Can you write a little drabble about dom Yunho and fem reader ignoring eachother after an argument and so y/n comes up with a plan to tease Yunho while he’s busy ignoring her and playing video games and then he ends up getting worked up and it then leads to rough sex 🙈 (sorry if this is too much lol)

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 ���𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

hi anonnie!! this... thisssssss egsjbks omg gamer bf!yunho AND mad!yunho?? yummy YUMMY- ahem, this was very fun to write, and i may have gone a bit overboard with it oopsie. also, been in a playful mood lately, so you get bratty!reader~ happy reading ^^

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, oral (m), make-up sex, lots of cum talk bc... teehee, yunho's kinda mad but turns soft, reader's a little brat ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Eyes trained on the screen before him, spattered splotches of red masking his point of view as his player failed to block the incoming stream of bullets, his fingers stuttering over his keyboard as loud yelling blasted into Yunho’s ears, his friends’ voices contained within the worn-down cushions of his headset. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, partly because of the insults being thrown his way as he struggled to aim his sniper, but mainly at his inability to recall how the argument he’d had with you a couple hours ago had even started. He wracked his brain for an answer, but all he came up with was the menacing smile stretching your lips when you walked into the room hours after he’d stormed off, opting to bully eleven-year-olds online with his friends, camping at their spawn point and watching them grow frustrated with his unfair tactics.

The situation flipped, though, once your smile disappeared underneath his desk, your body hidden under the polished wood, and Yunho nearly cursed at the missed view of your delicate hands undoing the strings of his sweatpants. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be, even more so when you had your fingers wrapped around his cock, tongue drawing circles around his head and collected the occasional spurts of precum as he grew harder in your grasp. He shuffled in his seat, containing a groan before it could leave his lips when you took his length down your throat, your lips meeting the digits wrapped around his girth before pulling off for air. Yunho wasn’t sure how many games he’d lost so far, only that his friends were growing frustrated with his silence, but he didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice would give away the nature of the situation he was in.

Brushing off the blonde locks obscuring his vision, he attempted to return to his position at the enemy’s base, only for you to flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock while sliding him back into your mouth, waiting until the tip prodded at your uvula before swallowing around it. To his luck, the startled grunt drawn out of him aligned with his teams’ nth loss, and his friends returned to their endless berating.

You pulled off him again, resting your head high enough on his thigh to stare up at his flushed face over the edge of his desk—eyes glazed over and unfocused as they gazed back at you, his lips bitten raw and a pretty rose tinting his neck and the sliver of his chest peeking at you over his collar. Your hand remained on him to smear your saliva down his length, squeezing at his base and back up to twirl around his cockhead, all while watching his composure slowly breaking down and his impatience seep into his features. With hesitation, you moved your eyes off him and to the pretty, bright pink painting his angry tip while it leaked translucent liquid that mingled with your spit, leaning forward to lick a stripe over the throbbing vein decorating his shaft.

You heard deft fingers pressing over the keycaps followed by the loud clang of his headset hitting the wooden desk, his thighs retracting as he rolled his chair back, and his hands squeezed around your biceps to hold you up. Forcefully pulling you to your feet with him, the snarky remark died on your tongue as he pushed back onto the bed, a sudden exhale blowing out of your lungs when you landed under him.

“Had your fun?” the deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. Looking up at him, you took in the sweat pilling on his forehead, and you unsuccessfully attempted to wiggle out of the grasp he had around your wrists.

You bent your knee enough to dig into his hanging cock, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards when he jerked back. “Seems like you did too.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch again before a firm hand grabbed at your jaw, his other hand working your bottoms down your legs, two fingers pushing between your walls before you could even think of a retort. But you simply giggled, amused by how worked up you’d managed to get Yunho. You pecked the palm covering your lips, breathing out airy moans as he repeatedly pressed his fingers into your g-spot. He scissored his fingers, watching hot arousal dripping out of your cunt to seep into his duvet, cursing under his breath while using it to lube himself up.

“Can’t believe you,” he mumbled after releasing your jaw, leaning down to press himself flush with your chest, hands on your hips while he sunk into you, a melody of grunts and moans bouncing off the walls as he ground into your pussy, making sure you took every last inch of him. “Fuuuck, so fucking tight for me, aren’t you? Even when you’re being a brat,” he pressed his lips to the smile stretching yours.

Your smile wavered, playfulness fading away as you held his face to gaze into his hooded eyes, “are you still mad?”

Your whisper halted his insistent grinding, sparing you from the delicious glide of his cockhead over your walls to press a kiss to your forehead, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it seemed that way,” the hands holding your hips wrapped around you, one cradling the back of your head and the other on your lower spine, holding you so close you could hear his racing heartbeat.

You knew this didn’t solve the problem, and that you’d have to sit down and talk about it again soon, but Yunho’s hold—so warm and tender—set a veil of tranquillity over your moving bodies and erased any significance tied to your previous argument.

But Yunho was still desperate, brimming lust mingling with his desire to make love to you, his hold gentle and yet his hips were merciless. He slammed his cock into your cunt, breathy ah's blowing over the side of you neck while he drew out orgasm after orgasm from you, his length pulsating within your heat as pleasure seared through your bodies. Your thighs trembled around him, and your hips ached when he flipped you over, grabbing your ass to pull you back onto his cock while his other hand pushed your head down into the mattress, taking what he needed from you and revelling in the sweet moans he got in return.

Overstimulation mingled with pleasure, and you tuned out your surroundings save for the choked grunts Yunho blew against the shell of your ear, the flesh of your ass growing raw with his repetitive thrusts, the back of his thighs slapping roughly against your skin.

“gonna come,” he panted, “gonna fill you up all the way, yeah baby?”

You rambled incoherently into the sheets, the hand holding your head down tangling into your hair until dull pain shot through your scalp. Moaning a succession of “yes” and “please,” Yunho held you in place while he emptied thick ropes of his cum between your fluttering walls, doing just as he said he would: filling you up all the way, until the heat spread into your womb.

Yunho brushed the hair off your face to watch your pupils disappear, rutting his softening cock into you to push you further over the edge, aiding you down from your high with skilled rolls of his hips and kisses peppered over your skin, groaning at the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. When overstimulation jerked your body away from his grasp, you reached back with heavy limbs to push at his hips, sighing once his thick length slid out of you, and you missed the string of cum connecting his cockhead to your leaking hole. But Yunho eyed it until it broke, sliding his hands up your spine and flattening his body over yours, his weight held up by the elbows digging into the mattress by your head.

Pressing kisses to every patch of skin he could reach, yunho brushed away your tears with the plush of his lips, kissing over your shut eyelids while breathing in your uneven exhales. His pretty angel, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, especially after you’d milked him dry, always so beautiful when you were stuffed full of his cum. Covered in sweat, shirt sticking to your trembling figure, your cunt oozing the translucent liquid while it clenched uselessly around the chill air.

You craned your neck to look at the man hovering over you, clothed chest brushing over your back with every breath he drew in. He looked just as ruined—a pretty flush painting his cheeks, eyes soft and brimming with adoration as they mooned over your expression. You wondered what face you were making, and why it seemed make him so starstruck.

“We good?” You breathed out into the air between you, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Yunho focused on the spit drying over your lips, the line of drool going down to your chin reflecting the light from his monitor. His cock twitched in interest where it lay snug between his lower belly and your ass, and he rolled his hips experimentally, your sweet arousal around the hardening length gliding smoothly over your skin.

He hummed, meeting your hopefulness with an innocent smile, though the hint of slyness hidden within the gesture did not go unnoticed. Rolling his hips once more, he enveloped your body completely, resting some of his body weight over you while he whispered in your ear, a dribble of his cum seeping out of you as you squeezed around nothing.

“I think I might need a little more convincing.”

[aerynwrites]

Thank you for writing these, they are fantastic! Could you do one where Tav is doubting her abilities and is overwhelmed with the responsibility of fighting the netherbrain? Halsin would be there to stand with her and remind her of her strength, bravery, and growth. And kiss her too, because of course.

Not Alone

Halsin x Reader

A/N: thank you for the request friend! I hope this is what you wanted - I had fun writing this Bc wouldn’t we ALL be overwhelmed with that??

Word count: 1k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling overwhelmed, emotional hurt comfort, kissing, fluff.

It seemed to come out of nowhere.

The desperate squeeze of your chest. The burning tears behind your eyes. Shaking hands, narrowed vision, the inability to breath or think straight.

The sadness and grief and anxiety and…fear.

It all comes crashing down one unsuspecting evening, as the moon hovers high in the sky, trying and failing to comfort you with her pale light as you rush from your tent.

Worry about waking your companions doesn’t even cross your mind as you stumble from camp and into the surrounding wilderness, tears blinding you.

Gods, it’s too much.

The tadpoles, your friends' personal quests, the absolute, the guardian in your dreams…they all haunt you. Drain you constantly through the day and even now - where sleep used to be a respite - even your dreams are no longer your own.

A stray rock catches the toe of your shoe and suddenly you're acutely aware of the world around you once more. The rushing of air past you as you crash to the ground and the pain in your knees as you land. The dirt and grass beneath your fingers as you dig desperately into the earth. The wetness on your cheeks, and finally the broken sob that bursts from your lips.

You want to scream, and you just about let it out when something falls against your shoulder. However, the only sound that comes out is a strangled gasp as you turn to find the intruder.

Halsin, your druid companion turned lover - crouches before you, concern drawing his brows together and thinning his lips.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice gentle amidst the roaring turmoil of your mind. “I saw you rush from camp as I was returning and you seemed…troubled.”

Shaking your head you turn away from him, shame bubbling up in your chest. That forever cracking facade of a leader, pushing forward once more.

“I’m fine.”

You try to sound firm, but the words come out broken and choked around the lump lodged in your throat.

Halsin says nothing for a moment, instead moving to sit beside you in silence, staring out into the wilderness ahead.

You try to control your emotions, try to pull yourself together, but the tears just won’t. Stop.

“Even the strongest of leaders feel the weight of what they take on.” Halsin finally says. “No one can carry it alone forever.”

“I never asked to be a leader,” you respond, voice as empty as you feel.

More tears come forward ushering out all the thoughts you’ve been holding in your mind. The things you’ve been hiding, trying to keep everyone happy.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper, finally looking over to the druid from where you sit on your knees. “I just wanted to find a cure for these things in our heads and every solution has been a dead end o-or an avenue to something worse!” The words spill from your lips in shaky breaths.

“And on top of all that I have to stand by and watch as my companions, my friends struggle too. Astarion and his past with Cazador, never feeling free - yearning for escape. Gale and Shadowheart trapped by a goddess. Karlach being told she is literally damned to hell. And then you -“ you gesture vaguely to the man next to you. “Bearing the weight of the shadow curse and Thaniels well being…”

Slowly, with each word it seems the tears start to stop. Or dry up. You’re not sure which. But as you continue to speak it’s as if a tiny miniscule weight is lifted. You finally turn to face Halsin, who just gazes at you patiently, concern evident in his eyes.

“I don’t say this to make it seem like I don’t want to bear these things. They are my friends and you-“ you reach out to take his hand in yours, appreciating the comforting squeeze he gives you. “I love you. I want to help you and everyone back at camp but it’s just-“

“Too much to bear alone.”

Halsin completes your thoughts exactly, and before you can speak he’s gathering you up in his arms. You melt into his embrace, surrounded by the warmth and safety you’ve come to crave from the man holding you.

“I don’t know how you did it for so long.” You admit, arms moving to wrap around him. “And for centuries no less. How did you bear it? The responsibility.”

Halsin holds you tighter. “Admittedly, at first I did not bear it well,” he tells you. “I felt much like you do now, overwhelmed by others burdens and the decisions that were mine to make everyday. Constantly worried if the path I was leading the grove down was the right one.”

Gently, Halsin separates from you, just enough that he can see your face.

“So…what did you do? How did you keep it all from tearing you apart?”

Halsin smiles then, a tiny pained thing - as if seeing you go through what he has, hurts him as well.

A calloused hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing away residual sticky tears.

“I learned to share my burdens with those around me. With my family, my friends. And they were happy to assist me, just as I know those surrounding you will lend you their aid as well.”

You open your mouth to speak but Halsin cuts you off with a quick press of his lips against yours, retreating to press another one to each cheek.

“These are not your burdens to hold alone, my love,” he assures you, eyes searching your own. “You are strong and brave, but let us help you. Lean on me as I have you.”

His words bring on a whole new wave of tears, but instead of sadness all you feel is overwhelming relief and comfort. Halsins arms tighten around you as you press into him, head resting against his chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper, not having the words to express your gratitude.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Halsin rubs a soothing hand up your back.

“Anything for you, my heart.” Reaching up, he runs gentle fingers through your hair. “Would you like to return to camp?”

Taking a deep breath, you shake your head, relishing in the peace and quiet nature provides in this moment. The night is cool, and the gentle breeze rustles the grass and trees as the moon above gazes down on you both.

“I’d like to stay here for a little longer if that’s alright.”

“We can stay as long as you’d like,” he smiles.

And with that promise, you feel the last tendrils of dread slip from your mind.

You’re not alone. And that’s what matters most.

[thatcatsalem]

Sorcerer!Sukuna and his inability to accept that love is not worthless.

Disclaimer: All JJK characters belong to Gege. But Yuri is mine.

Context: You are a cunning sorceress who can manipulate spiders and create webs.

Warnings: sexual scenes, strong language, spiders.

This art work doesn’t belong to me, but if the author would like to be recognized or you know who draw this, please let me know.

Sorcerer!Sukuna was seeing curses since he was a child; parents were worried he was having delusions and he had seeing psychiatrist since he was able to talk. Managed to kill his first weak curse at the age of 6 by slashing it repeatedly. As a teenager he roamed the streets, killing all the curses he could see.

Sorcerer!Sukuna was found by Yaga, and was immediately enrolled into the school. Sorcerer!Sukuna was cagey about his life but wanted his younger half-brother away from Jujutsu.

Sorcerer!Sukuna earned semi-grade one title within a year, when he turned sixteen. Progressed onto Grade One at the age of eighteen.

Sorcerer!Sukuna gotten the tattoos on his face and body as runic protection from mind manipulation of curses. They work.

Sorcerer!Sukuna has destroyed everyone in Kyoto Exchange Event within three hours.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is Ino’s senpai.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is known for his brash and rude behavior, permanent scowl on his face and attitude problems. He will not bow unless he respects someone.

As Yuji joined Jujutsu world at fifteen, sorcerer!Sukuna treats him as rough as you would expect. He is even meaner to Megumi, who he picks on. He finds Nobara annoying and Maki weak, but does not have anything against Inumaki. He always tries to get him to talk.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who could never keep a partner and thinks any notion of love is worthless, eats his words when you come in. Dark and mysterious, with indifferent face and blunt speech that would make Nanami run a mile to catch up.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who immediately wants to make you a conquest but accidentally becomes the conquest himself. Not only are you as cutrhroat as him, you are also known for your unnerving grey morals. And as soon as you decided that Sukuna is worthy of being on the same pedestal as you, you have deemed him suitable enough to be a partner.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who doesn’t understand at first he is being seduced into comfortability, used to coquettish behavior instead. But he is receiving coffee cups with black little spiders drawings that are holding your number, he gets to eat half of your cinnamon roll in the morning briefings, and allows you to pat his cheek as a greeting. Within a month he craves more intimacy than he ever knew he wanted.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who finds the sex mind blowing when he fucks you.

You moan, eyes rolling back, spine curling involuntarily – overwhelmed by his girth, the tight fit, the friction. He rubbed your thighs, a soothing, reassuring sensation. And then another pull and push, pull and push, like the rolling tide of the ocean. Planting your feet firmly on the bed on either side of him, you began to roll your hips, meeting his languid thrusts, even as he continued to hold your waist in both hands, bringing you up and down on his shaft.

"You feel fucking good," he said, an almost strangled noise that was rough and grated with pleasure. “So fucking good."

"Really? Aren’t you lucky,” you said teasingly. His look shifted immediately and you almost laughed at the outrage in his expression, but then he snapped his hips hard and you can feel the tip of him deep within kissing your cervix. You moaned and a dark smirk curled his lips as he leaned forward and planted his fists on either side of your head.

"Did you feel that, you wicked cunt?”

You open her mouth to retort, but he did it again, another sharp, deep thrust that silenced your tongue, leaving nothing but moaning coming from the your lips. He stared defiantly into your eyes as he snapped his hips over and over and over again, as if it strengthened his case, expression daring you to critique him again, even if mockingly.

“Know your place, foolish girl,” he mused.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who is so whipped by good sex, decent food and affection that he immediately attempts to sabotage new relationship. You don’t let him.

“Fucking hell,” he whistles, “you would think this is a date.”

As soon as he said that, he regretted it. You did not falter but a look of gloom trespassed onto your face, quickly hidden behind phlegmatic facade. Sukuna bit his tongue, unsure on what to do. He looked at you, begging for you to diffuse the situation, but you were not in a kind mood today.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask with annoyance in your voice, and turn towards the table, grabbing a bottle of wine. You open it with a knife, bottle popping loudly and cork swiftly caught by one of your bigger spiders that was sat on one of the walls, “Or are you just afraid?...”

“I am not afraid.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Sorcerer!Sukuna who refuses to accept he is in a relationship, but you have other fucking plans.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is seeing red as soon as he notices that you are not paying attention to him.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Fighting the Truth

Chris Sturniolo x enemy!reader

Summary: Chris and Y/N have fought for years, but after another heated argument, their feelings change, leading to unexpected love and a complicated new beginning.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: fighting, cursing, drinking, making out, let me know if I missed something

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

You’d known the Sturniolo triplets quite literally since the day you were born. Your moms had met in the hospital, sharing the same room as they brought you and the boys into the world. From that moment on, your lives had been intertwined, your families becoming an unshakable unit.

Growing up, you, Matt, and Nick were inseparable. As soon as you could walk, you were a team: climbing trees, building pillow forts, and getting into all kinds of trouble together. But with Chris, it was different. It had always been different.

Your first argument with him happened when you were barely old enough to form complete sentences. He’d stolen the red crayon from your hand mid-drawing, insisting that he “needed it more,” and from then on, it was like a switch had flipped. If there was something to fight over, you and Chris would find it. Toys, art supplies, video games—nothing was off-limits.

As you grew older, the arguments evolved. What started as petty squabbles turned into full-blown shouting matches. Snarky remarks became cutting insults, and any room you two occupied was guaranteed to become a battleground. Now, at 21, it felt like the fighting had reached a breaking point.

You hated it.

You hated the way Chris could get under your skin with just one look. You hated how you couldn’t stop yourself from snapping back at him, no matter how hard you tried. Most of all, you hated how your constant arguing was starting to strain your friendship with Matt and Nick. The thought of losing them because of your inability to get along with their brother kept you up at night.

You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but the stress of it all had you crying yourself to sleep more nights than not.

And now, here you were, sitting in an airport at 5 a.m., dreading the hours-long flight to Boston for your dad’s birthday grill party. It was supposed to be a happy occasion—a family celebration. Instead, you were bracing yourself for yetanother long weekend of biting your tongue and avoiding unnecessary fights.

The airport was unusually quiet for 5 a.m., the soft hum of vending machines and the occasional overhead announcement the only sounds breaking the stillness. You sat cross-legged in an uncomfortable plastic chair, scrolling through your phone while Matt and Nick argued over snacks a few seats down. Chris was leaning against a column, staring blankly out the window at the planes on the tarmac.

It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, but you chalked it up to the early hour. No one was particularly chipper at this time of day.

“Okay, so… do I go with the peanut butter crackers or the pretzels?” Nick turned to you, holding up both options. “Help me out here.”

You barely looked up. “The pretzels. Peanut butter crackers are just sad at 5 a.m.”

“Thank you!” Nick grinned, shoving the crackers into Matt’s hand. “You’re officially outvoted, Matt.”

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smirking. “You’re both tasteless. Peanut butter crackers are elite.”

“Elite in what, choking hazards?” you shot back, earning a laugh from Nick and a mock offended gasp from Matt.

Chris hadn’t said a word, which felt… odd. Normally, he’d have jumped in with some snarky comment by now, and the two of you would be trading barbs before the conversation even had a chance to breathe. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but his expression was unreadable, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Alright, we’re boarding in twenty minutes,” Matt announced, checking his watch. “Everyone got everything? Chargers? Neck pillows? Emotional stability?”

“I left that at home,” you said dryly, tucking your phone into your bag.

“Shocker,” Chris muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

There he was.

You shot him a glare, but before you could respond, Nick clapped his hands together. “Okay, truce! No fighting until we land in Boston. That’s the rule.”

“Since when?” you and Chris said in unison, both turning to Nick with identical looks of disbelief.

“Since now,” Nick said firmly. “Matt, back me up here.”

Matt shrugged. “I mean, it’d be nice if we could make it through one trip without you two trying to kill each other.”

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, glaring at Chris. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping the peace.”

“Same,” Chris said, matching your tone.

The four of you made your way to the gate as the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. Chris ended up directly behind you in line, and you could feel his presence like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

When you finally found your row on the plane, you froze.

“No. No, no, no,” Chris groaned, stopping just behind you.

“What?” you asked, turning to face him.

“My seat.” He pointed to the one beside yours, his face twisted in a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s the problem?” Matt asked from across the aisle, already settling into his seat.

Chris gestured dramatically between you and himself. “I’m stuck next to her for a six-hour flight. Six. Hours.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” you snapped, shoving your bag into the overhead compartment. “Sit down and stop complaining. It’s not like either of us has a choice.”

Chris muttered something under his breath but slid into the seat next to you, his movements stiff and exaggerated as if to emphasize just how put out he was.

Nick leaned over from his seat behind you, grinning. “You two gonna hold hands and sing kumbaya now, or should we prep for turbulence in more ways than one?”

“Shut up, Nick,” you and Chris said at the same time, glaring at him.

“See? You’re already bonding,” Nick said with a laugh, retreating back into his seat.

You sighed heavily, pulling out your AirPods Max and slipping them over your ears. Maybe, just maybe, you could get through this flight without losing your mind.

The flight was tense but manageable. A few arguments broke out between you and Chris, mostly about trivial things like him invading your space or you hogging the armrest.

“Can you stop elbowing me every two seconds?” you hissed, shooting him an annoyed look as he shifted in his seat.

“Maybe if you didn’t claim the entire armrest like it’s your personal property,” Chris shot back.

“It’s called sharing, ever heard of it?”

“Not with you.”

“Children,” Matt interrupted from across the aisle, leaning over. “The flight is almost over. Can we not do this right now?”

You both huffed but fell silent, turning your attention elsewhere.

When the plane finally landed, you exhaled in relief. The four of you grabbed your bags, picked up the rental car, and began the drive to your childhood homes. The plan was to stop at your house first since the party had already begun, and the Sturniolo parents were eager to see you.

In the car, the mood was mostly light. Matt and Nick were recounting funny stories from past flights, trying to keep the energy up. But you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest. The constant fighting with Chris was wearing you down more than you wanted to admit. You leaned your head against the window, your eyes unfocused as the scenery blurred past.

Nick, ever perceptive, noticed your quietness and nudged you gently. “Hey, you good? What’s up?”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. The lump in your throat was already forming.

Unfortunately, Chris caught the interaction. “What now? Lost your voice?” he quipped, his tone laced with irritation.

That was the breaking point.

“Chris, just shut the fuck up once in your life. Please.” Your voice cracked as frustration bubbled over, and the car fell silent.

Matt cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay, so… uh, let’s put on some music, yeah?” He fiddled with the radio, trying to diffuse the tension.

You stayed silent for the rest of the drive, staring out the window as tears pricked your eyes.

When you arrived at your parents’ house, the party was already in full swing. The smell of grilled food filled the air, and the sound of laughter drifted from the backyard. You plastered on a smile as you greeted your parents, giving your dad a quick hug and wishing him a happy birthday. But the tightness in your chest hadn’t gone away, and the moment you were inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind you, you let the tears fall freely. The combination of exhaustion, frustration, and Chris’s constant jabs was too much to handle. You slid down to the floor, your knees pulled to your chest as you tried to muffle your sobs.

A soft knock at the door startled you. “It’s me, Y/N,” Nick’s voice came through, calm and gentle. “Let me in, please. I know something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing deeply and unlocking the door.

Nick opened it slowly, his face falling when he saw you curled up on the floor, tears streaming down your face. “Oh, dear, what’s wrong?” He crouched down and pulled you into a tight hug.

The dam broke.

“I don’t know why Chris hates me so fucking much,” you cried, your voice shaking. “I can’t do this fighting anymore, Nick. I’m so scared I’m going to lose you and Matt, too, if this shit keeps up.”

Nick pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me. You’re not going to lose us, okay? Matt and I—we’re not going anywhere. And as for Chris…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I know he can be a pain in the ass, but he doesn’t hate you. He really doesn’t.”

“Sure feels like it,” you muttered, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

Nick gave you a small smile. “You and Chris have been at each other’s throats since we were kids. But there’s more to it than just hating each other. I think you know that, too.”

You shook your head, not wanting to unpack whatever Nick was implying. “I just want it to stop, Nick. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know.” He pulled you into another hug. “We’ll figure it out, okay? But for now, let’s get you cleaned up and back outside. Your parents missed you, and I’m pretty sure Matt’s already raided the dessert table.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Okay.”

Nick helped you to your feet and handed you a tissue from the counter. “Freshen up, and I’ll meet you out there.”

Once you’d composed yourself, you headed back to the backyard with Nick by your side. The party was in full swing, with neighbors and family chatting around the grill and kids running through the garden.

Chris’s eyes landed on you almost immediately. He noticed your red-rimmed eyes, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and the faint tension in your shoulders. For a brief moment, his expression softened, but he didn’t say anything.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. You had a few glasses of wine to calm your nerves, letting the alcohol take the edge off your emotions. Meanwhile, the triplets stuck to White Claws, Nick and Matt laughing as they attempted to shotgun them.

Chris, however, seemed quieter than usual, his gaze flickering to you now and then as if trying to figure out what was really going on.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the backyard. You were sprawled out on a deck chair, sipping your who-knows-how-many-th glass of wine. The sunset was stunning, painting the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple, but your focus was starting to blur from the alcohol coursing through your system.

Grill parties like this always had a way of loosening you up, and tonight was no different. The mix of family, nostalgia, and endless wine was a comforting escape from the tension that seemed to follow you and Chris wherever you went.

Nearby, Nick and Matt were sitting at the outdoor table with your parents, sharing stories and laughing loudly. Their contagious giggles drifted through the warm evening air, adding to the lighthearted atmosphere. Chris was off to the side, perched on the armrest of a chair with a half-empty White Claw in hand. He wasn’t completely sober anymore, either; you could tell by the slight sway in his movements and the lazy smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face.

Despite the cheerful scene, everyone had noticed you weren’t quite yourself tonight. Your usual energy was dulled, your laughter softer, and your smiles fleeting. But no one pushed you to explain—they seemed to sense that tonight wasn’t the time.

You tipped back the last sip of your wine, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. Deciding you needed a refill, you swung your legs off the deck chair and tried to stand. Big mistake.

The world tilted beneath you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell unceremoniously onto the grass.

A burst of laughter erupted from you as you lay there, and it only grew louder when Chris, of all people, joined in.

“Did you see that?” you managed to wheeze between giggles, pointing at absolutely nothing. “Hahaha, I just—” You dissolved into another fit of laughter.

Chris was laughing, too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Yeah, you fell over like a wet bag,” he slurred, his words a little too drawn out.

Nick and Matt exchanged wide-eyed glances, clearly bracing for the inevitable argument that usually followed any interaction between you and Chris. But to their surprise—and relief—it didn’t happen.

Instead, you laughed even harder, clutching your stomach. “A wet bag! That’s so—hahaha—accurate!”

Chris chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. “Glad my pain is your entertainment.”

Your mom, who had been watching from the table, raised an eyebrow. “Sweetie, are you okay?” she called, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Mom!” you yelled back, still giggling uncontrollably. “Where’s the wine?”

“In the kitchen, honey, but don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she asked, her concern evident.

You waved her off, stumbling to your feet. “Nah, I want one more, then I’m heading to bed!” You walked over to her, planting a kiss on her cheek before making your way toward the house.

As you crossed the threshold into the kitchen, you tripped over the door’s metal threshold but managed to catch yourself at the last second. “Whoops!” you giggled to yourself, continuing your unsteady journey to the counter where the wine bottles were neatly lined up.

Back outside, Nick frowned as he watched you disappear into the house. “I’m gonna go check on her,” he said, starting to rise from his seat.

Chris stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. “No, let me.”

Nick and Matt both turned to him with raised eyebrows, their expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion.

“You?” Nick asked, his tone dripping with doubt.

“Yes, me.” Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s already pissed at me. If you go in there and she thinks you’re babysitting her, she’ll probably be even more upset.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but if you hurt her or upset her even more, I will literally break your face, Christopher.”

“Nicolas!” MaryLou’s voice cut through the tension, scandalized by her son’s words.

“What, Mom?” Nick said defensively, gesturing toward Chris. “They’ve been fighting for twenty years. Twenty. I’m not about to let him go in there and make things worse.”

“Oh, dear god,” your mom muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Same,” MaryLou agreed, shaking her head as if exhausted by the ongoing saga between you and Chris.

Chris rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to Nick’s threat. Instead, he set his White Claw down on the table and stood, his movements unsteady as he made his way toward the house.

You made your way to the counter where the wine bottles stood neatly arranged. Deciding to skip the usual half-glass rule, you poured your glass completely full, concentrating hard to avoid spilling. The red liquid swirled dangerously close to the rim as you steadied the bottle and placed it back on the counter.

“Perfect,” you muttered, lifting the glass to your lips for a sip. You barely had time to savor it when a voice startled you from behind.

“Hey, can we talk?” Chris’s voice broke the silence.

You jumped, spilling half the glass of wine down the front of your white top. The cold liquid seeped into the fabric, staining it a deep red as it clung to your skin.

“Are you fucking serious right now, Chris?” you snapped, your tone sharp and filled with frustration.

Chris held his hands up in surrender, his expression genuine. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you! Please don’t be mad. That wasn’t my intention.”

You groaned, setting the now-wine-slick glass on the counter before tugging your shirt over your head. “Why are you even here?” you demanded, moving to the sink to run the stained shirt under water.

Standing there in just your bra and skirt, you didn’t think twice about it. The Sturniolos had seen you in bikinis countless times over the years. This wasn’t any different, right? But Chris, on the other hand, suddenly looked... different. His eyes widened slightly before darting to the side, as if trying to respect your space.

“Uh, I—uh—wanted to talk?” he stammered, clearly nervous now.

“About what?” you asked, your words slurring slightly from the wine, but your tone carried the same sharp edge as before.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please just talk to me normally? This is serious.”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Seriously?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Chris, I’ve been trying to have a normal conversation with you for the last ten years, but you always find some way to insult me or start a fight. Every. Single. Time.”

Your voice rose with each word as you grew angrier, slapping the damp shirt onto the counter. Chris opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“I am so done with this shit,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly as the frustration bubbled over. “I don’t even know what your problem is with me, but I’m sick of it. I don’t want to lose Nick and Matt because you decided, for whatever reason, that you can’t stand me.”

Chris flinched at your words, his jaw tightening, but he stayed quiet.

“Grow a pair of balls and grow up already,” you snapped, your voice shaking now from a mix of anger and suppressed emotions. “I am done here.”

Your last words echoed in the kitchen, hanging heavy in the tense silence that followed. Your outburst was loud enough that you were certain everyone outside had heard it. Even the faint sound of Nick’s laughter had gone quiet.

Chris’s face was unreadable as he took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Fucking shut the fuck up already,” he muttered under his breath.

Before you could even process his words, Chris leaned in, closing the distance between you. His lips crashed against yours in a deep, heated kiss, silencing any retort you might have had.

You pulled back almost instantly, your wide eyes meeting Chris’s. “What the fuck are you doing, Chris?”

Chris’s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his gaze intense and unwavering. “The one thing I’ve been too scared to do—and too scared to admit—for the last couple of years.”

Before you could even formulate a response, Chris leaned in again, his lips capturing yours with renewed urgency. This time, you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back, your anger and confusion melting into the background as the warmth of the moment overtook you.

The sound of laughter drifted in from outside, faint through the kitchen walls. It grounded you for a second, reminding you that your family and friends were just outside. But you shoved the thought aside, too lost in the way Chris’s hands held your face like you were something fragile and precious.

Your tongues clashed in a heated rhythm, each of you unwilling to back down, a continuation of your endless battles—but this time, it was something else entirely. Chris’s hand slid down to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours firmly as he stepped back.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and breathless.

You didn’t even question it. Nodding slightly, you let him lead you upstairs to your old bedroom. Chris pushed the door open with his free hand before pulling you inside and shutting it behind you.

The second the door clicked shut, Chris was on you again, his hands on your waist as he backed you against the wall. The cool surface of the wall sent a shiver down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the fire in Chris’s kiss.

It felt like hours had passed as you made out, the intensity of it all-consuming you both.

As his fingers brushed the edge of your bra, Chris broke the kiss, his lips hovering inches from yours. His voice was unsteady when he spoke, his breath mingling with yours.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Chris asked, his tone laced with frustration and longing.

You blinked up at him, your thoughts still hazy from the kiss. “I don’t—Chris, what are we even doing? This doesn’t make sense—”

“Doesn’t make sense?” Chris interrupted, his forehead resting against yours. “The only thing that hasn’t made sense is me pretending like I don’t want you. I’ve spent years acting like an idiot, fighting with you just to get your attention. And yeah, I was scared—scared you’d never feel the same.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed his words. “So all this time... you’ve been picking fights with me because you—because you liked me?”

“Liked you?” Chris laughed softly, the sound almost self-deprecating. “No, Y/N. I didn’t just like you. I’ve been in love with you for years. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

You stared at him, speechless, your mind racing to catch up with what he’d just admitted.

“Say something,” Chris murmured, his vulnerability showing through the cracks in his voice.

“I—” Your voice faltered as you searched for the right words. “I don’t know what to say, Chris. I never thought—I mean, I just assumed you hated me.”

Chris’s lips curled into a small, almost sad smile. “Hate you? God, no. I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I hated that every time you smiled or laughed, it made me want you even more.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as the weight of his confession settled over you. “Chris, I—”

Whatever you were about to say was interrupted by the sound of the door flying open.

You and Chris jumped apart like teenagers caught by a parent, both of you turning to see Matt and Nick standing in the doorway, their eyes wide with shock.

“Okay,” Matt said slowly, breaking the silence. “I did not see that one coming.”

Nick, however, didn’t look as surprised. He crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “I did,” he admitted.

“What?” Chris asked, his cheeks flushing.

Nick shrugged. “I mean, after twenty years of you two bickering like an old married couple, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Honestly, I’m just glad you didn’t kill each other after that shouting match in the kitchen.”

“Wait, what are you two doing up here, anyway?” you asked, your voice still slightly slurred from the wine.

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Damn, girl, are you still drunk?”

“Yeah, I’m still drunk,” you admitted, your tone sharp but flustered. “Now answer my question, please.”

Nick leaned casually against the doorframe, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Matt and I want to play Mario Kartdownstairs in the living room. Your old Wii is still hooked up,” he explained, his tone light and teasing.

You blinked, your brain struggling to process his words through the haze of wine and adrenaline. “The Wii? That thing still works?”

“Apparently,” Matt chimed in, stepping into view. “We were going through some of the old stuff in the cabinets, and Nick found it. Figured it’d be fun to see if we’ve still got it.”

Nick’s grin widened. “I’m gonna crush all of you, just saying.”

You rolled your eyes, still pressed against the wall as you tried to gather yourself. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Give us five minutes—I need a shirt.” Your voice came out flustered and a little slurred, the weight of the situation catching up to you.

“Good idea,” Nick said with a chuckle, his gaze bouncing between you and Chris. “Wouldn’t want to scare anyone with all that... passion you’ve got going on here.”

Your face burned, and you were about to snap back when Matt clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright, let’s give them a minute. But don’t take too long, or we’re starting without you.”

The two of them turned and disappeared back down the hall, their footsteps fading as they headed toward the stairs.

The moment they were out of earshot, you let out a long breath, your back sliding against the wall until you were sitting on the floor. “Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

Chris crouched down in front of you, his expression soft but uncertain. “Hey,” he said quietly, reaching out to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your emotions a jumble of embarrassment, frustration, and something else you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know, Chris,” you admitted, your voice muffled. “This is just... a lot.”

Chris nodded, sitting back on his heels. “Yeah. It is. But... I meant everything I said earlier. I know I was an ass—hell, I’ve been an ass for years—but I wasn’t lying about how I feel.”

You dropped your hands, looking up at him with tired eyes. “And you think this”—you gestured between the two of you—“is going to magically fix everything? Chris, we’ve been at each other’s throats since we were kids. I don’t even know how to wrap my head around this.”

“I don’t either,” Chris admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “But I know I want to try. I don’t want to keep fighting with you, Y/N. I’m tired of pretending I don’t care when I do.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Chris... I don’t know.”

Chris reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ll take ‘I don’t know’ over ‘I hate you’ any day,” he said with a small, hopeful smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and a little shaky. “Okay,” you said finally. “Let’s just... see where this goes. No promises.”

Chris nodded, his smile growing. “Fair enough.”

Standing up, he extended a hand to help you to your feet. You hesitated, then took it, letting him pull you up. “Now, let’s get you a shirt before Matt and Nick start a full-blown tournament without us.”

You snorted. “Fine. But I’m still drunk, so if I lose, I’m blaming the wine.”

Chris smirked. “Deal.”

Together, the two of you rummaged through your old dresser until you found a shirt. Pulling it on quickly, you tried to ignore the way Chris’s eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone casual but his expression warm.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing past him and heading toward the door. “Let’s go show those idiots who’s boss.”

As you both made your way downstairs, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. Things weren’t perfect, but for the first time in years, it felt like you and Chris were on the same page.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Taglist: @courta13 @sophand4n4

[tachimichishrine]

i’ve found someone who writes for tachi?? omg?? you’re writing is so amazing i love it! can i req an x reader where she’s like chuuya’s subordinate in the pm so she’s higher ranking than tachihara but takes an interest in him bc, hello?? who wouldn’t? so she starts to play specific moves that draw them closer together (ngl im thinking mastermind by taylor swift if yk the song) and when they’re finally dating he confesses that he knew what she was doing the whole time? aka intelligent slightly manipulative reader thinking she’s being slick abt it. thank youu!

<welcome to the corner of tumblr where we worship tachi and have no shame about it !!!!!!!!!!! OH FUCK YEAH I love this ask I love the idea and I love you, i've never heard that song before but woah it got my brain juices flowing, sorry it took centuries but here you go luv ♡>

"mastermind"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! chuuya's subordinate! reader

warnings: mention of drugs/alcohol and drink spiking (dont try this at home kids) ; a little bit of gore/torture but it's one sentence ; for some reason there are some elements of kind of sort of yandere!reader that just manifested themselves grgrgr but barely i promiseee ; fluff + plot ; cursing n intended lowercase

it was the middle of the night, and your phone wouldn't stop ringing. you tried snoozing it, turning it on silent but it would keep vibrating on the night table aggressively. against your better judgement, you picked it up and took a look at the caller id.

"boss man 🤏🧍"

well, you couldn't ignore that.

"what the fuck do you want you short little shit, it's 2 in the fucking morning," you grumbled, then cleared your throat before actually pressing the green icon to pick up the line. "hello, boss. is there anything I can-"

"cut the bull, where the hell are you?"

"um, at home? sleeping?" you raised a brow that he couldn't see. "am I supposed to be somewhere?"

"you- forget about it. just get here, now."

now, he was really getting on your nerves. "get where? I can't read your mind, boss, what-"

he hung up.

you didn't have a problem with chuuya in general; he was a decent guy, sometimes. you got assigned to work under him in the fallout of his partner, the famed demon prodigy, disappearing. of course, he didn't want anything to do with you at first, and you would've felt the same if mori wasn't breathing down your neck to keep on it. so, you kept showing up on his missions a few minutes before he arrived, the information already extracted or people already beat to a pulp.

he still wouldn't budge, so you had enough of working so hard just to be his subordinate and exploded at him one day. he could barely get a word in as you yelled loudly and ranted about his inability to accept help. while he was speechless in the aftermath, you just sighed tiredly, handed him your phone number and said that you weren't going away anytime soon and you'd appreciate it if he would just let you work for him already. time passed and eventually you got his trust.

what you didn't get, however, was an explanation for why you were rushing to slide into clothing fit for the outside world and making your way to the port mafia headquarters. it was the only place he could mean, so you ran over there with guns strapped to your thighs and safety off. you had to plan for whatever the hell might've been going on, but all you saw was a nearly empty lobby.

you cursed under your breath, irritated that you busted your ass for no reason. from the corner of your eye, you found a familiar face and approached him.

"hirotsu," you walked over with a pissed expression, "do you know where chuuya is?"

"oh, chuuya isn't here. he told me he'd be sending someone to deal with it," he said following a polite nod of the head. "he needed the black lizard to perform a mission, but he's unavailable tonight. so, he said that he'd send you."

"he's unavailable?" your eyes nearly bulged straight out of your skull, but you caught the slight squint in his face. "oh. he's drunk out of his mind, isn't he?"

hirotsu nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so. mori only gave him this assignment tonight, and he was already intoxicated when he got the call. I was with him when it happened, so I suggested he call you."

"oh, he so owes me one after tonight," you chuckled, less angry now that you realized he was probably just collapsed on his couch at home and will have the worst hangover the next morning, which you could easily mock him for. well, at least that brightened your mood a little, aside from seeing the black lizard in action. you'd heard of them, ordered massacres through hirotsu but never been there to witness it. that would definitely be fun. "sooo, what exactly do I need to do? just be there or something? yell out 'fire!' like some kind of medieval war commander? 'cause I've always wanted to do that."

the old man was slightly amused by all of your excitement regarding the concept. he said that he just needed someone to be there in case, and you were technically of a higher ranking than he was. you told him that he was such a stickler for hierarchy; he retorted that you sounded like some guy he worked with named tachihara. who that was, you hadn't a clue, but you were assured he'd be there alongside another leader of the battalion.

the rest was a lot less interesting than you thought it would be. you strolled into an abandoned warehouse where the enemy was based with a small army behind you, and you stood there while they lined themselves at your side and waited for your word. you went against your inner child and ordered them to fire in a normal voice rather than a stupidly dramatic one, then you just watched the bodies fall. you glanced at the side to see hirotsu, who was intently scanning his surroundings to make sure there were no tricks. by his side, you saw a masked person and another man who was half-asleep, leaning against the wall.

you fell hard to the sound of gunshots.

maybe it was the way his entire body leaned onto the worn concrete, the way his foot was flattened against the wall and his hips slumped lopsidedly, the way his v-neck plunged down his chest from under his coat, the way his jaw sat tight and clenched despite his slender neck bending backwards to rest the weight of his head behind him. you pulled your gaze off of him since you were afraid of staring, but everyone was already dead and hirotsu was commanding the nameless suits back to hq. the man opened one eye - fuck, they were a glossy amber, some of the prettiest you'd ever seen - and scoffed while he followed them out. he walked like a textbook delinquent, hands in his pockets with awful posture, and you just watched him.

shit, what just happened? you exchanged some brief words with hirotsu as he thanked you for showing up, but all went over your head. you blurted out the question before you could think twice.

"which one of them was tachihara? out of the two who came with us. since, y'know, you were mentioning him earlier..." since, y'know, you couldn't get the picture of your mystery man out of your head and you needed to know his name.

following the affirmation that it was indeed the man with the bandage on his face, you at least had a name as you flopped back into bed at 5 in the morning. you didn't sleep, and you sure as hell couldn't get your heart to stop beating so fast.

something had unhinged inside of you, and all you knew was that you were going to have him.

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"boss, what'd'ya want me to do to 'em?" you yawned, half-asleep as you sat next to the hungover mafioso who was holding some kind of mystery drink in his hand while the other shielded his eyes from the light of day. you came over to his apartment - something which you knew he hated but was in no position to protest right now - and were simultaneously nursing him back to health and being a pain in his ass. "if word gets out that we annihilated the organization but two of their executives are still alive, our rep would take a hit."

"can you shut the fuck up," he groaned, body slumping further onto his fancy kitchen counter while you continued to laugh internally at him and his slightly pathetic situation.

"look, boss, I'll tell you what," you leaned down to his crouched over height and placed a cautious hand on his shoulder, "I'll take care of it. the whole thing. I just need your permission to grab the black lizard if I need 'em for support, but I can make sure it all goes away. and you can just sit today out and spend all day in bed if that's what you want. how does that sound, boss?"

he grumbled and passed out again; you took that as a yes.

you smiled to yourself as you picked up the unconscious body bridal-style, walked over to his bedroom and set him down. he complained loudly in undefined slurring, but you just shushed him and tucked him in under the covers. he was still trying to argue with you when you removed his hat, placed it at his bedside and then gently kissed his forehead and wished him a good nap. it was a little ironic just how much your boss felt like an uncontrollable younger sibling, but you would never say it to his face as you enjoyed the use of your unfractured limbs.

you tiptoed your way out of the apartment and the building, despite being fairly certain that not even an earthquake could disturb his slumber, with parts and pieces of your plan coming together. what you said was true, you did need to take care of those surviving executives. but you didn't really need the black lizard.

you only needed him.

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tachihara heard a gentle cocking of the gun as you glanced in his direction, waiting confirmation that he was indeed ready to storm the facility. you had managed to track down the runaways and corner them in their hideout, and decided you'd call for "backup"; you asked hirotsu for someone who was good with guns and mid-range fighting, since you knew that if you didn't specify, you might end up with the other commander of the black lizard. you didn't like leaving things to chance.

you tilted your head to the side, giving the signal for him to go ahead and sneak down the next hallway. he was eerily good on his feet, light steps as if he were made to be a spy. you did a lot of infiltration work on chuuya's behalf (his face - rather, his short frame - were too easily recognizable on the streets), and every second got you thinking of ways to subtly suggest to him that he provide backup once more on any one of your numerous infiltration missions.

for his part, tachihara didn't seem to be noticing all the coincidences lately. he didn't appear particularly deft or clueless, just indifferent as if he truly couldn't care less. instead of a faint pang in the backrooms of your heart, you felt a sense of challenge, like it was your mission to get him to fall for you because the good things in life are worth fighting for. besides, where's the fun in it if he wasn't playing hard to get?

the mission went by in a blur. you mimicked his mannerisms, ensuring that your movements were perfectly synced with his so that your gunshots felt more like a dance, synchronized bullet ballet. when all was done and the bodies were dropped, you shot him a faint smile.

he raised a brow, perplexed at your joy among the sea of blood, but you began clutching at your chest like he'd shot you with his glare and he chuckled a little bit. you could've sworn you fell in love with him all over again.

"say, I was wondering..." you thought out loud as you crouched down to the body of the target, pulling out a knife from your calf, "are you new? in the port mafia, I mean. I've been here ages and I don't think I would've forgotten someone who shoots like you do."

leaning on the wall while he watched you carve out their skin, peeling off a specific section that had their organization's signature tattoo, tachihara scoffed. "what's it to you?"

"just makin' small talk, don't get your panties in a twist sweetheart," you snickered, albeit screaming a little internally; you didn't expect him to be so resistant. you bagged the proof you needed to show your boss that you got the job done, then rose back to your feet. "alright, we're done here. thanks for the backup."

"wasn't like it was my choice," he rolled his eyes, although you didn't sense any true irritation in his voice. good, this is good, you can work with that.

"wasn't your choice, huh?" you repeated to yourself out loud. "how 'bout this, then: I'm gonna go grab a drink, so it'd be your choice if ya wanted to tag along, no?"

he murmured something about being busy and you tried not to let him see you frown as you walked out.

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this was your fifth "coincidence".

coincidentally, tachihara ended up needing to hand-deliver a message to chuuya, but you coincidentally bumped into him and promised to pass it on. he looked at you a bit suspiciously, but didn't say anything.

coincidentally, you were out drinking with hirotsu on the same day he was going to join the old man. you wouldn't go so far as to say that you played a part in the veteran's sudden diarrhea that left you two alone, but then again it was quite odd that you slipped some sort of substance in his drink right before. not that anyone saw, of course.

coincidentally, weeks of coincidences paid off. every time you'd run into him, need the black lizard or the other way around, he was starting to loosen up. you had a number of inside jokes and he spoke a little more on missions.

this time, you had to go negotiate with a foreign organization from which you imported an important number of your firearms. chuuya was available to go, but you pleaded with him to let you do this on your own, making up some lie about how sending an underling instead of an executive would show them that they are not the ones in control. he seemed skeptical but let you go.

soon afterwards, you whipped out your phone to dial his number.

"it's so unfair!" you complained to tachihara, groaning loudly as you combed through your closet for the right outfit for the occasion. "like I get it, he's busy and all, but dumping a mission on me last minute? sheesh, that's a cheap move, especially from chuuya. I've got 2 hours to figure out what the fuck I'm going to say to these people."

you left the phone on speaker while you pressed dresses against your figure, glancing in the mirror to see if it was the right one. "and it's a big organization, too! I have no idea what I'm going to do if things go south except get my brains blown out."

lies. if things went south, you would easily be able to make your way out unscathed. you were the right hand woman to a port mafia executive, not a scared little girl, but he didn't need to know that right now.

"would'ya like me to tag along? if they see one person, it might look like you were sent as a sacrifice, but if we're two, they'll know we mean business," he offered, as planned. you pumped your fists in the air and contained a squeal.

"hm? oh, you don't need to do that, tachi," you said softly, sliding out of your clothes and into your form-fitting outfit, making sure to check out your ass and reaffirm that you looked stunning. "wait! I'm just kidding," you giggled playfully, "it would mean a lot if you did. thanks."

he chuckled the faintest amount, and you made plans for when and where to meet. you told him that it was a high-end restaurant, so he'd need to wear something fancy enough to blend in, but of course the high-end restaurant was your idea. you'd planned it all in advance, setting up a corner in the back of a place that the mafia had under their thumb and inviting the organization there.

a date, it was a date, and it didn't matter if he didn't know it.

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"you look stunning, dear." he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it, looking up with soft eyes you'd never have expected. he pulled out a seat for you and called the waiter to get you a cold glass of water.

unfortunately, "he" was the executive from the other organization, not tachihara.

awkwardly, your plus one stood in the corner with the rest of the guards, shooting you occasional glares that basically screamed, "why did I volunteer to do this, again?" you just laughed internally and told yourself that you'd take him out again as a way to make up for it, which was your goal all along. you adored it when all the pieces fell into place.

the negotiations were flawless. the man across the table from you seemed to be very willing to cooperate, and you figured his slight cracks at flirting might've been a part of it. the other part was that he looked positively jet lagged and you might've put a little something in his wine to mellow him out. you were sure he would've reached the same conclusion if he was sober, this was just a harmless little nudge in the right direction.

"10% increase on the price for a 20% increase on the quantity of firearms imported, then," you reiterated, smiling sweetly at him while he agreed to double what someone in their right mind would ask for. "lovely doing business with you, sir. I'm glad this didn't have to escalate."

he smiled softly, offering you his hand to help you up then nodding his head towards the exit so his goons would follow him out. you looked at the piece of paper he'd slid into your palm, a phone number etched into it, then watched him looking back at you with a wink. for a moment, you could've sworn you'd almost forgotten about tachihara.

"that was boring as fuck," he strolled over to you, clicking his tongue as he complained about his feet hurting from standing there for so long, saying that he wouldn't have worn a goddamn suit and tagged along if he knew all he would be doing is watching you flirt with some guy."

"that," you stressed, pocketing the number but trying not to think about it, "was not flirting. if I was whoring myself out for the mafia, believe me I'd put myself down with my own hand."

"oh yeah? brave words for a woman with a dress that tight on her ass," he scoffed, crossing his arms before he realized what he'd just said.

"tachi, you lookin' at my ass?"

he seemed at a loss for words, huffing angrily as he walked out and you laughed to yourself. he was so cute when he got angry.

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tachihara michizou was not an idiot.

he, however, did not know what to make of your behaviour towards him.

all these run-ins, all your conveniently-timed missions where you were down one person, every text you seemed to send at the perfect time. he knew your gaze lingered on him and he knew that you wore that dress for him, but he couldn't be sure about it.

confirmation came when he was casually chatting with chuuya over drinks.

"my damn subordinate has been so fucking weird lately," the executive slurred, gesturing for another glass while he toyed with the empty one. "reminds me of that fucking dazai... always plotting some kind of shit..."

"she sounded kind of pissed with you 'cause of that last gig with the firearms dealers," he retorted before downing his shot and slamming his fist on the counter out of adrenaline. "since you dumped it on her."

"huh?! the fuck you mean, dump it on her? she was practically beggin' me for that job, said she didn't want any backup either. I'm telling you, tachi, that chick's gone mad."

so it was a lie, when you called him, complaining. he wondered what else was a lie, but then he wondered why you would lie about that.

as if on cue, a message popped up on his phone with your name on it.

"are you free tonight?"

so he wasn't imagining things. for some reason, it got his heart beating, thinking about the fact that someone would do that for him. but, before he could respond, another ping:

"I got shot sorry lol I have no idea why I made it sound like I was asking you out. could you bring a first aid kit or something? thanks a ton!!"

he concluded on the fact that you were confusing, and that he wouldn't say anything about it, especially since you probably think you're incredibly slick about it. instead, tachihara excused himself from a very drunk chuuya and said he had to go.

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"ow, ow, ow! fuck, why don't you just pour the whole damn bottle on there, while you're at i- fuck!"

the whining was hard. you had to do it manually, making sure you actually sounded like you were in pain when really, your "fever" was from all the heat of feeling tachihara's hands on you as he dabbed the wound.

ironically enough, this wasn't planned. you genuinely did fuck up, the man you never called seemed to want revenge because he sent a few people to kidnap you. you only got grazed while you took care of all the henchmen, but it still hurt like a little bitch.

he was the first place your mind went to, as always. you managed to get yourself home but you couldn't reach the spot on the bottom of your ribcage where it sliced open without feeling a lot of pain.

and so, you just turned it into an opportunity to get him in your house, sitting on your couch, his hands on your skin that was barely covered by your shirt. the alcohol he was pouring onto the wound hurt but you couldn't feel anything except pure ecstacy.

"say, you're not bad at this," you fake winced as he pinched the skin together and just put a bunch of superglue on it. "you got... gah, you got experience as a medic or somethin'?"

"how exactly did this happen?" he ignored your question and instead helped you up slightly so he could wrap the bandages around your torso.

"remember the guy from the other night? well, he gave me his number and I never called, so he got butthurt and sent some goons to fuckin' kidnap me. or kill me, I'm not sure. I didn't really pause to ask 'em."

he looked as if he almost didn't believe you, pulling down your shirt and gently tapping on the spot he bandaged. "there, you're all set."

"thanks again," you smiled at him, groaning a bit as you sat upright. "I know it's late and you were probably doing some other shit."

then a slight pause. "if you want to crash on my couch instead of walkin' home, I don't mind."

the walk wasn't long, and he didn't feel tired at all, but he didn't tell you that. he just helped you walk over to your bed then got himself comfortable on your sofa.

you'd never been happier to get shot. maybe the universe was finally on your side, in its own weird way.

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the wound was fully healed and tachihara was yours.

it was the perfect excuse to him check on you, to have him come over and stay over as "protection in case someone tries to kill you again". both of you knew your excuse was bullshit, your plotting to get him by your side so painfully obvious now that he was getting closer and closer to you. by the time he was making visits on his own and smiling at you in the hallways at the port mafia, you didn't need to do anything anymore.

it was a wordless confession; both of you walking in the streets at night, going nowhere and not saying much. it was cold and you could see both of your breaths swirling in the air. you blinked and suddenly your faces were close, too close, and your body was leaning in on its own. his lips tasted like something your mind could've never guessed.

nevertheless, you were still addicted.

something about the kiss felt effortless, too. like you didn't need to do anything, say anything to get him to wrap his hands around your hips and pull you in close. this was the way it should be, easy and effortless. like you could wait patiently and he'd fall in love with you all on his own.

"have you seen my holster?" he called out weeks later as you laid down on your couch, reading a book as he looked around for the item.

"it's over here!" you called out, the holster expertly hidden in between the cushions because you wanted him to come over to you and find it. as he walked over to you, watching you wave it while dangling on your finger, a teasing look on your features.

"you're a conniving little shit, you know that?" he sighed with a soft smile, glancing at your hands as you set down the book by your side then sitting by your side. "if you wanna talk to me, you can ask like a regular person, y'know?"

his wide smirk as he looked at you pout, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you fake-sobbed into his chest. "you're so mean, thinking I'm lying!"

he grabbed your chin, gaze directly settling onto you with a look that said not to bullshit him. "you think I don't notice? when you kept bumping into me, us getting paired up on missions, even that time you said chuuya 'dumped' that job on you? yeah, you're cute but you're not a great liar."

you furrowed your brows. "if you knew, why didn't you say anything?"

"'cause I wanted you to tell me yourself."

"asshole," you pouted, laughing as you leaned towards him and kissed the tip of his nose. "I just didn't think... never mind, it worked, didn't it?"

he rolled over, laying you down on the couch and settling himself on top of you, making sure you were trapped. "being all cryptic now, aren't we?"

"maybe," you muttered between kisses, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him deeper. "... maybe... maybe you were just... I dunno, so pretty, and I thought 'fuck, he'd never go for me' and... I don't know, it's not important..."

"aw, look at you, gettin' all soft 'n mushy," he chuckled into your neck, smiling at your words while his teeth graze the tip of your earlobe. "keep talking 'bout how out of your league that I am."

"oh, shut up," you whispered, grabbing a handful of his hair and bringing his lips back onto yours so he would stop talking. "I'm tryin to open up here, you smug dipshit."

he grinned as his hand went down in between your thighs, parting them and opening up your legs. "I like the sound of that."

you squealed playfully and rolled him over, but the couch wasn't wide enough and you both fell onto the floor with a dull thud and a frenzy of laughter.

"seriously, though," he brushed your hair out of your face and pulled your hips so you were snug on him while you caught your breath and lowered yourself to kiss him again, "you're talkin' nonsense, baby."

"mmn, if you say so," rolled right onto his tongue. you believed his words, or maybe you didn't, but it barely mattered. he was here now, in your arms and telling you everything you wanted to hear. he said that he knew of your antics, yet the truth was that he couldn't do a damn thing about it if he wanted to.

all because you're a mastermind.

[mystwrites]

Sneak Attack!

Summary: Douma notices Akaza looking upset after overhearing he got yelled at by Muzan and Kokushibo said some backhanded things to him. Deciding to cheer him up, Douma launches a sneaky tickle attack on his “best friend”

A/N: Day 13 of Tickletober! Enjoy another lazy drawing. Douma be looking kinda funky in my eyes but I was too lazy to fix him😂

It wasn’t unusual to see Akaza upset whenever he was called to the Infinity Castle. Douma and the others never failed to see him frowning or glaring at them anytime they met up. On this particular night however, Akaza was in a rather snappy mood, giving Daki some attitude and telling Gyutaro to fuck off when he asked what his problem was. Knowing Gyokko and Hantengu possibly knew what was making Akaza so angry, he decided to ask Upper Moons Four and Five.

“Eeeiiiyyy!! Douma!! Akaza was mad because Muzan sama yelled at him!” Hantengu cried, shivering behind Gyokko.

“It’s apparently because he still hasn’t located that stupid flower. None of us have and we all should be receiving the same punishment if you are to ask me.” Gyokko replied, shaking his head. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but when Akaza tried to suggest that the reason he couldn’t find it could be due to our inability to walk in the sun, Kokushibo sama ended up giving him a backhanded compliment that hurt Akaza dono dearly.”

It all made sense now. Douma knew Akaza was always acting tough, but the reason he did so was to hide how sensitive he actually was and how he was always seeking to please his superiors. A frown appeared on Douma’s face, deciding he wanted to try and cheer Akaza up since the treatment his superiors were giving him was unfair.

“I see.” Douma said, standing up and bowing. “Thank you Hantengu, Gyokko. I owe you for this.”

“Yeah, you owe us some tasty meals…” Gyokko muttered as he watched Upper Moon Two walk off.

As Douma walked off, he searched every room in the Infinity Castle for Akaza. After a while of searching, he found Akaza standing alone on a platform, simply staring off into space, his eyes unfocused but showing anger. What a pity it would be to anger him by deciding to bombard him with questions.

To Douma, nothing cheered up a demon than a playful tickle so he snuck up on Akaza, his fingers wiggling and his tiptoes as silent as a predator sneaking up on it’s prey. By the time he was directly behind Akaza, he smirked and was aware Akaza didn’t even comprehend another presence behind him.

“Surprise, Akaza dono!!” Douma shouted, his fingers grabbing Akaza’s sides and squeezing. “You seem upset so Tickle Demon Douma is here to cheer you up!”

Akaza let out a startled cry before the laughter eventually overtook him, his right hand grabbing Douma’s wrist and the other clamping down tightly to prevent the offending hands from going any higher. A series of curses and begs for Douma to stop escaped as his laughter grew, Akaza’s knees buckling upon feeling a squeeze under his ribs and fell to the floor, Douma following him down.

“Oop! And down we go!!” Douma laughed, continuing his tickle attack as he grabbed Akaza and pulled him close, holding him tightly against his chest.

Fingers flew all over his body, one minute squeezing his waist, then somehow worming their way under Akaza’s arms. Laughing harder by the second, Akaza threw a punch at Douma but wasn’t able to land a single blow. Kicking didn’t help either since Douma decided to squeeze at his thighs, the kicking coming to an end after Douma’s thumbs drilled into the center of his inner thighs.

“S-stohohop!! Ahahahaha!! Ohoh gohohosh ahahaha! Dohohouma!!!” Akaza cried, weakly shoving at Douma’s hands which were tightly clamped onto his thighs. “Why ahahare you tihihickling mehehe you ahahasshole?!?”

“Why am I tickling you? Because you looked upset and I heard Muzan sama blamed you again for not finding his stupid flower.” Douma replied, reaching down to try and tickle Akaza’s feet, giving up when a powerful kick nearly kicked his hand right off.

“Ihihit wahahasn’t my fahahault!!” Akaza whined, screaming as Douma tickled under his arms. “S-stop!! Stop! Stohohop!! Ahaha!! You ahahare pissihihing mehehe off!!”

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve stopped me by now, Akaza dono.” Douma sang, tickling up and down Akaza’s sides. “Normally you let me know when you’ve had enough by kicking my stomach but you’re not doing that right now. I think you and I both know you need this distraction, especially after Kokushibo dono said hurtful words to you.”

“WHOHO TOHOHOLD YOU THAHAT?!?” Akaza cried, shocked to know that Douma knew what happened.

“Gyokko and Hantengu have all the details. They know what goes on around here, Akaza dono. That’s how I found out.” Douma replied, grinning as he held Akaza in his lap, tickling up and down his sides and laughing along as Akaza threw his head back, leaning on his shoulder. “Do not fear, Akaza dono! I know how to bring that smile to your face!”

“W-WHAAA?!?” Akaza squawked, shocked to know that the two gossipers seemed to know everything that was happening. “Ihihi swehehear Ihihi ahaham gohohonna kihihill thehem ahahand you!”

More threats were spewed out but eventually, Akaza stopped threatening and resorted to squirming so much that Douma lost his grip. Now on the floor, Akaza attempted to roll away only for Douma to grab his ankles and pull him back towards him, curses and threats escaping as Douma’s hands found his sides.

There was no real heat to Akaza’s words throughout the entire time Douma started tickling him. He was just upset about the incidents earlier and was startled by the sudden tickle attack. If anything, it seemed that Akaza was actually in need of this and decided to submit to Douma’s tickles, something that pleased Douma to say the least. He normally would keep fighting until he couldn’t but he gave up rather quickly, going limp after a few seconds of nonstop tickling.

Now curled up on the floor, Akaza screamed and laughed, Douma’s cold hands grabbing his ankles and straightening him out, holding his arms out to the side. Without hesitation, Douma pulled his arms up over his head and tickled Akaza’s armpits, the loud, hysterical yet adorable laughter from the striped demon bringing a fond and genuine smile to Douma’s face. Releasing Akaza’s arms, Douma tickled up and down his friend’s ribs, bringing out more of the bright giggles he always loved hearing. Akaza no longer fighting, resorted to squirming and flailing out of pure instinct, too ticklish to keep himself still.

Smiling, Douma paused to give Akaza a break. The demon gasped and coughed, relieved that the tickling had stopped briefly. He looked at Douma, his eyes only widening as he noticed those rainbow eyes eyeing out his stomach. Akaza knew what Douma was thinking, having received raspberries many time before.

“D-Douma…Douma don’t you fucking dare!!” Akaza growled, his face trying to remain angry but clearly failing as a wobbly smile appeared. “NO!! YOU ARE GOING TO FUCKING DIE!!”

Douma put his finger to Akaza’s lips, telling him to stop talking. Glaring at the blonde, Akaza opened his mouth to bite his fingers but quickly threw his head back as Douma clawed at his stomach, easily rendering him defenseless.

“Don’t make threats to me! I am your superior after all and I’m trying to be nice to you!” Douma growled playfully, making Akaza scream as he squeezed just below his ribs. “And don’t bite me!”

“IHIHI’LL BIHIHITE YOUR HAHAHAND OHOFF!! I SWE-AAAHAHAHAA!! STOP!! STOHOHOP!!” Akaza shouted, trying to shove Douma off of him, slowly growing weaker as Douma’s relentless tickles continued.

“Oh I’m not stopping.” Douma sang, his fingers crawling up Akaza’s sides, digging into each space between his ribs. “I’m trying to cheer you up and I won’t stop until I know you’re truly happy, Akaza dono!”

Pressing his full body weight onto Akaza to stop him from flailing like crazy, Douma skittered his fingers up to Akaza’s armpits, giggling as Akaza screamed loudly. Unable to escape, Akaza slowly grew weaker and weaker, submitting himself to Douma’s weird technique of cheering him up. Gasping as the tickling stopped, Akaza was about to sit up and glare at Douma but fell backwards once again, letting out a scream as lips were pressed against his bellybutton, a loud raspberry being blown.

Douma smiled, giggling as he pressed his lips to Akaza’s torso once more, blowing raspberry after raspberry over his entire stomach. He was well aware that this technique could potentially be crossing the line but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was able to tickle Akaza as well as cheer him up. Akaza soon fell silent, laughing so hard he couldn’t make anymore sounds. Douma giggled, his fingers gently scratching up and down his ribs.

“STOP!! D-DOHOUMA!! P-PLEHEHEASE!!” Akaza begged, his voice now weak from how hard he laughed. “PLEHEHEASE STOHOHOP!! IHIHI’M FEHEHEELING BEHEHETTER NOW!!”

“Are you? Or are you just saying that so I’ll stop tickling you?” Douma asked, his cheek resting on Akaza’s stomach while his fingers gently traced shapes along his sides.

“Ihihi’m seheherious!! NONONO!! AHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEASE!!” Akaza pleaded, weakly shoving Douma’s head away as he blew more raspberries on his stomach once more.

“Last one, I promise!” Douma said, grabbing Akaza’s wrists, smiling as he watched the muscles in his arms flex. “Last one for good measures!”

“Ugh!! I can’t stop you…fine…” Akaza grumbled, laughing as Douma blew as hard as he could onto his stomach, his head shaking to add more to the already ticklish sensations. “STAAAHAHAHAP!!”

Douma laughed, giving Akaza’s stomach a pat and helped his friend up, giving him a hug, expecting Akaza to punch him or shove him away violently, but the violent actions never came. Relieved, Douma let go and was about to walk away but was stopped by Akaza.

“T-thanks…I guess.” Akaza muttered, looking away.

“For what?” Douma asked.

“For cheering me up…or doing your best to do so since you lack emotional understanding.” he replied, suddenly grabbing Douma’s wrist and using his martial arts skills to flip the demon onto his back.

Hitting the floor, Douma gasped, the wind suddenly knocked out of him. Unable to process what happened, he suddenly squeaked as Akaza quickly sat on his waist.

“Ooh! Akaza dono! What’s gotten into you-OUUUUHUHU!! AHAHA!! OH NOHO!! OKAHAHAY!! OKAY!!” he cried, laughing hysterically the instant Akaza simply touched his waist.

“Jeez! I didn’t do anything to you yet!” Akaza laughed, an evil grin forming on his face. “This is payback for your little sneak attack bullshit!”

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[mayonnaise-sock]

Today i will draw magical girl kenny because i have a stupid idea foe it

Yk that one anime about the magical girl mascot that accidentally picks a delinquent

It’x like that but they accidentally picked a nine year old boy

And this mascot is like “haha you can be a magucal girl!!!” And kenny being kenny is like fuck yeah i’ll do that i wanna be a magical girl

But turns out being a magical gurl fucking sucks becajse like?? He keeps fucking dyinh.

Oh this’d be like an au where he wasn’t already in a shitty reincarnation cycle

So anyway bro is now cursed by a cute furry mascot thung (it’s probably chiitan or pukicho tbh) to die a bunch and he has to just get uo and keep fighting i guess

Blud is not happy but at least he gets tl be a magucak girl i guess

I’m kinda imagining it’s like that one other anime where the girls turn into buff men and literally have to brutally beat their enemies with their incredibly cute magical girl staffs

But he’s not a buff man he’s a little boy who has a pink and orage staff that he can hit his enemies wirh abd it hurts a surprising amount (he knows this because he dropped the thing on his foot and it broke a bone)

It’s literally him against his enemies but his enemies always have the upper hand because rhey can use magic and all he has is the equivalent of a metal bat and the inability to die

Like this

[levshany]

What's your favorite thing about Belos? Do you have any headcanons about him? Also, I love your art and how you draw him!

My favorite thing... Should I pick just one? Well, if we're talking about the look, it's his hair. If we're talking about the temper, it's his hardworking

And here are my headings about him. I'll start with the most common ones, and end with personal ones that I haven't seen from anyone yet:

1. Belos is a retrained left-hander. He holds all the instruments with his left hand, but writes with his right, since it was previously believed that left-handers subject to devilish influence.

2. Phillip's mother was burned on charges of witchcraft. Perhaps little Philip even had to witness this terrible scene.

3. Belos was often ill at the beginning of his journey through BI. And I'm not talking about a curse, but about local infections, to which he had no immunity. Over time, his body adapted, and later the curse itself began to neutralize all poisons and infections.

4. Belos really had fun while communicating with the Collector. These two have the dynamics of a king and a jester, and the jester is allowed to interact with the king as equals, making fun of him, giving advices, and generally talking to him as a friend. Thanks to this feature, a trusting relationship was often built between the king and the jester. With Collector Belos could afford himself to forget he was an emperor and just chat about whatever came to mind.

Perhaps Belos could even tell Collie details of his life that he could not discuss with anyone else. He was going to get rid of the kid anyway and didn't allow them to have contact with the outside world, so there was no need to worry about spilling something to anyone.

5. It was Belos who built the portal door. This headcanon even has confirmation in Philip's diary, where one of the pages depicted scheme of this very door

6. The picture of the witches dancing around the campfire is based on one of Belos' real memories. I'm sure witches have such parties/rituals, and Belos was a witness to them. I like this massive wall of fire and it seems to me that it is somehow connected with the fire that occurred during the battle of the brothers

7. Some people think that Belos doesn't eat anything other than palismen, but I headcanon that he still eats normal food, it's just that his diet is severely limited due to his inability to digest most of the foods of the demon realm

8. Little Philip didn't allow anyone except his brother to touch his head and hair. This is the intimate area

9. Belos wrote a huge number of magic books. It is unlikely that this person was limited to only one diary. To keep order in the covens and teach witches the "correct" use of magic, books and guides were needed. So Belos wrote at least a book for each coven, but I'm sure there are many more. Maybe even Belos signed some of them with pseudonyms.

It is possible that some of his works have survived and are still used to this days for an in-depth study of a certain type of magic.

Wooooo, so far these are all the heads that I remembered for now! I hope you enjoy it :3

[parkitaco]

super belated bday ficlet for @astrobei!! (+ my stonathan debut 👀)

Jonathan wakes up with a splitting headache.

This, unfortunately, is nothing new to him - he usually has a headache of some sort these days, as unrelenting stress and trauma will tend to do to a person. There's always something plaguing him. Most of it's his own fault, due to his general inability to let go of anything ever, but still. It's not a pleasant way to be.

He can hear clattering in the kitchen, presumably his mother getting a head start on the weekend's chores. It's still early, if the shaft of weak light streaming in through the gap in the curtains is any indication, and he'd sort of been looking forward to sleeping in as long as his anxious brain ever allows him to, but he's always been a light sleeper and he knows it's pointless to go back to bed now. He groans, sitting up and tossing his covers aside as he runs a hand through his hair.

Jonathan knows it's a little ridiculous, the way his brain works. Summer started two weeks ago, and his job is a decent one, even if the men at the Hawkins post make him want to tear his hair out for a myriad of reasons. The Mindflayer is gone. The gates are closed. Will is safe. Jonathan should not be this stressed.

And yet.

He gets dressed quickly, wincing when he catches sight of his eye bags in the mirror. He hasn't been sleeping well. He hasn't slept well since 1983, probably. Every time he closes his eyes he sees blood, grey skin stretching obscenely over gnarled muscles, gaping mouths with too many teeth to count. His brother's eyes, corrupted from their usual hazel to a dark, swirling, angry color as he strained against the rope tying him in place.

A red-hot poker, sizzling as it met flesh. Jonathan's pretty sure he's more traumatized from that than Will is. He's the one who had to stand by and watch, after all.

That's selfish, though, and Jonathan strives not to be selfish. It's hard to win, in a household with a harried, overworked parent and a younger sibling who seems to get cursed at every turn, but he tries to do as much as he can. It feels like he's doing everything, some days. There's never enough of him to go around.

"Morning, hon," his mother greets when he enters the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Jonathan lies easily, stepping around her to grab an apple off the counter. He leans against it, biting into the apple with a satisfying crunch that serves to jumpstart his overtired brain.

If his mother notices the lie, she doesn't mention it, simply humming a noise of assent as she scrubs at a plate in the sink. Jonathan had meant to do the dishes before going to bed last night, he realizes with a stab of guilt - they'd been piling up, neglected all week, and it had been bothering him, but then Will had asked him for assistance with the evidently very important matter of deciding what to draw for his friends' next DnD campaign, and he'd forgotten.

"I can help with those," Jonathan offers now, guilt twisting in his gut as his mother works at a grease stain, and she waves him off with one soapy hand, showering him with flecks of lemon-scented water.

"Don't worry about it, hon," she says, which is what she always says, and just like always Jonathan wonders how, exactly, he's meant to stop worrying about things. He's pretty sure that worrying is his sole purpose in life. "Doing anything fun today?"

Fun. Jonathan does have fun, sometimes, he supposes. He has fun with Will, though his brother has been more and more concerned with spending time with his friends lately, which is- fine, it's fine. Jonathan has friends of his own, sort of. It's a good thing, that Will's figuring out how to get back to normal.

Still, Jonathan feels a little lost sometimes, without his brother there to hover over. Like that one night, on Halloween last year, when he'd let Will go trick-or-treating without him, and he'd sat in the car for a solid ten minutes after, wondering what he was supposed to do with his evening.

That was the first and last party he'll ever be attending, thank you very much. He hadn't even lasted for fifteen minutes before something demanded his attention - Nancy Wheeler, in all her overwhelming, drunken glory, clinging to him all the way from the car to her room.

Jonathan tries not to think about the way that mess had begun. Him, watching a drink spill over Nancy's white blouse. Him, listening halfheartedly to raised voices from the hall, watching a bathroom door fly open and a boy come storming out, leaving the girl behind to stare moodily at herself in the mirror. Him, Jonathan Byers, following the boy instead of the girl, stepping out on the porch and murmuring a soft I'll take her home, don't worry.

That had been the same night Will's visions started in earnest, and Jonathan had been off at a party, caring for drunk girls and their jilted exes instead of his own family. He can't win. Ever. Everything he does is just a little wrong.

"Jonathan?"

Jonathan blinks, snapping himself back into reality and staring blankly at his mother, who's smirking from where she stands by the sink. "Huh?"

"I asked what you're doing today," she repeats, smiling, and he offers a smile that turns into a grimace halfway through.

"Don't know," he says tightly. "Is Will here?"

"No, he went to Mike's," Joyce answers, already back to the dishes, the water a gentle spray over her hands. "I have to go to the grocery store in a little while, and I have a couple other errands to run- oh, did you ever make it to the pharmacy, hon?"

Jonathan is ninety percent sure she never asked him to go to the pharmacy, but he figures he probably should have known to go anyway. They're low on ibuprofen, of which he is in need of constantly. "No, I'll go today."

His mother smiles absently over her shoulder at him. "Thanks, hon."

Jonathan nods, a little distracted by his mental checklist, which is constantly growing - pharmacy, library, laundry, an endless list of tasks that never really seem to disappear. God, he's tired. Maybe he should have tried to sleep in after all. "No problem," he says, and is only sort of lying, because the truth is that there are no problems, not really - other than the underlying ones, such as money being tight and everyone being traumatized, things are fine. There are, strictly speaking, no specific problems.

It never seems to feel that way, though.

His mother heads out after an hour or so, reminding him to eat breakfast and ruffling his hair on the way out the door. Jonathan spends a half hour making scrambled eggs (and then remaking them, after burning the first batch horrifically). He eats them slowly, one hand holding open the book he's been trying to read for the past three months, always ending up too distracted by the everything else around him to get more than a few pages in. He's never been much of a comic book person, but he gets why Will likes them - they're definitely far more digestible than anything he's ever tried to read. But Jonathan's a bit too serious of a person for stuff like that. Bright colors make his headaches worse.

It's almost ten by the time he starts getting ready to go to the pharmacy, book abandoned on the table and keys in his hand. Maybe he can go to the record store - he has some money, after getting his first paycheck from the Hawkins Post, but at least half of that is going to need to be used to cover their bills this month. Probably better to wait a few more weeks, until after rent is due and he can properly assess how much is left over.

He grimaces to himself and pulls the front door open in one fluid motion, shoving his wallet in his back pocket and flipping through his key ring for the right one - and almost crashes directly into Steve Harrington.

They both yelp and stumble backward, Steve looking sensibly chagrined as he drops his arm, which Jonathan now sees had been poised to knock. "I- sorry," Steve says, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Sorry."

Jonathan stares at him for a beat, one hand still holding his keys a bit uselessly. Dimly, he wonders if there's a new supernatural horror come to haunt him - that seems the only logical reason why Steve Harrington would be at his house, on his own, at ten in the morning on a random Saturday in June. They don't do this. They're not- friends, they're probably something closer to enemies if he thinks about it. They don't show up at each other's houses unannounced except in dire circumstances.

But that one time, a snide voice in Jonathan's head pipes up, he did. Remember?

Jonathan banishes the thought, on account of the fact that a., Steve had come to apologize for literally beating him to a pulp, which does not connote friendship in any way shape or form, and b., they'd both nearly been eaten alive less than five minutes after. Not exactly a good track record.

Steve grimaces, and opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can Jonathan blurts; "What are you doing here?"

It comes out sounding a little ruder than he intended, as do most of the things he says, but to his immense relief, Steve seems more put at ease by it than anything. He laughs, a short, huffy sort of sound that's more endearing than it should be. "Um. I wanted to talk to you."

Jonathan and Steve are not friends. They do not talk. Is he having a stroke? "About what?"

Steve shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing away awkwardly. "Jesus, Jonathan, I don't know. I was just gonna see if you wanted to come for a drive or something." He glances back at him, sheepish, and he does an awkward sort of shrug-twitch thing with his shoulders, eyes falling to the keys in Jonathan's hand. "If you're busy, though-"

"No," Jonathan says before he's even aware of it, thinking of his mother asking if he was doing anything fun today and how spending time with Steve Harrington is probably not really all that fun, but is at the very least an interesting concept. Better than blowing money on records that should be going to his family. "I was just gonna- pharmacy," he says, gesturing vaguely. "My head, uh." He pauses. He doesn't usually tell people about his headaches. Or any other ailments, really. "Nevermind."

Steve squints at him, looking stuck between a laugh and a frown. "Okay. Is that a yes, then?"

The pharmacy can wait, probably. "Yeah, sure." He coughs. "Yes."

A blinding smile splits across Steve's face, a genuine one. He never used to smile that way, Jonathan remembers - two years ago, it was all closed-lips and wry smirks and raised eyebrows. Kind of insufferable, if you ask Jonathan, but then again, no one ever does ask Jonathan.

It's- nice, is the point. If you asked Jonathan, right this second, what he thought of Steve's smile, he'd say that.

"Where are we going?" he asks, trailing after Steve to the car parked haphazardly in his driveway and shoving his own car keys into his pocket.

"Just- for a drive, man, I don't know," Steve says, pausing with one hand resting on top of the open driver's side door and looking mildly exasperated. Now that he knows he has Jonathan's attention, he supposes, he's back to behaving like a prick.

(Not really. He's not much of a prick, anymore. Not that Jonathan would ever admit that aloud.)

Despite himself, Jonathan smiles a little as he climbs into the passenger seat. "Okay. Got it," he says, tinged with amusement and sarcasm, and Steve gives him a dirty look that doesn't reach his smiling eyes as he backs out of the driveway.

The radio is playing softly, some sort of Cyndi Lauper bullshit spilling from the dash as Steve drives. He's a good driver, Jonathan notices a little fondly, better than he would have expected, with the whole being-a-prick thing and all. He's careful. Like he cares about keeping Jonathan alive and well, which is- bare minimum, really, and it's probably just as much about his own self-preservation, but still. It's nice. Jonathan's always a little pleasantly surprised, where Steve's involved.

But he doesn't want to think about that for too long, so instead Jonathan rolls down his window, letting the cool early-summer air waft over him. "Any particular reason we're doing this?" he asks, just for the sake of distracting himself from his own thoughts.

Steve shoots him another look, though he looks distinctly more amused this time. "You ask a lot of questions," he says wryly, and Jonathan snorts, glancing back over at him. "Don't you ever just, like. Go with the flow?"

At this, Jonathan outright laughs, and surprises himself with it a little. "Go with the flow," he repeats, a little incredulously, and Steve's cheeks pinken a little as he pointedly looks back at the road. "I don't think I'm a very flowy sort of person."

"I'm getting that," Steve grumbles, and Jonathan laughs again. "I just meant - you're so tense. Like, I get stressed out just looking at you sometimes."

You look at me? Jonathan thinks, and then immediately banishes the thought because- no. He's not going to start asking questions like that. "Yeah, well, not all of us can be the perfect Steve Harrington," he says, and it comes out a little more biting than he intends. He winces, an apology on his lips, but it gets stuck in the back of his throat. Better to be a little mean than a little too incriminating. That's how they operate, him and Steve.

Steve coughs, halfway toward a laugh but falling short. "No," he agrees, and sounds like a person trying desperately not to sound as hurt as they feel. Jonathan bites back another apology. "Guess not."

Jonathan's never been good at letting things go. Desperate to fix it, fix them, fix everything, he corrects; "Well, I guess the kidnapping probably mars your record a little."

The statement works precisely how he expected it to - with a cough and a splutter and a reddening of tanned cheeks. "I am not- kidnapping you," Steve squeaks, and there's that laugh again, bubbling up from somewhere in Jonathan's ribcage that he wasn't previously aware of. Maybe that's where he's been keeping his serotonin all this time, locked away in his chest somewhere. "You said you wanted to come!"

"I said I would come," Jonathan corrects, "I didn't say I wanted to."

Steve scowls. "You did want to. You- you want to hang out with me so bad."

Jonathan's not so sure about that one, mostly on account of the fact that he hadn't really known that hanging out with Steve was an option until today, but now that he is, he can definitively say that- maybe, possibly, he likes it. A little. Maybe.

"Don't make me beat you up again," he says, for lack of a better response, and this time Steve laughs, loud and bright in the summer air, and the sound settles something in Jonathan's usually-nervous system. People don't usually laugh with him like this. It's a bit odd, realizing that he's- funny. Likeable, maybe, in the right set of eyes. Or maybe that's just the Steve Effect. He puts people at ease.

"You wanted to," Steve says again, a little more quietly, and Jonathan stays silent, an admission by omission.

They pull into an abandoned parking lot, somewhere on the outskirts of Hawkins where Jonathan's only been a handful of times. It's a decent spot, raised on a hill overlooking downtown, grass growing through he cracks in the pavement. Pretty, in the bleak small-town way that Hawkins typically offers.

He shoots Steve a questioning look, and Steve smiles as he kills the engine. "No one ever comes here," he says, which feels a little like a confession even though it's not, doesn't mean much of anything at all. "I mean- I do, but. I don't know. There's probably, like, better and quieter places to hang out farther out of town, but I get kind of- um." He flushes, running a hand through his hair. "It seems sort of depressing, you know? I like to be somewhere where I can be close to where people are without having to actually, you know- talk to them."

There's a beat of silence, the radio having gone silent the moment Steve shut the car off, and Jonathan allows himself a moment to examine him, a little, the twisted grimace of his lips, the flush steadily rising to his cheeks, the faraway look in his eyes. Steve is a little confounding, sometimes.

Then:

"Sorry, that sounded dumb."

Jonathan blinks, shaking his head on instinct. "No," he argues reflexively, but finds he means it when he adds, "I know what you mean." Under normal circumstances, maybe, he'd poke fun, ask why Steve has suddenly gone philosophical on him, but there's a weird energy in the car, something delicate and vulnerable that Jonathan isn't nearly cruel enough to break.

Steve meets his eyes earnestly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, which Jonathan is- not looking at, not even a little bit. "Yeah?"

Jonathan's mouth suddenly feels very dry. "Yeah," he confirms hoarsely, and then, because that's a little too raw even for him, "Yeah, it's- that's what photography is like, kind of. Using a camera to distance yourself while still, um. Still seeing people, as they are."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Maybe I should take up photography." He glances back out the window, lost in thought, and Jonathan, overcome with a strange kind of confidence, nudges his arm gently.

Steve turns back to him, frowning, and he tilts his head at the window. "It's boiling in here," Jonathan says, which is half-true. In truth, it feels a little too closed-off, like anything could happen here, anything could be said, and only the two of them would ever know it. It feels like if he's not careful, he might do something dangerous.

Luckily, Steve only nods, unstrapping his seatbelt and climbing out of the car after Jonathan, who clambers up onto the hood of the car with a considerable lack of grace.

"Scratch my car and you're dead to me, Byers," Steve says, but he doesn't sound like he means it even a little, especially when he hops up onto the hood seconds later, knee knocking against Jonathan's.

There's a few moments of silence, both of them staring quietly out at Hawkins spread below them, the breeze ruffling their hair. They make an odd pair, Jonathan knows - Steve, in all his letterman jacketed glory, and Jonathan with his old band t-shirt and eye bags and headache. But oddly, it works like this, in the silence and summer air, the two of them opposite ends of the same spectrum.

"I'm not perfect," Steve says after a moment, less like he's correcting Jonathan and more like he's speaking it into existence, like he's afraid to admit it. "Just- just so you know."

If this were any other day, Jonathan would laugh, make a joke, deflect. But today is different, so he just bobs his head once, a quiet acknowledgement. "I know."

Steve glances at him, brows drawn together in concentration. "No, I mean it," he says, "I'm not- I mess things up, all the time. I think I'm- I don't know. If you're not a very flowy person, then I think I'm too flowy, or something." He bites his lip, eyes raking over Jonathan with an intensity that leaves him feeling oddly exposed. "I wish I was more like you," Steve says, with a quiet reverence that makes something stutter in Jonathan's chest.

He shakes his head once, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "No you don't," he assures him, and Steve's frown deepens, "I'm exhausting."

"You're driven," Steve argues, looking almost offended on Jonathan's behalf. "Not the same."

"I'm a nervous wreck, Steve," Jonathan says with a laugh, but it falls flat. Too close to the truth. He swallows. "All the time."

Steve stares at him for another couple seconds, then releases a soft breath and turns back to stare out at their pathetic little town. "Maybe we should switch," he muses, voice low but sending sparks through Jonathan's nerves all the same, "or- meet halfway, or something."

A year and a half ago I was arrested for beating you up, Jonathan thinks and doesn't say, and now you want to meet me halfway.

They make an odd pair.

"I'd like that," he says, and Steve's gaze snaps back to him, something clicking into place in his expression.

"Yeah?" he asks again, and again looks hopeful and earnest and all of the emotions the old Steve would never have been caught dead exhibiting.

Jonathan's throat is so very dry. He nods. "Yeah."

The breeze ruffles through his hair, and a hand presses against the side of Jonathan's neck. Far in the distance, a bird squawks, and here on the hood of a car a boy meets Jonathan's eyes.

The car creaks beneath them, and Jonathan leans in.

Like everything else, kissing Steve is pleasantly surprising. He's gentle, more gentle than Jonathan might have expected given his reputation, and his lips are soft when they press against Jonathan's own. He tastes like soda and smells like detergent and is careful when he lays a hand over Jonathan's chest, right where his heart is throwing itself against his ribcage. Jonathan presses in closer without meaning to, hand grappling for purchase against the surface of the car before grabbing Steve's waist instead, pulling him closer with a gentle creaking of metal beneath them.

Steve hums, a soft, unintentional sound, and pulls back, the carefully blank look on his face not quite hiding the gleaming look in his eyes, fiery and terrified at once. He shivers once, Jonathan's thumb brushing gently over the cotton of his t-shirt, tucked under his jacket.

His hair is falling into his eyes. Jonathan brushes it away without thinking about it, and only pauses when Steve's breath catches somewhere in his ribcage. Jonathan offers a shaky smile and presses in again, lips connecting with Steve's softly and briefly before he pulls back for real.

"What," Steve says, and then pauses like he doesn't know where to begin.

Jonathan smirks. "Too many questions."

It takes a second, but Steve's face falls into a (feigned) scowl in one swift motion, much to Jonathan's delight. "Wh- I didn't even ask anything yet!"

"Good," Jonathan replies, smirking as he lays back against the windshield, "Don't."

"You're a prick," Steve says, and doesn't seem to mean it in the slightest when he follows suit, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head.

Jonathan presses his leg against Steve's, enjoying the solid warmth of him next to him. "Right back at you." He closes his eyes, letting the summer sunlight wash over him, and Steve shifts beside him, leg pressing more insistently against his own.

Jonathan's head doesn't hurt at all anymore.