#SECONDLY: YOU HAVE NO TASTE! NONE!

[rimouskis]

okay not to be a hater but I stumbled upon a review a woman made of the west end's hadestown production and she disliked it because she didn't know the mythology involved and maybe my "overly read at the age of 12" personality is coloring things but if you're invested in an arena of The Arts like, verily, the theater and you don't know the myth of orpheus and eurydice (or, like, don't do basic synopsis research on a high end theater production before seeing it) you should not be creating reviews. hot!!! take!!!

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[jweekgoji]

can a Resquest of TFO Sentinel prime with Cybertronian femme reader, that the reader is pregnant and that is her conjux

TFO!Sentinel/Femme!Reader [hcs]

tw: accidental pregnancy, established relationships, Sentinel is a jerk (as usual), yandere!Sentinel, possessive behavior, very brief mention of abortion, narcissistic!Sentinel, OOC (?). terms used: sire - a father, sparkling - a child. word count: 840 words. a/n: the tw sounds scary but it was funny to write.

Oooh no, poor thing, how did you manage to get pregnant by this guy out of everyone? During one of your shared moments of intimacy, you both found out that none of you have any protection! And you two can't get your servos off each other because everything just feels too good, too right? Don't worry, Sentinel is fast enough not to finish inside you, trust him (never trust him with this).

Jokes aside, in my opinion - Sentinel is not a family person at all. Firstly, he's too busy for something insignificant as a family, and secondly, that would mean you are going to pay less attention to him. A whiney, loud, crying mess of a cybertronian is just not something he would dream of.

So if you do end up being pregnant, it was probably an accident.

I imagine Sentinel being a total dumbass about it. Not because he's uneducated about pregnancy, of course not. He's just used to getting laid with one bot and another without any consequences. Usually they don't call back, and even if they do, who the hell would believe them? Sentinel Prime accidentally knocked you up? Sure, we all trust you, hun.

However, he can't just dismiss his own conjunx. That's the moment where he needs a good amount of time to process everything. Sentinel hates the idea that he would not be able to bring you to every fancy meeting, showing you around for everyone to see like you're his luxury item, something everyone can watch but can't touch. Then, he would have to sacrifice his moments of intimacy with you, since you would be too tired, not in the mood, and dangerous for the sparkling.

His possessiveness over his conjunx is incredibly high and even ridiculous. Sentinel probably keeps you in your shared berthroom more than usual, which at first might sound sparkwarming and very caring of him. Like aww, he wants you to rest and not bother about a thing! He's such a good conjunx. In reality, Sentinel is searching through various doctors on Iacon, the ones he can bribe, so not a single word comes out of the room. He doesn't want his people to talk about his personal life behind his back.

Sentinel, obviously, also makes sure no one but him knows about it. Maybe Airachnid gets to know too, but it's not like you can keep something from her, the spider lady most likely knows about your early signs of pregnancy faster than everyone. Faster than Sentinel, lol.

During the early stages of your pregnancy, Sentinel is pretty stressed out himself, even though he doesn't show it at all. Because, what do you mean, he is going to be a sire? When you actually tell him this, he would loudly laugh in your face. You're totally joking, are you? Wait, why aren't you laughing? ...Oh.

When he realizes it's not a joke, that's where he gets serious. I am not going to sugarcoat it, since he might think about getting rid of it. Quietly and painlessly, it is early enough for the process to go smoothly. No one gets to know about it, and by the end of it, you will go back «to normal», and that's perfect for him.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he gets conflicted. What if someone finds out? Sentinel Prime, the great leader of Iacon, got rid of his own sparkling? He can already taste the bitterness on his glossa, when he reads the articles, various comments, his ratings and support from the parties are getting lower and lower. What a nightmare.

But when Sentinel sees you, sleepily wrapping your servos around his arm, nuzzling against his shoulder, so close to him that he can almost hear the faint beat of a spark inside you, he decides to keep it.

He grows prideful through some amount of time. His conjunx, carrying his sparkling. Sentinel sees his sparkling as something of his own too, just like you are his.

It is too early to think about his sparkling being the next ruler of Iacon, his heir, since, well, Sentinel doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon, but he does like the idea of making a tiny some-sort-of-royal-family of his.

For everyone else, Sentinel Prime is the best sire anyone dreams to get. Why wouldn't he, if he's their protective, hardworking leader? In public, this tiny, soon to be growing family is a role model of how every family on Cybertron should be. Inside the closed doors, what you have is not what someone would call «perfect». Sentinel might claim that he loves you, he genuinely loves you and his sparkling, but you would never tell if he's pretending or not. You might just believe him with this one.

[fortunxa]

Just come home

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: In a mix of alcohol and jealousy, heartbreaks can get confusing.

author’s note: Hi!! Firstly, thank you for all the love on my ‘Blue hair, blue eyes, blue lights’ one-shot ᥫ᭡ Secondly, it’s not a one-shot anymore—the sequel is officially in the drafts!! Lastly, I just hope you guys enjoy this post as much as you did my first :)

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I stand in the corner of a smoke-filled living room, the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat already buried deep inside my nostrils. The red light illuminating the space makes me feel as though I’ve entered a brothel. I might as well have with the amount of grinding and hooking up going on. Truthfully, I had no business being here other than keeping my word to my friends to join them at the next party. But, as far as I know, they are currently scattered between playing at the beer pong table and blacking out in the garden, leaving me to fend for myself.

None of this matters. My gaze is shamelessly focused on her.

I know knew the taste of her black honey lipstick too well. Her freckled shoulders supported the weight of my legs many, many times, and her fruity scent still lingers on my bedsheets no matter how many times I wash them. I felt each curve of her body and counted each scar. Most importantly, I knew the way her mind worked and knew that her abandonment issues were to blame for our breakup. ‘Leave you before you leave me’ mindset.

Now, I’m forced to watch as she drapes a random girl’s legs over her lap, her slender fingers tracing lazy circles on the stranger’s knee. My grip tightens around the glass of whisky that I’m holding, and I swiftly knock it back. The burning taste makes me grimace, but not as much as the unfolding scene. I make my way into the open kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka as I line up three shots. Each has its turn sliding down my esophagus before a feminine voice comes from behind me.

“Look at you! Party animal or rough night?” The redhead approaches me, her shoulder brushing mine as she cocks her head to the side. “If it’s the latter, I could help you with that. My name is–” I stop listening. Her suggestive tone is evident as she smiles at me with hooded eyes, and I give her a once-over. Her green two-piece outfit accentuates her figure, her long legs and abstract flower thigh tattoo on display. She is attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t care less. I already know who I want, and her name is Jinx. Powder, if you know her well enough. If there is even the slightest chance that she wants me back, I would never want to feed into her insecurities by pulling a one-night stand; right in front of her, nonetheless. Although her own flirty nature never diluted, I just couldn’t bring myself to act the way she did.

“Not interested,” I reply, indifferent to her attempt at flirting. The nameless girl lets out an exaggerated sigh, tracing her fingers down my forearm.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind.” She sends me a wink, and I nod absentmindedly. My eyes track the red-headed girl to ensure she's gone, and I notice a certain someone doing the same.

Jinx’s jaw is clenched as her gaze hardens. I watch as she unconsciously digs her nails into her plaything’s leg, making her hiss in pain. But, once the blue-haired girl’s angry eyes meet my curious ones for the first time in over a month, her demeanor shifts instantly; she relaxes, turning her attention back to the blonde bombshell. I see them exchange a few words, and my heart drops when Jinx hunches over to place a kiss on the wound. Oh, that was low. I whip around and reach for the bottle of vodka again—time to drink fast until my brain moves slow, and hopefully erases that nauseating scene from my mind. I skip the shot glasses and take two considerable gulps. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look around the kitchen; it’s just me, an abundance of liquor, and a heavy lack of chasers.

I start feeling the needed buzz as my body grows hotter, and I grip the counter with a dumb smile playing on my lips. I decide to get high on my lows and stumble to the dance floor, where other sweaty bodies are already swaying to the sultry song playing from the DJ’s booth—also known as ‘the guy whose phone is currently connected to the speaker’.

I’m dancing like it’s my last night alive, each move bolder than the previous. My hands roam over my body as I let it go free to the music. The atmosphere feels suffocating in the best way possible; it almost makes me forget my heartbreak. Almost. What it is making me forget, though, is the impending hangover. I lose track of time, but my tingling limbs are telling me that the copious amount of alcohol I’ve consumed is still doing its job, and that’s enough for me.

A familiar pair of hands suddenly grabs my hips from behind, and I’m immediately transported to cloud nine. I press my back further into Jinx’s chest as her head dips into the crook of my neck, and I let out a content hum. My eyes flutter shut from the sensation, but once the spinning room feeling intensifies, I’m forced to open them again.

“You’re not pulling away,” she murmurs in my ear, a mix of surprise and relief in her voice as she matches my rhythm.

“Should I?” I ask breathlessly while reaching to place my hand on the back of her head. Her hair is still as soft as I remember.

“How would you know who’s coming up behind you?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down my spine. I let out a brief chuckle and continue swaying my hips.

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t recognize those hands.” She falls silent, and I take the opportunity to rest my head on her shoulder.

“Quite a show you were putting on, trinket,” she speaks up, and her grip on me tightens while my stomach flips at the old pet name. “Thought I’d have to start gouging people’s eyes out.”

“Oh yeah?” She nods. “Surprised you even noticed through blondie’s affection. Wasn’t my leg you were kissing back there, I’ll tell you that much.”

Jinx stiffens but does not dare retort, and I finally decide to turn around. My glossy eyes meet her blue, sad ones; despite it all, a pang of guilt hits me. I snake my arms around her neck as hers move to my waist. Her motions seem much less confident now.

“Hey, you have your flings, and I have my alcohol. We cope how we cope,” I cheer up, or at least try to in my drunken, tactless state. “We’re all good. I never blamed you.”

“But you should,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze falls to the floor covered in spilled drinks. Her face contorts, and I can practically hear the negative thoughts filling her head. Watching her in this state breaks my heart even more. I use my pointer finger to make her look at me, and I recognize the war in her eyes.

“I still love you, Jinx,” I confess, and her eyebrows knit together at the stray tear rolling down my flushed cheek. She doesn’t hesitate to wipe it off. “Just… Tell me you love me, too.” She’s silent, but not for long.

“Who told you I stopped?”

Her lips crash against mine with passion as her hands cup my face. She still tastes like candy, and she’s still my Jinx. When her tongue asks for entrance, I don’t deny it. Sweet saliva mixes with salty tears, and it takes this one kiss to communicate all of our intense feelings. The sheer intimacy that I had missed so deeply makes me sob into her mouth, and she pulls me closer. I needed more of her, all of her, and I needed it forever. But the need for air becomes too great, and I reluctantly pull away. I rest my forehead against hers, our chests moving up and down rapidly.

“Just come back to me,” I plead as my hand falls to the baby-blue clouds on her bicep. “Come home.”

Her eyes are full of adoration, and she captures my lips again—much gentler this time as if I were precious china, and one wrong move would break me. Although, in her eyes, I very well could be.

“Always.”

[yorsgirl]

Angels like you

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A chance meeting with a stranger in a bar leaves you wishing for more. For the first time in a while, fate decides to bless you.

Tropes: Smut, mild fluff, One night stand AU

Warnings: Intoxication, strong language, explicit smut, fellatio, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, implied shower sex, No curse AU, implied age gap, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 3.6k

Divider credits: @saradika-graphics

Disaster of a date is what you call it.

No, you aren't exaggerating. It is genuinely a disaster.

Firstly, your date arrives half an hour late at the chosen restaurant. While you could empathize it to be the possibility of being a communal issue (something which afflicts Tokyo often) what you found intolerable was the amount of arrogance he exuded upon his arrival. A mere apology or any excuse would have sufficed; you received none. Instead, he got seated opposite you and proceeded to criticize the restaurant's ambiance, lamenting over and over how there were far better options for this meet-up.

Secondly, if it wasn't evident from the dreadful outset of the date, it certainly did when the lack of chemistry started to show its fangs. His tastes exuded extravagance while you stood as a mere pedestrian before such opulence.

No sooner did the meal conclude and you stepped out of the commolex that you swiftly informed him about an urgent matter with your roommate for which you had to leave immediately.

Pathetic lie? Certainly.

Whether he saw through it or not, it eluded you. Yet, you were grateful that he didn't probe further and let you walk off on your own. Maybe, he isn't wholly irredeemable. Or maybe, his impression of this date wasn't so far from yours.

You'll find the answer to that some other day.

The cool liquor cascades down your throat, leaving a searing trail in its wake. Seated on a stool of a bar you frequented with your friends, you drown out the cacophony of noises permeating from the crowd under the guise of alcohol. Most of the disturbances emanate from the boisterous fraternity boys who're seated at the further end of the bar. Its irritating enough that your evening has been a lamentable failure on top of that you can't even find peace.

You could surely go back to your dorms but it's a Friday night and your roommate is working on something that requires her to bring in some friends (one of the reasons the date was set for tonight). Thus, your chance at peace will remain zero. You lose track of how many shots of liquors have passed your lips as the bartender places another drink of the same in front of you.

Five? No- maybe six? You reach for the shot glass, momentarily muddling your count and starting anew. Typically you don't drink this recklessly but today you do, considering you've to pull yourself back to your dorm later, this is a bad idea.

The bartender presents you with another drink - white wine, something you didn't order. You raise a quizzical eyebrow and he gestures to your side. All of a sudden, you're very much aware of the stranger sitting next to you. 

Though the alcohol in your system makes it difficult to focus your gaze, its difficult to look past someone with such a captivating visage, ivory locks falling over his brow and eyes tinted with a hue of azure which glows under the artificial neon light. A couple of years older than you but he looks undeniably handsome. Chiseled jawline and thin lips which look too soft for their own good. Clad in a grey dress shirt and q pair of blue trousers; he doesn't look any less than a celebrity. With the top two buttons left open, it gives you a generous view of his collar and toned chest which peeks out. Despite being seated next to you, he exudes an aura of confidence which only accentuates the palpable height difference between you both. 

You blink and a boyish grin tugs on his lips as he tilts his head to the side. "Hello there," He gestures to the drink placed before you. "Think you can use one of that."

Fuck- that voice.

You momentarily shut your eyes before reopening them, glancing at the drink with suspicion. His face can act as a good bait to hide his true motives but you know better. Men can never be trusted. Especially when they are dober and you aren't.

"I'd rather not-"

"You seem like you need something lighter."

"I am fine with this," You raise your shot glass to your lips before downing it. The substantial liquid leaves a bitter aftertaste and you suppress the urge to cringe.

"Now, easy there," He snickers. "Just cause you got dumped-"

"I wasn't dumped."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Then a case of forbidden romance? Not allowed to meet your love like Juliet?"

"Would've been so much nice if she just listened to her parents," A sarcastic smile plays on your lips. "A hell lot of less drama and a lot more lives would be saved."

"Not a fan of Shakespeare, I see." He comments, the corner of his lip quirks up.

"The last thing I want to do on a Friday night is talk about medieval literature." You concede and he nods.

"Fair enough." For a second, the man stays silent and you are again back to your solitude. The next, he speaks again, "Then what brings you here, tonight? A pretty girl like yourself shouldn't be alone."

You pinch your lips, recalling the awful date you were stuck into, only moments prior. You sigh, pushing your shot glass away. "I went to a date and... it was terrible."

"Oh," He sounds genuinely surprised but doesn't comment on it. 

Well, that gives him brownie points. You rest your palm on the back of your hand, shifting your gaze which lands on him. Icy blue eyes stare back at you with an intensity that flushes your cheek red. You instantly look away.

A coy smirk slips on his lips before he starts, "Here's an idea. How about I make this evening better, eh? Let me buy you a drink."

Your breath hitches. Did he just- You scrutinize your eyes and the skip of a heartbeat eludes you. The offer doesn't sound bad but in an alcohol-induced state, you need to be aware of who you put your trust in. "And why do you offer this act of service?"

"Angels like you deserve all acts of service," He says softly, ending it with a wink.

And- oh Goodness...

"So what do you say, Angel?"

You drum your fingers over the countertop. Weighing the pros and cons of the situation. For all you know, he can be just another creep but till now he hadn't made any advances to make you uncomfortable, so there goes that. Plus, if he's offering then why don't you indulge? 

You find yourself nodding and he grins. Moments later a glass of white wine is clasped in your hands, similar one with the same drink in his. You raise up the glass and he follows suit, bringing it closer till they clink; sound drowned out from the music and external chatters.

"Thanks," You say after taking a sip. "What's your name?" 

"Gojo Satoru but just call me Satoru," He replies. You nod, saying his name a few times to get the gist of it. His eyes shine with amusement, he asks "And you, Angel?"

A sly smile curves up your lips as you tilt your head to the side, "Just call for me Angel for now."

Satoru smirks and your eyes meet again. Drunk individuals and loud frat boys long forgotten as you find yourself captivated just by his gaze alone. His eyes rake over your figure but you find yourself less guarded. The tension emancipates, he must be feeling it too. Is this the part where you say something? Or do you wait for him to start speaking?

In that trance it is that Satoru hands you another drink, fingertips lingering on yours for a second too long before they glide away. In that trance it is that he speaks again, and you find yourself answering. In that trance it is that conversations swing back and forth with equivalent quips from each side which incites a chuckle here and there. You find yourself letting your guard down as he indulges you in stories of his life. It could be the alcohol for that you find yourself being interested. Or maybe its him that just knows how to create a safe space around him – somewhere you could be just yourself.

You swallow a lump as you find yourself leaning towards him. His knee touches your thigh, the skin contact sends a electrifying spark through you. No sooner did you realize that it happened that you realized he was getting down from the bar stool. A pang of disappointment courses through you but you don't let it show on your face.

Then, the unexpected happens.

Satoru takes your hand in his, the warmth of it enclosing your cold one in a way that you didn't want to let go. He tugs at it, a suggestive glint in his eyes as he looks at you; something which must be gleaming in yours too.

"Will you run away with me?"

.

You blame it on the alcohol when it happens.

"Will you run away with me?"

Of course, you said yes.

Of course, you let him lead you out of the bar filled with people only a drink away from collapsing.

Of course, you stepped into Hotel de Elysium with him.

And of course, you let him kiss you once you were alone in the room.

Satoru's lips move in a sync against yours, he walks you backwards until your back is pressed to the wall. He parts a hair's breath away, eyelashes flutter as he takes in your flushed state – parted glistening lips and cheeks tinted with a red hue. You are a bit tipsy to carefully note any change in his visage. Yet, through the blur you are damn sure that you see him smirk.

His mouth presses on yours again and what starts as a soft, slow paced kiss transitions into a fiery, fervent liplock in a matter of seconds. Arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangle in the locks of his hair.

You hear him groan in your mouth when you tug on the strands and your lips curl up.

Satoru glides his hand down the curves of your body, finally resting on one of your breast. He kneads it over the fabric of your dress inciting a moan from you. His lips trail down to your jaw and neck, sucking on the sensitive skin of the juncture. Your body tingles with sparks flowing through your veins and you involuntarily lean into his touch.

You have to give it to him that Satoru is a damn good multitasker. For while he is busy nibbling and leaving hickeys on your neck, he reaches to unzip your dress, pulling down the neckline as the garment pools near your ankles.

He momentarily detaches his lips from you, looking down at your, now exposed, body. "Fuck– Angel, you're gorgeous." The words of praise and the lust burning in his eyes are enough to send a shiver down your spine. Thoughts jumbled and your lack of sobriety allows you to not be that embarrassed. He pulls you flush against him, holding you by the hip and his lips come down on your again.

"Mhm, yeah–" You moan into his mouth as his tongue prods and engages in a rhythmic dance with your own.

Not the one to back down, after you part, you instantly reach to undo his belt. He chuckles, "Eager, are we?"

"Yes," No need to lie when the tension is already sky high. Switching both of your places, you fall to your knees and unzip his pants. The bulge of his cock straining against his briefs causes you to widen your eyes. His member springs out and for a second, you lose your mind. He's big. Both in length and girth, mushroom tip tinted with a blush pink. Maybe you have had seen others before but you're damn sure he is one of the biggest you'll know.

"Like what you see, Angel?" His voice drips with arrogance and boy- don't you hate that? Yet, too drunk on lust with a short circuited brain can barely think, you answer by swirling your tongue on his tip before latching onto it.

"Shit," Satoru curses under his breath, fisting a handful of hair to establish a grip. "Yeah, Angel. Ah– like that"

You bob your head up and down, taking him in as much as your mouth allows. His head tips back, swallowing a lump in his throat which is unfortunately not enough to hide his moans. You lick and suck him like a child eating a lollipop, stroking the base of his cock as your fingers run over the erogenous veins.

You're sure he is enjoying himself. Even more when you gagged on his cock and more when you lool up at him, fluttering your eyelashes – feigning innocence.

Your determination to give him the best head ever gets rewarded soon after.

Clothes discarded and back pressed on the creased, silken sheets, Satoru works his tongue on your aching cunt like a starving man getting his first meal in days. He swipes and nibbles over your erectile bud, pushing two fingers inside as your walls clamp down on his digits, enthusiastically.

"Ahh– Satoru, ngh– yeah," The moan induced gasp incited from his skillful mouth makes your back arch, pushing yourself into his mouth. You could feel him smirk against your pussy, hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin as he firmly holds you in place via your thighs.

You are light headed and you don't even register the string of curses that flow out of your mouth. The only sensation is how he delves into your folds, rough hands pressing on your thighs and the need to release all of your pent-up tension.

You're close. Your muscles are twitching. So close. He's eating you out so well, swiping your spots and folds that you wonder if your fingers will satisfy you again.

"Ahh– fuck," You curse aloud, the wave of pleasure washing over you.

You don't get a second of rest after you come down from your high. Satoru is hovering over you, hard cock pressing on your thighs as he looks for a condom before you shun him, "We don't need that, I am on the pill."

"Are you sure?" He asks again, concern pooling in his irises.

"Yes," You nod in conformation and he takes his cock in his hand, positioning himself in front of your entrance. He coats the tip with the essence of your pleasure and hence, plunges in.

The gasp that escapes and your widened eyes are enough evidence of how much and how good he stretches you out. He yanks out the all before shoving back inside your cavern again. Each stroke pushes him deeper into your depths as your folds welcome him graciously.

A fire burns in your body as both of you indulge in this dance of your own. Wanton moans and curses escaping your lips which you pay no heed. "Yes- Ahh Satoru– like that- ahh."

A sheen of sweat marks itself on his body, beads glistening down his well-defined abs. He interlaces his fingers with yours, holding you firmly against him while he continues to move inside of you.

"Shit– Angel, gnnh– feel s'good." Pupils dilated, messy hair and groan induced with pleasure. He looks at you with an amalgam of emotions, none of which you can read with your stupor as he keeps on fucking you dumb.

Mouth open wide, you try to breath in as much. Each stroke hammering right upto your chest, he fills you up so perfectly that it has your eyes rolling back in your head. Making you feel like a virgin all over, your velvet walls suck him in eagerly

The room reeks of lust and sex, filled with you and your partner's pleasure filled sounds. You feel your insides twitch and soon you let out a scream, milking him with your cum. Only a few strokes later, he empties himself inside you.

You feel him collapse beside you. For a minute, both of you lie there silently, staring at the ceiling and letting the exhaustion slide of off you.

The smell of sweat reaches your nostrils and you cringe, "I'll take a shower." Sitting up, you attempt to rise, before that Satoru takes a hold of your wrist. You glance back, "Hm?"

"I'll come with you." Said so, he gets up as well. He holds you by the waist, helping you walk to the bathroom.

White tiled walls and floor greet you, skin feeling awfully cold against the hard surface. You turn on the shower handle, the sprinklers pour down water on your tensed body and you sigh in relief. Satoru stands beside you, the water runs over his skin as well, drenching each sinew and crevice of physique in it's droplets. You take a harmless peek at him, must not be to your surprise but he's staring back at you.

Only the water pouring from the shower head emanates the bathroom.

Yet with the droplets running over you, it would be ironic to say that the spark still burns. But it does. And oh well- Satoru's lips presses over yours again and you response with equal fervour. Pushing you back against the wall, he holds you by the waist, other hand reaching down to grope your ass.

He pulls away, looking down at you with the same glint in his eyes which he had at the bar.

"Ready for round two?"

Blame it on the alcohol again.

Of course, you said yes.

.

You wake up alone.

Greeted by the splitting headache as you wince trying to sit up on the sheets. When did you fell asleep, yesternight? Well... you don't know that either.

Glancing around you find your belongings, neatly kept at one corner of the bed. A frown falls on you seeing only your pair of clothes kept aside.

Satoru and his belongings are gone.

Sluggishly you put your feet down on the cool tile. That's when your sight falls on the nightstand. A glass of water and a packet of Antacids rests on the table. Only after you have taken the medication did you notice a note kept under the glass.

Hey, some urgent work came up so I'll be leaving early. I could've woken you up but you looked so peaceful that I can't. Order breakfast if you want and don't worry, all the bill's on me.

I had a good time, last night. Thank you, Angel.

–S. Gojo

.

The weekend passes by a bit too fast and before you know it, monday rolls in.

Last year of college and nothing can go wrong until your professors decides to torment the students by asking them to make three files – project, practical and investigatory – for the semester exams like last year. Fingers crossed, you just wish fate doesn't play you this time around.

Currently, you sit beside your best friend in your university classroom as she prattles about her weekend. You keep up with her conversation, speaking in between when the moment calls for. Though your attention should be on her, it relays back to Satoru and that fateful night.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'll ever end up having a one night stand but- oh well... here you are.

It's easily one of the best sex you had in the longest time and you can't help but hope for more. Satoru seemed to just know how to make it work and damn, you were addicted after one taste. And the way he called you Angel made your stomach churn in a way- unexplainable.

Is it a bad idea if you decide to show up in the very same bar, the next Friday? Is it bad that you are hoping to meet him again?

You snicker inwardly before pouring all of your attention back to your friend.

"–and on my way to class, I saw this handsome hunk in the hallway and Girl- I was just..." She breaths out, hearts twinkling in her eyes.

"Good grace," You sigh. "You're smitten, now who's this new one who caught your eye?"

She sheepishly smiles and starts to fill you all the details then ranges to his looks. "I saw him in the corridors, talking to Principal Yaga. He was like so tall and he's got blue eyes, like oh my god- more perfect combination just can't exist."

A smile quirks up your lips at her enthusiasm, "Ask him out then."

She sighs, "I wish."

"Why?"

A frown etches on her brow, "Cause he's supposed to be our new professor."

"Wow," You breath out, almost sarcastically. "Your choices are... spectacular."

She shoots you a scowl and you snort in return. Folding her hands over her chest, she speaks, "You'd be smitten if you see– Oh my God! That's him." She points behind you and on cue you hear another voice echo in the classroom.

"Good morning, Class. I am your good looking teacher Gojo Satoru."

Wait- that name, that voice...

Instantly, you crane your neck towards the direction of the voice and- may God help you.

Oh fuck!

"Oh fuck!" Your friend gushes from beside you. Though the curses match, both of you share antagonistic emotions.

And there he is, your one night stand or maybe now, your new professor.

Satoru's eyes scan the classroom before they stop their train on a familiar face, so does his steps halt. His eyes widen like he has seen a ghost.

You are pretty sure, your expression mirrors him as well. And you don't know how but you do hear him muttering under his breath.

"Seriously?"

Seriously.

Fate truly does hate you (love you).

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — bakugou hates everything about valentine’s day & nothing could change that. unfortunately for him, nothing is your middle name.

࿄ ! warnings — none. super cute fluff. / note. p2 is here :} enjoy <3

“i hate valentine’s day.”

bakugou and kirishima storm through the streets of tokyo, donning their hero uniforms and watching the public. kirishima rolls his eyes and tightly grabs the shoulder of his friend before he can shake him off in disgust.

“hate is a strong word, bakubro. you dislike valentine’s day. and i don’t believe that for a second. you just haven’t find the right one to love valentine’s with,” kirishima contends as he looks up at the billboards brandished with the latest advertisements going on and on about the latest swarovski bracelet and “the best flowers to get any woman to love you.”

“suckers like you are the reason why that is stupid day is such a big deal,” bakugou grumbles. “you’re gonna celebrate a made up day-” “it’s not made up!” “made up day to bait you into spending all your money on dumb shit. it’s useless and you’re dumb.”

kirishima laughs at bakugou’s cynicism and shakes his head. “like i said, you just haven’t find the right one! no offence, but taking romance advice from you would be like taking advice from denki.” bakugou shoots kirishima a pointed look and he puts his hands up in a surrendered pose.

“i’m just saying, while i buy flowers and a necklace for a lovely lady of mine, you can wallow in your pity party against the most romantic day of the year. that’s the best thing you can do for a girl.” bakugou groans outwardly and turns to look at his friend.

“is this a patrol or a reason for ya to go on and on about your new girlfriend? cos’ it seems like we ain’t scoping for villains and i’m just an ear to hear about how you get your dick wet.”

kirishima’s face curls at bakugou’s crude language and he shoves the blonde somewhat playfully. “firstly, my relationship with my girl is more than that. and secondly, it wouldn’t be manly of me to talk about my sex life.” bakugou scoffs at this.

“so instead you’ll subject me to ya boring love stories? hard pass.”

at this point, both the guys had reached their agency: being so caught up in their conversation about love and whatnot meant they subconsciously arrived at the huge, vast building.

“‘m sure dunceface and pinky will want to hear all about how you spent 15,000 yen on a fucking necklace but i don’t. have i already told you how stupid that was, by the way?”

kirishima sighs and opens the door, “that’s probably the only thing you’ve inputted into this conversation.”

the boys walk into the entrance and the reception is donned with flowers and glitter and pink hearts alike. the display left a sickening taste in bakugou’s mouth. there’s no way he would’ve co-signed something as ugly as this. it was definitely mina or denki or even deku-

“hey you guys! how do you like the look of the downstairs? i figured it’s not as valentine’s-esque as i would’ve liked but the glitter and the tendrils are pink and they’re heart shaped so i think it makes up for the other…” you gesture to the other parts of the decor that cover the entirely of the ground floor, “parts!”

kirishima looks at bakugou tentatively through his peripheral vision and bakugou’s eyebrows are so far raised, they’ve disappeared into the wheat strands adoring his hairline.

“i like it a lot, y/n! i can really feel the loving energy here,” exclaims kirishima and you smile and clap your hands at that.

“that’s so good to hear! some of the others said that it was perfect but didn’t know if you guys would like it as much…” you trail off and look at bakugou. he’s thankful that his mask covers up the movement of his eyes because he couldn’t have hated something more. the sickening colour of fuschia and pale pink messed with his feng shui more than he let on at this moment. if you were dunceface, he would’ve punched you up at this moment. heck, if you were pinky, he would’ve pulled on your ear and chastised you for not telling him first. if you were literally anybody else, you would’ve had an earful.

but you were you.

“i think it looks good,” bakugou hums and he nods before walking away to the elevators at the end of the vast room. you turn to see his moving body and you look at kirishima again in confusion.

“is he okay? are you sure he actually likes it?” you ask kirishima slowly and kirishima waves his hands at you.

“trust me, if he didn’t like it, he would’ve said something. you know bakugou doesn’t beat around the bush.” you smile in relief at that and kirishima quickly says bye to join bakugou in the closing lift.

“hey! wait up, bakugou!” kirishima makes the lift and is immediately welcomed by floating daisies and roses. bakugou stands staring straight out the doors of the elevator, not a lick of emotion on his face.

“so, uh, what was that?” asks kirishima after a lick of silence. bakugou scoffs, “i dunno what you’re talking about.”

kiri notices the tips of bakugou’s ears are red and he ponders on commenting on it before deciding he would prefer life.

“well, if i were you, i would get y/n a gift. but that’s just me though,” whistles the red haired man and bakugou’s eye twitches slightly and he rubs a hand across his face.

“fuck you and stop looking at me like that,” bakugou grumbles as kirishima nods with a knowing look on his face.

“…i heard through the grapevine that y/n really likes tulips and snapdragons - but you didn’t hear it from me!” mentions kirishima and as soon as those elevator doors open, bakugou storms out of there in a flurry, leaving his friend behind.

back in his office, bakugou sits at his desk and runs his fingers through the various decorations on his desk. it was the complete opposite of what his office usually looked like and to him, the runes of pink and red and white were ruining his feng shui. he picks up a card that’s situated on the edge of his desk and he doesn’t even have to open it to know it’s from you.

“dear ka bakugou,

i know the colours and the showiness might get too much for you so here’s a small gift from me before the day of festivities :) i.e. thank you for being a good sport!

love, y/n”

a gift card for his favourite watch brand sat in between the panels of the sickeningly glittery card.

when kirishima came to grab bakugou for lunch, he didn’t bring up the numerous tabs of florists and “gifts for girls you like” on the blond’s computer. and he definitely didn’t bring up the check of 135,000 yen addressed as “y/n’s gift” sitting amongst layers of paperwork.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

You Never Know

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

Genre: very fluffy

Summary: Spencer wants to ask you on a date

***

You check your watch as you walk over to your desk. You thought you were gonna be late but it looks like you made it in earlier than you expected. You've barely settled into your chair when Derek pops his head around his computer monitor.

"Did you go?" He asks. You roll your eyes and reach into your bag for the paper bag half rolled up inside. You drop the paper bag on his desk across from yours.

"Yessss! You're the best mamas." Derek says pulling open the bag.

"What's that?" Spencer asks leaning over from his desk, trying to peak into Derek's mysterious sack.

"Dude there's this bakery in y/n's neighborhood that has the best pastries of all time but you have to go first thing in the morning or like as close to it as you can because first of all once they're out of something they're just out of it for the day and secondly these things are better the closer to fresh out the oven that you can get." Derek explains.

"So you send y/n to buy your pastries before work?" Spencer frowns.

"Well-"

"He doesn't send��me anywhere. Sometimes I'm just nice enough to pick things up if I have time." You say.

"Correct." Derek points at you.

"Interesting." Spencer nods.

"What's your stance on donuts Spence? Do you even eat them?" You ask.

"I love donuts actually." He tells you.

"Yeah I guess that makes sense, you have quite the sweet tooth." You hum.

"I didn't realize that was obvious."

"Well, it is to me. I can't say if anyone else here would say the same but I noticed." You say.

"Oh." You barely catch his eyebrows scrunch together before he hides behind his monitor to avoid you noticing the heat he can feel rushing to his cheeks. He's probably reading into it too much that you noticed something like that. You take a sip from your coffee and turn your attention to your own computer. It's a paperwork day today it seems, as you all spend the day at your desks. On one hand, you honestly hate having to spend all day working on reports but on the other hand, no news is good news- theoretically not having a case should mean there are no new serial killers but you all know crime doesn't sleep- so there's a quiet understanding that you're just waiting for the next storm.

Still, it's been a busy few weeks so it's nice to not be jetting off to another state where you'd be arguing with local law enforcement while trying to solve a crime before it snowballs. By the time you're leaving work, you're almost caught up on the pile you'd been too busy to get to and that's sort of nice to know as you pull out of the parking lot.

~

You normally don't stop at your local bakery two days in a row but you figure you should buy something for Spencer after the conversation you had yesterday. So, you get up early enough to run by the bakery before heading in today.

"Y/n! Good morning! Same thing as always?" The bakery owner, Salma smiles at you when you walk in.

"Actually not today Salma, I'm buying for someone else this time." You smile. You maybe should've asked what donuts Spencer likes, but you like to think you know enough about his tastes to guess.

"Someone else? Not your work friend?"

"Not the one you know. A different work friend this time." You explain.

"Do you like this work friend too?"

"Salma I don't like Derek." You scoff. "Not the way you're implying anyway. He's just a friend."

"And this new work friend?"

"I don't know Salma I'm just picking up donuts." You say with a smile that you hope doesn't give you away. The look Salma gives you is enough to let you know she sees right through you.

"Alright, what can I get you this time then dear?"

"I'll take those two. I think he'll like those." You say pointing to the donuts you want through the display case.

"This one is a new recipe you know."

"Is it? I'll take one for myself as well then, and next time I'm in I'll let you know what I think." You smile.

"You have to come in soon then, you know how I value your opinion on new releases!" She says as she bags the pastries for you. 

"Of course Salma. I'll be back within a couple of days most likely, my work friend will get quite huffy if I'm not." You say handing her a ten and taking the donuts from her.

"And you are sure you don't want to take him anything since you are here?"

"Ah he got his sweets yesterday. He can wait until my next visit. Have a good day Salma." You say leaving the bakery. When you get to work Spencer, Derek, and JJ are already at their desks. You can see Hotch in his office as well as you drop your things at your desk.

"Is that what I think it is? Two days in a row y/n you spoil me." Derek spots the distinctly colored bag from the little bakery before you've even said good morning.

"First of all, good morning. Secondly, these are not for you Morgan."

"Not for me?!" He gasps and you roll your eyes.

"Spence, I brought you breakfast." You say dropping the bag on his desk.

"Really? What'd you bring me?" Spencer blinks.

"Donuts from the bakery near my place."

"Oh, the one Morgan really likes?"

"Yeah! Since we were talking about it yesterday I thought I'd pick something up for you." You say.

"And she's left me to starve in the process." Derek proclaims dramatically.

"Oh cut the theatrics. You got donuts yesterday, you weren't even expecting them." You scoff and Spencer chuckles.

"Well thank you for the donuts y/n." Spencer smiles.

"If you like them I'll bring you some more often."

"You're supposed to bring donuts for me though." Derek huffs.

"And today I brought them for Spencer. You get donuts all the time you'll be fine." You roll your eyes.

"This is favoritism." Derek says.

"No more than me bringing you donuts literally every couple of days." You scoff.

"Are you trying to replace me?"

"Replace you!? Morgan- you do realize it's just a donut, right?"

"It's the principle of the thing!"

"Okay, what if I just- don't ask for her to bring me donuts again?" Spencer asks.

"Don't be ridiculous Spence if you want donuts all you have to do is ask." You say.

"I just feel like-"

"Oh, hush. You're so dramatic. Salma says hello though." You cut Derek off.

"Now you're being mean." He gasps.

"Who is Salma?" Spencer asks.

"She owns the bakery." Derek says.

"She knows you?" Spencer turns to Derek.

"She knows I have a work friend that I buy donuts for. So when I came in this morning and ordered something different I had to explain that they weren't for that work friend."

"Salt. In the wound." Derek says.

"Will you relax if I give you half of my donut? It's a new one so Salma wants feedback anyway."

"It's not the same."

"There is just no pleasing you Derek Morgan." You shake your head.

"It's actually very easy, bring me donuts."

"This conversation has gone on too long I'm going to the kitchen." You say standing up and leaving the bullpen. In the kitchen, you pour yourself water from the Brita pitcher.

"Does Morgan really take this donut thing that seriously?" Spencer's voice startles you as you sip your water and you barely avoid choking on it.

"Jesus you move like a cat. No, but he does take getting on my nerves that seriously." You say.

"Oh- well I just wanted to thank you again, for bringing me donuts."

"You said you like donuts."

"I do! But- since I didn't get around to asking for some, it was a pleasant surprise."

"Well that's what I was going for so mission success." You smile. Spencer returns it with a bright one of his own.

"Actually, can I ask you something?"

"Of course hon. Anything."

"Well I was-"

"Good morning Spencer! Y/n!" Penelope greets happily as she enters the kitchen.

"Hey Pen." You smile at her and turn your attention back to Spencer.

"Good morning Garcia." Spencer nods.

"Oh! Y/n! You know that- task you brought to me last week?" She asks.

"Yes?"

"I got a hit."

"Seriously?"

"Have I ever let you down?" She winks.

"Oh you are truly the best there is! I'll be by your office in a little bit okay?" You tell her.

"Alrighty!" She says going, most likely to her office.

"You were saying?" You prompt Spencer.

"Is that important? Because my thing can totally wait- actually I don't think now's a good time to ask anyway." Spencer shakes his head.

"You're sure? Because the thing with Penelope isn't even work related. It is by no means time sensitive if you need to talk about something." You tell him.

"I'm sure, this can wait, it should wait. Now is a bad time I realize." He says. Your face scrunches a bit in confusion as you regard Spencer for a moment.

"As long as you're sure." You say hesitantly.

"One hundred percent. Go." He nods.

"Alright, but whatever it is, don't put it off too long, okay?"

"Promise." Spencer gives you a small smile and you turn to go to Penelope's office, wondering what could be on his mind. It doesn't come up for the rest of the day. You do your work, he does his, and though you speak throughout the day he at no point brings up the million dollar question he wanted to ask you this morning, and honestly by the time you're going home you've kind of forgotten about it. It's not until you're back at your place that it comes to mind again and that's only when Spencer calls you pretty much as soon as you step through your front door.

"You have insane timing, you know you called me just as I stepped into my apartment?"

"It usually takes you approximately 23 minutes to get home from work so I took a guess at when you'd be off the road based on when you left. Didn't think I'd be that on the nose though." Spencer says.

"Well- I hope everything's alright, seeing as you're calling me and we just left work at the same place. To what do I owe the pleasure?" You ask.

"The question I wanted to ask you this morning. I promised you I wouldn't put it off too long. I actually figured it would be easier for me to ask you this over the phone so I called." Spencer says.

"Oh yes. What ya got for me, sweetness?"

"I know that we're- coworkers and this might make things weird or whatever but I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go on a date with me? You of course don't have to say yes and if you don't I promise not to make things awkward at the office - we can just pretend this never happened but I- couldn't just not at least ask."

"A date?" You blink. Spencer wants to go on a date with you.

"Yes. Only if you want to, no pressure. I really don't want you to feel pressured or anything. It doesn't have to be a thing if it doesn't-" 

"Spencer!" You cut him off.

"Yes?"

"If you're going to ask me on a date you have to give me a chance to answer beloved." You smile.

"Oh- right. Sorry."

"I would love to go on a date with you."

"Seriously?"

"Of course." You say. Spencer lets out a relieved sigh that makes you want to giggle.

"Cool." He breathes. "I have to plan. I'll call you once I've sorted everything out. Is that okay?"

"Works for me." You nod even though he can't see you.

"Okay. It'll probably take me a while though so- in case it's too late to call you again tonight, good night."

"Spencer."

"Yes?"

"Don't obsess over making it perfect. I'll enjoy whatever we do as long as we're together. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He says softly.

You hang up before you end up dragging out the conversation and also so you can let out a ridiculous squeal that you would never let Spencer hear. You're... giddy. Like a teenager all over again. And you have to force yourself to go about your evening routines as opposed to just waiting for Spencer to call you all night.

***

[fandxmslxt69]

One and Only

Prince!Loki x f!asgardian noble!reader

Warnings: um none. maybe a few grammar errors or weird sentences, some suggestive content (mentions of sex like once) Reader is mentioned to be wearing a green silky dress, and Loki is sort of wearing his suit adjacent to the one in Avengers + His horns.

A/N: Dearest lovely @fictive-sl0th - first of all, thank you for organising this amazingly fun Secret Santa event for us- it's been so much fun and I'm happy that it's my first event on Tumblr! Secondly, I truly hope you enjoy this little thing Camille- your prompt was so much fun and I hope I did it justice!

Synopsis: Loki is forced to find a bride, and things take a turn when a familiar face shows up.

Prompt: King Odin wants Loki to marry so he orders him to pick a bride during the annual yule ball. (He’s not amused haha) But things take a spicy turn when you show up and turn out to be a coveted noblewoman instead of the tempting, mysterious villager you pretended to be during all your earlier accidental encounters. In the end Odin gets what he wants ;)

Word count: 2.7k

“It’s time to do something useful. You will find a bride as soon as possible, Loki. With my heir off playing dress up on Midgard, I have none but you to wed off,”“Now, I’m sure Thor will come back with a nice bride-” 

“Asgard will NOT have a mortal woman as its first bride. Not now, not ever. It’s decided. This year’s Yule ball will be to find you a bride. Only Asgard’s finest, most eligible women will be up for a chance at marriage with you,” 

Loki grumbled to himself as the maids fussed over him. This was useless. Loki had no desire for marriage for another few centuries. His mood went from poor to sour to downright depressed and cynical as the days counted down to Yule. He thought perhaps someone would talk some sense into Odin, and yet there was a sinking feeling in his stomach after Odin declared his choice that told him he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. 

One of the maids tucked too hard on his cape, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Watch it,” he snapped. The maid muttered a quick apology, but before he could get another word in, there was a knock at the door before Frigga stepped in. 

Loki felt himself relax as she walked into his room, taking her time to look him over as she walked closer. “I’ll take it from here,” She addressed the women softly. They nodded and hurried out the door, but Loki couldn’t help letting out a groan while watching them hurry out. “I’ve scared them out of their minds,” “Now now,” Frigga stood beside him as she smiled at him in the mirror. “I’m sure Ingrid understands the stress you’re under,” Loki grumbled again under his breath. “I will find her later, to apologise,” Frigga hummed as she fussed at his clothes. He was wearing his finest Asgardian leather, the colours of the armour were a deep green and a rustic black only leather could give off. Frigga had ensured the suit stayed in the best conditions, even going as far as ordering the gold arm plates remade to be in perfect condition. He looked like the perfect image of the Asgardian prince. Regal and poise, and impeccable fashion taste. Even his head piece was polished thoroughly, and it lay on his bed, waiting for him to pick it up and wear it. His signature horns. His signature dress. 

He’s just missing that signature Loki grin. But he had no intention of giving anyone that smile. It was already someone’s. He had no desire to share it with another. 

“What are you thinking about?” Frigga had stopped fussing over him and stood behind him, watching him intently through the mirror.

“Nothing,” He lied quickly. 

“Nothing?” He nodded. “Exactly. Nothing,” She hummed, turning around to grab his horns from the bed. “Very well. I do hope we get to see that girl you’ve been sneaking off to see. Perhaps she will be a good fit,” He nodded, the words not registering until a few seconds later. His eyes widened, and he spun around to look at her. “What? What girl?” He closed the distance between him and his mother, grabbing his horns from her. “There is no girl. There’s never been a girl. What are you talking about?” 

Frigga raises her eyebrows. “Right…”

He nodded, carefully placing the horns on his head. There is no girl. Not anymore. 

She won’t even be there, so what’s the point?

“I don’t think there is anyone for me,” The words fell out of his lips before he could stop them.

Frigga’s eyes softened. “My dear boy, if I can see everything you hold, I know someone out there can too,”

Yes, he thought. She can, but what about everyone else? Odin? What did he think? The thoughts only soured his mood even more. “Perhaps we should go now,” He said curtly, holding his arm out for his mother. Frigga smiled softly, an edge of sadness in her eyes. 

“Very well,” She said, hooking her arm around his as they left his room.

*                                                               *                                                               *

Asgard’s usually plain ballroom had transformed itself to fit the spirit of Yule. Decked in only the most lavish of decorations, the ballroom glittered and sparkled as people settled in, women dressed in their finest robes and men in only their best attire. Loki stood by his mother and Thor as Odin drilled on, giving thanks to those who came, and promising a dance to every woman from Loki before he was to pick his bride. With every word he spoke, Loki felt a shiver run down his neck. He had no desire to be here, but this was not the first time he had been forced to forget about his own feelings and opinions, so he knew how to power through the night. 

You stood in your own corner with your mother, who made comments at everyone she could get her hands on. You only rolled your eyes or muttered a word in conversation, your mind too preoccupied. You had no idea how to feel about coming. At first, you had no desire to go. Why, all of a sudden, was Loki wanting to get married? Had he not told you, mere days ago, that he had no intention to run his life? It’s silly, it’s not like you were in love with him (maybe a little) or betrothed to him, but it still felt like a small dagger to your heart. Then, you thought perhaps he had a change of heart. Or perhaps it was his mother’s idea. Perhaps you even had a chance. He knew you, at least. He flirted with you, outside of this castle at least. And then you remembered that he only actually knew you as the girl he ran into at the village. And suddenly, bile rose up your mouth and you threw your invitation out. 

But naturally, your mother wasted no chances to shove you with any respectable man, and a prince is as respectable as they come- and there was nothing in the Nine Realms that could have stopped her from going to the Yule Ball. So here you found yourself, in your finest green silks (unintentional) and the best pieces of your gold as your mother fussed over every piece of hair out of place. 

You watched Loki from your corner as he danced with the first few women. He had a polite smile on his hands, and a few times you heard him laugh at something one of them would say, and your gut twisted and your lunch made its way up your throat. The laughs brought you back to your own secret encounters with him, nights you spent wandering the village and exchanging stories. You remembered the first time you made him laugh so freely, and it unlocked a new desire in you- to make him laugh for eternity. 

Perhaps that was a little too obsessive at the time. But you couldn’t blame it on yourself. Loki was the kind of man who wormed his way into the heart and nested there forever. Once he was in, there was no way to flush him out of your system. Certainly not after knowing what lay beneath his clothes and his….various talents. A blush crept up your neck just at the thought of those sensual nights with him- frantic, urgent and allconsuming. 

When he laughed with his new partner, something hard set in your gut. Maybe you didn’t have the best chance at winning this, but Norns, you were going to make sure he knew those laughs were yours first. 

You handed your glass to your mother, ensuring that your dress was in its best condition, and  fixed the draped piece of fabric over your shoulders. You could feel all eyes on you as you walked as elegantly as you could to Loki as the song ended. “Your Highness,” You interrupted politely, and the woman shot you a dirty look. “Am I have your next dance?” Loki began to say something before he fell silent, his eyes widening a fraction as they took in your face, and then trailing down your body. He made a noise at the back of his throat as he reached for your hand, motioning with the other for the songs to recommence. “Of course,” He said, although it sounded strained.

You smiled, stepping closer as he pulled you up against him, your bodies moving in sync to the music, your name fell from his lips in a stunned whisper. 

“What are you doing here? Did you sneak in?” Loki asked in disbelief. 

You laughed quietly. “No, Your Highness, I got my invitation like everyone else here,” He frowned, that pretty sculpted face of his scrunching up. “What? But…I thought- you’re just-” “A simple village girl?” You finished for him.

He paused, then looked almost offended. “Darling, simple is an offensive word to use to describe yourself. Nothing about you is ‘simple’,” Your heart skipped a beat, and those butterflies erupted in your stomach again. “Thank you, Your Highness,” “Oh quit that,” He said as he spun you around. “You say it like you don’t know me,” 

“Perhaps I don’t,” You replied.

“You know me better than all the others in this room,” He leaned in, smiling softly. “How in the Nine Realms did you get here, darling?” You bit your lip, trying to fight back the stupid smile from spreading across your face. “I told you, I got my invitation. I came here with my mother,” He hummed. “So, you are not a villager,” He frowned slightly at his own stupidity. How had he not asked before- in all your recent encounters? Perhaps the mystery that came with you was too addictive- the ability to leave behind all masks and remain bare to a complete stranger was…a safe haven, he supposed. You did know more about him than anyone else attending tonight. Secrets he’d never shared. Jokes he never told. Books he had no one to talk with. No one but you. You held so much of him, and he thought he held so much of you- but how much of it was real? You giggled. “No, I am not,” “Hm. Cheeky. It seems I have been fooled,” “Not…fooled. Simply….misguided. An inaccurate conclusion. I assure you though, I had no intentions of deception. I stand true to every other word I said,” You added, as if you could read his face, as if you could hear the worries and doubts in his mind. “But you never said you were noble,” You shrugged. “And you never asked,” A smile tugged at his lips, an odd sense of comfort settling in him. You were still…you. “No…I suppose I never did,” He leaned in then, dropping his voice to a whisper, “You look ravishing tonight, though. How have I never seen you in such a fine colour?” 

You blushed really then, looking up to meet his piercing eyes. “You look quite good in that colour yourself, Loki,” 

He chuckled, offering no other reply as you continued to dance. Soon, the song ended, and you stepped back from each other. Before you could turn to leave and potentially cry and laugh your heart out, he took your hand and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on it. He looked back up at you, and Norns, how gorgeous he really looked- all smirks and piercing eyes and those horns. “I hope to have another dance soon, my lady,” You nodded quickly, your mind short circuiting as another woman came up to ask for his next dance. You stepped back, before speed walking back to your spot by your mother. Of course, she shot a billion questions an hour, but you only ignored her, eyes focused on the man dancing at the centre of the room, glowing brighter than even the sun. 

Time passed, and you had no idea how many dances Loki went through before other pairs began to join. You danced with a few, but really your mind kept wandering back to Loki. 

When was he going to ask you that second dance? Was he really going to? 

Maybe he had somehow telepathically heard you, because just as you finished your dance with a nice gentleman, Loki stood from his seat at the front- having taken a break from dancing- and made his way back to the dance floor. 

The entire ballroom held its breath, and you stupidly turned around as if to make conversation with the person closest to you, or even run. Before you even had the chance to utter a sentence to a poor woman whose face looks pale with fear, your name rang loudly throughout the ballroom, coming from none other than the most handsome prince you had even laid eyes on. You turned around slowly, face tilted up to meet his eyes. “Your Highness?” He held out his hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “May I have another dance?” Everything felt deathly still as Loki led you back to the centre of the floor, and the music started again. You danced and you twirled across the floor, hand in hand with Loki as he grinned widely at you. He didn’t grin like that at anyone tonight. Maybe you were reading into the situation too much, but your heart melted just from his smile and the way his eyes held such pure joy as you danced through not one, but two, but three songs. By the end, you were breathless, partly from dancing, but partly from his fixing gaze and the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Even after all the times you’ve met, you were always consumed with the need to kiss him, to touch him, to run your hands through his hair and trace every line of his body. He was addictive, and while you had always thought love took its time to settle in, some part of you always knew that Loki might just be it. 

You were nearly drowning in the colour of his eyes, and that soft, bright smile he wore for you. Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling at him, and you were so close- just a little higher and your lips could connect with his. It was almost trance like, how soft his lips looked were hypnotic, and the way he eyed yours with a desperate need only encouraged you. You leaned up, he leaned down a little, arm wrapped around your body, lips almost touching and-

“Ahem,” Odin stood from his throne, and you felt the spell shatter. Damnit. 

“I believe,” Odin paused, his eye landing on you and Loki, who jumped apart from one another like you were set on flames. Your cheeks were flushed, avoiding the eyes of everyone, and Loki stared right ahead at Thor, who you noticed was smiling widely and making incredibly disturbing faces at his brother. “Prince Loki has found a bride,” 

Loki’s eyes flickered to you, his mouth opening to argue with Odin. Probably to argue- to say that he hadn’t even asked for your opinion, to add that marriage takes time, or should be considered and debated. 

Maybe you were foolish, or a little too desperate, or maybe it was the magic of Yule that possessed you, but you simply smiled and gave a little bow to Loki. 

“You-,” He swallowed, looking around nervously. “You would accept? If I asked you to be my wife?” 

You smiled widely. “Would you wish for me to be your wife?” A pause, then a small nod. “I don’t think there is anyone else I’d like to share my jokes with,” Your heart was pretty much exploding in your chest. Your hands were definitely shaking, and you thought you might just pass out right then. “Well, lucky you, because I only want your jokes, and I only want your smiles and your laughs to be mine. I…I would be honoured, to be your wife, and to call you my husband, Loki,” 

Sounds of cheer echoed around you, and Loki’s face broke out into the widest grin you had ever seen as he looked at you like he had just handed him the world. “I had no idea you were obsessed with me,” He said, though you could barely hear his words over the sound of festivals. 

“Maybe a little,” You replied, and his grin only widened. 

“Well, I’m obsessed with you a lot,” He tugged you closer to him, sealing your lips in a kiss.

Tags: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[qwardivior]

DEMON BUSTERS!! — About Nezuko

Next Part>>

<<Previous Part

And so, the long awaited Nezuko post has arrived!!! Sorry for the long wait everyone, I had to work out some lore stuff and this kept getting delayed, so let’s just get right into it! In case you don’t know or need a refresher, in this modern kny au the Demon Slayer Corps has updated and rebranded into the Demon Busters! People have been dying to demon attacks at alarming rates so to make their jobs easier they’ve been running ad campaigns! However this installment is a little different as this is NOT an ad campaign! To protect Nezuko they did not run an ad campaign on her. Instead, this is known as an ‘about’. Several other characters will be getting an about section but let’s start with our favorite girl Nezuko!

— Lore Dump Incoming!!—

In this au, Nezuko got turned on her birthday. It was supposed to be a fun celebration, she would spend the night at her friends’ house and then go home the next morning to help her family prepare for New Years. Of course when the day actually came, there were complications as Tanjirou would not let her go for whatever reason, stating that he had a “bad feeling” about it. But nothing ever happens in their small town! In fact, the biggest event in a long while was their father’s death a couple months prior. Eventually, after some back and forth they just chalked it up to him being paranoid and she was able to go.

It wasn’t just paranoia. Nobody knew that anything was wrong until the next morning. Tanjirou had gone to pick Nezuko up since nobody had heard anything from her, and was met with a gruesome sight. Just like in canon, Nezuko was the only survivor, but she seemed to be a little off… Firstly, she had tried to attack Tanjirou before quickly coming to her senses after a man called Giyuu Tomioka appeared, stating that he was a “Demon Buster” and she was a “demon” and that he had to slay her. And secondly she no longer had a taste for human food and just slept all the time! Luckily, nobody was slayed, and the siblings were instructed to find a man named Sakonji Urokodaki, Tomioka’s teacher. But they couldn’t just leave! Not after everything. So they came to an agreement: because Nezuko was able to quell her hunger and more or less function like a normal human, the two would go home for now, and then Tomioka would come to pick them up at a later date. As it turned out, in order for Nezuko to get her humanity back, she’d have to become a “Demon Buster”. A perfect way to bring in the new year..

In this au Nezuko keeps her humanity and is more of her own person. This makes it easier for her to get around and get info from other demons easier. She also conquers the sun slightly earlier, but we’ll get to that later. She wasn’t able to really show herself to her family that often until she was able to learn how to disguise herself from none other than Yushiro. Her having a sense of self and a personality separate to Tanjirou also allows for them to go their separate ways a bit more. Of course they stick together but it’s not like Nezuko is bound to the box. They have missions that sometimes requires Tanjirou to go completely solo, thus Nezuko is left to her own devices.

Overall, I really want to explore Nezuko’s character more and there’s so much more to her than what can be explained in a single post. I guess you’ll just have to tag along to find out more huh? This will also allow me to expand more on her relationship in regards to Zenitsu. In canon, it seemed a little one-sided since we weren’t able to get Nezuko’s point of view, but in this au I want to show more mutual interest so it doesn’t come off as weird as it did in canon. This also allows her to make her own friends (read: Muichirou, Senjurou, Genya, and more). Nezuko is a very fun character to explore in this au and I can’t wait to show you guys more!

Also did I mention that a lower moon is seeking to kill her? No? Oh, my bad.

———

Hey! Thanks for sticking around. Sorry this one took a while! After this we will most likely be getting Tamayo and Yushiro!! Inosuke and Kanao will have to wait a little bit longer because I still have to figure out things lore/design wise. As for Hashira, the next one will either be Giyuu or Shinobu! That’s all for now and thanks for all the support on this au!! Feel free to ask me about anything lore-related! I’ll see you in the next one!

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

It's time for Step 4 Cove's posts, and first up is what choices change his look!

As before, my first post on Step 2 Cove's appearance modifiers will tell you a lot of what you need to know if you haven't already read it, but to summarize:

The things that your MC notices/favors/picks up/focuses on influence Cove's look, though there are some exceptions.

In some cases (though there are none in this step), a choice that changes Cove's appearance may also affect his coldness/warmness as well as his studiousness/sportiness. This is coincidental, so Cove's personality doesn't largely impact his look.

If you want a different Cove without using the Cove Creator, try choosing different aesthetic/taste-based options.

Specific to Step 4, however, there are a few key things to note.

Firstly, similar to Step 3 where some earrings would not be visible on Cove depending on what hairstyle he has, the same applies here. The black stud earrings will not be visible with the fluffy hair and the silver huggie earrings will not be visible with the tied-back hair. Ergo, Cove could be wearing earrings in one of your playthroughs if you have either hairstyle on him, but you just might not see them.

Also, the dark raspberry sleeveless shirt with the white anchor symbol and the yellow shirt with the orange flower pattern hide the silver ring necklace, so that's another thing to keep in mind.

Secondly, and I'll have to rip off the bandage for any poor person who wants their Cove to have a tattoo, but there are no choices that will give Cove a tattoo. It's something you can do only with the Cove Creator, which I imagine may be because one of Cove's tattoos can trigger people's trypophobia.

Third, it appears that the modifiers for Step 4 Cove's pants in Step 3 are not the ones actually used in Step 4. In all of my tests, Cove's pants always defaulted to the tan shorts with the gray trim and blue polka dots. If anyone has any evidence to the contrary, then I can test them out, but it appears that the plan was originally for Cove to have six different pairs of pants rather than four - with two of the pairs having color variation like Step 2 and 3 Cove have - but it was changed by the time Step 4 was made.

Below is what you would get if what I presume to be the original intent was kept in place:

Hang (Cove's Version)

If the MC decides to have a drink:

base flavor

An iced green tea. [Pants #4]

A black tea. [Pants #2]

A milk tea. [Pants #2 (Alternate Color)]

An iced coffee. [Pants #1]

A strawberry smoothie. [Pants #2]

A banana smoothie. [Pants #3]

A mango smoothie. [Pants #4]

A coffee frappe. [Pants #1 (Alternate Color)]

A vanilla milkshake. [Pants #1]

A chocolate milkshake. [Pants #1 (Alternate Color)]

mix ins & toppings

You chose to add whipped cream. [Pants #2 (Alternate Color)]

You chose to add chocolate syrup. [Pants #4]

You chose to add caramel syrup. [Pants #1]

You chose to add boba pearls. [Pants #3]

You chose to add condensed milk. [Pants #2]

-

There are two other types of pants - an alternate color version of both Pants #3 and #4 - but these aren't attached to any choices so they may have been scrapped even earlier.

In addition to this, though this is nothing the player themself needs to worry about, there is unused code in the game for Step 4 Cove's swimming trunks. This may have been for the scene where Cove strips down to his boxers to take a swim in the ocean, though he would've had swimming trunks on instead.

These are the choices that would've changed them:

Boating

If the MC was sick/scared and was brought downstairs by Cove, who asks if they want a drink (if non-Indifferent):

"Water?" [Swimming Trunks #2]

"Juice?" [Swimming Trunks #1]

"Seltzer water?" [Swimming Trunks #2]

"I don't want anything." [Swimming Trunks #1]

"I don't want you to go." [Swimming Trunks #2]

If the MC stepped up to make drinks for the group:

if the MC put only one ingredient in the drink

[Swimming Trunks #1]

if the MC's drink is "berry dominant" (meaning either the drink has two ingredients and all are berry - grape/cranberry/strawberry/mixed berry - juices, or if the drink has more than two but less than six ingredients and more than two are berry juices)

[Swimming Trunks #2]

if the MC's drink is "common" (meaning either the drink has two ingredients and all are common - apple/orange/pineapple/mango - juices, or if the drink has more than two but less than six ingredients and more than two are common juices)

[Swimming Trunks #1]

if the MC's drink is "uncommon/mixed" (meaning either the drink has two ingredients and there is only one or zero each of berry juice and common juice, or if the drink has more than two but less than six ingredients and there are no more than three each of either berry or common juice)

[Swimming Trunks #2]

if the MC's drink has more than five ingredients but less than ten

[Swimming Trunks #1]

if the MC used all the ingredients in the drink

[Swimming Trunks #2]

-

There are additional unused articles of clothing for Step 4 Cove, but these weren't attached to any choices (similar to the two pairs of pants mentioned above): two pajamas shirts and two pairs of pajama pants, as well as two formal shirts.

Cove also has code for a fourth pair of earrings, wristwear (for both wrists), and glasses, the latter two being connected to choices, but the game will simply change it to nothing. Cove's hair doesn't have an extra option exactly, but weirdly there are options to disable all of his hair (this won't give you a bald Cove, but default to the tied-back hair). I wanted to mark these just for the sake of being thorough, so if there's anything that says "[nothing]" rather than "[no change]" then just note that it's because the code is different for those options for the reasons above (so they might be calling for all hair to be disabled, for the fourth wristwear accessory, or fourth pair of glasses).

Keep all that in mind while checking out this list of chances you have to change Cove's look:

Step 3 Intro

After the MC's initial thoughts on Cove having to go away for a while almost every year (if not Indifferent by Step 1/2):

You sent him letters the entire time he was away. [rainbow shapes necklace]

Your moms helped you ship out care packages to him and his mom. [silver ring necklace]

You gave him special treasures to take with him before he left. [no necklace]

You kept an eye on his house for him while he wasn't there. [rainbow shapes necklace]

You were incapable of doing anything until he was back. [silver ring necklace]

If the MC decides that they want further education:

Attend a community college. [slim body type]

Attend a public university. [buff body type]

Go to a private college. [buff body type]

Join a trade school. [slim body type]

Take online classes. [slim body type]

If the MC decides that they want to work:

Find a company to work at. [buff body type]

Work online. [slim body type]

Do contract work. [slim body type]

Start your own business. [buff body type]

If the MC wants to do something that isn't school nor work:

Work on self-improvement on your own. [buff body type]

Take some time just to relax. [slim body type]

Try to figure out what you truly want. [buff body type]

When the MC can decide where they want to go when they move out:

Stay local. [buff body type]

Go to a different part of the state. [slim body type]

Go out of state. [slim body type]

Go abroad. [slim body type]

Travel around to different places. [buff body type]

Hang (Cove's Version)

If the MC decides to have a crepe:

base flavor

Plain. [white stringer shirt with purple pocket]

Strawberry. [blue flowery button-up over a white shirt]

Chocolate. [white stringer shirt with purple pocket]

Green tea. [dark raspberry sleeveless shirt with white anchor symbol]

Lemon. [yellow shirt with orange flower pattern]

fillings & toppings

Whipped cream. [yellow shirt with orange flower pattern]

Condensed milk. [dark raspberry sleeveless shirt with white anchor symbol]

Cream cheese. [white stringer shirt with purple pocket]

Chocolate chips. [blue flowery button-up over a white shirt]

Chocolate syrup. [blue flowery button-up over a white shirt]

Caramel syrup. [dark raspberry sleeveless shirt with white anchor symbol]

Powdered sugar. [white stringer shirt with purple pocket]

Strawberries. [yellow shirt with orange flower pattern]

Mango slices. [dark raspberry sleeveless shirt with white anchor symbol]

Mixed berries. [yellow shirt with orange flower pattern]

Banana slices. [blue flowery button-up over a white shirt]

Errands

When the MC spots a fudge stall at the market:

You got closer to the stall. [no change]

But soon your gaze drifted elsewhere. [sideswept hair]

(following above choice) If the MC chose to approach the fudge stall:

You didn't want to get any. [nothing (this will default to the tied-back hair in Step 4)]

You wanted to get yourself a box. [no change]

You wanted to get a box to share with everyone. [no change]

You wanted to get a box just for Cove. (if non-Indifferent) [no change]

And that was all. [no change]

If the MC chooses to get fudge for anyone:

Milk Chocolate. [sideswept hair]

Dark Chocolate. [middle-parted hair]

White Chocolate. [fluffy hair]

Cookies and Cream. [tied-back hair]

Caramel swirl. [fluffy hair]

Chocolate Peanut butter. [fluffy hair]

Dark Chocolate Mint.

○ (if buying for self/everyone who isn't Cove) [tied-back hair]

○ (if buying for Cove) [no change]

Red Velvet.

○ (if buying for self/everyone who isn't Cove) [middle-parted hair]

○ (if buying for Cove) [no change]

Maple Walnut.

○ (if buying for self/everyone who isn't Cove) [nothing (this will default to the tied-back hair in Step 4)]

○ (if buying for Cove) [no change]

White Chocolate Peppermint.

○ (if buying for self/everyone who isn't Cove) [tied-back hair]

○ (if buying for Cove) [no change]

Chocolate Toffee.

○ (if buying for self/everyone) [middle-parted hair]

○ (if buying for Cove) [no change]

Key Lime.

○ (if buying for self/everyone who isn't Cove) [sideswept hair]

○ (if buying for Cove) [no change]

When the MC can buy groceries:

Apples. [average red glasses]

Oranges. [nothing (this will default to no glasses in Step 4)]

Peaches. [no glasses]

Strawberries. [rounded gray glasses]

Onions. [rectangular brown glasses]

Peppers. [no glasses]

Lettuce. [average red glasses]

Tomatoes. [rounded gray glasses]

Cucumbers. [no glasses]

Carrots. [nothing (this will default to no glasses in Step 4)]

Lemons. [rounded gray glasses]

Limes. [rectangular brown glasses]

Spinach. [average red glasses]

Potatoes. [no glasses]

You didn't get anything. [no glasses]

When the MC can buy honey and/or jam:

Clover Honey. [rectangular brown glasses]

Orange Blossom Honey. [nothing (this will default to no glasses in Step 4)]

Spring Wildflower Honey. [no glasses]

Honey Butter. [average red glasses]

Strawberry Jam. [rounded gray glasses]

Raspberry Jam. [rectangular brown glasses]

Blackberry Jam. [no glasses]

Apricot Jam. [nothing (this will default to no glasses in Step 4)]

Blueberry Jam. [rounded gray glasses]

Plum Jam. [nothing (this will default to no glasses in Step 4)]

Rhubarb Jam. [rectangular brown glasses]

You didn't get anything. [no change]

Talks

[NONE]

Charity

[NONE]

Drive

[NONE]

Reflection

[NONE]

Late Shift

When the MC can order at the fast food place:

A hamburger. (if the MC is not vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian, or pollotarian) [layered blue and maroon bracelets on right wrist]

○ With cheese. [no change]

○ With no cheese. [no change]

A vegan veggieburger. [multiple colored bracelets on right wrist]

A chicken sandwich. (if the MC is not vegetarian, vegan, or pescatarian) [black bracelet on right wrist]

A spicy chicken sandwich. (if the MC is not vegetarian, vegan, or pescatarian) [no change]

French fries. [nothing (this will default to no wristwear on the right wrist in Step 4)]

Onion rings. (if the MC is not vegan) [no change]

A salad. [no wristwear on the right wrist]

Chicken nuggets. (if the MC is not vegetarian, vegan, or pescatarian) [layered blue and maroon bracelets on right wrist]

Jalapeno poppers. [multiple colored bracelets on right wrist]

A soda. [black bracelet on right wrist]

A milkshake. (if the MC is not vegan) [nothing (this will default to no wristwear on the right wrist in Step 4)]

A soft serve sundae. (if the MC is not vegan) [no wristwear on the right wrist]

A chocolate chip cookie. (if the MC is not vegan) [layered blue and maroon bracelets on right wrist]

An apple pie. (if the MC is not vegan) [multiple colored bracelets on right wrist]

Nothing. [no wristwear on the right wrist]

Serendipity

When everyone is discussing their plans for what sweet treat they want:

"A popsicle." [silver huggie earrings]

"An ice cream cone." [black stud & silver huggie earrings]

"An ice cream sandwich, too." [black stud earrings]

Boating

[NONE]

Happiness

If the MC decided to make food for Cove (if Shopping happened, Growing happened, or the MC bought fudge for Cove in Errands):

You chose to bake cinnamon rolls. (if Shopping happened) [nothing (this will default to no wristwear on the left wrist in Step 4)]

You were going to make banana, peanut butter, and honey sandwiches. (if Growing happened) [pale yellow watch on the left wrist]

You'd make him homemade fudge. (if the MC bought fudge for Cove in Errands) [ridged slate gray bracelet on the left wrist]

If the MC decided to get food for Cove that didn't require preparation:

(if Drive happened) [thick brown and tan bracelet with white helm on the left wrist]

(if Drive did not happen) [no wristwear on the left wrist]

Step 3 Ending

If the MC chose to make jewelry with Lee and the others:

"I wanna find some sea glass too." [nothing (this will default to no wristwear on the left wrist in Step 4)]

"I'm gonna hunt for a handful of shells to pick from." [pale yellow watch on the left wrist]

"I'm gonna look for some driftwood." [ridged slate gray bracelet on the left wrist]

"I wanna use some stones." [thick brown and tan bracelet with white helm on the left wrist]

"I'll just wait and see. I don't have a plan." [no wristwear on the left wrist]

-

Aaaand that's everything! It's really a shame about Cove's tattoos and pants, and I can't help being curious about the potential unused content (there aren't image files or anything for them, unfortunately), but I hope this helped anyway!

[littlebird-whitewolf]

rant incoming!

sandor: you’ve changed, little bird. none if it would’ve happened if you’d left king’s landing with me. no little finger, no ramsay, none of it.

sansa: without little finger and ramsay and the rest, i would’ve stayed a little bird all my life.

let’s not forget the hound had just before this brought up her violent rape as if mocking her or rubbing it in her face. with no verbal rebuttal from her about that. it left such a sour taste in my mouth when i watched it

it’s as if he’s mad at her for not having responded to his lust for her with love and trust when she was a CHILD being held hostage by her family’s enemy who had killed her father and brother, and as if he hadn’t been serving said family the whole time

out of the many things i didn't like about how the writers ruined the last season, this one stands out the most- being one that still boggles my mind (including a sansa gif because i need to see my beautiful girl and calm down)

them making sansa casually dismiss her horrific past and basically absolving her abusers by saying that. and it's so tiring because sansa h@ters will always bring up how she was an outsider to the starks because she "betrayed" her family and also "sucks because she's not a tomboy like arya or has dragons like d@nny" BUt the moment you bring up the fact that she was also a literal child, held hostage and abused for years, that all the men in her life were abusers, even the "kinder" ones because they wanted something from her, they first of all dismiss all that by denying that their fav male characters (tyrion, sandor) are not pr3dators and secondly, saying her abuse is in the past and doesn't matter anyway because she said herself that "without ... and all the rest, [she] would have remained a little bird all [her] life"

it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

[chainsandmorechains]

I still don't fully understand why, but some people love rape threats, more than loving them they beg for it.

I'm not judging them, nor you for liking it if you love it, after all, everyone has their own tastes, I, for example, have some reprehensible tastes too possibly worse than yours but it's all a question of opinion here, also I like to think that I matured over the mentality of a 3-year-old child that disrespects someone for their differences no, no, I'm not judging anyone for that nor will give any excuses if I do.

If I want to disrespect someone, or you reader, I probably won't ever use anything of that sort, no if I want to disrespect you I'll do it, without hiding behind any kind of excuses or differences you may hold.

Why would I do that?

Because I want to of course, what else?

You may ponder why I'm talking about that right now when I'm only supposed to talk about rape threats and to answer your restless mind let me simply tell you that the reason I did that was to introduce you to the rest of that message, it was to establish in your mind the fact that if I want to do something no matter how dumb or insane it is, as long as it isn't a danger to my survival well I'll probably fucking do it.

That's why you shouldn't question why I suddenly want to become the best pokemo-! I mean the best rape threatener(?)in the world, well I want to be the person on earth who send and creates the best rape threats.

Why would I want that? Like I said you really shouldn't question it if you don't want to start getting mad, my incredible thought process is way out of the league of mortals like you.

But if you really need some answer well yes, it may be because I have a small obsession with becoming the best at everything I do, and yes it may also be because I want to assert my dominance maybe, just maybe.

What's sure however, is that I shall need to practice to reach my goal of unofficial best… rape-threatener in the world, let's call it like that shall we, measuring progress is also simply essential for my goal, and that's where YOU come in, Yep you, the best way to measure how amazing my rape threat is by showing them to someone who loves rape threat and seeing if they get horny.

But I'm too lazy to send one rape threat to multiple people and then measure their level of arousal, that's why I shall use this post as a way to potentially gain attention and test my rape threats on you all.

Now let's start for real, if you're not interested in hearing my great being threatening you, well firstly you're missing something there, and secondly…why are you still here? It's time for a strategic retreat.

If you're still there, shut up, go grab your favorite beverage or put your hand on your privates, and let me use you like a good little lab rat, test subjects are hard to come by these days.

Cough cough

I could try to start this threat with some beautifully woven words, but considering the fact that I currently just want to grab your head and slam it against the nearest piece of furniture before raping your holes, I won't. I wouldn't hesitate even for a measly second to fuck you until you're a drooling mess that can only mutter "sorry" again and again pathetically, the only thing I would hesitate on would be between abusing your warm and moist lips on your face or abusing your pluckable asshole, so many choices, what a hard dilemma, but don't worry too much about waiting for too long while I do my decision, I'll keep you busy by choking you with your own underwear, can't have you screaming around.

I want to rape you with animalistic violence that almost none could replicate, I want to ruin you, I want this to be both the worst and best experience of your life, I want those contrary thoughts to corrupt your mind and mold it into something, something else, something new, something better (only for me), I want to ravage you so brutally that you would associate this situation with rock bottom, I'll feed myself from the despair in your eyes and I'll be sure to teach you a very important lesson.

When you think you're at your worst, everything can still get much much worse.

I'll teach you that by kidnapping you in a place where no one could ever find you, it's simply the natural step forward After doing something like that, can't have you run away or believe that you will sagely and docilely submit to me after making you suffer only one traumatizing experience, No for myself to be convinced of your submission I need a secure place for me to throw you in and fuck you every fucking day, every fucking hour, every fucking minutes, and every FUCKING seconds of your new life.

Don't worry about stopping, It's been a while already since I mastered orgasmic control, a pretty neat trick it helps get rid of a pesky thing you certainly know under the name of the refractory period, I mean it doesn't actually change the refractory period of an individual, and it has the little side effect on me not being able to cum if I want to lose my streak but don't worry about that, if you're worried about my pleasure well it's actually way more pleasurable for me to fuck like that, and also it's not like you will really be able to reflect on that when your mind is overflowing with pain, pleasure, and despair, or whatever else your twisted mind has created.

You shouldn't have the time to focus on anything else but my dick slamming in your holes, oh maybe you will be able to sense all of the different positions I would put you in tough.

But don't you even worry I may be evil but I have no intention to let you die, nope, I'll give you enough nutriment in the form of food covered by my cum, it will even be in a dogbowl, aren't I'm generous? I'll make sure to make you worship my feets in order for you to understand how charitable I am.

Oh, don't you need to drink too, don't worry I'm too damn awesome to have forgotten about that, I'll be sure to spit water or juice in your mouth when I hydratate myself.

Yeah I know I'm a magnanimous man.

May teach you some tricks too, I always wanted a pet, how does a cat cosplay sounds like? Want to have one while you're chained down under my desk and worshipping my dick? No? You don't want it? Whatever I don't care I'll still make you wear one and force you to clean yourself with my cum as if you were a cat cleaning itself.

Ohhhhh I should give you oversized paw gauntlets…this right here is a genius Idea.

Even if that sounds like a bad fate you should focus on the positive, with how much sex is a streneuous activity, you will be fit as fuck when everything is finished.

Well not like there would be an end.

[cloudyyoimiya]

Hiiii :)

First of all, it's nice that you are back. I hope you had fun with your friend!

Secondly, I saw your post about wanting more Verlaine requests, so could I please request something for him? Maybe reader comforting him when he gets homesick for France? Headcannons or a scenario prehaps? You can choose if yandere or not.

Take your time and make sure to stay hydrated (it's scorching hot where I am 🥵) and have a great day/night!

i’m sorry i got to this late!! it’s been hot where i live too… i hate the weather here. its horrendous. anyways, thank you for requesting! i had fun writing this <3

A Taste of Home; Paul Verlaine

Format; Headcanons and scenario

Genre; Fluff

Possible warnings; None

Word count; 1123

Little note; Translations are at the bottom :)

Unedited.

Verlaine never thought that he was one to miss France. So many bad things had happened to him in that country, an example of it being his creation. But sometimes when he did think about his somewhat good memories, he would miss the culture of his homeland. He also missed speaking French because learning English was hard enough, but Japanese? He was too proud of admit that he struggled speaking in both languages.

One time you brought up purchasing an expensive bottle of wine from France to Verlaine, but his facial expression alone showed you that he was longing to go back to his homeland. You felt bad that he was unable to travel back to France due to his current situation in the Port Mafia’s basement, so you thought that you’d try to bring his culture back to him.

You looked up how to make French cuisine and French pastries. It was hard at first, but after enough practice while Verlaine wasn’t around, you eventually got the hang of it. Hopefully a taste of home would do him some good.

You also started to learn a little bit of French. Sometimes you could see how he struggled to form sentences that weren’t in his native tongue, so you thought that it would be a pleasant surprise for him to be able to speak comfortably in French.

Though you would have to admit, learning French was hard. The grammar is much different than how it is in English, and the way you pronounce certain letters gave you a little bit of trouble. Honestly, it’s surprising how your boyfriend didn’t hear you cursing late at night because you couldn’t figure out how to say certain words.  

By the time you set up your little surprise, you didn’t know how to speak French fluently, but you knew enough to hold up a small conversation.

…

You couldn’t help but be nervous as you finished up the final meal preparations. Recently, Verlaine has been showing signs of missing his homeland, France. For anyone else it would be hard to pick up on these signs because your boyfriend was rather stoic, but for you, it was quite clear to you.

You felt bad that he was unable to travel back to France due to his current situation with the mafia, but there wasn’t much you could do besides having him leave the mafia’s basement for a day or so.

As you were setting up the dinner table, you heard a knock on the door to your apartment. You quickly finished putting down the dining utensils and rushed to the door, straightening out your outfit as you did so. You then opened the door and looked up at Verlaine, offering him a small smile.

“Hello, my dear,” you said as you opened your door fully. “Come in, come in!”

Verlaine gave you a small smile of his own and entered your apartment. He then took out of the bouquet of roses that he was hiding behind his back and offered them to you. “Here, I got these for you.”

“Oh! They’re beautiful!” You exclaimed as you took the bouquet from his hands. You then took a small sniff of the roses and chuckled. “And they smell good too. Thank you, Paul.”

Verlaine simply nodded and he took off his coat. He placed it onto your coat rack then looked down at you, an awkward smile adorned his features. Despite all of the times he had bought you flowers, he was always scared of accidently messing up and getting you flowers you didn’t like.

Your boyfriend cleared his throat then started to speak gently. “I’m glad you like them. Anyways, you said you called me over for a date, right? What exactly will we be doing, chérie?”

“Ah, I just prepared some dinner is all,” you spoke as you went into the kitchen. You set down the roses onto your counter, then pulled out a vase from one of your many cabinets. “I think you’ll like it! I tried pretty hard to make it perfect.”

Verlaine walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin onto your shoulder. He silently watched as you prepared the roses of the vase. He was happy that you put so much care into the flowers, oddly enough.

“When was the last time you had coq au vin?” You suddenly asked as you put water into the vase.

Verlaine paused for a little bit, thinking. When he answered, he seemed a little bit unsure. “I’d have to say a few years ago. Why do you ask?”

“I made it for our dinner tonight,” you stated while putting the roses into the vase. You then gently took Verlaine’s arms off of you and walked over to the dining table. “I hope you like it! It took a little bit of trial and error, but I think it tastes good.”

Verlaine followed you and watched as you placed the vase of roses in the center of the dining room table. “You made coq au vin?”

“I did indeed. I noticed how you were starting to miss France, so that was the least I could do since I can’t physically bring you back to France.”

Your boyfriend let out a small chuckle and wrapped his arms around you once more, nuzzling into your neck. He was never one to show affection first, so this act was a pleasant surprise to you. You smiled as you hugged him back, content with the affection that Verlaine was showing.

“Je t'aime,” Verlaine murmured into your neck.

“Je t'aime aussi,” you said before you giggled.

Verlaine looked at you and quirked an eyebrow. “Tu parle Français?”

“Oui, mais seulement un peu,” you said with a smile. “Is my pronunciation okay?”

“It’s good for a beginner,” Verlaine chuckled. “Did you really do all of this for me? I find that hard to believe, chérie.”

“I really did do this all for you… I knew it’s not all that much, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“The thought very much counts,” Verlaine spoke as he kissed your cheek. “You’re adorable, chérie. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Just think of it as showing you how much I love you.”

Verlaine nodded and stopped hugging you with a genuine smile on his face. “Then I shall think of it that way.”

“Good! Now, the food might be getting cold. C’mon, let’s go eat before I have to go throw it in the microwave to reheat it,” you giggled.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go eat then.” Verlaine gave you another kiss, but this time on your lips. “I love you, my dear. Thank you again for doing all of this for me.”

Translations;

Chérie—Dear

Je t’aime (aussi)—I love you (too)

Tu parle Français?—You speak French?

Oui, mais seulement un peu��Yes, but only a little

[moodymisty]

Hello, Mortarion simp club member #7 here. First off, sorry for the fungus.

Secondly, imagine word getting to The Emperor that Mortarion had found a partner. None of the primarchs ever got married (except for Fulgrim) so I’d imagine it’d be big news. To find out that any of his sons, let alone shit-bag himself, found someone to love would shake him to his core.

Now, I am a very small woman so it might just be projecting, but just imagining The Emperor of Mankind staring you down and shaking his head like,

“This is inhumane. It’s almost comical, how absurd this is. How have you not been ripped in half, or accidentally crushed underfoot?”

I know deep in my soul that Morty would be the most gentle of the primarchs because he’s never had anyone be gentle with him before. That man would start sobbing immediately if he so much as accidentally bumped into you. Full on ‘please don’t leave me’ breakdown if he hurts you in any way.

The fungus is amungus.

Honestly given the way that the Emperor thinks of Mortarion as sort of a failure among his 'sons', and has just abandoned any possibility of him achieving greatness, him accomplishing something so 'odd' would definitely get a query or two. This behavior sounds more like Sanguinius or Fulgrim, not Mortarion.

Also the Emperor saying that it's 'inhumane' fucking killed me. I don't know why him saying that in response to one of the Primarchs picking up a lover is so fucking funny but also kind of accurate? I mean, pulling a normal human into what is basically a small pantheon of demigods isn't exactly a good idea. Not to mention the dangers involved that you could go on about for hours. Both being around and with a Primarch. It's less that The Emperor would ever care about a singular human, but he more so just finds the absurdity of it, amusing. Or as amusing as someone like him can.

I definitely think out of all the (future) heretic Primarchs, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Magnus, and Lorgar would probably both be the most gentle. He's also horrifically damaged (which Primarch isn't lmao) and has a slew of self image issues. He might not cry, but he'll sure as hell give you the stars as long as you don't drop to the wayside like everyone else in his life. You're the figurative jewel of his eye, and nothing will take you away from him.

He loves you, you love him, it's awful and harmful and will probably end terribly but damn does it taste good.

Also, a snippet to go with this. Enjoy.

Mortarion/Fem!Reader, No extreme warnings apart from typical 40kness and hinting at a toxic, obsessive relationship. I'm actually really coming around to liking Morty, if I never get a chance I really want to write some of my personal ideas for him

That meeting still lingers on your mind. You look out the window and wring your hands, trying to figure out why your heart continues to pound so hard against your chest. When it doesn't stop, you sit down and fail to try and stop your mind from running it through once again.

You met The Emperor.

You met the father- or simply creator as some of the Primarchs refer to him- to the Primarch you could possibly call your beloved.

It had been a surprise meeting; You were already so worn and tired from speaking to Primarch Fulgrim, shoulders tense and mind strained. While you might be close to Mortarion, being in the presence of Primarchs is still such an intense and formal ordeal, that forces you to carefully watch your words, your tone, your body language.

Just as The Phoenician seemed to be getting bored of you, as you kept politely avoiding giving him any worthwhile and intimate details about Mortarion, The Emperor had apparently come to see the lover of his fourteenth son; The first of them to ever take someone that could be potentially called a consort. It has been the rumor of the palace for days now, and it's seems to have spread now even to the Golden Throne.

He only ever spoke one sentence to you. And it will likely remain the only one. You would delude yourself into thinking that you have any business with The Emperor, beyond what little falls from Mortarion's lips. Either way, his words and voice with stay within your mind for as long as you live.

He looked down on you, barely able to reach his hips, and almost seemed to sigh. As much as a man such as him could. When you dared look at him, seeing any emotion on a man so borderline ethereal seemed so out of place. Though it was only there for a moment, and then his expression turned to that non-emotion of cold stoicism.

"I should not be surprised, to see he chose someone so small they cannot think to stand against him."

You decided to keep your head respectfully bowed in his presence, but you can't help but furrow your brow ever the slightest at his cryptic speech.

"You fraternize with the most fractured of all my sons. Do be careful with him."

Did he mean to be careful around him? Or to be careful with him? How could someone that in the grandness of things, as insignificant as you, be able to do either?

You pull yourself from being lost in your own thoughts and look out over the palace skyline, seeing nothing but golden peaks as far as the eye can see. It's inconceivable in size, that just viewing it doesn't give even the slightest hint as to it's sheer scale. And from what little you've heard, it's not even close to it's completion. New Praetorian Rogal Dorn has been continuing it's construction for years now, and will likely continue for decades more.

The soft sound of a door opening forces you to look towards it. Mortarion enters, and instantly comes closer. You haven't seen him since you had first encountered Fulgrim. You assume he had more urgent matters than batting away his fellow Primarchs away from the new thing of interest.

Your face softens as he comes closer, seeing his shoulders rolled forward slightly. The way he looks is a dead giveaway that he is in a terrible mood; Not uncommon whenever his so called brothers are involved. You assume that he is going to want a moment alone, and get up to take your leave. You'd heard nothing but his lamenting about hating the idea of returning to Terra for days now, but it seems you're wrong.

Before you have a chance to step away and leave the massive room that serves as the most private of his chambers, Mortarion quickly snatches your arm at the wrist. Though given the size of his hand in comparison to yours, his hand grasps a significant portion of your forearm.

"Do not leave."

You look at him, the way his grey hair shadows his thin face, and how he seems even more drained of energy. He towers over you, but yet he seems almost ungainly and defeated.

The Pale King orders you, but his words are almost dipped in something you might consider calling desperation.

He has told you before that interacting with his fellow Primarchs and The Emperor foremost is something he hates most. That it all reminds him of stolen revenge and his dead world, how he's overcast by the shadows of men like Sanguinius and Horus. You knew he would be more fragile, harder to deal with, but you didn't expect him to seem almost, humiliated. You're used to him being impossible to contend with, spiteful, hateful, angry; Not this.

His hand grips tighter when you don't immediately come back, enough that it begins to hurt. You sit back down and he lets go, only to cup his hand tightly around your jaw. He tilts your head up to look at him. It hurts your neck a bit from the intense angle, and your much smaller hands grip his wrist to try and gain leverage.

You watch his eyes glance over your face, his own slum and demoralized. His grip on your face softens just a bit so he isn't yanking you around like some sort of doll. At least not as much.

He sighs, and leans down enough so that his forehead touches yours, long strands of limp grey hair brushing against your face, and nothing more is said.

[disappointmentthemusical]

Draco is a racist in the most literal sense. (Well, former – reformed? – racist, that is. He wouldn't identify as one anymore.)

But he'd nonetheless been a racist – literally. He'd subscribed to the Pureblood notion that Wixen and Man are two separate creatures, made distinct by the inherent magic to one and the lack thereof in the other, which made the latter inferior. It'd taken no less than a week of critical thought to rid himself of the philosophy.

Indeed, his stint in Azkaban between his arrest and trial had been rather enlightening. It'd given him the perfect amount of time to grapple with himself, his identity, and the very fiber of the world as he knew it.

In preparation for his hearing, he attempted to shift the blame for his racism from himself. He'd been a child after all. A child very susceptible to the whims and fancies of his parents, as many children are. So, really, it's his parents' faults for impressing upon him their obsession with blood purity, and no one could fault him – sweet, innocent, young Draco – for taking up family business of slur-hurling and the mild torture of innocents.

Yes, he'd be a free man, for sure.

But then he'd unfortunately remembered that his parents had once been children, too. And at what point did the blame shift from them to their own parents, and then the generation before them?

At what point did Draco become responsible for his actions? Was it between second and third year, the transition into teenager-hood? Or was it when he got the mark? Could he blame his parents – his mother who'd begged him not to – for that decision?

What about the cabinet?

What about Dumbledore?

He'd stared at his cell wall for hours, wracking his mind for an answer other than the one he had. None came.

The day of his trial, he resigned himself to a guilty sentence.

But then, of course, Harry Potter had to muck everything up, as he always did – does. Within hours, Draco was not returning to his cell, but standing in front of the Ministry with all of his worldly possessions cradled between his arms.

Well, then.

The next five years were rather boring, full of strife and struggle. He knew poverty for the first time in his life, an experience he never wished to repeat, and despite the horror that was ages 15 through 18, he learned that it had not been rock bottom.

No, rock bottom was much, much worse.

On the bright side, his Wizard upbringing had been good for a few things. For one, his complete ignorance of the concept of sexuality meant that his open homosexuality made him "cutting edge" and "interesting." Secondly, his impeccable aesthetic taste made him hireable.

At 25, he's the most popular stylist at a bougie London salon, and he's made quite the name for himself among the rich housewives of South Kensington. Gone were the days of dumpster diving and petty theft.

Draco Malfoy is, once again, a god among mortals.

And like any god, he is a master of keeping up a facade, which is why he's able to not visibly react when the last person on Earth he wants to see walks through the salon doors.

Harry sodding Potter.

Draco should have anticipated this. Of course, Potter would show up the moment Draco's life was going well – the prick was justice incarnate. He must have a sixth sense for undeserving people experiencing happiness, and like a good hero, he sweeps in to strip the perpetrator of the feeling.

Draco refocuses on the appointment he's in the middle of, thinking invisible thoughts in hopes that it would prevent Potter from spotting him.

As anyone could've predicted, it doesn't work.

"Draco?"

He spares half a glance toward Potter, who stands only a few feet away now, having bypassed the front desk girl. He looks back to the foil in front of him, checking the color.

"Potter."

"What are you doing here?"

He pauses, gives Potter a flat look, and then continues working.

"Oh," Potter says dumbly, "right. But, I mean, um, what are you doing here, like, in, um, this side of London."

It's a lame and fumbled attempt to ask why Draco was in Muggle London, in a Muggle salon, doing a Muggle's hair, and Draco latches on to the opportunity to turn the conversation around.

"What – you think I don't deserve to be here?"

Potter's brow furrows in that familiar way that says he understands that he's just dug himself into a hole, but he hasn't a clue how to un-dig it.

"No," he denies too aggressively. "You know what I mean. I just didn't expect you to work at a place like this."

He winces at his words, and Draco doesn't bother hiding his triumphant smile.

"I'll have you know," Draco's client, a middle aged woman named Siobhan who has that eccentric look that only works on the uber rich, says with a pointed finger at Potter, "that Draco is a very talented young man, and we here are lucky to have his skill. I'm not sure how you two know each other, but I won't stand to have Draco's talents diminished in my presence."

Potter's face turns bright red, and his shoulders shoot up to his ears. "No– I, I– I wasn't trying to–"

"It's all right, dear," Draco says to Siobhan with a hand on her shoulder. "This just shows how far I've come, the success that I've achieved; I won't let others' prejudice stop me."

"Prejudice?!" Ah, there's the outrage that Draco coveted so much when he was younger. It remains unfairly amusing.

Biting back a smirk, he gives Potter a stern look. "If you'll excuse us."

He doesn't wait to for Potter to leave to guide Siobhan to the back wall where the sinks are. Behind him, he can hear Potter awkwardly shuffle out of the salon, and the tin bell above the door announces his departure.

Draco asks one of his coworkers to take over while he has a quick smoke break. Once outside, he allows himself exactly three minutes to panic before straightening his shirt, wiping his tears and heading back inside with his head held high.

If he knows Potter as well as he thinks he does, this won't be the last time they meet. Potter's horribly stubborn like that. So all Draco can do is prepare and hope that the next time Potter shows up, it'll satisfy whatever morbid curiosity he has.

And maybe next time, Draco won't notice how handsome he is.

[mechanical-sunchild]

To give my thoughts on this 'packer discourse' thing, the main issues amount to false equivilancy and engaging in the 'think of the children' logical fallacy. None of which makes a credible or viable argument.

A fake animal phallus is not the same as a real one. Producing them does not indicate that the company/person wants you to go out and touch real animals or be attracted to them in any way. Believing so purely based on the idea that one may be aroused by these dildos or are producing them in sexually aroused states is false equivilancy.

But we're not even talking about dildos to begin with, we're talking about packers. These are by and large items whose only function is relieving the genital dysphoria of those who need them. If for some that includes an 'aroused' looking aspect, you have no right to judge either the one making them or the one desiring them. There is no issue here which isn't you making those leaps to something false.

'But they're being sold to minors...!' Oh won't somebody think of the children?!

Let's say minors are buying these things. Firstly - minors have the right to wear packers and relieve genital dysphoria.

Secondly - these packers are not being marketed explicitly to minors or to minors at all for that matter. Not all of them show arousal and even the ones which do are not being marketed at minors. Minors may buy them. Minors may get the adults they live with to buy them for them. These minors are intended to use them to relieve dysphoria. They are not intending to use them for sex, regardless of how they look and they are not being made for sexual use. Calling producers disgusting because a minor may buy them when they're not being marketed at minors at all, and indicating a minor is somehow being abused if they chose to buy one because they wanted it, is wrong of you.

You are allowed to consider it strange and not to your taste, but you have to realise it is harmless. It is harmless because the phallus' are not real, the producers are not actively calling for living animals to be abused, neither are the wearers regardless of how the packer looks. It is harmless because it is not being made for minors, incidentally a minor may see or choose to purchase one, to relieve their dysphoria. Minors have the right to wear gear that relieves their dysphoria regardless of what that gear is.

What a being has in their pants, be it a minor or not (and really you should be a lot less involved in what is going on in a minors underwear), to relieve their gender and/or species dysphoria is really none of your business. Calling for packers of any kind to be disallowed and using fallacy's to justify it doesn't make you someone with stronger better morals than supporters, it makes you a reactionary with a lot of prudish hang-ups to work out.