#I think he’s slowly understanding that he can be himself

[darkwicks]

Daydreaming

He knows you’ll always do your best to listen to him, but he prefers it this way. How else will he be able to get lost in you?

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀gender neutral reader | established relationship, fluff, nerd4nerd, Star Wars <3 | ~0,7k words

A/N.⠀I admit this is very very self-indulgent but I hope someone out there can enjoy it regardless :)

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

Rambling about your interests is a regular occurrence, but you’ve been more withdrawn as of late.

You never need to explain to him—he knows you like the back of his hand. Stress from your health and studies, your insecurity getting the best of you; part of him blames himself for being so distant this week. Being the Colonel comes with a massive workload. Though Caleb is more than capable of finishing his tasks successfully and punctually, sometimes he’s needed in several places at once. You’ve been buried in work yourself, going to sleep even earlier because of tiredness.

There haven’t been many chances to spend time together lately, which is why he just had to grab this chance as soon as it became available.

A video on the television is paused in favour of you explaining it to him, moving your hands animatedly. Your eyes are practically twinkling as you chatter away. He’s still listening attentively (multiverses and portals, or something like that) but it’s hard trying not to get lost in how happy you look. He thinks it’s the most radiant you’ve appeared in days.

It’s in moments like these that Caleb falls a little more in love with you.

He lets out a quiet, dreamy sigh as he leans against the cushions. He’s tuning out the world around him, and the only voice he hears is yours. You’re smiling so wide and you’re glowing, exuding warmth and joy in waves. He snaps himself back to the present when you suddenly stop and stare at him with worry in your eyes, your brows furrowing in concern.

“Am I boring you?” you blurt out. The urge to flick your forehead for immediately jumping to such a negative conclusion is strong. He opts for affectionately ruffling your hair instead, resting his hand on the top of your head.

“Of course not. I’m still listening,” he says. He smiles mischievously. “Nerd.”

“I’m the nerd?” you gasp in exaggerated incredulity, swatting his hand away in retaliation. “You’re the one with a bunch of LEGO kits!”

“And I bought them because you wanted them,” he retorts, amused. “You wanted to build the Death Star together on Valentine’s day. Only nerds pick that over going to the mall.”

“It’s more fun because there’s nothing at the mall,” you grumble. “And you wanted the Millennium Falcon. You’re just as much of a nerd as I am.”

He chuckles. “Whatever you say, pipsqueak.”

“Caleb!”

You shove him while giggling, eyes crinkling into little curved moons. He feigns agony, clutching his shoulder and letting out a playful grunt. The action only makes you laugh harder and shove him again before slumping against him with a huff.

“I still can’t believe you actually like listening to me ramble,” you sigh once you’ve cooled down, peering up at him. “Don’t you get tired?”

“I like seeing you happy,” Caleb says simply. You turn your head away and bite back a smile, making his lips curl into a smile of his own. You’re so easily flustered over the smallest things. It’s endearing to him. “What?”

“You know I’d listen to you talk about planes too, right? Even if I don’t understand it?” you ask, returning your gaze to him. “I feel bad making you listen to my nonsense.”

He shrugs. “It’s not nonsense if it makes you happy.”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he pulls you closer. You make yourself comfortable by his side, reaching out to lace your fingers together. You bring his hand up to your lips and press a chaste kiss on it, thumb rubbing soothing circles on his skin. He exhales slowly, filled with contentment. He knows you’ll always do your best to listen to him, but he prefers it this way. How else will he be able to get lost in you?

“So. Do you want to tell me about this character?”

You immediately light up and nod, clapping your hands together in excitement. As you begin your introduction, he finds himself staring at you again, tuning out the world around him except for you. He’s always happy to listen, but you’ll have to excuse him just this once—he’s falling in love with you all over again.

[sayusims]

Jinshi and Maomao relationship detail

At first, when watching The Apothecary Diaries, I didn't really want Jinshi and Maomao to be together. I mean, I wanted them to be, but since Jinshi was obviously so much more in love than Maomao, I did not think that it would seriously work out. However, I’ve changed my mind. As I haven’t actually read the light novels yet, some of the information I’m going to use is based on what others have said, and I can’t really confirm 100% if it is true, but since these are discussed somewhat in the community, I feel like they are.

My top reason for thinking they are good together is the fact that they pay extra attention to and look at each other more than others. In Jinshi’s case, he is known for being immensely pretty, but because this is the only thing people look at when it comes to him, it causes him to have an inferiority complex about all of the other skills that he does possess. It also does not help that he is surrounded by anomalies of people who have super strength or are insanely smart, so he feels hopelessly average in comparison. Because of this, when he met Maomao, he thought that she would be the same—someone captivated by his beauty who does not see the real him—but it was the complete opposite. His beauty does not hold worth to her. While she obviously finds him attractive and is probably still attracted to his physical body, his worth to her comes almost solely from his personality. The times in the anime that we see best that she is VERY slowly falling in love are times when she mentions him behaving differently or behaving more like himself instead of the persona he puts on daily. She does find Jinshi annoying a lot, but she likes it when he is more youthful and less eunuch-like.

When it comes to Maomao, I remember that in an episode of the anime, Maomao mentioned how she knows she is hard to read. While Jinshi cannot read her, he still tries. Jinshi never backs down or gets put off when he doesn’t understand her apparent logic; he mostly just trusts her and her judgment. He is incredibly patient with her and honestly does not try to rush things (it is KILLING ME). He is extremely worried about her well-being and making the choice that she wants, not what he wants. It is like when he dismissed her from her job in the first part of season 1. He dismissed her even though he had the power to obviously just not do it but also to just kind of make her work even if she thought it was miserable in the rear palace, because I fear that’s what at least half of the men back then would have done. But even though at this time he had a rabid crush on her and knew he was going to be miserable like he was with his toys when he was younger, he did it since he thought that was what she wanted. Another thing Jinshi notices a lot is her injuries. After, I assume, the third time of someone noticing someone else constantly getting hurt but still either waiting to get help or just not getting it at all, most people would give up. Most people would not jump off a wall and carry them bridal style to the infirmary the sixth time, but Jinshi still did, and he did it with urgency. Every time she gets hurt now, he is always panicking and doing the most he can to help, even if it's most times him just screaming. He never gets tired of her and always wants to be around her at almost every moment.

I want to get the manga volumes and the light novel so badly, but I literally have a 50-bullet-point to-read list that just keeps growing because I’ve been stuck on Crime and Punishment for the last two months. But if anyone has some show ideas (they don't have to be anime) that I can yap about and make my brain work overtime, that would be very helpful.

[baniisharur0tte]

Thank You, Miss <3 (p.2)

(part one here)

word count: 3.4k of filth <3

content: SMUT !!! 18+ !!!! sub!Choso, servicedom!fem!reader, missionary P->V, oral (m+f!receiving), deepthroat, vibrator + butt plug (m!recieving) mild degradation, major praise, pet names (pretty, puppy, etc.) mommy/miss/mistress kink, creampie

authors note: AAHHHH!!!!! (i pull my hair out) I NEED HIM!!!!! (that's all. just fervor. happy reading, lovely! mwah!)

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he parts his lips from yours, quietly asking "can we try another one today?"

laying on your back, you push his chest gently so you can lean over and rifle through the bedside table.

"of course love. let's see what we have."

still wanting to ease him into the adventure, you pick something you think will be gentle for him. you decide on the black vibrating butt plug.

you turn back, holding it up between you two. he cocks his head, looking at it.

"do you know what this is?"

he thinks for a moment, inspecting it.

"i...i think so. when i saw it on the shelf i just thought 'she'll know what to do' so i brought it to you. i think it goes in your pussy?"

you giggle, shaking your head.

"no, sweetie. well, technically it can, but that's not what it's for today."

you click the button on the back, letting it buzz for a moment before turning it off again. his eyes flash, remembering how much he loved the wand. he sits back on his heels, you follow sitting up to face him.

"this goes in your ass, i can use it too but it'll feel better for you than it will for me."

his eyebrows furrow in confusion, muttering "in my... well i guess... i mean, i've never done anything like that...." before he finally lands on "if you want to use it on me, i trust you. i know it'll be fun" he smiles brightly, his eyes shining on you.

"okay, love. c'mere, try to relax as best you can."

you lace your fingers into his, pulling him back down to lay on you. his face buried in the crook of your neck, you grab the bottle of lube on the nightstand and pour some onto the toy. you slip your hand into his underwear, find his hole and gently begin to push it inside him.

he yelps quietly and pushes his face deeper into your hair. "i-it's cold!!" he whispers, his voice high and tense.

you stroke his hair, soothing him. "it's okay, puppy. if it hurts i'll stop, but just try to relax. it'll warm up, love. don't worry"

"it doesn't hurt, i l-like it i think" he says quietly, squirming and whimpering as it reaches the base.

you pet his hair, rubbing his back as you lay together, letting him adjust to this new feeling.

he shifts his legs around, letting out small whimpers with every move. "i can feel it when i move, that's good right?"

you tilt his face up to yours, meeting his eyes. his cheeks are already beginning to flush, his big doe eyes looking up at you. "does it feel good when you move?"

he slowly pulls himself up and carefully grinds into your pussy, his cock trapped in his underwear.

"ooh!~" he quickly stops, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in your shoulder again.

"....y-yes, it does. thank you mommy" he whispers shyly into your skin, his breath ghosting over you sending a small shiver down your side.

"c-can i have the buzzing too?"

"if you feel ready, of course you can"

you reach down and push the button, the pressure pushing it ever so slightly deeper into him. between the small thrust and the sudden vibrations, his whole body jerks at the sensation. he lets out a gasp as he tenses on top of you.

"oh my god, that feels-hngh-oh my god" he chokes out, grinding into you without even thinking. with every weak roll of his hips, the toy bumps around inside him hitting something that feels so good. it was hard for him to understand, he felt it in his stomach and down the length of his cock, it was a pleasure that he felt deep in his core. it was unlike any other pleasure he had felt before. it was strange, it felt like the stirring in his stomach of needing to cum, but he wasn't close. was he? he wasn't sure, it was all so alien to him, his body feeling a little overwhelmed by all the stimulation. the buzzing of the vibrator was rocking deep inside him, it made his insides feel like jelly. with his cock slowly dragging over your pussy, your underwear clinging to your wet folds the head of his cock catching on the dip of your entrance with every thrust, it felt like he was being attacked from all sides. hearing your gentle moans as he rubbed himself on your clit, it fried his brain.

"this is- aahh- a lot for m-me i think~" he moans, almost painfully.

you grab his face, saying "if it's too much we can slow down. i want you to take this at your own pace."

he looks down at you, shaking his head. "i l-like it, i can take it. i want you to..." he trails off, dropping his gaze.

"what do you need, pretty?"

"t-to make it worse."

as a devious smile grows on your face, he begins to worry he made a mistake confessing his need to you.

you instruct him to lay on his back, stripping his underwear off him. every move he made trying to get comfortable only made him whimper and wince at the pleasure. he was most comfortable with his knees bent, feet on the bed.

perfect.

you find your place between his legs, slowly stroking the length of his cock. "aah~! fuck, thank you miss"

he grabs your wrist instinctively, squeezing tight as you begin to quicken your pace. his cock twitching and throbbing in your hands, dripping pearls of precum wetting him as you tease him.

"you want me to make it worse for you, puppy? you won't live to see tomorrow." you grin devilishly as you take his cock into your mouth and immediately thrust it into the back of your throat, your nose hitting his pelvis. a loud guttural moan rips from his throat as you fuck your face down onto his aching cock. his hands fly up tangling into your hair, holding you down on him.

you stay like this for a moment, feeling your eyes spill with tears as his cock throbs in the tight walls of your throat. you pull yourself back up, just enough to swirl the tip around in your mouth. his grip in your hair tightens as he bucks and whimpers, holding himself back from fucking your face the way he needs to.

"god, mommy your mouth feels amazing~ thank you for for swallowing my cock" he mewls and gasps, trying to talk coherently through all his pathetic noises.

you take him into your throat again, bobbing your head up and down as lewd gags and squelches of spit emanate around the room. he instinctively rolls his hips with you, every move he makes causes the toy to bump around inside, sending shocks of deep pleasure wracking up his spine. it feels so good, he can almost feel it behind his eyes.

"m-mommy can you- fuck!- can you p-push on it or something? i t-think i need more of the toy" he begs, so greedy for you to make him cum. his lustful curiosity of what it would feel like to cum with this toy in his ass was making him urgent and desperate. you reach down, one hand holding the base of his cock in place while you swallow it, the other holding the base of the butt plug. you rock it back and forth, putting emphasis on the 'up' motion, tilting it towards his stomach to massage his prostate. as you begin rocking the toy, his whole body shudders and his legs tighten, thrusting his cock deep down your throat. a strained cry rips from him, he babbles "oh fuck, oh fuck, yes miss thank you~ god that feels so good i think i'm gonna cum in your pretty mouth"

he begins fucking your face, desperate and crying out for more of you. his grip on your hair was pushing you down onto his huge, pitiful cock as you roll the vibrator around inside him, massaging his tight insides. every sharp thrust of his hips causes his body to tighten around the toy, as if his body were trying to milk cum from it. your throat squeezing around him, pulling him deeper every time you swallowed, it overwhelmed his poor pathetic cock. his eyes spilled the tears he had been holding back, whining and mewling as he came deep down your throat, his ass clenching hard around the toy. it felt like his whole body exploded. a deep sharp bloom of pleasure rocked from his stomach all the way up his spine, making his hands and feet tingle. he saw white, blinded by this overwhelming sensation. he shuddered and shook, his entire body tensing as he choked on his own orgasm. "m'cumming! i'm cumming for you mommy! fuuccckkkk aahhh~" he cried.

as his cock throbbed and twitched in your throat, you felt the muscle on the underside of his cock pump cum down into your mouth. his balls resting on your wrist as you pushed the toy deeper into his ass, tightened and squeezed as his orgasm ripped through him.

his shaking legs began to still, his gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers died down. he slowly pulled you off his half-hard cock, turning your face up to look at him.

you were a fucking mess.

your red glowing face was covered in drool, your eyes wild and full of lust. your red swollen lips curl into slack-jawed smile as you looked up at him, only worrying him more. you just made him cum the hardest he thinks anyone has in existence, and you don't look like you are anywhere near done with him.

the vibrator still buzzing inside him, he is immediately squirming and overstimulated, his cock hard all over again.

you slink up next to him, pulling his face into your chest and cradle him, his arms wrapping around your waist. in nothing but your wet, clingy panties, his hot breath tickles the valley of your chest as he presses his face harder into you.

you pet his hair, praising him for how well he did trying something new.

he begins to squirm more, whimpering quietly into the soft squish of your chest. "i need more, it's still inside me and it's making me hard again. can you play with me some more, mommy?" he looks up at you, his eyebrows knitted together in sexual frustration, a small pout on his lips as he asks you quietly for more attention.

"you still hungry, greedy boy?" you tease him, poking his nose and giggling.

you are raring to keep going, holding back to be gentle with him and give him space to explore.

he begins placing small hesitant kisses on your chest, letting small whimpers escape as he continues to be bombarded by the vibrator inside him. pushing your tits together, he loses himself as he kisses you sloppier and sloppier, sucking on your nipples and biting your soft flesh. "i'm starving for you, miss." he growls lowly, a darkness in his eyes. his tone shift was juxtaposed by the pitiful mewls he kept letting fall from his lips, a desperate pull between a deep need to chase the pleasure you give him, worshipping and eating you whole, and the searing bite of overstimulation as his body clawed to recover from the brutal orgasm you just gave him. fighting with himself and losing, he trailed hot kisses down to your pussy. he began eating you out through your panties so desperately and passionately, he couldn't help but grind his hard, red cock into the bed to catch friction to ease the ache. he sits up for a moment to pull them off, not able to waste another second with anything between him and that delicious, beautiful pussy. you groan tossing your head back as he dove back in, slobbering shamelessly on your wet pussy. the squelching and wet smacks of his lips on yours rang out around the room, the sound revving both of you up even more. he is mumbling into your lips about how good you taste, how he wants to make you cum on him, he wants you to use him.the worship and praise he gives you gets you close already. his words alone were worth more than what he physically does to you. his low voice, heavy eyelids watching you intently as he aims to please you, his nose bumping into your clit as he fucks his tongue in and out of your squelching pussy, it was so good.

your sweet, perfect pet knew how to please his mommy so well.

you lace your fingers into his hair, pushing his face into you harder as you feel that stir in your stomach of your orgasm coming. he lets out a surprised "hmpf!" and his eyes roll back in pleasure as you force him to drink in more of you. his eyebrows knit together, nodding to encourage you to use him.

he laces his fingers over yours in his hair, squeezing your hands into his hair harder. he moans into your pussy as you pull his hair roughly, your thighs clamping down around his face. a string of babbling cries fall from your lips as you praise him, falling apart into his mouth. wave after wave of your orgasm crashes into you, gushing your creamy cum onto his face. he grips your thighs tight, pushing them into his face harder hoping you crush him to death as you cum.

he eases up as you come down, licking every inch of you clean so as to not waste a drop of your precious cum. he needs all of you, and he wont stop until he gets it.

he works his way back up your body, kissing and licking every bit of skin on his way up.

he pulls himself up, his cock smacking onto your slick wet pussy. he whimpers at the contact, unable to keep his hips from bucking into you. he bites and licks at your neck, humping you like an animal in heat.

"i n-need to keep moving, i need to f-fuck your sweet pussy, mommy. can i p-please have the privilege to fuck you? i'll-hahh- do really good, i promise. i j-just-fuck- need to feel you with this toy in me, miss" he gasps between grunts as he drags his cock across your squelching wet folds.

"you can fuck me, sweet boy. but," you grab the back of his head, pulling his long dark hair so his head angles up, exposing his sinewy neck to you. you lick a long stripe from his collarbone up to his ear, biting and sucking on his earlobe. a thick shudder wracks his body as you continue, "you can't cum until i do. if you don't satisfy me, you can't fuck me for a week." you threaten, your voice low and silky in his ear.

you pull back, looking into his eyes. "you'll be a good boy for me, won't you?" you say as you reach down to stroke his cock and angle him at your entrance.

he nods, his face red from embarrassment. he bucks his hips, thrusting just the very tip of his cock into you. you shift up quickly away from him, saying "ah, not until i hear you say it." you grab his cock, squeezing tightly and rubbing his tip against your folds. he silently chokes on the words, his head lolling down as you overwhelm him.

"im-im a-" he chokes out, gasping as he watches his cock spread your lips around.

"hmmmm?" you hum teasingly, squeezing his cock again.

"i-im a good boy" he whispers quickly, trying to get it out as best he can. his hips stutter into you, trying to work the head of his cock back into your tight little pussy.

"not good enough." you reply sternly, grabbing his face and pulling him down onto you, your foreheads touching. his panting breath tickles your face as he struggles once again to meet your demands.

"im a g-good boy for mommy, i-im gonna fuck you until you cum. i-im gonna please my mistress a-and earn the right to fuck you." he chokes out, louder this time.

"perfect." you purr, letting go of his cock and grabbing his hips, slamming his cock into your pussy. he collapses into you, immediately biting your shoulder to stifle a thick, guttural groan as his cock is plunged into your tight, wet hole.

his pelvis rams into your clit, sending a shock wave up your body as his thick cock stretches you and bumps your g-spot immediately.

you gasp, feeling his hot, tight body on yours. his rippling back muscles straining under your fingers, you pet the valley between his shoulder blades as he pulls back and slams into you again. he gives you hard, sharp thrusts over and over again, slowly letting you feel the stretch between each one.

with every roll of his hips, the vibrator massages his prostate. every time he fucks his cock into you, it feels almost as though he's getting fucked too. jostling and bumping the plug in his ass as he pumped his cock into your squelching little pussy made that stir in his stomach grow tighter and tighter. he was falling apart, crying and whimpering, sucking on your skin and drooling into the pillow as he drilled his cock into you like a desperate animal. his lewd moans and mewls were louder than your own, your hungry boy was a beast for you.

he pants and grunts as his pace quickens, rolling his hips lasciviously into you. he's a mess, letting a slew of babbling "thank you mommy"s and "am i giving it to you good?" spill from his lips. he begs for your praise, trying desperately to hold back from dumping his cum into your pussy, his loser cock not being able to keep up with your pussy milking him on top of the plug massaging his insides.

you give that praise to him, telling him over and over again that he's doing amazing, he's your special boy, and that he's so pretty.

"p-pretty?? miss thinks im pretty when i fuck her into the bed??" he pants and begs, needing you to tell him again how beautiful you think he is.

you were already close, but his words describing him pounding you into the mattress broke you. your pussy clamps down on him, your ankles hooking together plunging his cock deep into you as you gush around him, milking him for his cum you are screaming and gasping "yes! yes, cho-aaahhhhfuck- pretty! pretty boy fucks me soooo good~"

you grunt and moan as you cum, shaking and squeezing around him. he can't stop moving, you may have him locked deep into you, but he rolls his hips jostling his cock around inside you to keep up the friction. your screaming orgasm pushes him far over the edge, everything he has been holding back lets loose inside you. his entire body wracks and tenses as he cums deeply from his stomach once more. his ass clenching around the vibrator, his insides are overworked jelly. his balls clenching and squeezing as he dumps more of his pathetic fucking cum deep against your cervix, that muscle on the underside of his cock pumping and throbbing inside you.

he empties his balls inside you, humping you weakly as he goes limp on top of you, completely drained. you both come down, beginning to still as he whimpers and cries, asking tearfully "i need to take it out now, i can't take it anymore. can you please get it out of me?"

he squirms and pulls off you, his hand rubbing his stomach. it was so overwhelming, the buzzing never letting up well after he came.

you reach around to turn it off and slowly pull it out with a pop! and a squeak from him. he collapses back onto you with a huff of relief and a sniffle, completely exhausted.

"so what did you think of your new toy, pretty?"

he nuzzled into your neck, a small laugh bouncing in his chest. he takes a long deep breath, breathing in your scent.

"i um.... i really like it. can you use it on me next time too?"

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[ikkyfics]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

Tate Langdon x f!reader

Summary: “Tate…” you begin, but he already knows. He leans in again, his mouth brushing lightly against yours, like a ghost’s whisper. Like a secret. “Promise you’ll never leave me?”

Warnings: none, i think— it's tate, self explanatory

A/N: He was the reason I watched ahs and I've been thinking about writing about tate for sooooo long, it's kind of embarrassing that I only did it now

The house breathes.

You feel it every night, in the heavy silence that fills every corner of your room. Your room. But not just yours.

It once belonged to Tate.

The thought should bother you, but it doesn’t. On the contrary. The idea of sleeping in the same space that once was his, of occupying the place that once sheltered him, brings you a strange comfort. As if, somehow, you and Tate have always been connected.

“You’re thinking again.”

His voice cuts through the silence of the room. Low, rough, almost amused.

You turn your head, and he’s there—sitting on the edge of the bed, his blond curls falling over his forehead, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. As always, he arrived without a sound, as if he were just another fragment of the house, an extension of the shadows.

“Is it wrong?” you ask, your voice soft.

“Depends,” Tate tilts his head slightly. “Were you thinking about me?”

“Maybe.”

His smile widens a little. The dimples appear, deep, and you feel something tighten in your chest. Tate has this effect on you—a presence that’s cold, yet warm. Terrifying, yet comforting. You’re not quite sure where the fear begins and where the love ends.

He leans in, resting his hand beside your pillow. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you whisper.

“Liar.” Tate’s dark eyes scan your face as if they could see beyond your skin, beyond your bones, straight to everything that drowns you inside. “You have this thing... this sadness stuck in your eyes. I know it well.”

Of course he does.

Tate understands like no one else. He sees what others don’t, feels what others ignore.

“I can’t explain it,” you confess. “I just... feel it.”

He brings his hand to your face, his icy fingers tracing a delicate path across your cheek. You shiver, but you don’t pull away. With Tate, the cold is never enough to push you away.

“I like it when you talk,” he murmurs.

Your heart hammers inside your chest. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” Tate answers without hesitation. The conviction in his voice makes you hold your breath. “And I’m yours. That means I can save you.”

Save.

The word hangs between you, heavy with something you don’t fully understand but that scares you.

“I don’t need to be saved.”

Tate smiles. Slowly. Almost sadly. “Yes, you do.”

The silence stretches between you. Long enough for you to feel the house around you. Its weight, its presence, the whisper of the walls.

Then Tate closes the distance, his lips brushing yours in a light, almost hesitant kiss. You taste him, the scent of the house ingrained in his skin, and you wonder if your love was always destined to be like this: intense, insatiable, desperate.

When he pulls away, Tate holds your face between his hands and looks into your eyes. Enough to make you forget there’s anything else besides him.

“If you die,” he says, so softly it almost doesn’t sound like a threat, “I’ll bring you back.”

The air leaves your lungs.

“Tate…”

He hurries to silence your name on your lips, kissing you slowly, as if he wants to steal your breath for himself. His coldness mixes with the heat pulsing inside you, and the contrast makes you shiver.

“I hate it when you say my name like that,” Tate murmurs, his lips still brushing yours.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re afraid of me.”

You hold his face between your hands. His blond curls fall against your skin as he leans closer, pressing his chest against yours, as if he could absorb your warmth.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you lie.

Tate smiles slowly, almost sadly.

“Yes, you are.” He slides his hand to your wrist, his fingers resting over your racing pulse. “I can feel it from here.”

You swallow hard.

“But I like it,” he continues, his dark eyes holding you in place. “It’s beautiful. You’re here with me anyway.”

Yes. You are.

Even knowing the darkness inside him, the emptiness in his eyes, the raw obsession in the way he touches you. You know there’s something wrong with Tate, something twisted. But how do you run away from the one person who truly understands you?

Tate holds you tighter, burying his face in your neck as if he wants to hide inside you. His body weighs on yours, and for a moment, he’s just a boy lying in bed with the girl he loves.

“I need you,” he confesses, his voice muffled against your skin. “More than anything. More than air itself.”

You close your eyes and hold Tate against you.

He may not need air. But you know that, if he could, he’d hold his breath just to taste your last sigh.

He lifts himself slightly to look into your eyes, his fingers still lazily tracing your skin, almost as if he’s studying you, memorizing every detail.

“You could leave,” he murmurs. “You could run away from this house. From this thing between us.”

You don’t look away. “And do you think I want to?”

Tate presses his lips together, thoughtful.

“No,” he admits. “I think you need me as much as I need you.”

The confession hangs between you, the air almost electric. You feel Tate’s gaze burning against your skin. He watches you with that suffocating intensity, as if you’re the only thing keeping him there.

Because maybe you are.

“Tate…” you begin, but he already knows.

He leans in again, his mouth brushing lightly against yours, like a ghost’s whisper. Like a secret.

“Promise you’ll never leave me?”

The request comes out low, urgent, desperate.

You feel his fingers tighten around your wrist, as if the thought of losing you is enough to pull him back into the darkness he never truly left.

“Promise?” he repeats, and there’s something broken in his voice.

You should hesitate.

But you don’t.

“I promise.”

Tate closes his eyes and lets out a trembling sigh, as if that promise is the only thing keeping him whole.

And then he holds you again, his arms wrapped around your body with a desperate need.

You know Tate died a long time ago.

But somehow, he’s never felt more alive.

[celestiallystella]

can you do a fluff fic where reader is turned into a bunny and legend has to help them understand what's going on? No beastiality just helping understand things like urges to run and things diffrent from their hylian forms? -J

Im hyped to write this, tysm fr requesting!

Legend/Link × GN Reader

This one can be read as platonic OR romantic for your guys' relationship, though I personally envision romantic. Fair warning, he does laugh at you at least once </3

also, i dont know much about bunny instincts beyond dig?? burrow???? hop??? so.. 💀

Hope you enjoy!!

Legend is in quiet disbelief.

You're a bunny. A cute, fluffy bunny. Suddenly, he understands why Sky had been so quick to scoop Legend himself up and coo at him that one time, though he'll never admit that.

Honestly, if you weren't hyperventilating, Legend would be doing just that. As it was, you are hyperventilating, and Legend doesn't really want to find out how quickly a bunny passes out when it's hyperventilating.

Bending down, Legend reaches a hand out to you.

"...Hey," He says softly, glad none of the others are around right now. He'd rather not deal with teasing. He also isn't sure how you'd react to the teasing right now.

He remembers how startling it was for him to be forced into the wrong body, of a different species.

He's relieved to see your eyes pin to him, big, round eyes. He has a feeling if you were in Hylian form, you'd be crying.

"Can I pick you up?" Legend asks, voice quiet, and an inexplicable sense of relief washes over him as he watches you stumble forward, panicking more as you fall over yourself.

He scoops you up carefully, "You're okay," He says, chin placed on your fluffy little head.

"I can't..." He sighs, "We've gotta get you calmed down. You're okay. I've got you," Legend says quietly, "You're safe, we'll get you turned back. You're okay." He repeats.

His hand gently runs through the fur of your side in short little bursts, gentle and slow. It works, slowly, and you're breathing stutters into something more normal for bunnies.

"There you go," Legend says, "There you go.." Legend sighs softly, and a small smile appears as you press your fluffy little face against his neck.

"Can you speak?" He asks, trying to figure out if you were like Twilight in that sense or more like him.

A little squeak is his response, and he takes that as a resounding no.

He refuses to sigh. Instead, he hums, "Well, don't worry. We've just got to make our way back to camp and I can give you a moon pearl. I.." He does sigh this time, "I've been turned into a rabbit before too, and that turns me back."

You squeak again, and he pulls you away from his chest. He holds you out at arms length, sees you aren't panicking, and lets a shit eating grin appear on his face.

"Fuckin' bunny," He teases, and watches as you kick your legs, "Floppy ears." He says, huffing out a laugh before tucking you close, "Least you aren't pink."

You squeak again, near inquisitively, and Legend rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I was a pink rabbit." He confirms, before scowling, "Don't go telling anyone, I don't want them to know."

You headbutt his chin gently, and Legend moves his head to kiss in between your ears gently. He'd be embarrassed about it if it wasn't for the fact that you were just so cute.

"You wanna keep this a secret?" He asks, not at all able to judge.

You nod, and he hums, "...Want me to set you outside of camp and go get my bag?"

You don't nod again, but you don't shake your head. You're still for a moment, thinking it over, Legend is sure.

In the end, you shake your head, and Legend huffs, "How do you want me to get my bag and keep this a secret at the same time, huh?" He asks, despite knowing damn well you can't answer it. You know it too, given the dramatic little sigh you let out.

Legend hesitates, "..Listen," He starts, "I know it's scary, being this defenseless, but you'll be okay on the edges of camp for a moment. I'll make it quick, okay?" He assures, voice near a murmur.

It takes a while for you to respond, and in the meantime he starts walking back towards camp. You guys weren't that far away from camp, so he made sure to drag his feet while you thought.

You squeaked eventually to get his attention, and gestured with your little hand (aww!) to a tree. Legend blinks, frowns, and looks between you and the tree. It dawns on him after a moment.

"...Are you asking me to put you in a tree?" He asks incredulously.

You nod.

Legend caves.

He ends up setting you on a branch you near cling to, little tail twitching. Legend has to bite back a laugh at you, before walking back into camp.

He's careful to act relaxed as he crouches by his bedroll and grabs his smaller pouch.

No one pays him any mind, just as he figured they wouldn't, and he walks back out of camp without issue. He does feel eyes tracking him, though he ignores it easily enough. The others know if there was a serious issue he'd just tell them most of the time, so whoever it was shouldn't follow him.

Legend pauses beneath the tree, looks up at you, and holds his arms out.

You squeak, a terrified little noise, and Legend huffs. "You'll be fine. I'll catch you." He promises.

You shake your head, tail twitching, and Legend rolls his eyes, "So what? You don't trust me now?"

He watches as you pause, blinking at him. He can almost imagine the offended look you'd have on your face before you jump at him. Legend makes good on his promise, catching the fluff ball you now are.

"See?" He says, crouching to set you in the grass. He digs through his bag, "Told ya I'd catch you."

You shuffle closer, and he absentmindedly pats your head. Pulling out the moon pearl, he sets it in front of you.

In no time at all, you're back in Hylian form, shuddering a bit.

"That was awful," You complain, and Legend snorts.

"Tell me about it."

Your eyes narrow a bit, amusement growing and slowly lessening the quiet unease clear on your face, "Pink bunny?" You tease.

Legend's face flames and he gently shoves you, "Oh, shut it. Let's go tell everyone to avoid over there since there's dark magic over there."

Your quiet laughter threatens to make a smile appear on his own cheeks as you two make quick work of ducking back into camp to tell the others.

----

The next time you end up as a bunny, Legend doesn't laugh at you as much and you don't panic as much either. He's grateful for that at least.

On the plus side, the two of you have been separated from the others in Legend's own Hyrule, so Legend's a lot more comfortable fucking around and helping you figure some stuff out.

You are, also, much more comfortable it seems the second time around. That's even more relieving to see, if he's being honest. He hates how much your anxiety affects him and causes him anxiety, but it's not too surprising. Despite his claims, he really is awfully empathetic and he cares a lot.

...Anyway, once making sure that everything was a-okay, he's tossing a moon pearl in your general direction.

The silence is loud, before a little squeak makes him look over at you properly. You shake your head, and Legend frowns a bit.

"What do you mean no? You've gotta turn back."

You nod, but then shake your head, leaving Legend all the more confused.

Huffing, he walks over and crouches down in front of you, "Okay, listen here," He says, flicking your forehead as gently as he could, "You can't stay as a bunny, weirdo."

You squeak, loud and followed by a few more little sounds, sounding angry. He laughs a bit, finding himself endlessly amused.

You hop over to an area that had more dirt than grass, and started drawing what he could recognize as a clock. He frowns as he watches you circle a time and tap your foot.

"...So, that's now?" He asks, and you nod before drawing a line inside the clock along the curvature of it. You tapped that part of the clock.

Legend frowns, trying to figure this out. It'd be easier if you were human, but you aren't.

"...Later?" He asks with a frown, that quickly deepens when you nod, "You want to turn back later?" You nod again, and hop over to him.

Legend scowls, "No way, I'm no-" You cut him off by jumping up at him. It wasn't like you were heavy, you were a bunny, but it did catch him off guard and result in him sitting on the ground holding you up.

"Why?"

You look over at the clock you drew, and Legend scowls, "You'll tell me later, then?"

You nod, and he sighs, setting you down. You twitch a bit, sitting back on your hind legs. You mime digging, and Legend has a general idea of what you're getting at.

He stands up, scooping you up as he goes, and walks into the woods. They were safe, he knew that much, which is really all he needed at the moment. Setting you down, Legend hesitates a moment before sighing.

"Okay, so, you wanna dig, right?" He asks, humming at your nod. "You should be okay to start digging here," He explains, before his cheeks flush a bit and he sighs, "I.. well, it'll probably turn into you wanting to dig out a full den, so we'll be here a while."

You tilt your head at him, and a small smile appears on his face at the cute action. "I did it one of the first times I ended up as a rabbit." He explains simply, before leaning against a tree.

--

He doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he isn't upset about it. Legend didn't have any dreams, thankfully, so it was a peaceful little nap.

He comes face to face with a dirt covered bunny, curled up on his lap. He laughs quietly, and it seems to startle you, because the next thing he knows you're jumping off of him. Your eyes are wide as you blink up at him, and Legend laughs louder this time.

You don't seem bothered by this at all, and instead start jumping around him. He rolls his eyes, groaning as he pulls himself to stand up. You're clearly in an energetic mood, hopping ahead before zig zagging a bit so he can catch up without having to run.

How considerate, he thinks, amused.

Legend catches up, and then blinks as you kick yourself forward quickly towards him. You pause afterwards, blinking, and Legend's smile isn't able to be contained, amused and teasing.

He crouches in front of you, back yelling at him, though he ignores that. "Awh, you're so happy," He says, half teasing but entirely amused. Thrilled, one might even say. Legend's hand pick you up gently, and he's (for once) not at all ashamed to admit he's just cuddling you close.

You squirm a bit after a moment, and he sets you down again. You stand on your hind legs for half a second to make a vague gesture at his hip, and he understands immediately.

Legend takes out the moon pearl, dropping it down for you to grab, and then watches as Hylian you makes a reappearance.

His shit eating smile doesn't fade, only growing a bit brighter at the red on the tips of your ears.

I really did enjoy writing this, so again thank you for requesting this! I envision any future stunts pulled as a bunny for either of you include plenty of obligatory snuggles before you help the other turn back.

was half tempted to make legend a bunny for the second half there, but if i did that i wouldve struggled to find an ending point, i wont lie, so </3

(if youre wondering what the jump was, according to my rabbit/bunny obsessed friend: "buns do this specific jump when theyre really happy, here look! it's called a binky!" and then she showed me this video. is it true? idk, but it got used here, shrug)

hope you enjoyed!! <3

[ushkoo]

can i have some headcanons of the team members reacting/ taking care of you when you're unable to sleep. Something like you hopelessly knocking on their door in the middle of the night, or them seeing you miserably still awake at an ungodly hour...

‎꜀( ꜆-ࡇ-)꜆ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ❤️

TF2 MERCS HELPING YOU SLEEP☁️🌙

Scout:

Scout would probably be awake as well when he hears you knocking on his door. He’d get up to answer it and probably giggle when he saw how tired and disheveled you look. Of course, he would let you in and help you lie down on his bed, he’s happy to give it up for you! He wasn’t too tired yet anyway. He’d make sure to stay quiet to try and let you rest but would eventually get in bed with you, keeping you close for warmth <3. I think he’d like cuddling with you at night, especially when it’s cold.

Soldier:

Soldier would wake up to the sound of you knocking on his door and lazily get up to see what you wanted. Once he sees that you’re having trouble sleeping, he’d grumpily grab your arm, drag you to his own bed and hold you tightly. Just because you’re having trouble sleeping, doesn’t mean he is. He’ll fall asleep within a few seconds and hold you like that all night. You’re pretty much just an extra pillow to him at this point but it’s surprisingly effective! The pressure of being squeezed by him helps you fall asleep.

Pyro:

Pyro would still be awake when they hear you knocking on the door. They’d get up and let you in, find out what’s wrong and decide that this means that you’re now having a sleepover! They’ll spend most of the night watching movies in bed with you, probably surrounded by plushies. You’ll fall asleep pretty early on, but that won’t stop them from continuing their movie marathon or painting your nails! They’re just happy that you managed to get some sleep <3. After a while, they’ll tuck you in and switch off the tv. They’ll probably also cuddle you pretty tightly in the night.

Demo:

I like to think that Demo is a very heavy sleeper, so it would take a lot of knocking to wake him up to begin with. Once he does wake up, he’ll go and see what you want, roll his eye (singular) and pull you to his bed. He’ll tuck you in, grumpily tell you that you need a better sleep schedule then wait for you to eventually fall asleep. He’ll probably end up sleeping on the floor, he doesn’t want to disturb you! He will find himself admiring you a little in the night, he just thinks you look so peaceful <3.

Heavy:

This man is opening the door whilst wearing his pink pyjamas and bunny slippers and angrily asking “what?”. He’ll be grumpy at first but would be understanding in the end. He’d let you sleep in his bed and would read you books until you fall asleep! Once you’re sleeping, he’ll slowly get into bed with you, not daring to hold you or anything in case you wake up again, but he will hold your hand a little if he can <3.

Engineer:

Engie’s still awake when he hears you knock on his door, he’ll put down whatever tools he’s holding and open the door for you. He’d probably laugh at how tired you look but he’d pull you over to a nearby couch in his room and sit down, letting you put your weight on him. I imagine he’s pretty comfy to fall asleep on, so this method would work quite well and you’d fall asleep fast whilst listening to his heartbeat <3. He’d consider slipping out from under you, but you look too peaceful like this so he doesn’t dare.

Medic:

This man is GRUMPY. He’s strutting over to the door in silk pyjamas and matching slippers and screaming “what?!” When he answers. He’d calm down a bit after seeing how sleepy you look and would invite you inside. Unlike a lot of the other mercs, he has a pretty big bed (which he purchased himself), so he’s happy to let you sleep in it! He’ll give you some extra pillows and a kiss on the forehead <3. If you’re lucky, he might even spoon you a little.

Sniper:

You’d knock on the van door and be met with a very disheveled looking Sniper. He’d be a bit pissed off at first but would let you in. He wouldn’t say much, he’d just drag you over to the crappy little bed and hold you close to help you fall asleep. You’d listen to the quiet radio in the background and eventually fall asleep in his arms. He’d probably play with your hair a bit if he can as well <3.

Spy:

Spy is the worst person to go to in these tough times. You’d knock on his door, he’d open it about by about 5cm to ask what you needed then shut the door in your face. He doesn’t want to lose sleep just because you’re having trouble. If you were persistent enough, he’d reluctantly let you sleep on the couch in his room. Despite his selfishness and lack of caring, he would find himself watching you sleep for a bit, you’re a lot more peaceful and tolerable when you’re like this.

🫖—————————————————————🫖

Aaa hope this was okay! Been dead agsin bc college nd stff…

M slowly getting thru requests!

I wnna marry sniper

[maroonshirt81]

oooh for the carcar prompt maybe carlos can suddenly read minds?

Amazing request! Thank you! :D

carcar, 2,5k, rated m

_______________

It starts with a small electrocution.

There must be something wrong with the hotel room socket when Carlos goes to unplug his charging cable that morning. Maybe he just isn’t paying attention. There’s a fizzling sound, and then he jumps, quickly pulling back his fingers.

It’s not a huge shock. His hair isn’t standing on end, and his breathing is fine, but there’s a weird feeling afterward—like a colony of ants is living right underneath his skin. He shrugs it off, grabs his phone, checks his notifications, then goes to take a shower.

Everything is completely fine until he leaves his hotel room and runs into another guest in the elevator. It’s a young man whose eyes widen slightly when he looks at Carlos. He must be a ventriloquist or something because, without even opening his mouth, he says, “Holy shit! Is that Carlos Sainz?”

Carlos gives him an awkward wave, and the guy decides to go, “He’s smaller than I would have thought”, still without moving his lips. When the elevator stops, the guy gives him a tight smile, and walks out, leaving Carlos to wonder if he's just imagined this whole interaction. Clearly, there’s something wrong with that guy. Drugs, maybe? Or some sort of condition? Carlos hopes he doesn't run into him again.

He leaves the elevator, walking out into the hotel lobby. As usual, people’s heads turn in his direction, some eyes lighting up with recognition.

However. It turns out the elevator guy wasn’t weird at all.

It’s Carlos who’s weird.

****

So Carlos can hear people’s thoughts now.

It’s already fading. He’s sitting on the press conference couch alongside some other drivers, answering the same questions about the upcoming race as always. Concentrating is even harder than usual, with an onslaught of voices in his head now.

He hasn’t told anyone. He still isn’t quite sure if it’s real or if something is genuinely wrong with him. Besides, he can only hear thoughts that are directly about him, which hasn’t been all bad so far. Walking out into the lobby this morning, he was greeted with a cacophony of Damn, that’s Carlos Sainz! and He’s even more handsome than in the pictures. Over the course of the day, the voices have quieted a little. He can’t understand everyone’s thoughts anyway—most people in the paddock don’t think in English or Spanish, and when they do, it’s a weird mixture of English and their own language. And the ones he can understand mostly just have the same thoughts as the hotel guest in the elevator this morning.

Though, it’s quite nice for the ego to hear so many positive thoughts about himself. The worst thought he’s encountered so far was someone going, Oh, he has something green between his teeth. That’s not very sexy, after breakfast. And right now, someone is mentally giggling and thinking, Carlos is spacing out again.

He snaps back to reality, hoping no one has asked him a direct question. But no—on the other end of the couch, Lewis is talking, so it’s all fine. Carlos sits up straighter, runs his fingers through his hair.

And that’s when he hears it.

Huh. He’s kinda balding.

Carlos freezes, then quickly pulls back his fingers from his hair, eyes snapping up to stare into the gathered crowd of journalists.

Who the fuck? Carlos isn’t balding! There’s no way that thought just now was about him, right? He’s famous for his beautiful, thick hair!

But he can only hear thoughts that are about him, so someone here is clearly out of their mind. He scans every person in the room. The voice sounded familiar, but he can’t quite place it. None of the journalists seem to be looking at him, either. They’re all locked in on Lewis talking.

Carlos slowly sinks back into the couch again.

He probably misheard. The voices are already fading. There’s no way someone actually thought that about him. No way!

****

Half an hour later, he’s standing in front of a bathroom mirror, running his fingers through his hair and having a minor meltdown.

He is balding!

Nothing obvious yet, but when he looks closely, he can clearly see that his hair parts a little wider than before, the white of his scalp shining through more than it used to. His hair is still thick enough to cover it for now, but there’s no denying it. The decline has begun.

“Fuck!” he yells and bonks his thinning head of hair against the mirror.

Curse that damn voice that made him aware of this. He has a race to concentrate on and no time to think about how he would ever cover up a trip to Turkey. Maybe he should already start introducing the world to shorter hairstyles so it won’t come as such a shock. Maybe he should just own it?

There’s no time to think about it now. He has another media session in five minutes.

Hopefully, the annoying voice stays far away for the rest of the day.

****

It, of course, does not stay far away.

Carlos is in the middle of an interview when the strangely familiar voice is back, going, Damn, he looks like the interviewer just ran over his dog.

He stops mid-sentence, losing his train of thought. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people around since he’s in the media pen right outside the hospitality. Charles manages to pick up his abandoned sentence while Carlos scans the crowd for whoever keeps having these judgmental thoughts about him. Then he hears Charles talking to him in his head, as if he knows Carlos can hear it.

Carlos, help me out here, please!

So he turns back to the interviewers and smiles. Like he’s actually happy to be here.

****

The voice, apparently, follows him everywhere.

He’s on the fan stage, cracking a joke, when he notices the voice through a thousand other thoughts about him, all of which seem to be much farther away.

Someone should invent a drinking game where you have to take a shot every time he mentions smooth operator.

He’s entering his garage when the voice comes out of nowhere.

Red doesn’t look that good on him.

He’s in line for a pretzel when he hears it again.

Man, can’t escape Carlos today…

“I can’t escape you, stupid voice!” Carlos hisses under his breath. He looks around, but the paddock is bustling, and there’s no way to narrow it down to one single person.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a flash of bright orange.

Lando is on his way toward the McLaren hospitality. Carlos still hasn’t told anyone about the voices in his head. He still isn’t sure they’re entirely real.

Maybe he should put it to the test.

Giving up his place in the pretzel line, he scurries after Lando, managing to grab his arm and pull him into the narrow alley next to the hospitality just before he can go up the stairs.

He only realizes his mistake when "Lando" turns around to shoot him an offended look, and Carlos’s eyes land on the bunny teeth and round nose that belong to Oscar Piastri.

“Oh shit, I’m so—” Carlos starts to apologize, but he’s interrupted.

What the fuck is he doing? the voice wonders.

Carlos freezes for a moment, all the pieces falling into place to reveal the completed puzzle.

That goddamn judgmental voice was…

“You!” Carlos screeches, grabbing Oscar’s shoulders with both hands. He might be coming off as slightly deranged, which the voice immediately informs him of, but whatever— it might actually be true. Carlos feels like he’s been going crazy all day long, and Oscar fucking Piastri was the main reason, right after that malfunctioning socket.

“You have to be joking!” Carlos hears himself shout. “I’m balding? Your forehead looks like you could tattoo all the McLaren sponsor logos on it and still have space left! It looks like Sky Sports could broadcast the entire race on it!”

Wow. Cunt!

“When have I ever seen you smile in an interview?” Carlos rages on as Oscar just stares at him with wide eyes, the surprisingly colorful language inside his head never leaving his lips. “And when has a joke ever been more forcefully beaten to death than your collecting home races one?”

What the fuck is his problem anyway?

“What is your problem? I look amazing in red! Have you seen what you’re wearing?” Carlos continues, still shouting. Hopefully, the paddock is busy and loud enough to drown him out. Otherwise, this will make the news in five seconds flat.

Fuck, Oscar internally curses again. And then, during a small break in his rant to draw a breath, Carlos hears loud and clear, He’s kinda hot when he’s yelling.

The breath doesn’t leave his lips again. It gets stuck in his throat and turns into a cough—an embarrassing, choking one that turns his head crimson. Right now, he can admit, he probably doesn’t look that good in red.

Is he okay? Wait, do I care if he dies?

Carlos forcefully punches his own chest, forcing the cough to a stop. He must have misheard anyway. Oscar’s thoughts just now make that pretty clear.

“Alright?” Oscar asks when Carlos just glares at him through watery, red-rimmed eyes, waiting for another thought that will trigger his rage. Maybe that’s not the best way to go about this. Carlos still doesn’t know whether or not the voices inside his head are real.

“Would you even care if I died?” he asks, stupidly.

“Um…” Not really, go ahead. “Sure?”

Carlos wants to tear his hair out, but it’s already thinning, and he doesn’t want to give Oscar the satisfaction.

“I don’t believe you!”

Sherlock Sainz, I see…

“Are you dying?” Oscar asks out loud, still with that pointedly innocent look that doesn’t match the thoughts inside his head at all. If they’re even real.

“No.”

Pity.

“Are you having a stroke? Should I call someone?” Oscar asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Carlos pauses, squints his eyes, and really thinks about it. Maybe he is having a stroke! It would certainly explain why Oscar’s thoughts and what he’s saying aren’t adding up at all.

Why the fuck are his lips so fucking kissable? That’s just unfair!

Carlos almost chokes again.

Okay, so he is definitely having a stroke.

“You want to kiss me?” he wonders out loud.

Oscar actually flushes red at that. He takes a step back and collides with the hospitality wall behind him.

The fuck? How does he know?

“The fuck? Why would you say that?” he says out loud.

Carlos squints again, stepping closer. He notices Oscar’s eyes flick down to his lips. Maybe he isn’t imagining things after all.

“So what, do you hate me, or do you want to kiss me?” he asks, frustrated.

Both.

“None!”

Well, this is futile. Apparently, Oscar is allergic to saying what he thinks. That leaves only one course of action. And if it’s the wrong one, Carlos can always claim he’s literally hearing voices that told him to do it. If he’s lucky, they’ll prescribe him a lobotomy afterward.

He casts a glance toward the paddock. Thanks to that step backward, they’re mostly hidden behind some weird metal crate now. Perfect.

He turns back to Oscar and kisses him on the lips.

Fuck! Can he read my mind or what?

Oscar readily opens his mouth and answers all the questions Carlos doesn’t dare ask.

Great! So Carlos actually can read minds. And he isn’t having a stroke, which is great news too. And he is—kissing Oscar Piastri in the middle of the paddock.

Tongue technique could use some work.

He’s kissing Oscar Piastri, who is having judgmental thoughts about his kissing technique!

Carlos cannot let this stand. He shoves Oscar back against the wall, tilts his head, licks inside his mouth, and that sure shuts him up.

Well, not literally, since his thoughts don’t need a mouth, but he’s going Fuck yes! inside his head now, so Carlos considers it a win.

Wish he’d grab my hair, Oscar thinks, and Carlos complies, listening to the colorful firework of curses going off in Oscar’s mind. Actually, this isn’t too bad. Carlos has never had such immediate and honest feedback on his kissing technique. He could use this. For strictly scientific reasons. Self-improvement stuff. That kind of thing.

He could. He could use it for self-improvement in even more interesting areas! Is it morally sound to have feedback sex if the other person doesn’t know about it?

Probably not…

He lightly tugs at Oscar’s hair, and that makes him mewl. No wonder the guy is going bald.

Can he lift me? No, wait. There’s no way, he’s not that—

Carlos reaches down to his thighs and lifts him up, pressing him even closer against the wall for leverage, and Oscar’s thoughts turn so filthy, Carlos might actually be blushing. He sure hopes Oscar can never read his mind in return because it’s embarrassing how much this turns him on. He’s never even thought about Oscar like that. Honestly, he’d believed Oscar was just some boring guy with a stick up his ass. Now he knows just how wrong he was.

He should fuck me like this.

Yep. Okay.

Carlos pulls back, breathing heavily, pressing his forehead against Oscar’s for just a moment before remembering that they are still in the middle of the paddock. Oscar has the same realization—they turn their heads toward the metal crate at the same time.

There’s no one there.

Their relieved breaths mingle, and Carlos lets Oscar slip back down to the ground, taking a step back to give him some space. They are quiet. With their words. Their thoughts are both going wild, but only Carlos knows about it.

Finally, Carlos asks, “Which hotel are you staying at?”

Oscar manages to keep his expression in check, but Carlos can hear every filthy detail he starts imagining upon the question.

“The Hilton.”

“Ah.” Carlos nods. Then says, “Be careful of the sockets. They are broken.”

And turns around. And walks away.

Well fuck, Oscar thinks. Guess he does look good in red.

Carlos gains a skip in his step and a grin on his face, though Oscar can only see the former.

Too bad the white pants are horrendous.

Carlos stops in his tracks. Turns back around. Fuck his morals. Oscar needs to be taught a lesson.

“What’s your room number?”

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.6

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 5 | Part 7 -> coming soon!

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis: You take up Shōta’s offer on crashing at his place as you wait for either Kiego or maintenance to be available in the morning to let you back into your apartment. Though the extremely clean state of Shōta’s flat is enough to make you raise an eyebrow. Ok, maybe he didn't plan on having you locked out, but it certainly seems he was well prepared just in case any company happened to come over. ;)

Tags: reader is a little tipsy but not too bad, insecure shota, jealous shota, french kissing, hickies, students being a cockblock, use of quirks, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, slight cum eating, titty sucking, protected! sex, p in v, multiple rounds, missionary, doggy, mating press, shower sex, cockdrunk, pussy drunk, horny & kinky ass shota, fluff ending, still a situationship, kayama being sneaky hehe, 18+, MDNI

word count: 11.7k [im so sorry] also not entirely proofread so im sorry if the grammar/spelling is off a bit

a/n at the end: enjoy~

~~~~~~~

“You can stay with me tonight, if you want.” 

You look up from your phone the moment the words leave his lips and raise your eyebrows in shock. Shōta’s face flushes slightly and he searches your face for a few moments before sitting back in the driver’s seat and running an embarrassed hand along the back of his neck.

“N-Not like that– I didn’t take you out to dinner just to…” His voice drops a bit and he coughs slightly before speaking again with more confidence. “I don’t want you to think I’m simply offering because I want to have sex with you, y/n. I want to make sure you're safe, and not sitting on the floor of your apartment lobby all night.”

Blinking a few times, the phone screen goes dim from your lack of interaction and you gently gulp the surprise that lingers in your throat. It did sound better than waiting for Keigo or maintenance to let you inside… Though this was probably Keigo’s stupid plan all along. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol or simply just the amazing date this man has already taken you on, but you tilt your head and smile gently. “I understand… if it’s ok with you, then yes. Yes, I’d like to stay over.”

Shōta’s expression softens and he bites the inside of his cheek to avoid the cheeky smirk that wants to splay across his lips; it’s also to reign himself in when his cock twitches slightly in his trousers. He grips the steering wheel and takes a  deep breath, “Alright… then let’s head back to my place.”

The car slowly leaves the parking lot and drifts back to a main road with light evening traffic making the journey just a little longer. Within your spot at the passenger seat, the atmosphere of the car is a bit heavier than before as the radio idly plays in the background. Shōta keeps his eyes painfully respectful at the road ahead, not bothering to tear his gaze away; a complete 180 from the way he drove you to the restaurant with his focus barely on driving the vehicle. 

Sure, it’s a big step– you two haven’t even completed one date yet and now you’re spending the night at his apartment. You reign yourself in slightly and watch the whir of streetlights that pass by outside the window, it’s not like you two were inherently going to be doing anything explicitl anyways. The whole point of staying over was a pity invitation to make up for your lack of house keys and idiotic best friend who ensured you would be locked out. 

Rationally speaking, you should be feeling awkward. A work colleague who you’ve kissed a few times and took you to dinner is now letting you crash on his couch– it’s the perfect situation for you to never show your face around him again from the mortification. But you’re not. Maybe it’s the alcohol, months of not getting any action, or just the dashing man driving you, but you’re relaxing into this situation a lot easier than you expect. 

“Shōta.” You call out, positioning yourself to face him.

He blinks and deftly turns the car down another road. “Hm?”

“Why are you so nervous?”

Shōta pauses and holds the air in his lungs an extra moment before finally turning his attention to you. He glances down at you beside him before peeling his eyes away as soon as his gaze had reached the section of your dress neckline that was dipped just a bit too low. 

“I’m not… I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

You hum and tap a nail against the car console and shrug before smiling and leaning over to his side a bit more. “I’m not. In all honesty, I've had a really great evening so far; you’ve been a total gentleman.”

A buzz rushes through your skin and you can feel the heat of your cheeks flushing from the heightened blood alcohol content coursing through your veins. The man at the wheel looks back down at you before scrunching his brows with a conflict expression and looking back at the wheel.

When he doesn’t respond, you lift yourself upright and place a hand on his bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Shōta sighs slightly and gently begins breaking for the line of cars stopped ahead. “I shouldn’t have let you drink so much…especially in this situation.”

You blink and take your hand from his arm. Had you not already said you were ‘ok’ with his invitation? Shōta continues to be at war with himself inside his mind, as if he was doomed regardless of what he did. There was no way he would just leave you without keys at your apartment, but you were also drunk, and taking you to his place seemed as if he was trying to take advantage of the situation. 

“You’re over thinking.”

Shōta pauses but keeps his head forward, his eyes not leaving the red glow of the taillights from the car stopped ahead. “What do you–”

“–I would’ve just had you taken me home if I didn’t trust you. Give yourself more credit, please.”

“But you can’t properly assess this situation given your state… and I hmpfh—”

You tug his chin to face you and connect your lips to his; it’s not messy and hot like the ones you’ve shared in these seats, instead it’s slow and gentle. Despite his recent shave, a few stray stubbles of hair tickle the flesh of skin on your cheek and you pull back with as much delicacy as you had initiated it with.

Shōta’s face remains hovering by your own as soft exhales leave his lips as dark eyes trace every detail of your expression. He’s silent when he removes his hands from the wheel and snakes one to cup your cheek and the other to rest at the space where your ribs meet your waist; immediately he leans to meet your lips again. 

The moment is dissolved of awkward tension as he pecks your lips over and over again as if he were scared that too much pressure would break you like porcelain. You bring a hand to rest flat against his chest above his heart and meet every rhythmic wave of his lips, eager to taste the lingering bitterness of wine on his mouth. 

After a few more gentle pecks he peels back to scan your eyes again, his own pupils blown wide, before leaning down to kiss you with more force and longing. Shōta’s hands remain in their position, but his tongue runs a testing swipe across your lips before slithering into your mouth and groaning from the mixture of wine, breath mints, and honey lip gloss that he tastes. 

God, it’s so hot. You grip the fabric of his jacket and button up with fervor and arch slightly as arousal tingles down your spine and pools in your core. The panties under your dress have been soaked ever since you first stepped in the car hours ago, and now they’re fully saturated and leave a slick between the plush cushion of your thighs. 

This kiss, his tongue suffocating you of all air while you rock and sway for more, more, more is one you’ve had before– but this setting changes the intensity. Shōta’s hand slips down to the inward curve of your waist before dropping down even further to play with the bottom hemline of your dress. 

It would be so easy to lift it up even 2 more inches and get full access to the flimsy fabric of panties covering your dripping cunt. And with a gentle graze, he pinches the fabric of the hem between his thumb and index finger before a ‘BEEEEEEP’ rings out from behind you both.

Peeling backwards, Shōta peers into the rearview mirror momentarily before realizing the traffic has begun to move ahead of him. With a sheepish cough, he moves his foot from the brake to accelerator and continues the drive while you pant slightly and scowl at the cockblock car behind you through the back window. 

Shōta laughs slightly and nudges you to spin back around and face forward again; you hesitantly move back into your original position and note the lighter atmosphere of the car. Admiring the man for a few extra moments, you reach over to grab one hand from the wheel and intertwine it with your own, taking note of every callous, bump, and freckle that adorns the skin. As well as the extremely large size of it. 

Shōta doesn’t say anything, but watches you play with his fingers and knuckles through the corner of his eye with an amused smile. The crease of his life line is long, his ring finger is slightly bent– maybe from previously breaking it, and his middle finger is the longest. Dirty thoughts come and go as you examine it for a few more moments before setting it on your upper thigh and placing your own hand over it to ensure he won’t move it away. 

He doesn’t. The soft and plush flesh of your thigh is pinched a few times as he runs his fingertips over the skin to accommodate himself with the sensation; he toys with your hemline and thigh in the same playful and gentle manner you had just done to his hand. 

“Mmm, do you have a TV? We can start that reality show I was talking about at dinner.” You suggest while tapping on his knuckles and becoming quickly addicted to the sensation of his skin against yours. 

Shōta chuckles and turns down another road; the city lights slowly thinning out as you get closer to his apartment. “Oh, yea? You want to watch it that bad?”

You suck in your bottom lip and flush a bit before turning your attention back to the hand on your thigh. The length from the base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger can nearly envelop the entire top of your leg from the sheer size; it leaves you wondering how it would feel inside you– how something else might feel. 

Nipples hard through your dress, your cunt gushes again in a desperate desire that leaves you wondering if you’ve ever been more horny in your life. You need this man. You need this man badly.

“Yea… I think it would be cute to start a show together. Besides, I’m locked out till morning anyways.” You tilt your head back up and blink a few times, putting to use any of the flirting skills you’ve managed to acquire in your life. 

“Starting a series together sounds like quite a commitment. You sure that’s something you want?” He hums before turning back to the road.

Ah, right. That was the other goal you have for the evening– to get some sort of definition of what this currently was. The alcohol makes you complacent for anything if it means you would get him in bed, though your heart tugs that while for tonight, sex would be satisfactory, there’s more than his warmth in the sheets that you want. 

“It is.” You confess, the underlying implication that this wasn’t an evening you only wanted to concur once.

Shōta peers down at you and hums with a smile. “Me too.” His hand closes to squeeze the flesh of your thigh under his fingertips and you have to use every ounce of resolve to avoid tugging the man into the backseat and crashing the car.

The ride continues with light banter and flirty remarks, his hand never leaving your leg, before you roll through parking security and drift into a parking spot marked for staff. Ah, right, his place. Aka, the student dorms filled with rowdy high schoolers; somehow in the heat of his invitation and your acceptance that little fact had slipped your minds. 

The familiar tower of the dorm glows a bit down the walking path from the parking lot to the dormitories and stepping out of the car, you shiver slightly. Shōta shuts his own car door and uses the headlights as enough illumination to walk around the hood and shimmy off his blazer and swing it around your shoulders. 

Cologne fills your sense of smell and you tuck into the jacket a bit more from the intimacy of the act; everything he does seemingly makes you fall harder for him… in addition to raising your desire to him as soon as possible. Tugging the bagginess of the large fabric around your frame and offering a ‘thank you’, Shōta clenches his jaw and promptly spin around; a brief glimpse of the erection in his slacks now within view. 

The dark interior of the car shielded you from seeing much, but with the LED headlights of the vehicle shining on him before the timer flicks them off, you can see this man is just as pent up as you. Cock hard in his slacks, chest puffing with increased heart rate, and flush to his face not from alcohol, Shōta is faring just as poorly as you are given the tension. 

Taking a few steps forward, you sling your arm around the bend of his elbow and lean into his torso as you walk the stone path the dormitory ahead. Shōta knows this is probably the least romantic place to bring someone back to of all time. It’s filled with over energetic teenagers who scream and run wild and also his workplace by technicality. 

Shōta’s dreamed about this moment more times than he can count, but he’s never solidified the plan if he actually got to spend an evening with you. In the back of his mind, he always figured he would take you home, you would offer him a ‘coffee’, and then he’d take you as many times as you’d let him. Maybe the couch, then living room floor, eventually the bedroom, and maybe the shower? Running on little sleep has left him with a stamina only useful on the bathfield and the bedroom. 

“This is a nice walk.” You interject, looking at the surrounding greenery that bordered the simple pathway.

“Oh, yea… it’s not bad.”

You chuckle at his sheepish behavior and lean your head against his shoulder and sigh in contentment; Keigo is going to freak out when he hears about this– after you kill him for locking yout first.

You pause slightly, and look up at Shōta who holds your gaze with a comfortable smile on his lips, looking absolutely beautiful. You’ve always known that, but the way the moon lights up his raven black hair with a silver glow leaves you breathless as he raises an eyebrow and leans down to peck the top of your forehead.

Tugging his bicep to your chest, you lean further into him and smile, “You know.. You really are–”

“–Two more laps, Midoriya!”

Immediately you both pause and Shōta’s expression drops to one of deadly frustration. Releasing your grasp on the man’s arm, you peer around the open courtyard and spot a familiar head of green hair panting heavily while turning the corner to the same energetic young man with glasses you saw last time. 

You drop your hold on Shōta’s arm as he furrows his brows in annoyance and pivots to examine the small group of 5 students that stand outside. “Tch, I told Yamada the curfew was 10pm, so what are these idiots doing?”

Pivoting slightly to peer beside him, you watch the young man with glasses give Midoriya a hard slap on the back for completing some sort of training regime; Todoroki stands beside two girls, one with short brown hair and another with long black. 

“Seems like they’re eager to be heroes.”

Shōta scoffs. “More like eager to be in trouble.”

Teacher-mode switches on as the man steps away from you and begins to walk over to the group before faltering to an awkward stop. Right, he had you with him… late at night… and you’re both heading to his apartment. 

Dragging a hand down his face and tugging his under eyelids down from the force, Shōta exhales with frustration before turning to you. “Um, I can go deal with them but…” He works the words out in his mind, trying to find the best way to word his request. “Can you wait a few minutes and then go through the…back entrance? I can meet you at the stairwell.”

“Like some sort of sneaky fling?”

Shōta sputters and raises his hands but you laugh and nudge his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I’ll give you 5 and meet you at the stairs.”

He sighs in relief and returns your nudge, half-grateful for you not being mad at him for hiding you from a group of nosey teenagers, and half-exhausted from the emotional duress he was already under.  

“Thanks,” he leans down to peck your lips and gently give your shoulders a squeeze before turning to speed walk towards his students.

Pivoting to stand beside a tree and obstruct their view if the students happened to look over, you watch the way Shōta yells over at them from across the courtyard. Giggles escape your lips as you watch the way they scurry together in apology and frantically explain themselves; you can’t hear the conversation, but you can just barely make out their sheepish facial expressions. 

After a few moments, the group lines up and walks around the building towards the front door with Shōta in the rear as he continues talking about some sort of disciplinary warning for breaking curfew. Pausing an extra moment, you push off the tree and tip toe towards the back door as quietly and quickly as you possibly can with a bottle of wine in your system and heeled boots on your feet. 

It feels like how you imagine field work for heroes must be, and for a brief moment you regret taking up a career in an office building rather than patrolling the streets with your best friend. Padding across the lawn and making your way to the concrete back porch steps, you scurry up the final stairs and gently push on the unlocked door. 

Poking your head through a crack, you survey what looks like a laundry room to your left and communal showers to the right. There’s a hum of a washing machine in use and a gentle patter of a shower head, but there’s not a soul insight; you slip through the door the rest of the way and scurry down the hallway towards the first stairwell door you see. 

By the time you gently click the door shut, a pair of steps coming down the stairs towards you, leaves you rushing to find something to hide behind; crouching behind a large rolling laundry bin is your only option. 

Knees aching from the cold hard flooring, you cover your mouth to avoid the labored breathing before the cart is slowly wheeled to the side.

“You know, most people would’ve just left the stairwell rather than hide in plain sight.”

You raise to your feet as Shōta extends a hand and pulls you up, a coy smirk on his lips as you shove his shoulder back; he doesn’t move from his position next to you. 

“You could’ve announced that it was you coming down.” you mumble while ascending the stairwell with him at your side.

“Mmm, but if it wasn’t you hiding behind the laundry bin, it would’ve been strange.”

You grumble to yourself in defeat and continue walking up each flight with a slight burn in your thighs from the workout and an ache in your feet from the lack of proper footwear. Reaching the 4th floor, Shōta pivots to kneel slightly in front of you, “Get on. It’s obvious you’re struggling.”

Sputtering slightly with a bruised ego, you cross your arms and push past him to continue up another ungodly amount of stairs before an arm pulls your knees out from underneath. 

“Woa– hey!”

Strong forearms are cradled underneath your ribs and knees as Shōta ascends the next set of steps with you tucked in his arms. A grin on his lip as you nudge him with fake annoyance and wrap an arm around his neck to better steady yourself. 

“Mmm, my hero! Saving me from this villainous set of stairs, how can I ever repay the favor?” You joke with sarcasm as he tosses your body up slightly in his arms to reposition the angle at which you lean against him.

“Just doing my job. No need to thank me.” He responds with equal sarcasm as he quickly moves up another floor as if the weight in his arms wasn’t there. 

You throw your head back and tug his jacket on your shoulders a bit tighter before leaning down to his neck and planting a small kiss to his jaw line. Shōta shivers at the sensation and exhales through his nose before peering down at you with an eyebrow raised. “You always give heroes a kiss like that?”

“No~, just the ones I’m especially grateful for.”

Shōta chuckles and doesn’t release his grasp on you when he finally reaches the correct floor; he pivots to open the door with the hand tucked under your knees and kicks it open wider so you both can slip out and into the hallway. Long strides to his apartment door, Shōta gently places you on your feet before feeling up and down his pockets with a frantic expression.

Gasping slightly, “Wait, don’t tell me you forget–”

“–my keys?” he finishes the question before tugging out a keyring from his back pocket with a smug expression. “Nah, I wouldn’t forget that.”

Sputtering slightly and furrowing your brows, you follow him inside and wait for the door to click shut before pushing him with annoyance. “Geez, you’re such an ass.”

Shōta smiles coyly at you and removes his shoes before offering you a balanced arm of support while you kick off your heeled boots. When you’re back steady on your aching feet, he steps ahead towards his kitchen while you take in the layout of his apartment. 

“I’ll grab you some water.”

You hum and watch him click on a tall standing floor lamp in the living room before heading for the faucet. Immediately to the right of the front door is a small sofa with a coffee table and TV to make up the living room; on the left was a coat closet and small table for keys and miscellaneous items. The hallway continued straight into an open kitchen with a wooden table in the center and a set of glass patio doors to a small balcony. 

Padding further into the apartment, the hallway splits to another walkway on the left with two short steps up into another hallway; this one leading towards a bedroom and ensuite bathroom. The whole scene is small, neat, and comfortable and the air smells like a mix of fresh laundry and musky cologne. 

Pivoting back towards the sofa, you shimmy off his jacket and place it gently on the back of the cushion before admiring the nice warm glow of the floor lamp. The whole place is clean…too clean.

Every throw pillow is placed in a perfect position, every shoe by the door [except your boots] are neatly organized, and even the paper towel roll has been recently replaced. Humming to yourself and dragging a hand across the underside of the TV, you raise an eyebrow at the lack of dusting residing on your finger tips. 

“Here’s some water, it’s best to drink if you want to avoid a headache tomorrow.” Shōta offers a glass while returning from the kitchen and ushering you to sit on the sofa. 

Taking the spot beside you, he relaxes back into the cushions and rubs the back of his neck, “And sorry about my students, they can be a handful most of the time.”

The water is refreshing against your throat, and you take a moment to finish nearly half the glass before placing it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” Shōta replies, as if it was the easiest decision of his life and as if he wasn’t having an internal crisis about it in the car earlier.

Now that you’re both in his apartment, there’s another wave of awkward tension between you both as neither one makes a move to discuss what exactly was the plan next. Do you say goodnight and just lay on the couch? Or will he offer you the bed? Would he offer you a set of pajamas, or just leave you in your dress?

Sucking the flesh of your check between your molars, you reach forward to his TV remote and turn to him. “Well, would you want to actually start that show?” 

Shōta swallows and blinks a few times before nodding. “Sure, I’d be happy to see what seems to be so interesting about this ‘real housewives’ you’ve talked so much about.”

Chuckling slightly, you lean back into the cushions to pull up a streaming service and load the first episode of the most recent season; Shōta watches with a suspicious expression as the opening credits begin to roll. 

“Ah, I might have a few spare blankets– let me get them.” He rises to his feet and shuffles to his bedroom leaving you alone in the living room.

‘Might’

The word leaves a weird feeling in your mouth that isn’t just the overpriced red wine still on your tongue. Looking around the apartment you’re met with the same strange feeling as the word; something is off, but you can’t seem to place exactly what. 

Peering over the back of the couch and confirming he’s still preoccupied with ‘searching’ for a blanket, you stand up and pad into the kitchen and look around the counter top. Coffee beans are normal, a fresh paper towel roll is convenient, but a bottle of wine on the very end catches your attention– especially the two wine glasses placed beside it.

Taking the bottle in your hands, you spin the label around and blink a few times to clearly read the description in the dim lighting; you don’t even notice the set of returning footsteps as Shōta approaches from his bedroom.

“I was able to find one– are you looking for something?”

You pause slightly, but keep your back to him as you run a thumb across the label, “You bought wine?”

Shōta tosses the blanket over the back of the couch and looks at the women on the TV arguing and shrugs slightly, “Yea…? I got some last time I went to the store…”

“No, but you bought this wine.” You lift the bottle over your shoulder before bringing it back in front of you. “It’s the same kind, the same exact brand, and the one I ordered the first time I met you… the first time I met all of the UA staff.”

Shōta’s silent behind you for a moment as the argument of two women on the screen are the only thing filling the air as you idly recall the moments of this bottle.

“What–” he begins.

“–It was for dinner!” you repeat, seeing the memory clear as day in your mind. “You sat on my left at the table…. It was 7pm, on a Thursday, at the French restaurant across town…but I didn’t want a whole bottle and offered to split it with yo– ah!”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as the memory is torn from your mind and you’re left idly blinking and grasping at the rest of it. Placing the bottle on the counter, you furrow your brows and try your hardest to remember the rest of that evening before you spin around with an awkward tingle in your nerves; a pair of glowing red irises pulls your attention to the man.

“I can’t– Shōta!” You gasp while trudging towards him. “Turn my quirk back on, now.”

He avoids your attempts at pawing his eyes to cover his vision and tugs your hands together within one of his own. “No…” he grumbles.

Ah, so this is what was off. 

Memory or not, you look up at him with a cheeky grin, ignoring the reality show playing idly in the background. “Shōta…” you begin, “Did you plan on having me come back home with you?”

He pauses slightly and the pressure holding your hands together lessens by a fraction before his eyes flicker back to their usual dark color and awkwardly stare at a corner of the room. “No…”

“Really?” You tilt your head closer to him and survey the room, the tipsiness of your state creating a wave of confidence despite the submissive position you're physically in given the mass of a man in front of you. “Then you always keep your living room this clean?”

Shōta shrugs and peels his eyes back to you, unwilling to be called on his bluff. “I’m a clean man.”

“Right, and you always ensure to dust and stock up on essentials?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I sneeze when debris builds up.”

Pushing even more, you tilt your head to his. “Ok, and you always buy the wine I drink, with two glasses out? Tell me, are you sure you didn’t plan to have me over, or is there a form of company besides me that you bring back here?”

Ah, you got him. You haven’t even seen the rest of the apartment and you caught on already. 

Shōta’s jaw tightens, but the pressure on your wrists is released as he brings his hands to his sides; dark eyes glance between your own. “Just you.” He quickly breathes out. “It’s always been just you.”

The admission makes your coy act falter, and the way he concedes that you are the only person he would plan this for makes your heart beat even faster. Shōta stands hovering over you, and for the first time since you’ve stepped inside, you’re reminded just how much bigger he is than you. 

Yes, you can act coy and tease that maybe he had cleaned his apartment in hopes of getting lucky, but now that you’ve played your hand, you realize you’re out of moves. Shōta breathes unsteadily a few times and doesn’t release his stare, “I mean what I said earlier— I didn’t plan to get you drinking and take you back here…”

He takes a few more deep breaths before stepping back and coming fully clean, “I just… you know– wanted to be prepared just in case something did happen. Not that I was expecting it.”

Maybe it’s a moment of clarity from your previously tipsy haze, but the implication of everything is crashing down on you, hard and fast. Here Shōta was, admitting to cleaning his apartment, buying wine, and most likely preparing himself for if you were to come back to his place. The meaning of ‘come back to his place’ doesn’t rely on the factor that you would forget your keys, it would be under the pretense that you were coming back to his apartment for more. 

A tingle rushes down your spine and you find yourself turning your attention to the TV screen in an awkward attempt to fully acknowledge what was going on. An awkward cough escaping your lips, you pivot to move back towards the sofa and pat the spot next to you as casually as you can. “Right, well… that’s uh fine.”

Shōta doesn’t move for a moment, unsure exactly how to take your usage of the word ‘fine’ before slowly moving to sit beside you and pretending  to care about what was happening on the screen. He sits stiffly against the cushions and opens his mouth a few times before pivoting to face you. “I just… didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

You turn your head to peer at him. “I get it…”

He raises his hands to attempt at wording it out. “Ok… that’s good. It’s not in my plans to have sex with you.”

“What…” you sit upright and a blush rushes across your face as Shōta peels back in frustration at himself.

“Not like that! I mean I would love to have sex with you–”

“Huh?”

“I just–” he runs a hand on his face and takes a moment to calculate if jumping off the balcony would be a fall high enough to end his misery. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re only here because you’re locked out, and my students are downstairs, and–”

“–Shōta.”

You take his hand from his face and chuckle at the embarrassed twinge of pink on his cheeks despite the stubborn expression on his face. Yes, you might’ve played your cards a bit earlier at calling out his preparation, but there’s one more thing– a phrase by Keigo of all people comes to mind.

‘He’s still a guy.’

Yes, because at the end of the day Shōta is just a man– not just a hero and school teacher– and you are the woman he’s been dreaming about sitting dolled up all pretty on his couch. 

The man in front of you sighs and turns his attention to the TV screen with a hardened look on his face. “I’ve fucked this whole thing up, haven’t I?”

You tug his hand to rest your thigh once again and tilt his chin to face you. “You know… you never asked what I wanted.”

Shōta swallows and relaxes into your touch, sliding back into the cushions and looking down at you with interest. Running a hand along his knuckles, you look up and continue. “You’ve gone this whole evening at war with yourself worried that you were forcing something onto me, without ever asking what I even wanted in the first place. You keep backpedaling and worrying that you’ve coerced me here against my will, despite the fact that I gratefully accepted your invitation for helping me out.”

Shōta runs a tongue along his lips and hangs onto every word you say. He was a gentleman all dinner, asking you questions and learning more about your interests, but as soon as his own insecurities bubble up, he can’t seem to find the rationality to simply ask you openly what you wanted. 

Eyes never leaving your own, Shōta tilts his towering frame down slightly. “Ok. So what do you want?”

A smile on your lips, you drag your gaze over the frame of the large man beside you– his physical statue engulfing you despite the fact he was wrapped snugly against your pretty little finger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your gaze dips down to linger on his lips before he races forward to meet your mouth with his own; a force of desperation you’ve never felt from him. Your hands reach to tangle in his hair and gently tug out the half bun while one of his hands holds your face to angle your lips against his while the other is squeezing the flesh of your thigh. 

There’s no timid gentle pecks between each kiss, instead Shōta forces his tongue into your mouth to run his taste buds along your own to drink in the flavor of your mouth over and over again. It’s messy beyond belief as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and his teeth clink against yours once or twice from the sheer force of the rocks of his head. 

Biting his bottom lip and tugging slightly on it, Shōta shakily exhales through his nose before tugging his lip from the pinch of your teeth and running his mouth along the side of your neck. The sensation of his nose tickling the flesh under your ear as he sucks and bites on the pulse point of your throat mirrors the same feelings as when he would do this in his car.

But you’re not in his car anymore, you’re in his apartment. 

Sighing at the gentle nibble of his teeth along your neck before his lips find another spot to suck and mark, you tug on his hair playfully. “Hmmm, isn’t this where you stop? Just like in your car…”

Shōta doesn’t fall for a shallow tease and instead removes the hand that was cradling your jaw to entangle in your hair and tug it roughly to angle your head back; the increased exposure of flesh leaves him rushing forward to mark a new, untainted area.

The sting of your hair follicles while his tongue runs across a new hickey before his lips suction onto another spot leaves your cunt once again gushing and clenching pathetically around nothing. Slick accumulating between your thighs has your hips twitching in a plea for the hand on your thigh to do something.

“S-Stop moving..” he pushes pressure on your leg and leans down more over you to continue sucking the other side of your neck. “Couldn’t….” he pops his lips from your throat and moves to another spot. “Couldn't do this in my car…”

You wither in his grasp from the sensation and groan at the arousal building inside you for uptenth time this evening, “huh…nghh ‘this’”?

His lips trail down to your collarbone and Shōta’s kisses get softer until his mouth is hovering right about the low neckline of your dress; a flimsy piece of fabric between his face and your breasts. Peeling back slightly, he leans into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume deeply before running a few apologetic kisses along the fresh bruises now painting your neck. 

“Tell me to stop, please…” a few more chaste kisses litter under your ear where your flesh and hairline meet. “Please, you have to tell me no…”

Running a hand to now tug on his scalp, Shōta doesn’t move from his position nuzzled into your neck despite the force tugging his follicles; he’d sooner go bald than move away from you. Sighing airly, you release your pull and instead place your hand flat on his chest, tracing the top button of his shirt. 

“And if I say, I don’t want you to stop? Then what…?”

Shōta sucks in a hollow breath of air and groans slightly while continuing to lick and suck the section of skin exposed to him, not bothering to answer while he attempts to reign himself in.

Unclasping the first button, you run a cold hand along the small sliver of exposed flesh and sigh when the heat of his skin warms your fingers. The atmosphere is too much, and it feels as if you’re melting from the way his lips continue their ministrations under your ear. 

Biting your tongue, you angle your vision as best you can, Shōta’s mess of hair blocks a majority of your view, until you see the tent throbbing in his slacks. A mind clouded by desire, you arch your back and push your tits forward into his chest while rolling your hips forward; his hand on your thigh prevents you from getting any closer.

“You said you wanted me to tell you to stop...” You mumble with a slight chuckle at the trembling hand that’s keeping you still. Pulling your hand from his small patch of exposed chest, you trace down the seam line of his shirt before quickling reaching forward to palm his erection.

“F-fuck!” He hisses from his spot at your neck before sitting back and moving to hold both of your hands back.

Heavy pants leave his lips as dilated eyes watch you with a predator’s stare, once again reminding you just how much larger this pro-hero man was. “You don’t know what you’re doing… you’ve been drinking and–”

“–I want you. How many times do I need to tell you to stop assuming things on my behalf?”

Shōta swallows and shuts his eyes in an attempt to listen to the variety of voices swirling in his head. Yes, you were telling him right here and now that you were attracted to him, but the nagging and self-deprecating voice within him kept pestering on. He was a high school teacher for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t give you an exciting life outside of monitoring a class of rowdy teenagers and drowing in tedious paperwork. He wasn’t highly ranked, highly regarded, fuck he wasn’t even good at communicating… so it was only a matter of time before you got bored and realized he isn’t what you wanted.

A part of him was ok with that though; so desperate for your approval that he would gladly take a position of ‘quick fuck’ or ‘rebound’ if it ment you would grant him even a fraction of your time. 

“Stop doing that.” You tug his chin to face yours. “You keep going somewhere…”

Shōta exhales and blinks at the way your hand had somehow come free from his grasp before stiffly tilting his head down; his cock throbbing painfully in his slacks. He could still stop this, tell you that when you were fully sober you would regret it, and he could live with blue balls and embarrassment.

“I’m just… thinking.”

You frown before cracking a half smile. “Okayyy, well stop that.”

“Huh–?” He blinks as you back up slightly and position yourself on the edge of the sofa.

Spinning to face him fully, you place a hand on his knee and rub it a few times before dragging your fingers to tap against his belt buckle. “Stop thinking.”

Shōta watches as you tug the leather fabric up and through the buckle before slowly sliding out from around his waist loops. “Wait.” He places a hand on yours, and you immediately stop.

“Shōta– listen. I want you, ok?” You look between his eyes and lean in. “Now, what do you want?”

The man breathes deeply a few times and drags his gazes across your lips, down the dozens of bruises on your neck, shamelessly across the upper flesh of your tits, and down to the plush round curve of your hips before returning to your face. “You. Fuck, I need you.”

The moment you’ve been aching for leaves a steady heartbeat pounding in your chest and pussy as his hands slowly remove from their position keeping you at bay. Leaning up slightly, you plant a lingering kiss against his lips before sliding to the floor and nudging his knees apart to kneel between them. 

Shōta watches with lidded eyes as you pop the button of his slacks and slowly tug the zipper down; he plants his feet firmly on the floor and flexes his thighs to raise his hips up, allowing you to shimmy the waistband down just below the swell of his ass. 

The sight is mouth watering, and you can feel your cunt pulsing in desire to have the cock in front of you inside already. But you take your time, awing at the way it’s pushing so desperately at the fly of the boxer briefs that the swollen tip is poking through. 

Gray fabric is darkened in a lewd patch of pre-cum as his cock twitches as you trace the outline of it through the material. Dark pupils never leave your figure as they scan the way your fingertips trace the length of his shaft, up and down, until you pry the fabric of the fly open just a bit more to let a portion of his length slip out. 

Shōta sucks in a breath at the change in temperature and wishes he could sear this vision into his memory like you. Looking back up at the man and ignoring the slight burn in your knees, you lower your mouth down to lick a small strip over the slit of the swollen cockhead; a hum escapes your lips as salty pre-cum lingers on your tongue. 

It’s an absolute vision, having him huff above you, completely at your use and disposal for whatever you wanted to do. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, Shōta reaches forward to trace the outline of your jaw before tapping on your lips once and sinking his hands into your hair to tug it away from your face before shimmying his boxer briefs down the rest of the way to fully free his cock.. 

Ever the gentleman indeed. 

You smile and tilt your head to kiss the pulse point on his wrist before ducking your head again to now plant a variety of little pecks along the apex of his thighs, the curve of his heavy balls, and around the base of neatly trimmed shaft. How convenient he just ‘happens’ to shave before this– not like you could judge though, you’ve prepared for this evening more than you have any other date in your life. 

A low grumble emits from his chest as you take too long and Shōta guides your head back to where he needed you the most. Smiling to yourself, you lick along his dripping slit once more before flicking your tongue to rub against his frenulum. 

“Ahh, s-shit…”

Fingers scratching your scalp harder, you take the heavy weight of his cock in your hands and lick the entire shaft to the head a few times to lubricate the flesh before opening your jaw and inching him inside slowly. Instinctively, his hips jerk forward to get even deeper into your mouth.

“Haa, just like that… fuck baby–”

The pet name isn’t lost on you, and you’re sure to asking him about it later; for now you flatten you tongue and ignore the sting in your jaw as you take what you can and use your hand to slowly jerk what won’t fit. Even if Keigo was joking about the ‘measurement’ hand motions, the exaggerated distance wouldn’t be far off from the length bullying it’s way into your mouth.

Heavy with a decent thickness and delicious length, you can feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head. A few more rhythmic pulses and you ‘pop!’ the length from your mouth to give your jaw a break and spit down onto his cockhead and jerk him off with a messy handjob. 

“Oh my– FUCK!  D-Don’t stop.. Ngh please…”

Shōta digs his hands into your scalp before flexing his thighs again and jerking up into your dripping hand; you lick the swollen tip as it bobs up and down before releasing your hand and sliding it back into your awaiting mouth.

Careful to relax your jaw and avoid grazing the flesh with your teeth, you let him guide your head to his own rhythm when the flex of his hips grows erratic and needy. You work your lips with enough suction that you aren’t just trying to milk him dry, you’re trying to suck the soul out of him.

One hand leaves your hair and digs into the cushions beside him before Shōta throws his head back momentarily and pushes your head away from his cock. Your hair falls messily back down as a pout works its way onto your lips and Shōta grimaces as his eyes take in the fucked out expression on your face. 

Pupils blown wide, hair thrown around haphazardly, and swollen puffy lips that were just latched around his length are the only thing he sees before pumping himself a few more times and cuming. Hard. 

A gasp escaping your lip when he groans your name and hot spurts of semen dribble on your cheeks, lips, and along the upper swell of your breast from the low neckline of the dress. Shōta continues stroking himself through his orgasm with his head thrown back against the cushions of the sofa and twitching his hips a few more times as he comes down from his high.

Curious, you swipe a line of cum off your cheek and pop a finger into your mouth to sample his flavor; it’s more watery than creamy, and there’s a slight salt flavor that tingles on your tongue. The viscosity is a bit lower than that of honey, and the ropes of semen that litter your flesh begin to slide with gravity and pool at the bend of your collarbone and down the valley of your tits. 

“Ah, shit… sorry I should’ve… should’ve warned you…” Shōta pants out as he sits up a bit straight and releases the hold on his softer semi. 

You swipe another line from your chin and slip it between your fingers with a shrug while Shōta groans at the sight. Pulling you to your feet, Shōta pushes you to sit against the sofa before he rises to his feet and tucks himself back into his boxer briefs and pads into the kitchen. 

“What are you–”

“–I gotta clean up the mess I made.” He immediately responds, taking a fresh paper towel and dampening it before returning to wipe the rest of his cum from your upper chest. 

Blood now circulating evenly, Shōta cleans you up with a gentle touch before tossing the towel into the trash and returning with a gentle rub on your red and swollen knees. His face is apologetic while you take a few gulps of water from your glass; placing it back on the table, you pull his chin to meet your lips. 

On instinct he groans into your mouth, savoring the way your tongue tastes like a mixture of your breath mints, wine, and his own cum. Your lips chase him as he breaks the kiss to run a few pecks down your neck before spinning on the couch to push you back against the armest with him positioned between your thighs. 

Wary hands knead and squeeze the plush flesh of your thighs as large black eyes peer at your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. “Let me return the favor, yea?”

You blush and nod once before he gently bunches your dress to your waist and runs his thumb over your pelvic bones above the flimsy lace thong bands. A tongue wets his lower lips as he traces the material down to the mound of your cunt and drinks in the way your slick has saturated the gusset of the fabric to the point your inner thighs are glistening in arousal. Of course, nothing is ever easy and the thin material of your tights leaves him pawing at the waistband to tug down.

A few accidental snaps of the elastic against your navel, Shōta cuts his losses and pinches the threads to tear a hole big enough for his satisfaction. He hums a promise to buy you new ones when you squeal at the sound of fabric ripping and turns his attention back to your semi-clothed cunt.

“All this.. f’me?” he wonders out loud, dragging an index finger up and down the wet material along the slit of your pussy.

“Ah, y-yes…all for you…baby”

Shōta scoffs slightly at your tease for his pet name and peels the gusset down and out of the way; he had planned on pocketing, but those damned tights just had to ruin his fantasy– ‘he’ll just get them later’, he thinks to himself. 

Shōta shimmies to sit on the floor and lean against the base of the sofa while positioning your thighs to rest on his shoulders; hot breaths fan your cunt as he inhales the intoxicating scent of your pussy.

“Ah, so you have jokes now?”

A whimper escapes your lips and your hand tangles in his hair, desperate to have him closer to where you need him the most.

Long hair tickles the inner flesh of your thighs and Shōta keeps his lips just above your weeping cunt. “Come on, sly girl. Tell me what you want– you’ve been pestering about it all evening.”

Swallowing your saliva and any ego, you lean your head back against the armrest and wiggle slightly, “Y-You… please need you…Shōta”

Satisfied enough, though he would’ve preferred to hear you beg a bit more, Shōta plants a small kiss to the inner apex of your leg and turns his attention to the pussy he’s been desperately dreaming about. Laying his tongue flat and running a few long stripes over your folds and puckering entrance, he pushes his weight forward, addicted to the taste. 

The sounds are vile and filthy, the sounds of him kissing your cunt in a nasty French style before biting and nipping your outer labia and delving his tongue back into the opening of your core. His nose ruts against your puffy clit and your fingers are scratching at his scalp as the waves of pleasure are mind numbing. 

Pulling his tongue away, Shōta rocks back slightly and pops a long middle finger into his mouth before dragging it up and down your folds before slowly sinking it into your cunt. 

“A-ah! Shit….nngh…”

You twitch at the delicious stretch of his finger as Shōta watches your expression for any sign of pain before slowly rocking his finger in and out to a steady rhythm. Fluttering around his finger, he slips in another and massages the walls of your pussy in search of the rough little patch that makes your hips shake in pleasure. 

“Here? Right here?” he murmurs while scissoring his fingers against the spot over and over again and leaning back down to suck and lick at your clit.

You’re a mess against the sofa, biting your lips but not muffling the pornographic sighs and whimpers that escape your throat as the wet gushy sound of him fingering you fills the air. It’s better than your own hand and any toy you’ve owned, and when Shōta ruts his thick fingers against your g-spot over and over again, you wince your eyes shut and grab onto his hair.

“Ohh, fuck… you’re gonna make me cum… haaa I’m gonna..”

He peels his lips from your clit and keeps his pace on your g-spot even, coaxing you through the rush of pleasure as your muscles clamp onto his fingers as if your cunt could milk it dry. “Thaaaat’s it… come on baby you got it… cum f’me, yea?”

The deep pur of his voice has you cuming on his fingers and your hips rutting against his hand in a desperate attempt for even more; a few tears escape your eyes as the pleasure creates a mind reeling haze to wash over you.

Fucking his fingers into you a few more times to ride out your orgasm, Shōta slowly slips them out as you whimper and pops them into his mouth. He’s never been particularly keen on sweets, but the syrupy candy flavor of your cum is making him quickly addicted to the flavor. 

A light afterglow settles on your skin as sweat drips down your temple from the rush of heat coming from the moment as Shōta sits back up on the sofa and rubs reassuring hands over your pelvic bones.

“You alright?”

Alright, doesn’t even begin to describe the euphoric feeling, but you’re too fucked out to propose a better word. 

“Yea…” you pant before pushing yourself up to rest higher against the armrest. “You’re a little too good at that.”

Shōta chuckles and leans down to capture your lips and feed you the taste of your arousal in a similar manner you had with his own cum a few minutes before. He pecks your lips a few more times before leaning back and tucking a lock of hair away from your face and absorbing the glow on your skin.

“Well it’s just luck then…I don’t exactly get out much” he chuckles, eyes beaming gently as he stares at you with starstruck admiration and cum coating his chin. 

You giggle and sink into yourself before tracing a hand down his chest and palming his renewed erection in his boxer briefs. Shōta’s breath hitches slightly, and the insecure doubts that had clouded his mind prior have since been replaced with a dirty primal desire for more.

“We don’t have t–”

“–bedroom?” you cut him off and trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

Shōta doesn’t need to be told twice for that; he rushes to his feet, ignoring the dull hum of the reality show that still plays in the background and pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Woa, hey!” you squeak as he tosses you up once to adjust the distribution of weight and power walks down the hallway to his room. 

The view of his round ass is cut short as he flops your back onto his plush mattress and moves to kick his door shut– as if he had to worry about a roommate. Dark eyes don’t leave your figure as he saunters back to the bed and begins peeling off the buttons of his dress shirt; you watch in a trance before glancing around the tidiness of the bedroom.

“You really prepared, huh?” you jest, smirking at the way the pillows are perfectly arranged, the floor lamp is already on to a warm glow, and you can see a set of extra towels sitting on the counter of the sink of the ensuite bathroom. 

Shōta shuts his eyes and groans slightly before tossing the fabric to the floor and peeling off his slacks the rest of the way and kicking them off his ankles. You sit back on the bed and lift your hips up slightly to slide the waistband of your ripped tights to the floor and peel your soaked thong to join it. 

The man standing saunters a bit closer to the bed and assists in tugging your dress up and over your head, taking a moment to kick your saturated panties under his bed to retrieve later. Nipples pebbling at the cool sensation of being freed, Shōta doesn’t waste a moment to dip his head and latch his lips to the swollen nub.

His force has you laying flat on his mattress as he climbs over you and sucks the perky flesh while his other hand kneads and massages the fat of your other breast. The tongue rubbing against your nipple is hot and wet while sharp teeth occasionally bite; a wet patch from his boxer briefs ruts against your hip as he grinds his clothed erection into you.

Shōta places a few extra hickies around the swell of your tit before moving to suck on the next one, repeating his action of squeezing the flesh of the breast not receiving his mouth. It feels like you’re on fire.

Back arching and pushing your chest closer to his mouth, you whine and tug on his hair, desperate for even more. Ignoring the way you paw at his face, Shōta places a few more pecks on your tit and rocks back to slide off the bed and trace a hand down your thigh; silently, he flashes a gentle smile and moves to open his nightstand drawer.

And of course, there’s a box of condoms conveniently placed right at the front of the wooden drawer. The thought of him potentially doing this with other women makes an uneasy feeling course through your veins, but the sight of him biting the plastic wrap indicating the box had never been opened qualms your insecurity. 

Ripping a perforated foil packet from the line of condoms, Shōta keeps the box readily available on the nightstand and tears open the material. 

It’s happening. Fuck, it’s finally fucking happening.

It’s wrong to feel a little giddy, but the thought of you finally being able to have sex with this man after months of pathetic pining is beyond satisfying. 

As he kicks his boxer briefs to the floor and gives a few pumps to his cock, you lean over and notice a full length dressing mirror facing the bed. The angle gives you a view of his sculpted ass and chiseled back muscles, before the man in question taps your ankle once and climbs up on top of you.

“You sure?” He murmurs, planting delicate kisses to the bruised flesh of your throat.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and nod. “More than anything.”

It feels like he’s died and went to heaven, but Shōta doesn’t wait any longer; rocking back to sit on his knees for a moment, he tugs a spare pillow under your hips and splays your thighs open. Arousal drips from your cunt along with remnants of your prior orgasm and his saliva and he drags his latex-coated cockhead up and down a few times to coat it thoroughly.

“Alright, just breathe…” he gently pushes in the tip and rocks forward. “Bit of a stretch.”

He isn’t lying. Your hands steady yourself on his rear deltoids as a slight burn pushes through you as he slowly sinks inch after inch into your cunt. Nail digging slightly into his flesh, Shōta slowly pumps in and out to edge his way deeper and deeper inside. 

“F-fuck… haaa relax, please… you're so – ngh tight…”

It takes a few moments before he bottoms out completely and his balls tap against the round swell of your ass; you both stay still for a moment, taking in the moment of being so intimately connected before he slides partially out and rocks back in. 

“Ah– mhpf… feels good.. Shōta” you moan into his ear as 8 delicious inches slip in and out, kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips.

The man in question fares no better above you, with one hand on your hip to guide your cunt back to his cock and the other supporting his weight as he hovers over you in a partial plank. Your pussy is hot, wet, and mind-numbingly tight to the point he’s wondering if it feels this good with a rubber, he can’t even imagine how it would feel to hit it raw. 

Though maybe you’d let him do that later. 

Later? Just the thought of being able to fuck you again and again has him about to prematurely ejaculate.

Shōta groans when you tilt your head to bite into neck and plant a few small hickies to his own skin while his dick stirs up your pussy from the inside out. The bed creaks and the headboard slams into the wall with the same rhythm of the ‘plap! Plap! plap! ‘ of his balls hitting your ass with each stroke. 

At least he didn’t share a wall with a student, because then he’d have to resign and never show his face at work again.

“K-kiss me…” you whimper out, tugging his face to look at you once more, almost sensing he was lost in thought during the moment. 

Shōta uses the short pause of connecting his lips to yours as a cheeky way of slowing down to prevent from cumming, though you have no patience for that. Flexing the muscles of your pussy around his cock, nearly feeling the swollen vein that runs along the bottom of his shaft, his resolve crumbles further. 

He needs to make you cum.

Pulling his lips from yours, he pushes your thighs further apart and stands upright with his knees; the angle now allowing for the base of his cock to smack against your puffy clit with each snap of his hips. Pushing your head back into the pillows, a wave gushes from your pussy as the sensation tightens the coil building in your abdomen.

You look better than all his dreams, and Shōta digs in his mind to think of something, anything to prevent him from spilling into the condom before you cum. Toshinori asked him to review a few files during lunch yesterday. The traffic leaving UA at 6pm today was particularly bad. Yamada wants to know if he wants to see a baseball game this weekend…

Tugging a hand from your hips and guiding his fingers to your clit, Shōta snaps back into the moment to focus on the withering expression on your face as your hips twitch and grind up into him further. Understanding the silent request, he runs a gentle circle over the nub of your clit and groans when your lips fall open to whine in pleasure. 

Tits bouncing with every stroke, your eyes hazy and staring up at him, and the delicious squelch of your pussy with each thrust is too much for the man; with a canine pinching his lip, Shōta leans forward and cums.

“Ah… c-cumming… fuck i’m cumming ngh–” 

His hips keep pounding forward, the tip of his cock that would be freely filling up your cunt with his seed is being saturated by the walls of the rubber condom keeping his semen inside. Right when he’s about to slow down, you grasp forward to scratch on his arm and twitch forward.

“W-wait! Please don’t…. Don’t stop– i’m gonna cum”

And who is he to ever deny you?

Ignoring the twinge of overstimulation, Shōta keeps pounding his now semi back inside over and over again; gyrating his hips slightly to grind against the rough patch of your g-spot with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and with a whine, your jaw goes slack and a pleasure begins to wash over you– until it stops. 

Fluttering your eyes open and panting as you come down from your high, you pause and bring a hand up to push sections of your hair away from your face. You just came…right? Removing your palm from your forehead, you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch the way Shōta slowly slides his length out of your cunt with a soft hiss.

Wait… what just happened? Did you cum so hard you blacked out–

Red irises glow above you and a small smirk is plastered on his lips as your eyes open in shock.

“Wait, hold on a minute…Shōta– did you just erase my quirk?”

The red hum of his pupils cools back to their dark color as the man slides off the bed and pads over to the bedroom trash can and tosses the soiled condom into the bin. You sit further upright now and furrow your brows in frustration. It was the best orgasm of your life… or so you thought. 

The memory of him pounding into you and leading you right up to the edge ends with an annoying blur as Shōta saunters back to the bed with a new gush of confidence radiating from him.

“Mmm, what if I did?”

“You–!” sitting upright, you shove his shoulder and sit back down on the comforter which is now soiled in a puddle of cum that’s leaked from your cunt. “Why would you do that?!”

He shrugs slightly in feigned ignorance before moving to tilt his floor mirror slightly and returning to the night stand to pick up another small foil packet. Sitting in silence, you watch the way he takes a few breaths and strokes his semi to eventually build into another full erection. 

Shōta leans forward and connects his lips to yours so sweetly, as if he wasn’t just fucking the shit out you to then erase the memory of the best part. Pecking your jaw once, he crawls behind you and gently pushes your upper back to go down into the mattress and tugs your hips upright into a doggy position; you're directly facing the floor mirror and your own reflection.

With a hiss, he slides on a fresh condom and gently massages the globes of your ass before once again, gathering your slick and cum with his covered cockhead. 

Shōta peels his gaze from the twitch of your awaiting pussy and looks at you through the mirror, “I just want to make you remember it regardless of that quirk....” he pauses and sinks in the tip through the first ring of muscle, “Is it wrong of me to fuck you so well that it makes even my erasure not work? That even without that quirk, it’s seared into your memory?”

***

His proposition of having sex so many times that his erasure doesn’t work on wiping your memory of the sensation is a horny and kinky one you’d never think a reserved man like him would have. You go from doggy, to mating press, and then when his dick is sensitive from cumming so much, he fucks you on his fingers twice more for good measure. The evening ends with an attempt at shower sex that simply results in taking you on the bathroom floor when you complain the tiled walls were too cold to be fucked against. 

Your body is sore beyond imaginable belief, and you can’t recall how many times you’ve cum because somebody can’t seem to let you. Despite the rough and desperate sex, Shōta softens when it’s time to dress you in his spare boxers and t-shirt and climb into bed. It’s a weird form of intimacy that feels more vulnerable than the position you were tangled in just moments ago; in the back of both of your minds, you’re wondering when the best time to have the ‘what now’ conversation really is. Though this late, neither one of you makes a move to address it.

He doesn’t mind when your hair still damp from the shower creates a small stain on his nightshirt; tugging you in closer and inhaling the way your scent and his merge together. It’s an awkward few giggles at first, before you nuzzle into his chest and plant a few soft kisses to his pulsing heartbeat while Shōta tightens around your waist that keeps you close. 

It’s late. The alarm clock on his night stand reads 3:17am when you shut your eyes in his arms; the both of you having work in the morning but neither one of you bothering to mention it. Your breathing steadies out before he ever does, and a few gentle combs to the crown of your head and pecks to your forehead make Shōta wonder if maybe this was a dream. 

The air is silent, and right when he’s about to doze off, a soft ‘ping!’ rings out from the night stand beside him. Normally, he would ignore it and return to his slumber, but the late notification makes him wonder if it’s something more important. 

Begrudgingly moving his hand from your waist, careful to avoid waking you up, he turns around and taps on the screen to see not a text message– but a date reminder. Blinking the drowsiness away, and clicks it open and sighs at the note.

Upcoming event from user KAYAMA: Friday 8am

He can practically hear the woman’s voice through the phone from the memory.

‘If you don’t make a move, I'm giving it to Keigo by Friday morning.’ Too tired to deal with it now, he tosses his phone back on to the nightstand, face up, and turns back over to sleep with you in his arms.

a/n:

it's the moment we've all been waiting for, the chapter where you guys finalllly bang hehe

this chapter, while it was pre-written, took sooo much longer than I thought to finish [almost 12k words of pure sexual tension and smut]

the story continues on a bit more from here, wrapping up the loose ends with more added smut scenes littered here and there [maybe one or two more chapters which is crazy to think its almost over]

im so glad you guys like this series and i hope this filthy vile slutty chapter makes you happy [and horny] <333

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated :)

and i love reading ur comments, you guys are so fucking funny I LUV U POOKIES -oatmeal

taglist: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351 @beachaddict48 @lynnesm @lashaemorow @kriscr0ss @hotvillianapologist @loverofdeepspace @lainlovelain @shslvampy @siraxealot

[thiscityneedslessfog]

Yosuke is an awesome character and I need to talk about him, and how he’s a perfect representation of how your ties to a land are your ties to its people.

When we first encounter him in Inaba, he’s a bit of an isolated wreck—his dad is the manager of Junes’ Yasoinaba chapter, and Yosuke is isolated and mistreated for it, a reason completely outside of his control. When two women see him in his Rank 2, they start talking about how Junes is overtaking and closing down businesses in Inaba. (I could probably do an analysis as to why I think Junes is important to the themes of the story but this is about Yosuke)

As it stood, Saki Konishi and Chie Satonaka were the only two people with a genuinely friendly rapport with him by the time Yu Narukami came to Inaba. (It’s no wonder he was so distraught over Saki, especially since he’s heavily implied to have become so attached he developed a crush on her.) And Yosuke is used to this isolation. To the point Saki’s kindness towards him is startling enough that, again, he developed a crush on her. He got that attached to her. And Jiraiya even calls him out on it because he’s repressed and numbed that pain so hard.

And in his Rank 8, he’s actually vulnerable for one of the only times in the game other than the scene with Jiraiya, and doesn’t really know how to respond to being met with genuine affection and sympathy. This kid is so isolated he doesn’t really know how to react, so… he just calls Yu a dumbass.

even ignoring the fact I ship these two this scene is so damn sweet AUGH

When Jiraiya is encountered and we get introduced to Shadow Selves, Jiraiya accuses Yosuke of trying to stop the Midnight Channel Killings because of his boredom. Which understandably upsets Yosuke, since the main reason is really trying to find closure over Saki’s death. (Again, shadows are not the full person, as much as they’d like to pretend they are. They’re parts of you that are upset about being repressed. Fragments. They’re you, but not all of you.) But… Jiraiya’s not lying when he says Yosuke is genuinely bored out of his mind and trying to be a hero. I wonder if a part of the reason Yosuke wants to be a hero is out of desperation to not be so isolated in Inaba. He’s been demonized by most of Inaba thanks to who his father is, and he had only two friends at this point, and one just got murdered.

It’s touched upon in Yosuke’s Rank 9, where he tells Yu about the reason for that desire to be a hero. Not just to protect others, but to mean something to someone else—something he’s shown to need, and told by his own repression made sentient he desperately, desperately needs—something to get himself out of isolation.

At the point of the confrontation with Jiraiya, Yosuke was pretty detached from Inaba, and Saki (who is now dead) and Chie were his only two reasons to like it, which was the main reason he was so bored, he couldn’t find any proper ways to attach. In his Rank 8, he actually talks about how Saki managed to lighten his view of Inaba.

And then he starts to develop more of a friend group. With Yu, becoming closer with Yukiko, befriending Kanji, Teddie, Rise, Naoto, becoming closer with Chie.

And he slowly grows more and more genuinely attached to Inaba. His ties with its residents become stronger and stronger, and that’s what truly makes him love the can-barely-be-called-a-city of Inaba.

I really want to emphasize those last two lines of dialogue. There’s still necessarily nothing in particular to keep him entertained by the city. But the people around him, his support network, who protect him from feeling isolated, who comfort him when he’s being mistreated just for being the manager’s kid when he has no power over that… these people, who he’s allowed to be vulnerable with and lean on, to hug and have a friendly brawl with, people he can laugh with and exchange little things they both like together with… he has that. And now Inaba feels so much brighter, just because of that.

To be honest, it’s a little relatable when I put it that way. Not sure how much I want to disclose about myself, though. But man… I love Yosuke. I love this arc so much, dude.

[star-byeoli]

Seonghwa Drabble 28.02.25

[Minors Do Not Interact] - [18+]

Genre: Very suggestive, non-explicit smut.

Pairing: Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 675

Warnings: Crossdressing, Feminisation, Sub!Hwa x Dom!Reader, Maid!Hwa x Mistress!Reader, Roleplay, Seonghwa in a maid outfit and lingerie, Striptease (?).

A/N: Inspired by an irl friend who doesn't think it's hot for guys to wear maid outfits... (lit. the worst take ever) I may write a part 2 to this 👀

“Do you like it?”

Your jaw drops as you take in the scene before you. Your boyfriend, Seonghwa, had prepared a small surprise for you upon your return home after a long day at work. He looks up at you through his eyelashes with a fake coyness from his place kneeling on the living room floor. His long white hair is curled immaculately, falling delicately across his cheekbones. He wears a gentle blush across his cheeks, already looking flustered.

The true pièce de résistance is the maid dress adorning his body. The long black dress pools on the floor around his legs gracefully. The white frilly apron falls sensuously off his right shoulder, looking scandalous despite how little skin he’s actually showing. His delicate hands folded neatly on his lap, holding onto a small pink feather duster. He fidgets slightly on his knees, subtly trying to apply pressure to his crotch through the linen.

“Oh, my star, you look gorgeous.” You ramble out, taken slightly aback by the man in front of you. Seonghwa wearing skirts was nothing new; he loves experimenting with fashion almost as much as he loves experimenting with you. But to come home to such a scene was something new.

“I’ve been cleaning all day, mistress. I hope you are pleased.” Seonghwa bows his head, smirking slightly to himself, knowing the effect he is having on you.

“I’m very pleased, my star.” You reply, taking off your coat and walking over to the couch. Seonghwa’s eyes follow you across the room, gleaming with excitement. Finally sitting down on the couch, you gasp with faux horror. “Oh dear! It seems like you missed a spot. Be a good maid and clean it up.”

Seonghwa rises to his feet a little too quickly, eager to move the scene on. You can only imagine how long he sat on his knees waiting for you to walk through the front door, growing more excited by the second. He glances around the floor, trying to find his task.

“Where is it, Mistress? I don’t want to disappoint you.” Seonghwa probes softly, eyes blown wide. You take a moment to admire his barely veiled frenzy before crossing one heeled foot over the other.

“Just here.” You say, pointing to your heeled boot. Seonghwa smiles giddily before rushing over to kneel directly at your feet. He takes his duster and runs it softly over your boot. He feigns taking his time, but his hand attempting to subtly palm his cock through his dress is painfully obvious. His duster slowly makes its way higher up your leg, his eyes locked onto your thighs and his mouth hanging open absentmindedly. Losing you own patience you snatch the duster out of his hand.

“Naughty maid. You shouldn’t be touching your mistress like that.” You scold him playfully, running the feather duster along his blushing cheek. He immediately hangs his head, pretending to be ashamed.

“I’m sorry, mistress.” Enjoying his desperation, you decide to take things up a notch. Folding you arms across your chest, you cock an eyebrow.

“Put your hands behind your back.” His gaze snaps up to yours, understanding that his ‘discrete’ touching may have been a little too obvious. Nonetheless he complies. You take your time in running your heel up his thigh a couple of times, enjoying seeing Seonghwa struggle to keep his breath steady. He intermittently scrunches his nose, closes his eyes, and lets out breathy moans.

Eventually you let your boot hook onto the hem of his skirt. He instantly holds onto his breath, awaiting his fate. You slowly lift your heeled foot, and his skirt, exposing his legs for the first time this evening. A second surprise lies sweetly under his skirt; a pair of translucent white thigh highs hug onto his tanned muscular thighs. You push further, until your heel presses gently onto his collar bone, exposing his tight underwear. Seonghwa lets out a desperate whimper, unable to hold in his desperation any longer.

“My star, do you need some help?”

“Yes, mistress.”

A/N: Off to horny jail I go lol 👋

[girl-lostconnection]

Peter smiles at you — grin so wide it’s unnatural, feverish blue of his eyes glimmering with phantom heart-shaped reflections. Like your existence alone is reason enough to be ecstatic.

Peter is always there, somehow, miraculously he’s nearby and yeah, the town sure is small, what a coincidence that is, don’t you think, darling? At least he can reach for you the higher shelves in the supermarket and help when your bag gets torn and give you a ride home (he gets you back and you don’t realise until later that he didn’t ask for your address).

Fate sure is mysterious, isn’t it, love?

Peter who doesn’t tell his name immediately, his giggles so girly it would be endearing if he didn’t tower over you at all times, fingers twitching to reach out and touch-touch-touch.

Hug and hold you, sink long thin fingers in your soft giving flesh, get knuckle deep in the wet heat of yours, get handfuls of you in both palms.

The urge so strong he has to actually take a step back, smile a little wider, eyes a little more manic. Thought pounding inside his skull like someone forces a nail down. Touch-touch-touch.

Just this once, just for a moment, just a little bit.

But he never does. Can’t seem to eager, can’t make bad first impression, can’t he?

Should keep himself in check or he risks slipping a little too early and then you won’t be going anywhere.

He simply won’t be able to let you go, that would be impossible, darling, he just can’t, okay? You gotta be careful too or you risk meeting the side of him you may be not ready to see.

Peter brings you bouquets and single roses, his fluency in flower language layering every his gift with hidden meanings and hidden meanings of hidden meanings because the language is dubious at best but somehow he seems to be getting his point across perfectly.

Peter who is there when your dates stand you up, when they leave you waiting and never arrive, not even bothering with “sorry, change of plans”. He is gentle and sweet — candy floss melting on your teeth, his eyes melting you.

Peter is soft taunts and high pitched giggles when you finally laugh, your eyes crinkling in the corners and oh, this is bad. He’s in too deep.

Peter whose hand gets draped over your shoulders, lips pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head, jokes a little darker, smiles a tad more relaxed.

“— He asked me to come to the garden and then, next thing I know — he’s nowhere to be found. Can you imagine? I never found him there.

— Have you tried to dig, darling?”

His joke sits in your head for the next few weeks, his joke an ominous warning you will remember in the next few years because Peter is not going anywhere.

Peter fills up every available space in your life, soaking through your routines, slotting himself inside of your existence.

He’s there for college graduation and internships, for work and grocery shopping, for rent payments and dinners and movie nights and amusement park rides and bookshop dates and—

Peter is everywhere and all at once, he’s the new best friend, best guy, best emergency contact.

Best boyfriend. Your boyfriend, darling.

Peter whose existence cancels out everyone else’s, who takes so much time there is not much left to anyone else. These people should be more understanding to you if they want to be your friends, darling.

The rope around your neck tightening with every executive decision he makes, memory of his dark joke that doesn’t leave you no matter what.

Have you tried to dig, darling?

Peter who’s there for birthdays and Christmas celebrations and independence days and Valentines and 8th of March and everything else.

Every day, every hour, every your breathing moment he slowly fills up until there is nowhere else to go.

Until you notice that you haven’t been out with anyone but him in months, your friends no longer texting, no one checking in with you, some contacts simply vanishing, chats getting deleted.

You know, darling if there is no more space to go he’ll have to make some.

After all, what’s so wrong with pushing few unnecessary people out? He’s all you need, he’s everything you would ever want, isn’t he, darling?

Peter who smiles and kisses you in the mornings, his hands now always on you, his fingers intertwined with yours — he hooked and sank you before you realised he was dragging you down, water filling your lungs, his eyes — feverish blue with heart-shaped reflections.

Have you tried to dig, darling?

Peter never leaves and never lets you leave, sending you Pinterest boards with wedding ideas and measuring your ring finger. Winter or spring, darling? He bets you would look gorgeous no matter the season but the future spouse surely has to have a say in the matter.

Peter doesn’t see need for big guest lists because after all he is there and you are there. No need for too many people and too many eyes and too many chances to lose you in the crowd. That just won’t do.

Peter is sweet candy floss on your teeth, sugar grinding you down, rope tightening until you can’t breathe and can’t scream. Trap clapping shut, his ring shining on your finger, his eyes crinkling with excitement.

You are his forever. He is yours always.

You come back to the same fucking garden your years-old date never came to. Same garden he picked you up from, always so conveniently close, always on the periphery of your life until you loosened your guard and let him in.

There is a new bush in there — lilies blooming so hard your eyes water from intense cloying smell.

Lilies that never were there before, old dark joke pounding from inside your skull, Peter’s hands wrapping around your waist as he grins down at you. Like you two share a secret no one else knows about

Have you tried to dig, darling? Would you like to start now?

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

Got tagged by @skyrim-forever @sanza-17 @nyarevar @lobo-inu @firefly-factory @saltymaplesyrup <3

tagging @sulphuricgrin @thescrolls-haveforetold @scholarlyhermit @viss-and-pinegar @archangelsunited @pocket-vvardvark no pressure tagging as per usual.

I've done a bit recently on both the Yani painting and chapter 19 of Serious Mistakes so I'll post a bit of both.

Art first.

(Click for full) Yani's got a face! I'm happy with how his eyes turned out. I gotta start on his face scaring next.

POV sad, fight prone smuggler who barely speaks Redoran Dunmeris properly makes eye contact with you from across the corner club.

Next we have a chunk of writing that i'll put under the cut. It's a dialogue scene between Josh and his niece, the Urshilaku Wise Woman circa 4E 199. This is during a healing session (roughly 1000 words).

“When did you get cut?” She frowned, pointing at his shoulder, “It looks recent, and the stitches have broken, why didn’t you tell me about it when I was healing the cut on your temple?”

Teldryn sighed and glanced at his shoulder, noting the small droplets of blood that welled along its surface, “Was fighting off an ambush a few days ago an got a taste of the fucker’s sword. The ah…outlander patched me up.”

“See, she likes you,” Ki smiled as she uncorked the potion and handed it to him.

Teldryn shook his head as he brought the potion to his lips and took a drink, grimacing at the bitterness of it, “Nar she just found me half gone in a cave. Means nothing.”

He could feel his cheeks flush as he finished the potion, feeling the pain that was radiating throughout his body slowly lessen. Gods, why was he having this conversation now… with his niece of all people? The fact that she was grinning at him the way she was only served to enhance his embarrassment.

“Oh, I see how it is,” She teased, taking the empty glass vial from him and placing it to the side, “Teldryn you are allowed to be happy.”

“It’s not—” Teldryn stammered, pouting a little, “I don’t— It’s complicated, Ki.”

“Dae’ata, you say that about everything,” She sighed, “She seemed sad when you left dinner last night.”

“I ah…” He sighed, dragging his hand across his face, “I didn’t exactly make the best first impression…or second— third. You know how I’m a fuck up.”

Ki frowned, reaching over to better examine his shoulder, “You put too much pressure on yourself.”

“If I don’t then I fuck up, Ki,” Teldryn frowned, “Or Nerevar fucking escapes an starts running amok. Which is what happened.”

“Nerevar doesn’t like new people, I know,” She replied, moving off the bed again and moving towards her bag, “I think I can heal that gash enough for you to not need those stitches. If you can just sit up.”

Teldryn did as instructed, pulling himself up and resting his back against the carved bedhead. The position sent an uncomfortable tugging sensation through his pelvis.

“I do not like that you are still making that face,” Ki frowned, sitting beside him again. She passed him a still steaming mug of what smelt like black kaveh, and he was thankful for the warmth of the mug between his palms.

“I think tilting it outwards pulled something or…I don’t know,” Teldryn mumbled, shaking his head, “It feels like knots in there.”

“Well, there should be a lot of scaring if my predecessor’s notes are anything to go by,” Ki sighed as she brought a small set of sheers to his shoulder and started snipping at the remaining threads, “And I can feel a lot of resistance in it when I was moving it around. The fact that you can still walk without assistance on a good day really is a marvel.”

“Your aunt was as talented as you are with this sort of thing,” Teldryn smiled, taking a sip of his kaveh.

Ki shook her head, biting on her lower lip, “I am still trying to understand what gave her the idea to just cut you open and heal the bone from the inside.”

“I ah…I don’t really remember much of it,” Teldryn mumbled, his gaze falling to his lap, “but apparently nothing else was working because of the Corprus.”

Ki nodded, carefully pulling out each stitch from his shoulder, “Sometimes I wonder whether I should replicate it, try and heal some of the scaring internally.”

“An subject yourself to the ooze that’s in there?” Teldryn grumbled, “Nar it’s not necessary, dumu. I’m fine.”

“It is a thought,” she sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I guess I want to see you riding guar again, as in the stories.”

Teldryn chuckled, trying his best not to strain his aching muscles too much, “I think I’m a bit past ever doing that again. Besides, I wasn’t actually all that good at it, was more Erra’s thing.”

“Still, I wish I could have seen it,” She smiled warmly, readying her spell in her hand, “I mean in a way that I could remember.”

“I remember Erra taking both of us for a ride up to the coast,” He smiled to himself and tried his best to relax as Ki cast her spell, “He strapped you between us an I swear I was so afraid the whole contraption was gonna fall over—”

“It didn’t though,” She cut in, her eyes meeting his, “If I recall the stories correctly, you stopped me from being a mudcrab’s lunch.”

“Yeah, but I don’t trust myself with kids, you know that.” Teldryn sighed, shaking his head, “I mean you know what shit’s like with Adren. I fucking suck at the important stuff.”

“Hey, that’s not something you could have fixed,” She frowned, her fingers lightly moving across his skin, stitching the gash together under her fingertips, “Even seers cannot see everything, and you cannot help not knowing about him until you were out of exile.”

“You know he helped me out with this whole Tong business,” Teldryn mumbled as he took another sip of his drink. The revelation was still so strange to him, the two hadn’t quite been on speaking terms since the boy’s mother passed just after Red Year. The fact that Adren had taken it upon himself to get his name cleared…maybe there was still a chance?

“I thought you said the outlander did?” Ki raised her eyebrow at him, her fingers slowly moving down his arm, his wound slowly scaring over as she healed it.

“She spoke to him when she was in Skyrim,” Teldryn sighed to himself, “Apparently, he’s why I was released into the Free-Winter’s custody. Managed to convince them I wasn’t a murderer with like…evidence an shit.”

“I do not think your son hates you as much as you pretend,” Ki sighed, “I do, however, think that he is as stubborn as you, dae’ata.”

“Yeah, but like don’t tell him that,” Teldryn grinned, “I… I’m proud of him though, even if he doesn’t actually want anything to do with me.”

“I think he might come around eventually,” Ki sighed as she dismissed her spell, “Obviously he does not wish to see you harmed.”

[ichigo-plasma]

Helping Haruka Sakurai With Assignments For His Degree Headcanons

On the menu: university AU, Haruka lies about his age (because he’s insecure about being help back when he was a kid), fluff, Haruka is codependent but he wants to try his best to do well

A/N: In this AU you can imagine Haruka working to get any degree, maybe he is already done his bachelors and getting his Master’s, etc. whatever makes you comfy with the dynamic! :]

Haruka who sits across from you at the library, chewing nervously on his pen as he stares at his math textbook like it’s written in an alien language. His knee bounces under the table, and he finally looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Y-Y/N… I-I don’t g-get this at all…”

Haruka who is working toward both his degree, but the road has been rough. He was held back a few years, making him older than most of his classmates, but he keeps that a secret—lying about his age so he doesn’t stand out. “E-Everyone thinks I’m t-the same age as them… i-it’s b-better that way…” he told you once you got to know him better and he realized you wouldn’t judge him.

Haruka who genuinely tries to understand the material but just can’t wrap his head around complex equations or scientific formulas. His head drops onto the table with a soft thud, and he groans. “M-My brain doesn’t w-work like this…” His voice is muffled, his frustration evident.

Haruka who clings to your every word as you patiently explain the homework to him. His eyes stay locked onto your face, not even glancing at the textbook, because watching you talk is somehow easier than trying to read the problems himself. “Y-You’re so smart, Y/N… I-I don’t get how you j-just know all this stuff…”

Haruka who starts relying on you a little too much—texting you at odd hours with panicked messages about assignments he forgot were due, showing up at your dorm with his laptop and a desperate look in his eyes. “C-Can I… s-stay and study with you? P-Please? I-I promise I’ll be quiet… I-I just… c-can’t focus when you’re not h-here…”

Haruka who despite struggling in most of his subjects, absolutely excels in art. His sketches are breathtaking, filled with emotion and precision, a stark contrast to his sloppy math notes. “A-Art is d-different… It’s the o-only thing that m-makes sense…” he admits shyly, gripping his pencil like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

Haruka who slowly starts looking forward to study sessions not because of the homework, but because it means spending time with you. His fingers twitch when you lean over to check his work, and his breath catches when your hands accidentally brush. “Y-Y/N… I-I think… I-I study better w-when you’re close…” he mumbles, cheeks burning.

Haruka who in his weakest moments, wonders if he’s just dragging you down. If you’d be better off tutoring someone who isn’t struggling so much. But then you praise him—tell him he’s improving, that you believe in him—and his heart clenches painfully. “Y-You really think I c-can do this…?” he whispers, voice fragile.

Haruka who when he finally solves a difficult problem on his own, lights up like an excited puppy. His whole body tenses before he turns to you with wide, shining eyes. “I-I did it…! Y/N, I-I actually d-did it!!” He practically vibrates with excitement, resisting the urge to throw himself at you in celebration.

Haruka who realizes that maybe, just maybe, school isn’t completely unbearable… as long as you’re by his side. 

[j0kers-light]

Three Steps Back

Ooooh this was the settling in phase chapters walking on eggshell around Joker. Good soup.

You were unable to come to terms on what almost happened between the two of you, so you decided to pretend that it didn't happen in the first place.

Who’s gonna tell her? 🥴

He wormed himself past your defenses in just a few day's time with minimal effort on his part. When did you lower your guard around him? One minute you were guiding him towards the bed, the next he was making a pass at you.

The man got rizz Y/n! Natural charisma n’ stuff. 🔥🔥

You never cared for the color green until you met Joker. He made the hue come alive and take on a much deeper meaning. In less than a week, you saw the color in everything.

Y/n you’re starting early on the “I might have feelings criteria.”

You couldn't get his eyes out of your head even if someone paid you to. How could something so dark and dangerous be so warm and inviting? Up close you didn't understand why the populace was terrified by his gaze; it was intense and gorgeous in your opinion. You could write essays on what you saw swirling within them.

I was down bad when I wrote this paragraph 👀

It was agreed upon that he would stay for two weeks until his stitches needed to be removed but you knew something would ruin that target date.

Gotta love foreshadowing. I wonder what would ruin the original two weeks deal?

You were stuck with him now. No take backies just because you couldn't handle your psychotic roommate trying to kiss you.

And they were roommates! 🤣

You just refused to fall for a guy like Joker. Simple as that.

Elsewhere, Joker was finishing up the breakfast hash you made him when he heard the loud crash in the main room. He tried his hardest not to panic as the silence dragged on but breathed a sigh of relief once he heard your sarcastic ramblings drift down the hall.

Why you panicking Joker? You’re not supposed to care, remember? 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

He didn't know this interview had aired so he needed to watch every second to add anything said to his pre-existing notes. Some would say Joker was obsessed– he just considered himself a huge fan of your work and wanted to appreciate all the content you provided.

I would literally pass out if Joker was obsessed with my work or anyone for that matter. You wanna interview me?

He really spent two hours thinking about you. He really needed to get out of his room.

Certified simp!

“Don't worry that pretty little head of yours! For now on, I'll keep my hands to myself, bunny."

No he won’t. Ahhh he’s using that name we totally don’t like him using! It’s so cool to go back and see how we accepted Bunny as a nickname. Slowly but surely.

Call mom, she calls GCPD, the police swarm your apartment, both you and Joker are taken into custody. You confess he forced you to heal him and after a call to your lawyer, you'd be given a deal to save your own behind. You could write a story about your ordeal and make a fortune off of it while Joker rots away at Arkham Asylum. Roll credits.

This was so not how His Lighthouse was supposed to end hahaha 👀🫢

“Does that mean I can hold your hand?" He asked.

I’m not sure if Joker was teasing or being serious here.

Of course there were plenty of times he wanted to smother you with a pillow or stab you with a butter knife, or strangle you with his bare hands, but every time some unknown power steadied his hand.

😭😭 This is a good dive into Joker’s mind. He’s still an insane psychopath but he’s battling inner demons in order to begin loving Y/n.

He couldn't resist teasing you. "Ah, are you showering with me Bunny?"

Chaos are you hinting at a shower scene between these two!? Why yes I am!

His Lighthouse Re-Read Thread

Hey hi my loves!!! I've read my own story 14 million times but I never did an official reread thread so thank @jaysmentalspace for what's about to happen! 🖤✨

This will be an interactive thread. Yes, you can join in with your own comments, reblogs, whatever! I will start from chapter one and I guess, review/commentate my own story! I hope you enjoy the ride. There's gonna be fun facts, behind the scenes commentary, who knows. 🤷🏾‍♀️

His Lighthouse masterlist let's get started.

[misslovasstuff]

In wano, episode 925, we are introduced to Sanji’s raid suit, aka stealth black, aka soba mask…

There was a short moment that really got my attention; when Sanji was talking about his dream of having the fruit that could turn him invisible.

Hopefully you know which moment I’m talking about. Now, if you guys remeber all the way to thriller bark, there we get to know that invisibility was Sanji’s dream. A lot, and when I tell you A LOT of people started despising Sanji after what he claims in that arc.

The thing is, although what he might be saying can be true to some extent, he’s (consciously or not) laying over the real reason why he wanted the invisibility fruit in the first place.

Coming back to wano, Sanji realises that (ironically) his dream of turning invisible can become a reality through the raid suit. Then is when we get a flashback to when he was a kid. To his childhood…

Sanji had that dream since he was A CHILD. So, it comes naturally to assume that of course a kid would not dream of having the invisibility fruit to look at women. There is another reason, a bit more dark that perhaps Sanji hides under this grand and overly exaggerated regard and admiration for women (this is not the first nor the last case he does that fyi).

I don’t know if he wanna appear more tough by pretending and putting this facade of a desperate imitation of masculinity but nevertheless, this is a call to stop taking Sanji’s gag seriously because as I see it, although it does not question the genuine love he has for women, he does use it as a tool that sometimes gets out of his control because of the principles he has nailed down in his life. A tool for the obvious reason of being a gag, and also to throw a bit of dust over his own insecurities and unresolved issues.

This instance that I mentioned, among many, are proof that (using Shkrek’s analogy) he is like an onion with many layers, and the superficial layers are just a basis to convince himself of being somewhat worthy of whatever validation he’s seeking. Like bro would never state that he dreamed of having the invisibility fruit as a kid because he wanted to ACTUALLY become invisible to those around him, to his abusers who inflicted trauma that years later is still fresh on his skin. Like the other time where he would never admit to others that ‘oh no you guys are in danger I need to save you’ Sanji would rather say ‘oh no Nami and Robin are in danger’ and then literally worry for every single one of them.

my man, being caring and loving and showing vulnerability will not get you in trouble anymore.

[uncreative-cryptid]

brain itchy wants to leave skull it has so many thoughts on ocs and story stuff i am dying here i have no mouth and i must scream kinda ass feeling right now