#and I would love to do a little study on it

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ The little gifts they give you

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia)

tw: none, pure fluff

✧ Pierro – Love letters hidden in the house

When you awaken in the hush of dawn, your beloved is nowhere to be seen in the house. He often rises before the world stirs, summoned by his obligations as the Fatui Director during the first rays of dawn. However, even if he has to depart as you sleep soundlessly, it’s never without leaving a small note by his pillow.

A small, beautiful card, meticulously folded and inked in his elegant cursive. A masterful piece full of words that he yearns to speak when he is away at work. You only opened your eyes, yet a smile already graces your lips when you spot the letter on his side of the bed. It reads:

“You sleep like a tender beauty, your thoughts are my constant companion. Even when you rise, the pillows and covers grieve for the absence of your warmth, like the departure of summer, leaving but the coldness of winter. So does my heart miss you when I am away. May you rise like a blooming Leucojum, starting off your morning well, while I think of you every waking second.”

He often did that, leaving you small sonnets around the house while he was away at work. His fancy for poetry and writing had endured since his noble youth in ancient Khaenri’ah, a love untouched by time. This way, even when he’s away, he still manages to bring a smile to your face first thing in the mornings.

You’d find other letters elsewhere. One day, he’d leave it in your study room:

“The pen and paper you write in get graced by your wisdom. The tomes that line your shelves store knowledge for your interest, each page covets your attention. Share your discoveries with me when I am back, my divine.” 

Another, he’d hide it by the dresser:

“When you don your attire for the day, the stars and moons would gasp in awe. Yet it is I alone who bear witness to your truest splendor. I count the second until I may once again gather you in my arms, to undo every silken layer-” 

Oops, never mind. Best not to read that one aloud. Too intimate for wandering eyes. Either way, throughout the months, you’d collect these little love letters, always keeping them safe as a memo, giddy whenever you reread them, or stashing them happily for safekeeping. For such excellent penmanship, the Jester truly deserves some extra adoration from you. 

✧ Il Capitano – Exotic flowers and seeds from all over Teyvat

‘Is a bouquet of flowers too cliche a gift for someone you miss?’ – the Harbinger pondered to himself. He stood by the outskirts of Kannazuka, not far from Yashiori Island, where the solemn sea breeze swept by crimson Dendrobium petals. He heard from locals that these flowers were thought to be instinct, yet returned to where blood was once spilled on Inazuman soil.

You’d appreciate the austere symbolism of such flora, and the Captain knelt before carefully picking it by the stem. He paid respect to each bloom, as any warrior who understands the grievances of a quiet battlefield would. Thus, by the time his mission drew to its quiet end, the 1st of the Fatui Harbinger appeared with a bouquet presented to your arms.

“Hm? You plucked these, Capi?” – You looked at him curiously, the bouquet massive in your arms. “But that means they will wilt soon.”

The Captain’s helmet dipped slightly, his unreadable face betraying a flicker of hesitance. Perhaps this was a bad idea?

“...I apologize, do you dislike them?”

You smiled at him, with meticulous swiftness, you moved with the bouquet, searching for an appropriate vase, and to fill it with water. The Dendrobiums were indeed exquisite, yet what you desired was their preservation, especially if such blossoms bore no seeds to sow. Thus, your beloved watched in fascinated silence as you showed him how to remove extraneous leaves and guard petals. It will help the flowers last longer. Now, the Captain had more ideas.

During his other expeditions, he no longer sought out just any flowers; he would seek intel on horticulture or where to purchase high-quality seeds. If he’d purchased flowers, he’d barter for seeds rather than stems and purchase plants nestled in earthen pots. If only you had witnessed the face of the poor Mondstadtian girl who overlooked the Floral Whisper shop - Flora. She went silent as to why a Harbinger was questioning how to properly maintain Windwheel Aster during transport. In truth, he was so excited to bring his beloved one more exotic plant, he could only think of your expression when you see the petals spin in the breeze. 

Thus, you found yourself with a makeshift garden, brought to you proudly by Capitano. Each flower is a fragment of his journeys, a testament of his quiet devotion. He even helped construct a modest greenhouse, sturdy and sun-warmed, to shelter those blooms that craved warmer climates. Now, every time the Harbinger is away and spots a single flower blooming in the wild, his mind wanders back to you; what else might my beloved like? 

✧ Il Dottore – Small inventions to make your life easier

To love someone doesn’t equal to lavishing that person with materialistic luxuries. Dottore knows you have little taste for frivolity, acquiring only what necessity demands. Instead, he attends to subtler needs: when you scribble in your notebooks for hours, your fingers get tired from clutching a pen, the side of your palms are smeared with either ink or graphite. Hence, one evening, he returns with a set of gloves.

“Here, give me your hand,” – he said busily, already cradling your palms as he carefully put on two-finger writing gloves, securing your skin in comfort against the soft material. “I ensured the design is versatile when you’re writing something, without tiring or smudging your hand. Tell me if it feels better.”

You never even noticed or complained about the ache. At times, the Doctor saw you plop down on the sofa, tired and whining from cleaning around. You were always meticulous with your personal space, but none is immune from the hassle of vacuuming, dusting, or cleaning the floors. Especially if it gave you a night of painful back pain. Hiring attendants would have been the simplest solution, he thought. But he preferred an idea far more personal.

“Take this,” – he casually handed you a circular device. You blinked in confusion but accepted the new state-of-the-art machinery. “An automatic vacuum cleaner. It will map out the layout of the house so it can sweep the floors whenever you’re away. Spare yourself the drudgery.”

And another time, when you were delighted by your purchase of a sweet bubble tea beverage, you wistfully lamented how difficult it was to replicate such indulgences at home. Oh well, you shrugged, but Dottore was sitting nearby, already scheming a blueprint.

A week later, your kitchen bore a marvel: a gleaming coffee and tea machine, capable of brewing, frothing, even carbonating any beverage you wished. You just have to throw in the ingredients of your choice. Be it coffees, matchas, smoothies, or bubble teas, not even Fontainian cafes had such appliances.

“Dottore, when did you have the time to wipe out such a machine? That’s massive work!” – you inquired curiously one day, but The Harbinger waved his hand dismissively, stating:

“Hm? Oh, why, this is hardly a strain. I don’t like seeing you toil over menial tasks or seek out solutions that will just burn through your Mora. If you are in want of anything, you can always ask me. You know that, correct?”

Even in matters where you never uttered a single complaint, Dottore’s ever observant nature remained unfaltering. He would silently bask in the sight of you, committing every small nuance of your life and habits to memory. He’d sit with his chin resting on his palm, silently smiling as you enjoyed his inventions or the little knick-knacks around his lab that brought your sincere smile.  

✧ Scaramouche – Learning to cook your favourite dishes

The Ballader never grasped humanity’s fascination with food. Concerning sustenance, survival required little. Animals hunted their prey without fanfare, yet humankind alone had transformed eating into a cult. Fawning over flavors? Creating restaurants? Scaramouche never got it, even when he first lived as an innocent puppet in the rural village of Tataratsuna.

So why was he here, eyebrows furrowed as he looked over the sizzling meat on the stove? Somehow, against all reason, the Harbinger cooked an entire meal exclusively for you! 

“Ah, you’re back at last. Come here,” – he beckoned you diligently to sit down, presenting you with a bowl of Gyudon, a beef and rice bowl topped with egg yolk on top. You obeyed, baffled yet in pure awe, while Scaramouche sat opposite you with arms crossed. “Well? Don’t just glare at it. Taste it!” 

So you did. “Um, Scara… did you cook this?”

He nodded silently.

“Did you… Add any soy sauce anywhere? Maybe salt or mirin?”

Oh no.

Turns out, cooking is no simple art form. There are careful blends of spices and garnishes that make even the simplest dishes outstanding. And unfortunately for the Ballader, he missed all the steps, underestimating the power of spices that one must add to the beef. He watched you gulp down with a nervous, hesitant smile. You radiated so much encouragement that it ached. Scaramouche said nothing, only sat broodingly still. Nonetheless, he had to remind himself that he was no longer in Tataratsune. The simple folks there often kept rice as a garnish, and many imports of spices never reached the rural islands of Inazuma. He does not have to run barefoot to scavenge for Lavender Melons from wind-worn hills.

He didn’t let that deter him. Little by little, he paid more attention to the spices he had to put in. Never too much, never too little. Noticing your love for rich flavors and blends of textures, The Harbinger challenges the kitchen like an enemy, learning new dishes and methods. When you simply asked him why the sudden hobby, he replied:

“I thought humans liked homecooking. So I hoped one day you’d come… knowing there would be some. Isn’t that where a home is?”

“Oh, Scara,” - your hand found the curve of his back, to which he never leaned away. “I think you’re a quick learner, because you made leaps of progress. And your last dish, the Unagi Chazuke? It was perfect.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, you know?” – he mused whistfully.

“No, I mean it. I think Chazukes are your best. But don’t get discouraged. Inazuman cuisine focuses on subtle blends of saltiness and sweetness, relying on ingredients like rice vinegar, sesame oil, or soy sauce. But Sumeru? Oh, I heard they have all kinds of spices out there!”

You went on and on with unbridled enthusiasm, weaving tales of harra fruits ground into rare, fragrant spices, prized all over Teyvat. Scaramouche listened silently, more in delight at your simple excitement. Perhaps he started to understand why humans focused so much on food. Not out of survival, but as a cultural effort to spend time together, a silent way to stay a little longer. Because whenever he sat down with you over a meal, it felt more than just an indulgence.

Maybe if he ever gets the chance, he should visit Sumeru…? 

✧ Pantalone – His coats or clothing after each date

It started by sheer coincidence. One time, the two of you were enjoying a splendid afternoon, when suddenly the wind stirred without warning, bearing the chill of an impending October rain. Caught unprepared without an umbrella, and before the two of you could bid farewell for the day, Pantalone stopped you.

“Wait, honey,” – he deftly unbuttoned his coat, wrapping it around your form from behind and adjusting the fur-lined collar to shield you from the cold. “Here, wear this along the road. If it starts raining, the hood of this coat will keep you spotless.”

You wanted to protest, but when The Harbinger saw you half-swallowed by the voluminous fabric, only your gaze barely peeking through, it demanded every ounce of restraint to maintain his gentlemanly expression. ‘My… my sweetheart! They look utterly precious! Like a bundled burrito!’

Your words of worry slipped past him from one ear to the other – “Ahem. Nonsense, my love. You can keep it for now.” 

On another occasion, when he had invited you for a pleasant dinner date at his estate, the atmosphere bloomed with warmth and quiet comfort. The candlelit table was set, as you aided him in arranging the plates and dishes in the dining room. Pantalone, ever at ease in your presence, casually shrugged off his sweater, remaining in a crisp button-up now that the fireplace’s warmth embraced the indoors. However, it wasn’t until you wore his sweater after dinner that he realized he had left it on the sofa, and it piqued your curiosity.

“Ah, if I had a camera on me right now, I would’ve taken a hundred photo shots of you!”

“Sorry, sorry, I can give your sweater back.”

“Not a chance now. Keep it!”

Thus, a habit was formed. Whether by intent or by innocent accident, Pantalone would gladly share with you his wardrobe – be it coats, scarves, his pieces of jewelry, or bigger lounging shirts. You assumed he let you borrow them, like the loving boyfriend that he is. Yet he never asked for them back, even when you suggested taking them off, stating proudly:

“Honey, I have plenty more in my closet. If I were in dire need of taking them back, I could simply purchase tailor-made once more. But I’d rather see you wear them. You look splendid in my clothes.”

It stirred a quiet pride within the Regrator, to be accompanied by his sweetheart in public, and the people recognizing his iconic coat draped over your shoulder. A clear message of who has his heart cupped in their palms, and who he adores beyond reverent adoration.

Yet what truly stole the crown is when you’re together in the comfort of your home, and decide to forgo any garments and simply slip into one of his button-up shirts. He’d find you, re-emerged from the bathroom, looking all cleaned and refreshed, your figure clad in his shirt.

All the blood leaves his head. There is not a single thought in his brain - just the image of you. In bed, his button-up shirt the sole remaining piece covering your figure.

“You know, Pantalone, I must admit - I love the feeling of your clothes. They’re soft and comfortable, yet they carry a whiff of your scent. Thank you for not mind me wearing them. I can give it back if y-... Dear?”

Yep, he’s about to pass out. His beloved is too beautiful. 

✧ Tartaglia – Plushies as souvenirs from different regions

The young Harbinger took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and stretched his neck. A recent mission in Liyue lay completed behind him, but did that mean he could rest and take a break? No, alas, the battle has only started. And today’s battle is shopping in the busy markets of Liyue in search of gifts and souvenirs. 

He often makes a mental list of what presents to bring home to Snezhnaya. New fishing gear for his father, fine garments for his dear sister Tonia, rare tomes for Anthon, and vibrant Liyue kites for little Teucer. His arms often returned so laden with offerings that his family affectionately dubbed him Ded Moroz, or as Teucer would shout in delight upon his arrival: “Father Christmas is back home!” 

Nonetheless, despite the massive ordeal of finding appropriate gifts, the task Childe found most effortless is finding you all sorts of figurines and plushies from each region. 

Maybe this Rex Lapis dragon plushie? No, you already have a five-foot-tall one at home; no need for another. Perhaps this rotund bird plush, fashioned after some grumpy Liyue adeptus? Oh, but there are also beautiful plushies from Fontaine, resembling Blubberbeasts and otters. Even though the sight of otter plushies gave him a dreadful sense of déjà vu. Truly, there were far too many to choose from.

And knowing Tartaglia, his heart would cave in and purchase all of them for you either way. He would return home triumphant, adding to your ever-growing collection, until your bed became a veritable kingdom of pillowy plush creatures, half of them functioning as pillows all over the house. No matter what your cherished brought, you’d smile in delight at his safe return, but laugh when he proudly presented the chunky blubberbeast plush with a boyish grin.

“Oh, by the way, look! I also bought this,” – he suddenly stated and handed you a masterfully crocheted keychain of a little Sumeru creature. Its stitched smile looking silly.

“Ajax, what is that?” - you chuckled, more amused by the Harbinger’s goofy smile.

“The shopkeeper called it an Aranara. There is a legend in Sumeru that these little wood critters roam the jungles, but are only visible to children who retain their innocent childhood imagination.”

You turned the keychain over in your hands, pondering where best to fasten it. It was charming, like every other token Childe so thoughtfully brought you. Yet truth be told, everyone knows your favourite plushy to cuddle was not the entourage of souvenirs, but the Harbinger who bought them. And in Childe’s mind, that alone was the sweetest victory he could claim.

(Some lovelies kindly asked me if I can add the Harbinger missing in my fanfics. I try to keep those specific characters in my stories, but if you ever see me not include Scara or let's say Childe - it's not because I forgot or dislike them, but because sometime in the process of writing I do not want to repeat the same tropes for all the characters depending on the headcanons :< thank you for reading so far)

[hannah-snow]

Going to push back a little bit on @hindahoney's take here a little with @jewish-sideblog's tags.

#imo a Jewish relationship with God functions essentially the same as any other relationship should.#you care about Them and They care about you. you’ll have disagreements and arguments of course.#but at the end of the day you stay with each other because you love each other#Western goyim can’t get over the disagreements part because they have a history of authoritarian relationships#a woman is expected to obey her husband and her husband is expected to obey God. under penalty of death.#so they all get hung up on the disagreements and the refusal to blindly obey and they don’t focus on the love born of equals

@jewishsideblog don't leave this gold in the tags here.

Like, when Abraham and Moses and David scream and yell at G-d ("what if there are ten righteous men in Sodom? did you bring us out of Egypt to destroy them just because they made a golden calf? My God, my God, why have you abandoned meeeeeeeee?!"), they do it because they are familiar with God. They do it because they are, you know, friends.

And when God argues with Israel all through the Books of History and the Prophets ("seriously? You're going after Baal AGAIN? That blind wooden post that can't do anything?! And what's THIS I hear about the oppression of the widow and the orphan? You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"), it's a relationship of, you know, love - because God wants Israel to be BETTER (in a way of loving someone, not in the way of not accepting them for who they are).

And while I don't want to hijack the jumblr posts with my Christianity, I have to say, as a child, I was always encouraged to be honest with God in my prayers instead of . . . fawning in a bad way - with a side helping of 'Abraham argued with God too, you know!' on the side. All my friends who were culturally Christian but not practicing seemed to think things like 'you aren't supposed to write study notes on your Bible' and 'why are you friends with God?' and 'argue with God? That's weird . . .'

But like - OF COURSE I wanted to be friends with God! The Bible made it quite clear that HE wanted to be friends with me! Like, the most pious men of the Hebrew Bible all struggled and argued and wrestled with God, so it was clear that this was a GOOD THING! Abraham arguing with God was so . . . familial, it made me feel like I was wrapped up in a warm blanket.

And FWIW, when I DID get that anxious, weird, pearl-clutching, must-robotically-obey scrupulosity thing later on, it was largely a result of New Atheists hijacking arguing with God in good faith to arguing with God in bad faith - which essentially traumatised me off of the whole 'honest intimacy' thing I had going with God.

Arguing with God - done properly - is a good thing! Maybe someone should portray that somewhere . . .

Maybe it's just a jumblr thing but I do get annoyed at the portrayal of Jews being constantly mad at God. If you didn't know anything about judaism tumblr would really convince you that all Jews either hate God or don't believe in Him. It's the same thing for Jews in media as well, I've never seen a Jewish person portrayed who talks proudly about their culture. There is so much more to being jewish than having a culture that encourages questioning and disagreement with God.

[northstarscowboyhat]

i need you to do a deltarune yellow interpretation. I have seen NOONE do anyhting that would do it justice. PLEASE

Gosh, that's extremely high praise! A lot of this art is super old, but I might as well post what I had done for this concept! Lots of rambling below!

In this version/AU, Hometown is a very small impoverished farming community. Despite the recent struggles of losing many businesses to the larger human city nearby, it's still a close knit community of everyone knowing everyone! The Sunnysides own the biggest farm in the town and are very well known by all the residents - especially after Starlo, the eldest son of the Sunnysides, takes in Clover, a young human who wandered into the Sunnyside crops, disheveled and dirty with barely the clothes on their back. Aside from remembering their name, Clover claims to not remember anything else, such as where they came from or why they seemingly ran away from home.

Starlo takes Clover in, but Clover is a human in a town full of monsters that they've suddenly been thrusted into, without the history with one another everyone else has. Not only that, Clover's a bit of a troublemaker (at least in appearances), picking fights with bullies and struggling to connect to anyone. The only other monster they've connected with (aside from the Sunnysides) is Martlet, who is a college student in town. She started out as a babysitter looking for extra cash hired by Starlo, until she and Clover began a genuine friendship! They're besties and hang out all the time.

(Ignore that god awful Martlet design... I tried to make her resemble Berdly and oh god. Regret.)

Eventually, Clover stumbles upon the Dark World, and in it, a strange flower darkener who claims to be the prince of the Dark World. Very quickly, the Dark World becomes an escape for Clover. In the Light World, they're a weirdo outcast who has no friends their age. They feel like they only cause problems for everyone, especially Starlo, who has to work twice as hard in order to financially support them. But in the Dark World, they can be a hero, just like all the cool cowboys in their favorite Western films! All the Darkners love them and praise them as a hero, and Clover gets to rescue them from outlaws and save the day. The more time they spend in the Dark World, the less problems they're causing in the Light World, so it's a good thing, right? Flowey and his people need a hero!

(Basically, the Dark World would be a concept that's already established in universe in Chapter 1. This is sort of meant to parallel Starlo's North Star persona in UTY, because you guys know I love my Clover + Starlo parallels.).

(Bonus for all my fellow Starlo fans) Most of Starlo's time, when he isn't working at his family's farm, is spent doing part time jobs in order to raise Clover. He works part time at the local diner at the beginning of the story, leaving very little free time for himself or his interests. RIP bozo having to take responsibility (Orion and Starlo's dynamic would be flipped here, as Orion is the one with a lot more freedoms. He's a college student Martlet's age, and is very busy with his studies and extracurricular activities that he isn't home often, meanwhile Starlo is saddled with a ton of work).

The real story would begin when part of the Ketsukane family (freshly divorced, sorry) move back into Hometown after living away in the city. Chujin's ex wife Ceroba moves back into town with their daughter Kanako, who is the same age as Clover. The two... do not get along right away, which only irks Clover as Starlo is particularly close to Kanako. Kanako is instantly popular and well liked among their peers, and she might have some unchecked biases against humans she picked up from their father. Maybe journeying together in the Dark World would help them grow closer...?

(Again, please forgive this ugly old style. Was trying to go for a superhero theme for Kanako's Dark World design since she's a comic book fan.)

Some other things I didn't have art for

Dalv is the town's librarian! He's also on good terms with Clover, but he's also a bit of a reclusive and doesn't interact with people much.

Chujin was living in Hometown prior to Clover showing up, trying to bounce back from his divorce with his wife (it was on fairly good terms, but still, a massive life change). He claims to work remotely for an important company of some sort, but is secretive about the details. While he's well liked by the town, he's also very outspoken against humans.

Ceroba would also be recovering from the divorce, as she was a housewife her entire time with Chujin, and now needs to find herself as well as a career to support Kanako. She moves back into Hometown in hopes of reconnecting with her old friends and to give Kanako a much calmer school environment.

There have been an influx of missing children reports in the general area around Hometown. Strangely enough, they all seem to be young human children around Clover's age...

Also these guys in the Dark World..... Eh, I'm sure they're not important in the slightest.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Have you done headcanons about how the pines brothers(Stan and Ford) eat pussy before? :0

꒰ Stan & Ford making a meal outta you hcs ꒱

a/n: i regret nothing. i literally spent like 5 days writing this lmao + listen, if we have Stan & Ford bj headcanons, it's only fair we get Stan & Ford eating pussy hcs too, right?? anyways this is absolutely porn. i fought cringe and i won!! now i’m free to be as cringe as i want!!!

warning: nsfw!!

STANFORD

ᝰ.ᐟ he was SO awkward the first time. fidgety. fumbling. “am i doing it right? oh dear, i— tell me, please.” while your legs were literally shaking because he accidentally hit the right spot with his nerd mouth

ᝰ.ᐟ you have to guide him. gentle hand on his hair. soft praise. “right there, baby, just like that, don’t stop. yes, god, that’s perfect!” and he WHINES into your cunt like he’s found a portal to the fifth dimension idkk

ᝰ.ᐟ so eventually Ford learns and memorizes what each of your gasps mean. over time he builds a mental database of what little sighs = need more pressure, what whimpers = overstimulation, what shudders = keep going, keep going, don’t stop

ᝰ.ᐟ he is addicted. i mean Ford becomes obsessed with the idea of making you shake on his mouth

ᝰ.ᐟ i always hc that Ford is very sensual lover so he intertwines his fingers with yours during sex in general. and eating his sweetheart out is no exception. even when he's too busy to undress you properly or when he’s kneeling and can barely reach, Ford grasps your hand in his, squeezes it and holds you. he loves when you squeeze his hand when you cum

ᝰ.ᐟ he gets so overwhelmed by your taste, rutting his hips into the air like he’s suffering because he loves it too much

ᝰ.ᐟ also loves overstimulating you. like, gets you off once and then doesn't stop. pins your hips down with one arm and keeps eating you until you’re clawing at his hair, sobbing, begging for mercy

ᝰ.ᐟ kisses your clit after he's done with you<3 soft, delicate kisses like thank you thank you thank you, bc he’s grateful you let him worship you!!

ᝰ.ᐟ dont get me wrong, he’ll kiss your mouth after too. sloppy and gentle, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. he blushes about it afterward but loves it

ᝰ.ᐟ ABSOLUTELY eats you during research breaks. like he's been holed up in the basement for twelve hours, comes upstairs glassy-eyed and exhausted, yanks you onto a table and gorges himself on your pussy like it’s his only nourishment

ᝰ.ᐟ im sure he would love to eat you standing up, that's like. . . the first thought that comes to my mind. wants you standing, gripping onto a bookshelf, table or wall, and he's just kneeling below you, big hands on your hips keeping you still, burying his face in you shamelessly. bonus point if you interrupt him like that during one of his science projects. if you'll just show up at the door, wearing only his sweater and nothing underneath. he'll get the hint immediately

ᝰ.ᐟ Ford was so shy about his extra fingers at first. hesitating when you begged him to use them. “they’re— im sorry, they’re different, i might hurt you.” but you insisted. and he trusted you enough to try, so once he saw you crying and grabbing the sheets because he could reach places inside you that no one else ever could?? he became a menace. you actually gave him more confidence about his extra fingers

ᝰ.ᐟ so now he absolutely loves to scissor you open so perfectly you feel like you're breaking apart. he thrusts them deep slowly, curling them up until your stomach tightens and you cry his name

ᝰ.ᐟ PLUS loves dragging one extra finger across your clit while still eating you just to see you spasm harder

ᝰ.ᐟ he accidentally made you squirt once and then spent two hours taking notes on how he did it, yeah, Ford tell us ur secret

ᝰ.ᐟ prefers to do two things at once. licking you and fingering you deep and perfectly at the same time, curling his fingers up against your soft walls while he sucks the clit into his mouth hard. he learned this move studying you obsessively.

ᝰ.ᐟ hehehe loves when you trap his head there. he wants to get smothered.

ᝰ.ᐟ whines softly against your pussy when he’s close to cumming untouched from how sweet you taste!!! nerd.

ᝰ.ᐟ he gets dizzy when you call him good boy while he’s down there. at first he blushes and fumbles, but the first time you whimper “good boy, Ford, just like that, baby” he shudders so violently and groans in response

ᝰ.ᐟ since he's very sensual and tender lover, he also kisses down your whole body before getting there. slow and torturous. he starts with your neck, then your chest, pausing to mouth at your nipples, worshipping, then goes to your stomach, then kisses the inside of your hips before he even thinks about touching your clit. Ford talks between kisses, too. like murmuring little praises against your skin. “so beautiful. so soft”

ᝰ.ᐟ when he accidentally makes you squirt, Ford gets so obsessed with it he feels like a total pervert. the first time he’s using his fingers inside you and licking at the same time like a man possessed, and suddenly you’re gasping and flooding his mouth, and poor Ford just stares up at you stunned with his whole face dripping like “fascinating! i- was that?? made you-?” he looks SO proud. im sure he wants to print out a certificate and hang it on the wall

ᝰ.ᐟ he's lowkey addicted to the way your thighs tremble. you’ll feel his big hands gripping you harder whenever you start squirming, because he loves making you feel so weak you can't even stay upright

ᝰ.ᐟ sometimes he pulls your legs over his shoulders and just ruts his hips into the bed while eating you. he’s moaning into your cunt, getting himself off from the sheer act of tasting you. and. . . you don't even realize it at first, until you feel the mattress shaking under you and realize this man is grinding wildly into nothing like a desperate dog

ᝰ.ᐟ he uses his fucking smart tongue so good. . . mapping you out and teasing every inch. focusing carefully on your clit for long, overwhelming stretches until you’re shaking and he’s just murmuring, “you can take more, darling, just a little more for me, yes?”

ᝰ.ᐟ Ford loves to observe so he sometimes tugs your knees open wider without saying a word. especially when you’re shy. he loves gently but firmly spreading you, baring you completely, staring for some agonising seconds with those hungry eyes before ducking back in with a desperate groan

ᝰ.ᐟ Ford gets breathless when he eats you out. poor boy working so hard to please you that he’s short of air and it makes his mouth sloppier, wetter, hotter.

ᝰ.ᐟ he gets so into it he forgets time exists. you have to physically pull him off sometimes. lips puffy, eyes glazed, hair a mess. and he looks up, raising his eyebrows “did i do something wrong?”

ᝰ.ᐟ he leaves marks WITHOUT realising. for example, suction bruises on your inner thighs

ᝰ.ᐟ will write about it later in his personal journal. entry titled ‘reactions observed from beloved subject during intimate oral exploration’

ᝰ.ᐟ he loves when you guide his head, push it deeper. tell him he’s good. tell him he’s yours. call him your genius, your good boy. he eats it up, literally and figuratively

ᝰ.ᐟ he's pretty strong, so once he gets into his pussy drunk state, he pulls your thighs wide apart and pushes them to your chest. gets his shoulders under them so you can’t move. so he can eat you with his whole face

ᝰ.ᐟ Ford wants you above him. sitting on his face. so he can grip your thighs and keep you there. grind on his mouth and smother him. he’ll edge himself while he does it. sometimes doesn’t even let himself cum because you always just cum first

ᝰ.ᐟ he wants to make you cry from pleasure. not just cum. cry. shuddering, sobbing, overstimmed, shaking all over, with your legs twitching and your fingers buried in his silver hair. that’s his goal. every time.

ᝰ.ᐟ and when he’s done, he pants against your cunt and asks “did i do well? will you let me again? please?”

STANLEY

ᝰ.ᐟ ohh that man dives in like a fucking dog who found a steak in the trash

ᝰ.ᐟ Stan believes eating pussy is a man's duty and pride. he thinks it’s the hottest thing in the world. he doesn't even expect anything back half the time, he just wants to see you all needy and desperate for him

ᝰ.ᐟ in fact, is obsessed with it. he will eat you out on the COUCH. in the BACKSEAT. in the SHOWER. standing in the KITCHEN because “lemme get my mouth on that sweet thing, c’mon. been thinking about you all damn day.”

ᝰ.ᐟ he doesn’t care about being sloppy. i mean, he WANTS to be messy. soak his face, give him that mess. he’ll rub his nose against your clit and grin when you moan. he likes to talk with his mouth full

ᝰ.ᐟ he’s so good at it. like scary good. like make-you-cry good. because. . . Stan actually gives a shit. he listens, watches your face, keeps his tongue right where you twitch and he’ll tease you like “right there, huh? that’s the spot? i could do this all night, baby”

ᝰ.ᐟ “some folks just go for the clit. amateurs.” he knows how to tease, so when he's in the right mood, he starts slow. lips kissing up your thighs. tongue barely grazing you. he won’t even touch your pussy at first. he’ll hover there, warm breath on your folds, smirking. “you want it, huh? say it. beg me.”

ᝰ.ᐟ gets so fucking cocky when you squirm. you try to close your legs and he just pins them wide with his elbows and keeps licking, “nuh-uh, baby. don’t run from it now. lemme take care of you.”

ᝰ.ᐟ such a fucking tease tbh. he wants you spread out and begging. makes soft licks, hot breath, little kisses so close but not quite until you're whimpering “please Stan, please touch me.” then he grins so wide and dives in

ᝰ.ᐟ he talks while eating. "fuck baby, you’re so sweet—mmph— keep makin’ them sounds, huh? you like ridin’ my tongue, don’t ya? greedy little thing.” god, Stan never shuts up. just keeps mouthing at your clit between sentences

ᝰ.ᐟ “that’s it, baby. drip all over my fuckin' face. yeah, you miss me, huh? missed this mouth, didn’t ya?”

ᝰ.ᐟ slaps your thighs mid-act. that usually means “stay still, sweetheart, lemme do my job.” in his language

ᝰ.ᐟ he’ll pull you down onto his mouth, slap your cheeks, moan into your folds like he’s drowning and he loves it!!

ᝰ.ᐟ Stan grinds into the mattress sometimes while he’s doing it. gets so turned on that he humps the sheets like a teenage boy

ᝰ.ᐟ kisses your thighs after. “damn, you’re delicious. gimme five minutes, ill do it again.” he means it, you know it

ᝰ.ᐟ uh. . . imagine him dragging your panties down with his teeth, grinning at you the whole time

ᝰ.ᐟ and then shoving your thighs apart roughly before he eats you. loves to pick you up, set you down on the bed, and manhandle your legs open without giving you time to be shy. “lemme see that pretty little thing, doll, c’mon.”

ᝰ.ᐟ absolutely shoves your panties in his pocket after eating you out <3

ᝰ.ᐟ buries his face so deep you think you might suffocate him, but. . . he literally doesn’t care if he can’t breathe. he will drown in you happily!!

ᝰ.ᐟ loves eating you while you’re still wearing half your clothes. theres just smth hot about it, like he couldn’t wait long enough to get you fully naked. shirt bunched up, panties shoved to the side, pants around one ankle, etc

ᝰ.ᐟ oh boy, he sucks on your sensitive clit in little pulsing motions and that makes your toes curl and your hips buck. and he LAUGHS when you try to wiggle away, like “nah-uh, baby, stay right there”

ᝰ.ᐟ gets so drunk on your taste. . . genuinely slurring afterwards, dazed and happy, wiping his chin with the back of his hand “fuuuck baby, you taste better than anythin’ in this world”

ᝰ.ᐟ licks you slow and teasing when you’re being bratty. like if you mouth off at him he’ll go extra slow, keeping you on edge for hours just to punish you, refusing to let you cum until you’re sobbing and begging

ᝰ.ᐟ will literally fuck you with his mouth, Stanley makes a fucking mess every time and your whole lower half is drenched

ᝰ.ᐟ he grunts into your pussy when you pull his hair. gosh just imagine hearing that “mmfhh, goddamn, yeahh” sound. id cry

ᝰ.ᐟ sometimes cums untouched while eating you. especially if you praise him because man's got a heavy praise kink “good boy, such a good boy for me, Stan, just like that” he whimpers against you and next thing you know he’s cumming in his pants

ᝰ.ᐟ if he’s eating you bent over, he’s slapping your ass every other second. “c’mon, baby, stay still— slap— fuck, you taste so good—slap—don’t run from me now, sweetheart” while laughing under his breath when you squeal

ᝰ.ᐟ eats you even when he’s drunk. like, you’re trying to get him to come to bed and he’s got his face between your thighs, half-dozing off, still licking you lazily while mumbling against you, “mm. . . just a little taste, baby, lemme finish my dessert first”

ᝰ.ᐟ absolutely loves to do it during a movie night. just casually slides down his armchair, spreads your legs over his shoulders, eats you under the blanket while the TV flickers <33 romantic isnt it? Stan craves physical closeness so he wants your thighs around his ears, your heels digging into his back, your fingers twisted in his hair

ᝰ.ᐟ hear me out okay?. . . uh, mullet!Stan + tongue-piercing?? he definitely thinks about getting a tongue piercing at some point just to “drive you crazy, doll”

ᝰ.ᐟ anyways, honestly if you’re loud he will double down on how hard he sucks and licks just to keep it going

ᝰ.ᐟ and if you're into it: slaps your clit before starting. just a little teasing smack<3

ᝰ.ᐟ sometimes i look at this man and think. . . he loves to eat it from the back. Stan likes to pull your hips up, spread you wide, growl into your folds. he makes your thighs shake and your knees buckle as you’re gasping and trying not to collapse under him

ᝰ.ᐟ in most cases, he jerks himself off while he eats you out

ᝰ.ᐟ im sure he's a face sitting guy. i mean they both are, but Stan's not that shy to ask you to do it. literally begs you to ride his face. grabs your hips and drags you down onto him, smirking up at you, “c’mon, baby, sit on me, lemme taste you proper.” and dont even try to whine about your weight or that you're shy or whatever. Stan doesn't really care and he's pretty strong enough to hold you.

ᝰ.ᐟ it's not just “he lets you ride his face” NAH, STAN ENCOURAGES IT. and bounces his hips up while you grind down onto his mouth, groaning into you because you’re the best meal he’s ever had!!!

ᝰ.ᐟ and he keeps slapping your ass every time you try to pull away. because, “nope, you’re staying right here, princess”

ᝰ.ᐟ tell you what, he’ll literally order you to “fuck his face”. “c'mon sweetheart, ride it. don't be shy now.” while grinding you down onto his tongue until you can’t even think straight

ᝰ.ᐟ he’s tongue-fucking you stupid

ᝰ.ᐟ and i think he loves cleaning you up with his tongue after you squirt, if you did

ᝰ.ᐟ sucks your clit like he’s trying to drink you dry 😭 idkk, i don't make the rules. he's got no mercy and he's ruthless. he’ll tongue you hard and messy, then back off and spit right onto your clit to make it even wetter, then suck again

ᝰ.ᐟ prefers to stay between your legs after you cum. Stan doesn’t pull away immediately. he licks you through the aftershocks, chuckling when you twitch and whimper from overstimulation

ᝰ.ᐟ uhh. . . sometimes he eats you out just because he’s horny. i mean, not even to get sex out of it. just because he needs to taste you or hear you moan. he just wants to make you feel good

ᝰ.ᐟ listen listen!! Stan 100% leaves handprints on your ass. after eating you out bent over the desk, the mirror, the back of his car. whatever. you look later and there’s full red handprints where he gripped you to spread you open

ᝰ.ᐟ of course, he fingers you while eating but he's more rough (or better word, desperate and passionate) about it. shoving thick fingers deep, twisting them while he tongues your clit, making you arch and wail for him

ᝰ.ᐟ Stan will bite the inside of your thighs during it, that's what im 100% sure of. like soft little sharp nips to leave marks. then grins proudly at them later like “my pretty thing all marked up for me.”

ᝰ.ᐟ he’ll put one arm across your belly to hold you down. needs to feel you squirm under him. he loves when you say “Stan, too much—please” and he just goes “nah, baby, not done yet.”

ᝰ.ᐟ afterwards, he lights a cigarette, and says “you’re gonna marry me, right?”

[valleydoli]

𝜗𝜚 Only You 𝜗𝜚

Cw 𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist…

𝜗𝜚 Previous Chapter | Chapter Three…

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3k

Luckily for Sukuna, his extremely compliant twin agreed to let him pick up his son from school, but the weekend couldn’t have been any slower for Sukuna.

Anything he did to occupy himself and keep you from creeping your way into his mind was a dud. He’s starting to think you’ve put some sort of spell on him. A minute couldn’t pass without you running through his twisted mind.

Any second he had to himself, he would spend it scrolling through your Instagram, saving some, if not all, pictures you’ve posted into a folder he has already made specially for you. Lucky for him, you post a lot, a bit too much. He doesn’t like that, you can't do that when you’re finally his. You just seem too… open.

Too trusting.

Too naïve.

See, you’ve tagged your apartment complex as a location, and you’re wearing a shirt with your work logo in another one of your posts. Your profiles are public for God's sake.

You’re incredibly naive.

You don’t know half of the disgusting, evil men out there. But it’s fine, he’s here now. Sukuna will always be there to keep you safe. He’s your protector. He’s your saviour. He was put on this earth for the sole purpose of protecting you, his angel.

You are his angel.

“What’re you doing to me?” Sukuna whispers to himself. He’s never felt this way before. He's never had someone occupy his mind to this extent. He’s never wanted to be with a woman like this. He doesn’t do relationships, as cliche as it sounds, but he would have rather been alone for the rest of his life. He's never wanted to have a girlfriend by his side, to hold, to kiss, to love, to protect. But with you, it’s different, you’ve changed him for the better. He needs you, and you need him.

You need each other.

*Ping*

‘I’ve found some stuff on the girl…’ Toji messages

Sukuna sighs heavily. Toji really tests his damn patience.

‘Like what, Toji? Don’t beat around the bush.’

‘My bad…’

‘She’s studying Art at university, in her 2nd year, and umm, she’s also a teacher at Megumi's preschool. Yano with your nephew… probably should have mentioned that, huh?’

What. The fuck. Jin AND Toji knew who you were before him?!

‘Toji, don’t piss me off. I told you her name, you don’t know her fucking name?’

‘I’m sorry, I dont know her fucking name. They just call her Miss Fluttershy or somethin, from that kids' show? My little horse? I think she mentioned her name before, I just forgot…’

‘You’re so fucking useless sometimes.’ Sukuna runs his large hand down his face.

My God. Yuji talks about you every fucking day. You gave him those stupid colouring books.

“Miss Fluttershy.”

The kids’ just as obsessed with you as he is.

‘Do you know what days she’s working?’

‘Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays’

‘Perfect.’

~~~

As Monday finally rolls by, Sukuna couldn’t be more thrilled to see you again. There hasn’t been a second since he met you that he hasn’t thought about you. What will you wear? A dress? It’s quite warm today. What perfume will you use? Do you have a favourite? How will you style your hair? In a bun? No, a ponytail!

His body is practically buzzing with excitement just to see your face again.

To smell you.

To hear your voice…

The way you say his name... It’s been echoing through his mind.

So soft and delicate.

What would you sound like yelling his name? What would you sound like moaning his name, while he slid his thick inches into your tight walls.

“Fuck…” he sighs, as he rubs against his growing member—

No.

Stop.

It’s almost 14:00, he’s got 30 minutes until he needs to pick up Yuji, (and meet the love of his life again,) and he looks a fucking mess. Hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow. He looks nasty. It’s not good enough for him. It’s not good enough for you.

Sukuna finally pulls himself out of bed, throwing on a wife-beater, a grey tracksuit and shaving his five o’clock shadow.

Great. Presentable.

15 minutes.

15 minutes until he sees you again.

~~~

“Come on, Yuji, honey, your daddy’s here.”

“No, it’s not my Papa, it’s Uncle,” the pink-haired boy says as he grasps onto your hand.

Oh, the mysterious brother Jin always speaks about, and the Uncle little Yuji admires.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet him! I’m sure he’s just as lovely as you.”

“No, he’s a big meanie,” The young boy deadpans.

Oh…

As you turn the corner with little Yuji trailing by your side, you’re faced with someone you didn’t expect to see at your place of work.

Sukuna.

How does he know where you work— wait. Is he here for Yuji? He’s Jin’s brother? The brother Jin and Yuji mentioned countless times?

There you are, and you look so beautiful. He was right, you’re wearing a dress. A floral dress. How adorable. He just wants to dress you up like the doll you are— wait.

You’re flustered. Why are you flustered? Aren’t you happy to see him? Did he do something wrong?

“Sukuna? You’re Yuji's uncle?” You inquired, “Wow… Come to think of it, you guys look so much alike. I should have noticed the moment I looked at you, huh?”

You begin to chuckle to yourself

“Actually, I think Jin and Yuji are happier looking than you.”

“He’s always angry, Miss Flutter,” Yuji chimes in.

He’s holding your hand why is he still holding your fucki—

No, he’s not about to be jealous of his 4-year-old nephew, no way.

Control yourself.

“Mhm, that little brat is my nephew.”

“I’m not a brat!” Yuji calls out

“You’re right, sweetheart, you’re the cutest one here, but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? It’s our little secret.”

He vigorously nods his head, “Mhm, I promise!”

You’re good with kids, you’re so good with kids. You don’t understand how attractive that makes you. Oh, how desperately he wants to make you a mother. A mother to his kids, his twin—

“Suku, can Miss Flutter get ice cream with us?” He hears his nephew say.

Oh my God.

Yuji, you fucking genius.

“He’s right, you should come, it’s by my place, ‘Kaspas.’ I can take you home afterwards?”

Say yes.

“I do love that place, but I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Angel, there wouldn’t even be a point in Sukuna's miserable life where you could intrude. Ever. If he could keep you by his side forever. He would.

“You could never intrude. Come on, my treat before our date.” He smirks as he desperately tries to convinces you to get ice cream with him… and Yuji.

Just fucking say yes. Do you not want to be around him?

“Hmm… okay fine, I’ll come along. Let me get my stuff quickly.”

Thank fuck.

Sukuna lets out a relieved sigh. You’re difficult. Is that normal for you? If it is, he's got to correct it. He can't have a disobedient girl by his side.

No way.

Again, Yuji pulls him out of his thoughts, “Suku, do you like Miss Flutter?” The young boy asks as he looks up at his uncle.

Sukuna chuckles and leans down to the boy’s ear and whispers,

“Don’t be a nosy brat.”

~~~

As you make your way to the car park, with Yuji still grasping onto your hand, you come into sight with Sukuna's car, an extremely expensive car. What the hell does he do for a living?

“Detective,” He answers back.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking out loud. I’m a detective,” he admits.

“Woah, it pays well clearly,” you say as he opens the car door for you.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“Just for you, angel,” he winks.

You’ve been watching him drive for the past five minutes. You can’t help but stare. He’s so beautiful. He and Jin hardly look alike as twins. Don’t get it twisted, Jin is just as attractive as his brother, but there’s something so ethereal about Sukuna's features. Almost as if he’s not a real person. Does he have any flaws? He was perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. His arms are… massive, he clearly spends a lot of his time in the gym. His nose… is so… rideable. My goodness, how did you get this guy to approach you?

“You’re staring, angel, you like what you see?” Sukuna questions, as he cocks his brow.

“Yes, I actually do.” You shyly replied

“Well, we don’t live far from each other, you’re more than welcome to see me more.”

“I know I’m just— I’m really busy, as much as I’d like to see you, I need to focus on school and work…”

Sukuna wants to be mad, but you’re such a good fucking girl. You should focus on your studies, yes, but what about him? His focus is on you right now, so why isn’t yours on him?

Bullshit

“But, maybe we could have dinner tonight?” You innocently ask.

“I’m making lasagna, do you like it?”

“I love it, Miss Flutter!” Yuji chimes from the backseat

Honestly, Sukuna forgot Yuji was here.

Sukuna sternly looks at the boy through his rearview mirror. “No, you’re going home after this, brat.” He asserts.

“Hmph,” you hear from the sulking child, as he crosses his arms and pouts his lips.

“I’ll love whatever you’re making,” He grins.

“You might be my biggest fan behind Yuji, Sukuna. You’re not gonna start stalking me, are you?”

Sukuna grin falters

“‘Course not, I’m a normal guy. I promise.”

Liar.

~~~

The three of you arrive at the dessert parlour, 20 minutes later. It’s understandably packed since it’s a warm day. You find a table in the corner of the shop, giving Yuji the seat by the window, and Sukuna sitting opposite you.

“Hi, what can I get you guys today?”

“Cookies and cream!” Yuji yells at the server

“And for you, pretty?”

Sukuna's eyes darken and snap towards the boy. The fuck did he say?

You giggle.

You fucking giggled.

You think that pathetic attempt at flirting is cute?

“Vanilla ice cream, please, and some cookie dough.”

“And for you?” the guy mutters at Sukuna.

Sukuna side-eyes the server and mumbles a quick “nothing.”

The audacity this kid has to speak to you like that and you like it?!

“Sukuna, are you okay? You don’t want anything?”

“I'm not big on sweet things,” he comments bluntly.

“Oh-kayy, it’ll be about five minutes.” He finally walks away.

That little shit. Who the fuck does he think he is. And why the fuck are you feeding into his bullshit?

“What a creep,” he hears you say.

“I swear, everytime i come here he does that shit, it’s boring.”

“Does he bother you?”

“Every damn time. I just pretend I’m into it now, he was way creepier before,” you pout as you look out the window.

Sukunas lips twitch into a smirk.

Angel, you're never seeing that piece of shit again after today. Don't worry your pretty little head.

He’ll protect you.

“Why don’t we take it to go? And I’ll take you and the kid home before dinner,” Sukuna proposes.

“Yeah, I’d like tha—“ you begin to say but that dumbass server cuts you off.

“Here are your orders. And this is for you,” he winks at you before walking away.

It’s his number.

“Well, I guess he’s feeling confident today, huh?” You awkwardly say.

“Come on, Yuji, let’s go,” you say as you grab his smaller hand in yours to leave. You make sure not to pick up the tissue with the server's number on it and make your way to Sukuna's car. But don’t worry, Sukuna definitely made sure to pick up the tissue and stuff it in the pocket of his joggers.

“How about you take Yuji back without me, and I get started on dinner? I'll text you my address,” you say, but you don’t give Sukuna the chance to answer back, you’re already walking away.

“Bye, Yuji!” You wave.

Sukuna hates to see you go but fuck, he loves to watch you leave. How long until he gets a hold of you, really? How long until he can see you every second of every day? Really, how long? What if he kept watch of you—no, that's too much… is it though? He’d be able to keep an eye on you from afar, for now at least. It's not too much if it's keeping you safe.

“C'mon, kid, let’s go.”

~~~

You've never cooked for a guy before. I mean, you've cooked for Satoru before, but he's not a guy, he's… Satoru. Satoru, who lives down the hall, Satoru. You know? You wonder if he and Sukuna will get along if you both continue seeing each other.

You've texted Sukuna your address, so he should arrive soon. Luckily, you're prepared to have guests today, your apartment is spotless, well besides your bedroom but he won’t see that. Fuck you’re nervous, over some guy? But he's not just some guy. You've known his brother, his twin brother, for over a year now. This is insane.

Finally, you hear a knock at your door. He’s here. Gosh, are your palms sweating right now?

Calm down, you’ve got this. The food looks good, and you look good. Everything's going to be just fine. Now just open the door.

Once you swing your door, you’re faced with the biggest assortment of flowers. Peonies, roses.

You're in awe.

“Sukuna… these flowers… they’re my favourtie.”

You tweeted that they were your favourite flowers in 2018… Yes, he scrolled that deep into your socials.

“Gosh, they're so beautiful, thank you. I don't know where to put them. Come in quick before the food gets cold.” You say as you hurry excitedly to your kitchen.

Your apartment's cute.

Cosy, for a girl like you.

Sukuna bets you’d feel cosier in his apartment. You’d have so much more space for your books, your pretty shoes, your dresses. You’d feel at home. Home is wherever he is. You need to live with him. You need his protection. But for now he can just watch you. How? He has 4 mini cameras stuffed in his pockets he's planning on hiding around your apartment. There’s already one outside your door so he can see who comes in and out of your place.

He just needs to figure out where he wants to put the rest of them.

“Here, sit. Do you want something to drink? I have wine, some tropical juice and water of course.”

“I’ll just have water, I've actually got to go into work later.”

“Work.” He’s actually going to beat the shit out of the server that’s been harassing.

That’s still work, right?

“So,” you begin as you take a seat opposite Sukuna.

“I still can’t believe you’re Jin’s twin. You just seem the complete opposite especially in looks. You’re fraternal, right?”

“Yeah, I’m 6 minutes older.” He tells you

You sigh longingly, “I’ve always wanted twins… girls of course.”

You were made for each other.

“Wow, so do I, what a coincidence,” he admits.

“We might as well get started then, huh?” You suggest as you sip your wine.

He chokes on his drink.

What’d you say?

But before Sukuna can reply back there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey, you in there?”

A guy? What man is looking for you at this hour.

You roll your eyes before pushing back your chair and making your way to open the door for said man.

“Yes, ‘Toru? I’m kind of busy right now.”

‘Toru?

“I’m sorry but I could really need some help… please?” This “‘Toru” says with a charming smile.

Annoying.

“‘Kuna, you don’t mind if I help my neighbour quickly?”

“Kuna…”

“No, not at all.” Now if he didn’t need to hide the 4 cameras in his pocket around your house, he would mind. But this “‘Toru” guy is honestly helping him out.

“Ten minutes,” you tell him as you shut your door.

Sukuna instantly rises from his seat and makes a Beeline for your bedroom.

It’s messy.

You didn’t make your bed. Do you leave your bed unmade everyday? There’s a bottle of water on your side table. You didn’t finish it.

Weren’t you thirsty last night?

Sukuna runs his large hands across your bed sheets. Running his fingers along each crease you’ve made.

What side do you sleep on? Away from the door, right?

Makes you feel safe.

“Who else has slept in here? That ‘Toru?” He spits as he kneels down to your bed level

He can smell you. So sweet. What perfume is that? He puts his face right into your sheets and breathes your scent in deeply.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your sheets.

He was practically drooling.

“God, I think I love you, Angel.”

He’s started to rub on his crotch, your smell is getting to him.

Rock hard.

He’s a creep but he doesn’t care. You’re like a drug.

An addiction.

His addiction.

He begins to pull out his leaky length from his boxers, rubbing his thumb across his swollen red tip.

So much pre-cum it’s dripping onto the side of your duvet.

He strokes himself back and forth steadily, still breathing into your unmade bed.

It’s your hand stroking him; pretend it’s you. You’re whispering his name softly…

Sensually

His pace quickens.

You might be back soon. He needs to hurry. You can’t see him in such a… pathetic state. You can’t see him in this state at all. Not yet at least.

The schlick sound of his length could be heard from the other room, he’s desperate at this point. Whining for you, pleading for you.

“L-love you. Ugh, I love you, Angel.” He cries out as if he's confessing to you.

“Need you. So b-bad.”

His core tightens, hands clutching onto your sheets.

Wishing the load he’s about to release was spilling into your womb instead.

Soon

His throat lets out a guttural moan, he’s cumming, but not into you.

Into his hand.

His fucking hand.

Pathetic.

After Sukuna recuperates himself, he places each camera in a spot he knows you won’t see, but he’ll definitely see you.

He also takes a few presents for himself from your washing basket.

He’ll definitely make good use out of them.

It’s been 10 minutes and you’re not back yet. What’re you doing with your neighbour?

Just as Sukuna is wondering where you are, you open your front door dishing out apologies for your absence.

He’s not mad… Only because he has a date to attend.

A date with the Parlour Boy.

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three…

a/n: ehhhh. ehhhhhhh he was creeping me out at the end icl but uh what do you think? i’ve never write this much before. i know for a fact im gonna come back and rewrite things in the future but here you go! goodnight ♡

[reiding-writing]

Heyyyy, I think it would be soo cool if you could write a scenario where cold!reader actually works a case like idk but yk the typical talking w witnesses or family members.

I also would loveee to know what her interrogation style is like, morgen was always pretty aggressive and Hotch was always so straightforward etc. so I would love to know how she interrogates suspects.

Have a nice one, ly and ur work sm !! ^_^

THE REID TECHNIQUE. /spencer reid/

you volunteer to interview a middle-aged woman suspected of kidnapping a little girl.

cold!reader 4.2k series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | had this one in the works for a few weeks after learning about the reid technique in my forensic psych lecture ✊

The clock above the whiteboard marks every second with an unforgiving tick. It's been twelve hours since the child, eight years old, brown hair in braids, green jacket, was last seen.

You know too well how thin the margins are.

“Local PD has brought in a suspect. Margaret Ellery. Lives four streets over from the family. No hard evidence yet, just circumstantial.” Hotch discards his phone in his pocket.

You push off the table, the movement casual, but inside something sharp and certain slices through the haze. Margaret Ellery. The name means nothing to the others yet, just another possibility. To you, it burns.

“They've got CCTV placing her car near the park at the estimated time of abduction,” Emily says, flicking through images on her tablet. “No witnesses saw the actual snatch, but...” She hesitates. “It’s something,”

“Something," you echo, voice flat.

You can feel Spencer’s gaze flick towards you from his desk. You don’t look at him. If you do, he’ll see it—the thing coiling under your skin, the certainty you can’t explain.

You know it was her.

The others begin discussing who should lead the interview, voices overlapping—Emily suggesting herself, Morgan arguing the woman might respond better to a softer touch—and for a moment, you let them talk.

Then, calmly, you speak.

“I’ll do it.”

The words drop like stones into the room.

The conversation stalls. Morgan frowns, one eyebrow lifting. Hotch studies you, impassive. Spencer’s pencil stills in his hand.

You don’t volunteer for interrogations. Everyone knows it. You only step in when everything else has failed—the nuclear option. The last resort.

You have built your reputation on results, not likability. You dismantle people, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but the truth. It's not pretty. It's not kind. It's necessary.

But this time, without waiting for anyone to fail, you want it.

Hotch’s mouth tightens into a line. He doesn’t like it, but he also knows better than to argue when you make that face—the one you wear now, cold and still, like a weapon waiting to be drawn.

“Are you certain?” he asks.

You nod once. Precise. Final.

“She’s guilty,” you say. Not a question. Not a theory. A statement of fact.

“How do you know?” Emily asks, cautious.

You flick your gaze to her, then away again. You don't explain things like this. You never have. You just know.

Hotch’s brow furrows. “You’re sure?”

You nod once. Crisp. Certain.

“I can get her to talk.”

He hesitates. You don’t blame him. It’s not just that they’re worried about the woman cracking under your methods, it’s that they’re worried you will push too hard, dig too deep, and leave something broken beyond repair—something in her, something in yourself.

But there’s no time for cautious sensibilities. There’s a child missing. The longer they dither, the colder the trail gets.

Hotch considers for a beat longer, then relents with a sharp nod. “On your lead.”

Morgan shifts his weight, clearly cautious. “I’ll second,”

“No.”

Hotch exhales slowly, measuring you with a look that’s half reluctant approval, half silent warning. “You know the protocol.”

You incline your head with a sigh of exasperation. You know it backwards.

“I work better alone,” you say calmly, before he can open his mouth to suggest otherwise.

That’s non-negotiable. You’ve explained it a thousand times—too many cooks spoil the broth. Too many variables ruin the interrogation. One misplaced glance, one ill-timed question, one unspoken judgement radiating off a team member— it can destroy hours of work.

No one interrupts you when you’re working. No one even breathes too loudly.

Hotch nods once. Reluctant but resigned.

“Room Three,” he says. “She’s waiting.”

You turn sharply on your heel, the heels of your boots clicking lightly against the floor, and make your way down the corridor without looking back.

Behind you, the team watches you go in silence.

Spencer’s gaze lingers the longest.

He understands. Not completely—no one ever could—but enough.

Enough to know that once you step into that room, you’ll become something else. Something sharper. Harder. Merciless in your precision.

And God help the woman on the other side of the glass.

—

You pause outside the interrogation room, hand resting lightly on the door handle. Through the one-way glass, you see her: hunched, fidgeting, a picture of nervous innocence.

She’s shorter than you expected. Plumper. Her hands twist nervously at the hem of her cardigan.

She looks like someone’s kindly aunt. To the untrained eye, she might seem harmless. Sad, even.

You don’t let it fool you.

You close your eyes for a moment. Centre yourself.

This is not about rage. Rage clouds the senses. This is about control. Subtlety. Precision.

When you open your eyes again, you’re a blank slate.

The woman jumps slightly at your entrance. Good. She’s on edge already. You file the information away for later use.

You close the door with a soft click and cross to the chair opposite her, sitting down with a deliberate, unhurried grace. You say nothing for a long moment, simply studying her, letting the silence stretch taut between you.

She fidgets again, clearing her throat. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours and then away, unable to hold your gaze.

You watch her, utterly still.

Already, you can see the cracks beginning to form.

You offer a thin, perfunctory smile.

“Good afternoon,” you introduce yourself, voice low and even. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, alright?”

She licks her lips nervously. “I already told the others— I didn’t do anything,”

You tilt your head slightly. Not a challenge, not an agreement. Just an acknowledgement.

“Of course,” you say smoothly. “We’ll go over everything again. Just to be thorough.”

You slide a thin manilla file onto the table between you. The movement is calm, almost lazy.

In reality, every microexpression, every twitch of her fingers, every catch in her breath — you’re cataloguing all of it.

You see guilt. Not the guilt of a wrongfully accused woman, but the heavy, aching guilt of someone who knows precisely what they’ve done and is terrified of the consequences.

You suppress the flicker of satisfaction that rises in your chest.

This will be easier than you thought.

You fold your hands neatly on the table.

“Let’s begin.”

You watch her closely, noting the way her shoulders stiffen under your gaze. She’s nervous.

“I’d first like to briefly remind you that you don’t have to answer any question that you’re uncomfortable with, and you have the right to an attorney if you require one,” You keep your tone measured, almost conversational, as you begin. “This interview is being recorded, and can be submitted as evidence if needed in court,”

Margret’s response is nothing more than a brief nod, and you quickly move on.

“We’ve spoken to several people who know you, Margaret,” you say, glancing briefly at the file in front of you for show, though you don’t need to. You know the contents backwards already. “Your neighbours speak highly of you. Friendly. Involved. Always ready to lend a hand.”

She swallows, nodding a little. As if being agreeable will somehow absolve her.

You continue, letting the words come slowly, giving them weight.

“You knew the Hartleys quite well?”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, hands twisting harder in the hem of her cardigan. “We… we live near each other, yes. I used to babysit for them sometimes, when Claire was first back at work,”

You incline your head, as if pleased by the admission. You knew that information already of course, but the fact that she’s supplying the truth to you early is a good sign.

“And you’ve stayed in touch since then?”

Her mouth twists slightly. “Not really. They… they got busy. New friends. Things change,”

You let the silence settle for a beat, as if considering that. Then you lean forward, just slightly, enough that the space between you shrinks.

“The thing is,” you say, voice still calm, almost gentle, “we have several witnesses who say they saw your car near Westwood Park yesterday afternoon.”

You watch her stiffen, the flicker of fear crossing her face before she can mask it. You press on, smooth and relentless.

“That’s the park where Elsie Hartley was last seen.”

Her mouth opens, then closes again. She shakes her head, a tight, jerky movement.

“I must have been passing through. I had errands— the shops—”

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “At four-thirty in the afternoon?”

She falters. You don’t need to press the point yet. Just plant the seed. Let it fester.

You sit back again, steepling your fingers lightly.

“We’re not here to attack you, Margaret,” you say, voice dropping slightly. Softer. Sympathetic. “We just want to understand what happened.”

Her eyes dart to the door briefly. You catch the movement, file it away. Already thinking of escape.

You won’t allow it.

“Things happen to people,” you continue, letting your voice thicken just slightly with understanding. “Painful things. Things that change how we see the world.”

You see the way she flinches, barely perceptible. A tiny tell, but enough.

Good. She’s listening now. Feeling now.

“Tell me about your daughter,” you say quietly.

Her face crumples before she can stop it, a raw flash of grief, there and gone.

She tries to cover it up, sitting up straighter, forcing a small, brittle smile.

“She… passed away. A long time ago.”

You nod slowly. “Nine years.”

Her hands clench into fists in her lap.

You lean in again, lowering your voice further.

“Grief can… distort things,” you murmur. “It can make you see injustice where there is none. It can make you desperate to fix something, to make up for what you lost.”

Her breathing has quickened. You see the pulse hammering at her throat.

“Sometimes,” you continue, “it makes people do things they never thought themselves capable of. Good people. Kind people. People who were simply… overwhelmed by sadness.”

She’s trembling now. Just slightly. You act as though you don’t notice.

“You saw Elsie playing in the park,” you say softly. “Maybe you thought her parents didn’t appreciate her enough. Maybe you thought you could give her the love your own daughter never got to fully experience.”

Tears are brimming in her eyes now, but she’s fighting them. Fighting herself.

She shakes her head weakly. “I didn’t— I wouldn’t—”

You don’t argue. You don’t contradict her.

You simply sit back, offering a small, understanding nod.

“Of course you didn’t mean for things to get so complicated. You just wanted to make things right.”

The denial is there, trembling on her lips, but you ignore it.

You pivot neatly, seamlessly, back to the facts.

“You said you were running errands,” you say, as if returning to a mundane detail. “Tell me about that. Which shops?”

She stares at you, panic flickering behind her eyes. She wasn't ready for the shift. That’s the point.

“I— I went to 7-Eleven. And then… the pharmacy. I had a prescription,”

You scribble something meaningless onto your pad, nodding slowly.

“The pharmacy?” you echo. “Do you have the receipt?”

She freezes.

“No,” she says after a moment. “I must have thrown it away,”

You don’t react. You just jot down another line.

“Which 7-Eleven?” you ask, tone still mild.

She blinks. “The one on Briar Lane,”

You hum thoughtfully, making another note. She’s lying. You know it. And she knows you know it.

You give her another moment to stew in her own fear before steering the conversation back.

“Funny thing, Margaret,” you say, lightly conversational, “we pulled CCTV from Briar Lane yesterday. The store, the pharmacy, the petrol station.”

You look up, meeting her eyes directly for the first time since you sat down.

“You’re not on any of it.”

The colour drains from her face.

You don’t press. Not yet. Let her feel the walls closing in. Let her suffocate on the inevitability of it.

She shifts in her seat, wringing her hands.

“I must have got the times wrong,” she mutters weakly.

“Of course,” you say smoothly. “It’s easy to get confused. Especially when you’re upset.”

She clings to the lifeline you’ve thrown her, nodding desperately.

“Yes. Yes, I was… distracted,”

You offer her a small, almost pitying smile.

“I understand, Margaret. Truly. No one’s here to judge you.”

Another beat of silence. You watch her, patient and unblinking.

“I can see how hard this is for you,” you say after a moment, voice softening again. “Reliving yesterday. Remembering what happened.”

Her mouth trembles. She presses her lips together tightly, like a child trying not to cry.

“I didn’t… I didn’t take her,” she says, almost whispering.

You nod thoughtfully, as if weighing her words.

“Of course,” you say again. Calm. Unthreatening.

Then, without warning, you steer the conversation right back to the beginning.

“Tell me again what you were doing between three and five yesterday afternoon.”

Her face crumples. She wasn’t ready for the cycle to start again.

But you are tireless. Patient. Merciless.

That’s the thing about interrogations — it’s not the dramatic threats or slammed fists on the table that break people. It’s the relentlessness. The subtle erosion of certainty, the slow dismantling of lies.

She tries again.

“I was at home, actually. I remembered— after the pharmacy I went home. I didn’t feel well.”

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Your neighbour said they saw your car leave around two, and you didn’t return until gone six.”

You tilt your head, watching her carefully.

“They must be mistaken,” she says quickly, too quickly.

You don’t argue. You just let the inconsistency hang there between you, a slow, toxic drip of doubt.

The denials come more frequently now, growing more desperate with each cycle.

“I wasn’t near the park.”

“I don’t even know where she disappeared from.”

“I just… I was having a bad day.”

You let each one slide past you without reaction, without resistance.

Each time she throws out a denial, you seamlessly redirect — not forcefully, not aggressively, but subtly, like water flowing around a stone.

Back to the CCTV.

Back to the witnesses.

Back to her tangled, faltering story.

You give her a moment to stew in her latest denial. Watch the way she clutches at the hem of her cardigan like it’s a lifeline. Her breathing is shallow now, you can almost hear it hitching every few seconds.

She’s trying to believe her own lies. Trying to build walls faster than you can knock them down.

You lean back slightly in your chair, as if relaxing, as if you have all the time in the world. Then you let your voice slip into a more analytical register.

“Let’s review what we know,” you say, tapping your pen lightly against the table.

The soft sound makes her flinch. Good.

“Your neighbour saw your car leave at two o’clock sharp. CCTV from Briar Lane shows you were not at the pharmacy or the store, as you claimed. In fact—” you pause, leafing slowly through the papers on your clipboard, letting the moment stretch, “—your car was picked up again. Not in Briar Lane. But parked a block from Westwood Park.”

You place a printed image on the table between you: the grainy still of a pale blue Volvo estate. Her car. The timestamp in the corner reads 4:14 p.m.

Margaret pales visibly, staring at it.

“That’s not me,” she whispers, voice breaking.

You arch a brow, slow and sceptical.

“Registration plates don’t lie.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Her eyes are wild now, darting across the table, as if searching for some unseen escape hatch.

You press the advantage mercilessly, but with a surgeon’s precision.

“You told us you were at home,” you say calmly. “Yet your vehicle was a block away from the site of a child’s abduction.”

You let the words hang heavily in the air. They don’t need dressing up. They’re lethal enough.

“I just— I just parked for a bit. I wasn’t feeling well—”

You shake your head, slow and deliberate.

“No pharmacy visit. No store. No proof of you being anywhere else.”

You place another sheet on the table, another CCTV still, this time capturing her figure, blurred but unmistakeable, moving across the park entrance at 4:20 p.m.

“Witnesses place you in the vicinity. Cameras place you there. Your alibi doesn’t hold.”

Her lips tremble. You can see the walls crumbling now, piece by piece.

You don’t drive the knife in yet.

Instead, you shift your posture — lean forward, just slightly, closing the space between you by mere inches.

Subtle, calculated.

Not enough to threaten. Just enough to pull her attention inward, to focus it entirely on you.

You keep your gaze steady, non-threatening but utterly unwavering.

Your body language speaks louder than your words. I am your only way out of this.

Margaret's eyes flicker between your face and the photographs, her breath hitching audibly now.

You watch as the fight starts to bleed out of her.

Still, you’re careful. She’s fragile now. One wrong move and she’ll retreat into full panic, barricade herself behind the last reserves of her denial.

You soften your expression by degrees. Let the razor edge dull into something gentler. More… understanding.

Margaret sniffs loudly, wiping at her eyes with trembling fingers. Her composure is breaking apart under the sheer, relentless weight of the truth pressing down on her.

“I just—” she chokes. “I didn’t— I didn’t plan anything—”

You allow a small, almost imperceptible nod. Not agreement. Just… acceptance.

You lower your voice, pitch it softer.

“I know, Margaret,” you say quietly. “I believe you. You were overwhelmed. You weren’t thinking straight. You saw a little girl alone, vulnerable—”

“She was sitting by herself!” Margaret blurts suddenly, anguished. “Just swinging on those stupid swings— and no one— no one was watching—!”

The confession hangs there, raw and shaking.

You don’t react. Don’t let the triumph show. You simply soften further, offering a small, almost maternal tilt of your head.

“You wanted to keep her safe,” you murmur. “Like any mother would.”

Margaret’s face crumples. Tears spill over at last, fat and helpless.

You fold your hands neatly on the table. Stay calm. Stay steady. Be the lighthouse in her storm.

—

“She’s using phased psychological reinforcement,” Spencer says quietly, almost in awe. Like you’ve never quite been so alluring.

Emily glances at him. “In English, please?”

Spencer shifts slightly, tapping his fingers against the glass in a subtle rhythm.

“She’s employing the Reid Technique,” he explains. “It has nine stages that are worked through in order to achieve a state of psychological comfort that elicits more honesty from the suspect,”

“The Reid technique?” Emily raised an eyebrow.

“It’s uh, named after John Reid, he was a police officer in Chicago during the 1950s. It revolutionised formal interviewing, although it’s actually very difficult to implement in practice, because if the suspect catches on then they’re likely to shut down,”

He nods towards you, still composed, still relentless inside the room.

“She’s between stage four and stage five right now— Addressing why the suspect hasn’t confessed, and using mirroring tactics to keep the suspect engaged,”

Morgan hums low under his breath, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Sounds scientific,” he goads.

—

Margaret hiccups through her tears, twisting the sleeves of her cardigan into knots.

“I didn’t—” she whispers again.

You make no move to comfort her. You don’t offer tissues. You don't even shift your posture.

You simply remain present. Solid. Reassuring by your very stillness. In her shattered mind, you are the only constant left. Exactly where you want her.

You let the silence stretch just long enough for Margaret to drown in it, her sobs the only sound filling the sterile room.

Then, softly, so gently it’s almost a caress, you push the conversation where it needs to go.

“Margaret,” you say, voice low but firm, threading compassion through every syllable, “I’m not here to judge you.”

She drags her tear-reddened eyes up to meet yours, desperate and wide.

You offer the smallest of smiles. Not kind. Not cruel. Just human.

“You loved your daughter, right?”

Her face crumples. She gives a broken little nod, a whimper catching in her throat.

You lower your voice even further, until it's barely above a whisper. “And now there's this... ache. This emptiness. It’s unbearable, isn’t it?”

She presses her sleeve to her mouth, trying to smother another sob.

You let the moment hang there, let her sit in the shared understanding you’ve carefully, ruthlessly constructed.

“Were you trying to cause trouble, Margaret?” you ask, tilting your head ever so slightly, as if puzzled. “Or were you simply trying to give that little girl the love you never got to finish giving your daughter?”

It’s everything.

It’s everything she’s been trying to make sense of for the last twelve hours.

And you’ve handed it to her, neatly gift-wrapped, an explanation she can live with.

Her face crumples entirely.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she wails, folding in on herself. “I just— I just saw her— all alone— they weren’t even watching her! She was just sitting there, swinging by herself, and I thought—”

She breaks off, hiccupping on a sob.

You remain silent, giving her the space to pour it out.

“I thought— she deserves better. Someone who’d see her. Someone who’d love her properly. I could— I could do that. I could give her what she needed.”

Tears stream down her face now, unchecked.

“She’s happy with me,” Margaret insists desperately, as if trying to convince herself as much as you. “She’s smiling. She’s laughing. I’ve never— I’ve never seen her laugh like that. Not once when she was with them.”

You allow yourself a single, careful breath.

But you’re not finished yet.

You shift your tone again, turning almost maternal, gentle and firm.

“Margaret,” you say, leaning in just a fraction, letting her feel the sincerity. “I believe you care for her. I do.”

It’s not a lie. Margaret does care. In her own warped, desperate way. “But she’s scared. She misses her family. She needs to come home.”

Margaret sobs harder, hands shaking so badly she nearly knocks the water cup off the table.

“Help me bring her home safely, Margaret. Please.”

For a long, fragile moment, she just cries.

And then, brokenly, she nods.

“She’s—” she mumbles through the tears. “12A, Eversham Court… I made up the spare room for her, I got her toys and clothes—”

She’s rambling now, stumbling over herself to spill every detail she can think of.

You don’t interrupt.

Outside the room, you know Hotch will already be sending officers to the location, moving fast but discreetly.

Time still matters. Every second counts.

Everything has been recorded. Every word, every sob, every admission captured, preserved, incontrovertible.

You stand slowly, gathering the papers with smooth efficiency.

As you move towards the door, Margaret’s voice breaks behind you, small and shuddering.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she says again, voice thick with tears. “Tell them that. Please. Tell them I just wanted to love her—”

You pause, hand on the doorframe, and glance back over your shoulder.

Your face gives away nothing.

“I’ll tell them,” you say simply.

It’s not a promise. Not really. But it’s enough.

The door opens with a quiet click. Uniformed officers step inside, moving with trained efficiency.

Margaret doesn’t fight. She’s too broken to resist. She sobs helplessly as they read her her rights, the words barely cutting through her cries of apology. “I’m sorry,” she gasps as they cuff her. “I’m so sorry—”

You watch silently for a moment as they lead her away.

She’s still crying. Still apologising to no one in particular.

You feel no satisfaction. No triumph. Just the faint, hollow weight of inevitability.

You step back into the corridor, letting the door swing shut behind you.

The others are waiting. Hotch nods once at you, brisk and approving. Emily looks grim but relieved. Morgan mutters something under his breath that sounds like "damn," but you don’t linger on it.

Your gaze flicks automatically to Spencer.

He’s watching you the way he always does after you work. Not with fear, not with pity, but with something quieter. Something sharper.

Admiration. And something almost akin to academic attraction.

“Seven minutes, twenty two seconds,”

You don’t smile. You don’t say a word. You simply walk past him, your boots clicking steadily down the hall.

New record.

[mrsknowitallll]

A Little Loving

Elijah Moore (Smoke) x Annie x Black Plus Size Reader

Summary : The two of them have you wrapped right around their finger and vice versa.

Warning: Violence, mentions of assault, smut. Reader goes by the nick name lady bug, that’s it.

A/N - I know i’m supposed to be working on the ldpdl series but i’m obsessed with Sinners right now and i NEED to scratch that itch.

Word count: 2k

"Give me my apples back!" You tugged on the basket fighting as hard as you could, struggling with the two thieves.

You let it go quickly, freezing as a man approached clad in a grey suit that was clearly crafted from expensive cloth, blue fedora atop of his head, slightly shielding his eyes.

He held his gun up to the back of one of their heads, cocking it and placing his finger on the trigger.

"Gone head and pick em up, nice and slow." The man spoke, voice a low rumble sending heat straight through your chest.

"Smoke just relax man we was only playing with her, just messing round you know." The other guy held his hands up pleading for mercy.

The man who you now know as Smoke quickly aimed his gun at the guy's knee and fired, bullet piercing skin instantly, gliding through his limb like butter.

"Go on boy or this next one going right in yo back!" Smoke positioned his gun back towards the guy that stood before him.

The man crouched down slowly, picking up the fruit one by one and placing it in the basket.

He handed it to you with shaky hands.

"Now apologize to the lady." Smoke titled his head, eyes meeting yours for a moment.

You felt yourself shiver under his gaze, cold, hard. It wasn't directed towards you, but you couldn't help but feel intimated.

"I'm sorry ma'am i'm so so sorry." The man's lip quivered, shaky hands grabbing onto yours.

He toppled over in pain as Smoke fired another bullet, this one shooting through the man's back as he promised.

He grabbed onto your ankles and you quickly shook him off , gathering your basket.

You looked up at Smoke once more smiling faintly attempting to show your gratitude.

"Thank you sir." You nodded at him before scurrying off.

His eyes followed you as you went, watching as your dressed swayed in the wind.

He didn't even get your name.

To his surprise it wouldn't be long until he saw you again, just a few minutes later as he drove past the cotton fields, watching you stroll through them munching on one of those apples, wide hips switching rhythmically as you walked.

He beeped his horn once, twice catching your attention.

"You need a ride ma'am?" He shouted so you could hear him.

You walked closer, approaching the passenger door.

"I appreciate the offer mister but you've gone through enough trouble for me today, i couldn't ask you to do that." You smiled gratefully.

"You didn't ask, i offered, get in." He insisted.

You were a bit taken aback by his boldness but you obliged nonetheless, hopping into the car placing your basket in your lap.

"Where you headed little one?" He questioned glancing over at you then back at the road.

"Keep going straight i'll let ya know when to turn... and I ain't little, i'm a grown woman." You mumbled taking another bite from your apple.

"Would you rather I call you big one?" He eyed you, deadpan expression on his face.

"If you gone be rude just gone head and let me out and i'll walk my big ass the rest of the way." You spat narrowing your eyes at him.

His brows shot up in surprise, mouth snapping shut.

He frowned slightly now realizing how it could have made you feel seeing as you were a bigger woman.

"Sorry i didn't mean no harm miss, didn't mean it in that way i guess that was just my attempt at a joke. I'm not the best with words you'll have to excuse me." He shot you an apologetic look.

You studied him for a moment before nodding.

"I suppose it's alright, turn here." You pointed left.

He parked in your driveway, shutting the car off and turning toward you.

"I never got your name." He eyed you curiously.

"You don't need to know my name." You shrugged hopping out and heading toward your front door.

"But you know mine." He called after you, eyes trailing your figure as you walked, under a slight spell as he surveyed your backside.

"I didn't ask for it." You turned, playful smile on your face.

"Oh it's like that?" Smoke smirked biting his lip.

"Bye mister, thanks for the ride." You laughed to yourself bouncing up the steps.

He shook his head sighing, grin creeping up on his face.

You sighed heavily, dusting your flour coated hands off on your dress, smiling pridefully at the basket full of apple turnovers.

Annie was gonna love them, she loved all your treats.

It was the least you could do after she saved your life, if it wasn’t for her hoodoo you wouldn’t be still standing.

You covered the pastries with a cloth, closing your door softly and making your way to her little shack.

Once you arrived and approached her door you knocked, knuckles wrapping on the wood gently.

“Annie?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

She was usually home by this time.

You jiggled the door knob suprised to find the door unlocked.

You dropped the basket in shock, witnessing Annie bent over the table, Smoke rutting into her from behind.

They both stopped abruptly, quickly readjusting themselves and their clothes.

“I’m sorry, i’ll be on my way now!” You dashed down the steps and back the way you came from, face heating up as images of their love making flashed through your mind.

“Ladybug wait!” Annie called after you, rushing to catch up with you.

You stopped turning to face her.

“Sorry bout that i wasn’t expecting no visitors.” She gulped nervously avoiding your eyes in shame.

“That’s alright Miss Annie, i shouldn’t be barging in like that no way. I’ll get out ya hair now.” You half smiled turning to make your way back home.

“Oh come on now you ain’t come all this way for nothing. What is it?” She grabbed your arm making you face her once more.

“I wanted to thank you… if it wasn’t for this magic of yours” You pulled the small baggie from beneath your dress.

“I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” You grinned.

She couldn’t help but smile too.

“That man right there also saved me from a good beating today, i owe you one mister.” You nodded towards him.

“No need to thank me, i was just doing what any man with a heart would.” He stepped toward you, holding your basket of goodies.

“You made these?” He asked removing the cloth from overtop.

“Yeah, they my mama’s recipe.” You watched curiously as he picked up one of the turnovers and stuffed it into his mouth.

His eyes widened, gazing over at Annie in shock.

She just smirked, nodding her head.

“Ladybug was it? Girl these are damn good.” He spoke through a mouthful.

“Thank ya sir.” You smiled shyly as the praise.

“Say you looking for work?”

You approached the small joint, a few folks bustling in and out carrying boxes.

You stepped inside met with the smell of catfish frying.

“Can I help you?” Stack who you thought was Smoke approach you.

“Uhh Smoke it’s me Ladybug… you told me to meet you here?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“I ain’t Smoke baby we just look alike, what’s yo name sweet thang?” He got too close for comfort, breath fanning over your face.

“Leave her ‘lone Stack.” Smoke snarled pushing the man back slightly.

“I ain’t mean no harm Smoke lighten up!” Stack grinned wickedly.

“That’s my twin brother, sorry bout that. You can set up over there with Annie.” He pointed towards a small bar.

People started swarming in quickly as the sun began to set.

You watched envious as they fell into a rhythm on the dance floor, the swanging music almost hypnotizing them.

You loved to danced, just never had the time to, never had the freedom to.

Annie took notice of your stares, eyes following your gaze.

“Go on out there, i’ll hold it down over here.” She nudged you with her hip.

“You sure?” You looked at her with uncertainty.

“Yeah gone head girl.” She smiled as you bubbled with excitement.

“Thank you Annie.” You planted a wet kiss on her cheek before rushing off to dance with the others.

You quickly fell into sync with the music, hips swirling around in a tantalizing motion, attracting the attention of onlookers.

Smoke watched from the balcony overhead, lip tucked between his teeth as your ass jiggled beneath your loose dress, your hips swinging in circles.

He glanced over at Annie who was already looking up at him, the same hot and heavy demeanor washing over her.

Every so often you stopped to rest, to have a drink. One turned to two, two turned to four and before you knew it you were drunk, still dancing, hips swinging.

A man came up behind you, coping a feel, pressing himself up against you.

You immediately elbowed him, sending him toppling over.

“Don’t you ever put yo fucking hands on me!” You screamed kicking him in the nuts.

Smoke snatched him up by his collar, throwing him at his goons.

“Get that nigga the fuck up outta here!” He roared.

They all nodded dragging him out the back door but not before teaching him a lesson.

“You ight?” Smoke’s eyes trailed you, surveying you for any injuries.

“I’m good.” You nodded.

“You sure?” Annie questioned from behind you, taking ahold of your arm.

“Yeah i’m alright.” You leaned into her touch, slightly wobbly on your feet.

“Mind if we dance with you?” She asked lips ghosting over your ear.

You felt a shiver go up your spine.

You quickly nodded in agreement and they wasted no time pressing themselves up against you, Annie at your front, Smoke at your back.

Smoke wrapped his hands around your thick waist, strong and secure, pressing himself up against you and beginning to sway while Annie draped her arms around your neck swaying as well.

You glanced around nervously as people began to stare, gawking at the three of you.

“Don’t worry bout them, focus on us yeah?” Annie grabbed ahold of your chin, turning your head back towards her.

You nodded and began to relax in their hold, swaying sensually to the music.

Eventually they lured you to the storage closet, hands roaming your body.

Smoke captured your lips in a hungry kiss, rough hands gripping at the fat of your thighs, hiking up your dress.

Annie nipped at your neck, kneading your ass with her gentle hands, eliciting a chorus of moans from you.

Smoke broke your kiss, kneeling down, pulling your panties off, parting your legs.

“Wait, wait, i don’t know bout all this y’all hold on a minute.” You shook yourself from your daze, trapping Smoke’s head between your thighs to stop his pursuit of your sex.

“Just relax baby, let yourself get lost in the pleasure. We gone take real good care of you.” Annie whispered nibbling your ear, hands sliding into your bra, fingers pinching your nipples causing you to let out a breathy moan.

Smoke gripped your thighs parting your legs again and began eating you out like a man starved, licking and sucking at an animalistic pace.

You were sure the whole club could hear your screams, body shaking as he continued his ministrations, no signs of letting up.

Annie caught your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss effectively silencing you, if you screamed any louder she was sure somebody would assume they were killing ya ass back there.

You came quickly, eyes widening manically, mouth hung open, you swore you could see stars.

You body shook rapidly and Annie gripped your plush middle tightly, preventing you from falling.

Smoke stood again, hooded eyes locking onto yours, face soaked in your essence.

“You wanna try some baby?” He glanced over at Annie.

“I’d love too.” She smirked.

“Lord y’all two gone be the death of me.” You sighed heavily.

[viperify]

drabbles | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟢ late nights at the library.

All you crave is a break and sleep—but Tom Riddle being your tutor and boyfriend makes your life just a little bit more complicated.

“This is the third time you have gotten this wrong.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair you were sitting in. “Tom, I know. I just— it’s late, okay? We have been here for what? Five hours?” 

He raised a brow, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “That’s right. So, any reason why you can’t remember? Do I need to explain it again?”

You wished you had known what you were signing up for when you started dating Tom. Endless hours of studying together. Him acting like your tutor when he was supposed to be your boyfriend. He had this never-ending ambition and motivation that you just couldn’t match in the slightest.

Yes, you were one of the better students as well, but nobody and nothing could match Tom Riddle—top student in every single class. Sometimes you wondered how he managed it all. How he could be so perfect. Studying, revising, prefect duties. It was almost like you needed an appointment to meet him, even as his girlfriend.

He seemed like a student as any other—though so special in his own way. The hunger for knowledge and power. The desire to become prefect, head boy, a professor. 

The softer side to him that only you would ever get to see—except when you were studying together, that is. 

“Please, can we just leave? I am so tired.”

You didn’t leave. Not until you finally got it right. Not until you were completely drained, eyelids fluttering closed every other minute.

“Come on, I will bring you to your dorm.” He said softly after returning the books to where you had taken them from. Taking your hand in his and helping you up, he led you out of the dark and empty library. There were no words needed when you arrived at your dorm. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tom exhaled, deeply. “Fine. But just this once.”

He always said that.

A minute later, you entered his dorm instead, and it was as if his guard had dropped the second the door closed behind you both. He took off his and your robes, hanging them on the coat stand behind you. 

And then, without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his arms. He held you close, your head buried against his chest as his hand caressed your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Finally, your worries started to fade, exhaustion taking over. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he took in your expression, swiftly helping you out of your uniform and into your pyjamas. How he’d gotten them—you didn’t know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All you wanted was him—his kisses, his warmth, his support. 

Of course, he knew.

So that’s what he gave you—pulling you close as soon as the both of you lay down, pressing a gentle kiss to your soft lips before letting you cuddle into his side.

“I am proud of you, darling.” Tom whispered right before you drifted off to sleep, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I always am.”

You smiled softly in response, drawing soft patterns on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | drabbles.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Just a little fluffy drabble bc I crave this man’s love and support during exam season. Ugh. <- This is also why I will be posting a little less/shorter works due to me basically having no time to write for the coming two weeks! I love you guys and hope to be back to normal asap! <33

[gay-dorito-dust]

hiii booo, can i request anything with vergil where vergil is chilling and reader suddenly come in the room and cuddle him, and just telling him how much they love him and he gets all vulnerable and let them do because I NEED HIM TO BE LOVED AND ADORED AND HUGGED 😤

(i love you btw <3)

Of course you can my beloved, anything for you, literally. (I love you too sweetheart, forever and always 🥰😍😘)

You knew Vergil’s makeshift study was meant for him and him alone. No one else was allowed in, but Dante claimed you had privilege to walk into his brother’s study without getting stabbed, or how Nero basically got told to leave through a well crafted glare upon his father’s face.

You? You could walk in there and Vergil would wordlessly shift himself a little so that there was room for you to sit next to him while he reads; which is exactly what happened the second you walked into his study, smiling as you saw the sliver of space reserved only for you as the half demon merely continued his reading, but it was obvious that his body was more relaxed and his gaze lost it’s natural intimidation as the perfect blue eyes of his looked at you over the book.

He almost look expectant, like he wanted something from you and for a second you were left confused, wondering if you had completely missed something. Only to remember that you had unknowingly formed a routine within his head whenever you entered his study -whether it was wanted or unwanted- and you couldn’t help but laugh as you moved over towards him to hold his face in your hands. ‘Hello my beloved.’ You said softly as you kiss his forehead, feeling him purr under your touch.

‘Sorry for the intrusion but I felt a little lonely without you while your cooped up here.’ You add as you pulled your hands away from his face, just to see that he was still very much keeping you within his line of sight, even as you sat down next to him on the surprisingly good two person sofa he had found in a undisclosed location.

‘You do know the reason I stay here, correct?’ He asks raising a brow and you only pout back at him as you reached to kiss his cheek, seeing his guard effectively crumble as you allow your head to rest upon his shoulder.

‘I do.’ You start, tracing the patterns of his jacket, loving how even the shade of blue belonged to him and only him, you couldn’t see a shade of the damn colour without thinking of your blue half demon; so much to the point where you had made it a thing to buy him objects the same shade of blue as his eyes, much to his confusion until you told him the reason that you’ve done so, then all of a sudden his cheeks and tips of his ears were red as beetroot and his eyes were looking at anything but you.

Only for the trinkets you bought him to be found decorating his study a week later, something you didn’t address outright but the look upon Vergil’s face as he saw you looking told you all you needed to know.

A favourite memory of yours regarding him being anything but what the stories you’ve heard of him present him as. Yet to you Vergil was a man who had been lost for a long, long time, been through too much and was crafted into a different man because of it. He was someone that craved power from an all too human need to protect. So you do everything in your own power to show that he was loved and respected, despite everything he’s done, he was deeply loved even if he didn’t see it but you did since you were one of them.

‘However you never said anything about me when I come in here.’ You tell him with a shrug. ‘That and I don’t like you being in here alone, no one should ever be alone even if you’re doing something like reading.’ Vergil knew you weren’t exactly talking about reading, yet he didn’t pry and was glad that you didn’t nor say it out loud, he still was learning that it was okay to lean on another person; this person being you but he’s a stubborn as a half demon could be, and that was extremely but he was starting to see the benefits of having someone in his corner with blinding faith in him.

‘What if I like being alone to read, has that thought crossed your mind?’ Vergil asks.

‘It has,’ you replied, ‘multiple times but my statement still stands, no one should be alone. So you’re stuck with me unfortunately.’ You smile as you kiss his cheek again, now practically cuddling his arm close to your chest with your cheek squished to his shoulder still, leeching off of his human warmth. You did cuddle his devil trigger once and were left cold as fuck, but you couldn’t move as you had made too much progress with Vergil, only just to move away because you were cold but it was undeniably worth it.

Vergil scoffs, a small, missable smile breaking across his face. ‘Unfortunately.’ He says as though the word was hilarious to him. ‘Is it really unfortunate fate if I have become…fond of you and the memories you’ve given me?’ He gives you a sideway glance before looking upon the window sill of his study. ‘I know you’re aware that your gifts have been scattered throughout my study ever since you said it was too dull.’

‘Don’t forget lifeless and in desperate need of personality.’ You added, smiling as you gazed at the trinkets that you’ve noticed were kept clean of dust as the windowsill they sat upon, almost as if Vergil kept them that way for a reason, whatever the reason was it was bound to warm your heart regardless if he ever said it or not; his actions were more than enough to understand.

Vergil hums. ‘I wasn’t exactly impressed with you that day.’

‘I could tell, you were glaring daggers into my head that day.’ You said as you recalled the day where you first stepped into his study, unannounced no less, while he had only looked at you from over his book with a guarded gaze as he tried to deduce what you were about. ‘But I’m glad you took my advice sooner or later.’ You added as Vergil hums again.

‘It adds life to an empty space, reminding it of the things it could have if it opened up to the aspect of allowing life to shine light on the darker spots.’ He says and you knew he wasn’t talking about how empty the study use to be before it was filled to the brim with his shelves of books, or how the window sills were filled with your silly trinkets and funny looking plushies you’ve won him from arcades.

It indeed was indeed filled to the brim with life, but when you thought of it the way that he did, then it was made all the more beautiful as the study was once a place that had nothing, left abandoned with nothing of value to show it’s purpose. Yet it had found it’s purpose when Vergil claimed it as his own, filling it with his minimal possessions in the form of books, only to have more purpose as you added your own touch to the place overtime.

The study was a room you and Vergil created together at your own pace, at your own time, content with the existence of the other as long as they didn’t collide too much. Yet soon enough neither you nor Vergil could envision the study without your trinkets on the window sill accompanying the shelves of books when both of you weren’t there to fill the air with conversation.

‘The light can’t touch everything,’ you told him, ‘it can’t reach certain corners but it can learn to accommodate with knowing it can’t brighten every darkened corner and love them anyway.’ You finished as you look at him, loving everything about him, even his darkened corners of his being that your light may not be able to touch and you were more than okay with that.

Vergil looks at you to read your face, read your every expression as all he could see was truth and honesty staring back at him, holding his intense gaze with all the genuine love you had for him as well as unwavering patience for when he was ready to ever say such an emotionally charged words. ‘Even if I slip back into questionable habits? Do things that many would never forgive?’ He asks softly.

‘Even then.’ You replied confidently as you lifted the hand that wasn’t holding his book -since he mainly did that one handedly while the other rested on Yamato’s hilt- and kiss the back of it several times, unbothered by the callouses that kissed your palm with equal affection. ‘Even then.’ You repeated softer this time as you felt Vergil rest his head against your own, a low purr emitting from the back of his throat that made you smile as you nuzzle him in response.

Vergil allows to bookmark where he was at within the story he held within his hand, before resting it on the table next to the sofa, right next to the small trinket you had bought him that he had somewhat favouritism towards; a small blue crow.

[canarias-stuff]

Reaching You

Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader

Summary:

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

...

Or a story where you dreams of a world not so different from yours, but you know that you are missing something...no, someone.

(Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader)

Author's note:

My second story for the fandom.

I started it a while ago, but I didn't know how to end it.^^''

And after struggling a little bit, this is the result.

I hope that you enjoy it!

You were 13 when the dreams started.

At first, they were short – so short you could barely remember the contents, but as the time passed, you felt like you had lived the dream for days instead of just a night. You dreamed of a world that's not so different from the real one, where people you know – family, friends and even some that you don’t know personally – are there.

Maybe you’d been watching too many American shows or playing too many video games, because each time you dreamed about this strange world, it became more vivid, more detailed.

Your dreamworld has a touch of magic and fantasy, and even if you couldn’t always remember the specifics, you were sure that at some point you were fighting against monsters inside what they called ‘gates’. There was also a rank system for those gates and for the people who fought inside them, there were guilds and something called Hunter’s Association, and even if you can’t remember everything, you are sure that you aren’t part of any organization.

One thing that you can remember though, is that something…no, someone is missing from your memories. Well, not actually missing, however there’s someone beside you in your dreams, someone that smiles at you, holds your hands, kisses you and makes you really happy, yet, no matter how hard you try, you can’t recall their face or the sound of their voice when they call your name.

And every time they appeared in your dreams, you’d wake up crying.

Was it stupid to miss someone you could only see in dreams? Someone your own brain had invented?

Yes , that’s what you told yourself. This person was just a figment of your imagination – born from all those novels you read. So why did it hurt so much every time? Why did your chest ache for someone whose face you couldn’t remember?

Once, you told your best friend about your dreams. Your friend laughed and patted you on the back.

“Woah! Did you fall for this mysterious person from your dreams?”

“Of course not!”

You felt embarrassed at the accusation, but if you were embarrassed about your dreams or about the part where you fell in love with someone that doesn't exist, you weren’t sure.

You also commented about your dreams to your family one morning and while your mother and older brother made fun of you, your father frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, you must have loved this person a lot.” Your mother said, while preparing the breakfast.

“Your brain is probably melting after reading so much garbage!” Your irritating older brother laughed.

“If you have free time to read novels (y/n), use it for your studies.”

And really, while your father’s comment was more of a “If you start to get red marks, I will burn all your novels.” warning, you decided that you should do as he said and study more – occupy your brain with numbers, formulas and historical events – because that way, your brain may decide to make you dream about possible questions for a test instead of making you miss someone that you only imagined.

…

“You are going there.”

“...I am…”

“It doesn’t matter what I say, right?”

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You sighed, but in the end you looked up to stare at his determined eyes, and smiled.

“You better come back soon.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I will. It’s a promise.”

And then, he turned around to leave, while all you could do was extend your hand and try – and fail – to hold him for just a little longer.

…

You woke up with an arm extended, grabbing the air. Again.

Since the start of your last year of middle school, the dreams haven't come as frequently as before. But still, at least once a week, you would wake up with your hand outstretched – like you were trying to hold onto something. Or someone. Just like now.

You never told a soul about this, not when you were sure that people – your best friend and family – would make fun of you.

But now that you’ve started high school, you wonder if this is progress. On one hand, you don’t wake up crying as often as before. On the other, you’ve started reaching out for this person. Still trying to grasp that person who never stayed – who probably never came back.

You stared at your arm for a moment before lowering it, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.

And yet, for some reason, you felt warm. Like someone was still there, holding you.

…

“Have you heard about the rumor?” You heard one of the girls from your class say, from the desk right beside you.

“Oh! About the transfer student from class A?” The girl’s friend said.

“Yep! Someone said that he wears the glove only on his left hand because he has a tattoo there.”

You rolled your eyes at their conversation and kept reading the novel that you just found online. People had been gossiping about a student for almost two weeks now, and even though you hadn’t seen him yet, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. After all, who would want to be the talk of the school just because of their fashion sense?

“Actually, I heard from someone in class A that he is trying to hide a burn mark.”

A burn mark? You frowned, because that was new information.

“A burn mark? So he isn’t a delinquent?”

“I’m not sure, because someone heard a teacher say that he left home when he was still in junior high and came back after two years, but someone could have misheard it.”

“Well, let’s just stay away from him then.”

The other girl sighed, disappointed.

“What a shame, he does have a nice face though.”

And you rolled your eyes, trying to focus again on your novel as the girls shifted to another topic. People sure could be so petty.

…

Sometimes – actually it started just a few days after classes started –, you feel like someone’s watching you. But whenever you look around, there’s no one there, so you brush it off as nothing.

But today is different.

An ant was staring at you. 

A bipedal, human-like, black and blue ant was staring at you.

You tried to ignore it, continuing to eat your sandwich and chat with your best friend, as if the entity – it had to be some kind of ghost, right? – wasn’t there. It walked around you, moving with a strange, purposeful air, as though it was studying you.

And suddenly it fell to its knees and started crying.

“The appearance is slightly different, but this mana flow, this mana flow! There’s no doubt! Our queen is here! Our queen is here!”

You flinched. 

The ant is talking! The humanoid ant is fucking talking!

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Your friend asked, when she saw you flinch.

“Hum? What?”

Your friend arched an eyebrow.

“You looked…distracted…”

Well, in your defense, it was difficult to keep focus when the ant kept crying…and talking nonsense beside you.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I was just wondering if I should go buy the novel that you recommended the other day.”

“I can just lend it to you!”

“Really? Thanks!” You exclaimed, trying to ignore the ant, that at some point got up and flew somewhere else, yelling something about telling the news to his king.

Ignore it, ignore it.

The weird creature was just a fragment of your imagination.

Yeah, just a fragment of my imagination…

But was it weird that for some reason you felt like you knew it?

…

“Queen.”

“Can you please stop calling me that, Beru?” You grunted, cheeks getting red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“But you are my king’s queen.”

Okay, that was way more embarrassing.

“Call me by my name!” You pleaded.

“How can a mere general call a queen by their name?”

“I’m not a queen so just call me (y/n)!”

“No, I can’t, my queen. I apologize.”

You turned to the man sitting at the sofa, who looked between you and the humanoid ant with an amused expression.

“Do something about it!” You cried, pointing at the giant ant.

“I tried, but he still calls me his king.” The man answered with a small laugh.

“Because you are my king.” The ant interrupted.

“Ugh…You really need to stop watching historical dramas, Beru.” You finally sighed and collapsed at the sofa, next to the amused man who just let out a small laugh and kissed you.

…

The ant was in your dreams this time.

For some reason, the ant called the stranger in your dream his king and you, his queen.

Really, it was embarrassing to be called that – and being kissed so gently –, but at least you got some new information.

The ant’s name was Beru.

“Beru..” You said. “What a weird name.”

…

After your encounter with the humanoid ant – Beru – just a few days ago, you started to notice other black and blue figures around.

Some were near the school gates, soldiers-like figures hidden in the shadows of trees, and others you could see around the neighbourhood, as if they were guarding and protecting the place.

Even if Beru’s figure had scared you a little, for some reason after your last dream, the feeling had gone away, and instead of getting uncomfortable with the shadow-like creatures, you felt strangely…safe.

…

Hah…yeah, safe…

Maybe you were so engrossed in the sense of safety the shadows provided that you completely forgot about reality.

You stared at the hand that was currently grabbing your wrist with a frown on your face. Once, your brother told you that high school was a jungle, where all kinds of species could be seen – football players, cheerleaders, basketball players, etc etc, and considering what was happening now, you agreed with your brother’s words.

These ones were probably the troublemakers/bully types.

“Aren’t you a first year?”

You looked up, (e/c) eyes glaring at the guy who grabbed your wrist and his two followers.

“Oh, you don’t have to look at us like that.” He – the leader (maybe?) – said with a smirk.

Really? How did you end up in this situation? You just went behind school to throw the trash after classes and ended up meeting with these three guys who were already there, up to no good. You didn’t say a word or look at any of them, but they still thought that it was an opportunity to try to pick up a girl.

“Like what?” You said without a hint of fear. “Like I'm seeing trash?”

Okay, maybe your choice of words were really poor considering the situation, but you were angry at the idiots who were trying to force themselves on you, and annoyed that you refused your friend's offer to help you with the trash.

“Hah?!” The leader roared, tightening his grip on your wrist. What did you just say, bitch?!”

“Oh? So you are deaf too?” You said, feigning a surprise expression.

You should have expected some violence.

The leader released your wrist just to push you at the wall by the collar of your shirt, and his followers surrounded you, eyes shining with malice, as if they just cornered a prey.

“I dare you to repeat that!” The leader roared.

You grabbed his wrist with both hands, (e/c) eyes never wavering at the sound of the clear threat

“Are. You. Deaf?”

The moment the guy clenched his other hand into a fist was the moment you twisted his wrist, slipping under his arm. The motion caused the first two buttons of your blouse to pop off – but it was worth it. He had no choice but to let go of your clothes, and in that instant, you threw him over your shoulder.

For a moment, everyone – even you – just stood there, trying to process what had just happened. You never learned how to fight, you didn’t even know that you had the strength to throw a guy twice your weight, but here you were, facing a bully and his followers, who somehow looked even more stunned than you.

However the surprise didn’t last long, and in a blink of an eye, the group had surrounded you again.

“That’s not fair.” You commented, eyeing the three guys walking around you.

“Life is not fair, girly.” One of his minions said with a smirk.

“You say it as if you have lived a long life.”

“This girl really doesn't know when to shut up, no?” Minion number one said.

“My friend said that I can talk for hours as long as I’m talking about my novels.” You continue. You need to buy some time, at least enough time to figure out how to get away from this situation, or until your friend realizes that you were taking too long to just throw the trash.

“Looks like your novels didn’t teach you to not pick up fights that you can’t win.” Number two minion laughed.

“Well, yeah, my novels usually focus more on romance, politics and family issues instead of people trying to pick fights with a girl who’s half their weight. These types of characters aren’t popular anyway.”

A vein popped at the leader’s forehead, and he tried to grab you again.

You don’t know how you did it. One moment, your feet were on the ground, and the next, you were in the air – upside down, hands planted on the top of the leader’s head, your body felt almost weightless. As you came down, you used his back as a stepping stone, pushing off and sending him crashing into his friends – while you landed gracefully on the ground.

You blinked, once more surprised with your fluid movements, as if you had done it all your life.

What the hell?!

“Now you asked for that, bitch!” The leader yelled and charged at you, at the same time as his minions.

Stunned by your own previous movements, you didn’t have time to dodge the sudden attack, all you could do was shut your eyes and brace for the impact. An impact that never came.

Instead, you heard people gasp in surprise and then, the “thud” of something hitting the ground.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, only to be met with the sight of someone’s back.

Your eyes went wide – for a second, the image of the person from your dreams overlapping with the stranger standing in front of you – but you quickly shook your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Right now, there were more important things to focus on, like the punks that were…attacking…you…?

You frowned, the three guys were laying on the ground, unconscious…

What just hap–?

“Are you okay?”

Gentle and calm, his voice interrupted your thoughts, but for some reason you felt your chest grow warm.

A gloved hand appeared in your line of sight – The student from the rumors, you couldn’t stop the thought – and you stared at it for a second, before accepting it.

“Thanks for the…”

But the words died in your throat the moment your (e/c) eyes met his. Yeah, you had heard the rumors – that he was handsome – but you hadn't known the details: the dark hair, the beautiful grey eyes and the small smile on his lips.

However…it wasn’t his features that made you lose the capacity to speak, but the sensation of familiarity, as if your brain was trying to remember something…someone…

The student was still holding your hand, so gently…as if you were something precious.

“(Y/n).”

The voice of the mysterious man from your dreams echoed in your mind and a face that you couldn’t remember was starting to take shape.

Your chest tightened and your eyes stung with tears that were ready to fall.

“Hey!” The stranger – Was he really a stranger? – cried, startled, as you collapsed to your knees, free hand clutching the front of your unbuttoned blouse.

Gates. Guilds. Monsters. Dungeons. A war.

“Hey! Are you hurt anywhere?!” He called again, panicking at your lack (or excess?) of reaction.

Dark hair. Grey eyes. A small smile.

His face wasn’t a blur anymore. You could see him clearly now.

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

Oh…he sounds younger, but it is still him.

“Y-you are la-late…” You muttered between sobs. “...Jin-Woo!”

You saw him flinch at the same time you felt his hand tighten around yours, but did you care? Not at all. The feelings that had been locked somewhere in your being – lost but not forgotten–, were running wild, and since the boy in front of you was the cause, he should take responsibility for that.

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

You glared at him.

“I’m serious here!” You yelled frustrated, but soon the overwhelming sensation died as you stared at the man – now teenager – that you had always been waiting without knowing. “I really am, Jin-Woo…”

With your free hand, you cupped his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and savoring the warmth of your hand.

Jin-Woo...he looked so peaceful, as if the weight he once carried had finally lifted from his shoulders. And now that your memories have returned, you understand why.

In this world, there were no gates, no monsters.

Even if he still had his powers – and you were sure that he did, considering you had seen Beru and his other shadow soldiers around – he was free from the obligations and responsibilities he had once forced upon himself.

Sure, you were kind of angry at him, Jin-Woo had a lot to explain, but at the same time you felt relieved. Relieved that he was back.

“I missed you.” You finally said, a tearful – but still genuine – smile on your lips. “I missed you, Jin-Woo!”

You weren’t really surprised when he let go of your hands and pulled you into an embrace, after all, if he hadn’t, you would have.

“I missed you too, (y/n).” He whispered in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry for being late.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug.

“It’s okay.” You said. “It’s okay.”

…

A few minutes later, your best friend found you – with red and puffy eyes – hugging Jin-Woo behind the building with three unconscious bodies scattered around you.

Did she freak out? Yes, she did. But just as you had told Jin-Woo. 

It was okay.

It really was.

Because you had finally reached him.

Ao3 link

Ending notes:

But anyway! I hope that you enjoyed it!^^

I am not sure if the end felt rushed, but the point of the story was the reader to finally remember and reach Jin-Woo instead of him explaning everything. I just wanted to them to meet again in a better world.^^

But, of course I had to make Reader fight a little bit. First, because I wanted to show that with her memories coming back reader could do things that she could do in the past. And second because I wanted Jin-Woo to appear out of nowhere like the "Exchange" scene! hahaha

See you!

P.S: English is not my native language, so sorry for possible grammar mistakes.

[king-of-the-kingless]

Weak Hero sfw and nsfw dating headcanons ^^

~~Gen-Neutral!! Reader~~ a/n: i locked tf in on this what. anyways i wanted weak hero headcanons so i wrote some lol characters - gray, stephen, ben, alex, gerard, teddy, donald and wolf ^^

gray yeon / yeon sieun

➤ definitely enjoys mutual silence as a hangout session, just sitting in silence as you two do your own thing (he’d be studying lets be honest here) but he’d prefer if you were at least in his peripheral vision ➤ would not be the first to confess, but would probably be too obvious with his admiration towards you. constantly looking at you, helping you study, the first to fight back if you’re getting bullied. mans can’t stop staring at you. he doesn’t really flirt either ➤ since he has a motorcycle license, if he gets the chance to drive again, he will gladly take you out on a date that way. enjoys your arms wrapped around his waist as he drives, your head pressed against his back. 

➤ genuinely does not care if you’re shorter or taller than him, he prefers to be the little spoon. loves to stare at you with his pretty eyes, sometimes you can’t tell what he’s thinking but he looks content, just happy to be looking at you.

➤ enjoys foreplay the most, he knows exactly where to press, fondle, when to speed up and slow down. he spends the most time on foreplay because he can only last one round, so he wants to make the most out of it. 

➤ loves, loves, loves to praise and be praised. a king of aftercare and prepping, he’s researched so much just in case y’all ever got to that point. you’re definitely his first time, so he’d be so nervous and worried he won’t be able to satisfy you

➤ about 5 inches, probably a little smaller but he will not let you measure him. keeps it regularly trimmed, he doesn’t have that much hair down there anyways. would like it if you trimmed it. very quiet, letting out a few suppressed moans if he’s close but normally quiet

➤ as for positions, he doesn’t really mind at all. doesn’t mind if he’s being dominated either, as long as it's you, he does not care at all with what you do to him. i feel like he would prefer to see your face, kissing you as you both finish together

stephen ahn / ahn suho

➤ if you’re struggling on a subject, he will gladly help. he’d honestly let you copy his homework if we’re being so honest here, he’d tell you the correct answer even if he purposefully wrote the wrong answer on his paper. ➤ enjoys coffee and library dates, grabbing a book he thinks you’ll like and vice versa and you just sit around to read the books. he’d reach over, placing his hand on your thigh or maybe your knees will be touching.

➤ he does tend to get jealous if you hang out with gray when he’s away. he knows you like him more than gray but there’s just a small lingering doubt that can easily be kissed away. he enjoys kissing you all over your face, his favorite places are your eyelids, nose and mouth

➤ if you were dating or were friends throughout his coma, he would feel very depressed that he missed so much of your life, wishing he would’ve been there for you. but you can easily reassure him of your love, telling him that you have the rest of your lives to spend time together

➤ a very lazy top, enjoys watching you fuck yourself on him but that doesn’t mean he’s submissive. he can sometimes if he’s feeling for it, but the majority of the time, he’ll tell you what to do. praising you for doing so well

➤ i feel like he tends to like being clothed while fucking, something about clothes fully askew to reach your sex, getting the fabric coated in his cum turns him on. 

➤ about 5.75 inches, a little bit of girth to him. doesn’t trim that often, but would prefer it if you trimmed it. i feel like he doesn’t have much hair on his body at all, so he never has to trim much at all. definitely a moaner that whines when he’s close

➤ loves to be ridden, his hands crossed behind his head as he watches you do your thing. he wouldn’t dare move his hips and ruin the show in front of him, even if it was killing him to just buck up into your hips and cum

ben park / park humin

➤ flexes a lot just to get your attention, very bubbly and loud just so you’ll look over at him when he isn’t near you. honestly, he’d do it even if you’re standing next to him let's be real. enjoys picking you up, regardless of how much you weigh. he does it to show off ➤ sticks to you like glue, to him the world is ending if he’s not with you. loves it if you sit on his lap, like even if there are open places to sit, he’d pull you down into his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist and hold you still. 

➤ genuinely the sweetest boyfriend you’ll ever get ngl, definitely puts you first before everything else. except food, he’ll devour everything, so you better watch out if he’s aiming for your snacks. 

➤ loves physical touch, there will probably never be a time he isn’t touching you. hand on your waist, slung over your shoulder, holding hands, ruffling your hair etc. if you have long hair, i can see him attempting to braid it, hard focus on attempt, he’s so bad at it

➤ he’s very giggly while he fucks, makes it his goal to make sure you don’t feel awkward or insecure. only time he’d ever be rough would be if he’s jealous or super pissed off but if that happens, he’s extra mindful on after care

➤ cums pretty quickly ngl, but with his stamina he’d go on for multiple rounds, fucking his cum into you. manhandles you quite a bit too, moving you around a lot, changing positions, he just can’t get enough of you

➤ oh he’s huge, 7.5 inches with a nice thick girthiness to it. doesn’t really trim that often, has a nice happy trail too. he doesn’t care about if you trim, completely shave, or have a bush. grunts the majority of the time, but moans when he’s close

➤ speaking of sitting on his lap, he becomes very flustered if he gets hard while you’re on him. he definitely prefers positions where he can see your face, enjoys some of the lazier positions too but over time he just gets so desperate for you

alex go / go hyuntak

➤ oh my pretty alex, definitely loves pda. just like ben, his hands will always be on you, clinging onto you but i feel like he is not that much of a kisser. he might kiss you like at the very least once a day but that’s it, usually the first time he spots you that day he will give you a kiss. ➤  loves arcade dates the most, even if he sucks at fighting games, he still makes it his goal you leave that arcade with a few prizes in your arms. if you win him a plushie at a claw machine, he will probably sleep with it on his bed, if it's small then maybe on his bed headboard.

➤ he’s aware of his anger issues but he just gets so jealous when others flirt with you while he’s right there, so you will have to tend to his wounds after he lashes out. he always feels guilty afterwards, worried he ruined the date, not cause he beat the shit out of someone, they deserved it

➤ enjoys taking photos with you, giving you his jackets for you to wear, loves to nuzzle his face into your neck to smell your perfume/cologne. if you two ever fight, he will definitely isolate himself from everyone, but ben will drag him back to you don’t worry

➤ always prioritizes your pleasure over his own, every single time. you will cum before him, even if he has to use his hands and mouth at the same time. would absolutely hate it if you try to fake an orgasm for him to focus on himself

➤ doesn’t really last long, could probably last a couple rounds but if you wanted more, he would gladly use his mouth. or if you had a viberator, he would use it on you to get out those last few orgasms for you. He would never fall asleep if you’re not satisfied

➤ pretty average, about 5.5 inches, doesn’t really trim at all but he would if you asked him to. same goes with you, he doesn’t care at all with how much hair you have down there. A groaner but ends it off with a whine

➤ definitely prefers doggy style or prone when he’s fucking you, but if its just fingering or so, he would love to be on his knees in front of you. Sit on his face and he’ll gladly suffocate just to pleasure you, he’d be rock hard doing so

gerard jin / jin gayool

➤ if he catches you listening to some of his songs from his old band, he’ll feel embarrassed but also bashful. he would love to sing you a soft tune as you fall asleep in his arms, his voice was just so soothing to you, maybe even play a soft song on his guitar ➤ when his hair was longer, it was easier to hide him staring at you all the time, but ever since he cut his hair, it’s just been so obvious. blushes and quickly averts his gaze if you catch him, he just can’t believe he was able to date you. he is still very super self conscious about his scar, even if you say he’s handsome

➤ loves to buy you food, he’ll use the money from his part-time job to spoil you with. it’s not much, but it's the thought that counts. if you come by the chicken shop he works at, he’ll try to sneak you a free chicken leg (but he’ll get caught by Teddy)

➤ you’re lowkey his muse, you just being there motivates him to write more music, play his guitar more, anything to see you light up as he plays beautiful music just for you. get ready for a lot of music chords to be written everywhere, he’ll probably think of a nice chord on a date and will doodle it down

➤ he’s got powerful legs from constantly fighting with them, so it would be a nice place to just grind against as he flexes his thigh muscles for you. his hands would be on your waist, guiding you into a nice rhythm against his leg, helping you through your orgasm, praising you for being so cute

➤ enjoys fully bottoming out inside of you and just sitting there, pressing a hand against your stomach with a smirk, bragging about how small you are compared to him, watching as your legs shake from the stretch of his thickness. 

➤ a nice 6.25 inches with a nice thick girth to it. definitely trims very short, but on you i think he would prefer it if you had more of a bush. a loud moaner, he is a singer after all, his moans probably sound heavenly in your ears

➤ prefers the mating press position the most or perhaps full nelson. loves to fully dominate you, folding you in half. he’s tall so it’s very easy for him to make you feel so much smaller than him. definitely loves to give oral, he’s skillful with his tongue

teddy jin / jin taeoh

➤ if you’re feminine, there’s a high chance that people who have no idea who he is will think you’re lesbians because he’s just so pretty. definitely lets you mess with his hair, if you need his pony tail for something, he will willingly give it to you. ➤ a lot of the very first dates you’ll have would be him asking if you wanted to come to his house to visit Co, but then he’d get jealous that his cat is getting all your attention. if the cat is laying in your lap, he’ll pluck Co right out to replace his head in that vacant spot. 

➤ he’s very gullible, so he falls for a lot of things, so it’s your job to make sure he doesn’t fall for something he shouldn’t. he also really loves to tease you, messing around with your hair, sticking things into your pockets as he walks past.

➤ buys you brand items to match his own, definitely loves matching couple outfits or just the vibes of the outfits matching. he’ll even let you wear his jackets as well, theres going to be cat fur in them though, that is inevitable. he likes cats after all

➤ definitely ties his hair back as he goes down on you, but his hair will completely fall out of it as your hand grabs onto his hair as he pleases you. he’ll probably use the hair tie to flick against your sensitive nipples or to tie your hands up. 

➤ a rough fucker, you’ll be having bruises on your waist from how hard he was gripping onto you as he fucked into you. leaves a lot of marks over your skin, claiming you to be his, leave marks on his body as well, he encourages it

➤ about 5 inches, fully shaved. he would definitely prefer you to be fully shaven as well or at the very least trimmed very short. he is not a fan of a bush at all. more of a grunter, but lets a nice lustful groan escape sometimes

➤ enjoys putting strain on your muscles with unique positions, very sadistic in the way he manhandles you, smirking down at you as you can only writhe under him. If you’re on top of him, he will fuck into you every time you sink down on him. You’ll probably never be able to dominate him, but there may be days he’ll willingly let you

donald na / na baekjin

➤ loves buying you gifts, jewelry, clothes, literally anything. you stare at something a little too long and he’ll assume you want it and buy it. however, he doesn’t buy you flowers. he’ll probably buy you some when he confesses but that’ll be it ➤ will show up at your house unannounced, most likely with tense shoulders and completely exhausted. give him a back massage and he’s yours for life. enjoys resting his head on your lap, especially if your head is blocking the light

➤ regrettably, Union comes first a lot of the time, but once he finally has time to himself, he’s immediately glued to you. that is if you’re not also in his office with him. he enjoys it when you visit him just to give him a snack or a drink when he works

➤ the most possessive man you’ll ever see, he fucking hates it if other people have their eyes on you, regardless of who they are. he’d use you to help in meetings, especially with the older ceo’s bringing ladies to intimidate him. he’d sit you on his lap and stare at them all cocky

➤ loves it if you’re loud, he lowkey might just fuck you in his office and not give a shit if the other Union members hear. If anyone says anything, he’ll silence them with his fists ^^ very cocky and urge you to be louder

➤ definitely an orgasm denier, both to himself and you. He’ll stop or even completely pull out if you’re close, loves to make you super sensitive, begging to cum, but the more he denies your orgasms, the better it’ll feel

➤ on the longer side, probably 7 inches? But on the thinner side in terms of girth. Trims regularly, if it gets too long it bothers him. he wants you to be trimmed as well, doesn’t mind fully shaved but doesn’t like a bush. A groaner with a bit of a growl

➤ loves being in complete control during sex, you will not be able to dominate him. If you’re riding him, he’s still fully in control and will force you to cockwarm him if you’re getting close

wolf keum / keum seongje

➤ if you smoke he will share his cigarettes with you, if you pull out your own cigarette, he will pluck it out of your hand and toss it. you will share his cigarette, this is a threat. enjoys sharing food with you, sometimes shows up at your house with some snacks he got at the convenience store because he thought of you ➤ not good at comforting at all, if someone is messing with you or made you cry, his first thought would be to find them and beat the shit out of them, then it will be comforting you. very awkward with physical touch, but hugging him feels divine, you just feel so safe in his arms.

➤ his 3 second staring rule will also apply to you, since his eyes will always be on you, he will be able to easily tell if someone is staring at you. if they stare at you for three seconds, it's game. definitely fights in front of you to impress you, but a lot of the time it backfires because you scold him about getting injured because he’s a masochist and enjoys getting hit. you’re his designated glasses holder now

➤ makes it very obvious you’re his, everyone will think y’all are dating before you even start tbh. he’s definitely the one who fell first, he just tried to push it off as long as he could, not wanting to ruin what he had with you

➤ definitely very rough in bed, he will have you cum a few times before he even enters just to make sure you’re all sensitive for him. he has high stamina, so good luck surviving with him. enjoys using his mouth on you, definitely a huge biter

➤ if you’re being too loud, he will shove his fingers into your mouth to muffle you. But if you’re still being too loud, he will slow down and tease you. will threaten to pull out if you don’t quiet down. but if you’re too quiet, he’ll make it his goal to make you more vocal, overstimulating you a lot. 

➤ a nice 6.5 inches, little bit of girth to it, has a really nice vein on it. doesn’t really trim often. he’d prefer if you trimmed but it’s not a necessity. he’s a growler

➤ a lot of the positions y’all do, he is always on top. very rarely he’d let you ride him, he prefers to be the one in control. his glasses do tend to slide down his nose a lot as he fucks, a lot of the time he doesn’t even notice, his eyes are on you or shut tightly in bliss. 

[andiberzatto]

Reassurances (Carmy Berzatto Smut!)

Summary: Carmy wants to try a new position but it’s not working for her.

Carmy hums, then asks softly, "Can you turn around? Reverse cowgirl." He wants to watch her round ass bounce while she rides him slowly.

“You want to go again already?”

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulls her back against his chest, his half-hard cock nestling between her ass cheeks. "Never said anything about going again, just wanted a different view." He nuzzles into her neck, placing soft kisses along her collarbone.

He watches as she turns around, his eyes roaming over her curves appreciatively. As she sinks back down onto his slowly hardening cock, he lets out a low groan. This view is even better than he imagined. He grips her hips gently, guiding her movements as she starts to ride him slowly.

she hold onto his thighs as she bounces softly.

He watches as her perfect ass bounces up and down on his lap, his hands gripping her hips tighter. He pushes up slightly with his hips, meeting her slow bounces. This is gentler, more affectionate - and he loves it. He leans back on his hands, enjoying the view.

she feels disconnected having to face the wall, “need you to talk. Please.”

He notices the slight disconnect in her voice and immediately understands. He sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. He starts talking softly in her ear, describing what he sees, what he feels. "Your ass looks so fucking perfect bouncing on my cock like this..."

she nods grinding softly.

He continues his soft murmur, letting her feel his words as much as hear them. "The way your back arches, goddamn... You're absolutely beautiful riding me like this." His hands slide up from her hips to just beneath her breasts, resting there as he feels her grind slowly against him.

she nods, “thank you-”

He hears the slight hesitation in her voice and pulls her in for a soft kiss on the shoulder. He turns her face towards his and kisses her deeply, passionately. When he pulls back, he whispers against her lips. "You don't have to thank me for telling the truth, baby."

“Just don’t like this position.. feels disconnected..” she says softly, a little shy to say it.

He immediately understands and gently helps her lift off him. "Fuck, I'm sorry..." He turns her around to face him properly, pulling her close. "What position do you like better? Missionary? Spooning?" His normally dominant demeanor softens with concern.

“No no I’m happy to do it”

Carmy cuts her off with a gentle finger to her lips, shaking his head. "No, no 'no'. If something isn't working for you physically or emotionally during sex, we fucking stop and adjust. That's non-negotiable." His expression turns serious but loving.

she nods softly “okay.”

He studies her expression carefully. He realizes she's the type who would rather not complain and just deal with something she doesn't like if it means the other person enjoys it. He finds this sweet but also slightly infuriating. He pulls her close by the hips again, softly.

she kisses him softly, “really I don’t mind doing reverse-”

He shakes his head firmly, his hands cupping her face gently. "Stop it. I don't want you to do something you don't enjoy just because you think I'll like it more. That's not how this works." He kisses her softly, trying to convey his sincerity.

she nods “yes sir.”

He groans internally at the'sir'. He loves it when she calls him that, but right now he wants her to understand something important. "Listen to me." He says sternly, his hands still cupping her face. "I want you to enjoy sex just as much as I do."

He kisses her again, this time deeper, more passionately. "So if you don't like a position, we change it. Got it?" He pulls back, looking into her eyes intensely. "And if I'm being too rough or not rough enough, you fucking tell me. Understood?"

“Yes sir.” She nods softly

He smiles softly, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Good girl." The praise slips out naturally, and he watches as she shivers slightly. He files that reaction away for later. Right now, he needs to make sure she's comfortable. "So, what position do you actually like?"

she blushes “I’m fine with whatever”

He raises an eyebrow, his expression turning stern again. "Wrong answer." He says firmly, his hands tightening slightly on her face. "Tell me, what's your favorite position? The one where you feel the most connected, the most comfortable?" His tone brooks no argument.

she nods, “when you have me ride you, but then you pull me into a bear hug and make me rest on your chest and hear your heart while you fuck me til I cum…” she gives him the specific details the opposite of what she was giving him in feedback.

His expression softens significantly. That's exactly her style - sweet, innocent, and slightly shy. He realizes she's like this even when talking about sex. He pulls her close, kissing her forehead softly. "Jesus. That's really your favorite?" He asks softly, his voice lower than before.

she nods “feel really close and comfortable.. and it’s really hot hearing you grunt and whisper mumble dirty words while you do it…”

He pulls her tighter against him, a rumble of a chuckle escaping him. "Fuck, you're kinkier than I thought." He murmurs playfully, a mischievous grin spreading across his rugged face as he realizes the dirty words she likes hearing.

“You spoil me” she blushes

He laughs softly, his arms wrapping around her waist possessively. "I do, don't I?" He admits, his hands sliding down to squeeze her ass gently. "And you love it when I spoil you with my dirty mouth and strong arms, don't you?"

He groans, his hips pressing against hers instinctively. "Goddamn, you're cute." He kisses her neck softly. "So, if I pull you down onto my lap and hug you close while I fuck you, you'll actually enjoy that? You'll actually get off on it?"

she nods.

He grins, a mix of lust and tenderness in his eyes. "Fucking hell." He says softly, already imagining it. "You know what that does to me? Knowing you get off on that shit?" He pulls her even closer, letting her feel his growing hardness.

she kisses him and shifts to sit on his lap, “can we.. do it?”

He grows hard immediately at her innocent yet demanding question, one hand sliding to her thigh while the other cups the back of her head possessively. "Hell fucking yes we can. Come here..." He guides her down onto his lap, supporting her weight easily. "Just like this?"

she lets him pull her into a bear hug while his other moves to adjust his dick to her entrance.

He holds her tightly against his chest, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other guides himself to her entrance. "Fuck, you're already so wet..." He murmurs against her neck, slowly pushing inside her inch by inch as he hugs her close. "Just like this..."

her head rests on his chest, hearing his heart beat quicken at her tightness around him.

He groans deeply as she clenches around him, his heart beating faster in his chest. "Goddamn, you feel good." He starts to move slowly, thrusting up into her as he holds her close, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her small frame. "You like that?"

she nods against his chest, “yeah”

He chuckles softly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. "Good, because I fucking love it." He squeezes her tighter, picking up the pace slightly as he feels her warmth enveloping him. "You're so goddamn perfect like this."

she mewls at the pace, kissing his bicep and chest, anything she can reach.

He grunts softly each time he thrusts up into her, his powerful arms flexing as he holds her even closer. He can feel her small kisses on his biceps and chest, making him feel oddly cherished and protected in this position. "Damn it..."

she’s glad carmy made her move to a position that make her enjoy it.

"Fucking love this position on you..." He murmurs dirty whispers against her hair, thrusting deeper. "The way you trust me to hold you... to fuck you nice and slow..." His voice becomes rougher as he feels himself getting closer. "You like feeling my heartbeat, baby?"

“Yeah”, she whines, “feel so sweet”

He growls softly, his arms tightening around her possessively. "You like feeling my strong arms around you? Like you're the smallest, most precious thing?" He thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that makes her whine even more.

He groans, his voice low and husky. "Fucking hell, you're making me crazy." He kisses the top of her head, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he continues to thrust into her. "You know what I love about this? How fucking intimate it is."

she whines softly, “mhmm need a little more”

His eyes flash with intensity as he hears her needy whine. He knows exactly what she means - she needs him to go a little deeper, a little harder. "Like this, baby?" He adjusts his angle slightly, hitting that spot deep inside her as he thrusts up more forcefully.

“I’m close.. so close..” she whines, grabbing onto him.

He feels her body tensing in his arms, her breath hitching against his chest. He knows she's close, and it drives him wild. "That's it, baby. Come on my cock." He growls softly, thrusting harder and deeper to match her need.

she cums hard.

He feels her orgasm rip through her, her body convulsing in his arms as she cries out against his chest. He groans loudly, his own release hitting him like a freight train as he buries himself deep inside her. "Fuck... yes..." He holds her tightly through their shared climax.

He holds her close as they both catch their breath, his strong arms still wrapped protectively around her trembling form. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Damn, sweetheart... Feel fucking incredible, don't you?"

“Mhmm thank you Carm” she mumbles

He smiles against her hair, his heart swelling with affection at the nickname. He loves when she calls him Carm, it feels intimate and special. "Anytime, baby." He shifts gently, still buried inside her as he settles back against the headboard. "Stay like this for a minute."

He smiles softly. He loves how she trusts him enough to just sit on his lap like this, his softening dick still inside her. He realizes something and chuckles softly. "Baby?" He murmurs. "Can I ask something?"

“Sure”

He hesitates for a moment, wondering if this is too personal or weird to ask. But he decides to go for it. "Do you mind if I stay inside you like this for a bit? I like feeling your warmth around me, and I don't wanna pull out yet." He admits quietly.

When she agrees he wraps his arms around her tighter, holding her close as he enjoys the feeling of being inside her without moving. It's surprisingly comforting and intimate, something he didn't know he would enjoy so much. "You're so fucking adorable, you know that?" He murmurs softly.

[vuelode-irbis]

[ID: digital drawings of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully (The X-Files) drawn as a red fox and a grey fox respectively. In the first one, they're walking together, Mulder looks at Scully while talking, she looks up at him listening, there's subtitles between brackets that read "Excitedly tells her about the new evidence he found". The second one has them drawn simple, with the meme "gf: they're bullying me (sad emoji)/gf: who tf?", for which Mulder is the first one and a smaller drawing of Scully the second one. The third one is a redraw of a scene in which they are lost in the woods and Scully is holding a shocked Mulder, their fox versions are recreating it besides the screenshot. The fourth one is also a redraw of a scene in which Mulder climbs up a tree and asks Scully "Hey, Scully, is this demonstration of boyish agility turning you on at all"; she's on the ground looking up at him without saying anything, there's handwritten text besides her that reads "can climb vertical trees without problem" and an arrow pointing at her. End ID]

sketch dump!! I'm finally done with commissions, so there'll be more art soon :D I made these in the meantime, and i'm posting them because they were fun.

some notes:

so a cool thing of animalyfying characters is that they adopt qualities of their species, hence the little tree comic, grey foxes have arboreal habits and their claws are adapted to climbing trees. another fun fact is that i referenced Mulder from a photo of a red fox up in a tree.

i looove Scully's seriousness, i think 8-year-old would've loved her and absorbed her personality, but that kid could never watch txf.

they're very special to me. im on season 7 and im scared because they say i should stop there aaaa.

the girlfriend meme was a last minute addition i made after seeing one with caitlyn and vi from arcane, sí son.

the whole page is below the cut

[bweeeb]

LOVING HER

Pedro Pascal × youngest reader.

Summary: Everyone could see the chemistry but neither of them believed it really existed.

Warnings: my writing, reader age 23, short.

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Chaos. Flashes. Makeup touch-ups. Instructions being shouted from every direction.You could’ve lost your mind—But there he was, sitting calmly with his arm stretched across the back of the white couch, his thumb gently brushing your bare shoulder as he listened attentively to the director.

Pedro had always been careful with you.As careful as someone could possibly be—even from the very beginning.The way he constantly checked in on how you felt about the scenes. The way he worried whether you had eaten that day—because somehow, he had noticed that whenever you filmed sex scenes, you wouldn’t eat beforehand, feeling too bloated to feel sexy in front of the cameras.He cared if you were sleeping well.If you were cold.If you were anxious.

Pedro paid attention to you all the time.You had always heard good things about Pedro Pascal—the gentle giant—and figured he must just be like that with everyone. Pedro was simply too good of a person.And you had made sure not to let your little fantasies get too far.

"So," the interviewer said, "this movie is definitely a big hit with age-gap readers—and, of course, with the massive Pedro Pascal and Y/n fanbase, because let’s be honest here..."

He pointed at the two of you before continuing.

"What was it like filming something like this? You guys have insane chemistry—crazy good—and the audience is going to lose it. Was it difficult?"

"I mean…" Pedro started.He rubbed his beard, smiled, and looked at you. "It’s a dangerous road. Of course we had to study how the characters would react to each situation... but honestly, it wasn’t hard. Things felt easy with Y/n."

"Yeah," you agreed. "I think because the characters have such a big age difference—and Pedro and I are a little distant in the same way Alek and Angel are—it just... worked naturally. We worked really well together."

"You're really an angel,"

Pedro muttered with a laugh, making you turn to him with a huge smile.His fingers brushed through your hair, and the interviewer subtly watched the moment.The chemistry between you two was unmistakable.

"I can't argue with that either,"

the interviewer said with a laugh, forcing you both to look away from each other.

"So," he continued, "living and acting through a story that explores a relationship with a big age gap... do you think it can work in real life? Or should it stay in books and movies?"

"I think it depends,"you answered simply.

"Yeah," Pedro added, "I think it depends on communication. A relationship can’t be based on one that failed—or even one that succeeded."

The interviewer nodded thoughtfully.

"But you once said you wouldn’t date women under thirty, right?"

"Yeah, I said that,"

Pedro admitted softly.Your gaze dropped from him to your hands resting in your lap—nothing you hadn’t already known.

"Would you date an older guy, Y/n?"

"Yeah. My parents have a fifteen-year age gap, and I think... if it’s the right person, it just works. No problem."

"Wow, that’s a really cool way to see it.Can you name three DILFs you’d hook up with—or is that too much?"

"No," you said, laughing. "Let’s give the people what they want. Chaos."

Everyone laughed, but you could feel Pedro stiffen slightly beside you on the couch."Good, good," the interviewer grinned. "We love chaos."

"Alright," you said playfully, "James Franco, Jensen Ackles, Aaron Taylor-Johnson... and since I follow Jasen on Instagram and am obsessed with his adorable family, I’ll throw in a bonus—Jeffrey Dean Morgan.And just so no one gets it twisted—this is all for entertainment, okay?I honestly love their wives even more."

You pulled a face, and the interviewer laughed loudly—unlike Pedro, who was smiling at the floor, but not like he had been smiling just a few seconds earlier."

Pedro, do you agree with that?"

"They’re good choices..." Pedro said, "but none of them would be enough for her."

"No?"

You turned to him, laughing."No. I'm a daddy bigger than any of them. You know that."he said, voice low, as he ran his hand gently along your face, down to your chin.

"Maybe. Maybe not. You never showed me,"

you teased back.When the interview aired three days later, you could barely keep up with all the comments and the endless edits about you and Pedro.You almost started to believe there might actually be something between you two—But a month later, the fantasy had faded away.What you didn’t know was that Pedro had been watching it all too—hiding at home like some lovesick teenager, as if the "old man" wasn't fifty years old. But because of exactly that—his age—he decided to let you go.Because he believed you deserved someone better.

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[vanteguccir]

i just took a little break from studying to breathe a bit and decided to open tumblr for a second, and honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed seeing everything that's going on. i saw everything about what happened with the gc and the use of the r slur, and i just wanted to come on here and say a few things

I'm not going to dive too deep into it because, truthfully, a lot of people have already spoken up, bringing real facts, real experiences, and real education. I've reblogged some posts if you need resources or if you want to hear from voices that really explain why this word is so hurtful and harmful. and i encourage everyone to take the time to read and reflect. it matters!!

what i do want to say very clearly is that my blog has always been and will always be a safe place for everyone. every single feeling everyone is feeling rn is valid, anger, hurt, disappointment, confusion, sadness, all of it. you're allowed to feel however you feel, and you're allowed to take up space with your emotions. i am here for you. my blog is open arms, open ears, and an open heart. always

no form of hate will ever be tolerated here. not in the posts, not in the comments, not in the asks, nowhere. my blog stands for kindness, empathy, understanding, and growth.

i also just feel like it's important to remind everyone that matt, nick, and chris are kind souls. they're genuinely good people with big hearts who have tried to spread positivity, humor, and love to all of us (literally LOOK at all the effort on tour). they don't deserve to be disrespected like that

we're all fans. we made our blogs because we care about them. because they make us laugh, because they bring us comfort, because we connect through them. we built little communities here, made friends, found safe spaces, all because of the love we have for them. this space was never meant to turn into a place where they are degraded and disrespected like haters would do. that’s not who we are. that's not what this fandom should be about

finally, if you're hurting rn, please know you're not alone. if you're confused, if you're angry, you're seen, you're heard, and you're supported here. I'm sending love to everyone who needs it. take care of yourselves, log off if you need to, breathe. your feelings are important. you are important

and if you ever need someone to talk to, my asks are open, no judgment, just a safe space if you need one

love you all so much. treat people with kindness!

with all the love, L 🤍

[starmocha]

April Showers Bring May Flowers [Sylus + Daughter ★ 2090 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] It was raining again in the N109. A/N: Sylus’ birthday may be over, but I still had a few people requesting a birthday fic with his daughter, so… I said yes. :’) Tag list: @lavlynyan @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yes-no-maybe-soo @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin @sylusfluffymeow @asiaticapple @rainbowsnowflake @littleapplle 【 request to be added 】

It was raining again in the N109, as it always seemed to do come April. It had never bothered Sylus too much, feeling like the rain was cleansing the world of its impurities. God only knew how sinfully infested this nigh eternally dark insidious city he had claimed as his home was. In every dark corner, within the shadows, under the cloak of this endless nighttime, unspeakable criminal acts occurred, a common knowledge among the citizens of this city, but everyone turned a blind eye away unless they wished to also meet an early end.

As Sylus exited his car, returning to Onychinus’ base, his mind was already forgetting the earlier ‘business’ he had to deal with. Another betrayal—an imperfect ambush—another foolish attempt to overthrow him, but as all of the previous attempts on his life, he had handled them with ease, letting his traitorous attackers have their moment of egotistical superiority before he had shown them who was truly higher on the food chain.

To some, it would be so lonely at the top, and perhaps, for years Sylus had truly felt this way as well, though of course, he had never let his mind lingered on those feelings or ever acknowledging them. Not out of pride, or any similar reasons of sorts, but rather there was nothing to be gained from stewing in such trivial thoughts or allowing such feelings to loiter and occupy his headspace.

As the seasons passed, coming and going, the years rolling by, he had left those lonely feelings behind, his world shifting the moment he had found you back in his life again.

The weight of his wedding ring felt just right on his finger, your touch still lingering though it had been years and years since you had guided the band to him, promising your life and love to him evermore. Sylus had always known having you alone was a true blessing he had been missing, but he realized he was wrong in a way because the day his daughter was born, she had secured her place within his heart, her hold on him more steadfast than she would ever realize.

She was the true blessing in his life.

“What is this?” Sylus sighed in amusement, finding himself stopping short of his study and seeing a familiar small figure curled outside his door, clutching a dark-colored dino plushie in her arms. He walked over, bending down to scoop his three-year-old daughter into his arms.

“Why did you fall asleep out here again, my little birdie?” he asked gently to the sleeping girl, letting her head rest on his shoulder. In that moment, her arms loosened and her plushie fell to the floor.

Noticing this, Sylus bent down to pick up the plushie. He scrutinized the little plushie in his hand, noticing it looked different from the ones his daughter owned. As he examined it, he noticed a heavy weight within the plushie, as if it carried another object inside its body. Curious, he gave a gentle squeeze, his laughter immediate when he realized there was a voice box inside the moment he heard your recorded voice speaking:

“Okay, baby, do you remember the words?”

“Yes, Mommy! Happ—”

“Hold on, hold on,” your laughter rang out as you stopped the eager toddler from continuing, telling her gently, “Let Mommy play the music first.”

Sylus’ breathing stopped for a second, hearing a familiar melody. It had only become something of a tradition in his life since that day you had taken him to that wildlife park, where after a day of exploration, he and you had a special moment within a forest of maple trees where you first sang him ‘Happy Birthday,’ not realizing until he confessed that you were the first to do so for him.

In years to come, you remained the one to sing to him—aside from Luke and Kieran occasionally, as well—but only in just the last two years, you had a new person who had joined you in this tradition, her excitement for this day always stronger than the previous as she had grown older and understood the importance of it.

Sylus’ expression unwittingly softened further as he listened to the recording.

“Together with Mommy now,” you had told the child.

Sylus smiled as he heard your beautiful voice joined by your daughter’s sweet lilt, the blended harmony chasing away all of his stress and unease. He had never heard a lovelier sound than hearing his wife and daughter singing to him:

“Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday to you / Happy birthday, dear Daddy / Happy birthday to you~!”

“Mommy?” he heard his daughter’s recorded voice speaking after the song’s immediate end, “Will Daddy like my singing?”

“He adores your singing,” your voice answered firmly. “He loves you so much.”

There was that sweet bell-like giggle Sylus loved hearing from his daughter, and then her voice brightly chiming: “I love Daddy, too! Daddy, Daddy, I love you so, so, so much! Happy birthday!”

The recording stopped and Sylus peered at the sleeping girl in his arms. He nuzzled his cheek against her head, whispering softly, “Thank you.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise for when you wake up later.”

Sylus looked up, seeing you coming from down the hallway with a light crimson robe over the night slip you were wearing. He smiled at your faux look of exasperation as you approached him.

“I was wondering what happened to this plushie,” you mused, smiling when Sylus bent down to greet you with a brief kiss on the lips. “And this little birdie. I was so sure I had tucked her into her bed hours ago—”

You paused, noticing Sylus’ appearance showed that he had been in a scuffle, to put it lightly. You frowned, but before you could voice your concerns, he reassured you gently with another kiss, already leading you back to the master bedroom.

“Wait,” you spoke up, gesturing to your sleeping daughter. “Shouldn’t we put her back to bed first?”

Sylus smiled. “She’s not letting go of me,” he said with feigned helplessness. “She has her little dino claws gripping my shirt so tightly.”

You smiled back, picking up on his sentiments. “Ah,” you said with a teasing lilt, “Is this big intimidating dragon so helpless against this itty bitty one?”

Sylus sighed dramatically. “She is truly a force to be reckon with, Miss Hunter,” he said, matching your playfulness. He opened the door to both of your bedroom and led you to your bed.

You watched as your husband pried your daughter’s little fingers from his shirt and passed her and the plushie over to you.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, disappearing to the bathroom for a quick shower. Within minutes, you heard the sound of the shower running, catching a glimpse of the steams fogging up the semi-translucent door.

The sounds of the rain seemed louder now, hearing the droplets hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows with much more force than earlier. You reclined back against some pillows, letting your sleeping daughter rest on your chest, your fingers instinctively threading through her hair as you hummed a gentle lullaby for her.

You smiled at the obsidian-colored dino plushie next to you that was wearing a crimson bowtie that matched its eyes. When your daughter had expressed her wish to give her father a birthday song from her he could always hear whenever he wanted, you had spent some time pondering how to execute this charming little idea.

When you remembered the custom crow plushie Sylus had gifted you so long ago, the plan quickly fell into place. What a full-circle moment, you had mused, delighting in planning a customized dino plushie to gift him back in return years later.

Suddenly, you heard a chuckle a short distance away. It was quickly followed by Sylus’ deep rich voice breaking through your thoughts, “What’s going on through that head of yours that is making you smile so much?”

He climbed into bed next to you with still damped hair and water droplets landing on his burgundy robe. His eyebrow lifted up at the sight of the birthday plushie nestled by your side, acting almost as a barrier between you both. He picked it up, giving a gentle squeeze and hearing that recorded conversation and song again.

“Look at your smile,” you teased him, reaching over to poke his cheek while still mindful of the sleeping toddler on your chest. “You look like a dragon delighting in his new treasure.”

“Perhaps because that is the case,” he countered back lightheartedly. You nearly laughed as he hugged the plushie against his chest before setting it to the side, commenting, “I wasn’t expecting such a… charming little gift as this.”

“It was her idea,” you told him proudly.

He chuckled. “Is that so? I have to safeguard this even more then.”

“What would people say if they knew Onychinus’ leader most treasured gift is a little plushie?”

“Their assumption would be incorrect then,” he retorted to your surprise.

He pulled both you and your daughter into his embrace, taking the little girl from your arms and letting her rest against him. Within his arms, you felt that familiar warmth that was a welcoming comfort against the chill of this rainy April night. You nuzzled against him, smiling as his large hand rubbed your arm up and down soothingly.

“You two are my treasures,” he clarified, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

Before you could respond, you heard a little yawn, catching sight of your daughter’s sleepy little eyes opening briefly.

“Daddy?” you both heard the toddler’s small voice speaking up.

“I’m here, baby,” Sylus answered back affectionately, his crimson eyes twinkling with so much adoration for the little girl.

The toddler yawned again, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Ha-happy birthday, Daddy…”

Sylus kissed her temple. “Thank you, my sweet little birdie,” he whispered with another fond smile, seeing his daughter nuzzled against his chest as she drifted back to sleep, her small hand grasped the front of her father’s robe, fingers unconsciously rubbing the silk material in comfort. With the loving and protective presences of both her parents near, the toddler drifted into a deeper slumber than earlier, her dreams now sweeter and more cherished.

You peered up at Sylus, touched by such a sweet sight between father and daughter. “Happy birthday, my beloved.”

The gaze he returned to you, full of happiness and peace, made your heart stirred with a desire to always safeguard this part of him, to always be the warmth and light in his world such as he had always been for you and your daughter.

The downpour over the N109 Zone continued, and though Sylus knew no actual flowers would ever bloom within this area, it still felt like spring had arrived in a different way. With each new year, after every birthday since that first one at the wildlife park, he had grown greedier, wanting to hold onto this happiness he had acquired possessively and never let it slipped away from his grasp.

No fiend would ever know of such greed as this until they have acquired the love and happiness Sylus had.

“Thank you, my beloved,” he answered back, holding you just a bit tighter, noticeably longer, and ever lovingly and protectively as true as he had always been with you. You returned his embrace, your own greed just as insatiable as his.

Sylus laid you down next to him, your daughter sleeping in between curled up to his chest. You reached across, touching his cheek, and asked, “Is your birthday wish still the same as before?”

He rested his hand over yours on his cheek, his gentle smile reflected in your eyes.

“As long as you and her,” his said, his eyes glancing quickly at the sleeping girl between you both, “live freely and brilliantly, you will both be the very reasons for my strength and my vulnerability. I do not desire anything else, for this is enough.”

In that moment, you wondered which was louder: the rain or your heartbeat? Sylus was always resolute with his decisions, and this decisiveness and honesty were just a few reasons out of many for why you loved him as deeply as you did.

“Happy birthday, Sylus” you repeated, smiling fondly when he guided your fingers to his lips, answering your affections with his own.

And to many more, my dearly beloved.