#and he actually manages to keep in contact with me despite how hard it is (how hard i make it) to talk to me on a consistent basis lol

[lay-z]

How your men experience their first Father’s Day after you’ve given birth to the twins.  

The only ones who remember are Kyle and Johnny, because they’re still in contact with their families and actually care about their fathers—yet they’re oblivious to their own situation. 

They’re all fathers now, all four. It’s been decided since they made you theirs three years ago. 

Still, it’s surreal to them, the fact that they’re considered dads now, so they’re just as baffled as John and Simon when you suddenly go out of your way to make their day special despite your own exhaustion. 

John, who’s usually the first one up while the rest of the house is either eerily silent or filled with a snoring concert given by three other men, saunters into the kitchen after finding your spot in the martial bed empty and the nursery, too.  

His expression turns the slightest bit sour, not knowing where you and the babes have gone this early without telling anyone, though as soon as the smell of freshly brewed coffee and waffles hits his nostrils along with his favorite sounds reaches his ears—your gentle cooing and the adorable babbles of his babies—John Price is an absolute goner. 

Your eyes light up with glee as soon as you see his reaction. “Good morning, papa,” you greet him, standing behind the two highchairs of your babies, their chubby cheeks and mouths covered in waffle crumbs and mushed strawberry pieces. “Sleep well?” 

“I–” John’s chest feels terribly tight at the sight in front of him, how your eyes shine so brightly, and how his children smile their gummy smiles, babbling happily as soon as they notice him, too.  

“Your chipmunks are saying Happy first Father’s Day, daddy!”  

His throat clicks as he swallows hard trying to keep himself from tearing up. Words fail him as he stands there, love and gratitude blossoming fiercely in his chest and warming him up from the inside out until it burns in his fingertips and he can’t keep himself from approaching you and his babies, pulling you into a bear hug and kissing you slow and deep before smooching both his chipmunks’ chubby, sticky cheeks until they squeal. 

While John has breakfast and watches over the twins, you go upstairs after hearing the toilet flush. 

The ensuite bathroom door is cracked open; light spills into the bedroom, illuminating the silhouettes of Simon and Johnny still sleeping soundly in bed. 

It’s not easy to sneak up on a Special Forces operator, but somehow you manage while Kyle is bending over the sink, rinsing out his mouth after brushing his teeth, and his soul nearly leaves his body as he jumps and barks a high-pitched yelp. 

There’s some movement and rustling of bedsheets coming from behind, but your focus is on Kyle as you grin at him. 

“Bloody Christ, baby,” he curses under his breath, clutching his beating heart. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

You chuckle, stepping up to him until your chests nearly touch. “Skittish, are we?” 

Droplets of water drip off his chin, nostrils flaring as he glares at you for a few seconds—until his lips split into a bedazzling smile and his hazel eyes light up like fireworks in the night sky. 

“Cheeky minx,” he chuckles whilst slinging an arm around your waist to pull you flush against his solid frame. “G’mornin’.” 

You’re swift to reciprocate the embrace, wrapping your arms around his midriff before nuzzling against his sternum while warmth and the smell of sleep and comfort are still clinging to him. 

“Good morning, baby.” You mumble into his shirt. “Happy Father’s Day. I already made a special breakfast for my sweet, sexy hubbies.” 

But Kyle’s brain has already short-circuited as he realizes what day today is, and his fingers flex around your waist, needing to ground himself as his heart flutters rapidly in his chest, full of love and awe for the extraordinary little family he’s claimed for himself.  

And he embraces you tighter, burying his nose into the crown of your hair with a sigh. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

When Kyle parts from you, though not without another lingering smooch to your lips after absolutely railing your mouth with his swift tongue, to go downstairs to see his precious babies, you pad into the still semi-dark bedroom instead, crawling onto the custom-built bed toward the source of gravelly snoring. 

Simon must have snuck out while you were busy with Kyle, because now it’s only Johnny in bed, still splayed out on his stomach and with his head buried under his pillow. 

“Johnny,” you croon against his neck before playfully biting into the delicious thickness of his nape, eliciting a soft hum that dissolves into a whine when his body begins to stir. “Wakey, wakey, Johnny.” 

“Mhmmmpf–uuuck.” He burrows deeper under the pillow but pads his burly hand across the mattress uncoordinatedly, trying to snatch you up blindly. “Jus’ c’mere, hen.” 

A shriek escapes you when he does manage to catch your wrist only to roll onto his side and pull you in with ease, murmuring into your hair: “Thought ye could escape me, hm?” He chuckles darkly. “Nae.” His voice is even more attractive like this, rough and rich, hot gun oil dripping over gravel. It causes your thighs to squeeze together, and your breath hitch when arousal pools into the gusset of your panties while his limbs coil around you like a bloody snake. 

You tap out against his forearm that is now tucked under your chin. “I yield, J-Johnny!” He laughs again, a little louder when you bite into his arm, tugging on coarse body hairs.  

“S’tha’ how ye alway gonna wake me up on ma special day, duckie?” he coos, tightening his hold as you try to squirm only to end up mewling pathetically—which you’re aware is already a dangerous sound to make around Johnny. “Gonna make me a da again, hm? Want me ta fuck ye while our boys are havin’ a cuppa?” You can’t bite your lip hard enough to keep in your moan as he grinds the swelling bulge inside his boxers against your rear. “Have ye waddle ‘round the house while ye carryin’ our babe again?” 

Once you mew out a pathetic little ‘yes, daddy’, it’s over for you.  

By the time you’re able to walk and somewhat presentable again, Johnny is whistling a merry tune under the shower while you clutch the stair-rail as you make your way downstairs once more. 

John is reading the newspaper at the head of the kitchen table, still sipping on a coffee, Kyle is seated across from him, scrolling on his phone while nibbling on a buttered toast, and the twins are nowhere to be seen. 

“Had fun, baby?” Kyle asks cheekily while you blink away the post-orgasm daze. “Where are our children?” 

“Hm?” The newspaper crinkles when John peeks over the edge at you, the crunch of Kyle biting into his toast filling the tense silence before you gesture at the empty highchairs. “Our babies? They can barely walk, so I feel stupid to ask where did they go.” 

“Ah,” Kyle chimes in, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “Simon,” he swallows thickly, “said he’ll put ‘em down f’nap time.” 

“By himself?” you ask incredulously, brows furrowing. “They’re blessed with three daddies and–” 

“Darlin’,” John cuts you off before you can go on a rant, and your lips shut as you meet his stern, steel blue gaze. “Simon needs a moment alone with them. Okay?” 

Now that really shuts you up, and you nod after a moment, feeling utterly stupid for not even considering that today could mean even more to Simon than it does to your other husbands. 

The kitchen becomes livelier when Johnny joins the bunch; mohawk still damp, rocking sweats and a muscle shirt along with a shit-eating grin. He places a wet peck on your cheek before cupping your jaw and turning your face for a proper kiss. 

“Woah, woah, haven’t ya had enough yet, Tav?” Kyle complains, coming up behind you two while John watches in amusement. “Never,” Johnny retorts with a snort before grabbing Kyle by the back of his neck and crashing their mouth together in a bruising kiss—all while you can merely squeak at John for help, sandwiched between their bulky bodies. 

When you manage to escape the usual kitchen chaos, you make your way upstairs, coming to a soft stop in front of the door to the nursery. As you press your ear to the wooden door, you can hear the low murmur of Simon’s voice, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. 

The door creaks the slightest bit as you open it carefully to slip inside, and the sight that greets you nearly takes your breath away by the way your heart clenches so tightly. 

Simon is standing by the twins' cribs with his back turned towards you, his massive frame barely illuminated by the soft glow of the teddy bear night lamp on the nearby commode. 

He’s simply been talking to his babies. 

Slowly, you approach him on socked feet, your steps nearly silent on the plush carpet except for the trademark crack of one of your knees. As soon as you’re close enough, you embrace him from behind and rest your cheek against his shoulder blade while he slowly starts melting against you. 

“You deserve it just as much, Si,” you whisper, tightening your arms as best as you can. “Happy Father’s Day.” 

And you can feel how he inhales sharply, how his body tenses for a few seconds, before he relaxes again. The click of his throat loud in the otherwise quiet room as he swallows thickly, cupping his larger hands over yours and intertwining your fingers. 

“Thank–Thank you, lovie,” he sniffles quietly. 

And you both end up watching your beautiful babies sleep peacefully. 

I know it's too early, but Father's Day was last week here in Germany, so—Happy Father's Day! ❤️

[plethorawrites]

hey! what about clark who always makes you ride him because he’s afraid that with him on top he might hurt you cause he’ll lose control of his powers?

Oookkayyy. I believe I'm veering into some very precarious territory, lmao. But, yess, I do have thoughts! (NSFW content)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Despite the fact that Clark Kent was 6'3 (while slouching), 225 pounds, and otherwise incredibly built, he was perhaps the least physically intimidating person alive. In fact, he was practically terrified of his own features—the same ones that made you utterly melt.

It wasn't until you discovered his identity as Superman that you realized the reason his hands never actually touched you during hugs, and he preferred you holding his arm over holding hands with each other. He was afraid. He always had been, in a way, but it was usually manageable.

That was because he wasn't trying to pursue a relationship.

You were affectionate, craving attention in whatever form possible, from cuddling on the couch to just grazing his pinky with yours while at lunch. And you wished he would return it more than he did. He wanted to. He really did. It was just so damn hard when he was terrified to hurt you. He'd never forgive himself if he did something that harmed you in any way.

The more physical your relationship became, the harder it became to reduce contact to the minimum amount he could get away with. You wanted more and so did he. But he could crush you without even meaning to, break your bones by just holding your hips, maybe even something worse than both of those things.

No, if you needed intimacy, he would gladly give it to you, since he wanted it just as badly, but he'd refrain from doing anything that could cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort or harm. You, being on top, was the only sensible answer.

Not to mention, incredibly attractive.

You always were, but there was something about the angle, about him just laying there, staring at you, watching you get lost in your own euphoria that drove him insane. The way your hair kept falling into your face, your fingernails kept digging further into the skin of his shoulders or chest, how your eyes sparkled brighter than usual.

To say nothing of how you actually felt, your hips soft against his bare skin with every slight roll you made, grinding against him slowly to prolong your time together as long as possible.

He could barely handle your usual smile, but the one you were giving him right now, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress a little huff of laughter made his heart clench.

"What?" He wondered, his breathing a bit heavy. He was doing a terrible job of keeping his composure and was pretty sure you could tell.

You shook your head, your hands planted firmly on his chest while admiring the way his head always tilted when he was curious. "Nothing," you mumbled, the word taking a little while to find since you had to focus enough to remember how to speak. "You just..." Your lips pursed as one especially long drag of your hips made your breath hitch. "... You're like a pillow prince." You teased a moment later.

Clark's mouth dropped a little, in surprise but not offense. You weren't exactly wrong. He was laying there, his hands behind his head, watching you do all the work, like always. But it wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, he was itching to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his hands and it was taking all his restraint not to flip you over. He just couldn't risk it.

"Maybe I just like the view," he replied, his hips jerking up slightly when he felt you clench around him. His jaw tightened at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the feeling for a moment. "You—" he swallowed, his eyes opening. "—are you so perfect on top of me."

Another bashful smile spread across your face as you dropped your head and resisted the urge to move your hair, afraid that if he moved his hands, he'd lose control entirely.

"You like watching me struggle," you muttered, your hands moving to his shoulders to grip them tightly, your movements slowing to a stop, trying to catch your breath. "Admit it..." You panted. "... you're a sadist."

He laughed, his body shaking under you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he assured you. "You're doing good for me."

You hummed slightly at the praise, closing your eyes for a moment. "It's exhausting," you admitted, your legs killing you despite the enjoyment. "Always so... difficult."

"I know," he responded sympathetically, hesitantly removing his hands from behind your back, hovering them over your thighs for a while, contemplating before carefully setting his hands on them. He just couldn't resist anymore. You were too damn tempting.

You moved your hands to cover his, a small smile tugging at your lips. "You gonna help me, for once?" You murmur, trying to joke but failing. The words came out with too much lust for that.

He nodded slightly, focusing on making sure his fingers didn't accidentally dig into your skin too hard. "Tell me," he said seriously, staring into your eyes. "The second I take it too far."

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him. "You're not going to hurt me," you whispered. "I trust you."

[xelinielx]

Even Broken, I Still Love You

The ending of book 7 has just WRECKED me and I wrote some hurt/comfort because I have feelings about my dragon boy. I put a link to the AO3 post as well. I usually never post writing on here but this piece doesn't fit in on my other blog so here it is.

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF BOOK 7

Header by MagicPaint. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793984

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

Malleus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet, tone so low that you had to strain to hear him. The question hung heavy in the air.

He still hadn’t turned to face you, staring out of the small window of the bedroom that he slept in during his stay at S.T.Y.X. There wasn’t much of a view out of the windows besides dark, moving water, so it was clear that Malleus was using the window as an excuse not to look at you.

It was clear just by looking that the overblot had taken an immense toll on him. He looked completely different from his usual self. Not only had his usual dark robes been changed to the S.T.Y.X-themed clothing that test subjects wore, but there was something about the way he held himself that was fundamentally different from before.

The noble dragon fae usually held his head high in a regal posture that was hard for anyone else to replicate, authority and power exuding from his very stance. It was a far cry to the way he was posed currently, hunched over as if trying to make himself seem smaller, trembling fingers clutching onto the windowsill. 

There was also a different aura surrounding him that was different from how his emotions could manipulate the weather around him. It wasn’t the feeling of crackling electric anger, or even the heavy, suffocating pressure drop as rain clouds formed. It was a deep, exhausted sorrow that seemed to weigh the entire room down. 

As Malleus had a collar to monitor his magic usage, the aura was, for once, not physical, yet it somehow felt more tangible than any emotional outburst you had seen from him. More real despite not actually being there.

A few days had passed since the final battle that had marked the end of Malleus’ overblot. When he had been reassured that Lilia was alright, Malleus had been taken by the Ferrymen as well as both Idia and Ortho to S.T.Y.X for monitoring and data-collection. No one had wanted to take the risk of leaving him in a state where he risked a second overblot, so once he had stabilized enough, the Director allowed him to request visitors. 

It had not seemed like a wise decision to keep Malleus cut off from the rest of the world as was S.T.Y.X’s norm since almost losing Lilia was what had brought on the overblot in the first place. Leaving Malleus not knowing how the people he cared about were doing was too high of a risk.

The first visitor that Idia had (begrudgingly) been tasked with delivering to the Isle of Woe was Lilia - to the surprise of no one. Both the Director and Idia had been hesitant to risk putting the strain of travel on Lilia so soon after everything that had happened, but Lilia had been uncaring of the worries and insisted that he had to go. 

Silver and Sebek were still in recovery - where Lilia was also supposed to be - and while Malleus had wished to see both his retainers as well, the Director had put his foot down. It was too dangerous to bring all three over already, so after negotiating, Malleus had agreed to let Sebek and Silver heal for a while longer before he got to see them. 

Lilia had also threatened the director, saying that if he refused to pick him up to go see his ward, Lilia would jump into the water surrounding Sage’s Island and swim until he managed to find the Isle of Woe. 

Besides researchers checking cameras and vitals to make sure both fae were alright, the two of them had been given space to speak alone. Whatever they spoke about was kept between them and S.T.Y.X, but it had involved lots of hugging and tears.

Two days after Lilia’s visit, Ortho had contacted you through your phone, telling you that Malleus had requested your presence at the Isle of Woe, which is where you currently were, staring at his trembling form for the first time since he had been taken in for monitoring. 

Normally, you’d have cracked a smile seeing the fae-prince surrounded by this much technology that he had no idea how to use, but the items in the room were the furthest things away from your mind.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you walked over to Malleus’ shaking form. With a gentleness that Malleus wasn’t used to feeling, you placed your hand softly atop his. It felt a bit strange at first, feeling his cold skin instead of the gloves he tended to wear, but the feeling of strangeness quickly disappeared. 

A pair of wide, emerald-green eyes stared down at where your hand rested on top of his, filled with an unspoken question.

Why?

For a moment, the two of you stood still in silence as you searched for the right words. Eventually, you took a calming breath and spoke up, voice soft and calming.

“Mal,” you began, using an affectionate nickname to hopefully help him relax.

His breath hitched for a moment, surprise evident. 

“I understand why you used your ultimate magic. Why the circumstances caused you to overblot. You wanted to protect the people that were precious to you and keep them from harm, protecting both them and yourself from getting hurt.”

A single tear ran down Malleus’ cheek as he finally turned to fully face you, leaving a wet track across his porcelain skin. He still refused to meet your eyes, scared of what he would see reflected in them.

“You had good intentions. There is nothing evil about wanting to keep your loved ones safe. If I had been in your position, I think that I would have overblotted too,” you admitted quietly, giving Malleus a small, weak smile. “So there is no way that I can possibly blame you for making the same choices I would have if I were you.”

In a silent plea, Malleus turned his hand around to face palm-up. You responded by lacing your fingers together with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please look at me?” you asked in a small, yet hopeful voice.

Slowly, Malleus’ green eyes moved from your intertwined hands up your arm, then neck, where they paused briefly before finally meeting yours. 

The hate and anger he had expected to see was nowhere to be seen. He could see his reflection, and was unable to determine whether the sadness he saw came from you or himself.   

You lifted your free hand to his face, letting it gently rest against his cheek. Your thumb moved to brush another tear away. 

“Malleus Draconia,” you said, staring deep into his eyes.

“You are not a monster.”

Those words seemed to snap whatever makeshift dam he had constructed to keep his emotions at bay, shattering it completely. 

Malleus began to cry. Tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs tore their way out of his heaving chest as he finally let go of control and allowed his emotions to run free. 

Unable to stand up anymore, Malleus fell to his knees on the floor, burying his face against your stomach as he cried. His arms wrapped around you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright. He held you like he would collapse if there was even as much as a millimetre of space between the two of you.

His devastating sobs and the desperate way he clung to you broke your heart. You wasted no time sinking down to kneel in front of the dragon fae so that you could properly return his full embrace. 

Tears soaked your shirt as Malleus clung to you so desperately that it felt like you would bruise or your clothes would tear from his strength at any moment. That didn’t matter, though. Bruises didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. S.T.Y.X didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the sobbing fae in your arms.

Malleus sobbed out apologies in between cries, and you did your best to calm him, whispering reassurances as you alternated between rubbing his back and petting his head gingerly, being extra mindful of his horns.

At some point, you ran out of new things to say, defaulting to a reassuring ‘it’s okay’ as you held him. Hopefully, he would feel better after letting it all out. You weren’t going anywhere.

It could have been anything from mere minutes to several hours, but eventually, Malleus’ sobs began to die down to sniffles.

He lifted his head from where he had buried it against your shoulder, glancing up to meet your eyes with his red-rimmed, puffy ones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For everything. All the people I hurt. The things I-” 

Fresh tears spilled past his lash line, and you didn’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands, brushing them away as they fell. Malleus leaned into the warmth of your palms, seeking the reassurance your touch held. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Not to me. Never to me.” 

Leaning forward, you pressed a featherlight kiss against the scale on his forehead which peeked out from between tousled locks of hair. 

“There was nothing unforgivable about what you did. The people who were hurt are recovering, the school is being rebuilt, and everyone is safe.” 

Malleus’ breath hitched. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and across his long lashes like tiny diamonds. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked, voice still quiet and trembling. The ‘of me’ was left unsaid, but you knew it was there. 

Your immediate smile was all the reassurance Malleus needed, but you still decided to verbally reassure him as well.

“I could never be afraid of you, Mal.”

The relief Malleus felt was palpable as he finally relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he leaned his weight into you. 

His head shifted to press a pointed ear against your chest, listening to the steady and even thumps of your heartbeat.

To better support the body weight of the dragon fae, you shifted your sitting position so that you could lean your back against the wall. You refused to let Malleus get up so you could move, holding him close and carding your fingers through his hair with soft, comforting motions. 

“But I saw…” Malleus’ voice cracked. “When my horn broke, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked terrified.” The last part of the sentence was a mere whisper, but the close proximity between the two of you made you able to pick it up. 

“I was scared, yes,” you began, feeling something in your chest ache as you felt the powerful mage in your arms flinch. “But not of you.”

Malleus tilted his head to meet your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You let out an airy laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I was afraid for you. Afraid that you would have to be killed to stop your overblot. Afraid that I would never get to hold you like this again.”

You could feel tears brimming in your own eyes as you poured your heart out. “Mal, I love you. Nothing you have done or will do could ever change that.” 

Cold lips pressed against yours with a soft reverence. The kiss was slow, unhurried as the two of you conveyed a thousand words between each other in a silent, intimate moment. 

When you pulled apart, Malleus rested his forehead against yours, the cold of his forehead scale comforting. “You wish to stay by my side still?” he asked, knowing the answer deep down, yet still fearful he would be mistaken.

“Always.”

“Even if I look like this now?” he urged, leaning away far enough to do a sweeping motion towards his face and now uneven, damaged horns. “Even if-”

You cut him off with another kiss, this time more demanding than the prior. You tried pouring all your love into the kiss, trying to clear the insecure thoughts from Malleus’ mind. Taking the opportunity provided by Malleus as he had leaned away before, you climb into his lap, making yourself comfortable. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you cradled his face gently but firmly in both hands, making sure he couldn’t look away from you.

“Malleus, if you think something as insignificant as you looking different is enough to take me away from your side, you are far from correct.” You let your left hand travel up his face until it was gently tracing the base of his broken horn. 

“You could have four horns, eight and a half horns, or no horns at all, and it would still have no impact at all on my feelings for you.” 

Carefully, you gently ran the pads of your fingers over the broken part of the horn where it had snapped off. Malleus shuddered beneath you as your touch danced across his exposed, extra sensitive nerves.

“I love you because you are you. Not because you’re a Draconia, or a powerful fae. None of that matters.” Your hand returned to cradling his face once more. 

“Of course, having a strong, handsome partner is a bonus,” you added with a giggle, delighting in the small, pale blush that crept across Malleus’ cheeks.

“But I’m not with you because of those things. I’m with you because of all the things that make you you. The care that you show for me and those you care about, how fireflies follow you at night and circle our clasped hands. The cute way you pout when Sebek mixes up gargoyles and grotesques, itching to correct him. The childlike wonder you show to every new thing you learn…”

You take a breath, wishing in vain for your voice to stay strong, but failing miserably.

“- the way that all you’ve ever wanted is for people to see you for who you are, and be able to be yourself, unburdened by expectations and prejudices.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks now, making you feel embarrassed. Right now, you needed to be the strong one supporting Malleus - not the other way around. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you placed your hand against his chest, right above his heart.

“I see you.” 

A relieved, genuine smile - the first one you’d seen since the overblot - stretched across Malleus’ lips. He leaned into the touch of your palm, eyes shining with both residual tears and adoration. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head in outrage. “What do you mean deserve? You silly, silly dragon. You didn’t have to do anything at all but exist.” 

Letting out a sound that was something halfway between a laugh and a sob, you continued as Malleus’ arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. 

“If anything, I’m the one undeserving of you.” 

His mouth fell open in shock, about to cut you off, but you forced yourself to continue, undeterred.

“You’re the prince of Briar Valley. Not only do you have magic, but you’re one of the most powerful mages in the whole world! And the most ethereal, gorgeous person I have ever seen. I’m a nobody compared to you. A magicless human from another world with nothing really special about me. My life is so much shorter than yours, and I-”

This time, Malleus refused to let you continue and cut you off. A slender finger pressed against your lips as he let out a dry laugh. “My love, do you hear yourself? You are bringing up all the things you said didn’t keep you from loving me to put yourself down. Just as these things don’t matter to you, it is the same way for me. I did not fall in love with you because you’re a human or because it would benefit Briar Valley. I would renounce my claim on the throne in a heartbeat for you.”

Malleus cupped your cheek, mirroring your own earlier actions. 

“I fell in love with the first person outside of my country who truly saw me for myself, was undeterred by how awkwardly I engage in conversation, and extended invitations to me - being the first person to see me as a choice, someone they wanted to be around. You have never looked upon me with the fearful gaze of a subject kneeling before me, and have never made me feel excluded in any way due to being a prince.” 

He let out a laugh, gazing fondly up at you. “Any and every day with you is an adventure. No matter where you take me, what we do together, or what people around us whisper about, it’s the fact that I’m doing it with you that makes it special.”

“Even though I laughed at you when you were startled and jerked back when they were popping popcorn at a market stall and me and Silver had to fight to keep Sebek from drawing his sword at the poor owner of the stall?” 

Malleus let out a loud burst of laughter. “Moments like those are my favorite. Spending time with people I care about, and learning new things while not a single thought about my royal lineage crosses my mind.” 

Falling quiet for a moment, Malleus seemed to ponder something. With a resolute nod to himself, he resumes speaking. 

“Like you said, I am aware that the differing length of our respective lifespans is a source of conflict and worry. I do not wish to ever lose you. You saw what happened when I was afraid I would lose Lilia…” he trailed off for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

“Even though that is a fear I harbor, I do not wish to give up on loving you. If you are willing to stay with me despite all that I’ve done, we have many years to find a solution… and…” Malleus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze again, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“...and should we not find a solution, then so be it. I would much rather have lived a life with you in it and then lose you than never having had you in my life at all.” 

Terrified of loss and sadness, and knowing the potential consequences of that, he still wanted nothing more than to spend as many years as possible at your side. A century is a short time for a fae, yet even if that is all the time with you that he gets, he is certain that it will be the most memorable and most valuable hundred years he ever lives.

“You ass,” you choked out with a laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m the one supposed to be sappy and reassure you - not the other way around.” There was no mirth or anger in your eyes, and the remark was playful, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Malleus let out a chuckle, chest rumbling. “Who is to say that I am not supposed to be the so-called ‘sappy’ one?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “You are truly precious to me, and I cannot in any amount of words in any language properly convey just how much you mean to me.” 

He fell silent once more, peeking up at you through his lashes. “Are you truly certain that you wish to be with me after all this?” 

There was no need to pause and think. You already knew your answer and had known it for a long time now.

“There is no place I would rather be.” 

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep cuddled together on the floor, clutching each other tightly as if fearing that the other would disappear otherwise. Your head rested on Malleus’ chest, lulled to sleep by the soft, rumbling purrs he let out as he slept curled around you like a dragon guarding its hoard.

And for the first time since the overblot, neither of you worried about what you would find in your dreams, content to exist in the perfect reality that could only be found in the other’s arms.

[puck-luck]

not-so quickie | jack hughes

warnings: morning sex, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, dirty talk, jack as a boob guy for SURE, pet names, domesticity, jack x y/n being precious partners fo'eva pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when reader and jack's morning antics leave jack rushing to get to training. wc: 1967

Whenever you wake up in the same bed as Jack, which was more often than not nowadays, his dick is poking the small of your back or it’s nestled right against the curve of your ass. Either Jack is pulling you into him in his sleep or you’re pressing back into him in your sleep, but the way you get into this position doesn’t actually matter because it always ends in the same outcome: you, awake, because Jack has his morning wood. This morning, the tight grip Jack’s hands has on your hip explains the events of the night perfectly.

Despite the closeness between your bodies, you manage to turn to face Jack without waking him up. You trace the line of his nose, the freckles on his cheeks, and thumb over his bottom lip. 

Still asleep, Jack sighs at your light touch and pulls you as close as he can, slipping his thigh between your legs. You smile, feeling like a beam of light could erupt from your chest with how fond you are for this boy. His eyelashes flutter and the corner of his lip twitches. You can tell he’s fighting to stay asleep and you don’t blame him– the bed is comfortable, warm, and he doesn’t have to be at his off-season training for almost an hour and a half.

“Jacky,” you whisper, watching as his nose scrunches when he loses the battle.

“No,” he groans, voice thick with sleep. He feels blindly for the hem of your big shirt, the only thing you wore to bed last night, and pulls it up until he can pull it over his head. He kisses the space between your boobs before he relaxes and tries to fall back asleep.

You giggle when his breath washes over your chest, partially because it tickles and partially because you know that if Jack could climb into your skin, he would. 

“Good morning, sweet boy,” you say, scraping your fingernails down Jack’s back in soothing movements.

“G’morning,” comes Jack’s muffled reply. “You woke me up.”

When you pull your shirt collar away from your chest to peek down at him, Jack’s got that trademark Hughes pout written across his face. His eyes reflect betrayal, but you know he’s not really mad. 

“You woke me up,” you parrot back at him. 

Jack lets out a “hmph!” of displeasure at that. “Clearly, one of us is lying. That’s not possible.”

“Your little friend poked me awake.” You poke Jack to emphasize your point.

He laughs and his movements shake you. He adjusts you in his arms so you can feel the press of his, still hard, “little friend” against your hip. “This guy?” He asks. 

You hum, nodding. “That’s the one.”

“Poked you awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, that’s not very nice of him, is it?”

“Not at all.”

“What should we do about that?”

“I don’t think he should get to have any fun for the next week.”

Jack retreats from under your shirt at that and hovers above you. “A week?” He repeats, disbelief dripping from his words. “No, pretty girl, that’s cruel and unusual punishment. That’s against the Constitution.”

You laugh and press a hand to his chest. “Since when are you such a patriot?”

“I know my rights.” Jack leans down to kiss the side of your neck, then blows a raspberry in the same spot. 

You shriek and twist away from him, but Jack’s hands keep you firmly underneath him. His thigh keeps you pinned in place and offers some solid pressure to your core. His dick is still pressed against your hip and even though you’re both laughing as you try to evade his wandering lips and fingertips, you can practically feel him throbbing with the contact.

“Jack!” You squeal when he digs his fingers into your sides. You reach down and grab his wrists, trying to stop him from making any more moves, but he easily reverses your grip so he’s holding your wrists instead. He presses them down into the pillow above your head and your breath catches. His eyes are on yours and time suspends, the air thick between you two.

You’re breathing heavily and Jack’s got that barely-there smile on his face. He bites his lip, then licks it.

You’re not even registering how your hips grind down on his thigh until he looks down to where you’re touching. You look too and gasp, remembering that you are completely bare on his thigh when you see the patch of wetness glistening on his skin.

When you look back up, Jack is staring at you with something akin to determination in his hooded eyes.

“Not so upset about being woken up now, huh?” He teases, tensing his thigh and leaning into you.

“Shut up,” you breathe out, tilting your hips up to meet him.

Jack watches you without saying a word for a few minutes, a small smile present on his lips. 

Your eyes are closed, your head is tilted back, your hair is loose and falling in a halo around your head. It’s tangled and tousled from your sleep. You’ve got a fading crease from the fabric of your pillow across your cheek. Your shirt has ridden up to reveal your stomach and Jack reaches out to place a hand on it. He spreads his fingers wide and licks his lips at how his hand looks covering you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, I want to do this with you forever. 

“Jack,” you moan, finally opening your eyes and looking into his. You continue to roll your hips against his thigh, so dense and strong and so there beneath you.

“Yeah, honey?” He replies, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you need?”

“Want you inside me.” Your jaw drops when Jack thrusts his leg against your core, and stays there.

Jack looks over at the clock on your bedside table and thinks. He’s got a little over an hour before training, but he’ll have to shower and that could take five or thirty minutes depending on if you join him. He needs to cook and eat, which might take twenty minutes. The drive is fifteen minutes if he speeds (he does every time). He looks back at you and melts at the way you’re staring up at him, begging him for more with just your eyes.

“Fuck, can you be quick?” He asks.

“So close already, Jacky, just want you inside.”

Jack rolls onto his back and shoves his boxers down to his knees, pulling you on top of him. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good.”

You line him up with your entrance and sink down, feeling the breath seep out of you as he fills you up. You move your hips in slow circles, feeling him drag along your walls and press every delicious spot inside of you. You lean forward and stabilize yourself by putting both your hands on Jack’s abdomen. You can feel his abs tense as you start to move up and down on his cock.

He’s staring up at you like you’re a dream. He’s got a hand on your hip and a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down on your smooth skin with his thumb. The only noises between you are the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips and the strangled breaths that fall from Jack’s. You take him how you want him, deep and consistent rather than fast and hard, and Jack wonders if, maybe, this is how life was meant to be lived all along?

When you pull your shirt over your head, Jack’s hand shoots up to knead your breast. He stares, mouth slightly parted, at the way they move when you continue to bounce on top of him and how they fill his palm, the weight of them causing him to smirk with pride. He’s a boob man at heart, always has been, and these tits are his, you’re his. He starts to thrust up into you once he’s got his hands on your tits, loving the way they feel under his fingers so much that he loses track of the fact that you were supposed to be keeping the pace you wanted.

Not that you mind.

You let him fuck up into you, the tip of his dick hitting your deepest point and making you a mess. “Jack,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Jack grunts out, one hand dropping to your side to pull you down into him in time with his thrusts up. “Say my name, tell me who’s making you feel good.”

You’re both sweating, a light sheen of sweat glistening on your bodies as the sun peeks through the curtains. If you looked behind you, you’d see the mess that you left on Jack’s thigh earlier. The messy hair that you love so much is starting to stick to his forehead, clumping up in strands that fall across the skin in the most beautiful way. They’re like that because of you, because of how good he’s making you feel, the effort he puts in, and it’s that knowledge that brings you one step closer to your orgasm. 

“You look so,” you say, losing the words when Jack tilts his hips to meet that one spot inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Jack.”

“Gorgeous,” Jack tells you, finishing the sentence that you had started and abandoned. “Everything I ever wanted, my pretty girl, my baby. Wanna see you come, love, wanna see you make a mess all over my cock. C’mon, baby, come for me.”

He continues to urge you as your moans grow in pitch. He continues to slam into you and it’s the tortured whimper he lets out when you clench down on him that sets off your orgasm. You almost collapse on top of him as you move your hips frantically with his stuttering ones. Your hands press on his chest, your breasts dangling right there, right in front of him, and Jack comes. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, looping an arm around your waist and fucking up into you wildly as he comes. He bites down and sucks on the skin of one of your tits as he comes down, pulling away to reveal a patch of his saliva that will certainly turn red, then purple, then blue over the next few hours. 

You both breathe heavily after the high of your orgasms, with you gently rising off of Jack and removing him from the warmth of your pussy.

“Good morning,” Jack says again when you cuddle into his side, your head resting on his arm and your fingertips dancing over his stomach.

“Good morning,” you reply with a smile when his dick twitches at your movements.

Jack throws a glance over the top of your head towards the clock.

“Mm,” Jack groans as he pushes himself up. He kisses you, long and soft, before he gets up to go to the bathroom. “That didn’t go as quick as I needed it to. Now I have to rush.”

“You’re complaining?” You tease.

“Never. Never complaining about getting to spend time with my pretty girl.”

You beam as you hear the shower turn on. You slip on one of Jack’s dirty shirts that he left on the bedroom floor the night before and get out of bed yourself, still feeling the remains of the morning’s adventures on your thighs. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully. That one, if you can swing it, will actually have to be quick.

notes: hi good morning readers yes here i am back again on a monday morning with more smut (i fear... i be thinking about this topic too much). and yet i am running out of things to write about because i do not want to write about the same three actions (a little fingering, a little oral, a little fucking) in every post because i fear that will get old for y'all. MORAL OF THE STORY: SEND REQUESTS! SEND ASKS! SEND COMMENTS ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE PLAYERS AND PEOPLE YOU WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT! i need help <3 (yes, @johncena2020 i will eventually get to your Mr. Marino. i will.)

[sturnboos]

older bf!matt and puppy!reader dry hump in the car at an outdoor theatre.

WARNINGS: mutal masterbation, dry humping, in public, language, no actual p in v, pet names (puppy, pup, mutt)

Matt had taken puppy to a drive in movie theatre it was her first time going to one, the movie was only twenty minutes in. Matt's gentle possessiveness over her, the way he had a hand on her thigh, was only slightly distracting.

Moving his hand, he stroked his finger tips over the inside of your's thigh, One thing Matt had come to know was that you liked physical contact just as much as he did, and both could barely last a few minutes without it.

You glanced at Matt, eyes lingering for a few moments "You're so pretty." Matt smiled, glancing at you in return. "Thank you, puppy." you hummed, lifting your legs so that your feet were on the dashboard, slouching slightly in the seat. 

For a while that’s how you remained. That was until you grabbed Matt's hand sliding it under your skirt so it rested pressed on your panties. Matt couldn't help but to chuckle. Your eyes were back on the movie screen, pretending like you didn't know why Matt was laughing. To see your reaction, Matt lifted his hand to which you pushed it back down immediately without looking away from the screen, keeping your hand on Matt's for a couple of seconds, silently telling him not to remove it. 

"needy pup," Matt mumbled with a smile, barely moving his hand at all, mainly just to frustrate you.

"Please?" Your voice was soft, needy. Matt's favourite sound. 

"What?" Matt asked, feigning confusion. 

You said nothing, but your eyes flicked down to his crotch.  Smiling, Matt began to lazily rub his hand in circles, taking your hand in his other and guiding it to his own bulge. He was hardly going to be all give and no take.  Happily, you obliged to his unspoken demand, squeezing Matt's crotch while watching the film, though you were distracted and your mind kept wandering back to Matt's hands on you. You repeatedly glanced at Matt, moving subtly against his palm until you wanted more. It was something of a challenge in the car but you managed to manoeuvre yourself into Matt's lap, settling with your back to his chest so you could still see the screen. Matt lays his chin on your shoulder and returned his hand to your now wet crotch, whispering, "what’s the matter pup." 

You hummed and rolled your hips wanting more friction, you could feel Matt's hard bulge against you as you did so the fact your only wearing a skirt with your panties made the friction even better. Running his hand up your throat and around your neck Matt tightened his fist around your hair and pulled, encouraging your head back against his shoulder. You whimpered as he began to kiss your neck, barely watching the film anymore. Matt was sucking with a decent amount of pressure on your neck, keeping your head back by your hair, breathing a laugh when you grabbed his hand and aggressively pushed it back against your panties. He pulled it away again despite your's clear demand and he muttered against your skin, "If you touch yourself, I'm stopping." 

You whined but didn't disobey you knew better than to do that after the last time, Sliding his hand down the centre of your's chest to hold you their. you whined when he starts rubbing at your crotch again not to mention you could feel his hard cock poking up through his pants You breathed out with a soft moan.

"Does that feel good, babygirl?" 

"Mm, so good." 

"You get so fucking wet for me." Matt hummed kissing your neck,

"God, why does that feel so fucking good?" 

Matt smiled against your skin. "Because you're my good puppy, my darling. Do you want to turn around and face me, or are you watching the film?" 

"No, I can't focus on it when you're doing that." 

"You started it." 

"I know." 

with the help of Matt, you turned so that you were chest to chest, letting Matt grip your waist and grind you down on him, his hard clothed bulge pressing against your wet panties "Keep going, good- good pup," Matt encouraged, moving a hand from your waist to your shoulder, then sliding it up to your jaw. You took over rolling your hips against Matt’s as that’s what you had been told to do. You moaned softly, Matt chuckled, stroking his thumb back and forth over your jaw. With increased force, you humped Matt, leaning forwards and closing your eyes. You whispered "Fuck." 

"Good puppy," Matt praised, breathing a soft moan into the side of your head. "Just like that." Matt hummed, bouncing you a little the action in a loose rhythm. you went back to humping him again and did as he wanted, getting a satisfied groan from Matt. "Good pup" he then said, as you rutted against him with further aggression. "You're doing so good, fuck. You feel incredible."

"Mm, Matt..." you breathed, mouth partly open. Matt moaned quietly, moving his hand to your lower back his other hand on your chest as he kissed your throat. "Babygirl, you're so lucky I work out." 

Matt was moving you fairly harshly, their clothed areas jutting together so that they both were moaning. He pressed his fingers further into your waist. Whimpering, your closed your eyes and slid your hands down his tattoos and over the firmness of his muscles. You moaned loudly. 

"You sound so fucking gorgeous, pup." Matt hummed, then you groaned. "I wish I wasn't wearing anything right now."  Matt laughed. "Best keep them on. We are still technically in public." 

"you're gonna make me cum on your jeans." 

"Mhm. I'm also gonna cum in my jeans" Matt replied, then moaned and dug his fingers into your sides.  Matt was pushing you repeatedly, finding a particular motion that made you louder, made your breath catch in your throat. He continued it, groaning as he did. 

"Mah-Matt..." you whimpered, "fuck, don't stop." 

"Are you getting close, puppy?" 

"Mhm. Are you?" 

"Getting there."

You whimpered again. The heat of Matt's body against yours was glorious, and with the way Matt was moving with you, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your body from jerking and disrupting Matt’s rhythm. You leaned back enough to look at Matt’s face and made eye contact. Matt's brows were pushing together. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, holding your gaze. "You're so fucking stunning. Mm. Keep looking at me, good puppy."

Something about matts gentle demand made your entire body feel slightly electric. You kept your eyes on Matt, your pussy throbbing in your pants, grinding against Matt so hard it was almost too much. You couldn't stop whining.And fuck did Matt look beautiful in his euphoric, almost cumming but not quite state. Tipping your head back, You continued to whine. 

"Look at me," Matt demanded. 

"Fuck," you moaned, doing as told. your eyes were glossing up. your body was hot and sparkly, like you were made of electrical charges. Noisily, you moaned, eyes rolling momentarily. "Shit, shit, shit," you repeated, couldn't stop your body from jerking in matt's grip. 

"Fuck, come on," Matt encouraged. "Good girl, like that puppy, cum for me. Come on." 

"Mhm, I am a good - mm - puppy." 

"You are. Today at least. Needy fuckin' mutt. Shit, yeah, that feels so fucking good huh?." You gripped Matt's arms with both hands and continued to maintain eye contact as you grew increasingly close to orgasm, watching Matt's face as he too got nearer and nearer. He was making noises almost constantly, releasing a series of louder moans.

"Come on, that's it. Good puppy. Fuck. Cum with me. Ah, shit."

Jerking again, you exclaimed, "Fuck, Matt," and came in your panties, shuddering as Matt continued to push you down against his hard crotch. Matt came noisily, grip tightening on yourwaist throughout, only loosening once he was finished, and you leaned forwards into his chest. 

You both remained like that for a while, Matt’s arms wrapped around your back in a hug, until you decided you wanted to watch the rest of the film and clumsily returned to your seat

taglist: @cl1tlover3000 @emmaweasley @hazedsturns @blushsturns @blahbel668 @riasturns @iloveduckssm comment here to be added

[itsmerelliwellie]

Currency: Affection | Y. Nagumo x Reader

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For this pretty over here

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20.) "I did this for you. I will now be taking payment in kisses.”

PROMPTS

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Warning(s): Blood (though not that much)

Important Warning: NOT REALLY BETA READ

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It was supposed to be a quiet day.

You had told Nagumo to take a break. Not in a "let's relax and ignore your job" way. More like "if you keep throwing yourself in danger like you’re bulletproof, I will personally duct tape you to a couch."

He’d agreed. With a a wink, and a dramatic stretch across your couch, saying, “For you, sweetheart? I’ll be the picture of peace.”

So naturally, five hours later, he crashed through the door carrying a briefcase, three minor stab wounds, and the widest grin you'd ever seen.

“TA-DA! Your favorite deadly idiot has returned!”

You stared at him.

He was crouched on your rug like a cat bringing in a dead bird, blood-soaked on one side of his shirt, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Nagumo.”

“Hey, babe.”

“I asked you to take a day off.”

“I did! This wasn’t technically work. It was… a surprise mission. A passion project, really.”

You blinked. Then blinked again.

“I swear to god, if you just said ‘passion project’ to justify breaking into a Yakuza compound—”

“Okay, first off, I didn’t break in. I seduced a guard, stole his keycard, and moonwalked through the laser sensors. Like a gentleman.”

“Yoichi.”

“Second!” he said loudly, holding up a finger. “I did this for you. And now—” He dropped the briefcase on your table with a dramatic thud, “—I will be taking payment in kisses.”

He spread out his arms, chin tilted up like he was expecting applause.

Instead, you marched straight up to him, grabbed his face, and inspected the cut on his cheek.

"Payment is not kisses, it's disinfectant. And maybe stitches."

“You wound me,” he pouted, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Not as much as they did apparently.”

He only smiled. That ridiculous, charming, infuriating smile that managed to worm its way past your exasperation every single time.

You opened the briefcase, half expecting it to be full of glitter and apology cupcakes, knowing him. But it was filled with data drives. Labeled and neatly organized

“Wait,” You double-checked the content, “This is from the Tanigawa group. These are classified intel drops. How did you even get these?”

Nagumo flopped onto the couch despite the fact that his side was bleeding.

“Because,” he said simply, “you mentioned two weeks ago that you needed access to their network and none of your contacts could get past the encryption. So I thought, why not do what I do best? Get stupid and get results.”

You stared at him. “That was a throwaway comment. I didn’t think you were actually listening.”

“I always listen to you, my love.” His voice was softer now, not quite as showy. “You just don’t always notice.”

You hated how that made your chest twist in the way it always did when he shows this softer side of him, something most people only believe as a myth. The part that loved hard and quiet beneath the chaos.

“I… really needed this,” you admitted, thumbing the edge of a drive. “But you didn’t have to go this far.”

“I did,” he said, with a shrug that was somehow both casual and sincere. “Because it’s you.”

Your breath caught just a little.

“Now,” he continued, eyes glittering with that signature mischief, “back to my very fair request. I did this for you. I will now be taking payment in kisses.”

You snorted. “That’s what you’re calling it? 'Payment'?”

“Hey, intel is expensive, and I like my currency in affection. Also, I’m cute and bleeding. You owe me.”

You rolled your eyes but moved closer, both amused and genuinely touched.

“You want a kiss that bad?”

“I’d settle for, like, ten.”

You leaned in, brushing your fingers through his hair as you kissed the uninjured side of his face—once, then again. Then one on the forehead, his jaw, and finally, his lips. Soft. Slow. The kind of kiss that didn’t rush.

His hand came to rest lightly at your waist, still careful, still teasing. “Mmm. That’s five.”

You pulled back slightly, nose brushing his. “You’re keeping count?”

“I always keep count when it comes to my beloved.”

You paused and kissed him again. Deeper, this time. One of those kisses that makes the world go a little quieter.

“…Six,” he murmured against your lips, eyes closed.

You laughed, pressing your forehead to his. “Let me patch you up first. Then we’ll negotiate the rest.”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, dramatically flopping back like he was about to perish. “But only if you wear that cute nurse outfit you don’t have yet.”

You grabbed the disinfectant. “Talk like that again and I’m pouring this directly into your stab wound.”

He hissed. “Okay, okay, mean nurse it is. Still kinda hot though.”

You shook your head, already reaching for the gauze.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the chaos of it all. The blood. The illegal drives. The absolute circus that came with being in love with a man like Nagumo.

But underneath it all, there was something grounding in the way he looked at you when the world stopped spinning. Like you were the only thing that made him still. The only place he ever felt safe.

And honestly?

That was worth a few kisses.

Or maybe ten.

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A/N: Nagumo, ladies and gents

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[fourthavecafe]

Hiii, fic idea. Gojo lovesss to tickle the reader and the reader has always implied (even lied) that their thighs are most ticklish until gojo finds out their navel is actually most ticklish. Punishment tickles follow…. (Tickle spots were just examples, feel free to change) absolutely love your writing 😁

what happens when you lie to satoru about your ticklish spot

You should have known better. Telling Satoru that your thighs were your most ticklish spot? A rookie move.

It had worked for a while, of course. He’d teased you mercilessly about it but never crossed the line. However, somehow, the universe had betrayed you.

Or rather, Gojo Satoru’s insatiable curiosity and knack for reading you like an open book had betrayed you.

And now here you were, pinned beneath him on the couch, arms trapped above your head by one of his hands. His weight on your hips kept you from squirming away. Worst of all, the smugness radiating from his stupidly perfect face was enough to make you want to scream.

“Soo” he drawled, his free hand hovering ominously over your stomach, fingers twitching in anticipation. “Turns out my sweet, innocent little baby has been lying to me all this time.”

You glared up at him, cheeks already flushed. “It’s not that serious, Satoru.”

“Not that serious?” His eyebrows shot up, his mouth pulling into a wide, wicked grin. “You lied to me about your ticklish spot. That’s, like, the ultimate betrayal of trust in a relationship.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting nonchalance despite your heart hammering in your chest. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh, I’ll show you dramatic” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt that sent a shiver down your spine. “You thought you could outsmart the strongest, huh? Well, now the strongest knows your real weakness,your precious little bellybutton.”

Your stomach tensed instinctively as his fingers descended. “Satoru, wait—”

Too late.

The second his fingers made contact, wiggling mercilessly against the sensitive dip of your bellybutton, you exploded into uncontrollable laughter. Your legs kicked out helplessly and you twisted as much as you could but he had you completely immobilized.

“Aw, poor baby” he cooed, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Is it too much? Does it tickle too much?”

“Satoru!” you gasped between fits of laughter, tears already gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Stop please!”

“Stop?” he echoed, tilting his head like he was genuinely considering it. “Hmm, nah. Not when you’re laughing this hard. This is gold.”

He didn’t just stop at tickling your bellybutton. Oh, no. His fingers moved to lightly trace along the edges of your hips, skimming over the soft skin there before returning to the spot that made you laugh the hardest. His grin only widened as your laughter turned into breathless squeals.

“You should’ve seen your face when I figured it out” he teased, his tone infuriatingly smug. “You got all wide-eyed, like, ‘Oh no, he knows!’ Cute. Really cute.”

“I—hate—you!” you managed to sputter, though the breathless laughter undercut any real venom in your words.

“Hate me? Ouch, sweetheart, that cuts deep” he said, fake pouting. “But, you know, actions speak louder than words and judging by how you’re squirming under me, I’d say you love this.”

“I do not!” you shouted, your voice cracking on the last syllable as his fingers drilled into your bellybutton again.

“Sure you don’t” he replied with a wink. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep going until you’re ready to admit I’m your favorite person in the whole wide world.”

“You’re—not—my—favorite!” you gasped, your body arching in a desperate attempt to escape his relentless attack.

“Wow, the denial.” He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Guess I’ll just have to work harder.”

He shifted slightly and you thought for one blissful second that he might let up. But instead, he leaned down until his face was right above yours, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You know what I love about this?” he murmured, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Your bellybutton’s like a little button and every time I press it…” He poked the spot, earning another squeal from you. “You laugh like the adorable little thing you are.”

“Satoru!” you cried, both mortified and breathless from laughter.

“Say it” he teased, his fingers dancing along your sides before diving back to your bellybutton. “Say I’m your favorite.”

“Never!”

His grin turned downright devilish. “Wrong answer.”

What followed was pure torture. He used every trick in the book—light, feathery touches that sent shivers down your spine; relentless circles that made your laughter turn silent; and even little pokes here and there just to keep you guessing. He didn’t stop, not even when tears of laughter streaked down your cheeks.

“Okay—okay!” you finally gasped, your voice hoarse from laughing. “You’re my favorite!”

He paused, his fingers hovering just above your skin. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it.”

“You’re my favorite!” you repeated, glaring up at him despite your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair.

“That’s better” he said, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Harder than your big head” you shot back, your sass returning now that you could breathe again.

His grin widened. “Oh, look who’s getting feisty again. Careful, sweetheart or I might have to go for round two.

“You wouldn’t dare” you said, narrowing your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand inching back toward your stomach.

“Don’t even think about it” you warned.

“Too late” he replied, his fingers diving in for another quick tickle that had you squealing all over again.

“You’re insufferable!” you cried, swatting at him as he finally released your arms and flopped onto his back beside you.

“And you’re adorable” he countered, grinning as he pulled you into his chest. “Seriously, though, your laugh is the best thing ever. I might have to make this a regular thing.”

“Over my dead body” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Love you too, sweetheart” he said, his voice full of amusement.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest to hide your blush. Dealing with Gojo was exhausting but you couldn’t imagine life without him.

[ambrosialdesire]

OMG i would like to request yandere bertolt x paradis reader.you can pick whatever part of the timeline you want, maybe he managed to survive to take her to marly, or maybe she just tried to escape on marly or paradis, or maybe he just kidnapped her I don't really care

Thank you

desiderate

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 bertolt x fem!reader word count: 9.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, some explicit sexual content, s4 bertolt au, implied non-con, violence, kidnapping mention, stalking, forced kissing (kinda dubcon), slight groping, kinda masochistic bertolt, cigarette usage/smoking, blood kink, knife kink, slight voyeurism, male masturbation mention, panty jerking off mention (?), slight body mutilation, scarification implications, all characters are 18+ synopsis: they've brought you here on this foreign land, a land that was once believed to be completely overrun with monsters. you've been living pretty easy with this new life of yours but it's hard to forget about what he's done to your old home. this singular man, capable of complete destruction despite his nervous demeanor. there may be humans here but the true monster still remained, watching your every move until he was ready to strike. a/n: IM NGL IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST BERTOLT LMFAO i made bro a creep cause i feel like between bertie and reiner, bertie definitely has the tendency to be lurking and stalking behind corners and constantly following you and finding to opportunity to snatch your underwear to jerk off into LOL the reference that i used for s4 bertolt is this fanart that was used in a tiktok edit but i have no idea who made the art and it's making me scream bc it's definitely how i imagine what he looks like (but with thicker chin stubble) and i want to give the right creds (if you look up s4 bertolt/bertholdt fanart on google and see a tiktok image of him smoking, that's what i'm talking about but i want to give actual creds to the artist) also mb on the smoking scenes idk how it feels to smoke but i do sorta know the distinct smell of it this is also in no way connected to the cacoëthes series just to let yall know hehe i hope you enjoy this anon! thank sm for your request!! and sorry for the wait LOL note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"Call off your damn hound Reiner, I'm getting sick of his shit."

Pushing past the blond as you entered his home, you made your way to his dining table. You huffed as you sat down, leaning back against the chair as your boot-covered legs kicked up on the wooden table. Reiner rolled his eyes, pushing them back down to the ground with a heavy thud. He crossed his arms, leaning on the wall adjacent from where you sat.

"A hello first would suffice. What's Bertolt getting himself into again?"

"My business!" Exasperated, you threw your hands over your face. "He keeps fucking following me and it's starting to freak me out. You guys know I'm not suspicious anymore, there's no way for me to be able to contact Paradis Island at all."

Saying your old home's name had started to feel foreign on your tongue unfortunately. It's been over four years since you've been whisked away by these two assholes and living here has been nothing but a thorn on your side. You worked under the Warrior Unit, mostly a simple soldier for both Bertolt and Reiner to boss around for basic things. It's nothing different from your time as a scout but it's frustrating working for them instead of with them.

You don't know why they took you away with them instead of breaking out their other accomplice, Annie, but after a handful of screaming, punching, kicking, and biting from you, they managed to drag you off to the boat. You stayed there for an estimated week or so with random strangers coming and going, poking and prodding at you as if you were one of Hange's experiments on Eren and randomly caught Titans.

The two of them finally came back one random night unconscious, battered and beaten to the point where their Titan healing powers couldn't even help them fast enough. You needed them alive — how else were you going to manage escaping this unknown place of theirs — so you helped tend to their wounds, staying at their sides until they were finally awake.

Once they were conscious enough, you punched Reiner square on the nose, spinning around to smash your knuckles right into Bertolt's cheek. Your hand was throbbing in pain but the burning fury you felt was stronger. By the time they woke up, the boat already was leaving the docks, and now you were most likely already miles away from home.

"You fucking assholes."

Blood was dripping down his nose, while a cut just barely formed on the bruised skin of the other. It was in vain however. Steam was steadily coming out of the two of them, meaning that the healing was back in working condition.

"FUCK! I didn't even say anything yet!" Reiner scowled as he placed his hands around his nose, snapping it back in place with a nauseating crack.

Bertolt laid there quietly however, lanky fingers brushing against the welt on his face but he was unable to meet your stare. Tears started streaming down your face, your body crumpling to the floor. You were completely hurt, you trusted these two like they were family, especially Bertolt. Was he really who you thought he was? How could they do this to you? To everyone back in Paradis?

"Why? Why me?"

The two of them fell even more silent, Reiner looking up at the ceiling while Bertolt closed his eyes shut as if he was the one that was currently going through it.

"Well say something goddamnit! Why am I here?" You were beyond angry, voice crackling from how loud you were screaming at them. "Tell me!"

Bertolt finally opened his eyes, pale green staring into yours. You couldn't see him. There was only the Colossal Titan looking down at you as if you were nothing but an insignificant speck on the wall. He opened his mouth, uttering remorselessly one phrase that made you even more resentful of their entire beings.

"I'm sorry."

Now you were here after long months of being processed and interviewed over and over by many Marleyan higher-ups, eventually and finally gaining their trust. You knew they still didn't like you but who really gives a shit, they left you alive and that's all you could be grateful for.

Since you directly worked underneath the two Titan shifters, they were able to get you housing and some basic supplies for you to be able to function properly in their society, as well as a good amount of pocket money to buy whatever you needed. You didn't go out of the house for a month though, still horribly and rightfully angry at them. You were also afraid of the idea that you'd get mobbed immediately once you stepped out and killed on sight by the locals.

Bertolt was the one that finally knocked on your door, tired and baggy eyes focused on the peephole. Part of you wanted to keep the door closed and ignore his presence, but he might report you or something stupidly petty. When you opened it up, the faint waft of bitter tobacco invaded your senses, nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar smell.

As you looked up at him, he felt and looked even more like a stranger than a past friend. It's only been a month but it looked like he had gotten broader at the shoulders and taller. He was wearing a beige uniform, a white undershirt and black tie peeking out of the chest of the long, belted trench coat. His black hair was partially pushed back with gel, slightly being more grown out from the last time you saw him. The way he held himself now in Marley was completely different from Paradis, an eerie calmness surrounding his person. He used to hunch into himself when he was a trainee and a soldier, but now his back was rigid and straight, arms hidden neatly behind his back. The posture reminded you of the utmost dedicated soldiers in the Scout Regiment.

"You haven't been going to work." He softly spoke, his head slightly tilting to the side.

"So?"

"Failure to comply means termination. Termination means you'll get kicked out of Marley. Getting kicked out of Marley means death." Alright, straight to the point. Even the way he was speaking sounded different, as if he had suddenly gained a newfound confidence that was only present here in his homeland.

"You guys really thought I was able to function properly in a new continent where everything is different in a few months? Not to mention, I'm still pissed off at the two of you but fine. I'll come in tomorrow. Goodbye." You proceeded to close the door on him but he stopped it with his boot. Groaning under your breath, you tried pushing at the door so he could back off, but it was to no avail.

His hand grabbed the side of the door and heaved it open with little struggle, letting himself in as you toppled back into the ground from the force.

"You haven't been going out at all. When's the last time you bought groceries?" You flinched, avoiding his judging gaze. How did he know?

"Last month." You muttered as you got up from the ground, brushing yourself off.

Bertolt sighed, glancing off to the side. "Okay. I'll wait here for 15 minutes. Go get dressed and get your money, I'll help you navigate the markets."

You didn't want to but food was definitely running low, and you don't know how long the canned meat in your pantry was going to last in your anger-riddled protest. You made your way upstairs, rummaging through the closet and grabbing the cleanest clothes you were able to find and put on within the time limit he gave. Making your way back down, you found him in the exact same spot, his eyes glancing around the living room.

"Alright. Let's go and we're going to make it quick. I don't think I can stomach standing next to you for this long." You bitterly grumbled, moodily pulling the door open. Bertolt followed after, closing the door for you and taking the lead. What sucked even more was how quickly you had to dash after him, his steps being too large for you to have a steady pace next to him. Maybe him being a near giant compared to a normal person — you noticed as the two of you walked through crowds of people — was thanks to the Titan DNA.

Each passerby gave you a look as you walked on through but never spared a second glance, which was good. You knew that you were an unfamiliar being, a foreigner that was never supposed to be here in the first place. The farmer's market was still open, vegetables and fruits neatly lined up in each stall. He did most of the talking, being able to haggle easier due to his status and the blaring armband that wrapped around his upper arm. You didn't like having to be publicly labeled, it felt like you were merely a product rather than a person.

You were focusing on a stall with jars of honey and jams when some person suddenly shoved you aside with their shoulder, body suddenly losing its balance due to the amount of groceries you were holding on one arm. You prepared for the impact of the cobbled ground but never felt it, instead feeling a firm hand snug in-between your curve of your side and another on your shoulder.

"Careful now." You opened your eyes, meeting his in shock once he steadied you back on your feet. Bertolt's face soon turned to a bright red, his hands quickly leaving you, and his gaze glancing away. Perhaps there really is still some semblance of the man you knew in your homeland.

"Th-thanks..." Adjusting the bag stiffly back up your arms, you proceeded forwards without him, leaving him behind at the stall. It became a usual thing eventually, he'd come over every two weeks to make sure you were fine and the two of you would go out buying your necessities for an hour or two. It didn't erase the fact that you still hated them, but at least he was helping you get comfortable in this strange new world.

You finally started going to work as promised, wearing an awkward and stuffy white uniform that made even the tangling straps of the cadet uniform pale in comparison. According to the paper that came with the uniform, you were to report to Reiner and Bertolt in one of the headquarters' rooms. However, the details were so vague that you were completely lost in the beginning, roaming the hallways without a clue where you were heading.

"Soldier. Face me."

You stiffened, turning around and straightening up. The tall man was vaguely familiar, a full blond beard lining his face and round spectacles hiding his eyes. His right hand raised up as if he was saying hello and you quickly returned the gesture, somewhat remembering that it was their version of a salute.

"Name and ranking?"

"Y/N L/N, er... I'm not sure of my ranking sir. I just know I'm assigned to work for the Vice Captain and one of the Warriors?" You shuffled your feet awkwardly and he nodded, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. He started scratching his ear as he walked, as if he was in thought. To you, he really felt familiar but you couldn't quite place where the feeling belonged.

"Ah yes," His eyes glanced at you, the blue color peeking out from behind the glasses. "Now I remember. You're Reiner and Bertolt's human souvenir from the devil island, aren't you?"

Is that what they called you? And how dare he call your home a devil island! A bubble of anger was rising within you, but you didn't want to take it out on the older man that was helping you find your way. He had to be a higher-up based on his demeanor and you'd rather not get in more trouble.

"...Yes sir, I am."

"You were supposed to be here a month ago." You cringed internally but nodded slowly.

"It's my fault sir. I've only been here for a few months and everything is too... new. I hope my absence didn't affect anything." The man simply hummed, stopping at a door with the words 'WARRIORS UNIT' neatly carved into the wood. You pulled the door for him, letting him saunter in before you entered.

"I found your little pet, you two." His hand pressed against the small of your back, pushing you forwards towards a table where the two of them sat. They looked completely exhausted and were partially bandaged up, quietly sparing a glance at you with a short wave.

You settled yourself in-between them, about to thank the man for helping you but he was already stepping away, going outside to light up a cigarette.

"Don't mind Zeke, he's just... eccentric like that. Hope he didn't offend you." Reiner pushed a pile of papers towards you to sort once you turned back to them, saying something about piling them from who sent them; the important files being from the commander and the Marleyan superiors and the unimportant files being from other soldiers. It slowly dawned on you that you became some sort of assistant to them, a glorified secretary for their war schemes.

"It's nothing too difficult, you're lucky to get this kind of work compared to us and the other Eldian soldiers." Bertolt slightly smiled, continuing to read a paper in his hands and you sighed quietly, beginning to sort. Part of you was grateful you didn't have to face war anymore, but the other part didn't want to be treated differently. Maybe the Marleyans thought that you'd defect once you were on the field or kill as many as you can with a weapon in your hands, going out in a blaze of glory. You never held a gun before though and it was most likely that everyone in this military could shoot you down before you could aim it at one person.

An hour or two passed by and you finished up the sorting, neatly tapping them together. It really wasn't a difficult task at all, were they going to make you do something else for today? You quietly waited for any orders, the two focused on their own thing until Reiner suddenly got up.

"I'll go get lunch for us. Y/N, you can relax for now, there's nothing else we need from you today. Good work." He ruffled the top of your head playfully, just like he did before after a training session in the corps. The blond soon left the room, leaving only Bertolt and you alone.

The two of you sat in silence, your hands fiddling with the seams of your uniform. Was sorting the only thing you're going to be doing during your time here? You'd quit within the month if that was the case but if not, maybe in due time you'll save enough money to open up your own shop. You've always wanted to sell clothing back in Paradis, just like your mother and father.

"You look good in the uniform." Bertolt finally mumbled out, the sound of a paper flipping over barely making it audible. You slightly flushed at the comment, diverting your attention to the closest wall in sight.

"Really? I feel like a wet cotton ball, it's so uncomfortable. The scouts uniform is way better." You grumbled, tugging at the cloth around your legs.

He slightly laughed at that, shaking his head. "No way. The scouts uniform was too tight, not to mention the straps were always so difficult to put on."

"Maybe it's cause you're a literal giant compared to everyone there. I just know they had to customize a whole other set for your ass." He snorted and started laughing, dropping the paper in his hand. You couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well, crossing your arms together. The two of you bantered for a little bit longer and just for a second, it felt like you were right back home in the training corps canteen.

Everything fuzzed out in your hearing and you soon found yourself comparing home to here. The smells were different, not quite fresh as the countryside air and had a more smoky tone with every breath you took. The sights were different, more machinery was seen rather than grassy fields and trees. The people were different, there was no one recognizable to chat with besides your kidnappers. Everything here had entirely evolved and you were being forced to adapt to it. The realization made you feel a drop in your stomach, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Bertolt."

"Hm?"

"I want to go back home." Your voice was meek, heavy droplets falling down and staining the white fabric beneath you. His body stiffened and he got up from his chair, almost slamming it into the table when he pushed it in.

"This is your home." He responded coldly, a singe of irritation trailing off his words as he left the room, slamming the heavy door shut. You started to sob quietly, tightly holding onto the sides of your sleeved arms.

No it wasn't, and Bertolt knew it too.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Your work schedule was simple: Monday to Wednesday from 9:30 am to 6 pm, you served the Warrior Unit. Every other day, you could do whatever you wanted and that was that. The pay was pretty good for a livable wage, but nothing special. No task you were given from Reiner or Zeke was too difficult either, it was usually just sending out letters to their superiors or sorting anything they wanted you to sort. To be honest, it felt like they were just tolerating you since the Marley government didn't want to deal with you anymore. It sucked but it's better than being belly-up in the ocean.

You haven't tried to make amends with Bertolt after that day because one, it was his fault so why would you apologize anyways and two, he hasn't been around that often in the office space. Reiner explained to you that there will be days, sometimes weeks or months where some or none of them will be here. Apparently when they came back with the failure to retrieve the Founding Titan, the loss of Annie and her Titan, and the inability to capture Eren's special Titan, some nations came together and declared war on Marley.

"Hopefully it won't be so often that we're going to be gone for long. Wouldn't want to have you sit at home and do nothing." Reiner teased with a slight nudge against your arm before downing his glass of liquor.

"I do nothing even when working. Maybe I'll pick up some new hobbies when you guys are gone, like knitting or cross-stitching."

Maybe you can give the creations to your neighbors since you were just doing it for fun. One of them is an expectant mother and since you had moved in, she had been nothing but kind to you. It would be nice to give something to her in return.

"Alright grandma." You elbowed his side hard, rolling your eyes. He grunted and started rubbing the affected area, grumbling under his breath about your temper.

"Where's Bertolt? Aren't you guys inseparable?" He suddenly cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Back in the training corps and the short time in the Survey Corps, you've rarely seen the two separated. Wherever Reiner went, Bertolt followed suit.

"Probably caught up in something. He'll be here soon, he never cancels without notice." He waved his hand dismissively and you thought none the wiser, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass before taking a swig.

"Already missing him?" You suddenly choked on the liquor, throat burning at the sensation. No way. No way in hell, you'd ever miss him. He could get swallowed up by another Pure Titan and you wouldn't even bat an eye. You'd laugh instead, basking in the blood that would gush out of his torn corpse.

Before you could even say anything back, a soft voice popped into the conversation. "Missing who?"

The two of you turned and there stood Marley's behemoth, still dressed to the nines in his uniform. Reiner greeted him happily, ignoring the question completely, turning towards the bartender and ordering another scotch for his friend. Bertolt settled right next to you, taking the glass in his hand and drinking up the entire thing in one go, some liquid spilling out of the corner of his lips. He quickly wiped it up with his thumb, his tongue peeking out and licking the remnants away. His cold green eyes glanced down at you suddenly, catching you staring at him.

A flush of heat went through your skin, quickly looking away to stare into your partially-full glass. The drinks kept on coming, the haze of alcohol filling everyone's systems. You were the least intoxicated, slowly taking in the new attitudes and information from your drunk companions. It wasn't much but they became more chatty, opening up about their lives before Paradis.

"I joined because of my mother." Reiner moved his glass towards the bartender, his head leaned up against his arm as he watched the brown liquid fill up his cup.

"Oh yeah?" He nodded, taking a sip from the newly refilled glass before speaking once more.

"She had high hopes that our family would've been whole again. Me, her, and my father. He's, uh—" He cleared his throat, turning his attention towards you. A faint dust of pink rested on his cheeks, a cheeky smile growing. "He's a Marley-blooded man, so y'know... I'm not really supposed to..."

"Exist." You muttered as you finished his sentence and he let out a soft laugh, nodding lightly before downing his drink again.

"Harsh, but more or less, you could say that's it. Compared to me though," The black-haired man closed his eyes, huffing softly. "Bertolt here is more tragic."

Curious but puzzled, you turned your attention towards him, his hand running through his gelled locks and he mumbled something under his breath before taking a shot. You did wonder a bit about how this man turned out to be the worst attacker on Paradis Island's humanity, it felt sickening thinking about a sweet little boy being trained into a horrid monster.

"You know I hate talking about it Reiner." The blond snorted, turning on his chair and leaning back on the bar's counter.

"C'mon. Let her in on your situation, after all—" He stood up, walking over to him and placing his hand over his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear that you almost barely caught what he said.

"You owe her that much."

Reiner made his way to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone once more together. The thought of trying to decipher what he meant flew past your inebriated mind and so you sat in silence, instead thinking that you might as well make your way home now. It was probably already past midnight, and you were sure that you were waking up late with a massive headache. As you finalized your decision, turning in your stool and towards the door without a goodbye, the thump of glass hitting wood snapped you out of it.

"I was raised only by my dad." Bertolt started and you slowly turned back towards the counter, your full attention on him.

"Don't know what happened to my mom, he never really told me and I was never curious enough to ask. It was just the two of us for as long as I knew but even as a kid that could barely read, I knew that he wasn't... okay." His fists clenched together and you could hear the cracks of his joints from how tightly he was gripping.

"When you're born an Eldian and live in the farthest parts of the internment camps, medicine is hard to get by and treatment is even more difficult to obtain. The minute I became eligible to join, I took the opportunity." You don't know what compelled you in the moment, but you placed a hand on one of his fists. He started relaxing once he realized that you were touching him, still stiff as he reminisced further.

"Did they give him the meds?" Bertolt nodded, taking in a shallow breath.

"A few days right after I inherited the Colossal, they started giving him everything they promised and he was getting better day by day. It wasn't until I left for our mission in Paradis that his condition evolved into something worse." You swallowed nervously, slipping your fingers into his and holding his massive hand gently. His head turned towards you, his eyes soft as he looked into your gaze.

You've never seen or heard him be so vulnerable before, guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. For him, he was fighting a one-sided war against your home, all because he wanted to take care of his dad. Yet in return, he caused the displacement of so many from their families, ripping them apart with a few kicks into the walls.

"When Zeke came on Paradis and we finally met up, I asked him about my dad and he told me that despite all the medicine and treatment that he's been getting, he wasn't getting any better. I had to see him again, no matter if I had failed the original mission or not. I couldn't die on that island without being able to see him again and I just barely made it. Sometimes the way we escaped made me wonder how I even made it out of there. It was only for a few months that I got to spend with him once we came back, but he passed away in his sleep last month."

His hand tightened around yours, though not enough to break it. No wonder he started to look more disheveled and exhausted recently, his whole reason for getting where he is was now gone. You pitied him but that didn't excuse the murders of thousands he did in your homeland. At the same time, it didn't mean that you should bring that major fact up, not when he was currently grieving.

"I'm sorry Bertolt."

"It's alright, you don't have to pity me. I have more to be sorry about towards you and the others. I'll never be able to properly make it up, nothing I'll ever do will be enough to wash away the blood on my hands."

The two of you sat there in silence, a warm hand around one cold hand. You really should leave now, before Reiner comes back and you'll be stuck drinking even more than you wanted to. You attempted to finally slide off the wooden seat, but he clenched your hand gently and tugged you towards him instead. Your eyes fluttered in both confusion and tiredness as you stood in front of his sitting frame. Blinking once, his face appeared right in front of yours. His free hand slid behind and rested against the nape of your neck, feeling thin but calloused fingertips tenderly brush against the skin as he pulled you even closer.

Okay... this was getting a little too weird for your liking. Beginning to open your mouth to verbalize your annoyance and trying to move back, he then took the opportunity to press his lips against yours.

You could taste the alcohol that the three of you had been previously been consuming intertwine with the tobacco's bitterness of the cigarettes he used, a vagueness of something sweet brushing up against your tongue as he tried to coax you into returning the action. His stubble was rough against your skin the more he moved, digging deeper as he pressed further into your mouth.

You had half the mind to bite that damn muscle of his, but the warmth of both the alcohol and him was stupefying, hypnotizing. It felt like you were melting against him, a warmth pooling in your stomach and in-between your thighs. Slowly, you convinced yourself to return the kiss, gravitating into his embrace. It was stupid of you to do considering you hate the guy but hey, who doesn't do stupid shit every now and then? Fuck, you even started wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders.

There wasn't much people in the bar anyways, either too drunk off their minds to care or simply ignoring the disgusting couple intertwining themselves in the public space. The bartender was off chatting with another patron, most likely used to the sight of a couple making their passion uncomfortably known to others. It's the Colossal Titan user, who on Marley dared tried to say something about it?

The hand that once was holding yours, grabbed at the crook of your back to draw you even more impossibly near him, then sliding down towards the curve of your ass. To your utmost surprise, he clutched and squeezed at the flesh firmly, feeling you up with this sudden confidence that you would never thought of him having before.

"Annie."

Sobriety hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing onto you once you heard her name slip through his swollen lips, taking no time to immediately shove the man right off of you. He just told you his story, that his dad had just died last month, and here he was, kissing and groping you and then suddenly calling out Annie's name. You were breathing hard, eyes wide as saucers as you stared down at him in shock.

"What the fuck? What the fuck!?"

Bertolt's hand reached out to you, as if he was trying to make you lift him back up. You've never felt so nauseated to hear those very words come out of his lips as a valid apology, like it was no big deal.

"I love you."

You ran.

You ran out of the bar, into the blackened sea of night, never once looking back. If you did, you were afraid of what you might see in his eyes or if he was chasing after you. With tears lingering in the corners of your eyes, one single thought remained.

Out of everyone in the squadron, why did it have to be him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

For a month and a half the day after what happened, you never saw Bertolt in the office or around the internment zone.

It was probably the first time him and Reiner were ever separated for this long, the blond telling you that it was his own decision to be sent off into the battlefield alone. You wondered if he told him what he did to you after he came back from the bathroom, or excused why he was on the floor and why you were gone. Reiner never said anything about the incident, so it soon faded in the back of your mind into obscurity.

He wasn't your first kiss anyways, some now-dead nobody trainee back in the day was, and the two of you were drunk, stupid shit happens. Part of you also somewhat knew about Bertolt's fondness for the Female Titan user, originally not knowing about how close they were previously, but damn it. For a heated moment to be ruined like that left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but hate him even more for it.

"He's back."

"Who?" Reiner's fist came down on the top of your head playfully, catching your attention from the paperwork.

"Y'know who. Better talk to him now before he passes out from exhaustion from the looks of it. Also, because I know you miss him~" He teased and you swatted his fist off of you, watching him as he walked off towards the main room laughing, leaving you with a pit in your stomach. You really didn't want to talk to him, even if a month had passed on by, but legally, he was your superior. Professionalism before personal feelings unfortunately.

You finally got up, walking slowly to the destination before taking in a deep breath and entering the medical unit. Bertolt was near an open window, a lit cigarette lazily nestled in-between his fingers as he stared out of it. He was the only person there and you swore that every time you saw him, he started to look more unrecognizable from his previous cadet days. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore, falling at the front of his eyes; in fact, you thought it might've grown out a little more from the last time you saw him. The Titan marks were still prominent on his face, like he had just transformed not long ago.

Wiping your clammy hands on your puffy uniform, you approached him, pulling up a chair nearby the bed and sitting down stiffly.

"Welcome back sir."

His head turned towards you and you swore that you felt the room grow colder as he gazed into you through the black strands of his messy hair. Maybe you were the only one that noticed, but his eyes were dead, hollow but still held some sharpness in those pale green irises. This was no longer the Bertolt you knew, this was a numbed man that got mentally thrown and torn apart in the arms of the constant war, the constant transforming, and the constant murder of many.

"Hit me."

"E-excuse me?" He must’ve gotten faster because you didn't realize how quickly he grabbed you until he pushed the palm against his healing skin. It was burning to the touch, as if you were right next to a blazing bonfire. Instinctively, you started to try and wiggle out of his grip but he held steady.

"Hit. Me." Bertolt's grip grew stronger around your wrist, fear creeping in through every cell in your body as you watched the surrounding skin pale from how hard he was holding. "That's an order."

You swallowed but nodded quickly in agreement, just so he can let go of you before any bones shatter. He immediately released you straight away, the action as fast as he previously took ahold of you and took a hit of the nearly burnt out stick. You had to hype yourself up for it, thinking back on every rotten memory you’ve had with him, balling up your fist and striking him as hard as possible where he originally placed your hand. The force made his head swing the other way, the cigarette butt dropping on the ground as your knuckles throbbed in agony. It was like directly punching a stony wall, not like the previous time you punched him on the boat to Marley.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, straightening back up as you held onto your wounded hand. "And how do you feel, Bertolt?"

Bertolt’s body didn’t move, but his hand began to slowly trailing up to the injury, pressing his fingers against the forming bruise. You flinched as he pushed his hair back to where you could finally see his eyes, exhaling the smoke that he previously took in through his nostrils. He glanced over in your direction and let out a soft chuckle, although you noticed that it didn't quite reach those dull eyes of his. There was one thought that lingered in your mind as you stared back into his gaze, that he must've gone crazy fighting in the frontlines.

"Good hit, make me bleed next time." ...What? "Though, I'm surprised that you decided to visit after... what we did the last time we saw each other."

Recovering quickly from trying to process what he just said at first, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms. "The Vice Captain requested me to visit his right hand man, who am I to refuse his wishes?"

He simply hummed in response, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket and his lighter. Placing the unlit stick at the side of his mouth, his eyes caught yours once more, a slight smirk forming. "When'd you start talking like the soldiers? You forget the years we've spent together already since I've been gone, or did you finally get in trouble for treating us like equals?"

You scoffed, pulling your lips in a thin line. "You're the one that gave me an order earlier, and I've had a recent revelation that I had to start acting like a subordinate rather your friend or buddy or whatever the fuck we are, so yeah, I guess it's the latter."

"Ahh, better watch your language then or I'll have to report you for profanity against a superior." Bertolt was of course joking, the mocking tone intertwining with his words. As you felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance, the sound of lighter clicked and ignited, your eyes watching him pull the flame near.

"Y'know..." He started as he took in a drag, leaning his head back towards the ceiling and soon exhaling the smoke out slowly. "I've been thinking about you the entire time I was gone."

A heaviness plopped itself back on your shoulders, and you wanted nothing more but to excuse yourself out of his premises. You were about to say something to leave him alone, but he kept on talking, droning on and on about how he was counting down the days when he could finally see your face again. Bertolt mentioned that you were the only reason he kept on fighting, why he kept on killing so his commanders could see that he was doing such a swell job as their loyal Titan holder and let him leave early. What a horrible ideology, most of those people could've been innocents.

"And another thing, I kept thinking back on the kiss we shared that month ago." All the color drained from your face, turning and taking a step back to try and run, but felt his hand grasp onto the fabric right against your back. His voice had the same disdainfulness as before, a demandingness that you didn't even know he had in himself to project.

"Don't leave and turn back around. That is an order."

You grit your teeth, finally turning back around once he let go of your uniform and find him standing, his tall stature hovering over you. Nervousness crawled up your spine, flinching once you felt his cold fingers reach over to caress your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, inspecting your features quietly before taking another drag of his cigarette. He then neared your face and press his lips against yours.

Recoiling at the abrupt kiss, you tried to push him away but the grip on your face was painfully tight, almost akin to the hold on your wrist earlier. You could do nothing but endure this assault, a slight whimper slipping out as the soreness of your face grew.

Bertolt's tongue brushed against your lips, trying to coax you into opening them. You might as well obey, just to get this over with and the fact that you were running out of oxygen at an alarming rate. Once you did, he pushed the smoke in your mouth as he deepened the kiss, the burn in your lungs and in your throat getting worse. In a panic, you bit down as hard as possible to free yourself, the taste of iron combining with the bitter nicotine. You quickly doubled over and started coughing, watching in tears as vague smoke came out of your mouth with every heave and breath.

"Ah." You peered up at Bertolt from within your teary vision, the tips of his fingers on his lips and pressing against the wound you inflicted. It was deep from what you're able to see, but already started to heal itself. Yet, that's not what at all made you run out the room in distress, almost vomiting into the bushes once you stepped foot out of the building.

You watched in mortified horror as he smeared the crimson around his lips and chin, a seemingly euphoric and satisfied expression reflecting on those pale green eyes of his. He looked down at your frozen form, crouching down and reaching over to your face with his bloodied fingers. A small whimper slipped out as he smeared the substance on your mouth, a hungry grin forming.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight? My blood on your lips, I wonder if I can make you bleed for me soon." It felt like he wasn't supposed to say it aloud, but maybe he wanted you to hear, to have a taste of what his true self was like. That thought alone made you run out, leaving him on the ground once again.

This time, you had to make sure you'd never see the sick fuck ever again.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

And this brings you back to the beginning, in Reiner's home completely agitated and frightened for your life.

The past few months, Bertolt resumed his normal duties along Reiner and you; although you limited your interactions with one another, you can’t help but notice that he was following you everywhere. Not just at work, but the times where you were on your breaks, going out to eat, shopping for groceries or clothes, even in your own home; you saw him. You barely caught him sometimes, he'd disappear in a blink once you tried to get in a second glance to confirm who you saw.

He lingered behind corners, staring at you with such a frightening glimmer in those dull eyes of his. He was usually expressionless as he stared into your very soul, not a single crooked smile or the usual slight upwards curve of his eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing. And the strangest part was that he never said a word, just... stared. Sometimes he just stood there right in the public's view, crowds of people passing besides him without a single glance towards the weirdo in their way.

There was nothing you could do about it, he wasn't technically bothering anyone and due to the internment zone being rather small, they already knew that he was associated with you. How unfair it was. You wished you could live like them, ignorant and dismissive of the monster that stood right next to them.

Him being right outside of your window was your final straw, the lamplight just barely highlighting his features as he stood in your backyard. You screamed and backed up into your dining room table once you realized that he was right against your window, pressing his hand against the glass as his breath began to fog it up. His eyes were crazed, the first time you ever saw anything in them after weeks of ignoring him. You flung the drapes over the window — as if it could do anything to protect you — before running upstairs and hiding in your closet for the rest of the night.

If he was able to sneak up on you, to be that close without you noticing… what else has he done?

"He's being a fucking creep, Reiner. If it's not him trying to figure out that I'm some kind of double-crosser, it's him being some kind of perverted stalker." He snorted at your remark and you could tell that he was not entirely convinced. You took in a shaky breath, finally putting down your foot.

"Then I would like to request that I leave the Warriors unit and work somewhere else. I don't care where and if I have to move, all I want is to never see Bertolt ever again." Reiner's expression suddenly hardened and he pushed himself off the wall, leaning on the table opposite of you. You've never seen him quite as serious until now, unease filling your stomach.

"You do realize that we cannot protect you once you leave the unit, right? The only reason you're alive still is because of us, Y/N. Anywhere else in the other units, the generals and commanders will watch you like hawks for any mistake you make, minor or not. They would use any excuse to have your head." His hand rested on your shoulder and squeezed it firmly, checking his surroundings before leaning close into your ear.

"Look. I know about Bertolt's strange behavior, trust me, I've already noticed he's been off ever since he came back from that recent excursion. I don't know if I can convince him to stop doing this to you, but I mean it when I say that you're better off staying in our unit." He then leaned back and lightly smiled for more reassurance; a part of you felt that it was the scout in him that was talking and that made you feel a little better.

"We're all you got in this world and your best chance for living. C'mon, just give him one more shot." This wouldn't be happening in the first place if you left me back in Paradis, you thought bitterly but hesitantly nodded your head.

"Okay, fine. But you better get it in his head that I don’t want him stalking me anymore or I’ll report him to General Magath and leave the unit, no matter what the consequences are." You got up and headed towards the exit, turning your head to see him slowly push in your seat. He noticed that you didn't leave yet and lifted his hand up, almost waving goodbye.

"No promises," Reiner held up his pinky, slightly wiggling it. "But I'll do my best."

You scoffed, but smiled regardless.

"Then whatever happens, it'll be on you."

The next day continued on as usual, something normal for once as both Reiner and Bertolt weren't in today. You thought that they must've gotten deployed to another war since you hadn't seen any of the other Warriors either, but you continued work as usual for your shift. Even if you weren't required to, you might as well lighten the load for you the next time around.

By the time you were done with half of the stack, you finally called it quits, seeing that the sun had began to slowly set behind the towering buildings right outside of the windows. Clocking out, you slung your satchel over your shoulder and pushed past the doors, quietly walking back to your home. Now that you started to think further during your trek, it's strange that you didn't get any notification from Reiner about their sudden leave. He'd always gave you some kind of heads-up even if you didn't ask, either through a note or in person.

Was this something so serious that not even you can know about? That would make more sense, you're technically just an underling to them, you didn't need to know more confidential information from the Marleyans as a Paradisian; not like you wanted it or had any use for it anyways. The orange glow of the sun began to fade, the sky slowly turning darker by the minute as lamplights started to flicker on right on cue.

You were so close to home that you started to pick up the pace, a feeling of anticipation running through you. It's not like you felt scared, no. This was the first time in days that you finally felt like you didn't have to look over your shoulder, the first time in months where you didn't feel like you were being watched.

In a matter of minutes, you finally reached the front door of your home. You rummaged through your bag for the keys, taking your time as you pushed through the unfortunately crowded mess. There was no need to rush anymore, not until they come back, and hopefully Reiner was able to talk Bertolt out of his abhorrent, unprofessional behavior. Letting out a happy hum as you finally found what you were looking for, you pushed in the key and turned it open, only to be greeted with a gut feeling that caused goosebumps to immediately form on your skin.

Something was wrong. Despite everything being in their right and respective places, there was something... off. Standing still at the entrance way, you scanned the environment slowly, a lump forming in your throat as they darted to-and-fro nervously. The windows were locked, you knew they were, and none of the drapes seemed to be moved or altered from their original places. There was only one entrance and to get to the backyard, you would have to take the side fence door at the outside of the resident. You almost were tempted to back out of your own house, the one place where you've considered as the safest haven from the outside. This feeling, it had to just be that you were unused to being finally left alone... right?

You finally took a step inwards, the wood creaking underneath your boot. Mentally, it felt like excruciatingly long hours had just passed by for you to get another step, internally praying that your mind won't play tricks on you from the various sounds that were occurring in the considerably old home. There's nothing or no one here, you're just being a paranoid baby.

Exhaling slowly, you finally shut and locked the front door behind you. Repeating the phrase over and over gave you confidence to continue forwards, determination in your eyes. You'd be damned if Bertolt thinks he could scare you out of your own home, you'd rather go to prison than try to stay at his home for temporary shelter.

You lost your appetite to prepare a simple dinner, now knowing that you'd prefer not to try cooking something when you've just arrived in fear for your life. However, you carefully made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the wooden block. The sound of the metal sliding out of its sheath may have been the loudest thing you've been currently hearing. You gripped onto the handle tightly, turning towards the stairs.

You knew you weren't alone here, the house may settle now and then, but this felt different. This was different. No matter what your brain was telling you, your gut was telling you otherwise.

Crrreeeaaakkkk...

You froze, feeling suddenly out of breath as you stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. The sound came from your room, there was no doubt about it. A memory of Bertolt trying to secretly make breakfast for you flashed into view, the sounds of pans clashing below waking you up. You should've questioned how he gotten in the house in the first place during the earlier stages of this thing of his, but you were far too hungry and tired to even notice until now.

In meticulous steps, you made your way to the staircase, trying to make sure you didn't step on the wrong board and alert the intruder of your presence. Hell, he might've already known since you unlocked the door. The hallway never felt longer than it was before as you approached the room, the moonlight shining down on you and the weapon held in your dominant hand. There was more creaking the more you came towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest in the rhythm of a thousand Abnormals sprinting towards their next delectable meal.

The door was slightly ajar, alarms ringing in your head. You never have left the doors in your room open in your life, especially when sleeping and even when you left the premises. Someone is in there and you know who it is. Taking in a deep breath, you leaned in gradually towards the crack in the door, trying to control the trembling in your hands as you peeked through.

The stench of blood first hit your nose, then the sight within nearly made you scream in horror. Bertolt was in your room, sitting on the middle edge of your bed, all bloodied from head-to-toe what you were able to tell from the street's lamps dully illuminating the surrounding room. Though that was stomach-churning in itself, the action he was performing on your bed made everything even more heinously depraved.

The bastard was fucking his fist with your panties wrapped around his cock, his pelvis erratically jutting into the tight hold he put around it. His lips were slightly parted, almost barely audible groans slipping out with every stroke. Even worse, you could hear just the cusp of your name with it, your own face growing warm.

You had to report this to General Magath, now. Burn your bed and used underwear once you got the chance to second on the list. Reiner failed, maybe even never went up to him, and now you had to take the drastic way out of this. He finally took things way too far; if not your underwear, it might’ve been you.

You took a step backwards, immediately paling as the floorboard behind you squeaked loudly under the weight. The movement from within your room paused abruptly, anxiety and dread crawling up your veins with every passing moment. The sound of the bed springs being relieved of any weight on them immediately alerted you that you needed to start running or hide until he leaves. It was too late, the door opening with a grinding, crackling noise.

"Welcome home, Y/N."

Bertolt lunged at you, instincts kicking in as you swung the knife, aiming for his throat. You knew it wouldn’t kill him, you’ve seen Mikasa do it years ago and he healed without any trace of the injury left, but it would give you enough time to get to Magath’s residence. At least, that’s what you tried to do, but he moved last minute, the blade only digging into the side of his face towards his mouth.

He was stunned by it at first, a nauseating feeling permeating within your stomach as you watched the skin and muscle separate as he opened his mouth, blood streaming down his jawline in thick streams. Then he started chuckling, pressing his hand against the wound roughly and almost pulling it apart. This was no time to stay shocked however. You took this final opportunity to run, carefully trying not to cut yourself as you made your way down the stairs.

"Y/N!!!" Oh god, oh god, oh god. You reached the entrance, turning the lock and pulling it open, the cold air of the night blasting in your face. Freedom was right there in your grasp — just right there — before a thickly drenched hand from behind grabbed ahold of you from the mouth and pulled you back inside.

You couldn’t scream as his bloodied palm held firmly down onto your mouth, tears streaming down your face as he lodged himself right between your legs. He was crazed, his pupils dilated with excitement as he stared down at your quivering form. You could the hardness straining against your uniform pants, a sob stuck in your throat. The inflicted wound on his face was obviously starting to heal, steam coming off of it.

"Good try, too bad you aren’t strong enough to even try to finish the job." He took the knife out of your hold, his blood still staining the edges. Bertolt neared it towards your throat, your body fighting back as it approached closer and closer.

"Hey, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving like that." He scolded, as if he wasn’t the one with the weapon, the cold blade right against your jugular. You froze on cue, taking in sharp breaths with your nose to try and not to panic even more.

"You weren’t meant to see me uh—" His face flushed pink, scratching his uninjured cheek with his pointer bashfully. This bitch was acting like he didn’t just break in your home, committed a perverse act on your bed, and about cut your throat open. Bertolt slightly adjusted himself, rubbing his still-hard cock against you. "But it was pretty exciting, how long were you watching? Did you get excited?"

You wanted to shake your head, only flinching as you felt him unbuckle the belt, nimble fingers unbuttoning and zipping down your pants. You had no choice but to feel him slip his dirtied hand into your underwear, his fingertips pressing against your hole. A proud smile grew on his face, a vast contrast to your horrified expression as the two of you made the same realization. You’re wet.

Bertolt pulled the knife away from your neck, short relief coming out of you in waves, but he didn’t drop it or throw it aside. No. He used it to tear your uniform shirt open, a muffled yelp escaping you as the cool air made contact with your bare skin.

"We’re going to have some fun together, okay?" You felt like throwing up in his hand, hoping that you’d asphyxiate from it. Your heart stopped as you realized that he was nearing the tip of the blade on your lower stomach, right below your belly button.

"Right after I carve my name into you."

[miguelhugger2099]

You Know Where to Find Me

Summary: Miguel is from another planet, fascinated by the stars and nothing else. On Earth, he learns the water might be interesting. A/N: this is so niche i can't find any alien miguel fanart Alien!Miguel x Mermaid!Reader, Fluff, No Warnings

Humanity loved space, so much so they spent trillions just to find other living sentient creatures just like them. After generations and some centuries, Humanity had managed contact with aliens!

Quickly, and by the grace of the universe, humans and aliens had begun to coexist. It was often that humans would visit the aliens home and aliens to visit Earth. 

Miguel wanted to visit Earth. He loved space as well. A little alien mind that adored the stars and always felt that he was meant for greater things. It’s not that he didn’t love his home planet, but he couldn’t wait to learn and even live with other aliens!

So when he arrived, he did everything he could to learn about Earths space program. Another highlight was that his planets astronomy was still a few centuries behind, so going to Earth was the best choice—and the only one. 

Miguel had gotten along with everyone—his bright mind and leadership skills made everyone admire him! His curiosity knew no bounds! In fact, he grew fond of teaching others about space. So in his spare time, he’d work at a planetarium in Nueva York—one of the only cities in the world that held the largest building that was dedicated to the study of space. 

Despite his unusual appearance, small antennas on the crown of his head and no pupils—his eyes shaded a soft red— his people looked “human enough” for them to be integrated into human society without any problems. He supposed he got lucky—he didn’t like to think of how humanity might’ve reacted to something stranger. Luckily his sharp ears could be hidden behind his curls and his little lisp from his fangs was deemed cute to others—which he’s on the fence about.

He had heard of a new exhibit opening up after a certain discovery humans found within the Earths ocean. Miguel had basically tuned out whatever his colleagues chatted about, especially if it had nothing to do with whatever he was interested in.

However, to his horror, when he passed by the new exhibit during its construction he had found a human body in the tank of water. He hurried out to find security or to call an ambulance—something—to help the poor soul that had fallen underwater. If he knew anything about humans, it’s that they couldn’t breath underwater!

A colleague had seen Miguel’s frantic behavior while shaking a security officer to call for help. The sight was amusing since Miguel was taller than the average human man.

His vacant red eyes found hers. “Jess!” Jessica walked up to them with worry. 

“What’s going on?” 

Miguel breathed in deeply. “There’s—there’s a human! In—in the—they fell!”

“Fell where?” She asked, her tone becoming serious. 

“By the new exhibit! I don’t know how they got there but they fell—I think—and they had their eyes closed!”

Jess became more alert. Civilians weren’t allowed in that section yet and the construction guys weren’t stupid enough to not be able to swim out of a tank.

“Show me.”

Jessica had a bit of a hard time keeping up with Miguel, his long legs taking giant strides while his antennas curled and his ears turned downwards.

Miguel shows her the tank. “Here!”

Inside was definitely what seemed like a human woman passed out in the water. But Jess instead sighed in relief. She places her hand on her chest and laughs which makes Miguel’s antennas curl even more, making it look like a rams horns and his skin turns pinkish. 

“What?” 

Jess giggles after calming down. She taps the glass with her knuckle and falls out your name.

The ‘human’ inside was actually you. Your eyes opened and you give Jess a pointed look. You swam up to the top of the tank which gives Miguel a better look at the tail that was hidden behind a giant sheet of cloth. 

You popped up at the top and leaned on the railing with a glare at Jessica. “I told you not to tap the glass!”

Jessica gives you a grin. “Sorry. One of us thought you were a human drowning so I just wanted to show him that was not that case and to pay attention more to our meetings.”

Miguel’s skin turns a darker shade of red, his antennas uncurling and flops in front of his forehead. Your eyes meet his and he feels the embarrassment running through him.

Not only had he embarrassed himself during his job—but in front of something pretty like you. He glanced between your eyes and your tail, gulping down his nerves and placing his hands behind his back. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out.

“Miguel, this is our first volunteer for our new exhibition. Since the discovery of mermaids and mermen, this gal,” She places a hand on the glass with a mention of your name. “…is now a part of introducing humanity to the wonders of the sea.”

“I’m a party animal.” You tell Miguel, resting your cheek on your arm with a smile. 

“She’s joking.” Jessica says but he can only stare at you, engraving your smile in his memory. 

“Now that we know a human isn’t drowning, can you go back to work?” Jessica pats his shoulder as he makes her exit. Miguel turns to see her leave and looks back to see you still staring at him.

“You’re not human.” You observe. 

“I’m not.” Miguel clears his throat and approaches your tank slowly. “I’m from Retha. A neighboring planet a couple light years away.”

You him in thought, pretending to know what light years are.

“Didn’t expect to see another alien here.” You splash your tail, a few droplets hitting the ground. 

Miguel tilts his head, one antenna following him. “Alien? But aren’t you from Earth? Just…in the sea?”

You shrug, hanging your arm out. “I’m in a tank, aren’t I? I’ll never be considered like the humans.”

Miguel watches your dive back in the water to rehydrate yourself before popping back up. 

“Miguel. My name is Miguel.” He says, placing a hand on the tank and looking up at you. You smile and dive back in the tank so you can be face to face. You place your hand on the tank where his hand was at. He knows your name, you don’t need to repeat it.

You watch as he turns his head, a soft muffle of talking and you assume he’s heading back to work. He gives you another glance and you puff out a small bubble of air to make a heart in the water and waving him goodbye. His cheeks flush red and he nods, turning away and leaving.

He feels interested in learning about the water this time around. His curiosity knows no bounds.

[spuffybaby]

Time to Heal (9)

(chapter navigation)

(small content warning, lead up to spicy content towards the end)

Buffy turned around over and over to make sure it was just Spike, her and Giles, though kept her voice lowered regardless. “Why is he here?”

Giles took a deep breath. “You mean Angel?”

“'course she does,” Spike muttered. “He's got no business here.”

“He's... well, I know you might not like it, but he has actually been helping the training. Why he kept it from you that you were alive... that's beyond me.”

“He's jealous,” Spike huffed.

“Now, I don't think-”

“He is,” Buffy cut him off. “He was jealous when he came and brought the amulet. Spike spent months without a body and Angel didn't help him contact me. He's a coward.” She realised that while she had told herself that from the first time he'd really left her, she now really meant the words as they left her lips. “He always has been.”

Giles looked from Buffy to Spike. “I'm sorry, I had no idea.”

Buffy swallowed hard. “I don't want to train with him. I don't want to be near him,” she said. “I thought he cared, but... he knew how I felt about Spike, he knew how much it must have been hurting me and he still let me believe he was dead. He only cares about himself.”

“He always has,” Spike said quietly.

Giles listened, nodding. “I'll see what I can do. If the Council doesn't send him away, I'll certainly figure something out.”

Buffy breathed out with relief, grateful that despite having doubted Spike, as well as her judgment when it came to him, Giles was on her side no matter what.

“There we are,” he said as they reached a door at the end of the corridor. “Why don't we start training tomorrow? You get some rest, and then in the morning, you and me get together?” he offered.

Buffy smiled. “Thank you,” she said, getting on her tiptoes before kissing his cheek, then making her way into the room.

“No kiss from me, but...” Spike gave him a nod. “Thanks, Rupert.”

When they went to lie down, Buffy made sure that this time, Spike really did go to sleep. With her fingers stroking his hair and his head on her chest, he soon drifted off. She was awake, the sleep she'd managed to get on the plane keeping her anger from being overpowered by fatigue the way Spike's had. She'd been so happy the past few days that she hadn't allowed herself to think about Angel, but now, having seen his face, the very definition of indifference on it, she could barely keep her anger at bay. She was grateful with everything she had that Spike had returned to her and it was every bit worth the time she had mourned him and yet, she could have known sooner, she could have been spared so much pain, she could have gone to help him be spared. Multiple times as she lay there, she felt the urge to get up, to seek out Angel and confront him, the man that claimed he'd always love her. Next to the way that Spike loved her, she saw now that it never came close to comparing. And he was the only reason she stayed as she was, to not wake him, to make sure he got the rest he needed after having been through so much, after following her here when she knew it was the last thing he wanted for himself. And now, just as he'd managed to leave Angel behind once again, she'd brought him right back to him.

Her thoughts were running, eventually in circles, to the point where her own eyes closed and she only woke when Spike stirred in the early hours of the morning, the light behind the curtains suggesting most of the night had gone.

“Buffy...” His voice was quiet, gentle, hopeful.

She shuffled to sit up as he lifted his head, her heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes. God, she adored the softness that was and always had been reserved just for her. “I'm glad you got some rest.”

“Did you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Some. Just... I hope we don't have to see Angel.”

Spike nodded. “Speaking of him though, you think they'll give me some of whatever he's eating?”

Buffy pressed her lips together, but knew it was probably the best way to get him fed. “Yeah, let's go and explore some, shall we?”

After she'd gone to freshen up and change, she returned to him just changing into a fresh T-shirt, having regelled his hair, they left the room, headed back down the wide corridor, doors like theirs lining both sides and she led the way towards where she seemed to hear voices from.

“Reckon they're already training?” he asked her, looking around, his voice low.

“Possibly,” Buffy said. “Maybe we look for Giles.”

While the building had barely given any indication of its interior upon arrival, it was now beginning to look like some kind of educational institution, like an old university, or boarding school. They passed what looked like the open door to a library, then, finally, the chatter became louder and louder and in a cafeteria-like hall, scattered across different tables, the Slayers were eating.

“You should probably join them,” Spike said as they came to a stop, still unnoticed by the dozens of girls. “Have some breakfast.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Come on, surely they'll know where Giles is and he'll be able to get you some blood. You won't be able to leave for a little while. If not, I'll go out and get you some.”

“How about you eat first?” he said, nodding for her to go on, could tell she maybe wasn't quite ready to face it all, but, and he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, all it took for her was a deep breath and she entered the hall confidently, leaving him no choice but to follow and within seconds, her presence took over the room, a girl here and there recognising, turning to whoever they were sat with, making more heads turn until there was no doubt in anyone in the entire room that Buffy Summers really was there now.

“Buffy!” the first call came from across the room. “Come sit with us!”

Buffy smiled, despite feeling quite overwhelmed meeting every pair of eyes she locked with with a warm smile. She wanted none of these girls to be intimidated by her and despite having trained with the potential Slayers before, there were so many here, they had learned already, heard about her, she could only imagine the idea they had of her. And she saw herself in every single one of them, younger versions of herself, more or less experienced in fighting, magic, life. There were no tables left empty so she followed the first invitation she'd received, taking up a seat with a group of three girls, a freckled ginger girl, the one that had called her name, beaming back at her.

“Hi, I'm Taylor,” she said.

She could make out an accent, though couldn't quite place it. “I'm Buffy,” she said. “And this is-”

“Spike,” the girl next to Taylor concluded. “Wow. You died to save the world? And you came back.”

Her eyes were wide and for a moment, Spike was rendered speechless. “I mean, well, it was the right thing to do,” he said, shrugging it off. “With that bloody amulet.”

Buffy smiled, though distracted by Taylor.

“You just arrived, didn't you? It is such an honour to meet you. We've already learned so much about you. Mr Giles has taught us. It's my favourite type of lesson when we learn about you. I just... want to be like you.”

“I mean, I'm here to teach you guys, but there's much individuality that comes into the way every Slayer finds her way, you know?” she smiled. “And I look forward to seeing what that means for each and every one of you.”

“You'll be training with us today?” she asked, her eyes wide with a hope that reminded Buffy of Dawn when she was younger.

“Yes,” she assured her. “Just needed some time last night. Jetlag and all.”

Taylor nodded. “You should get some food,” she said, taking a bite from the slice of toast on her plate.

“Yeah, I will...” she said slowly. “Just... can you tell me where... Mr Giles is?”

“Probably in his office or- oh, there he is now,” she said and Buffy turned around, seeing Giles coming in through the same way they had. She rose from her feet, meeting him halfway.

“There you are,” he said. “I was going to come and get you, show you everything. But figured you'd already taken it upon yourselves.” He smiled to himself. “I spoke to Angel. Not a great chat, but he knows he shouldn't be staying much longer if he doesn't want any trouble. I'm just not sure he followed my advice. Yet.”

Buffy swallowed. She was glad she at least didn't have to see him right then. “Thank you,” she said, lowering her voice. “I was wondering... has the Council got any blood anywhere? Like for Angel or-” She licked her lips. “Spike hasn't eaten since before we left.”

“I already made sure they'd bring some to your room,” he assured her.

She relaxed, looking up at him with her expression softened. “Thank you. And thank you for... well, not being weird that he's here.”

“We do all need to be grateful, if we like it or not,” he said. “But I know things have changed. I just... if you're alright to tell me the whole story...”

“I will...” she assured him, though distracted when she heard his voice from the table coming into her focus again when she turned.

“Oh, no, I'm 150. Well, will be this year,” he said.

“So why do you go by Spike? Not William?” All three girls at the table were hanging on to his every word and some nearby had turned around to listen.

“Well, isn't it all in the books?” Spike asked, a smug, all too familiar smile playing around his lips and she knew that just as much as then, he loved the air of mystery he'd built, it surrounded him even now.

“What do you think?” Buffy said quietly to Giles. “Should I just leave him here?”

“They'll tear him apart, I'm afraid,” Giles chuckled.

That night, Buffy was on the verge of sleep when she heard the door click, instantly wide awake. The sound was followed by another click of the door, Spike shuffling into the room, sliding out of his boots and jeans and she blinked, could make his silhouette out in the darkness just about, could tell he was trying his best to be quiet. He slid his shirt over his head, then, without trying to make the mattress shift too much, joining her on the other side of the bed.

She turned to face him, her voice merely a whisper. “You okay?”

“O-Oh, yeah,” he said, slightly startled. “Yeah, just went for a drink. How was it with Giles? And how was training?”

“It was good. Most of my group are pretty impressive fighters” she hummed. “ And Giles got me up to speed on everything. And I him. I missed him.” After breakfast and her catch up with Giles, Buffy had started training with a small group of the girls, while another had asked to officially learn some things from Spike. She'd then been brought into a meeting with some important members of the Council at Giles' request, finding that when asked, Spike had declined. “What about you?”

Under the covers, her leg brushed against his as she adjusted her position to get comfortable. Her skin felt warm against his and though he wasn't drunk, the slight buzz in his head made things less complicated. “You're sure you don't want me to sleep o-...”

“Don't be an idiot,” she said quietly.

“Did he say anything?” he asked. “Giles? About us?”

“He understands how we left things, he didn't judge. Don't worry. And he knows there's no changing my mind anyway, that I've made my choice to stand by... you. My choices.”

Her words silenced him, it was real. She wasn't hiding him, she stood by him. He was in awe of her.

“Don't try to distract me,” she mumbled into the darkness.

He chuckled. “It was fine,” he said, barely having realised he'd lost track of her question. “I tried to tell them just the basics about fighting vampires, but... you can imagine they were nosey little buggers. Lots of prodding questions. About me, my past...”

“I also have questions about your past,” she said.

He could hear the smile in her voice. He wanted so badly to kiss her. “You know you can ask me anything,” he said.

“Spike. You don't have to say that.”

He reached for her hand between them, intertwining his fingers with hers, bringing them up to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I'm not,” he assured her. Anything for you, my love.”

Her skin was tingling, the intensity in his voice, his words, drawing her in. “I just...” She found it hard to focus as he slowly but surely took over all her senses, his scent, the depth of his voice... “I don't want you to talk about anything that could be... painful.”

He sighed. “Maybe I am dead...”

“Spike...”

“You're right, I probably wouldn't be in heaven.”

She swatted his chest with her other hand, tutting.

He felt her shuffle closer to him. “Just seems too good to be true, pet. All this. You.”

“How do you think I felt when you turned up and saved me from that demon? And it turned out you were real?”

Her hand found his chest again, flat on his skin this time, his eyes closing at the feeling.

Thoughtlessly, she let her fingertips wander across his skin, feeling the definition of the muscle there.

“Feel anything you like?” he teased, could tell she was getting carried away.

“Mmm, maybe...”

She'd touched him so many times, grabbing, biting, but she'd never before admitted anything like this, not in any sort of way, and certainly not out loud.

“Maybe?” he tested, tensing slightly when her hand wandered lower, and he was unsure if she knew what she was doing.

“Stop,” she whispered. “You know you're irresistible.”

He could practically hear the roll of her eyes in her tone. “Pet,” he laughed. “Are you drunk?”

“I'm not drunk!” she protested. “Had like one glass with Giles after the meeting. To my health.”

“One glass of what?”

“Whisky. It was yucky.”

Spike laughed. “Tell me more about how irresistible I am.”

She withdrew her hand, untangled the other from his, but before he could take it back, regret his teasing, she'd lifted the blanket enough to swing one leg of him, straddling him, his wrists caught in her hands before he could react.

“H-Hey.”

She was playing a dangerous game and he wasn't sure exactly how aware of it she really was. “Buffy...” he warned.

“Mm?” she hummed, the innocence in her tone exaggerated. She leaned down to press just the hint of a kiss to the side of his neck, right below his ear, her breath tickling his skin and he was desperate for her to sink her teeth in, he knew exactly what to do to make her. “Spike?”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. His whole body was reacting to her, the way she had slowly started moving her hips wasn't helping, nor the fact that just the thin layer of silk she wore separated her skin from his. He didn't stand a chance. His head was spinning, no drink ever could have the effect on him that she did. “Please.” The word escaped him before he could stop himself.

She lifted her head, her hand cupping the side of his neck, her thumb brushing over his adam's apple. “Please?” she asked. “Are you having trouble... resisting?”

“Oh, you little-” He tried to compose himself as he saw through the game she was playing, though all his self-control went up in smoke when he felt a slight squeeze of her hand.

“What's that?” she asked. “I'm irresistible?”

“Fuckin' hell, you are,” he breathed, the words rushing from his mouth and he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, she held the power always to turn things around on him, he never stood a chance with her if she didn't want him to. And right now, he'd taken his teasing too far.

With her legs situated on either side of him, she'd been able to feel his need right where she sat, growing with each passing moment. She'd acted on impulse, and to prove her point, but now she didn't know how far she could take it. She was strongly aware of the fact that she could have got him to do anything she wanted like this, that he was holding back, still devoted to her.

“Please,” he whispered shamelessly, and before she could ask, “Please don't stop now.”

The depth of his voice, it made her almost certain she was seconds away from seeing that familiar flash of yellow in the dark, and she ground her hips down harder, chasing a different kind of friction before she made the conscious choice to. She loved having him at her mercy, but it was nothing compared to what she knew he could do if he allowed himself to lose control.

“I won't,” she said, the decision made in an instant. She'd finally allowed herself to let him in, to admit that she loved him. He worshipped her. Things were different, this did not need to be something that was changed. And hell, did she want him. “Under one condition.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes wide as he looked up at her, her skin slightly shimmery in the dark, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Buffy, anything...”

Slowly, she let go of his wrists, sitting up straighter, the movement of her hips ceasing, making him groan. “Stop holding back.”

[toomuchracket]

joyride (sub barista!matty x reader smut)

part of summer75. if you're not into pegging, avoid. if you are, enjoy! <3

humming softly to yourself, you turn the page of your book before taking a drag of your cigarette. a faint whimper from in front of you disturbs the peaceful vibe you've cultivated for yourself; exasperated, you exhale the smoke slowly, peering over the top of the book to see what all the fuss is about. “what, matthew?”

you won't lie and say the sight of your boyfriend isn't affecting you a little bit - matty looks delectable right now, all hazy-eyed and glistening tattoos and big arms bound behind his back, pretty cock hard and leaking as he sits on the glittery purple dildo harnessed to your hips. but it's friday night, you've had the week from hell at work, and you've made it crystal fucking clear that he isn't getting anything from you until you've decompressed a little bit, regained some energy.

and yet, here he is, still being a needy little slut.

“m'sorry, i just,” he sniffles, shaking slightly. “need you, cookie, please, please.”

despite yourself, part of your resolve crumbles; he just looks so gorgeous when he begs. you sit up, and he brightens, but his face falls again a beat later when he realises you're only moving to ash your cigarette in the tray on the bedside table, another whimper following from those pretty lips of his. they kiss your palm when you softly caress your boyfriend's cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin - you might be a bitchy dom, but you do love him. “oh, my darling boy,” you coo, your voice saccharine. “you really need fucked that bad?”

matty nods, pathetic. “mhmm.”

“words, gorgeous.”

“sorry, sorry - yes,” he kisses your hand again in apology, and your heart flutters. “need you to fuck me so bad, baby, please. needed it all day.”

“and you didn't do it yourself?”

he shakes his head so furiously you fear for his neck. “no. wanted you. s'no fun without you.”

you smile. “good boy,” you lie back down, softly dragging your nails down his chest, ghosting over his length (and savouring the whine he lets out) before settling your hands on his thighs. “nothing else is as good as my cock, is it?”

“s'the best,” comes the breathy reply.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you smirk. “show me how much you love it, then, go on. be a good little bunny and bounce on it while i finish reading, and then i'll fuck you, alright?”

“mmmkay… oh,” matty's eyes flutter as he slowly starts to ride the strap. he smiles, delirious. “thank you.”

“you're welcome, sweet boy,” you trace a heart into his thigh with your nail, and he giggles. “be good, yeah?”

“i will.”

and he is, actually - it's a struggle for you to keep focused on the last few pages of your chapter, because matty just looks so incredible fucking himself on your strap like that, but you manage it with no more begging from him. he beams when you toss the book to the side, blissful expression on his beautiful face. “hi, cookie.”

“hi, bunny,” you smile when his movements speed up at the pet name, which in turn has your hips moving slightly, desperate for some friction against your clit from the harness. “god, you look so fucking hot like that. s'turning me on,” you bring your hands up to your tits, not breaking eye contact with matty as you roll your nipples between your fingers and pinch them with a moan. he moans in reply, dick twitching, and you smirk. “like watching me touch myself, sweet boy?”

“yeah,” matty arches his back, and you assume he's just trying to angle himself better on the dildo; that is, until you feel calloused fingers brush your inner thigh. “let me touch you, too, please.”

fuck. he's perfect.

“alright,” you smile, eyes widening as he pushes two fingers inside you. “oh, baby.”

“good?”

you stroke his cheek again, sighing happily when he starts to finger you properly. “the best.”

matty huffs out a laugh, doing his best to curl his fingers inside you. the movement makes your hips jerk, sending the strap further into him, and he whines. “oh, shit, yes, please do that again.”

with a smirk, you oblige, snapping your hips up and enjoying the way his coherence crumbles with every thrust. his fingers slip out of you, but you don't mind - watching your boyfriend practically writhe on your cock and whimper garbled pleas is probably enough to get you off itself. that, and you know he'll reciprocate any orgasms you give him tenfold later. so you keep fucking up into him, biting your lip at the way his dick twitches more and more frequently, a telltale sign that matty's nearing orgasm. “bunny?”

his eyes snap open to look at you, and he croaks out a reply. “yeah?”

you grin. “can i fuck you properly to make you cum?”

matty's sex-addled brain takes a second to compute, and then his eyes widen. “oh, like-”

“missionary, yeah,” you drag your nails down his chest again. “wanna kiss my sweet boy when he cums.”

he whines. “please.”

you don't answer verbally. instead, you wink, and push your boyfriend as hard as you can until he falls backwards, quickly moving onto your knees in preparation. matty whimpers when the strap almost fully slips out of him, a whimper that turns into a guttural moan when you spit on the plastic and slam it back into him, over and over and over, mimicking the way he fucks you when he's desperate to get you off; judging from the way matty's legs shake, and the way his eyes roll back into his head with every movement of your hips, you're doing a good job.

he tells you as much, too, adoration peeking out from behind the pleasure haze in his eyes. “love you, cookie. feel so fucking good.”

“i love you,” you lean forward, fucking him even deeper as you kiss him sloppily, but oh so lovingly. “fuck, babe, i wanna make you cum so badly.”

“don't fucking stop, then,” matty murmurs against your lips. “m'so close, so fucking close. oh, shit, m'right there, right there.”

you smile against him, hand slipping down between your sweaty bodies to lightly stroke his dick. “cum for me, then, sweet boy.”

with a whimpered “fuck, fuck!”, he does just that, spilling over his own stomach and your hand with his lips pressed to yours. you kiss him sweetly, murmuring soft praises into him as you slowly pull out and lick his cum from your hand; when you move off him and the bed to undo the harness, cutting into the fat of your hips a little, matty whines, and you smile. “i'll be back in literally one second, my love.”

“hurry,” he pouts. “i miss you.”

“sap,” you roll your eyes, shimmying the harness off before working to untie the ropes binding your boyfriend's arms. “they feel okay?”

“yeah,” matty stretches as you climb back onto the bed and settle on your stomach beside him; his entire body jerks when you wordlessly take the head of his dick into your mouth and lightly suck on it, another whine leaving his lips. “baby, baby, m'too sensitive to go ag-”

“i know, sweetheart,” you coo, changing your focus to licking the cum from his stomach. “just getting you all cleaned up.”

he snorts, caressing your hair when you lay your head on his chest. “you know, there are these things called washcloths…”

“yeah, but,” you smirk up at him. “those are for people whose girlfriends aren't freaks.”

matty laughs loudly, that stupid hyena cackle of his that you love so much. “yeah, you're a freak alright,” he pulls you further onto him, kissing your nose and looking at you so tenderly you could cry. “but you're also the love of my life.”

“you're only saying that cos i pegged you.”

“nah, that's just a bonus,” he kisses you sweetly. “i love you, cookie. and i'm about to return the favour, by the way.”

“okay,” you smile against him. “i love you, too.”

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

lesson (not) learned

part two: lesson (still not) learned wc: 1.5k reader: afab (maybe also only femme but i don’t think so? idk lemme know if you think it should be labeled femme) warnings: minors dni explicit smut!!!!!, established poly!relationship, oral m!receiving, fingering, learned this word today: pussyjob, hard/softdom!hanbin, switch!hao, sub(i guess mostly)!reader, hanbin and hao are not that nice but they love you (hanbin loves you more tho lol), addressing hanbin as "sir" towards the end, hanbin calls them puppies one time, mxm but very light, i guess light angst but a good ending, basically you and hao are always competing to be hanbin's favorite lol summary: hanbin punishes a bickering poly!reader and hao for fucking without his permission; they do not learn their lesson this started out as something else and then became this. oops. gonna have to write that original idea too eventually. enjoy :)

🚨MINORS DNI 18+ EXPLICIT SMUT BELOW🚨

“what was that, baby?” hao asks, hand tangled in your hair as he grips it tightly. somehow his tone remains patronizing despite the fact you’ve been edging him for at least half an hour. “can’t talk with a big cock in your mouth?”

you try to answer again, but it’s useless; a frustrated moan comes out of you instead and, for a moment, the curtain falls on hao’s persona he’s been maintaining to impress his other lover. you can see it in his eyes how the vibration on his cock affects him; how he desperately wants to give in to you. he always wants to cave a few minutes in.

but...

he blinks quickly; tightening his grip on your hair and yanking a bit harsher. “come on. he’s... he’s gonna get mad at us again if we don’t finish our punishment.”

a pointed exhale from the corner draws your attention to the third presence in the room. “aw, hao hyung, don’t be silly now. why would i get mad at you? hmm?”

the words are kind on paper-- playful even. but you would never know by the way hanbin says them. a viper’s tongue.

stupidly, you make eye contact with him. he’s lounging back in a leather armchair, a hand over his mouth and one eyebrow cocked in what seems to be amusement. a small beam of light illuminates a diagonal strip of his face from the corner of his left eye to his jaw bone. he looks otherworldly like this and the heavenly visual causes you to lose your grip on hao’s cock in your mouth.

it lolls out of you with a pitiful pop.

“baby,” hao pleads annoyedly, taking your face in his hands to try to get your attention but your fixation on hanbin’s beauty is just too strong. “baby, we need to keep going or he’s--.”

by the time you’ve actually comprehended hao’s words, a cruel laugh is already escaping hanbin’s throat from the corner of the room. “how did i manage to find the two stupidest, horniest people on the planet?”

“fuck,” hao whispers angrily, shaking your face that’s still in his hands. “this is all your fault! you always do this!”

“this is not my fault! are you kidding me!?” you defend, childishly folding your arms across your chest. “you’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands off me earlier.”

“you literally grabbed my fingers and stuck them in your pussy,” hao counters, glaring at you. “you always want him to think you’re his perfect little angel, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. you’re just a spoiled fucking brat who needs--.”

your lips are on hao’s before he can finish his assassination of your character. unfortunately you just can’t help yourself when he talks to you like that. but hao is no lesson in self control either, seeing as he’s moaning into your mouth within seconds; pushing your back down onto the bed beneath him. in between your thighs, the head of his cock starts to tease your entrance.

“fuck,” hao whines needily, rutting against you and, as he does, treading dangerously close to forbidden territory for the second time today. the desperation in hao’s voice only turns you on more, though and, clouded with lust, you also forget about the events that happened just hours ago.

“pleasepleaseplease, need you,” you beg incomprehensibly, the head of hao’s cock pressing into your clit. “fuck hao, please, just need you inside me now.”

“oh my god,” hao says as if he’s gonna lose his mind if he can’t put his cock in you in the next five seconds. “fuck, i can’t--... we can’t, baby. we’re not supposed to...”

though hao is certainly attempting to convince himself not to finally push himself inside your dripping hole, he’s failing miserably. you feel him start to rut progressively deeper, his resolve slowly turning to moans and whimpers until--

“you two never fucking learn your lesson, do you?”

your whole body freezes as hanbin yanks hao up by his ear to a kneeling position. hao seethes at the pain and hanbin whispers something in his ear that shuts him up without discourse. the sinking feeling in your gut reaches its height when hanbin’s attention turns to you.

“binnie, please,” you start to plead as hanbin just smiles coolly back at you. “hao started it! i would never break the rules, binnie-- i promise.”

hao opens his mouth to argue, but a quick glare from hanbin settles him down. the younger man lets go of hao’s ear; stepping closer to you. a gentle hand finds your jaw, pulling you up to meet him in a kiss. it’s sultry and warm and once again has you squeezing your thighs together for relief.

“cute,” hanbin coos, his left hand reaching to cup your heat. you can’t help but grind against his fingers as hanbin fawns over you. you know it’s a trap. but you just can’t help yourself.

neither can hao, whose hand has already begun stroking his cock again.

“hao hyung started this-- is that right, angel?” hanbin asks, pouting at you as he rubs his thumb across your cheek sweetly. and then the other shoe drops. “hao hyung is the one who got my angel this wet?”

you shake your head frantically. “no! no, binnie--.”

he tilts his head to the side-- a suggestion (or threat) that you better start using his preferred title effective immediately.

“i’m sorry, sir, i just--.”

“i was five fucking feet away from you-- you think you can lie to me?” hanbin’s tone surprisingly isn’t so much angry as it is... disappointed. your eyes meet hao’s and you know he’s thinking the same thing:

this is not good.

“bin-ah,” hao says softly, cautiously reaching out a hand to touch hanbin’s shoulder. “binnie, are you really upset?”

hanbin sighs melodramatically, shrugging off hao’s touch and turning away from the bed. “you both want each other so bad. it doesn’t really seem like you need me anymore.”

“what!?” you exclaim, scrambling to sit up and wrap your arms around his neck from behind. “of course we need you, hanbinnie! we love you. and i love you way more than hao loves you.”

“you’re such a little...” hao starts, grabbing your nipple between his fingers and pinching hard. you squeal and he sticks his tongue out at you as he takes hanbin’s hand in his own. “we’re trying to reassure hanbinnie and you still find a way to make it all about you? so typical. and for your information, he likes me more than you.”

“he does not! he said--... he said...” your words trail off as you suddenly feel hanbin pressing kisses up your arm where it hangs across his chest. “hanbinnie, we’re sorry. we need you. clearly we need you. we’d kill each other without you.”

“so sorry, binnie,” hao mumbles into hanbin’s shoulder. “we just can’t help ourselves sometimes.”

“we--... we need to be punished again, binnie,” you say, kissing his neck sweetly.

“please, binnie?” hao echoes hopefully. “we’ll be good this time!”

the sound of hanbin chuckling is not what either of you are expecting to hear, but when he turns around with a glint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, an exhilarating chill runs down your spine. all of this-- from the moment hanbin had left you alone with hao this afternoon while he went to get groceries up to now-- had been one giant trap. 

you and hao were really in for it now.

“you’re both a little too soft for your own good, don’t you think?” hanbin muses with a smirk. “we all know you desperately need me.”

you look down at your lap in shame and you know that hao is doing the same.

“but i need you too,” he adds, a hand running up one of yours and hao’s thighs. “my two favorite puppies. so perfect. just need some more training is all.”

“yes, sir,” you and hao respond together happily.

just as hanbin’s left hand wraps around the base of hao’s cock and the fingers of his right hand find your entrance, his phone starts to ring in his back pocket. “fuck,” he curses, removing his fingers from you and reaching for his phone. you start to whine, but a sharp look keeps you quiet. 

“i have to take this,” hanbin sighs, walking towards the door. “when i come back, i better find you both on your stomachs for me. understand?”

“yes, sir,” the two of you respond from the bed again.

as the door shuts behind hanbin, you look at hao. his eyes are narrowed in anger and the head of his cock is leaking pathetically. you stare at each other for a long moment before hao quickly gives up and begins climbing back between your legs.

hanbin knows exactly what he’s going to walk back into. and though he knows he’s going to have to make you both pay for it...

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Was Red Son going up to heaven and being granted unlimited access to their library the first time he met his grandmother or ANY of his grandparents?

Idk about DBK'S extended family situation, but if that's Red Son's first introduction to her (biological) extended family OMG that's probably a lot to handle with everything else going on in their life.

Ref.

In terms of paternal family; there isn't much left. DBK's parents kicked him out after he made it clear he was marrying Iron Fan, and her alone. His younger brother Ruyi inherited everything as the sole heir after their parents passed from age. DBK always thought that his parents had strayed from their demonic roots, many demon clans had - preferring to mimic the mortal or celestial politics beyond the Underworld.

DBK kinda wishes Red had time to know his paternal grandparents, but he knows they wouldn't have approved of the boy either. They might have seen him as a worthy bargaining chip for marriage contracts, but doubts much else.

The less said about Ruyi the better.

As for PIF's side of the family? Well...

My hc is that Red Son accidentally met his maternal grandmother before - during New Years when he and Mei broke into the Peach Orchard.

Xiwangmu can recognise her daughter's features from a mile away. And farther still, the flickers of her own True Fire. But she simply patted both of them on the heads and sent them on their way. Her heart grew fond seeing "little ones" running around the gardens again, like how her daughters used to as cubs/hatchlings. If she knew her kin, she knew that the little fire opal would stumble back into their lives again eventually.

After the events of Season 3 and with LBD nearly destroying the world - Heaven had to get involved with the clean up (LBD broke a lot of laws).

Nezha, who knew Red Son when he was an infant, was ultimately the first one to ask openly;

Nezha: "Haven't you ever actually met your mother's parents?" Red Son, busy fixing the van: "No. She never discussed them. The only time I asked, she said that they were not welcome in our lives. I felt it was rude to pry." Nezha: "...you know we're cousins right?" Red Son: "EHH!?!"

In Red Son's defence; he just thought Nezha babysat him as a favour to an old fighting buddy. Turns out the real reason was because Nezha was the only member of the Celestial Royal Family brave enough to sneakily keep contact with Iron Fan after the war.

So now Red Son is dealing with the knowledge that he's a Celestial Royal Prince!?

Red Son begins accompanying Nezha to the Celestial Realm - not feeling comfortable without a chaperone to defend him. At first just to tag along with boring post-battle stuff; notably returning Lao Tzu's furnace. The alchemist was annoyed by the loss of three pills, but impressed that Red Son managed to concoct a cure to whatever LBD added to Spider Queen's venom on the fly.

And Lao Tzu is terrible for keeping secrets...

Within the next few visits; Nezha and Red Son are stopped by Celestial Guards. Seems that the Jade Emperor himself wants an audience with the fire demon.

Red Son swallows a lump in his throat. Nezha gives him a sympathetic, but supportive smile.

The Jade Emperor is... a lot taller than Red Son expected. But the woman at his side is familiar somehow...

Xiwangmu, delighted: "I told you he'd return, my jade!" Jade Emperor, stony face: "So he has." Red Son, remembering: "Hey, wait a minute! You're the woman from the orchard! You let me take a peach!" Xiwangmu, tittering: "Of course! I cannot deny my own grandchildren the fruits of my garden!" Red Son, stuttering: "Y-you knew...?" Xiwangmu, dismounting her throne: "Of course. It's not hard to recognise the tiny face I saw the day I nearly lost my youngest daughter. I still have my duty as Goddess to protect new mothers from misfortune after all... Tieshan is a proud woman. She rejected my help up until she lost consciousness. Then your father begged for me to intervene. Despite our animosity, he still kowtowed to me to save her and you. I respect him for it." Red Son, realising: "You... you knew about me since I was born. Then... why didn't you try contacting me?" Xiwangmu, shares sad glance with her husband: "If I had... It would have placed a terrible spotlight on our youngest grandchild. If the Realms had even suspected, imagine how many demons and celestials alike would have gladly torn you asunder?" Jade Emperor, finally speaking: "Once your True Fire emerged, it would not be long until people began questioning your heritage. Only my wife and your cousin Li Nezha have wielded it before you." Xiwangmu: "We were so delighted when Guanyin took you on as her disciple! It eased our worries so much that your aunt was keeping an eye on you!" Red Son, first time hearing this lore: "Wait what?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AUNT!?!"

Red Son was starting to get used to visiting the Celestial Realm and getting to know his maternal family.

IF PIF and DBK saw him leave the palace and return with books from the imperial library, they didn't make any comment on it.

Then Season 4 happened...

Red Son's warning may have been too late to truly save his grandfather, but it was enough to evacuate the Queen Mother and the Princesses. The celestial army didn't believe him at first, but Nezha was quick to support his judgement. It only took a quick fact check with the Ten Kings to confirm that the Scroll of Memory was indeed missing, and that the three former-celestial agents were now loose upon the mortal realm.

The last time Red Son saw his grandfather alive was when he tried dragging him off his throne, not even big enough to fully grasp a finger.

The Jade Emperor refused to budge.

Jade Emperor: "Why are you here alone?" Red Son, crying from panic: "The Brotherhood-! They wanted to recruit Father back into their ranks, but he refused! Mother leapt to take the blow meant for him and he-! His last act was to try and save her!" Jade Emperor, noticeably stiffens: "The Brotherhood struck them down?" Red Son: "N-no. But they captured them in the Scroll of Memory. But! If Azure wanted to, he could snap the bamboo containing their souls! Please! I beg of you! Evacuate with the Queen Mother, so you won't suffer the same fate!" Jade Emperor: (*sighs with relief upon hearing Iron Fan is alive. settles back into his throne*) Jade Emperor: "...Child. If you are so insistent on protecting this world, go confront the Brotherhood at your cousin's side. I am not a helpless old fool." Red Son: "But-!" Jade Emperor: "But nothing! I am not ordering you as an Emperor. But as your grandfather. Leave me here to greet my foes, as a demon king facing a warrior's end." Red Son, stops trying to drag him: "I... I will ensure that they never make it past those doors! You can count on me! Nezha and I will crush them!" Jade Emperor: "I know you can. You are my daughter's son." Red Son: (*says nothing else, but tearfully nods to his grandfather for what he correctly feels is the last time. fire teleports away.*)

In canon it was only after the Scroll was collected and the captives free did anyone in the Celestial Realm confirm that the Jade Emperor was no longer with them.

But in the case of the extended royal family; they knew the moment Xiwangmu roared to the Heavens. A connection in her heart severing like a line of red string cut. The last time her grief shook the realms, she tore open the Heavenly River itself and flooded the earth. Now the skies are beginning to crack... doesn't take a genius to know why the Queen Mother is weeping.

In the aftermath, Red Son and his parents are released from the Scroll. Only to see Xiwangmu and the Maidens. The elderly tigress crying waterfalls into her hands as her elder daughters cling to her robes and sob.

Iron Fan's normally stoic expression breaks. She calls to her mother, dropping to her knees and burying her face in her arms like she's a child all over again. Even without words, the princess knows.

The Bull King does not join the women, but he gives clear permission to his child to. Red Son didn't even need to ask.

Xiwangmu: "You were the last one to see him, fire opal. What were his last words to you?" Red Son, clinging to PIF: "He said... that I was his daughter's son." PIF: (*breathes a shocked gasp through her tears!*) Xiwangmu, smile breaking through: "Typical Yudi. Deciding things without telling me." Red Son: "What do you mean?" Nezha: "The Jade Emperor has not recognised Princess Iron Fan has his daughter since the war." DBK, voice a mix of shock/delight: "He recognises your mother as his daughter again. Which means he-" PIF, determinedly wiping her tears: "He recognises you as his legitimate grandson, and as an heir to the Celestial Throne." Red Son: (*too shocked to speak. makes tea kettle sound as flame hair dies to embers. faints Yamcha-style*)

[severelystrangewriter]

Holding Hands (Flufftober 2023 Day 6)

Pairing: kei “tsukki” tsukishima x female reader

WC: 906

Warnings: none

Summary: just a short and sweet scenario involving tsukki holding your hand

Note: there’s nothing really to add, no thoughts only tsukki

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kei Tsukishima has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. You, him, and Tadashi Yamaguchi were practically inseparable growing up. So it came as no surprise to you when you started developing feelings towards Tsukki.

Being with the bespectacled boy was second nature to you despite his cold and calculating personality. What surprised you was how he reciprocated your feelings, having actually been the one to confess to you during your last year of middle school.

You accepted happily and thus began your relationship, which might not seem like your typical relationship to outsiders. He still teased you like he would anyone else, but don’t worry, you always served it right back to him.

To be completely honest, with the way you two acted, most people didn’t even know you were together.

And it’s not like you guys were keeping it a secret either, you were both just too lazy to “announce” it to the world. You both knew you were dating and that’s all that mattered.

Tadashi knew of course, and he was ecstatic for you both. In fact, he’s the one who would talk about it more than you and Tsukki did- always suggesting date ideas that he would inevitably tag along. It was kind of endearing.

You all were now in your first year of high school and you were a manager in training like Yachi for the Karasuno volleyball team.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late for school!” You exclaimed to Tsukki as you both walked to school with Tadashi.

“Calm down, (Y/n/n). We still have plenty of time,” Tadashi reminded you, “What are you in such a hurry for anyways?”

“She’s just anxious about that test today. But it’s not like getting there early is going to make it happen any faster,” Tsukki rolled his eyes. Tadashi nodded in understanding.

“If we get there early, then I can go over those flashcards one more time,” You said like it was obvious.

“But you’ve been studying crazy hard this entire week!” Tadashi protested, “I’m sure you know everything by now.”

Before you could reply, Tsukki spoke up, “He’s right, you’ve done nothing but stress about it. I mean, you’ve hardly slept. Which is why I’m not letting you touch those cards when we get to class. Let someone who actually needs them use them, like Tadashi.”

“Hey!” Tadashi snapped.

“Are you trying to inhibit my academic career?” You argued.

“I’m prioritizing your mental health,” He countered.

It was then that you felt Tsukki slip his hand into yours as he tugged you closer to him, the both of you coming to a stop.

“Look at me,” Tsukki stared hard at you and reached out with his free hand to flick your forehead, “You’re going to do fine on this test. You’re smart. Stop worrying so much.”

You looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes, he looked completely serious as if daring you to argue with him about it. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself nodding along, a determined smile making its way onto your face.

“You’re right,” You said.

“I know I am,” Tsukki replied, continuing to walk once more, this time with your hands interlocked.

Your smile grew, feeling a little lighter now thanks to Tsukki’s words of encouragement. 

~~~

School and volleyball practice passed fairly quickly, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. You were ready to go home.

Tsukki must’ve been feeling particularly touchy-feely today because the minute you both stepped out of the gym he laced his fingers with yours as you walked to the corner store for a snack. It made your heart flutter because typically it was you who initiated contact.

“Hey guys- AH! Tsukki and (Y/n) are holding hands!” Hinata yelled when you caught up with the team at the corner store, pointing at your laced fingers. He bounded over and circled you two once, studying you both curiously.

“Well duh, they’re dating,” Tadashi explained with a knowing smile on his face.

“What?!” Came the chorus of exclamations from your friends.

“For how long?” Kageyama demanded with a suspicious squint, annoyed that Tsukki of all people somehow managed to get a girlfriend.

“Our one year anniversary is actually next week,” You smiled sweetly, giving Tsukki’s hand a squeeze.

“But… you’re so nice,” Hinata came to stand in front of you again, looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head as he scrunched his nose, “Why are you dating Tsukki?”

You offered a one-sided shrug, “Because I like him and he makes me happy. Why else?”

“How? He says super mean things, like, all the time and-” Hinata suddenly started cowering, being cut off by Tsukki’s glare and menacing aura.

“Like I said, he makes me happy,” You repeated, stepping closer to Tsukki and leaning into his side. He seemed to relax a little at your reassurance.

“Yeah, no, I’m not buying it,” Tanaka shook his head and crossed his arms, “Blink twice if you’re being forced into this relationsh- ow!”

He rubbed the spot on his head that had been harshly smacked by Daichi.

“We’re happy for you guys, really,” The captain said with a comforting smile of his own. 

You grinned back and after a little more chatting you, Tsukki, and Tadashi departed from the group to head home, with Tsukki’s hand snuggly fit into your own like the most perfect puzzle piece.

[includedisco]

FadelStyle Short One-shot

Title: Sassy to Sorry

Characters: Fadel, Style

Pairing: Fadel/Style

Fandom: The Heart Killers

Tags: Fluff, Post canon, Established relationship, POV alternating, Domestic fluff

warnings: none

Word Count: 771

Summary: After recklessly gambling away the grocery money Fadel entrusted with him, typically feisty Style returns home meek, bracing himself for Fadel’s reaction. Will Style’s unusual subdued demeanor soften Fadel’s disappointment or will Style face the music?

"So let me get this straight…” Fadel begins, “this morning you tormented me about how I don’t let you help out around the restaurant as my boyfriend. You forced me to send you out to buy groceries and now you’re telling me that you gambled the money away at the market.”

Fadel crosses his arms against his chest while standing in front of Style hoping this is a joke.

“That pretty much sums it up nicely.” Style replies with an awkward little smile.

Style stands there, uncharacteristically ashamed, shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the floor. “It was a really fun game.” He relays as his eyes flicker up to meet Fadel’s but dart away, unable to hold the contact.

His throat bobs up and down nervously as he tries to find the right words to redeem himself. “The guys wouldn’t play with me until I agreed to bet actual real money. I thought I’d win.”

Fadel lifts an eyebrow, somehow managing to look more menacing than he did just a few seconds ago. It doesn’t make sense but Style is more nervous now than he was when Fadel severally pointed a gun at him in the past.

“I…I messed up.”  Style stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his guilt is profound, hanging heavily in the air between them.

Despite being irritated by Style, Fadel is in all honesty stunned by Style’s timidity right now. It’s so unlike him, and Fadel almost laughs at the sight of him so humbled by remorse and shame. Fadel’s lips thin to hold back the smile threatening to break through. It is hard to be stern with Style when he looks so genuinely remorseful.

“You did mess up.” Fadel’s voice is softer than intended.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe you actually came back here to tell me what happened.” Fadel ponders out loud, putting his hand on his waist

“What’s the alternative?”

Fadel shrugs a shoulder, “You could have said you dropped the money or got robbed on the way to the market. Or you could have used your own money to buy the groceries. The sky is the limit.”

As realization dawns on Style, his eyes widen slightly, and a flicker of understanding crosses his face. A bashful smile spreads across his features, the kind that speaks of both relief and a touch of embarrassment, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Come to think is it, Style is quite surprised by his own actions too. “I guess I didn’t want to lie to you.” He explains to Fadel. “I figured we should practice honesty to improve our chances of having a healthy marriage.”

Fadel allows himself to smile at that, “We’re getting married?”

Style smiles back, “What? You don’t wanna marry me?”

“Not if you keep gambling our money away.”

“You said our money.” Style’s smile turns into a huge grin, “You’re totally marrying me and knocking me up soon. I can just see it for our future.”

“Again, you can’t get pregnant.”

Style ignores that last remark completely and steps forward, closing the distance between them. He gently wraps his arms around Fadel’s neck. “Do you forgive me?” Style kisses Fadel softly on the cheek

“Ask me again without softening me up with the kisses.” Fadel whispers flirtatiously.

“I like softening you up with kisses.” Style insists and kisses Fadel on the lips, then he scrunches up his nose and widens his eyes, his lips forming the perfect pout as he sings a soft, melodic, “Forgive me please?” his voice sweet and playful.

Fadel can’t help but melt at the sight, his stern expression giving way to a faint smile. He nods, his eyes softening as he places a gentle hand on Style’s slender waist, pulling him closer. Leaning in, Fadel presses a tender kiss to Style’s lips.

But then Fadel’s demeanor shifts all of a sudden. His eyes darken and his smile turns into a serious, almost menacing look. “We’re going back to the market to get that money back.” He announces, his voice low and determined.

Style blinks at his boyfriend a few times then he adopts an equally serious look on his face, “Okay. The place is far too public for us to fire a gun, so we’ll carry knives instead.” He suggests with fierce resolve.

Fadel’s eyebrows knit as he gives his boyfriend a what-the-fuck kind of look. He wonders how it is that he’s the former hit man and not Style. Sometimes Style’s crazy shocks Fadel.

Style’s resolve doesn’t waver under Fadel’s judgmental stare, “Okay we’ll bring one gun too.” He compromises.

-End-

If you like this little story, here is my Ao3

Thank you for reading☺️

[casual-praxis]

Four Swords AU, but all the Colors have some type of animal mixture related to the elements.

Green is some kind of bird, he’s got wings and sharp talons on his hands. Chirps on occasion (usually to get someone’s attention, like a “look here” whistle). He can fly, but landing is the hard part, so he doesn't very often.

Blue is mixed with a shark, a bit like a Zora but more Hylian in appearance. He has super sharp teeth, dorsal fins on his back (but no tail), gills and webbed fingers/toes. Doesn’t need to constantly be in water, but does require frequent hydration or else he gets a bit sick.

Red is mixed with a fire salamander, and is, unsurprisingly, the whole reason I started thinking about this. He’s got a tail (that can grow back if pulled off), is cold blooded (and thus tries to cuddle the others for warmth), and probably isn’t poisonous. Probably. (Okay, he is, but it’s only a problem when he’s scared.)

Vio is mixed with a mole, so he’s got a few drawbacks, but he can work around them. He’s not completely blind (and neither are most moles), but he can’t open his eyes in direct daylight without getting flash-banged, so he usually keeps them closed unless it’s dark. He has claws, a very short tail (that he hides), and can’t actually see color.

I like to think Shadow is mixed with a moth but I haven’t actually thought about that too hard.

Here’s some nebulous, random concepts I’ve also come up with:

- They maintain the diets of their animal counterparts, so they’re all carnivorous (and may or may not try to eat things their respective animals do on occasion).

- For the most part, all of them are mixed with solitary animals, but overtime adapt to being in a group (though working together is still somewhat of a struggle).

- They all have the potential to become territorial, but seeing as they're almost always moving locations, it's not much of an issue. (Finding out moles are "fiercely territorial" was unnecessarily funny to me.)

- At some point, Blue probably stomps on Red's tail and it falls off. Cue up the absolute insanity that follows. Red cries about it for all of five minutes before revealing that it didn't actually hurt and he's fine. It'll grow back.

- Vio, despite his bad eyesight, can still read and shoot his bow; it just takes a bit to learn how to accommodate it. He sits in the shade to read or pulls a blanket over his head (usually joined by Red who's looking for warmth). Firing his bow is a bit more tricky, but he's still able to make out light shapes behind his closed eyelids (like moles do), so it's mostly a matter of not shooting his teammates (and working around his claws).

- Green does enjoy flying when he can manage it, despite the shaky landings. But he often has to fight the urge to scoop up Red or Vio since they're both prey to his animal attribute. He probably wouldn't try to eat them, but he could accidentally injure them all if he weren't careful. Especially since Red becomes poisonous on contact when scared, and Vio would struggle.

Green probably couldn't pick up Blue even if he were trying to.

- None of them know how they got mixed with animals in the first place, or why they're all so drastically different. It's an au mystery with no intended answer lmao.