#Not saying anything concrete yet. But it sure feels that way on a not all blue hawke run doesnt it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 8 months ago

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Hi hi LOVEEE YOUR WORKK

The way you write kinda touches my heart, and tingles my brain a little too

Especially your jjk fics!!!

Do you mind if I request a kind of angst smut fic of reader leaving home to blow off some steam after having a heated argument with any JJK man and he comes out to find her and resolve 😼😼🤭 it in the car?

Thank you for reading thisss 🫶

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: awww, ty for liking my stuff!! i was supposed to release a sugu fic today (but didn't, yikes, lmao), so imma make this sugu~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - angst + reconciliation - sex in a public area; car out in the neighborhood - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and licking) - feedbag position - oral (f! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, pretty thing, my love, pumpkin, sweetheart) - implied insertion at the end - mention of spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“…”

“Y/n, what are you doing?.”

“You can’t see I’m taking a walk?”

“Please just get inside the car.”

“Leave me alone, Geto!”

Geto winces at the use of his family name. Oh fuck, they really are mad at me…

You were walking on the pavement, your anger exhibited through your feet, stomping as you traveled down the concrete floor in the supposed quiet neighborhood. Unfortunately, you weren’t alone; your boyfriend drove slowly to match your speed and speak with you.

Why were you angry? Why don’t you ask the fucking asshat following you in that car of his? The two of you had a terrible argument not too long ago, and you’re sure the neighbors of your complex must’ve heard the audible insults and blows you two threw at each other for almost an hour. You hadn’t expected things to be blown out of proportion – it’s not unusual for people in relationships to argue. However, if your partner insidiously says something that he knows will tip you off the scales, are you not inclined to exit the apartment to blow off some steam before you choke him to death and have a murder charge on your record?

“Baby, c’mon, you can’t just keep walking on the sidewalk like this.”

So here you are, out for an evening stroll meant to calm you down, yet it’s doing the opposite since a certain someone is trailing alongside you.

You suck your teeth, “Geto, go home! Why are you even following me?”

The tall black-haired man ducks down for you to see him from the driver’s window. “Because I feel bad!”

“Good!” You bark. “Good that you feel bad; feel nothing but bad, so just leave me be.”

“You know I can’t do that; look how dark out it’s getting!” It was around nine in the evening. The sun had just finished setting, so its shine was dwindling, and the twilight was mere minutes away from transitioning to dusk. “You can’t be walking out alone; just get in the car.”

“Hmph, absolutely not,” you can feel the crease of your furrowed brows worsening. “I’m heading to get homemade ice cream from that place I like; it’s the only thing that can put my mind at ease right now, and seeing your face and hearing your voice isn’t doing anything good for my mood right now.”

The flat line of Geto’s lips is pressed harder, guilt swelling in the pitch of his gut like no other. “…I’ll take you to the place. Just hop in.”

“I’d rather get shot.” Apparently, your boyfriend doesn’t get the ‘don’t want to hear or see you’ part you stressed about literally seconds ago.

“That’s what I don’t want! Do you have any idea how long the walk is?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m very aware, and you’re slowing me down with all this chat.”

“Yeah, but you won’t get to that place until around ten o’clock,” he argues. And then that’s another hour and a half walking back; you’d probably be back home by midnight!”

You couldn’t lie; hearing him be so concerned about you and your safety made you feel a little warm from the early summer breeze touching the exposed skin of the halter top. However, a part of your stubbornness refused to stand down. And yet the more you looked towards you, the further it felt like you’d reach your destination. He’s right; you wouldn’t make it home in time. Plus, it’s getting darker by the second, the comforting blue hue of the sky being absorbed by the bright, dominant moon.

Once you come to an abrupt stop, Geto nearly forgets to hit the brakes, and your figure stands motionless and silent. Then, you move towards the door behind the driver’s side, opening the door to sit in the backseat. You beat Geto to the punch, breaking the silence, “Don’t talk, just drive.”

A soft, relieved sigh leaves the onyx-headed man, but he notices you avoiding the rearview mirror, where purple eyes flicker to try to see you. “…Is this really necessary?”

“What is?”

“You sitting in the backseat?”

“What does it matter to you? I’m in the car, aren’t I?”

“What the hell am I, you Uber? Get in the front.”

“No. You said you’d drive me, so do that, and don’t make me angrier than I already am.”

You thought you won the round when you didn’t hear a remark from your companion. Yet, that wasn’t the case because the man opened and closed his door, walked around the car to open the door to the other side of the backseat, and it takes everything in your power not to pop a vessel when he takes a seat. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he closes the door.

“Are you deaf? I said I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“And are you blind; can’t you see me trying to make this work—“

“Work?” Oh, how you wanted to burn this car up. “You should’ve thought about that when you said what you said back there.” You didn’t know if it was right to say that—That sounded mean, was it mean?—yet it came from a place of hurt that he caused.

Your words strike deep into Geto, but he still speaks his mind. “Y/n, please…Can you at least look at me?” You don’t move a muscle. “I’m your boyfriend, so can you at least look at my face and not push me—“

“Yeah, you are my boyfriend,” malice in your tone. “And you’re doing a pretty terrible job as of today.”

“Y/n—“

“God!” Now, you finally turn to him with vexation scorching your pupils. “I just want to be left alone–away from you, alright! What part of that don’t you get?! Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

Your lips nearly quiver at the snap of those three words, eyes on the brink of shedding tears. Nonetheless, your face returns to the front. “Bullshit…H-Hey, let go!”

“I told you, I’m being very serious!” Geto brings you in for an embrace, and your resistance is hushed down as he keeps talking. “Look, I…I’m sorry. What I said back there…I didn’t mean for it to hurt you like it did, baby. You said something before that made me angry and…” his hold on you gets tighter; you notice even if you’re busy hearing every word from his mouth. “I didn’t think what I said would make you leave, and I got scared.” His mellow voice delves into a hushed tone. “So fucking scared…I’m sorry, Y/n. Just…don’t leave me out like that, okay…”

And with that, the remnant of your irritation ceased. The hotness of your blood subsides to a calm flow, your body easing into the hug as his apology repeats in your mind. You couldn’t think about your argument before; you just can’t, not with an apology like this when you can feel and hear him be genuine and vulnerable. You wanted to be angry with him–you tried– but the more you forced the outrage, the more you kept burrowing your head into his chest and your hands wrapped around his slim figure.

“You’re such a dick, do you know that?” Doing everything you can not to cry since his face is nestled in the crook of your neck. “And…I’m sorry for saying stuff that made you mad at me, too.”

“Guess we’re both dicks, huh.” A joke meant to make you giggle, but he doesn’t sense the jerk of your shoulders. “Hey, I’m sorry. You forgive me?”

“Sure,” you murmur. “After you get me that ice cream.” Your jest made him chuckle instead.

“Mmm, on it,” your breath stops at the kiss on your temple. “But, before that,” he lifts his head, violet eyes examining your expression. “Don’t you think I should also have a little something?”

His question confuses you until you feel the grasp of his hand sneak inside your jeans, and the bare flesh of your ass meets the mild cold of his fingertips. “Suguru, what are you—“

“Compensation,” he kisses your neck, and you gasp at another rough knead on your asscheek.

“Oh, that’s bull…Mmm.”

“Oh? So you can have ice cream to forgive me, but I can’t have anything?” The hand is then lifted out to move to the front, his gingers pressing on the part of your panties that cover your groin. “Well, aren’t you selfish.”

You couldn’t question his logic with his digits now motioning up and down your concealed cunt, your legs spreading apart as Geto’s forearm pushed them aside for easier access. “Hahhh, Sugu…Mmmnn, not here…”

“Mmm? Why not?” He says with faux shock, gently having you lay on your back as he spreads your legs further. His hand still fingers your underwear, only fueling a wet spot to protrude more and more. “It’s dark out, and no one’s driving around here.”

“That’s not—Mmmm!” A thumb presses down on your clit; how cruel to sneak that attack on you. “Ohh, fuck…”

Geto kisses you, gradually unraveling your erotic senses with every peck he places on your lips with his soft ones. And his lips don’t rest there, laying kisses to your chin, your collarbone, and lifting your shirt to expose your abdomen for him to kiss and suck the skin of your tummy and navel. All the while, his fore and middle fingers keep pushing into your chasm as your hips buck subtly.

Another minute of pleasing you with his hand goes by, your wetness becoming more and more evident as his digits did the work in having you wet for him. “Look at you,” he’d say cooly. “Making a mess, such a dirty, pretty thing you are.”

“Sugu, stop, you’re making me—Oooh…” he slips his middle finger inside your panties to insert you. And then, his thumb dances around your clitoris, evoking the shaky moans to leave you. “Ahhh! Noo, don’t move like…”

A snicker leaves his lips. “What? You like it when I tease you like this, don’t you, pumpkin?” He pushes your underwear out of the way and continues to finger you. “You’re gripping on my finger like crazy.”

“Shhtoop, your fingers,” your hand finds his wrist yet does nothing to stop him. “If you keep going, I-I’ll…Hooohh…”Your eyelids suddenly feel heavy, closing them to conceal your vision. However, that only enhances the use of your other senses, indulging in the sense of touch as Geto plays with your pussy.

Even if you didn’t finish your sentence, Geto takes the initiative and removes his hand to lick the fingers. “Oh, my love,” he coos while rolling up your underwear to stay on your inner leg after removing your jeans. In the meantime, the man brings your hips up and rests your legs on his shoulders. “That’s exactly what I want from you…”

Your eyes snap open at the contact of something wet yet firm, sliding across your wet folds, your body jolting at the sensation of it nestling between your labia. And the flick of his tongue on your clit nearly has you choke. “Suguu, no, don’t—Ahaann!”

Any attempts to squirm out of his hold don’t seem manageable now that you two are in the backseat of the car; his hands firmly keep you stable and still as his face ventures closer to your genitalia. Tiny moans get louder and louder with every lick of his tongue cleaning your slit of your essence; ironic as more of your fluids seep out as he does so.

Your hand grabs hold of tuffs of his raven hair, but that only eggs him on to keep going. Pushing his tongue into your entrance, he fucks you with the wet muscle and has your body writhe and crying for him. As the space gets hotter, you wouldn’t be surprised to find fog starting to cloud the windows. But that would probably be for the best as you wouldn’t want people on this road to know what you two were doing, nor hear the squelches from the commotion.

“Ohhhshit, shiiiit,” your head pounding like crazy, you couldn’t think straight, and the walls of your cunt keep clamping onto the tongue that swirls around and has you wailing. “Ooooh,hoooh, Sugu’, I’m gonna—It’s coming…! I’m…Aiishhh!”

“Go ahead, angel,” he says before licking your clit erratically, using his middle finger to fuck your release out. “Let it out for me, baby.”

With how fast he’s sucking and licking your delicate bud and his digit rubbing on your velvety texture, how can you not come? You scream aloud at the wave that crashes on your body, your hips jerking on their own as the trembles of your orgasm rock your entire frame.

Geto keeps you steady, taking in your release with his mouth. He groans at the taste of you on his tongue, his fingers kneading your waist as if to relax your body for him as you ride out your high because of him. Quivering legs get less apparent with every buck, and once your breathing returns to an average pace, he places you back down.

“Good job, sweetie,” he bends to kiss your cheek as he unbuckles his pants to expose his briefs that harbor a tent. “You tasted too good to resist; wanna feel you all on me…”

“You…” you grab for his cheek to pinch. “I better get my ice cream tonight, Geto Suguru.”

Your soft threat has him chuckling. “Will do, baby,” and you succumb to a kiss.

If the windows hadn’t fogged up already, they sure were going to now.

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lovebugism · 7 months ago

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thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please 😭

summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)

pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader

contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+

Carmy’s office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. You’re not sure how he’s keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, you’ve never been able to completely understand his mind.

You know him better than anyone else, but he’s still such a mystery to you sometimes — like a language you can read perfectly but can’t speak all the way.

You don’t know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.

“Bear?” you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. “You ready?”

Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. “No. Not— Not yet, baby. I’m fuckin’— I’m drowning in this paperwork right now.”

He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch — leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.

The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.

Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious.

While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears — it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice.

His mouth falls agape to say words he can’t make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light — which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.

“It can’t wait?” you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. “All the restaurants are gonna close soon.”

Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. He’s far too busy — or, rather, he doesn’t allow himself to be anything other than busy because there’s a voice inside him that just won’t be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadn’t bothered him so much until he met you.

“I gotta get this done, babe,” he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.

Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip — softly calloused against the satiny fabric.

You smile softly down at him. “So I got all pretty for nothin’?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Well, you got all pretty for me, actually,” Carmy corrects.

His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle.

“Yeah, I did,” you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine — a maddening concoction.

You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. It’s hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.

His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you can’t make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood.

“You know I don’t care actually about going out, right?” you mumble there.

Carmy hums, half-distracted. “Mhm.”

“Just wanna spend time with you… Don’t care what we’re doing…”

You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. “Well, I’ll make you the best damn PB&J Chicago’s ever seen when we get back home, alright?” he muses with a quiet smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I’m holding you to that, Bear,” you say, grinning into his curls.

“I’m countin’ on it.” Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work.

Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself — of the space you’re filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.

“I’m, uh— I’m gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe he’ll let me bum a smoke or something.”

Carmy mourns your warmth the second you’re gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. “What happened to us spending time together?”

He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesn’t spare you a single thought. But really, he’s so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.

You squint. “Watching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend I’m not here is not spending time together,” you argue, laughing despite yourself.

“Don’t go. C’mon,” Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Come sit,” he tells you.

“Sit where?” you scoff.

“In my lap.”

“I’ll squish you,” you insist, giggling.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.

You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.

“Not like that,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow in response. “What do you mean?”

“On my thigh,” Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. “C’mon. Sit right.”

You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. “What are you playing at, Bear?” you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.

Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap — the proper way. “You’re the one always sayin’ I’m too busy for you, right?” he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.

The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. You’re forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until it’s flush against your clothed cunt.

Your breath catches, and he smirks.

“So… You’re gonna cum on my thigh,” he continues casually. “…And after that, we’ll go home, I’ll fuck you like you need, and then I’ll run you a bath… How’s that sound?”

Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth — which you can feel pooling in your panties now. “What about the PB&J?” you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.

Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. “After the bath.”

“What about in the bath?”

“Whatever you want,” he assures with a smile. “You just gotta ride me first.”

The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.

Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. You’re obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.

You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans — catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once.

Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmy’s neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.

There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmy’s office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild.

And there was something about Carmy, too. The way he’s got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.

Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if you’ve left a stain on the denim. He prays you’ve left a stain on the denim — wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.

“You close?” he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.

You bury a whine in his neck. “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hey,” he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you.

His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted — already fucked-out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I asked if you were close,” he repeats, unsmiling.

“Yes,” you manage through a whimper.

His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he praises. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.

“Carmy,” you keen, voice wavering. “I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear.

“Do it, then. C’mon,” he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure — not because he’s a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.”

You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.

“Atta girl,” Carmy praises. “Keep cumming for me.”

He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.

You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. “No more,” you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.

When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. “You good?” he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. He’s always serious about checking in on you.

You nod and swallow hard. “’M good,” you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. “Are you good?” you parrot.

Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. “I’m almost done here— go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? I’ll out in a second.”

He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss that’s perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. “How’s that for spending time together, huh?” he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.

“You’re an idiot, Bear.”

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luveline · 8 months ago

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Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.”

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other.

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?”

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist.

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks.

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?”

“Where’s Jack?” you ask.

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.”

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move.

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.”

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel.

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there.

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.”

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?”

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.”

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one.

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family.

Today, right now, that’s crackers.

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!”

“I’m back,” she agrees.

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.”

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising.

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.”

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says.

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along.

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs.

“I’m just changing!”

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?”

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin.

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?”

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him.

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack.

“Yes please, daddy.”

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says.

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on.

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.”

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you?

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?”

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second.

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

You breathe in.

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes.

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly.

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too.

“She did.”

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.”

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say.

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.”

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks.

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck.

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect.

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy.

“I think Jack confused her,” he says.

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.”

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair.

He closes his eyes and feels your waist.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says.

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.”

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper.

“Big changes.”

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words.

Your shoulders finally relax.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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rafescvntyclubgf · 2 months ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: 𝔹𝕖��𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕒𝕣𝕤

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝙼𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 × 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: dark!rafe, swearing, cheating, pet names, degredation, name calling, mentions of murder, guns mentioned, drugs mentioned, biting, jacob’s ladder piercing, public p in v, edging, denial, threats, blackmailing, boot riding, oral sex, fingering, rough oral, hair pulling, ownership kink, icky!rafe

📖 this was a mix of two asks & I did put my own twist on it: #1 anon ask: omg for the holiday slutacular could you do dealer!rafe, forbidden love, biting, hair pulling and maybe a cute little piercing on rafe iykwim, and line 8 xxx #2 request by @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog - Mobster Friends to lovers love triangle / Obedience training with edging, denial and ruined orgasms. Maybe end the session with a ruin or just denial. Or maybe count the edges / Try to stay quiet understand

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The door clangs shut behind Shoupe, and with it, a part of you feels lighter.

You watch him through the glass partition as he adjusts his duty belt, his expression stoic. The downtown holiday parade’s underway—Shoupe heading out to oversee his deputies, managing crowd control. His movements are crisp, efficient… Everything about him screams order and discipline. He’s a good man, a good deputy, and a good boyfriend. He’s just good…

“You sure you’ll be okay here?” He asks, his blue eyes softening on yours.

“I’ve got this,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Go save Christmas.”

His lips quirk into a smile before he leans in, pressing a light kiss on your lips, quick, professional, almost impersonal. But that was Shoupe—steady, dependable, never reckless. He was the kind of man you built a life with.

He turns and walks out, and you watch him disappear into the chilly North Carolina night. The sound of the heavy door slams shut behind him. Then, like clockwork, you hear it. A slow, lazy chuckle that raises every hair on your body.

“Still settlin’ for vanilla. Huh, pretty?”

Your heart drops at the sound of his voice. Deep, smooth, and laced with mockery. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Rafe Cameron. You swallow hard, willing yourself to stay calm.

“You’re not gonna say hi, baby?” His voice was louder now, drawing the attention of the other inmates. “We go way back. Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”

You turn slowly, boots echoing against the concrete floor as you walk toward his cell. You keep your expression neutral, but inside, everything’s unraveling.

Rafe stands at the bars, his big hands casually wrapped around the cold steel. He looks good. Too good. Prison’s sharpened him, but it hasn’t broken him. His caramel-colored hair is cut short; jawline more defined than you’d remembered, his five o'clock shadow gives him a dangerous edge. Rafe’s eyes—those goddamn eyes—they’re the same: fierce, calculating, and maddeningly irresistible.

“You’re not supposed to be talking to me,” you scold, folding your arms across your chest.

“And yet here you are.” Rafe’s lips bend into that lazy, confident smirk that once made you weak.

“I’m just doing my job,” you crack. “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “Still got that fire. I fuckin’ love it.” You roll your eyes, turning to leave. “Wait.” His voice softens, taking on that familiar, enticing tone. “Come on, we can catch up. No harm in talkin’. Yeah? Just two old friends.”

“We were never friends,” you clip back, though the words feel hollow.

He chuckles again, low and rich, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach flip, and it does just that. “That’s not what I remember. We were more than friends, princess. You gotta remember that, no?”

Don’t let him get to you.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” He pushes, eyes narrowing. “Maybe Shoupe knows all about your past. Or maybe he doesn’t.”

And in a moment, everything comes to a screeching halt.

“I wonder what he’d think,” Rafe muses, tongue-in-cheek. “Deputy L/n, the straight-laced officer used to run guns… for me-”

“Stop, Rafe.”

“… Used to party a little too hard. Used to beg me for a taste.”

“That’s enough,” you hiss, stepping closer to the bars.

He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can outrun who you are? You and me, we’re the same. We always have been.”

You shake your head, but the words cling to you like smoke. No. I’m not that person anymore. “I’ve got a good life now,” you stammer; voice shaky and hoarse. “A good man. A real job. I’m not your girl anymore, Rafe.”

His smile falters for a moment, but it’s back, more dangerous than ever. “Sure, you’ve got the uniform, the badge. But deep down? You miss it. The rush. The freedom-”

“You’re wrong-”

“… me. I know you do,” he smiles, as he finishes his words.

You hate how right he sounds. The weight of the badge on your chest feeling heavier with every second you stand by him.

“I should walk away,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

“But you won’t,” he smirks as his eyes lock onto yours, challenging you. “You never could say no to me.”

Your mind tells you to move, turn, and leave, but you don’t. Your feet stayed planted, pulse spiking.

“Come closer,” Rafe whispers.

You step in, hating yourself for it. The space between you is nothing now, just the cold steel bars. Rafe reaches out, his fingers brushing your wrist. The contact’s electric, sending a shiver down your spine. “Stop actin’ so tough, baby-”

“You’re delusional,” you whisper, but the conviction in your voice wavers.

Rafe’s thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, and you feel your resolve crumble to pieces. Rafe always knew how to break me down, piece by piece, until nothing was left but the truth.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he says softly. “But you can’t lie to me.”

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in. Rafe’s lips meet yours through the bars, a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s raw, consuming, filled with years of anger, longing, and darkness.

Rafe reaches out, cupping your sex in his large hand, before rubbing two long fingers on your clothed clit. “Remember how good I made you feel?” He mumbles, and you do.

“I remember you planting drugs and a gun in my purse, Rafe,” you hiss. “You would have ruined my life.”

“You were keepin’ ‘em safe,” he whispers as he undoes your belt with a single hand, plunging it into your panties the next, making you bite back a gasp. He clicks his tongue, chuckling smugly at the messy lace. “How are you always so wet?”

Your hand draws to him, too, cupping his bulge through his thin cotton uniform, feeling his rock-hard length underneath. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan, remembering how he filled you just right.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?” He smiles cruelly. “Wouldn’t wanna stop,” he pulls away his fingers, stealing your pleasure with it, denying you only to start again, working harder and faster.

“Come in here. Yeah? I won't bite.”

“No… I can't. I-”

He laughs wickedly, rolling his lust-blown eyes. “Fine… Have it your way.” Resting his big hand on your head Rafe shoves you down to your knees. You grab the iron bars, peeking both ways fast before looking up at him nervously, the angle of the cell concealing you for the moment.

He runs his hands through his messy fringe, pushing bangs out of the way, giving you a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

You wrap your fingers around his loose cotton pants, pulling them down, then his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take him in your hand, feeling the chill of six metal balls against your palm. You glide your thumb along the underside of his cock, touching the metal bars; one, two, three… You look up at Rafe, and he smirks.

“Don’t get too excited now,” Rafe mocks as his hand moves around, cupping the back of your head. You look at his fat tip, a tear of precum weeping onto the floor below. “Fuck, you look so pretty on your knees, baby.”

He pulls you forward, lips parting as you wrap your mouth around his swollen head, tasting him, tongue toying with the metal with every flick. Sucking him deep into your throat, you hear him moan; the man quickly catches himself, tilting forward, biting down on his muscular forearm to dampen his pleasured sounds.

Rafe thrusts forward, sending his cock deeper into your mouth, making you gag. “Jesus fuck, you got a throat on you, huh?” He lauds as he wraps a hand under your chin, feeling his dick pump in and out as he fucks your face.

You moan around his thickness, feeling pressure between your thighs as Rafe teases you with the toe of his shoe on your clit, urging you to rock against him, making your thighs quake. “You like that don't you?”

“Mpfhh…” You moan with a mouth full of dick.

“Like ridin’ daddy’s boot like a whore? Got this whole department under my thumb… Got their prettiest deputy ruttin’ her shit on my boot, chokin’ on my dick. Fuckkk… M’just show in off now. Ain’t I?” He drawls as tears tumble down your cheeks.

Your hand strokes and rolls his balls—his body tightening in your hand as you deep-throat his cock. “You better swallow it all,” Rafe rasps, with a challenging bite to his voice.

He throws his head back to the ceiling, hips stuttering as he paints your throat with his climax. You stay frozen in place, feeling him throb on your tongue, careful not to get any on your uniform.

“Mmm… Damn, that’s my girl,” Rafe sighs as he rolls his neck, taking and pushing out a deep, satisfied breath. “The fact that Shoupe’s gettin’ this shit’s gonna kill me,” Rafe mumbles darkly as he tugs you to your feet. “Ya know… M’not gonna be in here forever. Let me take care of him for you, angel. Hmm?”

“Rafe…”

He sucks his teeth and smiles. “Then again, what’s the fun in takin’ you away from him if he’s dead? Huh? I’ll think about it, n’get back to you.” He mutters through a breathy laugh.

“Don’t even joke about that shit-”

“Who said I am, princess?” Rafe wraps a hand around his cock, squeezing the base. “Turn around. Let me show you how much I missed you.” You turn around, and Rafe reaches for you, pulling your back into the bars, his big arms reaching around your waist, fighting with your zipper, tugging your uniform off your hips.

He wraps his big fingers around your panties, ripping one side then the next, making your eyes widen in horror at the volume of the tear. “Rafe, please,” you beg for him to stop being so loud, begging at the same time for his cock, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through your mind.

He tosses the panties back to his bed, turning back his attention to you with a toothy smile. “You can't imagine the shit I’m gonna do to those…” He whispers as he presses the tip of his cock against your glossy hole. You reach behind you, grabbing for his hips to coax him forward, but he doesn't budge, running himself through your arousal—teasing you shamelessly.

You can feel your wetness on your thighs, and so can Rafe. He lifts his uniform, taking it between his teeth to get a better look. Your head falls forward in pleasure as he thrusts in suddenly. His hands snake forward, grabbing your hips, pulling you as deep as he possibly can go with the bars in the way, making you let out an airy, soundless cry.

Rafe pulls out nice and slow, letting his piercings drag across your wet walls, making you gasp as you feel the little pops.

He starts to slowly pick up the pace—your pleasure growing with each movement of his toned hips. Your body claps against his, and you should stop, but you just can’t, the plop plop plop of his wet skin against yours, filling the space around you.

Rafe starts pistoning his hips into you, fucking you at a rapid pace, making you cover your mouth with both hands—tears rolling over the tops. “How bad do you wanna come in my cell right now? Got what, an inch or two more cock for that greedy little cunt of yours.” Rafe reaches forward, taking a fistful of your hair, yanking you back to his chest.

Your panting lips find him, Rafe smiling nastily against your mouth before sucking on your tongue. “That’s my girl,” he mumbles as he fucks into you sharp and hard, making your ass ripple with each thrust.

Rafe turns towards your neck, his warm breath fanning against your hot skin. He kisses you messily, gliding his tongue along the column of your neck before biting down.

“Don’t be so rough… There can’t be any marks. Please,” you plead with Rafe, his teeth already driving into your skin; your words just making the man even more determined to do so, nipping down harder, making you grip the steel bars to keep from screaming, a muffled whine coming out nonetheless.

“Baby, you have to be quiet, or they’ll figure out what Kildare’s finest is doin’ on the clock… Fuck, I always knew you were a slut f’me,” Rafe grunts, his hips never faltering, slamming harder into your warm, wet pussy.

“M’gonna cum,” you whimper.

“I know you are,” Rafe smiles, his hand already halfway up your body to cover your mouth before the first utterance even leaves your lips.

You cry out against his big palm, just praying he won’t pull his hand away, but you know Rafe wants to get out of here… He wouldn’t take that risk himself. Vile squelching fills the space around you. You reach down, grabbing the iron bars for support, hands twisting around the metal as your thighs clap against Rafe’s.

Your vision blurs as your body is taken by pleasure; Rafe continues to rail you from behind, pounding you through your orgasm as you cum around his big cock. Rafe groans in pleasure at the feeling—his toned hips snapping back, pushing into you as he cums hard, pressing his lips against you to swallow your moans and mewls. He pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. “You’re gonna help me, princess,” he says, his voice jagged and rushed. “You’re gonna get these charges dropped. And when I’m out?” He smirks. “You’re mine again.”

“Rafe, I can’t,” you sniffle.

“Can’t?” Rafe asks smugly. “But you’ll do it. Because if you don’t…” He trails off, letting the threat hang in the air.

Rafe pulls out nice and slow, making you shudder at the loss of him. You reach down, grabbing your pants fast, tucking your uniform in before anyone can see. You feel the warm sensation of Rafe’s cum rolling wet down your inner thigh, making even more of a mess.

You stumble back, breathing hard; your mind still spinning from your orgasm. You look at Rafe’s body as he pulls up his prison uniform: wet teeth marks at the neckline of his shirt, your arousal pooled around the bottom, his stiff, throbbing dick’s trapped in his pants, sticking out of the top of the elastic band, his swollen head glistening with your shared release. Rafe’s blue eyes glint wildly, staring right through your soul.

Your mind is screaming to run—to get as far away from him as possible. But you know the truth. Rafe Cameron wasn’t someone you run from. He was someone you face or surrendered to.

And right now, looking at the beautiful, wicked man before you, surrender felt inevitable.

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julietsbody · 9 months ago

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KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago.

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”

ahem.

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.

you blink at him, once, twice.

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything.

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right?

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.

“whatever helps,” you remark.

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”

“with tennis?”

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.

“like your wife?”

“like you.”

art corrected you.

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.

“what?” you frown, confused.

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”

“what do you mean?”

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.

“ready?” he hushes out.

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #challengers #challengers smut #mike faist smut #mike faist challengers

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cyberesc · 4 months ago

Text

CAUGHT IN THE RAIN.

ft. Prohero!Midoriya x Prohero!Reader

˖⁺‧₊˚ tags & warnings: angst thoughts, reader is in a depressive state, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining izuku, soft izuku, he just wants the best for you, izuku still has OFA

The rain was relentless, pouring down heavily, soaking the streets of Musutafu as the sounds of city life carried on beneath it. It was late, the sun long gone, and while most people sought shelter from the storm, you sat on the ledge of a tall building, unmoving, drenched to the bone.

Your mask was clutched tightly in your hand, forgotten as you stared blankly at the streets below. You haven't felt like yourself lately. The constant pressure of being a hero, of saving people day in and day out, had started to weigh on you. It gnawed at your mind, chipping away at the version of yourself you thought you had control over. You were supposed to be strong, unshakable. But lately, it felt like you were barely holding yourself together.

You thought this spot, your usual hiding place, would bring you some sense of peace. It always had before. But tonight, the rain only amplified the emptiness you felt. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, but it didn’t matter. The cold, the rain, none of it seemed to reach you. You were lost in your thoughts, in the fog that had clouded your mind.

"Y/N..."

The voice cut through the rain, gentle yet concerned. You didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but you recognized it instantly. Izuku. You hadn’t noticed him approach, but you weren’t surprised. He always had a way of finding you, of showing up when you needed him, even if you hadn’t asked.

“I was wondering where you went,” he said softly. Careful not to startle you, Izuku stepped closer, his boots splashing softly against the wet concrete of the rooftop. His heart raced as he watched you, sitting so close to the edge, so still, so... vulnerable.

You didn’t respond, just kept staring off into the streets, eyes distant and clouded. He was used to your silences lately, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less for him to see you like this. You could sense his worry growing the closer he got, but you were too numb to find the right words to reassure him.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice softer this time as he crouched down next to you. He was cautious, not wanting to scare you or make you slip. He could see the tight grip you had on your mask, your knuckles white from the pressure.

The rain made it hard to tell, but as he got closer, he realized your eyes were red, swollen, and despite the rain washing down your face, he could see the tear tracks that lined your cheeks. His heart clenched at the sight, a wave of protectiveness surging through him.

He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew you were hurting.

“Hey…” he whispered, his hand reaching out slowly to grasp your utility belt. With a gentle tug, he pulled you closer to him, not hard enough to startle you, but firm enough that your body slid toward him, the slick ground making it easier for him to guide you away from the edge. He unconsciously positioned himself between you and the drop, making sure you couldn’t fall or slip, his instinct to protect you overriding everything else.

You didn’t resist. In fact, you didn’t say anything at all. You simply let him move you, your body limp, your gaze distant. And then, after a few moments of silence, you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as the rain continued to pour down on both of you.

Izuku’s breath hitched at the contact, his heart skipping a beat. His first instinct was to ask if you were okay, to demand answers as to why you were sitting here, looking so lost and broken. But he didn’t. He knew better. Instead, he stayed quiet, letting the silence settle between you both, his hand coming up to rest gently on your back, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles.

He could feel the way your body trembled, whether from the cold or the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter. He was here. He would always be here.

His eyes traveled across your face, taking in the way your hair clung to your cheeks, the rain trailing down the bridge of your nose and dripping off your chin. Even now, even in the midst of your pain, he thought you were beautiful.

The rain hadn’t let up, and as much as Izuku wanted to stay like this with you forever, he knew you’d both end up sick if you didn’t get out of the storm soon. Clearing his throat, he shifted his arm around your waist.

“We should get out of the rain,” he said gently, tilting his head to look at you. “Before we both end up with a cold.”

You didn’t argue. You were too tired to protest and without another word, he carefully slipped his arms under your legs and around your back, lifting you into his arms with ease. The action was so swift, so effortless, that you barely registered what was happening until you were cradled against his chest.

“I’m taking you back to my place,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Before you could argue, he activated Blackwhip, the tendrils of his quirk stretching out and securing around nearby buildings. He swung you both across the city, his movements precise and smooth despite the rain. You clung to him out of instinct, your fingers gripping his damp hero suit as he navigated the storm with ease. The city blurred beneath you, the wind whipping past as he carried you through the night, but all you could focus on was the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear, the way his arms held you so securely, as if he was afraid to let you go.

His apartment wasn’t far, and within minutes, he landed on the balcony. The warmth inside was a stark contrast to the cold rain that had soaked you both. He set you down gently on the couch, running a hand through his damp hair as he took in your drenched form.

You winced as you sat, guilt churning in your gut as you felt the fabric of the couch soaking the rain from your clothes. You’d been here when he bought this couch, helped him move in to his apartment with help from Ms. Midoriya and Bakugo.

The sound of Izuku’s gloves hitting the coffee table with a wet smack brought you from your thoughts.

“Stay here,” he murmured, disappearing for a moment before returning with a towel and dry clothes. If you could, you’d laugh at the way his oversized faded All Might shirt swallowed him up. He knelt in front of you, his movements careful as he draped the towel over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently wiped away the rain that clung to your face.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes, your exhaustion evident. He was being so careful, so tender.

“Izuku,” you finally whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse. He paused, looking up at you with those wide, green eyes, so full of concern. “’m sorry.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“Worrying you,” you said, your voice barely audible. “For... being like this.”

His heart clenched at your words, and he shook his head, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to apologize for that.” He placed a hand on your knee, his thumb brushing back and forth in soothing motions.

Izuku was quiet for a long moment, glancing at you as you fiddled with the seams of the towel. Then, with a deep breath, he finally spoke.

“You know... I worry about you sometimes.” His voice was soft but steady.

You bit your lip, feeling the familiar sting of tears. He sighed, shaking his head. “Taking care of you is important to me, Y/N. You’re not a burden. Not to me.”

The sincerity in his voice broke through the walls you’d built up, and before you could stop yourself, the tears began to fall, mixing with the remnants of rain on your cheeks. Izuku was there in an instant, pulling you into his arms, holding you as the sobs wracked your body.

He didn’t say anything, just held you close, his hand running through your damp hair as he whispered reassurances in your ear. “It’s okay. I’m here. I got you.”

You buried your face in his chest, clinging to him as the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally spilled. The rain outside had softened to a drizzle, but inside his apartment, it felt warm, safe.

After a while, the sobs subsided, leaving you feeling drained but lighter. You pulled back slightly, wiping at your eyes, embarrassed by the mess you’d made. But Izuku just smiled softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I promise.”

You looked up at him, your heart beating against your ribcage as his eyes met yours. And before you could think, before the fear of ruining everything could take over, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly against his.

For a moment, time stopped. Izuku froze, his eyes wide in surprise, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into the kiss, his hand slipping around the back of your neck, holding you gently as he kissed you back with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, eyes still closed.

“Izuku... thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.

His cheeks flushed slightly, but his smile never wavered. “I’d do anything for you.”

#mha x reader #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #mha x reader fluff #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x gn!reader #izuku midoriya x reader fluff #izuku midoriya fluff #my hero academia x reader #cyber.writes

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an NRC Students (Except Ortho) x Reader, Where Reader and they are having a Romantic moment/Date, but it gets interrupted by Someone or Something?

Yeah of course!! Thank you for the req and for your patience, I know it's been FIVEEVER. My concrete sequential brain can't omit characters though, so Ortho is on here in a platonic like. babysitting/sibling outing way :D

I hope you enjoy <3

MC! GN! Reader - SOME ARE FLIRTY OKAY I'M FLIRTY IN THEORY AND NEED TO LET IT OUT

Ruining The Moment

**Every single one is different/written as it's own drabble. Apologies if some cut off abruptly, I struggle with knowing where to end things.

Heartslaybul

Riddle:

You and Riddle were studying together on one of the upper floors of the library. While quiet remarks had been made back and forth, more than anything, you both just enjoyed each other's company.

Neither of you had really noticed just how much time had passed since class had been out. Now, with the library being bathed in the warmth of the sunset, Riddle was about ready to pack up to ensure he made it back to his dorm in time for tea time. However, as he looked up from his work, he found himself pausing to study your visage.

The sunlight pouring in from the windows behind you made you look like you were glowing; ethereal. His eyes lingered on you, studying every inch of your expression, focused on the task at hand, which happened to be your history homework. The slight furrow of your brow, the sharpness in your eyes, determined to finish your work, the slight pout of your lips...

He found himself feeling shy all of a sudden, without much of an explanation. He wanted to compliment you - at least...to tell you how lovely you looked, his hand reaching gingerly across the table to try and hold your free one, but just as you noticed, he startled as a very distinctive voice cut through the other hushed chatter around the library.

"Eheee~ goldfishie!! And lil shrimpy, aww I get a two for one deal!! Whatchya guys doin'?"

Floyd came over, picking up one of Riddle's book and flicking through it, feigning interest, before looking bored and setting it aside.

"Blegh, have you guys seriously been here all d- eh?? Goldfishie, you're all red~ you're not mad though, are ya? Usually it takes more than that t'push your buttons."

Riddle seemed to be at a loss for words, opening his mouth as if to say something, then snapping it shut, just making Floyd giggle as he sat on the table and leaned backwards to talk to you.

"Ahhhha I see what's goin' on. You should ask goldfishie out, shrimpy, he ain't gonna do it himself otherwise."

Riddle somehow managed to flush even more, his cheeks nearly matching his face in colour.

"Yes I would! I just- I- If you hadn't so RUDELY interrupted our-"

Riddle's rambling was cut short by a soft peck on his cheek, causing him to sputter and look at you in disbelief. The rather smug look on your face combined with Floyd's rambunctious laughter was enough to render the redhead completely speechless, contemplating now, how the future would play out.

Trey:

He would never admit it, but these late night rendezvous in the kitchen were some of his favourite moments. He was always concerned about your journey from Ramshackle to Heartslaybul, but you always stayed on the phone with him while he prepped everything and you walked over.

Being the voice of reason in the dorm, as well as Riddle's handler often left him drained, but your presence and an empty, quiet kitchen were more than enough to make him feel better. There was also a bit of a thrill to it, as nobody knew the two of you were dating yet. He loved knowing that the two of you would be left to your own devices...that he would have your full, undivided attention.

You let him know you were getting to the front door, so he made sure to go unlock it for you, before heading back to the kitchen.

You walked in on him measuring a tablespoon of vinegar into a cup of milk.

"Won't that curdle it?"

Trey hummed in amusement, pulling you in gently against him.

"Yeah, that's the point. Buttermilk in red velvet cake is a must."

He leaned down to kiss you softly. Admittedly, it likely lasted longer than it felt, but he pulled away rather quickly, pulling you to his chest and turning you away from the sudden flash of light from the hallway. Hushed giggles and whispers were heard afterwards, rather panicked sounding as Trey's glare penetrated through the darkness.

He was about to pull out his pen to stop the footsteps that were clearly booking it down the hallway, but you gently lowered his hand. Though embarrassed, it was nothing worth expending magic on.

"People were gonna find out one way or another..."

Trey sighed softly, his face softening as he turned back towards you.

"True, I just wish it could have waited a little longer."

You smiled a bit mischievously.

"Well they're gone now, and it's not like anything we do at this point will change what they do with the photos. Want to continue where we left off?~"

Cater:

"Don't let me go."

"I'm not going to let you go."

"Don't let me go."

Cater laughed softly. "I couldn't let you go if I tried, you've got a vice grip on me right now."

He walked beside you slowly, letting you try and get used to the feeling of being on his skateboard, your forearms locked together to help you keep your balance, but you were still wearing a helmet as an added safety measure.

"Do you want to try giving yourself a little push? I'll still-"

"No, no thank you, this is still fine."

He couldn't help but chuckle again, finding you rather cute. He enjoyed being the person you were relying on for safety right now, and your focused face and determination to not fall were just too adorable to ignore! He tried to lean in to kiss your cheek, but you weren't expecting it, so you leaned away, tilting you backwards on the skateboard. Cater tripped over the skateboard as you tumbled backwards, but at the last moment, he managed to pull you on top of him and took the brunt of the fall instead, grunting a bit before laughing softly.

"Sevens, I'm sorry-"

"Are you okay??" You cut off his apology, more concerned about the fact he not only fell on the pavement, but that he had taken your weight along with it.

"Hm? Oh of course I am, Cay-Cay's taken MUCH rougher falls in a far less prepared manner. You can't get into skateboarding if you don't become an expert in how to fall properly." He hummed, rather satisfied with himself that you hadn't gotten hurt, sitting up and helping you sit up in the process.

You gave him a small, faux pout.

"Well, I'm afraid the only falling I'm an expert in, is head over heels for you."

You couldn't help but grin and wink as the ginger's face flushed a bit, a bashful smile a mile wide being hidden behind his hand.

Deuce:

"WOOOOOOOOOOOO DEUCE!!!!! GO DEUCE!! N-R-C, N-R-C!!!!!"

He could hear you cheering him on from the stands as he crossed the finish line, coming in first place. Pure elation coursed through him; not only had his training paid off and he had beaten RSA's competitors, but he had done it in front of you.

As soon as he got the go-ahead from coach Vargas, he was jogging off to come meet you at the bottom of the bleachers, a little out of sight of all the hubbub. He was absolutely beaming as he approached you. You had a small hand towel in one hand, and his water in the other. Despite this, and the fact Deuce had just run a race, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, laughing.

"I did it!!!"

"You did!! And I got it all on video for your mom too!"

He laughed again softly, hugging you a little tighter before letting you go.

"You're the best, you know that right? I really appreciate you coming here."

He averted his eyes for a moment, before leaning in to try and place a kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you for-"

"Deuce? Coach is looking for- ah-"

Jack averted his eyes awkwardly, his ears flattening, his tail tucking slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck a bit.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting something, but coach said he needs everyone...uh...back, I'll give you two a minute though...sorry-...sorry."

Even though you couldn't see Jack's face, you could hear the embarrassment in his voice as he slinked back from whence he came. Not to mention, Deuce's cheeks were flushed from both being "caught" and from the race.

Deuce stuttered a bit, trying to recover, but failed as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek instead.

"You should get back to your coach before he sends someone a little less considerate than Jack to come find you. You can return the kiss later, okay?"

You giggled softly, gently pushing him to go join his team lest he get into trouble with Vargas.

Ace: (OTL this is a little different sorry)

"You know you could have just done this right the first time and we wouldn't be stuck redoing this assignment for Crewel."

Ace mocked you through facial expression before responding.

"Yeah well if you had shown up at lunch like you were supposed to, we wouldn't be stuck here after school."

You rolled your eyes.

"You knew I had to talk to Crowley at lunch, your poor planning and listening skills are not my issue. I know I told you that the recipe only called for mustard seed and bat fur, not snake tongue. How do you even confuse that??"

You searched his face for answers, but he just turned his face away from you, a light blush on his face as he mumbled something under his breath. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Oh come on, I deserve an explanation as to why you did it. There's no way it wasn't on purpose."

He sighed, puffing his cheeks just slightly and restating what he said.

"Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you"

With the cauldron bubbling, it was rather difficult to hear him, so you just shot him a confused look.

"Dude, speak u-"

"I wanted to hang out, okay?! Like. One on one. You're always so busy with your...rEspOnsiBilItiEs and...taking care of everyone and babysitting Grim, I feel bad trying to ask for some of your time when I know it's a precious commodity and this was the only way I could think of doing it, okay?! Just....we'll get this over with and then you can go."

His face stayed flushed, his safety googles too fogged up to see his eyes. You were stunned into silence for a moment, before you tried to reach for his hand. You startled away however, as Crewel's crop hit the edge of the cauldron.

"I take it you two pups are staying on task?"

You gave him a strained smile. "Of course Professor."

Ace silently added the last of the ingredients before using a funnel and ladle to help him add the brew into an Erlynmeyer flask, leaving it open to cool and nodding slightly at it as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That should be it, it just needs to cool and then put a stopper on it."

Crewel grabbed the neck of the flask, his gloves thick enough to withstand the heat as he swirled the contents gently and studied the fluid. He nodded slightly.

"Get some tape, label it properly, then you'll be dismissed. I'll take care of clean up and storage. Well done."

The professor cracked a smile at the two of you as you nodded to acknowledge him, thanking him before moving to join Ace at the desk. He was writing your names, the date, the class - all as expected for the label, but now that you were a little bit away from the professor, you waited for him to put the tape down before holding his hand gently, speaking quietly.

"Ace, time might be a precious commodity, but you're precious to me too, okay? Grim should still be with Deuce and Epel for a little while. Once we get out of here let's go get slurpees or something, okay?"

It took Ace a moment to buffer, his hand coming up to cover his face in an attempt to hide just how flustered being called 'precious' got him. Near immediately, the crack of Crewel's crop was heard, making both of you startle.

"Gloves do not go near your face Trappola. That's a health hazard."

He gave the two of you a bit of a knowing smile as Ace nodded meekly at the reprimand, still reeling from the fact you had just asked him out.

You slid your gloves off and lifted your safety googles, grinning.

"Sound like a deal?"

Ace smiled shyly but tried to play it off as he followed suite.

"You sound like Azul. Yeah, sure, I GUESS we can go get slurpees."

Savanaclaw

Leona:

"You really think you're hot shit, don't you?"

You couldn't help but laugh softly at the lion beastman. This man really tried to kabedon you and expected you to take him seriously. Yeah right. Amusement was written all over your face, which on one hand was a little unexpected, but on the other, just made it all the more entertaining for him too - he didn't mind a challenge if the prize was you.

"I might think something like that, yeah. You got an issue with that herbivore?" His voice carried a bit of a playful growl to it as he leaned in closer, going so far as to nip at your ear lightly.

His ear flicked slightly in annoyance as he backed up just a tiny bit; a group of panicked first years came barreling down the otherwise empty hallway.

"THERE'S TWO MINUTES BEFORE CREWEL SAID IT'S DUE"

"YEAH NO SHIT, BUT HE WASN'T IN HIS CLASS HE BETTER BE IN HIS OFFICE"

"DUDE YOUR SHOELACES-"

"WATCH OUT!!!"

Leona grumbled something about them being a nuisance, but you watched in horror as the poor boy holding the potion he was so urgently trying to get to Crewel tripped over his friends shoelaces. For everyone save for Leona, you're sure time slowed right down as the potion flew out of the boys hand, the stopper flew out of the bottle, and the potion landing all over Kingscholar.

At the very least, the boy who tripped didn't hit the floor as Leona yanked him up by the back of his shirt, growling.

"What the FUCK did you just spill on me?"

The boy was winded and whiplashed, but his friends seemed to be a mix of distraught and trying not to laugh. Leona growled, tossing the boy to the side gently to let him get on his feet, before nodding and growling at the group of bystanders.

"WHAT WAS IT?"

You had to suppress your own laughter as Leona started to shrink in front of you.

One of the boys laughed nervously.

"It's a shrinking potion, it's really nothing dangerous!! And ah- we really really need the mark for Crewel's class so...we're really sorry but we're gonna have to take you in as proof we completed it!!"

Leona looked bewildered, his ears flattened against his head as he growled, though it sounded rather...cute as he continued to shrink.

"No! You touch me I'll turn you to sand!! You're going to regret this!!"

You couldn't help but join in on the giggle fit in the hallway, the once tall and mighty Leona reduced to mere inches. Despite his protesting, you lifted him by the back of his shirt like it was his scruff, poking his chest gently with your other hand.

"Mm, well, I think it's bad enough they'll be getting a 20% dock on their mark, so we're going to help them out and submit you as proof."

Leona growled, his hands holding your finger tightly as if it could do anything to stop you.

"....I'll make it up to you later, or you can choose to refuse but I'm going to tell Malleus about this."

Even at his minuscule size, you could see the flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of Malleus.

"Don't you dare bring this up to the lizard...fine. We'll....we'll go to Crewel's...but if ANY of you breathe a word of this to ANYONE else, turning you to sand will be a show of MERCY."

Ruggie:

"And the crowd goes wild as Ruggie Bucci scores one more goal for Savanaclaw right before half time! He couldn't have cut it closer if he'd tried!"

The announcer kept rambling about one thing or another, but your eyes were on your boyfriend as he, (rightfully), showboated a little on his broom, working the crowd a bit. His smile was downright adorable as he did so, before he finally made eye contact with you and it got a lot more devious.

He shot up on his broom into direct sunlight, so when you tried to follow him with your eyes, it took a few seconds of blinking before you saw him hanging upside down by his knees on his broom in front of you. His tail had to be wagging a mile a minute as he giggled a bit.

"Shyeeheehee heya sweetheart~ you're a real pretty face to be showin' up around here. Y'got a boyfriend?"

This little shit

He knew he was just out of reach for a kiss, and while amused, you tried to conceal it under a mask of being jokingly mad.

"You know, if you had a significant other, they might not be too impressed with these shenanigans."

Ruggie stuck his tongue out a bit.

"I'm pretty confident I'm cute enough to get out of any sort of trouble with them."

Your expression was pretty telling that that was exactly what the case was. He snickered and came close enough to hold your face, teasing you with the possibility of a kiss before he just shed his jacket and tossed it at you instead. The whistle blew, and Ruggie sat back upright on his broom despite the indignant sound you made.

"I'LL KISS YOU AFTER I WIN IT FOR SAVANACLAW!!"

Jack:

Even though the first time you had attended Magift practice at Savanaclaw you had been...given a concussion by Grim via magift disc to the head, it wasn't enough to keep you away for good.

Jack had invited you, (and reluctantly allowed Grim), to come watch morning practice. (But only if you wanted to.)

Before he had even seen you, his ear flicked and his tail started wagging just from recognizing your footsteps. He had to keep his attention on Leona during the brief as a sign of respect, but as soon as Leona dismissed the debrief, he flashed you a bright smile and waved at your spot on the bleachers.

It was clear to everyone playing, Jack was distracted, as he kept glancing over at you after every play, to the point where Leona had to stop the disc from hitting Jack square in the jaw and call a recess.

Jack didn't seem to realize the break was done because of him. You couldn't hear from where you were, but whatever Leona said to Jack made the freshman's ears flatten and tail tuck a bit. Leona shook his head a bit before gently shoving Jack in your general direction, Ruggie looking rather amused at the entire interaction.

Jack approached you, a little bashful and ashamed as he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

"Ah...uhm...for some reason...Leona thinks you being around is a distraction to me...which is NOT true, but he doesn't think it's safe for me to play as long as you're here...which is dumb, because...I wasn't distracted."

You couldn't help but grin a little, using your height on the bleachers to meet him right at eye level. You didn't make him look at you, but you knew he certainly felt like he should.

"Wanna look at me and try saying that again?~"

Jack sputtered a bit, his cheeks feeling warm and feeling as if he needed to take a step back as you just gave him a bigger shit eating smile, stepping down from the bleachers until you were right in front of him, trying to get him to look at you, though he covered his face partially with his hand.

"Okay, that's enough, if you keep teasing him he's not gonna be able to focus for the entire day."

Leona sighed, shaking his head and holding his head with three of his fingers.

"I'm surprised his tail isn't sprained from how fast it's been wagging shyeheehee" Ruggie snickered, and you stepped back, shrugging innocently.

"I wasn't teasing, I was just-"

"That's enough I said. You can go wait by the mirror entrance or go back to Ramshackle. Somebodies puppy crush is a hazard to himself, so if he's still acting a fool he'll come meet you soon."

Octavinelle

Azul: (extremely Flirty MC SORRY LKSJHFLKSDJF)

"It's good isn't it?"

As much as he detested that smug tone, there was no way he could deny just how much he had enjoyed the meal you had prepared, ready to offer a trade.

He sighed.

"You're obviously skilled. I would be willing to pay for the recipe in exchange for giving you free food at the end of the night."

The less food waste recorded the better, and you needed to save every cent you could...not to mention, just giving you the trash food at the end of the night would save him the trouble of hiring you, going through the onboarding process, and having to pay you. Hopefully you would go for the free food, considering it enough compensation for the rest of the time you were here.

What he didn't expect, was for you to laugh, taking a seat on his desk and serving another forkful of food, holding it up to his lips.

"Oh come on now Azul. Do you really think I can't provide for myself? I didn't come here for that type of trade~"

Azul felt his cheeks flush, gently pushing the fork aside as he averted his eyes, his mind deciding to entertain a train of thought that was more emotional than logical...surely you weren't implying what he thought you were.

He chanced a glance back at you, only to be met with that...infuriatingly conniving smile he found aggravatingly stunning.

Your smile only widened. "What's wrong Azul? Not in the market for a kiss or two?~" You leaned closer to him, a pathetic squeak leaving him before you heard a very polite clearing of the throat from near the entrance of Azul's office.

"I'm so very sorry if I'm interrupting something, but your next clients are here Azul. It would be rude to keep them waiting." Jade flashed a polite, but strained smile at you, hoping you would get the message.

You sighed softly, blowing a kiss over your shoulder as you left the room.

"Enjoy the rest of your meal Azul~ You've got my number if you want it again!"

Jade: (sorry this doesn't quite fit the bill but I think it's cute)

"It's not much further. Please, be cautious of where you step, the moss can be quite slippery."

You fought to not pant trying to follow Jade. You had only agreed to this hike because he said it was beginner-friendly, and he had seemed SO excited when he had told you about a mushroom species he was eager to find.

Yet here you were, scaling a small waterfall, watching Jade's every step to try and follow for the sake of not DYING.

Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the point was, whether it was due to embarrassment, or not wanting to get hurt, you didn't plan on falling in front of Jade.

Jade made it up first, offering you a smile and his hand to help pull you up.

Part of you thought about how he might pull you close once you got up, but that was quickly dashed as he kept you nearly an arms length away. A small pout threatened to form on your lips, but you just smiled and thanked him for his assistance. He nodded slightly, before venturing forward.

"The mushrooms I thought I saw shouldn't be much farther. Do make sure you stay cl-"

A yelp left Jade as he slipped on the very moss he had warned you about. You weren't entirely sure what made you think you could catch him, but your body acted before your mind. It must have been the adrenaline, or maybe a desperate need to impress him, because somehow you managed to catch and support the merman before he hit the ground so you could gently place him down, you staring down at him in confusion, and him looking up at you in absolute bewilderment. You weren't exactly what took over, but before Jade could say anything, you could feel a shit eating grin grow on your face as your heart felt as though it was pounding out of your chest.

"Falling for me hard and fast, huh?"

Jade looked shocked, but amused, picking himself off the ground, before matching your height with a small smile as he spoke softly in your ear.

"Did it take you this long to notice?~"

Floyd:

It was 3am.

It was 3 in the fucking morning when you heard a crack from your front door.

And yet, your sense of self-preservation went completely out of the window as the smell of your favourite meal started to fill Ramshackle. Making sure you didn't wake Grim, you gingerly left your bed, curiousity getting the better of you as you made your way down the stairs.

You took a peek at the front door as you came down, expecting splinters, but from what you could see, it was completely fine. You could hear soft humming and scatting coming from the kitchen, giving you a pretty good idea of who was in there. You couldn't help the smile that played over your lips as you watched Floyd use your kitchen utensils as drumsticks, making sure to stop right before they made contact with anything while he vocalized the drumline instead. You assumed it was an attempt to be quiet, but as soon as he heard the floorboards creak, his attention locked onto you and he pushed his headphones back as he beamed.

"Floyd wh-"

"Shrimpyy!!! I got bored and Azul took my key for the Mostro Lounge so I came here. Gotta few recipes I felt like makin', 'nd I know you ain't comin' by food easily. Figured you could be my taste tester in exchange for me usin' your kitchen. Also I broke the lock on your door cuz I lost the key ya gave me, but I fixed it too so don't get mad about it."

If it were anyone else, you may have gotten a little pissy, maybe asked for more of an explanation, but Floyd's animated nature and excitement as he continued his little drumming session had you smiling fondly. You sat at one of the stools on the far side of the island in comparison to Floyd, watching him work.

"I'm fine by that." You couldn't help but wonder a little bit, what had kept Floyd up this late, but you knew asking would likely only kill his mood, and that was the last thing you wanted. Not just because he was cooking FOR you, but he seemed so happy doing so...it wasn't worth it, he was clearly distracting himself with whatever kept him up with this.

By serving you.

Your mind wandered to a few other times Floyd had looked out for you in his...unique way. You must have zoned out for longer than you thought, as you were brought back to the present as Floyd waved a piece of food in front of you. He looked at you expectantly.

"Well are ya gonna have a taste?"

Your eyes flicked up to his mismatched ones as you offered a mischievous smile.

"Of the food or your lips?"

His eyes widened slightly, before he started giggling, then leaned over the island.

"Well I wouldn't be opposed t'ya tryin' both~"

You were so close to him, your stomach and heart doing flips just as you leaned in and-

"MRAH?! FLOYD???! GET AWAY FROM MY HENCH HUMAN!!"

Possibly the fastest you'd ever witnessed Grim move, he launched himself at Floyd's face, managing to land a kick and effectively move you and Floyd apart.

The food he had offered you plopped unceremoniously onto the counter as Floyd made a spitting noise, and Grim stood protectively, panting, staring Floyd down.

"That's right! Ya better not be scarin' my hench human! You're lucky all you got was a mouthful of fur, I'll light you up next time!!"

After a beat of silence, Floyd started to giggle.

"Ehee~ Seaaaalie, ya sure got some nerve interrupti-"

"Aha, you were hidin' food!! I can't believe you did this, I thought you loved me prefect." Grim's ears folded down, the pout audible in his voice as he scooped up the food that had landed on the counter, oblivious to the now murderous glare Floyd was giving him.

You couldn't help but chuckle, getting up just enough to move closer to Floyd. With the cat distracted and fanboying over the food, it was easier to relinquish Floyd's anger without another interruption. You grabbed his shirt and tugged him to you, grinning.

"I missed out on tasting that bite, but I won't miss out on enjoying you~"

Scarabia

Kalim:

You were just sitting on the front steps of Ramshackle, watching as the sunset painted the sky in beautiful red, orange, pink and purple hues. A slight breeze kept the lingering heat of the day at bay, the only sound you could hear being the slight chirping of birds. Grim was currently, at least supposedly, with Ace and Deuce at Heartslaybul, meaning all three thirds of the braincell were not your responsibility.

God was life always this boring without them around?? Yeah, sure, the peace and quiet could be nice but it felt weird now, where was the drama, the tension, the shenanigans, the tomfoolery?? You rubbed your face with your hands, groaning a bit out loud. Were you seriously so wired to this world's madness now that a moment of peace felt like you were just waiting for something to go wrong?

".....MC?"

Your head shot up, to the voice that was coming from above you.

"Kalim?? What are you doing here?" You smiled, moving to stand up as he descended slightly on his carpet, somewhat dismissing his concerned expression.

"Ah- well um, I was gonna come and ask if you wanted to come to Scarabia tonight for a party! But then I got in trouble with Jamil and he didn't know the party was gonna happen so I didn't want to throw it anymore, but I still wanted to hang out with you! If you're not busy that is. I can take you on a magic carpet ride!"

Oh thank the sevens, someone was going to relieve you of your weird, anxious boredom.

"Scooch over, I'm getting on." There was a lilt of amusement to your voice as you clambered on behind Kalim, wrapping your arms around him, gently resting your cheek against his shoulder. He giggled softly in response, making sure that the two of you rose slowly away from the ground.

"Where'd you wanna go? I can take you over the school, we could go to the field and cheer on the track team, we could even go to the beach! Ah, but if Jamil caught us he might get grumpy, so maybe we should stay on campus."

You hummed softly. "Honestly, I just want company right now. If you just take us to the top of NRC and let us watch the sunset together, that'll be more than enough for me right now."

"I can do that!! Hold on to me, okay??" You nodded a bit against his shoulder, and he took off.

Though he had to speak a bit louder over the rush of wind in your ears, you could hear him perfectly well as he spoke.

"You know, back home, there's a story about this sort of thing, there's even a song! I'll sing it to you if you want!"

"It might be better if you wait until we stop flying-"

"Nonono, part of the whole appeal is singing WHILE flying." He glanced back at you, his puppy dog eyes working their own kind of magic before you silently agreed. His expression lit up immediately as he began to sing.

"I can show you the woAGHOU"

Kalim's hand went to beat on his chest, causing you to yelp as the two of you started to careen forward. You reached forward and tugged up on the magic carpet, narrowly avoiding running into the school and sent the two of you sprawling into the grass instead.

You were glad your hands made contact with the ground first; it made it somewhat easier to help roll Kalim away from eating dirt, and to stop yourself from colliding into his back.

It took a moment for both of you to collect yourselves after you hit the ground, but in less than thirty seconds you were both on your knees, looking at each other. Somehow you managed to ask at the exact same time, "are you okay??!", followed by a beat of silence, and then laughter.

Jamil: (this killed me to write so I'm sorry it's not as good as the other ones/not quite the same)

Jamil had invited you to the Scalding Sands. Rather, Kalim had beat him to the punch, as there was an event going on he wanted you to attend. Jamil had offered to let you come with him a day or two before, seeing as he was supposed to be there early to assist his parents with preparations. As if he needed to entice you further, (and convince Kalim it was a good idea), he offered to give you a tour of the palace.... nobody wanted you to be victim to the expansive maze that the Al-Asim's property was after all.

Well, that was the excuse you both rolled with.

The streets were buzzing with energy, vendors calling out everywhere, sights and smells and sounds of the market filling your senses, but your focus was on something else entirely.

Jamil wasn't a touchy person, but he had been the one to take your hand. His hand held onto yours firmly, leading you with confidence through the bustling streets of Silk City. Despite the errands you were running with him, he insisted on being the one to hold everything. He was also incredibly patient as he stopped anytime you inquired about something.

However, it was him who slowed down upon seeing a small crowd congregate around what you could only assume was some sort of street performer, music playing. He had brushed past most others, but he worked his way through the crowd, seemingly curious to see who was at the center of attention. No sooner had you made it to the front of the crowd that one of the dancers lit up and called out to Jamil, greeting him as if they were old friends.

"Do you know them?"

Jamil had a bit of a mischievous smile on his face. "You could say that."

You quirked your brow as his 'friend(?)' came over, the two of them speaking rapidly in Arabic as they shared a quick hug. Jamil switched back into English, introducing you to his friend.

His friend wore a bit of shit eating smile. "You know Jamil dances, right? Did you ever wonder how he learned?"

"Now hold on, don't go crediting yourself for that, I taught myself."

"If you count flailing like a monkey as dancing, then yes, you did, but as an art? You only got to where you're at because of me."

Jamil tsked and rolled his eyes, waving his friend off, though it was clear it was light hearted.

"You haven't seen me dance in ages."

"Right, I'm sure you've had pleeeenty of time to practice at that fancy college of yours."

You couldn't help but interrupt their bickering by taking everything from Jamil's hands and shoving him forward a bit.

"Just let him show you what he's got."

Both of them looked at you in slight disbelief, but amused.

"MC we really don't have the ti-"

"Are you scared of embarrassing yourself Viper? Come on, if your date says you're as good as you claim you still are, you should have no issue joining us for one song. Just like old times."

His friend could see the gears in both of your heads come to a screeching halt, even if for just a moment. Sure, you had wanted it to be something like that, but hearing it put so bluntly...

You wrapped your arm around Jamil's waist with a shit-eating grin, ignoring the rising heat to your own cheeks.

"My boyfriend plays down his abilities all the time. I hope you're ready to be humbled." Before pushing him into the middle of the ring.

Despite his slightly flustered state, you could have sworn you heard him whisper about how he would get you back for that, a promise you could only hope he would keep.

Pomefiore

Vil:

"I told you to stop moving." His voice, though slightly irritated was just as amused as you struggled to stop laughing.

"But it tickles. Can't I just put it on with my hands?"

An offended gasp left Vil as he tilted your face slightly, brushing on more of the facemask. "No you heathen, we can't just apply it with our hands."

"What if. I washed my hands super super well." His expression left you giggling again as he sighed and pulled the brush away, his faux frustration melting away to a soft smile, shaking his head.

"Sometimes even I struggle to tell when you're just teasing or when you're serious." He chuckled softly, reapplying a bit of product to the brush to continue putting it on your face. You tried not to scrunch your nose, but sevens, he was applying it so lightly it felt weird!

As absorbed as you were in the feeling of the brush, he considered what your reaction might be if he were to kiss you this very moment. He knew that of all the people in the school, he was the only one who had achieved this level of casual intimacy. As good as he was at reading other people's emotions, the nagging anxiety of reading you, specifically, wrong could be the end of the friendship he held so dear. Of course, even if you were to reject him, you were both old enough to be mature about it, but rejection was not something Vil handled well.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he realized just how close he had gotten. Hell, your breathing had hitched at his closeness, eyes wide as your mind raced with possibilities. Vil SO wanted to kiss you in that moment, but his door flung open with a bang, startling the two of you apart. Vil shot the intruder a dirty look.

Epel was out of breath, bent over, pale and wincing as he looked to his housewarden in his P.E uniform, not noticing you there.

"I SHOT ROOK."

Vil's face went from mildly frustrated to near fear for his vice housewarden, until the mans laugh from down the hall echoed into the room.

"Oui. I believe it's nothing major, but you are more versed in healing magic than I am Vil."

Rook came into view, holding an arrow that was firmly lodged into his shoulder, his smile subdued from pain, but genuine.

Vil immediately came over, getting over his initial shock and ire in favour of helping Rook.

You got up from the bed, mostly with the intention of teasing Epel, but he took one glance at you and couldn't help but laugh breathlessly.

"You look like y'got mayo on your face."

"You're about to have disappointment on yours."

"Huh?"

You nodded towards Vil , who evidently didn't feel confident in removing the arrow at the dorm, chiding Rook for coming to him instead of going to the infirmary.

"If that's the talking to Rook's getting, I can only imagine yours."

"....aw shit."

Rook: (insert distressed Sebek emoji I've become far too reliant on on Discord to convey my Feelings because I'm Just Hoping this suffices for the Rook Fans.)

You could hear knocking at the door, light, but insistent. You were slightly annoyed - Grim could open the door by himself...at least he could if he were home. You forgot that you had given him "permission", (AKA, you had begged Vil to let Epel keep him around for a night to give yourself a night to relax), to go to a "sleepover".

So who was knocking at your bedroom door?

You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you, until a soft voice came from beyond the door.

"Mon trickster, I know you are awake. May I come in?"

Your brain needed a moment to buffer before you responded.

"Rook?"

As if there was any question about it, you chided yourself a tiny bit, but Rook took it as an invitation to come in, smiling warmly and waving a bit as he entered the room.

"Bonjour. I was hoping to whisk you away for a mome-"

"What are you doing here??"

Your question was as amused as it was...a little concerned.

"Why didn't you knock at the front door?"

Rook tilted his head a bit, as if he were surprised you were questioning him.

"Ah, I did, but upon not getting a response and knowing you were up, I let myself in. Do not fret, nothing is broken. I wouldn't want to leave you without a reliable lock on your door. However, I do respect your privacy, so I knocked before coming into your bedroom."

He smiled softly as you wondered just how reliable that lock was, before Rook continued.

"As for my presence in our home, I was hoping to treat you to a relaxing night. I know Monsieur Fuzzball is currently occupied."

He fully stepped into the room, and only then did you note the picnic basket in his hand, complete with a blanket on top. The flash of interest didn't go unnoticed by Rook - why would it? He smiled and held it up a little bit.

"These are the leftovers of the food I helped some of the dorm members make, undetected by Vil. I thought we could have a few snacks while we stargaze...then again, I could gaze at the most lovely star I know if we were to stay inside."

A sly smile grew as he winked at you playfully, causing you to look away a little bit.

"So? What do you say my dear?"

Somehow, when you lifted your head again to look at him, he was next to your bed and awaiting your answer with a fond expression.

You couldn't help but push his face away a bit, laughing a little flustered as you got out of bed, causing him to giggle a bit too.

"We can go up. I would love to stargaze with you."

At least, you would have.

Rook had shown you how to get up there, your common sense returning as you remembered just how dilapidated Ramshackle was when you showed up- you hadn't spent nearly as much time fixing up the outside of Ramshackle as you had on the inside. You scooted yourself nervously onto the ledge, just enough to be secure, though Rook reassured you he had done this dozens of times, (he had?), and there was no reason to worry.

Despite his reassurance, he let you stay where you were so he could set up the blanket, walking confidently and lightly across Ramshackle's roof. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, crickets chirping and the buzz of other insects filling the air, as well as the now familiar creaks and groans of the old house settling beneath you two.

Rook hummed softly, satisfied with the set up and came back to get you, his hand outstretched. He smiled warmly, the moonlight only serving to make his already attractive features more stunning.

"Will you join me for our date, mon tri-"

Just as you reached out for his hand, both of you heard a loud creak. Despite his best efforts, Rook let out a soft, but discernable "Merde" as he fell through Ramshackles roof, laying winded in the attic on his back trying to gather his thoughts.

Obviously concerned, you peeked into the sizeable hole in your roof, peering down at the blond.

"....Are you okay????"

You tried to suppress your laughter, but at his slightly bewildered look, followed by a grin and thumbs up, both of you bubbled into giggles.

He stood up, then reached out towards you.

"I'll catch you. We can continue down here instead my dear."

You smiled and slid your legs over the hole, letting it be future you's problem as you hummed, giving him a cheeky grin.

"Promise? Because I've already fallen for you a hundred times before."

His eyes widened slightly, before smiling a little bit more.

"Then this time, I promise to catch you and never let you fall again, mon amour."

Epel: (this one is different sorry)

You could see him, just barely, peeking through the classroom doors narrow window. The tell tale purple poof of hair was hard to miss.

Evidently, Crewel's class had gotten out a little early, and here you were between Ace and Deuce, listening to Trein drone on about something he already covered. With Passion. You held in a ragged sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall, willing for the seconds to tick by faster.

Finally, the bell rang, Trein's voice being drowned out by the shuffling of bags and students making their way to the door.

In all the hubbub, you had managed to get squished in an Adeuce sandwich as they walked you out the door, Ace's teasing voice lilting in amusement.

"Where ya runnin' off to so fast preeeeefect? Got a special someone waitin' for you?"

Deuce chimed in, though gentler in his tone.

"I saw a certain someone looking at you through the window....mostly 'cus Lucius meowed at him peeking, but-"

You groaned, elbowing them both in the ribs as you saw fit, shaking them off your shoulders. Gods you hated to love them and loved to hate them the little shits. You and Epel were just friends. That was all there was to it. Grumbles and giggles followed behind you from the two of them as you managed to make it out of the classroom.

You were just friends.

....then why did your stomach do a flip when you looked at Epel and he greeted you with that boyish grin of his?

Ignihyde

Idia: (also don't come after me for nobody recognizing Lilia's voice assume he has a voice changer or something idk)

"Brb, my brother needs me for something."

You and Muscle Red responded softly, hearing as "Gloomurai" AKA "Gloomy" AKA Idia Shroud got up from his desk, leaving you and his friend alone.

Now, you only knew it was Idia because you usually would game together in his room, so it wasn't like he didn't know it was you on the other side either, you just had finally had the means to get your own set up and wanted to test it out. Idia and Muscle Red had plans already, but neither of them minded you joining them as you had a couple times before.

But you and Red had never been left together before. And just like IRL, being left with a friends friend left some amount of awkwardness to be had.

You held in a breath of relief as Red spoke up.

"So, how long have you and Gloomy known each other?"

"Just under a year. We go to the same school together."

"Oho? You've met in person then? Forgive me if I'm being invasive, but please do tell, what's he like? We've been online friends for years, I can't help but be a teensy bit curious about the man behind the screen."

You waited a beat. You knew part of the reason that Idia didn't share much about his personal life was because of his reasoning behind not wanting to ever feel too close to the people he connecting with online...yet Red was one of his best friends. And you wouldn't overshare, you could just share your thoughts on him. Besiiiides it wasn't like Idia would hear you gushing about him to his friend, he had left his desk to go help Ortho with something.

"....well...Gloomy is a pretty introverted guy but...as I've gotten to know him better? He can be really sweet, and passionate about the things he loves. He's a little shy and awkward, but I think it's part of his charm. He's also, just. Gorgeous. But don't tell him I said that."

Mischievous laughter came from Red as an audible "Idia dying" sound came through your headphones.

"You know, after being able to know our dear friend, I would have thought you'd have known Gloomurai wears Bluetooth headphones." You felt a little embarrassed as Red chuckled again.

"I told you Gloomy, that they liked you back. You've got no doubt about it now. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone~"

The telltale blip of him disconnecting left the two of you in incredibly awkward silence, until Idia had the guts to ask.

"D...d-do you really think all that?"

Ortho: (platonic, obviously)

"Ah, there you are Prefect, I tried to call and text, I even dropped by Ramshackle to see if you were there, how courteous am I to have sought you out to hand deliver your tasks for the week, aren't I just the best?"

Ortho could all but see the light drain from not only your eyes, but your expression as a whole as Crowley continued to ramble on about his generous nature.

How dare he? This was supposed to be you and him time. You had even less time than Idia to dedicate to hanging out together, because of how hard you worked for the headmage.

Before you really had a chance to acknowledge the headmage, Ortho got in between the two of you, getting in Crowley's face a little bit, floating to ensure the man would see him eye to eye.

"You're interrupting my time with the prefect sir. This is my one and only warning for you to stop."

Crowley took a slight step back, flabbergasted at the boys behaviour before he brushed his outfit down as if he was calming ruffled feathers.

"Well...I really must speak to the prefect Ortho, it's no small matter and you're far too young to underst-"

"I gave you a warning Sir. If it's no small matter, then it's probably your responsibility anyways. Instead of pawning off your less than desirable tasks to the prefect, why don't you think a little harder about what sort of stress that puts them under when they've already dealt with overblots completely unassisted. They've done more than enough for you and the school, and will no longer be at your beck and call, mkay? My brother and I can make sure they get the money they need so they don't have to work for you at all anymore. So now, you know that they won't be doing your dirty work anymore, you and your shadow can go back to your office and be the pathetic mess of a man you are on your own because you've got no friends, no family, and no significant relationships in your life to ease the ache of loneliness. Goodbye."

Without waiting for a response, Ortho grabbed the headmage by the shoulders and turned him away from you, giving him a light push towards the school before returning to your side.

"I know where we can find some really cool rocks, follow me!!"

DIASOMNIA (RIP my braincells, sorry guys)

Malleus: I'm so sorry this man. It's more platonic than anything.

"See that one? It's modeled after Corvus corax, the Common raven. And that gargoyle is similar, though the subtle differences imply it's modeled after Corvus corone, the Carrion crow."

He smiled rather proudly at you, glad to share and show off his knowledge to someone he cared for so deeply.

"What do you think?"

"I think I like the fox grotesque more."

A small 'hm?' left Draconia, a bit of a look of shock on his face until he registered that you were teasing, a playful smile playing over his lips.

"Only you would jest with me so casually Child of Man." He chuckled softly, patting your head. "Thank you for accompanying me today for club hours. I've rather enjoyed having someone else to speak to."

He turned towards you more, gently taking your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek gently with his thumb.

"It's not often I feel as appreciated as I do with you. Thank you, for everything you've do-"

"WAKASAMAAAAA"

Sebek's pathetic bleating drew both of your attention, an almost annoyed sounding huff leaving Malleus as he let go of your face, though stepped closer to you as Silver and Sebek ran up to the both of you.

"Wakasama, we've been looking for you everywhere! We were so worried-"

"We were not..."

"That we may never find you again!!"

"You're so dramatic..." Silver shook his head a bit, sighing.

"Apologies Malleus. Fa- Lilia sent for you. He went to your meeting for you and wants to fill you in."

He wore a slight pout on his lips, but nodded.

"I understand. Thank you Silver." He turned towards you, offering a slight bow. "I'll see you in due time, child of man. Until next time."

Lilia: (a little different, sorry)

"Kehehehe, are you excited prefect?"

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. Of course of all the people you could have been paired with for home ec. you got Lilia Vanrouge....not that you minded entirely, he was pretty cute.

But being cute didn't get you good grades, and it certainly didn't improve your cooking ability.

You tapped the end of your wooden spoon against his nose.

"I'll be excited if you and I can pull this off successfully. No experimenting with the recipe, okay?"

Lilia sighed dramatically, sticking out his tongue.

"Fine. Ruin my fun. That's fine." He giggled a bit afterwards, scooping the recipe card up just as Crewel placed it down, not giving you so much as a glance at it.

"Alright, you ready? Let me read the ingredients to you."

You gave him a bit of a dirty look, only to be greeted with a wide grin. He took the spoon from your hand, gently booping your nose back.

"Aw come on~ you trust me, don't you? And you already took away my other fun, let me have this!"

Despite your better judgement, you relented.

He kept his promise- everything seemed reasonable as he read it out to you.

"Whisk two cups of AP flour, two and a half teaspoons of baking powder and a pinch of salt in a large bowl."

"Got it."

"Then beat the eggs until aerated, and slowly add the sugar. While you add sugar to the eggs, give me a kiss to give me some sugar too. By the time we're done, the eggs should be triple their size."

"Got- huh"

You turned around, bewildered at what you had heard, to see Lilia's cheeky grin.

"Well prefect, are you gonna follow the recipe card?"

You gave him a playful smile, gently pushing his face away from yours, leaving you both in giggles.

"I'll follow what the card actually says....and if this turns out, maybe I'll give you that kiss."

Silver:

"This is my favourite place to feed the wild rabbits....I know it's not great for them, but they deserve a little treat every once in a while just like everyone else."

Silver's voice was soft as a small group of wild rabbits hopped around the two of you, as if they were pets. The two of you sat under the shade of one of the many apple trees of Night Raven College. Silver used a dagger to expertly cut into the ripe, unbruised apples he had picked out for the rabbits, claiming they deserved better than the fallen fruit.

You watched him, how focused he was, yet how soft he looked under the dappled shadows casted on him from the leaves above. He caught you watching, glancing at you and cracking just the slightest smile as he cut a piece of the apple and handed it to you,

"The grey one is super friendly. You can try feeding it. You'll probably be allowed to pet her too."

You thanked him softly, so as not to startle your furry friends and heeded his advice. You weren't exactly surprised when his advice paid off, though you still let out a soft sound of content as the bunny hopped into your lap, allowing you to pet it gently.

You heard Silver hum softly. "She really likes you. You should come here with me more often."

You couldn't help but smile a little shyly at that. "I would lo-"

"HEY WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING??!!!"

Kalim's piercing voice cut through the quiet, peaceful environment the two of you had, startling all of you, but most of all the rabbits as they scattered and disappeared into the bushes, making Silver sigh softly in disappointment before offering you a small smile.

"We can get them back after. Let me talk to Kalim. I'll be right back." His gaze lingered a moment longer than it should have before he got up. You felt a bit of a funny feeling in your chest as you entertained the thought of him kissing you, trying to erase the thought before he would be able to tell.

Sebek:

"How did you even manage this human?"

Sebek had to bite his tongue, trying to keep his voice down so as to not spook your horse.

Somehow, your boot had slipped all the way through the stirrup, but nothing you or he did got your foot or boot loose enough to pull it back through. He tried to pull your boot off too, but that had just hurt.

You were trying really hard to not laugh. Yes it was inconvenient and uncomfortable, but how you managed to get yourself in this position was as funny to you as it was frustrating to Sebek.

You had asked Riddle for assistance at first, but Silver had called his attention over for something more pressing, so he had appointed Sebek to help you.

Sebek let out a frustrated bellow as yet another attempt was met with no progress, your horse side stepping away from him anxiously. You patted your horse gently and just looked at Sebek apologetically.

"You can just wait til Riddle or Silver can help with magic. It's not like the pain is unbearable."

"No. I was tasked with releasing you from your saddle. I will complete what has been required of me. Excuse me."

He knelt down to undo the saddle from beneath, and you got the hint, trying to move your foot out of the way best you could to let him do so.

He stood back up, and gestured to get you to get your horse to lay down so he could be taller. He offered his arms to you.

"Hold onto me. I'll make sure the saddle comes with you so it doesn't tug on your ankle."

Of course, it was just as your arms wrapped around Sebeks neck that Riddle came back, making a bit of a flustered noise at the sight of the two of you so close to each other.

"What is going on here?!!"

Sebek reeled, ducking his head out from your hands, flushed.

"NOTHING."

You looked rather unamused between the two biggest sticks in the mud you knew and gestured at your foot, still firmly stuck in the stirrups of your saddle.

"I'm still just trying to be granted sweet release."

--------------------------------------- RAHHHHH GOOD GOD I FINALLY FINISHED IT

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OTL

Hopefully it lives up to expectation <3

----------------------------- Tag list:

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

@nyx-of-night @sickle-stick @distant-velleity @nemisisnemi @amatsuchan-eiliniel @random-twst-and-oc-stuff

I'm so tired BYE I love you guys

686 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 10 months ago

Note

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

#return to sender #writing tag #fujoverse #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?

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hxney-lemcn · 3 months ago

Text

Best Friend — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: being friends with Daisuke, you and him have some fun and not so fun moments, but you find yourself confessing your feelings to him accidently.

tw: mentions of Pony Express (gross), slight angst (but barely)

a/n: guys Daisuke has me in his grips rn, things kept getting written and here we are. I love him your honor.

wc: 2.3k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

It was a warm day in spring. Sun shining down, fluffy white clouds floating by, a gentle breeze tussling your hair, and your company had made it all the better. Daisuke sat across from you at a picnic table at the park. Birds chirped overhead, sounds of kids running around and playing in the distance, while both you and Daisuke were having idle chit chat.

“How’s college going?” Daisuke asked, glancing up at you from his phone.

“Don’t get me started,” You grumbled, brain frying at the mere thought of school and work.

Daisuke chuckled lightly, putting his phone down and resting his head in his hand. Mirroring his movements, you asked, “How’s it going on your end?”

“Don’t get me started,” He repeated your earlier words, causing you both to break out into a small fit of laughter.

“That bad, huh?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He grumbled, a pout resting on his lips. “My parents won’t stop buggin’ me about finding a job or internship. I dunno what I wanna do yet though.”

“That sucks,” You sympathized. “I still don’t know what I wanna do exactly, but my parents wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to going to college. Lets hope I choose the right major.”

The lull in your conversation gave you time to admire your long time friend. His hair was growing out from the last time he dyed it, laying nicely on his shoulders and cut jaggedly. His brown eyes had drifted from you, staring up into the canopy of the trees that surrounded you both, the sun shining across his nose. The beauty mark that rested below his right eye and on his left cheek. He was too pretty for his own good. Not to mention his good sense of fashion and funny personality, he was like your dream boyfriend wrapped in a single package. Well actually…

Yeah, you fell for your friend…a while ago too. Could you blame yourself? He was sweet, caring, funny, pretty, maybe a little dense and average when it came to school work, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. Daisuke was a good guy, a bit lost at the moment, but you were gonna stick by his side until he found his passion, and hopefully after that too.

“They found an internship actually,” Daisuke broke the silence, brown eyes landing back on yours.

“Oh?” You questioned back, blinking out of your stupor. “Where?”

“Pony Express,” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but you could tell it was bothering him.

“You mean the shitty delivery company?” You asked confused. “The one that ships to other planets?”

“Yeah,” Daisuke replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not concrete or anything, but they’re kinda serious about this one.”

Your stomach dropped. There was no way he was actually…

“I don’t think I can say no.”

It was like your world was crumbling. Daisuke was not only your crush, but the only friend you talked to outside of high school…he was kind of your only friend. Not only that, but the safety of those trips have been heavily criticized, especially Pony Express. They were known for cutting costs and slipping things under the rug. Many workers came out with accusations that were swiftly silenced, rumors of toxic work culture littered everywhere you could look. What were his parents thinking?!

“R-really?” You asked, trying to mask the fear that coated your words and expression. “Isn’t…there are so many other trades, why would they start you with something so demanding?”

“To teach me responsibility,” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. You felt anger start bubbling up within you. Sure, Daisuke hasn’t had a real job yet, but that wasn’t an excuse to throw him to the wolves to teach him a lesson! Sure, they meant well, but what about an electrician's apprentice or welder, hell even a plumber! Just…something that wasn’t him hurtling through space for God knows how long with little to no communication.

“I-it’s not as bad as it sounds,” He tried to console you, but you, you were absolutely livid, trying to calm yourself down by taking deep breaths.

“What if I find you something different?” You asked, your desperation clearly showing. Daisuke felt his stomach twist, he always hated seeing you sad, and now he was the reason.

“I don’t know,” He sighed. “Maybe if it’s something serious looking.

“Okay,” You nodded, suddenly getting serious. “How about we try finding alternatives together? Try to find the best of both worlds.”

“Sure,” Daisuke replied back, looking a bit more hopeful than before.

…

“Wanna sip?” You asked, tilting your drink towards Daisuke. He had seemed intrigued by what you got, but ordered something different. Sharing was a common occurrence between you both anyways, so neither of you batted an eye.

“Thank you,” He grinned brightly, taking a quick sip before leaning back in his chair. “Oh, that is good! I’ll have to get it next time.” You nodded, taking a quick sip before placing the cup on the table. Your eyes noticed the pink hue that seemed to seep into Daisuke’s cheeks, but decided to ignore it, instead taking a glance around you both. You were visiting the local mall, spending some more time together. Many types of people walked past you as you both sat in the food court having a quick snack before continuing your shopping.

“Y’know,” He spoke up, snapping your attention back onto him. “I think someone’s checking you out right now.” The way he spoke was conspiratorial, leaning across the table and whispering into your ear.

You blinked in confusion, glancing around once more before whispering back, “Who?”

“That guy,” Daisuke pointed discreetly to a guy who was not even hiding the fact that he was indeed looking at you. It made your skin shiver, not liking the attention.

“Ew,” Was your immediate response, causing the both of you to break out laughing, huddling into each other like little kids who were trying to hide.

“I thought you’ve been wanting a boyfriend for forever,” Daisuke chuckled out, whipping an invisible tear from his eye.

“Yeah,” You grumbled back, trying to ignore the way your cheeks flamed at the admission. “But not a random person.”

“Then how are you gonna find someone?” He asked innocently, tilting his head in genuine confusion.

“I…” Was it just you or was the room getting hotter, ‘cus you felt like you were starting to sweat bullets. (Un)fourtunately, the guy from moments before walked over, somehow the sight of you and your friend laughing uncontrollably after looking at him boosted his confidence…somehow. People were still a mystery to you.

“Hey,” The guy greeted, a slimy smirk on his lips. He wasn’t the worst looking person, he actually looked conventionally attractive, but that seemed to make this all worse for you. He was clearly confident in his looks and his friends were watching while snickering to each other. Gosh, this felt like high school all over again, he was probably gonna say something nice and then immediately insult you. You thought you were past this stage in life already…apparently not.

“Uh, hi,” You greeted back awkwardly, constantly glancing at Daisuke like your life depended on it.

“I noticed you from across the room and thought you looked attractive,” The random guy said, eyes once again looking you up and down. Oh God, this was worse than high school…was he being serious right now? You tried to hide your grimace, not wanting to upset him, but also not wanting to lead him on.

“Uh…thanks?” It came out as more of a question, and you elbowed Daisuke as he let out a muffled laugh, absolutely eating up this awkward encounter.

“Yeah,” The guy nodded, not even sparing a glance to your friend. “So I was wondering if I could get your number.” Your heart dropped, panic started to thrum through your veins. What do you say? Well, no of course. But how do you say it without sounding like an asshole?

“It’s (xxx) xxx-xxxx,” Daisuke smiled ‘innocently’. You gave him a blank stare, trying your hardest to not grin like the cheshire cat. The guy put the number that not only wasn’t yours, but Daisuke’s, into his phone before winking at you.

“Cool,” The guy smiled. “I’ll text you later.”

“Y-yeah,” You coughed into your palm, trying to smother the laughter that was threatening to bubble up. As soon as the guy left your vicinity, you both broke into a fit of chuckles, clutching onto the other all the while.

“I can’t believe you did that,” You cackled. “God I love you so much.”

It was an innocent admission. Something you had been holding close to your heart for who knows how long. It had been bubbling and brewing with every smile he sent your way, every silly drawing and caring gesture, every time he comforted you or made you laugh. It was bound to overflow, to spill past your lips in a moment of vulnerability…but the second it left you, your expression dropped. Once again panicking as Daisuke looked at you in surprise. It was hard to ignore the pink on his cheeks this time.

Trying to regain his composure, with a small smile he replied, “I love you too.” The atmosphere was tense, and you knew he meant it platonically…at least that’s what you thought. He was giving you an out, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to take it. But as the chatter of other people around you filled your senses once more, bags rustling and the smell of a mix of foods, you decided it wasn’t the best setting to go over such emotions.

Fingers twitching, you grab one of Daisuke’s hands, gathering your bags in the other. He sent you a confused (and a bit frightful) look, but grabbed his own items, letting you pull him away when he was ready. Every nerve in your body felt alight, trying to ignore how his fingers curled around your own, how your heart was going a mile a minute, how you felt like you couldn’t hold it in anymore. For all you knew, he was going to intern at Pony Express, and you had been holding these feelings in for far too long, and he just needed to know you were serious about your accidental confession.

When you both sat in your car, you turned the music down, turning to face the confused man, “I meant it.”

Blinking, he simply replied, “I meant it too.”

“No,” You groaned, face aflame and heart pounding. “I love you, Daisuke. Like, I want to hold hands with you and do gross coupley things.”

His blush had become ten times more prominent, the red coating his tanned cheeks brightly, eyes wide in astonishment. Daisuke never knew you liked him like that. Sure, he had hoped, having grown feelings for you as well. Unlike his other friends that he would go out and party with, you were more grounding, enjoying the quiet moments and letting him vent when needed. You had been his friend for so long, he couldn’t imagine a life without you by his side. Whenever his parents or you asked him what he wanted for his future, all he could really come up with was that he wanted you there.

And now you were here, confessing to him. Was he dreaming? Had he died and gone to heaven? Could this really be happening? Well, whatever this was, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go.

“I…I wanna do that too, with you,” He replied back, gaze shifting from yours, but the giddy smile on his face gave away that he meant what he was saying.

“R-really?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Daisuke responded passionately, his embarrassment slowly fading. “You always listen to me ramble about stupid things, and you keep my stupid drawings and you're also really pretty, or, uh, handsome, no I mean beautiful…shit.”

You chuckled, reaching out and grabbing his hand somewhat bashfully, “I think you’re pretty, handsome, and beautiful too.”

And as the both of you sat there, staring at each other with loving gazes, you felt like no matter what, things would be fine. You both can get through any problem as long as you have the other.

Bonus:

“Oh my God he texted me!” Daisuke exclaimed, calling out your name like you weren’t lying right next to him.

Turning off your phone, you snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, both staring at his phone, “What did he say?”

“Hey, it’s the guy from the mall,” Daisuke read aloud. “Do you wanna come watch a movie at my place?”

“Ew,” You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Who thinks it's a good idea for the first date to be at a private location?”

“He probably thought he was gonna get some,” Daisuke rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, I think that’s even worse,” You grumbled.

He only chuckled, asking, “What should I say back?”

“I dunno,” You shrugged. “Something stupid.”

“Sorry, I have to fold my dishes,” Daisuke spoke while typing, the silly grin never leaving his lips.

“That’s such an old meme,” You laughed. Your boyfriend merely shrugged, clicking send anyways. The two of you watched as it was marked read, then the message bubbles that popped up and disappears periodically. The two of you were giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“When are you free then?” You read out this time. “Wow, am I really that good looking?”

“Duh,” Daisuke rolled his eyes while squeezing your waist. “I just got lucky that you chose me.”

“I didn’t choose you,” You replied. “You kinda snuck your way into my heart and one day I was like, damn…I like him.”

Looking down at you, Daisuke stared like you had hung the stars and moon, causing your heart to accelerate. Leaning down, he placed a short kiss to your lips, then swiftly kissed you again and again until his heart's content.

As you both got lost in each other's love, you had completely forgotten about the random guy, whose messages were left forgotten.

#mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #x reader

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iwaasfairy · 1 year ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

#kinktober #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.somno #tw.noncon #tw.wound fucking #tw.blood

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loganhowlettshousewife · 1 month ago

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just a thought for a logan prompt, what about reader with feral traits? it could be either feral!logan or not. i just like the thought of logan connecting with someone who could really understand his feral behavior! no pressure to write this if you dont want to, love your work! 💕

this gave me the idea of what if the reader in animal had a similar mutation as logan with feral traits? so here's a little drabble about it. (this drabble isn’t connected to the series, just kinda inspired by.)

your entire life you’ve had to hide your true self. as a very young child it was slightly more acceptable - you behaved strangely but surely you’d grow out of those strange habits. the problem came when you didn’t, when the growling and the biting and the scenting remained no matter how many years passed.

you were bullied and teased relentlessly, both by those who hated you and by those who claimed to be your friends. your parents were just as bad, telling you that if you wanted to act like an animal, they’d treat you like one. the only people who truly loved you were your grandparents, who had died a few years ago, leaving you to inherit their farm.

you’re much happier living in the middle of nowhere. it suits your nature, a wild part of you that cries out when you remain indoors for too long, when you’re stranded in concrete cities far from any natural wilderness.

you’re close enough to a town that you can go if you require anything, but far enough that no one will bother you under the pretense of ‘being neighbourly’. and the solitude means you don’t have to constantly worry about putting on a mask, a false personality that takes all of your energy to maintain.

everything changes the day you see a naked man running into your barn.

you tense at the sight, a growl escaping you at the thought of a stranger on your property, the hair on your arms raising as your fight or flight mode activates. your instincts win over the self-preservation that’s been drilled into you since birth, the voice in your head saying to lock the door and hide inside until the man hopefully leaves.

so you approach the barn, your steps expertly silent. despite this, he notices you immediately, growling at another presence in the barn in much the same way you had earlier. it almost makes you laugh, but then his claws come out, stealing the breath from your lungs.

he’s wild as he stares at you, not like the predator he should be but rather with a fear that reminds you of prey when they finally realise they’re being hunted. you can smell it in his scent, his desire to flee, and yet he doesn’t.

somehow you convince him to follow you inside. it’s certainly a terrible idea, and yet you can’t ignore the pull that you feel towards him, the way his mere presence feels like coming home in a way you’d never felt with anyone before. the word pack rattles around in your brain, an echo bouncing back no matter how much you try to push it away.

you feed him and help him bathe and offer him fresh clothes, and by the time the sun sets, he’s mostly recovered from his shock. you let him stay with you, and as he grows more comfortable around you, day after day, you start to notice it.

he subtly sniffs at things in the same way you’d trained yourself not to do. he growls and purrs and grunts, animal noises to express how he feels rather than human words. he’s horribly possessive over anything he considers as belonging to him. he’s aggressive, scratching and biting when he’s angry. he’s more gentle when he play fights, still biting but gentle, just nipping at your skin. he makes nests of blankets and pillows that he steals from your room, whimpering like a wounded puppy when you’d once tried to take one of your pillows back.

and in return, he notices the way you hold back in trying to do the same. the way you press your nose into the crook of his neck where his scent is strongest whenever you need comfort, the way you bite back growls when he takes something from you, the soft purring that escapes you when he scratches your scalp.

there’s a quiet understanding that forms, the knowledge that you’re the same. he doesn’t have to hide his animalistic traits with you and neither do you have to hide from him. it takes time to unlearn years of hiding, but with logan, you have all the time in the world.

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hwaflms · 9 months ago

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wicked games! ★ [ l.jn ]

{💭} jeno : let’s play a game. you like games, right?

[☆] pairing. perv!jeno x f!reader, mentions of bf!chenle x gf!reader

[☆] genre. smut | dubcon + cheating au

[☆] wc. 4.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), heavy dubcon elements (don’t like it, don’t read.), infidelity, jeno is a perv, manhandling, voyeurism, dacryphilia, forced kissing, harddom!jeno, fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. receiving), throat fucking, use of words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, slapping, lots of spit, hair pulling, forced submission, implied sex, implied breeding, i think that’s it but pls lmk if i forgot smth!

[☆] notes. i don’t condone any of this, if you don’t like it, just don’t read it! a little darker than my usual work, but happy (late) jeno day!! not super proofread but this was meant to be a drabble and i got a little carried away…but i’m also thinking of a part 2? idk ‼️ anyways pls don’t interact with my work unless ur 18+ thank u!!!

from the second your closed fist meets the door, you know this was a mistake.

this is not to say that you thought it was a fantastic idea before, spending over an hour just tossing and turning in bed in utter turmoil over the thoughts in your head. turning over to your left, you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend chenle, sleeping soundlessly with slightly parted lips, arm wrapped around an extra pillow tightly. he wears a plain, white shirt along with a pair of checkered boxers, an outfit he slipped on after getting out of the shower and into bed.

you don't know where it went sour. you don't know when watching a show and cuddling you to sleep became him sleeping right after his shower with an arm wrapped around a pillow. you don’t know when the last time he touched you was. and you don’t remember when you started noticing jeno.

and you’ve noticed the looks, too. he’s not particularly shy about it either, so it’s some kinda of a miracle that chenle hasn’t seen him yet. when chenle first introduced you to his friends, you immediately liked every one of them except jeno. you couldn’t explain it at all, he hadn’t done anything outright bad but something about him just didn’t sit right with you. maybe it was the lingering glances, the way he shamelessly checked you out, the cleverly hidden but distinctly predatory look in his eyes when he surveyed you, even in front of other people.

jeno was chenle’s roommate, which meant you were around him a lot. you didn’t mind at all, initially, even seeking him out at home to strike up a conversation, or offer him a bit of something you had just baked for chenle. it was when you started becoming aware of the looks, of how his hand lingered on the small of your back when passing you by in the kitchen, of how his eyes scanned your legs when you wore shorts. you think the final straw was when you accidentally walked in on him watching some pretty rough porn in his room, which you only entered to return a pair of socks that got mixed up with yours and chenle’s laundry. in your defense, the door was ajar while he knew you were home, but what really got to you was the fact that he never even paused the video or tried to hide the tent in his pants when you walked in, just nonchalantly thanking you for giving his socks back. you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed the expanse of your body for a couple seconds before you left the room awkwardly, making sure to shut the door.

at first, you were uncomfortable. you debated telling chenle in your head numerous times, but your lack of concrete evidence made you think twice. was it fair to try and turn chenle against one of his best friend over a simple feeling you got? maybe not, you thought. but that feeling never went away. jeno made sure that it was persistent, made you feel like you needed to constantly look over your shoulder, until that uncomfortable feeling kind of morphed into a defeated one. you realised that at this stage, jeno wasn’t going to ever do anything. he had his chances too, so you figured that if he was ever planning to cross a line, he would have done it by now.

so you accepted that he was nothing more than a pervert and there was nothing you could do about it. that was up until a week or two ago, before you found yourself looking at jeno in a different light for the first time. it was no secret that your relationship with chenle was souring, diminishing before your eyes yet neither of you ever brought it up. instead you both sank into your miserable routine of tolerating each other, choosing to coexist peacefully instead of talking it out like you would have initially.

maybe you started hating chenle. maybe it was the empty space between your bodies, or how cold your hands felt nowadays that filled your heart with such bitterness, or maybe it was the fact that your body was throbbing, just aching and begging to be touched, that made you think all these thoughts that would have never crossed your mind before. like the animosity you felt towards chenle. and the curiosity you felt about jeno.

forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from chenle’s sleeping figure, you find yourself in front of jeno’s door, hand raised and closed in a fist like you had just knocked. your heart is pounding throughout your body, in disbelief over what you were doing. it takes him maybe ten seconds to open the door but it feels like an eternity, an undeniable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach over a situation you put yourself in. his eyebrow is raised when he opens it, one hand on his door handle and the other resting against its frame, towering over you in a way that already makes you feel small.

“can i help you?”

can he? you don’t answer, mouth opening in an attempt to speak but no sound leaves it. he inclines his head as if to urge you to say something, a bored expression on his face. jeno is attractive. you can’t even deny that. he wears a black tank top that stretches over his wide chest, a pair of loose sweatpants paired with it. the muscles of the arm holding on to the doorframe bulge, a gulp going down your throat as you look at it and look away.

he releases an annoyed sigh to snap you out of your thoughts, hand coming down to grip your forearm, all but yanking you into his room. you don’t even have time to react, already shoved near his bed when he turns around, arms crossed as he stands in front of the door in a way that could block your exit. you should have known he wasn’t going to pass up a moment with you alone.

but still, you try and explain the situation away. “t-the wi-fi password…”, you explain with a nervous chuckle, feigning indifference as you remain near his bed, a good amount of distance between your bodies. “i need the um, wi-fi password.”

you don’t even have your phone. the realisation hits the both of you at the same time, your mouth falling open a little while he looks incredulous, a disbelieving smirk on his lips. “the wi-fi password. you didn’t already have it?”, he counters, taking a step towards you. “from all the times you been in this house?”

you take a step back along with him, a blush coating your cheeks at how stupid he’s making you feel. “there must be something wrong with my p-phone”, you hate the way you stutter, wincing as you poorly argued back.

“you couldn’t ask chenle?”

“he’s asleep…”. it’s weak, but you have to try.

he finds this amusing apparently, because he repeats your statement after you, and your body freezes when she shuts his door. “he’s asleep…”

all you can offer him is a quick nod, but he sees right through you.

“you didn’t even bring your phone, doll”, he snickers, mockery just dripping from his tone and leaves you feeling vulnerable. “come on, cut the shit, what did you really want?”

at the present moment, you want nothing more than to leave, but your body is unmoving. “i…”, you start but you almost run out of breath when he takes a couple more firm steps in your direction. “what?”, he’s mocking you, and you feel that in order to be a comfortable distance away from him, you need to be sitting on his bed– a decision you immediately regret.

he’s in front of you in an instance, but makes no move to touch you. you’re face-to-face with his crotch from your position on the bed, and you have to look away to the side, heart pumping in your ears. “we both know why you’re really here, y/n.”

it’s a statement, but he looks like he’s expecting an answer, one that you can’t give him. you do look up at him though, and the look that crosses over his face makes your blood run cold. it’s all too intense for you, and you look back down, but what you see makes you blanch, not knowing which direction to look now. how is he so hard?

it should disgust you, the sight of his hand reaching down to grip his thick cock right in front of your face, but it doesn’t. your heart is still pounding as fast as ever, but your eyes flick back to his when he practically moans your name, leaning away from him a little. “at least pretend you’re not enjoying this”, he practically spits and it’s so demeaning, him looking at you like you’re the dirty one. you start to shake your head and he mockingly mimics you, scoffing when your eyes turn pleading.

much to your surprise, he takes a step, albeit small, away from you, arms folding across his chest again. your first instinct is to get up and just make a run for it, but your body is in no mood to comply. maybe it’s the fear, but a part of you think it’s from that funny feeling in your stomach, one that used to make you recoil but appears to not work now. you also don’t fully believe that he’ll just let you walk out now. it seems like he recognises this, speaking up when your eyes dart from the door to his body.

“stand up.”

your eyes glance between his like they’re searching for something behind the crazed look. your body follows that demand however, nervously picking yourself up from your safe spot on the bed. he motions with his finger for you to come closer, but when you hesitate, his hand closes around your neck faster than you can react. you’re now directly in front of his face, close enough to see every mole, every eyelash. when he reaches his arms out to you, you’re quick to move away but he’s even quicker, grabbing ahold of your waist tightly anyway, holding you in place.

noticing the tears pricking your eyes, jeno lips curve into a fake pout, leaning down to kiss at the corners of your eyes. “i bet you look so pretty when you cry.”

of course this is what was always going to happen, of course. but you knew that. why else did you come here? the countless number of nights you lay awake next to chenle, just wishing he would touch you like he used to instead of falling asleep silently. that unnerving feeling jeno always used to give you, like he was just waiting patiently for his chance to strike. this was an ugly situation that you had gotten yourself into knowingly, and jeno looked like he was getting bored of giving you chances.

with the knowledge that he was finally alone with you away from prying eyes, he smashes his lips on to yours, not stopping even when you cry out weakly against his lips, caging you in with his body as you try and fail to push him away.

you do this because it hits you that you are actively cheating on your boyfriend, even though you didn’t exactly initiate it. with the situation looking as compromising as it does, your mind gets cloudy as you try to think of how you could appear completely faultless. jeno is relentless still, using every gasp and whimper as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, knowing he’s won when he finally feels your arms relax a little against his chest.

when he pinches the skin of your ass tightly between his fingers as a kind of warning, you kiss him back somewhat reluctantly, but no one asks you to slip your tongue over his. he groans into your mouth when he feels your fingers digging into the bare skin of his arm, the hand that wasn’t holding you in place coming up to roughly grope one of your breasts. this makes you cry out feebly into the kiss, arching a little into his touch against your will when he slips the hand under your (technically, chenle’s) shirt to continue his ministrations.

the thought of chenle makes your eyes snap open immediately, freeing yourself of the heated kiss now that your head wasn’t being held in place. this is wrong. it’s like you have now come to your senses, but the look of determination in jeno’s eyes tells you that you’ve come to that realisation much too late. “jeno, we- i can’t, chenle-”

it’s clear that he doesn’t appreciate you breaking the kiss, pinching your nipple harshly before removing his hand from under your shirt to instead grip your jaw tightly. “oh, now you wanna think about chenle?”, he seethes, forcing your face in front of his, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at your bottom lip. “when you came in here this late at night, practically begging me to fuck you?”

he’s sick, he’s twisted, you think, because you were certainly not begging him to fuck you, but you can’t deny that you came here searching for some kind of trouble. and now you got it.

this feels like it’s some kind of dream, though nightmare would be more fitting, one of those paralysing dreams where it takes immense effort to control your body.

you shake your head ‘no’ and jeno tuts in faux sympathy, an action that you hate to admit causes some heat to pool in your stomach. “let’s play a game. you like games, right?”

you’re sure you don’t want to play whatever game he has in mind, but you understand that he’s specking rhetorically, your opinion on the matter has no place in this world. “if i put my hand in your panties, and they’re in perfect condition, you can leave and forget this even happened”, he quips like you’re ever going to be able to forget this, smiling at you with no light in his eyes. “but…”

you were expecting the ‘but’ yet it still gives you chills, standing frozen in place when he runs his hand up and down your front lightly.

“if i find that someone’s ruined her panties for me…”, he trails off, stopping his hand at the waistband of your shorts, smirking when he feels your body tense. the heat of your body is basically radiating off you, and you know there’s no stopping him now when he looks up at you with a knowing smile. “i think i know what i’m gonna find.”

the next thing you know, you’re crying out against his chest, his arms holding your slackening body up as his fingers slip in and out of you easily. you knew you had lost this battle from the moment you knocked on his door, and jeno basks in his victory when he feels you clench around his fingers, licking and biting his away around your neck. “no marks, jeno, please”, you plead with him, eyes widening in fear at the thought of chenle seeing the evidence of your pathetic behaviour. “shut up and take what i’m giving you”, is the clear answer you receive along with a sharp slap to your exposed ass, your pants and underwear long gone as jeno works his fingers in you.

he bunches your shirt up above your breasts, releasing a whistle when he sees that you aren’t wearing a bra. “you were just waiting for me, weren’t you, you fucking whore”, jeno growls, and you think he’s truly deluded himself into believing everything he says, and it’s starting to seep on to you. your body jolts when he slaps your bare cunt three times in a row, like he’s punishing you for making him do this. “coming here with no bra on, just so fucking tight and ready to take me.”

he’s talking to himself at this point, because none of the sounds coming out of your mouth are coherent. jeno’s hand is forceful and quick, lips attached to your nipple and drilling two fingers into you at an angle that has you dropping your head into the crook of his neck to muffle the sinful noises you’re releasing. he sucks harshly at your nipple, letting his teeth graze against the sensitive tip, and you’re in tears, the sensation proving to be too much.

he’s pulling his fingers out of you and forcing you to your knees in a flash, but you’re just happy to be relieved of the torture administered to you by his hands and mouth, that made you cry out into his shoulder out of pain and pleasure. your joy is short lived however, when your eyes shoot open at the sensation of something warm and hard tapping against your cheek. and there it is, jeno’s impossibly hard cock mere centimetres away from your lips. “just made for sucking cock”, he notes, slapping his leaking dick against your teary face in a degrading manner.

he’s smoothing a hand down your head of hair, the action so heavily contradictory to his otherwise rough manhandling. “you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you, baby?”. you think this scares you even more, because you have no idea what to expect, but he proves to be himself when he grips a handful of hair in each hand, using them like handlebars. when you let out a surprised yelp at the acute ache that results from him pulling on your hair with force, he enters your mouth fully, pulling back out when you gag. his eyes marvel at the string of saliva connecting the tip of his dick to your lips, rubbing the tears that slip from your eyes around your face with his leaking cock. “my dirty fucking cockslut, i knew you’d be like this.”

you’ve never felt dirtier, yet you can’t explain why you’re wet enough to feel the cold breeze that enters from jeno’s open window against your pussy, making you clench around nothing. gagging around his shaft for the third time because of how deep he sinks his cock down your throat, you bring a hand up to wrap around his base so as to try and control the pace of his motions. “there we go”, he hisses at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him and allows you to pump him a couple times, slipping only the tip of his dick in and out past your lips.

you keep up this pace, swirling your tongue around the tip and jerking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. though he lets you take charge for a short amount of time, he grows bored of your pace, opting to thrust his cock into your mouth, chuckling at your wide eyes. “i’m gonna fuck your mouth, and you’re gonna take it”, he chides, slapping your cheek once making you whine around his dick, tears mixing in with the spit and cum coating your face. “so, tell me baby, chenle doesn’t fuck you good enough?”

if he’s actually expecting an answer, you can’t give him one, mouth so full of cock that your jaw hurts, trying your best to breathe through your nose. feigning boredom, he slips out of your mouth with a sound of annoyance for a moment, and sighs in disbelief when you unknowingly chase after if with you mouth, leaning down to grip your cheeks and squeeze them together.

“i used to listen to you getting fucked by him at night. but i haven’t heard you moan in ages, pretty”, your cheeks are squished together and you feel stupid, jeno’s gaze piercing. “always knew i could make better use of you. isn’t that right?”

you sniffle, attempting to clear your throat and blink, vision blurred by tears. he thinks he’s funny when he uses his grip on your jaw to move your head up and down like you’re nodding, but your body feels so fucked out that your head keeps going when he lets go, a shocked kind of laugh escaping his lips. “fuck…you really are a slut. do you ever think about anything that isn’t cock?”

more tears leak from your watery eyes when his degrading words do nothing but send shivers straight to your core, mouth falling open when he presses his tip against your puffy lips again. he moans uncharacteristically at the feeling and sight of his cock in your mouth, fucking into your mouth and treating it like your pussy. your throat grows tired of swallowing around it but he looks drunk off the sensation, so you lay your tongue flat against the underside of his hard cock and let him rut against it.

he’s absolutely brutal and relentless with his tempo, but nothing shocks you nor makes your pussy throb as much than when he leans down and squishes your cheeks together again, letting spit dribble from his mouth and fall where his cock and your mouth meet. everything about the action is filthy, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, hollowing your cheeks as his thrusts become more erratic.

you know jeno’s close when he starts muttering profanities under his breath, the hands gripping your hair controlling your movements and forcing your head to bob up and down on his cock. “dirty little bitch”, he starts off breathlessly, seeing the drool running off your chin bringing him so close to the edge. “sucking my cock while nothing but a wall separates your boyfriend from us.”

your knees hurt and his words sting, but he pulls out, quickly wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking it off right over your face. your mouth is still open and you’re sure you look insanely vulgar but it only encourages jeno, tapping his cock against your tongue repeatedly. “tell me”, he demands, spitting into his hand so he can spread the substance around your lips as you try and evade it. “tell me how much you love my cock.”

you’re repeating after him like a broken record, and broken you are, so fucked out and cock drunk that you need him to do your talking for you. “love your cock- need you-”, you’re babbling but he accepts it, groaning when he works his hand around himself while hovering over your mouth, finally thrusting it back between your lips. the way you readily go back to sucking him off makes his cock twitch, and within seconds, he’s spilling his seed down your throat.

as his dick softens, he slips it out of your mouth and for the umpteenth time, forces your lips open with his hand. he spits into your mouth, but you aren’t even surprised anymore, accepting it with hooded eyes. “swallow”, he orders you and you comply, sticking your tongue out to show him how well you’ve done. “that’s a good whore.”

you were maybe even about to reply when you both hear the unmistakeable sound of a toilet flushing, and your heart sinks– chenle is awake. you’re quick to attempt to scramble to your feet, but your legs have fallen asleep from being in that position for so long that they almost give out, not that it matters anyway; jeno has no intentions of letting you stand up. his hand is back in your hair again, making you hiss out of pain and doing a good job of holding you down, but you turn to look at him desperately, trying in vain to shake your head free. “please jeno- chenle can’t see, please-”

you’re a blubbering mess but jeno doesn’t care, simply wiping your tears from your face and cooing softly and before you know it, that unsettling feeling returns, your ears thudding with the sound of your heart. “chenle’s gonna see, baby”, he agrees in a sympathetic tone, thought nothing about him is soft or caring. “chenle’s gonna see his girlfriend getting stuffed full of his best friend’s cum, and he’s gonna see her enjoying it.”

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officialaemondtargaryen · 4 months ago

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Never Gonna Be Alone - Part Two

Summary: When a friend from college contacts you about renting out your empty, spare bedroom to her brother, you aren't really sure what to expect.

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, sex, possible angst, pining & yearning, miscommunication, bit of a slow burn, and a lot of fluff, plus me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

Originally, you had made a bet with yourself that your silly little crush on Aegon wouldn’t last more than a week– then it was two, and suddenly a month had passed. Your feelings, much to your chagrin, had remained persistent.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either.

You had done anything and everything you could to stop thinking about him– kept your distance by taking extra shifts at work, joined an improv club, read approximately eleven new books, and even learned how to crochet so that you had an excuse to stay in your room 24/7. Worst of all was downloading that stupid dating app, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and they don’t say that the fastest way to get over someone is by getting under someone else for nothing.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, however. No matter how many guys slid into your DMs and then ghosted after a couple of days of texting, no matter how many miniature cows you crocheted or books you read, you liked him. And not in the fleeting, passing kind of way that you’d originally expected. No, these feelings had taken a hold of you– rooting into you in the way that a stubborn weed roots into concrete.

Anyways, back to that dating app…

It had been a joke with yourself at first; a half-hearted swipe-fest with no real intent behind it. You weren’t actually looking for someone, more like waiting for someone to miraculously appear and make you forget about Aegon Targaryen. You were smart enough to know that Mr. Right wasn’t lurking on Hinge, but you figured there had to be someone out there who could temporarily distract you from his stupid, not-at-all beautiful smile, or the way he belly-laughed at your jokes that weren’t even funny.

The first guy to make it out of the 72-hour ‘Only-Talk-On-The-Hinge-App’ phase, and into the ‘We-Can-Start-Texting-And-Maybe-Plan-A-Date’ phase was a guy named Criston. Yes, you should have known by the name that it wasn’t going to work out, but he was dark and handsome– the complete opposite of the person you were actively trying to forget existed– and seemed interested enough in you to ask you out on a proper date. Sure, he was a bit boring via text, but you figured that not everyone can be as clever and witty as you, and you owed it to yourself not to write him off yet.

Aegon was sitting on the couch playing video games when you walked down the hallway and into the living room. You had been listening to him chatter with his online friends for the past hour and a half as you got ready for your date; his voice carrying through the thin walls of your shared apartment, hurling profane insults at random children and laughing along with his friends at the crude jokes they’d tell each other (their mother’s would be ashamed). You didn’t look at him when you entered the room, but you could feel his attention immediately shift.

He paused the game mid-action, pulling his headset loosely around his neck, and turned to look at you. The sudden silence of the room made you hyper-aware of his eyes on you as you made your way into the kitchen to grab your purse from the counter. When you finally turned back to the living room, you finally caught his stare.

His mouth was slightly agape and he swallowed hard before saying, “Where you off to?”

Without waiting for you to answer, he turned back to his game, pulling his headset back up over one ear so that he could still hear your response. Your shoulders fell just slightly as he turned his back towards you as if he didn’t care to hear the answer at all, as if your sudden appearance hadn't just thrown him completely for a loop and rendered him nearly speechless.

You straightened up and smoothed your dress and walked over to check yourself in the mirror one last time; delicately fixing a few fly away hairs and ensuring there wasn’t lipstick smeared on your teeth. “I am going on a date,” you told him with more confidence than you actually felt.

There was a brief pause and then he muttered, “A date, huh? Good luck with that.”

You caught his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow at the sarcasm in his tone. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was jealous, but that would mean that he actually cared, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up more than they already were. Before you could think too much about it, Aegon quickly looked away, dismissing you as he immersed himself back into his game, seemingly ending the conversation.

Not sure how to feel, you turned on your heels towards the front door without another word. You had half-hoped that you would have elicited more of a reaction from him by choosing this particular outfit, and couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed by the interaction; chalking it up to him just being a typical, clueless guy who probably didn’t even notice how much effort you had put into looking like that— because none of them ever did.

“Hey!” Aegon called out just as you stepped into the foyer. You stopped in your tracks, leaning back against the doorframe and cocked your head to the side to see what it was he wanted. “You, uh– you look really nice,” he added, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden compliment.

"Uh, thanks," you replied bashfully, not knowing what else to say as you tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your cheeks.

The moment that you left your apartment you realized that this date was surely pointless, and that was made crystal clear from the second that this Criston guy had slid into the booth across from you more than fifteen minutes late. Despite the fact that he was the one to initiate the date, you were the one who chose the place and time; deciding on a comfortable hole-in-the-wall Italian joint that you enjoyed but didn’t get the chance to frequent often. They had a live jazz band that played on Friday evenings, which was perfect for a first date– intimate enough to set the mood with enough distractions to fill any conversational gaps.

And unfortunately for you, there were plenty.

Turns out that Criston was just as dull– if not more so– in person as he was over text. He only spoke when spoken to, answering your questions with stiff, one-word responses that made you feel like you were conducting a job interview rather than enjoying a nice dinner with someone that you were trying to get to know. You did what you could to steer the conversation toward more lighthearted and fun topics, like movies and music– the typical things two people would discuss on a first date– but every attempt was met with a flat, almost disinterested tone.

By the time the entrees had arrived, you had resigned yourself to the fact that this was a dud, and in doing so, you found yourself retreating to the very thoughts you had set out to avoid– Aegon.

As hard as you tried to stay present, unlike your date, the comparison was unavoidable. Criston’s lackluster personality and quiet brooding left you too much space to think; to imagine Aegon’s laugh, the way he teased you without a filter, making even the most boring moments feel like they had spark. The jazz band was a saving grace– offering you an excuse to zone out during Criston’s long, awkward pauses. But even then, the music seemed to remind you of the nights you'd spent in your shared apartment, secretly listening to Aegon strum his guitar in the other room, filling the air with a familiarity that always made you feel… at home.

Halfway through dinner and long after the conversation had fully flatlined, your date decided that it was time to make his move. He pushed back his chair and stood up, and for a split-second you were expecting that he was going to ask you for a dance, but then he mumbled something about needing to go to the restroom and grabbed his phone and keys before leaving.

At first, he was headed for the general direction of the restrooms, but quickly- and without hesitation- pivoted towards the entrance; practically jogging out the door, without so much as a glance back in your direction. Instead of feeling the least bit shocked or upset, you just sat there, fork hovering over your plate, staring at the door, thinking to yourself, “well, that tracks.”

Honestly, him leaving mid-meal was probably the best thing that could’ve happened.

You were off the hook from having to finish this awkward, disaster of a date, and wouldn't have to pretend that you were interested in seeing each other again only to be ghosted later on. You didn’t even mind getting stuck with the bill, knowing that this was the universe doing you a solid, and that you no longer had to waste any more of your evening trying to make small-talk with a guy who clearly had the personality of a brick wall.

Aegon was in his room when you got home, the soft strumming of his guitar coming to a halt the moment that the door clicked shut behind you. Silence replaced the gentle melody, and you could suddenly feel the weight of the evening's disappointment pressing down on your shoulders. Just as you slipped off your shoes and took a deep breath, Aegon appeared in the hallway, his hair slightly tousled, a hint of curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“You took a to-go box?” He asked, following you into the kitchen. You sighed in response, not wanting to talk about it. “Inn’t that like the Cardinal Rule of datin’ that you shouldn’t take a box home on the first date?”

“Considering that I had to pay for both my meal and his as he ghosted me in the middle of dinner, you best believe I brought my leftovers home,” your tone was laced with exhaustion and annoyance, not wanting to be interrogated or lectured. “Just mine though, not his, Alfredo?”

You shoved the box into his hands and grabbed a wine glass out of the cupboard.

“Here, let me,” he said softly, setting down the styrofoam box and taking the wine glass out of your hands. “There’s a freshly rolled joint on the livin’ room table, go, put your feet up. I’ll be right behind you.”

You wanted to protest but Aegon silenced you with one look, gently nudging you towards the living room with his elbow. As you settled into the couch, you could hear him shuffling around the kitchen, the soft clinking of glasses and the low hum of the fridge opening. You stretched your legs, sinking deeper into the cushions, and let out a long, steady breath; shutting your eyes for a moment and allowing yourself to be comforted by the space– the safety of it. This was home. Not the walls or the furniture, but the feeling of it. Strange how it never felt like this until Aegon moved in, at least not that you could remember. And now, he belonged here just as much as you did, his presence somehow made the air feel warmer, more settled.

“Here you are, m’lady,” he said smiling, as he handed you a generous serving of Pinot.

“Mm, thank you,” you smiled as you took the glass and indulged yourself with a long sip.

Aegon nudged your legs gently, signaling for you to move them, and you obliged with a soft sigh, letting him sit down beside you. As soon as he was settled, he pulled your legs back into his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on your calf. It was a small gesture– simple and unspoken– but it sent an explosion of warmth throughout your body, spreading from where his fingertips grazed your skin and settling deep in your chest. His touch was suddenly all that you could think about, and why is it so warm in here?

You weren’t used to this, not from him—this quiet, effortless closeness. You had never been this physically intimate before, and yet, it didn’t feel awkward or out of place. Instead, it felt... natural. Like some unspoken shift had occurred between you both, and this was just how it was now; the air instantaneously buzzing with a different type of energy. His touch was no longer just a fleeting moment as you moved around each other in the kitchen in the mornings as you fixed your breakfasts before work; it lingered, deliberate, almost soothing. Every soft stroke of his fingers made you acutely aware of how intimate this moment really was.

“So,” he said, turning slightly towards you, draping one arm across the back of the sofa– the other was still placed gingerly on your calf. “You met this guy where? Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, Fetish.com?”

You gave him an immediate side-eye and he smirked. “We met on Hinge.”

“Interestin’, I thought that one was the more superior app,” he shrugged and took a drink from his glass. “What happened?”

“Other than the fact that he had the personality of a wet napkin?” You sighed, leaning your head back against the cushion. “Honestly, Aegon, I should’ve seen it coming. He was a shit texter, but I kept telling myself maybe he’s just better in person. Nope! Still shit! Truth be told, the most interesting thing he did all night was ghosting me in the middle of dinner.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s low, even for the sad state of modern dating,” he muttered as his soft smile was replaced with a frown. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it was humiliating.”

You replied with a nod, taking another sip of wine. His fingers continued their gentle tracing along your calf and you felt another wave of warmth roll through you, but convinced yourself that it was just the wine.

“I’m just... over it, you know?”

He only nodded in understanding, allowing a comfortable silence to settle in between the two of you. The sounds of the city drifted in through the open window; the faint murmur of traffic, the distant laughter of a passerby talking on their phone, a warm, late summer breeze stirring the curtains– it all just faded into the background as you became consumed by your thoughts.

Aegon shifted slightly, his hand still resting on your leg as he set his glass down and reached for the joint on the table. With a flick of his lighter, he lit it and took a slow drag before passing it to you without a word. Your fingers brushed his as you took it from him, the contact lingering longer than it should have, and nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. You brought the joint to your lips, hoping that it would help you calm down before you did something to ruin the moment, and exhaled the smoke with a tiny cough.

His eyes lingered on you as you took another hit before passing it back to him. You were desperate to know what he was thinking, but you were terrified that if you opened your mouth to ask, every pathetic thought you had about him would come spilling out.

“Do me a favor, yeah? No more dating apps.” His voice cut through the haze, fingers tracing delicately along the outside of your ankle now. “Those twats online only want one thing and you deserve so much more n’that.”

“Oh, it’s already been deleted,” you grinned, sneaking a glance at him.

“Good,” he smiled and moved to get up off of the couch, you immediately mourned the loss of his touch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my lovely roommate was nice enough to bring home her leftover Alfredo and I’ve got a serious case of the munchies.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as the harsh reality sank in.

This wasn’t just a silly little crush anymore– no, there was a reason why every attempt you made to push him away only resulted in him reeling you further in. It was sickening, really, once you realized it and how you suddenly wanted to scream it from every open window. The sensation made your stomach churn and simultaneously gave you butterflies, and goddamnit.

You were so in love with him.

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ilguna · 2 years ago

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☼ one true love (Peeta Mellark) ☼

summary; to everyone else, you're nothing but a rebound to Peeta. to Peeta, you are his one true love.

warnings; swearing, death mention.

wc; 3k

notes; no katniss slander, but there is gale slander ;)

–

The nerves are eating you from the inside out. One minute you think you’re going to be sick all over the concrete floor, so you’re in the bathroom hanging your head over the toilet. The next minute, you’re back on your feet, pacing back and forth in front of the door. You can’t sit still anymore, it’s not an option.

What are you supposed to say to him? It’s only a matter of time before he lands in District Thirteen with the other captured victors. Will he even want to see you? Is Katniss going to be the first person he asks for? You saw him on the television a few days ago, he was talking about her, worried about her wellbeing.

The last time you saw each other was before the Quarter Quell reaping. It was brief, because he needed to go on stage, and you were late traveling from your neighborhood to get to the Justice Building. All he did was kiss you, and then he was gone.

You think he was expecting to say goodbye, like the Peacekeepers usually allow, but when you tried to go inside, they told you that the rules changed. And before you could think to start running to the train station, they told you that there was no farewell there, either. That was it.

You couldn’t breathe, you were sure that would be the last time you’d ever see him, and it was cut short because you couldn’t leave the house a couple minutes earlier. But you were so, so mad at him for the months leading up to the reaping. It was a nightmare being with him.

His time was consumed with training, he was constantly talking about volunteering over Haymitch if the opportunity presented itself. He wouldn’t listen to a single thing you said. You hardly spent time with him, and when you did, you would’ve been happier by yourself. He became a new person, one you didn’t recognize, one that didn’t seem to like the idea of you half the time.

You almost didn’t want to go to the reaping. You knew what was to come, what was the point of showing up, besides to avoid getting in trouble with the Peacekeepers? And then all he could do was kiss you, because he was so pressed for time. He didn’t say anything to you.

Suddenly, you turned the anger onto yourself, because you couldn’t believe you were so stupid to miss such a vital moment with him.

You tried to make up for it. Even though the week leading up to the Quell was chaotic in District Twelve, as much as you were afraid to leave your house to see the mandatory viewings, you still did. You saw him everyday in the Square, and each time you got your heart broken because it was like it was never an act between him and Katniss.

You thought it was bad enough the first time around, because he didn’t know your feelings yet, and he was putting on this real show for the Capitol, but it’s so much worse, knowing that he feels the same way for you.

When you and Peeta had started talking again after he won the Hunger Games, your parents warned you that it would end up being a mistake. They knew how you felt about him before he was reaped, and how it wouldn’t change before he came back—if he came back. Even if he was kissing Katniss Everdeen in front of Panem.

They were right about your feelings, of course. You and Peeta were close friends for years. You had classes together in school, and you’d hang out in the bakery every day after school. You’d sit there for hours, doing your homework, while also watching him pipe designs onto cakes and cookies for those who could afford to buy it.

You didn’t think he noticed the way you’d watch him throughout the day. The way his eyes would light up when talking about something he liked. Or maybe a new technique he discovered when making designs on cakes. How carefree he looked when doodling on his papers. The amount of times there would be a mini portrait of you in the corner of them.

While your whole day was centered around him, he had other things on his mind, like Katniss. Well, that’s how you felt when he announced his love for her in the interview. And then he came back with her, breaking the rules of the Hunger Games, completely enamoured with her. When you hadn’t gone to visit him in a whole two weeks after, he showed up at your door to see you, to make sure that you were okay. You tried to shrug him off, but he didn’t take that as an answer.

You thought that if you held him at arms-length, that it would be a distance between you two. If you’re not close, then there would be no point in keeping you around. After all, he does have other friends—other people he can surround himself with.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t work. You honestly should’ve known that it wouldn’t, because out of all the friends you’ve had since growing up, Peeta has by far been the most loyal out of them. He’s still here, and he’s seen you go through the motions. That’s why he figured out that he hurt you in some way while he was gone.

He refused to leave you alone, he later told you that you were one of his last friendships he had since he won. Everyone else wasn’t seeing him the same way you did. While you saw him as human, and virtually the same person you had before he left, others saw him as the victim.

You remember being so flustered admitting your feelings to him. The hot feeling in your face, the tears that threatened to take over your eyes. The way your throat clogged, and the words croaked out. You didn’t even want to look him in the eyes, afraid to see his reaction, but it’s like you couldn’t look away. You needed to see the raw reaction in case he lied to you.

Peeta smiled.

It took a lot of explaining from him to get you to see how he was thinking after he was reaped. He needed help from sponsors, which meant that he had to play the Capitol in some way. And while what he said to Caesar in the interview wasn’t completely false, it wasn’t true either. He wasn’t settled on Katniss, because he knew if he won, he had someone better at home; you.

He wasn’t anticipating coming back with her. If he’d known, he would’ve played it differently. Katniss was completely indifferent to him, and he realized that after she looked for him once the announcement was made. As for you, he knew that if you were there with him, you wouldn’t have left his side, not even for a second.

He was happy you felt the same way he did, but he warned you that if you two started seeing each other more seriously, and possibly started dating, a lot of people would be unhappy. And at the end of the day, you could be one of those people. He wanted a relationship as much as you did, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you in the process.

Since that day, he tried to do everything he could to keep you, while also keeping the peace with the Capitol, even if they didn’t know what was happening between the two of you. There was a lecture from Haymitch—a man that you thought you’d never have to meet in your life—telling you that you’d have to be extremely careful to keep it from the Peacekeepers.

The Victory Tour was rough, considering he did a complete one-eighty with Katniss for the cameras. It got worse when you watched him propose to her in the Capitol. He didn’t tell you that this was planned, and he promised to keep you up to date if he could. You were nauseated for the rest of the week, really afraid that you’d done it to yourself.

You were the first person he came to see when he got back from the tour. From the moment you opened the door, it was a string of apologies, and a tight hug, reassuring you that it's not what he wanted. Him and Katniss were in trouble, and they were trying to do damage control.

You watched all the mandatory viewings of Katniss trying on her dresses, the ones the Capitol liked the most, over the others. That was fine, it was easier to stomach, knowing that Katniss felt like she was playing dress-up for them. What wasn’t okay, was what happened next.

You were sitting with Peeta on the couch the night the Quarter Quell was announced. You two thought it was just another dress preview, and the rest of the night, you two were supposed to hang out. Then Snow said all the existing victors would be going back into the pool.

You remember seeing the color drain from his face, and panic seized his body. You opened your mouth to speak, but he was already excusing himself. He needed to talk to Haymitch, and it was a fairly long walk from your house to Victor’s Village. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, and then he was gone. And you were left sitting in your living room, watching the Capitol react to the same news you’d just heard, wondering if they knew the effect this would cause.

It’s been a downward spiral since that day. You watched him go through that first week in the Capitol again, and it ended with him announcing Katniss’ fake pregnancy. You were inconsolable, watching him survive the cornucopia, just to almost die a few hours later because of a forcefield.

It was hard to swallow, but it was nothing compared to the fact that District Twelve was bombed on the third day. You don’t know how Gale knew where you lived, or why he chose you to save.

You knew of Gale in high school, but didn’t think anything of him. He was just another surviving teenager, trying to get through with his head down and make it out of the reaping alive. You learned more about him when he was presented as Katniss’ cousin to Panem to keep him from being seen as a threat against Peeta. As for you, Peeta was able to claim that you were nothing but a loyal friend.

You and Gale only met in passing.

Even though Gale knew what you actually meant to Peeta, he still left his family out of the hundreds that were saved. They were just across the street from Katniss’ family, and he still let them get killed. While he traveled across the district to tell you that a hovercraft was coming because the district was going to be bombed by the Capitol.

You’re grateful you’re alive, and so is your family, but you will never forgive him for doing something so cruel.

You feel the nausea rising in your stomach again, as you wipe your hands down your grey uniform to rid them of the collecting sweat. You’re sweeping your hair into one hand, really sure that you’re going to throw up this time, when the door to your dormitory opens.

You stop in your steps, turning to see who it is. You asked your parents to stay out for a little bit, because you really needed some time to think to yourself. You were almost put in the same room as Katniss and Finnick, so that you’d be able to receive the news of their arrival at the same time as them. Haymitch didn’t think it was appropriate, that’s why you were casted out, but said you’d be updated as soon as they landed.

Despite the fact that you and Peeta are very much dating, and he’s made it explicitly clear that he and Katniss are nothing but an act, you are seen as less than she is. In fact, the word they like to put on you is ‘rebound’. You’re Peeta’s rebound, because he couldn’t get Katniss.

You’ve tried to be patient with District Thirteen’s command, but they’re running it thin.

Haymitch Abernathy stands in your doorway, a grave look on his face. You don’t think he approves of you and Peeta, even though he tried his best to convince you two that he didn’t care what happened, as long as President Snow didn’t find out.

“Peeta’s here.” He says.

“Oh, finally.” You breathe, letting go of your hair as you start toward the door, “Is he in the hospital?”

“(Y/n), stop.” Haymitch blocks the path. “Peeta’s not in the right state of mind. It’s going to be upsetting to see.”

“That’s fine.” You brush him off, “Can we go?”

“You don’t understand.” He sighs, “He tried to kill Katniss.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, while your brain tries to push through this information. He was just concerned about her not too long ago, and now he’s trying to kill her?

You shake your head, “I want to see him, Haymitch.”

He doesn’t like your persistence, but he leads the way to the hospital, anyway. The two of you move through the hallway, into the elevator, out, and through another series of hallways. You can hear the commotion from down the hallway, the shouting coming from the other side of the hospital doors.

Once you walk through them, you’re met with chaos. You stop for a second at the doors, wondering if it’s like this all the time in here, but when you realize that Haymitch is still moving, you get right back to following. You catch sight of Finnick with a girl, and presumably another victor strapped down with a shaved head, rolling her eyes at the nurse.

The further back you go, the calmer it gets. You can feel the anxiety building in your stomach the moment you step foot into a tense room that holds a few vaguely familiar faces. You know Plutarch Heavensbee, he was a former Gamemaker. You’ve talked to him a few times. And then there’s Beetee Latier, one of the victors that was inside of the arena. And among them are a few other people that you don’t recognize.

No one pays attention to you, the conversation lands on Haymitch as soon as they see him. You stand there for a few minutes, nerves settling slowly while the anger begins to rise.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “I want to see him.”

There are a few stunned faces as eyes land on you. As if you somehow just materialized out of the air, and they didn’t see you when you walked into the room behind Haymitch.

“That might not be a good idea.” A man says, looking over you.

“You think that matters to me?” Your body’s trembling. He’s got to be on the other side of the door, the one that they’re blocking. You’re so close to him.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“If you all stopped smothering me, then you’d know that I’m his girlfriend.” You snap, “Not Katniss, me.”

Plutarch tilts his head, “Boggs has nothing to do with your current predicament, (Y/n). I’m going to give you access to see him, but you’ll return immediately if you see him getting violent, do you understand?”

You ignore his comment, deciding to keep the peace. “Yes.”

Several people move at once. While Beetee wheels himself across the room to press a button on the wall, which makes the wall to your left turn into a window, allowing you to see a preview of Peeta’s state. Boggs walks over to the door that you were looking at, pushing a key into the lock and turning it.

You don’t move from where you stand, lips parted as you let out a gasp at the sight of Peeta, strapped to a bed to keep from hurting himself and others. He’s lost all the muscle that took months for him to build up before going into the arena. He’s covered in black and blue bruises, there’s cuts across his skin.

You can feel the tears build in your eyes.

Peeta’s head lolls to the side at the sound of the key in the lock. He can’t even keep his eyes open.

“We gave him a sedative after he went after Katniss.” Haymitch explains, “He’s coming off of it.”

You start moving to the door. Boggs tries to stop you, maybe to give you some bullshit rules to follow while you’re inside, but you’ve already shoved him aside and forced yourself through the door before he can even say your name.

Peeta’s eyes widen at the noise you cause coming through the door, jerking aggressively to see exactly who it is that’s entering the room. It takes him a second of looking you over, up and down, to realize it’s you. He relaxes into the bed, no longer pulling against the restraints, face smoothing over.

“(Y/n)...” He trails.

You can feel your teeth chattering, tears overflowing your eyes, “Peeta.”

“You’re here.” He breathes, “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You sob, trying to wipe the tears away. You grab his hand, squeezing tightly, feeling another round of tears hit you when he holds on, refusing to let go.

You lean over the railing, your other hand outstretched to touch his face, where the bruises lie on his sunken cheeks. The back of your fingers brush against his skin. He takes in a breath, eyes fluttering shut while he leans into your touch.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, until he slowly opens his eyes, “I missed you.”

“I’m never leaving you again.” You tell him, “I promise.”

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