#and I was doing nothing else except watching that show no distractions

[thesearchforbluejello]

I fundamentally do not understand this show. The Dominion War was RIGHT THERE. Like, RIGHT. THERE. Why did we need some whack Romulus-blew-up backstory when the federation was already decimated by the war?? A follow up on the fallout of that and how the ceding of territory, the betrayal by allies, and the xenophobia of threats from both within and outside would have been SO much more interesting to me.

And they're so busy pulling half developed plotlines out of thin air that they're not even pounding in their anchor points for it all. Like, case in point, Jay looking for Icheb's cortical node. SEVEN HAS IT. IT IS LITERALLY IN SEVEN'S FUCKING HEAD. Like, okay fine easter egg? Maybe? But a major plot point isn't exactly an Easter egg?? Like obviously Beyer knows a shitload about Voyager, so at least one of them must be aware of that, so I assume it's implied... but not everyone has seen every Trek and that is from one specific Voyager episode, and Seven had the perfect opportunity to rub that in Jay's face... And are we not going to talk about Seven becoming a Ranger which is HUGELY antithetical to where she was at in Voyager? Because the fact that she became an individual on a ship that was what, 1/3 Maquis? Um, that's a super fucking important fact? Love that for her, but Christ alive nail. these. plot points. home.

idk I guess these two are nitpicks, but I have so many more and just don't feel like writing a novel expounding upon what I perceive as their many (MANY) failures in writing this show. But this show is just full of those moments and I don't understand their choices. Easter eggs only work when there's actually something semi coherent to hide them in (hence why most of M*rvel's fail nowadays, just saying). This feels almost as incoherent as Renegades, and I am SOOOOO very sorry to be actually saying that because woooooof that is not a compliment. Like... it's the Romulans, it's the androids, it's the Borg. It feels like whatever unholy combination is happening with Applebee's and iHop right now. Like... Okay I guess? But it's just a weird combination and very unnecessary. Just fucking pick one and go from there.

I do however need like a lot more ex-Borg bonding that was such a good moment okay thanks bye

[minswriting]

UNKNOWN TERRITORY - A.H x Reader x S.R

About: Spencer walks in on Aaron going down on you. So he watches the two of you have sex.

A/N: this didn’t come out exactly how i wanted it to but i have so many ideas on this dynamic lol. so feel free to send aaron x reader x spencer requests!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, office sex, unprotected sex, oral (f), getting caught, voyeurism, masturbation (m), whiny Spencer, whiny reader, making out, Spencer’s a virgin and receives a handjob

Word Count: 1.5k

Working late at the Bureau wasn’t one of your favorite things to do, especially after working a really long case. No one else was at the Bureau except you and Aaron, everyone had already gone home. You were exhausted and just wanted to go home as well. But you also didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to be between Aaron’s sheets as he fucked you into a blissful state. Instead, you were sitting on Aaron’s desk, thoroughly distracting him from the work he claimed he absolutely had to do, as he was on his knees with his face buried between your legs.

Your legs rested on Aaron’s shoulders as his tongue lapped around your cunt, coating his tongue with your juices. Your hands gripped the desk as you let out the most beautiful noises, soft moans with quiet whimpers. Aaron’s tongue dipped to your hole, causing his nose to grind against your clit. You gasped, moving a hand to Aaron’s head as your eyes fluttered shut. You gently tugged at his hair, causing Aaron to groan against your pussy. The sound sent vibrations through you, making you buck your hips in response.

You knew exactly when this sexual relationship began with Aaron. About four months ago, the two of you were forced to share a room in the rural countryside in Vermont for a case with only one bed. So naturally, you ended up with your face buried in the pillow as Aaron fucked you into oblivion. And you had absolutely no regrets.

Aaron worked meticulously at eating you out. He loved when he could just bury his face between your thighs. The amount of times you’ve woken up with his tongue inside of you was more than often whenever he slept at your place. Your pussy was like his happy place and he never failed to show you that. He moved his lips against your cunt, slurping as he sucked on your clit.

You whined, still gripping Aaron’s hair. You opened your eyes to look down at him, only to see someone standing at the door. You gasped. “S-Spencer,” You said, eyes widening.

Aaron stopped his movements, looking up at you with confusion. “What?” He deadpanned.

You pointed a shaky finger at the doorway. “Spencer,” You said again. Aaron turned his head, seeing Spencer standing in the doorway with a file in hand. Spencer was frozen, shocked at the scene in front of him. His lips were parted, his eyes wide like a deer, his cheeks were pinkened, and he was sporting a very obvious hard-on.

Nothing was spoken between the three of you for a good few seconds. You were still exposed, your pants sitting comfortably on Aaron’s couch in his office. Your legs were still on Aaron’s shoulders. You thought Aaron would stop the whole ordeal, being the most logical person in the room because he was your and Spencer’s boss. However, instead, he looks at Spencer and then at you and says “Reid, if you’re going to stand there and watch, you can at least come in and close the door,” before diving back into eating you out.

The action caused you to gasp and moan, your hand going back to Aaron’s hair. Spencer quickly walked into the office, closing the door behind him. He stood awkwardly in the room, watching the scene before him. He bit his lip, watching as Aaron ate you out. The way your body reacted to Aaron’s touch, the way your lips parted in an “o”. You looked as though you were in Heaven, basking in the pleasures that Aaron bestowed on you. And Spencer couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Spencer’s never done anything remotely sexual so his experience is very much nonexistent. What better way to learn to pleasure someone than to watch it happen right in front of you?

The look you were giving Spencer as Aaron ate you out was one that Spencer would likely jerk off to frequently. He had expected that you would look at Aaron as if he was the one pleasuring you but instead, your lustful gaze met Spencer’s doe eyes, as though you wanted him to join. And as you let out a loud moan, biting your lip when Aaron sucked on your clit, you made a come here motion to Spencer. Spencer was quick to walk over to you, placing the file that was in his hands on Aaron’s desk before taking a seat next to you on the desk. He looked at you, waiting for you to say or do anything.

You tilted your head towards Spencer, looking at him. “Kiss me,” you breathed out.

And Spencer didn’t need to be told twice as he put his lips onto yours.

Aaron glanced up as he continued eating you out, his hands on your thighs. He saw you and Spencer kissing, unable to help the small chuckle that escaped his lips against your cunt. The action of itself caused you to moan against Spencer’s mouth, allowing his tongue to explore you. Your kisses with Spencer were slow but hungry. Both of your hands were tugging at Aaron’s hair.

You could feel yourself getting closer. With the way Aaron’s tongue kept moving around on your pussy and how his nose would brush against your clit. The way Spencer’s tongue moved inside your mouth as he kissed you. The little cherry on top that sent you over the edge was the way Spencer had tentatively put a hand on your left boob, massaging the flesh through your shirt. You came with a loud moan that was muffled by Spencer’s mouth. Your thighs clenched around Aaron’s face, shaking as your orgasm overcame you.

When you finished, you pulled away from the kiss to look down at Aaron, breathing heavily. He pulled away from your cunt, taking your legs off of his shoulder as he stood up. His face was glistening from your juices. He took the back of his hand, wiping his chin before licking his lips. It wasn’t long until the three of you were undressed and moved to Aaron’s couch.

Spencer was sitting on the left side of the couch while Aaron had you bent over on the rest of it, his cock thrusting into you hard. Your eyes were rolled back as Spencer watched you. He had his cock in his hand, stroking himself with his fist. He thumbed the tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that had accumulated, causing him to let out a whine.

That noise sent a shiver down your spine, causing your pussy to flutter around Aaron’s cock. “Oh you liked that didn’t you, baby?” Aaron groaned, giving you a particularly harsh thrust, eliciting a sharp moan from you.

“Yes,” you whined, looking at Spencer.

Spencer really couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He knew it should’ve been wrong. The fact that you were his coworker and Hotch was his boss. And yet, he could hardly find himself caring when you looked so pretty getting railed by your boss. Spencer began stroking himself a bit faster, pumping his cock in rhythm of Aaron’s thrusts. But when your hand moved to wrap around Spencer’s, helping him jerk himself off? Spencer almost came right then and there. “O-oh fuck,” Spencer whimpered out, throwing his head back. His eyes met with Aaron’s as he turned his head to the side as Aaron gave him a smirk.

Aaron’s thrusts became more frenzied, chasing the pleasure that you both craved. The office was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, moans and whines from both you and Spencer, and the low groans that Aaron was letting out.

It didn’t take long for Spencer to cum. His hips began meeting your fist and he was done for. His cum landed on his chest and stomach as Spencer let out the most beautiful noises you had ever heard.

The heat was building in your abdomen from Aaron’s thrusts. You were close and Aaron could tell. “Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” Aaron said, grabbing your ass and massaging it. His breathing was harsh just like his thrusts.

You came with a high pitched noise that was surely pornographic, a noise that will live in Spencer’s dreams frequently. You buried your head into the leather cushion, cumming from Aaron’s cock. Aaron continued his pace before letting out a loud groan, burying himself deep inside of you as he came.

Harsh breathing filled the air as the three of you came down from your highs. You looked at Spencer who was moving his gaze between you and Aaron. None of you spoke. But there was change in the way the three of you interacted from now on. This fateful night marked the night when Spencer became part of your dynamic with Aaron. It was uncertain as to where it would go or what would come of it. But all that mattered was teaching one another and exploring each other’s bodies.

[cvnntagious]

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[dreaisgrayte]

Hello there, I hope your day is going well. I have a nsfw oneshot request for Mitsuri from KNY if that’s okay. (Preferably female reader)

HEAR ME OUT. Okay so I’ve seen a lot of fanfiction where Mitsuri is a bottom, but I can’t get Soft Dom Mitsuri out of my head- like you know she’s gonna be worshipping the readers body and praising her throughout everything and AHHHH I just know the aftercare is heavenly. (and also let’s just say strap-ons exist in her universe)

*ahem* Anyways, take as much time as you want on this and have a wonderful day mate!

ABSOLUTELY, AMEN, AHHHHHHHHHH (was screaming the whole time I wrote this) Soft Dom Mitsuri lives rent-free in my head. I want to live in this story >:( Why can't I ever get izakied into a story????? DAMN IT Sorry, this took a little longer than I had intended, I was working then a bunch of things happened to where my pregnant cat had three beautiful kittens which I've been co-parenting (since she's a stray and they're outside...which I so badly want to take them inside and cuddle them so nothing happens) Also! The next anime convention I attend, I will be cosplaying Mitsuri! So I'm BEYOND excited about that!! Thank you, annon!!!

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, kissing, fingering, cunnilingus, face sitting, strap-on, Mitsuri has a thing for fucking reader with her new toy, body worship, cowgirl, Mitsuri is skilled ;) , wholesome aftercare

Word Count: 3.3k

A Secret Technique | Mitsuri Kanroji x fem!reader

As always, Mitsuri Kanroji was grinning ear to ear, the apples of her cheeks a rosy pink. She was captivating, a distraction to the trick you were trying to show her. Ever since you’d met the love Hashira her flexibility had always vexed you. Her ability to twist and contort mid-air was admirable, to say the least. “Is this what you were so excited to show me?” She inquires, walking around your attempt at doing the splits. She hums, a giggle bubbling out when you wince as she pushes on your ankle. “You’re super close YN! We can practice together if you want?” She pops up in front of you, hands clasped together with that fucking adorable excited smile she always wore. 

You tilt your head, closing your legs to wrap them into a sitting position. “Uh, sure.” A stupid smile tugs your lips upward as she squeals, sitting down gracefully in front of you. 

She spreads her legs easily to each side of her hips, her green socks pulling down on her thighs. You gulp as your gaze revels in the plush pink of her skin. Thank the gods her black skirt dips down to cover in between her legs or you’d have a hard time listening to anything else except your heartbeat. “Open your legs,” Mitsuri starts. You choke out a laugh, looking up expecting to see her playful expression, instead, you’re met with a more hungry emotion crossing her face. You do as you’re told, pushing them apart and watching with tensed breath as Mitsuri scoots closer to you. 

She delicately touches the muscle of your upper outer thigh. You gasp as her hand travels down the length of your leg and she makes steady eye contact with you. Goosebumps are erupting down your body as if your flushed cheeks weren’t enough of an indicator of how you were truly feeling. “You know YN,” She lets her gaze drop to where her fingers are tantalizingly traversing their way back up your leg. “I find that using a secret technique helps out immensely when it comes to stretching out.” Mitsuri professes, her electric green eyes flickering up to meet yours. 

A secret technique? You’d been friends with the love Hashira for a while now and she’d never once mentioned a secret technique to you. Here you were, thinking that there were no secrets between you two. Obviously, you were too blinded by how blissful every moment spent with her felt. “Oh, don’t feel pressured to tell me if it’s such a secret or something I wouldn’t want to-”

“YN,” Mitsuri’s gentle hands grab your face, mushing your cheeks to get you to stop talking. “You’re so cute when you start overthinking, but I’m going to need your express consent for what comes next.” The way she’s gazing into your eyes nearly makes your body go numb. How could one person be so perfect? 

She lets go of your face, placing her hands back on your thighs, this time with a little more command of where she grabs. You glance down, worried she might feel how erratic your pulse is through your skin. Between your thighs was a vortex of neediness, pleading with your brain to be fucked by the woman in front of you. Every time she got near your cunt, things got a little complicated inside your body. Hopefully, this secret technique would require you to climb a mountain far away from your growing desire. “I trust you Mitsuri, you can do anything you want.” 

Her lips twitch in a grin, but before you have any time to wonder why in the hell she was bracing your feet against hers, she pulls your thighs against hers – and swiftly kisses your lips. You groan at the burning sensation of your body feeling like it’s being torn apart, but as you lick your lips you can taste the sweet honey Mitsuri had eaten earlier. Somehow, it’s even sweeter than when you shared in the delicacy. Your fingertips brush against the tender skin of your lips, a stuttering breath blowing out of your mouth. “Do you understand what I mean now?” She inquires, letting your legs return to a less painful stretch. You gulp, blinking up to meet her gaze. 

You feel hazy, your skin is burning – but in the best way possible. “Not really, but I’d like to do more of that,” You putter out, swinging yourself into a kneeling position. Mitsuri giggles, doing the same, walking over to you on her knees. She smiles gently grabbing your hands.

Her uniform leaves little to the imagination and you are looking… disrespectfully. Have you always felt this draw toward Mitsuri? You’d assumed it was the desire to be her friend – and while that’s been enjoyable – you can’t help but wonder if you had an underlying motive for getting so close to her. “You do understand the secret technique is…sex, right?” Your eyes widen as you jerk your head to take in the expression on her face – completely serious. Whatever your motives were, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was pressing your lips into hers, so that’s what you do. Her fingers card through your hair, humming in delight as your hand finds her chest, tracing the curve of her cleavage. 

Your heart is beating like crazy as your chest swells with something akin to excitement. To think this was how you were spending your day. Kissing Mitsuri was like praying to a shrine and the gods blessing you with eternal riches and splendor. The way her plush lips formed against yours, trailing kisses down your cheek and neck, surely this is the paradise sought after. 

Mitsuri seemingly knew all the sensitive parts of your body – you weren’t sure if this was because you were both women, but as a Hashira Mitsuri knew the inner workings of how the body reacts. She was damn good at putting that knowledge into practice. Her mouth works against yours, lips slightly parting allowing her to slip her tongue into your mouth. The kiss was passionate, Mitsuri guiding you all the way onto your back. You’re both panting as she hovers above you. “Have you ever been with a woman before?” She inquires, looping her leg over your waist. She now sits on top of you and fuck was it a view. Her cheeks are red, her hair messy in parts, her chest heaving, and her warmth was spreading all over your body. 

There was a time when you had a mission in the entertainment district and having haven in one of the tea houses, you were alone with a gaggle of courtesans who were happy enough to show you how fun it could be to share intimacy with the same sex. One of them spoke of having a certain tool able to render men practically obsolete if you were into that sort of thing. You did think some men could be the absolute worst, but being evil wasn’t in their core, that much you could tell. The world can twist and confine anyone into becoming something they’re not. Just like demons, not all of them asked to be that way, yet the corps eradicated all demonic creatures. Needless to say, the company of men would not be forgotten by you, but if the only person you ever laid with again was Mitsuri – you’d be fine with that. “Yes, more than one.” Mitsuri’s eyes widen, then her face slowly curls into a grin. 

She places the palm of her hand flush against your chest. “Then you won’t have a problem,” She moves up your body, lifting her skirt up. Your breath catches when you realize her pussy was on you this whole time. Your gaze flits up to meet hers. “Stick your tongue out, darling. I’m going to test just how much you know.” She fluffs her skirt out over your head, hovering above your mouth with her bare cunt. Her thighs muffle any sounds from the outside world but amplify your beating pulse. Gods this was going to kill you – but what a way to go. 

Your tongue laps at her folds, enjoying the way you can feel her shiver above you. Her arousal was heady but a sweet tanginess floods into your mouth. Of course Mitsuri Kanroji had a delicious pussy. Your hands wrap around her thighs, locking her into position as you taste her again and again. You lift your skull off the ground to suck on her puffy clit, swirling your tongue around it with precision. Her thighs shake and then she’s pushing your head back down by sitting on your face. You happily make work of her clit, using the flat of your tongue to glide through her slick folds. Your face is soaking, a mixture of drool, sweat, and arousal coating your skin. The sounds you can hear are the sucking and slurping of a job well done for Mitsuri lets out a cry loud enough for you to hear. Her fingers are suddenly intertwined in your hair, pulling on the strands. A shiver runs through you as you smack your mouth against her pink pussy. Her muscles tense and she shutters, shaking as she cums all over your face. 

Mitsuri swings her leg over your face, a delightful moan rumbling from her chest. “I only wish you could’ve seen what a perfect job you did. You should’ve warned me about how good you are at eating pussy,” She presses the heel of her hand into her forehead as she laughs. You join in, sitting up to get a better look at her. 

She’s blushing, but the main difference you take note of is how her uniform is pulled open, revealing her perfect breasts. It sends a spike of want through your chest. She notices you gawking and squeaks. She shyly turns her back. “What are you doing? I want to see.” You reach out to grab her shoulder but she tosses a glare at you instead. 

You’re shocked. What happened? Gods, did you mess up somehow? You’re about to ask her what’s going on when she turns around, an adorable pout present on her face this time. “It’s not fair YN, you’ve gotten to see all of me and I haven’t seen more of your, frankly, gorgeously perfect body.” She twiddles her fingers together, nervously looking into your eyes. You can’t help but grin widely and Mitsuri slaps your shoulder. 

“You can’t be serious, you’re the one perfect thing in this world.” You exclaim, watching as she shakes her head.

“Well, that’s fine because your body is like a goddess’. In fact…” She drags a hand down your body, stopping at the hem of your skirt. “I think it’s about time I reward you for doing such a good job.” You bashfully watch her unbuckle your belt and pull it out of the loops slowly enough to drive you mad. She tosses it to the side with a smirk, pulling your skirt down your thighs. Her eyes meet yours. “Sit down,” She instructs, pushing at your chest until you’re in a laying position yet again. Your skirt is yanked off the rest of the way and there’s a long beat of silence. You lift your head to peek at Mitsuri who is gazing down at you lovingly. “YN, you’re so beautiful, may I?” She nods to the apex of your thighs, a giddiness in her voice. You nod and she wastes no time in spreading your knees apart. “You’re so wet already.” She giggles, reaching out to stroke some of your arousal that had accumulated from eating this gorgeous woman’s pussy. You hiss as her fingers dip into you, spreading the slick around until she slips inside your entrance – smiling the whole time. “Your pussy is such a pretty color YN, you’re doing such a good job for me.” She praises, sending a wave of a gooey feeling through you. 

Mitsuri braces herself on your knee, which is bent upward, as she works her fingers inside of you. Her gaze switches between observing your reaction to her hooking her fingers or swiping at a sensitive spot, to watching her fingers get eaten up by your greedy cunt. It made her thighs clench together watching how well you took her fingers. You were perfect and Mitsuri couldn’t think of anyone better to experiment with her new toy than you. 

Your hands are clenched, jerking your hips upward onto her fingers. She chuckles lowly, taking in how cute you were when you were desperately chasing your climax. She uses her free hand to rub your clit in small circles, edging you closer to orgasm. Mitsuri was curious how you would look and how you’d sound after she made you cum. You were certainly moaning up a storm as you bucked against her. You whimper and then groan as she works your clit directly. “That’s it, my pretty girl, you can cum now.” Her fingers are pumping in and out, overstimulating you as you careen off your crest of pleasure. Your throat is scratchy as you scream out, trembling against her gentle, yet relentless,  touch. The world is full of bright colors – a brilliant spectrum of satisfaction. 

As you try to catch your breath Mitsuri enjoys watching your body still shudder in waves of your previous orgasm. “YN…” She plays with a strand of your hair, curling it around her fingers with an absentminded expression. Your attention is on her – as if you could focus on anything else. “A little while ago I had to go to the swordsmith village and while I was there I got talking with a special smith. She has a shop that creates amazing things and I’d like to share with you what I bought there,” Her eyes gleam with an excited glitter. 

You raise a brow, sitting up from the floor. “I’d love that.” You exclaim, following Mitsuri into a standing position. She grabs your hand and leads you through the halls of her manor until she stops in front of what you remember to be her bedroom door. Your thighs are sticky and as you walk into the room Mitsuri rummages through a cupboard. You peer at her room, but you don’t have much time to admire how it’s decorated because Mitsuri drops her skirt and removes the rest of her clothing. Your pussy throbs with desire watching her muscular yet curvy body move around the room. 

She gathers what looks like a belt in her hand. “YN, my sweet, I’m going to need you to undress and get on your knees.” She chirps, fastening the belt around her thighs and waist. You hesitate for a moment, then scurry to follow her orders. Once you’re on your knees she turns around with lust-filled eyes. Your eyes travel down her body, stopping briefly to hungrily gaze at her tits, but something catches your attention. 

Attached to the belt she had latched around herself is a long pink phallic-shaped apparatus. Your lips part, your heart ramming against your ribcage as you look back into Mitsuri’s eyes.  “Well? Open your mouth, sweetheart.” You do as you are told, the image of Mitsuri with a cock causing you to reach down in between your thighs. You play with your sensitive and puffy clit, moaning as Mitsuri hits the cock against your face. “Mmm, you’re so pretty YN, so pretty and perfect for me. You make me so horny.” Then she places the tip against your lips, groaning softly as the head pushes into your mouth. “Gods, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” She moves her cock in your mouth, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “That's it, choke on my cock,” She huffs, throwing her head back. Spit dribbles down your chin as the surprisingly soft cock rubs against the corners of your mouth. You abuse your clit, hungry for a crest. This was so hot, you would never forget this in all of your life. 

Mitsuri takes note of how you play with your clit while sucking on her length. Her mouth twitches up in a grin. “Ah, hungry for more?” She pops the tip out of your mouth and rests the wet toy against your cheek as you pant, dazed eyes pleading with her. “Lay on the bed with your gorgeous pussy in the air.” 

On your back, legs hooked around Mitsuri’s arms, she pushes her cock inside of you after spitting on your pussy. Your eyes roll back as she thrusts into you, cooing about how you’re so good, so perfect, you’re doing so well. You ball the sheets in your fists, moans gasping out of your throat. “Ah, ngh, please m’gonna, oohngh,” Your tits are bouncing up and down, Mitsuri can’t look away. Hearing your noises of pleasure and seeing how you squirm under her, it was all so perfect. 

She wanted to see you on top of her, cum all over her cock. “One second baby,” With how strong Mitsuri is she’s able to pick you up, fucking you still, then flips herself to be laying on the bed. She gasps as your weight settles on her, riding her like a good girl. “Fuck,” She hisses, digging her nails into your thighs, you play with your tits as you bounce on her cock. 

Your nipples are bruises, a splendor of painful pleasure radiating through your body. “Feels s’good,” You hum, but Mitsuri hasn’t had enough yet. She presses the pad of her thumb against your clit, rubbing it relentlessly. 

“Does it? You’re taking it so well,” She coos, excitedly watching you shudder in ecstasy from her musings on your clit. “Good girl,”

Her words send shocks of electricity coursing your veins like your very blood. “Gods, Mitsuri, m’gonna,” You plant your palms on her stomach, slapping your ass against her thighs. You hang your head while panting crazily. As Mitsuri stimulates your clit and pussy the cool magma washes over you as you jerk her cock deep inside of you. You cum hard all over her, laying down against her chest, breath rapid. 

She’s breathing hard too, but she pets your head, kissing your forehead. “You’re so perfect YN,” You giggle against her skin, lifting your head to look her in the eyes. 

She smiles sweetly back, pressing her forehead against yours. “What a secret technique,” Mitsuri blushes and laughs as she looks away. 

“Yeah, not my best pick-up line.” You shake your head and nuzzle against her again. 

“I thought it was great.” You mumble. Mitsuri shifts out from under you, sliding her cock out of you as she does. You pout with the empty sensation. 

She stands up and smiles down at you. “I’ll be right back.” Mitsuri returns a couple of minutes later with a steamed towel and a plate full of honey butter toast. She sets the plate next to you and lifts your leg to clean your thighs and slick cunt. You moan lightly at the warm sensation and her eyes darken for a second. “Careful you whore,” She slaps your ass with a playful grin. You hum, shoving toast into your mouth with careless hunger. Mitsuri tosses the towel to the floor, sitting down gently next to you. “Maybe next time I can teach you-”

“Another secret technique?” You interrupt, a few crumbs of toast spitting out of your mouth. She chuckles, wiping away the slight mess on your mouth with her thumb. 

Mitsuri brings her finger to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste the honey. “Mhm,” She gazes at you like you’re the sweet treat. 

You grin, kicking your feet in the air. “Yes please,” 

[mistressofstars]

A Lecture on Desire - Part III

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Slow-Burn. Non-magical AU

Word count: 2k

”What else mattered except being with Carol, anywhere, anyhow?“

- Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt

Part III

Your hands hover over the keyboard, each key feeling heavier than usual. You’ve drafted three replies and deleted every single one. Nothing feels quite right, polite but not too eager. Eventually, you settle for a reply.

Subject: RE: Glasses

Dear Professor Hahn,

saturday at 2 p.m. works perfectly for me, thank you for the invitation.

I’m glad I could return your glasses; I’d hate to think of you without them.

Kind regards,

Y/N Y/LN

You re-red it. Shit. Did you really just send that? You hit your head against the keyboard in disbelief, that stupid, flirty, awkwardly sincere message is now in her inbox, and there’s no taking it back.

Re-reading it. Shit. Did you really just send that? You hit your head against the keyboard in disbelief, that stupid, flirty, awkward message is now in her inbox, and there’s no taking it back.

You groan into your palms, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.After a feel minutes you sigh and move the cursor toward the corner of the screen to close your inbox, you just wanted to hide under your blanket.

A notification pops up.

Subject: RE: RE: Glasses

Dear Miss Y/Ln,

I’ll see you at Maury’s Tiny Cove, 3908 Harrison Avenue, Cheviot.

As for my glasses and hating to think of me without them? That’s quite the visual you’ve been entertaining. I hope it wasn’t too distracting.

K. Hahn

You blink, rereading it twice. Three times. The words sink in slowly, her voice practically slipping off the screen, that teasing edge.‘You swallow hard, feeling a strange mix of humiliation and thrill. Did she really just write that?

…

The days leading up to lunch feel impossibly long, each second dragging as your thoughts spin in endless circles. You try to distract yourself , but your mind keeps returning to that email. To her words. The teasing, playful edge in them. You want to stop thinking about it, but you can’t.

It’s Saturday, and you still haven’t figured out how to calm your nerves. It’s like the weight of what’s coming presses on you, no matter how many times you try to shake it off. Lunch with Professor Hahn. The thought alone makes your pulse quicken. You’re about to see her outside of class, outside of the usual boundaries. There’s something so… charged about the whole thing.

You glance at the clock—it’s nearly time to start getting ready. You swallow hard, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. Time to make a decision. What do you wear to something like this?

Your eyes land on the red sweater you’ve worn a few times it’s simple, but it fits perfectly. The heart-shaped neckline shows off just enough skin. You bite your lip at the idea of Professor Hahn noticing it.

You apply your favorite perfume on your pulse point and on your wrist, letting the familiar scent settle over you. With a deep breath, you throw on your wool coat and reach for the thick scarf hanging nearby.

The restaurant feels warmer than it should. You glance at your watch for what must be the hundredth time. Five minutes past two. She’s late. Or maybe you’re just too early. The thought doesn’t make you feel any better as you fidget with the corner of your napkin, sneaking another glance at the door.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor snaps your attention back to the present. You look up, and there she is.

Kathryn Hahn strides in with an air of ease, as if she owns the room. Her white blouse is crisp, the first couple of buttons undone, hinting at the barest shadow of skin. A navy coat hugs her shoulders perfectly, and her hair falls casually loose, framing her face. Her sharp eyes scan the room until they lock onto yours. Intense. Steady. Unwavering.

You freeze under her gaze, heat pooling low in your stomach as she approaches. When she finally reaches the table, she slips off her coat with a fluid motion, draping it neatly over the back of her chair. The tailored blouse accentuates her figure, skimming over curves that make your throat dry.

Kathryn smirks, sitting down with deliberate grace. She leans in slightly, resting her elbow on the table. Her glasses dangle loosely from the open button of her blouse, the movement drawing your attention to the soft curve of her collarbone and the subtle hint of cleavage revealed beneath the crisp white fabric. Your eyes are lingering for a moment too long before you snap your gaze back up to her face.

“Hello, Professor,” you manage, your voice quieter than you intended, trying not to let your gaze drop again.

Her lips curve further, a touch of satisfaction colouring her expression. “Miss Y/LN,” she replies smoothly, her tone laced with something you can’t quite place.

You swallow hard, gripping the menu like a lifeline as she leans back slightly, crossing her legs.

Her fingers move to the glasses resting at the edge of her blouse. She pulls them free, slowly, painfully slowly and deliberate. The glasses catch briefly against the fabric before she unfolds them with a practiced ease. Sliding them onto her nose, low enough to peer over the frames, her eyes flick to the menu, as if entirely unaware of the way your breath hitches.

The waiter arrives, and Kathryn orders a Greek salad without hesitation. “And Texan Ranch Water,” she adds.

You scramble to order the same salad, your mind still racing over her drink choice. Texan Ranch Water? You scan the menu again, trying to figure out what it is, but before you can, you glance up to find her watching you.

She’s holding her glasses by the tip, her lips brushing the arm of the frame as she waits. Her eyes are locked on yours, her expression unreadable. You squirm under her gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice low and teasing. Her lips quirk just slightly.

Your face burns. “Just, uh, trying to figure out what you ordered,” you mumble.

“Well, you don’t know what’s in a Ranch Water?? Honey…”, her eyes twinkling with a mix of surprise and amusement. It’s tequila, it’s lime juice,” she says, making a squishing motion with her fingers, “and it’s sparkling mineral water.” She chuckles lightly. “How old are you again? I would have thought you’d know something as classic as a Ranch Water by now.”

You tell her your age, and her smile widens, eyes flashing with mischievous delight. “Really?” she draws out the word, letting out a soft, almost teasing laugh. “That young, huh?”

She leans back again, her eyes never leaving yours, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, sweetheart, there’s always time to educate you,” she adds, her voice drops slightly.

“So, Y/N…” she says, your name rolling off her tongue like melted chocolate. Your eyes widen slightly at the intimacy. “That’s a lovely name. Where’s it from?”

You hesitate for a moment, stumbling over your answer before offering a brief explanation. She listens intently, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes flickering with curiosity and something more playful.

“You’re not from here, though, are you?” she presses, the words slipping out with the ease of someone who knows they’re right. “I can hear it in your accent.”

You nod and tell her about your upbringing, feeling strangely vulnerable under her scrutiny.

The waiter arrives with your plates, interrupting the charged air between you.

Professor Hahn spears a tomato with elegant precision before raising a brow. “Afraid to ask about me?” she says, her tone teasing but pointed.

You swallow, pulling your nervous energy together, forcing a smile. The tension is unbearable, but you manage to say, “Was about to ask.” The smile lingers, a little more confident this time.

Her grey eyes gleam, intrigued by your shift in tone. She sets her fork down and leans back slightly. “Cleveland,” she offers casually. “But I studied in New York. Lived there for years.”

Kathryn’s drink is set down beside her. You watch her pick up the glass, her fingers curling around the rim as she brings it to her lips. Her eyes flick to yours as she takes a sip, and your stomach twists. She sets the glass down.

Without thinking, you find yourself asking, “Can I try it?”

Kathryn looks at you for a beat and without saying a word, she slides the glass toward you, your fingers brushing.

You focus on the faint lipstick stain on the rim of the glass. With a steady hand, you bring the glass to your lips, deliberately sipping from the spot where her lips had just been. The taste is sharp and refreshing, the tequila cutting through with just the right bite.

Licking your lips the taste is lingering as you meet her gaze. Her eyes darken, it makes your stomach tighten. You feel like prey.

“It’s good,” you say, your voice casual. You lower the glass, smiling at her as you hand it back. “I like it.”

“I’ll get you your own then.” She looks over at the waiter, raising her hand slightly and ordering one for you.

Kathryn leans back slightly, her expression shifting. It’s subtle, but you notice the change immediately—her posture straighter, her voice taking on that polished, professional edge. “So,” she begins, her tone a bit more measured, “The Price of Salt… How’s the reading going? You enjoying it?”

”I finished it. It’s a masterpiece, really. How Highsmith builds tension and captures desire… it’s mesmerizing.“

Expression unreadable, ”One of my students posed a question after class and I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it.”

”He suggested that Therese… ” She draws out the name, a soft emphasis as if weighing the idea. “….should have never gotten involved with Carol. That Carol, with all her complexities, is far too… perilous for someone as tender as Therese. And instead, they argued, Therese would have been better off with Richard—the safe, predictable choice.”

You take a large zip from your drink, the emotions bubbling up despite yourself. “Richard is everything Therese doesn’t want to be tied down to,” you begin, the words spilling out faster than you expected. “He’s suffocating. He doesn’t see her as a person—he sees her as some… accessory to his perfect life plan. Someone to mold into what he wants.”

Your voice sharpens but you feel the effect of the drink as you continue, fingers tightening around your glass. “Carol—Carol is dangerous, sure. But she’s also alive. She’s everything Richard isn’t. She’s freedom. She’s, longing, desire … lust.

You pause, your breath quickening as you think about it. “Being with Carol isn’t about playing it safe. It’s about choosing the fire, knowing it might burn you but stepping into it anyway. Because sometimes, the risk is worth it. That’s what makes it so—” You search for the word, your voice softening. “So irresistible. Richard could never be that. He could never make her feel this way.”

You glance down at the table, momentarily lost in your own words. When you lift your eyes back to Kathryn, her expression hasn’t changed. She’s still watching you, her grey eyes locked on yours, unblinking, as though she’s dissecting every word. The quiet that follows feels heavy, thick with unspoken tension, and you realize your heart is pounding.

Her fingers trail along the rim of her almost empty glass before she speaks, her tone impossibly calm. “Miss Y/L/N,” she says, “would you like to continue discussing this in my office?”

The words hang in the air, thick. There’s no mistaking the pull in her tone, no question of what she’s offering—or demanding.

You nod.

Author’s Note: A little homage to some of Kathryn Hahn’s iconic pop culture moments sprinkled in here, couldn’t resist! Next chapter? No more slow burn. That’s all I’m going to say.

[moonpascaltoo]

peter benjamin parker

masterlist • marvel • 11/29/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs three

one two

𑣲 he’s trying to kill me I @literaila

𑣲 muse I @foreverrogers

peter has no idea how you keep showing up every week with the best pictures of spider-man he's ever seen.

𑣲 under the mask I @/foreverrgoers

you reluctantly befriend spider-man and slowly feel it becoming more until all is spilt one night at the top of the empire state

𑣲 next time I @/foreverrogers

you and peter have done everything under the sun except have sex. aka the three times you almost do the deed and the one time you finally get it right

𑣲 smokey mirrors I @stresslessbaaby

spider-man was a mystery, despite spending so much time with him – until fisk’s device has you both thinking without your heads

𑣲 the sky is falling I @/stresslessbaaby

you’re at your wits end with your boyfriends secrets

𑣲 bandaids and kisses I @bartxnhood

after a few encounters with the friendly neighborhood spider man, you let him in on a little secret. your crush on your best friend, peter parker.

𑣲 happy birthday I @blooming-violets

Peter missed his girlfriend’s birthday. She has yet to learn of his secret identity. It might be time to tell her.

𑣲 misery loves company I @supernovafics

in which you see your ex-boyfriend with his new girl at a party looking happier than ever. you leave the party feeling upset and somehow run into a person who has recently gone through some similar things as you

𑣲 a lie of omission I @/supernovafics

in which the night you spent with peter was already a memory you genuinely cherished, because for the first time in a long time your life didn’t feel completely complicated. things should’ve gotten even better from there, but they didn’t. instead, it was the complete opposite. 

𑣲 one night stand I @selfcarecap

Peter has his first one night stand. He catches feelings

𑣲 swing by I @sunshinesteviee

peter is a fellow teacher, and is also your best friend at work. he helps you bring spider-man in to meet your class, but something about it seems a bit suspicious

𑣲 things that look like nothing I @justapurrcat

As if getting caught up into the cliché trap of falling in love with your best friend and having to watch as he falls for someone else wasn’t enough, the universe has decided to take a step further in punishing you, turning your existence in a not-so-figurative life or death situation. Your closest confident is now the reason behind your pain, your anchor the very thing that’s dragging you down...

𑣲 crush I @shellshocklove

you accidently learn peter parker's secret

𑣲 and then there was you I @ptersparkers

secrets come to light when peter parker breaches the universe’s threshold and the last thing you expected was to fall for a stranger.

𑣲 i swear i don't know who this man is I @webslingingslasher

you got wasted and called peter to pick you up, you also don't realize it's him right away.

𑣲 the only one I @shawnxstyles

you go on your first date with peter, and it ends even better than you could have ever expected.

𑣲 i'll cry if i want to I @waitimcomingtoo

you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

𑣲 uranus I @/waitimcomingtoo

you fix Peters science project while he’s out on a date with another girl

𑣲 symbiote!peter blurb I @hanasnx

𑣲 web bondage I @little-miss-dilf-lover

𑣲 it’s not a costume I @msmk11

You mess around in your boyfriend’s suit even though you’re not supposed to

𑣲 tasm!peter I @moonstruckme

𑣲 approach shift I @psithurista

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

[noirsdoll]

inspired by this anon ask!!

-> pretty please? part two

all aboard! | the dinner party | room for three

pairing: curly x wife!reader

words: 3.0k

tags: dubcon, referenced rape, baby trapping, semi-public sexual stuff, mentions of jimmy’s abuse towards anya, anya gets an abortion, reader is the worst person alive, there’s an actual smut scene this time, no crash au

notes: wasn’t planning on writing a second part but the brainrot got sooo bad uh reader gets even worse imo… writing the anya part caused me physical pain IM SORRY also i need to walk all over curly he’s so…

read it on ao3

Mrs. Grant Curly.

It sounds just as good as it feels. When Pony Express became fully automated, you lost your job just like everybody else. You were lucky that, when the dust settled, you’d made your mark on Curly.

Walking down the cargo ramp, displaying your fresh baby bump, courtesy of him, you've never felt more secure. Sure, Curly proposed to you more out of necessity than want and you got married at the courthouse, but you don’t care. That white picket fence dream you’d been chasing is now a reality.

Of course, you’re the one that cooks and cleans around the house— you didn’t expect anything less, you were sure that Curly had a housewife fantasy rolling around somewhere in that empty head of his. It’s nice, it keeps your hands busy and your mind free, because while he might be the one ordering you around, you’ve never felt more in control in your entire life.

You’re having the former crew over for dinner at your shared house, tonight. Fortunately, Jimmy got locked up for what he did to Anya quickly after the Tulpar’s touchdown, so you won't be seeing him for half a year, at least. The attendees are you, Anya, Daisuke, Swansea, and your lovely husband, Curly.

You cling to Curly’s arm, beckoning everyone in. Your guests crowd around you, admiring the ring Curly wrapped around your finger. A glittering diamond, so heavy it weighs down your hand. Curly smiles awkwardly.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous!” Anya says, with a clear hint of jealousy. You got a ring out of that trip and she gets an abortion.

“Damn, the Captain must be loaded!” Daisuke exclaims, tugging your hand closer for a better inspection.

Swansea nods. “It’s a good investment. You seem like a hard worker.”

“The hardest,” you say with a grin and a coy glance at Curly. “Dinner’s on the table. Pot roast.”

Everyone tucks in, one of the few non-synthetic meals they’ve had since their return to Earth, except for Daisuke, of course. You wonder how much his mom earns and how much it differs from Curly. For all you know, he could be a basement dweller for the rest of his life with no worries.

Curly sits beside you, eating quietly. With your free hand, you trail it up his thigh. You’ve touched him so many times before, but he still freezes up a little. Fortunately, you’ve done it enough that he knows better than to say anything, continuing to eat, albeit stiffer.

Your hand passes over his cock, right over the fabric of his nice suit. He looks so good in dinner formal— that tailored suit hugs his waist and somehow contains his tits. You’re glad you married him.

You hold a conversation with Swansea– something about gas prices and advice about your future kid— all with your hand gently running along the line of Curly’s dick. You honestly don’t care if they see, your cooking is good enough of a distraction.

You turn to look at the side opposite Curly and see Daisuke staring. Not at you, but at your hand— the one on Curly’s cock.

The both of you lock eyes and he looks away, his tan skin flushed rouge. You watch him for a moment, intrigued, slowly pulling away.

Nothing else happens for the rest of dinner, everyone migrates to the living room afterwards. Swansea’s showing Curly something in the garage and Anya’s in the washroom, so that just leaves you and Daisuke.

You lean back on the couch beside Daisuke. “So… what’re you doing now that the Tulpar’s done for?”

He rubs the back of his neck, wearing a suit— an expensive, designer one. “I dunno, Swansea’s having me join his freelancing business— and I think he’s great and all but like, I’m nowhere on his level.”

“I think you’re pretty capable, Daisuke,” you smile. “If not, I’m sure my husband can network you somewhere.”

Daisuke glances down at your pregnant stomach and back up. “So, you and the captain, you’re really like, married and all that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing, it’s just— it seems kinda out of nowhere.” He shrugs, looking away. “You really spooked us when you announced it on the ship.”

“We’d been together for a while, it’s only natural that something would happen,” you laugh. You expected it to— you’d have poked holes in his condoms if he had them.

Daisuke swallows. “How long have you been together?”

You think for a moment. “Since maybe about… halfway through the trip? We just couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, really.”

“Oh, wow, that long?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, contemplating.

“Yeah… is something wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I just feel stupid for not noticing.

“You’re not stupid, Daisuke. I said you were capable, remember?” You grin. “He just likes to keep things private, you know?”

“Private? But you two were…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Is he talking about what he saw at the dinner table?

Daisuke glances past you and you hear footsteps, it must be Curly and Swansea returning from the garage.

You decide to play a game.

“... so then I figured I’d return to my roots. Go back to being a car mechanic,” Swansea says, halfway buried in a cardboard box.

“Right…” Curly holds the box steady for him, watching Swansea root through his spare tools like a raccoon.

Swansea springs up with a new wrench in hand— one that looks exactly like all the others he’s found laying around in Curly’s garage. “The missus wants me back to work already. Can you believe her?”

“It’ll be good for your joints,” Curly says, setting the box down.

Swansea tosses the newfound wrench into the pile of all the other hammers and pliers and wires. It thunks against the dull metal. Curly pats the dust off his suit, Swansea doesn’t seem to be worried about the condition of his own.

“Nah, she just wants to nag. She’s good at nagging.” Swansea laughs, patting Curly on the back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Get used to that, huh? You keep telling yourself it’ll end eventually and it never does.”

Curly takes a moment to regain his breath. “Thank you, but she doesn’t nag.” You do something far worse than nag.

“Yeah? Well, it’ll be something or another. It always is with women.” He pops his back, groaning. Swansea gestures to his pile of knick-knacks with his head. “I’ll have these all back to you by the end of the month.”

Curly nods. “Thanks, Swansea.” He’s never seeing those tools again.

After hauling it all to Swansea’s rusty pickup, they head to the living room. That’s where Curly sees you and Daisuke. He hears you too, and he wishes he couldn’t.

“Oh, you’re talking about me feeling him up during dinner? Yeah, Curly’s into being humiliated. He always has me do stuff like that when we’re in public.” You shrug. “I think it’s nasty, but you know, gotta keep the husband happy.”

Curly stops dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do or say. It’s like a car crash, all he can do is watch, powerless to stop the careening vehicle.

“So… you do stuff like that all the time?” Daisuke’s voice is shaky, breathless.

“Yeah, most couples roleplay.” You look so at ease. Curly feels sick. “Have you ever tried anything like that, Daisuke?”

“What?! I, uh, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure if I talked to him, you and I could work something out—”

“Honey?” By some force of God, he’s compelled to speak, walking forward to the both of you.

You turn to him, your eyes lighting up. Curly would be flattered if he didn’t know your true intentions. Time with you has told him one thing— you’re constantly scheming. This is your newest one. But why drag Daisuke into this? Just to spite him?

Maybe you’re switching targets. That could be a good thing, but Curly can’t bring himself to feel that way– especially when it’d just be another person getting hurt in his stead.

He was never hurt. You’re a pretty girl, of course he’s wanted it, he was just confused. That’s why he never pushed you off, that’s what makes it all okay.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” you smile, “we were just talking about you, nothing important.”

Curly glances from you to Daisuke, whose eyes are so wide they swallow up his whole face. “Yeah, had a feeling you were. Why don’t you go check on Anya? Swansea and I have some business stuff to talk to Daisuke about and I doubt you want to be around for that.”

“Of course,” you beam, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. You leave with a flurry of your dress around the corner.

At least Curly can say you aren’t bad to look at.

“Fuck, fuck, where did I put it?”

Anya rifles through her tiny purse, sorting through makeup and pills and her phone, searching for the one thing she really needs right now. She feels frantic, lamenting not wearing a dress with pockets. Eventually she finds it, pulling out a wrinkled period liner that was shoved to the bottom of her bag.

Getting her period is a reminder of Jimmy, a reminder of the fact that she’s not pregnant anymore, that she’s safe from him now. Anya never knew her period could be so comforting.

Just as she grabs a hold of the pad, she hears a knock on the bathroom door. “Who is it?” Anya shoves the pad back into her void of a bag, trying to disguise the crinkles with her voice.

“Can I come in?” It’s you. One of the few friends she has.

“Yes, of course.”

You enter, baby bump first, and Anya has to look away, wringing her hands. She doesn’t mean for the gesture to appear so rude, but she can’t help it.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, moving your head till it meets her gaze.

Anya nods on instinct. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… parties make me exhausted sometimes.”

“I get it, totally.” You sit on the edge of the tub, with Anya leaning against the counter. Everything in this bathroom is so blindingly white— it reminds Anya of the room where she got her abortion— operation.

“Um, congratulations on you and Curly’s marriage, if I didn’t say it already.”

You smile, “Aww, thank you, Anya. Truly, I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s good,” she purses her lips, debating if she should ask the question. “On the Tulpar, you told me that Curly made you do things. Is everything okay with you and him?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Sometimes people make mistakes, confuse a situation for something it’s not, you know?”

“Ah, really?”

“Oh, all the time.” You say it like it’s obvious. Something winds in Anya’s stomach. “I figured, it was just all in my head, really. You just wanna feel special sometimes. I talked to Grant and apologized for saying a thing like that and now it’s all better.” You gently pet a hand over your stomach. “Plus I get this little guy as a reward for all my hard work.”

Anya swallows. “Right, yeah.” It feels like she’s being crushed from above. She can’t breathe, blurting out each word. “Do you have a pad, by any chance? I only have one and I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Slowly, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t get those anymore. I’m pregnant, remember?” You chuckle. “Will you be okay without an extra?”

She nods. “Yes, I might have to leave early, though.”

“Alright, well, come get me when you want to leave so I can show you out.” You pat her shoulder, smile a warm smile, and leave the way you came.

Anya collapses in a heap once the door closes.

Like all good things, the party eventually comes to an end. You stand at the door with Curly’s hand on your waist, the perfect picture of a couple as you see your guests off.

Once the door shuts and the porch lights click off, Curly reaches for his tie’s knot, loosening it with a sigh. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.” You lock the door, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “How was your business talk?”

Curly trails after you, undoing his suit jacket. “It’s boring. It always is.”

You reach the bedroom, standing by the foot of it as you unzip your dress and step out of it. Curly looks like he wants to say something, so you stay silent. Poor thing, it’s like speaking his mind hurts.

He’s halfway down unbuttoning his dress shirt when he strings the words together. “Am I not enough for you?”

“What makes you say that?” You know exactly what he’s talking about. You just like seeing the way he questions himself when you question him.

You unclasp your bra, your tits drooping. You hate the way you look pregnant, you have to avoid seeing your reflection like a fucking vampire. It’s a means to an end, that’s the only thing that’s reassured you.

“That whole thing with Daisuke— you can’t just say stuff like that in front of other people.” He’s gaining a bit of a backbone, it surprises you. “I want this to work.”

“Then we both need to step up, right?” You move closer. “I cleaned the whole house and cooked dinner just for you to spend most of the time hiding in the garage.”

“We were working, it wasn’t like it was on purpose—,”

“No, it was on purpose. You’re being a bad husband, Grant.” You gesture to your belly, the final nail in the coffin. “You can’t act like this when I’m pregnant with your baby, okay? You have to be a father to your child.”

You stand there, fuming and for a moment you actually feel angry. Your performance is so convincing even you believe it.

“Hey, don’t be mad, please.” It’s the best argument he’s got, especially when he tips your grumbling face up to meet his baby blues. “I fucked up today and I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, promise.”

Fuck, he’s so perfect. He caves like clockwork, hearing him admit it’s his fault gets you soaked every time. You kiss him, soft and slow. “Could you help me take off my heels, then? My feet are killing me.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and Curly takes a knee, the same way he did in your crew quarters, promising to buy you a ring the second he landed. And he always keeps his promises.

He undoes your heels and you watch on with an easy grin as he peppers kisses along your ankles and the top of your feet. You expected him to do that, Curly’s so predictable. He keeps his eyes on yours, searching for your praise. He kneads your feet a little too, massaging out all the aches and pains.

His mouth trails higher and higher until it reaches its end destination— your shaven pussy. You can never get a good look with the baby bump in the way, so you make him shave it. It’s one of his favourite tasks– like a sensory toy for a toddler.

Curly’s tongue laves over your slit and he eats you out, thick eyelashes fluttering closed as he takes his time with you.

Your orgasm makes up for the fake anger you lobbied at him— it swallows you up and spits you back on the bed with a limp spine. You deserve it, honestly, all this acting really takes a toll on you.

Your favourite part is when he gets on the bed with you, big burly arms caging you in. It feels like the entire world’s been closed out and it’s just you and him. Nothing but his warm body pressed so tightly to yours. Two puzzle pieces that fit.

Curly fumbles a little in the dark, but eventually his fat cock is splitting you open, that same perfect cock that knocked you up all those months ago. It feels just as good as it did the first time and all those subsequent times after.

His eyelids fall to half mast as he looks at you, and that’s how you know you have him. So easily ensnared, what’s the point of an argument when you can just spread your legs and he comes willingly? You’ll have to try it next time, see if your pussy does a better job of speaking for you.

The mattress creaks with every slow movement. Unhurried and hard is the rhythm he always chooses, constantly searching your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Not that you’d mind.

It would just remind you of that night in his quarters, when he’d snapped and he was no longer the Curly you’d grown obsessed with, when you were half sure he might kill you. Since then, you made sure never to push him that far again, to only play games you were certain you’d win.

And Curly filling you up after a long day is a sure bet.

He cums quicker than you’d like, but you’re too tired to berate him. He’s done enough today. Crowded up against his chest, you play with the hair there, winding the short strands around your fingers.

Too fucked out for malice, you both talk for a while. On baby names, on family, on being better. You only care about one of those. You’ve been set on the baby names ever since you scratched them onto the metal wall of your quarters back on the Tulpar— right above the heart with both yours and Curly’s names.

You just tell him you haven’t decided yet.

[lassieposting]

Concept:

You are Bhaal, god of murder, and someone is praying to you.

And that's not necessarily unusual. Lots of people pray to you, usually for the untimely death of a rival, an ex-spouse, an overseer. The prayer itself is a small and broken thing, bloody and raw, whispered by a man whose vision is dulled by agony and the dark spectre of approaching death. The pathetic not-quite-survivor of some rather brutal torture, wishing murder upon his captor. You take a moment to enjoy the fear, the pain, the suffering - and then you tune him out. There are millions like him, and your favour is for those willing to do their killing themselves. Besides, that wretch will be nothing but a corpse all too soon.

Except...he doesn't die. You never feel that timid little spark of existence stutter and go out. Far beyond the breaking point of a mortal body, this one lingers on, clinging to being with fingers all but stripped back to bare bone.

It's intriguing enough to warrant a second look and - interesting. The prayer comes from a vampire, a pretty little corpse becoming an even prettier corpse under the skilled hand of a cruel master.

It is not in your nature to intervene. You favour the strong, not the weak. The master, not the slave. Your first instinct is to leave the wretched little thing to his fate.

But the thing is. Your child - your favourite child, shaped from your own flesh, coldest and most brutal of your progeny - has gone and got a boyfriend.

And you don't like him.

You don't like the effect he's having on your chosen, the way they're becoming distracted, attached, less devoted to their true purpose. And right now, your nature takes a back seat to your desire to get rid of that smug, arrogant little Baanite whelp, Enver Gortash. Your granddaughter's spiteful machinations have given you an opening, but you know they're bound to run into one another eventually, and it will all start over.

The vampire is beautiful. Well-trained. Accustomed to brutality. Already purged of sympathy and compassion, eaten up inside by hatred and bitterness and harm. And immortal; able to survive the worst of your son's inclinations. At this point, he'll do.

So you redirect a nautiloid. It's not that you're showing the creature any favour - it's just pragmatism, really. He is simply a tiny piece of a very large puzzle.

And then you watch.

You watch the vampire take the spectacular murder of a young bard in stride.

You watch him identify your memory-addled, sanity-challenged offspring as the most dangerous one in their sad little group of unwashed tragedies - the strongest protector, the solution to his fear of being discarded or returned to his master.

You watch him expertly lure your progeny into a pit trap of sex and lies and manipulation, dressed up with honeyed words and an exaggerated performance of desire.

Your child comes face to face with Enver Gortash and remembers nothing - feels nothing. They only have eyes for Astarion, and you are filled with satisfaction. The vampire is pathetic and fearful now, but already he plans to take over his master's ritual, and then he will be perfectly placed to feed your child's very worst impulses, to bring out the sharpest edge of the darkness inside.

You watch the vampire say, "I want us to be real."

You watch your child happily become a glorified comfort blanket, your masterwork living weapon reduced to little more than a prey animal, a do-gooder, a sacrifice.

Watch them vow, "I will be the person you see in me."

Watch them talk the blasted creature out of going through with the ritual at all.

Watch them start fighting their own nature for the pantomime love of someone else's broken toy.

Watch them turn on you.

And you decide, with the benefit of hindsight, that Enver Gortash was not that bad, actually.

[deafsignifcantother]

new awlins library

♥ summary: just a cute little thing of alastor liking a deaf librarian yay ♥ relationships: human alastor x deaf reader ♥ word count: 1.1k ♥ notes: silly alastor, alastor pining, reader is shy and doesn't interact with people, reader has a crush on him too lowkey, customer favoritism ong

Alastor watched from afar, his eyes peaking out from over his book.

You were replacing the flowers in the vase on the front desk of your library. Your hands moved delicately, putting each flower in one by one. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the sentences before him, his pupils couldn't resist dilating at the sight of you.

He moved chairs so you weren't in his view anymore.

After finishing your task, you turned, and your eyes scanned the lobby to see what other decorations you needed to fix. Only for a second were you oblivious about his sudden seating change, but when your eyes landed on him, you smiled softly. The back of his head was not as well brushed as the front, and when you had greeted him that morning, you noticed how tired he looked. The time was 6am, right when you opened. He waited outside the door in the cold for the moment you'd allow him in. So then he sat, half-asleep and very distracted, trying to spend as much time in your presence before starting his daily routine. He had started doing this frequently, to the point where you began placing a black coffee by the table he'd position himself and scurrying off before he could try to return it. The first time he took a gulp of your drinks, he realized how easily you could have gotten away with poisoning him. How alluring, he thought to himself with a smile.

Obviously, you would never poison him. You loved having him around; he was a valued customer with an attractive face. He only ever picked up books from the French section, and when you realized he was running out of stories to read, you ordered a bunch of new ones. When he first noticed this, he smiled and eyed the new batch.

You don't show this particular interest to any other customer; you're pretty shy, hesitant, and withdrawn—the other employees are the ones who interact with them. There's a language barrier between you and seemingly everybody else. Besides paper and pen, you are considered a 'struggle' to communicate with, and you know there's nothing you can do to prevent that.

It's just the way things are. But Alastor actually puts in effort to interact with you, waiting outside the library every time you have a morning shift.

✣

You pick a French book from the shelf that is obviously out of place. Nobody touches the French books except him, but is this from another person? Honestly, you feel it's more likely he put it there just to mess with you. You smile, inspecting the cover and the pages inside.

A gloved hand reaches for the book, and your eyes follow the hand up to that same handsome, smiling man. His eyes twinkle with mischief, his mouth open in a silent laugh.

He tucks the book into his armpit. "Goodness me, I must have put it in the wrong section!"

In an instant, your heart starts beating faster than ever. Stuck in place with your eyes wide, Alastor stares at you with a bit of surprise. His eyes dart all around your face, and as he tries to come up with an explanation for why you're looking at him with such shock. Did he scare you? Do you... recognize him from somewhere?

But no, your heart is racing, and your mind is scrambling to process that a man here knows sign language. He has an accent, sure; he signs up high on his body, but with how unsure his sentences are, you know he needs to gain experience. He signs and is quite a loyal consumer; he's almost like the man of your dreams.

"No, no, no, it's alright." You sign with one hand before taking the book from his arm, and you place it on top of the others in your other hand. "Don't even worry about it."

"I do insist." His sign lasted more than a few movements. And then he puts his hand in front of you for you to place the book into. Truthfully, for a slight second, you considered placing your hand into his.

Your brain battles between continuing your work or indulging in this man. With an eyebrow raised, his eyes study you in a hard stare. You don't give in to his command and instead stand your ground, eyeing him back. The both of you are stuck with locked eyes. He pulls his hand back when he notices that you aren't budging.

"Now that I think about it," he starts, "I'd much appreciate it if you showed me where the correct section is!"

He's been in the French section many times.

You smile at him, a lopsided smile of adoration; there's no subtlety to whatever interest he has. So you bow your head sarcastically and turn away from him, walking past the shelves. He follows you with his hands tucked behind his back. He can't see the widening smile on your face and how you're practicing hiding it. He's rather charming, you can admit.

Not even checking behind you to see if he's following, you approach the correct section and place the book where it is meant to be. He raises his eyebrows when you glance up at him and try not to give in to his contagious, eccentrically bright smile.

"Fantastic, thank you!"

And again, the two of you stare at each other, waiting for the other to move. You want him to continue talking, to whisk you away from your job. He's waiting for you to ask his name or something else about him.

But you use both of your hands to hold the books in your hand against your chest.

Fine. He starts pondering his next move: does he end this interaction for today, or would it be better if he took a step closer to you?

He can't stop his eyes from glancing down at the joyous smile on your lips. He's making you smile; that's good. Perhaps that will be all for now.

He dips his head and presses a hand to his chest. You watch him and the way a strand of his hair falls into his face. His brown eyes land on yours. "And I will let you get back to your work."

You nod, your foot moving away from him before you pause. Your eyes go from his beautiful eyes to the floor with shyness. With a bow of your head, you begin to walk away, returning to your previous task. He straightens his spine and adjusts his sleeve before turning away.

Quite a success. What's next? He may try putting an English book in the French section. Or should he hide the books all around the library?

His everlasting smile grows at the thought. He's so excited to tell his mother about the interaction he's finally had. She's heard quite a lot about you.

[oharaslove]

La Playlist

summary: You work at a Blockbuster store in Nueva York. Every day is the same, you daydreaming about a guy to come in and sweep you off your feet. To make you his. Will today be any different?

word count: 5k

tags: Miguel x fem!reader, 90's/early 2000's AU

warnings: PinV, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys!), oral f! receiving. Let me know if there is something else!

song:

It was just another day in this awful city, Nueva York. 

Like always, you woke up thanks to your alarm, went to the bathroom, did your routine, and had breakfast, before getting ready for your job. But not as any other day, you decided to dress cute today, show your figure, look nice. You worked at a Blockbuster, nothing interesting. Not a single man worthy of your attention ever crossed the doors of the store, but something was telling you that today was going to be different. 

You picked your best outfit, did your make up and hair and off you were, trying to get on time without messing up your appearance. You were the only working the opening shift, the mornings always being slow, and today wasn’t the exception. 

Upon arriving you opened the store and got to work, placing the movies that were returned the previous day on their respective shelves. Once the work was done, you checked the notebook with the movies already on rent and the dates that they were supposed to be returned. 

After staring at it for like half an hour you huffed. Can’t this day become any more boring? People came and went on the street, some glancing inside, but never coming in. It wasn’t like they were your knight in shining armor. None of the men walking in front of the glass seemed to catch your eye. Just when I dressed myself up. What a waste of time

You continued staring out the window for a couple minutes, elbow on the counter in front of you, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. 

The summer sun was beginning to enter the store, hitting your face lightly. The warmth spread through your body, lulling you to sleep. Trying to stay awake, you grabbed your mp3, plugged your headphones and began listening to music: La Playlist by Emilia Mernes blasting through your ears making you forget about the world around you. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the music. You hummed to the rhythm, losing yourself into it, almost missing the ring of the bell of the door, signalling someone coming in. Almost

That split second could have been the biggest mistake of your life. 

Opening your eyes, you expected a normal client, you know, a group of teenagers looking for something fun to watch, a nerd searching for his superhero movies or a woman trying to find a romcom capable of tearing her away from her troubled/awful love life. 

What you did not expect was a Greek god entering through that door. 

The tall man, with perfect tan skin and brown locks strolled into the store with his hands on his front pockets. He was wearing a black tank top on top of a white one with navy blue jeans. The sun hit his skin perfectly, it reflecting on his huge arms, accentuating his veins. 

The longer you looked at him, the more perfect he was. His face was probably sculpted by all the gods combined, creating a perfect structure. High and sharp cheekbones, a beautiful nose and really kissable lips. 

The guy nodded your way, acknowledging you, but you were too distracted to notice, daydreaming about all the things you would love him to do to you. The brunette turned his back to you, giving you a perfect view of his huge shoulders, his body built like an inverted triangle. 

Oh, how you wished he could lift you up so you could wrap your legs on his tiny waist

You continued admiring him from afar, not even realizing you were biting your lip until you tasted blood. Pull yourself together girl, you thought. It is not everyday that you see a man like this. Time to shine.

Pulling yourself off the counter you tried to fix yourself, tidying your hair, smoothing your top and making sure your skirt was presentable. You took a deep breath, calming yourself, preparing for what you were about to do. You couldn’t mess this up.

You walked silently behind him, aiming not to startle him. He was in the science fiction section. Interesting. He didn’t strike you as the nerd type, but whatever. Your plan wasn’t to engage in conversation, but something else. Something more physical. 

Stopping just a few centimeters away from him you couldn’t decide how to call his attention. Should you touch his shoulder? Or was that too much. You didn’t want to scare him off. You decided to go with a softer approach. 

You cleared your throat lightly, catching his attention. 

The man turned his neck towards you, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. Oh.

“I was wondering when you were going to come and say hi” he said, the smirk never leaving his face. 

His voice was smooth and low, turning your legs into jelly. He turned his whole body towards you, crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. Damn, how you wish you could wrap your hands around them and squeeze them.

“Darling?” he asked, staring right into you. 

“Oh, I-” you said startled. You didn’t think you were staring at him for that long for him to notice. 

In that moment, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard erupted from his mouth. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air. His lips curled upwards, showing his white teeth. You could feel yourself growing hot. Your cheeks burning, your ears, and other parts too, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Ay nena,” he began, after calming down. “You are so adorable.”

He reached forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to calm yourself down and make sense of what he was doing to you. When you opened them back again, his eyes bore into you, a smirk back in his lips. He knew you were his. He had you just where he wanted, and you would let him do anything to you. Anything.

He stepped towards you, making you step back, before he used his other hand to grab your waist, keeping you in place, close to his body.

“Uh uh uh” he taunted. “Don’t run away from me. It is too late for that now.”

You gulped. Oh, the things his voice was doing to you, and he could tell.

His touch was burning you. The skin to skin contact becoming too much, but at the same time not enough. You needed him somewhere else, somewhere you couldn’t reach properly, not even alone in your bedroom, with no one but yourself and your running mind. 

You knew he would make you see colors, but you needed to feel it, to sense it. You needed him to touch you, more than he was touching you now. 

He inched his face closer, the air coming out of his barely open mouth hitting your face. The cologne he was wearing entering your system, like a drug, making you more obsessed of what you already were. 

He stared down at you, running his eyes through your face, enjoying the reaction, the control, he had on you. You couldn’t help but do the same, staring at him through your half lidded eyes, drinking him in, inhaling him, feeling his chest touch yours with every breath he took. 

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, the temperature rising by the second. If neither of you took it to the next level, you feared you could explode. 

The man moved the hand that was holding your chin to grasp your neck lightly, leaving his thumb free to run it across your skin. Beginning on your pulse point of your neck, pressing lightly, making a whimper escape your lips, despite your efforts of keeping it in. 

His lips curled up, enjoying every little reaction he coaxed out of you. His thumb continued exploring your skin, caressing your cheek and continuing on your bottom lip. His eyes were focused on the trace of his finger, amazed at how your saliva coated his thumb. 

The teasing was becoming unbearable, making you act. Gaining courage you grabbed his right wrist, keeping his hand close to your mouth, while licking his thumb, before sucking it between your lips. 

For a split second, his smirk fell off his face, eyes opening, amazed and surprised by your actions. His eyes became hungry, darkening. His left hand grasped your waist harder, squeezing your flesh.

You continued sucking his thumb, moving your tongue along it, trying to not break eye contact, daring him to do the next move. 

The thrill of getting caught made the situation so much hotter, your mind running with all the places he could take you in, the you *wish* he would take you in. 

The man pressed his thumb into your tongue, catching you off guard, making you moan around him, closing your eyes. He used his thumb and index finger to grab your tongue and pull it out of your mouth lightly before moving forward and clashing his lips with yours. 

The kiss was messy, hungry, hot. Teeth clashing against teeth, lips moving against lips, tongues fighting for dominance. You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him being exactly how you imagined. 

He took the opportunity to enter your mouth, exploring it. His hands moved to your head, keeping it in place. One of his hands was on your neck, putting pressure lightly while the other played with your hair. 

Your mind became fussy, the intensity of the kiss pushing all the thoughts out of your head, the only thing on your brain was **him**. Your hands started to wonder, starting at his chest, down to his tone abs and onto his head, playing with his perfect brown locks. 

You pressed your body against him, your tits against his firm chest. The action making him moan in your mouth, making you smile. 

His hand on your head grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you backwards, away from his mouth lightly. You both were breathing heavily against each other, mouths still at each other’s reach. Your eyes were closed, not daring to open them, hoping this was only the beginning. 

“Nena,” he said, breathlessly. 

“Mmm”

“Look at me,” he demanded. 

Opening your eyes slowly you were met with his. His hair was messy, thanks to you playing with it, his mouth merely centimeters away from you, looking plump from all the kissing.

You saw his mouth moving, clearly talking to you, but you were too dazed. 

He pulled at your hair, making you look straight into his eyes. 

“Sweetheart”

“Mmm”

“I said,” he continued. “Is there a better place for us to continue? I would take you right here, but I fear that there are a lot of prying eyes, and I want you all to myself.”

You looked at him with an open mouth, losing the ability to speak. *He wanted to continue*. He looked at you with a smirk on his face. 

“Did the baby lose the ability to speak?” he mocked.

“I-” you gulped, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. “The-there is a backroom.”

“Good girl.” he smiled. “Show me.”

You nodded at the best of your ability with his grip on your hair. He let you go. The second his touch left your body you missed it, feeling empty. 

You stepped back, your hands falling from his chest. Staring at his hungry eyes you could see he was becoming impatient, and so were you.

Carefully, you grabbed his right hand, tugging it towards you, signalling him to follow you. You walked towards the backroom, a million thoughts running through your mind. 

You were fucked, you were so fucked. If another client entered those doors and caught you two in this situation, you were fucked. You would lose your job, and probably no other job would take you. But, honestly? Who the fuck cares? This was a once in a lifetime chance.

You had a Greek god behind you, who was willing to make you feel like never before. Among those thoughts were the things he could do to you. Whatever he did, you knew he was going to be good. 

You reached the backroom closed door. You put your free hand on it, and looked back at him, making sure he was still there, despite feeling his warmth in the palm of your hand. You locked eyes with the guy, before looking past him to the front door, the fear of getting caught still on you back of your mind. 

“Hey,” he said, snapping you out of your thoughts, your eyes staring back at him. “We are fine. I am going to take care of you.”

You wanted to believe him, oh so desperately. You were ready to throw yourself in his arms. The way he affirmed that statement making you feel safe, taken care of. 

You smile shyly before nodding and making the final push on the door, opening it. 

He let go of your hand, grabbing your waist and urging you into the small room, hurrying into himself before shutting the door, leaving the outside world behind. 

“This is much better,” he talked into the darkness, the only source of light being the small gap between the door and the floor and wall. “I wish I could see you better though.” His hand never left your body, caressing the skin of your sides and front, becoming bolder. 

Desperately, you tried to find the cord connected to the lamp on the roof. You needed to see him too, you wanted to see him in all his glory. Reaching across the air you grabbed the cord and pulled, the room becoming illuminated instantly. 

Smiling, you looked at him, finding him already staring at you. He looked you up and down before licking his lips, the action making you nervous. 

He stepped towards you, determination clear in his eyes. You walked back into the table behind you, your back hitting its side, trapping you between it and his body. 

“I thought,” he said, grabbing your waist harshly, grasping at your flesh, making you yelp from the sudden action. “I’ve told you not to run away.”

“Am not.” you said, placing the palm of your hands on his chest, pushing back a little to stare at his face. 

The man smirked, before pulling you towards him and taking your bottom lip between his, sucking at it, making you moan into his mouth. Both his hands were now exploring your body. Your hips, your waist, your back, your neck, every part of your body was being touched by him, except where you needed him most. 

“Siir-” pulling back from the kiss, you whined not knowing his name. *How could you forget to ask that?*

“What’s wrong baby?” he said, caressing your cheek tenderly, far different from the touches he was giving you a few seconds ago while exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

“I need you.” you said shyly, scared of meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” he smirked, his lips brushing against yours, taunting you.

“Mmm” you nodded, not thinking clearly, his smell surrounded you, intoxicating you. The taste of him lingering on your mouth, your brain asking for more, your heart about to explode. 

He chuckled, amused by how desperate you were, but so was he, you could feel it. 

The man grabbed your neck, pulling you back again against him. His mouth coming in contact with your again messily. Your hands, that were on his chest, surrounded his neck, playing with the hair behind it, twirling, pulling, making him moan in your mouth, giving you the opportunity to explore him with your tongue. 

His hands on your body moved to your hips, pulling you up. The sudden movement surprised you, making you bite his bottom lip, making him groan. He placed you on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist, just where they belonged. 

He pulled back hissing, a slight cut on his bottom lip, a bit of blood pooling out of it. He touched his lip with his fingers, drawing out some blood. 

“Cheeky,” he smirked, before smashing his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss. The taste of blood combined with his made you moan. The friction of your bodies was more intense thanks to the new position. You could feel his hard on brushing against your core with every push and pull of your bodies. 

He for sure could feel how wet you were, the only barrier between the front of his jeans and your heat being your panties, thanks to your skirt being pulled up thanks to him. 

His hands fell to your legs, massaging your outer upper thighs, squeezing the flesh, teasing you. His kisses moved to the corner of your mouth to your cheek and down to your neck, finding your sweet spot immediately, just as you two were meant to be from the start. 

You pulled at his hair, making him groan and grind his body against yours, pulling a moan out of you, his hard on brushing against your clit with every thrust of his hips. His lips sucking at the skin of your neck. You moved your head to the side, leaving him more room. 

You were panting now, his touch, his lips, his scent, him, was all you could think of. Your mouth opened and it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your chest rising and falling, as your hardened nipples rubbed against his chest. 

His hands moved to your inner legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. You could swear your wetness was spilling out of your panties and onto the wood of the table. You should be embarrassed, but you couldn’t care less. 

Getting tired of your neck, the man moved his kisses down the center of your throat to the valley of your breasts. Moving one hand from your thighs to grasp one of your tits, making you arch your back, giving your all to him. 

While one of his hands was massaging the skin on your inner thigh, the other was massaging your breast, his thumb caressing your hardened nipple through the material of your top and bra. Moans were spilling left and right from your chest, followed by whines and whimpers begging him to do more, to touch you properly. 

“Sir, please.” you whined, out of breath. “Take it off, please.” you begged, shutting your eyes tightly, focusing on the feeling on his hands across your skin. 

“Anything you want” he answered, detaching his lips from the skin of your chest, where he had been carefully sucking a hickey. 

Straightening himself up, he grabbed the ends of your top, pulling it upwards, signalling you to put your hands up. And so you did, letting him pull the top over your head, leaving behind a layer of clothes between you two. 

He groaned, after tossing your top behind, having a clearer look at your chest. 

“You are so damn beautiful” he whispered, caressing your new exposed skin with the back of his fingers. 

Using both his hands, he pulled the straps of your bra down, giving him access to your naked shoulders. Carefully, he inched closer, giving slight pecks on your skin, moving from your shoulder to your neck, and down to the other shoulder. You shudder, feeling exposed. 

You pulled him closer, grabbing the fabric of his tank tops, slipping your hands beneath them, wanting to touch his warm skin. He hissed, feeling the contact of your cold hand compared to the skin of his torso. You could feel the muscles move beneath the palm of your hand, caressing his abs and chest and back again. He got the message, pulling back from your embrace, he grabbed his shirts and took them off, leaving him topless in front of you, in all his glory.

“Like what you see?” he smirked, clearly seeing your wide eyes and open mouth. 

You bit your lip, and nodded, a smile creeping its way on your face. He chuckled before attacking your chest again with his lips, sucking the skin on top of your breast between his lips, biting it. You arched your back, the feeling too intense, but not enough. 

His hands slipped behind your back, undoing the back of your bra, letting it fall. The cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening further. Thankfully, the man grasped one tit in each of his big hands, massaging them, keeping them warm, making you moan from the friction. 

Not long after, he replaced one of his hands with his lips, sucking your nipple into his mouth. His mouth was warm, the feeling shooting right to your core. You needed him to be down there. You were growing desperate, all the teasing was becoming too much for you to handle. Every second he spent far from your core was torture. 

You used your hands to pull his hair, pulling his lips away from your breasts, while also pushing his shoulder down, trying to signal him to go downwards. 

He pulled back, smirking, looking up at you smiling like the devil, while you panted, looking at him through half lidded eyes. 

He kissed down your stomach, reaching the waistband of your skirt. The man pulled your legs on top of his shoulders, giving him full access to your pussy. Pulling your skirt up, he came in contact with your wet panties. He pulled them to the side, watching the wetness spill into the table. He groaned, delighted by the sight. 

He used his fingers to gather as much as he could, before putting them on his mouth and sucking. Closing his eyes he moaned at the taste. 

He grabbed your panties, pulling them down your legs, before diving right in into your heat. He took your clit into his mouth, kissing it, sucking, making you see stars. He used his tongue, pushing it and pressing at it.

“Siirr,” you moaned, arching your back, you pushed yourself closer to his mouth, and pressed your head against the wall behind you. You used your hands to keep him there, pulling at his hair, pressing his mouth closer.

He groaned into you, the vibrations making you whimper. He moved downwards, his tongue entering you. His muscle moving with experience, hitting all the right places. Your legs began to shake, your muscles turning into jelly, the pressure on your lower belly becoming stronger and stronger, like a ticking bomb, about to explode. 

The man continued to explore your insides, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously, making you grind against him, trying to reach your high. 

He pulled back, out of breath, your juices covering his chin, mouth, and nose. He moved his thumb to press circles against your clit, keeping you in that spot, still stimulating you, but not enough to push you over the edge. 

“Pleasee,” you begged, wanting him back in your heat. 

“Shhh, darling, I got you”

He dived right in, replacing his thumb with his mouth and pushing one finger into your hole, stretching you out. You moaned at the feeling, the pressure on your belly rising. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pushing another finger in, and then another, moving them in and out of you at a fast speed, hitting all the right places. 

“Sirr, I-” you began, but you were unable to continue when a moan interrupted you. Your vision became blurry and your legs began to shake. You came around his fingers and onto his mouth, your body aching into him. 

You shut your eyes, trying to regain control of your breathing. Panting rapidly you didn’t realize the man had stood up, leaving your heat. Your chest was rising up and down still, but you managed to open your eyes slowly. 

Before you, he stood, face covered in your juices, his hard on prominent on his jeans. 

“Do you-” you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. “Do you need help with that, handsome?” you smirked. 

He mimicked your expression, walking again between your legs. 

“If you are up for it, beba” he said, right in front of your mouth. So close you could almost touch his lips with your own.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again, caging him and your arms around his neck before moving forward and capturing his lips in yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan, the kiss growing hungrier by the second. 

Your nails dug at his back, scratching it. You moved your hands forward, towards his chest, running your nails through his skin, feeling the muscles rippled with every movement. You reached the waistband of his jeans, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers, pulling the zipper down. 

While one hand moved towards the back of his head, keeping him close to your mouth, the other went downwards, massaging his dick through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, making you smile for a split second before biting his bottom lip and pulling it. You moved towards his neck, sucking at it, while your hand wandered into his briefs, tugging at his cock, cupping his balls.

He threw his head back, groaning, giving you a good view of his Adam apple bobbing thanks to his hard swallowing. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants, before pulling them down completely, letting his dick free, it hitting his lower stomach, once it came out of his boxers. 

You stared at it, dumbfounded. His cock bigger than you had imagined, you didn’t know if you would be able to fit it in, but you needed it inside you. 

He grabbed his dick, pumping it before putting it in contact with your pussy, spreading your lips with his tips, coating it with your juices. His precum was mixing with yours. 

With one hand on the table beside you, he fell forwards, resting his head against yours. Both of you looked downwards, where your bodies were about to connect, watching him move his tip back and forth, and pressing it against your clit. 

After teasing for a little more, he positioned himself in front of your hole. 

“Are you ready?” He said, looking right into your eyes. 

You look back and forth between his eyes, before nodding against him. 

At your confirmation, he pushed his tip into your hole, the stretch being too much. You threw your head back, shutting your eyes. You bit your lip, trying not to let a sound out. The man latched at your neck, sucking at it, distracting you from the pain of his dick stretching your walls while entering you. 

He grabbed your waist harshly, your walls pulsating and swallowing him in oh so heavenly. You grabbed his shoulders, trying to stay on this Earth, his dick making you see stars, and he wasn’t even all in.

He continued pushing, despite your whimpers and whines, knowing you could handle it. Once your hips were together, you let out a big breath, one you didn’t know you were holding. He lift himself up from your neck, being at eye level with you. 

“Mmm, move.” you whined, opening your eyes slightly, looking at him. 

He nodded, not being able to talk thanks to your tightness. He used both his hands to grab your waist to keep you in place. He pulled back, a small part of his dick leaving your pussy to be pushed back in again. He repeated the movement a couple of times before finding a steady rhythm. 

The only sounds being heard in the room were the slapping of skin against skin and your heavy breathing. His hips grinding into yours, his balls hitting your ass rapidly. The man was pulling all his cock out before pulling it back in with force, hitting your sweet spot every time, making you moan uncontrollably. You scratched his back, trying to sit upright, his movements making you shake and bounce on the table. 

Every now and then he would kiss your lips, before going down and kissing your neck and breasts, overstimulating you. His pace was becoming irregular. He was close, and so were you. He pecked your lips, before resting his forehead against yours, his breath hitting your face with every pant. His chest was rising up and down. 

“Yes, right there” you moaned, brushing against his. 

He groaned. “You-” he whimpered. “You like that?” he continued grinding his hips against yours. 

“Yeah” you said, out of breath, nodding. 

“Are you coming beba?”

“Mmm”

You shut your eyes, basking the feeling of him inside you, him around you. Just all of him. The pressure on your belly was about to snap again, only this time more intense than before. The man let go of your waist with one of his hands to rub circles on your clit. Your legs wrapped around his waist began to shake, becoming loose. You began to grind against him, chasing your high, your breasts brushing against his chest, your nails digging on his back, your moans getting caught by his kisses.

Just when you were about to come, the bell on top of the door rang and you heard the sound of low battery coming from your mp3. 

Snapping your eyes open, you saw the Greek god of a man walking away from the store, after closing the door behind him, making the bell jingle. 

You were in the same position as when he had entered; elbow resting on the counter, chin resting on the palm of your hand. Your mp3 had run out of battery, and all the events of this mystery man made you his, lost with it. The only reminder of that man was the wetness between your legs. A heat that you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down when your shift was finished. Not even when you were under the covers, naked, imagining the man who just left your movie store.

HIII GUYSSS!!! I am so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Honestly, I was soo sick, I could barely stand up from the bed to eat. Anyway, hope you like this!! It is my first time writing smut, so it might be a little rough on the eyes, sorry there!!

Anyway, I based this on the song I linked above. I really encourage you to listen to it! It is in Spanish, but it is really good!!

I hope that after writing this I can sit down and write Chapter 2 of the Soulmate AU. I promise I will finish it, I won't leave you hanging. I will keep you posted about how it goes.

I hope you enjoyed this!!

Thank you @glaciertea for helping me!!

[lonelyl00n]

To Love a Boy

billie eilish x fem!reader

- in which a girl is in love with her childhood friend (based on 'To Love a Boy' by Maya Hawke).

i want to love a boy the way i love the ocean...

Billie and I sat at the foot of the ocean, our jean shorts sitting vulnerable against the sand, a fact that I’ll probably regret once I uncomfortably drive back home. But there was a reason that it was worth it, as I watched Billie’s brown hair blow wildly in the California wind.

It had been a while since I’d last seen the girl. She had been on across the world on tour for several months. She had even asked me to accompany her, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough. Visualizing glistening sweat dripping down her body after a set, seeing her smiling and flirting around with her new influencer friends, and knowing that every night, she’d be cuddling into me, her legs entrapping mine in a tiny queen bed.

Just like she’s done since we were kids.

I couldn’t bear to feel these sinful feelings about my own best friend. Like an objectifying beast, so instead, I found myself a distraction. Jack.

Jack was nice. He approached me during an intense manga reading at the library, cutely stuttering out something along the lines of “you’re beautiful.” Nobody had ever called me beautiful, well, nobody except Billie. He invited me out to coffee, and we talked about the weather, about life, about fears, about hopes. He understood me in a way that nobody else had ever cared to before. Nobody except for the girl beside me.

“So...” The girl playfully spoke, “When were you going to tell me about Jack?” Huh? I hadn’t told her about him, for a very good reason. Recognizing my confused expression, the brown-haired girl laughed, “Dude, I had to find this out from Zoey. I mean, you tell her, but you didn’t tell me?”

I let out an awkward chuckle.” There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” I thought.

“Umm, well, Jack is nice.”

Billie cocked her head to the side, “Really, that’s all, just nice?” It was obvious she was skeptical, as I had never in my life expressed an interest in a boy, and now I was dating one.

But it was true. When Billie left, I spent almost every night at Jack’s house. At first, not much would happen between the two of us. We would order Chinese takeout, challenge each other in Just Dance, Binge watch How I Met Your Mother, and we would also kiss a bit. I say only a bit because there was no passion, not from me and not from him. But for some reason, we both put up with it. I didn’t find out why until a couple weeks later.

Jack and I met at our regular meet up spot, the coffee shop across from the library. Jack had offered to pay for our orders while I went to the restroom. As I walked out of the restroom, I found Jack, talking to a barista. The same Barista that’s working every time we’re there. Jack had both our drinks in hand, yapping nervously like he always does to the poor worker, but it was then that I noticed. That look.

His eyes were shimmering like a pile of gold was in front of him. His smile wider than the Nile Delta. Meanwhile, the man in front of him looked oblivious to this fact, but I wasn’t. It’s the same look that I caught myself giving to Billie.

Later that night, as we were binging season four of our favorite show, I finally spoke. “I saw.” I simply said. Jack jolted for a second and sighed. “And I see the way you look at the girl on your lock screen.” The two of us said nothing else, instead we scooted closer to each other. Jack lifted my body onto his lap and we let our lips do the talking.

It was not sweet, it was not tender, and it was not angry. It was filled with longingness. Not for each other, but for who we wished the other could be. But I knew that Jack wasn’t my childhood best friend, as he knew I wasn’t the handsome barista he admired. We called each other the Tracys to each other’s Robin. Nobody understood me the way Jack did. He became my closest friend, a companion that I could express my deepest feelings about Billie to and then kiss it all away and pretend like none of it existed.

But it did. I felt it every time she would call in from her hotel room after a concert, pouting and complaining about how much she missed me and how she wished I wasn't so stubborn on my decision of not coming with her. I felt it whenever she would send me good morning texts at exactly the same time every day, even when she was on the complete opposite side of the world. And I felt it whenever she would flash me that gorgeous smile of hers whenever she felt that I was feeling down. So yes, Jack was nice, great even! But he wasn't her.

I hadn’t even realized how silent I had gotten reminiscing about Jack and I’s pathetic relationship, two homosexuals roleplaying as people we weren’t, that I failed to notice how awkward the atmosphere had become.

“Well,” Billie finally broke the silence, “I’m glad you and your boyfriend are so in love.”

There was something weird in the way that she said it, but I didn’t get to think too much about it as she pulled me in, her lips pecking my forehead, how she’s always does. Because to her there was no meaning behind it. To her I was only her best friend and that’s all I would ever be to her. She rested her head on my shoulder as I laid my head on top of hers, together watching the glistening blue ocean. And as waves of the ocean kissed our feet, as the seagulls soared through the sky, as her warm breath invaded my shoulder, a terrible thought encroached my mind: I wished I could be in love with Jack the same way I was helplessly in love with the ocean.

[wandaslittlehorns]

Mom's got a date with a vampire

idk, i watched the movie and got obsessed, this is a little something.

Mentions of divorce, classic superstition of vampires, mentions of going on a date with a man, the twins are like fourteen in here, gn!reader, this is short

The twins were annoyed, grounded, Tommy couldn't go to go to his horror show and Billy couldn't go out to the theater with his friends. They had to make a plan to get their mom's mind on something else besides their troublesome attitude in school.

"A date!" Tommy had offered with a hopeful smile. Wanda was divorced, she looked a bit lonely, maybe a little distraction could do some good "But where to find a good one?" the boy seemed thoughtful.

The twins were quick to get into a relationship website and look for the perfect date - Wanda would have lost it if she knew what they were doing behind her back - but soon enough, someone seemed interested. The man was quick to match with Wanda's interests - rather what the twins wrote on her profile.

It was perfect, nothing could go wrong, except for the charming stranger their mom met on the market, flirting with a very flustered Wanda. But it wasn't just the fact that their well thought plan was over, it was the fact that the stranger's aversion to the garlic on Wanda's cart

[bisclavret]

like many who have suffered at the hands of bbc merlin before me, i recently indulged in a thought experiment in which i outlined my own version of seasons 3-5 that stay thematically and tonally in line with the show (except they're less fucking stupid). but then i quickly realized that focusing on details is pointless: all you need is to solve the one Big Problem the show has, and the rest will follow. the problem in question? ✨morgana✨

i like the first two seasons. s1 achieves what it sets out to do and has fun while doing it, and s2, while flawed, sets up a ton of potential that the following seasons unfortunately squander, beginning with the insidious season 3. you can only distract me with cute knights and goblins and fart jokes for so long before i start seeing through you, evil, evil season of television.

my hypothesis is that if the writers had crafted s3 morgana into anything more sympathetic than a violent half-alive poltergeist that can never be reasoned with because she's suddenly terminally off her rocker, everything would've fallen into place. a sympathetic morgana would've made real, valid arguments against uther (and arthur) that wouldn't just be the ramblings of a woman possessed. her betrayal of arthur would have stemmed from her feeling increasingly morally superior to him because of his complacency in the face of their father's tyranny. under morgause's guidance she would stop believing that arthur is capable of change, and the whole point would be that she might actually be right. arthur would have to actively try and prove her wrong, instead of getting praised for doing the bare minimum because the bar is on the floor.

furthermore, morgana's prophetic dream about arthur and gwen becoming king and queen and her decision to prevent this however she can is a direct parallel to merlin learning about that same prophecy and making it happen by any means necessary. merlin's desires about his and arthur's futures are subtextually fueled by gay love and devotion, so why couldn't morgana's be? why couldn't she properly express her bitterness that arthur gets to be with gwen in a way she can't "took gwen away" from her, instead of suddenly declaring that gwen is nothing more than a servant, after two seasons of demonstrating again and again that she loves, values, and respects gwen more than anyone else in that godforsaken castle?

following this, an angry and emotionally volatile but still sensible morgana asking gwen to stay by her side during the coup of the castle in the s3 finale and gwen going behind her back to help arthur and the knights would've hurt like a bitch. double-sided betrayal! gwen having a real plot! the proper beginnings of a toxic yuri that would shape a generation!

then there's the utter hubris of having morgana shoot arrows at the same civilians she worried herself sick over for 2 seasons — even morgan, her medieval counterpart that was rooted in every sexist trope in existence, doesn't just go around killing senselessly but instead has (often petty!) personal vendettas against gwen, arthur, and the knights. morgana had every right to be sick of the pretensions around chivalry in camelot (she was always quick to mock it, even in s1), and to lash out at the knights and soldiers after years of feeling powerless in a castle full of armed men that blindly followed her oppressor. the show conveniently forgets that morgana was victimized as a woman as well as a sorcerer those first 2 seasons.

but like i said, this is not just about morgana. allowing her to remain a real and multifaceted character even as she betrays everyone in pursuit of her ambitions would've given the rest of the core four more interesting conflict to work with: merlin because he would have to experience real consequences to his actions, arthur because he would watch his sister go against his father (and his knights, and his birthright) and experience some actual internal dilemmas about it, and gwen because she would be forced to choose between morgana and arthur without the pretense that it's an obvious or easy choice for her to make.

even morgause and gaius would come off more interesting as mentors: neither one inherently evil or inherently good, both jaded by events that happened before our protagonists were even born, both heavily influencing morgana and merlin into fulfilling roles that they think are appropriate, but that morgana and merlin may not have chosen for themselves had they not been under their care.

you get the gist. if the show followed its own setup, morgana's mistakes wouldn't lie in cheap and senseless acts of violence but in alienating the people she loves because she is too hurt and jaded to trust them. meanwhile, everybody else would feel guilt over "failing" her and yet they would be too caught up in their own (sometimes flawed!) beliefs of right and wrong to truly see her point of view.

arthur would convince himself it was sorcery that corrupted her. merlin would know that isn't true but he wouldn't be able to argue without confessing everything, which is the defining conflict between him and morgana and it's cheapened when she's just an evil witch caricature and merlin is framed as inherently virtuous in contrast. gwen, too, would become a more active participant in her own life by choosing arthur over morgana and choosing to rule camelot with him instead of just waiting politely to see where things go.

and, of course, uther's downfall and death would be quick, final, and completely earned — when and why did the show even decide he of all people was the sympathetic villain, anyway?

lastly, and perhaps controversially, i think morgana should've learned merlin's true identity by season 4. her being the first of the main characters to find out makes perfect sense considering their shared history and their interconnected and mirrored arcs. even the show seems to agree, considering she does find out a little before arthur. but the narrative itself tried pointing flashing neon arrows towards this way earlier — there is a whole entire episode in s4 where merlin being emrys is repeatedly spelled out for morgana and she still isn't allowed to see it. that episode makes her look like the stupidest person to ever live, which is pretty funny im not gonna lie, but also another frustrating thing in the endless string of frustrating things that make up this show.

morgana learning that merlin has magic would've transformed the source of merlin's anxiety from a crippling fear of being outed someday to the crippling fear of knowing she could out him at any moment. this would make him want to beat her to the punch (perhaps he'd consider killing her for a minute and decide against it because she isn't a cartoonishly insane evil person in my version of events) and maybe he would even feel some tentative excitement at the idea of coming clean, now that it seems inevitable. after all, he always intended to tell arthur eventually! and i think gaius would have to admit outright that he does not want merlin to tell arthur he has magic because he, gaius, simply cannot risk such a gamble. it would be so interesting to see gaius and merlin clash and disagree once it becomes obvious that it's not merlin that isn't ready for the reveal, it's gaius. delicious!

with morgana's knowledge looming, things would inevitably spiral into a magic reveal by the end of season 4. i picture this season as an absolute mess of miscommunication between everyone at camelot, which is, y'know, canon. growing increasingly cunning and vengeful, morgana would use this tension to her advantage, destabilizing the court from the outside while she creates alliances with other sorcerers outside of camelot (instead of living alone in a hovel for no reason — morgana le fay i'm sorry i'm so sorry they gave you agravaine instead of your all-female entourage oh my god).

and here's where the events would change beyond recognition (aka here's where the meta becomes the fanfic i refuse to write). picture it with me: a militia of sorcerers infiltrates camelot and arthur and gwen have to set aside their differences (assuming gwen kissing lancelot and arthur overreacting happens, which it should) for the good of the kingdom as well as for love. picture high priestess morgana in her element, side by side with a bunch of misfit sorcerers that aren't so easily vilified, chopping down camelot's soldiers and knights and assuredly making their way to the newly-minted king.

then, just as it starts to seem that all hope is lost, in swoops merlin (the actual merlin, not his old fart disguise) on dragonback (kilgharrah hates morgana so much i know his sexist ass would stoop to anything to stop her)!!! imagine merlin showing off the extent of his powers in front of everyone and preventing the sorcerers from getting any further, declaring loud and clear that camelot is protected by him, by emrys. imagine that display of power alone being enough to send everyone home.

imagine the loyalties clearly drawn: merlin on arthur's side, morgana on the sorcerers'. imagine arthur, feeling confused and betrayed by everyone at this point, banishing merlin despite everything he's done for him in the angstiest, most emotionally dysregulated scene the show had ever put to screen. imagine merlin starting season 5 free at last but very lonesome, an embittered dragonlord like his father. imagine the absolute mess camelot would become without him, even with gwen — now queen guinevere — there to pick up the slack. imagine arthur actually earning merlin back, finally growing into his role as king as he does so. imagine the reunion.

all this and more could've been not just possible but inevitable if morgana was allowed to remain a complex character that is neither inherently good nor inherently evil: it was undeniably the biased and one-note treatment of morgana's downfall by the writers that set the precedent for literally everything else that happened after merlin chose to poison her. the show wouldn't have even had to jeopardize its tone or the monster-of-the-week vibe, all it would've had to do is admit that even the "good guys" are capable of mistakes and what makes them good is the ability to feel remorse and change for the better. (as opposed to uther, who was miles beyond redemption since way before the pilot and deserved to lose everything and die alone. OBVIOUSLY???)

in a world where morgana remains multifaceted and sympathetic, mordred would get a better arc as well, so if we really wanted to, we could still end on the same tragic note that the show ended on. with so much harm inflicted onto so many innocent people by the pendragons for so long (including mordred and the many druids and sorcerers that raised him), it could realistically end up being a little too late for anything more than one shining glimpse of king arthur and the sorcerer merlin's short-lived golden age before fate catches up to them. glimpsing that reality just to immediately lose it would've been far more satisfying and far more tragic than whatever the writers thought they were doing with all that pointless carrot-dangling.

and finally, an ending in line with morgana's new and improved arc. in this version, rather than bleeding out on the forest floor alone, she would channel the morgan le fay we know from the legends: sobered up by the reality of her brother dying, she would use her high priestess status (and perhaps also her pendragon status) to be granted passage over to avalon alongside arthur on the boat — a one-way ride — just to make sure he gets there safely. this is her penance for the harm she has caused, the same way arthur's penance is to die and leave the true ruler of camelot (gwen) behind to achieve everything he was too slow and indecisive to build while he still had time.

merlin's penance, then, would be to stay behind and watch them cross over without him, waiting and waiting and waiting until they come back or until he can finally join them. which is a bit fucking harsh if i'm honest, so i'd at least make it slightly more faithful to the legends by having him return as an old man and letting him take a long nap under a tree by the shore, his body slowly enveloped by vines like the cobwebbed fisher king in 3x08, never fully sure if he's dreaming or if there really are strange shapes fading in and out of the fog over the lake. still tragic, but nevertheless a little more open-ended and whimsical than [TRUCK NOISES] THE END!

[grandlinedreams]

Hey, um I love your works, especially the angsty-themed 😭. Anyway, here's the prompt :

We know that Law is a very private person, and he just doesn't want people to see any type of affection between him and the reader. So imagine like things get hectic, or like he's too focused on his long-term planning. He becomes cold and indifferent, and the reader is not an exception even if the reader is simply willing to help. Yes, he's a private person, but everyone already knows that the reader is his partner. His crew, or maybe the og member that is older than him, are getting uncomfortable and reminding (or rather scolding) him for his behaviour to the reader. Maybe the reader overheard their argument and gets sad because the reader has tried not to take his reaction personally, but it's not a good sign when others have enough. This ends with Law's realization that his crews support their relationship and wish the best for them, showing affection in front of them won't get him teased or even annoy his crew.

Thank you, Love 🫶

Hiya papaya!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get to this, but I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: Law being a tiiny bit of a red flag, unhealthy coping mechanisms, hefty touch of angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"Is that for captain?"

Looking up from where you're setting things on the tray to carry, you find Penguin watching you and you nod.

"How is he? We haven't seen much of him lately."

You hesitate. Penguin knows Law even better than you do, as do Shachi and Bepo ㅡ they're from a chapter of his life you've only ever gotten brief comments about.

"You know how he gets when he's figuring out a plan," you sigh, and Penguin nods. "I'm going to take this to him."

"You're the best at cheering him up," your crewmate calls after you as you walk away, and your fingers curl around the tray.

You wish that was true, that you had an innate knack for easing Law's burdens the way the others seem to think you do. And maybe you did, at one time ㅡ but not lately.

You can't even tell anyone that it's been days since Law even talked to you. It's been a cycle of going to bed without him, waking up alone, and swapping out plates of barely touched food and drink for new.

You know that this is what happens when he gets focused on something, have seen it before ㅡ but it hurt a little less when you weren't his partner. You know you can't expect him to immediately tell you everything, but telling you nothing isn't fair, either.

You knock, then nudge the door open with your hip. Law hasn't moved from where he'd been when you woke up, nor does he look up when you approach.

"I made grilled salmon this time," you say quietly, glancing at the carefully shaped onigiri. "And tea."

Steam curls off the top, but Law doesn't so much as glance your way. This too has not been unusual, but again, it digs the blade further into your chest.

Have you done something wrong? Surely there's more to it than just being busy for him to shut you out so completely.

You turn to leave, stilling when there's finally, finally a murmur of your name from your boyfriend. Your heart leaps, and you turn, small smile on your lips. "Yes?"

He still isn't looking at you. "Stay in the crew bunkhouse tonight. I can't afford to be distracted right now."

Maybe it'd be better if he yelled at you. If he'd be angry with you, be something with you ㅡ because the flat tone and way he still won't actually look at you hurts far worse than anything else.

"Oh," you say softly, "...of course."

You shut the door behind you, back pressed against it as you take a few steadying breaths, willing yourself not to cry. You won't, not when it will get you scolded if he finds out ㅡ so you close your eyes and count to ten, then pull away from the door.

You can do this for him, give him his space, support him from the edges of that barrier he's made around himself.

You can, and you will.

ㅡ

"Not that we aren't happy to have you here [Name], but..." Clione squints at you. "What are you doing here?"

You look up from where you're pulling back the blankets of your bed ㅡ a bed you haven't slept in for months, as your mind is so gleefully cruel in reminding you. "What do you mean?"

"He means that you're usually with captain," Ikkaku says, watching you with a look of gentle concern.

You're not sure how to answer that and you fumble, fighting hard against the flush of your cheeks. "How do youㅡ"

"You're not as subtle as you think," Hakugan chimes in. "I know captain won't say it, but we've all pretty much figured it out already. Not much you can hide on the 'Tang."

He has a point. Ikkaku is still watching you, her head tilting.

"So...is everything okay?"

You blink, fingers curling against your blanket. "Everything is fine," you say, even though it's far from it. Though they may know about your relationship, you highly doubt that Law would be pleased if they knew about any issues. "I just felt like sleeping in here, that's all."

It's clear none of them believe you, sharing a brief look as you slip underneath your blanket and roll onto your side. It's strange now, going from the comfort of a bed shared with someone to alone ㅡ but if Law needs you to do this, you can do this.

You don't sleep well, not at all ㅡ and when you've finally had enough of tossing and turning, you slip out of bed as quietly as you can, mindful not to disturb your crewmates.

Machinery hums beneath your feet as you pad down the narrow hallway, turning the corner ㅡ and nearly bumping into a firm chest.

You stumble back, balance corrected by the hand that reaches out to grip your shoulder ㅡ familiar warmth, tanned fingers stamped by familiar tattoos.

Law.

It's the first time he's touched you in the better part of a week and a half, and you almost hate yourself for how badly you want to beg for more. He doesn't even have to kiss you ㅡ just a hug would do.

You miss him.

Law's lips part like he's going to say something, but the creak of a door opening makes him tense ㅡ and reality washes over you like an icy bucket of water.

So you do what you have to ㅡ you dhrug his hand off of your shoulder, curve your lips into a smile you don't feel, and take a step back.

"Good morning, captain," you tell him, ignore how it rips your chest open to be so formal with him and slip around him to begin your own day.

ㅡ

"Did something happen between you and [Name]?"

The question makes Law tense from where he's putting away medical supplies from the latest supply run, glancing at Shachi who'd volunteered to help him. That, he supposes, should have been his first clue. Not that Shachi isn't helpful ㅡ but that he has an agenda of his own.

Law looks away. "I don't know what you mean."

Shachi huffs. "Don't play dumb, captain." He knows he's treading the line of insubordination, but there's only so much he and the others can take of this. "We know you're together."

Law stills.

"[Name] didn't tell us anything," Shachi continues. "We figured it out. So don't be mad at them."

Law is quiet, trying to process the other man's words before he says slowly, "How long have you and the others known?"

Shachi shrugs. "Couple of months." His tone softens, though it still carries an edge of scolding. "You can't just shut everyone out like that, captain. Especially not if you're in a relationship with someone."

Law wants to argue, say that he didn't ㅡ but he did. Pushed you as far as he could, made you keep your distance. He'd backtracked on months of progress, of affection and trust ㅡ and called you distracting.

Ans you'd taken it all in stride. You hadn't gotten angry, hadn't fought with him ㅡ simply nodded, smiled, and let him treat you as he pleased.

You'd let him hurt you, something he'd promised he'd never do ㅡ

"Finish putting this away for me," he tells Shachi, who watches as Law leaves the storage room without looking back, and he grins.

"About time."

ㅡ

You stir to the feeling of being carried. That's funny, you don't even remember falling asleep ㅡ but you must've, curled up on the couch with a book.

You squirm, and the arms around you tighten as your eyelids flutter. "Waking up?"

Your eyes snap open. "Law," you say, staring up at your boyfriend ㅡ or at least, who you hope is still your boyfriend. "What are you doing?"

"You fell asleep on the couch," he says, "and I'm taking you to bed before you end up with a crick in your neck from sleeping like that."

"Oh." You study the curve of black ink on his chest. "To the bunkhouse?"

"No, to myㅡ" He stops, corrects himself. "Our room."

That gives you a glimmer of hope, allows for you to snuggle further against him, which relieves him in turn. You aren't angry with him ㅡ both a blessing and a little bit of a curse, brcause you have every right to be.

As if sensing his thoughts, you sigh softly. "I'm not mad at you."

"You should be." He nudges his door open, shuts it behind him before continuing towards the bed. The bed that's been far too cold over the last couple of days without your presence.

You cling to him, even after he sets you down, coaxing him to lay next to you. "I'm not," you insist again. "Just wish you'd trust me a little more. I want to help, Law."

Your fingers brush his cheek, and he reaches to grasp them, presses soft kisses to your fingertips. "I know. I need to work on that. I shouldn't have shut you out like that, it wasn't fair to you."

You press closer. "We can work on it together," you say, lips against his collarbone, sweet kisses that make him shiver. "Right?"

"Right," he agrees softly, pulls you to him as close as he can, wraps himself around you. "Together."

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.29

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

There’s nothing like the warmth of a home-cooked meal. Especially in comparison to the mediocre meals you were cooking for yourself. You like to think it heals a little part of your soul with each bite you take. 

Your mother doesn't question why you suddenly accepted her offer home after months of refusing but you have a feeling she might know. She’s always had weird physic mom abilities. At first, you thought you could get away with acting normal but the look she gave you when you got in her car at the airport told you you’d been caught.

Since that moment your mother has been doing an exceptional job at distracting you and you’ll never be able to express just how grateful you are for her. 

The few days that you’ve been home your mother’s been parading you around town, showing you what’s new and telling you stories of all the crazy things you’d do in every building, playground, and park. When you're home, your mother finds excuses to give you small brushes of physical affection and you don’t realize just how lonely living by yourself has gotten until you woke up to waffles and a kiss on the forehead.

You have a small inkling that she’s behind the occasional disappearance of your phone as well but you don’t comment on it. It’s a welcome break from the chaos of social media but you know you can’t avoid your problems forever and reality hits one afternoon when your mom is out grocery shopping and your phone dings with a notification.

You pick it up to see multiple news outlets blowing up about the upcoming press conference the government will be holding to explain what happened to the Avengers and you all but rush to turn the news on the TV.

There are a few unfriendly-looking government officials in suits and balding hair standing in front of a podium full of microphones and before any of them have even spoken there’s a flash of cameras from somewhere behind the camera.

One of the taller white men steps forward and the room goes silent. You’re on the edge of your seat with anticipation and you’re sure everyone else watching is as well. The man in the suit looks less than excited to be there and you can already tell by the look on his face that you’re not going to like what he has to say. Your stomach sinks in.

“I know this has been greatly anticipated by the public and I’m sure you all have a lot of questions so I'll get straight to the point.” Another camera shutter clicks. “ Around a month ago we approached the Avengers group about the amount of destruction they left behind after their battles. We felt the damage was too significant to let it continue happening, so we came up with the proposal that the Avengers agree to government supervision and limitations to minimize the damages.” 

You let out a low hiss through your teeth as murmurs fill the conference room. You’re sure most of the Avengers wouldn’t have taken kindly to that situation. If you’re honest you’re surprised a full-out fight hadn’t started. It only makes you more nervous for what’s to come.

“Unfortunately, a few members of the group didn’t agree with our terms and have since fled to avoid responsibility” Your blood boils at the way he’s talking about the world's greatest heroes, like they’re teenagers who broke the neighbors' window. You’re sure they’re purposely leaving out details of their contract to make the Avengers look bad. “Due to this circumstance,” A woman steps from behind him and hands him a file and he opens it and begins lifting picture after picture “The following Avengers are now considered wanted felons. If you see any of them please contact your local authorities-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as the room erupts into chaos. Reporters are shouting, cameras are flashing left and right and questions are being flung at the uncomfortable-looking officials. 

You practically shoot up from your seat in outrage. The Avengers are wanted felons? What was the government thinking? Just because they wanted control over the world's strongest and smartest? You hated to think what the world would descend into now that criminals not only didn’t have to fear the Avengers, but could call to get them arrested as well.

Security steps in and the room calms a little but reporters refuse to let the subject go, raising their hands to question such an idiotic decision.

“With the Avengers gone, what are you going to do about the influx in crime?” One asks, and another white man steps up to the podium to answer.

“We will be doubling the police force in every state to ensure the crime rates go back down” The reporters don’t seem satisfied, another raising a counter-question

“What about supernatural criminals and weapons?” The man swallows nervously and you’re sure a cartoonish bead of sweat is about to trail down his forehead when he speaks up with less confidence than before.

“Rest assured our officers are being trained to handle any possible situations, and we will be arming them with state-of-the-art weapons” You practically groan at his words, and your phone dings with notifications from various sites. Your friends from the Stark party are texting you about their outrage, news outlets are blowing up, and your mother wants to know if you want any cereal. 

You text her yes and respond to your other texts, tuning out the bullshit coming from the TV until pictures of the ‘wanted felons’ appear on the TV. Over half of the Avengers pictures are on the screen with the words “Wanted” under them and your eyes unconsciously drift toward Nat as a woman speaks

“We haven’t been able to get a hold of any of the aforementioned Avengers so if you have any information about their whereabouts please call-” you practically scoff at the TV. Of course, they couldn’t get a hold of Natasha Romanoff, if she wanted to disappear you’d never see or hear from her again-

Your head spins. A dangerous thought sneaks into your mind and despite your best efforts you can’t block it out. The government official had said they tried to make this deal around a month ago- around the same time Nat stopped responding to you.

With your heart leaping to your throat, you immediately rush to grab your computer. It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered Nat’s name being Natasha but you hadn’t wanted to plaster Natasha’s face onto this total stranger, and you definitely didn't want to project your feelings for your celebrity crush onto a real person who had nothing to do with her.

You never let yourself go down that hole, especially because the more you talked to Nat the less she seemed like the stoic Natasha Romanoff you knew of. 

You still refuse to believe it until you can prove it though, so the only thing you can think to do is pull up every single publicized mission the Avengers have gone on and open your phone to Nat’s contact. You ignore the painful jerk your heart gives as you scroll past your pleading and Nat’s last “I’m sorry” text until you find the last time she said she had to go away for ‘work’.

She’d been gone for two weeks but still managed to send you a quick ‘goodnight’ text on one of those days. It made your whole week that she’d been thinking of you even while she was working and still chose to text you even though she could get in trouble for using her phone. 

You scroll through the missions until you find one with a similar date. A mission in Eastern Europe that took the three of the Avengers two weeks to complete. It doesn’t state which Avengers so you brush it off as a coincidence and scroll up further, searching for another ‘work’ message.

Half an hour later you have at least fifteen ‘coincidences’ that line up almost perfectly with when Nat would leave you on delivered. You want to believe it but you’re at war with yourself.

Something joyful tugs at your heart and you shake your head to try and get rid of the images of Nat smiling on the other side of the phone. 

The other part of you is astonished you’d even believe such a thing. Why would Natasha continue texting you? There was no way she’d trust something as childish as ‘number neighbors’. And if she did believe that… why wouldn’t she just block your number?

Although you suppose she did try and get you to stop texting her, you just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Suddenly all of her threats feel a little more serious. 

For a split second, there’s relief. The weight of the fear that she’d ghosted you because she was tired of you lifted from your shoulders. The fear of never knowing her face or what she sounded like was gone. Instead, it was replaced by anxiety. The woman you loved was a wanted criminal AND an Avenger. You don’t know if it’s better or worse that you can read all of the texts in her voice now.

Your brain is screaming at you while your heart is frolicking in a field full of flowers.

The woman you’ve had a fictional crush on for years is actually the woman you fell in love with online, surprise!

Still, you’re worried you’re getting a little ahead of yourself so you try to calm down and scour the internet for more proof. You find an old video from when the Avengers did a live slumber party for charity and zoom in on Nat’s pajamas. Yep, the same gray as the photo of her pants she’d sent you from way back when you first met. 

The first photo she ever sent you and it was truly a gift to receive but big deal- lots of people wore gray to bed! 

The thought of gifts reminds you of the surveillance footage the restaurant promised to send you months ago when Nat bought you dessert. God, you really should read your emails. After scrolling through work emails and companies advertising their sales you find a very old email from the restaurant with the footage from their back alley. 

You can’t believe you forgot to look at this.

Sure enough, as the waiter had said, you can only see a hoodie from that angle but you’ll take anything you can get. You pause and play the video at every millisecond until a sliver of a design is visible and you reverse image search until a picture of that exact hoodie pops up.

You pull up every single member of the Avengers’ Instagram's until you see a picture of Clint Barton wearing what seems to be the same hoodie only two months ago. It’s a stretch, you’re sure anyone could own that hoodie but at this point, you’ve already fully convinced yourself it’s her. You feel like an FBI agent with how deep you’re digging for evidence and the thought reminds you of one of the first things you ever said to her

“What, are you an FBI agent or something?”

“Something like that”

You were truly the world’s biggest idiot at this point. Natasha had been trying to tell you at the Stark party, hadn’t she? You knew the joke sounded familiar. 

A sort of mirth sparkled in her eyes as she spoke her next sentence “Well I’m no FBI agent” It feels like an inside joke and you're trying to pinpoint where you remember it from but after a few seconds you shake it off and blame it on the alcohol. 

Not to mention how hesitant she’d been to talk to you in the beginning. She was a super spy! Of course, she wouldn’t believe you got her number by coincidence. Did that mean that she knew who you were from the beginning? She probably knew everything about you from your apartment number to your first pet. 

But…if she knew everything about you and still chose to stay and talk to you then maybe there was the smallest, tiniest chance she liked you back the way you liked her.

Why else would someone like her spend every day putting up with your antics?

All this time you’ve been wondering who she was and why she left you and now you have an answer you have no idea what to do with. It’s not like she’d be at Avengers Tower right now, nobody knew where she was. And she hadn’t responded to any of your messages. How could you tell her you knew? How could you tell her that you weren’t mad anymore? Will you ever be able to confess how you feel to her in person?

You don’t even realize you're crying until a drop of water lands on your computer. You were overwhelmed with so many different emotions; joy, worry, love. The idea of loving Natasha Romanoff was scary but loving Nat? Loving Nat was easy. And you have to keep reminding yourself that they’re the same person. That The Black Widow was a persona while Nat was her real self. 

The sound of the front door doesn’t register in your mind until you hear your mother calling your name. You turn to look at her with your tear-stricken face and her expression softens as she takes you in.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” she drops her groceries and makes her way over to you, wrapping you in her arms immediately. The way she says your name with so much love reminds you of the last time you heard Natasha’s voice-

“Take care of yourself, Y/n.”

The sentence only makes you cry harder and your mom soothingly rubs up and down your back. She doesn’t know you’ve just had the discovery of a lifetime or that you accidentally fell in love with a superhero. She just comforts you as you cry in her arms.

“Oh honey, it'll be okay”

You hope she’s right.

Pt.30

A/n: This chapter took a lot longer to write because I wanted to really get Y/n's reaction right- sorry it's late! ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime @taliiiaasteria @bgwlsmahf25 @chibilauren @natashasgirlll

[irisintheafterglow]

iris is missing bachira again, what else is new!!

in the limited amount of time you'd spent with bachira meguru, you learned that, with the exception of soccer, his attention span was shorter than a toddler's.

he was always fiddling with something at the outskirts of your vision, spinning a pencil or rolling a rectangular eraser back and forth. a closer look revealed an assortment of little drawings at the corners and headings of his notebook pages: little butterflies, trees, flowers, rockets, fish, and anything more you could possibly think of. you sat in the seat closest to the aisle where the teacher walked through during worktimes, and you developed the habit of tapping his side of the lab table when she started getting too close. bachira would then flip to whatever page he was supposed to be completing and put on the appearance of working hard, murmuring his gratitude when the teacher passed.

it was during a lecture about aquatic ecosystems when the first bachira doodle swam its way into your notebook. you didn't notice it at first, too focused on the presentation to see his hand quickly scribble on your paper before retreating like nothing happened. but, when you finally had a second to look down and see a fish swimming next to a crudely drawn piece of coral, the tiniest smile when you looked at bachira's face was a dead giveaway. you added your own stalk of seaweed to the picture and his smile only grew larger when you slid the paper over to show him.

over time, drawings began to include questions, questions turned to full messages, and full messages became gossip and complaints that were exchanged without any spoken words. his favorite thing to scribble was we won the game, btw :D because you never failed to giggle at his terribly drawn soccer ball next to the smiley face. his most frequently asked question, however, was a tossup between what tf are we learning and i'm so hungry. he was a distraction in class, yes, but a welcome one when you needed someone to lighten a dark mood.

you found that his bored tendencies rubbed off on you, as you were itching to write something one day when the teacher had explicitly instructed you to watch the documentary without taking notes. bachira knew that you had a hard time remembering things if you didn't write them down, and his solution startled you.

"it's okay, just write on me!" he beamed at you as he whispered over the movie playing on the projector. "you let me do it all the time, so let me return the favor."

"i let you do it because none of your pens are permanent, bachira. it's also just doodles, not full sentences," you point out, a blister starting to form on the inside of your fingers as you spin your pen. "mine are a little harder to wash off, trust me."

"as long as you don't draw a dick on my face, i really don't care," he shrugs and you scoff as he's rolling up his sleeve and presenting you his blank forearm. "your canvas awaits." seeing the hesitancy on your face, he nods encouragingly and takes the liberty of drawing a very shaky smiley face on the side of his thumb. "your turn!"

for the remainder of class, bachira's chin rests in his palm with his elbow propped on the table, his other arm extended to you as you jot down whatever you want to remember for later. bachira watches you more than he does the video, memorizing the way you bite your tongue when you're thinking and the way your eyes light up when you figure out how to paraphrase a thought. it's endearing and an odd fluttering feeling occurs in his chest as you look over at him with a grateful smile. at the end of the period, you draw a heart on the inside of his wrist before rushing off to your next subject, still expressing your thanks as you push in your chair.

later, bachira brushes off his teammates when they ask why he has pen stains all over his arm; he says he didn't have time to scrub it before the game.

---

the blue lock players begin to notice an odd habit of bachira's, a sort of ritual right before every match. he rolls up his uniform's long-sleeve until just enough of his wrist is showing, and draws something on the inside of his wrist. with the cap of the marker between his teeth, bachira obviously struggles to draw with his non-dominant hand but declines assistance when isagi offers.

when he kisses the heart on the inside of his wrist before scoring every goal, he hopes that you can feel it's for you, with a promise that he'll be back to you soon.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)