#and there were so many more people there than i expected there would be

[plethorawrites]

Hey, so imagine Jason with a reader whose parents are simply the most loving beings in the universe, like R's father taught him basic things that neither Bruce nor his biological father could (like how to fix a broken sink, how to assemble a cabinet and even love advice) and R's mother was practically like a mother to him (visiting them regularly even when her daughter is not home, bringing soup when they know he is sick and helping him choose Valentine's Day gifts for the reader).

This may be the cutest prompt I've ever received. I love soft Jason soooo much!! (I fear I am not out of my obsession stage yet.)

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Jason Todd obviously grew up with few to no parental guidance and when he got it, it was more often than not negative like manipulation and abuse or neglect.

So, when he meets his girlfriend's parents he's understandably extremely nervous. From what you've told him, they're sweet. But he knows perception can change quickly and let's be real, he's not the good, kind-hearted person anyone would want for their daughter, in his opinion.

That said, when he does meet them for the first time and your mom envelopes him in the biggest hug he's received aside from you (a chronic cuddler, which he's come to appreciate.) he's a little stunned for the moment. It takes him a minute to even remember how to speak to introduce himself.

This man, all 6'2 and 240 pounds of him, actually seems shy for a moment, trying to make a good impression. You find it adorable when his cheeks blush after your mom compliments him on all the nice things you've told them about him. He didn't even know you bragged about him to people, let alone the extent of it. Like yeah, sure, you showered him in affection all the time, but that was at his apartment or yours.

The fact that you had actually mentioned him often enough that they knew about some of his quirks— his disdain for fish because Bruce made him eat it all the time as a kid at fancy events until he couldn't stand it anymore and his desire to meet for dinner not lunch since he had an obscure sleep schedule because of his "job" was astounding to him.

Even though they couldn't know what it was, you still boasted about how he was very passionate about it and you were proud of him for how hard he worked. That, admittedly, made him blush a little harder.

"She says you've got late hours, I hope dinner won't interfere," your mom would tell him considerately.

He shook his head. "No ma'am. I don't work until later."

She beamed. "Well good, then, because we've been dying to meet you."

Even the things about him that he assumed most parents wouldn't be thrilled to hear about, yours didn't seem to mind.

"You grew up in crime Alley, right?" Your father was questioned, in between the salad and entree.

Jason swallowed. There it was, he assumed. The disapproval he was anticipating. "Yes, I did," he replied, nodding.

"It's a difficult area to grow up in," your father noted. "A very close friend of mine was born over there. He's as tough as they come. Very resilient and reliable."

Jason was taken by surprise. "Uh- yeah, yes. I suppose you learn to be loyal when you don't have many people to trust." He internally cursed himself for saying that. It was too dark and pessimistic.

"An admirable quality," your mother said sincerely as you squeezed his hand under the table. "It must have also exposed you to a lot of different types of people and given you a very broad outlook on life."

He just nodded, swallowing some of his water.

Your father had similarly commented that he seemed to have a great work ethic, which Jason clearly appreciated and considered important. Your dad also, at the end of dinner, when you were out of ear range, made a quiet remark to Jason about how he seemed to make you very happy and that's all he ever wanted for his daughter. Jason had been expecting shovel talk or threats. At the very least, judgemental stares, the way he was used to, but instead your parents were absolutely lovely.

And it very clearly wasn't some temporary ruse, either, like he thought it might have been. They really were good people, just like you. When you moved in with him, your parents helped the two of you pack your old apartment and unpack in his. Your mom even insisted on cooking dinner since the two of you were exhausted from all the moving. He would never say no to her cooking, since aside from Alfred's, it was the best he'd ever had.

It was only a few weeks later, in the middle of summer, when your air conditioner broke down. It was Gotham, so obviously it was hot as hell. And of course no one was reliable when it came to actually coming to fix it. Your father, however, was used to fixing things and came over when you casually mentioned it to him after it was broken for a week or two.

He was about halfway through with it when Jason came home and he immediately felt bad just letting him, so your dad pointed towards some tool and asked him for some help.

"I don't really know how to fix an AC. Vehicles are more my thing," he confessed, lifting a wrench to his hand.

Your dad shrugged. "Not that hard. I'll show you."

Jason glanced at where you were sitting at the table with a glass of lemonade, giving him a light shrug. "Okay, sure," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves.

Jason liked to think the two of you had a pretty solid relationship, as far as honesty and commitment went. He loved you, he was almost positive by the time you'd been dating 15 months that he wanted to marry you.

But you still, occasionally, fought the way all couples did. And when you did, it was usually because he struggled to keep plans or left you waiting up for him, only to come home desperately needing stitches.

The worst it ever got was when he deliberately lied to you, swearing he'd stay out of something dangerous and going straight into danger the second he could. Even though nothing that bad actually happened, you were more than a little angry. In fact, during the screaming match you had, he could swear he saw the exact moment your heart broke when you told him you thought he cared more about being Red Hood than he did about you.

You left for hours. Four of them.

And when he heard a knock at the door, he was hopeful it was you, having forgot your keys. Instead, it was your mom. His heart dropped, wondering what she was doing there—planning to yell at him for how he treated you, grabbing some things for you so you could stay away for several days, breaking up with him on your behalf.

All she did was invite herself in, making some coffee (just the way she knew he liked it) and sitting on the couch with him. He was confused and silent, until she spoke up.

"She's not saying what the fight was about," she told him. "I assume it's your work. The uh-... nightly aspect of it?"

He blinked a little. Something about her tone was more suggestive than he liked. "It- partially, yeah," he admitted. "I didn't mean to break my promise."

She nodded. "I know," she muttered. "And I don't think she's mad, just...scared. She doesn't want to lose you."

"She won't," Jason replied instantly.

Your mom's lips quirked into a small smile. "Then tell her that," she suggested, adding that: "Trust is fragile. It takes a long time to build it and a single action can shatter it." She patted his knee, standing up and he stood too, walking her to the door.

"Why do I have a feeling you know what the fight was about, even without her telling you?" He asked quietly if not with some suspicion.

"You're a very good man, Jason," she told him. "But it doesn't take a genius to know why those hours you work are so obscure." Before he could question or deny what he felt she already knew, she was giving him a small kiss on the cheek, the way she often did to greet and say goodbye. "Call her," she said. "I'll make sure she picks up."

So he did. And you did answer, like she promised.

You made up, like always and it wasn't even six months later that he was calling your parents, asking for blessing to propose to you. Of course they said yes and we're thrilled to do so. Your mom even helped him pick out the ring. Which took hours, half because he couldn't decide and half because she kept starting to cry.

When he finally did find the right one, she naturally helped him plan the proposal, too. He wasn't always the greatest at romantic gestures. At least not grand ones. He was always better at the subtle shows of affection—remembering dates and details or taking care of you when you're sick. He doesn't want to do anything overwhelming, but filling the apartment with twinkling lights and telling you—with several tears in his eyes—how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, is plenty for you.

"Yes?" He repeats, almost in disbelief that you'd agreed so quickly to marry him.

"Yes, yes, obviously," you repeated, sniffling to keep from crying as you gave him your hand, letting him slip the ring on your finger.

His arms immediately enveloped you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Setting you down, his lips found yours for a deep, long kiss, before pressing his forehead against yours and nuzzling your nose.

"I love you so much," he repeated, even though he'd said it three times already.

He already saw plenty of your parents, at least four or five times a month, but it seems like he sees them nearly everyday when the wedding planning starts. Your mom is more concerned with invitations and linens or vows while your dad really just shows up for cake tasting, or trying the catering companies. Not to mention to judge and criticize the venue options.

Still, they're there more than his own father figure is, sort of like they have been since he met them. They're there on your wedding day, crying in the front row when he uses his love of literature to craft was perhaps the most beautiful wedding vows ever recorded. They're there to take care of your apartment when you're on your honeymoon, coming to water the plants and collect the mail, not to mention stock the fridge before you get back.

They're there for your birthday and his, as well as Thanksgiving and Christmas. They're there to help prepare for the baby when you eventually have kids, your mom by soothing Jason's nerves and your dad by helping him paint the nursery or assemble furniture. They're there after the baby is born and visit whenever you need a babysitter for a few hours or even days to spend time together.

They're there, he realizes. They're there and he loves that, not just for you or for the baby, but for himself too. For the little kid inside him that never fully felt like any adults around him truly had his best interests at heart.

[lananiscorner]

Reblogging this version and stealing the tags as well:

#i realized this when I was following#gen padalecki#she was talking about the garden#and livestock#and book clubs#and doing so many things with the boys#and i realized that if she had to work#like i have to work#and didn't have the money to hire people to do shit#she couldn't do all of that either#and then i unfollowed her#because it wasn't relevant to me#and was just making me feel bad about myself#even though i knew we were not on the same boat#she's in a yacht#and i'm in a rowboat#and you can't compare the two

This is so important, especially when it comes to body image.

If you ever find yourself looking at someone and thinking "damn, I wish I was as slim and toned as that insta model" or "damn, I wish I was built like that Navy Seal dude"... remember that this is literally PART OF THEIR JOB. You can't be an insta model without being slim and you can't be a spec ops soldier without being in excellent, buff shape. And as a result, people like that spend A LOT of hours in the gym. Like, a lot A LOT. And no, not off hours, after already working for 8+ hours a day like you with your desk job. If you are trying to emulate people like that while not being in that job, you are essentially trying to do two jobs at once. And that ain't a sustainable way to live (you can make it work, but good grief, at what cost...)

And any time you look at someone rich enough to afford somebody else to do their cooking and cleaning and child care? Dial your own expectations way the hell down, because those are freaking time sinks. There's a reason rich people hire other people to do that shit for them (because it's work--and unless you are rich it's work you HAVE TO do for free, because cooking is kind of important for eating and cleaning is kind of important for being healthy and if you don't take care of your kids they have a high risk of ending up dead).

I would also add to this that sometimes it really is too late/impossible to strive for something that you would like to be your top priority. I have asthma and I'm nearing 40. Even if I started working out right now, with the same diet and exercise regimen as a soldier, I would not be able to get that level of fitness, because 1) my lungs aren't build for that and 2) aging is a thing and my body's prime days are over.

And that sucks. Realizing that there are legit, unchangeable roadblocks to things you would like to make your priority SUCKS. And it's okay to be angry and frustrated about that for a while, and to grieve the opportunities you wish you had but never will. It's perfectly fine and normal and healthy. So long as you remember that grief is not a place to be forever. Life goes on. There's more beauty to find in the world and so much more to live for rather than wallowing in sadness forever.

So, if you find yourself with something that you want to make your priority, but cannot, for circumstances outside of your control, ask yourself "okay, but how much do I have to dial back the intensity to make it work and still have it be a top goal?"

One of my goals for this year is to go swimming again. I used to do that competitively. I would love to get back to that same level of intensity again, but 1) I am getting old, 2) I have a full-time job, and 3) it's not something I can just do at home anytime I want--I have to take a bus to the city swimming pool to get there and they ain't open 24/7. So no, I will not be swimming again with the same regularity and intensity as before, but I will try to find a time window that will work with my job and the commute and the opening hours and I will take as much swimming as I can get, because good grief, I miss the water.

One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)

[noctiva]

Pincushion

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!

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WC: 6.7k

Summary: You’re an apprentice piercer trying to build your portfolio as much as you can. How lucky is it, that you have a best friend who can’t feel pain?

CW: 18+ content, descriptions of body parts being pierced, VERY improper piercing aftercare I’m being so fr don’t do this, friends to lovers, explicit sexual content, dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), possessiveness, dirty talk, hair pulling, drool and spit, cumming untouched

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here are definitely not recommended to imitate. Stay safe!

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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“I’m not k-keeping this one.”

The situation you found yourself in right now right now was a familiar one. Sat on your best friend Toby’s lap, the backs of your thighs pressed to his in the warmth of his bedroom. A soft rock song droned on from the speakers of his old record player, creating an inviting atmosphere that warded off uncomfortable silence.

A golden glow shines in through his bedroom window, curtains pulled back to reveal the slowly setting sun. You’re warm, cloaked in a hoodie that Toby had offered you when you were shivering before hand - basking in the softness and scent that cloaked you. Cheap cigarettes, musky cologne, pine.

It may have been a sweet sight, if not for the hollow needle pinched between your latex clad fingers.

Just inches from his face you held it, the victim in question looking up at you with a displeased expression.

A couple months ago, you had gotten a spot as an apprentice piercer at your town’s local tattoo shop. You had learned all of the safety measures, done all of the certification, so now the only thing left to do was practice. And well, you could only practice on yourself so many times.

You needed someone else. To be able to watch closely at every little thing you did, from the pinch of the clamp to the needle slicing through skin or cartilage. You needed real people, willing clients.

And well, Toby was one of those things.

It had been less than two hours after you got the gig before you were proposing the idea. With the world ‘please’ uttered more times than you could count, and the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster up - it still took weeks until you finally cracked him.

“Come on, Toby. At least let me pierce your ears. It can just be a little stud.” You had asked for the fiftieth time, to which he had responded with;

“Fuh-Fuck no. It’s not my style.”

“You think? I think you’d look pretty cute with them.”

You pierced his lobes later that day. Then, his septum a week later. Then his lip, eyebrow, and a few cartilage piercings spanning down the shell of his ear. He didn’t keep many, usually only letting them stay for long enough for you to snap a few photos for your portfolio - but he had taken a liking to a few.

One thin hoop pierced through his nostril, and the lobes you had done first. You thought that the eyebrow suited him the best, but he had tugged the barbell out just minutes after it was placed snug under his skin. Alas, at least you had photographic evidence that it had once been there.

After so many impromptu sessions, Toby just gotten used to you showing up at his house with a cheeky grin and piercing supplies in hand. Which, was exactly how you ended up on his lap on this particular evening.

“Yeah, didn’t expect you to.” You hum as you hand him a travel sized bottle of mouthwash to rinse with. “But I’ve never done this one before, so I’ve got to learn.” You smile at him. “Swish with that, then stick out your tongue.”

Toby legs out a groan, his eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance as he peers up at you. He had just woken up less than an hour ago - evidenced by his unruly hair and sleepy eyes - and now you were just seconds away from shoving a needle into his tongue. It wasn’t like he would feel it, but it wasn’t about that. It was about the prospect of it all.

What ever happened to just hanging out? Couldn’t you go one day without treating him like a pincushion?

If he was being completely honest, the only reason he hadn’t kicked you off of his lap yet was because he liked the feeling of you being there. Liked the warmth that seeped from your body into his. Liked being so close that he could hear each breath that left you lips. He liked the way you bit your bottom lip when you were focusing the best.

He also liked the way you let him rest a hand on your hip to keep you stable (which was an excuse he was still surprised that you believed).

He was your best friend, but you were his fixation. The most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on, but he just didn’t have the guts to tell you. So, he settled for this. Keeping you held close whilst you stuck needles into his skin. Besides, he would much rather it was him than someone else.

So, he does what you’ve asked. Takes a swig of the mouthwash all whilst looking up at you with narrowed eyes, struggling to keep an annoyed expression while you were looking down at him so sweetly. All smiles and stars in your eyes. Hair pulled up haphazardly into a makeshift bun to keep the strand out of your face. Clad in his hoodie. His hoodie.

God, he was such a sucker.

Leaning his head to the side, he spits into the mug you had brought into his room for that exact purpose. Once that’s over with, as his mouth is coated in the taste of alcohol and mint, he looks back up at you. You were so close. Leaned in with a set of clamps in one hand and a needle in the other. So close he could smell you. Your perfume intermingling with the scent coming off of his sweater. His heart rate picks up just a little. “Y-You gonna pierce all your clients like-like this?” He asks with a soft chuckle, and you roll your eyes.

“Would probably get better tips if I did, but no.” You snort, shifting a bit on his lap. Now, his pulse is racing. He’s a lot less concerned about the needle inches from his face, than he is about popping an unwanted boner beneath you. “Hope you appreciate the special treatment you’re getting.” He did. Much more than you could imagine. “Now hurry up! Stick out your tongue for me, Rogers.”

He thinks he’s do anything for you if it was said in that sweet bossy tone you just used.

So, he lets out a breath through his nose, the does just what you ask. It’s mere seconds later that a clamp pinches his tongue.

Piercing Toby had its pros and cons. Pro: He couldn’t feel the pain, so he sat like a champ. An absolute dream for anyone in the industry. Con: His tics from his Tourette’s were completely involuntary, so you couldn’t exactly tell him to sit still and expect him to abide by that.

That was alright though. It just meant you had to learn to be quick. Your clients in the future would probably be thanking him for that learned skill.

You lean in close, sandwiching his tongue between the cold metal clamp and raising the needle. He’s looking up at you, fixated on your face as you bring the sharp point to the muscle.

All he feels is a slight pressure, then relief. The coldness of the needle lodged in his flesh. It was odd, but bearable. What wasn’t bearable, were the thoughts pinging around in his mind like popping candy. Did you know how pretty you were? Did you know that if you let him, he could count every freckle on your face and not once grow bored during it?

Did you know how he saw you? The blinding sun in the centre of his universe?

He doesn’t even realize you’ve slipped the jewelry in, until you’re screwing on the top ball. “There!” You grin, gazing down at his newly adorned tongue in satisfaction. “How’s it feel?”

Hot. He feels really hot.

“L-Like metal in my mouth.” He answers, frowning a little at the feeling of the piercing clinking against his teeth when he talks. It’s uncomfortable. This feels more like an intrusion than any other piercing you’ve ever given him. It couldn’t be ignored, making its presence known every time he formed a word. “It’s not st-staying. So, take a picture quick.”

“Boring.” You scoff, before sticking your tongue out at him playfully. You peel the latex gloves off of your hands before dropping them to the floor. “I think it looks good on you. Plus, the ladies would love it.”

Toby meets your eyes, and cocks an eyebrow.

“I d-doubt that.” He scoffs. He still had a hand on your hip from keeping you in place while you worked, but he hadn’t moved it yet. He didn’t think he could force himself to unless you told him to move.

“No, they totally would.” You argue, leaning back on his thighs. It was a shift that was actually in his favour, bringing your hips farther away from his. He definitely needed that distance. “It’s hot,” It was, or he was? “Plus it has benefits any girl would like.”

“B-Benefits?” He frowns, tilting his head to the side a little to observe you. Just what were you getting at here? Was this a joke? “Like what?”

You let out a little giggle, and bring a hand up to cover your mouth. It’s the sweetest sound that’s ever graced Toby’s ears. He’s already of thinking of ways to hear it again.

“You know.” You laugh, averting your gaze from his out of embarrassment. It’s not like you’ve never breached the topic of sexuality during a conversation in all of the years you’ve known each other, it’s just the look on his face that’s getting you. So clueless, it’s adorable. “Same reason guys like girls with tongue piercings.” You look back to him, and can tell he’s still not getting it. “More stimulation.”

Oh. Oh.

It’s instantaneous, the way a flush creeps onto his cheeks the moment your words register. If he was having a hard time restraining his thoughts before, he was putting in overtime now. Were you making this hard on him on purpose? Sitting on his lap, spouting about the sexual benefits of the piercing you had just given him?

It takes all the power in the world for him not to tighten the lazy grip he has on your hip.

“Says wh-who? He chokes out, voice coming out far hoarser than he meant it to. His tongue is starting to throb in his mouth, and he’s hopeful that his blood will stay up there and not migrate further south.

“Uh, everyone?” You laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s just like, a fact. Having a tongue piercing equals giving better head. How do you not know this?”

Uh, maybe because the only girl he’s thought about sexually in years was you? But maybe it would’ve been a good fact to know before you pierced him.

“Are you speaking f-from experience, or what?” He doesn’t know why he asked that. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s saying right now, if he’s being honest. His brain was fried, coherent thoughts fizzling out before they came to fruition. And with his brain clocked out, that only left one other organ to think with. He was so screwed.

The way you look at him after he’s spoken has Toby wanting to bite his tongue clean off. Death would surely be better than you staring down at him, equal parts bewildered and shocked by his bold ask. He can’t even bring himself to try and backtrack and save face, because he feels like his throat is closing up. If there was an award for ‘World’s biggest dumbass’ he would’ve surely swept the floor with the competition.

“No.” You breathe out, face growing hot. Toby’s not any better - the pink tone dusting his cheeks beginning to creep down his neck. “I just… That’s what people say.”

“W-Would you want…” Shut the fuck up, Toby. Shut your idiotic mouth. “Would you ever want t-to try it?” He’s done for. Might as well just throw in the towel now.

He must be speaking with his dick, because if these thoughts were filtering through his brain at all they would’ve stayed tucked far away where you could never hear them. But he was saying them to you, right in your face, just inches from you. He hasn’t a semblance of a clue where this boldness was coming from, but just he knew it would be his undoing.

Hopefully his frazzled mind could figure out a way to leave this interaction not looking like the horny freak he was deep down.

“Would I want to?” You repeat back to him, your tongue feeling heavy as you speak the words. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? And why could you suddenly only focus on the feeling of Toby’s hand on your waist? Before, you had barely even registered it being there. Now, it was all you could feel. “I mean like, yeah.” You murmur sheepishly. “If the opportunity presented itself.”

Toby’s eyes quickly lock in on the pretty pink hue slowly spreading across your cheeks and up to the tips of your ears. You were avoiding his gaze like the plague, and you just kept fidgeting. Were you embarrassed? Uncomfortable? Had he taken it too far?

He watches as you tug the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands, and curl your fingers into fists. “Also I… I don’t know anyone who has one.”

Was that bait? It sounded like bait. So much so that Toby’s eyes immediately flick upwards to scan your face. You were still blushing, darker now, eyes fixated on the wall behind him like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

He knows. He knows he shouldn’t push. But his tongue is pulsing in his mouth, and his dick is coming to life in his jeans, so he’s feeling just a tad compromised. Besides, if you wrote him off he could just act like he was joking. That always worked with you.

“You know me.” Toby murmurs the words softly, almost like he’s hoping you won’t hear it. But, you’re so close that the probability of that is slim to none.

You hear it alright, gaze snapping to his the moment the sound of his voice reaches your ears.

“What… What are you saying?” You ask hesitantly, forcing the words out of your lungs. You know what he’s saying. You know exactly what he means, and yet actually accepting that fact is a lot harder than he probably realizes. He was joking, right? Because there was just no way Toby would offer what he just did to you, of all people.

He… You were his best friend, right? Nothing more, nothing less. That is, unless that was just you being blind and ignorant. Maybe his always lingering touches meant something. Maybe there was a reason he so easily abided to your every whim and suggestion.

“W-Whatever you think I’m saying.” Toby shrugs, and you feel it when his grip on your hip tightens just minutely. Enough for you to really feel it - the pressure of his fingers through your clothes. You’re suddenly acutely aware of every point of contact where your body met his. Your thighs against his, his hand on your waist. Chests so close it would be an ease to close the distance.

You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his eyes. Those chocolate brown irises were blazing. Thinly veiled desire waging a war within them, trying to burst free.

God, had you ever had anyone look at you like that?

“But that… That would be weird.” You laugh sheepishly, despite the fact that your mind was already conjuring up ideas of how it would go down.

Toby’s calloused hands on your thighs, pushing your legs apart and holding them open. That fluffy mess of brown hair, begging for you to tug on it as he parted his lips and-

“W-Would it?” Toby asks, voice lower than before. He reaches up with his free hand, and grasps your chin oh so gently between two fingers. Then he’s turning your head towards him, leaving your gaze nowhere to run as he holds you in place. “Why would it b-be?”

He was in far too deep to back down now, and he was quite sure you didn’t want him to anyway. He could see it, the look in your eyes, how your pupils had dilated more with each word he spoke. You were so receptive, but were holding yourself back. He just had to give you a little push.

“Because.” You mutter, swallowing thickly. You feel like you’re drowning in his eyes, your heart thudding so loud you’re almost convinced it’s migrated to your ears. “Because we’re friends.”

You watch as Toby’s lips purse, a look of something flashing in his irises. Irritation. Maybe a little bit of impatience.

“I’m y-your friend.” He breathes out after a few moments, giving you a few beats to really think about you’ve said before he responds. Just friends. Were you really? You had the potential to be so much more. “You’re s-so much more to me than that, though.”

The hand on your waist slips around you, his forearm wrapping around your torso as he draws you in closer. There’s no excuses now. He didn’t want there to be. “You’re e-everything. Have been since the d-day I met you.” Toby tilts your head downwards, and it’s almost maddening how easily your body bends to his will. Easily conceding. Just letting him push and pull you into whatever position he saw fit. “B-But I didn’t wanna scare you o-off.”

He leans in, close enough that his nose is nearly brushing yours, his gaze still unwavering. You can see the glint of metal in his mouth everytime he speaks. “So I s-sat back. Sat back and watched you f-fuck around with guys that would never have what it takes to t-treat you right.” Your breath hitches, catching in your throat. “Because they don’t know you. N-Not like I do.”

He tugs you in closer, and you can’t help the gasp that leaves you when your hips press against his. You can feel the bulge he’s sporting now, snug against your clothed heat as he looks you right in the eyes. “No one knows you like I-I do.”

And you can’t argue, because you know he’s right. Toby had been the only constant in your life for as long as you could remember. Always close by, always keeping an eye. Making sure you’re safe, happy, cared for. He was also funny, sweet, and handsome in a rugged way. Ergo, clearly the best option, but one you had never considered up until now.

Not because you hadn’t ever thought about it, but more so for fear of ruining what you held dear. Things were fine as they were, so why push it?

You think it over for a total of less than a second before you shift, pressing your hips to his with a lot more intention. Because this feels better. That’s why. Toby lets out a little hiss through his teeth when you notch your hips forwards, his own jolting instinctively at the contact. Your eyes were brimming with a mixture of emotions, mostly shyness and nervousness - but the desire was shining through clear as day. You wanted this. Wanted him.

God, this stupid piercing was so fucking worth it. “No one else knows what s-scares you, excites you.” He trails his hand down your jaw, then your side, letting it find a home resting right above your hipbone as he tugs you down against him again. Gently. Just coaxing you. Taking it at whatever pace you need. “No one else k-knows what makes you laugh. O-Or the way your eyes light up when something makes you ha-happy. No one but me.” You hesitantly roll your hips downwards, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sensation.

You can really feel him now, just growing harder beneath you with each movement you make. Can feel the shape of him, the size of him - large enough to make your heart jump. “I-Isn’t that right?” He’s dipped his head down lower, brought his lips close to your ear so that you can feel the heat of his breath when he speaks. Goosebumps prickle your skin, and it’s getting harder to ignore the warmth creeping down between your thighs.

“Yeah.” You breathe, voice soft and trembling. Toby lets out a little hum of agreement at your answer, and then you feel him hesitate for just a moment before he leans in closer. He does it anyway, pressing his lips against the skin just below your ear. So gentle of a touch you can barely feel it, but it’s enough to send your body into a frenzy.

“S-So it only makes sense that I’d treat you b-best, right?” His lips brush against your ear as he speaks. You’re moving completely of your own volition now - slow rolls down against his lap, dragging your clothed core against the outline of his length. There are butterflies in your stomach, fluttering lower and lower to make your cunt throb against him. You wonder if he can feel it. “I-I’d make it my life’s mission to make you happy.” He murmurs as his grip on you tightens, hips bucking up to meet yours. His breathing has grown heavier and so has yours, soft huffs of air, quivering on exhale. “Y-You’d never cry. Not unless i-it was from somethin’ good.”

Toby rocks you against him, keeping you snug against his chest - all personal space lost. “I-I’d worship you.” He breathes, biting back a groan. “D-Do anything you want. W-Why wouldn’t you want that?”

Good question. Why wouldn’t you?

“I do.” You choke out, eyes fluttering as he pulls you down against him once more. Soft, slows rocks of your hips turning into something much more insistent. He would swear he could feel your heat permeating through your clothes. Just the idea of you growing wet above him right now was enough to make his cock twitch.

“Yeah, you d-do?” He asks, nuzzling into your hair as you move against him. Drowning in your scent. In all of the little sounds you were trying to bite back. “You’ll let me treat you how you d-deserve?”

“Mhm.” You nod back mindlessly, reaching up to grip at the front of his t-shirt - curling your fingers into the fabric. This is good. Really good. The feeling of having Toby so close. The friction of your panties rubbing against your clit every time your hips met his. His hands on you. His breath on your neck.

You were baffled as to how you denied yourself or this for so long? You could’ve had this all along? God, were you stupid.

“God-“ Toby breathes out in a quivering voice. Then, in one swift movement he’s standing and bringing you with him. Arms snaking under your thighs, holding you against him with almost mind-boggling ease as he walks you back towards his bed. It’s messy, blankets strewn around from when he had woken up to the sound of you knocking on his door.

A fact that he had been a little embarrassed about when you first arrived, but he couldn’t care less now. If things went his way, it was going to be an even bigger mess by the time he was done with you.

He lowers you down on his sheets gently, then climbing over you mere seconds later. Blanketing you with his body as he leans down to press his lips to your neck. Toby had thought about this very scenario numerous times. Jerked off to the idea far more times than he would ever admit. You beneath him, all soft and willing. Pulling him in close, hips bucking up towards his impatiently.

His imagination didn’t do the real thing justice at all. You were addictive. The feeling of your fingers weaving into his hair was one he’d never forget, nails scratching against his scalp as he left open mouthed kisses against your neck.

In the back of his mind, he could feel his tongue throbbing. His fresh piercing obviously not too keen on the treatment it was receiving as he licked and nipped at your skin. He couldn’t give less of a damn right now. His tongue could fucking fall off after all this, for all he cared, just so long as he got to taste you first.

Toby’s hands slip under the sweater and up your torso as he swirls his tongue against your collarbone, and he’s nearly moaning from the taste of your skin alone. He can’t think. Couldn’t form a coherent thought if he tried right now, all he could do was meld into you - a slave to his own desires as his palms make their way downwards again, fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts.

He pauses, as if to silently ask for permission, and you’re nodding before you can even think twice about it. Breathing out ‘please’ before you can cringe at how desperate you sound.

You could worry about everything else later. What this meant, where you’d go from it afterwards, if he truly meant everything he had said. None of that mattered right now. You just needed him.

Despite his eagerness, he pulls your shorts off gently. Slowly. Letting you feel the drag of his fingers on the outsides of your thighs as he tugs the material down. He creates a trail of goosebumps against your soft skin, a sight that has a shiver going down his spine. You hear him curse under his breath before he’s ducking his head back down again.

Tugging your sweater up but not all the way off, he presses his lips to the valley between your breasts. Nuzzling into the cleavage that your bra presented to him to beautifully. He thinks he could live there, if you let him, but not today. Today, he has other plans.

Another kiss, to your sternum. Then another a few inches down. It’s only once his lips meet your belly button, that you realize what his destination is.

“Toby-“ You lean up onto your elbows, watching him with hazy eyes as he mouths against your hipbone - toying with the hem of your panties with his teeth. His eyes flit up to meet yours, pupils blown wide. You’re pretty sure you look quite the same when he catches the waistband between his canines and tugs on it. “Your tongue, you can’t-“

“Won’t feel it. D-Doesn’t matter.” He cuts you off, bringing his hands down to cup the backs of your thighs. Callouses against smooth skin, gently spreading you open wider.

“That’s not the issue.” You argue, hips twitching when releases the fabric in his teeth with a snap against your skin. “You know how unsafe that is? It’ll get infected.”

“L-Let it. I don’t g-give a fuck.” His nails bite into your skin, fingers pressing deep into the supple flesh. “I’ve fuh-fuckin’ dreamt about this pussy.” As if to enunciate his point, he closes the gap between his face and your core - pressing his nose against the dampened fabric with a moan. You jolt, hips leaving the bed for a second from the sudden stimulation against your throbbing clit. “I need to taste you. P-Please.” His lips part before you can even speak next, his darting out to drag flat against clothed folds.

And you think, it would take a lot stronger of a woman than you to refuse him. Nestled between your thighs, face flushed and eyes hazy as he mouths at your heat through your panties.

It’s a bad idea and you know it is, but he’s literally begging you. Begging for you in a way no man had ever done for you before. He was right, he would treat you better.

And so - disregarding pretty much the number one rule after getting an oral piercing, and spitting in the face of all the training you did - you nod. Small, and shaky, but that’s all Toby needs. “A-Ah, thank you.” He murmurs against you, fingers coming up to grab at the thin material hugging your hips.

He pulls it down a lot quicker than he had your shorts, desperation obviously getting the best of him. That was okay though, because his blazing desire for you was only making you wetter. A sight that he got a prime view of once your underwear was completely discarded - thrown off into some corner of his bedroom. “So puh-pretty.” Toby murmurs in awe, before bringing a hand down to swipe his fingers through your slickness. You can hear it when his breath hitches. “And s-so wet for me.” He spreads his fingers, parting your folds and exposing you fully - fixated on the sight of your core like he had just seen god himself.

He might as well have, with the effect you have on him. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, rock hard length pulsing against the confines of his jeans. Only once it drips down against you, does he notice that he’s drooling. Literally drooling over your pussy.

Such a mess for you, but he couldn’t care less. “S-So fucking pretty.” He repeats again in a breathless whisper, and then he’s diving in.

Your entire body jolts when his tongue meets your cunt - licking a long, flat stripe from bottom to top. You couldn’t even attempt to hold back the moan that elicited, body arching up from the bed as tingles shoot up your spine.

You can feel it. You can feel the hard metal of his piercing, pressing against your clit when he repeats the action. And the rumours were right. That felt fucking divine. It added the perfect amount of pressure, the jewelry rolling against you with each flick of his tongue. He laps at you a few times, dipping into your folds, savouring the taste of you flooding his tastebuds.

You were so sweet. So sweet that even though his cock is aching in his jeans, but he pays it no mind. He just needed this, your pussy flush against his face, and he’d be satisfied. The tip of his tongue swipes through your slick, and then his lips are circling around your clit - giving it all the love it deserved.

Your hand flies downwards, fisting into his hair with a grip you know would be painful if he could feel it. But you couldn’t help it. He was eating you out like a starving dog, slurping up every drop of slick that left you. “S-So fuckin’ good.” He slurs against you, taking in a quivering breath before he prods his tongue at your entrance.

It the only warning you get before the warm muscle is sliding inside you.

“F-Fuck, Toby-“ You cry, tugging him in closer by the hair - an action that makes him let out a gravelly moan into you. Hot, slick muscle slides against your quivering walls - the top ball of his piercing dragging against the sensitive flesh. It makes you genuinely see stars, vision going blurry as his tongue works inside you. “You- Fuck! It’s so good.”

He honestly didn’t think he could get more turned on than he already was right now, but the sound of your voice? Yeah, that did it. You sounded fucking sinful. Gasped out, strained words. Voice so high pitched and pretty. And the moans that were slipping out now too? He needed to hear more. Needed to hear you moan your little heart out until your throat went raw.

His fingers claw at your thighs, and now he’s tugging them apart wider, giving himself ample room to devour you completely. His tongue thrusts into you, nose bumping against your clit, the entire bottom half of his face shining with a combination of your slick and his drool. But he just couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Not until you were begging him to.

He leans forwards more, practically burying his face in your cunt. As he does, his hips shift, his neglected cock brushing against the bed through his jeans. And by now, he’s so agonizingly worked up that just that small bit of friction has him letting out a gravelly moan right against your twitching core.

He lapping you up like he had been starving for it, and quite honestly, he was. He had been, for a long, long time. He feels almost dizzy from it, so drunk on you that his mind was going hazy.

And you? Well, you’re having a hard time not completely melting into his bed. You can barely breathe between moans. Tingles of pleasure are making your thighs twitch and tremble but Toby keeps them held open right where he wants them. You’re burning up, slick with sweat. You had thought about tugging the sweater off of you, but being enveloped in his scent was just getting you higher.

His tongue leaves you, and then he’s back to abusing your clit again - flicking his pierced tongue against the swollen nub. He can feel it throbbing, and he knows he’s getting you right where he wants you to be.

He sucks on you gently, rubbing the metal in his mouth against the sensitive flesh - a sensation that has you damn near sobbing. A sound that he wants to hear over and over again, so he doubles his efforts.

One hand leaves your thigh (in its wake, five crescent shaped indents in your skin) to move lower downwards instead. His tongue drags flat against your clit as he slips a finger inside you.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better.

He pumps it into you in time with the flick of his tongue, curling it gently as he tries to find the spot that would make you cry out for him again. Once, twice, three times he tries, and then- “Ah!” Found it.

The way you tightened up around him made his mind go fuzzy, imagining just how perfect you’d feel around his cock instead. You were already so tight, wet, and warm around his finger - which was just a taste. He’d probably cum before he even got an inch inside.

Speaking of, he was trying not to right now. Without even realizing it, ever since that first brush of the mattress against his length, he had been absentmindedly grinding down against his while keeping his tongue occupied. He needed something, anything, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tear his mouth away from you. He might not ever get enough.

And so, he’s left humping his own mattress like a damn dog, downright whorish groans vibrating against you everytime he brings his hips down. If he had any rationality left, he’d realize how humiliating the entire scenario was, but his mind was too far gone. Turned to mush by you and that holy treasure between your legs. “Toby-“ He hears you gasp again, and his name has never sounded better. You made it sound like gospel as you breathed it out, all needy and overwhelmed.

The warmth brewing in your gut was getting to be too much to bear, building and building into a heat that was all-consuming. You’re so close you can taste it, gripping his hair so tight that you’re almost worried you might rip some of the strands out.

Toby can feel it when your pleasure starts to crest, your walls convulsing around his finger as he laps at your clit. It just spurs him on more, knowing that he can take you there. That you’re crying out for him. Clutching at him as your thighs shake.

He feels like he’s on top of the world. He feels euphoric. He feels like…

…Like he’s cumming.

It hits him with no warning, unannounced, right as you let out a broken cry and arch up off of the bed. He’s moaning into you as you gush into his mouth, hot slick that has his eyes rolling back as a wet, sticky warmth blooms in his boxers.

His free hand claws at your thigh, his hips hopelessly rutting against the bed to ride out the high as you buck up into his mouth. Pulsing and twitching against his tongue. Still, he couldn’t get enough. With pleasure sizzling through every nerve in his body, the taste of you was just heightening it. Making his hips twitch and his whole body tremble as he borderline sobs into your pussy, lapping up every drop of your release.

It’s only once your shaky hands start pushing his head away from your way too sensitive clit, does he relent.

It takes a few long moments for either of you to come back down to earth.

Toby’s left with his cheek pressed against your thigh, stubble scratching the soft skin as he gasps for air - trying to catch his breath. His eyes are drooped closed; cheeks flushed, hair in disarray, with his mouth and chin glistening with a combination of his spit and your release. He’s trembling slightly, you can feel it, still grasping your thigh like it would kill him to let go.

Through your hazy eyes, and brain still mushy from the afterglow of your orgasm, you think he might just be the most lovely thing you’ve ever seen.

You weakly tug at his hair, making his eyes flutter open to look up at you dreamily. “C’mere.” You murmur tiredly. “Wouldn’t be fair if I’m the only one who came.”

Toby blinks up at you and his face flushes an even deeper pink as he fumbles for what to say next. You hadn’t noticed? Well, maybe he couldn’t blame you for being too caught up in your own pleasure. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, gaping at you like a fish out of water before he’s mumbling out;

“Y-You weren’t.” He smiles at you sheepishly, blush spreading upwards to dust the tips of his ears rosy as well. “I’m g-good.”

Your lips part, eyes widening as his words sink in. Once the realization hits, a whole new wave of heat washes over your entire body. He had..? Just from..? You almost couldn’t wrap your head around it.

But when his hand reaches down to adjust his jeans, and you notice his expression twist into one of embarrassed discomfort - you know he’s not lying. “T-Tried not to, but… I don’t know. You d-do things to me.”

Clearly.

You let out a little disbelieving laugh, then trailing your hand down the side of his face to caress his cheek. The way he leans into your touch immediately has your heart slipping a beat. He was so perfect it was almost uncanny.

But of course, rationality had to come back into play eventually.

“Oh shit.” You breathe, pulling your hand back so that you could prop yourself up on your elbows as you gazed down at him - expression becoming wrinkled with worry. “How’s your tongue?”

Toby blinks up at you, like he had also forgotten about how carelessly he had treated the fresh wound in his mouth, before shrugging his shoulders and sticking his tongue out for you to observe.

Swollen and angry. That’s the best way you could describe the sight of the once portfolio-worthy piercing you had just done on him. His tongue was definitely irritated beyond belief, a painful looking shade of red coating the entire thing. “You’re fucked.” You murmur, brows pinching together. “Toby… That’s definitely getting infected.”

Again, Toby shrugs.

“W-Worth it.”

You were right, of course. Toby woke up the next morning with a tongue so swollen he could barely open his mouth. A sight that had you rubbing your temples in disbelief, and him still somehow managing a cocky grin

He managed to save it, with both his and your efforts combined (and antibiotics, and a lot of mouthwash, and ice cubes). It luckily only took about a week for the irritation to subside.

Which was good, because he was definitely keeping this one.

—————————————————————————☆

looked at my own tongue piercing in the mirror and went ‘What if Toby…’ and now here we are.

thanks for reading! ♡

[mawlbone]

PLAYBOY BUNNY - KÖNIG

[SNIPPET: Never in your life had you paid much much interest towards the more… pet-ish sort of outfits. You know, the type of stuff you’ll find in the bedroom to be a little more wild from ears embedded headband, tail plugs, and hell, even collars. Though, when one of your older customer dropped off their old collection of Playboy magazines as an “extra tip” for your work, who are you to deny such a gesture?]

[CW: gender neutral reader, domtop reader, possessive reader (it’s mutual), flemish giant hybrid König, mention of childhood bullying, mild hunting description, praise kink, fingering, non-specific penetration (could be interpreted as dick or strap), sloppy riding, dry-humping, breeding kink, overstimulation, biting, missionary sex, doggy style, and sleepy sex.]

[COMMENT: Promised sequel to Lucky Rabbit’s Foot, please read that first. Apologies for how overdue this is, this month had kept me terribly busy, have fun kissing the big guy. I promise to be nice for the most part! But then I got angry at my draft being deleted and writing too much in the exposition… Sigh, on a final note, don’t ask for any kits, do you want to cause an overpopulation problem in this world! /lh]

Out of the many things you had learned since you had taken over your grandfather’s cabin and many long ago car rides together, one that constantly proves itself true time after time again is that people are utterly talkative when they’re lonely.

Year after year, when the town brings its daily rounds of tourists to celebrate the holidays, many of the residents will speak about you, the hermit that resides in the depths of the forests with nothing more than their gun and bags to send to the local butcher in town.

At least, that’s what the bar regulars say.

An unconventional job bad brought words of envy from your local bar’s residents as they swing over heavy jugs of cheap watery beers. Half fizzled from the barley with eyes that once spoke of brighter dreams, you hear them murmur within their daze as they take your ear to complain about the newfound loneliness in their lives now: the emptiness they feel in their 9-5 jobs, the lack of friendship they can keep, and disappearing free time to go explore life more. All of it they lament to you how nice it would be constantly outside and surrounded by nothing but the warm silence and greener grass every time you come and visit.

You have half a mind to protest those thoughts.

There’s nothing admirable in what you do: between the daily rounds of shooting, harvesting, and selling whatever scraps of meat and bones after sustaining yourself— what exactly is so admirable about it? With bloodied clothes rotten into a grimy brown when you’re done for the day and a heavier heart knowing all of your catches were simply a wrong-place-wrong-time as you once again steadied your rifle at the wounded creature for a quick death with a soft click.

But you don’t, no point in arguing about something like this, wondering about the limits of a “necessary sacrifice” too much.

And when you have to deal with months of being left on your own for the majority of the year, eventually you will learn to tune out your peers never-ending nagging for you to find a companion to accompany you in that empty cabin of yours before it’s all too late and you’re too grey and aching to settle.

”Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone waiting for you at home with a hot plate and to warm your bed while you’re away?”

From doctors and far-away friends, those type of sentiments never ends. While you are comforted by their worries, you never expected your long-time customers to join in as well when they hear about you in the bar as well…

Especially when one of them placed the box of indecent mags into your arms with the most shit-eating grin you ever seen saying the stuff will keep you company before driving off in a puff of clouds with that stupidly big red truck of his. You can distantly hear some midwest emo band booming out of the windows as he fades away into the distance with nothing more than the vibrant autumn leaves blowing behind him.

Usually you would had typically complained about such junk being left behind for you to deal with but— ‘the bunny suits are quite cute…’

You quietly thought to yourself, when you made your way back home, comfy on your worn leather couch with a mug in hand flipping through thick raunchy pages filled with hundreds of women dolled up in their colorful 60s cocktail suits in their complete bunny ensemble. From the fluffy yarn tail and bent bunny ears as they decorate themselves with big ol’ lashes and lace, honestly you felt a bit endeared by it.

The sharp cuts of skin as they prance around on the wide spread of pages and contort their bodies to meet the camera’s gaze to appease whoever is behind it, perhaps was a bit silly in your eyes.

While their intimidation will never come close to your big rabbit’s adorableness, you had to admit, those suits were quite a sight for sore eyes. Page by page, you moved from complete nudes to admire the cutesy blues and pinks to admire the classic black satin bunny suits tightly hugging the women’s figures snuggly.

Perhaps it’s a bit amusing to you, as a huntsman to watch the way people tried to make themselves more approachable: smaller, weaker, cuter— something worthy of being loved despite how non-animalistic they were. With naturally rounded nails, blunt teeth, and a lack of proper fur on skin to protect oneself from the cold, it’s no wonder why humans moved to advancing themselves to be stronger, all while attempting to return to a state of harmlessness just for the sake of being adored.

Maybe you’re just being critical.

There’s no harm in wanting to be liked, everyone does. Such is the nature of men. Perhaps you once felt that way before, but you’re older now, simply content with the hermit life you with your fewest closest friends to keep you company for the few times you all are able to meet throughout the year.

Plus, your big rabbit will be coming back soon. It’s nearly winter now, you can tell by the way the crisp winter breeze over your bare face every time you come outside to talk a walk around the forest.

It been three years since you made an unlikely relationship with König, the giant flemish rabbit that got his foot stuck in one of your traps. Yes, your giant huffy rabbit who is much too smart for his own good.

Sure, you never heard of a rabbit who can somehow open and closes doors when you shut him out to do work, or a rabbit who somehow can tell the time for meals, or even one that learned to wipes his paws on your floor mat before walking in your home after you scold him for bringing dirt onto your floors.

But he’s yours even if it’s just for the winter.

No way you’ll sell your long-eared friend, even if he breaks your wallet when you splurge on importing out of season berries for him to munch on. Though you do worry about him eating your meats occasionally, remembering the multiple occasions where he’ll furiously bounce off your lap to chase after your sandwich despite your complaints, but you did find a little laugh in you when he goes immediately bouncing away whenever you needed to change your dirtied clothes while he was in the same room as you.

It’s whatever, you don’t want no mad scientists knocking at your door to dissect your rabbit’s brain. If anything, they might take you and him if they see your sticky note galore all over your bedroom’s walls, something that you long had reduced after watching König chew on them. After watching you fuss and shoo him away from them, you could had sworn you remembered him smiling from beneath his fluff after he watched you cleaned up your cluttered papers.

Taking one last sip of your mug, you made sure to make a mental note to place the magazines somewhere high so that he won’t chew on them as well as you had long learned your rabbit is not fond of indecency…

Changing in front of him one time after getting your clothes covered in dirt from gardening had led him to flee under your couches and refusing to meet your eye or even cuddle you that entire winter, but you managed to cox him with treats finally when he came back around again.

Oh well, as your hands slammed the magazine shut, you made a note to place them high above your shelves so König won’t find them.

Winter is coming soon after all, and you can’t wait to see your fluffy friend once more.

—

While winter will bring its usual cheer and shimmer with carols and bells ringing up everyone’s doors, but for a lonely hunter? The cold snow will rush in a giant black rabbit squeezing his head into the dog door, something you had installed before when you didn’t made it home in time to let him in and leaving him to deal with the elements.

It’s something you had long cried about, furiously apologizing to the rabbit while clutching him to your chest before he butted your mouth shut, tired of hearing you sob for so long. He has a thick coat, he was fine, so be quiet now won’t you? There’s no need to feel bad.

So upon stepping into your empty cabin, he figured you had long been out dropping off last minute orders again.

Busy human you are…

It won’t take long for him to snoop around in his human form as he shifts, making sure to take his sweet time to stretch around. He can feel the way his bones crackle as his limbs bend and fold underneath his weight. Oh well, might as well through your shelves, just go and see if you added anything new since the last time he came.

Perhaps he shouldn’t been nosy, maybe that would had saved him from finding the the dozens of dog eared pages on your shelf littering his vision as his eyes dart back and froth at the scantily-clad ladies dressed up to the nines in the cheekiest bunny suits König had ever seen.

With the tight satin bows and lace wrapped around their forms, König could feel the heat arising onto his cheeks as his hands suddenly dropped the magazines with a loud “plop” onto your floors to rub his heated face, suddenly feeling very bothered, fiddling around occasionally squeezing his floppy hanging ears for comfort.

Why was he acting so shocked for? It’s not like you were some saint. Neither were you and him were something more than friends— So why is he so upset for?!

Humans and hybrids were already forbidden from interacting in the first place, that’s the one rule he had engraved into his brain until it became nothing more than another wrinkle on it. It’s what all hybrids learn as soon as they could speak, safety and survival, survival and safety. Do not approach the humans.

But König had never been the best listener, especially when he already been outcasted for being so big. Eating too much, growing too much, there was little he can do to appease his colony. A nuisance really, how can one grow so big?

‘He’ll do horrible in the winter, why bother keeping him around…’

Perhaps that’s why he’s so attached to you— you’re nothing but a giver of easy affection. Long cold days are filled with you cuddling him on your lap as you stroke his ears and kiss his face, calling him your baby and such.

He had to put a foot down at some names however when you poke his behind, calling him a “little mop” while he was eating some of your leftover egg salad.

But back to the present, as he takes one final glance over the playboy magazines on the floor, he wonders deeply of whether you’ll accept him like this. Half rabbit and human and all, something more in between that props couldn’t do… You seem to really like a half rabbit based off the pages so— you shouldn’t mind if he became your only choice, right as his equally large hands begin to crumble the photos.

There’s something funny squeezing his chest, he isn’t sure what it is, but it’s quite uncomfortable and all stuck in his throat as he breaths, only relieving itself more and more as he rips another magazine underneath his nails.

Maybe it’s something that he had been long avoiding. Something that is undeniably rabbit in his skin beneath covers back at the base. A heavy hand pushing down on the tent in his place thinking about how you’re strong enough to provide for him with all your territory in his dumb little rabbit brain.

He’ll be well protected. He won’t have to worry about safety anymore. It’ll be nice. So nice. He won’t have to come back to the dens anymore to appease his needs anymore.

It must be simple instincts for why he’s falling so fast.

Yes, that’s what must be it…

No such thing like fickleness of love awaits for him. It’s a rabbit’s nature to live fast and breed fast, no room for anything else.

But surely you can come to accept him in this form too if you have these lying around. Even if he is a little more realistically than the bunny girls in the magazines, right?

—

There’s very few things that makes you frustrated with life.

Whether that be taxes or bad customers, coming home to a mess of ripped and scattered papers at your door is the newest thing on that list when you came home from your orders to see what looked like an absolute tornado had ran though your living room.

Ripped bits of your playboy magazines scattered your vision as piles and piles of spewed about your home. Your once clean rooms now stuck in disarray with nothing more than the lingering mess of an upset rabbit.

Well, guess he was able to grab the box after all, you contemplate to yourself as you set your bags down.

Kicking aside a barely holdable magazine by your feet, you decided to follow the trial of scattered papers into your bedroom already wondering what ways you can appease your rabbit.

As you twist the knob, you can distantly hear the sound of claws scratching against your mattress as you sigh, pressing forward to swing the door open. With a loud “thump”, you step back, taking a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of your room as your eyes scan over the familiarity of your aligned drawers and astray piles of unfinished laundry before your eyes fall on the abnormally large bump hidden beneath your bed covers as you stared, confused.

‘Surely a giant flemish can’t go through another growth spurt. Is that even possible? Did you fed him too much?’

You thought as you slowly, you approach the bed making sure to make your footsteps apparent to not scare him before gently patting the giant bump.

“König~”, you cooed, softly shaking the massive figure underneath your blankets. “What’s wrong baby?, I wasn’t that late. Don’t be too mad at me…” Attempting to coax your friend

Your hands smoothed over the wrinkles of the blankets, gliding them over the massive form. You really didn’t want to go through another winter without being able to cuddle him, he’s pretty much the only warmth you have regularly.

But when an undeniably human sob escaped from your covers instead of the usual sniffles your rabbit makes— immediately you didn’t stop yourself from ripping away your covers.

Your mind races as the downpour of cold sweat shrivels down your spine as you grabbed the sheets off. Cursing and all as you wrestled with the man underneath as you rustled with the sheets.

Please, anything but him— You beg to yourself. Stricken with the immediate grief of losing something dear once more in this sad life of yours.

But when your sheets were pulled away to reveal an awfully large man with huge floppy black ears running down on the side of his face as he stares at you with the saddest baby blue eyes you ever seen on his droopy face desperately trying to cover himself, ashamed as he squirms around in your grasp.

He struggles madly, almost like a buck on the loose as you fought with the stranger as strong nails caught onto your arms, not enough for you bleed but held yourself back from pinning down the man further when a familiar red collar wrapped around the fluff of his neck quickly caught your attention.

You aren’t exactly dumb to not connect the dots… But heavens, could someone give you some grace when you had to take a few moments to collect yourself! The last thing you could had expected is your dearly beloved rabbit is to turn into some— man-rabbit-thing overnight.

Well… That explains his abnormal intelligence and all now. Slowly, you let up your hold on König, still placing him firmly underneath you. Just in case if your friendship with him suddenly means nothing to him and he’ll go forever missing from you.

You decide to gaze upon the man once more, taking a long deep moment to take in the sight.

From the short black hair and wide blue eyes staring you down, you dared to caress his face as the man shivered. Smoothing your hand over his soft cheeks, your thumb brushes upon his brow and then down to the leftover scruffiness of his beard. Gently, softly, and slowly you moved your hands all over, admiring the strangeness he possess. You hear König begin to stamper as a widening smile begins to form upon your face. It’s strangely nostalgic, this moment between you two. Having him in your grasp, something hot rushes in your skin as you begin to laugh loudly, joyously at your friend’s new form.

He’s terribly cute, what is this nonsense? How dare he keeps this sight away from you! You complained silently as you reached down to begin kissing his forehead and squeezing those velvet laid ears of his to your heart’s delight as he squawks, embarrassed at your shamelessness once more.

Truly animals evolved to be too adorable to kill…

After much half-hearted struggles against your hold to satisfy your touch addiction with one last bite of his ears before dodging a swift punch, both of you finally settled upon your bed again.

You silently thank your past self for investing in a larger bed because no way can you and him can fit on your old twin size bedding.

König lays beneath you. Not meeting your eyes. Never moving, still. You could’ve mistake him for some poor road-killed animal as you laid between his strong legs, letting you enjoy yourself with squeezing the thick muscles underneath all that fat and the strangeness of rabbit hair brushed across that human skin.

Perhaps a moment had passed.

Maybe two.

You weren’t keeping count, too amused with squeezing his flesh as he laid, stiffed up in what looks like his deathbed.

But between the dead of the room, slowly those small warbled whispers beings to pour from your friend of how deeply sorry he was for deceiving, how he never intended to mask himself this long within the quiet. He was scared, he says, of what you’ll think of him, of when you’ll cast him away into the bitter cold to die because you couldn’t stand such a freak inside your walls. He continues, confessing his shame, how he was sorry for ripping up those magazines when he came back home because he got vicarious angry at the thought of someone taking his place. For those thoughts blistered inside his chest until it blackened and decayed into a gruel mush, something that was familiar to him once long before he had to run away from it. He explained how he tried to sleep it off while waiting for you to sooth his worries like you always do, he wasn’t expecting to shift during his nap and when you came in— it was just too late to hide from you.

And with those bated breaths, he now waits, still, once more for you. And from above, you take a moment to take in everything around you. You can hear the rumbles of your old radiator heaving outside your room, the drips of your constant sobbing sink, and mad winds banging against your windows to be let in your warm home.

All of it, you take in as König lays underneath you.

There are many things you can say in this moment. But there are also many things you can also just keep secret. You can say how you understand him, how you too are constantly afraid of other people around you, just thinking and existing within the same space, struggling and wondering if you are breathing too loudly, blinking too little, or looking a bit too unkept for them to harbor a dislike for you. But vulnerability is a soft organ gutted with nothing but squishy mass with nowhere to defend itself, and you aren’t too willing to expose such a soft jelly thing. So you decide to keep it short, merely saying how you will never abandon him because he’s your friend as his eyes widened, dead stiff hands now finally moving to properly hold onto you.

Maybe you’re going insane in your isolation but— he’s pretty much the only comfort you have, and he never did anything malicious to you as a rabbit so you’re not really keen on letting him escape. What hunter does such a thing when a pretty thing falls onto their lap?

He chose to be yours.

Not anyone else.

You hear sobs escape König lips when you press down your face to rub against his own. A gesture, familiar, he recognizes.

It’s what he does to comfort you as a rabbit. Yes, indeed you’re terribly fond of him. That, you can’t deny no longer as you brushed the tears down his round pink-ed cheeks. For you, a human, hunger for flesh the same way all men do. And when a lingering hand presses down his thigh, terribly close to the tent in his boxers, you grinned with glee when he quickly raised his hips in turn, pushing you closer to him with an endearing tilt of his head as those strong legs begin to gather around your waist, daring you to continue down your little trek.

Can anyone blame you when you jumped for the bait?

Oh well, looks like you’ll be in for a long warm winter.

—

You distantly remembered visiting a country fair at some point during one late summer when your grandfather was still alive and hearty and breathing with a characteristic pipe in his hand as you both strolled down the booth, looking to sell your small hunts for the day.

“Something to get you ready when you’re older and out all alone there. You suck at talking, y’know? Can’t charm customers with that shut-mouth of yours”, he said with a little attitude on his tongue. You huffed at his bluntness, too tired from chasing after pests yesterday before you two stepped into a tent-laid alleyway to peer into the petting zoo with its glamours of piglets, sheep, and hamsters all in their caged fences, staring bright-eyed and bushy for you to step in.

Though when you grandfather finally stopped to talk to a familiar face, some acquaintance that came by the cabin often, your eyes wandered about the room, hearing the clatter of voices blending away to an incomprehensible language as you grow grumpier at the uncomfortable heat of the room.

But something had caught your attention from afar you can see a tall wooden sign with splashy red letters listing in embolden letters that there are “Rabbits for Sale!” Curious, it led you wandering over to awe at the sight of sleeping rabbits inside their pen, just hidden within the back and all wrapped up in their hay, obscured and cozy within their own world as you creeped over to watch them.

You aren’t sure why you were so fixated on those creatures. Maybe because you were too used to the occasional possum banging up the cabin’s attic that made you interested in those small creatures. As you stared upon them, too long for you to admit, you can distantly hear someone chattering in your ear. You tuned out most of their words, flying into one ear and out the other, too accustomed to random strangers giving their mind when it’s not needed. But as you stared at those fluffy small rabbits, you distantly hear some snippets, something about “keeping them separate” and them being “fucking maniacs” because they’re so weak that they will keep breeding under any circumstances to continue their lineage.

And today?

You’ll laugh at how true those words are every time you pull on those stupidly soft ears of his, earning you a small squeal at the jolt of pain-turned-pleasure as his screams fall on deaf ears with every sweet thrust against his ass, switches between pleas for more and more outta you before attempting to run away as his feet kicks violently at the sheets as you push more soft little noises from his chapped lips..

‘How silly, your little bunny is’, you thought to yourself, as you paused to reach over to bite his meaty arms and cover them anew with deep marks up and down his arms as he moans into your ears, mewling as he takes this moment to catch his breaths. Long hefty gulps of oxygen rattles his lungs as he cries and complains at your bullying as he rubs his sore ears. The pleasure still had not left his bones as he tenses his hole, still feeling the remnants of your presence inside him when you pulled out to admire his debauchery. It wasn’t long before he begin meanly snipping at you to pick up the pace once more as he spreads his legs wider as a mixture of lube and cum sloppily drips down from the loosened opening before his head falls onto the mattress, passing out in pure exhaustion.

Fucking hell… You sigh at the sight, as you moved to take care of him.

There must be some sickness inside your head telling you to pick apart König more and more as the time flies by for it. For it been days since you two had left the house. Your back aches from strain. Muscles sore from repetitious movements. And there is a small festering headache arising slowly within your temples but— you can’t stop.

It must be an addiction now when you can feel your mouth salivate like a trained dog every time you see those strong hard-earned muscles collapses underneath you from exhaustion. And you can’t say it should be a surprise to you when you come to the eventual realization that König is utterly so damn needy. Despite your best attempts to sooth his libido with prepping his hole as much as you can at the start, bumping thick knuckles against his good spots only left him on a torturous edge as he fussed around and threatened to leave if you don’t put something in him already.

That of course, pissed you off.

What a fucking brat he is, coming into your house and asking you to appease more of his demands? Who does he think he is?! You finally had enough of that attitude of his that day, deciding to wrestle him to tie his arms together onto his back before you flipped him over onto his stomach to use as a handlebar. And just raising his hips high enough with some pillows for you to slam in immediately as you pushed many nerve-racking releases out of hm.

And oh boy, did you redeem yourself when you pulled those arms back into your hips, forcing out a small cacophony of deep groans and curses out of his throat before making him let out a sharp cry when you grab that fuzzy tail of his to maneuver him around as his dick rubs against the soft covers. Immediately starting his little tirade of how horrible you are before you shut him up with a few hard slams against his prostate and praising him when he did closed his mouth to stop those cute cries from spilling, embarrassed and too angry to give you the satisfaction of teased him as you laughed. That didn’t stop you for noticing how his ears perked up when you called him a “good boy” for “listening to you” as his hips subtly rose to press against you.

Or when you got him to ride you for a bit, thinking how pretty he’ll look atop of you as he crushes your hips. Though… You had to put a foot down when you realized how much he absolutely sucked at riding. With reddened eyes and nose dripping with snot, you watch as König barely raises his body up and down. Weakened from the onslaught of the bruising you had done to his bottom, he could do nothing more than hump against you, pleading you to take over for him. He’s too tired, please do it for him. He can’t, everything burns inside and you’re the only one who can make him feel better he says. Struggling to shake himself awake as those bunny ears flop around his face, and making him look so much more fragile in his ruined galore, freshly fucked and all shiny with afterglow.

You’ll have to ask him later to wear some mascara or eye black next time to watch them drip down his face as you mess him up again.

However, for now, you have to clean your big rabbit while you still can. In those small hours of rest, you’ll bathe and feed König to his heart’s content, nothing more than wiping wet towels across his skin and cleaning the covers as you feed some light foods and water to refresh him.

He had been good and you always will make sure to let him know that. But if he dares to say he’ll leave you one day?

There’s nothing but a little trap that wouldn’t do the trick for a big catch…

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Heartfelt Deception

Law x reader (she/her)

Modern AU, fake-dating, friends-to-lovers, like one swear word.

Summary: Law asked you to attend a charity event his hospital is hosting as his fake girlfriend. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s happening on Valentine’s Day.

Words: 7.7k

Notes: For the Valentine’s Week event. I had this whole fake dating-to-hospital event idea for the ficmas event, but I scrapped it because I didn’t have much time to write it then. I’m so glad I did, though, because I think the story turned out much better for Valentine’s Day than it would have for Christmas.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Dr. Trafalgar Law was pacing back and forth in the small office of the hospital. His fingers drummed anxiously against the table as he read the charity event invitation for the fifth time, each glance making his pulse race a little faster.

The truth was, Law never liked events like this. Fundraisers, speeches, fake smiles—it all made him itch with discomfort. His introverted nature clashed with the expectations of being a ‘people person’ in the medical field, and the last thing he wanted was to attend an event where everyone would be looking at him.

A month ago, during yet another relentless round of coworkers begging him to attend an after-work gathering, Law had casually mentioned that he had plans. But instead of letting it go, they kept pressing, demanding to know why he was always declining invitations. Frustrated, he blurted out that he needed to spend time with his girlfriend. Before he could even think, the hospital buzzed with talk about his mysterious partner, one no one had ever met. Now, he was cornered into bringing his partner to the hospital's prestigious charity gala on Valentine’s Day. The irony wasn’t lost on him—his colleagues were all too eager to point out how fitting it was to host an event focused on heart issues on a day devoted to hearts.

As one of the hospital’s top cardiac surgeons, Law was expected to be a key speaker. Worse still, he was supposed to bring his girlfriend. But the problem? He didn’t have one.

There was only one person he could turn to—you.

“You want me to do what?!” you asked, your eyes wide with shock, your coffee cup momentarily forgotten in your hand.

He sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “I need you to go with me to that stupid gala as my girlfriend.”

Your brow furrowed as you set the cup down. “You're serious?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?”

“Why would you make up a girlfriend just to avoid gatherings?” you shot back, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed. “You could’ve just said you weren’t interested in going.”

He glanced down at the table, clearly agitated, his fingers tapping against the surface in a nervous rhythm. “It’s not that simple. I’ve already turned them down too many times. They won’t leave me alone. And now I’m expected to show up—with a date. It’s just… ridiculous.”

You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, as you considered his words. “Why not just say you broke up recently?”

“Because it’s obvious. Then I lose that excuse for the future,” he said, picking up his cup and drinking from it.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to wrap your head around the absurdity of it all. “So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, just so you can avoid more gatherings down the line?”

“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were the most logical solution in the world.

You shook your head, unable to help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re ridiculous. When is this supposed to happen?”

“February 14th,” he replied, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Valentine’s Day?”

He rolled his eyes, clearly irritated. “Yeah, they thought they were being so clever with that one.”

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, is this your way of asking me to be your Valentine?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Who’s being ridiculous now?” But then, with a sly smirk, he added, “So... you’re in?”

A long pause hung in the air as you considered his request. The idea of pretending to be his girlfriend was insane, yes. Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend—for Valentine’s Day, no less—was the kind of thing you’d laugh about in a bad rom-com. But the look on his face was impossible to ignore. Desperation, tinged with just enough pride to keep him from outright begging.

Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms as if it might shield you from the insanity you were about to agree to. “Fine. But you owe me big time for this.”

“Don’t worry,” The smirk on his face widened into a grin, and you wondered what exactly you’d just gotten yourself into. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And with that, you sealed your fate.

The day of the event had finally arrived. Law was at your door, punctual as always, ready to pick you up just as you'd arranged. He stood there, dressed impeccably—his sharp suit tailored to perfection, exuding confidence and elegance. You tried your hardest not to stare too much, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly he pulled it all off.

“Ready?” His voice broke through your thoughts.

“Just a moment,” you replied, your voice betraying your hesitation as you moved closer to the mirror. You needed to make sure everything was just right. You were dressed in the outfit that made you feel good about yourself and was fitting for such an event. Yet, despite all the preparation, a knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. The idea of pretending to be Law's girlfriend made you nervous, no matter how hard you tried to pretend it did not. 

He sighed when you took your sweet time. “Can you stop checking yourself out?”

You glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. “Sorry for making sure people won’t judge your taste too much...” you muttered, half-amused, half-defensive.

He scoffed as he moved closer, looking at you in the mirror. “Like I care what people think.” Then, with a pause, he added, his voice quieter, almost... sincere, “Besides, you look... stunning.”

You froze for a moment, surprised by his words. “Really?”

“Yes,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His gaze softened, and you swore you saw a hint of admiration there.

“Um, thanks. And... you look amazing too.”

He cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “Let’s just go, shall we?” 

“You're sure this will work, right?” Law muttered as he turned to face you. 

“Yes, it’ll work.” You flashed a confident grin, trying to reassure him, though you were just as uncertain as he was. “You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“Well, I can’t believe you made up a girlfriend in the first place,” you shot back. “But here we are.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face again, not sure whether to laugh or groan. It was one thing to get himself into this mess, but dragging you in was entirely a different matter. The pressure was mounting on both of you. Could you really pull this off? 

Then you caught his eye. A flicker of humor, a spark of something you couldn’t quite place, passed between you, and at that moment, you knew you could. Maybe this absurd charade wasn’t as impossible as it seemed.

He let out a long breath and straightened his posture, his decision made. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way, then,” you replied, your tone playful, despite the nerves you were still trying to suppress.

He gave a curt nod, opening the door and holding it for you. With that, you stepped into the venue. The Valentine’s Day theme was apparent everywhere—soft pink and red lighting bathed the space, heart-shaped centerpieces adorned every table, and a live jazz band played romantic melodies in the background. You looked over at him and snorted, seeing his expression.

“I take it Valentine’s Day isn’t your favorite holiday?” you teased softly, leaning just close enough so he could hear without anyone else catching on.

Law’s gaze flickered to you, his brow arching slightly. “What gave it away?” he replied dryly, expending his arm to you.

“Oh, just a hunch,” you said with a small smile, slipping your hands through his arm. “You’re doing great, though. Really selling the whole ‘romantic evening’ thing.”

Law’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that told you he wasn’t entirely immune to your teasing. “I’m thrilled you think so,” he muttered as he led you through the crowd. You caught glimpses of the people who had been whispering about Law's relationship for weeks. Their eyes fell on you both with curiosity.

“Dr. Trafalgar!” one of the nurses called out, waving excitedly. She eyed you with a wide smile. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Law’s face remained neutral. “Yes,” he answered smoothly and introduced you.

The nurse let out a little squeal of delight. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed. “We’ve all been dying to know more about Dr. Trafalgar’s mysterious girlfriend.”

You gave a polite smile, taking the opportunity to slip into the role. “It's a pleasure to meet you, too. He talks a lot about his team,” you said lightly, with a little twinkle in your eye as you glanced at Law. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

The nurse beamed, clearly thrilled to be part of the conversation. “Oh, I'm sure he does,” she said, her eyes still sparkling as she looked from you to Law. “It’s rare to see him... charming.” Her voice dropped to a playful whisper, though it was clear she wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. “We always wondered what kind of woman could put up with him.”

You gave a small, modest laugh, sensing the opportunity to keep the conversation flowing. “He’s not as difficult as he looks.” You turned to Law, flashing him a playful smile. “And I'm quite lucky he let me in.”

Law’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with his usual impassive expression. “Enough about me,” he said smoothly, redirecting the conversation. “Let’s get you something to drink.” He turned toward the drink table, clearly eager to move on.

As the two of you moved through the gala, a sense of ease settled between you. The people who approached were friendly, curious, and all too eager to meet the mysterious woman who had somehow captured the heart of the elusive surgeon. Law, as always, seemed somewhat distant, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, as if the weight of the event was just a little lighter with you by his side.

“Well, well, if it isn't the lovely girlfriend!” Shachi grinned, giving you a dramatic bow before standing up straight again. “You look awesome.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Shachi. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Penguin let out a low, amused chuckle from behind him. “Yeah, well, Law’s been talking about you for weeks,” he added. “He was so worried about you not showing up and ruining his perfect plan. I’m surprised you agreed to it, honestly.”

You gave Penguin a knowing smile. “What can I say? Someone had to save his ass.” You shot a quick glance at Law, who stood beside you, his expression neutral, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Shachi leaned casually against the table, clearly enjoying himself, and turned to Law with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, how does it feel to finally have a real girlfriend? I mean, I’ve been hearing rumors about this for a while, but you’re actually pulling it off, huh?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t respond immediately, though you could tell he was trying to keep his cool. “This will be a long night,” he muttered under his breath, but his friends were far too eager to let him off the hook.

Shachi’s grin only grew wider. “I’m just curious—how’s the ‘relationship’ going so far?” He glanced at Law, whose jaw was tight, clearly trying to suppress his frustration. “Any sparks flying between the two of you yet?”

“Shachi,” Law said in warning, but he wasn’t listening. Law rolled his eyes, though there was a slight curve to his lips, as if even he couldn’t help but be somewhat entertained by his friends' antics. “I told you I didn’t need this kind of commentary tonight,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shachi continued, entirely ignoring Law’s attempts to rein him in. “But it’s so much more fun when we do comment.” He threw an arm around Penguin’s shoulder, giving him an exaggerated nudge. “So, Dr. Trafalgar, how’s it feel having your friends finally meet your ‘girlfriend’? You look so… happy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their antics. “I’m sure Law’s thrilled by all the attention,” you said, playing the part, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Law cast you a sideways glance, but there was something warmer in his eyes than before. “Let’s just get through tonight, shall we?” he said, attempting his best authoritative tone, though there was a clear undertone of amusement, as if he was enjoying it just a little more than he let on.

Just as the playful back-and-forth was beginning to die down, a loud, familiar voice cut through the chatter from across the room.

“YOOO! Look who it is!” 

Usopp’s boisterous voice rang out, and you barely had time to brace yourself before he was at your side, grinning like a mischievous cat. He was joined by Kaya, who was looking stunning in an elegant dress, her eyes sparkling as she waved.

Shit. How had you not considered the possibility that Usopp would be here? Kaya was a nurse at the same hospital as Law, and of course, she’d bring him as her plus-one.

“Usopp, Kaya,” you greeted with a smile, trying to remain composed despite the sudden attention being drawn your way. Usopp's loud voice had already caused a ripple of curiosity to spread through the crowd.

Usopp’s gaze darted between you and Law, clearly processing something. “Wait a minute… what are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was just loud enough for the people around you to overhear, making you feel the weight of every set of eyes now shifting in your direction.

You glanced at Law, who was now wearing a mask of calm—though you could tell by the subtle shift in his posture that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation. You quickly shot him an apologetic look, trying to keep things as casual as possible. “Isn't it obvious — I’m with Law,” you said with a playful shrug, hoping your tone would deflect any suspicion and begging to whatever higher power that Usopp won't blow your cover. 

Usopp blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief, as if you’d just dropped a bombshell. “With Law?!” His voice jumped an octave, loud enough to draw even more attention, and you felt the heat of a dozen curious stares. Your stomach churned as the pressure mounted.

“Well yeah, we’re dating,” you said quickly, trying to offer him a pointed look that screamed for him to lower his voice. You didn’t look forward to clearing that lie later, though.

“What?!” Usopp exclaimed again, louder this time, and you fought the urge to physically drag him into a quieter corner.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, don't be so loud,” you hissed, your smile strained as you resisted the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth. You just needed him to stop.

Your words earned a sharp glance from Law, who was now standing as still as a statue, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with irritation. Though his face remained unreadable to most, you could detect the flicker of unease behind his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Usopp sharp eye for detail and relentless curiosity meant he was undoubtedly piecing things together in real-time, and the last thing you needed was for him to say something he really shouldn't.

Kaya, sensing the tension, stepped in smoothly. “Usopp,” she said, with a small but knowing smile, “maybe we should let them enjoy the night.” She gently nudged his arm, giving you an apologetic look. “It’s good to see you both. I hope you’re having a good time tonight.”

You smiled, grateful for her presence. “We’re managing,” you replied before gesturing toward her. “And you? How’s the night treating you so far?”

She laughed softly. “Oh, it’s been lovely. Usopp keeps insisting he’s the best plus-one anyone could ask for.”

“Because I am!” Usopp interjected, puffing out his chest.

"Nah, I'm way better, right, darling?" you asked playfully, turning to your date. 

Law let out a quiet, measured sigh, his eyes narrowing slightly at Usopp, who was still watching far too intently for comfort. Recognizing that all eyes were now firmly on the two of you, he shifted gears seamlessly. 

Without missing a beat, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you a fraction closer. His hand rested lightly yet possessively against your side as he glanced down at you with a smirk.  "Obviously." 

The gesture—and his confident tone—left Usopp momentarily speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Even Kaya seemed surprised, her eyes darting between the two of you before a knowing smile tugged at her lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, both at Law’s quick thinking and the way his response seemed to silence any further speculation from Usopp. “See?” you teased lightly, shooting Usopp a pointed look. “Told you.”

Usopp opened his mouth, clearly ready to say something outrageous, but Kaya quickly stepped in, tugging on his arm with a bright laugh. “Come on, Usopp. Let’s grab some appetizers" 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered under his breath, but he allowed Kaya to steer him toward the other end of the room. You gave her a grateful smile.

“That was close,” you muttered, glancing up at Law. His hand was still resting lightly on your waist.

He tilted his head down toward you, his expression calm but laced with the faintest trace of amusement. “You call that close?”

“Oh, come on,” you whispered back with a grin. “You’ve got to admit, Usopp almost blew it.”

Law’s lips quirked upward in a barely-there smirk. “Almost,” he conceded. Then, lowering his voice  even more and murmuring into your ear, he added, “But I don’t mind setting the record straight when needed.”

The way his voice dipped sent a small shiver down your spine, but you quickly composed yourself, stepping slightly closer to him under the pretense of hearing him better.

“Well, you handled it like a pro, Dr. Trafalgar,” you teased softly, leaning just enough to let your words reach his ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally.

Before you could respond, the event coordinator’s voice echoed through the hall, announcing the upcoming speeches. The room shifted as the crowd began to find their seats, murmurs of anticipation filling the air.

“You’re up soon,” you reminded him. Reaching out, you placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this,” you said confidently.

He glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a beat, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe just the comfort of familiarity—before he nodded, a small but grateful gesture. “Thanks.”

As he made his way toward the stage, you couldn’t help but watch him with a sense of pride, your heart swelling with admiration. Even surrounded by the polished elegance of the event and the watchful eyes of so many people, he carried himself with an unshakable determination.

When he reached the podium, the crowd fell silent. He cleared his throat, taking a moment before launching into the speech. He spoke about the advancements in medicine, the importance of community support, and the life-changing surgeries that the hospital’s team performed. But when he mentioned his team and thanked everyone for their hard work, his gaze subtly flickered toward you.

For a moment, he dropped the cold exterior. “None of this would be possible without the support of everyone here,” he said. “And a special thanks to my friends and…my better half, who has been my constant rock. It’s easy to get lost in the hospital. But she keeps me grounded.”

The sincerity in his words was unmistakable. His eyes lingered on you for a fraction of a second—long enough for you to feel the weight of his gratitude—before he looked away, the professional composure sliding back into place effortlessly.

The applause that followed was thunderous, but you barely heard it over the warmth blooming in your chest. As Law stepped down from the podium, his expression was back to its usual stoicism, but the slight flush to his cheeks and the quick glance he shot your way told you everything.

As the applause slowly died down, Law made his way back toward you, weaving through the clusters of guests who offered him brief nods and congratulatory remarks. His posture was relaxed, but you could see the faint tension in the set of his shoulders—a clear sign that he was bracing for your inevitable teasing.

When he finally reached you, you wasted no time, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “For someone who wanted to ‘get through the night,’ you sure know how to captivate an audience,” you teased. “And what was that about ‘the one who keeps me grounded’? Are you getting sentimental on me?”

He stopped in front of you, hands sliding casually into his pockets as his eyes met yours. “Don’t start,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone. “I said what needed to be said.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “So, I’m just ‘what needed to be said’ now?”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “If you’d prefer, I can take it all back.”

“Not a chance,” you shot back, unable to keep the playful edge out of your voice. “It’s on record now. Everyone here knows I’m the one keeping you grounded.”

Before he could respond, Shachi and Penguin appeared, clearly having caught at least part of the exchange. Shachi was grinning ear to ear, while Penguin’s expression held a more subdued amusement.

“That speech was something else,” Shachi said, clapping Law on the back with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Especially that part about being grounded. You’re getting soft.”

Law’s glare shifted to Shachi, though it lacked any real venom. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” he asked, his voice dry.

“Not when you’re providing this much entertainment,” Shachi shot back without missing a beat.

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he turned his attention back to you. “Are you enjoying yourself yet?” he asked

You pretended to consider his question, tapping a finger to your chin. “Hmm... between the impromptu Usopp interrogation, the surprise shout-out during your speech, and Shachi’s relentless commentary?” You grinned. “Yeah, I’d say I’m having a great time.”

Law’s exhale was sharp, but his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “Good,” he muttered. “At least one of us is.”

Just as you were forming your response, the event coordinator approached the two of you with a bright smile. “Dr. Trafalgar, your presence is requested for some photos with the donors,” she said, her gaze flicking to you briefly. “And, of course, your lovely girlfriend is welcome to join.”

Law hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of dragging you into yet another spotlight moment.

You decided to save him the trouble. “We’d be happy to,” you said smoothly, looping your arm through his. “Right, darling?”

The look he shot you was nothing short of murderous, but you only smiled sweetly, patting his arm as the coordinator led you both toward the photographer’s setup.

After the photos, you wandered back to the main room, weaving through the crowd. You spotted Usopp and Kaya near the dessert table, Usopp animatedly telling a story while Kaya giggled beside him. Heart-shaped chocolates and delicate pastries adorned the table, and you decided to grab a couple of treats before heading back to your corner of the room.

“Here,” you said, holding out a piece of chocolate to Law as you both settled near the bar.

He eyed it skeptically. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate,” you replied, popping one into your mouth. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to eat chocolate. It’s practically a rule.”

Law sighed, but he took the chocolate from your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. He bit into it. “It’s good,” he admitted after a moment.

You smirked. “See? Valentine’s Day isn’t all bad.”

He gave you a sidelong glance. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

You just grinned wider and shrugged. Despite the occasional hiccup—like Usopp’s not-so-subtle attempts to sneak more information out of you—it was hard to deny that you and Law actually did have a great time. The whole evening felt surprisingly natural, even with the added touches and pet names that came with playing your part.

But as the night went on, the carefully constructed charade began to blur, leaving you to wonder if there was something genuine simmering beneath the surface. A fleeting warmth in the way he looked at you, a brush of his hand that lingered just a moment too long. You quickly shook the thought away before it could root itself further.

“You know,” you started, breaking the silence, “Usopp already texted everyone the news.”

Law’s brow furrowed as he glanced at you. “What news?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

“Oh. Right,” he said, the realization dawning on his face.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, crossing your arms. “I had to turn my sound off completely—the group chat went insane.”

Law let out a soft groan and reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with a resigned air. He turned the phone toward you, revealing a string of increasingly enthusiastic messages from Luffy:

This is amaizing!!!!

I'M SO HAPPY!!!

GOOD FOR YOU!!!

WHEN DID THIS HAPEN??

Tell me evrything RIGHT NOW!!!

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as you read the flood of texts. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how ridiculous Luffy was, but the small, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Looks like someone’s excited for us,” you teased, still laughing.

Law rolled his eyes, though the faintest trace of a blush colored his cheeks. “Luffy’s always excited about something. This’ll blow over. We will explain it later or something.”

You swallowed your disappointment and tried to focus on anything other than the fact that today was not as real as it seemed. Your eyes drifted forward just as the band started playing a slow, romantic tune, and couples began drifting toward the dance floor. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down, the atmosphere practically begging for you to make a move.

“Well, darling,” you said, extending your hand toward him with an exaggerated flourish. “Care to dance?”

Law stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You’re joking.”

“Not even a little,” you replied, wiggling your fingers. “It’s Valentine’s Day. What’s a fake relationship without a dance under the romantic lighting?”

He let out a quiet groan but took your hand anyway, his grip firm and steady. As he led you to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt.

For a moment, you both moved hesitantly, as if testing the waters. Law wasn’t one to engage in things like this—public displays of affection, no matter how fake, didn’t exactly come naturally to him. Yet, as the rhythm of the music settled between you, his movements became smoother, more confident. You matched his pace, the two of you falling into an unspoken synchrony.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a great time.”

You chuckled, your fingers instinctively tightening their grip on his shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re surprisingly good at this.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Surprisingly?”

“Well,” you said with a smirk, “you don’t exactly scream ‘slow-dance enthusiast.’

Law huffed softly, but there was no real irritation behind it. He was paying more attention to the way your body moved in sync with his, the way you shifted your weight with each step.

The scent of his cologne was subtle but intoxicating, and the way his eyes stayed locked on yours made it impossible to look away.

“This isn’t so bad,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” you said, your thumb gently brushing the fabric of his suit jacket.  “I know this isn’t exactly your scene. Thanks for humoring me.”

For a moment, something shifted in his expression. The guardedness that usually defined him seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, something unspoken. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer, and the distance between you narrowed until you could feel the faint brush of his chest against yours.

“You’re doing all of this for me, the least I can do is survive dancing for your sake,” he answered in his usual manner, and yet, it sounded somehow warmer. Then he added teasingly, “darling”

You tried to diminish how much you loved that nickname coming from his lips.

As the music faded, applause broke out around the room, snapping you back to reality. Law stepped back slightly, his hand falling away from your waist, but the warmth of his touch stayed. He looked at you for a moment longer, his gaze searching, before he cleared his throat and glanced away, the mask of composure slipping back into place.

“Let’s get off the dance floor,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment. But there was a faint flush to his cheeks that you couldn’t ignore.

“Not bad for someone who doesn’t like Valentine’s Day,” you teased, keeping your tone light, even though your heartbeat had quickened as you followed him off the dancefloor.

Law smirked faintly, his amber eyes locking onto yours. “I never said I didn’t like it,” he replied. “Just that it’s… unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” You arched a brow, tilting your head. “Celebrating love and connection? That sounds pretty necessary to me.”

His grin grew. “If you need a commercial holiday to remind you of that, you’re doing something wrong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his bluntness. “Touché,” you admitted, the moment feeling strangely intimate despite the dozens of other couples around you. He put his hand on your back and gently led you to sit down in the corner. You sat in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“So, are you enjoying the night yet? Or are you still counting down the minutes until it’s over?”

Law let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m surviving,” he replied dryly, though the corners of his lips twitched as though he couldn’t fully keep the amusement from showing. “If I’m being honest, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be,” he looked sheepish as he added. “Your presence makes it more bearable.”

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in slightly, your cheek brushing his shoulder. You felt him stiffen for a split second, but then he relaxed, putting his head on yours.

“I didn’t think I’d be… enjoying it,” he continued, his fingers brushing through your hair as if absentmindedly. “But I think I might’ve been wrong.”

You lifted your head slightly to look at him, finding his gaze already locked on yours. There was no mask of indifference now—just a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you hadn’t often seen. It was disarming. His hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers.

Your heart fluttered unexpectedly, and you were unsure of what to say, or even if you should say anything at all. The quiet, unspoken understanding between you was enough.

“Well, well, well! Look at you two, all cozy!”

It was Shachi, followed closely by Penguin, and some other colleagues of Law from the hospital.  You froze for a split second, pulling away from Law just as his hand dropped from your cheek. Both of you turned toward the intruder, finding a group of Law’s colleagues standing a few feet away.

One of the surgeons, a tall man with a broad grin, chuckled as he shook his head. “Honestly, Law, I didn’t think you were the type to be so… affectionate,” he said with a dramatic sigh, his eyebrows wiggling playfully.

Law’s face immediately shifted to that calm, composed mask he wore so well, but you could see the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. He scoffed. “What did you expect? For me to keep five feet away from someone I care about?”

“We’re just surprised,” the nurse you spoke with first today, smiled softly at the two of you. “But it’s nice to see you so… relaxed. We don’t usually get to see this side of you.” Her tone wasn’t mocking; instead, it held a kind, almost approving quality.

It was clear that they all weren’t just teasing for the sake of teasing—they were happy to see him like this. This side of Law, the one who didn’t always hide behind his usual walls, was a rare sight for most people.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Law muttered, clearly trying to keep the situation under control while simultaneously not looking entirely displeased.

As if they couldn’t resist, one of the younger doctors, a woman with long hair and a teasing smile, smirked at you and asked, “So, come on, how did you two get together? Law didn’t want to say a word about it.” His grin widened as he leaned in, clearly waiting for some kind of juicy story.

You chuckled, glancing at Law, who raised an eyebrow at you as if daring you to come up with an appropriate response.

“Of course he didn’t,” you said with a laugh, nudging him playfully. “He’s never been the type to spill the details, has he?”

Shachi smirked knowingly. “Come on, Law,” he prodded. “We’re dying to know the real story.”

“Well,” you interjected, grinning as you looked at the group. “If you're looking for something juicy, I’m afraid I have to disappoint. We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.” It seemed like a story that could be real, that would suit you both, and what kind of people you are together.

“That’s actually a pretty decent story, considering how tight-lipped you’ve been, Law,” he remarked with a teasing grin.

Law shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in the habit of sharing my private life with everyone,” he muttered dryly.

The woman with long hair, clearly delighted by the revelation, nudged Shachi playfully. “Well, it’s good to know Law isn’t entirely immune to matters of the heart. Who knew?” she said with a wink, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to see her usually composed colleague looking slightly flustered.

Law’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the edge of his expression had softened. “I never said I was,” he replied, though there was a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

You smiled at him, savoring the fact that, despite his usual reticence, he hadn’t shut down the conversation.

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” you said to the group, “any more questions?

“Not if you want to keep your secrets,” Shachi teased. “I think we’ve learned enough for tonight.”

“Although…” Penguin started to say with a mischievous grin

“Alright, alright,” Law interjected, probably scared that more question may blow your cover. “You’ve had your fun.”

The playful banter continued for a few more moments, with the group lightheartedly poking fun at Law, but without pushing too far. It was clear they were genuinely enjoying seeing him in a different light. Even you couldn't help but smile at how the evening had turned out.

“Alright,” you said, nudging Law lightly with your elbow, “I think we’ve officially survived the interrogation. How about we grab some drinks and escape before they start asking for our love story in full detail?” you whispered.

Law smirked at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Fine by me,” he said, standing up and offering you a hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”

You took his hand, your fingers curling around his with ease. He led you both to the bar and ordered your drinks. When you took them, you found seats nearby.

“They have a point, you know,” you said, leaning back in your seat, sipping your drink as you shot him a teasing glance. “You’re surprisingly sweet with me.”

Law shot you a look, but his lips twitched upward in the barest hint of a smile. “Don’t start,” he warned, though there was no bite to his words.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. “I’m just saying, the way you act tonight—” you paused, letting the words linger in the air, “it’s... kind of adorable.”

“You’re walking a fine line,” he murmured, his tone just low enough that only you could hear, and there was that familiar spark of challenge in it.

You grinned. “I think the real question is, why do you make it so easy for me to tease you?” You leaned back again, propping your elbow on the armrest, your eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Maybe I’m onto something.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a stronger reaction to you, or I’d make sure you regret that.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the hint of seriousness in his voice. “Oh? Is that a threat, darling?” you asked, half-challenging, half-curious.

He leaned in just slightly, his gaze softening but still intense. “Only if you push your luck too far,” he replied. It was supposed to be a warning, and yet it sounded way…warmer.

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter from across the room caught your attention, and you noticed some of Law’s colleagues still milling about, their eyes frequently darting toward the two of you. They probably thought their glances were subtle, but they really weren’t.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as you glanced at the group. “Wanna bet they’re talking about us?”

Law smirked, his gaze flicking toward the group before returning to you. “I’m not betting against something that is 100% true,” he replied dryly.

You chuckled softly, lifting your drink to your lips as you watched them huddle together in hushed conversation, clearly intrigued by the dynamic between the two of you. The whole thing was both amusing and oddly satisfying, considering how little effort you'd actually put into keeping this charade together.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence with a light tone, “what now? Do we stick around and continue surviving this ‘unnecessary’ holiday, or do we make our grand exit?”

Law let out a soft sigh, almost as if he were weighing the options. “I think we’ve done enough, surviving for one night,” he said, standing and offering his hand to you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You took his hand, your fingers wrapping around his with the familiar ease. “I like the sound of that.” 

As you made your way toward the exit, you said your goodbyes to everyone, your eyes catching a few lingering, amused glances from Law's colleagues.

“Well, I think we’ve both survived tonight, haven’t we?” you asked, looking at him with a teasing look, trying to gauge his mood as you stepped outside.

His gaze softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose we have,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Though, I’m not sure what’s worse—the questions or your teasing.”

You laughed lightly, squeezing his hand gently. “I think you can handle both.”

“Apparently,” he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

Instead of calling for a taxi, Law started leading you toward the nearby park. You certainly didn’t mind the extra time with him—after the whirlwind of the evening, the peaceful solitude of the park felt like a perfect escape.

When you reached a bench by a small pond, Law sat down, and you followed suit, the two of you settling next to each other. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It felt like the perfect continuation of the night—no more questions, no more performances, just the two of you.

“Thank you,” Law said sincerely.

You glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected gratitude in his tone. “You're welcome,” you replied easily, your lips curving into a small smile. “I had fun.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” you answered, your smile widening a little. “Did you?”

“I did actually.”

“Good” you said simply. “You know now that they’ll just bother and tease you about me, right?” you added after a moment.

He gave you a side-glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but his gaze softened as it lingered on you. “I can survive that.”

You sat in silence, the quiet comfortable, with your hand still intertwined with his, even though there was no one around that you had to pretend for.

After a while, Law spoke quietly, “That story…

“Huh?” You blinked, trying to recall what he might be referring to.

“About how we apparently came to be… you made it quite believable.” You suddenly remembered your words from earlier: We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.

“Well…um it sounded plausible, did it not?” you said, as you tried to brush off the nerves creeping up.

“It did.” Silence fell again, but this time, it felt different. You wrecked your head as to what to say. You looked at him, hoping for something to break the tension, and found his gaze already focused on you. The intensity of it made it harder to find the right words.

But you didn’t have to say anything—his lips found yours in a tender kiss, slow and gentle, as if testing the waters for something deeper. The world around you seemed to fade away as you leaned into the kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. The moment felt suspended in time, perfect in its simplicity.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting against your cheek, you noticed a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was the kind of smile that made your chest tighten, the kind that carried a quiet promise, and the warmth that spread through you was more than just the remnants of the kiss.

“Well, that solidifies that it was all true.”

You heard the familiar voice of Usopp. The sudden intrusion snapped you out of the trance the moment had put you in.

You rolled your eyes, not even glancing in his direction, your focus remaining entirely on Law. “Get lost, Nose-ya. Now,” Law muttered, his voice stern, his gaze unwavering from yours.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Usopp chuckled, but you weren’t about to let his teasing ruin your moment, not when it felt so real, so raw. You kept your focus on Law, and for a few seconds, there was just the two of you again, the world falling away once more.

“So, is my story true then?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, his voice steady but carrying that quiet confidence you’d grown accustomed to.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can’t believe it happened on Valentine’s Day, after pretending to date for an event.”

“Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all,” he said, the words almost an afterthought. And you couldn’t help but agree as you tugged him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that was even more intense than the first.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you looked into his eyes, and something settled in your chest—this was just the beginning of something, something you both weren’t willing to let go of. It was there in the way he looked at you, the way he held you close. You could feel it in your bones that whatever this was, it was real. And it was only just starting.

“Maybe you’re right,” you whispered, your thumb gently brushing over his hand. “Valentine’s Day might not be so bad… when it ends like this.”

He smirked at you, a flicker of that usual sharpness returning, but it was tempered by the tenderness that had emerged throughout the night. “We’ll see if you still feel that way next year,” he said, the challenge in his voice playful, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his words.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned in slightly, teasing him. “You wanna fake-date me for Valentine’s Day next year too?”

His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced by something more tender as his hand brushed gently across your cheek. “No,” he replied quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “I want to be with you—for real.”

[dapperprincess]

I think that plastic surgery isnt you doing anything to your body. It’s you paying someone else to do something to your body, and as such needs regulations in place so that these surgeons, who are motivated by money, do not exploit vulnerable populations, such as anorexic people.

In the same way that a doctor treating a disease should be held accountable if she botches the treatment in order to accumulate more money through repeated services, plastic surgeons should be held to much higher standards than they are currently. All of the onus should be on the doctor accepting pay for a service, not the patient who is paying for the service. Also, much like a doctor treating an illness, plastic surgeons should have to have undeniable proof that their treatments actually work to alleviate the patient’s problems at least the majority of the time. This is not currently the case. Plastic surgeons have almost no regulations on their work. One plastic surgeon can do a nose job and the next won’t touch you because she doesnt know what the first one actually did. There need to be a set of standard practices.

Not to mention that a regular doctor would be fired for malpractice if they told you you looked flu-like as an outright lie to bolster treatment sales when you were just in for stitches, whereas a plastic surgeon can accept a patient for a nose job and throw in a few jabs about her belly and all of a sudden the plastic surgeon has more money made off of insecurity and lies.

That being said, I dont think as many people would desire to risk their health for aesthetic changes to their body if our society did not place such a high value on appearance, especially upon women, who are expected to be thinner than healthily possible if they wish to be respected in the public eye.

But to reiterate, none of this responsibility should fall on the people getting the plastic surgery. These all need to be put in place to regulate the doctors, because otherwise all that motivates them is money made from the job, just like any other job under capitalism.

crazy to me how some people think conversion torture/forced detransition is actually a privilege when it happens to trans men/mascs

[r0-boat]

Wrapped up gift

Happy Valentine's Day enjoy my gift with extra sugar!

This is part of a collab hosted by @dream-effect

Don't ever ask me to do this ever again

Whb!Seven Kings X Gn!Reader Fic

Cw: NSFW, gangbang, double penetration, spit roasting, cum drunk, bondage, name-calling, praise, multiple orgasms, uses of toys, biting, marking, creampie, choking, Crying kink.

WC: 5.1K

Everyone has been acting weird today…

Well, weirder than usual, many devils have avoided you, or that's what you think.

It's not like you expect the countless attention and gifts you are showered with every day, but it does raise a few questions when one day you can't even walk around town without a flock of devils around you, and the next, no one can hang out with you. 

Not even the kings. Who usually blows up your phone at all hours of the day?

Whether it's Asmodeus’s random confessions of love, Lucifer using your medical history as an excuse to talk to you, Beelzebub going on a random tangent about God knows what, Belphegor talking about anime, or Leviathan’s awkward ass small talk, only to spend another hour arguing with you over the phone, Mammon sending you pictures of expensive gifts he's about to buy you, or Satan angrily texting you why you haven't blocked everyone yet. Usually, your phone is flooded with any of these weirdos, but it was quiet and lonely for the first time since you came to hell.

With a sigh, you walk through the unusually empty halls of Gehenna’s Castle. The echoing of your footsteps mocked you till you reached your room. You push your door open when something fluttering down to the ground catches your eye: a pink envelope with a pink wax seal notice the fancy engraving on the and Asmodeus's sigil. It was ha and miss, especially the ‘interesting’ encounters you've had with him. His sigil became not only his symbol but also his calling card. You hesitate before sliding your thumb underneath the wax and opening the envelope. You sigh, scrunching your eyelids, preparing the potential nastiness you're about to unfold out of this letter…

Good fuck, why is it stained…?

‘Dear beloved, 

I prepared some Valentine's Day gifts for you at my castle. Let's enjoy Valentine's Day together!❤️

Constantly yearning, Asmodeus’

The letter was short and innocent, but you knew better than to trust anything from Asmodeus. The motherfucker couldn't even bother to text you, instead sending you an embroidered letter with an equally fancy-looking envelope doused in his normal scent.

Flashbacks of the past, heated in your eyes, prove what awaits you if you accept his invitation. But then again, you've never felt so lonely on a day you're supposed to be with the people you love. Also, Asmodeus was the only demon ever to mention Valentine's Day. You didn't even know today was a holiday until he mentioned it. You're not sure how you felt about the fact that no one even wanted to see you on Valentine's Day.

Maybe it was because Valentine's Day was an Earth holiday, not a holiday they usually celebrate in hell…Yeah, let's go with that. 

Knowing that he knew and wanted to spend time with you, your heart pumping with excitement, you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

You almost put down the leather until you realized what was in the bottom right-hand corner: an arrow pointing to the other side with the words ‘flip me ;)’ written in cursive.

On the back, you see what looks like a Latin chant. More of his handwriting was next to it: ‘simple teleportation spell to the front gates of my palace while you momentarily will feel a little dizzy; that's normal.’

Thank goodness for the grueling lessons Sitri would give you after you discovered that most demons use Latin as their mother tongue.

It was hard, but you resisted the temptation. As soon as your lips mouth the final syllable, your world spins. You almost lost your lunch as you instantly felt like you'd been propelled forward. One moment, you were in your bedroom in Gehenna, and the next, you stood on the red carpets of Abaddon, looking down that all-too-familiar hallway. 

Your eyes landed on a demon leaning against the wall, a black crop top resembling other biker jackets that reach the same length as the top, with spikes that adorn their collar and shoulders. His bulging muscles and choice of clothing looked scary, but as soon as Zalgrok saw them coming down the hallway, he smiled, picking his hands out of his pockets. “Hey, His Majesty is waiting for you.” Your eyes dart around the empty halls. But just like before, there were no signs of people. “Where is everybody?” The smile falters momentarily, his eyes darting to the ground, trying to think of an untrue excuse. “Asmodeus ordered everyone to leave, but he's in one of our private rooms with the other kings!” He smiled, pointing at one of the doors, a door to a room you haven't seen before. It looked different from fancy dark wood with golden embroidery.

This time, you walked up to the door. Zalgrok followed behind his hand, itching to reach out and touch you. He perhaps curled his fingers and interlocked them with yours.

He never gets to play with his Majesty's favorite toys, and yet here they are now, their ass swaying as they walk tantalizingly.

Before he could even react, it was too late. As quickly as you came in, you left. Zalgrok clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning on his heel, not wanting to stay longer to hear what would happen on the other side of that door.

The room was dark, with only as much light as the scattered candle could provide. Rose petals scattered all across the floor. A wide variety of sweets, chocolates, and fruits decorated the table, although some looked half-eaten.

Wrapped gift boxes litter the ground around the couch, some smaller than others. And at the center of it all, on a large bed, the devil of lust himself thrilled across the furniture as usual, his nude self dressed nicely in a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and done into a bun. He smelled of Ivory and rose petals as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my dear~! Poor baby must have been so lonely…” he purred as he opened his arms to beckon you to climb into them when he saw you approach him. You've never been so happy to see Asmodeus that you practically skipped toward him, but before you could get close enough to even touch him, a repellent tentacle wrapped around your throat rather harshly, pulling you back with enough force to make you stumble into something. 

The tentacles slip from your throat, replacing it with a firm hand. 

“So, is this what you do when I'm not here, whore yourself out to the nearest devil?” Leviathan hissed in your ear. He loosened his hand just enough to have you turn your head to look at him. You could barely see anything but his scowling face, but you could have sworn he was wearing a suit, too. Your suspicions are quickly confirmed, your heart jumping out of your chest as you see another devil seem to come out of himself, finally showing himself. 

The buzzing of flies becomes louder until they coagulate into one spot, Beelzebub appears as the horde disperses. He was also wearing a suit; however, it seemed that he had either forgotten or did not care to finish his green tie, as it simply hung over his neck. He spent no time taking off the jacket part of his suit immediately before letting out a relieved sigh. “These things just aren't for me…Glad you liked the eye candy, though, babe.” You watch helplessly, trapped in Levi's arms, his hand still wrapped around your throat, only putting pressure when Beel gets close. “Touch them, and I'll kill you…” He snarls. 

"Hate it or not, you still agreed. It's too late to back out of it now, Leviathan." Lucifer, whom you had just noticed, had been sitting idly on the chairs facing the bed, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as if he were some vampire out of an old film before taking a sip.

“I can feel their delicious greed from here. They must love their gift." Mammon smirked. Levi's hands were long gone, replaced with his large, firm ones wandering to your butt. 

“Slut better like it because I'm not doing this again…” Satan growled, feeling something tug tightly around his palm.

Asmodeus finally got up from the bed. From the other side of him, you see Belphegor, his tie loose, one of the buttons of his polo shirt undone, and his head resting against his hand. Asmo squishes your cheeks together playfully, shaking your head. “Now it's time for our Valentine's Day gift!” The wicked smile on his face when he said that made your hair stand on end. Your eyes went wide as you felt the thundering in your chest; shoot…again, you had forgotten; if you had known days in advance, you would have prepared at least something. You sputter out pathetically, "But I didn't bring anything…I'm sorry." The kings around the room went silent before bursting out in laughter.

“They said ‘they didn't bring anything’… How cute!” One of them mocked. Even Asmodeus struggled to contain his laughter as the hand that squished your cheeks together rushed to cover his snickering smile.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt heat rush to your face. 

“Stop, don't laugh!! You don't understand!” You hiss to at least try to explain yourself, but instead, Satan approaches close enough to weave his hand in your hair and yank your head up to look at his wide-eyed, toothy grin.

“No toy; you don't understand.” He lets it go over your head before unraveling the thing around his palm. A red ribbon. 

“You are the gift.” The realization hits you like a truck before anything can truly sink in.

“Strip them," Leviathan commanded with a hiss as Mammon’s big hands grabbed the fabric of the outfit you picked out, thinking it would just be you and Asmodeus.

“So sorry we have to ruin your outfit, dear; it's cute, it really is, but it would look better on the floor." Asmodeus laughs, licking his lips as he hears the fabric begin to tear. 

“I'll buy them new clothes, something far better than these worthless rags!" Mammon grunted with each flex of his muscles. 

The last piece of clothing rips off you, falling to the floor and revealing lovely lace underneath. The kings in the room hummed in delight, except for Leviathan and Asmodeus, whose moods were opposite. 

“Fucking worthless slut…Just what were you planning on doing with this, huh?!” Leviathan grits his teeth, his hand harshly grabbing the delicate lace, caring little for how his claws dug holes into the fabric.

And, of course, Asmodeus responds with a catty grin, fueling that fire of jealousy.

“Beloved, if I had known you would come see me in this, why? I would have canceled plans and just had you all to myself.”

Satan snarled before finishing Mammon's job, working with Leviathan to tear apart the lacy undergarments, abandoning them in shreds of cloth on the floor. 

“Such heathens…” murmured Lucifer, ignoring the bulging tent in his dress pants. Watching every move Satan made as he used the ribbon to tie you. Even with Mammon, Leviathan, and Beelzebub holding your arms and legs as Satan began to work, the binding, occasionally with a ribbon, would twist and fold with every imperfect knot. His eyebrows furrowed until he finally got up.

“Move, you're not doing it right." He ignored Satan's glare as he snatched the ribbon.

"It's like bandages; let me do this." Lucifer couldn't help but sneak a small kiss from your lips, his fangs catching your lips and causing soft, supple skin to bleed, which excited Beelzebub, who had been playing with your hand before. He didn't waste any time in fear that some other devil would steal a taste of your sweet red blood. He moved in as much as he could, forcing your head until his mouth could reach yours. His tongue glides across your bleeding lip, getting every last drop of your delicious blood. Beelzebub shivers at your taste, unconsciously trying to press his body against yours, tongue immediately moving into your mouth.

As Lucifer almost finished wrapping your body, you felt the ribbon tighten against your skin before the demon tied it into a neat little bow. Your hands and legs were still free, but not for long, as Satan handed Lucifer more ribbons for him to work with. You were too occupied with Beelzebub’s mouth and tongue to care that Mammon was holding your wrists together for Lucifer to tie up until a neat little bow.

Beelzebub, finally having his fill…for now, breaks away from you as Mammon and Satan move you toward the bed. “You look so beautiful like this." Whispered the Mammon, looking at you as if you were his greatest treasure. Satan snarls as he moves his body in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread, grinding his hips against yours. "Nice and fuckable; can't wait to leave you sore for weeks.”

You see Asmodeus off to the side, grabbing a present off the floor. "Is that for me? You ask, and he smiles. "Yes, well… Yes and no. It's for all of us~" With such precision, he picks at the ribbon at the top of the bow, slowly peeling it loose. The ribbon slips from its knot. He peels open the wrapping before putting his hand into the open box. Taking out a bar with two cuffs on the end. His thumb applies pressure as the bar springs longer.

“This will keep you nice and spread; we don't want you closing those pretty little legs now, do we?” Asmodeus smirks. Satan chuckles, practically snatching the spread bar from him, fastening each cuff onto your legs.

You had completely forgotten that you weren't the only one on the mattress when you felt a hand caress your cheek. 

“I hope you're grateful that we're doing all this work for you," Belphegor said, his other hand diving below to unbutton his belt. He scoots up till his crotch is right in your face. His hand palms his balls underneath his underwear before taking out his hardening cock. “Be a doll, won't you?” You know exactly what he wants as he touches your head, getting you for a taste. Belphegor’s head tilts back as he feels your mouth wrapped around his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, taking it deep just the way you knew he liked it. 

With your tongue swirling around the head, your mouth suckles his tip before taking him down to the base. His cock is squeezed by your throat with each suck.

Your legs quiver when you feel a hand around your throat again. Leviathan collects are done clearing out how well you're taking another demon down your throat. “Cock-hungry slut, look how well-trained you are at taking cock. How come you're not well-trained with me?” Leviathan's hand squeezes your throat as you gag around Belphegor’s cock. “Fuck, keep choking them! Damn throats getting tighter.”

With your choked-out sobs and moans, Satan, who has been grinding his bulge against your core this whole time, finally gives in, pissing out a string of cuss words, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't take it anymore! I'm going to fuck them! I'm going to fuck and feel them cum around my cock!” His hands shook, undoing his pants and sliding them down just enough. Take his cock out. His hard, leaking cock pressed against your entrance, and with one hand, he guided his cock till his head was pressing right against your hole, applying enough pressure to open for him. His other hand slid against your body, occasionally grasping at the ribbons. You squirmed as you felt the edges of the ribbons bite into you as they tightened against your skin.

“Don't struggle if you don't want the ribbons to hurt.” Lucifer scolded. Asmodeus added, “Be a good toy, and let us use you till you break.” You strain your eyes, trying to look to where the voices are coming from, and that's where you see Lucifer in a chair and Asmodeus standing across from the bed, both playing with themselves, Lucifer palming and groping his cock through his underwear and Asmodeus stroking himself, his pants long since abandoned as well as most of his suit.

Your cheek gets a light smack from Leviathan. “Hey! Don't look at them! Look at me! Or do I have to choke you harder?" 

This was all too much with Leviathan's hand on your throat, applying pressure before releasing and squeezing again all the while. Belphegor is now trying to fuck your throat, as Satan is now starting to ram his cock deeper inside, grabbing and clawing at your plush hips. His big demon dick forcing you open makes you take him.

It was all too much! Squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure and pain overwhelmed you so much you couldn't hold back your tears. 

“Fuck, they're crying! That's so hot…” Lucifer hissed, his palming motions now turning into jerking as he fucks his hand. Your legs shake as you can't hold back your orgasm, your screams muffled by the cock in your mouth as you squeeze Satan's cock for all He's worth. 

“Oooh fuuuck, never thought I'd find someone trying to scream with cock in their mouth so hot! Satan snarled, his hips driving into you, chasing his orgasm. 

"I'm going to cum! Gonna fill that throat, swallow it all, take it, all of it!” Belphegor growls, his balls heavy and full of seed slapping against your face.

Satan was not too far behind as his eyes were falling back. “I'm going to come too; we're going to soak you with demon cum! Take it all! Take all we fucking give you!

Belphegor's hand digs into your scalp as he's using your throat for his pleasure. He slams his hips against your face before stealing them. You swallow every last drop of his seed. As Satan slams one final time inside you, your walls suck every last drop of cum out of his cock.

Try not to cough and sputter, as Levi's hand is still around your throat.

Finally, you can breathe as the king of sloth removes his cock from your throat. And the king of wrath finally slips out of the core, watching his cum dribble out of you.

“Let me rest for a bit; I'm okay with watching for now…did way too much.” Belphegor groans as he rolls on the other side of the bed. Belphegor was still hard, but he had his fill. Why would he want to do more when he can just watch the show and get off till you get fucked by multiple people, just like the porno he would watch every night?

“You took them so well; you did so well…my sweet treasure.” Mammon purred with his hand, squeezing your chest and pinching your nipple.

“I bet the stupid whore is hungry for more…” Leviathan growls, his hand moving from your neck to your cheek. Getting into your face, he demanded you open your mouth. Practically forcing it open with his hand, he spits right onto your tongue. “Swallow." He commands, and you obey, having no other choice but to follow these demons every command as you are tied up and helpless.

“Fuck their mouth, Levi,” Beelzebub said, putting a hand on your head, running his hand through your now messed-up hair.

“They would like that, wouldn't they? Are you so much of a whore that you will take cock from any person who will give it to you, hm? Do you want to drink my cum?" Levi asked condescendingly, with a confident smile that made you want to spit in his face. But right now, as Mammon was taking the cops off your legs, preparing to turn you around onto your stomach as his hands were sneaking handfuls of your ass, you did not care.

With your hands tied behind your back, you couldn't provide any support for yourself as your face was shoved against the pillows.

You heard Asmodeus moan, “Mm, what a delicious sight~! I can still see Satan's cum running down your leg, but I bet that that sweet little body of yours can hold more.” Mammon smiles at his colleagues and lets out a devilish laugh. 

“That's the plan. Our sweet gift deserves everything they're given…”

“Spank that ass red," Satan adds. And Mammon is happy to oblige, as his big hand comes down on one of your cheeks hard and fast, a sharp smack fills the room, and it wasn't before long that another one comes down again on you. His big hands are filled with your ass as he spreads you open. He didn't have to prepare for his big size, as you were wet enough for him to slide in with one thrust; despite having Satan, you still stretched around him, letting out a shaky squeal.

Despite not wanting sloppy seconds from your mouth, Leviathan couldn't handle the way you looked right now as he began to unbutton his pants. He took off his belt, fastening it around your neck, using it as a leash and collar. He grabbed hold of the leather, lifting you prematurely before placing another pillow underneath your head. And another one underneath your chest, making sure you are comfortable before fully removing his pants and getting onto the bed.

“This is where you belong…This is your place…underneath beings that are far stronger than you. Being nothing but a fuck slave for demon cock!” Leviathan did not give you the same luxury as Belphegor when he waited for you to be ready; instead, Leviathan immediately began a brutal pace. Forcing you to take more and more of his cock with each thrust, pulling on his makeshift belt leash. All the while, he tugs on your hair. Desperately bucking his hips as much as he can.

Your whole body rocks back on Mammon's cock just to be bounced forward, getting choked by Leviathan's dick. The two demons kept up. The demon of greed behind you occasionally slams his hand down on your ass, making you squeal around Levi's cock. Mammon’s eyes roll back as he feels himself getting close. You're squeezing him home, milking his cock, and the slapping of his skin against yours was too much for him to take.

“You're so good; you feel so good! Doing such a great job for us! Take everything we give you! You deserve everything!" 

Beelzebub opens another gift box, ripping open its ribbon to reveal a vibrator. He smiles as he turns it on; his hand snakes underneath to press it between your legs. 

You squeal and squeeze around Levi's twitching cock and tighten around Memes as your legs shake from the vibrating pleasure and the cock relentlessly pounds into you. Another orgasm rips through you. Your moans alone were enough to make Leviathan cum down your throat while calling out your name. Levi pulls out a little too late. He's still cumming cock, jutting another pump on your face. 

“You're so beautiful, like this…." You think you heard Leviathan say, "You are too cum drunk to even think. 

With Levi now gone and Beel pulling the toy away from you for a moment, Mammon flips you onto your back. Putting your legs over his shoulders, jackhammering down inside you to chase his orgasm, your whole body shook and squirmed as you whimpered broken sentences that were only chuckled and awed at. The huge man above you slammed his hips one more time before stilling, filling you up more with his cum. He let his cock stay deep inside till he was finished before slowly pulling out. Even with how deep he was fucking you, his cum still spilled out of your hole.

Beelzebub licked his lips, watching Mammon off you. “Finally, let me taste you…”

"I've had enough watching..." You didn't even realize Lucifer had approached the bed until you felt him pull you into his lap. “Are you still here, Child of Adam? Surely, this isn't all you can take.” This cock sat between your legs. You unconsciously ground your hips down onto him as he helped you guide him inside. Beelzebub finally climbs onto the mattress, leaning his head forward until his tongue touches your collarbone. Beel turns on the vibrator once again, pressing it between your legs.

“Don't worry about moving. Just sit there and take it," Lucifer murmured, his sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe as he got a good handful on your hips and started to move and grind your body against him. Your walls squeezed and milked him as much as you could, all that delicious cum from the other kings drooling down his cock onto his balls. For a little while, Beelzebub playfully fiddled with the ribbons that stretched all across your body while he licked, sucked, and bit wherever he could fit his mouth.

You felt his tongue glide across your chest, giving extra special attention to your nipple. You watch Beelzebub's cock bob in front of you, your arms struggling against the ribbon bindings, aching to touch.

“Show me those delicious tears again, child of Adam. You cried for Belphegor…Why don't you cry for me too?” Lucifer purred, dipping his head to the nape of your neck before sinking his teeth.

“The best way to make them cry is to make sure they're nice and overwhelmed with pleasure," Beelzebub smirks, turning up the setting. You throw your head back. “B-Beel! P-please! T-too-too much! So sensitive!”

“You scream his name but not mine…I'll have to train your throat again later,” Leviathan growled.

Beel applied more pressure on the toy as he went for your neck. His tongue strips across the sensitive flesh before sucking. All the while, Lucifer sucks and nibbles at some more parts of the other side, his cock sliding deliciously against a sensitive spot inside you.

“Oh God! Oh fuck!" Your whole body shakes as you cum again.

“There is no God here…” Beelzebub grins as the other kings approach closer toward you, laughing coldly.

“No one can save you now! You're going to stay here and take cock for the rest of your pitiful human life.” Asmodeus purrs, stroking his cock with the other Kings slowly stroking. All you can hear is their wet cocks as they prepare themselves for another round with you. 

Asmodeus's smile turns into a dastardly smirk as he turns to the demon of gluttony, “Beelzebub, once Lucifer is done, let's both pick them up and stuff them at the same time. Beelzebub stopped biting at another part of your body to return Asmo’s toothy grin. “I like the way you think, you horny bastard…”

Beel gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling away.

Lucifer, with the new room that Beel gave him, spun you around before you began to bounce on his lap. With only your shaky legs holding him as he grabbed at your hips to support you. Seeing your eyes swollen and tears dried on your face as well as your cock drunk and glazed look in your eye. Whatever restraint Lucifer had left snapped, bouncing you hard up and down on his lap. He wrapped an arm around your back, bracing himself with each thrust. 

Seeing your ruined face, he knew he couldn't last. Lucifer wanted to wring out one more orgasm from you. This is heavy; balls slap up into you. His lips brush against your ear, his sinful words as he nips your earlobe.

“Do you know what you do to me… to us? All these devils are hard because of you. I am swollen because of you.” His tongue glides across your lip before kissing deeply, his tongue tasting yours in a messy, hot kiss that made you clench around him.

“You did this to us. You drive us crazy to the point where all we can think about is filling you with cock and cum. Your soft skin, your tears, and your cute little screams are addictive.” 

“Are you going to cum, sweet child of man?” 

"Are you going to squeeze me like you did the other devils? Is this sweet little hole of yours going to worship my cock?” 

He rolled his hips, grinding through your orgasm as he came with you, crunching his teeth and silencing his moans into hisses. Even though he just came, it wasn't enough. It will never be enough.

Beelzebub stopped you from falling from Lucifer's lap. Grabbing your bound-up wrists before pulling you toward him, he picks you up in his arms as you instinctively wrap your legs around them as Modius comes up from behind, giving you extra support. "Upsy Daisy, don't want you passing out on us…”

“We should hurry. I don't think our precious present can hold on much longer." Asmodeus says, pressing his lips against your shoulder blade. 

"Damn it! I wanted another turn!” Satan snarled. 

“We have all of Valentine's Day to enjoy our gift." Mammon smiled, relaxing against the chair that Lucifer was sitting on. Enjoying the sight of Asmodeus and Beelzebub trying to fit their cocks inside you at the same time. 

“Come on, sweetling. You can do it; I know you can.” Asmodeus whispered once Beelzebub was inside, he squeezed himself in. He not only felt the squeeze of your tight warm walls but also the delectable pleasure of another man's cock sliding against him. Asmodeus didn't even hide how good he felt when his eyes rolled back, and he moaned.

Beel’s mouth was wide open. If he didn't move right now, he was going to burst, so he slid against your velvet walls, making enough room for himself and the other devil.

Asmodeus kept up with Beelzebub, pressing kisses all over the back of your neck. His pathetic whimpers and whines made you clench around the both of them. You are doing so good taking them both. The other devils watching you were just as entranced as the two taking you. Never had they seen you so fucked out and cock drunk. You didn't even know what was happening, as all you did was press yourself against Beelzebub and take it. It was a beautiful sight. The tears are flowing from your cheeks, and drool is running down your face. With the ribbons binding your body, you have entirely given up, completely at their mercy, all of them.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Shadow x reader (platonic) where reader is a failed prototype of project Shadow? And was scrapped by the scientists at the arc, due to be being abandoned early on, the reader has powers similar to Shadow but they’re weaker and doesn’t last for more than a couple second, they have a larger lifespan but they’re not immortal like Shadow. Shadow finds them and wonders why the reader kind of looks like him (same red highlights) and Shadow takes them in and they basically become found family and Shadow is protective of reader, sorry if this is long I’ve just had this idea for a while （＾∇＾）You’re one of my sonic comfort blogs, take your time!

Shadow x failed prototype reader

Platonic

You had been discarded before you even had the chance to live.

A failed prototype of Project Shadow, deemed unworthy, unfinished, weak. The scientists aboard the ARK had left you to rot, your incomplete body a testament to their mistakes.

Unlike Shadow, you weren't immortal. Your abilities flickered and died after mere seconds of use, a dim light compared to the living superweapon they had perfected.

Yet, despite your flaws, you had survived.

You didn't remember how you got off the ARK, nor did you know why you were still alive after all these years. Your body aged slower than ang other mobians, but time still weighed on you. You had wandered, hidden, avoided those who might see you as an anomaly to be studied or destroyed. You had long since accepted that you were alone.

Then, you met him.

Shadow had been the one to find you. His sharp crimson gaze locked onto yours the moment he saw you, his usual air of indifference wavering for just a moment. He stared, his brows furrowing as he took in your features, your red-highlighted hair, the streaks along your arms that resembled his own markings. You looked like him. Not exactly, but close enough that confusion crossed his face.

"Who are you?"

You hesitated. No one had asked you that in years. You didn't even know how to answer.

"A mistake"

Shadows expression darkened. He didn't speak right away, but something in his stance shifted. You expected him to leave you, to walk away like so many others had before. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stayed.

He learned your story piece by piece, though you never had much to tell. When you told him what the scientists had done, how they had abandoned you before you were even complete, his hands clenched into fists. You weren’t just a discarded experiment to him. You were proof of their cruelty, another victim of the same people who had taken everything from him.

That was the day you became his responsibility.

Shadow never said it outright, but you could feel it in the way he lingered whenever you pushed yourself too hard. Your powers weren't strong, and they drained you quickly, leaving you exhausted after even the smallest burst of speed or chaos energy. Shadow didn't let you overdo it. He trained you, yes, but only within your limits. He scolded you when you pushed past them.

You weren't a weapon. You weren't going to be used and discarded. Not anymore.

The first time someone tried to hurt you, Shadow made sure they regretted it. He was always protective, but that night solidified it. You weren’t like him, you weren't immortal, you weren't as strong. The idea of losing you, of watching another part of his past be erased, wasn't something he would allow.

"I won't let them take you," he had said, voice quiet but resolute.

And you believed him.

You were not a "mistake". You were his family

[daylighted]

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ㅤDEAN & LITTLE FOX ! READER !

" take a look at the sky just before you die — it's the last time you will ! "

file. all the man who never prayed wanted was someone that would listen and hear him. beggars could not be choosers when it came to the listening ears that lent themselves.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ———

dean came to terms with the simple fact that he, as a single individual in an undersaturated business, could not save everyone. but when he watched as you fell from the sky that night, he wished only for the ability to save you.

something had happened in the confines of the clouds before you fell. blood stained your face, your teeth, your pouting lips. your eyes were glossed in utter devastation, the front of the cream-colored silk slip you wore glossy maroon, clinging to your skin.

but it was not any of these details that made dean determined to help, in whatever way he could. it was the wings, wide and bright and untouched on your back. they glimmered like dusts of glitter upon feathers underneath the moonlight, something made of beauty attached to something that looked so wrong to the images in his head.

you don't look at him as you wail into your blood stained palms, the sound of your broken cries ricocheting around the forest, bouncing between tree trunk to tree trunk, muffled in the wind and in between the leaves.

dean doesn't exactly know what to do in this situation. a lot weighed heavily on him, and sure, a few times in these last few months had he begged for someone in the stars to just hear him, but he didn't expect for that someone to fall.

you looked like he felt — broken and shattered and damned. you were beautiful, though, in your ruins.

your red rimmed eyes shift up to meet his at the first sound of grass crunching beneath his feet, daring a step closer.

"what happened?" feels like too harsh of a way to address something so wounded, but it's all he has to offer you. the hand that hovers awkwardly in the dead space between the both of you doesn't seem to be working any miracles for your state, either.

you grasp at the silk clinging to your skin, your hand pulling away shiny and red. the sob you let out cracks through all of his armors and breaks him. "i don't know."

dean hadn't... ever seen an angel so human, before. so utterly unashamed of the tears staining your cheeks, so connected to the vessel you possess that you can't even seem to help yourself.

he'd help you.

hell, how many times had dean held crying girls in his arms and picked up their broken pieces for them? how many times had he clutched the loved ones of people overtaken by monsters, lost to the unnatural and the uncanny, and promised that it would be okay, even knowing that things would never again be the same for them?

you were not something that dean couldn't handle. that he hadn't already handled.

maybe he should have walked away. the gods and the angels didn't once answer him before, and somehow tonight, one literally lands directly in front of him? just for him?

something was off about it. unnatural, uncanny: but nothing that he hadn't dealt with before.

he crouches down to your level, and your eyes are striking. there is definitely something other about you, something a little off that people not trained in his expertise wouldn't pick up on. you could pass as a human more than any other angel could, but up close, he picked at the details with a finetooth comb.

your eyes were not blue, but purple. your ears were a little pointed at the tips. your grateful smile a little too cruel and unfeeling to be genuine. still, when he tried to find a word to describe you in his mind, he could only settle on beautiful, like no other word existed.

he might have asked you what you were. but his pessimism didn't seep all the way down to the marrow of his bones and his heart, and his heart screamed that you were an angel sent just for him. his angel. the one for him to keep safe, and to keep him afloat.

the words die on his tongue, and when staring at you starts to make your expression twist in his trick-playing eyes, you tilt your head up to look up at the starry skies.

"i haven't seen stars in forever," your voice is laced in awe, gaze flitting between each sparkling dot in the deep blue night, like you couldn't seem to settle on one.

dean wants to say, me neither. wants to lay beneath the canopies of leaves and drink in the rare moment of peace he's found here with you. this broken thing still taking the breaths to memorialize beauty through the pain inside of you.

instead, his mouth opens, and something less expected comes out. "come home with me."

there is that flicker in your eyes again. the something other that he can't seem to place, that he loses the moment he clocks it. again, all dean sees when your eyes meet his is that devastating purple, and a devastating amount of shimmering hope in them.

"home?"

dean's face flattens. "...is a motel, an hour or so away."

"a home is a home," you say, and the blood on your hand is dry now. dean knows it because you close the crusted fingers around his own, finally, and allow him to pull you to your feet. "i have not had a home in forever, either."

you won't get the innuendo or jest in his joke, but he says it anyways. "i get to be your first?"

your eyes dance now, those pretty lips once again wicked. "if only you were."

notes. short asf but u just need an intro... b4 we get juicy ok. AND IT'S GONNA GET JUICY QUUUUICK. I AM JUST WRITING THE FIRST TO SAM & TO DEAN TONIGHT SO IF I LET THEM GET LONG ASF IT WILL LIVE IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER </3 ok bye.

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling if u want added or taken off pls lmk <3

[mikeellee]

Its maybe due to how some people used to see women. Women in power, they say, is a receipt to hysteria. Which now is a bit hard for the king believe as his male adviser is throwing a tantrum about the prophecy and the fact the heir is a woman.

His queen is not uttering a word. Maybe she too thought the best course of action would be follow the stander and ...abandoned the child.

"if she will dethrone me and kill me, so be it!" Its his final decision. The queen and the king are in an arranged marriage, maybe, she too expected a boy out of this union...possibly. who knows?

The baby is not tended by the queen who prays in the church every day. Hoping for a miracle. No, who tends the baby are the royal nannies and...the king.

"But sir..." The nannies would plead as the king holds his daughter in his arms. "She will kill you!"

"yeah...that's what the prophecy said." The king would reply.

Times fly and the girl is no longer a baby. The king still doesn't mind the prophecy...one day, a warlock invaded the kingdom and petrified the king...it was a very arduous battle and many lives were lost.

The king is now a statue.

The girl weeps for her dad.

Her tears fall on the statue and the statue dissolved and...in a second, the king is back.

"So...I guess the prophecy is null now"

When asked about ...the king just said...be a good dad worths more than be a shitty king.

a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight and abandon it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward.

[lemotmo]

Ryan gave same answer to buddie question he is been giving from the moment bi buck was canon. He didn’t say in same words like Eddie is straight and buck Eddie are brothers but he did say the same in so many words like friendship between straight and queer characters is an important storyline and that’s priority than anything else

I always try to ignore interviews especially Ryan’s answers to buddie questions as what they think is not important and what the show is trying to show is important. But at this point I am not really sure if I should trust the show as Ryan is the one playing Eddie and his answer at this point of time is same and not even vague like let’s see where the script goes or I am ok with what ever the story takes. Just don’t know what to expect at this point

To be clear I am not saying Ryan is homophonic or anything, he seems like a kind person who treats everyone equally and with respect. But with all his answers in interviews, I get a feeling like he is not so much comfortable with playing a gay character (for what ever reason I don’t know and I don’t question or judge people choices as it doesn’t harm any real people).

If Eddie is still straight by 8.14 or 15, I don’t have much hope

Nonny, all do respect, but I have to ask this:

Why did you bring this to my blog? You must have seen my enthusiasm about Ryan's latest interview and how it has only strenghtened my conviction that Buddie is going canon. So why would you post this here when you already know what I'm going to tell you?

I also don't understand your reaction here. I've been in this fandom for years now and I've never been more confident that it's going canon than now. Before season 7 I never even thought Buddie would get a fighting chance.

What did you expect Ryan to say in this interview? 8b hasn't aired yet, so he can't disclose any of the upcoming storylines. He was always going to rehash some of his earlier answers from previous interviews, because what else could he possibly answer?

The inevitable Buddie question came and -once again- he had to find a way to answer it without spoiling anything. What could he possibly have said? He can't just come out and say that Buddie is going canon at this point, because it hasn't happened yet.

So he said the only thing he could say, the message that no matter who you are and who you love in life, it's important to support each other. Which is a beautiful message in itself.

He isn't saying anything else than Oliver did in his pre-biBuck days. It's the same 'trying to talk about it, but not allowed to say anything' kind of thing. 🤷‍♀️

And what about the question where Ryan was asked what advice he would give Eddie? His answer was so telling. It hinted at Eddie not being straight in such a profound way. That was basically the only thing he could say when it comes to Eddie's sexuality storyline.

The man's hands were and are tied. They have been for a long time. And no, he isn't afraid to play a gay man. How do I know this? Because he has actually played a gay man before in another project. He also talked about, on multiple times, the fact that he would be all for Buddie if the story would go there. Those are not the words of a man who doesn't want to play a gay man.

If he really wouldn't want to play a gay man, he would just state it out loud. He would say something like 'Yeah, the Buddie thing is a really fun thing. Oliver and me joke about it, but it isn't going to happen. Eddie is very straight and he will never be interested in Buck like that.' BAM! Just like that he would make it clear to everyone that he isn't willing to play that part and it isn't happening.

Now, if you want an example of an interview by someone who really doesn't want to play a gay character, but had no other choice because it was the only job he could get? Look no further and Google one of Lou Fjr's unhinged interviews where he talks about how he doesn't think it's always appropriate for two characters to make out on screen, but that rule only seems to apply to male/male relationships. He never seemed to have any issues with making out with women on screen before. ��

But anyway, let's not get distracted here by talking about that man and let's get back onto the subject of Ryan's interview.

I know that I probably won't be able to change your mind on this Nonny and I'm not even going to attempt it, because in all honesty? I'm tired of all the nay-saying and the inevitable spiral of fear that happens every single time when something happens in this fandom.

I don't know what you want? I've been in so many fandoms, shipping ships that NEVER became canon even though they should have. There was always subtext of course, but that's where it ended. The rest of the story we (the fandom) had to build up from scratch.

For Buddie though--

This isn't just about subtext anymore Nonny. This is fullblown TEXT! It's all there in the show, in the PR, in the interviews, in social media, in Family Fued and Jeopardy! What more could you possibly want?

If you don't believe it by now? There is nothing I can say or do to convince you, so you will just have to wait and see as the episodes air.

Tell you what though--

I predict that we will find out about Eddie's sexuality sometime before or at the very last in episode 8x15. Bold statement, I know. But I feel very confident about this. Oh and Buck? I'm willing to bet that all of his spiraling will finally lead to him realising he is in love with Eddie and this will be shown to us even sooner than Eddie's coming out.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now excuse me while I go bask in the glory of the impending promise that is Buddie canon. 😏

[ivesambrose]

𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 💌

Happy Valentine's Day everyone ❤️

This is a love letter with your name on it, there's someone out there who has something to say to you 💌

To Book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Envelope 1

To the one my heart recognises,

You move through life like a dreamer caught between worlds, always reaching, always searching, always holding a litle more hope than you let on. And I see it. I see you.

You chase after the things your heart aches for, even when the path twists, even when the road splits in too many directions. You weigh choices in your hands like they hold the weight of the universe, afraid to step too far in the wrong direction. But, love, you are never lost to me. No matter where you go, no matter how far you run, I will always find you. Because I already know the shape of your soul.

The world hasn't always been kind to you, and I know you carry the weight of thingS unspoken, the fractures from moments that tried to break you. But even in your quietest battles, you are still becoming. still unfolding into someone even more extraordinary than you were yesterday. And I will be here, beside you, through every rebirth

So leap. Make the reckless choice. Follow the dream that won't let you sleep at night. You were not meant to stay within lines drawn by other people's expectations, you were meant to break through, to touch the sky, to chase the impossible and make it yours.

And if ever you need a hand to hold, a heart that won't waver, or someone who will remind you of the fire in your soul, you already know where to find me.

I am yours. Always.

Envelope 2

With all that I am,

The one who was always meant for you.

To the One My Soul Knows,

Loving you is like standing beneath the moon, soft light, deep mystery, and the quiet knowing that some things are felt more than they are understood. There are parts of you that shift like tides, emotions that swell and retreat, thoughts that linger in the silence before sleep. And I love every version of you, every hidden depth, every unspoken word.

You are a force, a wild thing that cannot be tamed, and I would never want to. There is something raw, something instinctual about the way you move through this world like you are both ancient and new, both fearless and tender. I see the hunger in you, the ache for something real, something lasting. Love is not a word you take lightly. Nor do I.

With you, I see forever. Not in the way stories promise perfect endings, but in the way two souls recognize each other across lifetimes. In the way your touch feels like something I’ve known before, something I would know again, no matter where time places us. You are home, not because you make things easy, but because you make them true.

I want to build a life with you, not just in the quiet, beautiful moments, but in the raw, messy, achingly real ones. I want to know the thoughts you never say aloud, the dreams you keep close to your chest. I want to trace every part of you, mind and body, learning you in ways no one else ever has.

Loving you is a temple I will worship in for as long as you’ll let me. You are the question, the answer, the universe wrapped in skin. And if there is a destiny greater than this, I do not want to know it.

You are mine, and I am yours. In this life, and in every one after.

Forever,

The one who chooses you.

Envelope 3

To the One Who Holds My Heart,

Loving you is an unfolding, slow, steady, something delicate but unshakable. It isn’t always easy, and I know that. You carry so much in that beautiful mind of yours, thoughts that keep you awake when the world is quiet, worries that press against your chest like weights only you can feel. But you don’t have to hold it all alone. Not with me.

I see you. The way you give, the way you pour yourself into others, always making sure there is enough love to go around. But love, when was the last time you let yourself receive? When was the last time you let someone hold you the way you hold everyone else? I want to be that for you. Not just in fleeting moments, but in all the ways that matter.

I don’t need you to have it all figured out. I don’t need you to be perfect. I only need you to know that you are already enough, just as you are. Even in your quiet, even in your uncertainty, even in the moments you hesitate to let yourself be fully seen. You don’t have to keep your heart wrapped in caution, hidden away like a gem buried deep in the earth. Let it breathe. Let it shine.

Love doesn’t have to be rushed. It doesn’t have to be forced. It’s something we build, something we water, something that grows in its own time. So take my hand. Let’s rest in this moment together, without worrying about what comes next.

Because no matter how long it takes, no matter how many times the world shifts around us, I will still be here.

Always,

The one who chooses you, again and again.

[my-my-my]

Aizen thinking of reader in muken and thinkong to himself that maybe if the circumstances had been different he would've married her, and like he holds respect for reader because she had a tough past which also includes sa(trauma dumping here) and her gentle yet cold and reserved personality, a diligent soul reaper who at the end of the day was a human,who would make cooing noises while aggressively scratching a cats head something like that, whatever youre comfortable with, if you don't want to then you don't have to, im sorry if i made you uncomfortable with it!!

Thank you for sending, sharing and trusting this request with me! It’s been a while since I’ve attempted to crawl into Aizen’s head, so I hope this is to your liking. I won’t be able to convey every aspect you included into this request, but I hope it has the sentiment you wanted.

Summary: The mind wanders when it has nothing else to do, and being in Muken has left Aizen with plenty of time to reminisce, much to his dismay. With the onslaught of the Quincy Invasion decimating the Gotei 13, Aizen is called to the battlefield, coming to terms that somethings will inevitably, remain the same.

CW: Vague mentions of SA, pining, angst.

Word count: 1233

Muken, in its entirety, was a cold and desolate place. It was void of light; its depths hiding darker secrets that only the higher ups, and those imprisoned, knew of. Yet within the darkest of Muken’s depths, Aizen’s mind was still free – free to explore his inner world, free to explore and train himself, but also free to explore his memories.

Although he often tried to minimize his time with memories. To learn from history was one thing, but for Aizen, some memories were tinted with regret – of things long past, of people long gone. It opened a door of “what if’s” that Aizen, much to his dismay, did not have the pleasure of humouring anymore.

“What if…”

“What if…”

“What if…”

Those things would never change the current situation, his present and longstanding imprisonment. But in some instances, his mind would wander to memories of you. Of times where his plans, experiments and machinations were off in the distant future, and you were his present.

Yet Aizen’s time in Muken grew longer at each passing moment. The solitude haunts him but remains familiar – a taste he knows all too well since he was a child, and yet he knows that you would have endured this.

Thoughts of you, who remained unwavering in times of anger, sadness and despair. You who had endured so much by the time he met you. The outer districts of Rukongai were desolate at best, and inhospitable at worst – and somehow you clawed your way through it all. Away from people who were determined to crush and confine you in the squalor of outer Rukongai. Away from men who craved power over your mind, soul and body.

When he met you as a fellow student at the Academy, he didn’t expect much from you.

But your diligence and resilience made him watch you from a distance. Watching you grow stronger and confident each day as you improved your skills as a shinigami. Soul Society was anything but kind to you, but you faced each day with a quiet determination. A resolve to be better than what you were dealt with.

It was only a matter of time the Gotei 13 recognized your efforts, as you were recruited into Squad 5, under Aizen’s lieutenancy. It was strange, Aizen thought as he reflected on those moments. Like many in the Gotei 13, you weren’t immune to his charms or his looks. He would catch you with the faintest of blushes, the slight aversion of your eyes from his gaze, yet you tried to hold equal footing with him. He would catch you practicing spells, your swordsmanship and even your calligraphy.

At first, he thought it was to impress him, but through the small, growing interactions you two shared, you wanted to know more. You craved to be better, you craved to know more, and you craved to do right by others.

Which was why Aizen pushed you away. You were too kind for Soul Society and for the world he envisioned.

…Yet he couldn’t part with you.

Which was also why he had you transferred and demoted to another division, far away from him. The pain and hurt in your eyes and voice were seared into his mind when he handed your transfer and demotion notice. Yet you didn’t get angry – a question Aizen still wondered to this day.

Why didn’t you fight him? Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?

After Aizen experimented on Shinji and the others and expelled Urahara, he thought about you often. He even drafted a promotion letter for you.. yet seeing you smile to your fellow squad members, seeing you work your way through the ranks of your new squad…

Maybe it was better this way.

What could he have done otherwise? He considered the possibility of marriage, of trying to woo you back into his arms… but Soul Society was too broken for that dream to work. To put you in harms way directly, to have you branded as a traitor for him, after all you had worked for…

Sending you away from him and his plans were the best for you, no matter how much pain it caused the both of you.

Hypotheticals and memories are nice, but that’s all they are.

It was laughable really, for Kyoraku, of all people, to be Captain Commander, to be seeking Aizen, of all people to help with the Quincy Invasion. But laughter seemed foreign to Aizen these days. The look of disdain amongst Kyoraku and the soldiers accompanying him out through Muken made Aizen scoff.

It exhausted him to play the part of saviour for people who didn’t deserve saving. The fact that the Captains didn’t even consider crushing Yhwach’s black creatures with their spiritual pressure? The brilliant minds of the Gotei 13… Aizen thought sarcastically as another creature screamed from his pressure.

The shinigami would look at him in contempt as Aizen sat there begrudgingly. Yet through his ability to compress and decompress his reiatsu, he sensed yours. He couldn’t help but give a wry smile at what he was sensing… you were trying something similar. He turned his head slightly and saw you through the corner of his uncovered eye.

Your reaitsu wasn’t as strong as his, but he was impressed with how you could hold your own, until he felt a flicker of an oncoming onslaught.

Without hesitation, Aizen chanted Hado 90, slow enough for Kyoraku to alert the others, including you to hide. Your eyes widened as you saw Aizen calmly stare back at you. Recognition in his eye when he saw that you were a safe distance away.

Not that you needed to be saved.

And yet, much to Aizen’s dismay, the insolent chair designed by Kurotsuchi remained in place. He narrowed his eye as the captain gloated his invention. You remained quiet as you watched the scene unfold.

Until a loud blast hit Aizen. The remaining Quincy survivors arrived, but before you could even draw your blade, they turned on each other.

You watched Kyoraku with an amused smile talk with Aizen, who looked less than amused at what just happened. Kyoraku tipped his hat and left Aizen alone.

The captains and lieutenants were going to head to the royal palace while you and all the others remained in Soul Society to protect it from whatever may come next. And throughout Kyoraku’s rousing speech, you could only focus on Aizen’s reaitsu as it crept closer to you.

And like a moth to a flame, you walked closer to him. You weren’t sure of what to say, of what to do as you stood in front of him. Centuries had passed, but the fluttering of your heart remained the same.

“I –” but before you could say more, a group of your squad members pushed you away, yelling about the immediate need in a Rukongai district. You looked at Aizen sadly, as he grew smaller and smaller from your field of vision.

Soul Society, in its entirety, was a cold and desolate place for Aizen. He had no love for it, and it had no love for him. The fleeting and feeble lives of the soldiers of the Gotei 13 and Wandenreich stained Soul Society… how many more lives will it take? How many captains will die?

Yet still, as Aizen glanced to the black sky, one thing remained certain, his feelings for you.

This poem used in a waka competition back in the early 1000s, was the inspiration for this:

Aren’t you who you once were? Aren’t I who I was then? How strange that All we trusted in Has changed.

Thank you for sending me this request and trusting me with it. I hope you enjoy it!

[gojougf]

convergence theory — teaser

pairing ⸺ tutor nerdjo! x student! reader

summary ⸺ desperate to pass your maths breadth subject and with a major assessment looming, you reluctantly accept satoru gojo's help after a botched tutoring request. what starts as a mutually beneficial arrangement—he needs your uncle's influence for an event, and you need help with calculus—quickly turns into something more complicated.

teaser word count ⸺ 1.5k

expected word count ⸺ 15-20k (the banter alone has taken up about 8-9k so...)

release date ⸺ not sure yet, hopefully in the next few days or by the end of next week bc i wanna finish it before uni starts

warnings ⸺ smut, p in v sex, virgin!gojo (he acts like a total arrogant, cocky and conceited asshole in this but he's actually a virgin HSHSHGS), oral (both m and f receiving), you basically give him his first blowjob and teach him how 2 be a munch :3, college AU (except i'm australian so my perception of college in american dominated college au's in fanfic is quite limited), nerd!gojo, gojo is like really fucking annoying, switch gojo!, will probably continue to update the warnings the more i write but it'll be so good... trust...

“This is simply not enough, (name). If you want to pass, you need at least 50 percent. I’ll let you retake the required modules and assessments, but I strongly suggest hiring a tutor.”

Your professor sighs, rubbing his temple as you grimace in displeasure.

College math.

The bane of your existence.

Why you needed to pass a math module just to earn extra credit for your psychology major was beyond ridiculous. You had never been particularly good at math, always gravitating toward English or science-related subjects. Nothing too sciency, though. Psychology made sense—it was theory-based, more about understanding people than crunching numbers. It wasn’t the kind of science that required you to calculate how many moles of carbon were left after a reaction or figure out what would happen if a car crashed into a wall at 60 km/h. 

“I can personally recommend last year’s top student—full marks in every assessment and module. He might be available, assuming he doesn’t already have a full roster of students. If you can wait a little longer, he’ll be here soon to pick up last week’s student projects. He’s my TA this semester.”

Your professor’s voice takes on a rare note of approval as he talks about this so-called star student—someone impressive enough to earn the admiration of a man who had docked half your marks over the method rather than the answer.

You nod stiffly, setting your bag down beside you before sinking into the chair across from his desk. You could wait—had to wait, if you wanted even the slightest chance of scraping a pass in this godforsaken breadth subject. The measly 40% scrawled across your paper seemed to mock you, glaring up at you as if it, too, had given up on your ability to solve for x.

Tuning out the professor’s ongoing praise of this so-called star student, you try to focus on anything else. Honestly, how much more could he go on about this guy? It was getting exhausting. You weren’t here to listen to a TED Talk about some math genius—you were here because your GPA was hanging by a thread, and apparently, this person was your last hope of saving it.

Now, by no means were you dumb. Far from it. Some people just weren’t built for numbers, and unfortunately, you happened to be one of them. But when it came to the subjects you were good at? You thrived—aced every exam, topped your classes, excelled in ways that made professors take notice. Just… not in math. Never in math.

And yet, here you were. Waiting.

At least your waiting was cut short when he walked in.

White hair gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the professor’s office, strands falling effortlessly over cerulean eyes framed by almost impossibly pale lashes. He was tall—really tall—with an easy, unshaken confidence that made it clear he was fully aware of the attention his presence commanded. A navy-blue sweater hung loosely over his broad frame, the soft fabric contrasting against the sharp tailoring of his crisp black slacks. And—were those dress shoes?

Yeah. Okay. You could admit it—this guy was hot. But it wasn’t just his face (which, to be fair, looked like it belonged on a magazine cover). It was the way he carried himself, the unbothered ease in his posture, the quiet yet unmistakable I-know-I’m-better-than-you energy that radiated off of him.

And suddenly, you understood why your professor held him in such high regard. He didn’t just look like the type of person who aced every exam—he looked like the president of some elite quantum mechanics club, the kind of person who thrived on things like advanced calculus and theoretical physics for fun.

Great. Just great.

“(Name), this is Satoru Gojo. Satoru, this is (Name) (Last name).. She’s struggling with the content this semester and needs extra help if she wants to pass alongside her major. I was just telling her how brilliant you are and hoping you might have the time to tutor her—of course, only if your schedule isn’t already full.”

You try not to visibly flinch at the way your professor phrases it, as if you’re some hopeless case in dire need of salvation from this so-called prodigy. Seriously? He could’ve at least sugarcoated it a little in front of Satoru.

But as your professor speaks, his voice takes on a warmth that’s… weirdly affectionate. And when you glance over, you’re met with the absolute worst thing you could have imagined—your professor, practically beaming at Satoru, eyes practically glittering with admiration.

What the hell is this? Why does he look at him like that? Is this normal?

You barely manage to mask the horrified expression on your face, but it doesn’t matter—because Gojo sees it. And worse, he revels in it. His smirk stretches just a little wider, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement as he watches your silent suffering.

You think you’re gonna implode.

And then, with an exaggeratedly pitiful look, he turns back to the professor. “Sir, you know I’d love to help,” he says, voice practically dripping with faux sincerity. “But I’ve recently been asked to assist the research team for the theoretical physics paper. It’s a big opportunity—could really help with my master’s application—so I’m going to have to politely decline.”

Ah. So your hunch about him being some physics nerd was right.

He casts what might’ve been intended as a respectful bow in your direction, though it comes off more like a lazy spasm. You don’t even think he realizes how condescending it looks.

Yeah. He definitely doesn’t give a fuck.

“Oh. Well, (Name), it looks like you’re going to have to figure things out on your own,” your professor sighs, rubbing his temple. “Satoru was the best option—probably the only person who could actually help you pass. But maybe check out some tutors outside of campus? I’m sure there are professionals willing to help.”

Oh hell no.

Your heart plummets. Does he hear himself? Like it’s just that easy to hire a tutor? You’re a broke college student, barely surviving on instant noodles and coffee, and now you’re supposed to drop a fortune on private tutoring? Absolutely not.

Campus tutors were your only shot—they charged significantly less since the experience boosted their academic records, helped them secure internships, and all that nonsense. You were counting on that.

And now?

Your only remaining option was the physics nerd with the condescending smirk and ridiculous dress shoes.

You sigh internally, steeling yourself. If this guy is your last resort, then fine. You’ll grovel if you have to. Because there’s no way in hell you’re letting this godforsaken subject be the reason you don’t graduate.

“Please. Is there… um, any way you can fit me into your schedule?” You finally break the silence, your voice betraying a hint of pleading that makes you cringe internally. You hate that you’re begging. You can already hear your female ancestors rolling in their graves, disappointed that their descendant is down on her knees—metaphorically—asking a man to help her pass a stupid class.

You try not to let the thought sting too much, but it’s hard to ignore the gap in experience and expectations that separates you from him.

Curse this subject. Curse these grades. Curse my professor. Curse Satoru Gojo.

Satoru, meanwhile, looks mildly entertained by your discomfort. You stand, your bag hanging across your shoulder, trying your best to meet his eyes with a mixture of irritation and a clear, no-nonsense look that says, I see right through you.

But can you really blame him? He’s Satoru Gojo—head of the Physics Society, on the verge of completing his master’s, practically guaranteed a spot in the university’s elite PhD program thanks to his perfect grades and the top-tier references from his research. Of course he doesn’t have time for a tutor request from a girl who, from his perspective, probably couldn’t even define a limit, let alone solve one. Yeah, no.

“Sorry, no can do! As I said, I’m extremely busy right now—” Satoru starts, his tone dripping with smugness, but you cut him off before he can finish, not even caring that your professor is witnessing this desperate spectacle unfold.

“Please. I don’t think you understand—I need to pass this unit to fulfill the requirements for my major. Please consider my request…” You bow slightly in his direction, one hand fiddling with the hem of your dress, a trickle of sweat rolling down the back of your neck.

For a moment, he just stares. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he leans back, crossing his arms. “Fine. I’ll see if I can make time. But you’ll have to wait at least a week for my response—I’m extremely busy.”

Your eye twitches. What a dick. But this is your last shot, so you grit your teeth and let it slide.

“I appreciate it,” you say stiffly. “Well—I'll get going now.” You give a polite nod to both Satoru and your professor, already itching to leave.As you turn to go, you briefly catch his gaze raking over your form. It’s quick—so quick you might’ve imagined it—but something about the way his eyes linger sends a small, unfamiliar twinge through your body. You shake it off, more focused on willing this pretentious motherfucker to actually make space in his schedule for you.

God, you really fucking hate math.

a/n: i hope you guys liked the teaser!!!! this fic is lowkey eating my ass, i literally had to pull out my old battered copy of my advanced math textbook from highschool to write about some of the calculus concepts satoru explains, which was so funny to me because i never got higher than a 40 percent on an assessment during hs and i dropped math halfway through my final year, but here we are!

if you'd like to be tagged in the full fic once it comes out, you can comment down below, since i think my ask box doesn't work.. (*≧ω≦*)

[celeste-clearwater-06]

The Kitchen Window (pt. 4)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (everything finally clicks into place when you're invited over to Vern's place. some new friends mean new experiences)

warnings - swearing

word count - 4.7k (I told y'allll)

READ PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - one - two - three

You’ve been brooding the past couple of days. Life has been sucker punching you in the gut, one insane, unthinkable blow at a time.

Work hours are getting ridiculously longer, April O’Neil hasn’t texted you back since the night you spilled all of your secrets. And you haven’t seen or heard Raphael around. Not that important, but it still contributes to the pile of miserable shit you’re handling. Thankfully, Vannie seems to be filling that lonely space in your flat. She’s a sweet relief to see at the end of each night when you get back from work, purring and content. You hadn’t realized how nice it was to come home to someone that’s so pleased to see you. She’s helping you cope, even if just a little. A cat tree now sits in the far corner of your living room so she’s not climbing all over the counters and scratching at your sofa. Though simple, it adds a new, homey addition to the space.

This night off is uneventful. Vannie sits in your lap, fast sleep, while you mindlessly scroll on your phone and sip on a glass of fruit juice that’s been sitting in your fridge for just a little too long. Hometown highschool friends with their engagement rings and college graduation posts. Not something that you particularly yearned for, but it still hurt a little. It was probably time to pick up a damn hobby. Vern texts you. What a surprise.

[Hey kiddo]

He hasn’t called you that in a long time. It makes your throat tighten up.

[what up big man]

It takes him a second to type out another text.

[I know we haven’t seen each other much. Figured you might wanna come see my apartment? it’s nice]

An invite to your older brother’s fancy new place is the last thing you’d expected in the form of a late night message.

[tonight?]

[tommorow]

[hell yeah]

Finally, a small start to getting better. Vannie stretches in your lap and you stroke her fur.

The subway ride uptown is weird. You forget that there’s literal trains running underground, after walking to and from work for so long. It would be more exciting, if not for being sandwiched between two total strangers and the silence of people kind of just looking around. The screech of wheels on the tracks breaks it every once in a while. You’re also not a fan of the shoving and pushing of total strangers through the way-too-small sliding doors when you reach your destination, almost tripping at least twice. Rude.

At the very least, Vern’s apartment complex was just two blocks away from the subway exit. You knew the upper parts of the city were nicer, but it doesn’t really hit until you’re walking on the wide sidewalks and passing restaurants and window shops that put your cafe to shame. Even the early afternoon atmosphere just seems less heavy. There’s more light. You catch just a few more passing smiles than you usually would, up the steps into the main building, where you have to press a button and announce you’re a visitor to your older brother.

The elevator takes you to the 11th floor of the nicest complex you’ve ever been in (not that you’d been in many anyhow).

The whole way here, you've been excited to see Vern, practically bouncing with every step all the way up to his door. But now your fist freezes right above the place where you’re about to knock. Something was so off about this. You rap your knuckles on the wood anyway.

Someone opens the door, after a few shuffling footsteps, and it’s not Vern. Your heart drops.

“April?” A voice crack slips its way through your dry throat.

Oh my god. She’s told him everything.

She told your older brother all of your insane ramblings, and now she’s greeting you with a friendly smile like it’s nothing. So this is what the invitation was all about. The both of them were probably waiting inside with a psychologist or a one way ticket to a padded room. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Oh hey!” April is warm with her greeting, but it does nothing to shake the spirit of your utter confusion. To add to it all, Vern’s head peeks over hers with a weak wave of his hand and a sheepish expression.

“Hey kiddo.”

You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between them. The reporter still holds that confident, close-mouthed smile, while your older brother is struggling to keep it together.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” it’s more of a question than a statement, “Are we having a little get together or something?”

Vern tries to speak, but April cuts him off.

“Yeah we figured it’d be good to talk here!”

You can’t protest when she grabs your arm and all but drags you through the doorway and slams it shut, leaving you in the entryway of a lavish, modern, way-too-white apartment. It’s hard to process anything going on. The scenery, Vern’s guilt ridden eyes and the millions of thoughts firing in your brain are all increasingly overwhelming. You're starting to get a headache.

“L-Look, April, about the other night-“

“You don’t have to explain anything.” She pulls you again, this time in the middle of taking your shoes off and past the coat rack. You catch your brother's eye and he looks nearly as lost as you feel. April continues.

“It’s about time we talked about this anyway.”

That makes you nervous. You’re being led into a nice kitchen, Vern at your heels and watching helplessly.

“We don‘t have to!” You exclaim and yank your wrist from her determined hold, “I was just-just tired! I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, I know I sounded like a total maniac-“

She is completely uninterested in hearing your case, instead rolling her eyes and taking hold of your arm once again.

“We can just forget this whole thing! The loneliness has been getting to me, it’s really…not…”

When you step past the wall of the kitchen you trail off, dumbfounded to silence. All and any rational thought has fled.

Raphael, your savior, the giant fucking turtle, is standing, cross-armed, and a little nervous looking, next to three others that look eerily similar in their stature and green scales, though they all wear vastly different expressions that give away their thoughts. They’re all decked in various scraps of gear and oversized clothing, and like the one in red, have different colored bandanas over their eyes.

You look and feel like a total moron. Just standing there, mouth agape, only wearing one shoe and eyes flicking between the quartet of reptiles and your brother, who’s pinching his temple between two fingers in distress. The shortest of the four offers an over exaggerated smile and wave, before being kicked in the back of the leg, by another in a blue mask. He looks immensely annoyed. You have no idea what to say and when you open your mouth to speak, a flustered gasp squeezes its way from the back of your throat.

“I told you guys this was a shit idea,” Vern says. The tallest turtle shifts his weight from one large foot to another. It’s so quiet, so awkward, and yet you’re so discombobulated, your head starts to spin and you lean against the wall for support. You knew there was more than one night assailant. But four? And all nearly the same size and appearance? This was beyond absurd.

“Okay,” your voice is quiet, but it immediately captures the attention of everyone that’s standing in the room, “Can someone, genuinely, please tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you right away.” April speaks up from behind you. You turn to see her apologetic eyes. Your silence prompts her to continue an explanation.

“These are my friends.” She sounds like trying to tame some wild animal, and her arm sweeps out to gesture towards the four, “I just wanted to see, you know… if it was really just ‘some guy’ that stopped whoever was grabbing you.”

Guess she was right. You rotate once again at Vern who is trying to avoid eye contact.

“You knew?!”

Everyone jumps at the sudden escalation in your shocked question.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!”

You scoff.

“What, am I supposed to just tell you I’m acquainted with four, crime fighting, ninja turtles?! I’d sound batshit crazy!”

It was only fair that he thought that way. Suddenly, your distant, uninvolved brother was in your exact shoes, and your shoulders slump downwards in exasperation.

“So would I, Vern! I knew- I knew-, I wasn’t insane, but this whole situation has been eating at me for fucking weeks!”

If not for the absolute shock running through you, you would have laughed at the way April and the vigilantes just stand there and watch your argument like it’s reality TV, turning their heads each time one of you speaks up.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You should be glad we're telling you now!”

You throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes, once again rendered speechless.

A different voice pulls you from the confrontation. It’s the one in blue, now standing a little nearer to you. He’s massive, just like the others, even more now up close. You’re still not used to them talking in perfect, clear English. Or, really, at all.

“Sorry we had to meet this way.” His voice is deep, mature, and assertive. Surely the head honcho of the group. He’s smiling like it’s a peace offering, lopsided and gentle.

“I-I don’t-“ You search for the right response, but he does the talking for you and offers a calloused, three fingered hand.

“Leonardo.”

A long pause. Then an overtaxed sigh. You accept his introduction and awkwardly take it. You’re literally shaking a talking turtle's hand.

“I guess you already know my name.”

“We sure do, angel!” Leonardo is being shoved suddenly, quickly replaced with the energetic, shortest of the party. His bandanna is orange, and he’s puffing out his chest with confidence that out’s Vern’s ego to sorry shame. It immediately puts a curious smile on your face.

“I’m Michealangelo, but all the ladies call me Mikey.”

He grabs your hand delicately and places a cool kiss to the back of it while he bows toward the floor. You can’t do anything but awkwardly chuckle and watch as the others groan and cover their faces in embarrassment. This guy was pretty funny.

“Save some for the rest of us, Mike.”

You look to the tallest, who’s pushing the thick-lensed, tortoise print glasses up his nose. He opts to wave his hand from where he’s standing, seeming to sense the already overwhelming lack of personal space you have.

“Donatello.” It’s the voice you overheard on the radio last week, that accidentally gave away Raphael’s name.

Oh. OH. It finally clicks in your brain. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello. Raphael.

“Renaissance artists, huh?”

April meets your face with a kind of look that reads, ‘now you get it’.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Mikey kisses his flexed bicep, “Works of art.”

You laugh.

“I named my cat after Van Gogh.”

Raphael, still standing back from the group, lifts his head and meets your eyes at the mention of her. He looks away again, but a little smirk breaks as he rolls a toothpick off his tongue and in between his teeth.

The sort of shared interest seems to break a little bit of the tension, and the other three smile.

”Damn, Raph,” Mikey grins over at the ray of sunshine, “Not even gonna come say hi to your girlfriend?”

Your face flushes lightly. It’s clearly just a little jab to get under his skin, but you’re caught slightly off guard. Thankfully nobody seems to notice.

The smile’s gone, replaced with a huff of his nostril and a flick to Mikey’s head when Raphael walks over to finally introduce himself.

“Hey.”

You realize, this is the first time you’re standing in front of him without a window in the way. He’s still impossibly large. But you’re just so close. It feels almost foreign, witnessing the broad shoulders and tough plastron that pairs with those intense, forest colored eyes.

“Nice to meet you. Again.” Is all you can say, through a warm smile.

He snuffs, a sort of amused laugh, that makes you smile widely.

“Yeah. Sorry this got turned into such a big ordeal.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad I got to put a name to the face.”

You two kind of just stare at each other in silence. Mikey doesn’t let it draw on for long.

“You need to let me see this cat!”

“Oh, of course!” You don’t realize how warm your face is until you’re grabbing your phone from your pocket.

April and Vern are standing near each other again, now a little more relaxed seeing you warm up and pull up a photo of Vannie from your camera roll while the four look over your shoulder. Mikey coos at a video of her playing with the strings of your hoodie.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

So maybe it wasn’t ideal, the execution of their plan. Maybe you felt a little betrayed by your brother and his friend.

But.

You’ve made four new friends. And, as odd as they come (and intimidating as they look), they seem to like the way you welcome into your life.

The weeks flying by after you meet the four brothers have gone so much better than before. You’re getting sleep, still working your job up at the cafe, you’ve got Vannie. And that late-night sound of the manhole sliding against asphalt in the back alleyway begins once again. Now when you awake early in the morning to its noise, you just smile and snuggle further into your covers, with the reassurance that there are no scary monsters or felons that stalk in the night. Just four city-protecting vigilantes doing what they do best.

On the weekends, you stay up late to their frequent visits to your kitchen window. They usually swing by for a quick chat or check in on you. Most of the time it’s Mikey or Raphael. Or both. Sometimes the younger will tag along just to pay Vannie a visit while you and Raphael make playful small talk. Donnie will come through your area every once in a while, and though he doesn’t talk as much as his other brothers, it’s a refreshment to just listen to him talk about the state of the city and whatever new nerdy experiment he’s got going on. Leo rarely visits, unless you happen to catch them all leaving the sewer exit and he sticks around to hear you tell a crazy story about a rude customer or stupid order you’ve had to deal with during the week.

It’s so refreshing to have friends to talk to, even if it’s not every day.

Along with these pop ins, Raph’s been leaving things in your window on some of the nights you’re sleeping or coming home extra late from long shifts. Sometimes it’s a cool rock he found (who knows where), other times, an old abandoned action figure, or more recycled toys for Vannie. Your collection had accumulated on the dresser in your bedroom. It’s sweet.

Sometimes, you return the favor and leave him a cold drink you made at work by the open window before you flop into bed, exhausted. Summer’s rolling around the corner and even the nights get hot, especially considering moving around the city with all of his (badass) parkour. On occasion, you’ll make some for his siblings too, but the weird looks from your coworkers, leaving the shift with a cup holder full of unpaid drinks, limits this to every once in a while.

You don’t know it, but Raph feels so spoiled by your gifts to him.

Life is going so great, and you can feel the stone wall of his gruff exterior start to break when he chuckles at one of your jokes. Your heart warms when you think about him at work. As much as you enjoy seeing all of the brothers, it’s the red-banded one you’re drawn closest to. He makes you feel kind of giddy. It’s hard to put a label on it, but you’d love to call him your best friend, if not, one of your only.

It’s sticky and humid outside, on a late Saturday night in June. You’ve been watching a movie in your bedroom, with Vannie nestled beside you, sleeping, a bowl of microwave popcorn in your lap. The tv’s loud enough to almost drown out a little noise that comes from the kitchen. You barely hear it, but it catches your attention and you quickly snatch the remote to pause the movie.

Tap, tap, tap.

You smile. The shifting of the bed wakes up your cat, and she watches as you throw off the duvet and walk from the bedroom into the hall, bowl of popcorn in hand. When you pass the hall door, Raphael is grinning at you through the window and you fast-walk over to unlock the latch and slide it open. Humid air immediately flows in with his smug smile. Now you remember why the window was closed.

“Hey stranger.”

He snorts, and leans to rest his forearms on the sill.

“Whaddup, short stack?”

You shrug, and then offer out the bowl for him to take from. Raph grabs a handful and stuffs it in his mouth.

“What brings you to this part of town at…” you look at the stove clock, “3 in the morning.”

Raph talks while he’s chewing. A usually crude performance that you find kind of endearing.

“Slow night,” He swallows, and there’s a crumb on the corner of his lip, “Not a lot goin on for us out here.”

You nod, trying not to laugh at the leftovers that he clearly doesn’t notice. He quirks a brow.

“What?”

You reach out to try and swipe at it with your thumb but Raph flinches backwards.

“Come here!” Your laugh is soft, “You got something.”

He brings his face a little close and you wipe it away. It’s the first time you’ve touched his face, you realize. It’s cool, but there’s softer skin on his snout compared to the rest of his leathery scales. You try not to linger on it too much. He sees it on your thumb and playfully rolls his eyes. You can’t tell for sure, but there seems to be a little warmth creeping on his face. There’s tension.

“Yeah, I was savin’ that for later.”

Raph swats your hand away and you laugh.

“That hungry, huh?”

He nods.

“Actually yeah. We got leftover pizza at the lair, but I’m not supposed to be goin back for a while.”

“Want me to make you something real quick?”

He seems a little surprised at your offer (not like he’s gonna turn it down). You hear his stomach grumble.

“Can’t say no to that. How long you think it’ll take ya?”

“Probably a little bit. Do you wanna come inside?”

The invitation leaves your lips before you can think. None of the brothers had actually come inside your apartment before. It takes everything in you not to cringe and brace for the impact of his rejection while Raph looks at you with a perplexed glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” his answer sounds nonchalant, but his grin tells you a whole different story, “Dunno how you expect me to squeeze through this teeny little window though.”

You ponder for a second.

“You think you can sneak up to my front door?”

Raph shrugs.

“I can try. If I die, tell everyone it was your fault.”

You laugh.

“‘Vigilante turtle is found dead trying to get some of the worlds best chicken and rice.’ I can read the headlines now.”

He just shakes his head with a smirk, and then jumps off the fire escape.

“See you in a few.”

You shut the window, and in 45 seconds, there’s a knock at the door, and you rush over to open it and quickly let him in. Raph has to duck just a little to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

“Welcome to my crib.” It’s cringe, the way you lightly punch his shoulder.

“God, you sound like Mikey.”

“That was the goal.”

The turtle rolls his eyes, and then looks around the living room with a little smile.

“Gotta get you some decorations in here.”

You sigh.

“I know. I’m not here all the time. Plus I think Vannie would just knock shit over.”

Meow

“Speaking of.”

She’s already making her way over to him from your room, and rubs herself against his muscular calf.

“Hey kitty.”

Raph bends to give her head a little scritch, not following you over to the kitchenette where you’re pulling thawed chicken from the refrigerator.

“I think she missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks up at your turned body, as you fill a small pot with water from the kitchen tap.

“You said chicken and rice, huh?”

You nod, looking back at him. He’s walking over to you, sandaled feet scuffing on the carpet.

“Small-apartment-owner staple. Plus it’s easy.”

He’s standing behind you now, arms crossed, and curiously watching as you turn on two of the stove burners.

“Probably not for me. I burn just about everythin I touch.”

You think quietly to yourself, the irony of such a hothead setting a bowl of cereal up in flames.

“This is super simple. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“Oh so you’re a barista and a culinary teacher

“This is one of the only things I can cook. You wanna cut up some of that for me?”

Raph sees you gesture to the unopened package of chicken, while you’re pouring a cup of white rice into the pot of slowly boiling water. Cutting, he could do.

The two of you work silently in the small space, ducking over and under each other to grab utensils and spices. You instruct him here and there, but still leave room for the comfortable quiet that’s settled in the air.

After about 15 minutes, you pour a bowl for each of you (his is filled just a little bit more than yours) and invite him to sit on the couch to eat together. The first bite he takes has his eyes rolling in the back of his head with a guttural groan. You flush from behind your fork.

“Good?”

“Fuckin good.”

Your giddy smile says it all. It’s flattering the way he eats without saying a word. You’re so at ease, sitting criss-cross on the couch next to this beast of a guy, both enjoying the comforts of a meal your mom had taught you how to make long before you had left for New-York. This felt so domestic. When he's done, Raph wipes his mouth and sets the bowl down on your coffee table, fork clattering against the ceramic, and leans back on the couch with a stretch. You’re only halfway through your dinner.

“That’s some Gordon Ramsey shit.”

You scoff.

“Hardly. But thank you.”

“Nah, thank you. I’m gettin tired of all that takeout Mike brings home.”

His eyes are closed, hands resting on his plastron, and feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Beautiful, you think, and you’re surprising yourself again with the thought. You take advantage of his relaxed eyes, eyes trailing up the long, muscular extent of his body. A weird, warm sensation trills its way up your body, when his broad chest moves with a heavy breath, stopping it’s way at your lungs to give them gentle squeeze. It slows your chewing. When Raph’s eyes open, you quickly focus your attention back down to the food that you’ve suddenly become full from. He says something that you have to ask him to repeat.

“Show me around?”

“O-oh. Yeah sure.” You stand fast, and clumsy, bowl taking its place next to his. You awkwardly adjust your shirt and wait for him to stand from the couch. He follows you down the short hallway.

“Here’s the bathroom,” you point to your right, and wait for him to kind of peek his head around for a moment, “And here’s my room.”

The movie on the tv is still paused, but it lights the room with a warm glow, along with the dim led lights strung up in the corners of the small space. A simple twin-sized bed in the middle, in between a matching bedside table and dresser. Raph steps into the room past you. It looks so cramped with his massive body in here. You can’t stop his eye catching the little collection of trinkets, lined up in a neat row, on top of the black dresser. His grin is small.

“Was wonderin if you kept all this shit,” He chuckles, picking up one of the little superhero action figures and admiring it. His whole hand engulfs the toy, which is covered in scuffs and scratch marks from years of play.

“Can’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.”

Raphael’s response is a relaxed smile when he looks over his shoulder at you. Your heart skips. He turns again and gently sets the figure in its place.

“This your family?”

He’s referring to the framed picture of you, Vern and your parents behind the line of his little gifts.

“Yeah. My mom and her husband.”

Raph lifts it and you walk over to look at it with him. It’s from a few years prior.

“Not your dad?”

You shake you head.

“Vern’s dad. But we’re close.”

The four of you are in mid laugh, in the selfie that you take with an outstretched arm. You remember taking it on a vacation in the mountains.

“Vern’s always got that stupid look on his face.”

You snicker, shaking your head.

“Yeah. Idiot.”

Once again, Raph places it in its exact spot. It makes your knees shake a little when he’s looking down at you, just centimeters away from your body. To ignore and prevent anymore weird and confusing tension to build, you flop backwards on your bed with a sigh.

“Whatcha bitchin about now?”

You smile up at the ceiling.

“Just don’t wanna go back to work.”

He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. Sounds boring.”

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you. You can feel the warmth of his leg bouncing next to yours.

“Whatcha thinking about, Red?”

“Nothin’ important.”

You tilt your head down just a little to see his massive shell facing you. He’s hunched over. You kick him lightly, and he knocks your leg away gently.

“Come onnn, talk to meeee.”

You go to kick him again, but Raph grabs your leg and tickles the back of it. You squeal.

“STOP,” the fight is useless, kicking and scrambling to get away, with an ornery grin on his face, “I’m gonna piss myself!”

With that he backs off, and you’re heaving through laughter.

“Mean.”

“Annoying.”

His smile is wiped away with another thought crossing.

“What time is it?” You both glance at the digital clock on the bedside table behind you.

“Shit. Almost five.”

“Yeah. I better get goin. Gettin’ late- or, I guess early.”

You follow him up to the front door, walking past Vannie who’s playing with that first cat toy he left on your window.

Raph reaches for the door handle, but stops.

“Thanks for lettin me in. And for the food.”

You smile softly.

“Anytime, Raph.”

You didn’t mean to stop so close to him, but here you are, smile slowly fading while you look up at his face. His eyes have got you in a strong hold, and he mirrors your expression, unintentionally. His nostrils flare with a breath outwards.

You want to kiss him, all of a sudden.

Kiss Raphael right on the mouth and not have a care about it.

But you don’t. He grins.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The click of the closing door is your cue to slap your hands over your face in exasperation.

He’s left you with dirty dishes, an empty space, and flustered, red cheeks. You smile behind your hands hearing the scrape of Raphael heading back down into the sewers

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

YEAHHH, MY BABES EATIN GOOD TONIGHTTTT. THANK Y'ALL FOR READING AND DON'T FORGET TO REBLOG!!!

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[the-traveling-poet]

So Clumsy In Love

~ Valentine’s Day Special ~

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎~ As resourceful and observant as Levi is, one thing about his new life above ground still throws him for a loop; how could such a simple concept as romance be so difficult for him to understand? You made him nervous—confused and unfocused. Eventually he grows tired of fearing his own emotions, and finds the perfect excuse to spend time with you; the Valentine’s Day festival downtown.

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉~ Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader, SFW, v-day themes, inexperienced love, language, cannon-verse, Levi being awkward and crass.

𝒜/𝒩~ Just a lil V-Day fic, since I missed out on doing something for Thanksgiving and Christmas :) Happy Valentines lovelies!

I might make this a mini-series eventually?? Lemme know what you think!! See below for more Levi content.

{ 1.9k words }

It had been an honest mistake, hadn't it?

How should he have known your interpretation of his words wouldn't be what he'd intended you to pick up on?

Though, in hindsight, perhaps he'd subconsciously worried you'd mistake his intent all along—he wasn't known for his poetry. He more than anyone knew this as fact.

The intended compliment he quietly uttered your way could have been more carefully thought out, to avoid confusion. The hand-up after a round on the training grounds could have been a bit more delicate, less forceful and rigid. Hell, even the smile he'd flashed your way last week probably looked more like a grimace or a scowl, now that he thought about it.

Levi honestly had tried to find a way to convey what he felt for you, in any way shape or form—but in all honesty, he wasn't good at this.

Humanity's Strongest Soldier...Seemed more fit to label him Humanity's Most Awkward Bachelor.

Life above ground has been more than he anticipated it to be; so many new sights to behold, so many new things to learn... Back in the Underground, things were much more to the point than they were up here. Much more crass, much more invasive, so much more painful...Up here, on the surface, all of that could easily apply: to certain circumstances—yet never quite so harshly as it was below the surface.

At least, that’s how Levi views it, as a fresh Scout within the Survey Corps. Perhaps one day his interpretation would change.

With having to learn how to read the people of the surface, and adapt to their so-called proper way of life, Levi was left feeling adrift. The stark contrast between their social cues and those of the underground was nothing short of overwhelming.

So, to say that romance was uncharted territory for him would be a vast understatement. It was one thing he’d never expected, never even thought on. He'd never had time for it in the past. He'd been busy surviving, and providing. But now? Now...He wasn't so sure that he couldn't carve out some time between his new duties in the Scouts to understand his emotions a bit more.

Especially the ones he'd recently taken notice of regarding you—the ones that made him stutter whenever you were around, and avoid prolonged eye contact when you spoke. The ones that sparked a warm flutter in the pit of his stomach whenever you laughed, or chanced a smile his way.

It was near maddening, in the beginning. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t understand why he felt what he did. Briefly he recalled having been urged to just really think about it, to make up his mind and listen to his own heart. He’d scoffed at them, the damned bespectacled squad leader—always sticking their nose into his business. But maybe they had a point…

So eventually, he’d done just that; he’d sorted his thoughts and his feelings, dwelling heavily over them for quite some time. Eventually, gradually, he’d discovered that the attraction he held towards you was more than just a fleeting admiration for a fellow Scout.

It was so much more than that.

Such a simple notion should have come much easier to him, as self-observant as he was. His own stubborn pride had kept it hidden away from him, though.

Until now, that is.

Now, it was all he could focus on.

Every moment he wasn’t fully focused on a task, his mind would slip back into a pattern of obsession—fond observations he’d made about you over the many long months he’d been enlisted.

He’d watched you, unbeknownst to you.

Not so much in a way that would border on stalking, but merely keeping himself at a distance, silently absorbing every little fact he’d pick up on and store it away for a later time to muse over.

He found himself admiring you, out of sight. Certainly out of mind to you. Even after the revelation he’d made of his feelings, he couldn’t help but continue to keep his distance and simply watch you go about your days.

Stubborn as he had been, he truly was trying to understand himself whenever you were around. It wasn’t like him to be so unsure—so nervous, even. He’d watch you train, clean, socialize; all at a distance. He wouldn’t dare approach you and intervene with your time, worried he might somehow soil the moment for you, more so than for himself. He’d always frowned on obsessive stalkers in the past; he wasn’t about to become one himself. And yet…Here he was. Pining. Wishing, hoping…Pathetically entranced by all that you were.

In the present, he cursed himself. He’d mustered up the courage to face you in a way much softer than he usually preferred, hoping to not startle or offend you in any way this time. And yet, despite his careful planning, he’d managed to make the moment more awkward than endearing. Once again, the silly cycle repeated itself.

“The hell even was that?” he grumbled to himself, quietly so as not to be heard by passerbyers.

“Why the hell didn’t I just say what I initially thought, instead of butchering any chance I could have had?”

Levi sat alone in his newly appointed office now, silently contemplating his actions the day before.

He really had meant it as a compliment—it had not come across this way. Instead of seeing the smile on your face that he was after, he was met with a furrowed brow and a set of pursed lips.

“I don’t suppose you find yourself funny?”

Your quietly spoken words still echoed in his mind.

What had started as a feeble attempt at pursuing a conversation with you after a meeting—in hopes to steer it in a more progressive direction—ended abruptly in narrowed gazes and an awkward silence.

“Idiot, fucking idiot…” he muttered as an afterthought to himself, standing up to pace the small space.

He’d heard tell of an event celebrated amongst the people born and raised above ground—some sort of ‘lovers day’, meant to bring attention to a love one held for another. Initially, he thought it was corny. A little ridiculous, even. Soldiers and civilians alike would participate in this festival of sorts, celebrating ‘romance and unity’.

‘Pointless. Waste of a good coin. Waste of time.’ He’d once proclaimed.

It took him falling in love to understand why any such thing would be celebrated as a ‘holiday’ worth entertaining.

Now that he had fallen for another, however, he suddenly could understand. Even just a little.

He’d pondered over such an idea for months, long before the event would take place. At first he brushed it off as some teenage fantasy, asking the one person he admired from a distance to join him on a night of fresh starts and new experiences—some ridiculous little event to finally express his heart to you.

But after some time, in which he truly began to understand what he felt for you…The idea seemed plausible, at the very least.

Cringy, maybe. Satisfactory, definitely.

Eventually he’d made up his mind, only a couple of days before the dreaded date. He would ask you to celebrate: with him.

He’d hoped to ask you if you would join him for dinner—maybe walk amongst the festivities together, as a way to indulge in the festival being held in the town square. Maybe there he could admit to you, in some way or another, how he favored you above all others. How he wanted to pursue something, anything with you—if you’d let him. Only if you shared his ambition.

But of course, approaching this subject with you only made his clumsiness worse. The attempt he’d made at broaching the subject couldn’t have been more uncomfortable for either of you.

“You people up here tend to celebrate weird shit…You’re alone for this weird ass holiday, right? I don’t imagine you’d have the time for such things, anyways—always caught up in perfecting your shitty strategies and formations.”

That had been the first and last statement he’d made before your remark, regarding him in an almost offended way. Even now, your response still haunts him.

In his mind, he figured this was a compliment; a rough one at best. You were always focused, always concentrated and putting your best foot forward for any task that demanded your full attention. Of course he’d noticed. He always had. Yet…now hadn’t been the time to point that out—much less, in such a demeaning manner.

He hadn’t meant to underline your lack of a romantic life. But he had, and the moment the words left his lips he knew it.

Less than a full day had passed since then, and still he mulled over it, sulking over his inability to take that step forward and just say what he meant. To say what he needed you to hear.

It was evening when he left his office, the sun filtering through his window setting over the walls beyond in crisp oranges and bright pinks. He might have stopped to watch it for a moment, if he weren’t at wit’s end.

He’d kept himself cooped up stewing over his mistakes long enough—It was now or never, wasn’t it?

Finding you hadn't been too difficult. In fact, it had been a little too easy; of course he’d find you chatting happily amongst comrades before turning in for the night.

The difficult part, the one he knew he would inevitably face, was getting you alone for a single moment. Just long enough to grab your attention and say what needed to be said…

To his silent astonishment, he’d managed the task easily enough; a simple demand for a moment of time seemed to do the trick. He’d pretend he didn’t see the hesitance in your eyes, the silent judgment that you never verbally conveyed.

“Listen; I’m shit at words. Especially the weird shit you all say up here on the surface. It’s strange, and it’s stupid. But…The other day, what I’d meant wasn’t what I said. If-If you are alone tomorrow…Well, I suppose I am as well. I’d wondered: what if we grabbed a bite to eat? Avoid the drama these love sick idiots parade around and just…I dunno…Get to know one another a little?”

You’d huffed in amusement, a crooked smirk on your enchanting lips. The earlier hesitance disappeared from your gaze, replaced now by a nearly mischievous look of understanding.

The silence left behind from his proposal was enough to spike his nervousness once again—he was so far out of his element that even he would laugh at himself if he were observing from afar.

Maybe he’s misjudged, made a mistake…

But eventually you shook your head, uncrossing your arms and looking him over head to toe, curiosity beaming in your pretty eyes.

“As it should happen, I’m not busy for Valentine’s tomorrow, and I suppose I could stand to better familiarize myself with my fellow Captains…”

A pause in your voice brought about the stilling of his heart, his chest aching briefly with anticipation. But then you gave your final answer; a few simple words that lifted the anxious weight in his heart and eased the tension in his shoulders. He nearly sighed with visible relief.

“Why not? I’ll go to dinner with you. There’s a new café in Trost; I hope you’ve heard of it?”

~𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝓋𝒾 𝒜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒!~

~𝒟𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇~