#Four-Fold Blessings

[sukunas-wife]

Being Sukuna’s Pregnant Wife and being worshipped as a diety because you were able to conceive the four armed hulking cursed child, you must have the blessing of fertility

Having a shrine erected in your name because barren women believed you’d bless them with fertility despite your legacy starting with the child of the curse that torments them all

Telling your hand maids “Don’t bring me my clothes, bring me one of the kings robes.” The hand maids flinching and wanting to protest out of fear of taking the King of Curses robes

The poor naive young hand maid that had grown a crush on the king excitedly rushing if it meant she could enter the private bed chambers,

Scoffing with a malicious smile to your loyal maids when they shook their heads with Sympathy, they learned long before at such a request it would be foolish to go alone, at least 2 or 3 of them would need to go in your name, preferably the ones your husband recognized to be by your side the longest. But you didn’t like this new girl, she was too enthusiastic to work at the palace only to have a complete change in character when she learned she was assigned to work for you

“It’ll serve that poor girl right” you looked away from the door when your loyal hand maids brought out a wooden box with one of Sukuna’s folded Kimono’s they helped you dress your swollen belly accentuated by the belt the kimono tailored to fit your husband left you with extra space and length, it was far more comfortable then the Kimono’s and robes you were, the lingering smell of your husband with comforting as your rubbed your belly hands barely peeking from the massive sleeves

“Let’s go see my husband.” Was all you said as you started your walk, the maids followed close as you made it to the bed chambers, the door was open, you looked in, Sukuna sneering down at the girl laying in a pool of blood, Uraume was making quick work of the mess

Sukuna’s snapped to you and his arm’s opening in an unusual display of affection, you walked around the mess to reach him, he pulled you into his left side, one hand on your waist the other making you face him, bring his right hand up he rested his hand on your stomach “Some of your maids need a lesson on how to speak to their king,” he looked away from your face to your stomach as he started to move his hands in circles “So swollen with my child, it’s no wonder you send your maids to steal my robes.”

You smack his shoulder with a playful smile and he chuckled “Don’t say it like that you make me feel bigger than i am.”

“Now,” he looked up at your face again, “why are you here.”

You tilted your head to the side, “I started contractions this morning, I’ve been in pain all day and I’m barely standing, my new maid wouldn’t stop speaking so highly of my husband accomplishing having a child when I was at my worst pain level getting ready to push out YOUR child that I HAD to carry. Anyhow I came to get you because he is ready to come.”

Sukuna stared down at you confused “How do you know it’s a boy?”

“I’m his mother,” he watched as you placed your hand over his stilling his rubbing of your stomach, “I knew he was a boy from the day your seed took.”

Sukuna smirked “Is that so? Then let’s see this boy.”

🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤

After an hour of fighting the doctor tending to your birth you gave birth to your lively son, born screaming without needing stimulation to cry form the doctor. Your husband couldn’t help but laugh when he saw his child in his full glory, he was a boy indeed.

The help immediately gave you your son and you cooed at him when he took to your breast, your husband taking blankets from the maids and covered your son also covering you in the process as you struggled a bit to pass what came next. Your son a spitting image of his father, your breathy laugh caught Sukuna’s attention as he came back to your bed side stroking your hair and rubbing your stomach the way the help had been doing.

“What amuses you?” He watched his son slowly close his eyes as you coddled him closer.

“I’m the one who had to carry him for so long, and the ingrate took nothing from me.” You smiled and shook your head before looking up at Sukuna.

Soon the doctor left after clearing you of any possible issues and checking your son. “His name?” You looked at Sukuna and he sighed “Yuji”

The look of adoration in your eyes was something Sukuna would’ve wanted to capture forever if he could express the sentiment. However for now he’d settle for memorizing every detail of today. His wife birthing his first heir, the name she had chosen he permitted.

Maybe just maybe this world wasn’t so bad

[stsgluver]

synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

[dilftaroooo]

Not sure if your requests are closes right now sorry if they are-

But you should do Yuji fucking fem!reader or eating her out and Sukuna switching with him in the middle of it 😊

nonnie im so happy to breath the same air as u

★tags: aged up characters + afab reader + she/her pronouns + spanking + oral (f. receiving) + fingering + implied piv sex (very brief tho) + praising + sukuna bashing yuji smdh.

Your beloved boyfriend always manages to find himself emerging in the sloppy heat that rests between your thighs. Salmon fields adorned with restless digits splay across the top of his head as he licks and laps at you desperately. It's good pussy for the soul and he would hate if he would've missed this opportunity to have you sing out his name while you involuntarily send pressure to the sides of his head with your rigid thighs.

Your chest heaves and ho's at the heavy mass of passion with each inconsistent breath you take--jagged whenever Yuji coos at your hard clit, telling her how he's obsessed with her and her owner before giving her a light peck.

"I want you to fuck me already, Yu." You croak impatiently, wiggling your hips to emphasize your desires but Yuji gives you a quick slap to the side of your ass and squeezes it right after.

"Not now, baby. Let me enjoy what's in front of me first. Can I get that?" He watches you under the rise of your pelvis. His words are soft and whispered in a tone he always uses with you whenever he wants to feel you clench. Honey-glazed globes look at the feast upon him amorously. Your previously shaven hairs start to grow into stubble as it retrieves itself back to its original state; wet and coated with your juices. He buries his nose further.

A moan was a good enough answer for your boyfriend and he keeps doing what he was born to do. You continue to plead for him as he eats you out. "I'm right here, lovely. Not going anywhere." He'd respond with each fervid call.

His sucks at your cunt arouses you tenfold once you feel yourself coming to that edge at the tippy top of a mountain as gusty winds roughly kiss at the apples of your cheeks and the lids of your closed eyes. It's easy to tell you're close as Yuji hums into wet folds causing you to rattle.

"Oh fuck, Yuji. Keep going, sweet boy. 'M gonna come soon..."

Your nails cautiously dig into his scalp, not enough to hurt him severely, and your legs wrap around bulging muscle for support of your incoming orgasm. His body glistens under the light of the living room and blesses you with each defined section of muscle to pop under dark shadows.

But the devil is a conniving bastard for your reach to climax was interrupted when you flinch at the harsh bite gnaw at your clit, sending you to scurry backward away from the abrupt pain but strong arms keep your legs in place to force you into more torture. Looking down, you noticed Yuji's canines were sharper than usual. His skin was tainted in elongated markings, ones Yuji had never worn. His nails were painted in a deep violet and you think to yourself, 'Yuji couldn't have possibly put that on so fast,'.

"That sappy shit was starting to churn my stomach. How about you do that whenever I'm not possessing you? I already get nauseous knowing I'm living inside a fucking idiot." His voice was deeper too.

"Y-You're Sukuna, right? Yuji told me about you." You've never seen eyes glaringly red like his--four of them. They all watch you with a look of interest paired with a cunning smirk.

"That's right, dollface. Very good. Glad you know of me already, so we can skip the greetings." He resumes his host's previous ministrations but turns it up a notch by adding a finger or two to your drooling pussy. He teases a glossy, purple tip along the quivering hole before pushing in deep. As soon as he learns you can perfectly take one, he puts the second one in. A grin remains still on his face when hearing your moans crescendo.

"My, my. You're already soaking my fingers, dove. Guess that brat is doing something properly for once. Slobbering all over the couch, fuck, can't remember the last time I've seen pussy like this." His index and middle fingers dance across the gushy ridges in you, he moves them in ways Yuji knows you love and that feature shocks you.

He gorges on your clit and eats your pussy out like it's his last meal on earth before being sentenced to death. Saliva runs down the length of your labia, bubbles forming along the way by his boisterous lapping. Your hips can't resist gyrating against his face, ruby red remains settled on your helpless figure as you revisit that same high as before. You bathe his fingers with cum til they prune and you're too overstimulated to feel sorry.

The couch dips and you're instantly turned around on your stomach, facing the decorative pillow you believed matched the aesthetic of your living room.

"Hey, what're you-"

"You said you wanted to get fucked remember? Your cunt is still drooling cus she's hungry. Didn't give her enough." The smacks he gave your ass were harder than Yuji's and that just goes to show how rough this curse really is but you writhed nonetheless.

He was gonna fuck you good. You already figured much as hands grip around the fat at your hips and his cock carefully grinds into you.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

AUGUST REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! Here I am, once again, for yet another month of reading and living vicariously through our one and only Reader. I haven't read much this past month, and most of these sweet authors are people I follow (and shockingly, some are my mutuals, too !!! I'm too much of a fangirl to believe it's true). Give these gorgeous, spectacular writers a ton of love. They all deserve it so much, considering they're blessing us with such amazing work for free. Like. Comment. Reblog. The equivalent of a five-star review

Like always, I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. Reminder to please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+. MINORS should not be interacting in any way.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a muted shade of green by @dalamjisung ↳ the flow of this fic was so smooth my jaw dropped down on the floor as i read through (writer's first reid fic, and it was chef's kiss)

✿ hearts aligned by @raekensluver ↳ OMG this one had me melting. roommate spencer is such a dream

✿ sick love by @misserabella ↳ guilty pleasure unlocked. a wonderful reading session filled with interesting discoveries

✿ behind closed doors by @incognit0slut ↳ i loved binging this so much !!! was a giggling, kicking mess while reading this one; and it has four parts ! we're so spoiled

✿ kiss it better by @nereidprinc3ss ↳ tmi but was having an episode of mild anxiety attack, and this saved me in the middle of the night, giggling myself to sleep, so thank you for such amazing work x

✿ dead of night & nightvisions by @cxrrodedcoffin ↳ lol i read this at work and had to fight battles not to make any facial signs that i was consuming kinky content. the second part was another level, i was cackling like a witch

✿ much ado about nothing: act iii, scene v & act iv, scene i by @incognit0slut ↳ act iii, scene v left me speechless, reader didn't fold and i took that as a win. act iv, scene i played with my emotions lol

✿ just a number by @reidsdaisies ↳ i became a stand-up actress while reading this because it's overwhelmingly spicy and filled with tension i had to provide comedic relief for myself

✿ untittled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ no because i saw my reblog post of this and i immediately snorted and then laughed some more after rereading it. pipe cleaner will never not be funny to me

✿ poison me, i'm fine by @gghostwriter ↳ no because this one needs more attention ?????????????? i loved reading this so much i was so tempted to pull my heart out and ship it to pau, show how crumpled it was after reading

✿ my best colors for your portrait & my face in every place by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i wasn't lying when i said august is for angst and i immediately gobbled this up after seeing it. the way my chest was so tight but also smiling because the writing style is amazing got me looking like a lunatic

✿ cute, outraged genius by @lavenderspence ↳ tina got me laughing like a gremlin. it's so adorable she made me fall in love with spencer all over again

✿ another untitled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ sorry, sweethearts, ket just couldn't be bothered with titles lmao. secret lover reader is my favorite lover, sooooo you all will enjoy this cutie patootie creation

✿ one single thread of gold by @gghostwriter ↳ you'll overdose of sweetness. it's so adorable and a great way to feel giggly about spencer reid.

✿ for the fear of falling apart | part one by @pathologicalreid ↳ i haven't read the rest of the parts but mhmmm this was DELISH. well-written creation that made me show emotions while reading at work. my coworkers asked me my my eyes were so wide and i think that says a lot at how great this is

✿ second to none by @raekensluver ↳ ooooo this one got my blood boiling in a good way

✿ untitled work by @sincerelybubbles ↳ adorable stuff make me melt especially when it's a spencer one

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ darling, in any life series by @hotchfiles ↳ at this point are we even surprise im including yet another series form lari here ? anywayyy, i love me some old flame trope

✦ picket fence dream by @hotchfiles ↳ this is a new part from the choiceless hope series and i gobbled it up. i was screaming when i read this

✦ tells by @ssahotchnerr ↳ first thing i read in the morning, and i sobbed from the overwhelming sweetness

✦ silver by @solardrop ↳ okay but this was so adorable ??? plus im def one of those gals who tried to throw herself on him, maybe even catapult myself

✦ sympathy for the devil by @hotchfiles ↳ nosebleed. spice level is not as high as i make it seem but the writing really got me sweating. just read it, you'll understand what i mean

✦ spending time with you by @lavenderspence ↳ no because TINA CALLED ME OUT WITHOUT CALLING ME OUT. i was slightly offended. the gasp i gasped was so loud asdkfnkg. but it is adorable, go read it pls pls

✦ doctor, love by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i love when reader slaps the character with some reality like a seasoned raw steak.

sorry, not sorry if this post is filled with lari. I reread her works religiously, so here are my favorites from hers truly:

✦ help me hold onto you ↳ oh, this is like crack for me, and i always come crawling back no matter how hard i try to stay sober

✦ half asleep takin' chances ↳ still waiting for future aaron somewhere out there

✦ choices ↳ gonna be honest with everyone this one makes me wanna deck aaron hotchner and then deck reader for folding so easily and also deck myself because im no better than reader

✦ quis ut deus? & daniel 12:1 ↳ my fave series from lari and i will never not reread them over and over and over and over again because i love it so much idk what's the appeal on me but i love it and i want this framed and buried with me even if it's unfinished

I haven't had a lot of time to visit the good ole "for you" feed in a while, so I apologize for missing all the amazing work every writer has put out this month. I will make it up to you, I promise! And if you'd like, you can send me works or mention me so I can read certain creations that you deem noteworthy for the next rec fic month!

love lots, ker x

[killiaia]

Threesome with Winter/Karina and Giselle/Ningning.

Maybe this story will be a fic in the future.

KARINA/WINTER

One day after drinking too much Winter confessed to you that she'd like you to fuck Karina in front of her. 

At first you thought she wasn't serious, but there you were, Karina on all fours and you taking her. 

Winter is next to you fingering her pussy. Excited by this magnificent sight, you lean over and whisper something in her ear. Karina gives you a naughty smile and calls out to Winter. 

"Minjeong baby, lie down in front of me and I'll eat your pussy while Oppa takes me from behind. "

Winter doesn't hesitate and takes up a position in front of her leader. With her legs spread, Winter spreads the folds of her pussy.

"Please Karina. Eat me. " 

The Aespa leader doesn't hesitate and devours her member's crotch. 

Excited by the sight, you Martelle Karina's pussy. Your pelvic thrusts help put pressure on Winter's pussy. 

"God, that's good. " 

You glance at Winter, who winks back at you. Minjeong undulates her pelvis and grabs Karina's head to stick it to her pussy.

Minjeong cum, Karina follows right after and you cum inside Karina.

The view is so magnificent that you thank the Lord. 

----

GISELLE/NINGNING

You're lying on your back, Ningning is sucking your cock while Giselle sits on your face.

You lick the Japanese woman's pussy and Giselle takes you by surprise when she turns around and engulfs your cock. Ningning protests but Giselle quickly silences her with a kiss.

Giselle then grabs Ningning's face and forces the Chinese girl to suck you off. Giselle manages Ningning's head movements and undulates her pelvis to apply more pressure on your tongue. 

Giselle's ass is sufocate you, but it doesn't matter, you're far too overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Even so, you tap Giselle's ass to tell her to move. Then you gently grab Ningning's face and tell both girls to get down on all fours.

You're blessed by the sight in front of you. Both women spread their asses, giving you a magnificent view of their assholes and pussies.

You start by fucking Ningning and after several strokes you sink your cock into Giselle.

After making both women cum, they get down on their knees and you cum all over their faces.

[fabled-fiction]

Temptations of the Wolf

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Being a Targaryen meant sacrifice. Being a Stark meant sacrifice. Both these houses know the service of duty well. But when war is amiss, and two leaders of these respective houses meet to discuss allegiance, feelings for one another bubble to the surface and get in the way. Oh how the winds of war turn would be lover on would be lover.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Angst, Foribbiden-ish Love, Use of (Y/N), proof read only by author.

A/N: I AM A HOTD TV SHOW PERSON ONLY!!! I did research on wikis to try and write Cregan correctly, however I am but a simple man that writes fanfiction, so mischaracterization isn't totally unavoidable. ENJOY!

A dragon does not get cold.

A dragon does not feel the cold as they have fire brewing under their scales, penetrating not only their bones but also their soul. The soul of a dragon is a fiercely burning one, said to run so hot that their touch alone melts the thickest of ice.

(Y/N) Targaryen knew of this fire better than any dragon. Or that is what the people of King’s Landing had quickly grown to best know them by. Growing up within the tense house of Targaryen, especially during war times, justly called for you to have more than just a spine of a predator.

To survive amongst dragons, you must be able to breathe their fire.

Making every other tense occasion feel as though you were walking on air.

Perhaps there was another reason as to why you felt no fear as you flew North. A reason that bore the Stark symbol.

That is why, as Polarxes rode through the winter chill, with the wind daring to snip at your skin you felt calm. At peace almost, even as the great Wall came into view.

It was realized that in order to keep the throne that was meant to stay in the hands of your brother Aegon, relations had to be made. Families and Houses had bent the knee for King Visery’s heir not long ago, and it was soon made apparent that your family would have to make the same bend the knee again for Aegon. Just to make sure that loyalties lied with the correct Targaryen.

Whilst you particularly did not care for such politics, or politics in general, your mother had other plans. Seeing as you and Aemond stood as…the most intimidating of the family it was an easy decision to send the both of you out to ensure alliances were made and pacts bonded.

You knew that the decision to send you to the Wall was laced with more than just truce in mind. Your mother was a cunning woman, and recalled the times that whenever the Starks came to make your acquaintance you favored the nip of the cold family over the burning of the dragon pit. The touch of their ice, and the gaze of one particular wolf.

As your dragon landed, her talons digging in to break, you took a moment to yourself to feel the snowflakes rest on your warm cheeks and melt into the white of your roots. The cold felt nice on your skin that had grown used to the humidity of King’s Landing. To feel at ease in your skin, to have even the opportunity to cool off was an unknown blessing of this trip.

“I hope the ride here was not too tiresome for your dragon here, the winds can be quite hard in preparation for the change of season.”

Looking down at the boy, who looked no older than four and ten years of age, you smiled as you slid off your dragon with ease. She shook her head in response, her ivory scales offering her a sort of camouflage to the elements around her as she settled down. The heat of her breath alone melted whatever ice laid around her, the rest becoming swept up as her wings folded in. 

Whilst you looked at her with admiration, you could tell that this was the first dragon the boy had ever seen. It was a mix of awe and fear that flooded his eyes, which you did not doubt also kept him frozen still in fear of her eating him to remain warm.

“Do not worry about her, she is not the dragon that will eat you alive should you make one wrong move.”

A wolf does not get cold.

A wolf does feel the cold because the wolf knows how to bear the frigid winds. Their fur having grown to shift with the winds that come with winter. They stand strong against the chill of winter, and stand headfast at the front of the storm. 

The gaze of a wolf alone makes one question whether or not the storm bends to the wolf’s howl.

Cregan Stark knew that his house would come to be called upon soon enough. That is what comes with the winds of war. He just never felt bothered enough to actually busy himself with the calls of the storm.

But it became increasingly hard to ignore as a dragon landed at the gates of the Wall.

Especially when it was a dragon he recognized, that held a rider that had occupied his mind in the dark of the night as he stared into a fireplace. The lick of flames taunting him the same way a certain Targaryen had whenever in their presence.

He had begun to regret not knowing what exactly this storm of war would make him face.

The warmth of a Targaryen was hard to ignore, it made the men wish for the comfort of home as they were reminded of just how cold winter really was when left in their absence. A reaching hand hoping to grasp onto the hearth that was your soul. 

Even as he looked up toward the wall, the announcement of your presence was made when he felt sweat beghin to build on the back of his neck.

Turning towards you he noticed the sea of men that had parted to make a runway for you,almost as if they were presenting you to him. Or maybe it was the other way around as he noticed the way your predatory gaze ate up every inch of him.

He should have felt intimidated just by that alone.

You stood there before him, adorning only the one coat that seemed to mock the furs that he had adorned in order to retain even a fraction of the heat that you held onto. Your head was held high as you looked upon the Stark, giving him the smallest courtesy bow as your hand reached to shake his. He should not have been so eager to be in your presence upon the precipice of war.

Cregan Stark was no fool, he knew the reason for your visit. But still, appearances seemed to be becoming more and more important in this age.

“Lord Stark, I hope I am not intruding? There were some important business I’d like to discuss and well…dragons are faster than ravens.”

He offered you a curt smile as he stood to his full height, hoping to give himself an advantage on the conversation. Or at the very least to provide some distance to distract from the pit that had been lit a flame from your very speaking of his name.

“You’re not intruding in any way. Would you like to take this discussion somewhere more private, if the matter happens to be so important?”

You were not used to the Northern accent. The regality of the South had become your norm as you dealt with many affairs there, instead of bending to the will of the many Lord and Lady that wanted an audience with the great Targaryen rulers of the day. Thus you were used to their customs, clothing and accents.

Everything about the North always took you by surprise, and assaulted every sense that you had.

Cregan Stark was no different. If anything he made the divide even more stark as you set your gaze upon him.

He stood tall, and unbroken as he looked at you. The Wolf of the North was everything that had been said about him. Tall, broad, strong…handsome. His steeled eyes locked you in your place almost instantly. You weren’t sure if it was because you feared a single wrong move from you would provoke the beast or because you wanted to soak in every minute of his undivided attention. Never had you met someone with the same resolve as you, nor the same gaze.

You knew now why people were so intoxicated by you.

He always had that effect on you.

Taking his hand, stepping onto the lift you couldn’t help but be drawn to the cold that laid on his hands. The chill that ran up your arm from his touch alone made you want to keep a harsh grip on his gloved hand.

When the both of you were locked in, it was only then did your hands regretfully break apart by the jostle of the cables.

“I’m sure you know why I have made the trip all the way out here?” 

“Was it not to take in the view atop the wall?”

The chuckle that left your lips resonated throughout the cart, it made Cregan want to fill a book with quips that would draw similar sounds out of you. He smiled to himself as the ride came to a halt, and the two of you made the trip to a balcony overlooking the edge of the forsaken wall.

“ While that is a plus, I have come here as a courier from the Queen Mother. Whilst I believe you are busy with the responsibilities of defending the South from that of which come from those blasted woods, it would shock me to find you do not know of the developing situation within my family?”

His suspicions were confirmed. While there was no doubt you had come to discuss the usurping of the throne, it lifted some weight off his shoulder to know that you had been the one to broach the topic first. For some…unknown reason he felt hesitant to the idea of bringing up a topic that would only bring a scowl upon your face. Or any topic for that matter that would cause a crease to form between the bridge of your gaze.

But upon the question he found that you were calm and collected. As if you had not just brought up the topic of a deed that often led to disorder amongst the throne and council. Many of the men that served the wall had been sent here for just the discussion of mutiny alone.

Your confidence alone shook him, and confused him at the same time.

“I’m sure even the farthest reaches have heard of your brother taking his seat upon the Iron Throne. I'm confused however on what this has to do with me?”

Taking your gloves off, Cregan watched as you placed your hands on the edge of the ice that formed this pocket amongst the wall. Your shoulders dropped along with your head as you took in a deep breath. It was interesting to take in your mannerisms when it was just him instead of him and an audience. You behaved…well like a dragon. A foreboding presence that did not easily reveal their intentions, a ticking trap of anguish and fire. A continuous stream of steam left your nostrils as you took a moment to contemplate.

The dread that spilled from your exhale had Cregan convinced there was something more amiss this meeting of allegiance. 

“I truly do not care of the affairs of my brother, he has rarely acted on his own accord. Thus why I am here, to gather support of others that will make sure whatever whims he does hold are defended from those that aim to make all of this harder than it has to be.”

Looking at the palm of your hand that had been grasping the ice with a fury, you noticed that it had only now just started to turn pink. Whereas you were sure if anyone else had dared to meet flesh with ice, it would be purple and dead by now. It was a calming reassurance to feel the calming touch of ice. When looking into Cregan eyes, you felt a similar calm as his brows furrowed into a look that resembled something of sympathy.

He understood more than anyone the weight of duty.

“If I may ask, it seems as if you do not have much desire in the battles that are brewing? So why come here to make a play with a house that is known to keep their oaths?”

Of course he knew the weight of duty. The Stark house was known to be one of the most noble houses when it came to keeping a promise. They had bent the knee for your half sister years ago, so why must you have come out all this way to try and turn their tides? You truly did not want to come out all this way, only making the trip at the request of your mother who had become a thorn in your side ever since you made your indifference to the throne known.

You knew coming out this way would not sway the Stark, but instead sway you. 

“Who wishes for war? Only mad men desire a battle that would take their life,” Taking a moment to compose yourself, you straightened your back.

“Which is exactly why I come in hopes that you share the same sentiment.”

Your eyes seemed to hold all the emotions of the seven kingdoms. Cregan took a moment to compose himself, and remind himself that he was the Warden of the North. He does not need to consult himself on ways to keep the blaze of your heart lit. He had a job, just as you had yours.

Which is why he felt himself faltering.

“A Targaryen that does not wish of war? You are a rarity amongst your family (Y/N).”

Your name should have felt foreign to say. It was not dressed with honorifics, and he meant it. The lack of title that came before your name was with the purpose of bringing this conversation down to a more personal level. 

He watched as you tensed with him saying your name. But he knew it was not in offense, he could never offend you. It was in realization of the fragility of this conversation.

His informality was sealed when he rested his hand on the small of your back. The both of you just took in the moment to look beyond the wall. Cregan knew that this simple action could warrant reaction from you, it would be justified for you to take his hand and his tongue for even speaking to you in such a casual way.

Instead you melted into his touch, turning to face him.

He took this as an invitation to invade your space once more, taking a step forward to move a piece of hair that threatened to obscure his view of you.

“You flatter me, Lord Stark. But a compliment such as that will only do so much to sway me. I was sent here for a reason.”

His title wavered on your tongue as you spoke to him. This just drew more a response from him as he did not move, humming almost in agreeance as his hand found its place on your cheek. For a moment he felt jealous of the leather that dressed his palm, for it had the honor of holding you truely.

“Hmm yes, you were sent here for a reason. But could there not have been another? One that you hold instead, that trumps the duty you feel to your house?”

He was always good at reading you.

Perhaps you should have felt unease in coming here, to think it would just be a simple trip to the Wall that would just lead you to return home with nothing but a word that the Starks were not aligned with your house.

You were blinded by the urge to see him, the want to make his acquaintance one more time before the realm tore itself apart. “Cregan…”

His name fell from your lips with a whisper, as if you were praying to the gods above to harden your resolve.

“Tell me the real reason you came here.”

He was incredibly close now, his presence shadowing over yours. He covered you in a shroud of snow, his touch almost paralyzing you as you remained locked in a fight of wills.

Who would win? The fearsome dragon or the unbending wolf?

“To speak with you. There are…alliances that need to be made in order to keep my family from tearing itself and the world apart.”

This earned a frown from him as he leaned even closer to you. He assaulted every sense you had now. His eyes burned into yours, rivaling your gaze as his scent came over you. There was a reason you favored the smell of leather and musk. It reminded you of him.

“Could you just this once make a decision that was not dictated by your family, but rather made in lieu of what you wanted?”

Your hand reached up to hold his wrist of the hand that grounded you. Your touch was searing, Cregan knew that had you touched his skin he was sure there would be a burn where you had touched him. And he would wear it with honor.

He wondered if a kiss from you would be just as searing. If steam would rise from the both of your lips as you became one.

The fan of your breath over his cheeks threatened the very resolve he was known for.

This very act alone could be considered taking a side. The both of you would seal your fate if you fell blindly into your passions right at this second. A thought crossed the wolf’s mind, how truly awful would it have been to give in, even for just a moment?

Your hand on his cheek, a mirror of his own action, made him clasp his eyes shut as a shaky breath escaped his own trembling lips. 

He looked beautiful, in this very moment, you thought.

The both of you were so close, the desire of one thing burning in your mind as you stared at him.

You were never one for politics, but could that argument alone be excuse enough to betray the whims of your family for a single kiss from a man that would stand against them?

You wished to lite his lips ablaze with the passion of your touch.

He wished to swallow the fire that burned in your throat.

A dragon does not feel the cold.

A wolf does not feel the cold.

But right in this very moment they both wished the winds would freeze them in place, if not to hold onto the memory for just a moment longer.

“Cregan..”

“(Y/N)..”

The side of his nose seemed to fit perfectly against yours as he leaned in. Your hand rested up against the nape of his neck perfectly, anchoring both of you in this stance. 

Just as the both of you felt a graze of the other, there was the annoyance of another made present.

The squealing of the lift cables broke the silence, and thus breaking the tender moment of the two of you.

It wasn't until they came to a halt did you finally step back, and Cregan was left to imagine the moment for only a second before opening his eyes to the reality of the situation.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of house Velaryon has arrived to speak with you.”

With a small huff of a laugh, you straightened your cloak and looked out over the wall once more. 

This would probably be the last time you saw winter…the snow…and him.

Feeling his hand grip your chin, making you face him you could only chuckle as you held his face again. Only this time with longing and remorse. You were already mourning any possibility you had with him, and he knew it too as he looked down at you.

“I wish it were that easy…”

Leaning forward, you played with fire one last time as your lips came to rest on the corner of his. It was a quick moment, only giving yourself enough of it for the small gesture. You knew if you lingered for even a moment the Northerner would take it upon himself to seize whatever he could. And then you truely would be gone to the whims of a lovely passion.

Pulling away, you watched as he held where you had kissed him, before breaking away from your eye as you made your way to the lift to leave him.

But when his hand found your wrist, you could feel the fire brimming in your throat.

“Just…think about what I said…before its too late.”

Looking over your shoulder, you couldn't help but take the moment to study his face. Commit it to memory. Perhaps that is truly what you came here for. Not some silly test of allegiance, for you already had that answer before you even mounted your dragon.

No…it was to take in one last memory of the cold.

[munsonsfairy]

I have an ideaaa

how about a Paige x fem!reader wedding/proposal fic or headcanon??

the idea of her draft fit as a wedding outfit omfg 🤭

my peace 🕊️

omg i love this idea!! i did wedding headcanons if that’s okay!<3

content: fem reader & no physical description of reader or their wedding outfit

౨ৎ the night before, you and paige spend it by cuddling into each other while sitting on the balcony that overlooks the city.

“my wife, my wife, mine,” she whispers against your neck after every kiss. “not for another day, babe,” you’ve been reminding her since she proposed.

౨ৎ it takes her 20 minutes to leave your townhouse that night. lots of goodbye kisses have already happened that it took kk & ice to drag her ass out.

“bye my beautiful gorgeous wife!” paige yells out the window as ice drives away. she doesn’t get into the car until you are out of her sight.

౨ৎ instead of reading your vows in front of your wedding guests, the both of you decided to do it before the ceremony. as you walked towards paige, you could see her wavy blonde hair with her front pieces in braids (as always). she was wearing an all white suit. you could tell she was nervous and excited by how much she was fidgeting.

“paige?” when she turned around her blue eyes already had tears in them. she looked at you in awe and almost fell to her knees. “we can’t cry we both have make up on,” you fan both of your both eyes trying to hold it all in.

she laid her head on yours and looked into your eyes. for a moment it felt like it was only the two of you in that garden. “we’re finally doing it. my wife,” you see a tear fall from her eye as she leans in to kiss you.

౨ৎ now the vows!!!!!! 🥹

paige reached into her pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. you could see her shaking, so you squeezed her hand to remind her it’s just you.

she smiled at you and took a deep breath, “ever since i could remember, i was always told, “you’ll know when they’re the one,” and i never understood that. i never felt complete until i saw you. when our eyes met, i knew after 3 seconds that you were the one. i’m blessed with the pleasure to know someone like you.” she looked up at you and saw you tearing up. “bro if you cry, i’ll cry,” she said laughing. “okay okay! no more crying.”

she took another shaky breath, “to be able to love and be loved by you. you are my sunrise and sunset filled with the most beautiful colors. you’re my peace with the world is too loud. your love is my turning page. you are the strongest person i know and i admire to be my best self everyday. i never doubted our love and will always consider myself lucky to love and learn from you. these past four years have been my favorite movie. i promise to love every single detail of you for the rest of my life.”

after you said your vows, paige was walking up to kiss you until you stopped her. “not until we say i do!” she looked at you with shock but kissed your knuckles on both hands. she leaned her forehead on yours once more. “see you at the alter,” then watched as you walked back to the venue’s house.

she didn’t want to take her eyes off of you. just wanted to stand there and admire you.

౨ৎ during the dance, you reserved chick-fil-a as a surprise for paige. she ran to you and grabbed your face to kiss you all over. her and kk were fighting over who was going to be the first to be served. spoiler alert: you got served first since they were too busy bickering. when you were eating your nuggets, paige noticed you had ranch on the corner of your mouth and kissed it off of you.

౨ৎ once your reception was over and almost all of your wedding guests have left, you and paige danced one last dance. your heels were long gone and paige was very tipsy. she held you so close to her chest that you could hear her heartbeat. you felt the breeze against your skin and closed

your eyes. paige was slowly guiding you in a circle while humming the song.

she kisses your head and said, “my wife.”

tagging: @urantisocialgay because i know you’ve been asking for this (:

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

Chapter Synopsis: After being yelled at one too many times by their strict Ubers teammate, Oliver Aiku enlists Ikki Niko in helping him get Shoei Barou a girlfriend, hoping beyond hope that that’s enough to get the guy to chill out a bit.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Barou x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.8k

Content Warnings: crack fic, barou is also my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader is kind of an npc in this icl 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, everyone is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), everyone gets slandered (mostly by aiku), god bless niko for being chronically online

A/N: there were a decent amt of people who wanted barou’s version plus i felt like writing it so he’s up next!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long just like the sae version and somehow it’s even sillier so…but yeah anyways this is the second entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️

Barou is yelling at them again. Aiku’s not sure what the big deal is this time — so what if Lorenzo spilled spaghetti sauce on the floor? He’s Italian, that’s part of his culture — but if he dares to speak up, Barou will single him out specifically, and then he’ll be treated like a little kid in timeout, which doesn’t sound like an ideal way to spend a Friday night.

It’s the four of them in the doghouse as usual — himself, Niko, Aryu, and Sendou, that is. The most ridiculous thing is that Lorenzo isn’t even there, though he’s the true target of Barou’s rage; unfortunately for his teammates, though, Lorenzo’s off getting his teeth polished or counting his money while cackling or whatever else it is that he does in his free time.

Honestly, none of them are really taking the theatrics seriously. Aryu’s fiddling with the ends of his hair, Niko’s standing there, staring at Barou with large, watery eyes, and Sendou’s glaring back at Barou with his arms folded over his chest. Aiku sighs, because that means an argument between the two is most likely impending, but unfortunately for him, he sighs a bit too loudly, and Barou whips around, jabbing a finger at him.

“What’s so exasperating, huh?” Barou says. “I bet you won’t be sighing when we have an insect infestation because none of you can be bothered to clean up that damn tomato shit that Lorenzo’s obsessed with!”

“It’s marinara,” Niko pipes up meekly. They all look at him with varying degrees of incredulity; he shrugs, adjusting the headphones around his neck self-consciously. “Lorenzo’s trying to teach me how to make it. Supposedly a typical spaghetti sauce has meat and vegetables added, but a good marinara is the base, so — um, anyways.”

Barou’s upper lip is curled into a sneer, and Aiku’s just about to thank Niko for taking the fall and turning Barou’s rage to him when he remembers that that’s markedly not how Barou operates. He’s too meticulous to forget the former recipient of his ire, not so quickly, and indeed, Barou is pointing at them both when he speaks next.

“That stain better be gone the next time I come in this room,” he says. He doesn’t say what will happen if it’s not, but given his authoritative voice and enormous physique, he usually doesn’t have to resort to making threats in order to be obeyed.

“Thank goodness,” Aryu says once Barou has left to complete his evening meditations. “Seems like Barou appreciated our elegant silence, Sendou. We’ve escaped reproach this time.”

“Yup,” Sendou says. Whistling nonchalantly, he sidles out of the room, and with a fluttering wave, Aryu follows suit. Aiku can’t even blame them, considering it’s what he would’ve done if he were in their place.

Glancing at Niko, who is now his greatest friend due to convenience alone, Aiku shakes his head, wondering what choice he made in life that led to his weekend plans amounting to cleaning sauce stains from a carpet with a little boy instead of partying or something.

“You got the bleach?” he asks. Niko nods miserably.

“Yeah, I got it. You’re good with scrubbing?” he says. Aiku’s shoulders cramp preemptively at the mere thought, but he doesn’t protest aloud.

“No other choice, right?” he says. “Off to work we go, then.” 

Your best friend has been begging you for days to try this new restaurant with her, and it’s only now that it’s Friday that you can’t come up with any more excuses to avoid it. The truth is that you don’t really have a reason to refuse her as many times as you have, but the thought of summoning up the wherewithal to get ready and go out for dinner instead of throwing on your pajamas and eating something on the couch with a movie in the background is excruciating. Besides, you know her tastes. She always takes you to insanely fancy locations where anything less than your best will be embarrassing, and the only saving grace is that your outings always end up being insanely cheap, as she refuses to spend more than the bare minimum no matter what.

“You’re serious?” she affirms, standing in front of your closet and sifting through your clothes. You’re sitting on your bed, legs crossed and your laptop on your lap as you try to finish up the essay you have due Monday before getting ready. “You’ll really go with me?”

“I just told you I would, didn’t I?” you say. “I wouldn’t let you go through my closet if I wasn’t being serious. Actually, I wouldn’t have let you into my house at all.”

“Your parents would’ve opened the door for me,” she says dismissively. “They love me.”

It’s true, they do love her as much if not more than they love you, so you have no rebuttal. She grins at you, tossing a shirt in your general direction. It hits the back of your laptop, landing in a heap on the floor, and you’re too busy to pick it up, so you just leave it there, too lost in thought to care. Just the conclusion, if I can finish that then I can do something fun without anything on my mind—

“Hurry up and get ready! We want to get a table, don’t we?” she says. It’s a pair of pants she flings your way this time, and her aim is far more superior, for they smack into your face, temporarily blinding you.

“If you don’t let me finish this essay, I won’t go with you,” you say, and she knows you mean it literally, so she immediately pretends to zip her lips, saluting at you.

“Finish away!” 

“Barou’s totally got a stick up his ass, don’t you think?” Aiku says after thirty minutes have passed and the stain is no smaller than before. 

“I don’t think I’d phrase it like that,” Niko says, pouring another cup of bleach on the carpet. Neither of them really know much about cleaning, so this is the best they’ve got, even though Aiku’s pretty sure Barou would pass out if he saw their method. “But yeah, he can be kind of uptight at times.”

“He’s pretty nice otherwise, though,” Aiku says thoughtfully. “It’s kind of a shame. I bet if he loosened up a bit, he’d be a downright enjoyable teammate. Besides the cleaning and all, he’s a cool guy.”

“I do like training with him,” Niko says. “When he’s not yelling at us, it’s fun. Following his regimen has made me a lot stronger.”

“Agreed,” Aiku says. That’s the one thing he’ll give Barou — the guy is a master with the training equipment. He’s introduced Aiku to machines he didn’t even know existed. “You know what he needs?”

“What?” Niko says. He’s scrubbing at the floor while Aiku’s sipping on a soda; theoretically, they’re supposed to be switching off, but Niko hasn’t complained yet, so Aiku’s not about to remind him that it’s well beyond time for his turn.

“Some pu—” Aiku cuts himself off when he remembers that he is talking to a child. Niko’s like twelve or something, so maybe phrasing it in that way isn’t the most appropriate thing to do. “—I mean, a beautiful and loving girlfriend.”

Niko tilts his chin up at him, which means he’s probably looking at him; it’s hard to tell with his overgrown bangs falling in his face. Aiku makes a mental note to suggest cutting Niko’s hair during the next team bonding night that Snuffy forces them into.

“I guess having someone like that would make anyone happier, even Barou,” he says.

“That’s what I’m getting at! I bet he’s just constantly stressed out, so he takes it out on us instead of finding a healthy outlet. Maybe dating someone will fix that and give him something to do besides soccer,” Aiku says.

“Is that your secret to always being so calm?” Niko says. Aiku nods.

“The more girls you have, the less you can worry about things like training. You’re too focused on making sure they’re all happy,” Aiku says.

“Woah,” Niko says. “That’s a really great way of looking at things.”

“Right?” Aiku says. “With Barou, though, we might be lucky if we can find even one girl willing to put up with him. He’s a bit of a work in progress, you know?”

“Totally,” Niko says. “What if he yells at her the way he yells at us?”

Aiku has a vision of some poor, innocent girl on the verge of tears as Barou rants about how she didn’t fold her laundry the right way or something. For some reason, she looks kind of like Niko — oh, that’s probably because Barou just yelled at Niko for that exact reason — but the image is enough for him to balk.

“She can come to us for comfort,” Aiku says decisively before once again remembering that Niko probably only popped out of the womb a scant few months prior. He needs to be more careful — this isn’t Sendou, who would’ve made at least ten innuendos even worse than his own by this point. “I mean, me.”

“That’s a good plan,” Niko says. “You’re really good with the whole advising and comforting thing. I bet you’d make her feel better for sure.”

Yeah, I’d make her feel better alright. This time Aiku manages to keep it to himself, only coughing slightly and nodding towards the bottle of bleach as an explanation.

“The only question is where in Blue Lock are we going to find a girl, let alone one willing to date Barou?” Aiku says.

“Well, Bastard München is playing PXG this weekend, and Manshine City is playing Barcha, so we’re technically off,” Niko says. “I think if we ask Snuffy, we can probably have a day out.”

“What if Ego gets mad?” Aiku says, although the idea is sound enough that he’s just jealous he didn’t come up with it himself. Niko hums, giving careful consideration to the notion.

“We can just blame it on Snuffy. What’s Ego going to do, fire him?” he says. 

A grin breaks out on Aiku’s face.

“Niko, kiddo—”

“I’m fifteen.”

“—you’re totally a genius. Let’s go!”

“What about the stain?” Niko says. Aiku glances at the still marinara-colored splotch on the carpet, and then he waves it off dismissively.

“If we can find Snuffy before Barou gets back, then it’s no longer our problem,” he says.

Niko looks unconvinced, but he’s sensible as well as genius-material, so he only follows after Aiku — albeit not without a final worried glance at the section of carpet which still smells suspiciously of tomatoes. 

“So what cuisine does this place have, anyways?” you say. You’ve finally finished and submitted your essay, and now you’re taking a shower. Your best friend has closed the lid of the toilet and is sitting on it while playing on her phone, apparently because she wants to be able to talk to you even while you’re showering, and since you have a curtain you don’t mind.

“No idea,” she says.

“No idea?” you say, squeezing shampoo into your palm. “Why do you want to go, then?”

“My dad’s Facebook friends have been raving about it,” she says. “His ex-boss said that it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city!”

“We’re going to dinner based on recommendations from your dad’s Facebook friends,” you repeat dryly. “Wow.”

“Look, he may have chronically underpaid my dad, but the ex-boss has great taste in food!” your best friend defends. “Apparently they fill up super fast, though, so we have to get there right when they open for dinner, or else we’re out of luck.”

“Is this you subtly trying to pressure me to shower faster?” you say.

“It’s not subtle,” she says. You scoff.

“I hope you know I’ll take even longer now,” you say.

“You better not!” 

Snuffy is obviously confused when the two of them approach him — Aiku’s not sure if it’s the question that has their coach confounded, though, or if it’s the admittedly odd combination that’s approached him.

“You guys want a night out of the facility?” Snuffy checks.

“Yes,” Aiku says.

“And…you want Barou to come?” Snuffy says. That could be another reason for the incredulity — ‘Barou’ and ‘fun’ are two words rarely if ever seen in the same sentence, unless your name is Yoichi Isagi, in which case just being on the same field as Barou is your idea of ‘fun.’ For normal people — i.e. those with names such as Oliver Aiku and Ikki Niko — those concepts don’t generally align, however, so Aiku can’t blame Snuffy for the weird face he’s making.

“Yes,” Niko says.

Snuffy stares at them for a moment longer, and then, to make things even stranger, he chuckles in a way that’s almost fond.

“It’ll be good for him to get out of here for a bit,” he says. “You two are great teammates for thinking of him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it one day, if not necessarily tonight. Go on, then, and have fun if you’d like.”

Aiku waits for the other shoe to drop, but Snuffy just returns to making a cup of coffee. It’s a little odd, given the later hour, but still, Aiku’s not one to count his blessings, so he motions for Niko to follow him, and with Snuffy’s official permission, the two of them march towards where Barou is probably doing his daily “fuck Yoichi Isagi” affirmations. They have that kind of weird relationship, after all. It’s unnecessarily complicated, but Aiku has observed during his time in Blue Lock that almost every single relationship between the members of the program follows such a mold. He’s given up on trying to figure any of it out, knowing it’s well beyond him.

“Are you ready?” Aiku says when they reached the closed door to the training room. Niko rolls his shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Niko says. Aiku decides he likes him, and that he should try to spend more time with the pipsqueak. Maybe he can be a mentor figure or a true role model for the younger player. He’d definitely do better at the job than, say, Aryu. Or Lorenzo, which is a more relevant concern, since apparently the two are cooking buddies, as per Niko’s marinara interlude during Barou’s earlier tantrum.

With a grim nod at Niko, Aiku swings open the door. Schooling his expression into a cheery grin, he calls out in a sing-song that really doesn’t spell anything but trouble:

“Oh, Barou!” 

You’ve made your best friend drive, since she’s the one who’s insisted on taking you out, which leaves you to play music and accomplish other such passenger-esque duties. You take full advantage of your freedom to be distracted, shuffling through playlists whenever you’re bored and scrolling through your best friend’s crush-of-the-week’s social media.

“He’s kind of ugly,” you say. She clicks her tongue.

“In a cute way, though, right?” she says. When you’re silent, she gasps. “Right?”

“Uh…” you trail off, zooming in on one of the photos. Something about him is reminiscent of a gerbil, and you can tell he’s short even before you swipe and see him in a photo with one of his friends, barely coming up to his shoulder. “There’s someone out there for everyone, I suppose.”

“That means you think he’s repulsive!” she accuses you.

“Repulsive’s a strong word,” you say. 

“Hideous?” she says.

“I can get behind that,” you say. “He reminds me of Tinkerbell.”

“Like the fairy, or our third grade teacher’s gerbil?” she says.

“The latter,” you say. “I’m glad you remembered her. That wouldn’t have been as funny if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t find it funny regardless,” she says, pulling into the parking lot and slowing the car to a crawl as she hunts for a space to pull in.

“Hm,” you say. “I did.”

“You know what? You’re not allowed to slander him until you find someone better for yourself. Girls in glass houses should not be throwing stones, and considering some of your exes, you’re in no position to talk,” she says.

“Low blow,” you say.

“No response? That’s what I thought,” she says. You scowl.

“Just park the car, you dumbass. 

“What the hell is going on?” Barou says, for probably the third or fourth time. Unfortunately, their attempt at kidnapping him didn’t go as planned, for neither Aiku nor Niko could lift Barou for any length of time, so now they were stuck with a supremely irritated striker following after them as they marched towards where the Blue Lock official parking was. 

Snuffy had given them the keys to his car, so at least they had a ride — if he weren’t such a good coach, Aiku would seriously question the man’s judgment. Niko ushers Barou into the backseat, claiming he already “called shotgun,” and then he dives into the passenger seat beside Aiku, fastening his seatbelt with a serious expression on his delicate face.

“We wanted to have a fun night out!” Aiku says, turning the child lock on so Barou can’t escape before reversing out of the garage.

“Huh?” Barou says. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. Also, why are we in Snuffy’s car?”

“He gave us the keys,” Niko says, like it’s obvious. In all fairness, it kind of is.

“He gave you two the keys,” Barou says. Aiku’s a responsible driver, so he doesn’t glance back at Barou, but he’s pretty sure that if he did, he’d be met with the kind of fearsome glare that made medieval-era peasants believe in the existence of creatures like trolls and dragons.

“Yes, he did,” Aiku says. “Told us to enjoy ourselves while we were at it.”

Barou sighs. “Say I believe that—”

“We’re telling the truth!” Aiku says.

“—uh-huh, sure. Anyways, where are we even going?” he says.

“Oh, I can answer that!” Niko says. “It’s this restaurant that my dad’s obsessed with. He’s been posting all over his Facebook about it. According to him, it’s the best value-for-money in the entire city.”

“At least you two are being frugal,” Barou says with a small ‘hmph.’ “How far is it?”

“Not too far,” Niko says. 

“Just sit back and relax, man! It’s a couple of friends going out for a meal. Totally normal!” Aiku says.

“Friends don’t kidnap one another to hang out,” Barou says.

“We didn’t kidnap you. Are you saying we’re friends, then?” Aiku says.

“I’m saying we’re not. You turned the child lock on, so that basically constitutes an abduction,” Barou says.

“I did that for Niko!” Aiku says, mentally patting himself on the back for the quick thinking.

“What? I’m fifteen, not five!” 

By the time your best friend finds somewhere to park, it’s already dark, and the spot is at the very edge of the lot, so then the two of you have to walk for another five minutes. She’s antsy by this point, but she does an admirable job of hiding it, only picking at her nails behind her back where she thinks you won’t see. 

“It’ll be alright,” you say as you reach the door to the restaurant. “I’m sure they’ll have space for two people, at least. Nowhere can be that busy, right?”

“I hope so,” she says, chewing on her lower lip.

You’re proven wrong almost as soon as you both walk into the establishment. Every single table has people sitting at it, and there’s a small crowd of people in the waiting area. Still, you and your best friend push past to where the hostess is standing. 

“Excuse me,” you say. “How long is the wait?”

“At least an hour,” the hostess says, her face wan.

“An hour?” your best friend says. “There’s nothing you can do?”

Of course, both of you know there isn’t, but it’s still disappointing when the hostess shakes her head regretfully.

“Would you like me to put your names down?” she says.

“Give us a minute,” you say. She nods, and you and your best friend walk a ways away. As soon as you’re out of the hostess’s earshot, you frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would genuinely be this busy.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting it either,” she says, exhaling heavily. “I would’ve been way more serious about being on time if I had.”

“What should we do now? I don’t mind waiting,” you say.

“It’s okay. I’m a little hungry, so we can go somewhere else and come back here another day,” she says.

“Are you sure?” you say.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s go,” she says. 

You’re heading towards the door when a robust voice stops you. At first, neither of you are sure if the speaker is referring to you, but when it becomes obvious he is, you turn around in confusion.

“Where are you guys going?” he says. It’s a man with dark hair and eyes like mismatched marbles, and he’s sitting at a table with two others. There’s a couple of empty seats, and he motions towards them. “We’ve been waiting for you two for forever!”

“Oh, you’re in their party?” the hostess says. You glance at your best friend, who mouths why not? at you, and then you smile at the hostess.

“Yes, we are,” you say.

“You should’ve said so from the start,” she says, shaking her head. “Right this way, please.”

You and your best friend follow after her, both of you more than a little lost at the turn of events, but who are you to turn down the offer? Sure, you don’t know any of the three, but at least this way you two didn’t drive out for no reason, and the restaurant’s crowded enough that if they have nefarious intentions, you should be able to get help relatively quickly.

As you sit down and the hostess offers you menus, you can’t help but glance at the three boys, wondering what exactly it is they want from you. Is this some elaborate scam? An effort to get you to pay for their dinner? You can’t tell. They’re unreadable, and all you can do is hope that the meal still goes as well as you had originally planned — otherwise, you’ll be really mad that you’re not at home instead. 

When Niko had first suggested calling ahead to make reservations, Aiku had privately considered him to be a nerd, and one of the idiotic variety, no less. A lethal combo. But outwardly he had nodded along and told him to go right ahead, mostly because it seemed like the kind of thing Barou would appreciate. Now, though, he’s glad that Niko had that kind of foresight, because the place is completely packed.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” the hostess says when they walk in and give her Barou’s name. Aiku doesn’t really know why Niko made reservations under Barou’s name, nor what the hostess means by the ‘rest of their party’, but she’s pretty, so he gives her a charming smile. She’s working now, so he can’t exactly push Barou towards her, but if he’s talking about himself…

She blushes and ducks her head, although the moment is ruined by Niko speaking up. 

“What do you mean, the rest of our party?” he says.

“You made a reservation for five, didn’t you?” she says, leading them to the table. Aiku exchanges looks with Barou, mostly because the two of them tower over the others, so it’s convenient, but Barou seems as confused as Aiku is. Both of them clearly heard Niko making the reservation for only three people, so how in the world had the hostess written down five?

“Uh,” Niko says, and then for some reason he’s turning towards Aiku for help? Aiku’s kind of distracted, though, both with celebrating the moment he just had with Barou and with discerning the color of lipstick the hostess is wearing (red or pink?), so when she directs her question to him, he admittedly panics a bit.

“Will the rest of them be arriving later?” she says.

“Yes,” Aiku says. Coral! That’s the shade he was looking for.

“No worries,” the hostess says. “Although you might want to tell them to hurry up, just in case.”

“Wait, what—?” Aiku begins, but she’s already dropping menus in front of them and racing off to take care of the next group of customers.

“You fucking donkey,” Barou said. “Who else is coming to this?”

“Nobody that I know of,” Niko says. “I only made a reservation for three. She must’ve gotten confused and written down five or something like that, but why’d you go along with it, Aiku?”

“Um,” Aiku says.

“What unparalleled eloquence,” Barou says. 

Aiku’s mind is racing. Firstly, he’s accidentally confused this poor hostess into expecting two more people, and secondly, how are he and Niko supposed to set Barou up with a girl in this kind of situation? The food may be great, but the ambiance isn’t exactly what they’re looking for.

Somehow, these two lines of thought get muddled into one solution, the catalyst of which is when he sees two girls heading towards the door, obviously disheartened by the long wait time for those idiots who didn’t make reservations.

Wait. If those two are girls, and two plus three is five, then Barou might just end this night no longer single!

Another quick recovery by Oliver Aiku. He’s getting better and better by the minute. 

“Hi,” the man who called you over says. “I’m Oliver Aiku.”

“Hi,” you say. The five-person table is a circle, and Aiku’s across from you; since it’s your fault that you’re sitting with these random guys instead of by yourselves, you squeeze between your best friend and the more intimidating-looking one, leaving her to be on the right side of the youngest boy in the group. “Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

“Likewise,” you say.

“I’m Niko,” the younger boy says. He has dark hair falling into a heart-shaped face, and you can’t fully see his eyes, but you think they might be some shade of bluish green. Idly, you wonder how his vision isn’t horrible given how overgrown his bangs are, but he doesn’t seem to be having any problems, so you suppose he must have some kind of method around it. “And that’s Barou.”

“I can introduce myself,” the one at your side snaps. He’s by far the most handsome of the trio, although you’re sure your best friend would disagree — she has bad taste, though, so that’s irrelevant — with a regal face and sharp eyes. His dark hair is spiky and his eyes are a vivid crimson, narrowed with irritation while his mouth tugs into a perfect frown. “My name is Barou.”

“It’s a pleasure, Barou,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Same here.”

More than being a pleasure, it’s a little tense, so you return to reading your menu, not knowing what else to say, hoping someone else says something soon and rescues you from the ensuing silence. 

This is bad. Almost as bad as Japan’s performance in the last U-20 World Cup, which occurred right before Aiku moved up and joined the team. Almost as bad as that stain Lorenzo’s marinara left on the carpet. It’s that level of catastrophic, because clearly, Barou will take a lot more encouragement than originally anticipated. Kicking Niko under the table, Aiku nods meaningfully at Barou, who is also reading his menu, sitting next to the girl who’s doing the same.

It’s the perfect opportunity for small talk. Occasionally, the girl will peek at him over the top of his menu, so she’s clearly not affronted by him — either that, or she’s deathly afraid that Barou will kill her and is making sure he doesn’t do that when she’s distracted. If the latter is the case, well, it’s not entirely unfounded.

Solving the conundrum which has presented itself is even more difficult than their game against PXG was. How is Aiku supposed to flirt with someone for Barou? She’ll just end up liking him, which is rather counterintuitive, given that the end goal is to get Barou a girlfriend. 

If only Barou weren’t so stubborn! Aiku’s put him in the perfect spot, but instead of just reaching out his hand and snatching the opportunity up with both metaphorical hands, he’s sitting there, utterly absorbed by the intricacies of the restaurant’s entrees, which Aiku surmises are no doubt fascinating to people with such sensibilities.

It’s the girl, Y/N, who breaks the silence again. Clearing her throat and setting the menu aside, her eyes dart around the table before settling on Aiku. A natural consequence, given his dashing looks and genial personality, but not the one they’re hoping for at the moment, not in the slightest.

“We don’t know you, right?” she says.

“I don’t think so,” Aiku says. Has he gone out with her before? He’s pretty sure he’d have remembered if he had, but you can never be careful these days.

“Then why’d you invite us to sit with you?” she says.

Aiku’s in desperate need of an assist, and there’s only one person who’ll reliably send him one. Besides, the kid owes him a favor, so he doesn’t even feel guilty when he makes a face at Niko, as if indicating that he should be the one to answer the query.

“It was Barou’s idea!” Niko says.

“Excuse me?” Barou says.

“What?” Aiku says. 

“Yeah, it was. He felt bad that you guys were going to leave without eating, and we accidentally booked a table for five instead of three, like we originally planned, so he told Aiku to stop you guys before you were gone,” Niko explains.

“Oh, that was very sweet of you!” Y/N says. “Thank you so much. We both really appreciate it.”

Under the table, Aiku gives Niko a thumbs-up. Niko returns the gesture in kind, though neither of them let their true emotions show on their faces, which must be carefully schooled into blankness so that nobody else catches on to their scheming. 

“You’re welcome,” Barou says before freezing as he realizes that he’s somehow fallen for Niko’s lie, despite being there to witness the truth of the events. “Wait, no, it wasn’t—”

“Barou’s super considerate,” Niko continues, cutting Barou’s correction off. Aiku could just about cry. Niko’s a natural-born talent! He could never have predicted the younger boy’s sheer skill at this kind of thing. “Do you watch soccer?”

“Not really,” Y/N says thoughtfully. “I’ve never understood it well enough to become an avid fan, and my father prefers baseball, so it’s not something my family is into. I think it’s really cool, though!”

“Barou plays,” Niko says.

“So do you guys,” Barou says.

“Yeah, but you’re sitting next to her,” Niko says. “And you’re the king, right? Who better than you to explain the sport?”

“She didn’t ask for that,” Barou says, glowering at Niko and Aiku alike. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N says, even going so far as to smile at Barou. With a final suspicious glare at the two of them, Barou begins to explain the rules of the game to her, and Aiku takes advantage of his distraction to high-five Niko.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. “Where’d you learn this shit?”

“I watch a lot of anime,” Niko whispers back. “This is a classic set up for a twelve-episode romance that teaches the viewers about friendship, love, and what it means to grow up.”

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Aiku says after digesting this latest revelation, finding that it makes a surprising amount of sense. “But hey, whatever works!”

“Exactly,” Niko says. “Do you think it’s weird if I order chicken fingers from the children’s menu?”

“Order whatever you want, kid,” Aiku says. “You deserve it. I’ll even pay.”

“Yay!” Niko says. “Chicken fingers it is.”

Aiku doesn’t even mind treating him. If this is successful, then he’ll buy Niko all of the chicken fingers in the world in thanks. 

You’re more than a little grateful that Niko has given you something to talk to Barou about. Your best friend is busy texting her crush, the gerbil-looking one, who has apparently responded to her story, so you would’ve had to sit there in silence until she finished up or someone took pity on your helpless self. In this way, though, it’s much more natural, and even if it really was just an example of Niko feeling bad for you, it didn’t come across as such.

“You really scored a goal against the Japanese U-20 team?” you say after Barou has finished a long-winded explanation on the rules of soccer and some of the highlights of his career in the sport. In truth, you mostly tuned out the more technical details, but you have to admit that some of the things he’s mentioned about himself are rather interesting.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Wow,” you say. “You must be good, then.”

He shrugs in acknowledgement. “I’m good.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s bragging or anything like that. He’s just acknowledging an inevitable truth. He’s good. The way he says it, no one can deny it — not that you would’ve. Based on his build alone, you’d have expected him to have talent as an athlete; the things he’s mentioned have only been confirmation of that initial prediction, rather than blowing your mind in any significant way.

“Hi!” Your waitress’s arrival with a tray full of drinks cuts your conversation with Barou short, which you’re surprised to find you’re a little put-out by, at least until the grumble of your stomach reminds you of why you came to the restaurant in the first place. “Are you all ready to order?”

“I want the chicken fingers,” Niko says.

“The chicken fingers from the twelve and under menu? How old are you?” she says.

“Twelve,” Niko says. You frown, leaning closer to Barou in order to murmur in his ear.

“Is he actually?” 

Barou shakes his head ever so slightly. “No, but if that’s the only way he can get chicken fingers…”

“That’s a fair point,” you say. The waitress seems to share your doubts, but then Aiku flashes her a warm grin.

“My little brother’s heard so much about your entrees, and he can’t wait to try the, er, chicken fingers. Yes. The chicken fingers. He’s been talking about them all week,” he explains.

“Are they—?” you begin.

“They met like a month ago,” Barou says, rolling his eyes. “No relation whatsoever.”

“I see,” you say. You almost have to admire the lengths they’re willing to go to, as well as how natural they are with it. “Huh. I guess if it works, it works.”

“One order of chicken fingers, then!” the waitress says, jotting it down on her notepad, returning Aiku’s grin with her own. He has that kind of enviable charisma that lets him get away with a lot more than he should, and you’re more than a little jealous. “And the rest of you?”

You all give her your orders, and she promises she’ll be back quickly before running back to the kitchen. Once again, you’re left to your own devices, and given that your best friend is still texting that guy, you decide you’ll try and talk to the others at your table.

“Barou told me you guys are all in some program called Blue Lock together,” you say. “What’s that like? It sounded super intense.”

“It is,” Aiku scoffs. “I don’t even know if we’re supposed to be here at the moment.”

“We got permission from our coach,” Niko says. “But the guy who runs the program is kind of…what’s the word?”

“Freaky?” Aiku says.

“That works,” Niko says.

“I didn’t realize we were dining with rebels,” you say. 

“For the record, I was dragged into coming by those two,” Barou says.

“We didn’t actually drag him,” Aiku reassures you. “I mean, we tried, but he’s super heavy.”

“Too much training,” Niko says. “Barou, you should flex for Y/N — I mean, for everyone.”

“Hell no,” Barou says. “In public? Don’t be shameless.”

“So you’ll do it in private, then?” Aiku says. 

“That’s — that’s not what I meant!” Barou sputters. “I won’t do it at all!”

“Y/N, if you get a subscription to Blue Lock TV, then forget about asking Barou to flex. You can just watch him work out. He does it shirtless,” Aiku says. You choke on your water.

“What are you, some kind of salesman?” you say, coughing to dislodge the droplets of liquid scratching at your throat. “Was inviting us to sit with you a kindness or an advertisement?”

“Can’t it be both?” Aiku says.

“No, it cannot, you fucking donkey!” Barou says. “Please ignore him. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“You do train without a shirt on, though,” Niko says. “Quite often. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shirtless content on Blue Lock TV…Chris Prince stripped at one point, I’m pretty sure, and more than one of the Bastard München boys have had locker room features. I guess PXG is the only team without any fan service, since Barcha has Lavinho as a coach, and we all know how he is.”

“Good for them. You gotta give credit where it’s due,” Aiku says. 

“Agreed,” Niko says. “Hey, Barou, didn’t you take your shirt off after scoring in the game against the U-20s, too? Is it like an established habit or something?”

“Enough about my shirt,” Barou says through gritted teeth.

“Or lack thereof,” Aiku adds. There’s a baleful aura emanating off of Barou, and he doesn’t even need to say anything before Aiku winces like he’s been cowed. “Sorry. The opportunity presented itself.”

“Both of you are on thin ice. First you abducted me, and now you’re going on about this dumbass subject? And that’s not to mention the sauce stain from earlier. I bet neither of you cleaned it up,” Barou says. 

Aiku and Niko both look like they have been caught committing some crime. Barou’s about to snap, it’s very obvious, but you find his friends’ antics to be so amusing that you hesitantly pat him on the shoulder.

“Ah, I think they’re just teasing you. It’s common amongst people who are close to one another! I always make fun of my best friend for her taste in men,” you say.

“And I make fun of yours right back,” your best friend says, not even looking up from her phone. You roll your eyes at this.

“See? It’s really alright,” you say. “At the least, if you’re upset because we’re here, then don’t be. Neither of us mind. I mean, she’s not even paying attention to us. Too busy texting that Meriones unguiculatus of a man she deems crush-worthy.”

“Fuck you,” your best friend says. She ordinarily would have no idea what Meriones unguiculatus means, but given the context, you’re sure she’s figured it out.

“Don’t be mad because I’m right,” you say. “Anyways, like I was saying, it’s all good.”

There’s a strained moment where none of you know what Barou will do, but then he nods, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll let it slide, just this once. But the two of you better behave from now on, you got it?”

Aiku and Niko both seem to be so amazed that it’s a wonder they don’t salute at Barou’s barked-out order. Shaking your head and laughing, you decide it might be for the best if you try to talk to Barou yourself and leave his slightly problematic companions out of the conversation.

“So,” you say, to him and only him. “What’s the story behind the sauce stain?” 

“Holy shit,” Aiku says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“She’s a genius. A god. A fucking Barou whisperer,” he says.

“I know,” Niko says.

“What are the odds that we managed to find the exact girl that could put up with his bullshit?” Aiku says.

“Pretty high!” a new voice chimes in. It’s Y/N’s friend; she never introduced herself, and it doesn’t seem like she’s inclined to, but she inconspicuously slides her chair closer to where he and Niko are talking. “You guys are trying to set your friend up with Y/N, huh? Good luck. She only likes ugly dudes.”

“Barou’s…kind of ugly?” Niko tries. Aiku snorts.

“Let’s keep it honest here,” he says. “Anyways, what were you talking about earlier? Barou’s a nutcase. It’s, like, a miracle that Y/N’s managing to have a conversation with him.”

“Maybe he’s like that with you, but to me, he seems to be the type that’s totally respectful to women,” Y/N’s friend says, brandishing her index finger in the air as if she’s making a particularly salient point. “The bigger the muscles, the bigger the heart, isn’t that ”

“Is that a real saying?” Niko says.

“No, I just made it up,” Y/N’s friend says. “But it kind of fits in this instance, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Aiku says. “But do you mean to say Barou would be this nice to any girl?”

“It’s not like I know him personally. Shouldn’t you be able to answer that better than me?” Y/N’s friend says.

“There aren’t any girls in Blue Lock,” Niko says. “This is the first time we’ve seen him interact with one, so we actually have no idea.”

“Ah,” she says. “That explains a lot. Anyways, yeah, if I had to guess, he would be.”

“Hm,” Aiku says. This throws a definite wrench in their plans — up until this point, he had been convinced that there were sparks flying between Y/N and Barou, mostly because he had never seen Barou so gentle and quick to calm down in his life. Yet, if Y/N’s friend is telling the truth, and he has no reason to think she isn’t, then this is actually just his true personality.

On the one hand, it’s comforting to know that Barou isn’t constantly on the verge of an aneurysm, and indeed can even be persuaded towards kindness in his day-to-day life. On the other, it doesn’t solve their problem, which is getting him to calm down when he’s interacting with his fellow Ubers teammates.

Aiku comes to a decision relatively quickly. It’s his experience as a captain which lends him that swiftness; on the field, split-second decisions are the only way to go. He’s good at taking information and rapidly synthesizing it to come up with workable solutions, and though this isn’t a soccer match, the stakes are almost just as high.

The facts of the situation are as follows: Y/N does not seem to mind talking to Barou, and given that they’ve been engaged in conversation almost this entire time, the inverse is also likely true. Furthermore, she’s proven able to persuade him not to freak out at himself and Niko when they were pushing his buttons, which is something no one has ever managed before and is somewhat the end goal of the outing. Of course, she apparently only likes ugly guys, and Barou’s far from ugly — as a fellow member of the non-ugly community, Aiku is confident in saying this — but things like that are subjective, so he decides he shouldn’t worry too much about that aspect.

Then there are the theories, namely Y/N’s best friend’s one about how any girl might have a similar effect on Barou. This could be true, or it could also not be, but Aiku only has one data point and a limited amount of time to work with, so despite the likely veracity, he has to set it aside as false for the time being. It’s not like there’s an endless supply of girls just hanging around for him to test out Barou’s reactions with, so in this moment, he’s deeming Y/N L/N as a special case, an outlier, and this can only lead to one conclusion:

Barou is totally into her. 

“Two younger sisters, really?” you say. While your best friend has been talking to Aiku and Niko in hushed tones, you’ve been preoccupied with Barou, who’s proven himself to be nothing like his first impression. You had expected him to be fussy and rude and intimidating, and while the latter adjective certainly still applies, he’s kind instead of spiteful and almost shy instead of brash.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice, although his face does not shift in the slightest. “They’re much smaller, so I look after them a lot — when I’m home, anyways. Obviously, I haven’t seen them since I’ve been at Blue Lock.”

“How sweet of you,” you say. “I bet your mother appreciates you a lot.”

“I try to help her whenever I can,” he says.

You’re about to internally swoon, but then you stop yourself. So what if he’s athletic, helps his mother, is tall, handsome, kind, muscular, and supposedly good with kids? That doesn’t mean anything. He probably has a girlfriend, anyways, given all of these positive attributes—

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you say, standing up. Your best friend looks over at you in concern, for she knows of your distaste for public restrooms, and then she, too, stands.

“Want me to come?” she says.

“Yes,” you say, striding off without further explanation. As soon as the two of you are far enough from the table, you give her a distressed look. “I need help.”

“What’s up?” she says.

“I think—”

“Are you into Barou?” she asks, cutting you off. You blink at her.

“How did you know?” you say.

“You’ve spent almost the entire time talking only to him. It’s a little obvious,” she says.

“Oh, no,” you say. “He’s definitely caught on, then!”

“It’s not a big deal. According to Aiku and Niko, he’s single, so that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about, and besides, if that’s the case, then he’s fair game, isn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being interested in someone,” she says. 

“He’s single? How?” you say. “You’re telling me no one’s been interested in him yet? That’s impossible.”

“There is the whole ‘locked away in a facility with zero girls’ aspect to be considered…” she says.

“Well, that’s true,” you say, feeling dumb for having forgotten that. “Do you think he’s interested in me?”

“He’s been talking to you back, right? That’s a good sign, especially since he’s been ignoring his friends to do so,” she says. “There’s a decent chance. If anything, does he seem like the kind of guy that would be mean about rejecting you? You should just ask him for his number when we get back.”

“Me? Ask for his number?” you say.

“I’ve heard girls have high success rates when they approach guys that they’re into. What’s the worst that can happen? Either way, the three of them are heading back to some weird facility after tonight, so we can just leave and never see them again if it’s awkward,” she says.

You mull this over. Nothing she’s saying is wrong, and anyways, it’s been a while since you dated someone. Besides, you’ll probably not meet someone like Barou again for a long, long time, and when you really think about it, you’d rather live with a rejection than a what-if scenario floating around in your mind for the rest of your life.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll do it, but that means you have to dump the gerbil dude and move on.”

“Did that earlier. I couldn’t stop thinking of Tinkerbell the gerbil whenever I saw his profile picture; it totally killed the mood. Thanks a lot,” she says.

“It’s my pleasure,” you say. “Now, let’s go back. I have a number to get!”

“Um, hold on,” she says. “I do actually have to pee, and the bathroom doesn’t seem too dirty.”

You sigh, because now that you’re this pumped up, you don’t want to delay any longer, but you’re not about to abandon her, so you nod towards the door.

“I’ll wait here, then. Be quick!” 

“Well, well, well,” Aiku says. “Who would’ve thought we’d get to see the day?”

“What are you talking about?” Barou says when he notices that both Aiku and Niko are looking at him.

“What aren’t we talking about?” Aiku says. 

“It’s Y/N,” Niko says, defusing the volatile atmosphere rather efficiently. Aiku hands him a French fry off of his plate as a form of praise; accepting it happily, Niko chews and swallows before continuing. “You like her, right?”

“What? No,” Barou says quickly — too quickly, which means the answer is the opposite of what he’s just said. Aiku steeples his fingers together, because he couldn’t have imagined things going any better, and he feels like he’s entitled to a villainous pose or two every now and again. 

“You’ve been talking to her the entire time we’ve been eating, and you didn’t yell at her when she told you to calm down,” Aiku says.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Barou says.

“I guess it’s for the better,” Niko says. “Her friend told us she has a boyfriend.”

Aiku’s about to reprimand him for making things up, but before he can, he sees out of the corner of his eye that the tips of Barou’s ears have turned a surprisingly light and rosy pink, and then he can only shake his head in amazement. Niko’s really fucking good at this. Aiku almost wonders if he should ask the kid for anime recommendations or something.

“Really?” Barou says. 

“Really,” Niko says.

“That’s — I mean, it’s none of my business, so why are you telling me?” Barou says.

“You’re awfully upset if that’s the case,” Aiku points out.

“I’m not upset!” Barou says. “Just…I wasn’t expecting her not to be single, that’s all.”

“Expecting, or hoping?” Aiku says. Barou glares at him but does not respond, which tells Aiku all he needs to know. “It’s okay for you to have a crush on her. She seems nice enough.”

“Yeah,” Niko says. “If you guys get along, then there’s no harm in just asking her out. We’re going back to Blue Lock after dinner anyways, so it’s not like you’ll see her in the future if you don’t want to. Can you live with yourself if you don’t give it a shot?”

“Aren’t you a king?” Aiku urges. “What kind of king doesn’t put his best foot forward at all times?”

“The kind of king that respects other people’s relationships, you chewed up wad of spearmint gum,” Barou says.

“Oh, I was just making that up,” Niko says. “I wanted to see how you’d react. She’s definitely single.”

“You—!”

Aiku and Niko are saved from another one of Barou’s tirades by the arrival of Y/N and her friend. With a final malevolent sneer, Barou continues to talk to Y/N, who seems eager to pick up where they left off. Aiku high-fives Niko under the table.

“You’re a genius, buddy,” he says.

“Does this mean you’ll buy me dessert, too?” Niko says.

“If you’ll share with me, then sure.”

“Deal.” 

“When should I ask him for his number? It’ll be awkward if I do it in front of everyone, I think,” you say.

“Why would it be awkward?” she says. “I’m not about to judge you. I already know you’re going to do it.”

“I was talking about Aiku and Niko,” you say, though you’re specifically referring to Aiku — there’s a sense of naïveté to Niko, so the thought of being so bold in front of him doesn’t make you squeamish, but it’s a difference case with his counterpart. Oliver Aiku has a sort of suaveness to him that makes you feel as though he’s not been rejected once in his life, and that’s more than a little terrifying. What might such a master say about your feeble attempts at flirting? You don’t want to imagine it. The mere beginnings of the thought are preemptively giving you hives, so having the thought fully formed, or heaven forbid the actual event occurring…you shudder at the plethora of side effects you’ll no doubt undergo.

“That’s fair,” she says. “I can distract them, if you want. While we’re getting dessert, I’ll tell Aiku I’m having car trouble and ask if he can take a look. He seems like the kind of guy that would fall for that. I don’t know what to do about Niko, though…”

“He’ll probably go with Aiku, but even if he doesn’t, I think it’ll be fine if it’s just him there,” you say. “He’s pretty harmless.”

“You better not wimp out, then! If I have to embarrass myself by pretending to know nothing about cars, then the least you can do is actually ask for his number,” she says.

“I’ll do it!” you say. She obviously doesn’t believe you, so you pout. “Promise I will.”

“Fine,” she says. 

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine!” she says again. “Just give me a second before we go back, then. I need to think of what kinds of issues my car will be having…” 

“Hey, Aiku,” Y/N’s friend says. The entire table falls silent, including Aiku himself — he’s more than a little confused about what she could want with him. After all, he’s not done anything that would seem like he’s trying to pursue her, so there’s no reason for her to believe he’s interested, and it’s not like they’re close enough for her to be talking to him in specific.

“What’s up?” he says.

“My car is making a weird sound when it starts. I was going to wait to ask my dad when I got home, but if you know anything about cars, could you maybe…?” she says.

Aiku knows nothing about cars, and he’s about to tell her as much, but then Niko of all people is answering. He hasn’t heard the boy talk this much since they met, which means he’s really getting into this.

“Sure, we can both take a look while we wait for dessert to come,” he says. It’s suspicious, because if Aiku knows nothing about cars, then Niko’s understanding has to be in the negatives. The kid doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet, so how would he be of any help? Unless this is another skill he’s picked up from watching anime, in which case it seems like that’s another hobby Aiku needs to take up.

“Thanks,” Y/N’s friend says, clearly relieved. “Y/N, do you mind staying back so no one takes our table?”

“Barou, keep her company,” Niko says. “We don’t want them thinking we’re the dine-and-dash type.”

“It’s okay with me,” Y/N says before Barou can argue, which effectively shuts Barou up. Aiku’s beloved teammate only grunts in agreement, watching the trio out of the corner of his eyes as they scurry out of the restaurant and begin to wander about aimlessly in the parking lot.

“Can you, uh, describe this noise to me?” Aiku says. It’s not like that knowledge will really change much for him, but he thinks that it might be better if he at least pretends to put forth some effort into assisting the girl. After all, it’d be bad for business if he gets flamed as the rude, unhelpful type.

“Huh? Oh, I made that up,” she says.

“As I expected,” Niko says.

“What? Why would you do that?” Aiku says. Then he comes to a realization, and it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Hold on just a second, I’m not the one looking for—”

“That was a great method of leaving Y/N and Barou alone,” Niko says, cutting Aiku off before he can continue to embarrass himself. “Now they can figure things out between themselves.”

“Right?” Y/N’s friend says. “There’s only so much they can do when we’re all sitting there.”

“Yeah, awesome idea,” Aiku says, relieved to hear that she’s on their side. Girls take their friends’ opinions seriously. If Y/N’s best friend approves of Barou, then that’s a plus in Barou’s favor, and given Barou’s uniqueness, he needs all of the pluses he can get.

“And just so you know, you’re not my type, so don’t take any of this in a weird way. I just want Y/N to be happy,” she continues.

“Duly noted,” Aiku says. 

“Sorry I wasn’t faster in cutting you off,” Niko whispers when Y/N’s friend pulls out her phone and begins to play on it again. Aiku shrugs.

“No worries. Nobody’s perfect,” he says. “Although, honestly? If this night ends up the way we want it to, then I’d say you’re pretty damn close regardless.” 

“I’m really sorry,” Barou says as soon as your best friend, Aiku, and Niko have exited the building. 

“For what?” you say. The crowd is dwindling, for the restaurant is nearing its closing time, but it’s still busy enough that you have to stay close to him in order to be able to hear what he’s saying. Or maybe that’s an excuse you’ve made for yourself; either way, he doesn’t pull back, so you remain in the comfortable space between you both.

“Aiku,” he says. “Also Niko, but mostly Aiku.”

“Why? He’s not done anything too horrible,” you say. “He’s pretty funny. And Niko seems like a nice boy.”

“They have this idea in their mind,” he says. “It’s totally stupid, but that’s why they’re acting like this. They’re not usually quite as idiotic.”

“What do you mean?” you say. You almost want to tell him to hurry up so you can ask for his number before the others come back and your best friend gets upset with you, but you’d rather listen to him talk, and anyways once you ask him for his number there’s a chance things will go wrong, so you want to soak in these last few seconds before that happens.

“I mean, you know,” he says, and then he’s turning a color you never would’ve expected from someone as reputedly tough as him. “Just that they think I like you.”

“Like me?” you say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like I’m into you or something.”

You had hoped for it, but not seriously considered it — although, the teasing and whatnot do make a little more sense now that he’s added this context to it. If Aiku and Niko think he might be into you…you know you shouldn’t be fanciful, that it’ll eventually lead to disappointment, but you want to. You really want to, so when you next speak it’s tentative but optimistic.

“If you are,” you begin, nervous more than anything, though you’re certain the only cure is getting this over with, “I am, too. Into you, I mean.”

Barou’s lips are still parted as if he’s about to say something, but no words escape him. He just sits there and stares at you, as if you’ve said something profound or shocking or both. Probably both. You giggle, shifting in your seat and adjusting your position, because seeing him like this is endearing as much as it is uncomfortable.

“If you’re not, it’s alright, but my friend told me I should ask you for your number or something, so I don’t have any regrets when we leave,” you say. “She’s right, too. I’d have felt horrible forever if I never said anything.”

He’s still silent. You question if you’ve somehow caused him to malfunction, so you nudge his foot with your own under the table. This does nothing to break him out of his daze, and then you realize he’s probably trying to figure out how to best reject you, so you sigh.

“It’s okay to say no. There’s no expectation on my part. I just wanted to get it out there,” you say.

“No!” he says.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t have to be exuberant about it,” you mutter to yourself before smiling. “That’s okay, though! Thank you for listening and talking to me—”

“I mean, yes. No. I don’t know which question I’m supposed to be answering!” he says. “I do like you. That’s what I’m trying to say, but you just said so many things that I didn’t know what to respond to.”

“You like me?” you say. You had never in your wildest fantasies imagined someone like Barou being into you. It was the kind of thing that just didn’t happen, and yet, somehow, it had. Barou liked you. 

“I guess so,” he says. “That’s how Aiku would phrase it, I think. I enjoy talking to you, and you have nice table manners. You kept your hands and surroundings clean, and you didn’t spill anything, which is more than can be said about a lot of people. I really appreciate that kind of trait in a person.”

“Uh, thanks?” you say, because you’ve not really been complimented on your table manners before, but it’s kind of sweet. “Yeah, thanks. I’d compliment you back, but there’s so many things to say that I wouldn’t know where to start…”

“How about with your phone number?” he says. You’re pretty sure that that’s uncharacteristically bold of him, because his eyes widen as soon as he comprehends what he’s said, but he doesn’t take it back. Instead, he waits, his hands folded carefully in his lap as he watches you, probably wondering what you’ll say in response to the request.

Smiling at him, you pull out your phone and open your hand, waiting for him to give you his. 

“You got her number?” Aiku says as they’re driving home. Niko’s in the backseat this time, mostly because he offhandedly mentioned feeling nauseous after eating and Aiku has no interest in getting vomit all over him. “Way to go, man.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Barou says, gazing out of the window mysteriously. “I can’t exactly take her on dates or anything while I’m stuck in Blue Lock.”

“If you get Snuffy’s permission, you could,” Aiku says.

“We probably shouldn’t abuse that,” Niko says. “Otherwise, Ego will come up with some insane punishment for all of us. The guy’s a super-freak. I’m sure he’s got some crazy stuff stored away.”

“Very true,” Aiku says. “Don’t worry too much, though, Barou. If she’s the one, she won’t mind waiting.”

“How can I know if she’s the one when we’ve only met once? You’re delusional,” Barou says.

“It’s pretty simple,” Aiku says. “Do you want her to be?”

The moonlight hits Barou in a particularly elegant way at that moment. Aiku’s suddenly not surprised that Niko’s anime intelligence worked so well — Barou seems straight out of a girlish romance novel or TV show or something along those lines just then.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Then that’s that!” Aiku says, pulling into the garage and putting Snuffy’s car in park. “Trust me, there was major chemistry there, so I’m sure she’s of the same opinion.”

“It’ll work out,” Niko agrees. He’s clearly feeling much better now that they’re not in the car, his steps light and bouncy, his lips curving upwards at the corners. “You’re a great guy, Barou. We were talking about it earlier.”

Barou scoffs. “Of course I am.”

“Classic Barou,” Aiku says, throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulder. “So humble.”

“Get off of me,” Barou grumbles, shoving Aiku away, though there’s a marked gentleness to it that tells Aiku their plan worked. He’s excited to see the long-term effects — if only one dinner with Y/N was enough for Barou to relax this much, then the duration of their relationship might be akin to a vacation for the rest of the Ubers.

That night, Aiku and Niko are brushing their teeth in the bathrooms together, since nobody else is up and there’s a certain camaraderie built between them after their adventure.

“We did good today, Niko,” Aiku says after spitting his toothpaste into the sink. 

“Agreed,” Niko says.

The door slams open right after he does, which is horribly ironic timing, because it reveals a furious Barou. He’s already enormous, but his fury causes him to swell until his proportions are vaguely Hulk-like and entirely terrifying. Both Aiku and Niko glance at him in confusion, because he should have no reason to be upset, and then, right before he can start yelling, it hits them like a truck.

“Hey, you donkeys,” Barou hisses. “Did you think you could distract me by taking me to dinner? That stain is still there. Can neither of you do anything for yourselves? I’m going to kill you both, mark my words!”

Aiku groans. Niko face-palms.

Fuck. 

[andhumanslovedstories]

At 6:30 this morning, one of our patients suddenly needed a new indwelling urinary catheter because the old one fell out. I have many fine qualities as a person and a nurse. Finding urethras is not one of them. Not even at the best of times, and this urethra was not having the best of times. At one point I was holding a flashlight and getting so so close to her groin as I desperately tried to figure out what was a labial fold, what was clit, what was vaginal, and what was just a LOT of swelling. Luckily there was a foley whisper who took a glance and got it in under a minute. Fantastic. Bless. Genuine awe.

By this point it is 7:10 which means we were supposed to start handing off our patients ten minutes ago. We’ve got four patients to give away to four different nurses, all of whom are already getting report from someone else. We finally snag one of them, and I’m giving report on a completely different patient. This patient’s one goal has been to leave the hospital this morning. I tell this to the day nurse. We walk into the patient’s room. He is holding pressure on his bleeding arm because he has gone ahead and removed both of his IVs. There is more blood happening than any of us, including him, anticipated. Like not a life threatening amount of blood. But enough blood that when you walk into a room and see it unprompted, you know that’s gonna be the next ten minutes of your life.

I have three more nurses to give report to. I get a call from lab that one of the three patients I’m still responsible for has a critical lab value. This patient is not either of the two previous patients. The fourth patient was sleeping like a little angel, which was good because at that point if anything else happened, I would have sprinted out, shouting, “your problem now!!”

Anyway that was my trainee’s second ever night shift.

[whenikissedthegiyuu]

Kinktober 2024

Edging w/ Ryoumen Sukuna

word count 1k

18+ mdni. fem!reader, smut, monsterfucking bc i just had to write true form sukuna, edging, fingering, size kink if you squint, pet names (pretty, good girl, darling, little one), squirting, written in 2nd pov

kinktober 2024 mlist can also read on ao3

Sukuna tsked in your ear as his fingers slowly circled your puffy clit. You whined softly in protest, your wrists bound by his hand behind your back. He had been teasing you for what felt like like hours for you, stopping his movements whenever you were close, his punishment for catching you touching yourself when he had strictly prohibited it. He had more than enough hands and cocks to keep you satisfied, he insisted at the beginning of your relationship.

His third hand was wrapped around your neck, keeping your head tilted back against his shoulder, fingers pressing gently to the sides of your throat. His last hand was holding onto your waist to keep you in place, even though your legs were hooked over his, so you really had nowhere to go anyways.

“Sukuna…” You whined, turning your head in search of his lips, earning a harsh tug to make you face forward again. “Please, can I come?”

He slapped your clit. “You can beg better than that, can’t you?” He hummed against your temple. “Come on, pretty. You were so mouthy earlier. I thought you would take your punishment like a good girl.”

You nodded eagerly, sniffing softly as he held your legs spread open. His fingers moved away from your clit to grab at your inner thighs. You moaned and leaned back against his shoulder, hips bucking into the air.

“I’m a good girl.” You hiccuped. His hands kept groping your thighs, squeezing them before lowering his hands close to your cunt.

“Damn right you are, darling.” He slipped two fingers over your folds, spreading your wetness before he tapped your entrance, lightly dipping in his fingertips before slipping them inside. “Look at you, taking my fingers so well. What a good fucking girl.”

His words went straight to your clit. You pressed your thighs together as your orgasm neared, trapping his hand between them. He pried your legs open again with ease. “Is it too much?” He mocked. “You’re clenching around my fingers. Are you close?”

He slipped his fingers out and spread your lips, leaving you gasping for air as he ruined yet another orgasm for you. His middle finger collected your wetness, then he brought it up to smear it on your bottom lip.

“Too bad you’re not going to cum that easily.” He growled against the back of your neck. His name left your lips in a sob, his grip of your wrists tightening when you tried to move your hands.

Having a lover with four arms was a blessing and a curse, in this moment it was the latter for you. He could easily cup your breasts in his hands and rub his thumbs over the sensitive nipples, while also keeping his grip on your throat and your thigh. Your eyes rolled back at his touch not being enough, but also too much as you felt your cunt pulsing when pinched your nipples between his thumb and index finger.

He edged you so many times already, allowing you to feel the beginnings of your orgasm as it dangled right in front of you, only to pull his fingers away right when you were about to finish. His thumb moved to your jaw, tracing it so gently, as if there was anything gentle about the way he was punishing you.

“Please.” You whimpered, feeling his thumb pause. “Please, please, ‘kuna.” You hiccuped as your eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, but I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be your good girl. I won’t touch myself without permission again.”

“You won’t touch this pretty pussy at all, little one.” He slapped your clit again before rubbing it in quick, rough circles. Your eyes fluttered shut and you panted as another orgasm quickly neared.

Sukuna knew your body better than you did. He smirked against your skin when your breath hitched and stopped moving his fingers, keeping them on the swollen nub to feel it pulsing against his fingertips.

“I won’t touch myself at all.” You repeated, sighing in relief when he slowly started rubbing it again. You felt his cheek leaning against your temple as he looked down at your body, watching your tits in his hands and your wetness coating your thighs. He let out a shaky, almost inaudible breath that made you swell with pride. He was not as unaffected as he pretended to be.

Your back arched, pushing your breasts into his palms as you grew close to the edge. You were ready for Sukuna to take it all away and leave you gasping for air after yet another ruined climax, but a choked out moan left your lips when he moved the hand on your thigh to your entrance.

It would’ve been embarrassing the way they easily slid into you, it should’ve been embarrassing that you were so wet his fingers were making squelching noises as they moved inside you. It was all forgotten when you realized he was not pulling away.

Mouths appeared on the palms of the hands on your tits, their tongues lapping at your nipples as he squeezed them. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth parting in a silent moan as you finally, finally came.

Your hips twitched in his grip as you gushed around his fingers, your cunt tightening around them before you screamed his name and squirted your release out onto the bed.

Your vision went black. You have no idea if you had passed out for a moment, but there were white dots in your vision when the ringing in your ears subsided and you realized he was still slowly rubbing your clit. The mouths on his palms were still sucking on your nipples, making you squirm until he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you in place.

Sukuna slowly turned your head to face him, his lips curling into a smirk as he looked into your watery eyes. “I didn’t give you permission to cum, did I?”

Ah, fuck.

[btsbabe7]

Lost Love 🥀

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Lucien x reader, Rhysand x reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, choking kink

Synopsis: Known to all, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand, has a short list of people he trusts, let alone interacts with. To your own surprise, that trust has somehow extended to you, allowing him access. But with Rhysand being on Tamlin’s list of enemies, his frequent visits don’t go unnoticed by a certain member of the Spring Court, whom suspects the Lord of the Night may be staking claim, an interest, in something that was once his.

It isn’t until the shadow in the corner of your room darkens in the midst of the night that you realize you’re once again being blessed by the presence of the cunning, yet clever High Lord of the Night Court. His amethyst eyes cast purple glimmers your way while the rest of his ensemble appears to fade into the surrounding darkness of your room as he nears your bed.

“How did you get in here? How’d you get passed the sentries again?”

Rhysand cocks his head, still amused that you’re interested in things as trivial as how he’s managed to sneak in once again. The point is that he is here now.

“Tamlin has weak spots. One would think he’d be more careful considering the ones he holds dear dwell within these walls.”

You smirk, a cocky little grin before pulling him into your bed. Both of your nightly ensembles are just a few shuffles away from being stripped off, and within seconds, you’re both completely naked and enraptured by each other’s touch.

Rhysand’s hand flattens against your belly as you plant lazy kisses against his parted mouth. His eyes flicker towards yours in amusement as he pulls back to watch you squirm the closer his hand descends towards your own dungeon.

“So impatient,” he chuckles deeply.

“If you’re going to enter my mind, at least do without the physical torment. I’ve already allowed myself to open up to you in too many ways.”

“I can think of a few others,” he teases and licks a stripe up the center of your lips. “You taste delicious.”

So does he, but you don’t have the patience to say so.

“Rhysand,” you groan as his hand stops abruptly against your mound.

He scoffs, shaking his head in disapproval before obeying your command. He presses his lips against your neck, feeling your thumping pulse underneath the flesh before swirling wide, uniform circles over your clitoris. As you gasp, he nips at your neck causing you to sink back into his embrace with a low moan. He never took pleasure in keeping you quiet and he never cared who heard the lewd noises he planned to lure from your vocal cords night after night, and tonight would be no different.

“Rhys…”

“Mhm?” He taunts, circling his digits so fast that your breath catches in your throat.

“Make love to me…”

His teeth graze against your neck once more before he falters. You slip onto all fours in front of him. You reach back and take his length into your hand with a hum, knowing you’ll be satisfied by him as always.

You let out a breathy, pained moan through clenched teeth as he enters you slowly, still mindful of how swollen you’ve been from the prior days of him being lodged inside of you. There’s something surreal about him sneaking in, fornicating with you, holding you until you fell asleep in his arms, then leaving you with a kiss on the forehead just before slipping out at the break of dawn. Sometimes you found yourself relishing in the thought during your day to day activities, craving it long into the night until he reappeared.

“Not very High Fae of you to be on your knees in front of me,” Rhysand groans. “But the sounds coming from you sound so delicious. I already can’t wait to have you again tomorrow.”

“Rhys, we both know this is—” You gasp as he grasps your throat and gives it a gentle squeeze before thrusting mercilessly into your swollen folds.

“Were you going to say something, darling?” He mocks and strokes your curls as harsh moans flood from your parted mouth. He knows you hate when he calls you that. “You’ve always been such an exemplary High Fae. I’m beginning to wonder where the hell it all went wrong.”

Your eyes roll back, breath stifled and voice restricted as Rhysand fucks you into oblivion for the remainder of the night with his hand still cupped firmly around your throat.

“Rhysand was detected within the house again. Looking for Feyre no doubt,” Tamlin states matter-of-factly over a plate full of assorted meat and fruit he hasn’t touched even once.

You glance towards Feyre—watching, gauging her expression for whatever connection she may have to Rhysand aside from the tattoo inked on her arm. You’d always wondered what the pair did while she was away at the mysterious Night Court for a week each month. Rhysand had even extended the invitation to you, but you knew if Tamlin got word of it, there’d be a never-ending war between the two. Feyre had told you about her arrangement during the few times you two were able to find yourselves alone in your short time back. Though, you still can’t decipher why Tamlin believed Rhysand had been there for her in the first place when it wasn’t her allotted week of the month.

Much to your surprise, Feyre has mastered the art of stillness in her features, but her hands still fall short of that mastery. Her grip tightens around the goblet, so tight that you fear it may shatter at her will. And for Tamlin’s sake, she manages to withhold.

Had Rhysand been looking for her when he’d snuck into the manor from the start?

It would explain why he’d felt so comfortable roaming room after room, seeking something or someone out the very first night you’d caught him in the dark hallway—the glitz of glamour never fooled you. Just two more doors and he would’ve found her plastered against Tamlin’s chest, dreaming peacefully now that she’s begun to come to terms with her past. He only had to sneak by two more doors all the nights that followed, but instead he stopped his search entirely to sneak into yours.

You snort, swirling the clear water in your own glass before taking a swig.

“Is something funny?” Tamlin inquires.

You lazily move your eyes from Feyre to the extended claws of the High Fae to the right of you at the head of the table.

Fucking Tamlin.

You could snort again, laugh even, at his childish expression of anger. He’s always had a hard time controlling his rage, even as a child. It’s a shame to see that he hasn’t picked up as quickly as his counterpart on mastering the art of stillness—the real illusion, the real glamour of this world.

You smile in amusement before responding, “It’s just a shame that security seems to be lacking around here. I could’ve returned much sooner had I known.”

“There isn’t much need for it now that our powers are back and Amarantha is dead,” Lucien counters.

You toss him a warning glance so he remembers his place.

“Furthermore, even with our powers being returned, it’s concerning that High Fae like Rhysand still manage to slip within these walls. Old protector of Tamlin aside, this is now the fourth night just this week, is it not?”

Tamlin’s eyes narrow in on yours. His poor way of attempting to read you.

“Do you know more than you’re letting on about Rhysand’s frequent visits within our walls?”

You glance at the water again, watching the swirling come to a calm, steady halt. A distorted reflection of Lucien, who sits across from you dances beyond it, and the glimmering gems of the crystal chandelier above dances on the surface. You stare at it, still unperturbed by Tamlin’s inquiries.

“I don’t have time to toil over old family feuds. Perhaps you should befriend this High Fae? Maybe he will then learn to knock on the front door instead of sneaking in. Maybe he can even eat breakfast with us.”

Tamlin claws into the table, jaw clenched, and Feyre’s eyes meet yours, but you don’t need to put up a mental shield to know what she’s attempting to do. Your shield has always stood strong, your main issue has always been being able to let it down.

“I’ll also be busy, so don’t bother coming to find me today,” you mutter while placing the glass on the table before escorting yourself out of the sickeningly beautiful dining hall.

It isn’t long before a knock on your door has you rolling your eyes in annoyance. You slip your miniature, dragon-handled dagger between the pages of your book and set it on the wooden nightstand with an irritable sigh.

“I do believe I said I didn’t want to be bothered today,” you groan and swing the door open.

Golden rays of sunlight flood throughout the room, extending its grace through the open door, and illuminating the red hair and bright eyes of your unannounced guest. You’ve been expecting Feyre all morning, the always curious fiancé of Tamlin, but you now find yourself blessed by the presence of Tamlin’s emissary.

“Lucien.”

You move aside, allowing him to step inside and close the door swiftly behind him. He’s silent as he steps in further, surveying around the room, searching for something. Perhaps evidence of your dealings with a particular High Lord or anything that goes against precious Tamlin’s wishes and rules.

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?”

“Was he here?”

You shake your head in amazement, too thoroughly entertained to respond immediately. Lucien has always been one for good fun and a bit of theatrics, so you’re sure he won’t mind the long pause.

“Was who here?”

He whirls towards you and much to your surprise, not an inkling of sarcasm or enjoyment lingers in his stare. He hasn’t come to play games; he is serious this time. He paces the space between you two, leaving as much as a hands length between your bodies.

You glance at him smugly, teasingly.

“He was wasn’t he? He’s been sneaking in to be with you?”

“I’m not sure what or who you’re referring to, Lucien.”

“Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court.”

You snicker.

“Ah, you think I’m the High Fae’s plaything? His concubine? I guess that would be better than becoming his spy, right? Easier to conceal.”

Lucien’s eyes focus on yours and you have to snap your gaze away. It’s been so long since the both of you found yourselves this close. Much too long to find it as comforting as you once had, especially with him interrogating you on Rhysand.

“Everything I do is for good reason, nothing more, and surely nothing less,” you state sternly.

“So, you and I? For good reason or just good fun?”

“Both,” you admit, now waltzing around him to escape his piercing gaze.

“I don’t care if he was here in the manor. I don’t care that he’s sneaking in multiple times a week, slipping through our defenses. He always had that advantage. I just want to know if he’s lain in this bed… with you.”

You stop your pacing, thanking the Cauldron that you’re facing the breezing, golden-speckled curtains in the far side of the bedroom. You’re grateful that he hadn’t witnessed your smirk straighten into a hard line when the last two words slipped into the air, lingering in your ears, in your mind, between old lovers.

“What’s it matter to you, Lucien, who I lie and don’t lie with?”

You hear his breath catch in his throat, followed by a guttural groan.

“You know why it matters to me, Y/n.”

You swallow the lump that’s begun to rise in your throat, wishing nothing more than to have that stupid glass of water you’d been clinging to all morning. Now, more than ever, you need something to help subdue the dryness, the pain burning through your veins.

You turn your on your heels and face him, only to run right into his slender, muscular chest.

Had your mind been so loud that you haven’t heard him cross the room?

Another golden ray catches in his eyes, illuminating the russet color of his original eye, and the metallic gold that now takes the place of the one he’d lost so long ago. You stare into it, a reminder of good things lost and replaced, broken but fixed, lost and found again. But your ship with Lucien on it had long sailed decades ago.

“You know why he sent me away,” you breathe.

You still remember that day as if it were yesterday. The day you’d been snatched from Lucien’s arms by Tamlin and sent away from the Spring Court, temporarily banished from your home for falling in love with the red-maned High Fae in the midst of the dire curse. At the beginning of it all, Tamlin only deemed finding his own love necessary in order to break it. Finding a human that matches Amarantha’s requirements felt endless. He couldn’t afford distractions and he surely couldn’t afford for his emissary to become distracted, not when he needed him most.

“But you’re back.”

“Lucien, I made a promise that I wouldn’t come back unless my love for you had faded. Tamlin couldn’t afford distractions. I was putting everything at risk…”

“We,” he corrects and steps closer. “You weren’t alone in that decision, and as you said, you could only return if it lessened, not if your love for me had disappeared altogether. And with the curse broken, we can start over.”

You try to fight a childish grin.

He and Tamlin have always managed to find loopholes in things, a way to steer things their way. You too are the same at your core. It’s the very reason you’d been able to return. You’d made a bargain of your own to return here. A bargain to remove a bit of the love you felt for him at a cost, a debt only you could pay. You knew you could live without loving him as much, but you couldn’t live without him in your life. You had to pay a price to be here, to see him again. But soon, your expression hardens again. No matter what you feel for Lucien now, it doesn’t change the fact that Rhysand has managed to grow on you, and you on him over the last few months.

“Lucien, Rhys and I—“

“Rhys, really?” He sounds like Tamlin, a deep disapproval in his tone, judging you and your poor decisions. “Y/n, tell me you didn’t. Not with him.”

You shake your head slowly.

You’ve done many things to Lucien, but lying to him is where you’ve always drawn the line. You could snake your way out of Feyre’s snares and mind traps if you needed, Rhysand’s too. You could divert conversations with Tamlin, a skill you’d both picked up from the High Fae that led these lands just a generation before you two. You could even swindle a High Fae or two, tricking them into allowing you shelter in their courts to escape being Under the Mountain, but you’ve always given Lucien the truth, even if it hurt him.

He falters, staggers so much that he finds himself sitting at the edge of your unmade bed. His head falls in anguish, a sea of red shielding his delicate features as he stares at something on the floor, staring at anything besides you. You know his mind is reeling, that he’s disgusting by the idea of the High Lord of the Night Court even breathing the same air as you, let alone touching you. In his eyes, Rhysand had defiled you.

“I’m going to kill him.” He says it so matter-of-factly that your heart skips a beat.

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill Rhysand for touching you. For breathing your air, for sneaking in and defiling you in this very manor—the same manor that houses your brother and his soon-to-be wife, that houses me.”

Your head spins and you want to hurl. You wince as the lingering high that had originated from the pleasure of Rhysand’s hands grazing against your supple body and curls, the feeling of heat that spread from his lips being pressed into your spine as his skilled fingers wrung your neck just hard enough to keep you turned on, the warmth of his tongue lapping over your nipples, only for him to leave them prickling in the coolness of the night as he ravished you night after night fades with Lucien’s last statement.

The room falls silent for only a moment.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you reply sharply, the words filled with the only anger you can muster towards him because even you aren’t heartless enough to deny him the right to his angry.

Lucien glares up at you.

“That’s all you care about? You can’t possibly think Tamlin is clueless, not after that little show you put on over breakfast.”

“If Tamlin suspects anything, he surely acted clueless, and I know my brother. He doesn’t know why Rhysand has been here. He’ll try to find out, and try as he might, he won’t get the answer he’s searching for, especially not from you.”

Lucien rises to his feet, rises to the challenge like a true warrior.

“You doubt that I’ll report you? That I’ll fail to expose Rhysand’s frequent escapades? Tamlin’s rules are the law we follow here, whether you like it or not.”

You sigh through your nostrils, eyes narrowing at the thought that kind of humiliation would bring your brother. The High Lord of the Spring Court having a sister who shacks up with his enemy in his own home, treacherous. Tamlin would become the joke of Prythian, if he hasn’t already managed to do so on his own.

“He’d be humiliated. And at what expense?”

“He’d know the truth.”

You scoff at the idea of truth.

Tamlin always knew the truth in the end, but in his own childish ways, he’s always chosen what he wished to believe and what he chooses to react to. He is a leader through and through, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

“And where did that get us last time, Luc?”

You both know it’s not worth the risk, not if he ever wants to see you again. He knows that the moment Tamlin banishes you, you’ll be relocated to the Night Court with Rhysand courting you until the end of eternity or until one of you grew bored. Either way, you wouldn’t return this time and Lucien couldn’t bear that thought. It would drive him mad knowing that he would be practically handing you over to Rhysand with a shiny bow tied to your golden wings if he were to report you. Lucien’s eyebrows unknit themselves and he sits up a bit taller as his eyes continue to roam over you.

You’d only managed to slip from your bodice and dress before he’d knocked, leaving the curves of your body clothed in a deep crimson lace. You’d forgotten about indecency the moment he’d stepped into the room, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes trace over the two budges of pillowy flesh cascading over the sheer, delicate lace that covers only two-thirds of your chest. Something primal overtakes you when his eyes fixate there. And as if he’s beckoning you, you’re lured into his lap, stroking long strands of auburn through your manicured fingers. Your fingers run down to the ends and come back up to cup his face. You two exchange a glance that admits everything that needs to be said, no words fill the space, only lips against lips. Flesh upon flesh.

Lucien kisses you hungrily, ascending a hand up the length of your spine before cupping the nape of your neck and hoisting you on top of him as he lies back on the unclean, silky, white sheets. He knows what happened here just the night before, you both know, but neither of you care in this moment. In just a breath, your body is yearning for him to end decades worth of aching, decades of torment from being ripped apart.

Lucien unfastens the clasps of your bra, but your mouths never part. As he guides the straps down the length of your arms, you struggle with unfastening the buttons of his trousers fast enough. He chuckles into your mouth after your irritable huff slips into his own. Only then does he pull away, just enough to meet your darkening eyes. You follow the sound of your bra clasping against the floor, but Lucien pulls your gaze back towards him. There’s a glistening in his own eyes and not from the sun. You wish more than ever that you could embrace the stillness you had mastered over the decades, but you never could with Lucien. You still can’t now, not with his breath tickling strands of your curls against your hunched shoulders and his eyes focused on your entire being.

He unbuttons his tunic first, painfully slow as if it’s his own form of punishment for sleeping with someone else in this very bed. The moment it’s off, you caress the richness of his skin, taking in the warmth of it against your palms. You’ve missed touching him.

You’ve missed him for decades at a time.

Lucien unfastens the remaining buttons of his trousers and bucks his hips effortlessly to work them off. You don’t move an inch aside from coming up in the slightest to allow him to slip them mid-thigh. He kicks the remainder off with ease and they fall to the floor with a thud.

“We didn’t lock the door,” you whisper.

“I don’t care about the damn door,” he sighs sharply and pulls you in so fast your head begins to spin again.

His lips are starved for yours, smothering against your own as every twist turns into a fruitful attempt to pry yours open wider. He presses his tongue inside, groaning sensually at the taste of pomegranate and cardamom lingering on your tongue from breakfast. He licks his tongue against yours, then the roof of your mouth before quickly withdrawing it just as fast as it’d come.

You let out a soft giggle against him as your hands find their rightful place in the red mess cascading against white sheets. Your giggle quickly turns into a stifling breath the moment you feel him working his length against your own heat, the damp lace between your thighs ripped to shreds in his free hand. It’s been so long since you’ve had him this way, at least forty years. You’ve waited a long time to be back in Lucien’s arms and no High Fae of this world would take that from you again.

In one breath, you think of Rhysand, his amethyst colored eyes, the feeling of his short, course hair against your fingertips, the soft darkness of his demeanor turning you on as he fucked you into oblivion for four nights this week alone. In the next breath, every prior thought becomes muddled when Lucien’s length spills into you. You swear you can see stars as your eyes roll back and close in sheer pleasure.

“Luc…” His nickname spills from your lips as if it’s the sweetest song he’s ever heard and he groans in response the moment your hips begin to roll.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know his are shut too, you can feel it in the pulsing wedged between your swollen walls. You can feel it in the heat that pools at his core and where your fingers are placed against his thrumming chest. You rock your hips rhythmically, rejoicing in the almost forgotten feeling of him. You missed the soft burning that came with his girth stretching you out, the feeling of his hands plastered against your hips, your breasts, and the nape of your neck when he needed you closer.

He could never get you close enough.

“Y/n,” Lucien howls, causing your eyes to lazily open towards him.

It was a mistake to look at him, a mistake to lie eyes upon a creature so beautiful when you’re already teetering on the edge of reality.

He lies sprawl out underneath you, eyes heavy and drunk on you. His brows knit softly as if he’s attempting to fight back the feeling of all the pleasure hitting him at once. His lips are parted as yours are, spilling deep squeals and heavy pants flowing throughout the room and swirling in your eardrums like a melody you’ll both never tire of. His mane is sweaty and wild, sprawling out in all directions around his head. And gold, you see it all around you. Golden light filtering through the curtains, throughout the room again, dancing in his eyes as if the sun knows your that your only secret, your weakness is him.

And you fall apart.

Both of Lucien’s hands find your waist again and cascade up your spine, drawing you in until you’re chest to chest, breathing and panting as one. He flips you over, only slipping out for a second before slipping back inside of you with a groan too loud to ignore.

“Lucien,” you purr mercilessly.

You can’t get enough of him. You can’t get enough of the feeling of him stuffed inside, so deep that you’re attempting to bottle up the feeling up to savor for the rest of your life if you two are ever forced apart again. He kisses into your neck, your chest, your breasts, leaving you a panting, moaning mess beneath him. You wrap your legs around him, planting your feet firmly on his flexing muscles, driving him deeper until there’s no space left inside of you.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, eyes blown in pure bliss.

Thank the Cauldron is what you want to shout for finally reuniting you two.

Lucien’s skin melds into yours and his strokes become slower and lengthener, much deeper. Every movement of his hips has you gasping and clasping against his sweaty body, clinging to his biceps as your own core begins to tighten. You can feel the fire igniting inside of you, starting in your chest and traveling towards your own core with each slip. Your legs had fallen off of him, lazily spread on either side of him as he thrusts a bit harder. A sudden momentum overtakes him and the lewd clapping of flesh against flesh can certainly be heard by anyone who dared to come near the vicinity and certainly by the excellent hearing of the higher faes dwelling within these very walls.

“Y/n,” he grunts, cupping each side of your face. His right thumb drags down your bottom lip and you bite it softly as sweat spills from the tip of his nose onto your chest.

You smile at him, taking in the beautiful sight in front of you. He’s always been the most beautiful creature to you. Lucien, the son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Lucien, whose eye had been stole by Amarantha because of your brother’s actions. Lucien, the survivor of many trials. Lucien, the emissary of Tamlin and a loyal member of this court. Lucien, your very first and only true love.

Your body shudders and the moan that escapes as a result shreds through the fabric of ecstasy and reality. It takes everything in your being to keep your wings tucked in from the sheer pleasure shooting through your body, coursing through your veins and nerves. In the same moment, all sense of poise leaves Lucien, expels from his body as he plunges into your watering depths until he too has lost all senses.

A bellowing groan escapes his lips as he falters almost immediately. He digs his nails into the surrounding sheets instead of tearing your flesh and his noise rumbles between your breasts. You huff a laugh and pull his chin up towards you, taking his mouth against yours as he spills into you, finally claiming you as his own. You push his hair back with a weak grin, softening under his touch before kissing him deeply once more.

You stay in this position for what seems to be forever, wrapped in each other’s naked embrace, breathing in the rhythmic noise of two hearts beating as one. You never want to miss him again. You never want to lose him again. You never want a day to pass where you don’t tell him how you feel.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, stroking his hair in the same tone.

Your heart beats wildly against his eardrum; you can feel it in your own chest, in your entire being. You’d failed to say those words aloud before your brother sent you away, and so many times before. You’d known from the moment he’d been offered a place in this court that you loved him, even if he didn’t feel the same way at the time. You knew you had to tell him once you were able to be with him again.

He nods knowingly against you, shifting his head on your chest to meet your glistening eyes.

Lucien doesn’t even wait another heartbeat before saying, “I love you too.”

A/N: Please won’t come for meeee! I just finished ACOTAR and am just staring ACOMAF, so I’m still a newbie learning all the characters and this world. I haven’t read any fanfics yet and don’t plan to until I finish for the sake of spoilers. I’m already partial to Rhysand (nothing hotter than a misunderstood dark lord) and Lucien (who deserves all the love in the world), so I couldn’t pick just one. I wrote this on a whim last night with probably not enough editing. It’s kind of short and would love to write more on this, but I know I’ll overthink and mess things up. Anyways, I’ve been a bit nervous about posting, so I hope it reached the right audience. 🥲🧚🏾‍♀️♥️

Running away to continue to reading ACOMAF again!

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

August 2024

[helluvapoison]

im on my hands and knees for some good velvette content- i want to SERVE her bro, i've been thinking of an idea where a reader (and if you'd like, maybe a bodyguard?? you've already drabbled w it eheeheh) helps her get out of something during a show, listening to her every word (even if you feign some reluctance) while helping her out of stockings and a rather fancy suit/dress that has much too many buttons for the next planned "activity" IDK THAT OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. ANYTHING W HER

Allow Me

Velvette x Reader

imagine helping velvette get comfortable after a shitty day

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•��•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• As usual she’s on the phone when she comes in, wiggling her fingers at you in greeting while her eyes glare forward

• You watch her begin to loosen the silk scarf around her neck four times only to snap her hand away, gesturing wildly as she shouted at some unlucky soul on the other end of the call

• Having had enough, you pushed to your feet and strolled over to where Velvette stormed in a circle, using expressions like “diffusion line” or “conglomerate” that went over your head

• “Your head must be fucking buried in the ground for you to have missed that, Joanne! Last I checked you’re not an ostrich! Fucking fix it!”

• You got that one easily enough

• Her sneer faltered upon noticing you. She never liked to aim her fury in your direction but you willingly came into her line of sight, reaching out and undoing the knot around her neck

• Velvette’s eyes soften ever so slightly as you work silently. Her lips part but you’re denied whatever she was going to say. She whips her head to the side yelling, “The papers? Why the fuck I would I be asking you to fix a typo on paper!? We’re VoxTec! That’s digital, you half wit!”

• You fold the silk accessory and place it on her vanity, not wanting to try and decipher Vel’s intricate organization process (She tried explaining it to you once, you didn’t make it further than shoes)

• Returning before her, noting the way her brows jump in surprise, you slide a finger into the short sleeve of her coat. She immediately understands what you’re doing and slips her arm out, shifting the phone into that hand so you can take the coat off entirely

• She watches intensely, like you’re doing something wrong, as you hang her coat over a chair

• It makes you hesitate for the next part of your plan

• You take her hand and ease her onto the burgundy, chaise lounge couch. You kneel and start pulling loose the many laces on her knee high boots

• You’re too busy with your tedious mission that you miss the first smile Velvette wears today. You wouldn’t have guessed it either, what with how she keeps swearing at her assistant

• Bestowing the next boot the same treatment, you move on to peel away her socks. You slide her fuzzy (but not tacky) slippers out from under the couch and glide them on her feet

• Velvette’s eyes follow you as you walk away from her, masking her disappointment by pursing her lips

• She pats the side of the couch when you return with her favorite bedazzled cup, quietly ordering you to sit. Putting the call on mute, her legs swing over and drape over your own when you obey, “You didn’t take off my makeup.”

• Quirking a suspicious brow you shake your head, “You wouldn’t let me if I tried.”

• “No,” She sighs, “You’d mess it up.”

• “It’s coming off your face, how would I— Y’know you make it impossible to wanna help you.”

• “That’s because I don’t need help. Consider yourself lucky that I even let you.” Velvette takes a sip of the drink you prepared, blinking at you expectantly

• Throwing an arm around the couch you lean in closer than you ever had before, “I consider myself downright blessed to be in your presence.”

• Sarcasm oozed from your tone but it didn’t stop the need to block your view with her phone, tapping away as if unfazed. She’d literally die if you knew you made her blush

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ this was so much fun to do! i didn’t explicitly say cannibal!reader but i totally pictured them/ a bodyguard reader for this

[sukunasun]

PLSS write more sukuna the new cover had me PURRING 🐈

i bet he flossed and everything too. waterpik to the open maw in his abdomen. sticking a brush in there so he gets to the back of the molars. its just another part of his nightly routine, my personal hygiene king. i wish i were his dentist, wanna dip my hands in there whilst ignoring the way that tongue wraps and slithers around my forearm like a tendril, a tentacle gripping tight. in an attempt to seduce maybe, "he likes you," sukuna says cheekily, does it have a mind of its own? probably not. it's just another muscle he controls so very precisely.

in this state, his grip is exceptionally tight upon your hips, legs spread apart while his tongue spears through the folds of your pussy. slowly at first, teasing and taunting as it laps and licks you while you're hovering above and dripping from the seam. you try to protest, telling him to stop, tongue 2 salivates even more, making a show of it. slobbering and drooling, it finds its way to gently prod between the cleft of your ass, teasing your hole just waiting for something. just like how sukuna feasts when it's his other mouth doing all the work. your heart flutters at the memory, even now, he lays kisses down your nape and shoulder, four arms are more than enough to grope and graze your body, they all seem to have motives of their own. concocted by one very determined sukuna.

but tongue 2 is greedier than that, intending to bully its way inside. stroking its way inside you and pumping in motion, thrumming your clit all the while. sukuna keeps you in place, you're meant to stay still and take it. ignoring the petty whines. slightly bewildered, incredibly aroused, almost as if voicing your disbelief at the situation. getting tongue-fucked by a stomach. "it's so gooddd," you moan, groan really, guttural and intense. pleasure struck and dumbfounded. an ecstasy-filled expression, dazed one moment, eyes heavy-lidded, shocked the next when the tip worms its way past the tight opening of your cervix. or it tries to, sukuna shall leave that endeavour for another day when you don't scream and come undone with every gentle press.

after said tongue practically dislodges itself, forcing its way past your clenched pussy while you're holding on for more, a resounding pop echoes, the remnants lay sticky and pooling in strings of white, and there you lay trembling, twitching, and thoroughly fucked. "i know, i know," he can't help but reassure. the sobbing darling in his hold is a mess he has to tend to. sigh sigh. he doesn't mean to put you through this much. no, he does. it's your fault for staring at his stomach like it were some other being, he's just blessed with more. anatomically advantaged he'd put it—

"cheeeese," sukuna hooks his thumbs to the corners, pulling wide lips apart to reveal a shining smile for the camera, a thinly veiled temptation beyond walls of ivory.

[horrorshow]

god bless rhonda hurley. for @spnficrecfest

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BEDROOM HYMNS by fathersalmon cas/dean + rhonda/dean + dean/baseball team, 8.9k, rated E 5 times Dean Winchester tried to deny his panty kink and the one time he didn't.

PINK AND BLUE by jemariel cas/dean + rhonda/dean, 4.9k, rated E "Would you --” Cas swallows, his voice low and yeah, that’s definitely his ‘I’m horny’ voice, the one that gives Dean the shivers. “Would you like to show me your favorites?”

HUNTER, KNOW THYSELF by imogenbynight rhonda/dean, 2.5k, rated M In which Dean sets up his bedroom at the bunker and remembers his night with Rhonda Hurley.

FRAGILE by dragonspell sam/dean, 3.4k, nc-17 Dean likes to pretend he's the stronger one. But Sam knows just how fragile Dean can be on the inside. Now he just wants the outside to match.

LOVE IN DISGUISE by sleepypercy sam/dean + dean/omc, 4.9k, rated E In order to catch a CEO that's been cutting out hearts, Dean reluctantly poses as a hooker. Sam never expected his brother to look so good in that skirt.

BLUNT by lesson_in_love rhonda/dean, rated R Rhonda Hurley. Dean always thought it was an awful name.

RED LACE by dragonspell sam/dean, 2.3k, nc-17 Dean never thought that Sam would go through with it. He’d thought it was just one of those things—one of the random bits of filth that dropped out of Sam’s mouth whenever he was in the mood.

OH SO FINE by valiant sam wesson/dean smith, 2.4k, nc-17 Sam Wesson really wants into Dean Smith's pants. When he finally manages to get him to say yes, he's shocked to find out that he wears women's underwear under those pressed suits.

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

I absolutely adore your writing! would you please do Mu Qing(Heaven Official’s Blessing) with the prompt “You look really good in my clothes” but in a fluffy way not spicy at all, also i’m not sure if it’ll work better with modern AU but you’re the expert so i’m sure you know best! thank you love! ❤️

Stealing Clothes {Mu Qing}

A/n: sorry this took so long but I hope you like it nonetheless. I don't write AUs in general so I took the liberty of writing this in the traditional tgcf timeline instead of ignoring it. I hope you like it and thank you for requesting. Also since you didn't specify the genre, I made the reader gn but feel free to tell me to change it.

Pairing: Mu Qing x gn!reader

Trigger warnings: none

The day was not really going as well as it should be. You woke up late, had to attend at least four of those meetings for the heavenly officials and then a feast, attend to your devotees prayers. Between the prayers and the next thing on our schedule, you actually had a ten minute break just to remind you that heavenly officials didn't just sit around all day.

Naturally, you decided to head out for a walk alone. Alone time was so needed right at that very moment, especially when your head was filled with all the things that you still had to do.

Whoever said the Heavenly Realm is the most perfect place in the world wasn't lying. From the flowers and the trees of all kinds and rarity all the way to the small ponds, lakes, rivers, everything was majestic. But whoever said the Heavenly Realm is the most flawless place in the world was definitely lying. Along with the the few officials who had told you earlier at the feast that you were one of the luckiest officials they knew.

With your ass right in the middle of a small mud puddle near Mu Qing's palace, you didn't really feel lucky right now. How did the puddle even came to be? It hadn't rained at all those past few days so there was no way there could be any mud.

The only reason you were lucky was because most of the officials were still at the feast and so, with Mu Qing's palace being the closest, you quickly stood up and practically ran inside.

You hadn't seen Mu Qing at the feast earlier but you knew that his schedule was equally full today so it wasn't surprising. If the two of you hadn't been dating you would have never stepped foot in his palace.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you here?" It was a stupid question, really, but he had described his schedule so damn full last night at your stroll that you really had thought he wasn't going to be in his palace at all today. Yet there he was, standing with his arms folded against his chest.

He wasn't angry. Mu Qing always had that stance when he was curious. At least that was what youliked to believe. "I asked first." All it took was for him to examine your dirty clothes more carefully. "Oh..."

"Yes, oh... can I borrow some of yours?" Mu Qing's eyes widened and he quickly turned his head to the side, covering half of his face with his sleeve. "Please..."

"The wardrobe is over there..." He pointed at a door on the right side of the hallway. Casting him a smile, you quickly ran to the wardrobe and got changed. If you hadn't used some spiritual power to tailor his clothes to your size they would have been way too big on you.

Once you were done, you walked out and headed to Mu Qing's room which was opposite to the wardrobe. "How do I look?" You made a twirl so he could see the entirety of your new outfit.

"You used spiritual power to tailor my clothes but not to clean your own?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Shhh..." You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a big warm hug as a thank you. "Those are minor details."

A small pause followed and after Mu Qing made sure you were not looking at him, he let out a small smile and kissed the top of your head. "You look good in my clothes."

[ena-writes-stuff]

— diamonds, clubs, hearts and spades.

˒ ⌕ in a world of magic, the Kingdom of Diamonds' greed sparks a war. after millennia, the Queen of Clubs urges peace for her daughter, and the King agrees. fourteen years of peace follow, until a letter proposes a union, threatening the fragile harmony.

— warnings: female reader, use of his real name

— words count: 742

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In ancient times, when the light danced in every fold of existence, the world was woven with the threads of magic and enchantment. Beneath the starry skies, the four Kingdoms flourished in harmony: Diamonds, Clubs, Hearts, and Spades, each a pillar of cosmic order, guided by human hands entrusted with the sacred task of preserving the balance and prosperity of nature.  

Yet, the ancestral peace was shattered when the golden caravels breached the shores, bringing with them the shadow of greed and avarice. Originating from distant lands, beyond the confines of the Sea of Night's Sighs, where the stars bent to whisper long-forgotten secrets, the vessels of the Kingdom of Diamonds advanced, propelled by insatiable desires for wealth and power.  

Driven by an insatiable longing for material possessions, for the fleeting sparkle of gold, and for the promise of boundless conquests, the King of Diamonds defied the limits of the known. Ignoring the teachings of the wise and the warnings of the stars, he coveted the magic once devoutly guarded by the sages and wizards of the Kingdom of Clubs. Greed, like a voracious flame, consumed his reason, causing him to forget the ancestral bonds that united the Kingdoms. Driven by his boundless ambition, he challenged celestial balances, defied the very gods themselves. And thus, the shadow of conflict stretched over the lands, threatening to unleash a storm that could forever sweep away the fabric of reality as it was known.

For countless eons, the world bowed before the primordial sources of magic, flowing from the four natural elements, and only the sons and daughters blessed by the magical Kingdom of Clubs could raise their wands and conjure the winds of destiny. Yet, in a moment of alchemy, a flash of understanding was born, a rainbow woven of mysteries that challenged the very laws of nature. Thus, the war between the Kingdoms took shape, a symphony of thunder and lightning, where the Realms of Clubs and Spades marched united, defending the sanctity of nature and the magical creatures that began to shrink under the hungry gaze of humans. Meanwhile, in the South, the kings and alchemists led an army thirsty for the right to manipulate magic, an art that only unfolded when the life force of creatures was extracted.  

Millennia passed since the first spark of discord was ignited on the border between the Lands. The war now dragged on like a wounded dragon, its flames weakened as the hills between the realms grew taller, rising like guardians of forgotten peace. In the shadows of the stone castles, the alchemists wove webs of mysteries, their cauldrons boiling with forbidden promises, while the mist of the unknown enveloped the destinies of the realms.

At the height of the winter solstice, when the snowflakes danced around the castle like magical beings, an aura of enchantment enveloped the atmosphere. The word "peace" echoed through the ancestral corridors, a melody long forgotten but now revived with the promise of a new beginning. The Queen of Clubs, a legendary figure whose courage rivaled the very light of the stars, lay upon her bed, marked by the scars of countless battles. Her weary yet determined gaze fell upon her only daughter, an eleven-year-old whose fate was intertwined with the threads of destiny, written in blood and mystery. She knew her final moments on earth were near and summoned the King, her beloved, to her side.  

In a final sigh, she pleaded that the future no longer be decided by the edge of the sword, but rather by hope and compassion. She urged the King to ensure the happiness of the young heiress and to seal the peace between the realms. With tears in his eyes and a heavy heart weighed down by impending loss, the King granted the beloved Queen's final wish. And so, in reverence to her memory and driven by the fervent desire to prevent further bloodshed, the King ordered the withdrawal of troops from the borders. For fourteen consecutive solstices, the world they knew lived in harmony, as if embraced by an aura of tranquility long forgotten.  

Then, on a morning bathed in the glow of the aurora borealis, a mysterious letter arrived in the Diamonds Lands, brought by a messenger raven that flew with a majesty befitting of legends. Sealed with the royal emblem, the letter carried with it a proposal for lasting peace: the union of the heirs of the Diamonds and Clubs realms. It was a symbol of an end to hostilities and the promise of a future where the shadows of war would never again loom over the land.

That’s how our story begins.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

— next chapter.