#Or at least that he doesn't get along with him at all

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just��too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[yeyinde]

extremely dubious consent. power/class imbalance. implied breeding. manipulation.

but regency era John Price paying off your chaperone to get you alone in a carriage for few hours and the whole time, your guardians think you're being properly supervised during this unorthodox courtship.

And sure, he's so much older than you, a widower with specks of grey along his temples and peppered in his beard, and more established in class and life compared to you, the poor thing that only just entered society and already got snatched up by the surly, gruff Duke. But it's John Price. Despite his temperament, he's such a respectable man, isn't he? They can trust him to protect you, of course.

And he does.

Your virtue, however? Not so much.

He does away with that little problem on the second outing he takes you on, smothering the protests that draw up, shaky and uncertain on your lips when the chaperone your guardians paid to watch over you walks away, swallowing it down with a searing kiss. Shushes you through it as he slips his thick fingers over the seam of you, arm buried beneath a dense layer of fabric, snuffing out those little gasps.

Don't worry about it, he rasps into the burning apple of your cheek. "s'how it's supposed to be, mm?" and when that doesn't quell the quiver in your brow, he adds:

"s'what I want, love. Jus' a little taste, mm?"

And the problem with gently reared girls is that they turn into such obliging women. Your eyes flicker downward—soft in your acquiescence even though your shoulders draw up cutely towards your ears. Pretty little thing. He couldn't possibly resist.

So he doesn't.

Taking such a lovely creature on the dirty floor of the carriage with your prim, proper skirts trussed up over your hips, shift in utter disarray from the scorching attention he lavished your breasts earlier is nothing short of euphoric. Aided by the adorable little whines you make when he finally notches his cock against your soft flesh. Worry flashing over your brow because he's just too big, too thick, for you to take, and maybe we shouldn't, Mr Price—

But you swallow him just as sweetly as he imagined you would when he pushes inside of you. Pussy fluttering around him in a panic at the blunt, thick intrusion, unused to such brutal treatment. And it's heaven, of course. Nirvana between the split of your pretty thighs. Pussy just made to take his cock. Loving it so tenderly like this

"Taking me so well, aren't you?"

Tears on your lashline. Nose scrunched up. He's sure it's a trial for you, but this is just a prelude. Ripping the bandaid off.

A necessary evil.

And if the altruistic facade falters under the blunt weight of his desire, his greed, then at least he has a failsafe to keep you in his pocket should your guardians decide he—in his age, his callousness—is not a good fit for their daughter. They are the doting type, after all. Romantics. Idealists.

It doesn't take him much at all to reach the apex of his pleasure, not when your hands press tight to chest as he bears his weight down, grinding his throbbing cock into the deepest part of you. Your moans, delicious little keens ringing so sweetly in his ears. Letting him ride you hard against the dirty floor, chasing his pleasure even as your knees dig into his sides, brows pinced but nodding along when he rasps in your ear about how good you feel and how it'll only get better, and next time—since you're bein' so bloody sweet f'im—he'll show you how to suck his cock between those damnably soft lips, keep his fingers buried inside of you while you fold yourself over the bench on your knees, mouth swallowing him down deep—

(If they can't come to reason and see why he's a good match, then the swell of your belly in a few months time will surely sway them—)

The thought breaks across his spine, molten heat puddling in his loins. Fuck—

Despite the viciousness of thrusts at the idea, you take his desire so goddamn well.

It sends him over the edge with a grunt. A belly deep groan. And just in time, too.

After he puts your clothes in order and slides you back into the seat, groaning when you squeeze your thighs tight together, keeping his cum from spilling out, your chaperone arrives with a nervous smile and a glint of guilt that's easily diminished with another slip of cash between palms. You stare, dazed and flushed, out the window, and barely even flinch when he lays his hand on your thigh, hold possessive. Proprietary.

"Time to go home, mm?"

And if he brings you back to your guardians flustered, limping, and a little dazed—well. The roads were just terrible, weren't they, sweetheart? Quite the rough ride, mm? He's sure next time will be better.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── HUSH-HUSH ┊ KEEP IT A SECRET ﹑ JJK ⤿ starring: g. satoru ◟ choso ◟ sukuna ◟ f. toji.

꒰ love simulation ﹢ headcanon-type �� most to least likely to keep your relationship a secret!

𖧷 · love, ‘su: i have nothing to say here but I Need To have this here for layout purposes. it Bothers me if its not there.

most likely 𓂃 can hold themselves back. choso and somewhat toji.

( pda = public display affection. )

listen, CHOSO can keep a secret, but leave it up to him and he would've made it known you two were dating. he's only keeping it a secret because you said to. when it comes to you, everyone knows he never questions your words.

in terms of pda . . . he doesn't do it — actually, he does, but only you know the true meaning to his touch. it's a regular thing to have an arm wrapped around your friend's shoulder, standing close to them, blah blah blah. you get the point: he keeps it entirely friendly.

this doesn't mean he's not clinging onto you the moment your peers aren't around! once they're out of his view, choso will not waste time to satisfy the itch he's been feeling. either he buries his head in your shoulder, whining about not being able to touch you at least, or his hands are intertwined with yours.

in mr. TOJI FUSHIGURO's case, your words are law. he usually sits back and let you do as you please — obviously he'd go along with whatever scheme you planned. he doesn't mind keeping to himself at all; he's not one for much pda anyway.

there are times where he gets touchy, though. he tries to keep it at a minimum, but don't let him be near you during a dinner-out with friends or anything of the sort. if he's seated next to you, trust, his hand will find comfort sitting on your thigh, occasionally squeezing here and there.

sometimes — really rare times — his friends suspect him. they don't reach the “are you dating y/n?” conclusion, but do they reach the “you got a thing for y/n or what?” one. it's all due to the fact that he softens his language with you. he doesn't curse, tone lowers an octave, and has a slight smile. three things his friends will never experience. he doesn't deny it, but he also doesn't confirm; he simply shrugs at their questions and never satisfies their curiosity.

least likely 𓂃 sorry, he's a bit selfish. satoru and sukuna.

SATORU . . . yeah, no. there's no way he would've succeeded. that's like asking him to not breathe for a day. when you brought up the idea of keeping the relationship a secret, he tried talking you out of it. why are you denying publicizing his affection for you? you must hate him, or are you hiding the fact that you're taken? satoru's dramatic, and his favourite literary device is hyperbole. he will exaggerate.

at first he tries his best to keep it a secret, but old habits die hard. calling you names clearly reserved for someone's romantic partner, arm snaked around your waist all the time, glaring at anyone who tries to flirt, giving you quick kisses — yeah, no way.

but, satoru does apologize for failing to obey! if you're mad at him for outing the relationship, he'll spend days upon days begging for forgiveness in creative ways til you accept his apology.

SUKUNA does not give a fuck. he's lived long enough to not care about secrecy. it's cute that you want to keep it on the low, but he prefers letting it known. pair that with him disliking physical contact with anyone else and you've got yourself the perfect recipe for disaster.

whenever he's not with you and someone approaches him — no matter the reason — he's quick to ring up his favourite sentence: yeah no, i'm taken. either that, or he's holding his palm up to reject them. he does not wish to engage with strangers. even his own friends struggle to get him out.

when he's with you, however, he's clinging to you like a magnet. game night with friends/family? he's pulling you to lean on him, doesn't fetch drinks for anyone but you, gets revenge for you if you lost the game, demands that they “go easy on y/n.” the list goes on. it took everyone zero time to put the clues together and figure out sukuna and you are a thing. it's entirely out-of-character for him to be nice in the first place.

[beanarie]

of course

in which the helicopter crashed with both our guys inside. inspired by this awesome post by @mooshkat

(tw: vomiting, heart issues, near death angst, biphobia mention)

~

Once the wave of agony subsides, and Tommy is reasonably sure he's done vomiting into the dirt, he blinks over at Evan appraisingly. "Is your arm broken or did your shoulder go out again?"

Evan grimaces and finishes tying off Tommy's splint. "Shoulder. And my hip's not feeling great. Cracked rib, maybe two. But of course you had to outdo me."

"Didn't do it on purpose." Tommy glares at the spot where his tibia poked through the skin, like he can intimidate the pain away. "Anyway you've got me on quantity."

"There's nothing else?"

"My head hurts," Tommy admits, "but there's not much we can do for that right now."

Evan leans in to compare his pupils. Tommy is very proud of himself for not flinching. "Dispatch had our location?" Evan asks, and instead of reminding him that he was there when they confirmed it, Tommy nods.

He knows he can't go to sleep, even if the leg would allow him. He finds a stick and starts tic tac toe. Evan chuckles and joins in.

He wins the next two games. Tommy blames his probable concussion.

Evan holds his bad arm tight around his midsection, but his eyes seem stormy for a different reason. "These people who hurt you in the past, what- what are their names?"

"Huh?" Tommy gives up on the game, scratching it out of the dirt. "You want a full list of legal names or just what I called them?"

"Was it Evan, for any of them?"

God, he's so transparent. Tommy laughs.

"Do you- do you judge everyone by who came before? Is that just what you do in a-all situations? One barista spilled coffee on you in 2011 and you pay for Starbucks with one of those grabby reacher things ever since?"

"Fuck's sake." Tommy doesn't even like Starbucks, but he doesn't say that.

Evan sort of shrugs before he remembers his shoulder with a wince. "It's not generally considered a sign of maturity. Ironic, I guess."

"Yeah, call me old. See where it gets you."

Evan brightens. "You're talking to me. I like my results so far."

There's something indefatigable about this man. Tommy can't help but surrender in the face of it, just a little. "How did you know I'd have to pinch hit for this fly along?"

"I didn't. I just hoped." His grin is just the slightest bit abashed. "Worst case scenario, get out of the engine for a day and I pump one of your coworkers for info."

"They have very little to pump," Tommy says. Evan and the codependent 118 are the aberration, and they're well aware of that. Tommy has great coworkers. They do their jobs and leave, with the exception of drinks once or twice a month. None of them gave him shit after the breakup. Few of them noticed. This is how most teams operate. Evan, however, looks surprised and a little sad. "What were you hoping to hear?"

"I don't know." Evan looks away, suddenly self conscious. "That you messed yourself up at least half as much as you did me."

Tommy rubs at his face. "I didn't mean to mess you up, Buck. Truly. We- It just ran its course. It doesn't reflect badly on you, or me. This just happens."

He looks upset at first, then calculating. "What if I hooked up with those Not-Evans?"

Tommy looks behind him, searching for something that makes sense. "What if you moved to the moon? I have no idea what you're getting at right now."

"Would I be experienced enough for you if I let them have a go? They were terrible for you, so it stands to reason they'll be terrible for me, too." He lifts a finger, his eyes lighting up in a way that turns Tommy's stomach. "Oh, I guess one or two of those might be women. They don't count. Some might be bi and married to women. Do they count as half? If I bag a threesome, is that like seventy-five percent? Do you give points for polyamory?"

Tommy feels about eighty years old, and not a fit eighty. "When did I say even one of those things?"

"The implications were pretty clear, Tommy. 'You're just young and excited. You don't know what you're feeling or how to interpret anything going on in front of you.'"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. It's not remotely what he meant, but he's never been good at communicating through panic.

"Did you love me?" Evan asks quietly. Tommy can't look him in the face. "It felt like you- like you did, but when you let me go like that, like chopping off the top bit of a carrot, it made me re- reevaluate everything I thought I knew about us."

The note of devastation in his voice almost tips him over, but ultimately what does it is the implication that Tommy made Evan lose faith in himself. He can't abide being responsible for that. "Of course I love you, Evan. How could I not?"

The tightness in his chest, that felt so much like raw emotion, intensifies, growing sharper. It's hard to breathe now, like sucking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer, and he realizes, something is very wrong. About as wrong as it could possibly be.

"Oh," he says. An attempt to inflate his lungs all the way makes his vision go sparkly at the edges.

"Tommy?"

Tommy drags his eyes up to meet Evan's. "S- Sorry, I-" I wouldn't have said any of those things if I knew. "Sorry. Evan." You deserve better than a fucking deathbed love confession.

A rough hand grasps his neck, slowing his descent to the ground. "No, hey. Hey hey hey. Tommy, we'll figure this out." Evan sniffles and tries to smile. His tears are falling everywhere. "You're okay. You're fine. Just keep- keep breathing."

The coffee stirrer is about a millimeter wide. Tommy can feel the muscles in his neck straining like he's deadlifting his own weight. Evan rips Tommy's shirt open and he swears floridly, miserably. They both know what this is; they've seen it in a hundred MVAs. Cardiac tamponade. When his heart gives out from the strain of all the blood surrounding it, chest compressions can be worse than useless. They could punch his ticket that much faster.

"Tommy," Evan says, pulling Tommy into his lap. The complaints from his splinted leg are distant, belonging to someone else entirely. Evan's voice is a ragged mess trying to piece itself together. His shoulder and ribs are probably killing him. "Don't run out again. You need to stay. Breathe."

Half a millimeter.

One quarter.

Tommy can't remember what comes after millimeter.

"That's it. I know it's hard, but keep trying. That's all I ask. Just try, okay? Look at me."

Micrometer? Is that it?

Evan's face is shadowed by the sun cresting over his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes against the glare and is rewarded with a shake.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay with me. Just a little- little bit longer, please."

Fingers are running through his hair, lips are pressing against his forehead, and he thinks he can hear... sirens.

[prettyboykatsuki]

balancing act | y. isagi + i. rin

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader (she/her used for reader, good girl etc), threesome kinda, oral (m!recieving), bondage (m!receiving) deep-throating, face-fucking, some gagging, rin-centric, polyam relationship, rin and isagi have and established dynamic, soft dom! isagi, implied sub!rin, and switch!reader 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (enough......)

✮ a/n ; thank you for commissioning me @timesnewreader. i was... very excited to write this.... i hope u are okay with the direction i took....

✮ synopsis ; you start to understand the dynamic between them. or maybe all three of you, a little more.

or isagi teaching you how to make rin feel good while rins tied up.

tip jar | commission post (closed for now)

Isagi's hand is warm as it rests on your head.

You look up at him from where you're kneeling, craning your neck to try and get a look of his face. He notices quickly, instantly—affectionate as he lets his hand cup your cheek. His thumb brushes along your lip as he pets you.

A fuzzy feeling settles in your stomach at the touch and he smiles at you. Sun-warm, almost deceptively kind.

You can feel Rin's gaze on you too. Unreadable to you like always. Not quite cruel, not quite openly affectionate either. Something else simmering under the weighted teal irises that makes your stomach tie in knots.

"Don't be nervous," Isagi hums. Him and Rin lock eyes and for a split second, you almost think you understand them. "He won't act tough forever,"

"Shut up," RIn hisses. Isagi clicks his teeth.

"Lighten up first," Isagi says, shaking his head. He cards his fingers through Rin's hair. And then he tugs from the root, hard enough to make RIn hiss. His smile is the same - no traces of malice. "You're scaring her, y'know? Be civil."

Rin looks down at you again. On you? You don't really know. He doesn't look for long, and doesn't respond to Isagi when he talks. His eyes dart in another direction and he scoffs under his breath.

Isagi shakes his head. "You're so dishonest,"

They look at each other again, speaking without talking at all Rin clicks his teeth. Isagi sighs, shrugs, and directs his attention back to you.

"Sorry," He says, apologetic. Sincere. "We both want you here. Promise,"

It's like he's reading your mind, visible relief making your shoulders sag where you sit. Isagi's grin grows another size, pinching your cheek slightly. "You were worried, huh? How sweet."

You squirm a little. You can't find your voice for a minute or two. "A little. I don't... if Rin-kun isn't comfortable with it then—"

Isagi laughs.

And then, with no ceremony - he puts his knee between Rin's closed legs and shoves them apart. Rin snaps at him. Isagi keeps his legs forced open without concern.

Rin isn't any position to do anything anyway. You're knelt between his legs but he's got his arms tied - restrained to a chair per Isagis's request. He fights a blush as Isagi keeps his legs apart.

He's not naked, but you can see he's hard. His cock strains against the athleisure on hips - tenting the fabric slightly. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at Rin whose still refusing to look at you.

"Promise he won't bite," Isagi says, encouraging you to touch him. "Not if I keep him restrained at least. It's okay."

You and Rin look each other this time. Rin's eyes lid as you crawl closer between his legs. Your hand is tentative, loosely cupping his cock.

The response is instant. A sharp hiss, dick twitching against your hand despite how lightly you've touched it. It emboldens you, enough to hold it at least. He's hard. You wonder if you did that to him. Some part of you can't believe it.

"See? He's just embarrassed," Isagi says, patient with you. With Rin too, you think. "He wants you make him feel good. Rin had a crush on you first, you know? Between us. I bet you want that too,"

You look up at him innocently. "I want to make you feel good too,"

Isagi lets out a labored breath. "Watching you makes me feel good. Rin-kun will pout if I get to you first," An eye roll. "Unfair right? But that's how much he likes you."

"Shut up already,"

Rin is blushing. Isagi laughs. "See? I'll tell you how to make him feel good. You'll get something nice after, okay?"

"Oh it's—it,"

"Don't argue, 'kay? Go, get closer to him."

So you listen to him. You inch closer to Rin's lap and rest your hand on his leg. Isagi bends down on one knee behind you, keeping his legs apart when Rin tries to shut them closed. Undressing him for your ease of access, hands pushing his sweats down to his thighs.

At full height, his dick is bigger than you imagined it to be. Prettier too, somehow. It's gorgeous—tip flushed cherry red, with a long curve and veins that stand out. Mostly hairless except at the base, where it's well groomed. The hair grows thick still, contrasts so nice against the pale color of his cock. Pre-cum dribbles from the head, silky and and crystalline clear - laced with white.

You feel your head get heavy. A subconscious desire to get closer to it overwhelms your thoughts. Close enough to breathe on it. Rin huffs.

"You're making such a cute face," Isagi coos, amused by you. Embarrassment flares in your belly, tickles your skin. "He likes when you start light. Too much at once and he'll get overwhelmed. Go slowly,"

He instructs so gentle you don't feel condescended. Despite his smugness, his intention is so genuine it makes you flush.

You let your instinct take over. Your mind clouds, pouting your lips to press a soft kiss to the very base of his shaft. Wet and open mouthed, you rest and feel the weight of it. The pulse of it. His cock is so heavy against your face

You move up, kissing it slowly all the way to the very tip. You let your lips rest there. Rin looks down at you, chest heaving.

The obstinacy has melted off of him. Faster then you could've predicted. There's something...needy to it. Almost. Maybe you're reading it wrong.

"You're so good, hm," Isagi hums - standing on his knees behind you. His hand comes around your waist, palm resting on your midriff. "Learned so fast. Use your tongue,"

You dip your tongue into leaking slit on command. Rin cusses loud.

Without thinking, you open your mouth up enough to fit the tip of his cock into it fully. You don't take him all the way into your throat, heeding Isagi's advice to go slow.

"It's sensitive under the head," He directs. He's so comforting, so sincere. "Try it,"

You concentrate your attention there, pressing your tongue flat. Rin jerks above you - hips threatening to buck up into your throat. But Isagi uses both hands to hold him down by his thighs. Rin strains against it but Isagi is firm. You're reminded then that despite the difference in size between them, their athletic prowess isn't so different.

The thought sends you reeling.

"So desperate," Isagi taunts. "A pretty girl has your cock in her mouth and you get so worked up. What happened to your restraint and self-discipline, huh?"

"Fuck off," Rin swears. His voice lacking the composure you've come to associate with him so strongly. "Shut up before I go soft."

"As if you would. Can't cum without me telling you off, can you?"

You feel him twitch in your mouth and you try not to gasp at the reaction, proving itself in front of your eyes. Your eyes go wide and Rin looks down with an embarrassed blush and oh—.

"See? Rin-kun only acts tough but truth is he can only take so much," Isagi hums. His hands slide up your chest and you feel him cup your tits - giving them an affectionate squeeze. "That's why we're spoiling him. He's being like this but he's happy you're pampering him. Right, Rin-kun?"

You look at Rin again and you think you're starting to understand. Just a little. How it goes between them. And now between you. The thought makes your pride swell.

"Rin-kun," You pull away, eyes blown wide in some sudden desire. "I like you."

A pause. Air being pulled into lungs, a held breath. Rin's eyes go wide and you watch as his cock dribbles again. Isagi freezes for a moment too before he laughs, laughs warm and affectionate and so loud.

"You caught on fast, huh?" Isagi says, hugging you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder. "And me too, right?"

"Yeah, of course you too." You nod.

You understand it a little more clearer. Rin never does something he doesn't have a reason or desire to do. His ego doesn't work that way. Not combating Isagi, no matter how smug, is it's own form of submission you think.

"Let's keep going, okay? Without worry."

A weight lifted from your shoulders, you nod again. Open your mouth fully, careful as you stand up on your knees and get closer. The assurance instills confidence in you, makes it easier for you to go through the practiced motions. Your hands on Rin's thighs, corded muscle strained under your palms where you hold yourself up. Both you and Isagi holding his hips in tandem.

You let yourself take him in. Trapped betwen them, you swallow around Rin's cock. Careful to mind your teeth, the edges of your mouth stretch and ache to accommodate his length. The scent of him makes your head feel heavy, a strong musk and the taste of clean skin all over your tongue. Makes your mouth water, brain melting slow. The effort doesn't go unnoticed, Isagi whispering praises as you open up your throat to fit fully fit Rin's cock.

"You're so good. Just like that," He hums, giggling. "Even I can't do this well. So good with your mouth huh?"

You gag voicing a muffled 'thank you' and Rin curses above you. You feel him strain, muscles of his thighs shaking hard.

"Fuck—fuck, don't—"

You move then. Mouth full of spit, used to the feeling of his cock down your throat - you move bob your head, hollowing your cheeks. Your eyes prick with tears at the way he hits your throat now repeatedly but you push forward anyhow.

You want to see him cum. You want to make him cum.

You can only go for so long though, before your jaw starts to trie.

When you start to slow, Isagi is kind and does the heavy lifting for you.

His hands rest on the side of your head forcing you up and down. It sends a shot of lightning through you, arousal making your whole body shiver at the controlled force. Precise force. He holds you down but he's careful not to push you too far. You moan around Rin's cock in response to it.

Having your face fucked with Isagi as the driver makes your mind bend with unfiltered lust. Your legs clamp again, an empty ache in your cunt as you think about what he must be like when he fucks.

Rin doesn't make it out any better. You can feel him. How he starts tremble, how his voice goes shot - how his dick gets harder, twitches so violently in your mouth each time he bottoms out in your throat.

"Fuck," His head drops back in a groan. "Fuck I'm—"

Isagi smiles a little.

"Be a good boy and cum down her throat like she wants,"

That's what makes him let go. Isagi holds you down as Rin cums with something that borders on a scream, straining against his restraints as his cum spills all the way down. It fills your mouth, the taste and the scent making you dizzy. It goes so far into your throat you don't taste it, rather you swallow it all in one go with little fuss other than a loud gulp.

"That's it," Isagi coos. "That's a good girl. Easy, easy. Breathe."

You cough as Isagi lets you off of Rin slowly, exhaling as you clear your throat. When you pull away, Isagi pulls you by your chin to tip your face over to meet his.

"Open your mouth, beautiful."

You do and Isagi smiles with pride. "You really swallowed all of it. Didn't even use your hands," He hums. "What a good girl."

You make a face of embarrassment. "Thank you,"

Rin makes a disgruntled sound. "Untie me before I fucking kill you,"

Isagi snorts, giving you a short kiss before going around to undo Rin's bindings. "Hard to take you seriously when you sound like that."

You sit where you are, in a mild daze you collect yourself. Lost in your own world, you don't notice when Rin finally gets untied.

It startles you when you feel him practically jump you. When his hands are free, he bends over the chair and brings your face to his. Big hands cradle your face as you feel him kiss you so hard it shakes you. More teeth than lip, rough but full of desire. You feel his tongue in your mouth even after swallowing his cum. At some point you give into it, hands clutching his shoulder as you struggle to breathe.

It's Isagi that pulls him off, a laugh on his voice - not mad at all.

"You're so aggressive when you get like this. Just be honest from the start next time instead of trying to eat her, dumbass."

Despite the bickering, Isagi bends down from where he stands to kiss Rin too and Rin lets him so easily you almost want to laugh. Rin must notice. He glares just a little but he looks embarrassed more than anything.

"You did good baby," Isagi praise, a hand on your shoulder. "What kind of reward do you want?"

You pause. "What does Rin-kun want?"

A blush paints him deep red and you ans Isagi sort of smile in mutual understanding. He frowns, bangs covering his face.

"Want you to sit on my face,"

You look at Isagi.

"Then that, if that's okay."

Isagi hums, a hand on Rin's nape. "More than okay. Guess it's fine to spoil him a little more."

Rin makes a disgruntled noise, but ultimately - he doesn't seem too unhappy with it either.

A very careful balancing act.

[viaviavie]

in which sebek steals a dance with you during the glorious masquerade event. you both make an entire spectacle on the dance floor. (alternatively, sebek is flirting with you and is trying to be super nonchalant about it by saying it's for the sake of Malleus' honor). sebek zigvolt x reader note: i was watching this and imagined every single twst guy doing this in glorious masquarade. but i love sebek smsmsm so its sebek today. also, did you know that crocodiles do courtship dances during mating season?

Masquerade balls were not the most accessible event from your modern world. To think that you would get the opportunity was but a fleeting dream. At least, that was the case until you were dragged along to Fleur City. How fortunate of Vil to tailor your own attire for you. The process was not free of charge, of course. All it truly costed was several days of Vil playing dress up with his human mannequin. Thankfully, the fires caused by Rollo's magic never left a scratch on your garments, and you were more than happy that the ball had resumed after the incident.

With such grace, you let out a fit of giggles as Rook twirled you around on the dance floor. "Well done, Trickster! It seems that Vil's dance lessons have finally paid off as well." The blonde lowers himself to a bow, and you return a gesture of your own with a wide grin. "Yeah! I gotta thank him once we get back. Those shoes he recommended me were very good too!"

Looking back on the sea of students and staff alike, you found some relief in Trein watching over Grim and Deuce as they raided the tables lined up with food. Everyone else seemed to be occupied, whether they were mingling with other students or eyeing Rollo with caution. Rook takes your hand once more, stepping into the imaginary box dictating your steps as you pivot backwards. He leans into your ear, hands lightly tapping at your shoulders as you both paused.

"Have you noticed how Monsieur Crocodile has been watching you?"

Eyes flickering upwards, you see the half-fae standing guard by Malleus and Silver. Whereas Malleus seemed engrossed in a conversation with a Noble Bell student, and Silver occupied with his duty, Sebek's gaze was trained onto you like a hawk. It was too intense, too different from the way he watches over Malleus and his surroundings with such caution. No, this felt much different.

Rook leans in closer, and you swear he is smiling at Sebek. You swear that Rook is trying to provoke him with the way he shifts closer to your ear. "He has been eyeing you for a long time now, Trickster." The song sways into motion once more, and you have turned around to face the hunter entirely. He finds himself amused over your pink cheeks, the way you shake your head wildly in denial. "Please, Rook. He probably doesn't want me dishonoring Malleus in some way, shape, or form because his lord is associated with me." You rambled nervously, swallowing to yourself as Rook takes your hand and turns you through the dance floor as the strings soften their volume.

"Non, non. I would be delighted to disagree." Rook comes to a halt, tilting his head to the side as he returns his hands behind his back. You pause, confusion overtaking your expression until you turn your head to the side, finally eyeing what had caught the hunter's attention. Striding forward was a seemingly coolheaded Sebek, a hand trained behind his back and the other, relaxed at his side. Fixing his signature smile, Rook bows slightly before the knightly figure.

"Good evening, Monsieur Crocodile! I have yet to see you on the dance floor."

Clearing his throat, Sebek nods at Rook with a tight jaw. "It appears that Epel requires your presence. May you tend to him before he gets swamped with too many unwanted admirers?" The three of you glance off to the side, eyeing a distressed Epel trapped in a crowd of students who seem too eager to ask him for a dance. You suppose that without Vil to overshadow everyone else, Epel's charms were rather hard to resist for some. Maintaining that smile, Rook leaves with a short nod to both you and Sebek, striding away from the dance floor with poise.

Hands fallen to your lap, you watched as Sebek take a step closer in front of you. Does he hear your heart pounding as he holds out his arm? Biting onto your inner cheek, you tilted your head to meet his eyes which were filled with nothing but sheer determination. "Prefect, may I have the honor of stealing you for this dance?"

He does not miss the way your cheeks burn red now, and you do not miss the way his ears matched the same color. Steal? That sounded intimate, in comparison to simply 'asking' you for a dance. Not that it mattered though, not when your heart was doing the flips in your chest for him. "But of course, Sebek. I would be delighted."

It takes you by surprise as he reached out for your hand, gently lowering his head to place his lips against your knuckles. If you were already flushed red, surely, you felt even warmer than before. You do not even register the way he places his hand on your waist, the other held high for you to clasp on. You waste no time either on shuffling your steps according to his pace, constantly adjusting and turning to his lead. Though his head was held highly, his eyes were still trained onto your face.

"I never knew that you were good at dancing." You tell him, taking a quick glance to the side to find Malleus and Silver observing you both, smiling at the sight. Sebek pays no mind to the crowd, grunting in response. "To master the art of dancing is another skill to perfect, should I be a knight worthy of the Young Master. Even beyond the sword, it is his honor that I carry."

The strings are soft and gentle as Sebek circles you, his hand never leaving your waist. To onlookers, it appears that Malleus's vassal in the making has a second master. He is close, yet keeps a distance to exercise his restraint. Sebek knows better than to impose onto your space, but he would not appear to be a stranger. After spending more than enough time with you, whether it be within the company of Malleus or not, it was safe to say you were at least acquaintances, if not friends.

Still, friends do not dance together so intimately in front of crowds, not like this. There was a certain delicacy to his steps, and you can feel his eyes on you even when your back his turned. When he takes your hand, he laces his fingers before pulling away as if you were set alight. You try to follow, give chase as you both brush elbows with a turn, barely catching his conflicted expression as he returns his hand to your waist. It is a neverending cycle of push and pull, chasing and running, wanting and longing.

With a pivot, you take a step towards Sebek's chest as he closes the distance. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as your chin lightly brushes against the padding of his chest, just as his hand presses against your lower back for support.

And just then, the music stops and all you hear are murmurs and whispers from the crowd.

You take the time to peer into your surroundings past Sebek's shoulder, marveling at the crowd that had seemed to circle the grand ballroom. Pairs of Noble Bell students are stationed at the border of the dance floor, centering you and Sebek in the middle of it all. The combination of a magicless student and a half-fae look out of place, not to mention how your attires seemed to stand out from Fleur City's garments.

Sebek comes to the conclusion faster than you as he huffed to himself. "Ah, it seems we are put on the spot." For once, he is quiet. Quiet does not always yield to meekness, however. He lowers himself to your ear, unable to see your piqued expression. "What shall we do, Sebek?" You feel him shift his head every so slightly, looking towards the direction of where Malleus was supposedly sitting.

The half-fae grunted, and you could feel his fingers on your hip tense slightly. "The Young Master's honor befalls on us both, so does the honor of Night Raven College." After what felt like a long time, Sebek slowly pulled away to look you in the eye. You were not shying away from him, too lost in the moment to consider the possibility of stage fright.

"Prepare yourself, Prefect. I shall not hold back on your accord if you wish." Bravado returns to Sebek's voice, almost similar to his usual tone when proudly representing the Briar prince. It is the way that his lips threaten to twitch into a smirk as you beam at him with an agreeable nod. "Good, looks like we're on the same page." You breathed out, the strings strumming to life once more. The tempo is faster now, and your head tunes into the beat quickly.

You surprise Sebek as you take the initiative first. Much like the Trickster you were, you circle Sebek once with an arm ghosted before his chest until you meet his front. Clenching his jaw, he was taken aback by a mere moment by your boldness before a smug smirk surfaces across his features. He takes your hand slowly, taking a careful step forward before falling into the beat.

You supposed that everyone had Vil to thank for teaching the inexperienced students on how to dance with one another. It was not the first time you would be dancing with Sebek, but this was an entirely different matter. There wasn't much of a dance routine to recall, but only trust that your partner would always be in sync with you.

Sebek never disappoints when it came to observation, and it didn't take too long for him to adjust to your movements.

The world spins with each turn and pivot, but Sebek never relents and neither do you. His cape is flying through the air, and the extensions from your clothes flow in sync with his movements. As you barely ghost your head from his chest, you continue to glance into the crowd. You were barely able to catch Deuce and Grim from the crowd, attempting to support you with a 'thumbs-up'. Then you could see Rollo and Malleus side-by-side, arms crossed and musing upon the sight.

Everyone was switching partners, leaping from one dancer to another. Sebek's gentle grip on you remained, and your hand never leaves his shoulder as you both spun.

There were so many people whose eyes were trained on you, and the idea makes your head spin until your dance partner noticed. "Prefect, do not stray your gaze from me." You are almost startled by how commandeering his voice had become. For a slight moment, you both pull away, an arm behind your backs and the other lacing fingers. His eyes trained onto yours, as they always were, Sebek gives you an encouraging smile. "Focus on me." You do not understand, judging by the way you cock your head to the side innocently. "Care not for what the others think of you. It is only you and I here."

It takes a moment for you to relax, returning his smile before you closed the distance once more with a sweep of your foot. "And what are you thinking of, Sebek?" You respond, and it is that look on your face that takes his breath away. As he sweeps at the floor with you, he struggles to find the words. Between dancing and thinking, both had begun to feel difficult with each second that passes while he remained fixed onto your eyes. Ever so quietly, he finally clears his throat to answer your question.

"I am thinking about how the radiance of Fleur City pales when compared to your expressions."

Everyone is leaping again, the colors of Noble Bell wash over into a blur as your lips parted with surprise. Words are trapped in your throat as you looked up at Sebek, eyes softening in thought. For a moment, Sebek's face froze, almost as if he feared your reaction when it was anything but rejection. Your silence would've pained him, if he weren't so captivated by your expression as the world continues to spin.

Finally, he breaks the silence with a whine.

"Please don't look at me like that, Prefect. I beg you." It snaps you out of your trance, prompting you to furrow your eyebrows slightly in confusion. "Why? I am only looking at you like you asked." Sebek's grip tightens only slightly, demonstrating even further restraint. Almost like an agonized hiss, he responds with an accusing glare. "That's exactly it! I cannot think straight when you look at me with such an endearing expression!"

If it was an indirect comment, it cracks a smile from your face. Even as your eyes flutter shut into your stifled laughter, you never truly face away from the half-fae. Huffing to himself, Sebek's ears flush a warm pink. "You dare provoke me like this?" He says quietly, but it is merely a warning before he puffs up his chest with pride, regaining a new sense of energy.

Squeezing your hand with care, Sebek cleared his throat with a scowl. "Very well, then I shall give you my all for tonight. Do not regret this." As surly as he attempts to be, it does not deter you from returning his gesture with a squeeze of your own. "Of course not!"

You no longer know how long you have been dancing for. It seems that a few pairs have resigned to rest, leaving behind more room for you and Sebek to explore. You've long stopped paying attention to your surroundings, far too concerned with the way Sebek mutters quick praises into your ear with each turn and twirl. He is swift with his feet, yet so careful to ensure you do not fall on his watch. Neither of you have yet to stumble, far too engrossed and connected to collapse now.

"Good, Prefect! Keep up!"

The music never stops, and it seems it has no intents of stopping until only one pair remains. If your feet were ever tired, you never notice, not when Sebek's hands are constantly finding ways to touch you. Even as you both part for mere seconds, it does not take long for him to come back. He returns to you, just as how you retreat to him, how you surrender yourself to him, how you trust him to not let you fall.

You never realize how he comes so close to your face, dipping you low until his breath brushes against the crook of your neck. Sebek's arm was secure in the way he kept you from falling onto the floor, despite how far he had lowered you. His hot breath brushed against your cheek, and you could feel his body tense as you tighten your grip on his shoulder. "Is it appropriate for you to be this close to me?" You murmured softly, meeting his dilated eyes, that beautiful shade of gold. "Does it cause you discomfort?" He muttered in turn, almost ready to shift away should you express it. Much to his concern, you shook your head with a coy smile. "No."

Sebek held a smug smirk, confidence reflected behind his eyes once more. Just as he heaved forward to pull you back up, his lips brushed against the slight curve of your ear. For a moment, you wondered if it was just your imagination when you felt a sharp fang press itself against your skin for a brief moment.

"Very good, Prefect."

It clicks.

This is no longer an ordinary dance. It is a game of hiding one's affections. For someone as loud and proud like Sebek, it comes to a slight surprise that he would indulge in subtleties to express his fondness for you. Once he had pulled you from his dip, something changes within Sebek's movements.

Sebek holds you as if he were possessed, eyes glazed with yearning. The song had begun to ride out its climax, intensifying just as your partner closed in on you like a predator trapping its prey. It's not just about upholding reputations now.

Leaning into your space, Sebek's restrained hand lightly clawed at your back as he presses you closer to him. Finally able to obscure himself from your vision, he struggled to keep himself from growling, however much he could hold back the fae within him.

"Be careful, Prefect. If you keep looking at me with those eyes of yours,"

Pulling away, he bares his fangs before you, teeth clenched with intense concentration. Perhaps the act of putting on a show was no longer on his mind, traded in for the experience of watching your lovely expressions as he continued to control your turns with each step and pull. Sebek would never let you turn away from him, and you wouldn't dare to tear yourself away from his powerful gaze.

"I might just devour you whole."

"Monsieur Crocodile! I did not expect such a display from him, I applaud his tenacity!" Azul sighed to himself, debating on whether he should or shouldn't entertain the blonde who had taken to himself with a handkerchief to his eye. Against his better judgement, he turns to Rook with an exasperated expression. "His tenacity is applaudable, yes. Still, I do not understand why you have to shed a tear, Rook."

"Have you not noticed, Roi d'Effort?" Rook clicks his tongue, his smile relaxing as he swoons over the sight of the pair returning to Malleus and Silver. "It is most common to part from your current partner and land in the arms of another for these waltzes. The entire point of this dance is to explore different faces, after all." Only then does it click for Azul who hums in amusement, seemingly impressed by the sentiment.

"Monsieur Crocodile has not switched partners at all, and the knight-to-be has no intentions of ever handing off the Trickster to anyone else." Azul certainly never coined Sebek to be quite the romantic.

From a distance, you nudged Sebek's shoulder with a cheeky smile. "I suppose this demonstrates the good will between fae and humans, doesn't it?" You teased, only to be met by a reddened Sebek. All the bravado he exhibited during that dance seemed to have disappeared in Malleus's presence, but it's not as if you disliked it.

"R-Right! You are correct, Prefect! This spectacle shall demonstrate the Young Master's benevolence towards humans, as well as all those who represent him!" Sebek rambled, unable to meet you in the eye. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Malleus could only smile to himself in amusement.

It seems that Lilia had won his bet; Sebek will not be expressing the entirety of his true feelings to you today.

[hai7ani]

Haitani Rindou, Me and My Girlfriend Tokyo Revengers' Ending Special

Your birthday is cold. The wind is big and your jacket is not doing its job good enough. Orangey leaves fall from the trees and they land on your heads. Sweet potatoes have never tasted so sweet before, but he thinks your smile is sweeter.

Tokyo has been getting pretty cold these days, but Rindou is always warm.

"It's soooo cold." You hide your face into his much thicker jacket and mewl like a sweet little kitten seeking for warmth. He reels your body in closer to wrap his arms around your figure, tight. "Told'cha to wear the other jacket." He sways you both around lightly. Your paper bag from Chrome Hearts is heavy and he grabs it off your fingers.

"But I wanted to wear this one for today. You got it for me." You sneak a peek from his chest to look at his face. He rolls his eyes in faux annoyance as you smile cheekily.

Draken is not happy with what he's seeing.

"What the hell? Did this guy just skip the gang meeting to date? That's some lame shit." He clicks his tongue, irritated. A thick vein bulges from his forehead and he starts stomping towards you both, who're standing under a tree all cuddled up together and so, so cozy 一 it's such an eye-sore.

Emma stops him before he can get any closer. "Oh, leave them alone, would you? Let them date in peace. Haitani Ran attended the meeting anyway!" She scolds, hands on her hips. Senju drags along Hinata with sparkly eyes and a wide-open mouth. "Ehhh? She's so pretty! They look so good together."

"Hah? Ya tellin' me four eyes' got a girlfriend?!" Hakkai's strikingly blue eyes almost falls out of his sockets as he witness the scene before him: you're stepping on your tippy toes to place a smooch on Rindou's cheek sweetly, and he's actually smiling like a damn fool. Sanzu only snarls 一 a common reaction for a guy who's just broken up with his girlfriend, while Hanma is busy smirking as he lights up a cigarette. "He's got some balls showing up here all lovey-dovey." ...He'd just broken up with his girlfriend, too.

Mitsuya snickers, "they've been together for a very long time already, I'm surprised you lot just found out about this," while Souya and Nahoya seem normal about it. "Do you guys not follow his SoundCloud? He makes a lot of songs for her. He shared his link with us willingly, too."

Chifuyu pitches in. "Last week they visited the pet shop to get some cat supplies, and he pretended not to know me with his nose up high, but he made me give him a staff discount while she was busy playing with Peke J. Evil person, I say." Baji smacks the back of his head, "that's just you, dude. He said hi to me and Kazutora." The said man raises his hand as a confirmation.

Inui's face does not change. "Draken wasn't around so he doesn't know, but they both came by D&D the other day to make me check on his car. We don't fix cars, bruh, but he still left with his engine problem solved. No idea how, 'cause I didn't do shit. Goofy guy."

Kokonoi sighs. "It's been ages since they've been doing this, guys. Has no one ever realised the freaking hickeys on his neck? He's fuckin' cocky 'bout 'em too."

But as always, Draken is quick to get pissed off even with reason. He scoffs, "So what? We meet up just once a week to talk about the gang. Is it so hard to show up for just two hours every Sunday?"

...Mikey is always faster. He's already looming over you both (in his head he is) while the others are still busy busting their heads over you two.

"You." His voice is flat and his eyes are squinted, very annoyed. He looks like a grumpy child pissed that he didn't get a souvenir from his classmate. It doesn't help that he is much shorter than your boyfriend as well.

"What the hell are you doing here? If you wanna skip a meeting at least don't show up at our venue to show off. Are you asking for a beating?"

You poke your head out from his jacket just enough to take a quick look at Mikey who is standing behind you both, arms crossed while tapping his feet on the ground. Rindou turns his head and eyes the growing crowd who're slowly circling around you both.

Shion and Izana shrug simultaneously with their hands in the air when Rindou glares at them. 'We didn't say shit,' but his best friend mouths to him anyway, 'dumbass'. And for once, Kakucho is laughing.

From the corner of his eyes he can see Ran slowly approach you both, left behind by the crowd while sucking on a popsicle at this weather like the maniac he is. He quickly stands properly to fix on your clothing gently without letting you go from the confines of his jacket 一 to keep you warm like the loving boyfriend he is or to keep your face hidden like the petty boyfriend he is, you're not too sure.

He faces the crowd with you hiding behind his back, eyes wide as you listen.

"It's my girl's birthday today." He simply mutters, loud enough for the crowd to hear. No attitude, no eye roll 一 just five words, plain and simple.

"Huh?" The steam rising off of Mikey's head vanishes like a fire being put off by water, and Draken's expression significantly drops. He immediately coughs into his fist and bows a little when he sees you looking at him, pretty eyes folded into thin crescents as you pat on your boyfriend's back a little, whispering into his ear to ease up.

"What? I can't take you out to shop on your birthday now?" He says it to you with the expression of a sad little mistreated puppy and you try your best to shut him up while laughing. "Yes, yes you can. Now quiet, be nice to them." You say between giggles.

"Sorry. Happy birthday." Mikey immediately apologises, dazed. You snicker against Rindou's back and try your hardest to nod as a courtesy with your face half-hidden.

He still has something to say, though 一 like the big boy who doesn't like being misunderstood that he is 一 despite your best efforts on making him play nice and not be rude to his friends.

"I didn't come all the way here to show off, baka. We're waiting for this guy to celebrate together." He explains, one finger pointing to his nonchalant brother, as you both meet with Ran under the lamppost.

"And, dating isn't lame. Still being single is." His gaze switches to Emma who is playing with the buttons of her cardigan silently behind Draken, with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Asshole-"

"Bye. Don't follow us." He mocks the way Draken's mouth moves with a grin and you hit his arm while lightly bowing to the others as a goodbye.

"She looks so familiar." Takemichi whispers as he watch the three of you take off, and Hinata hums for him to continue. "I feel like I've seen her before."

Mikey looks at him with a soft smile on his face, as he takes a glance back at the rest who are still discussing about you two. They're all loud and boisterous, but they're having fun, and they're alive.

And suddenly the wires connect in his head.

Yeah, that's right. In the timeline before this, the timeline before that, and in all the timelines he's met with the Haitani Brothers, he's seen you too. You and Rindou side by side, and you're always together with Ran. You and him were never together before this because of your disapproval on their dangerous gang activities, but you are together now, in this timeline, where Ran and Rindou aren't just juvie kids and they're no longer cold-blooded murderers.

Mikey knows that too.

"Finally a happy timeline, right, Takemicchi?"

i'm extremely late to this but happy 2 years since tr ended and also not much tags cus idk what this is honestly. just read for fun LOL :p

[beef-brisket]

((We'll get into some plot soon, I promise 😂))

Lucifer laughed along with him until he felt something hard and slightly bigger than Adam's dick press against his hole, before popping inside.

Lucifer: W-Wha-?

Adam: It's your turn to go about your day full of my cum, let's see if anyone notices~.

Lucifer blushed and rolled his hips. That plug was definitely in there.

Lucifer: Y-You don't have to do this-.

Adam: Oh, but I do. You're still cocky, and we can't have that~. Now, I have an overlord meeting to attend to today, but at least I can see you squirm for a few hours~.

Lucifer tried not to groan as he sat in the library by himself. He couldn't be around his daughter or the others with so much of Adam inside him.

Lucky for him, Adam doesn't cum as Much as Lucifer, so he wasn't walking around with a huge load, but he could feel it.

This definitely gave Lucifer an idea. Adam needed to learn how place, as much as Lucifer loved subbing for Adam, he was in charge. Just one if the perks of being king.

Unfortunately for Adam, having something inside him was turning Lucifer on.

Adam sat at the overlord meeting. Apparently, that other angel was attacking overlords again, so this was going to be a long one. Adam groaned at the thought. What made it worse was Vix across from him. Why can't he sit somewhere else?

Carmilla: Now, our first order of business: Soul numbers. How many contracts does everyone have? Vox?

Vox: 14,590.

Adam wanted to laugh. What a pathetic number.

Carmilla: And the Vee's as a whole?

Vox smirked: 58,196.

That's it? Good lord, how pitiful. And he thinks that's impressive? For three overlords? What a joke.

Carmilla: Adam? How many contracts do you have?

Adam: 736,195- fuck!

Adam gripped the table as he felt something suddenly fill him. It was warm, and he could almost hear it as it entered him from... somewhere?

He rolled his hips slightly, nothing was coming out.

Carmilla: Adam?

Adam jumped, hearing her voice. He was still still being filled with whatever this stuff was.

Adam: Y-Yes- Sorry Carmilla. J-Just a cramp! M-My contracts are 735,195. And counting~.

Adam almost moaned as another gush of whatever this stuff is, entered him.

Carmilla nodded and moved on, but eyes were on Adam, which he hated.

After an hour, Carmilla was finally starting to end the meeting. Adam shuddered as he felt all all too familiar gush. Looking down, his eyes widened as he saw how much his stomach was bulging out, straining his suit jacket.

This had to be Lucifer's doing. Little brat didn't learn his lesson. Or maybe Adam's punishment wasn't punishing at all.

Rosie: Dear? What's going on with you? You look sick? Did the meet I give you, not agree?

Adam groaned and tensed as Rosie put her hand on his stomach, pressing down slightly. His tentacle quickly grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

Adam: I-I'm fine, thank you, my dear. Just- some meat that refuses to cooperate. Nothing to worry about- ah!

Adam covered his mouth as that feeling came back. He needed to get out of here. He hopes this meeting hurries up.

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic X Shadow Takeover Analyzer (Part 1)

I was so excited to hear this Takeover since it is only Sonic and Shadow talking to each other and answering question. It is one of those times where you get to see their dynamic without anyone else's input.

Since I feel like I could write an essay about these two, I decided to instead put all my thoughts into bullet points, this being Part 1 of my list:

First of, congratulations to Shadow for hosting the Takeover! Shadow sounds so proud of having managed to take over the channel and having gotten a whole year for himself. At least until Sonic reminds him that he is also there.

Why does Sonic's mind immediately jump to ''marriage'' when he hears the word proposal? Is he still bummed over the fact that he didn't think of proposing to Shadow?

I never thought I'd live the day to hear Shadow saying ''Sonic x Shadow''. I know it's referring to the game, but shippers are going to have a field day with this.

Shadow finally got his #AskShadow. Sonic is not happy to lose to him.

The best way for Sonic to annoy Shadow is to just be around him, with Sonic adding how he'd slowly take his time when they're racing and drag it out, much to Shadow's chagrin. God, I love how Sonic trolls Shadow.

Sonic doesn't know about Doom Wing... and he forgot about Black Doom! X3

I love how Sonic's idea in a body swap scenario with Shadow is to brag about himself, while Shadow's idea is to tell everyone how Sonic is stupid... and more importantly, telling that to Amy. Sonic sounds really flustered, and while I get the Sonamy joke... I'm pretty sure they threw that in because they knew the Sonadow fans will go wild over this.

There you have it folks! Shadow doesn't hate Tails, but he will beat him up if he stands in his way. I also love how Sonic immediately jumps to Tails' defense - big brother gotta protect his little brother.

Sonic loves the journey, while Shadow points out how you need to learn from the experience to not make the same mistakes. I love their philosophy, since they mesh so well together... and it also feels as if Sonic wants to go on a journey with Shadow.

I love the scenario of Sonic and Shadow babysitting Cream and them arguing over their methods (Sonic, the twelve scoop ice-cream cone scenario is really specific).

Did Sonic just invite Shadow on an ice-cream date? As Cream's babysitters, but nonetheless, it is a date. And he also knows what Shadow's favorite ice-cream flavour is.

Okay, start the counter for how many times Sonic attempts to convince Shadow to go out with him.

I love how Sonic knows how to challenge Shadow and Shadow falls for it despite his reservations, even if it's something silly like a thumb war. Sonic knows exactly how to get under his skin and Shadow just goes along with it, much to his chagrin. X3

Sonic, Shadow and Silver have a Big Brother, Little Brother relationship! Love how they're ready to help him at any point of time and how Shadow respects Silver.

So, Sonic forgot about Elise? To note Sonic 06 technically did happen, but the universe did get reset.

I adore that Shadow acts like he doesn't care whether he's Sonic's biggest rival, but the moment Sonic starts trolling him by placing him between Zavok and... Dodon Pa? (What?) - Shadow gets irritated. It's obvious that Shadow wants the recognition of being Sonic's main rival, and knows Sonic is messing with him.

Did Shadow just laugh at the Joe Mama joke?

Shadow correcting Sonic's Macarena bit is hilarious, especially since neither of them know the lyrics. Also, obligatory Macarena singing is obligatory.

I love how Shadow shares Omega's ''enthusiasm for blowing things up''. We saw him enjoying himself blowing up G.U.N. property alongside Omega and Rouge in Sonic X Shadow Generations: Dark Beginnings, so I'm not surprised. Sonic then immediately figures he also needs to hang out more with Omega,... perhaps in hopes to get closer to Shadow?

Shadow pointing out how Tails is the reason why Sonic's always in trouble is not wrong. These two can be a disaster when together as siblings tend to do.

''Shadow, have you ever given Sonic a present on his birthday?'' ''No, my presence is more than enough.'' There are several things to discuss here:

Shadow is willing to buy Amy a present in The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, but couldn't bother get anything for Sonic, which is hilarious. Especially since we know that it was Rouge who convinced him to go to Sonic's birthday by promising him a rocket.

Shadow arrived at Sonic's birthday just after he was traumatized by watching Gerald and Maria return to their own timeline, knowing this was the last time he saw them again. I doubt getting a present for Sonic was on his mind at that time.

Shadow claims his presence is enough of a birthday present. I interpret this as him claiming that he is Sonic's birthday present and you can't stop me.

Sonic teasing Shadow about the Hot Honey concert is so hilarious... until Shadow reveals they're going on another concert, and Sonic's mood drops. Honestly, Sonic, if you want to go to a concert with Shadow, ask him out!

Sonic being so intrigued and even saying that he's jealous over Shadow smiling in Big's presence, and then suggests a fishing trip with all three of them. Not only does he want to see Shadow smile again, but he is still persistent about getting his date.

Shadow chooses to save Sonic from danger because he knows Sonic will get himself into trouble, so he needs keep an eye on him. This is completely out of Sonic Prime and I'm loving it! It really shows that Shadow cares about Sonic.

Sonic isn't too enthusiastic about going with Amy on shopping trips. Shadow, on the other hand, just buys what he needs, which is understandable... Sonic then immediately uses this as an opportunity to invite him on a shopping date, even saying how he'll make it fun. Shadow immediately accepts the moment Sonic turns it into a race.

They mention the matching outfits (possible reference to Sonic Speed Simulator)! Sonic believes they have similar tastes, Shadow calls it a coincidence and insists it means nothing, which Sonic doesn't buy at all.

''But if we do ever go to a party, you know I'm picking the outfits.'' Sonic is still desperately trying to get that date and Shadow is not budging. These two sound like a married couple.

I love how Shadow respects Sonic enough to refuse beating him in a swimming competition, even if he reasons that it's because Sonic would drown, so he wouldn't be able to see the look of the defeat on his face.

Sonic immediately mentions a ''plummeting to Earth contest'', which is just... woah! I didn't expect him to go that far. Shadow gets an UNO Reverse on him by teasing him about needing floaties. Go Shadow!

Sonic keeps his chest fur short to stay aerodynamic and run laps around Shadow. You guys do know that hedgehogs circle around each other in order to court?

Frontiers!Sonic voice is back! Shadow sounds baffled. X3

So, Classic Sonic is just chilling in the room. Shadow likes him because he's silent, though. I suppose Modern Sonic is taking notes... or not.

#Sonic X Shadow Takeover Analyzer (Part 2)

#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

[mangostarjam]

birthday boy — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established relationship aka they're happily married, smut mentioned but not described, reader is called "wife" and "darling" and "sweetheart", fluff, birthday fic, 1.7k words

"Quit smiling so much, bowl cut," Narumi Gen snaps. "You're giving me the creeps. Who called you out here, anyway? This is First Division territory!"

Hoshina Soshiro sheathes his blades as officers begin to scatter from the area. His smirk grows. "We're right on the border, so my wife called me."

And there it is — a telltale pink rising on the Captain's cheeks, hands spasming on his bayonet as he tries to come up with something that doesn't betray his jealousy. Not that Soshiro cares — not today, anyway, not when his wife woke him up with a soft, sweet kiss before making him cum so hard he went a little boneless.

Still, it never hurts to rub it in.

"She knows I'm the best at neutralizin' these small fry kaiju," Soshiro says lightly, "and y'know my wife — she deserves the best."

Gen's jaw ticks. "Oh yeah? Well, your wife still thinks I'm the best Numbers Weapons user!"

Both men subconsciously straighten when their earpieces click and you sigh loudly over comms. "Seriously?" you ask, but Soshiro can hear the smile in your voice. "Shouldn't you guys be working?"

"Aw, sweetheart, we're done here," Soshiro says, glancing around quickly. The scene is secure, the kaiju are all neutralized, and officers from the First Division are handling the rest. There's only one thing left.

Soshiro spots a drone hovering nearby and waves a hand at it. He can feel the camera focusing on him, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Gen watching with a frown. He shoots the camera a cheeky grin. "I think it's time I get back to my wife. See ya, Captain."

You groan loudly over comms and Soshiro laughs, shoulders shaking as he waves goodbye to the First Division and heads back to his car. Gen scoffs just as loudly and begins barking out orders, because he is a good captain underneath it all, and Soshiro should really get out of their territory before he ends up with more paperwork on his desk.

You're waiting for him in his office, perched on the edge of his chair with a familiar jacket covering your body. "The troublemaker returns," you announce, sweeping your arms out as if the office contains an audience and not just the two of you.

Soshiro laughs and steps into your embrace, squeezing you to him as you giggle. You're warm — and soft — and you smell like laundry detergent and sunshine and the faintest whiff of freshly brewed coffee. "Didja borrow my shampoo again, my dear?"

"It was my shampoo first," you scrunch your nose at him playfully. He snorts. Resists the urge to kiss your cheek — and then gives in a moment later, lips brushing soft along your skin. Your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. "Need help with your combat suit?"

Soshiro's fond smile goes a little sharp. "Are ya offerin'?"

"Yes, you menace," you stretch a little to give him a kiss. Soshiro's heart thunks painfully in his ribcage as the warm metal of your ring sweeps across his cheek. "Here, let me."

Soshiro stands still as you begin unzipping his combat suit. He keeps his gloved hands on your hips, muscles relaxing out of the subtle, constant strain of the suit as it releases his body little by little. You're taking your time — fingers dancing along his shoulders and pecs, palms smoothing down his biceps and nails catching just barely along the edge of his compression shirt.

He always keeps a spare set of uniforms in his office, so he's not the least bit surprised when you drag the zipper further down, your touch featherlight along the tense muscles of his abdomen. You suck in a breath and it's gratifying, always, to catch your gaze and the heat in your blown pupils.

You keep your eyes on his and nearly go cross eyed when he tips forward, purple strands tangling with your hair. Your thumbs trace idly along his hip bones. "Who's the menace now?"

"Still you."

Soshiro laughs quietly, nerves thrumming in his fingertips as his heart threatens to overflow. "I think you're a pretty good contender."

"Hmm, I dunno," you mutter, tugging the zipper a little further. Soshiro's briefs waistband is in view now, but you just lick your lips. "You're the one who insisted on returning the favor this morning, even though it's your birthday."

"Can't help it," he sneaks a kiss to your jaw, presses his lips against your fluttering pulse. "That was a great birthday gift — my pretty lil' wife, cumming all over my cock 'cause she knows it belongs to her."

Your face warms and Soshiro grins. Kisses your cheek. Catches your hand in his and rubs his thumb along your matching ring. "Alright, Vice Captain, you should really get changed," you say, and immediately Soshiro's expression falls. "Wh-what?"

"That's illegal," Soshiro says. He can feel himself pouting, but it's fine. Nobody's around to see except you. "I'm your husband!"

"Oops," you say. Your eyebrow raises and you tug the zipper the rest of the way down. Soshiro sucks in a breath. "Want me to make it up to you, birthday boy?"

He's achingly hard, nerves shivering with the release of the suit and anticipation, but you've gotten in trouble before for shenanigans on duty and he knows better. He does.

Really.

You smile into the kiss, lips moving comfortably against his own. Soshiro sighs into your pretty little gasp, teeth nipping at your lip before he pulls back completely. "Soshiro…?"

That's really not fair. "The captain'll understand, won't she?" Soshiro mutters. You giggle and he can't help it — he kisses you again.

You tug at his gloves wordlessly, too caught up in kissing him back for any finesse. With the removal of his gloves, the sleeves of his combat suit slide off, and the rest of it follows until it pools on the floor. You slip your fingers under the edge of his briefs as he tugs you close, his own hands now free to roam appreciatively over your body beneath your borrowed jacket.

"Does my husband have plans to take his boots off?" you ask teasingly, tilting your head as he sucks another mark into the soft skin of your neck. "We don't have much time before your next meeting."

Soshiro groans into your shoulder when you touch him, eyes flashing hot as your lips part in silent awe. "Are ya still stretched out from this mornin'?"

"I might've been — ah, touching myself, just a little bit, while I was waiting for you to get — Soshiro!"

Your laughter fills the air and Soshiro engraves it into his memory, takes every gasp and moan and the wet, warm heat of you and etches it into his bones. It never gets old — just better, with age and familiarity and the silly inside jokes layered upon your shared history. With the boundless love echoing through both of you, the promises and the choice to keep choosing each other through it all.

Soshiro chokes on a surprised laugh when you mumble something about how your tits must look like mont blanc desserts from how much attention he paid them. "Aw, darlin', are ya jealous? I swear I love ya more."

You lift a shaky hand from your face and manage to shoot him a look. "You're not denying it."

He kisses you, but you're both smiling too much, so he pulls back slightly to brush your noses together. "Didn't ya say somethin' about bein' late?"

"We won't be late," you say. Soshiro raises an eyebrow and you shrug demurely. "What can I say? I know my husband."

The loud bark of his laughter makes you grin, and he finally pulls out to get the two of you cleaned up and presentable. You had the foresight to stash a change of panties for yourself among his things, but he leaves his jacket on you, opting instead to wear your lab coat even though it strains over his shoulders.

"Sexy," you snort, tugging him closer by his belt loops. He steps into the space between your legs and hums as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "You look like you ran a marathon."

"Someone was a lil too distracted to care about my poor hair," Soshiro says lightly. You roll your eyes fondly. "But it's alright," he sighs, "at least I match my wife."

"Not quite yet," you mutter, gaze flicking to the mark you had managed to leave on his skin, sitting just beneath the edge of his turtleneck. "But it's fine," you smile sweetly, "I've got time."

"Is that a promise, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you slide your arms around his waist and he steps obligingly closer, letting you press your ear to his chest. The sigh you release makes his lips twitch with a pleased, fond smile. "The captain granted us the day off tomorrow, since you had to go help the First Division today. So you can party as long as you want tonight, and we'll still have all day tomorrow for me to make sure we match."

"Party?"

"Don't play dumb, Soshiro," you say. "You know I wouldn't have let you mark me up so visibly if we were going to a real meeting."

"I dunno," Soshiro hums, hugging you a little tighter. "I thought it was just my birthday present."

You lean back slightly to look at him. Sitting on his desk puts you at a bit of a disadvantage, but he thinks you look cute like this, with your soft gaze and the pretty tilt of your lips.

And to think — he'll have more of this. Years and years together, getting to see you smile and hearing the bright sound of your laugh. All the time he spends with you more than makes up for the reality and danger of your jobs, but it also means he cherishes each second with you in a way that he never takes for granted.

"What is it?" you ask. Soshiro's grip tightens slightly. Your confusion melts into understanding and you reach up to cup his face in your hands. "We're right here, Soshiro."

"I know." He kisses you softly. You sweep your thumbs along his cheekbones, so tenderly his heart aches.

"Happy birthday, my love."

[httpskuzuu]

L”m so happy your back! I would like a request a yandere! Pm Dazai (18 yrs old) with a darling who’s naïve and innocent (of course he kidnaps them) how would he react to a such pure person! Thank you for taking this request.

Yandere!PM!Dazai with a naive and innocent reader

This is the first time I write for PM!Dazai (and I do headcanons), don't kill me

Yandere!PM!Dazai x Reader

Idk english, I don't like english, let me

summary: the title :D

tw: kidnapping, corruption of innocence, stalking, death (not reader or Dazai), physical and psychological abuse, maybe something else but idk

Honestly, I don't know how you got into this situation.

I can only think of two options as to how you ended up getting his attention: Dazai was looking for someone like you or you just surprised him.

With the first option, I guess he wanted to get away momentarily from everything he had known in his life, get someone who wasn't as fucked up as he was.

Or you just came unexpectedly into his life, maybe you got involved in one of his missions without having any idea.

Either way, Dazai was dazzled by your innocence.

You are the opposite of him and he wants to keep it that way, he knows what this world is capable of doing to pure souls like yours and he is not going to allow that.

First he won your trust, it was easy, you trusted everyone too fast, you didn't even doubt him in spite of his strange attitude that didn't let you see beyond him.

You never realized the danger in front of your eyes and that only made Dazai adore you more.

He would know every little part of your life, the names of all your friends and the places you go to, he always has an eye on you.

He would keep your friends and family away from you, he's not afraid to kill, threaten or torture others for that purpose.

Deep down, all he wants to do is to corrupt you.

He wants to be the one to destroy your innocence, to show you the cruelty of the world, even if it is contradictory to his initial purpose.

Maybe that's the reason he kidnapped you.

And oh god, that's when the real fun begins.

He doesn't care about your opinion, not in the slightest, and punishments are just around the corner.

Forced affection would be a normal thing, he sees you as a kind of safe place where he can be a bit more vulnerable, just a bit 🤏

Still, I doubt he would ever let you see his true feelings.

That would only be way down the road in your relationship, when Dazai can have complete confidence that you'll never escape.

Yandere!Dazai is not easy, least of all if he's PM Dazai, but your attitude would make it somewhat more tolerable.

Being such a naive little thing, he can trust you more easily.

Plus you're terrified of him, so you don't even think about running away.

But if you were to try… Well, remember what I said about punishments being just around the corner? Then get ready for torture.

Breaking bones, beating you unconscious, isolating you for days, starving and thirsting you, etc.

Although he usually mistreats you as well, it's all more psychological.

He wants to make you see the evil, to see you break and cry.

Makes him have a mix between sadistic joy and regret.

He really feels very guilty for everything he does, for seeing you in such a broken state.

He would never tell you, the closest you get to that would be a strangely silent Dazai cuddling like a koala bear to you.

I hope you have enough mental stamina to endure your stay with Dazai

Oh, and if he sees that he's broken you until there's nothing left of the original you or that all your innocence is gone, maybe he'll kill you because he's bored 😀

The image of your friend would not leave your head. He was immobile, cold, dead.

It was the first time you saw a corpse in real life, it made your blood run cold. Especially because you saw him die and you couldn't do anything about it.

Dazai killed him, after many hours of torture, one shot in his head and his screams stopped. You saw the blood spill on the floor along with pieces of flesh. You did not vomit because of the absence of food in your stomach, but the nausea was there.

He wouldn't let you take your eyes off him, even when he was torturing him. When his fingernails were being pulled out and his skin was burning. You had to keep watching or the torture would transfer to you.

You couldn't save him. Your throat was torn from screaming, but he was still dead. Would his corpse still be in that dark warehouse? Would that be his grave? At least you would have liked to have been able to give him a proper funeral, not abandon him.

You didn't understand how someone could be as evil as Dazai was. Your friend did nothing, he just worried about your disappearance. Now, because of you, he too would become a missing person.

The tears were still wet when an extra weight was placed on the bed. You refused to move, afraid that he would take you back to continue seeing those horrible things, things you can't even describe without breaking down in tears.

He lies behind you and wraps his arms around you, his hands that caused so many murders gently holding your body.

You never thought before that the perpetrators of these acts could be ordinary people, people you would trust and befriend. But they could be, the proof of that was Dazai, someone too young to be killing.

You are conflicted by the situation, you empathize with Dazai. You want to understand him and know what led him to be the way he is today, try to justify him, but he killed your friend. The dilemma of whether he deserved a forgiveness eats at you inside. Could his actions be justified by his past? Maybe Dazai is just a victim like you.

Be that as it may, apparently you still have time to think because he doesn't plan to let you go anytime soon.

I am sleep deprived

[kiame-sama]

Azul gives the vibe that at least in regards to his writting he's confident, being able to take crtique well and not be affected by hate. All that goes out the window if it's the human. Like, any reaction that's not explicit praise or positive reaction makes him SPIRAL into overthinking. It could be as small as "I don't think humans can bend like that..." and it's off to the sulking pot. On the other hand, if reader was like "okay, that was kinda hot" Azul would have a heart attack.

A man of talent, understanding, and literary works, Azul usually seems to take critique decently well. He will still loudly complain to Jade or have a knee jerk reaction of going after someone via Idia, but he doesn't often seem to react beyond a backhanded comment in response or sneer. He will think about it for days after though and still complain about it to poor Jade and Floyd who just ignore/nap (Floyd), or nod along (Jade) during his rants.

The Human makes him go to extremes in terms of his emotions because that is exactly the kind of amazing creature he was writing about in his stories and he would be absolutely crushed should the Human say they didn't like it. Jade has to often visit the sulking pot to get Azul back after any mild reaction the Human has to his writing. Disgust is met with anguish. Praise is met with an overload of his senses and hearts. He can't help being a senseless simp sometimes, no matter how suave and smooth he tries to be.

[glassmermaids]

𖡼 ⊹ ˚. dating felix catton (headcanons)

first of all this boy is clingy as hell. like he needs to be glued to your side at all times or else he'll die (or at least that's what it feels like for him) he's always touching you in some way; hand holding yours when he's walking you to your next class or a hand softly gripping your thigh as he sits next to you in the crowded bar.

to further elaborate on the clingy part; I believe his love language is physical touch so he's always touching you sweetly and kissing you all over, hands exploring you like it's the first time again and mouth finding all your sweet spots whenever he gets you alone. he's insatiable and can never get enough of you.

he drags you along to join him whenever he goes out. house parties, pubs, uni events, it doesn't matter because you're always by his side. he insists you must be present, otherwise he's not having fun.

he's a little possessive to be honest. he's admittedly grown up spoiled so he enjoys when things are exclusively his. there was never any argument on that; felix wanted something so felix received it and it would be his only for as long as he deemed so. that's why he feels like it's his job to show everyone that you were exclusively his, always making sure no guy ever even tried their luck and keeping a possessive arm around your waist when in a crowd, successfully claiming you.

he always asks you to spend the holidays at Saltburn, and you never decline. his mother adores you, and so does Venetia. the days there are spent sunbathing in the more isolated, open parts of the building like his balcony as he catches up on his prescribed reading for the term or taking a dip in the pond to cool off from the sweltering summer. he has you sit by him when he takes a bath because he enjoys the company and vice versa. also absolutely loves when his father has guests over for dinner because the two of you will just be spending the night making fun of the strange characters Mr Catton called friends.

will literally come knocking at your dorm room at past midnight (much to the dismay of your roommate) and ask you to join him for a quick drive because he couldn't sleep. and you never say no either; a CD burned with all your favourite songs playing from his radio as the open jeep allowed for the wind to blow over you and cool you as you drove to nowhere and back.

he spoils you rotten. expensive jewelry and bouquets and teddies on anniversaries and paying to get you all dolled up just for him. he's a romantic at heart, so he's going all out with the corny stuff (you love it, though). I'm talking sweet love letters in his messy handwriting and spontaneous dates to show you he still thinks about you. he's just a loverboy like that.

[chososwifey24-7]

Handsy

Synopsis: You wanted to go get a fun little skull tattoo to have fun for the spooky season. When you walk into the tattoo parlor, the last thing you expect to see is a sexy man. And he doesn't expect to see such a pretty girl.

Cw: nsfw, mdni, needles (tattoo gun), smut, public sex, fingering, fondling, nipple sucking, cum eating , slight aftercare.

You'd always wanted a tattoo. You have piercings so a little needle and ink wasn't anything to fear right?

You'd looked and looked at designs and one stood out to you. Not only because it was close to halloween, but it looked esthetically pleasing. Just a small little cartoon skull.

It looked like something you'd doodle on your calculus papers in college. Just about the size of a quarter, slightly bigger. It wouldn't take terribly long, and it was cute.

Calling the tattoo parlor and setting up the appointment was the easy part. It couldn't be much harder to walk in and get that tatto done, right?

At least that's what you told yourself as you entered the tattoo parlor the day of your appointment.

You looked around the shop, everything from pictures that people made to bug cases filled with all kinds of jewelry. From earrings to nose ring to belly button rings to nipple piercing. Any piercing you could imagine was there.

All the equipment, all of the jewelry, all of the showcasing of things they had really made the place look cozy.

You could hear the faintest sound of music from possibly a room in the back. It sounded like rock music, but you could only pick out the guitar, so you weren't one hundred percent sure.

That's when you heard the footsteps approaching, and a boy with salmon her walked out behind the counter along with another salmon haired male.

One was much taller and more muscular, with tattoos lining every inch of his upper body. The other boy looked smaller, still muscular, but more bright.

"Heya! Welcome in. How can we help ya?"

They younger, smaller, boy said with big shiny eyes. He looked sweet. The guy behind him looked through some of the stuff upfront before quickly leaving back to the back.

"Oh, I had a tattoo appointment scheduled today. It's with Choso? I believe that was his name."

The boys' face lit up immediately, and he waved you into the back.

You followed him and eyed all of the displays on the walls, looking at some of the designs and some of the different art pieces. Not all drawing, but crafted by hand. It was esthetically pleasing to look at .

As you made it to the back, there was a man sanitizing a table and pulling out different items. Two, almost, buns sat atop his head. Hair was sticking out, and honestly, it pulled together his style.

He had a tattoo running over the bridge of his nose and sleep deprived eyes. Everything about him just screamed hot and emo.

Not that it was bad, but rather sexy and alluring.

The young boy with pink hair called out to the man in front of you.

"Yo! Choso, your appointment is here! Thought I'd bring her back for ya."

He said with a chipper tone and a happy attitude. His smile truly was quite bright. You wondered what a kid like him was doing in a shop like this.

"Oh, thanks, Yuji."

His baritone voice struck your ears like his voice was a call. It was almost like a call just for you, but that had to be crazy right?

When he looked at you, you watched the way his pupils dilated. His mouth was hung open slightly, and he just looked you up and down.

His gaze made you feel hot, but you soon shoved those feelings away. He was just your tattoo artist for christ sake.

He patted the seat you'd be in and gave you a gentle smile, and you hadn't even noticed you'd been standing there for a hot minute. Yuji was gone and Choso was worried he had frightened you.

"Come on over, I don't bite, I promise."

He said with an ever so gentle chuckle. You gave him back a small smile and went to go sit down.

"So you emailed me what you'd like as your tattoo, but you never actually told me where you'd like it."

"Well, you see, I wasn't sure, but I'd think it'd be super cute if it was just right on my ribs, maybe up closer to my right side of my... chest."

You hesitated slightly, saying chest, and he gave you another small laugh.

"No need to be shy. I've given some people a tattoo right above their ass before. Saying 'boob' won't kill me."

You nod again and bite your lip gently. Before taking a deep breath.

"Well then, I'd like to have the tattoo on my ribs just to the side of my right boob, so not on it."

He nodded and got to work, getting some of the ink and sanitizing stuff.

"Alright, that makes more sense. But for that, I'll need you to remove your shirt and your bra, please. I'll go close the door so we have privacy, and don't worry, everyone around here knows to knock."

You nod, and as you face him, you notice maybe you're not the only one embarrassed. A light pink dusted Chosos cheeks, and he tried to hide it by turning away.

Taking off your shirt and slowly unclasping your bra, you finally got everything off. You laid down on your side and waited for choso to come back.

As he approached the chair, he slightly leaned back to the top half so that you could fully lay down on your side. His face still dusted pink, and his eyes respectably looking at the ground.

He put on his gloves and put some numbing ointment over the area of wear the tattoo would go. After that, he waited for it to dry before he sat down.

"You'll feel my hand on your hip when I rest it. Besides that, my other hand will be on the tattoo gun, and we'll get this done soon. Of course if you're alright with that?"

He says, his sweet voice hitting your ears once more. You simply nod and he chuckles.

"I need words."

This felt more intimate than it needed to be. Maybe this wasn't the right call? Maybe you were just overthinking, but this man was just so fine. You couldn't help but take in a shaky breath before exhaling and answer.

"Um, yes, yes, that's alright with me."

You stuttered out, and he gave you a gentle pat to your hip. Before starting up the tattoo gun and getting to work.

The tattoo hadn't taken more than about thirty minutes for how small and simply it was. Choso just wanted to get all of the details correctly. He sighed as he finished and put over a protective cover.

You had turned over after he finished trying to readjust without even thinking or remembering that you hadn't had a shirt on this entire time.

Choso flushed red as he cleared his throat and looked away.

"Damn."

He muttered under his breath, but you had heard, and you looked at him surprised. Before that face had turned to a sly smirk.

"Do you find me attractive choso?"

You said with almost a haughty tone. He looked at you and nodded.

"Words, choso."

He licked his lips, eyeing you up and down. Seeing you like this made him hard just thinking about the things he'd do to you.

"Yeah, I find you sexy, not just hot."

You hum in approval at his words and eye him to and down too to gauge his reaction to your body language. You may have just met the man, but holy did he look like a satisfying fuck. Looked like he could please you good and well.

"And if you'd allow me permission, I'd love to show you just how sexy I find you."

You nodded, and with that, he was on your lips.kissing them like a mad man, and his hands reached down and fonfled your breasts, gently on the right because of your newly placed tattoo, but he still gave you the attention you deserved.

His lips soon found your neck and your collar bone and soon your breasts.

"Oh fuck,"

He spoke in-between kisses to the valley of your breasts.

"Ever since you walked in here, you caught my eyes, and damn baby, I needed you like this."

Those are the words that left his lips before they were attached to your left nipple. His mouth sucking like he hadn't had a taste in years. Your back arched, and he grinned against your nipple.

One of his hands gently snakes down to the heat between your legs. Your cunt throbbing for more and you moaned for more. Craved his touch.

"Choso please."

You begged. You needed not beg anymore because choso delivered in an instant.

Undoing the sweats you were in, he snaked his hand into your underwear and began to messily rub against your soaked clit before traveling his hand down to your sopping hole.

Two fingers entered you and began to thrust into you violently. His mouth now moved over to your right nipple sucking and looking up at you.

You moaned, almost a little too loud, so choso ever so gently placed a hand over your mouth as you both continued.

Choso had begun to rut his hard on against the chair, and he moaned whilst giving you the attention you craved.

But when his fingers had curled just right and hit your G-spot, you almost came undone right there, the knot that had been building in your stomach so close tosnapping.

No, that's not what did you in. It's when choso began to whisper dirty thing into your ear while his palm grinder right against your clit and his finger hit your spot just right that you came undone on his fingers.

You moaned into his palms while he dang praises of good girl, andsweetheart, into your ear with that deep voice. He wiped the tears from your eyes with his thumb and gave you a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Removing his hand, he placed his fingers onto his tongue and groaned with satisfaction. Tasting your essence and your cum was just wonderful. Euphoric even.

He had grabbed a few worm paper towels and wiped you down gently before helping you get back into your bra and into your shirt.

"What about you? Don't you need to get off?"

You ask gingerly almost concerned that he wouldn't be able to get off on his own.

"Don't you worry, the sight of your face and the taste of you will linger long enough for me to take care of this problem."

He leaned in close to your ear and whispered what he was going to say next.

"Next time, I'll have you on your knees to assist me."

"Next time?"

You ask with a burning hot face. He just nodded and handed you a slip of paper.

As you walked out of his tattoo room, he gave you a gentle slap on the ass and blew you a kiss. You reached the front desk and were met with Yuji's bright smile.

"So how was everything?"

He asks with that happy go lucky tone, and you just give a smile and tell him it was great.

The tip you left was enough to show. And the number you left with. Was even greater.

[litnerdwrites]

@high-speed-r Exactly!

I think this is because Acotar is meant to be character driven, in comparison to tog that is plot driven, series, and it just fails at that. Like, the IC barely go through any character development at all. Cassian goes through zero in acosf, and Rhys gets the tiniest smidge, if you squint, in acowar. It's not too much to ask for the main characters, at least, to develop to some degree, even if it's not their book, because that's the point and driving force of the story. Yet only the Archeron sisters, Lucien, maybe Tamlin, and I guess Az (based on a bonus chapter) have even had, at the very least, the slightest hint of a character arc, and we're like five books in.

You care very little about the IC because they don't have personal stakes, or even much of personalities beyond stereotypes. It doesn't feel like they started their character arcs, so there's nothing for readers to root for. As things stand, they could be replaced by other characters who fit similar stereotypes, and you'd barely notice.

Meanwhile, Lucien has changed and developed over the course of the books. He's become an actual character beyond a stereotype, and the audience can relate. We know he's loyal, witty, and a very talented emissary, with friends almost everywhere. Despite this, he's lost his home many times, and seems to be looking for one, along with kinship. He's been nothing but respectful to Elain, but still seems to hope, maybe because he thinks he'd find that kinship with her. This is some of the basics of what I've learned about his character since book one, and book two onwards, he's barely there.

That's what I think makes him different from the IC, and why it seems way easier to be attached to him as a character.

tbfh what did Mor think was going to happen once they found out that she slept with Cassian to ruin her engagement. She's honestly lucky CASSIAN wasn't killed. Eris did exactly what Mor wanted. If he took her into his court, she'd become their property. He left her there to give her a chance at freedom but she's still mad at Eris for doing exactly what she wanted like this girl is just so 😩