#and left and started hating without saying a word to the “offender”

[stellarhoxy]

idk about you but i saw some tiny influx of ppl say "oh it should be x who's (the wife/bottom/pregnant/etc...) not y " in some ship work around and i wanna say... don't. do this... even if you know OP likes that interchangably, i find it still really rude. when op makes transformative work, there's usually a reason why they made it that way not the other. Just appreciate the creation they've given you, as it stands. In my opinion saying that "oh but x should be bottom" is like saying "oh but i don't like how red this artwork is, can it be blue instead?"I get we each have preferences, but let's be respectful to eachother....

[metranart]

hi! it’s me

i wanted to ask you how would the jjk guys react to you getting their lips tatted on you..?(specifically gojo)

like you got them with lipstick and they kiss a paper then the tattoo artist makes it a stencil in red and you put it right under your boob..?

(don’t do this if your uncomfy with it! also take your time your probably busy)

xoxo,em! take care

Hi sweets, sorry for the long wait, I've been awfully busy but here it is, I made it specially smutty to compensate lol hope you like it :) btw... I love your requests ;)

How would the JJK guys react to you getting their lips tattooed on you 💋

Ft. Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Choso, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna.

SATORU GOJO

Five missed calls and four unseen texts. Gojo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, he hated it when you left him on read. What could you be doing that was so damn important to ignore him.

The sound he had been waiting for since the day started makes his ears ring with excitement and without wasting a second, he opens the text message with your name on it.

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen, and his black glasses slide down the bridge of his nose almost comically thanks to his jaw dropping a little, all at the sight of the picture attached to a cute and adorable message that says:

"Do you like it?"

Gojo growls under his breath, subtly pulling with a shaky finger at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it's too hot there, his cheeks turn an accusatory red and his breathing has grown labored. Even his palms are sweating, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with him?! It's just the shape of his lips on the delicious curve of your under-boob. Shit! He's about to bust a cap inside his pants.

"Satoru-" Nanami's stoic voice breaks his trance and looking around almost as if had forgotten he was in the middle of a briefing, gets up and without any further explanation than: "Emergency!" Leaves the school, leaving behind and unattended, all his duties and mental sanity.

"Did you see the message on his phone, Geto?" a puff of smoke lazily comes out of Shoko’s curious mouth and Geto shrugs. "I saw that it was from (Y/N)." The black-haired snickers and everyone let out a unison, heavy sigh.

Gojo arrives in less time than is humanly possible at your apartment and without warning, not even a ‘hey, babe’, or a: ‘I just teleported myself into your room, hope you don’t mind’. You are dragged by your tall and strong boyfriend, special grade sorcerer and stripped of your top.

"S-Satoru, baby?"

You try to figure out what has him so bristled and with the delicacy of a saint but the curiosity of a child, he yanks your bra up, your delicious breast spills from underneath and his tattooed lips greet him.

"Shit!" is the first word you hear him say and it's almost a painful pant. "Those are my lips, aren't they? This is why you asked me to kiss that paper using the lipstick-...." he sounds accusatory but also incredibly excited.

You nod and let out a sigh that you didn't know were holding. "Phew! When you didn’t answer my text, I thought you didn't like it-"

"Not like it..." he sounds almost offended, and your bra is discarded when he pushes you on your back in the bed. "Not like it?! I love it! I want to eat you whole, (Y/N), I'm only holding back because I need to ask something first."

Being pinned down by his weight and his gentle hands on either side of your jaw, Gojo steals the little space and whispers his question against your ear. "Are you still sensitive from the tattoo, or can I give you a new one with the original source?" 

He kisses your earlobe playfully, and you can’t help but giggle dumbly, as you can't help your voice from shaking with excitement. "I’m not made of sugar-"

You can't even finish the sentence when his lips begin the endless and shameless work of awakening every nerve ending in your skin, the desperation palpable in the white-haired sorcerer as every piece of clothing is torn from your body and his and discarded on the floor as impure.

Purple mockeries of your tattoo in the form of hickeys adorn every patch of your sensitive neck like a new necklace, small bites from the small curve of your shoulder to the sinful curve of your waist, nipples swollen and perked from the greedy skating of his tongue on them. Gojo is not being rough, but he is not being gentle either, he is brutal in his advance but methodical and careful that your moans do not change tone.

"I'm going to tattoo myself on you from the inside out," his warn is muffled against your breast as his mouth devours the plump peak of flesh. Paying special attention to pressing his lips against your tattoo over and over and over again, as if certifying its authenticity and quality. The silhouette was exact, the perfect shape of his greedy lips. It was an almost erotic sight for him.

"Huh?"

"Sure,” he chuckled low before keep going, “white ink specially made for you. You'll see, I’m an awesome artist," having you panting, sweating and squirming isn’t enough for him. Oh no! he needs more, Satoru Gojo claims for something more permanent than a mere tattoo. "...My tattoos last nine months inside, and eighteen years outside, they talk and call you mommy, I’m that talented, sweets" tangled between his muscular limbs, your new resting place, he does whatever the fuck he wants with you. 

You feel the massive shape of his warm cock against your thigh, he’s been pumping himself no end, not letting you touch him not letting you aid him for fear of wasting his first load, that tasty, thick load he's been preparing especially for you. The mere graze of your fingers on him will be his end, he knows it, so he won’t ask nor accept your help, even when he longs to wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut. Or better yet, wrap your perfect mouth around his cock and suck him off– NO! he now’s not the time for him to be negligent. 

Once loaded, abandons his quest for relief and rests his warm palm on your belly massaging it as if molding it to fit something of his, while the other keeps playing with your cunt, enjoying the way you suck his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. 

“I never thought someone would be able to awaken my paternal instinct-... did my clan hire you, sweets?” he scoffed, playfully. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy moans and whimpers but the way your muscles are tensing and spasming around his digits. The desperate rocking of your hips against his palm, as a firm beg for relief.

“It's just a tattoo....”

“Na ah!” His hand continues playing with your tummy, your navel, the curve of your waist almost obsessively while his tongue makes out with the curve of your neck. “This was your way of telling me that you want me forever..." long finger prod at your gummy walls, searching for that hidden blessed spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

"Let me show you how gifted I am, my sweet girl..." 

He finds it in matter of seconds, and you lose all kind of restriction and complaint and Gojo can’t help but smirk against your neck as you tighten and quiver around his digits. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his thumb pressed over your clit, flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles a deep purple hickey on the skin. Long, thick fingers guiding you through madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, oversensitive body to handle.

"Y-Yes, Satoru, shown me, fill me, mark me-… do whatever the fuck you want-"

You convulse in the spare seconds of glorious pleasure before cumming with a strangled shriek, and Gojo’s groan muffles against your skin when can finally sink in one roll of his hips, feeding you that fat cock he’s been pumping to the edge just for this exact moment, buries deep inside you, kissing your cervix in that one thrust of raw meat. With an animalistic grunt, spills his soul inside your womb, pouring every last drop of cum he's been cooking in those heavy balls until he empties himself, flooding your inside with his gifted seed. A rush of juices gushes from your trembling cunt onto your connected lower halves, and you feel and hear him pant like a dog next to your ear, as both come down from the high. 

"Am I your favorite tattoo artist or what?"

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

NANAMI KENTO

He's stoic and serious, almost unmoving in his unflappable staring as you lift your shirt so he can see your new tattoo. His silent disposition is starting to make you more than a little nervous, since you know that Nanami Kento isn't exactly a crazy animal, but rather, a calm and quiet being who hides a wild side that he only shares with those closest to him. Making you wonder if you fall into that category or not, as his silence as he inspects the tattoo of his lips under your boob is virtually killing you with anxiety.

"Those are your lips, my love." You explain again, even though you've already done it three times, and you receive the same ‘mphm’ sound he made the first three times. 

"Remember? -… remember when I ask you to kiss a paper?"

"I do."

"Well, I gave that to the tattoo artist, and he made it a stencil in red and then I ask him to put it right under my boob...?"

"I see."

Those calm eyes, analyze from every possible angle the tattoo of his lips on your skin, it had never been so difficult for you to read your boyfriend. "Do you like it, do you hate it? Tell me anything, Kento."

Silence and more close observation.

You close your eyes, squeezing your eyelids shut as you take that deep breath of air, you need so much, and you are about to demand an answer when you feel it...

Your eyelids suddenly open looking down and there you find him: Your stoic, boyfriend, the sensible and calm man who is always in control, kneeling in front of you while pressing his lips against your tattoo, the round softness of your boob loses its shape momentarily as the blond pushes his face more firmly against the plump skin. The most unexpected kiss that you have ever shared and for some reason, the most erotic, too.

"K-Ken?"

"Did it hurt?" he asks suddenly from his kneeling position and the threat of you stuttering makes you just shake your head. Nanami steals another kiss against the softness of your breast like he can’t have enough of the sensation. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

You nod, mesmerized by the sudden attention this blond showers you with, his hands caressing your bare back from top to bottom, slow and gentle with the tips of his fingers, it's delicious and it melts away the anxiety you may have been feeling, now, malleable in his hands. You let his face sink further into the curve of the tattoo of his lips and you moan his name as if you want to taste it rolling down your tongue.

"Nanami."

"... Do you still have the lipstick?"

"Huh?" That request brings you out of your reverie a little, and you look at him with some confusion, to which he smiles, that smile that makes you weak in the knees. "Y-Yes, it's in my purse."

"Lend it to me, darling."

With his palm splayed wide open he waits for you to hand over the lipstick. Digging for the cosmetic, he waits patiently until it's resting in his open hand and before you can air your doubts, he stands up, lifting you into his arms to take you with him, those muscular limbs feel like the safest place in the world and you nuzzle your nose into his neck to breathe in his scent combined with his cologne, and it’s intoxicating, so much so that you almost miss his next question.

“I’d like to suggest a few other places where my lips would look just as amazing on your body.”

“Kento!” you startle, it’s adorable to him and closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours, tasting, nibbing and licking as he carries you to his room. “You take suggestions don’t you, sweetie?” 

He chuckles at the flush growing wild on your cheeks, and you feel the softness of the mattress on your back as he sets you down with the care of a saint, before beginning to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Your body shivers in anticipation and his lips curve up into the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen him make, his large hand reaching out one elegant finger towards you and beckoning you with it. 

You’re on your knees in front of him in seconds, his knuckles running down the length of your jaw in a silky caress that has you purring like a kitten, leaning into his touch. That smile only stretches further, as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the greedy grip on his lips, hunting for another kiss. 

Unfortunately, it ends too soon, and your mouth holds that pouty shape that demands another sweet kiss, but instead of his fleshy lips, you feel the creamy slick of lipstick painting your lips.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” Nanami is delighted with how docile you are to him as he finishes painting your lips red, and it’s the sound of his pants zipper coming down that catapults your eyes open, “what would you think of me tattooing your lips right here?”

His finger points along his defined obliques and your mouth waters, this man was sincerely praised by the gods themselves, every muscle in his abdomen defined, those deep lines going down to his crotch giving that ‘v’ shape to his torso, that sinful path of golden hair that disappears under his trousers. It's too much for you.

"I think I need to see what it looks like first and then I can give you an informed answer, Kento."

His broad chest rises and falls violently, sweat runs down his forehead and his cheeks are an explosion of color. This is your masterpiece. Nanami Kento’s fat cock fits with effort in your mouth, but you certainly do your best to get it to touch the back of your throat with every thrust, you can feel him getting close, his thighs tremble under your hands, his forearm covers his eyes, his cheeks are about to explode… he’s too close, and your tongue curling around the tip doesn’t help him resist, you suck him off for over ten minutes and you’re proud of that pleasurable ache in your jaw when he comes shamelessly hard at the back of your throat and your name rips through his esophagus as it echoes through the walls of his apartment. Eventually, his hand stops keeping your head pressed against his pelvis, and with a wet pop, his still semi-erect cock hangs in front of your face, lubed in your saliva.

“You’re right, I think it would look nice.”

You tell him, admiring the lipstick residue that adorns the shape of his cock and balls, a crimson kiss near the base, another at the shiny, cum-dripping tip, another resting on the roundness of his coarse balls, and you love the whole image. You want a fucking mural in your living room with this image.

“Hell no,” the blonde says breathlessly, barely trying to recover from your masterful blowjob, “…no needle is going to touch me down there,” he threatens playfully but serious enough, “if you like the way it looks, you’re going to have to paint it yourself every time.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, red lipstick smeared on your lips as you grin evilly at him. 

“You have yourself a deal, baby."

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

CHOSO KAMO

Choso can't control where the blood goes since, he met you, his cursed technique is out of control. That damn tattoo of his lips on the curve of your under-boob is driving him crazy, he thinks of it and the blood goes down to his crotch. He thinks of you and the blood makes a tent in his pants.

It's a mess that he's had to control with shameful continuous masturbation sessions. Jerking himself off, over and over, with your name as a mantra and the image of his lips tattooed on your breast as his banner.

"Shit, just go away." 

He murmurs with a tight voice, while his fist milks his fat cock in fast and violent motions, his flesh swollen painfully for more than an hour, he doesn't want you to come home from work and find him touching himself, he doesn't want you to find out that he lost control of his cursed technique. He had to lower himself to watching porn, something he had never done before, but it was of no use. So, he put on cream and although it had relieved him on other occasions, this time wasn't working its charm. Fuck! Pleaaaase-... maybe he needs more cream to slide better? No, no matter how much cream he spreads on it never compares even a little to your tight, little pussy. 

And it is the desperation, that he is running out of time that drives him to this miserable act. He takes, that one photo he treasures so much, out of the frame and places it between his fingers, his excitement growing as he looks at it, it is working. He beats his piece of swollen flesh more eagerly, grunting and growling like a dying animal, Fuck! he's close...his eyes close in concentration and his hand increases speed and pressure as his mouth hangs open… almost there, he can feel his balls tensing and tightening, so close, just a few more pumps, a couple more strokes, a little more pressure, almost there… his guts tighten and his brain enraptures in the moment forgetting to mind his surroundings, to enjoy the divine sensation that grows and grows and grows and FUCK!-

Choso Kamo cums, hard and heavy, rope after rope of creamy cum shoots out of the head of his cock like a mockery of how blood usually does when he uses his cursed technique, the pressurized jet of creamy juice spills out and doesn't finish pouring for about a minute straight. Once his balls are an empty, trembling sack, Choso can breathe again, his sweaty and naked torso rises and falls with violence that calms down the more air he sucks, the sweat begins to dry on his skin and his cheeks feel less hot. This was what he needed, the photo helped him a lot, although he can feel how he bathed it in cum, he can fix it quickly, clean every single trail of his sin before you get home-

"C-Choso?"

His hand, which was riding out the last few strokes of pleasure on his ultra-sensitive cock freezes and his eyes snap open to find you staring at the mess he is, just what he wanted to avoid, damn it! -

"B-Baby, I-" he starts to stutter and stops abruptly when his eyes register what he did.

Your cheeks are painted a deep red but that's to be expected, what's not to be expected are the cum globes that slide down your pretty face, down your cheeks, varnishing your eyelashes and part of your eye, messing up your perfect hairdo, staining your work uniform. Choso enraptured himself so much in his own fantasy that he didn't notice when you walked through the door, or when you approached him.

Now, he has no idea how to begin to apologize, the words are stuck in his dry throat. Are you angry? Are you furious with him? Your beautiful eyes only watch him, better said, ogle him: pants pooling at his ankles, shirt bunched up to his neck, his cock limp but slowly filling with blood again between his trembling fingers, the cockhead shiny and pink and still, spewing cum to further mortify him. 

Choso is paralyzed, unable to move and his mouth barely managing to open to spit out any explanation, snaps shut again from the shame that crushes him.

But that shame turns to bewilderment when his eyes catch the subtle movement of your hand gathering a glob of his cum that slides down your cheek, with all the delicacy and grace that define you, and you play with it for a second between your fingers before opening your mouth and dipping the digits between your tongue. Choso's jaw drops to the floor and his breathing hastens again, his cursed technique going out of control once more, summoning blood to that still throbbing and extra-sensitive part.

Your pretty lips curve into a feline grin that makes him feel like your prey, and he swallows hard, clenching his fists to keep his body from shaking, when his eyes meet yours.

“Is this what you do when I go to work, sweetheart?” you ask, licking your lips to collect the cum resting there, “you jerk off while looking at my graduation picture?” a flirtatious giggle escapes you when you specify, “...same picture where your little brother is, too, how dirty.”

Choso is a bundle of nerves, blood just keeps pooling where it shouldn’t, he’s so hard and swollen that your eyes drop there almost automatically.

“I’ll take care of cleaning everything-” 

You interrupt his apology, raising a finger to get his attention so he can see you, as you lift your pencil skirt up to your thighs and slowly settle yourself comfortably on top of his lap, nestling his cock between your warm stockinged thighs. Choso shivers and carefully as if asking for permission, let his large hands slide down those wide, inviting thighs. 

“…How about you start by cleaning me up first?” Your warm hand tangles around his firm erection and he growls low, “Then you get me dirty again,” you slide those fingers up and down on his stiffness in shameless incitement and smile when notice his eyes roll back his skull, “and we repeat it all until dawn.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes, whatever my girl wants-…” the words rush from his mouth, “…just one request,” an eyebrow rises on your face, and he grins, warm and almost, shyly. “May I see the tattoo of my lips again?”

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SUGURU GETO

“Do you… Do you really like it, Suguru?” You ask, lolling your head forward and humming when his fingers slowly travel up and unclasp your bra, the last barrier you have left to cover yourself.  Every little breathy sound you make comes ragged and soiled with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.

“Way too much, baby,” his low voice carefully admits from above you.  “I don’t know why you hid it from me in the first place. Don’t—don’t do that. You don’t have to. EVER.”

Your breathing keeps picking up when he keeps trailing his hands around either side of your now naked torso, running the tips of his fingers down your ribs and slowly tracing the curve of your breast, letting the pads of his fingers memorize the shape of his tattooed lips on your skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Suguru whisper, quite suddenly emboldened by his growing need. The gentle caresses pause at the very top of perked nipple, holding there for a second while he seems to think about it. “Please, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Soon his touch lifts away and he appreciates the sound your hands make, as those little limbs make haste in follow his request, the muffled shuffling of fabric being stripped of your skin somewhere close by and the soft noise it makes dropping to the floor, close to erotic to the first-grade sorcerer. And then suddenly—

“Oh, God—” you breathe, nearly melting into the seat of his school office when large, warm palms meet your skin and slowly start to ride the curve of your neck and collarbone downwards. Dammit, why does it feel so good?  Suguru Geto smirks, like the knowing devil that he is. “Do my hands feel amazing, baby? It’s just two palms, ten fingers-”

 “…. But they’re so strong and raspy and big….” Your mouth babbles unrestrainedly, “touch me more, Geto….”

One palm butterfly out across your breast and you moan, lewdly loud. “If Director Yaga hears, I’m going to be so fired, pretty.”

“S-Sorry…” 

Dipping and squeezing the soft, pillowy flesh of your boobs, Suguru Geto stares down at you, drinking every emotion and expression he can rip out of you. “Ho—fuck, like that.” Your approval is everything to him.

“I know,” Suguru murmurs, his voice ocean-deep and scraping across the shell of your eager ear when he leans closer from his privileged height to press one bended knee to the chair, right in between your thighs. He lets one hand drift down into the space he created and rub circles on the moist mound of flesh there, as his other hand comes up to cradle your chin, urging you to stretch your neck up and long for him. “You look so pretty like this— all naked and horny for me.”

“Someone might come in, lock the door…” you breathe in protest, remembering your shy nature, and he ignores you, slowly dragging his palm down your trembling slit.

“You don't get a tattoo as sensual as that, if you don't want everyone to drool after you,” he says, and you’re helpless to stop the embarrassing way your knees suddenly jerk farther apart when his hand moves to press a fat finger on your clit. “… Showing all the monkeys how sexy you are, and then showing them that you belong ONLY to me.”  

And then he squeeeezes your bundle of nerves, and your hips nearly come off the seat with it.

Nothing else exists besides your boyfriend’s pair of hands now gripping the bottom of the chair, to position your body closer to him. You hear yourself take exactly one shaky breath before his arms suddenly slithered under your knees, hauling you forward. Your lower back dips in at the angle, your pelvis now jutted out and propped up by the edge of the seat.  

Suguru Geto licks his lips as if he as if a banquet were being presented to him and the following is him lowering himself to the floor in front of you, running those deliciously strong palms up the length of your thighs. Your new position encourages you to spread your legs wider for him.

“I think my lips, tattooed here,” his long, cascading loose hair caresses the inner skin of your thighs as he leans down to the lower curve of your tummy and places a soft, warm kiss, “would look great, as well.”

“Y-You think?” 

Your quivering lips exhale at the feeling of his hot, plump lips meeting your feverish skin, and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual you give him, goosebumps spread all you’re your body.  

“I know it,” He promises, opening you up wider, subtly moving himself closer into the gap and letting you cradle his torso with your knees.

“Mine to feast on, mine to pamper,” the special grade sorcerer rumbles quietly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he licks his lips, hungrier. “So, mine to… own.”

“….-Own?”

And then you’re abruptly cut off by your own gasp when a soft, dexterous tongue slowly envelopes your clit. His lips slick between your folds as his rogue tongue flicks out like hot velvet to flutter greedily over your clit, humming low in his throat as he eats you with unreserved gluttony.

“Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven,” he rumbles against your sloppy pussy, “my sweet girl laying with her legs open and letting me eat her after I’m done giving classes—….”  

“Su-Sugu… oh, fuck—” Your words are barely discernible through the pleasure, deformed by the sound of your breaths and gasps. “Do—Do you think someone can h-hear us?”

Suguru smirk is swallow by your folds and his snicker muffled by his need to keep eating you to even let you know that a six eyes user had been spying from the other side of the door since you started. 

“Noones at the school at these hours but us teachers, baby. Don’t worry your pretty head.” 

His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue swirling gentle circles around your swollen clit as he sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt. Both of your hands thrust out without thinking and snatch at his loose raven mane, fingers burying themselves into thick waves of hair. “Oh—f-fuck—”

He makes a rough little growl into your warmth every time you tug on his hair, and you tug every time, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in again, until it becomes a vicious circle where both do that steadily, over and over until you’re sweating, hips arching up and doing everything you can to entice him to hurry the fuck up.

Suguru snickers again at your impatience, instead, he’s unbelievably slow, continuing to lick his hot tongue through your folds as his eager finger fuck you, so utterly patient and steadfast, learning the right notes to drive you crazy.

“You are close, aren’t you, dove?” he flicks that wicked tongue applying more pressure to your abused clit, “something’s beginning to burn in your core, I can see the cursed energy spreading threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis.” Suguru narrated what he felt with his own cursed energy, without a doubt the out-looker seeing the same as he was, just in HD. “It rises through your abdomen like unstoppable wave, seeps down into your knees and wraps around them. Your breathing is getting shallower, the base of your lungs suddenly feels too cramped by the oncoming explosion. I know, baby, just let it happen, don’t hold back. You can squirt on my face. I’m eager for you to baptize me on your fountain of love—”  

“Stop it, Suguru… I’m-I’m not…. I will not….” 

Your resistance is nothing but amusing to him, this is your nemesis. You hate how sensitive you are, how easy your boyfriends read you and undoes you with his mere tongue, you hate that squirting jet that makes your toes curl and your eyes blank, but once it’s over, makes you very aware of the mess you made.

Suguru finally speeds up, and that rock steady display of ferocity makes you want to cry.

“—I-I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his hair turning to iron. “—Oh, fuck, I’m g-gonna cum—I-I—”

A quiet mhmmm sound rumbles low in gentle encouragement, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit to push you over the edge. His fingers curl, press up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, Suguru Geto knows you so well is almost unfair, and bite your lip is all you can do to stifle a sob when your body suddenly erupts in searing burning ecstasy.

Your back arches and you cum in his mouth, wailing his name while he groans raggedly and drags you through it. It’s hot and wet, in equal parts chaos and bliss. You’re still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, mindful of rewarding you with as much love as he can profess in one single, chaste kiss. It’s over way too soon though, and by the time you open your eyes again, you blearily blink them at him. He’s already standing, impeccable and not one strand of raven hair out of place. A swift smirk curving his lips while his stare never strays from your destroyed persona, heaving and sweating and naked in a public place. Fuck! He adores you so much.

“Are you hungry?” He eventually asks looking straight ahead instead of you, the low frequency of his natural voice not masked anymore by his arousal.

You blink up at him twice, still slouched over the seat butt-naked, trying to figure out who is he talking to, all your clothes spread around his desk and the floor when you hear some familiar voice answer from the other side of the door.

“Starving.”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The euphoric sway of his hips meeting yours should be an affront to the natural order, your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, had been maintaining the same rhythm, precision and firmness in each thrust for more than forty minutes. 

You are cockdrunk, you don’t remember your own name, only his. Which comes out of your trembling lips in pieces or unfinished syllables. Your mind is a mess, a rabid mess of hormones and pleasure, but your insides are the most affected, making you endure mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm that shake your frame violently, leaving all your muscles exhausted and sweaty. Breathing ragged, face pressed against the sheets of his bed and your wrists swallowed by his large hands against the firm mattress, while he introduced you again and again to your new deity, his thick cock, which seemed just as hard and ready to continue making a mess of you. 

“…I’m sure you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like that again now, won’t you, princess?”

Although his voice was breathless, it was still firm and solid, not like your pathetic moans.

“I…I thought you’d-…that you’d like it, Kuna-...” That sentence trailed from your half-open lips, between a sigh and a moan as he changed the angle to hit that spot of nerves inside you that made you see stars.

“I know you meant well but it was still unacceptable,” your boyfriend scolds you again, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine as his hands abandons your wrists in order to better hook on either side of your hip. The mere sensation of his thick fingers digging into your soft skin makes you cum again. "Fuck- you squeeze me so good, baby..." he praises, plunging his massive cock deeper into your quivering hole just to draw out more sensations, "-.... shit! If I cum again, are you going to keep it warm for me inside your tummy, princess?"

"Kuna, yes, always..." you moan into the sheets miserably, "don't stay mad at me, please, my love-"

"I loved the tattoo of my lips on your under-boob, don't doubt that" he affirms, firm thrusts clapping his midsection with yours, like giving his stamina a cheer. "But I HATED the fact that some guy had to do it. Don't you know any female tattoo artists, Isn't this the era of women's empowerment?"

You crawl forward and he catches you before you can shift positions. "Kuna, baby... let me ride you, so I can control the speed... I can't cum again-"

"I. Don't. care." He replies, skewering you again on his veiny, thick piece of meat that still feels like stone. "I'll put it in you as fast as I want and as long as I want until you learn your lesson-"

"Which is?"

"You, cocky little thing." He chuckles and emphasizes each word with a thrust. "Nobody. Touches. You. But. ME! Just ME."

“Mine.” Thrust, “Mine~” thrust, thrust, thrust, “MINE.” Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrustthrust—

Sukuna doesn´t hold himself back, even after he comes for the sixth time, he keeps going.

Slipping in and out of you, still rock hard, twisting you uncaringly in all kinds of positions and surfaces that his room provides, just fucking his cum inside you with every unpunished thrust.

You are tired, you are actually exhausted, you are emotional-... and you are drained.

“—I'm yours, just yours... hands off, w-world.... just y-yours~”

His hips stop, finally halting all movement when you give him what he's looking for, he just wants to hear that over and over again from your quivering lips and raspy throat, he just wants you to say it again. Maybe you should tattoo that as well.

Making you come one last glorious and almost painful time. Your naked body is left, used, sweaty and worn but warmly and safely wrapped in his arms. A huge smirk on his lips before he kisses your eyelids, so you open them again and once again you do.

"Now that we got that out of the way, let me see it again..." Sukuna asks, gently squeezing your tattooed boob inside his large palm, letting his eyes scan each patch of skin and how well he marked you with little hints of hickeys and teeth. "...I think we can play twister with every mark I left on your body," he snickers amused, "...but let's start with those lips on your breast."

“Jerk.”

He grins, satisfied. Hugging you harder to plaster your form closer to him, squeezing that sassy grin out of your pretty face.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

[elsafromcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter two

summary: the one where jake realizes the complexity of a supposedly simple plan.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.4K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: i love this chapter. it was so much fun to write jake's first meeting with mc. the game left many unresolved questions and i will try to answer them based on the information we already have and a little imagination.

masterlist

Without any hesitation, he nodded. There was no point in lying now, not after everything they had done to get Hannah back. And, even if it bothered him a little, Barbara had won his trust.

“A penny for your thoughts.” The hacker asked, seeing the confusion in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's a long story.”

“I have time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.

Jake took a deep breath to calm himself. They definitely didn't have time. However, he knew he would need to do his best to make her trust him again.

“Long story short, an old alert from Nym-0s showed results yesterday saying that you bought a plane ticket to Switzerland. Since the airport was close to Duskwood, I thought I'd better investigate.”

“Have you been following me since New York?”

“Not exactly, I bought a nonstop flight from Tokyo to Zurich.”

“Why didn't you tell me who you were when we bumped into each other at the airport?”

He hated the fact that his tone was more hurt than angry. Jake opened his mouth to apologize, then closed it. Looking over her shoulder, he noticed the presence of a hooded figure standing in front of the open door of the chinese restaurant, hunching his shoulders against the pouring rain.

Barbara's cell phone immediately started ringing with a call. Frowning, she reached for the device inside her bag, and Jake didn't need to understand portuguese to know what was written on the screen.

“Unknown number?”

“Yes.” She lifted her head, meeting Jake's eyes.

“Great.” He said ironically, taking the cell phone from her hand and sliding his finger to the left to reject the call. “Come on, I'll explain everything to you on the road.”

“All right.” Barbara answered, allowing Jake to lead the way. “But if you're lying about who you are, I'll break your nose.”

“It's fair.”

The hacker kept walking , and she ran to keep up with him, dodging a puddle of water. Two minutes later, they stopped in front of a gray Mercedes-Benz crowned with a red convertible roof parked behind the Gates Hotel.

“Please tell me it’s not stolen.”

“It's not stolen!” Jake looked at her offended, opening the passenger door.

“Sorry! It's just that in my mind you were poor. Which, when you think about it, doesn't make sense, right? How would you do everything you do without money?”

“You are impossible, Barbara.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I can't be impossible, Jake, I exist.” She replied, rolling her eyes theatrically. “I think you meant that I'm unbelievable.”

“Get in the car straight away.” He ordered, but he was smiling, his eyes filled with something like pleasure.

“I have some questions.” Barbara announced when they stopped at a red light.

“Of course you have.” Jake smiled amusedly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Earlier, at the airport, was our meeting on purpose?”

“Yes. I couldn't risk my position by tracking you via cell phone so I had to be creative.”

“Something tells me you're the type to put trackers in people's favorite coat pockets.” She was surprised when he didn't deny it. “Seriously?” Barbara scoffed, rubbing her hands down her arms.

“That worked, didn't it?” He said, undoing his seat belt. “Here, you must be cold.”

Before Barbara could object, Jake took off the leather jacket he was wearing and handed it towards her.

“Thank you, Jake.” She accepted the offer, her cheeks blushing beautifully as she quickly looked away from the defined muscles that were marked by the white t-shirt.

“You're welcome.” He looked straight ahead again, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand to hide a smile of pure satisfaction.

He looked straight ahead again, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand to hide a smile of pure satisfaction.

“Were you in Tokyo this whole time?” Barbara questioned, placing the jacket over her shoulders.

“Tokyo, New Delhi, Manila... I needed to keep myself busy so I didn't think about you too much.”

“I'm unforgettable, aren't I?”

“Too unforgettable for your own good.” He agreed, replacing his belt and accelerating the car to get them moving again.

She sighed loudly.

“Yeah, I guess that explains why the FBI won't leave me alone.”

“What?”

“You have no idea why I'm here, do you?”

“Considering who I saw at the chinese restaurant, I think I might have an idea.”

“They sent some messages yesterday, inviting me to that same restaurant we talked about last time. The writing was very similar to yours, but it wasn't the same.”

“You knew it wasn't me and you came anyway?”

“We had an agreement, and as a future lawyer, I couldn't let them get away with this so easily.”

“What was your plan?” He waited for an answer, but Barbara just shrugged. “What? Didn't you have one?”

“We brazilians work better under pressure.”

Jake had to stop himself from giving her an irritated look.

“Well, at least this time the FBI is innocent.”

“What do you mean?”

“Old habits never die, right? I figured something was wrong when you didn't go directly to Duskwood, so I accessed the security cameras around the hotel and watched the footage from the past two days.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary, but there was one guy who caught my attention. I think I've seen him before. Anyway, I've run his face through facial recognition software and will have confirmation by the end of the night.” He met her eyes, his expression becoming serious. “Barbara, do you understand how…”

“Stupid to come here alone without knowing what I would face? Yes, the reality is starting to knock. In my defense, I would never imagine that someone from the outside could have access to our conversations.”

“Breaking into the FBI database is complicated, but not impossible. This guy was supposed to be looking for information about me and ended up finding you along the way. I'm sorry for bringing you into this.”

She made a nonchalant gesture, dismissing his apologies.

“You're only here because I was impulsive and played my role as a decoy very well, so I think we can say we're even.”

“I will always be in your debt.” Jake declared softly, weaving through traffic with ease.

The rest of the trip flew by, and the next thing he knew, he was parking near the Aurora's curb.

“What are we doing here?” Barbara looked at him uneasily, her voice sounding louder.

“I need to drop you off somewhere safe before I go back to get my gear from the hotel I'm staying at.”

“A bar is the last place I would think of, I have to admit.”

Jake snorted.

“As much as you approve, we only came here to get Jessica's address.”

“I thought you gathered information on all of us when Hannah was kidnapped.”

“I did, but Jessica moved out a few months after Richy got arrested. And since the FBI is monitoring activity around your friends' digital data, I'm forced to do this the hard way.”

“You mean... Talking?”

“Talking to Phil.”

She stifled a laugh.

“You can wait in the car if you want.”

“I'm not leaving you alone with this guy.” He rolled his eyes, stepping out into the drizzle that was decreasing with each second.

“In that case, why not go to Lilly or Dan?” Barbara commented, carefully slamming the car door. “I'm sure it would be less unpleasant for you.”

“I don't want others to know I'm in town.” Jake said, stopping beside her under the bar's canopy. “Not yet.”

“You're avoiding your sisters, aren't you?”

“It is complicated.”

“I know it's none of my business, but they'd be happy to hear from you. Especially Lilly.”

“Since when have you been Lilly's defender?”

“Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are.” Barbara laughed, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her dress. “How do I look?”

Jake analyzed her from head to toe for a few moments, seeing the way Barbara's hair fell over her arm in messy locks, how her smudged mascara highlighted the beauty of her light brown eyes, and how her dress, almost completely dry, outlined each centimeter of her body.

“Beautiful.”

“I'm serious, Jake!”

“Me too.” He smiled adoringly, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Come on, I don't want to prolong this any longer than necessary.”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LIVE CRASHER kazuha nakamura x reader

warnings ↳ yn and kazuha from shameless, fluff, idol!reader, yn is apart of lesserafim

yn delicately adjusted the frames of her glasses, their sleek contours framing her features as she leaned back against the chair. she was finally doing a live after being begged by fans to do one for weeks.

with a gentle laugh, she scanned through the flood of comments. among them, playful proposals danced across the screen, drawing a mischievous grin to her lips. she couldn't help but tease, her voice laced with playful sarcasm as she quipped, "marry all of you at once? who do you take me for?"

she took off the baseball cap off her head revealing her messy hair which made fans swoon for some odd reason over how attractive she looked. she flipped it backwards and put it back in her head, yn opens her mouth to say something to the chat but is cut off when the door behind her opens.

as yn felt the delicate touch of hands on her shoulders, a familiar warmth enveloped her. without needing to glance back, she sensed the presence of kazuha, a grin spread effortlessly across her face.

with a playful twinkle in her eye, yn turned her attention to the camera, addressing her live audience with a hint of mischief. "Is an obsessed fan lurking behind me?" she teased as kazuha playfully feigned offense.

as kazuha attempted to pinch her in mock retaliation, yn’s laughter bubbled as she moved away from the girls touch.

“what are doing here?” yn asks looking up at the girl who stood above her chair, the silence that followed her question stretched, resulting in a raise of yn’s brow. It was clear to her that kazuha didn't have a solid reason for her sudden appearance.

a knowing smile tugged at the corners of yn’s lips as kazuha finally spoke, her voice trailing off slightly, betraying her true intentions. "just decided to stop by and say hi…"the main reason she actually came is because she was starting to miss her girlfriend, who was busy being a big goof on live.

“okay…” yn responded before motioning to one of the chairs, “come sit.” kazuha complies and grabs the chair and moves it closer to yn’s and sits on it, yn immediately brings an arm to rest on the back of the girls chair out of habit.

kazuha kept her gaze on yn who interacted with the live way more than her, it was like a second nature to the extroverted girl, that’s something she could always both admire and hate yn for, she loves that the girl is so good at entertaining the fans and keeping a good relationship, but sometimes she wishes the girl could hide her charming personality and save it just for her, she laughed quietly as yn started to argue with fans.

yn adjusted the silver chain in her neck as she read the comment, “unnie, is that chain real silver? HUH?!” yn yells offended, “what kind of question is that?!” she adds dramatically.

kazuha laughs even harder, grabbing yn’s attention, "what are you laughing at?" yn’s voice held a playful edge as she leaned her face towards kazuha, holding eye contact with the girl.

kazuha's laughter subsided, but a mischievous twinkle remained in her eyes as she met yn’s gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coyly, her tone laced with a hint of playful evasion, leaning her face closer to yn’s as well, the moment hung between them, charged with unspoken words.

the moment lasts for at least 10 seconds before the both look away from each other like it was nothing, while the comment section goes insane.

the lives goes on for a while and now yn is talking to the fans about food, “you know I haven’t eaten all day.” kazuha adds, yn’s attention snapped towards Kazuha as soon as the words left her lips,"you haven't eaten all day?"

kazuha stretches and shakes her head , a contented sigh escaping her lips, while yn immediately leans forward and picks up the peach drink she had on the side table and shoves it in kazuha’s face, “drink.”

“I’m not hungry.” the girl whines but yn shakes her head, “that’s why I gave you a drink, now drink it.” she says sternly, shaking the bottle before opening it and forcing it in kazuha’s hand.

“we should probably end the live and get some food.” yn says softly, while kazuha can’t help but smile at how easily the girl lost interest in the live for her, “I’m hungry anyways.”

yn ends the live and lets out a sigh, she turns to look at kazuha who drinks the peach juice, “what?”

“come sit.” kazuha can’t help but giggle, she gets up from her chair and sits on yn’s lap, instantly relaxing when yn wraps her arms around her torso, “you’re so cute.”

“what?”

“you’re so obsessed with me, you had to crash my live.”

“shut up.”

the sound of yn’s stomach grumbling made kazuha turn her head back to look at the girl who shrugged “I was serious when I said I was hungry, let’s order something.”

[lovifie]

Chapter 1: Bite 🕸️

Ghost x Spiderwoman!Reader

2667 words

You were the new member of the 141, Laswell's own recommendation. But even Price, who would trust Laswell with his life, had second thoughts about you joining. 

You were a scrawny, half-blind, way too young girl. The last person Price would have picked for the team. 

“Let them show you, John. You need her to hack and collect the intel. She can't take a grown man down, but she's a decent shot.”

So he let you join, most of the time you felt like a child; constantly being told to walk close between two of them or it would be the complete opposite and they would tell you to stay hidden taking advantage of your tiny size. 

Ghost was the one that liked you the least, he already worried about the whole team making it back home safe and they were able to fend for themselves. You? You were like a puppy, walking between their feet almost making them fall all the time, and still, you looked fucking delighted to be in the way. Ghost hated how happy you seemed to be all the time, hated how unaware of the danger you seemed to be, and he hated that he was unable to ignore how much he cared you got back safe.

But there was a thing he hated more than anything. 

Superheroes.

The 141 was one of the few task forces that still existed, in many places arguing that they were no longer needed since now there were superheroes. And the hatred the population already had for the military only got worse. 

Plus, even though Simon never joined the military to get famous, it still rubbed him the wrong way when they would go on a mission, fight for days, lose friends, and only for a random superhero to arrive when everything was almost finished and take all the glory. 

He hated them all their life, and he always wondered why people liked them so much when he was home any of them came to save him, his mom or his brother. He always hoped one would save him, but they never did. 

So both Simon and Ghost hated superheroes.

All of them. 

So when they got the intel that a lab was working on creating new superheroes, he didn't need any more convincing and started getting ready.

The five of you walked along the rows and rows of animals captive inside the lab. Luminescent fish, shielded beetles, poisonous snakes, all the kinds. Ready to be experimented with, just for selfish humans wanting to be heroes. 

“Keep walking, kid” Price mumbled behind you, making you peel your eyes away from the different fish bowls and terrariums. “Alright. Kid, you stay in this room and look around if you can find any document or proof. The four of us will go down the hall, there are some lights on, see if we can find anyone.”

You nod, already used to being left alone, and walk around the office, pushing your glasses up when they slide down your nose as you look down at the desks. Lab records of failed attempts, codified names of patients, data of the genome of the different animals they used, by the look of all of them they have been trying for years. Poor animals.

It is at that point, while you are reading the information of the different animals, that you feel a sharp pain in your lower back, right over your ass check. 

“Fuck!” You mumble, the sound reaching the team's ears through the intercom and making them still in their moves. 

You turn around, expecting to see somebody stabbing you. But you are still alone and when you look at the point the pain came from, you only see a tiny spider. 

“Fucking perfect.” You groan to yourself as you slap the spider off your body, but once again it reaches the rest of the team.

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Price asks, the team still immobile waiting for your explanation. 

“Nothing, sir. Keep going.” You say, not wanting to jeopardise the mission. Part of you gets offended by how they automatically keep going without another care, but the actual logical part of you starts to panic because you just got bitten by a spider from a lab that tries and makes superhumans. 

You frantically try to find some kind of information about said spider in the files on top of the desk, almost crying when you find it and read: “Not poisonous.” 

Shots and screams can be heard from the end of the hall and you know you don't have time to read the whole file. So you snatched it, shoving it under your vest, just in time for the first people to come running out. 

“Kid! Don't engage in combat! I repeat, don't engage!” Price's voice barks in your ear.

“Roger that!” You quickly answer, hiding under the desk and holding your breath as people run around you. One of them stopped right beside you and frantically shoved around the papers just like you were doing a moment ago. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit! It's gone! The spider is gone! The file too! FUCK!” The person next to you screams, only adding to your ongoing anxiety about being bitten. 

“Leave it!” A second voice shouts getting closer. “Leave everything and run! They are activating the system! This shit is about to get blown to bits! Run!” 

The second they are far enough to grab the radio to talk to the team. “Captain! They are blowing up the lab! We need to get out!” 

“Take as much info as you can and run, kid! The door is locked, we are going out the other way, we can see the exit! Meet us at pick up!” The Captain quickly shouted back.

“What?!” You ask back. “You were leaving me here?!” 

You can make out what he says, but you stand up to look around. You need to take something with you, even if it is only to hit them with it. 

There is a laptop on top of the desk, so you grab it along with as many files as you can bring. Sprinting to the door, the workers of the lab already out of the place, way more lucky than you. The halls inside are an absolute maze, and the only thing you have to guide you out are the blood marks of those who got out before you. 

Just when you see the outside, the helo in the distance hovering just half a meter off the floor, you hear the beep beep beeeep of a countdown going off. Only managing to put a foot outside of the door, before the blast wave sends you flying forward, your glasses flying away from you. Clutching the laptop as if it were your own life, especially taking into consideration that your “team” would be more worried about it. 

Your ears ring when you open your eyes again, a buzzing sound in the background coming from the helicopter. Gaz on the open door calling your name, enough to get back on your feet and keep running; the man picks you up from your vest and takes you inside before closing the door. 

You leave the laptop on the floor, files scattering around as well as you sit on the floor, back resting against the wall, hugging your legs as you try to get your breath back. 

Gaz is looking at you worried, Soap is beside you tidying up the files, Ghost flying the helicopter and Price is behind Gaz, staring at you. 

You can't help it back look back at him with anger in your eyes, he was ready to leave you behind if you didn't get out on your own and he didn't even tell you. Suddenly feeling like your biggest ally today was the terrorist who told his colleague. 

The ringing in your eyes slowly fades away, the sound of the helicopter sounding more and more clear. 

“You solid, kid?” Price's voice sounds over the rotating blades. 

“Yeah… not thanks to you, though.” You say, mumbling the last part, pissed about it. Price chooses to ignore it, for the sake of the peace. Only giving you a look of “We'll talk later.”

By the time you reach the base, you are burning up. Every time you close your eyes being harder to open them back up, your whole body feels on fire and you're feeling pain in places you didn't even know you could. 

You should go to the infirmary, but then they would see the spider bite and it would make sense that they would want to leave you behind, or at least that's the reasoning behind your decision to instead go to your room and sleep it off. 

Or at least you would if the pain wasn't keeping you awake, you turn around in bed trying to find a comfy position failing and failing again and again. Still, at some point, it must have knocked you out because the knocking on the door wakes you up. 

The sun is out and the fever seems to be gone, so you stand up, groaning because of the residual pain and walk up to the door, opening it. Coming face to face with Ghost. 

“Morning, soldier” He greets, no kind of emotion in his voice and you can't see his face. “You skipped dinner last night and breakfast this morning, we don't need you any skinnier.”

Just then you take notice of the paper bag on his hand and the water bottle on the other. You try to use the hand that is still holding the doorknob, only to realize that it seems to be stuck to it. You furrow your eyebrow, which doesn't go unnoticed by Ghost; and you point to the table with your other hand. 

“Can you leave it there, please?” You ask, still trying to get your other hand free as you open the door more so he can come in. 

He enters the room, dropping the food on the table and turning to you with crossed arms. “Are you alright?” He asks, still confused with the way you seem to not be able to let go of the door, pulling back with all your body weight.

“Peachy.” You grunt back, your hand finally detaching from the knob and almost sending you to the floor as the door bust open hitting the wall. “A weird cramp, that's all.”

He nods slowly, walking away from the table and closer to the door. “You sure you are fine? You flew quite some meters yesterday… you lost your glasses.” He points to your face

Until he mentions it you haven’t realise because you can see perfectly fine; even better than before when you were wearing them. You furrow your brow, rubbing your eyes as if to get the bad eyesight back by pure force and you look at him, still seeing better than ever. 

“Yeah… they flew yesterday, I'll get new ones.” You say, still confused by it. He nods, telling you about letting Price know so he can give you the money back and starts to walk out of the door, turning back and rubbing his face already dreading what he is about to do. “Oh, and, hey… good job, yesterday.” 

As he talks, he raises his fist for you to bump it. Which only adds to the confusion, he really must feel bad for leaving you behind yesterday. Still, the situation is so awkward it is causing you physical pain, so you bump his fist to get over with it and close the door with your feet when he leaves. 

Once alone in your room, you rub your face with frustration only for your fingertips to get stuck on your forehead. You stay paralyzed for a second, not understanding what is going on and trying to peel your hands away from your face. 

Your skin stings when you try to pull making you whence, understanding that you can't just pull. So you close your eyes, take a deep breath and quickly pull your hands as if you could catch it by surprise. You curse when it obviously doesn't work walking back, knocking the water bottle off the table, surprising yourself when your hands catch the bottle before it even rolls off the table.

Something tells you to look at your phone, and just when you do a message pops up. You focus all your senses on letting go of the bottle and it falls off your hands like normal, making you doubt if you really got stuck before. You look at your phone, using your knuckle to unlock it and tapping in the password to read Ghost's message.

💀: Debriefing in 20’

💀: Shower!

“Rude.” You think, knowing damn well that you stink for coming straight from the mission and spending the night sweating. You type back with your knuckle:

🕷️: rofer thar

“Shit… close enough” You lock the phone and take off your clothes to shower. Once on your underwear, you turn to look into the mirror the spider bite on your hip; only to see that your body is not the same as yesterday's. 

It looks like you gained at least 10 kilos of pure muscle, your biceps popping out, shoulders rounded out by muscle, thicker thighs that you know will not fit on your pants anymore, rounder ass and overall the athletic build of some kind of olympic athlete. 

The only mark on your skin being the bite, even some of your freckles are gone from your skin. The bite, on the other hand, looks terrible. Two little dark purple dots are visible, the surrounding red and angry and little lighting-like red lines go out of it, going up your back and around your hip. 

You take a deep breath and jump into the shower, using the back of your hands to do so, which only makes it trickier. Once washed, you look into your closet taking out the only clothes you believe will fit you. A pair of leggings that sit just a bit too tight and an oversized sweatshirt to cover as much as possible. 

You put on your shoes and walk to the captain's office; to your disgrace, the door is closed and you knock. You hear, as if it was right behind you, a “C’mon in”. But you don't want to risk it getting stuck, so you play dumb and knock again. Ghost opens the door and comes face to face with you again, much closer than in your room and you see his eyebrow furrow 

“Have you gone on a growth sprout in the last 20 minutes?” He asks, confusion clear in his tone. “And are you wearing makeup?”

You realize that the freckles on your face must have banished too, plus the fact that the bags under your eyes seemed to be gone as well last time you checked. 

“No. Must be the shoes.” You answer, walking under his arm inside the room feeling his eyes travel down your body. You sit down next to Gaz, looking at Price as Ghost closes the door and sits down, still looking at you. 

“First thing first.” The captain says clearing his throat. “Great job yesterday, you can work on the laptop whenever you want, kid. And also, good job for the heads-up about the bomb.” 

“You didn't know?” You ask, confused by his words.

He shakes his head. “We were wondering why everyone was running out, we tried to go back to you and the gates were blocked, we were suspicious of it but you confirmed it.”

You nod your head slowly, taking it in.“All set, then, right?” He asks looking at the four others. “If you are still mad you can say it, I don't want my team keeping their thoughts in only for them to explode in the middle of the mission. Is there anything you want to say, kid?”

[moonstruckme]

hi!!! i love all ur marauders works they’re seriously so cute and i love how you write them!! idk if you’ve done this one already and if you have just ignore this lol but could you do remus having a nightmare and reader comforting him? ik you’ve done the reverse but i wanna know what he’s like lmao. i need to see more confer remus i can’t get enough

Thank you lovely <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s already graying outside the window when you wake. Remus has been having some agitated nights lately, and the dim lighting of the bedroom lets you see that this has been another one. 

You’ve probably woken from the cold, all your sheets and blankets kicked mercilessly to the end of the bed. Remus’ face is twisted up tight, his hands twitching like they’re trying to grab for something, and he’s making soft, distressed little sounds that threaten to crack your heart clean in two. You hate to think how long he’s been like this without you waking. 

“Rem,” you start soft, reaching for his hand as you’ve learned to do. Touch his shoulder or any other part of him and he’s likely to wake jolting, your offending hand gripped cruelly by the wrist. Once, before you’d learned your lesson, he’d kicked himself fully out of bed from the start you gave him. You’d sat in the living room with a hot pack on his tailbone, murmuring apologies back and forth until the sun came up. 

You needle your fingers underneath his gently. “Remus, honey, you’re okay. You’re home.” His fingers twitch closer around yours, and you’re careful not to grab him back even though you want to, running the pads of your fingers down the length of his to loosen them. “You’re safe. You’re at home.” His eyes start to move faster behind his lids. “Rem.” 

That last whisper does it. He doesn’t startle, which is always a victory, but Remus still inhales sharply as he wakes. His muscles seize as though they mean to propel him somewhere, then relax shudderingly. 

You entwine your fingers with his, stay quiet. You know he knows you’re here but he won’t look at you just yet, hiding away the most frantic parts of himself before he’ll let himself turn towards you. You don’t love that he does it. You know better than to push him, though. It unnerves him worse when you try to jimmy your way into his thoughts while he’s still raw like this. 

“Sorry,” he says on an exhale. 

“Don’t be.” You start to stroke up his wrist, but Remus pulls his hand from yours, slipping out of bed and walking from the room. 

You tail him. This is part of your routine, too. You think he likes to give you the option of going back to sleep, though you can’t imagine he’d actually feel any better if you did. He’s fooling himself. (It’s okay; you’re a fool for him sometimes, too.) 

Remus isn’t surprised when you wrap your arms around his middle in the kitchen, resting your cheek against his back. He’s already got the kettle going. 

“How are you?” you ask, though you think you have some idea. He’s still trembling gently under your hands. 

“Alright.” He sets one hand over your two clasped around his front. “You should go back to sleep.” 

You almost smile at his predictability. Remus isn’t usually so stiff around you, but even he has admitted he reverts back to a younger, terser self when he’s feeling vulnerable. You could tell him that you’d have been waking up soon anyway, or that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew you’d left him like this, but you go with the truth that you know you’d want to hear. 

“I want to be with you,” you say simply. 

Remus turns in your arms, resting his lips on top of your head. “Thanks, dove.” 

You hum like For what? and step around him as the kettle finishes boiling, grabbing his favorite mug from the cabinet above. Remus lets you take care of him this little bit, but he doesn’t go to sit down in the living room until you’re headed that way too. 

You curl up against him on the couch, your knees tipped over his thighs while his legs bridge the gap between the sofa and the coffee table. He blows the steam off his mug. 

“Do you remember what the dream was about?” 

“Bits and pieces.” Remus’ voice is still a bit raspy with sleep, and you know exactly what he’s thinking when his lips twitch: you’ve told him more than a few times how attractive you find it like this. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about.” 

“Okay,” you say. You’re both speaking softly, like the house itself is still slumbering as morning creeps up on the outside world. After Remus’ nightmare, you imagine he appreciates the peace anyway.

He sighs, looking at you almost sheepishly. “Sorry I’ve been waking you so much lately.” 

“Sorry you’ve been sleeping so horribly lately,” you counter. 

Remus smiles ruefully. “I think it’s all this stuff going on at work. Rude of it to fuck with me even when I’m sleeping, though.” 

You hum, tracing a scar near his elbow with your finger. “I didn’t realize you were so stressed. I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve hardly realized it myself,” he admits. 

You frown, and Remus looks back into his mug, shying from your scrutiny. “Do you think it might help if we relaxed a bit more here?” you ask him. “We could start reading that book together again.” 

His eyes are soft when they meet yours, the color of honey and just as sweet. “That sounds really nice,” he says. 

You smile. It feels good to have a plan. “Hug?” you ask him. 

Remus sets down his tea to make room for you, and you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands spread out on your back, tentative at first and then firmer as you snuggle up to him. 

“I’ll make cheese toasties and soup tonight,” you say softly. Remus sounds almost like he could purr as you start playing with the hair at his nape. He gives your hips a little tug, getting you closer. “And we can read or watch something or do a puzzle, whatever you feel like when you get home. We could talk about the work stuff, if you wanted to.” You say this last part hesitantly, but Remus hums his approval. 

“You’re so good to me, do you know that?” 

You grin. “I do my best.” 

He huffs a laugh, the sound gruff and heart-squeezing. You lapse into a thin silence, each listening to the other breathe but feeling the beginning of the new day pressing at your windows. 

“We have some time before we’d normally start to get ready,” you try. “Want to stay like this for a bit?” 

“Yeah,” Remus sighs, settling his arms around you more securely. “Yeah, good idea.”

[firewasabeast]

prompt: those pictures of buck make me think he's going to be endlessly harassed by Gerrard. I'd like to see something where it builds up until he kinda has a breakdown. maybe at home, with tommy?

It'd been a bad month. Possibly the worst of his life, and that was saying a lot. Twenty-four hour shifts were usually simple for him, but nothing was simple when Gerrard was in charge.

He was two hours into his fourth shift with the new captain when Gerrard found out that Buck was dating a man. Not just any man. A man that Gerrard seemed to particularly despise.

And maybe he should have thought better before blurting out that Tommy was his boyfriend, but he hated Gerrard and a part of him thought it might be fun to play with the man's mind a little.

He was wrong.

Tommy had dropped him off for work after he and Buck had accidentally fallen asleep after a particularly eventful night. Thankfully, Buck kept a change of clothes in his locker, so it really hadn't been much of a problem. He had forgotten his house keys and wallet at Tommy's though, so he was pleasantly surprised to get a visit from him a couple hours later.

Tommy had approached cautiously, but once Eddie informed him that Gerrard left to run an errand, he relaxed and let Buck pull him in for a brief kiss.

Tommy talked to the team for a bit, getting filled in on the endless cleaning they now had to do. How they had to fake bathroom breaks to get a moment to text or make a phone call.

In less than ten minutes, Tommy was heading back out the door. “See you guys soon,” he said, giving them a wave before pointing to Buck and smiling, “and see you tomorrow night.”

Just as Tommy had rounded the corner out the side door, Gerrard was walking in the front. “Was that Kinard?” he asked, disgust evident in his voice.

“Yes, Sir,” Eddie replied.

“Hm. What was he doing here?”

“Had to drop off something,” Chimney answered before Buck could even open his mouth. “Had a delivery meant for here that got sent to Harbor instead.”

“Can't even trust the postal service to do their job right these days,” he grunted out.

The group started back on their cleaning, but Gerrard blocked Buck's way. “Thought I heard you got plans with Kinard tomorrow, Buckley. That right?”

“Y- Yeah, it is. I mean, I do... have plans.”

“Huh. You didn't strike me as the type to hang out with a guy like that.”

“What do you mean?” Buck asked, face scrunched up in confusion. “A guy like what?”

“You know,” Gerrard shrugged. “Soft. Weird. Sissy-like.”

Buck could feel his face heating up. “I'm not sure those are the words I'd use to describe him.”

“You gotta watch yourself around people like him, Buckley. Men like us,” he said, making his hands into fists to flex his muscles, “we've got a reputation to withhold. Show the world real, manly strength still exists.”

Buck wasn't exactly sure what to say. He had known Gerrard was a terrible captain, had heard the stories from Hen, Chim, and Tommy, but this was so far out there he briefly wondered if he'd been transported back to the 1950's.

“I- I'm still not following.”

Gerrard rolled his eyes. “You're not stupid, kid. Kinard is... I'd say it right out, but you can't say anything these days without offending someone.” He nudged his head in Hen's direction.

So Buck said the words for him. “He's gay?”

Looking back at this moment, maybe he should have paid attention when Eddie came up behind Gerrard and motioned for him to cut it out.

Gerrard raised his hands up in surrender. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, I did,” Buck replied with a nod. The rage building inside him made him feel like he was left with no choice but say the next words that fell out of his mouth. “He's also my boyfriend.”

He could see Eddie in his peripheral, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Watched as Gerrard's face turned from pale white to tomato red. A rage coming over him like Buck had never seen on a human before.

And that's what started the shifts from hell.

Gerrard, in those first shifts before knowing Buck's sexuality, had been rough. He was a grumpy, old man who demanded respect and attention that he didn't deserve. But he didn't pick on any specific person. They were all equal targets.

Until they weren't.

It was almost as though Gerrard felt like he'd been betrayed by Buck. Like Buck was supposed to be the one person at the station that was on his side, and finding out this single piece of information destroyed any and all possibility of that happening.

He had an endless string of one liners at his disposal, specifically for Buck, to use at any given time. And he used them every opportunity he got.

Buck could never do anything right. Nothing was ever cleaned properly and the equipment wasn't put away the way it should be. Gerrard didn't hesitate to reprimand him during calls. In fact, that seemed to be what he enjoyed the most. Anytime Buck tried to speak up he'd be brushed off or told his ideas were ridiculous.

When they had to line up at the start of their shifts, there would always be something wrong with Buck's uniform, or his hair, or the way he was standing.

He'd been put on cooking duty too. But it wasn't fun the way it was when Bobby was in charge.

Being on cooking duty with Gerrard was it's own special punishment. He decided all the meals, regardless of what anyone else wanted. He expected a full breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and he wanted them all at very specific times.

It was all food that Buck knew how to cook, but to Gerrard it was never done right.

“Too salty.”

“Too sweet.”

“Why'd you cook the meat so long? It's like leather.”

“Why's the meat still red in the center? You trying to kill me?”

“I hate cilantro.”

“You cook like this for Kinard? Must not be many options left for him.”

That was another problem. Gerrard brought up Tommy every chance he got.

“You kids today are so sensitive. Kinard used to laugh at all my jokes.”

“You keep your home this messy? Huh. Can't believe your boy toy puts up with that. He really has gone soft.”

“Kinard used to be my right hand man. Hate to think of what he's doing with that hand now... You probably know all about that though, don't ya, Buckley?”

*****

Buck had just gotten off a twelve hour shift when he headed home to start dinner. It was six o'clock by the time he entered the loft and Tommy would be over in an hour.

He was still shaky from all the things Gerrard had said to him today. Comments about Tommy, comments about him. Buck had tried to not let his words get to him, but that was proving more and more difficult each day. There were only so many different ways you could hear how worthless you were before you started to believe it.

He took a shower to try and help calm himself down before heading into the kitchen to get started on dinner.

Seared lamb chops, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots were on the menu for tonight. Then a pre-made sweet wine cake for dessert.

Things fell apart pretty quickly.

He was deep in an internal conversation (fight) with Gerrard as he peeled the potatoes, causing him to slice right across his finger. Once he'd cleaned up the blood and gotten a bandaid, he remembered that he hadn't turned the oven on to preheat for the carrots.

While the oven preheated, he got the potatoes boiling and got the carrots laid out on a pan.

Then he started looking around the counter for the lamb chops, which he was supposed to let sit out for twenty minutes before he started to cook them.

He could have sworn he took them out before he got his shower but, lo and behold, there they were in the fridge.

He shoved the carrots into the oven and got started on the lamb. He didn't have enough time to let them sit out now.

By the time Tommy knocked on the door twenty minutes later, Buck felt like a big ball of nervous and panicked energy.

“Come in!” he yelled, not bothering to turn away from the lamb.

“Hey you,” Tommy said casually as he entered the loft. The overall calmness of his voice somehow stressed Buck even more.

“Hey.”

“It smells amazing in here.” Tommy came up behind Buck, set a bottle of something down on the counter, then wrapped his arms around his waist. He pressed a kiss to Buck's neck. “Missed you.”

Usually, Buck wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in Tommy's arms. Tonight, it just felt too hot.

“Yeah, y- you too,” Buck replied, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Either it didn't work, or Tommy could sense how tense he was, because the next words out of his mouth were, “You okay?”

Somehow, Buck managed to turn toward him and fake a smile. “Yeah, I'm good. Just don't want the lamb to burn.”

Tommy gave Buck a peck on the lips before letting him return his attention to the lamb. “I brought wine,” he said, picking up the bottle again.

“Oh, good. You can put it in the fridge, or leave it out on the table if you want, or-” he whipped around, “God, I forgot to set the table!”

“I can set it,” Tommy offered.

“I wanted to have it all done before you got here.” Buck moved toward the drawers that held his good napkins, pulling them out before slamming the drawer shut. The noise caused Tommy to jump a little. Buck headed for the silverware next, tossing each utensil on top of the napkins and once again slamming the drawer. “I don't even have the wine glasses out or anything.”

Before he could pick up the napkins and silverware, Tommy placed his hand over it. “Really, Evan. I've got it. Are you sure you're okay?”

Buck sighed, letting Tommy take control of setting the table. “Yes, I'm okay.”

There was a heavy silence in the air while Tommy got the table ready.

Finally, Buck broke it. “You like your meat medium, right?”

“Yeah, that'd be perfect.”

“Great.”

Tommy paused on his way to get the glasses. That great did not sound very good.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Well, they're already passed medium. They're medium well.”

“That's fine. I'm not really picky.”

Buck huffed. “You just said medium was perfect for you.” The words came out harsher than he intended, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He'd ruined the most important part of the meal already, and the fact Tommy had been so nonchalant since he stepped into the apartment was only making things worse.

“Medium well is perfect too. I really don't care how my meat is cooked, Evan.”

Buck turned off the stove and moved the lamb to a different eye so they would stop cooking. He grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the carrots out of the oven.

The second he saw them, he felt enraged.

“Damn it!” he exclaimed, practically throwing the pan onto the counter. “I forgot to put the glaze on them.”

Tommy eyed him for a second before moving closer. “It's fine, Evan,” he said, placing a hand on Buck's arm. “They look really good.”

Buck shrugged him off. “No. They'd be really good if I put the glaze on them, but I forgot it. Damn it!”

“Babe-”

“Oh my God!” Buck hurried back to the stove and turned off the potatoes. “I overcooked them! They're gonna be too mushy now!” He wasn't sure what it was, but his eyes were now both blurring and burning.

Tommy was trying his best to keep up with each dilemma that was happening. “We're having mashed potatoes, honey, I don't think it matters how mushy they are.”

“Yes, it does, Tommy! God, you don't get it!” He dumped the entire pot of potatoes into the sink, making it the disposal's problem now.

“Okay, that's enough,” Tommy said, his voice soft yet commanding. “Come here.” He came up behind Buck, who had his hands gripped on the countertop and his head hanging low. Tommy placed an arm around Buck's waist and guided him around until he was wrapped in Tommy's arms. He buried his face into Tommy's neck as he started to sob. His whole body shook with the force of his cries, tears pouring out and running down onto Tommy's shirt.

Just something else to add to the list of things Buck had ruined tonight.

Tommy only held him tighter. One arm around his back, keeping Buck steady. The other on his head, rubbing gently against his scalp.

They stood there for a few minutes, until Buck calmed enough to speak. “I'm sorry,” he whimpered out against Tommy's neck.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tommy assured him. He ran his hand up and down Buck's back. “Let's go sit down, okay?”

Tommy led them to the couch, cradling Buck in his arms as soon as they sat down. Buck closed his eyes as he rested against Tommy's chest, letting himself be soothed by the way Tommy's hand ran up and down his back. He provided just enough pressure to relieve the tension in his muscles.

They were quiet for a while. And although he'd calmed down quite a bit, tears still escaped out of his eyes and down his face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried like this.

“It's Gerrard, isn't it?” Tommy asked.

He didn't need Buck to answer. The shaky intake of breath told him all he needed to know.

“This is so stupid,” Buck said, wiping tears from his cheeks. “I- I'm acting like a child.”

Tommy shook his head. “It's not stupid, Evan.” He tugged lightly on Buck until he was sitting up enough for them to look at one another. He brought his hand to Evan's, keeping them intertwined as they talked. “Talk to me. What's going on?”

And that's when the dam broke. Once Buck got started, he couldn't stop. He told Tommy about all the ways he'd been picked on, the comments Gerrard had made, the things he'd said about Tommy. He talked about the way Gerrard spoke of their relationship, and made it seem like Buck was one mistake away from Tommy walking out the door.

Buck told him that even though he knew it wasn't true, it still messed with his head to hear it during every shift, over and over again.

“So he's been harassing you for a while now. Does the rest of the team know about all of this?”

Buck sniffed. “Some of it. Not everything. They couldn't do anything about it anyway. Hen and Chimney have to walk the line right now, because of Mara.”

“And Eddie?”

“He's got his... own stuff going on.”

“Hm.” Tommy wasn't too impressed by that answer, but that was a problem for another time. “You know you could have told me, right? I don't want you to think you have to hide this stuff from me.”

“Didn't want you to h- have to relive it. You already dealt with him, and I felt kinda dumb for it bothering me so much.”

“Evan, it's different. Gerrard didn't do any of that stuff to me. I wasn't out then, and I told you he didn't make me a better person. You shouldn't be having to deal with this every time you go in for a shift. It's not dumb that this bothers you. I don't know anyone that it wouldn't bother.”

“I just... I thought about filing a complaint, ya know? But,” a stray tear fell down his cheek, “I don't think I'd have anyone to back me up,” he admitted. “And even though it's anonymous, he'd know it was me.”

Tommy nodded. He understood how tricky filing complaints could be. It was what started the rift between him and Gerrard. Wheels were already turning in his head on what he could possibly do. He'd need to speak with his own captain, maybe Bobby, definitely Eddie, and possibly get a word in with the chief. But, if something could be done, he would do it to make sure he never had to see Evan this upset ever again.

“We'll figure something out,” he said, determined.

“Yeah. Yeah, o- okay.”

“And Evan,” Tommy scooted even closer to him, gently cupping Evan's face in his hands. He wiped away the remaining wetness from Buck's cheeks, staring deeply into his eyes as he spoke. “You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm not just saying that, I mean it. None of what that man said is true, but even if it was, I wouldn't care. I don't care if every meal you ever cooked was wrong, I don't care if your house wasn't perfectly clean, I don't care about any of it. Only you. Got it?”

Buck nodded, allowing himself to fall forward into Tommy's chest and be cradled by him again. “Yeah,” he replied, closing his eyes as Tommy comforted him. “Yeah, I got it.”

[daceydeath]

I Want to Watch (part 6)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader x Hongjoong (feat. Jongho) Word Count: 3.3K Genre: Pure Filth 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Content

Arguments between the members can lead to very very enjoyable outcomes provided you are up for it of course.

(for Elise @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser please don't hate me 😆)

You were happy to lay in the warmth that Wooyoung had left behind, leaving you to continue dozing as he started getting ready, showering and then going into the kitchen to make you both breakfast. You had heard both Jongho and Hongjoong moving around but you figured since it was a late schedule you would be able to spend some time with Wooyoung before he left for his work day. Stretching you could hear the voices in the kitchen getting slightly louder, Wooyoung seemed to be bickering about something but when you heard Hongjoong’s voice cut through it you knew it was serious.

“You can not be fucking serious Wooyoung. What is wrong with you?” Hongjoong scolded heatedly “This is exactly the behavior that tarnishes companies and destroys groups”.

“It’s not like that hyung, it’s not competitive and nobody is getting hurt. I even made a set of rules that everyone agrees on before things happen” you boyfriend balked, obviously offended by the accusation. “Nothing happens without everyone agreeing”.

“It’s true hyung, I agreed and Wooyoung told me what was and wasn’t ok and nothing went wrong. We are adults. We can recognize that this isn’t a "who gets her” at all”. Jongho replied calmly, trying to explain things clearly.

“Did she agree or did you just spring this on her? Because I swear if she is only doing this for you and not really consenting…” Hongjoong trailed off furious “And what happens if it gets out that one of us has a girlfriend who we all fucking share??? We are going to be seen as filthy perverts”.

“Of course she consents hyung! I love her, I would never force her into anything” Wooyoung snapped back nastily, his voice getting louder. “She has the final say if anything happens or not if she says no we will just continue like it never happened and will never speak of it again”.

Swallowing hard and feeling anxious, you quickly slipped out of Wooyoung’s bed and into the bathroom hoping you could pretend you were showering and not eavesdropping on them all arguing. With the hot water running over your body you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only when Wooyoung knocked on the bathroom door did you realize he must have finished making breakfast.

“Hi baby” he smiled sweetly, his eyes traveling the length of your naked form “I made you breakfast”.

“Thank you Wooyo” you blew him a kiss as you washed the last of the soap bubbles from your body. You got yourself dressed and left the bathroom to find him sitting on the bed waiting for you coffee in hand. “You are too good for me, my love”.

“So we have four nights of filming for this music video. Will you be able to come round after?” he raised his eyebrow slightly as he watched you take a sip.

“Yeah, I can do that” you sighed “but only if Hongjoong isn’t still mad, I don’t want to ruin your career or the others reputations”.

“So you did hear that then” Wooyoung blanched slightly, his face falling “Like Jongho said we are all consenting adults, there are no feelings involved, besides the ones between us, so it shouldn’t matter. Plus the guys don’t think less of you if anything they respect you more”.

“Of course because we all know sleeping around earns women respect Woo” you rolled your eyes hard as he flushed pink. “But just tell me when the shoot is over and I’ll come back around”.

Four nights turned into four and a half nights so when your phone lit up just after midnight you expected to be met with an exhausted sounding boyfriend who just needed you to come round to cuddle after a long schedule not an over excited and smug sounding Wooyoung and an angry sounding Hongjoong in the background.

“Woo? What do you need?” you yawned having been asleep before his summons.

“Can you come round? Actually can we pick you up and take you to the dorm? We’re about 20 minutes away from your place”. Wooyoung’s honeyed voice told you everything you needed to know about what kind of night you were going to have. “Hyung wants to try something new with you”.

“Alright I’ll get ready and meet you out the front of the building” you breath coming out unevenly as scenarios flooded into your mind about what he could be proposing. Hongjoong had seemed so angry at the idea so something must have changed his mind for him to agree to pick you up on the way home. Stripping out of your pajamas you packed a clean pair into your bag and picked out a white set of mesh lingerie to wear underneath your track pants and t-shirt. 

You got downstairs just in time to watch the dark van pull over and the door slide open to reveal Hongjoong looking every part the captain of the demon line and your smirking boyfriend who quickly tugged you into the car and into the seat beside him kissing you desperately, his tongue swirling with yours in a battle for dominance.

“You are alright with this?” Hongjoong smiled slyly watching you with Wooyoung “You can say no at any time and it will be like it never happened”.

“Joongie I want this” You smirked, meeting his eyes and watching them darken in the low light of the car, the more interest he showed the more confidence you felt.

“Good, I won’t go easy on you” his voice seductive and low, his words sending sparks of heat bloom in your core, your arousal already making your underwear damp, Wooyoung soon reclaimed your mouth, his hands squeezing everywhere he could reach.

Entering the apartment you were passed between the boys Hongjoong easily taking control and pressing you against the wall by your throat his lips meeting yours only moments before his tongue invaded your mouth, whimpering you allowed him to do whatever he pleased with you as you vaguely heard Wooyoung grunt throatily as he watched you. Hongjoong’s knee pressed firmly against your crotch making you buck and squirm against his hard thigh for some friction.

“My room” Hongjoong ordered quietly, making you tremble in his grasp. Wooyoung grabbed your wrist just about dragging you down the hallway to the oldest room while Hongjoong followed his hands never leaving your body. 

“Have you ever had a safeword?” Hongjoong’s silky voice washed over you as you entered his room, his hands moving to massage your hips keeping you grounded in the moment.

“No, never” you breathed softly, your voice slightly uneven at idea.

“If you want me to stop, say red and if you are fine with what I’m doing, say green” He smiled pressing his lips to the shell of your ear while you nodded eagerly. Wooyoung was already palming himself through his jeans as he watched the older man turn you around and kiss you again this time winding his hand into your hair and tugging it hard enough to tilt your head back so he could continue his ministrations down your neck. Whimpering quietly you could feel the graze of his blunt fingernails against your scalp every time you moved.

“Be a good girl baby and let hyung play” Wooyoung cooed, his eyes already glazed with lust.

“Yes, be a good girl for me” Hongjoong teased, repeating your boyfriend’s instructions as his hand wandered down to find the bare skin of your waist. “Strip”. Following his instructions you shimmied out of your pants and pulled your hoodie over your head leaving you in just the lingerie you had picked out only half an hour before

“Such a beautiful little thing you are” Hongjoong murmured against the skin of your throat making you shiver “You will look so fucking good tied up”.

“Please Joonie” you whimpered, eyes wide as Wooyoung groaned softly from Hongjoong’s chair, his hooded eyes darkening by the second.

“Not yet” he smirked, hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples in slow circles making you sigh softly “first your slutty desperate boyfriend is going to eat your pussy until you can't take it anymore”. Pulling away from you he moved to haul Wooyoung to his feet roughly shoving him in your direction busying himself by going to the wardrobe to pull out a large black box and putting on the bed beside you. Several different cords emerged from it along with vibrators, a riding crop, a blindfold and cuffs Hongjoong’s fingers tracing over each one as he considered his plans for you.

“Don’t just stand there” Hongjoong chuckled darkly looking at Wooyoung’s flushed face “take care of your girl”.

You stepped towards your boyfriend capturing his lips in a soft kiss which he easily deepened his tongue pushing between your lips to move with yours. Pulling you against him he stiffly began moving, his hands trailing down your sides and eventually grasping your hips to push you back towards the bed.

“You are so fucking into watching us use your precious lover but cant deal with one of us watching you?” Hongjoong’s cruel laugh cut through the silence of the room. Wooyoung stopped kissing you, his eyes narrowing in annoyance momentarily before picking you up and sitting on the bed forcing you to straddle his legs.

“If you want a show hyung you can have one” he smiled challengingly, easily unclipping your bra and throwing it towards Hongjoong’s feet. Wooyoung ran his hands over your skin one hand gripping the curve of your arse and the other holding your waist dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth sucking and biting it gently before switching sides teasing you until you were breathily whimpering clutching his hair in your fingers. His hands encouraged you to grid on his length the rough fabric of your jeans pushing your lacy underwear to graze against your folds creating just enough friction to get you desperately whining.

“Such a needy little one” Hongjoong cooed.

“Lay back baby, let me taste how sweet you are” Wooyoung groaned, his confidence coming back from how easily you responded to him scrambling onto the sheets and slipping your underwear down your legs. Wooyoung grinned as you slowly spread your legs for him letting you take hold of your ankles and tug you down the bed to where he wanted you before over dramatically lick a long slow stripe through your drenched folds your head fell back against the mattress your breathy sounds making Wooyoung groan into your slick flesh.

“I think we should start small” Hongjoong hummed his eyes meeting yours letting you whine under Wooyoung's talented tongue Hongjoong slowly began wrapping the soft thin cord around one of your wrists making sure that it wasn't too tight or likely to slip if you pulled on it he then passed the length of it through one of the many spaces in his bed head and laid the rest of it beside you. Your brain could only half focus as your boyfriend pushed a third finger into you, the lewd squelch of your slick folds filling the room.

"How can you look so fucked out when we haven't even started yet?" Hongjoong leaned down his breath ghosting across your ear "I can't wait to see you after I've actually fucked you".

"Fuck" you whimpered your walls tightening around Wooyoung's digits as even more of your wetness leaked out of your stretched hole. Wooyoung instantly stopped lapping at your clit and stilled his fingers watching you carefully.

"She's so close, hyung want me to stop?" he asked, your essence smeared all over his lips and chin. Hongjoong nodded, gesturing for your boyfriend to stand and help him move you to the middle of the bed before he started tying the cord around your other wrist and then looping it around your other wrist so they were locked together above your head.

"Now remember green means I can continue and red means I stop, alright?" Hongjoong purred in your ear before claiming your lips, his teeth biting into your lip much harder this time making you squeak in surprise. "I want you to roll over now and show me your pretty little arse". You did as you were told able to pull your elbows under yourself to prop yourself up nerves and excitement both thundering through your body waiting for Hongjoong to act you felt the bed shift as he traced his fingers teasingly up your thigh until he met your hip before dipping between your folds to push just the tips of two of his fingers inside you making you arch your arse even further into the air as his thumb teased you sticky slit.

"Aw look at you my slutty little baby already so eager for hyung to fuck you" Wooyoung breathed heavily his pants already off leaning him in just his boxers his cock straining against the fabric.

"Want him so much Woo" you whimpered, pushing yourself back against his fingers to try to get them to slide further into you.

"Tsk don't misbehave or I'll have to punish you" Hongjoong warned the smirk on his face clear as day in his voice. You could help the tremble that ran across your skin making Hongjoong hum, slowly removing his fingers again his hand rubbed a few light circles on your left cheek before a loud smacking it down hard on your soft skin making it jiggle under his palm. You inhaled sharply your eyes wide as he repeated it, his hand stinging more the second time before he soothed it again. "Color?"

"Green" you gasped softly feeling another wave of arousal drip out of you unsure how much more turned on you could get without crying and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

"So hot" Wooyoung mumbled as Hongjoong slapped your pink stained skin again, a satisfied grumble leaving his throat as you moaned loudly.

"Such a good little thing" Hongjoong praised his hand massaging the now red skin "Wooyoung, invite Jongho in don't want him missing out on seeing what he can hear".

"Really, fuck, yeah sure" Wooyoung seemed to choke on his tongue as his eyes widened rushing out of the room to bang on Jongho's door urgently, you couldn't hear what was said or whether Jongho was even in there your ears too tuned in to the sound of a lid clicking open and cold liquid hitting your puckered arsehole.

"I'm going to fuck this juicy little pussy until you scream then I'm going to fuck your arse until you can't remember anything but my cock" Hongjoong whispered linging his tip up with your entrance and pushing in slowly. Your jaw dropped in a silent moan as he filled you every vein on his dick rubbing perfectly against your velvet walls.

"Holy shit" Jongho groaned stopping just inside the doorway of the bedroom his face flushing instantly as he watched his captain slowly fucking into you you hands tied below you.

"Move" Wooyoung grunted pushing past Jongho to return the desk chair he was watching you from "Grab a chair or get out already".

"Focus on me only on how good I'm fucking you" Hongjoong demanded his voice low as his index finger started circling the tight ring of muscle pushing and probing gently as he worked you open slowly his hips snapping hard against you as he thrust his length as far deep as you could take him.

"Yes, yes only you Joongie" you sighed the pleasure in your core slowly building as he continued to hit your g spot with each movement.

"You're really going to let hyung take her like that?" Jongho moaned, his sweats pulled down his hand already pumping his cock. Wooyoung just grunted the sound almost guttural as he pulled his cock back out of his boxers. You couldn't help the whine that left your lips the sound so needy and pathetic that once again your boyfriend groaned the sound broken in his throat by the speed of his hand.

Pushing a second finger into you Hongjoong carefully scissored his fingers to help with the stretch you were still relaxed since his cock was continuing to brush against your favorite spot that made you see fireworks but when he pushed the third finger in you tensed making him snap his hips faster forcing his tip to kiss your cervix with each movement which in turn made your head spin. Your pleasure from your core spreading and burning in your veins until your walls began tightening around him.

"Be a good girl and cum on my dick" Hongjoong ordered his voice firm, his cock continuing to pump into you deeply "Now". You almost screamed as your walls pulsed around him, your back going rigid and your legs shaking so hard you thought you were going to fall but Hongjoong kept you in place thrusting shallowly into you to prolong your high. "Such a good girl for this first part".

Pulling his fingers and his still hard cock from you Hongjoong let you collapse onto the bed breathing hard as he urged you to roll onto your side leaving you facing your boyfriend and Jongho. Hongjoong gently lifted your leg leaving your glistening and swollen pussy on full display before he filled your still quivering cunt with a vibrator which made you arch your back and cry out incoherently overstimulation making your walls pulse around the toy. Not letting you adjust he slowly pushed himself into your tight ring, the stretch from his thickness and feeling of overwhelming fullness bringing tears to your waterline.

“Color?” Hongjoong breathed hesitating before sinking himself completely inside you.

“Fuck. HongJoong. Green” you slurred feeling lightheaded as your overstimulation began to once again turn into the slow burning of pleasure.

“So fucking tight” Hongjoong cursed sinking himself in completely before pulling almost all the way out and snapping his hips back into you. Your high pitched keen filled the room as your whole body jostled with every thrust of his hips. You could hear Jongho’s heavy breathing followed by the short broken whines that your boyfriend always made as he got closer to his release. 

“Jongho get over here” Hongjoong hoarsely demanded pointing to the spot in front of you “Stick your cock in her mouth to keep her quiet”. Jongho froze, turning his gaze to Wooyoung who had tipped his head back with pleasure and didn’t even seem to register his hyung’s voice then to you. You opened your mouth letting your tongue loll out giving him all the permission he needed to kneel in front of you on the bed and begin rubbing his heavy member on your tongue slowly fucking into your throat while you gasped.

“I’m gonna… Shit” Wooyoung yelped urgently, his voice trembling as he tried to control himself. 

“Better get over here to paint your pretty girlfriend” Hongjoong rasped his hips snapped harder chasing his own need as you began almost vibrating around him your muscles taught as your own orgasm neared between Hongjoong and the vibrator in your cunt you could stop the tight coil from snapping suddenly a long muffled moan erupting from your throat around Jongho’s cock making a broken mewl fall from his lips as thick ropes of cum shot into your throat gagging you swallowed everything you could as your vision went white you eyes rolling back. Hongjoong deep depraved hiss all you could focus on as his hips stuttered and you felt his hot seed fill you and your boyfriends splatter your breasts.

“Fuck” Jongho panted swallowing hard “That was unexpected”.

“That was intense” Wooyoung sighed, his breath coming out in deep gasps “Fuck I love you baby”.

“You did so wonderful for me” Hongjoong whispered to you slowly removing the vibrator and himself from your fucked out body. You blinked at him slowly, too shattered to speak, the corners of your lips turning up. “Let me get you something to clean you up with and take care of you huh?”.

a/n: Thank you for reading lovelies I adore you all and I am so grateful for your likes, reblogs, comments and support you are amazing and I love you endlessly xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @taz-97 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @everythingboutkpop @tunafishyfishylike

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@skersey33 @jintastic-yuyu @hwxbibi @onmykneesforateez @skittyneos

[un-lawliet]

“Fit For an Archon”

— in which the Hydro Archon is fascinated by you

a/n- happy pride month to all my wlw, i wrote this for us <3 im sorry for how long it is (gasp)

word count (7.1k)

You are the worst seamstress in Fontaine.

You’re sure of it.

Your hands seem to repel fabric, your needle poisoning the thread in which you clumsily stitch with and leaving you with a truly horrendous looking frock.

Chiori, bless her soul, had hired you as a a request from your Father, who, in Chiori’s defence, was a fantastic tailor, renowned for his intricate stitching and detailed attires- Truly a renaissance for Fontaine fashion.

And so when he left Chioris business, set to start his own amiss the bustling harbours of Liyue, you found yourself tucked away, working in his place for Chiori, who was currently frowning pensivly down at your work, as if it had personally offended her.

“…It’s bad isn’t it?” You state, looking intensely at your boss who chewed on her painted bottom lip, head cocked, wondering how in Tevat you were your Fathers daughter.

“It’s not…Awful” She tries, although not very well, her gaze fixed on the uneven stitching and the deplorable match of colour.

“Better than last time?” You question, a terrible sense of hope clouding your voice, hopeful that maybe, just maybe you were improving-

“No, no, definitely worse.” Chiori mutters, and your face falls.

She sticks a hand out and touches the skirt you had presented her with, lifting it up.

The seams fall and the skirt halves in her grasp, and you cringe silently, eyes closing in embarrassment.

“Hm.” She ponders, turning to stare at you from over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s…Meant to do that?” You try, shoulders raising in contention, only to be silenced again at the shake of her head.

“Take a break Y/N.” Chiori says, tired under attempts to support your terrible creations.

You don’t argue with her, immediately fleeing the boutique as if you were being hunted down by the God King Remus himself.

The bell on the door dings as you exit, waving goodbye to your co-workers who scoff at your exit, whispering words under their breath that you chose not to render.

You just needed to stick this job out until you had enough income to quit.

But- with the state of your designs and the even worse execution of said designs, you doubt you’d ever make enough to follow through with your intentions.

And really…You barely make ends meet as it is.

Oh God.

You kick a stone and watch as it skims across the tarmac, bouncing up and down until skidding to a stop metres before you.

You hate being a seamstress.

Making it to the manufactured river, you slump down, lazily throwing your legs off of the sides, your boots delicately touching the water surface below.

The same way they always did when Chiori sends you away.

How ridiculously boring.

Fontaine’s a-lot quieter in the evening, most people finding themselves at the Opera Epiclese to watch a spectacle, faces tinged red with excitement.

You prefer it when it’s quiet, when the streets are empty. It means you can lie backwards on the hard ground without too much judgement from your fellow citizens.

Your legs still bent down towards the water, with your back on the concrete dock, you allow yourself a breath.

You hear footsteps somewhere off to your right but pay them no mind. After all, passing judgement is only ever passing, and you’re sure whoever it is will waltz past you, giving you a confused once over before immediately forgetting your face.

You stretch one of your legs and break the surface of the river, feeling the tip of your boot soak up the water briefly, before you’re lifting it back out, shaking it gently to dry it off.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you sign with the frustration of interrupted serenity.

Can you truly not have anything?

Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you turn your face the perpetrator, eyebrows drawn down to a frown.

You were gonna stare them out until they left you to mope at this stupid river, politeness be dammed!

.

.

.

It’s Focalors behind you.

Lady Furina.

Every retort resting on your tongue is swallowed up, getting stuck in the back of your throat and you choke on your words, chest heaving in shock.

The Hydro Archon stares down at you, watching your struggle, her arms crossed over her chest and a smug smile on her lips.

Her hair sways in the breeze, tickling her leg and she seems to be quite fascinated in the dress encasing your figure.

A long ruffly mess of colour and mesh with a corset that one would barely call fitting, you look like a run away mannequin, pathetically thrown together before your God.

“Lady Furina.” You wheeze, propelling yourself to your feet, dropping into a bow, your skirt following comically behind.

Why is she here? Is she not fond of the Opera house? Archons people wait half their lives to meet her and here you are face to face with God through pure circumstance.

She waves a gloved hand in your direction, dismissing your bow entirely, eyes still drawn to the fabric of your gown.

“Your..attire is quite interesting.” She states bluntly, walking two steps to the left to capture your dress from all angles.

Your face flushes, “Thank you Lady Furina, it’s an honour to be complimented by-”

“Were you supposed to be in the opera?” She cuts you off, turning her body in the general direction of the Epiclese.

“What?” You answer before finding your manners, “I mean n-no it’s my….” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “I’m a seamstress.”

Lady Furina pauses, her head lifting you look at your face, studying it with such precision that you feel yourself bite back the desire to look away.

“..A seamstress?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh.”

The pair of you look at each other for a moment before she throws her head back and laughs. It echoes around the empty streets of Fontaine and reverberates right into your ears.

“I suspected as much!” She guffaws, clapping her hands together.

You cock your head, confused, “No you didn’t?” You reply, unable to stop the offence in your voice.

Sure you weren’t good at your job but you liked this dress! And you were definitely not apart of any play!

Lady Furina’s laugh trails off and she stares at you, her lip between her teeth, holding back a grin.

“Tell me!” She begins again, and you shudder at the volume of her voice. “Why is it that you look so sad?”

“Huh?” You question, eyes widening in confusion.

Furina smiles, it brightens her face, before pointing at you then back to herself, “As your Archon it is my duty to right the wrongs of Fontaine, and you appeared so gloomy that I had no choice but to journey off my path to check up on you!”

Shame forces its way through your body and you shake your head, holding out your sweaty palms to face her, “Lady Furina you do not need to trouble yourself with my issues, trust me.” And you shiver against her unblinking gaze, “Please, continue on your way..” You awkwardly laugh, gesturing to the street, dying inside.

Furina blinks at you, “You don’t want to share problems for me?”

You take a step back, bashfully shaking your head, “I mean no offence…”

It’s awkward.

Furina tilts her head, studying you, confused.

She is far too use to Fontainians requesting her opinions on trivial matters so much so that the blatant avoidance from you is baffling.

You scratch the back of your hand in the silence.

Lady Furina watches you, dissecting you with her eyes, trying to go over every woe that past Fontainians had brought to her omnipresent ears.

You chuckle, trying to force her gaze off of you before you melt and join the water behind you.

“You’re not watching the play?” You say, gesturing in the general direction of the Epiclese, pleading silently for her to stop looking at you like that.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes, “I’ve seen it before, it gets quite tiresome seeing the same thing over and over again.”

Oh

“Oh”

Lady Furina grins, her opposing eyes still gracing your face as if you were so easy to figure out.

“Do you…Hate your job?”

You gawk at her.

She smirks.

Jack pot.

“I’m right aren’t I? You can save your praise, I know I’m truly otherworldly when it comes to intuition.” She fans her hand up and down at you, throwing her pretty head back dramatically.

“Must be a gift from Celestia then.” You conclude, turning away from her and sitting back down at your river side.

You’re slightly peeved at her reaction and would rather not disrespect an Archon so early in your life, so you do not face her with your glare.

“Come now.” Lady Furina says, strolling over to you, “I only joke.”

The Hydro Archon was now sitting beside you, kicking her feet in the water.

This truly cannot be real.

You sigh.

Well, if she’s asking, you may as well answer.

What’s another sinner to an Archon anyway.

“Do you ever feel trapped by the wishes of another?” You ask, defeat clouding your senses as you speak.

Lady Furina stills, but you do not notice.

“My Father, asked me to keep on his legacy in Fontaine, he’s a brilliant tailor, I mean, it’s like he was born to be one…”

You trail off, and splash your foot into the water, “And I just- I’m terrible at being a seamstress, I can’t even pretend to enjoy it because I am so utterly rubbish at it.”

She’s watching you, you can feel it. It’s as intense as your emotions, you almost shy away.

“Sorry.” You mutter, “I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s not like you have to struggle with these “mortal issues.”

You laugh bitterly in the silence of your confession.

Lady Furina’s hand slightly brushes yours and you wonder if she notices.

The pair of you sit quietly for a moment, your face growing warmer in the seconds.

You’re about to apologise again, your words on the tip of your tongue before she speaks, ripping the pages from your mouth.

“I always find it fascinating to hear how Mortals think.”

“Hm?”

“How they can voice their feelings so freely, it has always struck me.” Her voice is a lot quieter, you almost mistake her for someone else.

You glance, taking in the side of Lady Furina’s face, her soft features seem burdened, you hope silently that you were not the cause of her worries.

“An Archon admiring her subjects…” You say, slicing through the quiet, “That’s quite comforting actually.”

Lady Furina tilts her head, narrowing her dainty eyebrows quizzingly, “Pardon?”

You smile, and hope it reaches both your eyes and hers. “You care. It’s kind.”

She’s watching you again, her chest rising and falling in tandem to the gentle swish of the water.

You place an arm on your knee and rest you head in your palm, feeling bold.

“It must be lonely being a God.”

And her eyes grow wide, for a split second, before she’s blinking and resuming her facade of impassive control.

“What ever do you mean?”

“There’s no higher being to think about you.” You reply, introspection fluctuating in your words before it slaps you back into reality with a cold hand.

“Uh- Pardon me, I don’t mean to call you lonely I just-”

“It’s quite alright.” Lady Furina says, straightening up, her hair brushing your shoulder and her hand moving from yours. “You did not mean any harm.”

She moves to stand, and you watch, perplexed.

“You have the freedom to quit.” She says simply, “There is no higher deity forcing you to stay.” And she smiles, “All will be ok.”

She leaves as fast as she had arrived and you’re left alone to think.

Strange you think.

You hope you didn’t offend her.

—

When it’s not raining, the sun has a habit of overstaying her welcome.

It’s absolutely roasting in Fontaine, and so when Chiori asked if you would stay behind to finish your garment after work hours, you jumped at the opportunity to relish in the cool breeze of the back rooms.

Besides, you feel less embarrassed working by yourself, with nobody around to mock your gowns.

You flinch as you pierce the skin of your finger, watching as a maroon red slides into your palm.

You wipe it on your dress, it clashes with the colour.

“Do you always make a habit of wearing the most..peculiar garments?”

You jump, dropping your needle onto the sickly pink fabric, you wince as it falls, sure to be lost forever.

“L-Lady Furina?” You gasp, turning your body towards her, your dress swishing in your movement as you try pathetically bow your head in her exuberant presence.

“Yes “tis I.” She replies, her arms opening dramatically but her eyes stay focused on your choice of apparel. “Honestly.” She muses, “It’s no wonder they keep you back here…”

Lady Furina glances around your cluttered work room, taking in the flurry of vibrant coloured ribbons dripping out from their boxes, half finished corsets falling apart at their seams and the tatttered fabric unevenly pinned to a mannequin standing just inches away from her.

You step in-front of her, your eyes wide as you try conceal her vision of your failures, a sheepish grimace on your face.

“Um, we’re closed today, it’s only me in- uh how did you get inside-”

“I am the hydro archon.” Furina’s voice booms out, the exaggerated drawl making you cower away from her slightly, “I merely walked in.”

“I thought I had locked the door?” You questioned, taking a step back from her.

“A locked door is no enemy of mine!” She laughs, regarding you with a look oozing with pride, her chest puffed out and head raised.

“Right..” You mumble, picking at the skin on your fingers, nervously swaying back and fourth.

Your fingers are adorned with pricks from your needle, they would bleed should you continue your childish picking, yet you persist, unable to stop your absentminded jittering.

Lady Furina watches your movement, satisfaction appearing to glow in her eyes.

“Now!” She exclaims, wondering over to the only empty surface in the room, an old blue chair, faded with age.

“I need a new ribbon for my hat.” The chair creaks when Furina sits, crossing her legs and staring at you expectantly.

You think the chair isn’t even worthy enough for you to sit on, let alone the God Of Justice.

“I can..Write an order down for a ribbon for when Chiori returns?” Your voice trails off, thwarted by the dull look she regards you with at your suggestion.

“No, no, no!” Furina shakes her head, her actions reminding you of a child, “I want you to make it!”

“I beg you pardon?” Your eyes widen, and you glance around, taking in all your terrible, terrible works of fashion.

“Me?” You breathe, “Lady Furina, if I may- I clearly lack the talent to create anything, let alone something in which an archon should wear.” You hands shake slightly as she stares at you, willing yourself not to blink or look away in her ever present intensity. “You know this.”

“But I demanded it?” She cocks her head, reaching up to take her hat off, outstretching her arms to look at it intently.

Her hair falls down, it cascades down her shoulders like water and you hold yourself back from counting the waves between each strand, instead choosing to look away.

Ribbons are simple, you remind yourself.

You’re not entirely deficient in the art of fashion, you’re just…Well- you’re just you.

“So?” Furina says, her voices drags you from the inner monologue whispering in your ear, she pushes the hat in your direction, twirling it so you can view its simplicity from every angle.

Your clasp your hands together, head tilted like a dog.

“I’m thinking.. here.” Her finger rests on in the space between the crown and the brim, “A blue ribbon thats doesn’t blend in with the rest of the hat but adversely will not stand out…”

You nod, it’s curt, Furina smiles, it stretches her face and she all but glows, cheeks flushed.

“You’ll do it then?”

You scratch your arm, and sigh.

“It will look horrid.”

“It will look like it was made by you.” She replies, sweetly, her voice like the silk in which she adorned, you take a second to truly feel the implications behind her words and suddenly feel yourself become quite bashful.

Your heart ticks within your chest and like clockwork you reach your hands out for her hat, avoiding her gaze.

“A blue that doesn’t blend in but also doesn’t stand out?” Your voice is whispered, trying to act assertive but failing all the same.

“Indeed, a ribbon fit for an archon!” Furina appears to get louder the more she reminds you of her status, you cringe at her volume but turn so she does not see.

“I’ll try my best.” You hum, glancing at the box you pathetically labelled “Ribbons”.

You reach out and touch the cardboard confines, pulling it towards you and shuffling some fabric under your finger tips.

Red, yellow, green…the most hideous shade of pink ever- Dear God did you supply this?

Furina sits, twirling a strand of her hair as she watches you, taking in the chaos of your dress and your work space respectfully.

You really had such a unique flare to you.

Your dress was terribly put together, fabric seemingly falling off the skirt, which, in Furina’s opinion, was much too puffy for an average day at work.

When she leaned closer, she could see how the seams were pathetically stitched together, a bundled mess of experimentation that clearly did not work, the sheer fact she could see the stitching was enough of a sign to tell her that you had made this dress yourself.

Furina raises a hand to cover her the genuine smile that ripped across her features.

You truly were fascinating to observe.

“You chose to stay here then?”

You look back at her, a small frown on your face.

“Yea.” You say simply, “It’s just easier.”

She scoffs.

“What?” You reply, indignantly, “I’m still getting paid.”

“You’re staying for the money?”

“I’m staying to save up the money.” You retort, “As soon as I have enough I am gone, you’ll see.”

Furina laughs, you can help but feel melodic, almost sad.

You don’t know what else to do, so you smile, watching as Furina breaks eye contact immediately, coughing into her glove.

“I hope I do.” You hear her say, and you try to ignore the giddy sensation that seems to course through your veins and into your heart.

—

“Lady Furina what an i-interesting bow.”

“I know, I know! Isn’t it just fabulous.”

“It’s um rather…big?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“N-no! I was merely voicing that-”

“If there is no issue then I must bid you farewell. I have a meeting with a most important diplomat, I assume you have already placed the pastries?”

“Yes Lady Furina…”

“Good.”

—

On days when you aren’t in the boutique, you write to your Father.

You write pages upon pages of frustrated scribbles, voicing your resentment of his craft and the comparison to your own, writing furiously about how much you wish to be freed from your job and allowed to travel with him to nations far and wide.

In the end you send none of it, opting instead to write false truths about how honoured you are to work in the darkest parts of his shadow, and how gracious you are for his talents.

You lick the envelope seal and pop it thru the post office window, smiling softly at the old lady behind the glass.

It’s raining in Fontaine today, dark clouds pulsing in the sky, above you, soaking the fabric of your skirt.

It always seems to rain after a trial.

You shake your head. Damn, you should have brought an umbrella.

When you pass by a group of children you hear their yells, pitiful pleads of; “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon don’t cry!”

And you smile and whisper it under your breath as you look to the sky.

Your thoughts circle back to Furina, you hadn’t seen her as much, especially not with the growing fears of the flood of Fontaine.

You wonder if it’s true, wonder how she’ll solve it.

You have faith in her, you think.

There’s no way you’ll drown before you can leave to travel.

There’s no way Fontaine’s Archon would let you all perish under the power of Hydro when she herself is the embodiment of the element.

You have faith.

—

There’s nothing you truly dread more than presentations to the Archon and her people.

And there’s nothing you hate more than how Champvallon, who was standing in for Chiori due to her endeavours in Inazuma, was currently mumbling under his breath at your choice of dress.

You had been running late, quite literally, the ends of your dress stained with dirt, dying the pale blue fabric brown and green.

“You’ll have to stand in the back girl.” He grumbled, his moustache dipping slightly into his mouth, pushing your shoulders and making you move behind your fellow seamstresses, grey eyes pinched into slits as he chastised you.

You heard one of your coworkers giggle from behind her hand, whispering to another about your ill fashioned garments matching your deplorable creations of fashion.

You bit your tongue and glanced at the wooden floor beneath you.

She isn’t wrong, you think, thank Celestia that your tailoring would never see the light of day.

Lady Furina and her entourage enter the room moments later, you think Furina appears to glow and wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, or if this is some strange phenomenon one achieves when becoming an archon.

You shake your head and join your party’s collective bow.

You and Furina had grown closer, although, the margin of closeness was confined between her passing by the boutique window and waving in when she saw you, smiling cheekily as she took in your plethora of dresses that just appeared to get more ridiculous with time.

You had begun to crave these moments of seeing her, positioning yourself closer to the window, as to ensure you did not miss her.

You don’t understand why.

Maybe you just liked to see her smile.

…“Lady Furina, we at Chioriya Boutique thank you for allowing us to present our garments for you today.” Champvallon declares. You cringe at his sickly sweet voice that deepens in tone as he continues his speech.

The man behind Lady Furina is Neuvillette, you’re sure of it. High and mighty, his stature as impressive as his title.

And under your breath you repeat the pronunciation of his name, dragging out the syllables from under your tongue.

Lady Furina allows a moment to pass before she prompts, “Ah yes! Only Fontaines best is suited for your justice party.”

The presentation from the boutique takes hours.

Furina catches your eye a few times, and smiles, it’s subtle enough that you almost believe it’s not aimed at you. Ignoring the flutter of your heart everytime her eyes meet your own.

The final designs are being brought out when suddenly you see a creation that makes your heart drop.

Sitting on a cushion, is a broach.

An ugly, bedazzled broach that you were sure you had thrown out.

And it was being carried over to the justice team by a worker who stares at it confused.

“And here we have a broach for the Archon herself.” Says Champvallon, who is still yet to turn his head to view your horrendous work.

You’re paralysed, hands shaking trying to think of a way you can remove the jewellery without causing a scene.

“We hope you adore it as much as we adored making-” Champvallons voice trails off and he looks at the cushion, his eyes widening as he finally see’s what he’s presenting.

You hear the party behind Furina collectively stop their idle chatter and stare.

Everyone looks.

Nobody says anything.

“And who is behind the creation of this…thing?”

You want to die. Truly.

Your heart is in your throat and feel sick, raising a trembling hand as you step forward, your eyes stuck to the ground.

You’re sweating, palms clammy as you take a breath, preparing to be fired in-front of Lady Furina and her circle. Shame appears to drip off your brow and onto the crevices of your cheeks.

“It was me Sir.” You mumble, your voice weak, “But it was an accident I swear!”

Looking towards Lady Furina, you bow your head, pleading silently for her forgiveness, “I never meant to offend.”

“You foolish, troublesome girl.” Hisses Champvallon, his eyes narrowed as he walks towards you.

You bite your lip, and apologise profusely although you know it will not matter.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon says as he reaches your side, plastering an ugly smile on his furious face, concealing his bitter dissatisfaction.

“I will send someone immediately to retrieve your actual broach, please, hand that one over to one of the maids, I will dispose of it as soon as possible.”

“No need.” Lady Furina says, halting the conversation instantly with a raise of her glove covered hand.

She glances at the miserable looking broach and then towards you, you hold her gaze for a moment before she smiles, recognition flickering across her decorated eyes, finishing her examination of your face.

“I’d like to keep it.”

“Lady Furina?”

Holding the broach in her hands, she raises it to her face, almost as if fascinated by the shameful stitching and the odd colour scheme.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon stutters, moving away from you, “Your kindness knows no bounds b-but surely you would prefer something a little more..well pleasing to the eye?”

You stare at the back of his head as he leaves your side, counting the freckles on his neck to steady yourself.

“It’s unique, it’s different, Fontainians are known for their eloquence, and I as the God of Hydro must always be challenging these trends.”

Furina peers over her hands to stare at your boss, a dainty eyebrow raised.

“You wouldn’t dare to challenge an Archons will, would you?”

Champvallon splutters, his face warming to a putrid red, his arms rising up as if pleading to surrender.

“N-No I merely thought that-”

“Then it is settled.” Lady Furina laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing at you.

In your daze, you barely register the tiny wink she sends you way, eyes too focused on the way you broach was now sitting snug, amongst the fabric of her outfit.

It stuck out like a thorn grips the side of a rose and you grimace.

It was ugly, inarguably so.

Neuvillette clears his throat, eyes sweeping over your trembling figure.

“It was you who made this?” He ponders, head tilted slightly.

Your eyes snap to his, and you nod, it’s clumsy and awkward and you hate yourself.

“Um, yes your Honour, I made it.”

“It’s very interesting.” His voice is light, as if trying to filter out the tension pulling the conversation to a standstill, “The yellow and the pink are an unusual yet unique combination, very bright to the eye.”

You breathe out a small smile, as Lady Furina nods her head. “Yes, yes, indeed.”

“Thank you Monsieur Neuvillette, Lady Furina.”

You’re bowing again, chastising yourself for never taking the time to learn how to properly bow for an Archon, and then you’re leaving, hands still shaking, but head lifted just a little bit higher.

Furina doesn’t see you leave, too busy tracing the colours of her broach, smiling down at the terrible stitching as if it were weaved in silk and gold.

The presentation finishes with an awkward finality, with all eyes subconsciously darting down to look at your broach on Furina chest, wondering what in Fontaine their Archon was thinking.

—

You don’t know how, but Lady Furina had became a regular in your life now.

Always managing to catch your eye when you’re walking the streets of your home land.

Popping up randomly behind you just to greet you before leaving.

It appeared she worked in patterns, as if she was use to working by a routine.

You almost assume she appears there on purpose, it’s always far too convenient for it to be by chance.

“Y/N!” You hear one day, you’re sitting outside enjoying your lunch break as Lady Furina approaches you.

You hear a bustle and suddenly Fontainians are flodding the streets, clamouring over to her, crowding her.

You smile as she appears to soak up the attention, flaunting her hands in every direction, acknowledging everyone, one by one.

The people don’t seem to think about the prophecy when Focalor herself is before them, too busy trusting her with their lives to care.

You catch her gaze after a moment, and she puffs out her chest, as if trying to impress you.

Your heart aches.

You blink.

…That’s a strange feeling.

“Now now, my faithful subjects.” She begins, “I must take my leave now, I have very important business to attend to!”

You hear the groans of her people, as they beg her to stay, but reluctantly they remove themselves from her and walk away.

It’s just you and her now and she gestures for you to follow her.

You grow nervous, knowing there are watchers.

You hear them whisper behind their hands, hear them questioning why the “crazy girl from the boutique was the centre of the Hydro Archons attention.”

You cringe, but follow her anyway, your steps timid under eyes.

You think you’d follow her anywhere, but that could just be your adrenaline talking, your heart thumping within the confines of your chest.

“Lady Furina,” You say when you reach an empty alleyway, away from the eyes of Fontaine.

You pause, taking in the cracked bricks in the surrounding walls. “This is…Well- I’ll be honest it’s creepy.”

“Huh.” She says, turning to face you, “It’s more private no?”

“It’s a dark alleyway.” You deadpan.

Furina laughs, taking your hand in a wild moment of humour.

Dear God you hope you aren’t sweating.

“Never fear!” She declares, “As long as I’m here, nothing can harm you.”

Her words draw out a feeling that you don’t allow yourself to delve into, choosing instead let her hold your shaky hand without pulling away.

“I never got to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

You blush.

“For saving my career the other day.”

You see Furinas eyes move, as if trying to recall.

“Oh! The showing.”

You nod, “Thank you for…being so kind.”

You smile at her, and her eyes drops to your teeth in one fast, graceful motion before travelling back to your eyes.

“Always.” She replies, as if it was the simplest concept to her, like washing your hands or falling asleep.

Your face is on fire.

Gods your hands are definitely sweaty now.

Lady Furina shakes her head, as if pulling herself together.

“Now! I’m inviting you to tea.”

What.

“Sorry?”

“Tea. With me, together.”

“No, no I-I got that.”

She smiles, “So?”

“Why in Teyvat would you want to have tea with me?” You question, hope blooming in your chest, overpowering your habit of avoidance.

Furina stills, her face filled with confusion that you don’t get.

“You don’t want tea with me?” Shadows seem to cover her face, and you pull your hand from hers to frantically wave them in front of you.

“No no! Don’t misunderstand me! I’d love to, oh my God there’s nothing I’d enjoy more it’s just that-”

“Just that what?”

“You’re an archon?”

Furina frowns.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m asking you to join me as a friend, not as an Archon.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh.”

You know of your less than extraordinary appearance, and the simplicity of your life. You know that imagining anything more with an Archon is a fantasy so baffling that it even embarrasses you.

But you still can’t fight the disappointment resonating in your chest at the stupid word “Friend”.

Furina doesn’t seem to notice your deflation, instead probing you for an answer. Her hand reaching up to hold your arm, tugging you closer to her.

There’s a hopeful, cheeky look in her eye that you think could persuade even the most hellish of Demons to stand down.

“Well? You’ll join me?”

You sigh, and try to throw on a smile.

You feel like a puppet, your grin has to be ugly, repulsive, even so, you maintain it with cracked continuity.

“Sure.”

—

What does one wear to a date visit with an Archon?

You hate everything you own.

You almost rip your nails off in frustration after the fourth attempt to dress yourself fails.

This is terrible, everything is terrible.

Archons why do you own such ugly clothes!

You hear a knock at your door, and you jump, lifting your head to see Chiori staring at you, her unwavering gaze filtered with confusion.

“Chiori?” You ask, trying to hide the mess of your room.

Or well, her room, saying you were technically leaching off of her house until you could save up enough money to move.

She raises an eyebrow, a silent question of your antics, and you sigh.

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Hm.” Chiori responds, her lip going between her teeth as she takes in the mess of your clothing.

“And since when do you care what you wear?”

You scoff, offended.

“I always care!”

“Right…”

—

You think Chiori was sent by Celestia.

No really, you do.

Especially now when you’re twirling infront of your mirror, admiring her artistry on your body.

“It’s beautiful Chirori.” You whisper, your finger tracing the delicate stitching, enamoured by the sheer amount of detail on your gown.

“It’s hardly my best.” She replies, batting your hand away to finish the seam, “But all my other work is being used for the Fashion festival.”

You grin.

“I get the leftovers then.” You say cheekily, daring to wink at her.

Chiori shakes her head, “You get what I feel is right for you, and this…” She gestures to your dress, “Does look beautiful on you.”

Thank you Celestia you repeat in your head, Thank you for finally giving me a break.

—

You meet Furina at the Palais Mermonia.

She spots you as you walk in, and beckons you to a room across the hall.

Tiny Melusines greet you, and you smile at them, reaching down to pat their little heads.

Furina stills as she takes you in, fully looking at you.

“You look different.” She states, and you stop your movements entirely.

“You’re dressed…” Furina trails off, and your face warms.

“Nicely?” You finish, a teasing smile on your lips, “For a change?”

She shakes her head.

“You always look nice, it’s just jarring to see you wear something so well fitting.”

Her eyes trail along your figure, and you flush, your mind unable to comprehend your compliment.

Furina suddenly pulls herself out of her trance and smiles, putting out a hand for you to take.

“Never-mind that now!” She beams, “Desert time! Come, come!”

And you’re alone with Furina, your hand in hers.

She leads you over to a table adorned with confectionery to last over a hundred life times.

“Do you drink tea? Or would you rather Fonta?” She asks, turning her head to glance at you, and you rip your eyes away from your conjoined hands.

“Uh, tea, tea is good.”

Lady Furina looks at you, her eyebrow raised, “Alright, sugar?”

“Huh!!?”

“Sugar? As in, do you want sugar?”

“Oh! Yes of course!”

You pause, and Furina continues to look at you.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you taking sugar?”

Dear God, how are you so pathetic?

“Yes please.” You say silently, embarrassment morphing your face, forcing your head to fall to look at the floor.

Furina sets your tea in front of you, before pulling a chair over to sit next to you.

She watches the way your body seems to shrink in on itself, you hand fiddling with the loose fabric of your gown.

You nervous, and Furina scowls.

She doesn’t like this.

“What’s going on hm?” She asks plainly, and you restrain yourself from jumping at her forwardness.

“I-I’m sorry?” You attempt to delay, taking a sip of your tea, burning your mouth.

“You seem..off.” Furina says, her voice slightly drawn out, a frown on her features. “Have I done something?”

“What? No! Absolutely not you haven’t done anything…” You stammer out, a fake laugh breaking the barriers of your teeth as you try to compose yourself.

“Then why-”

Your eyes dart around the table, choosing to make eye contact with the bread than with her.

“It’s just a lot like wow I’m having tea with a God!”

Furina stirs her tea slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought we were past this?”

“Sorry?”

“You seeing me as a God?”

You blink, and Furina takes a sip of her tea.

“You..You are a God though, you’re my God?”

Furina thinks the tea turns sour in her mouth.

“Technically, I suppose so, but I believe us to be friends?” She sets her cup down, and looks at you, her cheeks slightly red. “Am I mistaken?”

You clamour to explain yourself, your arms reaching out as if trying to slow time, ignoring the painful tug of your heart at that stupid word again.

“N-No of course we’re friends!” You stammer, “It’s just…Well I-”

“Then there’s no reason for you to be nervous.”

You nod.

And then something happens.

Something switches.

And suddenly Furina isn’t merely looking at you,

She examining you.

“Unless.” She starts, and you feel a truly dreadful sinking feeling within your chest.

“Unless there’s..Something else bothering you?”

And every facial expression you display is analysed before you, every twitch of your eyebrow, the way your eyes widen and the way you seem to stop breathing.

Furina leans forward, an emotion so humanly desperate flickering across her face.

An emotion she is yet to understand.

Your lips part and you truly do not know what to say.

It’s foolish, to ever consider yourself worthy to share a reciprocated love with your God you remind yourself bitterly.

You’re confused, anguished, disheartened by her referral to you as a friend and yet, you do not know what to say.

So you clear your throat.

And breathe in.

“I do not know what you mean Lady Furina.” You whisper, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

And Lady Furina waits only a sheer second, before she’s leaning back in her chair and raising her head.

Somethings off.

“Then let’s us drink together as friends.”

You could swear then, that Lady Furina looked human.

You would stand trial on the fact that you saw her deflate with disappointment in the most mortal like way. You’d swear an oath.

But then you blink and the Hydro Archon blinks back.

And you’re sure you were mistaken.

—

There’s rumours in Fontaine.

There’s rumours everywhere, this isn’t a new concept to you.

But this is different, this rumour makes your blood freeze in your veins.

You heard it after you walked home from the boutique, a group of local Poisson men whispering under their breath.

“Lady Furina isn’t Fontaine’s Archon.”

You pause, turning your head as subtly as you could, creeping closer as to listen to their words.

You’re not a silent stalker and so they see you immediately.

They glare at you as they leave and you’re left confused as they made their way back to Poisson.

The next you hear of them, they’re dead.

Dissolved in the rising water.

You throw up when you see their faces in the paper, along with the heading “Fontaine’s Archon Fails Her People.”

You have faith.

You have faith.

You have faith.

—

Your faith dies with your Archon on the day of her trial.

You don’t go, you never go to trials.

But you know the happenings as if you were there to witness.

You find yourself running towards the Opera Epiclese, tripping over your own feet when the words “Death Penalty” reach your ears.

It’s silent.

Oh so silent.

And then the rain starts, and the tides grow.

And you can’t make it to the staircase of the Epiclese due to the water filling your lungs.

You’re drowning.

Screaming out bubbles of prayers to an Archon that isn’t yours.

Betrayal wrecks through your body and you’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

—

Furina cries on her watery throne.

Mourning the loss of her people, her home, her facade.

She thinks of you, briefly, thinks of your face, your clothes, your eyes.

Letting herself smile gently, she allows her tears to wash away her role.

It was nice to play a God.

If only she could save them.

—

.

.

.

.

You’re nervous.

You keep pacing back and fourth, pathetically trying to figure out a way in which you can knock on the door of Furina’s house, and speak with her like humans.

After the flood, you found yourself bed bound, your lips tainted blue and breath engulfing you so vigorously that you coughed until your eyes stung red.

The man who saved you kissed your hand when you woke up, crying out that he thought you wouldn’t make it.

You smile at him and thank him.

“I owe you my life.” You had whispered.

Lady Furina was no longer Fontaines Archon.

Gone into a state like hiding from the public, terrified of their outrage.

The nurse that cared for you, informed you of as much, recounting how the Iudex Neuvillette had saved Fontaine, saved you.

And you cried when she left you, tucked up in a hospital bed, weeping over the unknown.

You can’t face her. You conclude.

Not because you didn’t want to but because you had absolutely no idea how to begin.

Would she still regard you with such kindness despite you knowing everything?

How do you convey how you feel for her, when you truly do not know who she even is?

You heart sinks to your stomach and you walk away, hands dropping to your sides. Forcing yourself to move on, and to let fate guide you as far away from Fontaine as it could lead.

You hear a door open, but don’t make the connection until you hear your name being called from behind.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder timidly, staring towards the very God woman you had grown so fond of.

Staring at you humbly on her doorstep.

“Lady-Miss Furina.” You reply, your hands trembling and voice shaking, turning to face her fully.

Her cheeks were flushed as though she made her way to the door in a hurry, eyes narrowed and yet you could not see a trace of annoyance in the depths of her pupils.

“You-” She starts, breathless as if realising that her action of following you would lead to confrontation for the first time, “I saw you.” She pointed up to her arched windows and your face flushes, mortified.

Of course she had.

You say nothing, trying to think of an excuse, anything to dissipate the tension you feel in your bones.

“…You weren’t going to come in?” She questions, her voice small, unbefitting for a woman who use to bellow to the masses with the unfiltered confidence of a Deity.

And you stare, and stare and stare . Your eyes moving over her face, her attire, the stupid bow on her hat.

You’re utterly speechless, profoundly so.

Unable to say anything of value to the woman in which you swore that you-

Furina sighs, her shoulders dropping, hat slipping forward on her head.

Taking your silence for resentment, she accepts your unfettered anger as atonement for her sins.

“I see.” She mumbles plainly, turning to go back inside her house.

And it’s said with such bitter regret and vile disappointment that you find words spilling from the confines of your lips, desperate to call her back.

“I quit.” You frantically say, voice meek.

And Furina stops so you continue.

“Working for Chiori.” You clarify, taking a step forward.

The sun appears to intrude on your conversation, the early morning light presenting itself from behind the brazen buildings of Fontaine, eager to listen.

It makes her complexion golden, the blue strands of her hair, now short, appearing to glow in its wake.

Furina opens her mouth, then closes it, shaking her head defiantly before he’s facing you again, and you’re so close yet so far.

“I needed a change.” You whisper, and she appears to lean closer to hear you, to read the way the words fall from your lips.

You don’t know why this is the first thing you wish to discuss with Furina.

There’s countless other things you could spew, the mirage of questions you have resting in the back of your throat, the confused, recount of events, yet you chose to say none of it for sake of talking about yourself.

You’re selfish, perhaps cruel, but God you just wanted to talk to her.

Furina looks at you, her eyes wide, the sun catches the blue and draws out the sparkle as she looks at you. You drown.

“I’m…I’m glad.” She whispers, “You hated it there.”

“I did.”

You step towards her, keeping your hands still, resting at your sides limp.

“You-” You start, clearing your voice, terrified to overstep, “I mean- Did you hate being an Archon?”

Furina doesn’t move, her cheeks painted rouge with the mention of her role.

Then slowly, subtly, she nods, once up and once down. You almost miss it.

You smile, your eyes crinkling trying to express your endless empathy through one look.

“Then I’m glad you stepped down.”

And Furina wants to kiss you.

She feels it in her mortal soul, amid the beautifully soft way you voice your smile, the desire to be human with you and to make you hers.

She breathes and you watch.

“I’ll miss your silly clothes.” Furina sighs, and you giggle.

“I still wear my silly clothes.” You bite back, and she shakes her head before moving a finger along the underside of your jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” She says, and you take her role of silence, stunned.

Furina lifts her hand, and places it on your cheek, looking down avoiding your eye. “And so boundlessly fascinating.”

“I can’t quite explain it I just-”

You cut her off when you kiss her.

Breathing in her confession and replacing it with your own.

Two mortal souls intertwined as one on her doorstep.

She responds by pulling you closer, trailing her hand to the back of your head and smiling against your lips.

You’re not a seamstress and she’s not an Archon and yet, in this moment that’s okay.

Everything is okay.

feel free to leave a request!

Masterlist <3

artwork credits

A/N- when i say i have been wanting to write this for MONTHS i mean it- i am just so BOUNDLESSLY sick of wlw fics being fetishised and the lack of like a good wlw comfort fic in any character x reader was bothering me ! so thank u to anyone who gives this a try and reads it ! i appreciate you so so so much !!!

ALSO when i say the reader’s fashion is strange or unflattering I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED with insane 19th century dresses so i made a collection of outfits PSA when i say she (the readers) fashion is questionable I MEAN IT <3 i imagine my lovely little failed seamstress makes her own clothes from time to time bc although she’s not good at her job, she still enjoys being creative

if ur interested i made a post of her outfits here :)

thank u so so so much for reading i love u i love u i love u

[yuukiiqwq]

My Love, My Light, My One and Only 🩵

"Hey, what got you looking so gloomy?" You look up as you heard a familiar voice call you. Sitting in front of you was Satoru looking all carefree like nothing has happened.

"You're an idiot," you say after staring at him for a while. "You're so annoying."

Satoru looked offended before he started to laugh. "That's the first thing you say to me after everything?"

"Shut your big mouth," you grumbled. How can he be so carefree when your heart is breaking for the second time? "I hate your voice, I hate your laugh, I hate your hair, I hate your eyes, I hate your smile, I hate everything about you."

Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but you didn't let him get a word in. "I hate how much I love you, how much I adore you, how much my heart aches for you. I hate your dazzling, beautiful eyes. I hate how fluffy and soft your hair looks. I hate how your laugh and smile make my heart skip a beat. I hate how much I desire you and just you."

Your vision was getting blurry, and you felt the tears streaming down your face, but you continued– "It's not fair. What was that stupid death of yours? You're so stupid! Don't you want to live? You should have stayed alive! I would rather the world burn down in flames if you just stayed alive. If you just stayed with me. I hate how much I love you."

Satoru stayed silent as you continued your endless amount of insult towards him, not saying a word until you finished.

"Do you regret it?" He asked, voice no higher than a whisper.

You looked at him, offended that he would even think that. "Regret? No, I don't." You mumbled to him. "I don't regret it. I never will."

A small smile dawns his face as he tells you– "I want you to be happy. Even without me. Because I'm not real. I'm just a fictional character on screen, a part of someone's imagination. A part of your imagination.

You shake your head at him. "You are real to me, Satoru. You may not be standing in front of me, but you are real to me. You've taken my heart and left a hole that can never be mended. No one can ever replace what you are to me." You look him in his bright dazzling blue eyes– "I'm not ready to let you go. I'm selfish, I'm greedy, I want you to stay with me. Even if you're happy with your end, I want you to stay. I don't want to let you go."

"You don't have to let me go. I live on in here," he points at where your heart is. "I'll always live on in there. If you don't forget, I'll always be there. Until the bitter end."

You chuckled at him and wiped away your tears. "Hey, Satoru?"

"Hm?" He hummed in response.

"You've always been just Satoru to me. Always will be. I love you. You are my love, my light, my one and only. I wish for you to continue smiling, laughing, forever being happy. To continue being the lovable you without anything shouldering you down. I love you for all of eternity. For an infinity."

His eyes widened at your declaration before softening. He doesn't say it back, but his eyes were shining, filled with adoration for your love to him and a soft smile on his lips.

Time was almost up, so you asked one last question. A question that means everything to you. "Are you happy now?"

And once again, he doesn't answer, but his expression speaks a million words. The last thing you see was his signature boyish, bright smile on his face before he disappeared, leaving you alone once more.

[barcalover86]

She is my girl- Pablo Gavi

Summary: You meet Gavi's childhood best friend who is making you feel uncomfortable and unworthy.

Request here!

2nd Masterlist

"How much time do we have left?" you asked Gavi for the hundred time this last 10 minutes.

"With 30 seconds less than you asked me last time." he replied already annoyed, but with a smile on his face.

"You know how I am when I am nervous!"

"I know, amor." he laughed at the memory when you met his parents for the first time.

For days, Gavi begged you to meet his childhood best friend, Isa. You wanted to get to know her as well, but you were afraid that she won't like you. Afraid that you might be left behind when they are together. You told him several times that is better if he goes alone so that the two of them can enjoy their time alone, but Gavi wanted you to be there with him.

She wasn't living far away from Barcelona, 2h drive, but it seemed way longer for you, being all nervous.

You had to meet her at her house before some others friends of Gavi were waiting for you at a cafe.

When your boyfriend and Isa saw eachother after a very long time, they smiled and hugged eachother like there was no tomorrow.

You smiled awkwardly back at the brunette girl and went to hug her too, a thing that you love to do when you meet new people, but she turned her back on you and started to talk with your boyfriend.

You wanted to think that she didn't know your hugging intention, but you knew she did it on purpose.

Isa took Gavi's hand, trying to guide him to the living room, but he immediately took it out of her grip, holding yours instead, which made you a bit calmer.

While you laid on the couch, Gavi started to introduce you with a smile on his face.

"Aha, so you stoll his heart? Well, only between us, I stole it first!" she started to laugh hard. "He had a crush on me when we were kids, remember, Pablito?"

He slowly nodded, not wanting to remember those days.

"Actually, y/n is the only one that ever had my heart, Isa."

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, niño. But we both know the truth."

After that, they started to talk about football. Suddenly, Isa was so much into this sport than she ever was, and that was weird. You remember Gavi telling you how much she hated football.

In 20 minutes, you didn't say a word, and you started to be left behind, something that you were afraid of since the beginning. Gavi seemed to see your uncomfortable so he hold your hand and put you closer to him.

At that, Isa rolled her eyes and this was the moment you wanted to go.

"You are really a baby, aren't you?" she said to you and you looked confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You want all his attention, don't you see that we were enjoying our talk? Is she always like this? Putting herself on other people business?"

"Isa, she didn't do anything. I put her close to me. She didn't even talk!"

Suddenly, her face changed into a nice one. She went to you and hugged you, which took you by surprise.

"I was only joking, I hope you didn't get offended."

You only smiled politely, without saying anything anymore.

Now, you weren't that close to Gavi, but didn't want to make a scene. You started to feel so embarrassed and unwanted in all this situation. You just wanted to go home.

After a while, you even started to control your breath, hoping that it wasn't too loud or too fast. Everything became so uncomfortable and you felt like you wanted to cry right there.

Isa was getting closer and closer to Gavi by every minute. You even started to be a bit jealous of them. They looked so comfortable and good together. They were definitely enjoying their time.

When she hugged your boyfriend and started to make circles in his hair, you talked for the first time after a while.

"When are we going to meet the others?"

Gavi pulled out, finally happy to hear your voice before standing.

"Right now."

Isa was so angry and looked into your eyes like she was about to kill you.

"I don't even know why she is here" she said.

"Isa, be nicer to her, please. Do it for me"

"Just for you." She said, but you knew that she wasn't stopping there.

She even made a scene that she wanted to stay next to Pablo in the car, making the excuse that 'they didn't see eachother for a very long time'.

You agreed to it, wanting desperately to have a bit of peace and silence.

You were the left ones that came into the cafe, and when you saw Gavi's friends, you smiled, seeing that they were looking kind.

They were so nice to you, and for the first time, you started to feel better this evening.

As you expected, Isa was standing next to Pablo, while you were on the opposite of them two.

You were talking with a nice girl that was telling you stories about your boyfriend's childhood.

"I don't even know why you are so nice to her, Ava. She doesn't even belong here."

"Isa! How can you talk about her like that! She is my girl, after all! I chose to be with her!" said Pablo, but that didn't stop you for feeling bad.

"You are so rude!" said Ava, the girl that was besides you.

"Oh? Then see this"

After she said that, she took the bottle of water and threw it all over your head.

Everyone looked at you and you started to be so embarrassed, that you left the table.

"Go cry!"

"That's enough! I had enough with you. How can you be so rude to that girl! She did nothing to you nor anyone. She is literally an angel!"

"An angel? I am supposed to be your angel, Pablo! Don't you see it!? We would make a better couple than you with her!"

"Oh, stop dreaming!"

After that, he ran after you and hugged you.

"I'll get you wet as well, I'm sorry."

"What!? Sorry for what!? Cariño, I'm sorry for making you come here. You don't deserve any of this."

He kissed your head and put you in his car, changing your clothes with his hoodie. You also had to get off your underwear, that it was also wet, leaving you half naked. Gavi didn't mind at all.

Before you went home, he hugged you in his car, trying to make you calm down a bit. He apologised before listening to what you had to say.

He told you stories about what stupid things he did with his friends and you couldn't stop laughing, which made him calmed to see you being better.

When you arrived home, he helped you take a hot bath and wash your hair before making you some dinner. Or at least, trying to do it, because after all, you were the one that had to prepare something for the both of you.

| I hope you like this. I tried to make it as good as possible and I'm sorry you had to wait this long. Right now I'm writing 3 requests so be patient with me, please. Have a nice day and love yourself!♥️

[halsteadlover]

Night Struggles

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your daughter has to sleep in her bassinet but Jay isn’t on the same page.

• Warnings: none.

• Word count: 785.

• A/N: so I had this in the draft for a while and decided to post it since I was craving some dad!Jay. I got this idea from a tiktok so here it is lol. I hope you’ll like it, let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog if you want ❤️ Thank you so much for your constant support, love you all xx

“Babe! Where's Isabel?”.

You walked into your bedroom while your husband was lying in bed, pretending to be focused on his cell phone and not hearing you.

You stood in front of him, hands on hips and eyebrow raised as you waited for him to look at you.

“Huh? What did you say darling?” he asked dumbly, finally looking at you and flashing you one of the most charmed smiles he was capable of.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You heard me, don't play dumb Halstead.”

“I don't know what you're talking about babe, Isabel should be in her bassinet,” he feigned a hint of concern. You pulled back the blanket that was partially covering his chest, revealing your little girl in his arms who wouldn't stop waving her little arms and giggling as soon as she saw you.

“Jay! She should sleep in her crib!” you scolded him and pointing your finger at him as you tried to hold back a smile at the sight of that wonderful scene. She was lying on his bare chest, her little head resting on his shoulder as he stroked her back.

“No she doesn’t!” he exclaimed with an almost offended expression as his arms spontaneously squeezed his baby, as if he was afraid you might take her away from him. “She wants to sleep here with her dada, don't you princess?” he asked her, however aware she wouldn’t be able to answer him. He lifted her into the air as she kept waving her arms and legs, giggling and screaming as she watched her father. “Oh yes she does. You always want to be with your dad, right? You're still too little to be alone. You’ll sleep with mama and dada.”

You chuckled as you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing he'd never give in. “But she has to start sleeping in her bassinet baby, or she’ll get too used being with us.”

“She has to sleep with us, she told me that and I can’t say no to this little pretty face. No, I can’t,” he replied using his baby voice, but always keeping his eyes on his daughter who was drooling as she had his little fingers in her mouth and babbled with her little voice. He pulled her closer to her and left kisses on her cheeks. “She won't go anywhere without me and she’ll sleep here tonight, from tomorrow she’ll stay in her bassinet I promise.”

You knew this would never happen but you didn't respond, instead sitting on the edge of the bed as you continued to watch Jay's love for his little girl with a huge smile on your face.

There was no doubt he was madly in love with her, from the moment she let out her first breath as a newborn. You had never seen him like that, so happy. Of course, he had always been sweet with you, so thoughtful, attentive in everything he did and everything that concerned you, but the way he looked at Isabel, God, that little girl had him wrapped around her little finger.

Jay would’ve never believed how such a tiny creature could turn his world upside down like that and yet there he was, his heart bursting with joy as he hugged his little girl.

“Come on baby, how can you say no to this face?” he asked, placing his face next to Isabel's and turning to you. You alternated your gaze between one and the other and still almost couldn't believe how much they looked alike. There would’ve been no need for a paternity test, you had birthed Jay's twin.

You sighed, unable to pretending being mad any longer. It really was impossible, not when the loves of your life looked at you like this. “I hate you Halstead,” you muttered.

He laughed and opened his free arm, as an invitation to join them. “Come here my love.”

You didn't make him repeat it twice and you lay down next to him, leaving a kiss on his lips and on Isabel's forehead who extended her little arms towards you, eager to be held by her mother.

“I love you two so damn much baby,” he whispered in your ear as he kissed your cheek, his hand caressing Isabel’s little head.

This was all you wanted, all you wished for. Your beautiful little family and, God, you couldn't be happier. You had a wonderful husband who loved you and his little girl with all his being, and a wonderful daughter, full of joy and life, and even though it was difficult sometimes and there were moments where you thought you couldn't do it, you wouldn't have it any another way.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs

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Main Masterlist

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[notaplaceofhonour]

One of the experiences that really highlighted to me how willing the left can be to turn a blind eye to and gaslight Jews about antisemitism was trying to talk about Michael Jackson’s antisemitism, such as in the song “They Don’t Care About Us”, which was released with the lyrics:

“Jew me, sue me, everybody do me / Kick me, kike me, don't you black or white me.”

I feel like that is shockingly straightforward with how antisemitic it is, both in its specific language (the K-slur & Jew-as-a-verb) and its conspiratorial bent in the context of the whole song. But when it came out and Jews were obviously appalled and spoke out about it, MJ made the standard “but have you considered that accusing me of bigotry offends me?” and “I was taken out of context!” statements that bigots make when they get called out on their bigotry.

As for MJ’s claim that he was taken out of context, here is some context: In 1993, MJ’s relationship with the press deteriorated when they began covering allegations of his child sex abuse. In the midst of this, tabloids ran a lot of scummy, sensationalized headlines—ruthlessly mocking his appearance and eccentricities and even running entirely false stories. This marked a drastic shift in MJ’s lyrics, which began to focus heavily on his victimhood (both real and perceived, often conflating both and tying them to broader social issues), with many of the songs on the next album HIStory (1995) being about this. “They Don’t Care About Us” is on this album. In 2003, there were revelations that Michael Jackson had grown close with members of Nation of Islam (a fringe and antisemitic hate group), and in 2005, Good Morning America aired a phone recording of Michael Jackson calling Jews “leeches”, claiming Jews had targeted him for his wealth, and saying “It’s a conspiracy. Jews do it on purpose”.

This is the context of Michael Jackson singing about being a stand-in for the victims of all kinds of real world oppression like racism and police brutality, and then saying he was being “Jewed” and “kiked”. It came out that he was molesting little kids, and rather than face the music, he tried to dodge responsibility by conflating those allegations with racism and the gross, sensationalist bullshit that tabloids were running on him; he wove all these things together in a narrative that he could use to wrap himself up in victimhood & conspiracy to position himself as not just a martyr, but the very archetype of martyrdom so that the world could, as he sang on the same album in his cover of John Lennon’s song, “Come together, over me.”

The lyrics were later changed to replace “Jew” & “kike” with abstract noise that drowned out the words or repetitions of “sue” & “strike”. But even so, this is still a song, not truly about inequality and injustice, but using inequality and injustice to shield a child molester from responsibility. And the fact that “Jew” can so easily be replaced with “sue”, not simply in sound but in meaning, without disrupting the narrative and tone of the song, belies the fact that Michael Jackson believed himself to be a victim of some sort of conspiracy between “(((The Media)))” and greedy Jewish lawyers.

And yet, trying to talk about this to this day, even with the benefit of hindsight, when it’s pretty well-accepted that MJ was in fact a child molester and knowing what he said about Jews after this song came out, it is next to impossible to get people to see the antisemitism in him tying together all oppression in the world as him being “Jewed” and “kiked” by (((The System)))—even when he literally says “Jew”, even when he says the K-slur, even when he refers to Jews as blood-suckers, even when he literally says Jews are conspiring against him. When people started using the song as part of the George Floyd protests, and I was like “hey, maybe that’s not a great idea” and gently tried to explain this context, I was ignored, told it didn’t matter because the song was about inequality, told Black people have every right to distrust Jews “because Jews are White” and stabbed Black people in the back by embracing Whiteness, etc. etc.

I think that is one of the times that really started to make it clear to me, “oh, yeah no, leftists can be staring straight at a K-slur in the mouth of a known sex offender and still say it’s fine”—something leftists generally would not do for any other vulnerable minority. It still astounds me.

[asunflowerana]

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

"Unbelievable. You couldn't even stop for one minute to check the weather? Heck, it's not that hard to just look at the sky and realize that it is getting bloody grey!

You huff, crossing your arms and maintaining your gaze to the car's window: it wouldn't be of any use meeting Kiyoomi's outraged eyes. He's been giving you a lecture since picking you up from your work building, the pouring rain and crazy wind making you wet from head to toe, even though you took less than a minute to get inside the car.

The fact that you forgot your umbrella didn't help you either.

You know that he means well by his words, but it doesn't lessen how they sting inside your mind, tired of being reminded of something you're already beating yourself up for it. He sounds just like your parents whenever you did something foolish for lack of attention. It's annoying, the repetition and "i told you" tone mixed up into a painful monologue that you need to endure the whole drive to your home.

What you don't know, though, is the reason why your long time friend is mad at you. Unlike what you think, there's nothing to do with you wetting the leather of the passenger's seat; rather the fact that you were still at work by 09:00 instead of resting on your couch.

He told you already that your new desk neighbor was a nuisance, trying to take advantage of your kindness and making you stay late at work to finish his demands. And it's not that you're not frustrated about it, but he's new and young and insecure and you can't help but lend him a hand whenever he seems to freak out since he's still getting used to the routine.

You keep saying yes, but you can't see how bad that boy has been using you to do something he was hired for. And that makes Omi go nuts.

"Let me guess, that moron had a "pet emergency" again?" He taunts, gripping the wheels a bit tighter after remembering your dripping state all alone at your work entrance. "What a goof. Couldn't even wait a minute for you to leave."

"Omi, I told him to leave. It was way before it started raining."

"But he still left you alone, didn't he?" He doesn't take any, glaring at you for a moment. "He left you alone while you were putting yourself in danger and staying late trying to save his butt from being kicked. How can you not see the guy's a freaking bastard?"

"Alright! I get it, okay?" You blurt out, looking in his direction with worn out expression. You can't take more of this. "You were right, the whole time. That guy's stupid and I'm even more stupid for trying to help him. Now, can you please stop putting salt on the wound?" You take a moment to breathe, sensing the tension between you both. The back of your head falls on the headrest with a soft tud. "... I'm really tired, Omi. It wasn't a good week and... I'm really sorry for making you come all the way here for my dumbness." You sigh.

It takes a few seconds of silence, helping cooling off the air, before you feel his gaze on you again. This time, it doesn't make you want to hide from it.

"Don't say sorry for that. You know you can count on me, whatever happens." He assures lowly, a certainty inside his voice. He's feeling almost offended that you even considered you're a bother for him. "I only worry. That's all."

You know you won't receive an explicit apology from him, but you know the meaning behind his words, matching the shamed glance he offers you. He knows he's wrong. And when Sakusa realizes he failed, he tries his hard not to repeat the same mistake.

You hate how even without a proper "sorry", he makes your heart swell with fondness.

"Did you cut your hair?" You ask, also trying to change the conversation to something more light. You try not to openly check him out as you appreciate his new short bangs look.

"This morning. How's it look?" He slows down, stopping the car at a red light.

"Nice enough." You'd never admit what you're really thinking. Neither the way your hand is almost aching to touch those black short locks of his.

The corner of his mouth still lifts, though. You were never good at deceiving. "Only nice enough? C'mon, I saved you from desolation and a severe cold."

"Don't push it." You send him a playful glare, making him snicker while moving his hand to squeeze your knee. You smile in return, never getting tired of this intimate banter with him.

Omi might not be the most docile company in the world, but after driving you home, cooking you some pasta and making sure you stayed warm enough before he left, made you realize that you don't want him to change.

You fell in love with who he is. And he's more than perfect that way.

a/n: hey darlings!! thank you for reading this work. this will be part of my small new series "Things I hate about you", starring Omi and other characters. Let me know if you wish to be tagged!

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Z 🐉🥵🍎

Excellent choice. this was very fun to write! 🐉❤️

A welcome distraction

Rated: E

Words: 980

Tags: Fantasy AU; dragon!Eddie; king!Steve; established relationship; mates; soul bond; cock warming; edging; anal sex; monsterfucking; that's right, that monster gets fucked

Notes: Set in the same universe as Hic sunt dracones

Sometimes, Steve hates being king. He loves his people, but some days, he'd rather fight a hundred more usurpers than suffer through another day of audiences and paperwork. 

Stifling a yawn, he grasps for the bowl of fruit Joyce brought. It's almost empty, but the pile of documents awaiting his signature is still as large as it was hours ago. He sighs, popping a berry into his mouth and pulling the next page from the stack. He squints in the flickering candlelight, trying to concentrate, but reading feels like trying to move through sludge. Steve groans and reaches for the bowl again. 

He comes up empty.

He keeps groping around for a moment, but finds only the surface of the desk. 

“What the-?” he mutters, looking up. 

The bowl is gone. 

While Steve is still staring at the spot of thin air that has taken its place, something at the back of his mind starts to tickle. The mental equivalent of a poorly restrained cackle. 

“Really?” Steve rolls his eyes. “You'll do anything for attention, won't you?” 

A blueberry flies from the shadows, hitting his chest.

“Oh dear,” says the darkness, unfurling leathery wings, and the sound is home. “My king is grouchy.” 

“My dragon is annoying,” Steve retaliates, but his mouth tugs into a grin as Eddie peels himself from the shadows, crowding him into his chair. “Anything you wanted? Apart from throwing food at- Get your ass off the desk, I'm reading that!”

Eddie obeys gladly, nudging Steve's knees apart so that he can settle on the ground by his feet.

“Want what's mine,” he purrs against Steve’s lips. “Want you.”

“Eddie, c’mon,” Steve says. The words come out around a gasp as Eddie nips at the bite mark on his shoulder. “Let me finish first.” 

“Don't worry, beloved,” Eddie's hands find the bindings of his pants. “I'll let you finish alright, but first we’ll-” 

“Oh no, we won't,” Steve snaps, pushing him off with one hand and gesturing at the pile of documents with the other. “Nobody is finishing before I'm done here. Is that clear?” 

A heartbeat passes in silence. Then, Eddie’s offended scowl morphs into a devious grin. The bond thrums with mischief and desire, and Steve knows he did this to himself. 

*

Steve scrawls his signature onto another document. It comes out wobbly and almost misses the line, little drops of ink splattering all over the parchment. He doesn’t even wait for it to dry, just slams it on the pile with the finished ones. A quick glance reveals that there’s two more left. He groans in frustration, trying to shift in his seat, trying to gain more leverage, more friction, more of that delicious, wet warmth. It’s no use. There’s two strong hands on his hips, holding him firmly in place. 

“Eddie,” he whimpers. “Please, c’mon, you’ve made your point.” 

His dragon hums at the sound of his name, the vibration sending little sparks up Steve’s spine, then pulls off his cock with an obscene, wet sound. 

“No can do, beloved,” he laments, glancing up at Steve from below dark lashes. His eyes are pure gold in the candlelight. “You said no finishing before-” 

“Fuck,” Steve swears. His hips twitch feebly in Eddie’s hold. “There’s only two left, I can do these tomorrow, please, I-” 

Eddie licks a long, hot stripe all the way from his base to his leaking tip, and the words trail off into an incoherent moan. 

“Wouldn’t want to keep my king from his duties,” Eddie rumbles, breath cool and ticklish against the sheen of his own spit. “Now come on. You’ve lasted so long, you can do two more.” 

And then, without waiting for a reply, he swallows Steve’s cock again. Steve feels that throat constricting, feels that wicked tongue teasing at his balls. Feels Eddie’s cock pressing into his leg as his dragon adjusts his position, and knows that he’s just as desperate for it. 

“Oh Gods, I hate you!” he groans. 

Eddie laughs, wrecked and muffled around the weight on his tongue, and lust coils in Steve’s abdomen like a spring, wound tight and waiting to snap. 

He yanks the two remaining documents towards himself, scribbling something vaguely resembling a signature somewhere near the bottom of both in one jerky movement before he slams the quill down on the desk. It snaps. Ink splatters on wood, and he knows the stains will never come out. He doesn’t care. 

“Done,” he rasps. “C'mon, c’mon, please!” 

His hands land on a horn and a fistful of hair, yanking so hard it must be painful, but Eddie doesn't complain. Instead, he scrambles into Steve’s lap and impales himself on his cock, all in one, fluid blur of movement. Their lips meet, and the taste of himself on Eddie’s tongue, the feeling of his mate clenching around him, is all it takes. Steve shatters apart with a hoarse moan, and Eddie greedily licks it out of his mouth while he spills inside of him. 

“You're a menace,” Steve tells him between sloppy kisses, once he's found his voice again. “Distracting me from work like that.” 

“Oh?” Eddie grins. “If anything, I think I made you work faster.” 

“Except I have no idea what I just signed,” Steve replies, snorting when his dragon nuzzles his throat playfully. “Peace treaty? War declaration? Who knows?” 

“Who cares?” Eddie quips, standing from the chair and stretching languidly. “Sounds like a tomorrow problem to me.” 

“Wait, woah!” Steve yelps as he is picked up and carried out of the study. “Where are we going?” 

Eddie laughs as he kicks open the door to their bed chamber. 

“What do you think, my love? You may be done, but I’m not. I plan on changing that. And maybe after …,” he grins down at Steve, all fangs and hungry golden eyes, “I'll let you finish some more.”

"Yeah, sorry your treaty is all crumpled up. My dragon sat on it."

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[envirae]

my very first love ! — 18: you have got to be kidding me

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written part below!

You were impossibly nervous.

Everyone was, all the teams in the Seoul Capitol Area were gathered backstage, with a packed audience nervously awaiting them.

Soobin was the most visibly distraught, which made sense. After all, this was his last regionals. You were almost guaranteed to make it to nationals, you could easily beat most of the other teams if each of you were missing a leg. But that wasn’t what made Soobin so apprehensive.

His main concern was beating ENHYPEN. More than anything, he wanted to wipe the stupid smirks off their faces at least once out of his two chances. SUPERNOVA was set to perform towards the end, which only added to the nerves.

In the midst of all the chaos, you were barely even able to interact with Riki. But you still managed to sneak glances at each other, broad smiles appearing on both your faces when your eyes locked. This definitely wasn’t unnoticed by either team, who were visibly annoyed by the two of you (with the exception of Sunoo, who was giggling and whispering things to Riki that made him roll his eyes).

He finally caught you alone on your way to the bathroom, and neither of you could hide your excitement to see each other.

“Hey, you” He grinned, leaning against the wall to talk to you. “My team is so annoying, I haven’t gotten to talk to you all day.”

“I know, right? When are you performing?” You asked, trying your best to hide how flustered he was making you.

He glanced at his phone before his eyes widened in slight disappointment. “In about 30 minutes. I can’t talk for too long, gotta get backstage in 10. You?”

“We still have a little over an hour. Soobin hates performing towards the end.”

“Oh yeah, I saw. Is he alright? He looked a little…” He trailed off, not wanting to offend your friends.

“Insane? Yeah, you’d be right. But I get it, it’s his senior year, and he wants to beat you guys so bad. We all do, of course.” You explained, talking about the rivalry with Riki always felt awkward, but his scoff when you talked about beating his team made you raise a brow.

“Yeah, I wish you guys good luck with that.” He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes as if he was talking to a child.

“What do you mean?” You queried, you were visibly getting a bit upset, which Riki noticed.

“Well, you know, I can’t say it’s very realistic. We’ve always been number one, you’ve always been number two. It’s just how things are.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you serious? You don’t think we can beat you guys?” You asked, unintentionally raising your voice.

“Look, y/n, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve seen you dance, you’re incredible! I have no doubt at all in your dancing abilities. But I just, I believe in my team, you know?”

You simply nodded in response. “Oh.” Was all you managed to say. You knew everyone was stressed, but you couldn’t believe how rude Riki was being without even noticing.

You were about to say more when Riki’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out to check. “Shit, Jay’s looking for me. I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?” As he started to walk away, he turned back to look at you. “You’ll watch my performance right? I know we’re enemies, but I want you there.”

You sent him a small smile, this was the Riki you knew. “Of course. I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Me too.”

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

True to your word, you went out to go watch Riki’s performance, and you dragged the rest of your team along with you. Although they hated enha and would do anything not seem like a fan, you played it off with some excuse about ‘scoping out your competition.’ Soobin left not even 10 seconds in, complaining that this was stressing him out too much and that he needed to go backstage to fix his hair.

Riki’s dancing was incredible. He had a presence on stage that demanded everyone’s attention, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him for even a second. Midway through the performance, he saw you in the crowd, and he couldn’t hide his smirk on stage. This did not go unnoticed by Hanni or Yujin, who quickly began teasing you for the deep shade of red that appeared on your cheeks.

But the smiles and the teasing ceased almost immediately during the last minute of their performance.

“Wait, y/n. Is that…?” Hanni asked, trailing off.

Their choreography was intricate and elaborate, rather than powerful and captivating like it usually was. Something you quickly noticed about Enha was how energetic and aggressive all their performances were. It made sense, of course, considering they were all men. Every move they made was calculated and precise, and you knew those moves all too well.

You knew you were almost guaranteed a spot to nationals, so you focused all your time and effort into choreographing for nationals, with regionals (aka the choreo you were performing today) being an afterthought. In the last month, you had spent countless hours in front of the mirror, at school, or even in the car studying and formulating those moves.

That was your nationals choreo.

You were too focused on the fact that the boy you thought was your friend was up on stage performing choreo you poured your heart and soul into to notice Soobin storming behind you guys holding up a small black binder.

“Look what I just found in that prick Jongseong’s bag. He stole our fucking-!” He began, but Yujin cut him off.

“We know, look.” His voice was monotone and Hanni gestured up to the stage, just as the boys were finishing their performance.

“Oh you have go to be fucking kidding me.” Soobin seethed, immediately walking away. You and the others followed him, hoping to either back him up in an argument or stop him from severely injuring somebody.

You caught Enha backstage, wiping their sweat and congratulating each other on the performance. When Soobin walked in with the binder, Jay went pale, while everyone else seemed lost. When Riki caught your eye, he smiled at you, but you did not return the favor.

“Wanna explain what the fuck this is?” Soobin asked, hardly able to control his anger.

“A binder?” Heeseung deadpanned, unimpressed.

Soobin opened the binder and flipped to the back, where you noted the choreo. “Yea, you’re right. Take a look, smartass.”

The rest of the enha members gathered around to look at the binder, eyes widening when they realized it was the exact choreo they had just performed.

“How the hell do you have this?” Jake asked, less angry, but incredibly confused.

“It was in Jongseong’s bag.” Soobin replied, now locking eyes with Jay. “I always knew you were a lying, manipulative asshole, but I can’t believe you would go this low.”

Everybody in the room went silent. The rest of enha looked baffled, but Jay had a clear look of guilt on his face. Jungwon was the first to break the silence. “Jay hyung, is this true? Did you steal their binder and their choreo?”

Jay was getting upset. “No! Of course I didn’t! I didn’t even know it was y/n’s. Besides, that choreo says nationals. Your performance today will be just fine.”

Soobin opened his mouth and began to curse him out, but Yunjin stopped him. “Our call time is in 15 minutes. Let’s go freshen up.”

“Fuck!” Soobin yelled, dropping the binder to the ground before storming out, Yunjin, Hanni, and Yujin following behind. You looked at Riki, who was clenching his fist and biting his lip.

You picked up the binder from the ground and walked out as well, slamming the door behind you. Nobody dared to speak.

taglist 1 (closed): @haknom @kjrcrz @lalalalawon @123-678h @k25vi @imhuh @yenqa @wondering-out-loud @captivq @enhaz1 @luvistqrzzz @luvchungha @beomgyusonlywife @heart4hees @mrchweeee @heefys @hangecanweholdhands @jayujus @jaeyunsimswife @yumilovesloona @pagesofmiracles @eumppattv @fluerz @yjwfav @darly6n