#and he's so thoughtful and so well-expressed and that definitely came across here

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield for Fandango

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 4

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : 2.3k word count : your experience with the unsub warning : canon-typical violence (it gets a bit gory, torture-ish, implied sexual violence), swear words > read at your own risk, you are responsible for the media you consume A/N : thank you all for the support and love on this omggg <333 Emily's a tiny bit of a bitch in this one, whoopsie. y/n cries the whole time, I figured that was what I would do. would you guys like a part 5, maybe Spencer taking care of y/n after such a traumatic experience? some comfort after hurt?

part 1, part 2, part 3

The first thing you noticed when you came to your senses was the throbbing in the back of your head. Your first reflex was to bring your hand up to where you were sure to find blood, but you couldn’t move either of your arms. Opening your eyes wearily, you noticed that your wrists were restrained, binding you to an old wooden chair.  “What the-“ Your heart rate picked up as the memory of being hit over the head came back to you. Frantically looking around, your breathing started getting short and ragged when you realised your surrounding were wholly unfamiliar to you. You jerked your wrists to the sides, hoping that maybe the tight ropes would untie themselves. 

“Don’t tire yourself out,” an icy voice drawled from a dark corner. You could barely hear over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. You cursed yourself when he stepped out of the shadows, greasy locks pushed behind his ears. You should have told Spencer. You should have known.

His face was barely visible in the dim light. The smell of dust and mold which clung to the room suited him well. His gaze on you made you feel dirty and you hated it. You examined the enclosed space you were in and realised you were in an abandoned art room on campus. You'd discovered it once with your friends by accident, years ago. Art supplies, canvases and desks were strewn about in a careless manner. You tried not to think too much about the blood dotting the floor in multiple places.

"Why did you bring me here?" you asked, doing your best to remain calm. He was clearly unstable and you didn't want to trigger him if you could help it. “Don't worry about that, just know you’re not getting out of here any time soon, honey.” He smiled, a frightening grimace, and licked his lips. Nausea clouded your senses for a second. Tears gathered on your waterline. “Oh yes, I will.” Your voice shook as you spoke and you hated how weak you sounded. His brows raised and he let slip a little, mocking laugh. It made your skin crawl. A tear slipped down your cheek and, humiliatingly, you couldn't wipe it away. “And why do you think that?” he asked, feigning interest. You scowled at him. “The FBI is going to find you, you sick fuck. If they couldn't before this, they definitely will now." 

Your head whipped to the side as he slapped you across the face. He bent down, placing his face mere centimetres from yours. Another tear fell from your eye as you felt your cheek sting and then get uncomfortably warm. “You stupid bitch,” he snarled. “You better watch your tone. You actually think they’ll find you? That's cute." You swallowed, opting to stay silent.

Spencer knew something had happened as soon as Hotch stepped into the room. Over the years, he'd learned how his boss functioned and how to separate all the micro-expressions he used before assembling them back together and interpreting them. Today, he could tell something was seriously wrong.

He hadn't even thought of you at first. In his mind, you were safe. The unsub had been arrested and proof was being searched for. The guy fit the profile and the profile never lied. So why did Hotch ask him to sit down?

"W- what?" "I think you may want to sit down for this." Spencer was getting agitated, he didn't like being kept out of the information loop. "Hotch, just tell us what's going on," pressed Morgan, brows drawn together. "You know how we asked all the professors to contact us immediately if anyone fitting the victimology didn't show up for class?" "Yeah," Emily nodded, urging Hotch on. "We got a call." The Unit Chief's eyes fell on Spencer and the latter knew what he was going to say before the words were uttered. "Spencer, Y/N's professor said she didn't show up to class this morning."

"O-okay, wait, that doesn't mean anything, we arrested a guy, she could just not be feeling well," Emily spoke hastily, concerned about the look on Spencer's face. "No, we must have the wrong-" Spencer was interrupted by Morgan: "Wait a second, the profile says-" "I don't care what the profile says, Morgan! Y/N's first class today is Germanic Ethos and Christian Faith in Medieval Literature, that's her favourite class, she's never missed it in the entire semester! And she was feeling well this morning, we had breakfast together and she would have told me if not! Clearly, we have the wrong guy!"

Silence reigned for a short moment after Spence's outburst. The entire team was left speechless by his behaviour, which was entirely unprecedented. Spencer ran a hand through his hair, letting out a small sigh. "I- Can you try calling her at least? Before we jump to any conclusions." Emily crossed her arms over her chest. Spencer sent her a dark look before whipping out his phone and pressing on the first name in his contact list. He put it on speaker and let it ring.

"No, no, please," you sobbed, "no more! Please! No, stop!"

Your voice was raw from screaming. Judging by the three shallow cuts he left on your right shoulder, the unsub enjoyed seeing your blood pearl and run down your skin. He also revelled in watching you writhe and scream in pain. "What did I tell you? Shut the fu-" He raised his hand in the air and you flinched away by reflex only to find the blow never came. You held your breath.

"I'm breaking dishes up in here all night, uh uh! I ain't gon' stop until I see police and lights, uh uh! I'm a fight a man tonight, I'm a fight a man-"

Oh, the irony. You didn't know whether to bless or curse Rihanna. "What the fuck is this?!" he roared, swivelling sharply on his feet to press the blade of his bloody knife into your cheek. You whimpered quietly. You couldn't help but think of all the infections you would be vulnerable to because of his dirty and rusted weapon. How could someone have so little care for basic hygiene? "It's- It's my ringtone! It's just my ringtone!"

"A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an! A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an!"

"You little bitch," he hissed, quickly untying your hands and grabbing your throat. He lifted you up by the neck and slammed you into the nearest wall, yelling about what a deceiving, conniving whore you were. You cried out in pain, desperately pulling at his hand which was wound tight around your throat. "You think your little friends are going to come and get you?!" he mocked, smushing your cheeks with his other hand. "Tough luck, doll, you're all alone and you're going to-" "Wait!" you spluttered, "Wait!" Your vision had begun going blurry but your mind remained intact. "If- If I don't answer, they'll know something's wrong! And then they'll send everyone out looking for me, for you!"

His grip on your throat lessened and you coughed, forcing air back into your lungs. Your eyes burned with tears. "What does it matter to you?" "Look- I- It doesn't matter, my ringtone is about to stop! And they'll come for sure!" Making a split-second decision, he stomped over to where he'd thrown your bag and sweater carelessly on the ground. You slid down onto the floor, wiping at your eyes. Hastily ruffling through your bag, he pulled your phone out after a second. You lamented all the flyaway papers you'd annotated with bright and lively colours now most likely stained with grime and blood. The unsub answered the call and roughly pressed the phone against your ear. You winced.

"O-Oh, Y/N! It's Spencer, are you alright?!" Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks at the comforting sound of Spencer's voice. You wanted nothing more than to be near him, away from this living hell. If anyone could understand a message and find you, Spencer could. You were painfully aware of the little time you had left before the unsub got on with his routine and got rid of you. You cleared your throat, wanting to appear natural. "Hey! Yeah, I'm- I'm fine, I'm heading for my Wax Tablet Workshop, we are going to look at how writing on wax is art which has been abandoned by scholars, like universities." "O- Okay, sweets, I'll come get you after class okay? We can go for a coffee together!" "Sounds great, Spence!"

The unsub threw your phone onto the ground next to you and crushed it with his foot. You let your tears fall freely. Spencer had understood. He was coming.

"That was a hidden message, she doesn't have a Wax Tablet Workshop. It's not even a course the university offers." Spencer's brain was working even faster than usual. The BAU team had never seen him like this before. "Garcia, look for all abandoned locations on university campus. Maybe a classroom?" he urged.

The sound of a keyboard typing incredibly fast was heard on the speaker. "I've got one." Penelope's voice was urgent and contained no trace of its usual lightness. "There's an abandoned art studio on the East side of the campus. I'm sending you the address now."

"Let's go," ordered Hotch.

You'd never wear shorts again. Exhausted, beaten, bruised and tied to a chair, you didn't have the energy to do anything more than move your knee when he trailed his finger along it. You were starting to lose hope. There was no clock in sight, but you could guess your time would soon be up. Some part of you wanted to give up. You knew if Spencer were here, he'd tell you to keep fighting, to keep hoping. But you were tired, so, so tired.

You suspected you had a concussion from when he'd knocked out and when he'd slammed you into the wall. Your vision was blurry. Although, maybe that was due to the tears. They hadn't stopped coming since he'd first slapped you. But when his cold hand found your thigh and squeezed it roughly, the kindling fire in you regained strength. No. You would rather die than suffer whatever else he had planned for you. As he started moving his repulsive mouth towards you, you jerked your knee upwards, hard, right into his groin. He roared in pain and doubled over, stumbling backwards.

"Stay the fuck back!" you screamed hysterically. "Don't you dare fucking touch me, you psycho!" He met your eyes with a frenzied look you'd never seen before and pounced on you. The chair you were sitting on shattered with a loud noise and you screamed, finding yourself lying on top of splintery wood pieces. As he brought his arm upwards, knife facing downwards, towards you, you closed your eyes. You didn't want him to be the last thing you saw. You thought of all the good things in your life, your family, Spencer, Geoffrey, Spencer, your friends, Spencer,...

"Put it down!!!" bellowed a familiar voice. "Put it down now!" You opened your eyes. The door behind you had been broken down. FBI agents flooded the room, all aiming their guns at the man on top of you. His eyes darted frantically between Agent Morgan, whose voice you'd recognised, and two other agents you couldn't see.

"I want a deal!" the unsub cried out, "I want a deal!" "No deal," a deeper, more authoritative voice spoke. The unsub raised his arm again, preparing to strike. You closed your eyes.

BAM!

To this day, you didn't think the unsub expected to be shot. You figured he was expecting to be imprisoned. You didn't see the look on his face when he was shot, only felt the dead weight of his body falling on top of you.

Shrieking hysterically, you struggled frantically to move his corpse off you. Someone shoved him off you, promising you in a soothing voice that you were safe.

"Spencer." His name had never been spoke like that before. It was a haunting sob, a cry for help. He was at your side immediately, ridding you of the ropes around your wrists and pulling you away from the broken chair.

It was only when he called your name a third time that you finally found your grasp on reality again. Spencer pulled you into his arms, being careful not to squeeze you too tight. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. The comforting smell of him, of home, engulfed and grounded you. "It's okay," he cooed softly, lips brushing your ear, "you're safe now, he can't hurt you anymore." "Call an ambulance," you heard someone order in the distance. Sobbing hard into Spencer's shoulder, you pulled him impossibly closer to you. "I'm so sorry," you bawled, "I had seen him before on c- campus, like- like your boss said but I didn't want to tell you! I thought he was an- an exchange student!" Spencer shushed you, hands still shaking from taking the shot he took with no hesitation. This would be one of the kills he wouldn’t loose any sleep over. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, you did everything right, I promise you."

"I- I didn't do what you always say," you hiccuped sadly, mouth moving against the material of his sweater vest, staining it with blood and tears. It was an article of clothing which would be ruined for both of you. Spencer would give it to charity a week later, you wouldn't miss it. "I didn't play into his fantasy, I kept telling him you were going to find me, and he was so angry!" "Baby." This was the first he'd called you that. It stopped you in your tracks. "Listen to me, you did everything right. You may not still be alive if you'd played into his fantasy. You were perfect, I promise. Just breathe, now, alright? You’re okay." "Are- are you sure?" "Yes, baby, I'm sure."

Taglist : (thank you for the support my loves <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos @addyyodaddy @lunavelha @scottybitch @rivwritesiguess @lunagalaa @solacestyles @mgg55lovr @salty-sister @angrygalaxyduck @kayybay @arusio @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @perfectmilkshakeruins @pleasantwitchgarden @slutforwordsfr @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @bippityboppityboob1tch @navs-bhat @amethyst0532 @theamuz @gretaandthatsit @digitalhearts

[chuluoyi]

I'm thinking about Megumi's sister, who went to magic school with him. who was trained by Gojo. who fell in love with Gojo. who dared to confess her feelings to him. and which Satoru rejected, saying that he was too old for her

it doesn't have to be something obscene… so if you like this idea, then please write something!

belong with me

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer is your savior. you know he is far from your reach... but is it so wrong to love him—after the years you spent by his side?

genre/warnings: angst to fluff, a bit slow burn, age gap, one-sided pining, mentions of injury, comfort, teacher!gojo x student!reader

notes: omg omg i actually really like this idea!! i had wanted to write this since you sent this ask but i was struggling with the setting, so i tweaked minor things so that it’ll fit the canon timeline—reader is megumi’s cousin rather than sister.

and *sigh* it somehow turned out into a 4k+ word🤧

general masterlist

What is Gojo Satoru to you?

If asked that, Megumi would definitely say that he owed both of your lives and his sister’s to him. Following the chaos too complicated for you to understand that left the three of you orphaned at the age of six, Gojo Satoru, who were just barely an adult himself then, was the one who stepped in to take all of you in.

But to you, he was more than just that. He was many things. Your savior, mentor, friend, and... you daresay, first love.

And because of that, you would never thought that there’d come a time when your heart was really broken by him.

At first, Gojo Satoru felt like a big brother to you. Megumi was suspicious of him since the very beginning—his skepticism was funny sometimes—but you and Tsumiki weren’t as much.

He easily became your friend. You would laugh for hours to end after he cracked the stupidest or lamest of jokes. He made the fact that curses exist and that you were somehow able to keep them at bay more bearable.

And when Tsumiki fell into her curse… Gojo was there to bring you comfort.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Your hands were shaking as you frantically poked and nudged your kind cousin from her peaceful slumber at the hospital bed. The smell was suffocating—the sight was unbearable. Tsumiki was supposed to be bouncing up and keeping both you and Megumi at bay, not lifelessly lying here like this.

Facing Gojo, who had a tight-lipped expression beside you, you pleaded, "Gojo-sensei—" your glassy eyes welled up, voice choked with tears, "—make her wake up, please..."

And that was the first time he broke your heart. Even the strongest couldn’t lift this cruel curse posed upon your kind sister.

Your throat tightened, choked with painful whimpers as tears flowed uncontrollably. Sudden grief overwhelmed you, making you sway and shake like a leaf. At first, you didn’t notice how a pair of warm hands enveloped you, drawing you close for comfort.

Gojo allowed you to cry against him while you pounded on his chest. Not a word came out of his lips, a telltale sign that he was taking the situation seriously—something you, above anyone else, understood well.

From then on—ever since the tragedy that befell Tsumiki, it seemed like Gojo became even more protective of you but stricter with Megumi. The two of you eventually pursued the path of jujutsu, driven by one wishful thinking in mind—the possibility to break Tsumiki’s curse.

Encountering Gojo became a daily routine when you lived at the dormitory as a first year at Jujutsu High. He frequently dropped by just to greet you, or give you some things he got from his missions.

"Here," Gojo handed you the package of a popular kikufuku store. With that blindfold on and a shit-eating grin split his face, he actually looked so ridiculous. "I got you all their available flavors! Trust me, you'll like them!"

Against your own will, you felt rosy blush spreading across your cheeks. "Oh, thank you... I'll give some to Megumi as well, he's been working hard lately..."

"Ehh?" he pursed his lips. "No, no, no—they're for you! Don't give them to that emo kid!"

There was absolutely nothing significant about how he worded it. You were well aware of that—only a fool wouldn't be.

So why are you so giddy? Hah, why do you feel like you're... special?

"Don't call him emo," you chided, trying to suppress your smile.

"But he is! He's always grouchy with me without reason!"

Throughout your childhood, and now as you were entering adulthood yourself, Gojo's presence in your life still felt like a comforting, warm blanket—a dependable presence you could rely on, someone you could trust completely.

And apparently, someone you had unwittingly given your heart to.

It was a gradual process. You didn't fall for him at first sight or anything of the sort—it took years of being under his protection. Even as you watched him pursue one girl after another from the sidelines, you couldn't deny it—your heart was already his since then.

He always knew what to say, how to cheer you up.

"What's got you so down, huh?" Gojo asked, tousling your hair gently as you slouched. "Is it because of earlier? Don't be so down, you're doing great."

You fidgeted with your fingers, feeling the sting of failure twisting your gut. "I held everyone back, sensei. That's not great at all."

In the last mission, you nearly put Yuji and Nobara's lives in danger. You had taken the initiative to step into the cursed room, and had it not been for Megumi who came to your rescue, any one of you could have sustained significantly more severe injuries.

Gojo offered you a lopsided smile. "You couldn't have known that. Don't beat yourself up so much. The most important thing is that all of you are safe."

"But we might not, all because of my daring ass."

"Look."

He squatted to meet your eye level, and it dawned on you that he wasn't wearing that blindfold. "The fact is that everyone is good. And no, even if Megumi wasn't there, you wouldn't have been doomed. I would have been there, I always have, yeah?"

He was truly a sight, with that sparkling eyes even more so when he smiled unabashedly, voice not as playful as his tone usually was.

"That doesn't make me feel better," you replied, forcing out the words even as you were somewhat awestruck. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm inadequate."

"You're a first year," Gojo pointed out. "Everyone is bound to make mistakes. You just have to learn from them."

"In our line of work, those mistakes can cost us lives." You chewed your lip, looking down. "I—I don't want to be responsible for someone's death."

Your words left Gojo momentarily speechless. His blue eyes blinked several times as though he was taken aback, and you felt even more small—you had just revealed your deepest fear to him.

But suddenly, he laughed right in your face, prompting you to shoot him a glare. Just as you were about to retort, he rested his palm on your head.

"Do you seriously think I will allow that to happen?" Gojo queried with a wide grin and snarky tone. "To you, out of everyone else?"

You gazed at him in a daze, feeling self-conscious with his warm hand on your head. He'd likely done this a hundred times already, but you could never get past the sensation of his gentle touch on your skin. You yearned for more—for him to cradle your face, to caress you, to draw you closer—

“The obvious answer is, I won't,” he declared so surely, exuding unwavering confidence. You blinked, marveling at how his words made your heart soar and your breath catch. “So stop thinking about scary things. I'm here, remember?”

How was there a person who was such a perfect blend of the man of your dreams—smug, but also funny, caring and strong, like Gojo Satoru was?

Was it a sin to harbor these feelings for him? He has always been kind to you, and if you daresay it, fond of you as well. Is there a possibility—

Really, you should have known your boundaries.

"I think..."

And yet your heart screamed, for whatever it's worth—

"...I love you..."

Why couldn't you see that this was doomed right from the start?

"—Gojo-sensei."

You were breathless. Your wildly thumping heart drowned out almost everything else. Your hands were sweaty, and you braved yourself to meet his eyes.

And when you did, you knew heartbreak for the second time—

The way his smile faltered a bit, yet he forced it upwards, perhaps to spare your feelings.

Just as he always has. Ever since he rescued you back then, he would do these silly things so you would feel better.

"I'm flattered, you know?" Gojo gazed at you genially. "But I think—"

"You don't understand." What am I even insisting? "I... like you so much, Gojo-sensei. All this time."

It was supposed to be your final card. Baring everything to him. How grateful you were that he took you in, the kindness he showed you, Megumi and Tsumiki, those sleepless nights after Tsumiki fell into coma that he spent with you, sharing shaved ice on the hottest, cruelest summer...

"You're almost half my age," he stated matter-of-factly, and a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "You're mistaking love for admiration. That's it."

"No! I know how I feel—"

"You should find someone your age," Gojo added while maintaining his smile. "There are good guys out there. Toge is nice—ah, but his cursed technique might be a little troublesome. Yuji is earnest and honest..."

You have never thought that there’d come a time where your heart was really broken by him. But he just did, as he listed all your friends without any regard to your feelings.

Suddenly, a wave of resentment surged within you, prompting you to hiss and cut him off.

"You're always like this," your eyes had started to well up with tears, but you ignored it. His puzzled expression only fueled your frustration.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

You felt ashamed, but in hindsight you should've probably expected this. You didn't have anyone else to blame but yourself. You knew it wasn't fair to lay the blame on Gojo like now—he was merely on the receiving end of the brunt of your heartbreak.

You hated this. You hated yourself. And you couldn't help but to hate him too, despite knowing that you shouldn't.

With that, you dashed away, tucking away your first love to the furthermost part of your heart, swearing that you'd never, ever revisit that chapter of your life again.

Ain't that just the worst thing to hear?

Witnessing your tear-streaked face as you hurried past him left him stunned, rooted in place.

In no way was Gojo Satoru going to romance his own student. You were quite literally his protege and his other protege’s sister. That was simply out of the question. Not that he was the model of propriety, but even he knew that was not right.

And it didn’t have anything to do with the fact whether he did see you as a woman or not, because even if he did, it shouldn’t make a difference.

Right? It won’t change anything.

Because it was how it was supposed to be.

It was probably one of the forms of tantrum—or whatever it was labeled—in the end, it was simply a reaction to not achieving what you wanted.

For years, Gojo had shielded you and Megumi from the Zen’in clan. They were horrible people, and you were eternally grateful that Gojo went to great lengths for you, always swatting them away before they could get close to either of you.

Now that you thought about it, who they really wanted was Megumi. Your cousin held the quintessential Zen'in talent, while your modest Projection Sorcery wasn't particularly rare among the clan. Still, they sought you as well, merely to bolster their prestige with another member.

Normally, you wouldn't think such things. But you weren't in the best state of mind, muddled by your blind heartbreak. It skewed your mindset to one of the extremes.

And then you got this terrifyingly brilliant idea—what if you turned yourself to them? Surely the Zen’in would be sated for a while and stop bugging Megumi.

And you didn’t have to see Gojo as often too.

This went against everything he had done to ensure your safety. But that was the first thing that entered your mind when Zen’in Naoya accosted you by chance.

"We're family," he stated with a smirk, sending a shiver down your spine, an unsettling feeling washing over you. "We wouldn't harm you. Why waste your time being Gojo's little errand girl, huh?"

This was easier, or at least that was the illusion you attempted to persuade yourself with.

Naoya left with you with a meaningful "Think about it."

And the more you thought about it, the more you leaned towards the scenario you had thought to be unimaginable before—leaving Gojo behind.

Two months had passed since then, and it was time for the Kyoto Goodwill Exchange event. Gojo remembered this being one of the most exciting moments during his youth, and he sincerely wished that you would have fun too, even with all that had been going on between you.

He knew he was the one who said Yuji would be good. But he wanted to backtrack when he saw him getting punched by Todo. Nah, Yuji was too stupid, he wouldn’t want that for your match. Must be someone else… who was stronger, better.

And then he was even more beside himself when he saw you with Mechamaru.

Like really? That tin soldier? You could definitely have someone more human. He surely didn’t approve of the sight of you getting friendly with that suspicious scrap of metal!

"Hah," he grumbled to himself. Was it just him or were young boys these days simply too subpar?

Yuji is too risky, after all, he is also Sukuna's vessel. Todo... no way, he can crush you with one hand... Panda is a panda...

As if the roster wasn't bad enough, he was met with the most bewildering sight.

Never would have Gojo thought that someway or another, he would see you with that obnoxious Zen'in spawn who called himself the heir.

Before he could grasp his actions, he stomped right into the midst of where the two of you were—

. . .

You were a step away from agreeing to a whole load of new mess, until wind got knocked out of your lungs as you were harshly yanked from behind—

—and the next thing you knew, a broad back was in front of you.

“What do you want?” a low voice, almost foreign to your ears. But this man before you was Gojo Satoru himself, just way sterner than he usually was.

You were caught off guard by his tight grip on your wrist, his dark gaze fixed on the Naoya.

“Ah, don't be like that, please.” Naoya dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I'm just saying that it's been too long already for you to play the benefactor. She ought to be with the family, where she rightfully belongs."

Gojo seemed to grow more imposing, his sneer deepening. "And by family you mean you?"

The atmosphere grew tense as the exchange between them continued, each word laden with underlying tension.

"Hah, Gojo-sama, you really think you're so high and mighty, don't you? I'll have you know that she, and by extension, the Fushiguro boy, are Zen'ins. No matter how—"

Naoya's words seemed to falter as Gojo's presence intensified. There was this thick electricity in the air, and you almost shuddered when he spat, "Leave."

He couldn't possibly murder another great clan's heir, no matter how much he might have been able to. It would incite a strife that would make his eyes hurt. He just had to scare him off.

And he did. Naoya went with his tail tucked behind him, and that was one problem taken care of. Now Gojo just had one other thing to deal with—

"What were you thinking?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusing, before he even properly faced you. "Since when did you start meeting up with him?"

You hadn’t talked to him ever since your botched confession, but with the way it seemed, he was acting quite normal. It irked you.

"That's hardly your business," you retorted with a hiss.

Your responses seemed to grate him. "Oh? What do you mean it's not?"

"He is right, isn't he? I'm a Zen'in. There is no need for you to go out of your way to keep me under your wing. I can always go back to them."

"Are you—" His frustration was evident and it was quite possibly the first time you saw him direct this at you. "You can't go to them—"

"Sure," you mocked, wrenching your wrist away from his grasp. "I'm telling you, I'm not a child, Gojo-sensei. Please stop telling me what should and I should not do."

"That's not what I'm getting at. I've told you how horrible that place is, your place definitely isn't there."

"And? Where should I be?" you huffed challengingly. "Please, don't tell me that it's your cue to say that it's by your side. Because both of us know it's not."

Gojo didn't know what frustrated him more, the fact that you somehow fell into whatever it was that Naoya had whispered to your ear or how bratty you were being right now. Unwittingly, he let his own pettiness slip out, "You know what? You're being quite childish right now."

He convinced himself that, having practically raised you, he was entitled to have a say in major decisions in your life. He wouldn't let the Zen'in take Megumi away, let alone you.

Your face went scarlet with repressed anger. "So be it then."

With that, you stalked away, and just like how you went away from him the first time, Gojo could only stare at you in silence.

How had your relationship with him turned this sour? Was it the wrong thing to not acknowledge your confession before? He sincerely thought you would realize the implications behind your own words and snap out of that ideal version of him you had in mind—because he knew best that he wasn’t made for this.

Girls your age must want a taste of young love. He understood that, but it couldn’t be with him. It had to be someone else.

He resumed his musings earlier before he found you out with Naoya. And he finally came to a conclusion, that Yuta was the best match. Shame he was still away somewhere in Africa.

When Yuta got back, he would introduce him to you. Yuta was strong, kind, and he wouldn’t hurt you. And it would do him good too to have someone who cares about him.

Gojo Satoru never made flawed judgements. He knew this was the best approach, and yet why was there still this stifling feeling in his gut… at the idea of you being with someone—god forbid—who isn't him?

Not long after, a sinking feeling gnawed at him at the chaotic mess surrounding the Kyoto Goodwill event.

At first Gojo thought it was the standard worry. He chalked it up to all of his students were trapped inside this curtain that specifically forbid him to enter. Naturally, he would worry for his students; after all, he was their teacher.

But when he saw you fell on your knees with what seemed like a stem of cursed flower perched on your chest, he knew it was something else.

You were gasping for breath, clutching your chest in pain while Panda supported your weakened form, and seeing you like that apparently was too much for him. For the first time, Gojo regretted his decision. He shouldn't have pursued the enemy first. He should have gone to you first.

His instinct took over as he swiftly tore you away from Panda’s arms, drawing you close to his chest. His mind went blank, but he forced himself to focus on you, on what was causing you pain. "Y/N, calm down—"

"It hurts—!" you whimpered, digging your nails into his arm tightly, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts so much... I-I..."

For Gojo, this was a form of torture he hadn't realized before. For him, seeing you smile should have been the default, not this sobbing, injured, vulnerable state you were in now.

"I'll take you to Shoko. You'll be fine," he murmured decisively into your ear as you slumped against him. His grip around you tightened, and he repeated, "You'll be fine, I promise."

In the midst of your foggy mind, a realization struck—this was the second time you were ever held in his arms. And much like the first time, you felt an overwhelming sense of security.

Ah, but he had rejected you. You should know your place. You really should because pining on someone who didn't want you wasn't a wise thing to do.

But just this once...

Stupid. You were stupid indeed.

Because you chose to bask in this very short fantasy, fervently wishing that the heavens would grant you this sweet dream of him holding you in his arms like just this for a little longer.

As Gojo quietly observed you resting after being tended by Shoko, numerous thoughts swirled through his mind.

"I hate how you constantly treat me like a child!"

That was not true. He didn't mean to treat you like a child, because you were indeed not. You were a grown woman now, no longer the crying child consoled by Tsumiki and protected by Megumi as you were back then.

Once, you were this young bud he was meant to nurture into strength, but now despite himself, he saw you more as a woman rather than his protege. He wanted to see you bloom into this pretty girl he had always known you were, always innocent and protected—and a selfish part of himself would add: preferably by himself.

You were so serene. You looked so soft too as you laid there. Gojo thought this wasn't quite right and he couldn't quite get the image of you screaming in pain out of his peripheral thoughts.

Had he truly fallen? This strong urge to protect you, ensure your happiness, see you always smiling—it was as if these emotions were suddenly planted, but immediately establishing themselves like deep-rooted feelings that wouldn't fade away easily.

No, actually... who was he kidding? It was what he had kept to himself for a while now. He just refused to acknowledge these feelings out of the misguided sense of propriety.

It was all he could think of from the moment you passed out until you awakened. He pasted a smile on his face when you opened your eyes to his face.

"Ah, Gojo-sensei..." you mumbled, still disoriented. The way you looked at him was as if you were spooked, to say the least, and it bugged him. "Sorry, how long have I passed out?"

"Just a few hours. Are you okay? Do you still feel the pain?"

"Uh... a bit, but I'm okay..."

Normally, he never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you. This was too obvious. You were uncomfortable with him, and he noticed it.

You also seemed acutely aware of this immensely awkward situation. Having spent the majority of your life with him, you used to be open and at ease around him. But now, it wasn't the same. All because of your reckless confession before.

You spent the first few hours with occasional silence. Eventually, Gojo stepped away for a while, leaving behind a lingering sense of discomfort instilled within you.

You remembered the feeling of being in his arms. Once again, he saved you. The least you could do is to express your gratitude.

I don’t like this. It had been two months already. You had to put an end to this unbearable tension. You couldn't force him to return your feelings—you understood that now. And to make it to the way it used to be, you had to make it clear to Gojo too.

And so when he was back to your room, you braved yourself again. For the second and last time.

"Gojo-sensei," you breathed out, willing your shaky hands at bay. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. Please forget what I said before."

What is this now? Gojo blinked, stopping right in his tracks, somehow hearing how you started with a "sorry" didn't sit well with him.

You continued. "Maybe you are right. I'm grateful for you, I look up to you... for the longest time, I might even have idolized you."

Wait...

"But it isn't love," you said with finality, looking away. "This is me admiring you, for all things you have done for me. And even if it is, I still can't force you to look at me in that way."

Gojo could only gaze at you in silence, a storm raging inside his chest. This was what he had hoped you would realize when you confessed your feelings back then, but now—

"I don't like how... we are now," you gulped. "And it's my fault. So I'm taking it back—"

“No, just—” This wasn’t right. Gojo knows it, but why is he saying this? “Just wait for a minute.”

You started as someone he wanted to protect, along with Megumi and Tsumiki. And then you grew up right in front of his eyes. Someone like you, who had gone through many horrors in life ever since young should have someone dependable and strong who could make you happy.

But then Gojo thought, he didn’t like how others looked at you. Heck, in his eyes, they were inadequate for you, if anything.

“Sensei?” you looked up to him with that doe eyes of yours, and Gojo Satoru felt like this was enough.

To hell with you finding someone your age.

He was strong—the strongest, and if it’s him, he most definitely could protect you far better than anyone.

He could make you laugh—had been for years already, and nothing would stop him now.

He would be damned should you somehow go to the grubby hands of the Zen’in.

“Keep your eyes on me,” his somber voice said then, causing your heart to skip a beat in response.

In short, he was better-suited for you more than anyone else ever could, in every possible aspect.

Apparently he was right. Your place was by his side, after all.

“…because from now, I might start looking at you too.”

[dontopenfairies]

“So, you want a diaper again tonight?” she asks, rising from her chair and gathering their plates off the table. She’d managed to convince him to wear for the last three nights, lying with her legs wrapped around him on the couch while they watched cartoons on the TV.

“It’s not like I *want* to wear it,” he says. She can’t see him from her position at the sink but she can imagine his expression, that little frown and pouty lip he gets when he’s indignant. “I’m just doing it because you wanted me to.”

“And because it’s snuggly and warm and nice,” she says, rubbing their plates down with the soapy sponge. She leaves the forks at the bottom of the sink. He can deal with those tomorrow.

“I don’t really think that. I just said that…like…in the moment…”

“Uh-huhhh…and after we fucked later that night and you came it didn’t seem that way anymore?” She turns on the tap and rinses the dishes.

“Well, yeah, that’s what I told you that morning…”

“Uh-huh. So it was a coincidence you were so incredibly horny when I took your diaper off?”

“I mean…I mean, um, you just looked really pretty that night!”

“That sounds like a silly excuse. I’m pretty every day.” She slides the plates into the dish rack and comes back over to the table. “And you wanted one again the next night, soo…”

“I never said I wanted one!! You just put me in it! You didn’t even ask!”

“I didn’t need to ask. You didn’t protest at all. In fact, you helped me get your pants down. Do you remember that? Do you remember sliding your fingers into the waistband of your jeans and helping me pull them down?” She reaches around behind him and slips her fingers under his shirt, running them across his skin just under his belt. Her hands are cold. He shivers. “Hmm, that’s getting you excited, huh?”

He raises his hands, ready to grab hers and push them away, but then he hesitates.

“I’m going to go change, okay, baby?” She leans in close to his ear. “I’ll bring a diaper for you to the couch again. If you want it, be sitting nicely on the couch when I get back. If you don’t, you can stay in here or go play games in our room. It’s up to you.” She plants a kiss on his ear and gives his sides a final rub before removing her hands from under his shirt.

Now he sits at the table, anxious thoughts overlapping in his mind. If he goes and sits on the couch, is she going to put a diaper on him automatically again? Or is she going to make him tell her he wants it? He doesn’t want it, of course, he’s just playing along with her…It only felt good because he was really tired. It wasn’t the kind of thought he’d have wide awake. Of course not.

He listens for a moment and he can hear her opening the drawer to the dresser. He’s starting to have to pee a little bit. Does he have time to make it to the bathroom before she’s done?

He hears the dresser drawer close and he knows he has very limited time. He stands up and slowly pushing his chair in. He hesitates again, about to sit firmly back down and stay there and finish his tea and ignore her until bedtime…but then something mechanical in his legs takes over and he’s walking to the couch, eyes ahead, looking at nothing.

He sits down and folds his knees up to his chest.

“There you are,” she says from behind him. She’s wearing red and white checkered pajamas and holding the diaper and a pair of his pajama pants behind her back. As she sits down, her shirt rides up a little and he sees a white waistband sticking out. So she’s wearing, too.

“How come…um…you have one on again?”

She sighs. “You’re trying to be nice, now, huh?”

“Um…I don’t know what you mean.” He chews on his fingernail. He definitely knows what she means.

“I know I was acting like it wasn’t a big deal,” she says, looking at the ground, “but when you were calling me disgusting it kind of hurt my feelings. I didn’t want to wear in front of you for a couple days. I’m sorry, I know that’s stupid.”

“No, no, I—I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I won’t call you that again.” He pushes himself up on his hands and gets closer to her.

“Thank you. It was honestly really hypocritical…considering what you’re about to let me do to you!” She moves suddenly, turning and pushing him down onto the couch with a thump. He lets out an involuntary giggle at the sudden movement.

“Oh, you like this, huh?” she says, smoothing the front of his pants with the heel of her hand. He tries to keep his mouth shut but a weird whimper-squeak comes out anyway and he can feel his body trembling as she unzips his fly and slowly eases his pants down.

“Aww, lifting up your hips all by yourself, without me even prompting you.” She slides the diaper under him and gently pushes his pelvis down, strong hand on his hip. The material of the diaper is so soft. He tries not to shift his hips to feel it rubbing against his bottom. Stay still. Stay still.

She pulls the diaper through his legs and tapes him up. He has one hand up by his mouth, rubbing his fingers against his lips and teeth. She silently pulls his pants to his ankles and over his feet, and then rolls up the legs of his pajama pants and eases them on. “Help me out again, baby, and lift up your diapered ass. I know you’re distracted by how good it feels, but just do that for me.”

Once he’s all changed, she pulls him up off the couch and reaches for the remote. He falls onto her, leaning against her side with his head on her shoulder. “Do you want to finish the episode from last night? I paused it when you fell asleep.”

“Okay,” he says in a whisper.

Halfway through the remainder of the episode, she rubs her feet together. “I’ve gotta pee, bad,” she says, turning to smirk at him. “I’m just going to go, is that okay with you?”

“Um, what? I—I guess—”

She puts a finger on his lips. “I don’t know why I asked you. You don’t have a choice.” She slouches back against the couch and he can hear the familiar hiss of pee coming from her diaper. Then the sound stops.

“Do you want to feel it coming out?” she asks. He doesn’t answer. She reaches for his hand and guides it down under the elastic waistband of her pants. She briefly presses on his middle finger, dragging it over the crotch of her diaper, the way she helps him finger her, before letting it rest, cupping her right between her legs. The hissing starts up again, slowly at first and then faster. “Can you feel it getting warm? Is your diaper getting tighter?”

He’s mad because it is. And all of this is reminding him of the building pressure in his own bladder.

“Are you going to go, too, tonight, do you think?”

“I—I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he mutters.

“Not ready yet, huh? So that means it is gonna happen someday.” She pulls his hand back out of her pants and he whines, wanting to touch her just a little longer, even if the diaper is in the way.

She pushes him back against the couch again, and kisses him slowly. Then she rests her head next to his, in the crook of his shoulder. Her weight is pressing on his belly, and he can really feel it on his bladder…

“Okay,” he says quietly, voice shaking. “You win. I’ll admit it. I want to…um…you know. I want to use it.”

She kisses his neck.

“Will you…um…will you show me how?”

“There isn’t just one way, silly,” she says, rising and pulling him up. “Here, sit like this, like me. Okay, now focus. Imagine you’re sitting over the toilet. You reallyyy have to pee. Close your eyes and picture it.”

He obliges, trying to imagine the cold, hard seat under him. To his surprise, he feels a tiny bead of warm liquid forming at the end of his penis. Oh my god, it’s going to be difficult to pull it back in. A small spurt escapes him.

“Are you going yet?” she asks.

He nods. It’s becoming a stream now, and he can feel the diaper getting warm and heavy, pee spreading out across the padding. It’s a new feeling, and it feels really wrong. The pee should be going somewhere, it shouldn’t stop right away like this. He’s actually *wetting a diaper* at his big age. Oh my god, that’s so dirty…he hears the little whimper-squeak again from somewhere far away.

“Hold it,” she says. “I really want you to go on my lap. And you’re going so much, I don’t want to miss it.” She grabs him by the hips and pulls him onto her, legs out towards the arm of the couch, perpendicular to hers. “Good. Keep going.”

The end credits of the cartoon are playing and he is peeing in his girlfriend’s lap. He already has a nagging feeling that he is going to really regret this tomorrow, but right now he just feels sleepy and warm and comfortable. She crosses her arms over him and pulls him closer. He feels his eyes closing.

“Let’s see how far we can go with this…” she says softly. Or was that the very beginning of his dream?

[mercedista]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓⠀⠀⠀→⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:⠀A killer breaks into your room, except he doesn't kill you. Well, that's one of the pros of being his girlfriend, even if you don't know that behind the mask is your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):⠀Porn with plot, horror, non-con, dub-con, mention of murder, threat, poor smut.

𝐀/𝐍: Part two.

Paradise. That's where he was, watching you tremble beneath him, crawling across the carpet in escape-no, in denial that you wouldn't be able to flee. His heart was pounding just as much as yours, that he could swear. Except his was beating out of pure excitement, while yours, certainly, was not for anything positive.

"Oh, princess..." He chuckled, watching your back finally press against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go. He crouched down, the tip of the knife tickling your cheek. He didn't plan to hurt you-not yet-but the threat still loomed.

It hadn't even been five minutes since he broke into your room, and you were already making him hard. He licked his lips, almost savoring your panic, and it was definitely a delight. Yes, he loved the pleasure of killing people, but seeing his little girlfriend scared? That was something else.

Unconsciously, lost in thought, he was caressing your lips with his thumb. You recoiled, almost feeling disgusted by his touch, which might have offended him a bit since that snapped him out of his daydream. It was a little habit he had with you, except from your perspective, it was a killer in front of you, not your lover, so your reaction was more than understandable.

The knife still against your skin, but with no pressure. "Kill me... what's wrong with you? Stop playing with me and just do what you came here to do already," you said.

He tilted his head to the side, an expression of disappointment hidden beneath the mask. He thought it was obvious he wasn't going to kill you. "Stop touching me!" you snarled. "I have a damn boyfriend."

Naïve of you to think that saying that would stop a killer. Though he did find your loyalty adorable, even in a situation like that.

You thought you were successfully distracting him long enough to call your boyfriend, since hiding your phone behind your back was easy with his contact on speed dial.

"Nuh uh," he said. "Not that, princess." He snatched the phone from your hands. Ghostface froze, the shock you displayed gave him an extra dose of dopamine. His eyes shifted from your hypnotizing look of horror to the screen. Not that he needed to read the contact to know who you were trying to call.

His own phone vibrating in his pocket made everything clear. He had a hard time holding back laughter when he realized he was receiving the call.

"He's not going to answer you, sweet thing." His voice came out taunting even with the voice modulator.

Your hand reached for his mask. If you were strong enough-which you certainly weren't-you could have easily torn it off. Noticing your fingers gripping the black fabric, Ghostface grabbed your wrist.

"He's stronger than you." Your voice came out in a near-tense whisper. "My boyfriend. Even if you kill me. He'll find you. He's smart and strong."

"Oh, is he going to kill me, princess?" Ghostface released your wrist and used his hand to squeeze your face, your lips forming a pout, and it took everything in you not to rip off his mask and kiss him. However, that feeling quickly faded when you kicked him between the legs.

Ghostface screamed in pain, his voice modifier barely able to mask his tone with how loud it was. It was your chance to escape, if it weren't for his free hand—the other one was comforting himself where he'd been hit—grabbing your ankle and causing you to fall hard. "You...!"

You struggled, but he easily pinned you to the ground, stomach down. For God's sake, he almost lost his mind; lucky for you, he wasn’t in the mood to stay single that night.

Even though it wasn't in his pre-defined plans—or even in his current ones—to kill you, he wasn’t going to let it slide. Yes, you were his girlfriend. Yes, you were terrified, and it was justifiable. And yes, he loved you. But every action has its consequence.

His gloved hand left his crotch and tangled in your hair, his fingers gripping tightly to stop any further rebellion from you. Not that there was much chance of that, given that his heavy body was pressing you firmly against the ground; now, there was no way out.

"Damn it, I was going to play nice, but you just had to pull something like that." The killer gave your hair a sharp tug, and then a small yelp escaped your lips as you received a smack on the butt. And hell, you didn’t know whether it was his strength or the leather glove, but one of them—or maybe both—made that cursed slap hurt.

You didn’t even know where his knife had gone with how fast things were happening, but from your point of view, it wouldn’t be long before he drove it into your stomach.

You felt his weight lift off your body, but there wasn’t much time to think about it, as Ghostface was already dragging you by the hair to the bed, where he sat down. He forced you to kneel, still holding onto your hair. For a moment, his fingers relaxed imperceptibly as you gazed at the empty black eyes of that mask with your adorable, tear-streaked face staring back at him.

[mrderondncefloor]

“anything? that right?”

old!logan howlett x f!reader

summary: you end up in logan’s shop with an oil leak and can’t afford to pay him

wc: 2.3k (i’m in hell the brain rot is BAAAAD)

authors note: plot is very cliche like ik eat me. while writing this i took a break and got an edit of logan to tulsa jesus freak. yes i’ve lost my sanity. also i don’t know shit about shit with cars so yea

warnings/tags: MDNI. dubcon. unspecified age gap. logan is a little mean?? reader has no description besides hair long enough for logan to grab, wearing short skirt. logan grabs readers face. hair pulling. big dick logan (canon). pussy pronouns. spanking. throat fucking. degrading. tears. dirty talk. pet names. daddy kink. fingering. aggressive sex. unprotected sex (wrap it up). cream pie. orgasm denial.

your type doesn’t frequent this place, the auto shop on the edge of a town that’s seen better days. most of logan’s customers he’s had for years, he’d grown used to the faces that come through the shop, greeting people on a first name basis at this point in his career. like hell did he ever expect you. you, who stood behind him when he’s hunched down, working beneath the hood of a truck. he didn’t hear you coming, the radio on his workbench drowning out the sound of your footsteps. “shit,” he hissed, peeling back from the piece of shit he’d spent his afternoon working away at, white beater stained with oil and god knows what else. he paused abruptly when he finally noticed you, drawing in a slow breath. if he didn’t have enough on his plate, here you are. a pretty, young thing. in the thick of the summer you’re hardly dressed in much at all, a little top and a short skirt. “ain’t hear you come in,” the clear of his throat echoes off the walls as he walked towards his bench, wiping his hands with a greased up towel. “can i do for you?” his teeth clamp down on the toothpick stuck out his mouth, an oral fixation to try and keep his mind off smoking while on the job. it hardly worked for shit, nicotine always in the back of his mind. the radio gradually softens, pair of glasses pulled onto the bridge of his nose. “think i have an oil leak?” you sound unsure of it, logan nods, scribbling it down onto a forum he kept for his records. “bring ‘er in. take a look,” his boots thud quietly across the floor, walking past you to pull open the garage door. the wiring had gone out a couple months ago and he’s yet to get around to fixing it, muscles straining as he pulled the door up an over his head. he watched you pull your car in, sighing as you stepped back out. “well.. ain’t even have to look. engine sounds like shit, definitely a leak. i’ll pop underneath anyway, see f’somethin’s loose or if it’s a crack.” he nodded, wheeling his creeper out from beneath the bench with his foot. he tries not to groan as he sunk to the floor, his body too old for this shit. he pushes himself up underneath the car, brow knit in a tight furrow as he took a look around to access the problem. “oil pan has a crack, s’pretty fuckin’ bad. i can change it out for you, take me an hour.. hour an a half at most.” he nods, sat upright, an elbow propped against his bent knee. your expression flashes with annoyance and he thought to himself that you looked like a fucking brat, but god damn did you wear it so well. he fights back with the corner of his lips that threatens to tug up.

logan gathered up what he needed, not paying you any mind as you’re left with not much other choice but to sit and wait for him to finish on your car. dressed like this he figured you had better places to be, but he didn’t give a fuck. you came to him, and the way he saw it was your choices were limited to accepting the help and learning some patience or ruining your car. he’s good at the work he does, it’s why he has so many loyal customers, why he’s been in business so long. he could’ve given you some grief for the look you gave him when he told you about the wait- and he still might. “she’s good as new.” he nodded, sliding out from beneath the car with your cracked oil pan. his chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the dull lighting. he brushed his dirty hands against the thighs of his jeans as he stood, tossing your old cracked pan into the trash as he approached his work bench again, quickly jotting down the work that he’d done. “s’goin’ to be.. nine hundred fifty three. s’for the replacement, fresh oil and that god damn look you gave me earlier.” he nods, dropping the clipboard onto the desk. “take cash or card.” his arms cross over his broad torso, forehead creasing as his brow sunk in. “this is a joke, right?” you ask, scoffing out a laugh as you look up at him though his expression doesn’t let up, unamused. “do i look like m’makin’ a fuckin’ joke, sweetheart?” his jaw is clamped tight, his tone flat, serious. “you can’t charge me for a look?” “i can charge you whatever the hell i feel like. i had other shit goin’ on.. could’ve made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” you scoff out in disbelief at him, shaking your head. “i don’t have nine hundred dollars.” you finally admit and logan’s head dropped forward, a low chuckle coming from his lips. when you didn’t pull out a card he knew this shit was going happen. he saw right through you. “alright so.. let me get this straight, sweetheart. you came here for me to look at your car knowin’ you didn’t have the god damn money to pay for it? is that right?” he lacks sympathy for you, pretty as you were you had another thing coming if you thought you were going to pull a fast one on him. “i might be old, girl, but i ain’t no fuckin’ fool. i tell you what.. no money, no fuckin’ keys.” his voice is low, your keys dangled around his finger and he shoves them down into his pocket. he walks away from you, too god damn angry to be stood in front of you, having wasted enough time on you already. “please, you don’t understand.. i need my car. i can pay you what i have right now and bring you the rest next week, please.” you beg, coming up behind him where he’s hunched over again beneath the hood of someone else’s vehicle, the same one he’d been working on when you arrived. “ain’t my god damn problem.” he muttered, biceps flexing beneath his tanned skin as he tightened a bolt in place. “i’ll do anything.” you plea again and logan slowly stops what he’s doing, looking down at the truck battery he was working at. he sighed loudly, recomposing himself as he peeled back from the truck, walking towards the garage door. he reached up, muscles flexing across his back as he pulled the door shut, closing off the inside of his shop from the street view.

“anything? that right?” he’s standing before you now, looking down at your shorter frame. “anything.”* you repeat in a whisper. he drew in a slow, deep breath as your palm slid over the front of his dirty jeans, stepping closer into you until you’re tucked between him and the truck. he groans when your squeeze your palm around him through the denim, your lips curling up to a sinisterly sweet smile when you tug at his belt. he grabs your face hard, lips puffed out slightly when he pulled you in for a kiss. it’s sloppy, his tongue lapping across your lips before dipping into your mouth, an anger filled hunger. he’s pissed off, but you’re pretty enough that he’d be willing to accept your throat as some sort of payment. he looks down at you as you pull back from his kiss, sinking to your knees. he appreciates that you had no issue getting to the point. “i reckon you must’ve been thinkin’ about this the entire time, sweetheart.” logan mused as you grabbed his cock out from inside his jeans, moaning at the sight of him. “bet you ain’t ever seen a cock that big huh, girl?” the palm of his hand pets against the back of your head as you stroke him slowly, his shaft filling out your small palm. “hands behind your back.” he nods slowly, gathering your hair into his fist, holding the back of your head with a tight grasp. he taps the weight of his cock against your tongue before he lays his base flat against you, slowly pulling his hips back as your warm tongue licked over the veins that protrude from tightened foreskin. “nice an wide.” he mutters, feeding the head of his cock into your mouth, a grunt parting his lips when he brushed the back of your throat. god damn. “you’re goin’ to sit here and take it like a champ. reckon you ought’a think about havin’ my god damn money next time. stupid girl.” he warned you before his hips draw back and roll forward, pushing the length of his cock down the curve of your throat. it’s lewd, the repeated squelch of your throat as he pushes himself inside again and again. “should’a known you’d be this big of a slut when i saw you. cute little fuckin’ outfit, barely wearin’ anythin’ at all. just knew how to get an old man goin’.” he grunts, unbothered by the tears that have begun to roll over your cheeks. he’s selfish, using your throat to his advantage, balls slapping the underside of your chin. the cute outfit you’d turned up in ruined by your own slop of saliva as it dribbled out the corners of your mouth. “good fuckin’ girl. payin’ off every fuckin’ dollar.” his skin is slick with sweat, head lulling back against his shoulders, blinded by the dull white light above him. your throat is exactly what he needed at the end of a shitty week, and he had no shame in taking out his stress on you, sure you wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

when he finally lets up you choke out a cough, spit strung between his soaked cock and your mouth, breathing hard as you look up at him with watery eyes. still, you come chasing for more, hands sat on his denim clad thighs as you licked your tongue along his cock, gasping in a breath of air before you took him back into your throat, craving the feeling once more. “fuck’n hell.. look at you. must really need that god damn car, huh?” his fingers move into your hair again, yanking your mouth back off his cock so he could pull you up from the floor. “ain’t that right, princess? you’d do anythin’ for those keys back, huh?” “yes, daddy.” you choke out and what patience logan had left snaps, swiftly turning you around by the hold he has on your hair. he lifts the skirt up over the swell of your ass, palm of his hand roughly swatting against. you. once, twice, three times. your cheeks are stained red as your legs tremble, impatiently waiting for him to give you more. “let me see ‘er.” logan nods, bent over you and he pulled your panties to the side, spreading your cheeks so he had a perfect view of both holes, your pussy slick with your own arousal.

“you like gettin’ treated like a slut.” he acknowledged, spitting against his fingers before he brings them to your pussy, fingertips swirling your clit before he pressed two long fingers into your core, free hand wrapped around your throat. he stroked his fingers slowly at first but gained speed as your arousal coated him, making it easier for him to plunge his fingers into your tight hole, biceps flexing with each stroke of his fingers, feeling out the warmth of your walls, infatuated with the way your pussy sucks his fingers back in. he grins at the gasp you take in when he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing yourself up straighter as he sunk himself deep into your pussy. “daddy,” you softly grab at the hand he has around the middle of your throat, moaning as his chest presses up against your back. “you ever been stretched out this good before?” he asks beside your ear, breathing out a quiet laugh when you shake your head no. he grabs your face again, pulling your lips back to his when he fucks into you, hard strokes that press your hips against the grill of the truck, sure to leave you with bruises in days following. he swallows the moans you cry out, roughly driving his hips into yours. he’s unrelenting, giving himself to you hard the way you deserve it, the way you so evidently love it. it’s been a long god damn time since he had pussy this good, and fuck was he obsessed with yours, cursing himself for fixing the troubles your car had given you instead of giving you the run around to keep you coming back for more. hell, with the way you’re fucking yourself back onto his cock you just might anyway. “you’re going to make me cum, daddy,” you choke out, and he grabs at your hips, pulling him deeper into your sopping cunt. “that right? this ain’t even about you, princess. this was for me, remember? who says you’re allowed to cum?” he is brow furrows, getting a rise out of the way you while beneath him, small hands grabbing at the truck. “please, i know it’s not about me but please let me cum, daddy.” you whine, legs trembling beneath you, threatening to cave under your weight. he doesn’t respond, just fucking into your stretched core while you beg him to cum again and again. he ignored you until he spilled first, filling you with thick ropes of his cum, hips flush against yours so you take every drop deep inside. “you want to cum now, sweetheart?” he asked and you nod, rocking your hips back against him as your chase your own high.

needless to say, logan was more than willing to return your keys. and you.. well you might purposefully pop a tire soon.

[a-mint-bear]

Courtship Rituals

Male Yandere x Reader

So… that's definitely space outside the window. It's been a week since you woke up on this ship, and the weird alien who keeps checking in on you is… nice enough. But something about him seems off...

____________________________

"I see you're doing well, starlight."

He’d been checking up on you more often lately. At least you were pretty sure they were a "he". Since his voice started getting translated by the device on his temple, it was sounding decidedly masculine.

Since you’d woken up on this ship, he’d been keeping an eye on you. At first, you’d been terrified, and rightly so. Waking up to an eight-foot-tall, armored alien staring at you had been too much. After screaming and throwing things, and more screaming, he'd seemed unbothered by your reaction. He tried talking to you, but it just sounded like chirps and chuffs, like a big cat. He'd done his best to communicate, but nothing was coming across.

With a defeated hiss, he disappeared for a day or so. You’d attempted to get out of the massive, round bed but the sudden movement made your vision swim and a nauseous feeling crashed over you. With so many questions still bouncing around in your head, you were frustrated that all you could really do was wait.

You had a dreamless sleep, the night sky trailing on endlessly outside the massive floor-to ceiling window that made you feel all the more insignificant.

____________________________

When he came back the next day (maybe?), you finally got a good look at him. His face was the only vaguely human thing about him, save for large, dark eyes that glowed in the dark and odd scales on his cheeks and forehead. He had pointed ears that almost looked like they belonged to a bat. They swiveled and twitched, especially when you spoke. He was rarely expressive, though you did see him attempt a smile from time to time. You say "attempt" because it was way too wide and revealed far too many sharp teeth. It set off some ancient instinct in you to stay the hell away. You tried to ignore it but still kept your guard up just in case.

A keyboard-like light panel that projected from a device on his forearm chimed as he tapped away at it, and he approached you with a metal circle no bigger than your thumbnail, matching the one he wore. You backed away, hyper-aware of the stranger's touch. He… purred at you? And while you were distracted, he tapped it to your right temple.

There was a sharp pinch, the pain pulsing away with your heartbeat. When you cried out, he was quick to touch his long, clawed fingers to yours, maybe trying to comfort you.

You could hear the device whirring away against your skin, latching onto you and beeping intermittently. You’d never felt anything interacting with what felt like your brain before, and you could say without a doubt that it was NOT great.

The noises stopped, and a low, almost ghostly voice purred in your ear.

"Communication link established. The device should be fully functional now…"

“Hello there.” His clawed finger caressed yours, soothing your pain. It eventually faded, that purring of his actually seemed to help. “I hope your rest has helped you overcome your transfer sickness.”

From then on, any time he talked to you, it swung between intelligent, endless technical talk that one might expect from this extra sci-fi guy and…

Awkward small talk?

"Lovely weather we're having today." He smiled that horrifying smile of his, sitting on the end of the bed.

With an awkward glance out the window, you had the thought that there was, of course, no weather in space.

"Have you read any interesting publications as of late?"

You shook off the odd nature of the questions, cutting to the chase.

Why were you here?

"Of course, I've brought you onto my ship for the… hmm. It seems there is no exact translation for it." He seemed puzzled, tapping away at the device. "The closest term that I can find is… ah. The Courtship."

You froze.

Courtship?

He seriously abducted you to… woo you?

And here you thought that was a cliché for extraterrestrials…

That would explain the awkward small talk. But it was still too weird.

You tried to get to the bottom of all this. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the wave of anxiety that had yet to wash away.

You had no idea as to how he would react to you just saying “No, take me back to Earth.” So, you’d have to ease into it, gauge his reactions.

You told him your name. He mulled over it, mispronouncing it a few times before growling a little. It made you freeze, your brain was again screaming “Danger, get away from here NOW”, but you needed to keep your head.

“If I could, it sounds… very similar to the word my people have for… the closest translation I can come to is the… electromagnetic radiation from self-gravitational fixed plasma points that are visible to the naked eye. Starlight… yes, that will suffice.”

If he weren’t an actual, literal alien, you would swear he was upping his word count to sound smarter. But you had no clue how this translator worked, maybe it just pointed him to the closest words to what he wanted to say.

But it seemed you had a nickname. A very romantic-sounding one. Great.

You asked him for his name in return.

"Yes, my designation. My species has little use for such titles." He brushed off the notion with a shift of his dark eyes, staring into yours again. "We do not interact with one another to require such differentiation. I have heard of my people taking a title assigned to them by their mate, for their own assurance, as we mate for life."

He leaned to be closer to you, his face uncomfortably close to yours. You guessed he was kind of handsome, for a literal alien… But that wasn’t any of his business.

"Would you like to assign me a title, my starlight?"

He was thinking of you… as his mate? Already? Or was that just an example? You’d literally spent less than a full day actually talking with him and he was talking about mating for life? It was all too much.

You didn’t want him to assume you were okay with any of this, but it might help him see you in a better light. Make you a person in his eyes, and not just a (hopefully temporary) guest on his ship. Maybe even sympathize with you when you asked him about turning the thing around and taking you back home.

You combed your mind for anything that would fit, digging deep for your middle school astronomy/mythology phases.

You asked if he would be okay if you called him Cygnus, only telling him it was the name of a star back on Earth. But it stood out with his casual “mate for life” comment, even though he resembled a dragon/cat more than a swan. Not to mention the story of an otherworldly being making advances towards someone he really shouldn’t, as Zeus once did to Leda.

“Siig…nussss…” he hissed out the last syllable, his tongue flicking out over the strange word. “Cygnus… I will cherish this title, starlight.” he nuzzled your hand to his scaled cheek, purring again. Before you could say anything else, the panel on his arm went off with a sudden alarm.

“Apologies.” he stood, tapping at some of the keys. “I must attend to something.”

Before Cygnus could step away from the bed, you panicked, reaching out and grabbing his hand. He stared at you, a curious purr slipping out before he knelt by the bedside.

You held his large hand in yours, pleading with him that you couldn’t do this. You had a life, he took you from it and this was all too much. You just wanted to go home.

His expression never changed, but he touched your hair, seeming almost entranced by it. You wondered if this alien would take pity on you, if he could be persuaded to do the right thing.

“Ah, you seem to be misinterpreting something.” You could see the realization in his dark eyes. “The language barrier is beginning to become a hindrance.”

He held your hand in a placating way, patting it gently like he had seen someone do the same thing without knowing much context.

“The Courtship is… something my people have been doing for eons. They believe that genetic variation is the key to a long-standing civilization. No two of us are genetically similar to each other after a few generations. We have varying appearances and life expectancies. We visit a faraway star system and… take a viable mate from the populace. Some do this at random, some monitor their prospective mates to assess compatibility.”

“After searching for so long, I found myself interested in the humanoid species of Earth. The longer I observed, searching for my perfect mate, the more I became… intrigued by the courtship rituals I observed.”

“You engage in meaningless banter where neither party really cares for the answer. The lingering touches, the subtle glances. Small meaningful gifts or large shows of extravagance to display to the prospective mate that they can provide. And dancing… I was especially intrigued by how your species uses such a thing for showcasing sexual compatibility. The Courtship is such a… straightforward and dull undertaking by comparison.”

“I saw you, just walking alone…” His eyes were shining as he looked at you, that damn purring started back up whenever he paused. “I’ve heard from others of my kind that we just… know. And when I saw you I knew…I knew you were my mate.”

The way he said it, it felt like you stopped breathing. He was looking at you like… like a predator who’d finally cornered their prey. That’s what your brain had been warning you about.

“We take our mate aboard our ships and begin… this word isn’t coming across. I will do some research… Regardless, this is not traditionally a… harmonious process?” he tilted his head, still as emotionless as before. “No, perhaps… consensual is the better term.”

You didn’t dare to look away from his eyes, that horrible, terrified feeling clawing down your back. You suddenly wondered if you’d ever seen him blink.

“That particular element of The Courtship continues to be necessary.”

Cygnus caressed your cheek, you could feel his claws gently touch your skin, they were blunt and curved. You were suddenly reminded of how some claws like that weren’t meant to tear and slash, but rather pin and capture.

Words completely failed you, not that you knew what to say. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Get some rest, my starlight.” he touched his forehead to yours, nuzzling you as he purred. “I’ll court you as long as it takes.”

He stepped out of the room and left you to your own devices, and you went into the “flight” option of fight or flight. There was no obvious way to open the door to the room, no handle or lock, just a slab of metal that stood out from the surrounding wall. You tried to rattle it, push on it, kick it down. But it didn’t budge.

The little thing on your head beeped, and it seemed to communicate with a robot eye-looking thing above the door. It lit up in recognition of your device, but then blinked red with a quick negative-sounding chime. It was confirmation of something you already suspected, but didn’t want to accept.

You were locked in. You’d probably been locked in the entire time. Cygnus’ calm demeanor made you think he could be reasoned with, made to see you were your own person who deserved to live your own life.

You slid down the door, collapsing into panicked tears.

It was clear that he saw you as anything but.

____________________________

Affectionately nicknaming the alien yandere "Siggy" in my head. because Cyggy looks a little silly, but either are acceptable.

with his face it's possible that there was a human somewhere in his lineage, way way back when. it's mostly surface level, as he doesn't even recognize it in himself. to be fair, there's no one way his species is "supposed" to look.

His people do the whole "alien abduction" thing to reproduce, probably not in the old-fashioned way but more of a gene-splice-y way, but it's still a terrifying practice.

it's been a hot second since i posted anything, started my new job and i tend to get into a creative slump when i get into work mode. but sitting down at my actual computer to write this instead of editing it on my phone or old tablet did the trick.

now im sitting here thinking "does he have a tail?" and now im debating it lol. he probably definitely has those legs, you know the ones. google tells me it's called digitigrade.

and that "armor" is really just like... a scaley exoskeleton. but not really, more like a crab shell that would grow back if damaged or ripped off. it protects his soft, vulnerable body. he molts it every year and he gets super embarrassed being seen without his "armor" ha

until next time, i have to get some work done ✌️

edit: art of Cygnus

[nymphiria]

♱ : 𝐈’𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃… — SUNDAY!

fem!reader, fluff, in love with sunday’s wings, he’s a little floofy, possessive sunday if you squint, i wanna bite him :), definitely didn’t proofread but i came out of the woodworks for this man

there’s something that you’d noticed about 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 that for some reason you hadn’t before. it wasn’t the way that he preened himself in the mirror before a meeting, nor was it how he pinched the bridge of his nose whenever an issue was placed upon his desk. the oak family head was pristine — every detail on and of his person was hard to miss. so, how is it that you never took note of it before?

the new dress that you purchased from a boutique in golden hour was simply gorgeous. the ornamentation that decorated the silky garment glimmered under the glow of your bedroom lights. as you admired yourself in the mirror, the soft click of the bedroom door alerted you to your lover’s arrival. you giddily ran into the bathroom before he had the chance to see you.

“dearest?”, he called, brows furrowed at the thought of where you might be. with your voice muffled from behind the door, you answered, “in here!”

moments later, you opened the door and twirled to show off all of the lace and pearls that you were dreaming about wearing for weeks on end. it took an enormous amount of effort to hide such a purchase but you felt that the wait would be worth it. if one thing about sunday was true, it was that he adored seeing you all dolled up — especially for him.

truly, in sunday’s eyes, you looked like the most divine creation that would ever grace the universe with its presence. he wanted every facet of you — body, mind, and soul. part of him wanted to drop to his knees and thank his god for blessing him with your existence, though the other felt a twinge of embarrassment for his internal thoughts. stunned in both shock and revelry, his face only portrayed minimal expression besides his now open mouth and wide eyes.

for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel that he was …disappointed in what he saw. was your dress not pretty enough? did it not suit your body as much as you thought it did? perhaps he felt it was unwise to spend as much money as you did on something as unnecessary as a new dress. before the feelings of doubt could sink its way in, the wings adorning your lover’s head flapped once, then twice — fluffy feathers puffing out and making him look even softer.

“d-did your,” you stuttered in surprise. “did they just…“ the seemingly stoic look on sunday’s face was quickly replaced by a deep flush from his cheeks to his neck. the halovian’s wings desperately attempted to cover his blushing face but did little to help ease his embarrassment.

looking back, you can distantly recall hearing the quiet flutter of feathers the first time you kissed your lover on the cheek. his expression then did little to betray how flustered he truly was on the inside. he remained as poised as he always did only with a light pink dusting his cheeks. just how many times were you oblivious to the sight?

a wide smile spread across your face as moved towards your lover to stroke through his hair. “so,” your hand moved to play with his feathers. “i’m assuming you like the dress, then?”

“of course i do,” he looked away from your playful gaze. “you always look stunning in everything you put on.”

you giggled, “well then, mr. sunday, why have i not seen your wings jump at anything else i wear? you almost flew away when you saw this dress.”

sunday gently removed the hand that was stroking his hair to cup the warmth of his cheek, “simply put…”

“it would be rather improper to show just how weak you make me.”

[creamflix]

toji fushiguro x female reader; established relationship (can be read as either married or dating), toji takes care of you during your period, fluff – masterlist here ☆～（ゝ。∂）

toji had a habit of expecting your texts whenever he was at work.

no matter how busy or messy his day got, his phone would constantly buzz with your little "i miss you" and "come home soon" messages. sometimes it was just a photo of you curled up on the couch or something random you’d come across. it was your routine, something that made his day a bit brighter amidst the chaos of his job.

but today was different. he kissed you goodbye in the morning, expecting his phone to light up shortly after with your usual updates, but hours passed and... nothing. just a couple of replies, short and dry, when he reached out to you first. it wasn’t like you at all.

“ya alright?” he texted during a quick break, thumbs moving fast as he glanced around to make sure no one was watching too close. the reply came a few minutes later.

“yeah, just tired.”

toji furrowed his brow, something was definitely off. you never just said you were tired without some kind of follow-up explanation, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.

as the day dragged on, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling. you still hadn’t texted him again, and by the time he was done with work, he’d already figured out what was happening. he didn’t know all the details, but toji wasn’t stupid. the two of you had been together long enough for him to notice your patterns, and when he thought about it, he remembered the last time you were quiet like this.

“ah, shit,” he muttered to himself, swinging by the store before heading home.

when you heard the familiar creak of the front door, you didn’t think much of it at first. the warmth from the tea brewing in the kitchen wasn’t helping your stomach cramps, and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep away the discomfort. but then you saw him. standing in the doorway, toji held up a small bag, his expression softer than usual.

“figured ya’d need it,” he grumbled, stepping into the house and kicking off his shoes. the bag rustled in his hand, filled to the brim with period products, chocolate, and — of all things — a few tiny stuffed toys.

you couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions. between the aching cramps and the surprise of toji being so thoughtful, tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them.

“toji…” your voice cracked as you stepped toward him, clutching your stomach, trying to steady yourself.

he let out a small sigh, dropping the bag on the counter before stepping closer, pulling you gently into his arms. “ya always cryin’ on me, huh?” he teased, his rough hand smoothing over your back. despite his words, the warmth in his tone told a different story — he wasn’t annoyed. not even close.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffled, burying your face into his chest, his familiar scent and the solidness of him grounding you. “just didn’t feel like texting today… i didn’t mean to worry you.”

“s’fine,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against the top of your head. “figured somethin’ was up. you’re not usually this quiet.”

you pulled back slightly to look at him, eyes still watery but a smile creeping onto your lips. “you really went and got me all this?”

“yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand, dismissing the praise with a half-smirk. “don’t make a big deal out of it. just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

you couldn’t help but laugh a little through the lingering tears, shaking your head. “you’re so sweet sometimes, toji.”

“don’t go spreadin’ that around,” he shot back, leaning down to kiss you, but there was a softness to it, a quiet reassurance in the way his lips pressed against yours. “c’mon, lemme take care of you tonight.”

he moved to the kitchen, pouring the tea you’d left brewing, then handing you the warm cup. “sit down. i’ll get everything else.”

you sank onto the couch, feeling a little lighter, though the cramps still lingered. toji moved around the house with a quiet efficiency, unpacking the bag and setting out the chocolate, handing you a heating pad he’d somehow managed to find, and then sitting down beside you. he didn’t say much, but the weight of his presence next to you, the way his arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you into his side, said everything.

“thanks, toji,” you mumbled, leaning into him, your head resting on his chest.

he grunted in response, shifting a little to get comfortable. “don’t mention it.”

and just like that, the weight of the day seemed to fade.

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[beneathashadytree]

FELINE AFFECTION - XAVIER SHEN X READER

Warnings : Xavier absolutely gives off “I’m terrified of my spouse” vibes here because he has 0 financial responsibility, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : tooth-rotting domestic fluff <3

Word count : 1.0K words

Additional notes : My head is simply full of thoughts of that new pose of Xavier in the Glint photobooth, where he’s cuddling a cat… and the brainrot birthed this. I’m so in love with him.

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“Xavier.”

For a few beats there was no reply, and then a very hesitant, “Yes?” came from the couch they were staring at so intently—and for good reason, really. His innocent expression did not erase the truth of what they were seeing.

“What’s that in your arms?” they very patiently asked, as though the calmer they said it, the more inclined he would be to answer honestly. A futile attempt at coaxing, when Xavier knew better than to ignore the signs of an oncoming scolding.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, sky blue eyes darting away before they could meet theirs. A very telling sign, if anything; Xavier was weak to them and would always give in with a single piercing glance shooting straight for his heart.

They arched their brow as they set their keys down on the coffee table, before crossing their arms against their chest. “So you’re saying I’m seeing things?”

A trick question. He swallowed thickly, carefully contemplating his answer and then quietly saying, “I didn’t say that.”

“A contradictory claim.” Their expression was cool, but the challenge in their eyes was anything but. “Answer this then, are you holding a kitten right now?”

He stayed silent for a few moments. “Well… no.” Not very convincing—especially not when there really was a pudgy tabby cat swaddled into his soft sweater and lazily swatting at the hem’s loose threads, and his own fingers were busy gently trailing across its head.

A strangled noise left them at the sight and his continued denial. Pinching their nose in exasperation, they shut their eyes for a second. “Care to explain, then?”

“Technically, she’s a little over two years old, so she’s a cat, not a kitten,” he mumbled, half to himself, hoping that they would just drop it. It seemed he wasn’t in the mood to be very upfront today. But he certainly looked like he was in the mood to tickle the pink paws of his new feline friend and boop her twitching little nose.

“Err… lovely,” they strained to keep their voice level and absolutely calm, definitely not freaking out over this… fascinating surprise. “And what’s she doing in our apartment?”

“It’s hers now too.” A bold statement to make, from a man who looked like—were he a cat too, that is—his own whiskers were standing on end. “If anything happens to her I’ll jump.”

“Knowing your luck, you’d survive the fall anyways.” A tired sigh, and then their shoulders were drooping, their fight dissolving all at once. They collapsed onto the couch beside him, and thankfully the cat seemed to be twice as lazy as her new owner was, because she made no indication of having gotten startled, save for a slow blink of her eyes (that was admittedly rather adorable). “Fine, have it your way.”

That sweet smile of his graced his soft features, and for a moment their heart thundered in their chest, reminding them that no matter how much they would try to deny it, they really were weak to anything he wanted—as long as he gave them that smile, of course. “She’s very content like this,” they pointed out as the cat in question yawned, leaning into his finger deftly stroking her forehead.

“I know we’re often on missions, and I didn’t want to risk negligence. So I searched for the lowest maintenance kitty to adopt,” he softly said, voice trailing off at the end and an endearingly tender look in his eyes as he continued to pet her. Glancing up at his beloved, he flushed a little at the amusement on their face. “Sorry. She’s just very fluffy.”

At that they chuckled a little, reveling in the way he let himself get carried away. “It’s fine. I was honestly just worried about precisely that. Pets are a huge responsibility, but she’d be perfectly compatible with us.” They looked down and watched as she stretched her fluffy limbs, before curling back up into Xavier’s chest, a content look on her adorable face and her tail swishing a little in her light sleep. The resemblance finally became clear. “She’s… an awful lot like you.”

“Really?” he mused, a thoughtful expression on his face as he furrowed his eyebrows a little. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Kind of hard to ignore once you see it,” they snorted a little, though they lowered their voice after they saw how the slumbering cat twitched in her sleep at the sound. “You got all the stuff she needs, though?”

“I may or may not have used up this month’s salary at the pet store.” Xavier sheepishly gave them a half-smile, though he didn’t look apologetic in the least at the prospect of having wasted a ludicrous amount of money on things that the soon-to-be-spoilt kitty may never even use.

Seriously, had he always wanted a cat this bad?

Well. There was no use in admonishing him when he seemed so enamored by the ball of fluff in his arms. In fact… maybe a small part of them fell a bit more in love with him seeing him so content with the (admittedly rash) decision he’d made, and perfectly happy with staying cuddled up forever on the couch.

“Did you name her?” they asked, curiosity lacing their words as they peered at her tiny face nuzzled against his chest. “It’s only fair you get the chance to when you brought her in.”

Really, it wasn’t such a bad idea after all, now that they thought about it. Cats are rather independent, and they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d definitely shower her with unconditional love and all the care that she needs. Kind of hard not to, when she was this sweet-looking and lazy all the time.

Xavier nodded, a small flush on his freckled cheeks. A look akin to pride on his face, he smiled up at his lover, slowly cradling the happily dozing cat, and said—

“Her name’s Meatloaf.”

…

“Absolutely not.”

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[fandomnerd9602]

Heat?

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

That doe of yours was insatiable. Plain and simple.

Even after you found the boys, Wanda was bent on finding any and every excuse to pull you off somewhere private.

Her kisses, her moans, the way she wraps herself around you, it was all so intoxicating.

You loved her and she loved you. Plain and simple. Or so you thought.

You found yourself in the Westview sanctuary break room one morning. You were already on your second cup of coffee, Wanda kept you up for most of the previous night. And somehow she had to energy to skip thru the hallways happy as can be, do her work diligently and effectively.

And here you were, tired and content, nursing another coffee from your Visit Wakanda cup.

A familiar groan wakes you up a little as your future in-law, Pietro, wanders in. His face carries the same bags under the eyes and tired expression you saw in the mirror.

“Hey bratok, any more coffee?” he smiles at you. “Rough night?”

“Of a sorts” you retort.

“Nattie,” he whistles, “she is a firecracker now. Those hybrid heat cycles.”

“Heat cycles?”

“Yeah,” he takes a seat across from you, “female hybrids are insatiable in their heat cycle. I thought you knew that”

Your face went pale. Wanda was insatiable lately, she was practically pawing at you as soon as the boys were asleep. Could it all be because of some uncontrollable urge?

“W-would Wanda’s match up with Natasha’s?”

“Well they are mere months apart in age so…yeah” pietro takes a sip of his coffee. “I wouldn’t worry though. Nattie loves me and Wanda loves you. Maybe a little too much”

You found your mind racing. Thoughts of your doe, your boys, this newly found out heat cycle. How far back would it go? Did she ever truly love you?

The questions probed at your mind all day and into the evening.

Later that evening, your loving doe came down the stairs, happy as could be. Wanda was dressed in a mini nightdress and silk robe. She was definitely trying to push your buttons. But was it just from the heat cycle?

“The boys are asleep.” She giggles as she nuzzles into your lap on the couch. “Wanna watch something?”

“Dick Van Dyke?” You try to maintain composure. She was in your lap, letting out little purrs.

Her giggles from the following thirty minutes of yours and hers favorite show was intoxicating. You loved her giggles and laughs.

And then she turned to you. “Are you tired, detka?”

“Not really”

She purrs, “neither am I” she slips into your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck.

She begins kissing you. One of her hands begins to play with your belt.

You gently put your hands on her shoulders and push her away. Wanda’s eyes immediately spring to worry.

“What’s wrong, detka?” She takes your face in her hands.

“We can’t. Not like this.”

“What?” Her eyes show hints of sadness and perhaps regret.

“I love you Wanda, so much. But I can’t take advantage of you when you’re in your heat cycle. I-I need to be sure that we love each other for the right reasons”

Wanda begins to giggle again. And then it grows into a full on laugh as she collapses against the couch. She tries to bury her face in her hands, to hide the growing embarrassing blush.

“Detka,” she giggles, “I’m not in my heat cycle. Did Pietro tell you that?!”

“Yes”

She recomposes herself and takes your hands in hers. “Detka I am with you because I love you for everything you are. You are the most thoughtful and loving mate I could ever wish for.”

“You are the most amazing mate” you smile at her, kissing her palms, “you gave me a home, a family. I love you”

“I love you” she blushes. “And I only want to show you how much joy you bring me.”

“So you’re completely insatiable…”

“On my own terms,” she giggles. “Besides…my heat cycle doesn’t start till next month”

And with that she gives you a wink before cuddling into your side, ready to watch another episode of your shared favorite show.

Meanwhile at Natasha’s den, Pietro was struggling to keep his own mate at bay.

“Down Nattie!” He tried to keep her away but that wolf was just so seductive.

“Down? I dare you to keep me down” she growls happily. Her wolf tail swishing back and forth seductively.

Pietro couldn’t say no to that.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @idkwhatever580 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @softlymaximoff @russianredassassin @revanshand @aloneodi @julieromanoff

[h3nderyss]

coffee nerd - mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader . . . masterlist genre: fluff word count: 578 a/n: something silly i just came up with.. mark is such a cafe-date bf

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"this one's too bitter." you said as you took a sip of the very dark, very black coffee, having a displeased expression as the taste lingered on your tongue.

mark made a jokingly judging face at you. "i don't understand why you'd ever get coffee that gross..."

"i wanted to try it out!" you felt regretful. maybe some new things weren't for the better. "i haven't had black coffee in a long time, i wanted to try it again and see if my taste buds changed." you sighed, "they didn't."

you and mark had continued to walk down the streets of seoul in the rising morning. both having free time, you decided to spend this young day together.

"we can go to another cafe baby, i don't mind." mark links his hand into your free one, the other still bringing the coffee to your mouth. mark looks at you, "why're you still drinking that?"

he yoinked the coffee out of your hand and threw it out in a nearby garbage bin. after some time, you both came upon the next cafe. "let's try this one," your boyfriend states.

it was a cozy cafe; it looked super welcoming and calm, something perfect for you and mark to enjoy yourselves in.

"it's so cute in here!" you exclaimed quietly looking around, quite amazed at the scenery in this shop.

mark giggles at the awestruck girl before him, and doesn't take his eyes off of her whilst waiting in line.

once you both ordered your drinks, the 2-seater table by the corner was calling your names.

"these are perfect instagram photos!" you had took a few aesthetic photos of whatever you thought was cute around you, including the gorgeous boy sitting across from you. a few candid, a few poses; as mark had done the same to you with his phone.

minutes have gone by - chatter, enjoying company, loving gazes exchanged had happened like any couple in love. "how's the coffee?" mark had hoped that at least this time this coffee had been at least a little better; which wasn't a wild accusation, since the beverage certainly was lighter.

"oh, 100% better." you nodded. "this one is like, actually amazing..! it's like the perfect amount of sugar, literally. this is definitely on my list for top 5 coffee's i've had." you smile and continuously sip the drink.

eventually, you had gotten too deep into explaining how this coffee felt, and how it compared to different coffees, before rambling on and on about different coffees.

"and then that vanilla one- man, it was so good.. it was like- why're you looking at me like that?" a shy smile spread across your face as mark looked at you with the most puppy-like love eyes that had always made you melt.

"no, no, keep going," mark motioned you to keep yapping about your chronicles of coffee experiences. "i'm listening." a smile hadn't left his face.

a blush spread across your face, "well, i'm shy now.." you looked away and drank the last of the coffee.

the rest of the day was spent enjoying each other's company hand in hand, buying small trinkets for each other walking down the comfortable, and now familiar streets. and, obviously, stopping at all the nearby cafes possible.

if there's anything mark would do, he would always be seated at any of your coffee critique sessions. as long as it had anything to do with you yapping, count him in.

[miyukisu]

Talk Like That .ᐟ

❤︎ | Who would have thought that your quiet and stoic boss had such a dirty side to him? (2.7 wc) ╰ feat. hiromi higuruma (jjk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 3 | kinktober masterlist

tags - degradation, office sex, semi-public sex, hiromi is very mean, paralegal! reader, spanking, punishment, p in v, blowjob, pussy eating, doggy, protected sex

minors do not interact

H I R O M I H I G U R U M A

You passed by those bold letters plastered across the matted glass of his office almost everyday. After all, your office was a little bit down the hall from his.

Everyone in the firm knew who Hiromi Higuruma was. For one, he was perhaps the most talented man working there. But also because he was the finest man you have ever laid your eyes upon.

Hiromi always came to work looking sleek and prepared for the day. You would never catch him dead with tousled hair or his suit disheveled.

In fact, people slowly became jealous of his secretary. She spent all hours of her working day right in front of his office, relaying calls to him, and accompanying him in several errands.

It was ridiculous. His secretary probably had grandchildren at her age. But you understood why anyone would be jealous.

Part of you wanted to spend time with the stoic and brooding man too. But it was tough. Too fucking tough.

He wasn't the type to engage in pleasantries or make himself available for too long at office events. You've been working at the firm for so long, yet you barely knew anything about him outside of his achievements. It was almost impossible, you thought.

That was until you, as a paralegal, were requested by him.

────────────

All those years of hard work finally paid off now that the biggest shot at the firm took notice of you. It was your chance to prove yourself at work and to Hiromi. Of course, it was a primary goal to impress him.

The case was demanding, a high-profile one at that as well. It was no surprise that you had to spend many sleepless nights at the office. But you weren't alone—Hiromi was often left to work late hours too.

Sometimes you'd drop off a file or two and discuss a bit. Ordinary stuff, all things considered. However, tonight was different; tensions were high.

You had made a mistake earlier today. You missed a detail and the client had to know about it. There was a whole scene in the office that afternoon. Hiromi had to clean up after your mess. None of it was his fault and he had to embarrass himself for the sake of some paralegal he probably only learned the existence of recently.

Usually, you'd be ecstatic to catch a glimpse of him so late at night. But right now, he was the last person you wanted to see. Hiromi didn't show it, but he was definitely angry.

────────────

You knocked slowly against the open glass door of his office. You were sure it was just the two of you in the building at this hour. At least, if he decides to reprimand you for your shitty performance—no one would have to hear a thing.

Hiromi didn't bother looking up; he knew who it was. He simply nodded in acknowledgement and you let yourself in.

"Here are the files you were asking for earlier," you say as you hand it over to him. Hiromi uses the pen in his hand to point to an empty space of his desk.

It takes you a few seconds too late to understand, but you place the documents neatly before taking a step back. He continued skimming over the document he was currently holding, a bored expression painted on his face.

"Learned your lesson yet?" he asked flatly.

You were hoping not to go over this again, but it was inevitable. "Yes, sir... I'm terribly sorry for what happened earlier. It won't happen again."

"Words... always just words, but it never gets reflected in your performance," he retorts. Hiromi sets down the document in his hand before grabbing the papers that you brought. Still—he hasn't spared you a single glance.

Despite the impartial look on his face, you could tell that he wasn't exactly happy at the moment. You nervously awaited for a comment or critique from him about your work as he proceeded to go over it quickly.

"Are you sure I won't find another mistake in here?"

"Y-yes, sir. I'm certain."

He hummed lowly. "Then I better not see one. You know what'll happen if I do."

Right. You were going to be removed from the case and some other paralegal would take your place. Then, Hiromi would never ever look your way. That fact in particular made you the most anxious you've been thus far.

You watched as his weary eyes scrutinized your work. The black orbs darting quickly from one side to another, his lips still pressed into a thin line.

If you had hoped he would dismiss you without another scolding... oh, you were dead wrong.

Hiromi's eyes squinted at a particular line before dropping the documents on his desk and running his large hand over his face. You felt the blood drain from your face and your heart drop to your stomach. This wasn't good...

He finally looked at you, but with that kind of expression—you'd rather that he not looked at you at all. His dark eyes bore into your skull. No words were spoken yet, but you knew the thoughts running rampant in that head of his.

None of them were good.

"You were certain you made no mistakes—yes?"

"I'm sorry," was all you could mutter. What else was there to say? Nothing would soothe his wrath.

He slammed an open palm against his desk. "What the hell do you do all day in this office? Hm?"

Hiromi stands up, not letting you reply. "Come here," he commands. You had never heard me speak or had seen him look this way. But the stress and frustration at work—coupled with his personal affairs—simmered within him. He was only a man; he too had his limits.

You sheepishly shuffled closer to his desk, head hung low.

"Look at me."

And you do.

Your eyes meet and it stirs an emotion in you that you can't quite put a finger on. He leans in, his smell permeating your nostrils and down to your core. Hiromi smelled good, of course, that much was to be expected.

"Tell me—what the hell do you do all day in this office?"

"I don't know what..."

"You don't know what that means? Can't even answer a simple question?"

He grabs your jaw slowly, applying just enough force to make your lips pucker. "Do you know how humiliated I was earlier because of your mistake?"

You mutter another apology, albeit a bit muffled. Hiromi scoffed in response. "Is that all you can do? Say sorry for every stupid mistake that you make?"

"I'm starting to think all you do here is prance around in your tight clothes, batting your eyelashes at anyone who'd look at you. You like their attention, don't you?"

Hiromi lets go of your face, giving you a chance to speak. "I don't... I don't want their attention... I don't do the things you just said... I..."

"I only want your attention."

His taut expression seemingly softened, though traces of anger were still evident. You added, "Maybe I was trying too hard because I wanted to impress you and in the process I kept messing up more because... because..."

You were a stuttering mess; you weren't even sure why the hell you were telling all of this to him. It was pathetic and unprofessional. But it hardly mattered in an odd situation like this.

"You wanted to impress me?" he asked.

Everyone did; everyone wanted to look good in the eyes of the Hiromi Higuruma. You were no exception to that.

"Yes, sir..."

He takes a step back from his desk, sitting back down on his leather swivel chair. "Come over here," he says as his finger makes a come hither gesture.

You gulped down hard before going around his desk, standing right in front of him. Hiromi still had a bored expression plastered on his face. "On your knees."

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. There was no mistaking his words. He was actually asking you to—

"O-okay," you replied shakily. You dropped down to your knees, but before you could get any closer, he leaned down and grabbed you by the hair; your messy bun became messier. He only did so—not to hurt you—but to make you look at him and to make sure you'd hear him loud and clear.

"You really want to make it up to me?" he asked lowly and you nod.

His fingers slowly detangle from your locks as he leans back in his chair. "You know what to do then. I'm sure you've been waiting to do something like this."

You'd be a fucking liar if you said you haven't dreamt of doing something filthy like this with the hottest man in the office. It only made it better that you were actually doing it inside his office.

You crawled closer to him until your head was between his thighs. It thrilled you straight to your core. Your fingers lightly traced the seam of his trousers before pulling his zipper down. After undoing the button, you slowly tugged the pants and boxers that were in the way. Your mouth almost watered at the sight of his cock—though it was only half hard.

Seeing how it was now—it made you wet thinking about it at its biggest. It was overwhelming now it was actually in your hand. Warmth radiated from it as you brought your face closer.

"You look famished. Fantasized about this before haven't you?"

In response, you simply kissed his tip—earning a hiss from him. You spat on it, letting the glob of saliva trickle down his length before your hand spread it all over. In one go, you took as much as you could in your mouth.

His girth made your eyes water. He relaxed in his chair as if he found peace in your warm mouth, a soft groan slipping from his chapped lips. You made sure to go at an excruciatingly slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. This might just be your last chance to impress him; you weren't about to fuck it up.

"Guess there is something you can do properly hm?"

A familiar set of fingers tangle in your strands again, slowly guiding your head. "Sucking it so enthusiastically—maybe paralegal work isn't your calling."

All the dirty talk went straight to your sopping cunt, making you moan around his length. He hisses again, "Fuck... you're enjoying this way too much."

He pulls your head away from your cock, taking the time to admire the fucked out expression on your face. Saliva dribbled down your chin as your half-lidded eyes stared back at him.

"Don't wanna cum in your mouth. Stand up," he orders again.

He stands up along with you. Before you could even gain your footing, he had bent you over on his desk—knocking over the stuff that littered the surface.

A gasp escapes you as he roughly pushes your black pencil skirt, bunching it up at your waist. He marveled at your stocking-clad ass. A harsh slap surprised you.

"O-ouch..."

He leans against you, his chest pressing into your back. Hiromi's hand snaked to your front, lightly gripping your neck. You could feel his minty breath against your neck as his nose jabbed your cheek. "That's for the first fuck up."

Then, another slap. "That's for your fuck up now."

Another slap. "And that's just for my own pleasure."

He pulled away, the abrupt absence of his warmth making you feel restless. Your senses were flooded by a plethora of things that you didn't notice how he knelt down in front of your heat. Hiromi wasted no time and ripped the barrier that was your black stockings.

"Fucking slut. You should see how drenched you are right now."

He presses a kiss over your clothed cunt, his nose poking at your hole. You let out a breathless groan, finally nearing some much needed stimulation.

His finger hooks into the gusset before pulling it out of the way. He found it pitiful how you clenched over nothing. He'd give you something to clamp on soon anyway.

Hiromi dove right in, lapping at your folds. He took his sweet time, much like you did with him. His tongue teased the length of your slit first before thrusting it into your neglected hole.

A desperate moan echoed through his office as you squirmed. But Hiromi held you by your ass, making sure you would stay still for him. He went faster and faster, not allowing you to adjust. And in no time, he had you cumming on his tongue.

God, it was unfair that an attractive and talented man like him had to be good at sex too.

The last bit of strength that held you up had disappeared, leaving you slumped over his desk. He reached for his drawer, looking for a condom. As much as he wanted to fuck you raw—let you know reaaaal well the consequences of your actions—Hiromi was still a rational man.

He'd have his fun, safely.

Hiromi wasn't in much of a hurry as he idly rolled the rubber down his cock. Besides, time was probably going slower for you right now. Who would've thought just a little bit of pussy eating would get you undone so quickly?

Pathetic. But Hiromi secretly liked it.

He lazily rubbed himself as he lined his cock against your dripping entrance. There wasn't a chance of him going slow now. Hiromi plunged his entire length into your cunt. Your soft moans came out in unison as the lawyer threw his head back a bit.

It had been a while since he let off some steam... and maybe the first time he had a cute little paralegal bent over his desk.

"Finally got what you wanted? Tell me how much you wanted this."

"Wanted this so much," you blabbered. You could hear yourself and even you were surprised by how shameless you were. Hell, if dick as good as this was going in and out of you—maybe it's not that surprising that he could coax out even the most deprived thoughts in your head.

"Fucking slut. You wore this pretty skirt for me, didn't you?"

"Y-yes. I did."

"Fuck right you did," he says. Hiromi takes your arms and crosses them behind you, grabbing it so he can slam harder into you. His grip was bruising, but the pain was easily overlooked by how good he was making you feel down there.

"Maybe I should keep you on this case—not as paralegal, but as my stress reliever. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

His question was only meant by a strangled moan, but it sufficed. The way you eagerly took him in was more than enough to let him know. "Such a perfect slut," he whispered under his breath.

The relentless snap of his hips had you clenching down and he was definitely feeling it with the way he would suck in through his teeth. He knew you were close and so was he.

"Fuck," he drawled out. "Pussy so good... making me cum too quickly for my liking."

Hiromi let go of your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Instead, he grabbed on to your hips, pulling you into his. The lewd squelching sounds along with your moans were certainly heard from beyond his glass office.

"Sir... I'm so close... shit."

He took that as a sign to keep up his maddening pace. Your orgasm came crashing and white spots flooded your vision. If it weren't for him holding up your hips, you would've been completely slouched on the wooden desk.

"Fuck... take it all," he says before his thrust become sloppy. Eventually, he released into the rubber. Hiromi rode out the last few seconds of his climax before slipping out of you. As he took his hands off your flesh, his hand prints were left as a souvenir.

He took the rubber off his sensitive length, tying it up and chucking it into the trash bin. Hiromi sat back down, exhausted, while you were still bent over his desk. Perhaps it'll be a while before you'd gain your strength again.

Until then, he'll admire your pretty pink pussy.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note 100% of my knowledge on law comes from Suits so don't come for me

[sugrhigh]

FAMILY TIES - ( m.s & c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you, matt, and chris go to a bruins game with the kids

warnings- none i don’t think!

girl dad!matt and boy dad!chris

a/n: i tried so hard to write this well and im still not sure if im satisfied, but i hope u enjoy!! kinda short but i think after this weeks podcast we all need a bit of fluff lol

@cutenote @rootbeerworshiper @bb-1s-blog @rileysturniolo @mbbsgf @sturnlova @angelworldspost @l9vesick @st7rnioiossblog

“it’s ridiculous that you always wear my clothes better than i do.” matt speaks, interrupting you as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror.

you’re in one of his many bruins sweatshirts, which is a little too big for you so you have one side tucked into the pocket of your jeans.

you pad over to give him a quick kiss, hand pressed to his chest. “you still look very handsome.”

“thank you, babe.” he gives you a tiny pat on the ass, which still to this day makes your cheeks ignite.

your daughter, eve, comes flying around the corner into your bedroom moments later, almost running right into her dad. she’s all dressed up for the occasion too, clad in her mini bruins jersey.

“woah, slow it down there partner.” he scoops her up into his arms easily, and her eruption of laughter makes you smile.

“can we go now?” eve says through giggles.

“you don’t want to wait for uncle chris and parker?” you ask knowingly, and she sighs, leaning her small head against matt’s chin.

“i guess.”

as if on que, there’s a loud pounding on the front door, and you hear it open. eve’s face lights up, and she claps her hands together in excitement.

“they’re here, they’re here!”

“we’re here evie!” chris calls back, and the smile is clear in his voice.

matt sets your daughter down so she can run for the stairs, the both of you following closely behind her.

parker is hiding behind chris’s legs, one hand grabbing onto his dad’s black cargos for safety. the second eve comes rushing toward him, though, he opens right up as always.

they hold each other tightly for a second as you finally reach the bottom of the grand staircase, which gives you time to pull chris into a quick embrace too.

“good to see you, as always.” you grin, and he matches your expression.

“i can never turn down some family time.”

matt chuckles a little, clapping his brother on the back as they hug next. “you just want an excuse for me to drive so you can get a drink.”

“well, i can’t turn that down either.” chris jokes back.

“alright, who’s ready for some hockey?” you ask, mainly to eve and parker, who both bounce around with each other happily.

“me!”

“me too!”

you herd everyone into the car and get the kids situated in their respective booster seats beside chris. there’s always an extra in your vehicle, just in case parker is around, which is often.

you love the little guy. he really is like a mini version of his dad, and chris’s wife is gorgeous too, which also shows in his face. you were so upset when you found out she was sick, but she insisted you guys needed to go enjoy without her, so here you are.

most of the drive to the garden is spent singing along to the radio and keeping eve and parker in check. as cute as they are together as cousins, they’re also trouble. to be fair, they’re only three, so it’s in their nature.

you used to think that eve got her rebel streak from her father, but matt insisted it’s a trait that came from you. as the time went on, you realized that she’s definitely inherited it from your side of the family.

thinking about it makes you grin a little bit to yourself. she’s definitely equal parts of you and matt.

eve’s voice interrupts your thoughts, almost like she knew what was going on in your brain.

“are we there mommy?”

“almost, i promise.”

“pinky?” parker chimes in next.

“oh, of course.” you fully lean across the center console so you can extend your pinky finger to him.

he loops his own little hand with yours and shakes it, and you do the same with eve.

it seems like only seconds later you’re pulling into the arena’s parking deck, and the kids start kicking in their seats eagerly.

chris unbuckles them and helps them out into the chilly air as you round the corner of the car. thankfully they’re both all bundled up in their outfits, even complete with their little matching bruins beanies that matt had picked out months ago.

the whole walk toward the entrance, chris and matt take turns swinging parker and eve between themselves, and you’re all still laughing as you approach security.

matt scans the tickets and suddenly you’re meshing with the crowd, keeping the kids close as you head for concessions first.

the rink is all lit up as you finally make your way to your seats minutes later, equipped with two beers, two sodas, and two tubs of popcorn.

the kids munch happily from their seats as they watch warm-ups, just a couple rows back from the glass. you can’t help but beam, sneakily taking pictures of the two of them together because it just warms your heart.

“looking at the two of them kind of makes me want more, you know.” matt leans over from the seat on the other side of you, breath tickling your ear.

you nudge him playfully, though it makes your pulse skyrocket as you turn to look at him.

“just say the word.”

it’s his turn to go slack-jawed, and he has to clear his throat to force himself to stop thinking about the possibility of more children with you, the woman he fucking adores.

you’d never really talked about it after eve, since you were both so hyper-focused on her as new parents. plus, she’s always had her cousin every step of the way.

but maybe she’d like having a little brother or sister of her own.

“maybe they can stay at chris’s place tonight?” matt thinks out loud.

“let him drink that beer a little longer and i’m sure you can convince him.” you grin as you take a sip of your own.

a few minutes later the arena gets dark as the announcer hypes up the crowd, and you’re (mostly) all on your feet cheering once the bruins skate onto the ice.

parker is piggy-backing on chris’s shoulders, arms flung around his neck as his dad supports him. you’ve got eve on your hip so she can get a good view as well, watching the players while the spotlights focus in on the rink.

her eyes are as wide as saucers, like she’s totally entranced by the noise and the movement.

“daddy, look!” eve points at them excitedly, leaning in your arms so she can glance over at matt.

“i know baby! isn’t it cool?” he feeds into her enthusiasm with a wide grin.

your heart soars as you transfer her into matt’s arms, watching as he ruffles her beanie a little bit so she shrieks with laughter. it’s precious, watching him treat her like the little princess she is.

the national anthem plays shortly after, and the game officially begins. you watch as he points out players to eve, telling her different fun facts about each of them.

chris is bopping parker around on his back to the beat of the music, and he smiles along with his dad.

for a moment, you’re completely consumed by your own thoughts, so thankful for this little found family of yours. you turn your head to look at matt, and he meets your eyes immediately.

“i love you.” you mouth, unable to contain your smile.

“i love you more.” he mouths back.

[cinnoasch]

Charmed [2] (March x Reader)

A/N: Here is part 2! Once again extremely fun to write. I have received requests and am working on them, so they will be out soon! Story under the cut!

Charmed [1] Here

Word Count: 2852

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March runs a hand through his hair as he tosses another balled up piece of paper behind him. He had already finished his orders for today and now he was hunched over his desk, drawing. Papers are scattered across the desk, many of them have scribbles across them or large X’s drawn on them. He knew what you had said, that you didn’t care if his drawing was good or not. But to him, it mattered. Everything he did, he put his best foot forward. It had to be perfect.

“Woah, it’s like a tornado came through here.” 

March glances behind him. “Oh, hey Ryis.”

“Hey.” Ryis replies, walking into the shop. He approaches the back of the shop, peeking over March’s shoulder. “Oh…those aren’t blueprints.”

March jolts and in a frenzy pushes all the papers and pencils off his desk. He looks up at Ryis, face burning in embarrassment. “...there was no point in me doing that, huh? You saw?”

Ryis grins, chuckling. “Yeah, I saw. So, I’m guessing things went well last week?”

“...I mean I guess.” March mumbles. “The only thing that’s not going well is this.” He gestures at the state of the room. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I’d rather work on nails than this.”

“It’s troubling you that much?” Ryis asks. He picks up a few papers off of the ground, looking at each of them. “These aren’t bad, you’re definitely progressing.”

“Yeah… but it’s not perfect.”

“It doesn’t need to be.” Ryis replies. He sets the small stack down on the table, and the portrait you gave March catches his attention. “Hm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one.” March says as he leans back in his chair. He sighs slightly, his gaze wanders over to the portrait. “...I don’t want to give them something half-assed. Not after receiving something like that.”

“I get that. You want to give them something that invokes the same feeling you had, right? In my opinion, I don’t think it has to be a drawing. As long as it’s from the heart, I think that makes all the difference.”

“From the heart?” 

Ryis nods, “Mhm. Just think about it. You’ll figure it out.” He gives a wave as he walks out of the shop. “See ya.”

“What the hell…?” March shakes his head. He stands up, stretching slightly. From the heart…? What did that even mean?

When you drew that portrait, was that from the heart? Heat slowly rises on his cheeks and March pushes that thought away. It was embarrassing to think about. Even more so, it was embarrassing to think about how happy he was whenever he looked at it.

March already knew why that was. Even Ryis had mentioned it last week. Was it because of these feelings that he wanted to give you something that expressed that? Something that was perfect? 

Just then the shop door opens and Valen walks in, greeting him. “Good morning March. My, it looks like you’ve been busy. Practicing drawing, I see.”

His face turns red as he quickly starts gathering the papers and pencils off the ground and tucks them away in the desk drawer. He clears his throat, leaning against the desk. “Did you need something, Valen?”

“Yes, actually. I’m in need of some new medical tools. My old ones have dulled considerably.”

“Okay, I’ll get on it.”

“Thank you, March.” Then Valen adds, “You look…distracted. Is there something on your mind?”

March blinks a couple of times, then he sighs. “...sort of.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Don’t you want me to get started on your tools?”

Valen smiles. “Those can wait. Go on, tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe I can help.” She leans against the wall, waiting for March to respond.

“...If you wanted to give someone a gift…” March starts slowly. “What would you give them?”

“Hmm, that depends on the person I’m giving the gift to. Though I assume you’re giving something to a certain someone… say Y/N, for instance?”

“You…better not say anything to them.”

Valen chuckles, “I won’t, you don’t have to worry about that. Let’s see here…” She hums in thought. “Ah, well why don’t we rely on your strong suit then? Y/N did mention in passing that they recently lost a bracelet of theirs while in the mines. Maybe you could do something with that?”

“A bracelet?” He mumbles. He did recall a copper band that dangled off of your wrist, though you haven’t been wearing it as of late if he remembered correctly. “I could make them a new one… maybe silver?”

“I think that would be a perfect gift.”

March nods in agreement, “Thanks, Valen.” He takes a seat at his desk, grabbing a pencil and a blank sheet of paper from the drawer. He glances back at her. “I’ll have your tools done soon, promise.”

She lightly smiles. “I’m not in a rush to get them, so no worries. Good luck, March.” With that, Valen leaves the shop.

March starts to sketch out a few designs. It was no different than working on blueprints. He could do this. This could be just the thing that would tell you exactly what he wanted you to know. 

--------------------------------

Friday night rolls around and March walks into the inn, fiddling with the finished silver bracelet in his apron pocket. Now that the day was finally here, he was slightly nervous. Did he go overboard with this? The past few days he had been working on the bracelet, even starting from scratch at some points because he wasn’t satisfied with it. Yesterday he had finally finished it though, the bracelet adorned with a few gems he bought from Balor, as well as some small designs March added himself. It was just some flowers and leaves, though he had to admit adding them was harder than he thought, especially on such a small piece of metal.

Would you like it? Hell, would you even accept it? 

“March!”

The sound of Olric’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Come on over, we’re waiting for you, bro!”

March makes his way towards the back of the inn, seeing that he was the last one to arrive. You’re standing in front of the table, your assortment of tools on the ground beside you. Elise, Hayden, Landen and Valen chat amongst themselves, greeting March when he reaches the table. He takes a seat next to Olric and Elise claps her hands together.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, we can get started! Now, as we all know, Y/N has offered to be our model for tonight. I see you have all your tools with you.”

You nod with a smile. “I figured you guys might ask me to do different poses so I thought I might as well bring some props along.”

“Oh, can you pose with the pickaxe first?” Olric asks. “Like you’re in the mines!”

“Then the ax next.” Landen adds with a grin. 

As everyone continues to give out suggestions, March rests his arm on the table, lost in his thoughts once again. He hated feeling nervous. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, hell he rarely ever felt nervous until you moved into town. But at the same time, March felt excited. He never gave someone a gift that was this special, let alone someone he liked. Yes, liked. He was certain of this now. He liked you. 

“March?” 

He blinks, seeing you wave a hand in front of him. “What?”

“Did you have a suggestion?”

“Uh, no…” He replies, glancing away from you. “Let’s just…get started.”

With that, the group gets to drawing, small conversations popping up here and there. Mainly about your adventures, how you were liking life on the farm, the drawings you brought to show. 

“Oh, Y/N. May I ask you a question?” Valen speaks up.

“Yeah, sure!” You smile, leaning on your pickaxe.

“This drawing here.” She says, pointing at one of the papers on the table. “This is the bracelet you mentioned before, right? The one you lost in the mines earlier this week.”

You take a few steps forward, nodding. “Mhm, that's the one! Actually that was given to me before I set off on my first adventure, a present from someone in my hometown.”

“Oh, was it your lover by any chance?” Elise asks.

March lifts his head slightly at that question as you laugh, waving your hands in front of your face. “No, nothing like that. Just a childhood friend of mine.”

“Childhood friends! That reminds me of one of my romance novels. Do you still keep in touch with them?”

“Here and there. We send each other letters every now and then.”

“Do you ever think about going home?” Landen asks. “You must miss it.”

“I do…” You say. “But, I definitely think Mistria’s a place I can call home now.” Your gaze wanders over to March as you continue, your eyes meeting. “The charm of the town, you all…I guess I just fell in love.”

Valen chuckles, “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure everyone agrees that you’ve become an important part of Mistria now.” She then glances at you and March, posing another question. “That reminds me. Y/N, I had an… acquaintance, we’ll say, ask me what I would give someone if I were to give them a gift. I told them it depended on the person, what do you think?”

You turn your attention to her, thinking for a few seconds. “Well, I do agree that it depends on the person. The gift has to fit their personality or things that they like. But, I do think as long as the gift is meaningful, it still holds value.”

Valen hums in response, smiling as March also turns his gaze towards her. “So…if the gift was homemade and… let’s say from the heart. Would you accept it?”

“I would.” You laugh a bit. “Are we still talking in hypotheticals here? These questions are awfully specific.”

“Of course. I was just curious.”

March lets out a small sigh of relief. He was never telling Valen anything ever again. 

Your conversation continues as you continue posing and switching out your tools. Eventually, everyone finishes their drawings and just like last time you go around the table showing them. 

All of them had little details added here and there, whether it be crops, animals, even rocks. But each of them had their own appeal. And now came March’s drawing.

“March, your turn.” Valen says.

March slides his drawing to the middle of the table then crosses his arms as he mumbles. “I wasn’t finished with it yet… but there you go.”

You all take a look at the drawing. You could definitely tell that he improved, even if you only had a tiny glance at the drawing club’s work when they first started. You notice he drew you while you leaned on your pickaxe, a soft smile on your face. It was heartwarming, and carefully drawn.

You nod smiling. “I really like how you drew the expression here. Soft, warm. You put a lot of practice in, huh?”

March’s face heats up as you stare at him. He avoids your gaze, looking at the ground. “I just had spare time on my hands, that’s all.”

“Well, keep at it. I want to see a complete drawing one day.” You reply. Then you begin packing up your tools, turning your attention to the rest of the group. “This was fun! I’d love to join again next time.”

“You’re always welcome here, Y/N. You’ve made these past two Friday nights very enjoyable.” Valen says. “Are you heading back to the farm now?”

“Yep, early day and all. Good night everyone!”

They all say their goodbyes as you leave the inn and March hurries after you, drawing in hand.

“Y/N, wait a sec.”

You turn as you stand beside Balor’s cart, seeing March jog up to you. “Hey, March. I didn’t forget anything did I?”

“Well, one thing.” He says, handing you his drawing. “You wanted to keep it right?”

“Oh, right!” You take it, tucking it away carefully in your backpack. “You could’ve given it to me tomorrow, but thank you.”

March nods, then he hesitates with his next question. “You’re welcome… uh, can I walk back with you to the farm?”

“Oh, um, sure.” 

You turn on your heel as March follows behind you silently. Within a few minutes you arrive in front of your house.

“Thanks for walking with me, March.” You say with a small smile. “Well, good night.”

“W-wait!”

You freeze as your hand hovers over the door handle and you look at March.

“I…” He averts his gaze as he pulls out a silver bracelet from his apron pocket. “This is for you.”

You stare at the bracelet, watching as the moonlight reflects off of it. The gems on it sparkle and you can see small flowers and leaves carved on it. “Did you make this…?”

“Yeah… I heard about you losing your old one, so I just thought you might like a new one.”

“Oh, so you’re the acquaintance Valen was talking about!” You laugh. “I was wondering why you seemed so interested in the conversation.”

March scoffs slightly. “She just happened to visit the blacksmiths and mentioned it.”

“Uh-huh… you are a bad liar, March.”

“… are you going to take it or not?” He sighs.

“Can you put it on for me?” You ask. 

March freezes for a second but to your surprise he takes your wrist with one hand, and slips the bracelet on with the other. You were joking when you had asked but you didn’t think that March would actually comply.

“Mhm, perfect fit.” March mumbles quietly. He begins fiddling with the bracelet, turning it around your wrist.

“Uh…March?” You speak up. 

He doesn’t respond, though you do see a small smile appear on his face. Then suddenly, he lets go of your wrist, stuffing his hands in his pockets quickly. He clears his throat, “Sorry, I was just… making sure it wouldn’t slip off.”

“It’s okay.” You reply. You chuckle slightly as you smile. “Say, if I made you a matching pair, would you wear it? Ah, but it might get in the way when you work… what about a ring then?”

Then your eyes widen as you quickly realize what you had said.  You laugh nervously, averting your gaze. “I mean, you probably wouldn’t-”

“If it’s from you, I’ll wear it.”

You look at March, the moonlight illuminates your surroundings so you can see the blush that appears on his face.

“W-what?” He asks. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that is all…but if you’ll wear it, I’ll make it.” You reply as you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You smile gently as you hold your arm up, letting the light reflect off of the silver band. “I love it, March. Thank you again. I think this is the best present I’ve gotten in a while.”

March only nods, staring at you quietly. In his mind, he could make this moment better, if he just closed the gap between you two. He could hear his heart beating, loud and fast, almost as if it would jump out of his chest. If he made that move, would you reciprocate? Would things change between you if you didn’t? He was aware of how unfriendly he was at first when you moved into town, but slowly you somehow changed that. You had undeniably charmed him.

His gaze flickers to your lips. If he couldn’t say it in words…actions would do just fine, right? Screw it. March gently takes your wrist and lowers it, his hand slides down to hold yours. Then he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It was quick, chaste, and it was over just as quickly as it happened. 

March pulls away, the blush on his face even more apparent now. You’re still trying to process everything, not quite believing what has happened. 

“Um…I guess I’ll see you later.” He mumbles quietly, letting go of your hand.

He was slowly regretting going based off of instinct, but in his mind, it felt like the right thing to do. The perfect thing to do in a moment like that.

March begins to walk away, leaving you standing alone in front of your house. But you call out to him and he turns around, seeing you smile.

“I feel the same way.”

He returns the smile, laughing slightly. He doesn’t say anything, only giving a wave as he walks off. He knew you’d visit him tomorrow to talk. His smile only grows larger as he walks home, a slight bounce in his step. A smile that was carefully depicted in a portrait. A smile that everyone had mentioned never seeing on March. A smile of someone slowly falling in love.