#I miss them but this is a little too perfect

[alinathinkstoomuch]

Drunk On You

pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader summary: your boss picks you up after a night out and you smother him with sex jokes and your feelings warnings: suggestive, tension tension tension, reader needs to chill, sackable offences but hotch is a softy, hotch sees the colour of readers underwear (inesert that one charli xcx song), hotch tracks readers location (relax joe goldberg), pining, protective!hotch, hotch is just the perfect man yes i am a throw up drunk leave me alone word count: 5k

not proof read players i shall do that tomorrow morning on corporate time

It was an unusual Saturday night for Aaron. The house was quiet. Missing Jack’s antics – he was spending the weekend camping with Jessica and Roy – and missing you.

No sweet perfume lingering in the air, no soft humming as you loaded and unloaded the dishwasher, a task Aaron had insisted you didn’t have to worry about because you were the nanny, not the maid. But you never listened. Just like you never let a pile of laundry sit unfolded or a toy stay out of place for too long.

Aaron had never given much thought to the little details of domestic life before, but you had a way of making them feel... noticeable. You were woven into the fabric of his home in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

The quiet should’ve been a relief. No FBI cases waiting for him, no screaming unsub demanding his attention, no late-night paperwork eating away at his free time. He should’ve been able to enjoy the peace.

Not when he knew where you were tonight. Not when he could still hear your voice in his head, casual and offhanded, telling him about the birthday party you’d been invited to. About how the birthday girl’s idea of a good time was getting steaming drunk and finding a guy to make out with.

Aaron had brushed it off at the time, forcing himself to nod, to keep his reaction neutral. It wasn’t his place to feel anything about your plans – he knew that. But the thought of you out there, surrounded by strangers, drinking, laughing, maybe kissing someone who didn’t know you the way he did...

He let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face as if that could wipe away the thought.

It didn’t.

With a quiet sigh, he turned to pour himself a glass of bourbon, the rich honey liquid swirling in the dim light. Even that was a reminder of you. A gift you had given him on your one-year anniversary of working for him and Jack, wrapped neatly with a note that had read:

For the best boss ever – because even superheroes deserve a drink.

He had smiled when he first read it, tucking the note away in his desk drawer instead of throwing it out. He told himself it was because Jack might want to look back on it one day.

Now, as he took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through his chest, he wondered if that had ever really been the reason.

His hand drifted to his pocket before he could stop himself, fingers curling around his phone. He pulled it out, the screen glowing softly. His thumb hovered over the familiar green app, hesitation flickering through him.

He shouldn’t.

He knew he shouldn’t.

But the temptation was there, gnawing at the edges of his restraint. You had been sharing your location with him since you started working for him and Jack – your idea, not his. Just in case, you had said with a smile, if I’m out with Jack and you can’t reach me, at least you’ll know where we are.

It had made sense. It was practical.

But Jack wasn’t with you tonight, and here he was, opening the app regardless.

His job had shown him first-hand what kind of vultures lurked in the world – predators who waited for the right moment, who preyed on people like you. People who were too kind, too trusting. People who laughed freely, who lit up a room without realising it, who believed the best in others even when they didn’t deserve it.

He told himself that was why he checked. That was why his eyes scanned the map, searching for the little blue dot that told him where you were.

A bar downtown.

Of course.

Aaron sighed, setting the phone down on the counter like it burned him.

You were fine. You were an adult. You were allowed to go out, to drink, to do whatever you wanted.

But the thought of you – tipsy, surrounded by strangers, maybe some guy with his hand on the small of your back, leaning in too close – made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to analyse.

He braced his hands on the counter, exhaling through his nose, willing himself to let it go.

Then his phone buzzed with a message from you.

Having fun?

He frowned, reading it twice, his grip tightening around the device. A second later, another message popped up.

Wait. Don’t answer that. I know you’re home. You don’t have fun.

His lips twitched despite himself. Then another message came.

I can hear you rolling your eyes from here.

This time, he didn’t fight the smile.

Aaron leaned against the counter, staring at your words, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He should tell you to be safe. He should remind you to call if you needed anything.

Instead, he typed:

How many drinks have you had?

The response was instant.

Not enough yet.

He let a breath out, his thumb tapping idly against the screen.

Pacing yourself, I hope.

The read receipt popped up but no response came. His jaw tightened. You always responded quickly, even when you were busy, even when you were teasing him, there was never a delay.

A minute passed. Then another.

Aaron forced himself to set the phone down, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the darkened screen, willing it to light up again. He was overthinking it. You were probably distracted, mid-conversation, laughing at some joke he wouldn’t understand. You were fine.

He did his best to keep busy for the rest of the evening, but his mind kept drifting back to his phone. Every so often, he checked it – switching between your last text and the location app.

You hadn’t responded.

You hadn’t moved.

He told himself not to read into it. Maybe your phone had died. Maybe you left it in your bag somewhere and hadn’t checked it. Maybe you were just having fun.

Still, the glass of bourbon remained untouched beside him, the usual pull of exhaustion never quite setting in. It wasn’t until the clock crept past one in the morning that he finally let himself lie down on the couch, forcing his eyes shut.

Just an hour, he told himself. Then he’d check again.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, his neck stiff and the room bathed in darkness, the first thing he did was grab his phone.

3:27 AM.

The uneasy weight in his stomach turned into a knot as he swiped open the location app.

Still at the bar.

He frowned, sitting up fully. A quick Google search confirmed what he already knew – the bar closed at 3 AM. So why the hell were you still there?

His pulse pounded in his ears, a dull thrum beneath his skin. A dozen possibilities ran through his mind, each one worse than the last. Maybe your phone had died. Maybe you were waiting for a ride. Maybe –

Maybe something was wrong.

You should’ve left by now. You should be home.

Before he even registered the thought, he was on his feet, grabbing his keys from the counter. He barely remembered locking the door behind him, barely noticed the cool night air as he climbed into his car. His hands were steady as he punched the bar’s address into the GPS, but his chest was tight, his breath slow and measured in a way that only happened when he was forcing himself to stay calm.

He wasn’t overreacting. This wasn’t just some irrational impulse. Because if there was even the slightest chance that you needed him – if you were alone, stranded, or worse – then sitting back and doing nothing wasn’t an option.

Aaron gripped the wheel tighter as he pulled onto the street, scanning the sidewalk. The bar had emptied out, its neon sign flickering against the damp pavement, and the only movement came from a few stragglers loitering near the entrance, voices loud and slurred.

Then he saw you.

Sitting on the curb, legs stretched out, leaning back on your hands like you didn’t have a care in the world.

Absolutely shit-faced.

His jaw tensed as he threw the car into park, cutting the engine.

You were smiling at something in the distance, your head titling slightly, eyes unfocused, lost in a world far from this dimly lit street.

The streetlights bathed you in a soft, golden glow, casting shadows over the flush in your cheeks, the curve of your shoulders, the bare skin catching the night air. You looked otherworldly – untouchable, ethereal, like something that didn’t belong in a place like this.

And yet, here you were.

Aaron swallowed hard, dragging his gaze away, forcing himself to find something – anything – else to focus on. He had no business looking at you like this. No business letting his thoughts wander into places they didn’t belong.

But it was impossible not to.

The hem of your dress barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, fabric pooling over your legs that seemed long and endless in a way that felt entirely unfair. He had never seen this much of you before – never had to resist the temptation, to let his eyes trace the lines of your body, the soft slope of your knee, the stretch of smooth skin illuminated by neon light.

And God help him, it did something to him. Something that should never be spoken aloud.

You never dressed conservatively for his sake, you dressed for yourself. Some days you showed more skin than others, but even then, the most he’d ever been allowed to see were glimpses – your ankles peeking beneath the hem of a sundress, the curve of your calf when you curled your legs beneath you on the couch.

But tonight? Tonight, he was drunk too. Just on something else entirely.

Not appropriate. Not his concern. Not when he was supposed to be mad at you.

But then you tilted your head up at him, squinting slightly, as if trying to make out his face through a fog. “You look an awful lot like my boss,” you mused, shading your eyes with one hand like there was a blinding sun overhead. “He’s very handsome.”

Aaron dragged a hand down his face, inhaling through his nose. You were drunker than he thought.

“Alright, that’s enough. Get up.”

You hummed, tilting your head as if considering the request, then stretched your legs out further, the movement drawing his attention to just how much skin was on display.

"Mmm, I don’t think so," you sighed, leaning back on your palms. "I’m enjoying the view."

“The view of what exactly?” He looked across the street where there was nothing but darkened storefronts.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your lips. "You, sir."

Aaron stilled.

You squinted up at him, tapping a finger against your chin. "Do you like being called sir?"

"What?"

You waved a hand, bracelets jingling with the motion, as if you were letting him in on some great secret. "I was talking to this guy at the bar earlier," you began, voice light, careless, like the words weren’t about to drive him insane. "He was telling me how he made his ex-girlfriend’s call him as sir – you know, when they did things…without clothes."

Your name left his lips, almost a warning but if anything it only amused you.

“It’s probably something I could get behind."

Aaron’s teeth clenched.

Enough.

“Get up.”

You pouted like a spoiled thing, tilting your head. "You’re no fun at all," you huffed, dragging out the words like a complaint. Then, as if your mouth didn’t already have him questioning his patience, you added, "You know, a few Sex on the Beaches would cheer you up immensely."

Aaron didn’t take the bait, didn’t argue, didn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he crouched down, hands settling on your waist, fingers pressing against warm skin that he should not be noticing. He ignored the way something turned inside of him when he lifted you easily, the way his grip instinctively tightened to steady you.

"Have you ever had sex on the beach?"

His hands froze just for a second. His fingers stilled against the fabric of your dress as he tugged it down, as if correcting some mistake that should have never happened in the first place. A correction, a reset.

But the damage was done.

You looked up at him, slow, expectant, lips curved like you were waiting for something.

“Get in the car.”

“That’s not an answer but I will get in the car regardless because it’s cold.”

Aaron swallowed, his throat dry as he watched you turn toward the vehicle. You walked unsteadily, your balance off, your steps slow. And he followed, forcing himself to keep his gaze fixed on the back of your head.

Not the dress. Not your legs. Not the bare skin he’d already seen too much of tonight.

But as if the universe hadn’t tested him enough, as if fate was sitting back and laughing at him, just as you reached the door, he stepped forward to open it for you at the exact moment your purse slipped from your fingers, falling to the ground.

Without hesitation, you bent down to retrieve it right as Aaron was behind you.

His jaw locked so tight it ached.

He whipped his gaze away immediately, staring hard at the sky, at the roof of the car, at anything that wasn’t the colour of your underwear.

This was some kind of punishment. It had to be.

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, his fingers flexing at his sides, forcing himself to stay rooted in place instead of stepping back like a man guilty of something.

Oblivious to his suffering, you took your time grabbing your purse, steadying yourself on the car as you straightened. You glanced back at him over your shoulder, blinking innocently "What was that?"

He dragged a hand down his face before stepping forward and reaching past you to yank the car door open. “Nothing. Please, just get in the car.”

For once, you didn’t argue. You turned, dropping into the seat with no grace and all recklessness, your legs folding awkwardly, your limbs not quite cooperating with the rest of you. A quiet oof left your lips as you settled before Aaron shut the door.

He took a second longer than necessary to collect himself, inhaling deeply before making his way to the driver’s side.

By the time he slid in, his hands were already working his quarter-zip sweater free, the fabric bunching as he pulled it over his head, revealing the plain white t-shirt beneath. He always ran warm – too warm sometimes – but tonight felt different. Without a word, he passed the sweater to you.

You blinked down at it. "What’s this for?"

Aaron kept his eyes ahead as he started the engine, adjusting the car’s heating. “You’re cold.”

You said nothing as you shifted beside him, pulling it over your head, the sleeves hanging loose around your wrist. You let out a small, content sigh, curling into the fabric like it was the cosiest thing in the world.

Aaron risked a glance as he drove. Big mistake.

You were looking at him –  right at him – chin tucked into the collar, eyes warm and drowsy, but not nearly as unfocused as they should have been. No, there was something else in your gaze, something aware, something playful.

“Are you warm enough?”

You sighed, stretching slightly, shifting in your seat in a way that only made this worse for him. “I am indeed. How did you know I was here?”

“You share your location with me.”

You gasped theatrically, twisting in your seat, attempting to tuck your legs underneath you despite the seatbelt digging into your skin. "Aaron Hotchner," you accused, voice full of scandal, "were you stalking me during my non-working hours?"

Aaron stopped at a red light, his focus shifting to you once more, scanning your face, searching for any signs of distress beneath all the teasing and drunken charm. “You were still at a bar that had closed. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You grinned, leaning your head against the seat, voice loose and lazy. "I am more than okay, boss. I’ve had like thirteen strawberry daiquiris, and I saved all the colourful umbrellas too. For my scrapbook – look!"

You reached for your purse, the movement uncoordinated but enthusiastic. The small bag sat on your lap, and when you flipped it open, the contents spilled into clear view – too clear.

Aaron’s gaze moved down instinctively.

And then his knuckles went bone white.

Cigarettes. A pack tucked neatly inside and several golden foil wrappers glinting beneath the streetlights.

His fingers clenched the steering wheel too tightly, his stomach twisting with something he couldn’t immediately name. His heartbeat, slow and steady just moments ago, kicked up and not in a way he liked.

“You smoke?”

You blinked, glancing down at your purse, then back at him confused. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you – he looked at the evidence sitting in your lap. "Since when do you smoke?"

You followed his line of sight. "Oh!" You let out a bright, almost delighted laugh, completely unaware of the storm brewing next to you. "No, no, no! Those aren’t mine! I – oh my God, this isn’t even my purse!"

Aaron didn’t move, didn’t blink.

You giggled, digging through it with renewed amusement. "I was wondering why my lipstick wasn’t in here! This explains it. Me and Lily must’ve switched at some point." You lifted the pack of cigarettes between two fingers. "She’s the smoker. And a terrible one at that. She always has to borrow lighters."

He still hadn’t breathed.

You tilted your head at him, then followed his line of sight back to the golden wrappers glinting between the folds of fabric.

Your brows furrowed before you rolled your eyes. "Oh, relax, dad. Those aren’t mine either. Lily’s got a very active love life and clearly she came prepared tonight."

Aaron’s grip on the wheel didn’t loosen. Not even a little. Not when you were watching him like that – lips twitching, barely holding back a grin, fully aware of what you were doing. Then, as if you hadn’t already pushed him far enough, you plucked one of the golden squares between two fingers, twirling it slowly, letting it catch the light.

"What?" you murmured, feigning innocence. "You want to borrow one?"

He turned his head, just enough to meet your gaze, just enough to silently tell you to stop before he lost whatever fraying patience he had left. “Put it away.”

"Oh," you sang, drawing the word out as you tucked the packet back into Lily’s purse, "you’re one of those."

"One of what?"

Your lips curled. “Like it raw. I spoke to another guy, and I think they call it a breeding kink these days.”

Aaron nearly slammed the breaks. His head snapped toward you so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thought he must have misheard you – because there was no way you had just said that.

No way.

But there you were, sitting in his passenger seat, swaddled in his sweater, smelling like alcohol and trouble, blinking at him with wide, deceptively innocent eyes, looking at him like he was the most entertaining thing in the world to you right now.

“You’re going to regret saying all of this tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, as if you’d already accepted your fate. “I figured I was already out of a job when I asked you if you’d ever had sex on the beach.”

“You’re not out of a job,” he muttered, because he could never fire you. Never get rid of you. Never let you slip out of his orbit, no matter how much you tested him.

“That’s a shame.”

His brow furrowed. “Why is that a shame?”

“Cause then I’d have an excuse,” you hummed, your voice quieter now, softer, like you were sinking into the weight of the alcohol.

“An excuse for what?”

You turned your head, blinking over at him, your eyes softer now, so much softer than the teasing from before. "For making things messy."

Aaron gripped the wheel tighter. "What does that mean?"

You sighed dramatically, stretching your legs out as if this conversation wasn’t about to end him. "It means," you said languidly, like you were talking to yourself more than him, "if I wasn’t your nanny, if I didn’t work for you, if there weren’t so many reasons why this would be a bad idea, I’d let myself say it."

“Say what?”

“You’re smart, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice slow, dragging over the syllables like you were fighting sleep.

His chest felt too tight.

And when you smiled at him – sleepy, real, unguarded – Aaron thought he might actually break.

"You know what.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

He said nothing, the only sounds filling the space between you were the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from your side of the car for the rest of the journey. You weren’t fully asleep, not yet, but your body had started to melt into the seat, exhaustion creeping in despite your best efforts.

When Aaron pulled into his driveway, he shifted into park and glanced at you, debating whether you were even awake enough to get inside on your own. But the moment the car stopped, you stirred, blinking blearily at the windshield before frowning.

"This isn’t home."

Aaron’s stomach twisted because of course you didn’t see it that way. Even though you were there more than he was. Even though the house felt different when you were gone. Even though he thought of you as home.

He tried to push the thought aside. “Well, do you have your keys since you swapped bags with your friend?”

You frowned again, like you were trying to process his words but they were taking longer than usual to land. Then, after a moment, you groaned, slumping against the seat. "Shit. You’re right."

“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

He stepped out first, rounding the car, but before he could even reach for your door handle, you had already pushed it open – or tried to.

Because your coordination was horrible.

The door swung open too fast and you nearly followed it.

Aaron caught you instantly, his reflexes sharp despite the late hour and lack of light.

“Easy, angel,” he cooed, the words slipping out before he could think better of them. They were gentle. Not the way he spoke to his agents. Not the way he spoke to anyone else.

His arm stayed secure around your waist, keeping you upright, while his other hand reached past you to shut the door.

And that was when you did it. Without thinking, without hesitation, you rested your hand on his chest as you leaned into him like you belonged there.

And damn it, it felt like you did.

He guided you carefully toward the front door, his hand never leaving your waist. This wasn’t the first time he’d led someone inside after a long night, but it was the first time he’d felt like this.

Once inside, he lowered you onto the couch, easing you down with so much care, like you were something fragile, something precious.

“Stay here.”

Aaron disappeared down the hall, moving toward the laundry room where he knew you kept a spare change of clothes for the nights you spent with Jack.

He was back in the living room within seconds, noticing the way you had kicked off your heels and curled yourself onto the couch.

Handing you the bundle of clothes, his fingers brushed yours for half a second, and he hated the way it made something in his chest tremble.

“Thank you.”

"Just get changed."

A sleepy grin tugged at your lips. "Yes, sir."

He clenched his jaw, ignored you, and turned toward the kitchen – because standing there any longer, watching you wrapped up in his sweater, looking at him like that, wasn’t something he could afford to do.

He heard you shifting behind him, the rustle of fabric, and then –

"Aaron?"

He stopped mid-step.

There was something different in your voice now, something smaller, something hesitant.

When he turned, he found you still in your dress, your arms wrapped loosely around yourself, his sweater now abandoned on the sofa.

"The zip." You turned your back to him. "Could you just undo it, please?" Your fingers pointed toward the back of your dress, granting him another view of something he had tried all night not to think about.

Wordlessly, he stepped forward, his fingers hovering briefly before carefully gathering your hair and sweeping it over your shoulder, baring the zipper to him completely.

He gripped the delicate thing between his fingers, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he had imagined the way you shivered beneath his touch. But as he pulled the zipper down, revealing the smooth expanse of your back, his suspicion was confirmed when he saw the goosebumps rise along your spine.

When the zipper reached the base of your spine, he let go, immediately stepping back, needing distance.

“You’re all set.”

You didn’t move right away, standing there with your back still to him, the dress loose around your frame, his sweater still abandoned on the sofa. Then, after a moment of stillness, you turned your head just slightly, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

"Thanks."

Aaron didn’t respond. He just turned and made it into the kitchen successfully this time, moving on autopilot, bracing his hands on the counter.

He was going to make you something to help with the inevitable headache you’d have in the morning, then he was going to go to bed, and by tomorrow, this would just be one more thing he’d force himself to forget.

By the time he had the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water in his hands, you were quiet. The kind of quiet that made him pause, his footsteps slowing as he neared the hallway.

He hesitated, listening carefully, trying to gauge if you had finished changing.

“Are you decent?” he called out.

“…Define decent.”

“Just tell me if I can come in.”

Another pause, then the sound of shifting fabric before you finally replied, "Yes, you can come in, Hotchner."

He stepped into the living room to find you sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, your hair messy from the night.

“Take these, they should help with the headache.”

You took the glass, cradling it between your hands, but instead of drinking, you chewed the inside of your cheek.

"Is it a bad time to tell you that I’m a throw-up kind of drunk and not a headache kind of one?"

Aaron stared at you, expression completely and utterly blank. He’d dealt with some of the worst criminals the world had to offer, but nothing could have prepared him for you in this state.

“Are you going to be sick now?”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes unfocused but still completely earnest. "I don’t know… I don’t like thinking about it because then I get anxious, and then the anxiety makes me feel even worse." You frowned, looking up at him like you’d just personally inconvenienced his entire life. “I am so sorry.”

He sighed, crouching in front of you, resting his forearms on his knees. He should have been exasperated. He should have been frustrated. But in that moment all he felt was patience – one that seemed to only exist when it came to you.

"You don’t have to apologize," he assured you. "Let’s get you upstairs and closer to the bathroom."

Your lips parted before curving into a teasing smile. "You’re going to make me sleep in the bathroom?"

Aaron huffed a breath, shaking his head. "No. You can have my bed for the night. It’s more comfortable than being down here, and it’s less of a trip if you need to be sick."

You blinked at him, as if processing the words in slow motion. Then your smile softened. “You’re the best,” you whispered.

He tried to ignore the way those three simple words nestled themselves somewhere they shouldn’t.

"Come on, let’s get you to bed."

He helped you up carefully, keeping his hands steady as you swayed, still a little off balance from the alcohol. You leaned into him instinctively, far too trusting, and he had to remind himself that you weren’t thinking straight, that this could mean nothing in the morning.

By the time you made it to his room, you were half-asleep on your feet, blinking slowly as you took in the space around you.

Aaron pulled back the covers, gesturing for you to get in. "Go on. You need to sleep."

You hesitated, standing there, fingers toying with the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wore. “Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

He should have said no. Should have reminded you that you were drunk, that this wasn’t a good idea, that you wouldn’t even remember asking in the morning.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he nodded.

"Okay."

You smiled sleepily, gratefully, before climbing into bed, curling up under the blankets.

Aaron sat down in the chair by the bedside, keeping some distance, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, just as your breathing started to slow, just as sleep almost took you, you mumbled, "You always take care of me."

Aaron let a breath out, watching as your body finally relaxed, as you drifted off entirely, safe and warm in his bed.

He wished he didn’t want to.

But he always would.

[fanged-fanfics]

hey broski! I hope you don't mind, requesting

Pure Vanilla/Shadow Milk x Sorcerer! Eldritch Magic User!Reader, Oneshot if you can :) Their gender is whatever, They/Them

Reader was Pure Vanilla's assistant or bodyguard like Wild berry, and they weren't from vanilla kingdom, but they worked as Pure Vanilla's and tries to fit in, they have a special abilities(Doctor Strange's magic bcuz yes, also bonus if they used to be non-magic cookie) They're mature and responsible.

Reader was a older sibling/Parent-figure to Gingerbrave's friends.

They all visit to Beast Yeast together and yeah, I don't know. You can add and go crazy. Thank you!

☆ A Stroll Into Town — Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk (seperate) x Bodyguard!Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You walked dutifully along Pure Vanilla, a contained Shadow Milk being dragged behind you both. While the deceitful beast was passive, you'd decided it had been far too long since visiting your friend Gingerbrave. He'd attempted to write you a few times to tell of his adventures, and you missed seeing him in person. "We'll be coming up in just a moment, I think" Pure Vanilla said through the silence. Shadow Milk struggled against the restraints you had him in "I'm so BOOOOREEDD!! Can't I have a little break? I'm gonna crumble away at this rate!" He cried.

You spun around, pointing your sword in his direction "Quiet. You will be detained when the time calls for it". Shadow Milk didn't seem deterred, and he blew a raspberry in your direction. You leaned back with an unamused look, Pure Vanilla patting your shoulder. "Patience, my knight. He'll have his due time". You grumbled, but gave an obedient nod, walking forwards and dragging the fallen beast once more.

You soon entered through a thick patch of trees, peering into a building Kingdom on the other side. Many Sugar Gnomes flooded the place, building stones up with shovels and saws to make the walls. You walked in perfect tandem with Pure Vanilla, and a familiar Cookie turned to see you, his blue eyes shining with excitement. The next thing you knew, you were being tackled to the ground in a hug. "YOU MADE IT!!! The castle is being rebuilt right now, but I'm SOSOSO happy you're here!" Gingerbrave exclaimed brightly.

You grunted while sitting up, patting the shoulder of the crushing hold you were in "Wouldn't miss it for all of Earthbread. Now let me breathe-" you replied. Gingerbrave pulled back "Oh- sorry! I've been getting so strong recently" he said, grinning as he flexed one of his thin crispy arms "Must be all that adventuring". You smiled, chuckling a little "I'm sure. But I bet you still couldn't beat me". "Oh yeah? I bet I could!" Gingerbrave shot back confidently.

You glanced up to Pure Vanilla, who was smiling warmly at seeing you so relaxed. He gave an approving nod, and you stood, facing your now-opponent "Come on, let's put it to the test" you said. Gingerbrave got a running start, causing you to chase after him. Meanwhile, Pure Vanilla positioned Shadow Milk onto a nearby bench. The beast was still grumbling, practically pouting now "This is what we came here for? Ugh, you're making me think a jailcell would've been a better option"

"On the contrary, this is exactly the kind of exposure you need" Pure Vanilla said, taking a seat nearby. When Shadow Milk glared at him in confusion, he went on, "Look around, Shadow Milk. All these Cookies coming together to build something great. Not just a kingdom, but a home. Even our dear knight can't help but join in". He turned his eye staff to the Cookies running about, using it to see the scenery "They're family, friends, comrades. It's everything you need to learn"

"BOOORRIIINNNG" Shadow Milk interrupted, leaning back in his seat "Sheesh, and just when I wanted to think you couldn't get any worse, you bring out the friendship speech. Give it a rest, you fool". Pure Vanilla just gave a shrug. He was always irritated with Shadow Milk, but it wasn't in his nature to lash out or snap. Not after that first time... he focused on his deep breathing instead, finding comfort in watching you battle with your pals.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, but found his gaze going to the same area. You looked so carefree out there. So unapologetically yourself. Just you, the sun beaming down, and the thrill of battle. He didn't remember a time where he ever saw you look happier. Maybe there could be something there.. a spot carved out in the earth for something even as vile as him. Maybe a spot right beside you, if he wanted to really hope. But he shoved the thought back down when remembering the scowl you always fixed him with. It was stupid to get his hopes up, he figured. But for now, he was drawn to your form, awestruck by you, and he felt no need to look away.

[mymoonisgrey]

mr. steal your girl

❤︎ ໋𓈒 in which satoru’s plans to steal you away from your girlfriend work, after a while.

warnings. 18+, smut, cunnilingus, p in v, satoru’s a smart manipulator, ooc, reader is bi and had a girlfriend, polygamy. based on this ask.

wc. 4.3k

A throuple. A polyamorous relationship. Not once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in one.

You’ve been with your girlfriend for a while now, and she’s wonderful—steady, kind, patient. You’ll admit that.

But a part of you has always yearned for something else. The kind of love that feels all-consuming. A man’s presence—protective, overwhelming, the low timbre of his voice settling deep in your bones, large, calloused hands engulfing yours, that brand of devotion you only ever see in movies.

Then Gojo Satoru waltzes into your life and tilts your world off its axis.

He’s thrilling, all spark and adrenaline. Just being near him sends a rush through your veins. Those striking blue eyes pull you in, make your head spin before you can even think.

It starts as a friendship.

You meet him at a bar, introduced through a mutual friend—Shoko Ieiri, who, for the record, is the human embodiment of lesbian energy. At first, you hang out in a group, once or twice. Then, somehow, it becomes a daily thing. Eventually, you’re comfortable enough to start meeting up with him alone.

“Trust me, you should really try the taro-flavored one,” he says, sliding the boba ice cream toward you with an easy smile. “I’m a sugar expert. And sugar varies, y’know?”

You hug your torso, lips quirking. “I know it tastes good. My girlfriend likes it.”

Satoru stills. The word hangs between you, and for a fraction of a second, his smile falters—so subtly you almost miss it.

Then, his expression smooths out, his interest sharpening into something even keener.

“Girlfriend?” he repeats, slow, as if tasting the word.

You nod, oblivious to the calculations running through his mind. “Mhm! I’ll bring her next time. You can meet her.”

A million possibilities unfold in his head, different ways this could go, all of them leading to the same outcome. Because he wants you—pronto.

His fingers graze the ends of your hair, his smile going languid, lazy.

“That,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “would be interesting.”

You didn’t think much about that interaction with Satoru at the time.

When you finally brought your girlfriend out to meet your friend, the connection between the three of you was instant—undeniable. Before you knew it, you had become a trio.

Satoru was always around, whether at your place or taking you both out. He spoiled you endlessly, never hesitating to drop money on gifts, meals, or spontaneous trips. He was the perfect masculine presence—charming, dependable, larger than life. Neither of you questioned it. Not at first.

You had no idea there was a motive behind it. Neither did she.

Then, one night, he brought it up.

“You know,” he starts, casual, almost offhanded. “We could just—make this a thing.”

You blink.

“Huh?” you mutter, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on your arms. Beside you, your girlfriend’s brows knit together.

Satoru swallows—an act, you realize later. He stares at both of you with a glassy, hopeful gaze, playing it up just enough to seem sincere but not too eager.

“I like you both,” he says. “So, if you’d like… I mean, I won’t take it personally if you say no—”

“Yes.”

The word leaves your lips before you can think, your back straightening as you nod.

Your girlfriend turns to you, eyes wide. But when you meet her gaze—soft, certain—she understands.

“…Yes,” she echoes.

Satoru smiles, slow and knowing. Then he stands smoothly, gathering you both into his arms—his grip just a little tighter around you.

It was a slow burn—he did think your girlfriend was cute, but you? You were everything. He could already picture it: kids, a settled life with you, lounging together in his clan’s estate. You, as his madam.

But he was patient. He took his sweet time, gradually pulling you further away from her without making it too obvious. It started small—sitting with you more often than she did, attending to every little need you had, hanging on to your every word. Then, the gifts.

“What’s all this?” you laugh softly, staring at the orange boxes with their fancy ribbons, the velvet-lined cases. You’d never been gifted something so luxurious before.

“They’re yours, honey.” He smiles, genuine, his heart pounding beneath his chest. “I picked everything based on… what you like.”

Your heart soars, your lips curling into a smile as you hug him tightly. “I love you. Thank you.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Mmm, I love you more,” he murmurs, his voice thick with devotion. He feels your eyes drift around, searching for something else.

His brow furrows. “I got her something too, don’t worry. It’s in her bedroom. When she’s back, I’ll give it to her.”

You nod, your smile warm, though your gaze lingers on the gifts in your lap. Part of you wonders—does she get the same? You assume she does. After all, Satoru’s generous.

He is, but only because he knows exactly what he’s doing. The gift for her? A simple diamond tennis necklace—barely a dent in his pocket. Not that it matters. This is all part of the plan.

It’s been going on for months—slowly, almost imperceptibly, Satoru has worked his way into your life, taking more of your attention, making you feel more at home with him than with your girlfriend. At first, it was subtle—the way he’d help you with everything, anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. But now, you’re beginning to notice the gap widening, the emotional distance growing between you and her.

Your girlfriend is becoming… strange.

She picks fights over the smallest things now—dirty dishes left in the sink, the couch cushion being out of place, your clothes tossed on the floor. It’s like every moment is an argument waiting to happen. Her moods shift at the drop of a hat. “I’m not in the mood,” she sighs. “I don’t feel like it today.” Even her complaints about Satoru—small, unimportant things—start to irritate you.

Satoru, on the other hand, never complains. He’s there when you need him, always helpful, always attentive. He’s not the one causing problems, and he never starts a fight. Everything he does seems to smooth over the tension.

But today… Today something shifts. Satoru’s patience snaps.

You’re out running errands, leaving Satoru and your girlfriend alone in the house. When you return, you find Satoru cornering her in the hallway. His face is expressionless, but there’s an undeniable hardness in his eyes.

“Honey,” Satoru says, his voice smooth, but with an edge that cuts through the air. His gaze never wavers from hers. “We need to talk.”

Your girlfriend glares at him, exhausted. “What now?” Her tone is laced with resentment.

“You’ve been really fucking hard on her lately,” Satoru continues, his voice deceptively gentle. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture almost predatory. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hard on her?” she scoffs, her eyes flashing with anger. “Oh, so now you’re playing the ‘knight in shining armor,’ huh? Tell me, why does everything have to revolve around you two, huh?”

Satoru’s lips curl into a tight, almost amused smile. He leans in, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re always together. It’s like I’m invisible! It’s like I wasn’t even your girlfriend too— she was my girlfriend first! why are you just… swooping in like im not here?!” Her voice cracks with frustration, but her hands ball into fists at her sides.

Satoru tilts his head, his expression cool and controlled. “You’re being irrational,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. “Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn’t feel like she has to pull away from you.”

Her eyes widen, disbelief flashing across her face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. His gaze hardens. “I said maybe you should stop acting like a bitch towards her,” he states with calm finality.

Her face pales, and for a moment, she looks like she might explode. “Excuse me?” she whispers, barely holding back her fury. “You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can just come in here, into our relationship, and tell me how I should act?”

Satoru’s smile remains unchanged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you’re making things difficult for her. You’re pushing her away, and it’s your fault.”

“You have an ulterior motive, don’t you?” she spits, glaring at him. “You’ve been plotting this from the start. You want her all to yourself.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you think? Really?” He takes a step closer to her, his presence overwhelming. “You’re the one who’s been making it hard for her, not me. But if you’re too blind to see that, then that’s your problem.”

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “I think you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s smile widens. “Maybe I have.” His eyes flick to the door, a silent invitation for her to leave, to walk away. “But you know what? That’s your choice.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he turns, walking away like he’s won.

Your girlfriend stands there, her body trembling with anger and frustration. She breathes heavily, looking at the door, before storming out without another word.

You return home, bags in hand, and freeze at the sight of your girlfriend standing outside. Her expression is clouded, her shoulders hunched, and she looks as though she’s just been torn apart.

“Hey… Are you okay?” you ask softly, approaching her, your voice filled with concern.

Her eyes flash with irritation. “Are you seriously asking me that?” she spits, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really don’t see it, do you? You’ve been so wrapped up in him, in Satoru, that you haven’t even noticed me. I’m right here, but you don’t care. You don’t even fucking care anymore.”

Your heart sinks, confusion and frustration rising. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying—”

“No! Don’t give me that!” she snaps, her voice raw with emotion. “You’ve been all about him. He’s always there, always helping, always doing for you. What about me? What the fuck do I get?”

Your eyes widen as the weight of her words settles in. “That’s not fair. You know how much I care about you.”

“Do I? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” she sneers, taking a step back. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything. Like I’m just the other option, the one who gets pushed aside because you want him. You think I don’t see that?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you say, your voice wavering, emotions thick in your throat. “I’m not choosing anyone. I never wanted this to happen.”

“No, you didn’t,” she mocks. “But it’s happening anyway. Because you don’t see it. You don’t see me anymore.”

Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them away, fighting back the lump in your throat. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, you are.” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve already hurt me.”

Before you can respond, she spins on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on your chest.

Inside, Satoru watches from the window, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watches the scene unfold.

You rush inside, groceries in your arms, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. The door slams shut behind you with a soft thud, but the weight in your chest feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried. You fight to keep the tears at bay, but they burn at the edges of your vision.

Before you even reach the kitchen, Satoru is there—appearing as though he was waiting just for you. His hands are quick, steady, and gentle as he takes the groceries from your hands, setting them down on the foyer table with a careful precision. His eyes meet yours, searching for the storm brewing in them.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before his arms are around you, pulling you into his warmth.

“My heart, come here.” His voice is a soothing whisper, an easy contrast to the fury that still bubbles beneath your skin.

You crumble against him, the dam breaking, and sobs rack your body uncontrollably. It’s as if all the frustration, all the pain, all the love you’ve been withholding explodes at once. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, a steady presence, even as your body trembles with the weight of everything that’s happened.

“She’s being fucking unfair!” you choke out between ragged breaths, the words barely making it past the tightness in your throat.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His hand brushes through your hair, slow and gentle, as though each stroke is meant to calm the storm inside you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his own breath steady and warm against your skin.

“I know.” His voice is soft, tender in a way that makes your heart twist. “She’s not seeing it, baby. She doesn’t see how much you’re doing, how much you care.” He holds you tighter, his grip firm yet comforting. “But I do.”

You pull back just slightly, enough to look up at him. His eyes are sharp, a mixture of understanding and something darker, something protective. He wipes away the remnants of your tears with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face.

“She’s pushing me away, Satoru. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to make her understand,” you whisper, voice raw, the weight of it all crashing down on you again.

His smile is small, but it holds a certain promise in it—a promise that makes your chest tighten and your heart race. “Don’t worry about that. Let me handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words get stuck. There’s something in the way he says it, something confident and unwavering. His hand moves down your back, his fingers brushing against your spine in a way that sends a ripple of warmth through your body.

“I’ll fix this, okay?” he murmurs, eyes darkening just slightly. “She’s not going to ruin what we’ve built. Not when we’re this close. You and me… we’re untouchable.”

You want to say something, to question him, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he holds you makes it hard to think of anything but him, anything but this—the safety, the comfort, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay again.

The thought makes you dizzy. And in the quiet of his embrace, you let yourself be swept away by the weight of his devotion.

The three of you sit on the bed, the TV playing in the background, but the quiet tension in the room thickens with every passing second. Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you closer, while your girlfriend watches, her hand inching toward his thigh.

Satoru notices first, his eyes flicking to her before he shifts slightly, pulling you into him even more. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His touch is steady, reassuring, as if to say it’s always been you, not her.

Your girlfriend hesitates, her fingers brushing his chest, but Satoru doesn’t react. Instead, his lips find your neck, kissing you softly, purposefully ignoring her advances. Her frustration is palpable, but she pushes forward, her fingers finding their way to his lap. She leans in to kiss him.

Satoru pulls away slightly, the edge in his voice sharp as he grabs her wrist. “Not yet,” he warns, his gaze unwavering. His attention shifts back to you, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss. Your hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to drown in him.

Your girlfriend, still sitting beside you, looks lost. She reaches again, trying to touch him, but Satoru doesn’t let her. With one hand still on you, his other gently pushes her back. “I said no,” he repeats, his voice dark with an authority that leaves no room for doubt.

You moan as Satoru’s hand slides between your legs, slipping under your clothes to find you already wet for him. He takes his time, teasing you, while your girlfriend stares, her breath catching in frustration.

The more Satoru touches you, the more your body responds. His fingers slide inside, slow at first, but he picks up the pace, bringing you to the edge. You can barely keep your composure, his lips never leaving your skin, his movements relentless.

And then, without warning, your girlfriend’s gaze shifts—no longer hungry with desire, but with a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Satoru’s full attention is on you, and he isn’t even looking at her. She’s no longer part of this equation.

As Satoru picks up speed, his breath ragged in your ear, you come apart under his touch, body trembling, desperate for more. He pushes deeper, claiming you fully, making it clear that you belong to him.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your breathless moans and Satoru’s steady pace. Your girlfriend sits motionless, helplessly watching as the last pieces of her place in this dynamic crumble.

Satoru wastes no time, maneuvering you onto your back on the bed. His hands are rough, skilled, as he strips you of your clothes with an urgency that matches the fire in his eyes. He kisses his way down your body, his lips burning trails on your skin as he works his way lower, lower, lower.

“Look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growls, his voice low and thick with desire as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily. The sensation makes you gasp, your body arching up involuntarily. You can feel his knee pressing against your cunt, the heat of him seeping into you, sending electric shocks of anticipation through your veins.

Your girlfriend, watching from the edge of the bed, stays silent, her eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists. She’s hot and bothered, her body reacting despite the anger twisting in her chest. She’s fed up with the whole situation—tired of being the afterthought. She hates the way Satoru devours you, but she can’t tear her eyes away.

“Ng—Satoru…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his mouth works its magic, sucking your nipple until it’s slick and swollen. His lips leave your skin with a soft, wet pop as he shifts his attention lower, his knee pressing harder against you, reminding you of how he owns every inch of your body.

He lifts your legs, spreading them wide as he moves between them, his eyes dark with intent. “Fuck,” you yelp as he finally lowers his mouth to your cunt, his lips and tongue finding your clit with practiced ease. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth as he hums with approval, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he mutters into your heat, his voice muffled as his tongue works relentlessly. You can barely process the words as your hips begin to squirm under the relentless pressure, his grip locking you in place. Your feet flail, trying to gain some sort of control, but Satoru has you right where he wants you—completely at his mercy.

“Sat—Satoru—” you pant, your body trembling, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach. His tongue is relentless, his mouth working you down to the bone, and you’re losing yourself to him.

“Down, kitty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing despite the intensity of his actions. “Let me eat.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone making your heart race even faster.

Your hands dig into the sheets, fingers curling tightly as his mouth continues to devour you. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck of his lips, drives you closer to the edge, and all you can do is surrender to the pleasure. His grip on your hips tightens, ensuring you stay locked in place, and you feel your body trembling, the first waves of your orgasm crashing over you.

As you’re lost in the pleasure, you catch a glimpse of your girlfriend—her expression a mixture of frustration and arousal, her eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. The tension in the room shifts, the air thick with everything unspoken. But Satoru’s focus is entirely on you, making it clear who truly holds his attention.

You’re pulled back from the edge, gasping for breath as Satoru pulls away, his lips glistening, his eyes wild with hunger. He looks up at you, his face smug but tender, a twisted combination of possessiveness and affection. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

Your girlfriend, still sitting on the edge of the bed, watches, her chest heaving with a mix of frustration and desire. But she says nothing, the distance between the three of you growing ever wider.

Satoru’s movements slow for a moment as he looks down at you, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness and hunger. His thumb traces your bottom lip, tugging it gently as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful when you’re helpless like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and gravelly. “Can’t get enough of that sweet little pussy of yours.” He groans, his hips rolling slightly, teasing you just enough to make your body twitch. “You’re all mine, baby. No one else gets to feel this.”

You whimper beneath him, your hands fisting the sheets as his words make your core tighten with need. Satoru lowers himself, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks again, his voice dripping with desire.

“Say it,” he commands, his breath hot against your skin. “Say you’re mine. Tell me you love how I fuck you like this.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “I love it, Satoru—fuck, I love how you make me feel.”

He chuckles low in his throat, a wicked grin curling on his lips. “Good girl,” he purrs. “So fucking perfect for me. No one’s ever gonna make you feel like I do, not even your girlfriend. You’re mine, and you know it, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, feeling him fill you completely. His words sink deep into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. “Yes, Satoru… only you…”

“Damn right,” he growls, his thrusts growing faster, more brutal. “I’m the one who makes you come apart, not her. Every single inch of you belongs to me now. You’ll never be able to leave me after this, baby.”

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in as he pulls you against him with each powerful thrust. He watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring you as you squirm beneath him, your body moving in rhythm with his. He groans, the sound deep and throaty as he leans down to kiss you again, hungry and demanding.

“You wanna come again, huh?” Satoru whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “You can’t get enough of me, can you? I know you’re close… you’re so fucking tight around me. You love how deep I fuck you, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please, Satoru, I need you… need more.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “I’ll give you more, baby. I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”

He picks up the pace, slamming into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you raw.”

“I want it so bad,” you moan, your body trembling as you feel your orgasm build. “I want you to make me yours, Satoru. I want everything.”

With that, he groans, his thrusts growing even more intense as he drives into you harder, faster, pushing you into a state of pure bliss. “That’s it, baby,” he growls, “Come for me. Let me feel how fucking tight you are around me.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body spasming as you scream his name. Satoru follows close behind, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own release flooding you as he grits his teeth in satisfaction.

You feel yourself being gently lifted, your body weightless in his strong, warm arms, and you’re dizzy from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. Satoru moves you up the bed effortlessly, his chest pressed to yours as he cradles you in his embrace. His lips brush your temple, soft and tender, as he whispers, “Let’s stay like this for a while. I’ll clean you up and feed you in a bit, my love.”

You nod, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you, your body still humming from the intensity of everything. The soft comfort of his touch is like a balm for your overstimulated body, and you lean into him, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

But then, your gaze shifts, and you look around the room, your mind catching up with the reality of the situation.

“Where’s—”

“Gone.” Satoru whispers, his voice low and soothing as his lips press against your neck. His arms tighten around you, drawing you closer. You can feel his steady breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything feels impossibly right.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you hug him tighter, the full weight of his words sinking in. Gone. It’s just you and him now.

“Finally,” he breathes, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

for the anon that requested this, i hope its up to your liking and expectations. :) tried my best. pls let me know what you think through the inbox 🤍

© All Rights Reserved mymoonisgrey

[gpcwsl]

“Oh, you think you’re so funny, aren’t you?”

May i request lia walti x walti!reader where the reader is wally's mischievous and chaotic younger sister who left home quietly to surprise her sister in London and when lia is not home she hides until lia comes back from her training to surprise her big sister who almost had the fright of her life. And it is here where the arsenal team is introduced to lia's chaotic sister who cannot be more different than her.

Thank you

Lia Wälti x Sister!Reader

You think you’re so funny?

WC: 582

MasterList

Warnings: short, maybe?

My first sister fic! You can request sister fictions, them I can do.

Song: If we have eachother - Alec Benjamin

You step out of the taxi, grinning as you take in the quiet London neighborhood. The sun is shining, and there’s a slight chill in the air, but you’re too excited to care.

You adjust the straps of your backpack, bouncing on your heels as you stare at the house in front of you. Lia’s house. Your big sister’s house.

She has no idea you’re here.

You hadn’t told her you were coming, and in true you fashion, you had snuck out of home without a word, booked a flight, and now stood at her doorstep, ready to execute the perfect surprise.

Lia was calm, responsible, and organized. You, on the other hand? The walking definition of chaos.

You press your ear to the door—silence. She must still be at training. Even better. That gives you time to set up. Fishing the spare key from your pocket (Lia really should know better than to trust you with this), you let yourself in.

The house is neat—of course, it is—so you make yourself at home in the only way you know how: dramatically. Shoes kicked off, backpack tossed onto the couch, and then you get to work.

Hiding.

The goal? Give your big sister the fright of her life.

You consider the classic jump out and scream method but decide it’s too predictable. Instead, you crawl under the dining table, perfectly hidden by the chairs and the tablecloth. Now, you wait.

After what feels like forever (and a slight nap on the floor), you hear voices approaching. The front door opens, and laughter fills the house.

Wait. That’s more than one voice.

“Come in, come in,” Lia says, sounding relaxed. “I’ll make tea.”

You peek out ever so slightly. Lia, still in her Arsenal training gear, is pulling off her jacket, chatting with—oh, wow, half her teammates?

You recognize a few of them. Kim Little, Leah Williamson, Katie McCabe… okay, so this is about to be an even bigger audience than expected.

Perfect.

As they move further inside, you stay hidden, holding back your laughter. The moment Lia steps past the table, you strike.

With a sudden burst of movement, you grab her ankle.

Lia lets out a scream so loud it could wake the dead. She jumps at least two feet in the air, arms flailing, nearly knocking over Kim in the process.

The room falls into stunned silence.

Then, slowly, you crawl out from your hiding spot, grinning up at your sister.

“Surprise.”

Lia’s hand is over her chest, her eyes wide as she gasps for air. “WHAT THE—?! You—?! What are you doing here?!”

“Visiting!” You beam, standing up and stretching. “Missed me?”

Her teammates, who had been frozen in shock, suddenly burst into laughter.

“Jesus Christ, Wally, you okay?” Leah wheezes, gripping the back of a chair for support.

“That’s your sister?” Katie says, wiping a tear from her eye. “You two are nothing alike!”

Lia groans, rubbing her temples. “No kidding.” Then, turning to you, she narrows her eyes. “Oh, you think you’re so funny, aren’t you?”

You shrug, still grinning. “Well, yeah. And clearly, so do your friends.” You gesture at her teammates, who are still cracking up.

Lia lets out a deep sigh, but you see the small smile tugging at her lips. Despite almost suffering a heart attack, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling something about you being impossible.

And just like that, your surprise mission?

A complete success.

[writeriguess]

Kiribaku having kids (twins boy & girl) they start kindergarten and into the year they notice the kids are sadder when they come home they’re more quiet and in a certain day kiribaku and reader (secret girlfriend) are out on a date while the kids are at school and they get a call they need picked up asap cause something’s wrong so they all three go not thinking about it and the kids meet her Sav’s a few months go by and the kids finally say the issue was not having a mommy but now they have one

A Missing Piece

Kirishima and Bakugou had always known they wanted kids. It had been a long journey—filled with paperwork, home visits, and nervous waiting—but when they finally brought home their twins, Ren and Aiko, it was like their lives truly began.

They tackled fatherhood like they tackled everything else: with passion, dedication, and an unshakable love for their children. They weren’t perfect, but they always made sure Ren and Aiko knew they were safe, cherished, and cared for.

So when the twins started kindergarten, it was a huge milestone—not just for them, but for their dads.

The first few weeks were amazing. Every afternoon, the kids would come home brimming with stories, bouncing with excitement as they recounted every detail of their day. Bakugou and Kirishima would listen intently, grinning at their enthusiasm, feeling a sense of relief that their kids were adjusting so well.

But slowly, things started to change.

It was subtle at first. The twins weren’t as chatty when they got home. Their excitement dimmed, their energy lowered. They weren’t causing trouble like usual, weren’t filling the house with their infectious laughter.

Kirishima noticed it first, his sharp observation skills picking up on their quiet moods. He tried to bring it up to Bakugou, but at first, his husband brushed it off.

“They’re kids. They’ll have bad days.”

But then bad days turned into bad weeks.

And when Aiko, their usually fiery and opinionated daughter, pushed away her plate at dinner one night without saying a word, even Bakugou knew something was wrong.

That night, after tucking the twins into bed, Kirishima leaned against the kitchen counter with a deep frown. “Something’s up, man. They’re different.”

Bakugou exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I see it too.”

“We should talk to them.”

“Tch. Like they’ll tell us anything,” Bakugou muttered, but the frustration in his voice wasn’t directed at the kids. He just hated feeling powerless.

They decided to give it a little more time, hoping the kids would open up when they were ready.

But weeks passed, and things didn’t improve.

Then the call came.

It was supposed to be a rare, peaceful day off.

Kirishima and Bakugou were on a date—something they hadn’t done in way too long. Between hero work and parenting, moments alone were hard to come by.

They were walking through the city with you—Bakugou’s secret girlfriend.

He hadn’t told the twins about you yet, not because he was ashamed, but because introducing someone into their lives was a big step. He and Kirishima had agreed that when the time was right, when things felt solid, they’d take that next step.

Right now, though, all three of you were enjoying a carefree day. You laughed at Bakugou’s usual grumbling and leaned into Kirishima’s easy warmth. It was comfortable, effortless.

And then Bakugou’s phone rang.

“Mr. Bakugou, we need you to come pick up Ren and Aiko immediately.”

His entire body tensed. “What? What happened?”

“They’re very upset. We think it’s best you come in.”

Kirishima and Bakugou didn’t waste a second. The date was forgotten as they rushed to the school, you tagging along without hesitation.

When they arrived, the twins were sitting together in a small, quiet room, curled into each other like two halves of the same soul. Their tiny hands were clenched, eyes downcast.

It hurt.

Kirishima stepped forward first, crouching beside them. “Hey, little ones.” His voice was soft, careful. “What’s going on?”

Ren sniffled but didn’t speak. Aiko peeked up at them, then hesitated when her eyes landed on you.

You stayed quiet, offering a small smile, not wanting to overwhelm them.

“They’re not talking much,” the teacher explained gently. “But we think something has been bothering them for a while. It might be best if they tell you.”

Bakugou crouched beside Kirishima, his red eyes soft with concern. “Come on, brats. Tell us what’s wrong.”

It took a moment, but then, in a tiny voice, Aiko whispered, “The other kids said it’s weird that we don’t have a mommy.”

Silence.

Kirishima and Bakugou exchanged a glance.

“They… what?” Bakugou’s voice was dangerously low, but Kirishima nudged him gently to keep him in check.

Ren wiped his nose on his sleeve. “They laughed at us when we said we have two dads.” His lower lip trembled. “They said all families are supposed to have a mommy and a daddy. And that maybe… maybe our mommy left ‘cause she didn’t love us.”

Kirishima felt something in his chest crack. He pulled the twins into a hug without hesitation. “Hey, don’t listen to that, okay? That’s not true. You are so, so loved.”

Aiko clutched at his shirt. “But we don’t have a mommy…”

A beat of silence passed.

And then Ren glanced at you again.

“But… do we now?”

You froze.

The question hung in the air like an unspoken wish.

Bakugou and Kirishima both looked at you, their expressions unreadable. It was a moment they hadn’t planned for, hadn’t expected—but maybe, just maybe, the kids had seen something they hadn’t fully realized yet.

Your heart clenched as you met the hopeful, tear-filled eyes of the twins.

You knelt in front of them, keeping your voice warm but careful. “Families come in all shapes, you know. But if… if you’d like, I’d love to be a part of yours.”

Ren hiccupped. “You would?”

Aiko’s eyes were wide.

You smiled, holding out your arms, giving them the choice.

It only took a second before they crashed into you, burying themselves in your warmth.

Kirishima swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. Bakugou turned away, rubbing at his face with a grumble, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.

The twins held onto you like a missing puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

“Yeah,” you whispered against their hair, holding them tight. “You do now.”

And just like that, their family became whole.

[noctiva]

Yandere Toby hc-🪽

angel anon I see all ur asks in my inbox… what are we hehe *twirls hair*

//

Yandere!Toby Headcannons

-

CW!! Stalking, obsessive behaviour, mentions of death + murder, 18+ content, sexual content

slight NSFW under the cut! minors do not interact!

—

Yandere!Toby thinks he’s doing it all for your sake

Because he knows what’s best for you, and what’s best for you is him.

He knows how to treat you better than anyone else. Knows all of your favourite shows, foods, hobbies, and places to go (maybe only because he sneaks around your house when you think you’re alone, peeking through the windows to gaze at your beauty)

Yandere!Toby leaves you gifts and love notes. Pretty rocks he thinks you’d like, animal bones he cleaned just for you, pretty jewelry and hair clips he stole from his victims. All slipped into your mailbox, or left on your porch wrapped in a ribbon.

Yandere!Toby won’t hesitate to kill, but he’ll do it discreetly - leaving you wondering why all of your love interests just keep disappearing.

Yandere!Toby has snuck into your house once or twice (or three, four, five times) to steal little items from you that he’s sure you won’t miss.

Besides your favourite sweater - he took that too. Stuffing it with a pillow so he can fall asleep cuddled up against your scent, dreaming that one day he’ll have his arms wrapped around your body instead.

(And you don’t want it back, because more often than not he ends up hopelessly rutting against it - the smell of your perfume getting him harder than he’s ever been)

Yandere!Toby is patient at first. Hopeful that you’ll realize the truth eventually (the truth being, that you’ll be happiest with him).

But that patience doesn’t last long, because why don’t you get it? Why are you wasting time with all of these idiots when he’s right here? Showering you with love and appreciation you could never find elsewhere?

Though, he’d never really blame you. You were perfect. The fault was laid on every one else. For distracting you, leading you astray. Keeping you from him, and tainting your mind.

Yandere!Toby keeps trophies from all of the people he’s killed to gain your affection. His favourite being the jar of teeth that rests on his nightstand.

Yandere!Toby has your name carved into the handle of his hatchet. Because he’s doing this all for you. Not caring how bloody he has to get if it means the end goal is your lips on his.

Yandere!Toby likes to watch you sleep.

Likes to see you so peaceful. That’s when you’re the most beautiful, in his opinion. All blissful and unaware.

He could do anything to you. Anything.

But he’d wait. Because if he wanted a limp doll he’d just go back to humping your sweater. He wanted to hear you cry out his name, feel your nails drag down his back.

So the worst he’d do while you were sleeping was snip off a lock of your hair. From the back, so you wouldn’t notice it as quick.

He keeps it in a locket around his neck.

(But he often takes it out to sniff it.)

Yandere!Toby stole a Polaroid camera just to document you.

And when he prints the pictures out, he sticks them right on the wall next to his bed.

Pictures of you sleeping, at work, laughing with friends.

The pictures of you undressing, he keeps in his nightstand. Along with a pair of panties he snagged from your drawer.

He would return them, so that you could wash them and reinvigorate the scent of your laundry soap - but he’s sure that the new stains would catch your attention.

Yandere!Toby knows it’ll only take time. Because one day, you’ll have no choice but to love him - because there’ll be no one else left.

—————————————————————————☆

this is my first time doin a list of headcannons so I hope it’s alright 🙏🙏

thank you for the request!

[sevikaslatinawife]

PLEASEEEEE DO MORE CURLY HAIR READER X SEVIKA!!!!!

yesss hope you enjoy, anon!

Curly Cues

Warnings: f!reader, fluff, modern!au

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

You were in the bathroom, hair products strewn about around the sink. You were untangling your wet hair with a Denman brush, wetting the collar of your (Sevika’s) shirt in the process.

Music was playing idly in the background, your phone on top of the toilet lid as you started dividing your hair into four sections. Each one clipped in place by a hair clip. You opened up the products: leave-in conditioner, curl cream and gel. As you were beginning to start at the first section, your girlfriend came into the bathroom.

You hum when you see her, tilting your cheek out when she leans down to kiss it. She always seemed to enjoy watching you do your hair, and when you teased her about it once, she just muttered a ‘shut up’ but didn’t move from her seat.

“You just gonna stare?” You scrunch your nose as you apply water in a spray bottle to your hair before taking some leave in conditioner on your fingers and combing it through your hair.

“What, I can’t watch my pretty girl?” She smirks at noticing the pink hue your cheeks take on.

“Then you call me a sap,” You mumble and take curl cream and spread it across the section, making sure to rake it through every already-forming curls under your fingertips.

‘You are a sap,” She chuckles, gray eyes almost sparkling as she looks at you, watches your every move as you rake the Denman brush through your curls. “And you make me a sap, too,” she huffs as she takes a seat at the lip of the bathtub.

You smile and turn to walk over to her. She spreads her thighs for you to step between as you lean down to kiss her forehead. The half-done, wet section of hair brushes her cheek and makes her hum. It’s cold against her normally heated face, and it makes her grip your hips, both the metal of her prosthetic and the flesh of her right.

“Pretty,” You whisper as you kiss her temple, then her forehead again.

She grunts and her fingers tighten at your hips. “That’s you, idiot.”

“Take the compliment,” You tease and tilt her chin back with the back of your wrist to press a soft kiss to plump, warm lips. The kiss is soft and chaste and you pull back after a few seconds to go back to doing your hair.

Every movement is practiced and near-perfect — because of course, you have not found a solution to the frizz that clings to your hair when you towel dry the curls with a microfiber towel. You apply more gel, concentrating on your ends because you tend to miss them.

You rinse your fingers under the water, as well as the brush and pull out the hairs on it, bawling them up to throw away. Sevika hated when you let them clog the sink because it happened way too often — but she still didn’t mind fixing it because it just reminds her of how you’re utterly her little problem.

Once everything is cleaned up and put away, Sevika is walking around you and wrapping her arms around you from behind. She would press her nose against the crown of your head, basking in the cold of your hair and the smell of the products that now only remind her of you.

Sevika now cannot smell anything similar without thinking of you.

“You’re going to crush them,” you whined and lean your head forward and away from her face. “Let them dry.”

Sevika groans because it takes your hair hours to dry and, on top of that, she would have to be poked by your gel-casted hair since you wait to scrunch it out sometimes. Other times, Sevika would sit you down and slowly scrunch out the gel and you loved it. You would close your eyes and almost sway at the gentle touch of her right hand in your hair. She said she didn’t like using her prosthetic for fear of tugging your hair — and because she can’t feel it properly with it.

But she knows how you are, so she waits. And waits. And waits for your hair to dry while you two do chores and then sit on the couch to watch a movie. You had picked something scary and she begrudgingly agreed.

When you lean your temple on her shoulder and pull the blanket around you higher, she knows that you wont mind her touching your hair now. So she reached out with her right hand to tug a curl, watch it bounce back into place after the gel-casting is melded off by her and lets the curl go. She kisses the top of your head and relishes in the scent of your hair products because she has come to associate the sweetness of their scent with you.

With the love she has for you. With the time you’ve spent together and all the time that you have left.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

More Sevika fluff, guys! Send me more fluff requests!

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise

summary: After a drunken night out, you accidentally kiss South Korea's biggest playboy, Gong Yoo—who recently vowed on live TV to marry the next person who kissed him.

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s);

I should have stopped at two tequila shots.  

But no. My best friend, Mia, had convinced me that I needed to "live a little"—which meant drinking like I was celebrating a lottery win, dancing like an unhinged maniac, and somehow… accidentally kissing Gong Yoo, one of the most handsome man in all of South Korea

Yeah. That happened.

The Night It All Went Down

The night had started innocently enough. My friends and I were celebrating Mia’s promotion, and we ended up at VERA, one of the hottest clubs in Seoul. It was packed with celebrities, influencers, and people with perfect faces who didn’t seem real.  

At some point between shot number three and shot number… too many, I lost track of my surroundings. All I knew was that the music was pulsing, my head was spinning, and I felt unstoppable.

That’s when I saw him.  

Gong Yoo.  

Sitting in the VIP booth, dressed in all black, his sharp jawline and devastating smirk catching the flashing lights of the club. He looked exactly like he did in the tabloids—sinful, dangerous, and ridiculously hot.

And in my tequila-clouded brain, I had the most spectacularly bad idea.

"I’m gonna kiss him," I announced to Mia.  

She choked on her drink. "What?! No, you're not!"  

But it was too late.  

Fueled by liquid courage (and zero common sense), I marched up to the VIP section, ducked under the rope, ignored the confused security guard, and planted myself right in front of Gong freaking Yoo.

He was mid-conversation with some idol when I stumbled forward, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

And not just a quick peck—oh no.  

I kissed him like I meant it.  

For two whole seconds, the world stopped. His lips were warm, soft, and completely still. I vaguely registered the sound of gasps, the flash of cameras—  

And then, suddenly, he kissed me back.  

His hand slid against my waist, his lips moved against mine, and my brain basically malfunctioned.

Then reality smacked me in the face.  

I pulled away with a gasp, realizing what the hell I just did.

Gong Yoo blinked at me, then tilted his head, looking entirely too amused. "Well, that was unexpected."  

My heart plummeted as the entire VIP section burst into chaos.  

Phones were out. People were shouting. Security was stepping in. And then Mia’s voice screamed through the noise—

"OH MY GOD, WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"  

The Morning After

I woke up with the worst hangover of my life and three hundred missed notifications.

The internet had lost it's mind

DIG INTO THE LIFE OF THE MYSTERY PERSON WHO STOLE GONG YOO'S HEART?!

WHO IS THE PERSON THAT KISSED GONG YOO—AND WHY DID HE KISS THEM BACK?!

GONG YOO LAST ROMANCE? STAR DECLARES HE’LL MARRY THE NEXT PERSON WHO KISSES HIM—IS THIS IT?!  

I groaned, pressing a pillow over my face. No. No, no, no, no. 

This was bad. Really bad.

I barely had time to process it before someone knocked on my apartment door. 

Mia poked her head in. "Um…good morning?"  

"What?" I groaned.  

She pointed over her shoulder. "You… have a guest."  

I frowned, dragging myself out of bed and stumbling toward the door. The second I opened it, my stomach plummeted.

Gong Yoo stood there.  

Looking very smug.

I panicked. "Why are you here?!"  

He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk deepening. "Well, sweetheart, you kissed me. And I don’t break my promises."  

I blinked. "What promise?"  

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "The one I made on live TV last week."  

Oh no.  

No, no, no.  

The interview.  

I had seen it. The entire world had seen it.  

Gong Yoo, a notorious playboy, had gone on The Late Night Show and declared to millions of viewers, "The next person who kisses me? That’s it. That’s the one. I’ll marry them. No more games."  

My blood ran cold.

"Gong Yoo," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "That… was a joke, right?"  

He grinned. "Nope."  

I gasped. "But I was drunk! It was an accident!"  

He shrugged. "Doesn’t change anything. A promise is a promise."  

I stared at him in absolute horror.

This couldn’t be happening.  

I was a nobody. A broke nobody. I worked a boring marketing job, I had student loans, and the most exciting thing in my life was my cat, Mr. Pickles.  

Meanwhile, Gong Yoo dated supermodels and lived in mansions.  

This wasn’t real.

He must have seen the panic on my face, because he sighed, crossing his arms. "Okay, fine. Look. I know this is sudden. But the media already thinks we’re engaged."  

I stiffened. "So?"  

"So," he continued smoothly, "if we break up now, I look like a liar. And you’ll be the girl who 'broke my heart' and ruined my big vow. The internet will eat you alive."  

Oh.  

Oh no.  

I swallowed. "What… are you saying?"  

His smirk returned. "I'm saying, sweetheart—" He leaned in closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You're stuck with me now." 

a/n: I am extremely OBSESSED with this guy and honestly I just need him (sorry). This is my first attempt at writing fanfic, and honestly, it was inspired by a random story I read a few weeks ago. I had a lot of fun with this and am honestly happy with how it turned out, and I hope you liked this too. This one is pretty unrealistic and the opposite of how gong yoo actually is seen (ig) but honestly very fun.

also thanks to @dyingswanpavlova for inspiring me to write my own after reading their absolutely wonderful Your Girl series which you can read here, I forgot where the header is from, but if it's from you, please let me know, I'll mention yall <3

[transgender-gamer-girl]

Giving a cutie an edible that’s a little too strong, then making them drink a little wine to “stop” the woozy feeling. You ask can we do something to “clear your head,” which gives me the perfect idea.

We then going out on a little “road trip.” As I drive to unfamiliar places, I tell you that everything is okay. I can see you in the rear view mirror struggling to stay awake, and I continue to drive until I’m sure you’re fast asleep.

Once you’re knocked out in my back seat, I drive us somewhere private— not a camera, window, or person in sight. Once we arrive, I turn the car off and open your door to see you. While you’re fast asleep, I take the time to touch you. I feel up your clothes, caress your inner thighs, and tell you to relax.

Next thing you know, you’re missing your pants, your underwear are at your ankles, your shirt is lifted, and you see me stroking my girldick. You’re too out of it to understand what’s about to happen, and before you can even form words, I stuff my gock into your mouth. As you gag and choke, I thrust slowly and deeply into you. “Shhhhhhh baby. Mommy needs this.”

As I pull out of your throat, you groan and cough. You cutely say “I just wanted to clear my head…”

You black out and wake up bent over the trunk of my car. You can feel my thick cock pounding deeply and slowly into you. With every thrust I moan into your ear. “Just like that sweetheart. Be good for me.”

As you try to speak, I grope your chest and thrust harder. You stand on the top of your toes and begin to whimper, trying your hardest to get away from me, but it’s no use. “Nobody can hear us sweetie. Just relax. Mommy’s here.”

For the next few hours, all you can do is struggle and try to scream as I paint your insides white over and over again~

[cuteandhughesy]

congrats on 1k!!!

pleaseeee can you do matt rempe with prompt 25 🙏🙏

prompt no. 25: grabbing their chain to bring them in for a kiss

you should be enjoying yourself right now. you should be slamming back drinks and dancing until your feet are enveloped in white how pain like every other person in this bar. expect you can’t.

you know you’re pouting—also glaring—as you sit dormant in a barstool. you fiddle absentmindedly with the missing stick nestled between ice cubes in your cocktail. it looks so mouthwatering, all sliced lime and salted rim, but you’re too annoyed to drink it.

you watch from across the bar, eyes pointed with a mixture of fury and curiosity. your boyfriend, matt, is laughing. leaning against the sticky bar counter while will cuylle and jimmy vesey chat each others ears off about what you can only assume is a pointless conversation. but that’s not the problem.

the problem is her. the girl standing way too close to matt. long highlighted brow hair cascasing down her back in perfect waves, the most gorgeous, flirtatious smile framed by plump glossy lips. she’s stunning. and even worse, she’s flirting with your boyfriend.

it was subtle things at first. you caught her starting at him across the bar for long periods of time, and then she’d whisper and giggle to her friends afterwards. you brushed that off though—thinking, maybes she’s a rangers fan. or she’s just shocked at how fucking tall he is.

rookie mistake.

because as soon as matt stepped away from you to go the bathroom, she was there. well, not in the actual bathroom obviously, but when matt came back out—on his way to you—he was stopped by her little russian manicure hands.

you roll your eyes just thinking about it.

matt tried to brush her off initially—he even pointed across the bar to you while his lips moved in the girls direction. but then will and jimmy came over, started striking up conversation and matt’s still with her.

you really shouldn’t be jealous. matt is your boyfriend, not hers. he would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. even now, you know he’s just too socially awkward and nice to abruptly leave the conversation with his teammates and fucking tate mcrae wannabe and that’s why you’re still alone.

and you also know you could go over there and slide in beside matt. but that’s not you. you’re not possessive like some lioness who sinks her teeth into her mans bottom lip when they feel threatened. so you just watch, pout on your face while matt is casually sipping a corona.

“where’s y/n?” jimmy asks, fiddling with the label of his beer, eye scanning the bar to try and spot you. will seems curious as well, gaze pointed as he too searched through the crowded room.

matt swallows his mouthful of foamy liquid, “she’s at the bar, I should—“

“who’s y/n?” the girl, rachel, interrupts big dark eyes blinking up at matt, which he knows is attempting to be seductive, or sexy in some way.

“the girl I pointed at earlier,” he hums, “my girlfriend.” instinctively, matt looks over his shoulder. you’re still sitting where he left you, your drunk untouched as you poke and prod at the ice cures with your mixing stick.

you’re pouting just enough for matt to know something is up. when your eyes meet, you turn your head away. you let go of your stir stick in favour of crossing your arms, a dismissive tactic you use when you’re annoyed.

jimmy says something along the lines of missing you, but matt doesn’t pay attention. he pauses off the bar top, cringing at the sticky feeling left behind on his elbow before pushing through the small group of three around him.

he’s pretty rachel scoffs at the word girlfriend. matt can only roll his eyes half amusingly, stalking over to the other side of the bar where you’re sitting.

your spine straightens, turning your attention back to the bar as matt slides in the stool next to you. you’re still avoiding proper eye contact. you know that matt knows something is bugging you, and now your storm of jealousy has you left feeling embarrassed, because you know there’s nothing to be jealous of.

“hey,” he stars, a lopsided grin on his face. “what’s up with you?”

you sigh. you’re going to fess up, tell matt about your random attack of fury and jealousy over a stranger at the bar and then laugh about it after matt reassures you there’s nothing to be upset about.

but then your eyes flicker up, meeting that strange girls face across the room. and much to your distaste, she’s still starting at matt.

you jaw ticks, and before you can stop yourself, you turn towards matt, grabbing the silver chain around his neck and rug him down, lips meeting in a heavy kiss.

he makes a noise of surprise against your mouth, hands frozen on the bar top. your hand drops matt’s chain in favour of sliding up to his face, caressing his stubbled jaw in the palm of your hand, lips moving together like it’s second nature.

matt’s body seems to catch up with his lips, one of his large arms coming off the counter and wrapping around your middle. he completely pulls you off the stool, pulling you up against his body as the kiss continues.

you pull away, breathless, hand falling from matt’s face and back down to his chain—fiddling with the metal absentmindedly like you always have. ah it of doing when you’re unsure.

“you’re jealous.” matt states. he doesn’t ask because he already knows. his palm slips down your back and over you ass, giving it a firm pat.

your eyes dart away from his chain and up to meet matt’s gaze. he’s grinning down at you, and that makes you crack a little bit, leaning into his chest even further and wetting your bottom lip in an attempt to hide your growing smile. “I may have been feeling a little territorial.”

matt laughs before kissing you again. “you have nothing to be jealous about, y/n/n.”

—

(unedited)

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Aftersun Art Donaldson and Lily

Art didn't want things to be this awkward, the entire ordeal was tragic. 

He remembers the day she was born, the entire 9 months leading to her birth and dreams of what she would be like before Tashi ever got pregnant. He always wanted a girl he was made to raise, one being the only man in a predominantly woman centered family he adored the familiarity of it all.

The excitement of finding out she was a girl, his little girl. Nights preparing her nursery, reading and annotating parenting books, joining birthing classes and following daddy and me facebook pages for any help he could find. Reality kicked in when he was able to pick her name. Lily, his grandmother's favorite flowers.

Tashi had the choice for her middle name and allowed Art to decide her first, he wanted to do something in homage to his grandmother and she respected that. He treasured helping Tashi during those 9 months dropping tennis entirely focusing on her well being and the little life inside her was the happiest he'd been in years.

the best day of his life was the day she was born, 9AM her healthy wails ringing through the room after a torturous overnight stay at the hospital Tashi spitting curses that she wouldn't ever do this again crescent indents in the skin of his hand while he was on the verge of passing out barely able to breathe when he watched her come into the world

He’s so fond of the memory, whisking her from Tashi’s arms once she falls asleep. He sobbed silently, rocking her back and forth in his arms “I love you so much” he cried tears of joy slipping down his cheeks grazing his fingers through her curls "I'm always going to take care of you sweet heart” a watery laugh leaving his lips cooing as she sneezed. Tashi woke to his shirt unbuttoned Lily sound asleep against his bare chest 

“Art, why?” she squinted curiously

“I just want to be close.. Want her to know it’s me.” 

she smiled fondly “you’re both going to be perfect for one another.” 

He was on the court faster than he wanted to be, it led to missing dance recitals and spelling bee’s having to leave mid-day tea parties needing to make up hours practicing.

the idea popped up after looking through his old photos on the beach visiting Santa Barbara with his parents and Patrick, the memory bringing a smile to his face but sadness followed, could he make his daughter happy?

family trips weren’t out of the ordinary and she's seen most of the world majority of the time trapped in locked hotel rooms, or watching her dad on tv screens at home with babysitters sat beside her 

she always cringed at their statements and gossip through hushed phone calls when they thought she wasn’t listening, “her dad’s really fucking hot, wonder what it’d be like to fuck both of them” they’d snicker sifting through family photos and picture frames, it made her nauseous and angry. 

her meltdowns were bad at first gripping onto her fathers torso for dear life begging not to go, asking why he’s leaving her for so long, that this isn’t fair and insisting that he doesn’t love her 

“no” he replied sternly “this is my job baby.. I need to do this, it makes me happy,” he’d lie knowing Tashi was lingering nearby not wanting to disappoint her too. 

So she got used to always watching her parents from a distance, happily accepting nicknacks given to her from their trips but resenting them after a while, stuffing snow globes, key chains and stuffed animals in drawers going as far as breaking them. It was all a reminder of loss too much for her little heart to bare. She adored Art and Tashi but with time the loneliness got to her and he could tell, the notion killed him. 

Here they were now cruising the Bahamas both spread on lounge chairs sipping virgin pina coladas

"Lily, are you having fun?" He asks and she nods silently observing the perusing guests ice cream dripping down her cone coating her hand. 

“Can we go to the pool later?” She glanced over at her father “of course bug need to clean up though” he sits up wiping her vanilla coated cheeks she shooed him away avoiding his touch.

“I can do it” she grumbles, snatching the rest of the napkins out of his hand wiping herself down. Her obvious disdain stung. “Just wanna help you..” he frowns 

“I know dad you don’t need to for some stuff though” she huffs through clenched teeth the sticky residue not subsiding her frustration.

She could be so mean, her scorn towards him cut like a knife, he wanted to chastise her, spite her but he bit back any insult he came up with racking his brain through so many memories wondering where he went wrong hell maybe he made her this way. 

He bleakly sat back “We haven’t talked about school, I heard how well you did at your piano recital grandma said you got a standing ovation I believe it” He pried hoping some sort of fond reaction from her “didn’t you get an award too-?”

“you weren’t there so you wouldn’t know” she interrupts bitterly slightly shaking her head at his ignorance

Art shrinks, slumping his shoulders watching her shrug off his advances “well you know I love you bug” she nods rolling her eyes completely unconvinced.

“Sure” she sighs, staring off at the other kids her age. “I’m gonna go” she stomps off, dumping the custom made booklet he made about their trip in the trash.

He pursed his lips turning away unshed tears blurring his vision hidden behind shaded sunglasses.

The week passed and the hollowness slowly stripped away from her, he observed from a distance watching her flip through excursion magazines, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins, karaoke bars and hiking through jungles and coves all slowly amounting onto a little list she created late at night when he was asleep. He checked every box accomplishing everything just like she wanted. 

The last night of their holiday Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House blared through the speakers after dinner 

“dad no..” she hissed embarrassed by all the prying eyes staring at them.

“Come on” he insisted on gripping her hands, shimming her body. She caved when he began singing the words as they swayed back and forths slowly shuffling into his open arms.  

“you’re so important to me Lily,” he whispers through trembling lips, voice cracking from her acceptance.

“I love you too” she grins, melting in his tender embrace.

@diyasgarden and the rest of chat during her watch party spoke about this theme with art and lily and I had to write something about it <3

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 6

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Angst, Predator/Prey, Sexual Harassment

Trigger Warning: Sexual Harassment

Chapter Summary: A horn, a tail, and canines so sharp. He will wear the title of monster gladly if it means not one cut will bloom in your skin.

Author's Note: Just a dragon and a deer having a little adventure. I had so much fun building the world in this AU! As always, I want to thank everyone for their kind support~ A few more chapters (+ an epilogue, of course!)

Enjoy!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6

6: My Dearest, Sincere

Daisy perched on the railing of the steps of your shop, wearing a little straw hat tied around its neck in a perfect red bow, his optics adjusting on each hybrid passing by your shop who did a double take at you before quickly walking away or returning your wave with a weak one.

You didn’t pay attention to their reactions much, your excitement superseding everything because you have been looking forward to this day ever since.

A red circle marked today’s date in your calendar, the numbers printed on the museum ticket that arrived inside a black envelope handed over to you by Skye, a gift from Mr. Sylus who thought you needed a break after hearing what happened, a little adventure outside the N109 zone accompanied with a small reminder.

The red gemstone in the brooch Mr. Sylus gifted to you shines brightly on your chest, wearing it as he instructed every time you go outside. You put on your best clothes today and in your head, a matching hat similar to Daisy’s.

There is a quiet hope that he will also come along today but you know he doesn’t have any reason to do so and you already surrendered to the fact that he will always stay elusive, distant but watchful.

Perhaps Skye is right, his boss is indeed a very private man but even so, he conveyed his fondness to you in his own unique way.

Is he lonely?

Does he also have bad days as well?

Is he taking care of himself?

Your thoughts were cut short when Daisy let out a caw and you smiled when you watched it perch on the shoulder of the person who will bring you to the museum today.

“Good morning, Skye,” you greeted him, your boots clicking on the little stairway of your shop that also served as your home, skipping every other step while you made your way towards him.

His sweetheart, always so adorable.

Sylus took a few strides from his car to meet you at the bottom, taking a closer look at you. Your attire is quite different from your usual work clothes, your hair tied in a neat french braid and he smiled in approval when he saw you wearing the brooch.

Just a quick measure especially now there are too many people for his liking whose eyes lingered for too long on his precious deer.

“There’s my girl,” he greeted you back and he lifted you up effortlessly, spinning you around.

A small, surprised yelp escaped your lips, clearly not expecting him to do that and you buried your face on his hair, a reflex, to hide the blush that bloomed on your face and you accidentally took in the scent of petrichor with faint notes of expensive tobacco, gunpowder, and burnt pinewood.

A strange combination of fragrance synonymous to safety.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you said when he put you down and he held your waist gently, a quiet reassurance when he noticed you shifting back and forth anxiously.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart,” Sylus chuckled and he raised his brow when he noticed you trying to peek behind him, as if checking if there are other passengers inside the car.

“Looking for someone, miss seamstress?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if-”, you fiddled with your right sleeve, biting your lip while you avoided his gaze.

“Wondering if?”, he encouraged gently, a small smirk on his face. 

The curious gaze, the hint of anticipation in your eyes. He had seen this expression too many times, his deer always looking forward to the day she would finally meet the elusive ‘Mr. Sylus’.

As always, all of his patience is reserved only for you, waiting for his favorite tailor to piece it all together.

And maybe, a piece of him is hoping this little charade will last long. You are the only person he sees looking for him without any hint of selfishness, just genuine intentions of hoping to thank him for everything and yet, you have already returned everything back to him tenfold, even when there is nothing you need to do, even when there is nothing to repay.

“If Mr. Sylus tagged along?”, you finished your question quietly, your sheepish smile hidden behind your hat while you looked up at him.

Perhaps he also takes pride when you look for his real identity, a constant reassurance to him that even if you don’t know the face of your benefactor, you still want to get to know him better.

“No, I am afraid not, sweetie,” Sylus replied, pinching your cheek, “It is just me and you today if that’s alright.”

Your deer ears drooped slightly at his answer but you don’t want Skye to think that you don’t like his company, in fact, you do enjoy it and you are hoping to thank Mr. Sylus not just for his presents this time but for allowing Skye to stay longer every time he comes over.

“I don’t mind,” you replied cheerfully, “You’re my favorite visitor after all.”

“Is that so?”

“Very much so.”

“Maybe I should visit more often. I wouldn’t want to lose that spot to someone else, little doe.”

“Mr. Sylus wouldn’t mind?”, you asked, your tail wagging slightly at the thought. Does that mean he will come over everyday? It must be too much to fit in his schedule, especially since you heard from the twins that Mr. Sylus can be very demanding.

“He’ll be very pleased that someone’s looking after his favorite tailor, sweetie,” Sylus answered, tapping your nose, “He knows how fond I am of you as well.”

He wouldn’t deny that he has multiple meetings, negotiations, and auctions he has to attend but even then, he will always make time to be Miss Deer’s second assistant because it looks like he wouldn’t be able to take away the title of first assistant from Mephisto anytime soon.

“Ready to go, miss seamstress?”

“Can Daisy sit with me in front?”

Mephisto let out a beep, certainly pleased, and Sylus rolled his eyes, fully understanding that the bird was holding it over his head and acting like an indoor pet bird when around you.

But with you sitting on his passenger seat holding a basket lined with white cloth for Mephisto to rest? He will let it pass. 

How is it that all the henchmen he sent to you become so docile?

Not like he minds, not when he sees his crow already made itself comfortable on your lap, preening itself.

Now he wonders when it's his turn.

────────────────────

Linkon City is one of the few cities in the country that allows hybrids and humans to mingle together.

Still,  a crowd is certainly not something you are used to after residing in the N109 zone for a while. There are too many noises and you have become more used to the hum of the sewing machines, the sound of the fabric scissors cutting through the cloth, and the distant gunfight muffled by the thick walls of your shop that unfamiliar and sudden noises tend to overwhelm you easily.

You held on Skye’s sleeve before you stepped inside the museum, hiding behind his back and Daisy, always quick to sense your discomfort, nestled itself on the crook of your neck.

“Feeling a bit spooked, sweetie?”, he asked softly, his tail wrapping itself loosely around your waist and pulling you closer.

Even then, he waited for your reply, your eyes switching back and forth between him while the small crowd dispersed around you. You glanced up to him with a small smile, a silent request, to give you a few minutes to take in everything around you.

“I just need a moment, please.”

“We are in no rush, little doe, take all the time you need.”

As always, Sylus complied with your request, his gaze trained at your hand on the cuff of his sleeve that acted as your anchor on your new surroundings.

He can sense the cautious looks mixed with curiosity directed to him and you both by humans and hybrids passing by but he pays them no mind as long as they do not pose a threat. To you.

With his imposing height, your petite frame, and the sharp contrast of your species, everyone is likely to assume you are coerce in this meeting by him but people who take a closer look will realize that this rare hybrid-

-Is as obedient as a housepup, his crimson eyes only trained to you when you pulled on the cuff of his sleeve gently, a signal you are ready to explore the large halls with a new found confidence.

Should you go to the main hall first?

Or take a look at the paintings?

Perhaps the tapestries?

It has been so long since you stepped on a place such as this that you realize you may have been dragging Skye around.

“Oh I am sorry,” you said, suddenly letting go of his cuff much to his disapproval, “I did not ask where you wanted to go first.”

“Didn’t Mr. Sylus said today’s your day? Go wherever you want, little doe.”

“But I want you to enjoy it as well.”

“I am already having a good time, sweetheart,” he replied, playfully tweaking the brim of your hat then fixing it, making sure the ribbon under your chin is secured.

“Oh, don’t you make a unique pair?”, a voice behind Sylus back commented cheerfully and you immediately hid behind his back when he turned to check the person who spoke up.

A young rabbit hybrid stood in front of you, clearly someone working here in the museum based on her name plate, offering you a map to the museum. There is no hint of judgment in her gaze while she waits for either of you to take the brochure from her.

She opened the map, pointing at a specific area further inside the museum, “Here. People usually go here when they are on dates.”

Date?

You looked up at Skye who did not bother to correct the staff, thanking her and studying the map after she bidding you both to have fun and then walking away.

“Can I also take a look please?,” you asked, tugging his sleeve for him to bend down slightly and he immediately complied, letting you view the details of the brochure and making sure you don’t have to stand on your tiptoes.

“Anything you want to see first, sweetie?”

“They all sound interesting. I want to see all of them.”

“Same here but we can’t start exploring just yet, miss seamstress. Where do you want to start?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, a small thoughtful hum escaping your lips, and he playfully tapped the crease between your brows, amused at the fact how you are indeed weighing your options while Mephisto tilted its head in beat with you.

“How about this one?”, you asked, pointing at the room displaying a series of paintings from an obscure artist.

He nodded, “Good choice, little doe.”

If you walk, he will follow. If you stop, he will halt. With you leading the way, your footsteps will be replaced with his, tracing the same path his deer left just for him but today, there will be not one set of footsteps but two when you hold the other end of the brochure he had in his hand while both of you walk side by side.

For a brief moment, his fingers brushed against yours.

────────────────────

When night comes, what fairy tales do every human and hybrid tell to their children before they tuck them to sleep?

The lullaby of the music box plays in the background of the small room you have, in the humble two story house your father managed to purchase with his savings to build a tailor shop in the Bloomshore District.

It was during those years when the humans on the top are kinder, determined to erase the lines all of your ancestors collectively have set over the years but with change comes resistance and grand plans of building cities become smaller and smaller and out of it came a little portion of Bloomshore District, empty because of its close distance from the industrial zones.

It was home and it was yours.

Every night, your father will leave his work downstairs, taking a break from sewing together uniforms for employees working in the factories nearby and each step creak, on his hand the first picture book you bought from a second hand bookstore and his other hand helping you climb the stairs.

It was always his soft voice who put you to bed while you watched the little dragon figurine frolic on the field of red wildflowers, in a world where it is neither the hero nor the villain.

“Are all dragons born bad?”

It was the same question you asked him, confused why it is always the nameless dragon who is given the role of the villain, the one who is always slain at the end and their death celebrated. Savage beasts who only know how to take and with every place they arrive, they leave a trail of black snow.

They should be punished, the knight of every story always proclaimed, pointing his blade at the chest of the dragon smiling with its pointed teeth in the picture.

“I don't think anyone is born bad, twig.”

He always let out a sigh, seemingly amused at your question and he always give you the same answer before pressing a kiss on your forehead, reminding you to sleep or else you would not grow taller, even if you try to point your ears up or add more tree branches on your antlers and the day ends when he closes the door behind him, his exit punctuated with the lullaby coming to an end.

You always forget to ask him why people said otherwise.

“Skye, I am sorry,” you said quietly, looking up at the dragon hybrid whose expression remained neutral while he gazed at the large painting in front of you.

Dragons are born with sin. 

Dragons should not have friends.

Dragons are liars, nothing good comes out of their mouth.

It is the same lines repeated even by his fellow hybrids and in the crowd that part ways when they recognize what he is, it serves as a cruel reminder that he will always be alone in the long and winding path that looms ahead of him.

How many times did Sylus see these drawings in books he had read when he was young? Even his fingers and toes are not enough to count the instances where someone plunges anything sharp right through the dragon’s chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie,” he spoke, his gaze softening when he turned to look at your ears drooping, guilty. Both you and him did not expect one of the paintings would have a subject such as this and even when he looked away, it was always the truth, a fact of this world.

He will always remain as it is, a fiend.

“I should have chosen a different exhibit for us to see,” you replied quietly, and his tail wrapped around your waist.

“I’m fine, miss seamstress. A simple picture is not enough to hurt me,” he chuckled, and inside the four corners of this wide, wide, room, he can only hear the small rustle of your clothes as you shuffled closer next to him, offering small comfort.

He has seen these images too many times, in reality and in dreams, but here you are, treating him as if he shouldn’t be stained with violence when he already is, that it is true, he is indeed a selfish dragon sitting on his hoard and even then, it is not enough.

All the shiny trinkets in the world but there is no material thing that could ever fill the already gaping hole left by nameless people who hated his kind.

He had convinced himself that he would remain that way, fractured and fragmented, held together by sheer determination and strength. Even then, there are pieces that slipped through the gaps, never to be found, forever lost.

But, that was before.

“Maybe the dragon did not die, Skye,” you decided to venture further, your eyes trained at the painting, “Maybe it flew far away after that.”

And then, someone picks up a thread and a needle, slowly, carefully, mending them.

You.

You with the dearest voice, with the gentlest of hands, with the scent of cotton and wildflowers enough to sooth the pain of wounds from years past.

“Perhaps. Maybe he managed to find someone to stitch his wounds together, little doe.”

“Well, he certainly does need help. I don’t think he can hold a needle and thread with such large claws.”

“You’re right. His claws are better suited for holding treasures.”

“Or protecting the people he loves,” you smiled at him, the two of you walking away from the painting and moving to another one.

Now that sounds like something a hero would do, not a villain and Sylus is more than aware he will never be one, the thought is almost amusing. He too once held a cardboard sword thinking he can also venture to the tower the princess is locked away but those are childhood follies, delusions.

No, he will never be one.

Yet, there is a glimmer of hope, small but enduring, shielded with both of your hands from the smallest gust of wind.

Maybe, maybe, you are right, the dragon had fled away, away from everything until he met a deer who led him deeper, deeper in the woods to rest while her forest friends looked on.

The uncaring world will continue to march on but his wounds will close, his scars will fade, and in the hidden grove of red wildflowers where it is just you and him, he has discovered that not all dragons are fated to live inside towers of iron and stone.

If the time comes that his precious deer, the caretaker of this little paradise, would be harmed then-

For your sake, he will be as monstrous as you need him to be.

────────────────────

In this small enclosure, your heartbeats sing in a steady rhythm, a slow and gentle melody. Sylus had always compared it to a lullaby, a melody you can only find on old music boxes in antique stores tucked far from the city centers and only if you listen closely. A melody no one would be able to replicate, uniquely yours.

Small and soft, a faint humming, but he is beginning to think he has been gifted with sharp senses so that he can always spot you in a dense and loud crowd.

The wreath of flowers he is weaving together in his hands is almost complete and Sylus gazed at you in amusement, your eyes closed and your hands folded on your lap.

The little glasshouse you and Sylus entered isolated you further from the rest. Every person who will step inside will not find any plants of interest, the blooms kept are of common variety, plain but these are not the reason why this place is here.

Various butterflies of different colors fluttered around you and you told him of your plan on staying still ahead, attempting to attract as many of these little creatures as you can because you want you and him to make friends with them so he also played along.

Little insects slowly make their way to you, some rest their wings on the tips of your antlers and a butterfly sharing the color of your eyes landed on your bandaged finger, the movement of its wing barely even making a sound in the already quiet sanctuary.

He supposed he should give his thanks to that young rabbit hybrid who pointed you two to this area isolated from the main building of the museum, and he hummed a low tune, stealing a glance to check if your eyes are still closed before fastening the red ribbon you have gifted to him in the wreath he just completed.

A little hint that you will only find out before you call it a night or, maybe the morning after.

“They seem to like you, sweetie,” he spoke softly, making sure to not scare your nameless friends.

You opened your eyes slowly to see for yourself and you smiled, moving your finger closer to look at the butterfly then peering at the white butterfly with crimson spots that made itself comfortable on his shoulder, a stark difference against the black leather of his jacket.

“Look, Skye. You have a little friend.”

“So I do but I believe they are more fond of you than they are of me.”

“They are just shy. I’ll introduce you and your friend to them,” you said softly, a quiet whisper, moving your hand slowly to move the butterfly on your finger so it can sit beside his nameless companion on his shoulder, “See, now, you have two.”

And they make a pretty pair.

“Well would you look at that, sweetheart,” he chuckled quietly, not wanting to disturb the butterflies you are transferring to him one by one, “It seems my entourage grows.”

Nameless friends.

Sylus is more than aware the lives of these creatures are fleeting, they do not have enough time to realize the differences in their colors and sizes while they dance together among the array of common blooms, a kaleidoscope rotating endlessly, different beings flowing into one stream of consciousness.

He let the first butterfly rest on his finger, bringing it close to his lips and even then, the words he had whispered are barely a gust to the little being.

“What did you tell our friend, Skye?”, you asked, a soft giggle escaping your lips when he let it rest on the tip of your nose.

Among the rows of blooms bursting with colors, the brightest flower stood out of all them.

Delicate.

Soft.

The closest you have to having thorns are your antlers that reminded him of branches of a mighty tree.

Must the strong always have sharp teeth and claws? No, Sylus disagrees. Strength comes in various forms and you, the deer who found comfort among the beasts shunned by their fell ow kind, is one of the few who dared to look past such loathsome faces they have.

“I told our new friend that it is lucky to be sitting on the most beautiful flower in the greenhouse,” he answered, reaching out to twirl a lock of your hair and gazing at the wings of the creature who had already made itself comfortable, fulfilling a small favor from him.

Of course, with beauty comes recognition and with the wreath of flowers held together by the ribbon you both created, he crowned you with blossoms of various shades of yellow, vibrant as the sun, and he will forever remember their scent mixed against yours that haunt him even in his dreams. 

Even when you have never stepped foot in the base and much along his bed, the faint aroma of springtime lingered at the empty side of his bed he had reserved just for you.

A blush bloomed on your cheeks upon his compliment, red as the spots of his first friend, and you stifled a soft laugh, your body trembling while you moved your eyes back and forth from him to your side.

Your affections for him has changed ever since that day when he wrapped the red bandage on your finger, the warmth of his tongue lingered on your fingertip and even when you are fully aware of your differences, you also wished during the lull of the quiet nights that you don’t want this to be folly, a passing fancy, just a temporary reprieve before you found someone of the same species.

You slowly reach up to him, letting one of the butterflies perching on one of the bases of his horns crawl on your finger, and you bring it close to you.

He watched your lips part while you mumbled softly to the little being and its paper thin wings before you let it go, watching it join the others.

“What did you tell that one, sweetie?”

“I told it that it is very fortunate to be friends with the kindest dragon I’ve met.”

He averted his gaze from you, chuckling softly, and you tilt your head when his fingers reach out to play with your pinky with his ears tinged red.

Certainly a word you would never describe a repulsive beast.

“You don’t believe me, Skye?”

“I am not a very good dragon that you think I am, miss seamstress.”

“But bad dragons don’t fix wounds and kiss them, do they?”

“Moments of kindness should not be mistaken as a change in character, sweetie,” he chuckled softly, the sound a cover for the thin layer of sadness hidden beneath a despicable casing that is him.

You hummed in thought, your eyes quietly studying his face and the corner of his lips lifted in a soft smirk under your curious gaze. Quietly, you reached out for one of the flowers both of you picked on the way and carried here using the underside of your hat.

“Can you come closer for me, Skye?”, you asked.

“Like this, little doe?”, he said, leaning closer without any hesitation and your hand brushed against his horn, tying the yellow blossom together with the good luck ribbon he always wears.

A small whimper almost escapes his lips upon your gentle touch, the top of his head pressing against your hand for more of it.

“I will try to put more flowers and ribbons on you then, Skye, until you finally believe that you are a good and friendly dragon,” you smiled, shifting through the stems of the array of blooms and picking those you think would suit him nicely, tucking them in his hair.

Tell him, tell him that he isn't a monster and he will believe every word you will say.

He chuckled softly, “Even if I am, do you think people would see the same as you do, sweetheart?”

“I’ll make as many ribbons as I can for you then.”

“Are you trying to turn me into a living, walking present, little doe?”

“But you are already one, Skye. You’re the best gift Mr. Sylus gave to me,” you replied, as if it is an absolute truth, a sincere declaration and his eyes widened for a fraction of a second then softened.

“More than the hairpins that he gave to you?”

“More than them, yes.”

“More than your favorite vinyl records he sent you?”

“You can sing them for me anyways."

“You’re such a strange little deer, miss seamstress,” he commented, laughing in amusement and you tilt your head at how his ears are redder than earlier, his smirk faltering to a lopsided smile.

“Will wearing a bow on your tail make you feel better if I wear one as well, Skye?”, you asked, your hand brushing against the soft petals tucked on the strands of his hair.

The image was almost whimsical, but both of you made an unlikely pair. In the thin line that divides your kind, both of you are mirror images, the same but not quite.

“I suppose I’ll have to follow suit, won’t I?”, he replied playfully, then poking your cheek, “It’s only fair.”

Having a bow on his powerful tail will be an amusing sight, you wearing one certainly does have appeal and as he follows you closely while you leave the small greenhouse, his eyes lingered on your tail swaying and he can only picture the perfect ribbon that would compliment you the best.

Although, he wouldn’t mind pulling it off as much as he looks forward to putting one on you when the time comes.

────────────────────

Everyone looks after each other in the small community of all hybrids back at the small corner of Bloomshore District.

The sheep hybrid lady with her canine hybrid husband, their two children, Simon and their daughter, who bakes the perfect strawberry shortcake. A yearly treat you always look forward to, the package familiar.

The elderly owl hybrid that runs the clinic, the one who always reminds you to take your morning walks after your father’s check-ups.

The fruits and vegetable stall ran by a rabbit hybrid who gives you a playful wink every time she slips in an extra apple on your bag, her thanks to you for fixing her apron.

The raccoon hybrid and her group of panda bear hybrid friends who play baseball at the empty lot, their jerseys you put together with their numbers.

It was a small area the government allowed hybrids to settle in but even then, they are selective to who they will let in, hybrids they believe are harmless and they all want you to follow one rule:

Do not help your other kind.

You were your father’s assistant back then and both of you have tailored clothes for hybrids and humans. All of your customers were kind, every person who entered the shop courteous with an exception.

Humans who claimed they are looking after you.

They are always the last people to enter your shop every end of the week. They don’t ask for money or anything at all but you and your father kept your head low.

Even then, averting your gaze does not mean the onlooker will do the same.

Your tail stroked. Your ears tugged. Your antlers pulled. The touches laced with malicious fascination.

That human sees you as an animal in a petting zoo.

Perhaps, it was a twisted fascination towards your kind, an exotic catch, fresh meat, and everything culminated when the advances had become too much.

It was that same human everyday and you have paid the price in full when you decided you had enough. A cry for help, small but audible, and that small baseball team who loves hanging around your shop did not hesitate to hold him down.

Your father did not forget the look that human is wearing who did not even struggle against the hold of the tallest panda bear hybrid child.

A victorious smirk. 

There was barely enough time to gather up your belongings when the fire happened.

A few of your finished works and personal items, the rest you watched turned ash outside the place your father had built when he was allowed to settle in this district while you were still a toddler.

You held the music box closed to your chest, your eyes unable to tear away at your home where all your hopes and dreams had taken root, bloomed, and finally, crushed. 

Your father watched the young Simon back then and his much younger sister put a blanket over you, whispered a few words and then slowly stepped away to give you space.

He will remember the looks of your hybrid neighbors, silent anger mixed with fear while they part to give way to the cause of everything.

“I just think you are cute, you know? Maybe this time you will learn how to put up with it now everything’s gone.”

Did I make the wrong decision? 

He asked himself back then but the question is maybe more to your mother who had left you both too early. He had witnessed everything, heard every word that human whispered to you and among the silent mumbles of kindly neighbors, they all pointed to the most unlikely place that could possibly be your new home. 

There will always be a price in every bargain struck. 

His beautiful daughter, always reserved, and your father will be your voice to your talents and if he needs to face the most dangerous hybrid just so you can continue your work, then so be it.

Better in the company of beasts than men.

It was your father’s love for you and his promise to your mother that gave him courage to face Sylus and ask for capital. The double doors inside Sylus’ estate in the N109 zone is an iron gate and ahead is a young dragon who had hoarded everything and more.

He wore his best suit that day and he was not just a proud father but a businessman who knows his wares. Never did he falter under Sylus’ gaze and when the dragon hybrid agreed, he only let out a sigh of relief once he stepped out of the dragon’s home.

Your father may have skipped on his way back to you in your temporary home. Happy, grateful, and hopeful. 

The smile on your face returned when you opened the door to your new studio and he didn’t stop you when you immediately went to work on your commission, dedicated to the first request that will eventually bring in more clients and the proud owner of that suit is no other than-

Sylus.

From there, an unlikely relationship bloomed and your father, an audience sitting in the front row.

It was around evening when Sylus returned to your shop, carrying you in his arms. You were already fast asleep, your head against the dragon hybrid’s chest and dangling on Sylus’ arms are paper bags containing souvenirs from the museum he took you earlier.

Where do you even get this courage? Your father will never know but he is sure your mother would be thoroughly amused to see her daughter all cozy against a predator hybrid.

“Mr. Sylus!”, your father immediately stood up and made his way to him, “My apologies. My daughter did not mean to impose.”

He was about to take you from the dragon hybrid’s arms but Sylus only shook his head, amused and he noticed how Sylus’ gaze at you fondly when you mumbled something in your sleep.

“There’s no need to apologize. She’s just exhausted from walking. Fell asleep on our way back,” Sylus replied, holding you tighter and you instinctively seemed to seek warmth from him, burying your face further, “Let me bring her to her room.”

If you are an odd deer then Sylus is certainly the same, an odd dragon.

There is no mistaking it.

This is the gaze of a man hopelessly head over heels for you.

“Second room from your left, Mr. Sylus,” your father politely answered, “The fifth step creaks. Might wake her up.”

Sylus gave your father a polite smile, passing by him and making his way upstairs with you. 

For a body large and powerful, he moved with a certain tenderness, not wanting to startle you. His steps are quiet, your quiet breathing the only sound he can hear. It took him to reach your room but for Sylus, it is certainly longer, much longer than the distance you both took to explore the museum.

He knew this little adventure would come to an end, that he must return his precious deer to her grove eventually but he refused to move just yet from your side after he laid you down on your bed.

Call it greed, but after having a taste of a sliver of his many wishes, he is now fervently asking for more chances of bringing you to bed and maybe, just maybe, the bed would not just dip with your weight alone when the time comes.

With the crown of flowers on your head, it is as if you are a princess waiting for your knight to wake you up.

Unfortunately, the knights are too afraid to even come close to the dragon’s most precious treasure.

Why would you need a knight when you already have a terrifying monster who doesn’t need a sword to pierce the heart of any person who would hurt you? 

Sylus sets down the bags of souvenirs you brought with him and he slowly pulls out the newest trinkets that would bring more color to your room. 

A wind-up dragon that he set beside your music box, the horns you said reminded you of his.

A deer plushie with a red ribbon tied around its neck that he set beside you, a stuffed animal you playfully voiced over with a high pitch voice and with its snout, you pecked Sylus’ cheek.

A crow plushie with a white collar around its neck that he set at your other side, the object of Mephisto’s glares back at the shop when Sylus joked about it being its replacement.

With your new gifts, your room overflows with more trinkets that he has brought just for you.

Sylus has never set foot inside your room before but he recognized it based on the photos and records Mephisto has brought to him. 

It is a simple room but it was decorated lovingly by you. All the vinyl records he sent to you neatly arranged near the player. On your desk is a basket of yarn and your crochet needles, piles of red scarves that are clearly a work in progress. On the handle of your cabinet your white apron. By your window are pots of daisies lined up together, little animal figurines on their soil with their own houses.

A small, small world, fragile, but welcoming and here he is, the strange visitor, accepted by your subjects.

Yet, Sylus knows he shouldn’t linger for long, not wanting to cast any doubts to your father who let him bring you here and after giving you a once over, his sweetheart, he stood up.

“Skye,” you whispered softly, catching him by the cuff of his sleeve.

“Yes, miss seamstress?”

You didn’t answer, just gently pulling his sleeve until he finally relented and sat at the side of your bed again.

He could never deny you.

“Did you enjoy today, Skye?”, you asked, each word breathed out slowly and it was clear you are standing in a thin line between dreams and reality.

“Of course I did, sweetie,” he chuckled softly, brushing a few strands of your hair, “Any day spent with you is a day well spent.”

He paused for a moment then asked, “Did you have fun today, little doe?”

You let out a soft laugh, your arms reaching out for the crow plushie by your side and hugging it.

“I had lots of fun,” you nodded drowsily and with your voice muffled against the soft fleece of your new friend, you spoke, “Can you-”, you let out a yawn but continued, “-Tell Mr. Sylus thank you for me?”

“Sure, I’ll make sure to pass it along when I get back.”

“Don’t forget to-”, you yawned again and the next words are unintelligible but Sylus managed to piece it together with your last words, smiling softly while waiting for you to finish your request, “-His souvenir. I hope he likes it.”

“I am sure he’ll love it. You picked it out for him after all.”

With your half lidded eyes and gentle smile, it is certainly one of the adorable expressions he hopes he will wake up to in the future.

“One last thing,” you mumbled softly, your eyes closing but it was clear you wanted to do something as you struggled against the hold of sleep, “Come closer, Skye.”

“Like this, sweetie?”

“Closer.”

“How about now?”

He is basically hovering over you at this point, his hands at the sides of your head to support his weight and up close under the moonlight, his gaze lingered longer at your lips slightly parted.

A sigh, and then you pressed your lips on his cheek.

At least, that’s what he thinks was your intent but instead, your fleeting reward landed on the corner of his mouth. 

His grip on the sheets tightened, a small, soft whine escaped his lips. 

From him of all people. 

An involuntary sound in response to the unexpected act of intimacy he had always yearned from you. 

Close. 

You were so close to giving him one of the many things that haunt him in his sleep.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out but you were already asleep this time, your heartbeats steady.

The shadow of the dragon loomed on the walls of your bedroom, its gaping maw wide open upon you, the unassuming deer, too trusting, too sweet.

His baser instincts are yelling at him that a nip wouldn’t harm you, that the blood pumping on your veins is sweeter than candy. A little drop of spring water that would satisfy his thirst.

But Sylus' desires have always been clean-cut.

His eyes landed on your neck, beckoning. He had always wanted to sink his fangs on the soft skin. Not because he wanted to draw blood.

No, not that.

He wanted to be so much more to you. 

The flapping of the wings, a warning chirp and the music box suddenly playing made him jerk back away from you and Sylus froze at how close he was biting down on your neck while Mephisto looked at him, concerned.

Sylus only sighed heavily, sitting back as his fingers traced the outline of your ear.

He hopes you can forgive your lying dragon. 

Before he left, he lifted your hand, pressing a kiss on your bandaged finger, a reminder of the promise he made.

Then, another on your cheek, a playful correction to your sleepy mistake but he doesn’t blame you. In fact, he is honored to receive your thanks.

Finally, on the top of your head near your crown of flowers. 

May his beautiful deer sleep well tonight, your dreams to be as colorful and vibrant as the smiles you gave to him today, and when you wake up, let the sun be a little forgiving tomorrow morning, to give you a few more moments to say goodbye to your friends from the realm of unconsciousness before leaving.

“Sleep well, my precious doe,” he whispered softly in your ear, “I’ll see you later tonight.”

If the gods would be kinder to fulfill another one of his wishes, then he hopes when he closes his eyes and calls it a day, he will also find his way to you, in your quiet paradise.

The door closed softly behind him and the lullaby of the music box came to an end, the little dragon, exhausted from chasing his white ribbon on his horn, had also decided to rest on his field dotted with red wildflowers.

.

.

.

.

.

Good night, Daisy.

Good night, Mister Dragon.

Good night, Miss Deer.

────────────────────

Author's Note:

I hope this brings clarity what Reader is doing in the N109 zone and why she chose to let go of so many privileges she has when she used to live at Bloomshore District.

Will that human get it? Stay tune! Don't want to spoil you all!

I also have a tumblr! Feel free to feed me your conspiracy theories or send memes or anything, I don't judge! (The fact we are all playing this game means we have broken free from the chain of judgment. ISTG, the amount of guy friends who poke fun of me playing this is wack but that won't stop me. Why can they have anime girls but I can't have my 3D men (and anime girls)?)

Also, the lullaby of Reader's music box: Storyteller (Music Box ver.)

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6

[jeongteen]

MY FAVORITE MODEL

Hyun-ju x gn!reader

Notes : I was playing around with that "relationships headcanons" website and had a prompt about one person loving to take pictures and the other one hating to be on camera, decided to write a little story for my lovely Hyun-ju (also I feel like we're getting less stories about her nowadays, I needed to react!) My requests are open for Hyun-ju and several other characters, just check my pin to see :)) Keep in mind English is not my first language so my apologies for any mistake <3

CW : low self confidence, fluff, comfort (let me know if I missed anything)

Summary : You love taking pictures of your lovely girlfriend Hyun-ju, she doesn't seem to appreciate it as much.

Words count : 505

It's a sunny afternoon. The kind of afternoon that makes you want to spend the whole day outside, surrounded by nature. And that's what you decide to do today. Hyun-ju loves these moments between the two of you, she can forget about the heaviness of life for a moment and just enjoy the warmth of the sun with her lovely partner.

In these moments, you love having your camera with you to take some photos. You love capturing the beauty of things all around you. You take photos of flowers, the sky, everything around you.

Your favorite subject is your girlfriend, Hyun-ju. Since the day you met her, you've been blown away by her beauty. Everything about her is so perfect. The way her hair perfectly falls on her shoulders, her little smile whenever you compliment her, her soft looking hands with her black painted nails, the way she dresses, the way her pupils dilate whenever she lays her eyes on you... Everything.

Unfortunately, Hyun-ju doesn't see herself that way. She has a tendency of dismissing her own beauty. No matter the amount of time you're telling her she's the most divine woman you've ever met, she won't believe it. Not that she thinks you'd lie to her, but she just won't allow herself to feel like that.

You absolutely love taking photos of her, but she doesn't like it as much. She will let you take 1 or 2 photos here and there because she knows how happy it makes you, but soon enough she'll hide her face with her hands, will gently ask you to stop or just turn away.

This makes you so sad, such an unconfident beauty. Sometimes you wish she could see herself the way you see her.

As you take another photo of your lovely girlfriend, she reacts.

— How about you put that camera down for a few seconds? She says that with a light chuckle because she doesn't want to offend you, but you know her too well and can sense she's starting to feel bad again.

— But why?

— Come on... We've talked about it already... She sounds so sad, you can't let her in this state of mind.

— Hey, Hyun-ju, look at me. You grab her hands in yours, caressing them softly. You look gorgeous, this dress compliments your body so well. I know you don't see yourself the way I see you, that truly saddens me. But you also have to know that no matter what happens, you'll always be the most divine goddess I ever laid my eyes on. If you don't want me to take more pictures today, I won't. But I'll keep on staring at the most gorgeous woman this world has known, because that's who you are and I love you.

You can see her blushing a little, she always does when you give her compliments, especially when she's not feeling herself.

— I love you. The way her whole face seems to relax while saying this... You truly are her safe place.

[spiritedstars]

Spirit Meets the Bones [Epilogue]

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Author’s Note:  I am very very emotional posting this. Writing this fic drove me crazy in the best way and I'm really proud of it. I loved telling Eris x Iris's story. Thank you for reading. Thank you for tagging along on this long journey. Thank you for loving Eiris the way I do!

In case you missed it, I commissioned a royal portrait of Eiris! Check it out here.

The biggest thank you will always go to @riorsonxaden because without you being my support, bouncing ideas with me, and always taking time to read each chapter and give me your feedback, I wouldn't be posting this or as satisfied with it as I am. Thank you. I love you.

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @gwynberdara / @positivewitch / @animezinglife / @zenkindoflove / @rosewood-cafe / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @carolynmezzosoprano / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @lalaluch / @moonfawnx / @temperedink / @batboyslutt / @rcarbo1 /

Find it all here.

Six Months Later.

~

Eris stood in his study, glancing out the window with a whisky in hand, soaking up the last moments of quiet he’d have for the rest of the day. 

Today was the day.

Dressed in a fitted forest green suit, his crown resting on his head, the High Lord of the Autumn Court allowed himself a small smile. The lapel Iris had gifted him was pinned neatly to his jacket, and Eris was only a little nervous—but for once in his life, it was a good kind of nervousness. 

He was getting married. Again.

After the night of the battle, it was well into the morning before they had a moment to rest. They had all been exhausted and worn and desperately needed time to heal properly. Iris’s wounds had reopened, and Eris had gone through the agony of watching her recover from them. The scars had left faint marks, and though it had crushed Eris to see her beautiful skin be marred in such a way, Iris had only knocked her shoulder against his and said, “We’re more of a perfect match now.”  

Even distracted with all his new duties as High Lord, Eris had driven those around him nearly insane while Iris healed. He had waited until Nevien had given him a very exasperated all-clear to touch his wife in the way he had been craving to, and Eris had made love to his mate in a way that still had Iris turning bright red whenever she thought about it. 

It had been as filthy as Eris had wanted.

After that particular rigorous night, Eris had met her gaze, his hand stroking her bare skin, and said, “Let’s get married. Our way this time.” 

Iris had only kissed him in response.

And now, he was getting married to the love of his life. His mate.

As he planned for their wedding, Eris found that slipping into his role as High Lord had been smoother than anticipated.

While a new court required a new council, new rules, and considerable follow-through, for Eris, who had already handled much of his father’s affairs, being High Lord was like breathing.

Eris had spent that first week as High Lord cleaning out those in his father’s pocket, giving them two choices: change or death. Though they remained under constant scrutiny, many had been intelligent enough to choose the former. For those that hadn’t made the right choice, Eris had unleashed his brothers, their hunt serving as a reminder, that though they may not be their father, they knew exactly how to make things hurt. 

Iris’s father had been the only person who had no choice in what happened to him. He had barely survived his daughter’s wrath, but Iris had ensured he hadn’t died too quickly. She had requested a public hanging after he was displayed for a week in the heart of the court—no healing permitted. When the day finally came for Aron’s execution, Iris watched her father’s corpse struggle against the rope as it tightened around his neck, floundering for air until his body went limp. She had felt no remorse. 

He had been left to hang on the flagpole for all to see, the marks and blood from the battle still visible. It was a message and a decree in their new court; an abuser had no place here. 

While change was never easy and most of his people welcomed him warmly, there was trepidation. People were hopeful and yet, scared. Worried it was all a joke – a dream – a test to weed out traitors against the crown. And Eris understood it. He had lived this uncertainty and while he hadn’t suddenly turned into a saint, he granted them patience. He gave them a calmness he had yearned for the Autumn Court to have.

This started with the Forest House. Eris had tested his new magic while morphing the House into a home. He wanted to wipe away his father’s touch from every inch and slowly but surely, it began to look different. To feel different.

Within Autumn, their people were united. Outside of their court, their reputation as cutthroat remained. As a new leader – Eris did not want to give anyone the idea that Autumn would be an easy target. He had quickly connected with the other courts, setting the precedent for networking with the Autumn Court;  his wretched father had stifled them, but Eris had endless ideas for inter-court connections and trade. He was eager for more. For better. 

His brothers had joined his council, each taking a more active role in managing their court, and for the first time in his life, Eris didn’t feel so alone. 

While they didn’t always see eye to eye and meetings had sometimes gotten heated, in the end, they all had the same goal – to do better. To be better. It didn’t erase their past but they were family. The word actually meant something now. 

It took his mother some time to visit her old home, but every time she did, Eris’s chest ached in a way he hadn’t expected, to see her roam the halls of the Forest House with a smile on her face—happy. The High Lord of Day had been gracious enough to give Eris some time before shouting his mating bond for the world to hear; a month after Eris became High Lord, Helion claimed her as his mate and they’ve been in bliss since. Lucien began visiting Autumn and was greeted with a warm welcome every time. Though he still wasn’t always comfortable, Elain’s excitement to explore the court and bond with his family made up for it.

Izak and Helene had decided to stay in their home within their community, but Eris still had a suite ready for them whenever they wished to stay. It felt strange to watch his sister-in-law’s pregnancy, to know that the first baby Vanserra was on the way. Eris still sent her a gift now and then to make up for their first meeting.

With no hesitation, Cosette had moved into Emil’s suite within the Forest House, as did Theo with Finn. The two had bonded, forcing Emil and Finn to spend more time together than they were used to, and it had been very amusing for Eris to watch. Until Iris also forced him to be there and suddenly, he was not so very amused. 

Three months after that, and after the transition of their court had calmed just slightly, Eris had planned the perfect wedding. It would be a small, intimate affair with only family and friends with delicious food, good music, and by the end of the night, he would be fucking his wife on his new throne.

His small smile widened into a smirk as he pictured his beautiful wife melting beneath his touch. 

Gods, was he excited.

A knock on his office door had Eris turning. He drained his drink and set it on his desk before saying, “Come in.”

Finn poked his head in through the door and much to Eris’s annoyance, gave a wolf whistle. “Damn brother, you do clean up nice.” 

Eris rolled his eyes as his brothers filed in and he gestured for Lucien to close the door behind him, a shield reinforcing it. “For once in your life, you seem to look decent yourself.” His eyes swept over each of his brothers. Indeed, each of them was dressed impeccably. He barely recognized Izak. “Surprisingly, you all do.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised about me,” Lucien said dryly. “I always dress well. And maybe Emil. It’s the other two who look like hooligans all the time.”

“Ah, fuck off. I look great walking around like a damn dream.” Finn immediately protested. 

“I’m not a hooligan,” Izak said in offense. “I dress appropriately for my job.”

“What I assume Lucien means is the general air of peasant you both give off.” Emil quipped with a small smirk. “Unfortunately, if there is a stench, you two are the first people will look to.” 

Lucien choked back a laugh and Eris sighed when Finn and Izak broke out into an argument. 

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh when I flirt with Elain and Cosette so hard –”

“Leave my mate out of this.”

“I will skin you alive –”

“When will you realize no one likes it when you flirt with them?” Izak added with a snort. “You suck at it.”

“It’s not the only thing he sucks,” Lucien replied and the cackles broke out again as Finn let out a growl.

“Oy!”

“To be fair, Izak, Helene doesn’t seem to mind his presence as much,” Emil said and eyed Izak with that obnoxious smirk. “He seems to be craving a little female time. Are you aware of this? I think we might need to inform Theo.”

Izak glared at Emil. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing my pregnant wife of something?”

“No, I’m accusing your brother of being a home wrecker.”

“I have not wrecked any homes, you fuckers.”

“So the rumors about you being people’s third are false?”

“How the fuck would you hear about that, Lucien?”

“Same way I hear about everyone’s nonsense. Your slutty lives are local news.”

“Oy, I’ve been with one female for years.”

“None of those rumors are ever about you, Izak. No one wants you.” Finn said and smiled the way he knew would make his brothers see red. “But don’t worry, Helene and I already have a plan to work things out once you kick the bucket.” He glanced at Emil and pointed. “The same way Cosette and I do.” Then pointed to Eris. “The same way Iris and I do.” And lastly, pointed to Lucien. “You don’t let me near Elain enough but I’m working on charming her. I can’t wait to talk flowers with her. I’m suddenly itching to start my own garden.” 

And before the room could explode, Eris took a deep breath and allowed his magic to swat each of his brothers across the head, hard. Ignoring their outrage, he held up his hands for silence and finally addressed them. “This is exactly why I asked you all to be here. There will be absolutely no fighting at my wedding, do you understand?”

Finn opened his mouth and Eris shot him a look. “No bringing up significant others.” He glared at Emil. “No instigating fights with baseless rumors.” He pointed at Izak. “No getting offended every time someone mentions your damn wife.” And lastly, he gave Lucien an exasperated look. “No adding fuel to the fire of an already ridiculous argument.” 

Addressing them all at once, he said firmly. “No fighting.”

“But –”

“It wasn’t even –”

“I have nothing to do with –”

“I’m barely tolerating being here –”

A muscle twitched in Eris’s jaw and the room heated as he forced himself to take another breath and smooth down his suit jacket. “Today is my wedding day. An event I have perfectly planned to celebrate my wife and I,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm as he glanced at his brother’s stupid faces. “Iris is very excited and I will not have any of your bullshit annoying her in any way. So.”

He stepped in front of Emil who was clearly fighting a laugh and pointed. “No fighting.”

Stepping to Finn, Eris fought hard not to punch the smug expression right off his face and pointed a little more threateningly. “No – fucken – fighting.”

He moved to Izak and Lucien, the former, who held up his hands as though he was an innocent bystander in all of this, and the latter shrugging his shoulders with no care in the world. It annoyed Eris even further as he pointed between them and said again, “No – fighting.” 

Turning in the room and addressing all of them at once, “There will be no – fucken – fighting or so help me, Iris will have your throats and I’ll have the hounds eat whatever she leaves of you.”

“Damn, she’d get vicious on her wedding day?” Izak said with a whistle.

“She has a knife strapped to her as we speak and will use it as she sees fit.” 

“Kinky.” Finn said in an annoyingly singsong voice that made Eris want to choke him where he stood.

“Match made in heaven, you two.” Lucien added with a snort and Eris grunted.

“That’s right and I have no issues stabbing you myself if I have to,” he swore. “Behave yourselves.” 

“Will you cry when she walks in?” Emil asked, mockingly putting a hand over his heart. “I don’t know if I will be able to hold back from succumbing to tears myself if you do.”

“I cannot believe you’re my biggest problem today,” Eris said with a glare at his usually quieter brother. “Fuck off.” 

Pointing threateningly one last time, he confirmed, “Am I clear, assholes?”

They all grumbled their agreements and as they stood together in the room, Eris eyed them wearily then shook his head. 

They were alright. They had earned this.

Without waiting for Eris’s permission, Emil moved around his brother, grabbed the bottle on his desk, and magicked each of them a drink. 

“Since you’re done threatening us, I’d like to propose a toast,” Emil began, giving Eris a more genuine smile. “To our big brother and High Lord,” he continued, “We weren’t invited to your last wedding and are only mildly inconvenienced to celebrate this one with you.” Holding up his glass as Eris rolled his eyes. “May your union be blessed. To Eris and Iris.”

Each of his other brothers raised their glasses and repeated, “To Eris and Iris.”

And as Eris brought the glass to his mouth, Finn had the audacity to add, “And to their firstborn child who will absolutely be named after me. Cheers!”

Eris could only bring himself to sigh. He did it so often these days. 

~

Once the wedding began, nothing else mattered to Eris other than getting to the part where he’d see and then promptly kiss his wife. It had been hours since she had woken him up this morning, sliding her body over his, and they had almost been late for wedding prep. 

It had been a fantastic way to start the day, and it was how they started most days. He couldn’t get enough of touching her—of being with her as openly as he could be. Through every change, Iris walked with him, hand in hand, equal in responsibilities, and it made his chest ache to know she actually cared about what happened to their court. Her support wasn’t for show. 

Without a looming threat, Eris allowed himself to simply…feel. It disgusted him but he allowed it. 

For so long, he had craved so desperately. Even as the desire to light himself on fire for actually letting his emotions be, Eris allowed it. He had earned it and his wife deserved it. She deserved all his feelings. 

And so, Eris Vanserra let himself be in love. To truly, soak it in that his wife, his friend, and his mate was here, with him. Beautiful and loved him too. 

There were many nights when Eris couldn’t sleep and would lie awake, simply staring at Iris curled up next to him, convincing himself that this was all real. That they had survived and they were finding happiness in this new normal. That he was happy and shouldn’t be afraid of the feeling.

How he had wished. How he had looked to the sky and begged and now…his prayers had finally been answered. 

Eris wouldn’t take a second of it for granted. 

And now, he stood at the tastefully decorated altar filled with Iris’s favorite flowers, impatiently waiting for her to walk in. They had set up the ceremony to take place in a smaller hall within the Forest House to keep it as private as possible.

His eyes swept the room, glancing at his idiotic brothers and their significant others sitting next to them. According to Lucien, they were all his groomsmen though Eris hadn’t asked; they grinned rather smugly with their matching boutonnieres that Eris had most certainly not picked out, and he crinkled his nose at how much resemblance there was between them seated like this. His mother sat with Helion, her hand resting in the crook of the High Lord’s arm and the rest of the seats were all filled with his closest friends.

This was the most relaxed he’d ever been at an event he was hosting and yet, Eris felt like he would lose his mind if he had to wait another minute for Iris to walk in. 

Did a part of him cringe hard, knowing he was going to let himself appear ‘happy’ in front of people? Gods, yes. But was it worth it, for him to see Iris experience joy? That after all they had been through, they were getting to choose each other all over again? On their own terms? Absolutely.

A little embarrassment would be a small price to pay. 

Was Eris also a little smug that he managed to plan this wedding to be on the exact day of their original anniversary? Very much so. 

It was the same date a year later, and yet as the music finally started to play and he turned, his heart thumping wildly in his chest waiting for his wife to walk in, Eris marveled at the way time had passed and had shifted the tide. 

He marveled at how this was his actual life now. 

And when Iris walked in, she stole his breath all over again. 

Iris slowly began her walk down the aisle towards her mate, her cheeks flushed happily as his twelve hounds bounced alongside her, dressed for the occasion. Her smile was warm and as her eyes scanned the room, she couldn’t help the slight shyness that crept on her knowing the people in this room were part of her life. 

They were her family and friends. Something she wouldn’t have dreamed of having a year ago.

A year ago, she had been miserable and terrified of getting married to Eris. Now, she thought her chest would explode from the sheer amount of happiness she was feeling. 

She felt beautiful, dressed in a custom-made gown — courtesy of her very involved husband — that made her feel elegant, poised, and exactly how the wife of the High Lord should look, holding Elain’s most stunning bouquet yet in her hands. She was adorned with the jewelry Eris had previously given her and a stunning tiara on her head that complimented her simple hairstyle.

And it made her body heat to see the way Eris was staring at her. Always intensely, always so hungrily – as if their hands hadn’t been all over each other just this morning. 

When she finally reached him, Eris held out his hand for her to take. He carefully brought her up the step to stand across from him, and when their eyes met, the world went quiet. 

Everything seemed to still as the weight of all they had endured this year sat between them. It felt so calm. So surreal, as husband and wife simply stared at each other. It felt surreal to stand there knowing that only by a twist of fate, they had found each other and their lives had intertwined.

Eris couldn’t stop staring at her. It made his heart ache to see her standing before him and smiling so brightly; he wanted to double over and it was through sheer force of will that he didn’t allow his expression to change – to display just how pathetically in love he was. 

She was so beautiful and he couldn’t believe she was his. 

All his.

“Hello, husband,” Iris whispered with a small smile and Eris’s lips twitched.

“Hello, wife,” he murmured. 

“You should pick up your jaw off the floor. You’re drooling all over your fancy suit.” she teased but Eris shook his head, fighting against his expression shifting.

“Too late for that, I’m afraid.” 

“How embarrassing for you.”

“How embarrassing for you. You’re the one marrying me. Again.” he tsked and Iris rolled her eyes and then let out a rather exaggerated sigh.

“What can I say, I couldn’t bring myself to leave my little pups.” she said, and Eris narrowed his eyes. 

“Only the pups, hm?”

Iris shrugged playfully. “Well. I suppose there is one more lovesick pup I couldn’t bring myself to leave.” 

“Careful now –”

A throat cleared and the two straightened, suddenly remembering where they were. Iris flushed deeply and Eris pursed his lips, glancing at the priestess standing before them who smiled sheepishly.

“I am ready whenever you are, my lord.” 

Eris ignored the hoots and laughter of his annoying family and instead, kept his eyes on his wife. He had been foolish to think sharing this moment with others had been a good idea. 

He should’ve kept it even more private. Just the two of them, alone. He never liked an audience to his emotions and Eris felt the back of his neck heat as everyone’s eyes were on them.

Yet – he watched as Iris smiled bashfully at their guests, earning her a few laughs, and Eris glanced down at her hand in his, her thumb caressing his soothingly…maybe it wasn’t so bad. He could pretend it was just the two of them. 

She was the sun. Everything else was irrelevant. 

“You look like you’re about to run out on me,” she teased in a whisper and squeezed his hand. 

Eris shot her a look, squeezing her hand right back.

“We’ve only been here minutes and I already regret doing this,” he murmured with no real heat and when Iris furrowed her brows, Eris only sighed. “I don’t want to share this with others. Them.”  

“Oy! Stop it with the googly eyes and get the party started!” Finn shouted and Eris’s head snapped to his brother with a glare. 

“One more word out of you and I swear –”

But Iris laughed softly and tugged him back to her. “You can’t threaten your brother at our wedding.”

Eris snorted. “Oh yes, I can. I will slit his throat.” 

“No, you won’t.”

“Iris –”

“You will not be hurting anyone at my wedding or I will be stabbing you.” 

A different kind of heat rushed through his body and Eris knew his smirk told people too much. 

He was deeply regretting this not being a private event.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, wife.” 

Iris turned to look at the priestess and sighed, “I don’t think I’ll be going through with this after all, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” 

Eris’s smirk widened and then he tugged Iris closer to him. “As if I’d let you leave after all this.” He nodded to the priestess. “Please proceed.” 

The priestess bit her lip, clearly fighting a laugh but then cleared her throat and began. 

Eris heard nothing of what was said. All his senses focused on Iris, who smiled too knowingly at him. When it was finally time to exchange their rings once more, Iris surprised him with a new wedding band. With Eris’s style, she knew he’d prefer something that complemented everything he wore, so she had picked a simple hammered texture and engraved their initials on the inside.  

“I couldn’t be the only one with a new ring.” she teased, slipping it onto his finger and Eris tried not to collapse as his heart thumped wildly. He couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, overwhelmed with all these fucken feelings clogged in his throat. He could only slide her ring on her finger and then place a soft kiss on her hand. 

“Do you have vows you would like to share?” the priestess asked.

Eris and Iris glanced at each other. They had agreed that whatever vows they’d had would be between them so instead, Iris slanted her head slightly. 

“No, but I do have a question,” she said, the corner of her mouth curling up. “A question for a question.”

Eris’s expression lit up in amusement. “A question for a question.”

“Do you agree to willingly tolerate me for the rest of our days, husband dear?”

The small laugh escaped him before he could stop it and Eris replied, “I do. Do you agree to willingly tolerate me for the rest of our days then, dearest wife?”

Iris hummed playfully, pretending to think until he lifted a brow and she conceded with a laugh. “I do.”

“I believe I was supposed to ask a similar question…” the priestess began but with a glance from Eris, she cleared her throat and continued, “No matter! With this exchange, your union has been blessed. May the Mother continue to fill your lives with peace, joy, and harmony. You may kiss your bride, High Lord.” 

“About damn time,” Eris murmured, and as he leaned in and Iris met her lips with his, the cheers in the room matched the cheers in his heart, and he couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit about who watched them.

~

The rest of the night had passed in full merriment, an unusual occurrence for the Vanserras. Very few parties had ever been this calm – enjoyable even. Considering the last ball they’d been to, this ceremony was a dream.

Though they had remained on high alert, the brothers let themselves simply be present. The former Lady of Autumn’s smile was bright, her mate watching her every breath with stars in his eyes. They had all danced – Finn risking his life to dance with each of his brother’s paramours – and yet, despite the bickering and nonsense, Eris had watched Iris enjoy every minute of it. Her smile had dazzled the whole room and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

She had surprised him again during the party. In addition to the wedding cake he had originally requested, Iris presented a cake she had baked herself. It was a small round cake with white frosting, decorated with irises and Eris felt the mating bond thump beneath his skin at the gesture. 

Picking up a fork, she smiled at him and asked in a hushed tone, “Are you ready to eat, mate?”

Eris’s throat had bobbed as he took the fork from her hand and it took him a moment before he cleared his throat and joked, “So this is the way I go. Poisoned by my mate.” 

Her exasperated expression was so endearingly familiar that Eris couldn’t help but laugh, kiss her heartily, and then devour every last morsel of it.

Now, he sat on his new throne, happily married, happily mated, his wife in his lap, and her hand trailing distractingly down his chest.

His suit jacket was long gone, his crown sitting askew on his head and Eris had allowed himself to get slightly tipsy. He was also covered in lipstick stains, and Iris was still kissing his neck. 

“I could die right now and would consider myself the luckiest bastard alive.” He mumbled and Iris straightened in his lap with a tsk. Her wedding cape had been discarded on her own throne next to them, her heels tossed to the side and Eris had already taken all the pins out of her hair, setting her long locks free. Her tiara remained, of course. 

“How could you say that when we haven’t even had our proper wedding night?” she teased. “What a disappointing start to our marriage.”

Eris’s hands slid to his wife’s waist and he yanked her closer until she was inches from his lips, exactly where he liked her. “You and I both know, there is nothing disappointing about our marriage,” he said and gave her a knowing look. “Especially when my shy little wife is no longer shy, craving me constantly.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself like you aren’t ready to collapse every time my hand brushes against your skin, High Lord.” she breathed, tracing a finger across his collarbone. 

Eris chuckled, taking that finger and bringing it to his lips to kiss. “True. You had me wrapped around your finger from day one, I suppose,” he replied with a long-suffering sigh and Iris laughed but couldn’t help herself from pecking him quickly. 

“If it helps, it’s exactly how I want you, obsessed with me.”

“Given how you can’t even sleep without being engulfed in my scent, I’m not the only one obsessed, am I?” he teased. “Remember how prickly you were in the beginning? Like a feral little cat. And now look at you – simply addicted.”

Iris returned the long-suffering sigh and Eris’s lip twitched. “I suppose you have me there.” she said and her cheeks flushed when she added, “I do love you enough that I married you twice.” 

His expression softened and his hand brushed against her cheek, whispering, “And I am always grateful you chose me.”

Husband and wife watched one another in silence, the thread of their bond shining bright and true between them. It had all been worth it. Every hardship. Every doubt and fear and anxiety that had clawed at their lives before this…it had all been worth it. 

“I’d choose you every time, Eris,” she said softly. “You are mine and I am yours. Until the sun sets in its final hour. Until I am nothing but dust and even after that, when I am no more than a memory, I will always be yours.”

His throat bobbed as he watched her smile at him, a rush of affection so deep, Eris wanted to sink in it and never come up for air.  “And I yours,” he murmured, pulling her close again, his lips brushing against hers. “My heart and my soul – my very breath and every broken part of me will only ever be yours.” 

“Every wonderful part of you.” Iris corrected and Eris couldn’t help his chuckle. 

“Only because it’s you and everything you touch becomes wonderful,” he said and Iris shook her head. 

“After everything that’s happened, you are not allowed to speak about yourself that way,” she demanded, leaning back to give him a stern look. “I forbid it.”

He chuckled again. “Well, if my mate and future High Lady forbid it, I suppose I must listen,” he said and brushed back a loose curl, tugging on her ear gently. “You still want to wait until next year to declare the title officially?”

“Yes,” Iris confirmed and cupped his face. “I’d like more time learning in court before we add another big change. You need to keep things stable for now.”

Eris nodded, watching her face with that small smile that was all hers. How he had gotten so lucky, he’d never know. The Mother had blessed him in ways he’d never even let himself dream.  

“As you wish, wife,” he said. “I look forward to your insights. Even if you have questionable opinions at times.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you still think Lucien is more dashing than me, then?” he asked immediately and Iris blinked then leaned her head back with a laugh.

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” she teased with a giggle and Eris pursed his lips at her response, narrowing his eyes. 

“As I said, questionable opinions.”

Iris rolled her eyes, smiling so fondly, that it made her cheeks ache. “To answer your question,” she said quietly and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “No, I don’t. Even if he may dress better than you sometimes.”

Eris tutted and sat back, pulling her more firmly in his lap, and shook his head. “So many silly lies you tell.”

Iris hummed, leaning into him, and brushed her thumb against his mouth. She loved him, and what a blessing—after waiting for so long, she had been given a love like this. She loved him so deeply, yet she could never put into words just how much he meant to her—her husband, her friend, her mate. It left her helpless in the best way, and Iris wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped up with him like this.

He was all hers. For forever and every day after. He was all hers. 

“What are you going to do about all my lies, then?” she whispered, arching into him as Eris ran his hand down her back with a smirk and she leaned in to kiss the other corner of his mouth.

“Kiss you until you stop saying them, I suppose,” he hummed, and Iris grinned.

“Well then,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to keep lying.”

Eris couldn’t stop staring at her, sitting in his arms with a mischievous grin, her scent enveloping him. He truly had everything he ever wanted – right here. And it was real, not a desperate dream. “Tell me more of your lies then, little gazelle.” 

“Mmm, you’re hideous.”

He chuckled and leaned in to brush his lips against hers. “What else?” 

“You’re simply the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Eris fought back his own grin, nipping at her bottom lip. “Tell me more.”

Iris leaned back again and met his gaze, her expression softening again in a way that made Eris tremble.

“I hate you,” she said and the corner of his mouth quirked up, warmth spreading in his chest. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Is that the best lie you have?” he teased. Iris narrowed her eyes in thought for a moment, then smirked devilishly, wrapping both arms around his neck, a breath away from his lips. 

“You’re terrible in bed.”

Eris barked out a laugh and Iris joined him as unfiltered joy flooded through him. He wouldn’t question this gift he’d been given for a single moment – never let a doubt creep in between them. Wrapping his arms around his wife, Eris kissed his Iris in earnest, pouring all his love and promises into her lips.

His heart had always been in the palm of her hands, and Iris had wrapped her very soul around him. Together, they would welcome a new beginning. 

They would spend the rest of their days just like this. 

Happy. 

Whole. 

Together.

And where jaded spirits had once met tired bones, their spirits were jaded no more. 

Rekindled, they had finally settled home.

[solarismoons]

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP7 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

Mr. Martin rowing away with Janet is so ominous…

His acting is SO great. His mannerisms and the way he speaks is so perfect. “We deserve this.”

“It makes me sad.. That we couldn’t have gone to any of these places together.” NO one can tell me Maddie doesn’t like Wally as much as he likes her. That girl is in love.

I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to be right about Yuri and Charley! They recreated that pottery making scene!! I did not expect them to get freaky, but i’m NOT complaining.

IM GONNA SCREAM. The way Wally hooked his finger in her bra strap??? My heart is actually beating so fast..I know i’ve said this before, but the tongue is INSANE.

I love how the ghosts are having sex with each other while the living kids are literally crashing out.

I really wish we saw Quinn going into her scar for the first time… I really wonder what it would’ve looked like.

IM ACTUALLY CRYING. I did NOT expect to see Milo’s bare ass today, but DAMN… My jaw dropped to the FLOOR.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about everything that’s waiting for me here.” Ugh, don’t make me cry today PLEASE.

I’m a little surprised there was no talk of Maddie begin a virgin, since that seemed fairly important to her in the first season. I’m not complaining at all though, because WOW..

“Oh, god! I’m gonna need to guys to peel yourselves off each other and come down to the library stat.” The way Maddie nor Wally didn’t even TRY to cover up is killing me. They genuinely don’t GAF.

They were planning on torturing the other ghosts?? This just keeps getting worse and worse the more we learn.

“I’m glad it was you, too.” Please don’t make me like these two together…

‘Notice of suspension’??? God, i feel so awful for Simon. I never even thought of how this affected him. He’s missed so many classes countless times.. What about his future? He flunked that one college admission interview, too. If anything bad happens to Simon, i’m throwing a tantrum.

Oh my god… Poor Rhonda. I love her so much. Knowing she was alone with Janet and Mr. Martin for so long is just so horrifying.

I didn’t expect Dawn to be so involved! I love how she’s really not stupid or airheaded. She’s just a little eccentric. I’m so glad we got another scene with her.

This show is honestly a horror movie at this point… ‘Mr. Anderson’ being soaking wet, covered in mud with his head gushing blood walking around with a fireplace poker is terrifying. My heart is beating so fast.

Mr. Martins manipulating Janet is infuriating. I don’t even have the words to express how much I hate him.

Poor Quinn! I feel so bad. “I died knowing that everyone was mad at me.” My baby 😞💔💔.

“You can’t just leave me now.” STOP. I love them so much it hurts so bad.

I really didn’t expect Simon and Maddie to argue but it was bound to happen.

“Is this because of Wally?” I called it. I fucking called it. I KNEW this was going to come up. Kristian’s acting always gets me. I love Simon so much.

Patrick Gilmores acting is amazing. He somehow even sounds like Mr. Martin and it’s terrifying. Also, he’s lowkey hot and i’m not sorry for saying that.

Mr. Martin forcing Janet into the hellscape made me sick to my stomach.

This fandom is so smart it blows my mind. Everyone said Mr. South must know more about the scars than we had thought. I kind of thought he was just being melodramatic, but the more we saw the scars I changed my mind.

Everyone was right about the scar being Mr. Martin’s. This makes a whole lot more sense. The woman could’ve been his finance, considering the fact that we haven’t seen her before.

This episode was genuinely insane. I still haven’t even fully processed anything.

[huntercoreene]

Unscripted Venture

Pairing: Rafayel x MC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Rafayel has been away from MC for a few days and she decides to give him a surprise visit – it ends with sex. MC is not named and Rafayel calls her his canon petnames (cutie & miss bodyguard)

In other words, my attempt at trying to make sense of what we hear in Promised Wildfire, and what happens after it ends (spoiler - sex)

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags/Warnings: smut, fluff, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, squirting, safe sex

Read on Ao3 or under the cut 👇

It had been longer than a week since Rafayel had left Linkon. He got dragged from one exhibition to another while I had to go on the hunt for wanderers with almost no break which made it really hard for us to see each other. The moment I found some free time in my schedule I jumped on a plane to visit Rafayel. Now, I was standing in front of his door, my hand raised as I hesitated to knock.

“Really, Thomas? Another last-minute event?” Rafayel’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Well, duh. Of course I can't make it. I gotta return to Linkon tomorrow. Smell you later.”

I smiled as I listened to him whine to Thomas about work. I took a deep breath as he closed the call, straightened my hair and knocked on his door. I eagerly listened as his footsteps came closer and closer when finally Rafayel opened the door.

His expression changed from annoyed to surprised and then to happy in mere seconds. “Cutie, what are you doing here?”

I jumped into his arms just as he opened them. “I’ve missed you too much so I came to see you!”

He pulled me into a hug and lifted me up, taking my feet off the ground. I had wrapped my arms around his neck and held onto him as he twirled me around. “Are we trying for a new, romantic escapade here?” He asked when he finally stopped.

I held his face in between my hands and gave him a big kiss. “Did you like it?”

“This was the perfect surprise,” he said as he closed the door with his foot and carried me to the living room. “How did you know where I was staying?”

“I convinced Thomas to tell me,” I said with a smile as he sat down with me on his lap.

“How did you manage that? Don’t tell me – ah, I’m gonna have to go to that event tomorrow, aren’t I?” He said with a pout.

I settled on his lap with my legs on either side of his hips and brushed his bangs back. “I will come with you though… we can hide somewhere when you get bored of people, and have a little fun of our own,” I said, my voice getting deeper.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I guess we can figure that out later — right now, I want to enjoy having you here with me,” he squeezed me tighter and left a kiss to my cheek. “I’m so excited that you're here – you have no idea. It’s almost like butterflies are about to burst from my chest.” He held my hand and brought it down on his heart.

I could feel how fast his heartbeat was. Suddenly the air in the room changed. I felt myself blush when our eyes met, the rainbow colour of his iris was getting swallowed by his dark pupils the longer we gazed at each other. I felt myself leaning in for his lips like I was being pulled by some unseen force.

It started with small kisses on his lips, our breathing getting heavier by the second. I made my way down to his jaw and pushed open collar of his neck. I admired the view of his collarbone before I went down to lick and suck on his skin.

I felt Rafayel’s muscles tense under my touch and he let out a sigh. “Was this sneak attack also part of your surprise?”

I answered him as I left another kiss on his skin, pushing open his collar and making my way lower on his chest.

He grabbed my chin and lifted my head, making me look into his eyes, “your kiss couldn’t stop the butterflies from flying out of my heart,” he leaned in closer to my face, “but this is how you do it,” he whispered just before I felt the touch of his soft lips on mine.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in the soft strands of his hair as I felt his tongue search for an entrance on my lips. I opened my mouth, allowing him to deepen our kiss and bring us ever closer. I needed to touch him more, it wasn’t enough. My hands wandered back down to his chest, slipping under his shirt. My fingers caressed his chest, lightly stroking over his nipples as I delighted in the moans that escaped his mouth.

Rafayel’s hands were on my back, stroking up and down at first before he slowly slid them down, pressing hard enough on my skin that I could feel his warmth over my clothes. I could feel myself getting wet just from this, a warm and tingly feeling spreading from my belly to my body. I settled myself nicely on his lap, feeling his hard member right under my sex. Rafayel’s hands settled on my ass and squeezed the soft flesh just as I slowly started to grind on his lap.

“Miss Bodyguard,” he said with a sigh, taking off his lips away from my skin to talk, “you’ve given me quite a surprise. How should I repay you?”

“Kiss me,” I breathed out as his lips travelled down to my jaw.

“Sure, I can kiss you,” he whispered as he turned us around and pushed me down on my back. “Let’s start with just above your eyes…” he planted a kiss, adjusting our position to pull me in his embrace fully, “your nose,” he kissed the tip of my nose, making me giggle, “ears.” This time instead of a kiss, I felt him suck and breathe on my ear.

“Ah, Rafayel…”

I felt his chuckle on my skin before he moved back to my lips again, “and lips too…” he said pulling me into a deep kiss just as another moan escaped my lips. “I’ll make sure to say hello to each of them… it’s been so long, I’ve missed you”

My hands travelled on his back, stroking and making their way to his hair as the sound of our sloppy kisses filled the quiet room. “I missed you, too,” I whispered when I had a moment to breathe.

He kissed me again and again.  It felt like my lips were the only things that could sate his thirst and he was a man parched, lost in a desert. I was feeling dizzy and warm, breathing in his familiar scent, squeezing him because I never wanted to let go. He slowed down after a while and slowly raised up.

“Rafayel,” I protested to the loss of his warmth.

He chuckled and stroked my cheek with his knuckles. “Don’t move. I want to savour this moment.” He gave me a soft kiss. “I’m always scared that you're just a figment of my imagination.” I watched his intense gaze as his eyes travelled my body before settling on my face. He looked down at me like I was a mirage, cupped my cheek like he wanted to make sure I was real.

I leaned my head into his touch as my hands travelled up over his arms, settling on his shirt collar before I pulled him closer. “Mm, why don’t you touch me,” I whispered as I switched our position and settled on his lap before I bent down to lick on his ear, “and find out.”

“Well, you're real,” he giggled, turning his head to find my lips as his arms wrapped me tighter, “and warm. It’s like I'm being enveloped in a pool of water.”

He pulled me into a deep kiss, his mouth moving to my jaw and neck, leaving a wet trail as they went. I felt his head nuzzle my cheek, his soft hair tickling my skin. The more I felt his touch the more colourful the world got. Linkon was so cold and grey without him. “Don’t, go away, again,” I said in a desperate voice. I never wanted to be apart from him.

“I don’t wanna let you go,” he wrapped his arms around my body tighter like he was making his point, “I could hold you like this forever.”

“Oh – really?” I asked with a mischievous smile. My hands stroked down his body as I swiftly pulled his loose tie away from his neck.

“What are you…” he started, a grunt escaping his lips just as I tied up his wrists. “When I said I wouldn’t let go, I wasn’t giving you permission to tie me up, and… you did it with my own tie, no less,” he said, giving me a cheeky smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“This is your punishment for not coming home sooner.” I wrapped the tie around his wrists one more time and leaned in for a kiss as I pushed his arms over his head. “Now, you cannot go anywhere.”

“Fine, fiiine,” he chuckled, adding with a sultry lick of his lips, “punish me however you want, cutie.”

I barely held onto the moan that threatened to escape my lips with the look he was giving me. It was hard to focus on tying him up under his intense gaze. His eyes were like the endless ocean, ready to devour me. I was on top of him, I had his hands bound and yet, I still didn’t feel like I was the one in control. I knew I would fold with just a single word from his lips as long as he looked at me like that.

I swallowed and wrapped the tie to the armrest. He let out an exaggerated groan as I secured the knot. “Ouch… an artist’s wrists are precious, you know, but you're very, very cute right now. I don’t mind being tied up by you.”

I felt my face blush at his compliment, and loosened the knot, worried it was too tight. I slid my hands over his arms, feeling his skin under my  fingers and cupped his face before I leaned in for a kiss. He responded to my kiss, pulling on his bounds and groaned.

I chuckled at his struggle as my mouth left a wet trail of kisses on his skin up to his ear. "You look very cute when you're tied up, too," I breathed out before I sucked on his earlobe.

He moaned and bit his bottom lip as I continued to tease him. He turned his head, looking for my lips as I went back to kissing him. "This shirt is too tight," he said, breathing heavily. "Can you help me unbutton it?”

"Anything for you." I nuzzled my cheek on his face as my fingers found the buttons on his shirt. I kissed my way down as I opened his shirt, making sure to press my palm on his bare chest, feeling every inch of his hot skin.

“It’s still too tight… keep unbuttoning it," he commanded just as I finished opening the last button, my hand dancing on his lower stomach.

"I think we've reached the end of the shirt," I teased, my hand going down only slightly to stroke him over his trousers.

"You know what to do next then, don't you?"

"I don't think I do," I said as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You'll need to be more specific."

"Take that naughty hand," he kissed me, "and unbuckle my belt."

I moaned as his words sent a shiver down my body, my hands getting to work on his belt.

"Good girl, now keep unbuttoning."

I quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, my palm flattening over his boxers, feeling how hard he was. I stroked him over the fabric, my fingers dancing on his stomach, threatening to slip under the waistband.

"Mm, not yet,” Rafayel gave me a warning.

“How are you gonna stop me?” I asked with a smirk as I my hand contained to stroke him over his boxers. ”I hold the power now,” I said as I leaned in to capture his lips, my hands stroking over the bare skin of his chest.

My hands moved up to his hair as we deepened our kiss. I could feel his hips buck at my body the more I touched and grinded on him. My mouth moved from his lips to his jaw and then to his neck. Moans and groans escaped both our lips as I made my way down to his nipples, giving attention to both of them before going further down. My hands followed my lips, feeling as much of his skin as I can. One of them moved further down, feeling his hard cock and stroking it over the fabric again. I continued to kiss my way down. I let my mouth soak his underwear, feeling his hot and hard cock under my tongue while I looked up at Rafayel.

"Getting straight to the point, huh...?" he groaned.

"I'm not breaking any rules," I breathed onto his skin before I kissed right under his naval, feeling his muscles tense up at the slightest of my touch, I saw him throw his head back just as my lips touched the waistband of his boxers.

"We've only been separated for a few days and you somehow managed to become so bold," Rafayel said with a strained voice, “then, does this mean I can also be a little bold..." he whispered to my ear as his mouth trailed wet kisses to my jaw, "and spice things up?"

I was too dazed to realize he had broken free. In one smooth motion he had me in his grasp. “Hey! How did you break free?”

He chuckled and got up with me on his lap. “That's something I can't tell you,” he said as he made his way to the bedroom and gently placed me on the bed. He straddled me and moved his mouth closer to my ear, "a slippery fish like me, can't be caught so easily." He whispered before he sucked on my earlobe.

I moaned at his words as he swiftly bound my hands to the headboard. I could feel his hot breath on my skin and it was setting me on fire. "Rafayel, pleasee..."

He chuckled. "Please what, cutie? Let you go or don't let you go?"

I blushed. "I..." I looked up at him with my best pouty look. "Please, I want to touch you. I can't do that if my hands are bound, can I?”

Another delightful chuckle escaped his lips, making my heart skip a beat at the sound. "At this point, begging or running away won't help."

I pulled on my restraints, partly to get away partly because of how turned on I was under his touch as he planted kisses from my cheek to my lips. “Is it too tight? Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” I moaned. I wanted to lift my hand and cup his face but my hands were tied. “Don’t worry, keep going.”

He left a kiss to my lips and made his way down slowly. His hands moving up and down on my torso, slipping under my shirt and finally making their way to my breasts. “Ah, Rafayel,” his name escaped my lips as he lightly brushed his finger over my pebbled nipple.

“Mm, enjoying my touch this much, cutie?” he said as he cupped both of my breasts, thumbs stroking over my nipples. “They’re so hard already.”

“That’s because it’s cold in here.”

He chuckled. “It’ll be hot in here soon enough,” he left kisses to my neck, making his way down to the top of the soft flesh of my tits, ”then what will be your excuse?”

I felt blood rush to my face as he continued his exploration. He sucked the skin into his mouth, letting it go with a pop sound then licked and kissed the sensitive skin. One of his hands covered the breast he was just sucking as he moved his focus to the other. He pushed the stubborn hem of my shirt up with annoyance and pulled my bra down, revealing both of my tits to his gaze.

“I only touched this and you're already flushed,” he said with a deep voice, thumb caressing my nipple as he bent down to suck on the other.

“Rafayel…” I whined as his mouth moved to suck on the skin between my tits. I felt his chuckle on my skin as he ignored my whining — which turned into a moan every time he sucked and licked my skin —and made his way to my stomach.

He looked up at me as he made it to the waistband of my skirt. “What is it, cutie?” He left a few kisses that made me tremble, the look he gave me after every kiss sending waves of pleasure through my body.

“I want to touch you,” I said with a whimper as he stroked my legs ever so lightly.

“I'm not done painting a masterpiece on your body, Miss Bodyguard. It is my blank canvas,” he left a wet kiss on my inner thigh before he sucked in the flesh to leave a hickey and then licked the sensitive skin, “and only I get to admire it.”

“I wanna see your beautiful painting,” I pleaded as I gave him my best puppy-eyed look.

“But it’s not finished yet.” He moved his attention to my other leg. “I wanna leave my mark here,” he sucked in my skin and let it go with a pop, “and there… yes everywhere…” he made his way higher on my inner thigh, getting closer and closer to my heat with every touch of his lips, leaving a hickey everywhere his mouth has touched.

“It’s unfair,” I tried my luck again.

He chuckled and rested his head against my thigh as he continued leaving lazy kisses. “What?”

“I want to ‘paint’ on you, too.”

“Alright, I guess you’ve been a good girl so far,” he reached up and untied my hands, “and I need your hands free to take this shirt off.”

I chuckled as I raised my hands and let him take the shirt off of me. “Rafayel!” I was surprised as he picked me up and turned us over, placing me on his lap this time.

“I willingly surrender myself to you. Do with me as you wish.”

I settled myself on his lap, grinding only a little to feel how hard he is under me before I pushed his shirt off his shoulders and threw it to the other side of the room. I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat right under my palm. His ears and cheeks were flushed, same with mine, when I leaned in for a kiss. My hand moved down on his stomach, feeling his abdomen before slipping beneath his underwear to feel his hardness.

“…you're greedy, aren’t you?”

“Can never have enough of you,” I said as I pushed him on his back.

“Ow!”

“Aw, where did it hurt?” I asked going along with his exaggerated pain, “here?” I kissed his jaw. “Or here?” I sucked on his neck, earning a moan from him then kissed the sensitive skin.

“Mm, cutie, making me surrender isn’t enough,” he breathed, “you also wanna leave your mark on me?”

I looked up at him as I kissed down his chest. “Yes. People should know you're mine,” I said with a hoarse voice before I sucked on his skin, earning another moan.

“Alright, then… don’t miss a single spot…”

I smiled and got to work on worshipping his body. I kissed his chest, licking and lightly sucking both his nipples, feeling the way his heart skips a beat with every touch of my lips. My hands made their way down his stomach, feeling his muscles tense with my touch until I've reached his trousers. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his underwear, pushing it down as he lifted his hips.

“Don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?” Rafayel said playfully as I moved up on his body.

“What?” I was kissing his neck.

He wrapped his arms around me, his hands finding the clasp of my bra, “I’m all naked now and you still have so many clothing that’s blocking the view of my masterpiece.”

“Why don’t you take them off then?” I whispered before I sucked on his ear.

He groaned as he wrapped his arms tighter, pulling me flush with his body, turning us around in one smooth motion. He pushed the straps of my bra down before taking it off and throwing it to the other side of the room. He leaned in for a kiss, licking my lips with his tongue, urging me to open my mouth. I let him deepen the kiss as I felt his warm hands slid down my body.

He slipped his fingers under the waistband of my skirt and pushed it down, adding it to the mess of clothes around the room. I wrapped my arms around his neck, grinding my hips on his lap as his fingers started to stroke my sex over the thin fabric of my panties.

He hooked one finger to the strap on the side, pulling lightly and letting it snap to my skin, earning a moan from me. “Mm, this is cute. Did you get it for me?” he said, his mouth moving in between kissing my lips to sucking on my skin.

“Yes,” I breathed, “do you like it?”

“Very much,” he said as his fingers continued their strokes, “you're so wet for me.”

“I want you, Rafayel. I need you,” I whimpered.

He groaned, pushing my panties to the side, feeling my clit without a barrier for the first time. “Not yet,” he said before he kissed his way down my body and settled his head between my thighs.

“Oh, Rafa–“ I tried to say his name just as I felt his tongue on my clit. He sucked on the sensitive bud before licking stripes on my cunt. I raised my head to see just as he looked up at me, sending a wave of pleasure to my clit.

He alternated between flicking on my clit and drawing shapes, every so often stimulating me so much that I couldn’t help but pull on his hair. I felt his fingers stroke the side of my pussy lips, making my legs tremble with pleasure just as he pushed a finger inside. He pushed it as deep as he can, waited, then pulled out before pushing it again as I threw my head back. He slowly started to pump his finger in and out as he continued licking my clit.

He stopped again, making me moan in protest and slowly pushed two fingers inside this time. The sound of my wet cunt filled the room as he pumped his fingers. He reached his free hand and cupped my tit before pinching my nipple just as he curled his fingers inside of me. It was too much for me as I felt my body twitch and tremble with pleasure and came squirting on his face. He continued licking my clit and fucking me with his fingers even though I squirmed to get out his hold.

“Rafayel, enough, please,” I said in between my heavy breaths as my cunt twitched with over-stimulation.

He left a kiss to my lower abdomen with a chuckle before picking up a discarded shirt. He wiped his face and threw it away again, then dropped himself next to me on the bed. I turned to my side and placed my hand on his face, my thumb caressing his cheek. He was so beautiful. I leaned in to capture his lips, my hand sliding down on his body, finding his painfully hard cock. I gave him a few slow strokes as we continued to kiss. He tensed and moaned when I pressed on the sensitive spot on his tip.

“I’m gonna, spill in your hands, if you keep this up, cutie,” he said with a strained voice.

I slowly pushed him on his back and got on top, my cunt settling right over his cock. “Mm, we can't have that, can we?” I leaned in and sucked his earlobe before I whispered in his ear, “you're only allowed to cum inside me.”

His hands grabbed my hips and pressed my heat on him harder with a groan. “Get the condom from my pocket,” he said with a commanding voice.

I tried to reach it but he was holding me so tight as he rutted against me, it was impossible. “You need to loosen your hold a bit for that,” I chuckled.

“Ah, fiiine, be quick,” he said with a pout and loosened his arms just about enough for me to reach into his trousers on the floor and find the condoms.

“Got them–“ he pulled me down as soon as he could, taking the condom from my hands. He ripped the package open with his mouth and slid it on himself with ease before lifting my hips, “Rafayel, slow down,” I said with a chuckle.

“No,” he growled and turned us around in one smooth motion, “I can't wait anymore,” he started kissing my neck as he took his cock in hand and started rubbing it up and down on my pussy, “and you love teasing me too much.”

“Who’s teasing who now?” I whined as he continued to rub his cock on my cunt, tapping it on my clit, making me twitch and moan.

He let out a low chuckle as he aligned himself with my entrance, his lips moved up to my jaw, cheeks, finally arriving on my lips as he slowly pushed himself in. He stopped for a moment as he let me adjust to his size before pulling back and pushing in deeper.

“How do you feel?” He asked as he sucked my lower lip into his mouth.

“Good.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hand buried in his hair.

“Do you need a little help here?” He said with a mischievous tone and started to draw circles on my clit as he started to move his hips slowly.

“Ah, Rafayel…”

“Oh, you like that, yeah?” He increased the speed of his movements.

“Yes,” I breathed with blissed out head. It was such a great feeling to feel so full of him. I felt stimulated every time his hips slapped mine, as his cock slid in and out. I loved being so close to him, connected in every way we could, feeling how hot he got, how much he sweated, feeling both our juices mix and be as one.

I pulled his hand that was circling my clit and brought it to my mouth. “Come closer,” I said as I sucked on his fingers and pulled him down. It wasn’t enough, I needed to be closer to him.

He growled to the sight in front of him and stopped his movement with a deep thrust. I whined to the loss of his body heat as he raised up. He had an intense look on his face now, like he wanted to devour me whole. “Your wish,” he picked up my legs and placed them on his shoulders before he folded me like paper, “is my command.”

“Ahhh,” a moan escaped my mouth. “So deep, so full,” I babbled as he pressed his lips to mine.

He moved his hips just the way I liked it, his cock hitting that spot inside my walls again and again, bringing me closer to my high. One of his hands moved down to cup my tits as he continued leaving kisses on my lips. I pulled on his hair when he pinched my nipples, making him growl and bite my lip. His lips left wet kisses on my skin as they went down on my body, pulling the nipple he just pinched into his mouth. He lifted his head as he looked into my eyes and sucked, his hand finding my free breast. He pinched the other nipple before his lips switched to sucking on that one, all the while the movement of his hips never stopped.

I could feel myself gushing more and more with his every movement. My walls squeezed his cock every time he pinched, sucked and circled my nipples. The pressure was building in my belly. “Rafayel… I'm gonna, cum.”

“Me too,” he raised up and picked up the pace of his thrusts before he leaned down again, “let’s do it together.” He pulled me into a kiss, his lips travelling to my ear. He licked and sucked on my earlobe, and breathed out, “cum with me, cutie.”

I felt the trembling in my legs first just before the dam broke and I felt my whole-body spasm. “Rafayel,” I screamed his name, pulled on his hair and felt my walls squeeze his cock as if they wanted to milk every last drop of his seed.

He pounded his hips one last time and stopped, his head falling on to my neck as I felt the throbbing of his cock inside me. He moved his hips, slowly, pulling back and pushing in again, each time I felt him throb once again. “Ah, cutie, that was…” he lost his train of thought and started to pepper my neck, my jaw, my cheek –anywhere his lips could reach with kisses, making me giggle.

He tried to pull out, before I wrapped my arms and legs around him and pulled him closer to me. “No, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to my cheek, “but let me re-adjust. I don’t want to crush you.”

“Crush me, I don’t care. I want to feel your weight on me.”

“Alright, then,” he said and let his weight down on my body.

I felt the air escape from my lungs and I tapped his shoulders with urgency. “On second thought, you should re-adjust.”

He let out a laugh as he raised up. He pulled out his softening cock, removed the condom and tied it into a knot before throwing it to the floor and dropped down next to me. I planted a kiss to his cheek before I settled inside his arms. My fingers drew circles on his chest absent-mindedly as I felt his warm fingers do the same on my arms.

“This is perfect,” Rafayel said as he left a kiss to my damp forehead, “I'm so glad you came here.”

“Me too,” I let out a deep sigh and kissed his jaw. I held his chin in my hand and squeezed. “You're not allowed to go away for this long without me, again.”

He held me tighter in his arms. “Does that mean I can say the same about your trips too, Miss Bodyguard?”

I felt my face get hot. “It’s… not the same.”

“Double standards,” he said with a pout.

I raised my head with my arms planted either side of his face and left a kiss to his lips. “Stop pouting.”

“No. You can leave when you want but I'm not allowed to do the same.”

I left a kiss to his cheek, another one on his nose, another on the side of his eyes. He was still pouting even though his cheeks were getting red. “Okay,” I said with defeat. “How about this? When one of us is away for too long, the other is allowed to visit them and keep them all to themselves as long as they want.”

He finally smiled to that. “Deal.”

“You know this means you're not allowed to go anywhere until tomorrow night…”

“I do, this is gonna be a long night for us, cutie,” Rafayel said with a sultry voice as he got on top and once again, pulling me into a passionate kiss.

My first fic for LaDS fandom, I hope you've enjoyed it!