#anyway that was a lot of tags. hope you all are doing well <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[kellystar321]

.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

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“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it. 

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket. 

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.” 

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible. 

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you. 

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age. 

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.” 

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him. 

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you. 

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation. 

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time. 

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes. 

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–” 

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–” 

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you. 

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden. 

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut. 

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.” 

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw. 

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie. 

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape. 

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you. 

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist. 

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now. 

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives. 

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

.

.

.

[the end] 

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

➸ masterlist

[starlostseungmin]

whispers ─── lee felix.

✰ notes : first of all i'd like to announce that i reached 3k friends here! thank you so much for that and i appreciate every single one of you! <33 anyway if you watched ABOUT TIME movie, you are already familiar with this scene because it's inspired by it. i just made a bit of changes and with felix in it so i hope you guys like it (this is not proofread btw) also, please DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after reading! thank you <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji

masterlist | taglist.

felix went home a bit late that one saturday night after work. he had to see the movie he promised to watch with jeongin at the cinema. you bailed out after he invited you when he mentioned he got tickets and made a reason to sleep on a day off. he parted ways with jeongin around the block and walked home, alone. 

it was cold, he could see the smoke coming out from his mouth as his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacketーthe stars were illuminating the dark sky with a few clouds in sight but his eyes wandered around the streets. he was supposed to take the train back to your shared apartment but didn’t want to be disrupted by noisy passengers with loud music banging their ears from their earphones and he tried to take some time to think. 

you’ve been dating for the past three years and it has been amazing. he never felt so happy and contented. the joy cannot be compared to any other things. it was that time when the two of you met at a diner just outside the office where you were working. the purpose was to grab dinner and go home then, this wonderful man showed up who had gotten the love at first sight experience. an opportunity came in and a conversation. he invited you to dates every weekend until the feelings got deeper after getting to know each other for weeks, made the relationship official with labels, and decided to live together. 

for the past three years, it was magical as it made tons of memories that you and felix couldn’t write every single one of them in your journal. the polaroids that were taken are hanging on the walls of your room with dates written on each one of them. those plushies he won for you sat on the shelves, the books being piled up being read or untouched, the albums from your favorite artists being displayed on the table along with the music player and vinyl, the flowers on the vases, the letters and other gifts you’ve exchangedーit was sweet. 

having this amazing relationship with felix is like reading a book without a synopsis or a summary from the covers or even the first pages. you don’t know what’s going to happen. it’s like living every day and there are things you cannot control. it’s either you read and go on with the story with curiosity and braveness or do not read the book at all and miss a series of events that could change your life. yet, you chose to read the book and the author created a love story you could ask for. it did change your life as well as felix’s but one thing’s for sure, there are a lot of trials on the way but it would start by holding your hands together to make a stronger bond, just like how chemical bonds create structures. 

he went inside as quietly as possible as he didn’t want to ruin your slumber. the lights were switched off in the living room and only the entrance’s light censor made him see through the dark as he removed his shoes. 

felix has thought of all the possibilities and the impossible, the rights and wrongs, the obstacles and smooth ways while walking. the consistency of this relationship must remain and be locked. he knew it wouldn’t be fancy but he promised himself that he’ll do it in a way that the two of you would prefer. and now, he’s here, looking at your sleeping figure being wrapped around that white duvet. 

“baby,” he called softly as he shook your shoulder lightlyーkneeling down on the carpeted floor of your room. 

“hmm?” you hummed in response. “five more minutes.” you muttered making him let out a soft chuckle. 

“no, baby, wake up,” he said. “i have something important to ask,” 

your eyes flutter open, from a blurry vision to a clear frame directed at his face. a smiley felix welcomed you as he caressed your hair when you were about to sit up. 

“no, just lay down,” he said. 

“okay,” you smiled. “what is it?” you asked, feeling relaxed on your soft mattress and the coziness of your pillow. 

“you know that we’re happy, right?” he paused as you nodded in response. “i don’t know if it’s the movie i watched with jeongin that made me feel this way, it's always the romance genre that would hit me to reality and the thought that i always have you by my side—” he added when you put your index finger on his lips, hearing a piece of romantic music playing gently from the living room as it echoes through the open door of your room. 

“is that romantic music?” you asked. “and you’re on your knees while saying something that i doubt is not just a love confession,” you added while fighting to stay awake which felix laughed shyly. 

“yeah,” he said, licking his lower lip in embarrassment. “i am,” 

“go on,” you smiled. 

“will you marry me?” he asked which made your smile bigger and now you’re fully awake. 

“i think,” you paused, clearing your throat. “i’m going to say, yes to that,” you added, looking at him in awe, saying; “and thank you for doing this that does not involve a lot of people and other crowds. i don’t like many people,” 

felix smiled gently and placed a soft kiss on your lips before tracing his fingers on your cheeks, “i also don’t like people,” he said. “thank you for saying yes,” he whispered before leaning forward to kiss you again. 

“i love you, darling,” you said in between. 

“i love you more,” he answered. “get back to sleep, alright? i’ll join you in 10,” 

“okay,” you said softly as he smiled, leaving a kiss on your forehead before exiting the room shushing han and seungmin for playing the instruments he asked for support outside. 

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[canon-in-too-deep]

Free Grimms' Fairy Tales Typeset

I am so very excited to present free typeset #33: Grimms' Fairy Tales, by, of course, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. (Apologies for this being quite a long post, but I really wanted to show pictures of what's available in these typesets!) When I saw this in my ask box, I knew I had to do a typeset for it. But there were so many individual tales, and I wanted to do something a bit unique for each of them. But I also wanted to use a lot of color. And throw in some art. And that might make the typeset not so super printer friendly for some folks, so....

I made two versions of this typeset! Two different designs and color options. Both pdfs are available for FREE here and are sized for half letter (letter folio).

Grimms' Fairy Tales typeset version one is the full color version with a lot of little details and different art/motifs for each story (most of the art I used was by Maurice Pillard Verneuil; his stuff is so pretty).

And for the second version of the typeset (which I dubbed the Black and White, Hold the Art Alt in my google drive archive--I need a shorter name for that. The Deep Drive? Drivechive? Googachive?--I went black and white printer friendly, with prominent featuring ornaments and a more simple design.

You can see the differences clearly above. Both these typesets were a lot of fun to make, and I hope they print out well for people wanting to use them. It's one I hope to be able to print out soon for myself, to have as a personal physical copy. I kept stopping in the middle of typesetting just to read a few tales. (Cat-Skin and Snow White and Rose-Red are my two favorite tales (I just love the changed appearance lover trope), though The Juniper-Tree has a a solid standing with best revenge death.) Anyway, use these typesets as you wish! If there's any issues with the files, feel free to let me know! Just please leave credit and consider tagging me if you use them, or reblog if you can! More details and interior shots of the first version are below the break!

So the black and white version has pretty much the same design across all the different chapters, while the color version has a different swatch of art featured next to each title, to give some flair to each individual story. The whole double border around the drop caps was inspired by another (much more talented than I) member on Renegade Bindery, but I added in the extra picture frame for the motifs and changed some things around to get the sort of clean, classic, elegant vibe I was hoping for (originally, I was going to use good ol' IM FELL English and go with a much more gritty, vintage-y design, but changed it after seeing how well Crimson Text worked for the fairy tales (like I've said before, Crimson Text is a special occasion sort of font). Here's some more screenshots of the chapter beginnings (albeit a bit pixelated. Dang screenshots and their low quality):

The table of contents is pretty fun as well, extending the same borders and motifs design to full three pages:

And the fun also extended to the last page with info on the Brothers Grimm:

All in all, this was one of my favorite books to work on. If you have any suggestions for future typesets, my ask box is always open! Edit: also, the borders/frames going around the dropcaps were inspired by a design I saw done by the talented @teleportbooks!

[fluffytriceratops]

I am DESPERATE for some 2k3 Donatello dating headcanons, literally give me anything PLEASE I AM OBSESSED

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 [𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑]

notes: i gotchu bestie. <3 lemme know if you guys want these for the other 2k3 turts as well! :D also sorry for taking literal ages to get this request done for you! thank you sm for requesting i hope you have a wonderful day/night! <3

warnings: brief nsfw mentions, mature language, 

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover  @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1 [if i've forgotten anyone i'm so sorry please comment or dm me and let me know and i'll add you right away so i don't forget in the future!]

(if you would like to be tagged in my future tmnt x reader related work, feel free to let me know and i'll happily add you!)

i love you all sm! i'm sending all the virtual hugs and well wishes to you!! <33

---

- as usual, 2003 donnie has an obsession with coffee. so if you get this mans some coffee expect an INSTANT marriage proposal. [honestly what ver of donnie doesn't have a coffee addiction?] 

- likes to do your hair. it's calming to him and helps him think. hes watched a lot of youtube videos and stuff for it, so he knows what he's doing too. he likes to try new styles n stuff on you. everyone knows when he's particularily stressed or can't seem to figure something out because you seem to have a new hairsyle everyday until he's fixed whatever it is that's bugging him, 

- will also handmake beads and stuff to put in your hair. <3 

- makes jewelry for you, esp out of silverware and other things. it always turns out so beautifully. 

- late night drives. donnie has insomnia and his brain works a lot during the night/evening. so expect to hang out a lot with him during this time. driving at night at new york is super pretty and peaceful too. esp when it's just the two of you. [so long as you don't mind the hectic city hehe-]

- cuddling with him while he works. includes sleeping on him/in his lab when he works really late into the night. he'll later carry you to bed. 

- painting on his shell/body for funzies. and if he does the same to you don't expect it to look too great because 2k3 donnie can't draw for shit. 

- donnie will gift you homemade cards with stick figures on the cover cuz again he cant draw but he knows you'll adore it no matter what just because he made it. plus you think its funny as hell and he adores your laugh. 

- hes actually really good at photography. and he has loads of pictures of you. you two go out and take pictures together sometimes. it's always a lot of fun. and they always turn out great. 

- late night talking sessions are a normal for you. 

- donatello tries his best to get you to sleep at a decent time, but sometimes you'll refuse if he isn't coming to bed with you just to get him to go to sleep earlier. he'll probably lay with you for a while, unable to actually sleep. maybe he'll read or listen to music to help pass the time. sometimes he will also sneak back out of bed once you've fallen asleep, and when you catch him you give him a good talking to. 

- he really needs to take better care of himself. he's always putting those he cares for above himself. so you're always there to make sure he's okay and that he's doing what he needs to do to be happy and healthy. 

- you guys hardly ever fight. donnie isn't one to argue with you. he's a very gentle and kind soul. he rarely raises his voice. (but when he does you find it hot as FUCK- lets be honest--) 

- fix it felix. always fixes things for you, even if you dont ask it of him. if he's at your place and notices something needs to be fixed he'll just do it for you. even if you insist he doesn't have to, he will anyway because he loves you. it brings him joy. and honestly, you should just let him because it probably stresses him out a little thinking about how your door isn't closing properly or your car sounds funny or your light keeps flickering- 

- you like to prank him on occassion, this includes the whole "i filled my tank with the special gas-" or "i let them put premium air in my tires and they gave me a really good deal". it freaks and stresses him out, at least in the moment hehe. its very funny but keep in mind he'll get you back. 

- him reading to you sfghfdgkjhdfg (id die please-) esp if you have trouble sleeping or something. 

- coffee dates are a must. even if you dont drink coffee. 

- donnie napping curled up on your chest/on top of you. you tracing the grooves of his shell. you've learned he finds this very comforting and it helps him fall asleep. 

- hes a definite switch- lmao.

- very gentle and understanding. he's like your personal diary or therapist and you're the same for him. 

[junabuggy]

Hi! I love your writing! Would you be up for writing a fic where reader has super bad separation anxiety from Al, but he has to go somewhere without them and either Angel Dust or Husk is in charge of taking care of them/keeping them calm while he’s gone? Thanks a bunch!!! ❤️

Separation anxiety! GN! Reader x Alastor/husker?

A/n: Of course !! Honestly this has been super fun and I’m more than grateful for all the people who seem to enjoy my silly little fanfictions/headcanons, many thanks everybody ♥️♥️

Also, if you couldn’t tell from a lot of my writing, I’ve taken quite a liking to Alastor… So I get it, I love him too y’all ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Warnings: Mentions of separation anxiety, Mentions of alcohol, Alastor being Alastor so light mentions of blood and cannibalism (doesn’t actually happen)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

Hope yall don’t mind a few headcanons first about this :33

📻𖤐 it’s hard to tell how Alastor would realistically react to someone being attached to him in that way..

📻𖤐 Like do I think it would bother him? No, he wouldn’t mind you tagging along wherever he went as long as you didn’t bother him too much or get in the way of things but there are just times where he requires or wants to be alone. Which is where Husker would come in lol

���𖤐 He probably wouldn’t leave you with Angel, even if Husk wasn’t available for whatever reason he’d just get Charlie to look after you while he was away.

📻𖤐 I feel like he cares/loves in an odd way.. like he wants to tear you apart and lick up all your delicious, sweet blood but in an affectionate way??? If that makes sense?? Remember that pomegranate cannibalism metaphor that went around on TikTok for a bit there? Think that.

📻𖤐 of course, he wouldn’t do that, he wants to keep you around.

Okok I’m done yapping about silly radio man lol, onto the fic

Unfortunately, today was one of those days you couldn’t tag along with where Alastor went, he was attending an overlord meeting and obviously you not being an overlord it meant that you couldn’t go with him despite all of your protests and begging.

Before his departure, he sat you down at the bar with Husker and gave you a little pat on the head, telling you that he’d be back shortly and walking out of the hotel doors.

The grumpy cat demon poured himself a drink as he stared at you, this wasn’t exactly the first time Alastor had left him on “babysitting” duty with you and he didn’t exactly mind it. You were quite sweet for somebody who landed themselves in a place like hell.

“Where’s he off to this time?” Husker asked before taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage he held in his hand, attempting to make some form of conversation with you.

“Oh.. just some kind of silly overlord meeting…” You mumbled out a short reply whilst looking a bit glum. He simply nodded in response, setting his glass down on the bar countertop to mix you up a little something as well.

Husk didn’t understand your attachment to the Radio Demon to be completely frank with you. He and a lot of others viewed Alastor as something to fear, respect, and try to avoid contact with the best they could… so seeing someone who enjoyed his company was a foreign idea to him. But he wouldn’t judge you for it. It wasn’t exactly his business anyways and at least he seemed to treat you decently.

“Don’t stress it kid, he’ll be back soon. He keeps his promises I’ll give him that much.” Husk attempted to reassure you, giving a slight smile as he slid a drink down to you.

You smiled back weakly and nodded, taking a deep breath as you grabbed the drink he had slid over to you. You took a sip and it tasted like a screwdriver, not too bad of a drink and it would probably take your mind off of things a little bit if you had a few of them. Which was probably the goal Husker was trying to reach.. he couldn’t imagine separation anxiety to be very fun.

Later into the night once you got a few drinks in you, you started to forget all about why you were upset and/or stressed out in the first place. Chatting with Husk about random stuff and occasionally mentioning and talking about a person or two.

Husk wished there were more nights like this, more time spent with you… and who knows? Maybe you’ll be visiting the bar more often for him after tonight if he was lucky. He was pretty good at playing his cards right, after all.

(Sorry this was kinda short !! I wasn’t sure what else to write. Lmk if you guys maybe want a part two with Alastor coming back from his little meeting, I might do that :3)

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[bucknastysbabe]

i'm like two years late but i finally binged the 1st and 2nd season this week! currently obsessing over the concept of cole w/ rhaenyra's valyrian-looking (but bastard nonetheless) daughter, returning after 5 years on dragonstone. thoughts?? anyway glad i found your blog it's actually making me more insane <33

Yessss I like this and decided to make an angsty lil songfic!!! Thank you for waiting! I’m so glad you love my stuff it’s so rewarding!!!! COLEWIVES RIDE AT DAWN TO PONDER LIFE ON A LOG AND BE HORNY

I hope you enjoy mwah mwah❤️

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Song fic, Velarystrong Princess, TW: very twisted thinking, homicidal ideation, hate sex, sadism/masochism themes, bastardphobia and dornish racism match made in heaven, obvious poison tree allegory and trying to work through both sides own mistakes screech, ye olde seroquel hours, Criston gets his head fucked with, angst, dark, rough sex, quickie, pnv!sex

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

You were ten years of age leaving the Red Keep. There was naught much but scorn and pain surrounding the place. As Rhaenyra’s first, you were a baby girl born with dark hair and dark eyes. Save the silvery streak in the thick curls— still, that wasn’t much to help.

You could cry and yell until you were blue in the face claiming your dark eyes shone like indigo in the right light. Aegon would laugh and laugh. Queen Alicent had remarked in passing that your features were too ‘strong’ to overlook. She didn’t mean the Valyrian traits.

Your family left for Dragonstone, anger in your heart, wishing them to choke on their words. The whole lot of the green-clad faction. The morning upon leaving was seared into your heart, tucked away to stew upon. You were straggling behind, trying to decide whether to desecrate something in the room or not.

A knock upon the door made your head whip up. You opened the heavy oak up, staring at one Ser Criston Cole. Your mother always instructed you to stay away from Alicent’s loyal kingsguard. His dark eyes scanned over you and the room. His head tilted toward the right as he gruffed, “It’s time to leave, Princess.”

He spat the last word out like bile. It made your skin prickle uncomfortably while grabbing your soft-knitted dragon dolly— black as night. You walked beside the knight, knowing he’d never much liked your mother or any of you, your ‘father’ Laenor, and Ser Harwin. You missed Ser Harwin as he was good and kind.

Ser Criston looked down at you, his lips twitching.

“Do you suppose you’ll enjoy your new home? A fine one for the future Princess of Dragonstone.”

You eyed the bigger man back, anger growing in your chest. Instead, you replied quietly, not wishing to incite his notorious rage, “I do not wish for it. My mother has enough issues. My brother Prince Jacaerys shall receive the inheritance.”

It’s people like him who made you decide that at such a young age. The anger, the scorn, the stares all the time from court and ‘family’.

Ser Criston let out a bitter little laugh, “Hah- you might be smarter than the whole lot. You’re sharp and strong.”

That was the end of talking with Ser Criston. The seed had been planted along the many others. Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Otto, the list went on and grew.

You were back in King’s Landing once more. Now a woman grown of eight and ten. Everything felt different and the old burning in your chest began to rise once more. You hoped the deep anger would shield you from this cutting place— something to keep the pain from sinking in. You were here for another claim of bastardy, this time from the Sea Snake’s brother.

You weren’t a child anymore. Under your veil of anger and haughty face, there remained a well-developed princess. Lovely sweet fruit and honey, hiding the blackened insides. The stares of the staff and onlookers in the yard shifted to the now older children of Rhaenyra.

Jace and Luke watched the much taller form of Aemond sparring with the white knight. You had learned the truth about him after bothering your mother enough. He was still handsome, spry, and dangerous despite his age. Aemond made Criston yield, turning to face your brothers.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked.

You stood behind them, frowning, sharing none of the shock and awe they displayed. Aemond likely suffered from the same as you— swallowed whole with righteous anger. Ser Criston peered at the boys, then you.

All three of you passed, the knight sipping from his wineskin. He was leering, thick brows down as dark orbs roved your face, down to your tits and hips. You spat, “Mind yourself, Ser.”

He almost choked on his water, Aemond’s brow raising and Jace grabbing your arm to speed along.

How dare he look at you like some slab of meat when he hated everything you were. Who you were born from. Jace murmured, “Come now, don’t let him rile you up, you know how it’s going to be here.” Luke was frowning, the princeling worried.

As the day passed, you felt your mind head in different directions. Your mother had even checked on you, asking why you were so distant. You shrugged, claiming to be unsettled by the events of earlier. Daemon sliced the man’s head in half in front of everyone.

As they dressed you in a room, you pondered Cole. How it would feel to slap him, make him admit he wanted another princess. He desired a bastard, a bastard born of the woman he lived to hate. You wanted him. The hate in your heart needed suffering for him— even if it reflected on your hypocrisy.

The conflicted feelings turned swiftly into conviction through the wretched dinner you sat through. Putrid comments from your uncles. Fighting and laughing, crying and dying, the premonition that this would be the only time all of the ‘family’ would sit in a room.

It was sad in a way. The fact that everything had been cleaved in half before anything good could come forth. Not that you could do anything. You’d reap what they had sown, the sins of the forefathers. You could wallow in feelings that always turned back to the same damn thoughts.

Let them all burn in agony. Feel the pain you’d dealt with for years, a firstborn bastard with a cunt. It was such easy pickings when your mother remained heir. As she was entitled to be. Sometimes it seemed easier if she just let Aegon’s idiotic self become king or hire some faceless man to kill them in their sleep.

There you were. The anger and fantasies took the pain of real life away. Blooming in a million separate ways, oh, but what if? Your lips curled up walking down the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, fingers trailing across the walls after being dismissed from dinner. You narrowed your eyes at the familiar form placed outside your door.

You stopped near Ser Criston, leaning against the frame of the door. He nodded, “Princess.” Criston had spat it at you like an insult again, likely ruffled from your behavior earlier. Why was he here of all places?

“Shouldn’t a warrior like you be outside of Luke’s door so Aemond doesn’t go carve his eye out?”

His eyes narrowed, yet Criston’s lips spread into a thin smile. The marcher replied, “No. It’s for protection. A pretty unmarried princess like you? Most men here would open their door. So in you go.” He opened the door, jerking his head with a grimace. You caught the implication swiftly, bristling.

“Oh? Because I’m on the wrong side of the blanket you think me to go out and fuck the men of the castle? My wretched uncles, who don’t give less of a shit about me?”

You shook with anger, trying to shove the pure hate back into the little pocket in your breast. Ser Criston gripped your arm, escorting you in with a growl, kicking the door shut behind him. He tossed off his helmet, hackles raised as his eyes studied you, his other hand coming up to hold the other arm as you tried to squirm away.

Criston’s voice was more shaky than you expected as he spoke. It was a bladed jab, “I’d almost say she birthed you on her own if it weren’t for that hair, you’re just as spoiled and miserable as your mother was at this age. You’re reckless, not to be trusted.”

Your lips pursed as he held you in place. The anger wanted to burst back out, fire and blood indeed. No, no, you needed to nurse it for when the time was right. Even if the little metaphorical pocket you’d sewn the seeds of resentments into had grown into a cavern. A void of straggling branches and vines only filled for a moment.

If the knight in front of you knew how fucked up you were, he would likely seal you off in the black cells. Father above, your mother would too. You’d be mad and alone— but the fantasies and resentments would keep you company.

Eyes gliding up to Cole you finally replied, “I suppose I am reckless. This place makes me mad. How you tolerate it is beyond me.” You’d rather not speak on your mother at the moment, but you sighed, “My mother has done good by me. She’s loved us all. Yet she doomed us with our nature, especially with my little silver brothers.”

Criston seemed to like your response, hands easing off you. He hummed, “You are sharp. Of tongue and mind. That’s never changed. Alas, you’d never know peace until you’re well married off and away.”

You crossed your arms, putting some paces between you two. There was a manic laugh bubbling from your chest, a harsh noise, “I’ll never know peace wherever I go. None of us will, alas certainly not you either. Not with what weighs on your soul.”

The Kingsguard’s long legs closed the space, hand darting out to grip the side of your head as he growled, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing of. Ill-begotten wretch.”

You grinned.

Criston didn’t have the luxury of nursing his anger. It appeared the more he tried to hold it in, the more it seeped out. His entire body was on the attack as he glared at you, eyes wide, teeth close to baring, thick brow twisted up. He didn’t sew a pocket and you wondered if it was worse or better for the soul.

You leaned up into his angered visage, lips close to his, your lips split into a mocking smile. Something was invigorating about this— watching his nostrils flare as the brunette sharply exhaled. He hadn’t released your head, breath choppy.

“You’re confusing me,” Criston gritted out.

“I want you of course.”

Spoken as if it was the most simple thing. Gods this felt fucking good.

He smashed his lips to yours, nose bumping together as he turned his head, lowering to your height. Your nails dug into his neck, inexperienced lips molding to his pace. It was rough, brutal really. Criston’s tongue ungracefully slipped into your mouth when his hand slapped your ass, prompting you to yelp.

You smacked him back on his cheek, pulling away. Criston growled, “You’re definitely on the wrong side of the coin and blanket, get over here.”

You surged back to smash your lips against his, gripping at a handful of dark hair, groaning as teeth and lips meshed. He turned you toward the bed, bigger frame crowding yours, shuffling steps until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You hissed as he pushed you back, your body bouncing once.

Criston immediately pinned you down, his cold plate digging into your soft skin. He breathed, “Sick goddamn spawn. I see the thorns underneath.” One of his knees propped against the bed, teeth subtly dragging down your throat. A hand kneaded and groped your breast, drawing a low moan from your throat— the edge of pain sent more throbbing below.

You wanted him to hurt. Moreso you to hurt and throb with pain, entering that state of bliss within. All of Criston’s physical soft spots were practically hidden, you reaching down to undo his sword belt clumsily. The knight smirked.

“You want my cock? Fitting for a natural born off a whore.”

You spat back, “Says the man who fucked the whore and now wants her filthy bastard. Is it my cunning, sly nature? My natural wanton lust that weakens you so?”

He gritted his jaw, hand slapping down next to your head with a curse. Criston swallowed heavily, both of his hands rucking up your dress, ripping anything in the way. He’d rip you too. A nice surprise you supposed, perhaps not for him.

You taunted with a grin. “You’re weak you know? Must be the Dornish blood. Ser Criston, you just need the feeling of a noble cunt to keep you going, hm?”

He was feverishly undoing his breeches and padded tunic. Shoulders shaking with anger, disappointment, something else. Criston cursed as his fingers slipped again, huffing, “Fuck you.”

You waited with a smug look, looking forward to this new, powerful experience.

His dusky cock was flush and hard, bigger than what you imagined. You weren’t sure what the imagination even was— your fantasies were feelings, not pictures. He felt at your bare cunt, thick calloused fingers unceremoniously delving into the slick heat.

You grunted, the pain giving way to more. So much more.

Criston pulled his fingers back, brows raising in alarm as the maiden’s blood covered his fingers. You watched him and quickly jerked his hand over, eyes flicked upwards. The man shook harder, gasping, “Gods fucking dammit— damn you, damn you!”

You suckled your essence and blood off his fingers, biting at the tips, just enough to leave the fingers throbbing. The anguish upon his shining eyes and his furrowed brow was gorgeous. More arousal filled your belly, moaning softly. He rumbled out a low noise, breath heavy, the knowledge he’d fucked something up due to instinct again eating the man alive.

“You broke it, now take me,” you demanded, licking blood off your lower lip.

Criston let out a harsh noise akin to a sob as he aligned himself with your soaking pussy. There was a long pause, likely a useless prayer in his head. He inhaled against your pulsing neck. You moaned again as the thick tip of his prick entered. The earlier stinging and pulling returning, the pain sending your lashes to fluttering.

“Mm- fuck- don’t stop, hard, I want it hard,” you rasped.

Criston moaned weakly, jerking his hips forward, breath hitching against as he had filled you to the hilt. Guilt and shame roiled off his frame. Meanwhile, you could breathe it in, feeling like a god. The power you held over this sick, pitiful man who happened to be a warrior. Your walls shifted and burned, something to relish.

“Come on now, take me Ser,” you cooed, a hand skating down his neck to squeeze. He thrust again, the pair of you gutturally groaning. You spread your legs wider, planting them on the bed, shuddering at the fullness and dull throb.

He began to shake the bed with the force of his fucking, grunting, and huffing into your neck. Criston would hold up sometimes to mutter pitifully, shivering from head to toe. His handsome face screwed up, thick brows knit as he groaned.

You panted, “Feels so good, fuck.”

The friction was nice, but his broken mumbling made you grow dizzy with arousal. Guilt lurked beneath, you shoving it away with a grip at his hair or bite to his jaw.

You were crying out in ecstasy now as he had both knees on the bed, holding your hips up as his throbbing cock pushed and pushed into your soft core, the heat growing overwhelming. Sweat shone on your brow and breast, Criston faring no better. You felt like a ragdoll, the white knight doing all the work, yet you pulled the strings.

You smiled in delirium, imagining him guiltily stripping his cock for days after this. Unable to look you in the eye ever again. Gods, gods, you needed this more. Criston moaned your name, his shaking hand peeling off your hip to swirl at the sensitive little nub at the apex of your thighs.

You cried out again, arousal surging into your veins, squirming and milking his cock. Criston’s hips stuttered as he whined something about forgiveness. Your chest felt full and fuzzy, content, idly wondering if he was always so emotional.

Soon, the stuffed feeling of your cunt, the nerves singing from his insistent rubbing of thumb had you on the edge, mewling in bliss. You whined, “Yes, so good Ser Criston, ’m gonna come, my white knight.”

He broke down again, falling forward and sobbing into your neck, the sound of his pain like a bolt of ecstasy. You clenched up around him, head thrown back as you moaned and huffed, lips curled up as the burn spread across your frame— cunt weeping and pulsing around him.

“Fuck yes! Yes!”

It wasn’t much long after you writhed and clawed at his throat, Criston pulled out, sniffling and sulky as he came with little whines, face dark with embarrassment and self-hatred. His cock spit onto your thigh and the bedding as he heaved. He sat on the bed, big mournful eyes on you, the evidence of his lust.

You easily rolled away, panting. With a stretch and final savor of the ache, you padded to the washroom to ring the bell for servants to draw a bath. Leaning against the frame, you watched the broken man, lost in his thoughts, silent tears down his flushed cheeks. You scoffed, “Fall to your needs again? Perhaps you’d be a better guard dog if they gelded you.”

You turned without a word more.

He was crying softly in the other room, once again broken down. You had nothing to say. Ser Criston deserved to remember what he was, a whore.

Cherishing your newfound feelings, your chest had begun to ache for more. You sighed, internally nursing those seeds, some had sprouted, you couldn’t let them grow much more. Only allowed for when the time came. Now was a tease, a glimpse of something much more powerful that would emerge when the realm erupted.

He left eventually, you sitting in a tub, eyes closed, humming softly as the servant brushed your bastard hair. Dripping with honey, filled with thorns and poison. Mayhaps you’d be too gone a day, but now? There was much more to life yet again.

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #9 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: during the final nationals match against kyoto, the captain wins a bet.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: mild angst/comfort, established relationship (pet name-angel), mostly just fluff and volleyball, swearing, more fluff and volleyball

note: HELLO VOLLEYBALL!GOJO NATION *crickets except for midi cheering alone at the back of the stadium* uh anyways i know it's been months since i updated this, but i wanted to give you all a gift for the new year starting with the series that brought me a lot of new friends at the beginning of my blog's creation! i can't thank you all enough for the support you've given this series and i hope you enjoy this last (official) iteration :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <33

“Looks like they’ve gotten better,” you observe in slight disbelief while the scorekeepers flip the board to show 25-23. By some miracle, Tokyo managed to rip the fourth set from Kyoto’s hands right when it seemed that all was lost. It still didn’t help the queasy feeling in your stomach. “A lot better.”

“Or, we’re becoming inferior,” Yaga growls with fiery determination burning under his sunglasses. You slide the basket of water bottles from under the bench and stand to grab the box of clean towels. Your coach inhales one more time to speak and you already know what his command will be. “Deal with Satoru.”

“I’ll do my best.” From the start of the fourth set, Kyoto had Tokyo on the run again. Despite their best efforts, Tokyo was struggling to hold up against the relentless pace set by their opponents, fighting to maintain their resolve and willing the other team to break first. Between the time of your first practice match and Nationals, Kyoto’s players significantly improved, much more than your team’s. Though they’d made steady progress over the past few months leading up to these crucial games, it seemed that the slope of Kyoto’s improvement was steeper. It also didn’t help that, wherever you looked, you were surrounded by the most prestigious volleyball recruiters in the world with their shiny reading glasses and slender fingers tapping away at their keyboards. Both teams were essentially under a microscope, none more than the third years that were at their wit’s end trying to prove that they were pro-material. And, whether people acknowledged it or not, all eyes were on your boyfriend and captain of the Tokyo team, Gojo Satoru. 

“He’s overexerting himself to the point where he’s making mistakes,” Suguru says to you quietly when you hand him a bottle. You nod, both of you aware that he’s preaching to the choir. “To the point where I’m noticing, so that means they’re noticing.” He tilts his head up to the stands, where you catch a few Jujutsu Volleyball Society officials conversing with whom you could only assume were Olympic recruiters. The thought of them discussing Satoru’s abilities and reputation in blunt detail makes you wince. 

“Have you talked to him about it?” The vice-captain shakes his head, eyeing his best friend warily. 

“Haven’t had the chance to.” The corner of your mouth turns down and you follow his eyeline, recognizing the familiar fake smile and emotionless blue eyes while he charms some brave fans that pushed their way to the court’s barricades. “Even now, he isn’t taking a break.”

“Mmm, well, you know him,” you sigh. The group of lovestruck girls hand Satoru various items and printed photos for him to sign and he takes them, flicking a black marker over their surface with all the grace of an old Hollywood movie star. “It’s always about others, never himself.” 

“Except when it comes to you, then he gets to be selfish,” Suguru reminds you and you shrug. Your casual response causes his eyebrows to draw in concern, like he was alarmed by your indifference. His tone is much more unsure when he asks for clarification. “Right?” You inhale deeply and shake your head again, gathering what little thoughts you could from the jumbled mess in your mind. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No, no. We’re fine…I think,” you half-heartedly reassure him, but the skeptical raise of his eyebrows tells you he isn’t convinced in the slightest. “He’s just been off, lately,” you admit. “I think the pressure that’s been building up for three years is finally getting to him.” 

“Pretty inconvenient time to crack, don’t you think?”

“Burnout doesn’t wait for you to finish Nationals, Suguru,” you conclude, patting him on the back in farewell before you find Satoru. “Good luck in the last set. And, for the record, the evenness of your gameplay hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Recruiters can see how reliable you are. If they don’t, they need their eyes checked,” you joke before maneuvering between players to find Satoru on the bench, in Yaga’s spot. His eyes are dulled from exhaustion, no matter how much he was trying to hide it. His forehead is covered in sweat and you kneel in front of him to wipe his face with a dry towel. “When’s the last time you drank water?”

“The last time you asked me if I drank water,” he answers and you know he’s trying to force his sing-songy lilt into his voice, but it falls flat onto the court floor. “Thank you, angel,” he murmurs as you swipe the towel over his eyes, allowing him a brief second of relief from the blinding fluorescents above. 

“Of course. I’ll let you get away with it this time, even though I miss those pretty blues,” you whisper and the smallest smile appears on his face. But he can’t bring himself to look at you, not when he’s on the brink of falling apart. It was killing him just as much as it was killing you, watching him stumble during the one moment where he needed to stand tall the most. The pressure was getting to him and his final appearance at Nationals was compounded by the scathing words of his father, the unimpressed stares of Jujutsu brass, and the intense scrutiny from the recruiters he was trying to win over. “Need anything else, captain?”

“A long fucking nap,” he groans and you hum in assent, letting his warm cheek rest in your freezing palm. “This’ll do, for now.”

“Alright, Atlas, but you’re gonna have to get back to holding up the world in about five minutes.” 

“Holding up the world is fucking exhausting,” he mutters. “Being captain is exhausting.” Before you can come up with another comforting response, his eyes suddenly fly open and peer at you with more intensity than you’ve seen within the past few days. He pulls away from your hand and looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s come to some revelation. “You called me captain.”

“What?”

“You called me captain,” he echoes slowly, a dazzling grin breaking out over his face that you didn’t realize you’d missed so much. You’re speechless, startled by his newfound enthusiasm from just one word. “You actually did it.”

“I guess I did,” you respond with obvious confusion.

“Say it again,” he says with all the seriousness of announcing a death. 

“Satoru–”

“Say it again,” he repeats and you don’t realize how close his face has gotten to yours, so close that you can smell the faint minty smell of the gum he’d stolen from your bag. “Please.” 

“It’s good to see you back to normal, captain.” His smile grows even wider and suddenly he’s kissing you, with both hands on your cheeks and leaning over you while you continue to kneel on the floor in front of him. Your face is set on fire, keenly aware of the thousands of eyes that can see both of you and this display of affection. Satoru doesn’t seem to care, though, and the glittering brightness of his eyes is all you focus on when he pulls away. 

“What can I say? You bring out a different side of me.”

“Cheesy lines too? You’re feeling better than I thought.”

“Nothing like winning a bet to light a fire in a man’s heart.”

“You know, if I’d known that was all it took to get you back, I’d have said it sooner,” you chuckle and his lips peck your nose until you gently push his face away. “I’ll ask about the change in behavior after you win. Now, go,” you giggle and he all but leaps from the bench, instantly in top-form and letting his voice boom through the building as he calls his team to him. 

“It’s fifteen points,” he reminds them, who muster up all their energy to look more confident after noticing the shift in their captain’s behavior. “Fifteen points at Nationals for the first time in who knows how long, so make ‘em count. Don’t let me take all of them,” he taunts and real confidence appears in his players, dead set on snatching the points away from Kyoto. “Let’s go!” 

And, just like during the practice match and the match at the beach, no one is safe from the sheer power of Gojo Satoru. It’s as if he’s woken from the dead, refreshed and wielding enough energy to elicit sparks from his fingers and flickering of the overhead lights. When you look at his eyes, they’re not the hollow pits they’ve been for the months leading up to Nationals. Instead, a dark shadow of unrelenting resolve covers his eyes and radiates from his body like an aura, sending shivers down the bodies of opposing players. In true Satoru fashion, he exploits every advantage he recognizes, whether that be a skill of his own team or the pitfall of the opposition. He knows you’re watching, too, and trusts your eyes like they were his own. Kyoto makes a mistake by calling a timeout when they’re down, 13-11, and Satoru makes a beeline for you; in hushed tones, you relay what you see before he can open his mouth.

“Todo’s hiding a limp on his right an–”

“Ankle, and Kamo’s primarily using his left hand to launch spikes. So, that means–”

“Something’s off with his right, maybe a jammed pointer finger or tweaked thumb. They’ll think you’re gonna take the final point of the game to show off to the recruiters, so if you fake a hit on the left edge, bait Todo and the front line to block you–”

“Suguru can blow past Kamo’s weakened right hand–”

“And the Tokyo Jujutsu team wins Nationals,” you conclude as the whistle blows, lightly swatting Satoru’s arm to urge him back onto the court. “Go, stupid. You’re almost there.”

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he calls, skipping onto the court and yanking Suguru by the back of his jersey, pulling him to the side to confirm the plan. He shoots you one last wink before broadcasting a hand signal to the rest of the team behind his back. With Nanami, Megumi, and Yuuji in the front row and Suguru, Satoru, and Inumaki in the back, it was the ideal rotation to shift leverage to Tokyo. A deafeningly powerful jump serve from Satoru immediately throws Kyoto off balance, and it doesn’t take much for Suguru to send Todo’s unsuccessful hit to Megumi, who pulls the same infuriating dump that he achieved during the practice match. “That was bold,” Satoru says to his protégé with pure admiration, “even for me.” Megumi shrugs, but stands a little taller from satisfaction with his point. 

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you think I’m awesome, even if you won’t admit it.”

“I was talking about Geto,” Megumi deadpans and Satoru’s face contorts into indignance that makes you laugh from your seat.

“He’s not even a setter!”

“I was kidding, captain. Let’s win already,” his student responds impatiently. And win, they did. The final play you discussed with Satoru pans out flawlessly, with all attention going to the captain of the Tokyo team in anticipation of the game-winning point, only to be sent to his right-hand man. The cacophony of cheering and cries of joy is eardrum-shattering, but you don’t care as the rest of the team rushes onto the court and buries Suguru in a dogpile. Your heart swells at the sight of the nods of approval from the recruiters given to Suguru and Satoru, whispering among themselves and writing down their contact information. Despite Yaga gripping his sunglasses so hard that the frames broke, it doesn’t seem to bother him as he slams his palm onto the players’ backs with pride. You even think you catch Todo teary-eyed from the other side of the net, yelling something about being happy for his best friend. Hours of celebration later, as you walk with your hand in Satoru’s down the quiet streets of your neighborhood, you finally get to ask him why calling him ‘captain’ had such a profound effect on his psyche. 

“Being happy about winning the bet isn’t enough?” You look at him doubtfully and watch his cheeks turn a little pinker. “Alright, fine. But, you can’t make fun of me for this, okay?”

“I promise,” you say, making a big show of hooking your free pinky finger in his. “At least, I won’t make fun of you in public for it.”

“That’s enough for me,” he concedes with a smile. “It’s just…winning at Nationals wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve done this year, not even in all three years of high school.”

“What’s been the most difficult, then? You were literally on the verge of burnout today, so I don’t know any other circumstances where–”

“Winning you,” he murmurs, stopping you on the sidewalk and turning you to face him. The streetlights are dim enough to where the moon shines off of his hair and his face seems to glow like a statue carved from marble. “That was the hardest thing I’ve done.” You blink once, twice, and still don’t understand. 

“What do you mean, ‘winning me?’ How am I harder to get than winning Nationals?”

“Nationals was my dad’s dream. It always was. I started caring about going to Nationals when we made that silly bet to get you to call me captain. But, I’ve cared about making you fall in love with me since you took a sip from my soda can during our first year.”

“I’m still not a fan of that fizzy sugar water,” you chuckle and he looks at you so fondly, so softly, that you’re glad his arms have found their way around your waist to hold you up and keep you standing. “You’ve loved me since our first year?” 

“I loved you before I knew your name in class. And then, today, I figured if I could get you to fall in love with me when I thought it would take a lifetime, I could win some National volleyball title.” His pretty mouth breaks into that lopsided grin that you’d fallen for time and time again. 

“‘Some National volleyball title,’” you echo, slightly delirious from how warm he made you feel. “As if I’m more important than that.”

“Because you are,” he vows with utmost devotion that makes you dizzy, kissing you under the spring moon like it was the first time he could finally see you clearly. “You’re more important than anything, and that’s the truth.”

He was infuriating, to say the least, but you’d found that you didn’t mind how much he irritated you as long as he loved you just as much. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[08melancholie]

Hi! First of all: love your writings! Somehow you manage to give me exactly what I want. I have read the lessen your stress one, amazing. Thank you. Lots of loves from the other side of the screen.

Now, I would like to request a one shot Micah/F!Reader (or GN reader if you want) where a really sweet and kind Reader likes Micah and actually wants to sleep with him but is a virgin and kind of shy, in contrast with the rough, brute Micah we all know, who will obviously want to sleep with reader too (either bc he likes them back or simply bc he’s desperate and wants sex, you decide, just please don’t miss characterize him too much, I like my Micah as the asshole he is :’) <3

Thank you very much and I really appreciate your work! <3 have a good day!

thank you sm for the compliments <33 and dw because i like to also keep my men just as scummy at times🙏

Some aspects might be similar to 'Untouched' here (still attached to that fic like a leech chat..) but i'll make sure it still sounds new!

Lose Some; Gain Some. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Micah Bell Is His Own Warning, Virginity, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, but just a bit at the end, its micah he doesnt know how to be gentle sorry guys, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: You would rather take over doing everyone's chores in camp forever, than ask the question thats currently been plaguing your mind; one of your lowest lows, probably. You were told that a woman's virginity is a precious thing, how you had to lose it to the right person. This, however, you found to be total bullshit. And you wanted nothing more than the man who was Micah Bell to do it for you.

a/n: first ask yippiee!! i am so busy with exams oh lord i barely made time for this😭 i hope its to your liking!!! second ao3 post today im on a roll actually🙏🙏

words: 3,201 | AO3 LINK

Still being a virgin at this age is almost laughable. Well, it is; the girls haven't stopped teasing you since you told them during a game Mary-Beth told everyone about. You had to answer the question asked by Karen—about your sex life—or drink. You answered that you were still a virgin, and a few of them laughed; haven't stopped making jabs at you since. It's almost irritating.

And, your irritation made you slip up—by saying you'd lose your virginity tonight.

"What!? Tonight? With who?" Karen immediately snapped her head in your direction and away from the fresh laundry she and you were folding. There go the consequences of your actions. Who the hell do you even say?

You put down your own laundry back into your lap. "Well," You'll either have to lie your ass off, or go for the truth; but you sure as hell were not going for the latter. "guy I met in the saloon while we were still in Valentine, we've been writing." Not too bad.

Karen chuckled, thankfully buying into your lie. "Well, ain't I happy for you! It's about damn time, anyway." She goes back to the chore, like yourself, and continues your previous conversation.

Let's think logically—or, as logically as you could—about this; you don't exactly trust finding a random man in a bar to do this with, so who is going to eagerly take your virginity? Who would you ask that wouldn't tell anyone in camp about it, keep it between you two for the exchange of taking it from you? Who would you want to take your virginity?

You thought about how sweet Arthur would be; how he'd probably understand and treat you right, talk you through everything while praising you for following his instructions so well. Or maybe Charles; A gentle giant that would worship you as should be, show you how everything is done while talking in that deep tone you love to hear.

And then your mind went completely south of the previous two. You thought about how greedy he'd be, touching and moving his hands all over your body, wanting to feel every crevice under his rough fingertips. How he'd see taking your virginity as a precious thing, how you were told growing up, something you wanted him to have—and also as the biggest ego boost ever. He'd probably be a complete tease, too, nor would he talk you through the process like the other two. He'd probably just go for it, no instructions as you scrambled for what you had to do while he—

Jesus Christ, that's the last person you should be even 'just considering'.

Micah Bell is NOT an option here; forget it. Even if the heat between your legs didn't agree with these terms, you would not give your first time to that bastard. He was just an egotistical, rude, mouthy degenerate. Why the hell was the thought of how poorly he'd treat the situation getting you so worked up? You're practically soaking your garments over this bastard; and that's a problem.

Oh, but it's so tempting; this, unfortunately, wasn't the first time you've caught yourself thinking of him, imagining him in bed—which is reasonably worse than the former. Could you refuse yourself this small want? When you think about it, he might be one of the only people here who'd jump to get intimate without question, seeing how he catcalls and flirts with most of camp; including yourself a few times. God, were you really going to do this? How would you even bring it up?

This was something you needed to think of on the way, because it was nearing nighttime and you'd probably lose him to the darkness in the outskirts of camp, where he's usually found. As soon as you finished folding the laundry, you excused yourself from Karen and went to find Micah, thinking over what you would say to him. You had a whole dialogue figured out by the time you spotted him smoking by Baylock, probably having gotten done tending to the horse after the job he went on today. You really had to just brace yourself and follow your little plan, while hoping it'll turn out how you envisioned it to.

He noticed you approaching while you were a few steps away, the nervousness in your body language not hard to make out; hands clasped together, eyes focusing everywhere but on his own, your steps almost reluctant. He raised an eyebrow at you while taking a drag from the cigarette. "Look who it is; worried I'mma bite 'ya?"

You were barely able to give a reaction to his words, your nerves making you go almost silent. "Hah, no.. no, I'm..." Come on! We practiced this six times already! As soon as your eyes darted to his own greyish-blues, you lost your goddamn ability to speak. For the love of God; get your shit together. "Listen; this is very hard for me to even say out loud." Well, it's a good start.

Micah's eyebrows furrow slightly, your sudden shyness compared to the usual quips you could muster up back to his flirting or teasing very abnormal. But, he doesn't comment on it, wanting to hear you out before he teased you further. "Go on then, girl." He speaks, tossing his cigarette elsewhere.

The embarrassment this will leave you in will be history. "Okay.. so, uh.. I need your help with something—let's say." Your words just make him more confused; speaking to him in these absurd riddles. "Would you just.. hear me out?"

The blonde man nods after a moment, folding his arms over his chest while leaning back on the tree. Okay, you can get the words out, trust yourself.

"Would you.. and it's just a one-time thing, may I add." You start, a blush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks as you tried to think of what you were saying; you were about to ask Micah to get intimate with you. Yeah, you don't think this low can be matched. Nonetheless, no giving up now. "Would you take.. take my uh.. virginity?" As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to hold back from fleeing the scene. "Listen—I lied to the girls and I just.. fuck, it's you."

Micah's had a small smirk on his face, mostly directed towards your nervous and shy state, until the sentence finally left your mouth. His smile dropped and he assumed he heard you wrong. "What'd you say.? Would I take.. your virginity?" He repeats back to you, definitely sure he's heard you wrong. But as you slowly nod your head, unable to open your mouth any longer, his eyes slowly widen a little more, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, goddamn. You're one bold 'lil thing, ain'tcha?" Here comes the teasing you envisioned.

You roll your eyes to the comment. "I don't need your comments, Micah. You in or not? I'll gladly find someone else." You threaten, biting your cheek. Don't make me find someone else.

He perks up at your empty threat. "Hey—no, don't threaten me now, doll," He leans off the tree and gets right in your personal space, hands on his gun belt. "you know I love to help a lady in need out." He purrs at you, looking down almost menacingly.

"Good," You murmur, the closer he got the more nervous it made you. "then.. it's settled." It's only when he stands right before you, hands running up from your outer thighs to your sides, that you start processing what you've gotten yourself into.

His hands glide over your waist, feeling you up through your shirt. "Surprised yer still untouched, many would love a little body like this in their hands." His words and the small squeeze to your sides send butterflies straight to your stomach; you could practically lose it right then and there. "But it's only little ole me that gets it, huh?" His claim is followed by a darkish chuckle, ringing in your ears. He stops his hands over your ribs and the underside of your chest, looking down shamelessly at the little cleavage your shirt provides. "Well then; my tent?"

It took him barely a few seconds to get you through the flaps of his tent, tying the canvas shut and making sure you've got the bit of privacy camp life can offer. It takes him even less time to shove you down to his cot, seating yourself on the mattress and looking up at him settling atop you, knees around your outer thighs. "Don't you look pretty under me like this." His hands cup around the underside of your jawline, thumbs running up and down the outline of your face. "So, ever kissed a feller?"

You raise an eyebrow at the question. "Not that much of a prude." Your quick response gets a gruff chuckle out of him for a brief moment, before he'd leaned down and captured your lips with his, setting a nice and quick pace for the kiss. You return it with just as much swiftness, hand reaching for his belt buckle and gripping it, earning an appreciative sound out of Micah. "Good girl," His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, trying to enter your mouth rather quickly; but you don't complain, quickly complying. He gets himself an immediate taste of you, tongue swirling around in your mouth as if mapping out the contour of the body part. He goes back to exploring the rest of your body with his hands, moving them all around your sides and waist before stopping at the hem of your shirt and breaking away from your mouth briefly. "Let me see what I'm workin' with, doll." You breathe in the air that the kiss knocked out of you for a moment before wordlessly nodding, lifting your arms up for him to slide the shirt off, peeling it away from your torso and arms as you're sat almost bare from the stomach up now, only covered by your bra. Your shirt is tossed elsewhere, and he goes back to appreciating the view in front of him—or well, under him.

"Oh, you're perfect, little lady." He doesn't hesitate to reach his hands to your chest almost immediately, cupping you through the bra while running his thumbs on the upper flesh that was exposed. His fingers are as calloused as you envisioned, as if moulding your soft flesh with every swipe of his digits on your skin. He knows his way around your body, probably from the experience you lack. One hand stops groping you and moves to your back again, fiddling with your bra before unclasping it. Why is it that your shyness is only hitting you now? As soon as he starts moving your bra straps down to reveal your bare chest to him, you finally process that he's about to see you nude, and you definitely show some signs of reluctance. He notices your sudden demeanour change and looks from your chest to your eyes. "Come on, I don't judge, princess. Bet you're realll purty under here." His finger slips between your cleavage and hooks to the middle of your bra that connects the two pieces as he tugs at the material, slowly moving it away from your bare chest. It slips off your shoulders and arms, and you feel like a prey being inspected by it's hunter under that dark gaze Micah's blues hold. "Like I said.. damn beautiful."

Your shyness and nerves don't pass him by, and he doesn't want you to feel uneasy while he gets what he wants, so he decides to try and ease you up with another kiss, leaning up and snaking one hand to the back of your head to pull you in while the other went to your jean button, undoing it before moving to the zipper. The kiss definitely helped calm you a bit, your hands on his shoulders now as you clung to his shirt, kissing back with a small hum in your throat. He works your zipper down and hooks his fingers into your waistband, breaking the kiss again. "Lift your hips real quick," When you comply, he pulls your jeans down and you help him by kicking them off when they reach your ankles. His hand finds itself right between your legs, swiping at your still-clothed and warm entrance to find you just as aroused as he was. "damn, lookat'chu. Surprised a lady sweet as you'd be this wet over fuckin' a bastard like me." You almost moan at his comment, your garments definitely as damp as you felt them between your legs, drawing your shyness and embarrassment to a whole new level.

He leans away from you to strip his jeans off, first unclasping his gun belt and placing it over to where your shirt was, slowly moving into unzipping and undoing any other restraint that stopped him from getting naked. He looks to you—just watching him strip his pants off—and chuckles briefly. "Well? Get them panties off, sweetheart. Ain't need experience for that." You snap your eyes away from the small peek of a happy trail on his stomach that you, shamelessly at that, were staring at and stand up momentarily to slip your undergarments off, tossing them just shy of the other articles of clothing. "Mm, good, good.." He hums, letting his jeans drop before wasting no time with his drawls, slipping them off and freeing the leaky, visibly throbbing erection that was hidden in it. Your eyes scan over the length; it doesn't look too big, you can probably take it...

But where many assume Micah lacks in length—he makes up for in thickness.

He positions you to turn and bend over the cot slightly, hands on the mattress and back slightly arched. He's moving you around like a doll, positioning you to his liking. He lets out a small whistle when he's got you exactly how he wants you. "Ain't often I get a chance to do this type of thing... Almost feels like an early birthday gift." He chuckles while running one hand down your spine and moving to your hip, stroking himself with the other. He swipes two fingers over your entrance—earning himself a small moan—and uses it, mixed with some of his precum, to moisten his member up. "Now, might hurt a bit, ain't gonna lie to 'ya." You knew that much, mostly why you were adamant to the idea of sex for a while, but it can't be that bad, can it? "But we'll try to keep calm, eh girl?" He punctuates his last sentence with a squeeze to your hip before his tip slides between your warm folds, slickening himself up some more while he rubs his cock just shy of your entrance—unable to help himself from teasing you some. You let out a plethora of meek moans and huffs, your cunt itching for him to just ease it in. After a moment, he stops his tip at your entrance, ready to slide in. "I'mma go slow, try to make it.. durable for 'ya."

There's definitely a small stretch mixed into the overwhelming feeling of your walls being filled by Micah's thick shaft, clenching around him as you sigh and gasp to every inch filling you. "Shh, you're alright.. look," He reaches one hand over around you, two fingers pressing to your clit and making slow circles on it. Your sighs turn into small moans again. "Yeah.. good, focus on ma' hand, baby." He hums, slowly starting to bottom out into your pussy. His hips meet your rear as he continued to rub over your nub, giving you a brief moment to adjust before he pulls out to the tip—then slides right back in. The pain isn't as bad as people made it out to be, but some have a higher pain tolerance either way. You do your best to focus on the sensation Micah's rough fingers are playing on your clit, more than the way his cock slams into you and creates an almost echo-ey sound of skin-on-skin slapping, filling the tent with the suggestive melody.

The repetitive motion of his dick brushing your gummy walls has you on cloud-nine; you're gasping and moaning, letting his name slip past your lips in a pitched tone, grasping fistfuls of the sheets underneath you as his pace slowly gets faster per thrust. "Don't think it's smart I cum inside," He chuckles, punctuating himself with another slam of his hips into your ass, followed by your sweet little whine, almost like a protest. "you want me to?" He asks curiously due to your whine, and his grin gets so much wider when you nod your head, and his pace turns relentless. He starts fucking into you how he likes, trying to get himself to cum while rubbing you faster to get you there with him. "Can't wait to feel you clench this pretty cunt around me," He purrs with a small kiss to the nape of your neck before his focus is back on fucking his throbbing cock into you, getting himself closer by the moment.

You feel your own orgasm start to approach, your legs slightly jittery from the upcoming feeling. Micah takes quick note of this change and rubs your clit faster, drawing more whiny moans out of you that get muffled by the action of burying your head into the mattress; last thing you need is someone hearing you moaning Micah's name. Your whines are breathless and abrupt, getting cut off by each of Micah's quick thrusts into your cunt, all until you finally feel yourself tip over the edge and you cum, the clench of your pussy around Micah enough to get him there just a moment after you. He buries his cock deep into you, holding you up from collapsing into the bed by the hips as his chest makes contact with your back, the side of his head on the very top of your torso as he gasps breathlessly. "Ah.. there we go.." You can feel him empty himself inside you, your shaky legs barely supporting you with Micah doing most of the work.

He gives himself a moment before pulling out and placing you down to lay on the cot. "Let me tell you somethin', darlin';" He gets his underwear and jeans off the floor, slipping into both before leaning over you to whisper into your ear. "This definitely ain't 'gon be a one-time thing—not with how addicting that cunt is, or with how 'ya love to scream my name." He purrs lowly while clasping his gun belt back up, running a hand down your spine and stopping at your ass with a firm squeeze before moving you to lay more comfortably on his bed. "Well, get comfortable, think I'm up for a smoke.." He lazily tosses a random blanket in his tent over you—it's the thought that counts, apparently—before leaving you in his tent to rest up.

And you agree; he's addicting, and you will be fucking again.

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated!! we love the micah smut where hes still an ass to us <3

[maochira]

hi! can I req itoshi bros having a sibling that has nosebleeds often 👀? I personally have a lot especially in hot weather so I’m just curious to see their reactions

love ur works btw!! hope ur doing fine 🫶🏻

Thank you <33

Requests open! - Itoshi sibling masterlist

Tags: gn!younger sibling!reader, this is before Sae went to spain

It's a hot summer day, so your oldest brother decided to take you and Rin out to get ice cream. You had to walk quite a bit, but in the end, it was worth it. Rin also took a soccer ball along, so after all of you finish your ice cream, you head over to the nearby soccer field to watch your brothers play together.

You really want to play as well, but your parents have told you not to do anything exhausting while the weather is hot. Recently, you've started getting nosebleeds due to the heat and doing any physical activity that's more than walking rises the risk.

But that's okay, because watching your brothers play together is just as much fun and Sae promised he'll buy you another ice cream before you walk back home later, kind of to make up for the fact that you're missing out on some of the fun.

You don't even notice when your nosebleed starts because you're so focused on watching your brothers, but from the corner of his eye, Rin sees the blood dripping down onto your shirts and he's panicking immediately.

Sae notices how Rin stops running after the ball, so he looks over at you, only to be met with the sight of you having another nosebleed.

"(Y/N)!" Sae calls out as he runs towards you and wipes a bit of your blood away with his hand. It's only now that you register the fact that your nose is bleeding again, which makes you afraid so you break out into tears.

"Hey hey, it's gonna be okay..." Sae tries to be calm, but on the inside, he's panicking. He hugs you for a moment before he lifts you up and with the help of Rin, they quickly walk away from the soccer field to rush you home. In their panic, the brothers forget their ball, but that's way less important than caring for you anyways.

Even though you've had multiple nosebleeds in the last few days, every time they happen you still get scared and only your parents can really help to stop the blood from flowing.

While carrying you home, Sae still manages to not show his panic on the outside and he doesn't talk for the most part. Rin on the other hand keeps repeating "It's gonna be okay, you'll be fine" over and over. It's partly to reassure you but also to reassure himself that you're gonna be just fine as soon as you're in your parents' hands so they can help you.

Taglist (sign-up link): @astruosie @zyuuuu @yerinsshi @gojosorrygeto @luvcalico @punkhazardlaw @truegoist @st4rcheese @rienniey @kalinkavx @keiidaydreams @weichspuelertrinker @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @blueberrryui @takorirei @https-archangel @ririgards @kaiserkisser @userwithlotsoftime @nikokii

[greg-montgomery]

Okay so absolutely loving your writing sm <3

So I had this idea while, of course, scrolling down the aaron x reader tag so like you dont have to write it if you dont want to but i wanna throw this out here bc otherwise itll stay stuck in my brain

But like reader who is just,, incredibly shy? Like in social situations they put up a front and you would never expect them to be shy because theyre very present and speak up often despite almost blending in the background when quiet. But its a whole other story at home and such?

Like, Aaron notices and first thinks theyre uncomfortable with him but he slowly realizes that this is like, their love language ig and showing vulnerability? Quiet time, acts of service and such yk? Like, they always put up a front and to drop that (not entirely ofc but a decent amount of it) is just the highest form of trust bc theyve been ridiculed for being shy? And the shyness is much more present in the bedroom, especially when he praises them they just get even more shy and hes just so so gentle :(( like asking if theyre okay, going slowly and asking to see them when they hide their face but never forcing them to and just like praising them when they do and the praise kink of them just sticks its head up and its just the purest form of being together? Like, its not rough but gentle and its soft and theres really no other word than making love for it and its all just :(( and the aftercare the man would provide is just AHHH😭❤️

Oh dear im so sorry but i got sucked into the fandom and got obsessed by hotch and then your writing so- this is so long so imma shut up now but i just needed to throw it out there tbh before id explode from all the hotch ideas i have in my mind that im not writing myself or giving to any writer bc what if they think the ideas are weird or too long like rn- but anyway imma shut up have a nice day/night and hydrate <3 (also you might see more of me if you dont mind long ass rants in the middle of it like this one- if you do mind just tell me to shut up im not gonna be mad or anything <3/srs)

-🧽

my sweet sweet 🧽 anon <33 this took me a while to write i'm sorry!! i hope you've been well!! i think about you a lot and i haven't forgotten the kind words you had sent to me <3 i hope you enjoy this!! (and ofc i don’t mind long rants i LOVE talking about aaron <3333)

nsfw - minors dni

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Can I, honey?” you heard Aaron’s words as he wrapped his hands around your wrists.

You had been covering your face as you usually did when your boyfriend went down on you. After making you finish, Aaron had made his way up again, urging you nicely to look at him.

With a nod of your head, you gave him permission to gently remove your hands from your face.

“There you are.” He smiled at you.

“Hi,” you said, softly, unable to keep yourself from smiling a little.

“Hi,” he answered, just as softly. “Do you wanna taste yourself, baby?”

“Mhm…” You nodded, staring at his chin instead of his eyes.

Your own eyes closed involuntarily, as he lowered himself and his lips touched yours. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to touch yours. Knowing where that tongue had been before it was inside your mouth, made you even more excited for what was coming next.

Aaron placed his hand on your hip, giving it a squeeze and then moved it down your thigh, wrapping your leg around his body. “Open them wider, sweetheart.”

Only a few moments later, Aaron was inside you, rocking his body against yours, in a pace slow enough to be considered both romantic and tormenting.

“Ah…”

“Good?” he breathed heavily on your mouth.

“So good…”

“I love you,” he moaned, his face now buried in the crook of your neck. He left open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin after every little whine of yours. “I love your body. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you take me like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you sighed, because you really were. There was no man in the world you’d let yourself be this vulnerable around, other than Aaron. Your Aaron.

[knnichs]

HIIII, how are you? I hope everything goes well <33 I would like to order gaming x reader, maybe as an accidental kissing session? If it's not too much trouble, thank you very much for reading <33

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬   

  —   characters :   ga ming

  —   character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, not really an accidental kiss… it had a purpose, mutual pining, this is a work of fiction

      fluff     ,    accidental kiss     ,    modern!au     .      word count : 1.1k

hi there lovely! i changed this up a bit since i couldnt figure out what to write. i hope you dont mind! very extra special tag for @aventurne !!

The movie ends in such a bittersweet way. The protagonist lives her life as a teacher and her sister marries the boy she once loved the most. She looked back at her life in such a happy way now that she also had someone for her.  You sniffle, bringing a tissue to your eyes. Your friend looks at you, eyes filled with worry.

“Are you okay?” He asks, hesitantly bringing his hand to your cheek and wiping away any kind of remaining trail the tear left. You two had planned a little movie date. If you could even call it that–You did it as friends anyway. Yet you never expected the movie you chose to be this… This devastating.

“Mhm–” You sniffle again, cheeks puffing up. You start fanning your face to try and stop crying, but the more you think about it the sadder you get. “That was just. Wow, like I didn’t expect it at all.”

He giggles, laying back comfortably on his seat. He nods, yeah. 

“Think that’ll happen to me too?” You’ve always believed love would never work out the way you wanted it to. For you, of course. I mean, your friends are all in happy relationships–marriages for some and you’re stuck at this golden age, single. 

“With the amount of unrequited love stories you’ve watched? At this point, I’m starting to believe it will.” Ga ming teases you. 

“That hurt a little, `ming.” Crossing your arms pretending to be upset.

“Oh–Oh I'm sorry,” He says sarcastically, laughing. “Let’s not forget what happened with La La Land.”

“Whatever! I doubt you’ll be getting a partner in the near future anyway; So we're in the same boat.”

He grins, “Really now?”

You nod frantically. Going on a short rant about how his personality is so explosive it causes the other people’s social battery to die out immediately, or how he’s so active all the time you never get a break from all the activities you guys do. Or how his smile is so captivating, maybe how his face is so bewitching.

“Don’t know. All I'm hearing is you like me so much it's killing you.”

“I do not!” 

“Sure.” 

Yeah. Maybe you do like him. A lot, maybe a bit more. He’s cast a spell on your heart and you can’t undo it–It’s a curse and a blessing all at the same time. What if you like your best friend? It’s not like he felt the same way anyway. Well he might, with the mixed signals he’s been giving you. But he’s nice to everyone–He’s like that to everyone. And it has always been like that from the very start.

He looks at you in a way that squeezes and twists at your chest; He smiles at you in a way that causes all the butterflies to fly from its cage in your stomach and you feel so lightheaded when you two laugh together. You’re lost in the way he’s so caring, and it makes you feel sick and selfish wanting him for all yourself.

But that's just how you feel. For all you know–He might just be leading you on, and you’ll find out once you admit your feelings to him right now at this moment.

It's so difficult not to blurt it out. The love from your heart is escaping and taking this tension between you as its new home. You just look at him as he takes in the surroundings of your venue, with the warm fairy lights emitting a glow that makes him look more ethereal by the moment, and with the couch that has his hair all fluffed up. But it’s just now that you notice how bright his eyes look, how the shine compliments the red hues so perfectly. Just now that you see the little fangs on his teeth and how his face scrunches up so right whenever he smiles widely. You wonder how he’ll look when you two grow old, how much will change within those years.

You can’t be his, it’ll ruin you in more ways than one.

“You’re awfully quiet, was the movie that bad?” His concern is enough to melt the walls you’ve worked too hard to build around your heart. He will ruin your inner peace, is it weird that you would let him?

You don’t dare answer.

“Hey, look at me.” 

He brings his hands to your cheeks, making you face him. You feel stupid in love, it's like you just can’t get enough air to your lungs because even that is filled with the scent of him.

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” 

His eyes wander from your lips to your own eyes, looking for any kind of sign that you don't feel good. You place your hand on top of his and gently press your cheek against him more. You warned yourself, this is a bad idea. But you never listen, not once. 

Now he’s kissing you in a way that’s going to screw you up forever.

It’s soft, the way he handles you so gently. As if you’re some kind of porcelain that’s a little too fragile. You’re regretting everything that brought you to this moment but you’re not complaining one bit.

And it was short-lived. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was a peck on the lips. He was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way, because somehow maybe you didn’t fall in love with your best friend who you’ve had multiple dimsums with. The friend that held you in your darkest moments and the friend who wished for all your partners to somehow quit playing with your feelings so he could be the one to be there for you instead.

Oh god, you were inlove. And so was he–and maybe even more than you.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” He stammered. Cheeks red and yours the same. You two were affected under the same spell you put on each other. “I swear–You just looked too pretty. I couldn't help it.”

It feels like you’ve just discovered love. Like you were the only one to know how it feels to be in love with someone. The tension is gone and all you’re feeling is pure adoration from him, from the way he stares at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

Someday, this will end. But for now? You’ll be treasuring the moment in a way you’re sure no one else has.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

[avocado-writing]

Hi! I love your Good Omens fics<33 *sends you little cut out paper hearts*

May I request an Aziraphale and nonbinary reader? where Azi fell in love with them and always becomes a cute, blushed babbling mass around them?

(I just want fluff after that season ending:’) )

notes: thank you for the love & the paper hearts *hangs them on my wall* I paired you up together hope that’s ok !

words: 1.4k

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rating: T

tags: mild claustrophobia; mutual pining

Aziraphale is in love, and Crowley is annoyed.

Not that he’s annoyed about the love, per se, they’re immortal beings after all - occasionally they end up developing feelings for humans. It’s not unheard of. Aziraphale has had his share of infatuations, but the problem is he very rarely acts on them. Just makes puppy eyes at someone for fifty years, and then they die.

So when Crowley sees how Aziraphale is around you, he knows the angel is going through the same steps again.

There you are, every week, doing your delivery. Looking “rather smart” in your postie’s uniform, as Aziraphale once remarked. Arms full of parcels and a smile plastered on your face. You clearly like him back, it’s obvious, but neither of you will bloody talk to each other about it.

Aziraphale becomes a bit pathetic around you. Crowley would tease him for it, if he didn’t know he was already agonising over every interaction after you’ve gone anyway.

“Good morning, Mr Fell!”

You call out as you gently nudge the door open with your boot. You’re holding a stack of parcels using your chin as a wedge to keep them in place, lest the pile topple over and litter the shop floor. Aziraphale gets out of his chair - where he’s been sitting for the past hour, waiting to hear the sound of your engine like a child might wait for the trill of an ice cream van - and skitters over to help.

“My dear, let me help you with those–”

“Oh, it’s alright! I’ve got strong arms. Just show me where you’d like it.” You pause, then quickly correct: “Them! I mean, like them.”

From the corner of the room, behind his gossip magazine, Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Just in the stockroom here, thank you.”

“Gosh, you are ordering a lot of books lately, Mr Fell.”

Crowley bites back the urge to comment that he’s doing it in order to see you. One week you were off sick and a different postie covered your route, and Aziraphale was miserable about it for days.

“Well, I am a bookseller!” - lies - “And please, my dear, I’ve asked you to call me Aziraphale.”

“Alright,” you say, shyly, but you never do.

The angel’s cheeks go a rosy colour as he signs for his packages, and Crowley can tell he’s desperately trying to think of a way to get you to stay for a bit longer. His normally erudite friend is reduced to blabbering awkwardness around you.

“Actually I was just boiling the kettle, would you like some?”

A beat, then Aziraphale looks mortified.

“Tea! Would you like some tea?”

“What is this, a bloody Carry On film?” Crowley mutters under his breath. You don’t seem to hear him, and if Aziraphale does he pointedly ignores the comment.

“Oh,” you say, looking perhaps a little disappointed at the correction, but recovering quickly, “I can probably spare ten minutes before I need to get going. I’d love a cup, please.”

Crowley watches the two of you engage in idle, unimportant chatter, and the way you stare at the other when you think they aren’t looking, the brush of fingers as mugs are passed, the affectionate smiles. It’s maudlin. It’s saccharine. 

Aziraphale manages to stumble his way through ten minutes of conversation with you despite his nervousness, and it makes Crowley nauseous. When you finally have to say goodbye the angel looks like a kicked puppy, and he follows you to the bloody door to see you off, and then starts making a list of what else he can order to make sure you’re back next week.

It’s been this way for months, this repeated pattern of dancing around each other. And it’s getting dull. 

Crowley snaps his magazine shut. If neither of you will make the first move, he will.

📕

“Where would you like them today, Mr Fell?”

“Same as always, my dear. Stockroom!” 

He holds the door open for you and you haul the ridiculous pile in with surprising strength. Crowley waits until you’re both fully inside, Aziraphale showing you where the delivery needs to go, and quite suddenly a gust of wind slams the door shut behind you both (and somehow manages to lock it).

You yelp, dropping the parcels all over the floor.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry Mr Fell, let me–”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it made me jump too! Here, I’ll help…”

The two of you get to your knees, gathering up parcels and stacking them neatly on one of the tables. The room is not large, a couple of metres left in space maybe, every other inch being taken up by books; so when you both stand up you’re rather close.

Aziraphale looks into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat. You want to say something, anything, but instead you chicken out and reach for the door handle.

It’s stuck.

“Oh, erm,” you say, rattling it harder. Aziraphale frowns.

“Let me have a go, hang on.”

But the outcome is the same. The door is locked. Aziraphale knows it didn’t lock on its own, but he can’t really miracle it open while you’re right there. Instead he knocks hard on the door.

“Erm, Crowley, are you out there?”

“Oh dear, Aziraphale, is something the matter?” comes the reply from the bookshop.

“Yes,” the angel answers through gritted teeth, “by some terrible luck the door has gotten stuck. Can you be a dear and find the key for me? Should be in the desk drawer.”

“Alright, I’m having a look for it now,” says Crowley, as he walks over the road to go and get a coffee.

Aziraphale turns back to you, ready to assure you that you’ll be freed soon, only to find you looking very peculiar.

“My dear, are you quite alright?”

“Ah, sorry. I’m, erm, not great when I’m trapped in small spaces,” you tell him, eyes darting wildly, looking for a way out and coming up empty.

Aziraphale swallows. You do look quite worried. Crowley had better be quick. (Crowley is currently ordering a large americano and taking a seat in the corner of the coffee shop).

“Can I help?”

“Can I–” you wince a little, “gosh, this is so unprofessional, can I please ask you to hold me? Having someone rub my back calms me down. You don’t have to, of course, just–”

You don’t need to ask twice. Aziraphale steps forward and takes you into his arms. You fit perfectly, and feel just like he always imagined you would: soft but sturdy, the most wonderful shape against him. His hand is unsure at first, running up and down your back lightly, but when he feels you relax into him he renews the gesture with gusto.

“Thank you. Sorry, I feel very silly.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’m sure Crowley will get us out of here lickety-split.”

“Mr Fell?”

“Aziraphale, please.”

“Aziraphale…” it’s the first time you’ve actually used his name, and he’s pleased as punch to hear it fall from your lips, “may I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Do you actually sell the books you buy, or just order them to see me?”

There’s a beat, and Aziraphale freezes.

“It's just because whenever I drop off new packages I always notice you never unpack the old ones, so I thought…”

“Erm.”

“It’s alright if you do. To tell you a secret, I always rush my route so that I can spare the time to have a cup of tea with you. It’s my favourite part of the week.”

“Oh. It’s mine too.”

And suddenly he’s not comforting you, he’s embracing you, and you’re returning the gesture. You readjust your position so you can look up into his face, and he finds you have the softest eyes.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for dinner?”

You light up.

“I’d love that. Are you free tonight?”

“Call it seven?”

“Sounds… perfect.”

When you reach to kiss him, he finds your lips are soft too. So he kisses you again. And again.

📕

Crowley comes back forty minutes later with a little pastry in a bag for Aziraphale, to say sorry for locking him in. A wave of his hand at the door means he doesn’t even need to bother with finding the key, and he throws it open, hoping to find you finally properly talking.

Well, turns out your mouths are a bit busy for that.

Snogging. Snogging is what’s happening. Your hand is buried in Aziraphale’s curls, tongue firmly pressing against his. Aziraphale has a hand full of your arsecheek and has lifted you a bit so that you can wrap your leg around his calf, letting you caress him a bit with your foot. His waistcoat is undone, your shirt is untucked from your shorts. Both of you are a bit of a mess.

Crowley opens his mouth to speak, can’t find the heart to interrupt, and gently closes the door again.

-

Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan

[wikiangela]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @aroeddiediaz @underwaterninja13 @nmcggg @ladydorian05 thank you <33

How many works do you have on ao3?

right now it's 90! (57 of these are 911 lol)

What's your total ao3 word count?

535,450

What fandoms do you write for?

currently just 911, but I have some destiel and sambucky fics and who knows, I might get back to them at some point haha

Top 5 fics by kudos:

For a holiday (and forevermore)

I can't love you any more (than I do now)

I'd marry you with paper rings

the next best thing

There’s no way that it’s not going there (with the way that we’re looking at each other)

(they're all buddie and I just noticed that the top 4 are all over 1k kudos?? when did that happen lmao)

Do you respond to comments?

I do! sometimes it takes me a while bc i get lowkey overwhelmed lol but I always do!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

there's not a lot bc I prefer happy or hopeful endings, but I guess by post 6x10 fics? Fine and don't know what I'd do if your tomorrow never came idk lol

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of my fics have happy endings, but I guess I'd say For a holiday (and forevermore) 

Do you get hate on fics?

not really? got like one or two not very nice comments but generally no haha

Do you write smut?

yes I do 😁 not often and it always takes me forever but I do have two smut fics in the works (one buddie, one bucktommy lol)

Craziest crossover?

don't have any

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

Have you co-written a fic before?

no

All time favorite ship?

buddie

(ngl, bucktommy is a veeeeery close second rn🙈)

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

there's two that have been fighting me for so long they're lowkey abandoned now and tbh I don't know if I still want to finish them? one is a 5+1 nicknames, and the other just a silly idea about eddie flirting with buck since they met but buck being veeeery oblivious lol

What are your writing strengths?

I think (usually) I'm pretty good at staying true to the characters and not making them too ooc (and I know when it's ooc, okay, I have one wip rn where I just don't give a fuck, I'm writing it anyway lol), and I can get into their heads pretty well. Also I think I'm good at the cute fluffy stuff lol idk

What are your writing weaknesses?

there's probably a lot lol - rn the one that comes to mind is descriptions probably, which is why writing fanfic where we have established characters and settings is so much easier than og stuff haha

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don't mind it but I don't do it a lot aside from a pet name here and there bc I just don't wanna get anything wrong lol

First fandom you wrote in?

for tv shows supernatural, but before that I did write rpf which i just wanna forget about lol

Favorite fic you've written?

rn it's three:

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide) - my tommy pov fic <3

I'm comin' back, don't let me go - buck driving/breakdown fic

baby, you drive me wild - car smut - might not be my best but it's my fave smut lol

tags: @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @evanbegins

@wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks

@rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @exhuastedpigeon

@jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @theotherbuckley @daffi-990

@hoodie-buck @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard

[lqvesoph]

the right shirt - joão félix (social media au)

joão félix x ronaldo!sister

request: Heyyy are you doing social media au's? Cause I'd love to request a João Félix x Ronaldo's sister. Maybe like that Ronaldo wants her to wear his shirt to the matches but then she starts dating João

Yess, ofc. I have a love hate relationship with Social Media Au's tbh. I really hate to read them but I'm slut for writing them. I'll probably make this in 2 party cuz you can only add 10 pictures per post. Also I'll probably just mainly use pictures of his real girlfriends cause she's stunninggggg and has quite a lot of pictures that fit well

relationships:

Avril - your cousin

Kika - your best friend

Mila, Beatriz, Francisco - your friends

Rodrigo - your friend, brother of Kika

masterlist | part 2

tagged: portugal, avrilsantos

liked by: georginagio, avrilsantos, goncalogomes88 and 2,247,829 others

yndossantos: vamossss

comments:

cristiano: You got the right shirt?

→ yndossantos: yesss

avrilsantos: One of the best games I've watched in a while

kikalurez: soooo

→ yndossantos: Huh?

milagomes: You know we gotta talk, right?

→ yndossantos: Huh?

rodrigolurez: Where did you disappear to after the game ma'am?

→ yndossantos: Huh?

→ fan: what???

fan: All of Yn's friends exposing her lmaoo

goncaloramos88: Hope you were cheering for me

→ yndossantos: Always

→ fan: Are you dating?

fan: Did her friends just indirectly confirm she's in a relationship?

→ fan: It's probably Ramos

→ fan: Yeah, he's been liking and commenting on her posts for a few months now

fan: vamos portugal!!

load more comments...

liked by: joaofelix79, kikalurez, cristiano and 3,257,972 others

yndossantos: Special night out

comments:

avrilsantos: You're SO PRETTY HELP

georginagio: Lindaaaa

milagomes: He's a lucky guy...

→ fan: He who??

rodrigolurez: Y'all see this? That's my best friend!!

→ kikalurez: Shut up, she's mine

beatrizsilva: Aaaaand with who was this special night out

→ yndossantos: I have no idea what you're implying...

goncaloramos88: Cleaned up nice, I see

→ fan: Why are her brother's teammates on her Instagram helppp

→ fan: She's dating Ramos

fanciscoborba: I'm gay but LORD SMASH

→ yndossantos: ilyyyy

fan: Not João liking her posts sjsjdjd, she's off limits bro

→ fan: Let's be real, he wouldn't have the balls to go after Ronaldo's sister

load more comments...

tagged: rodrigolurez, avrilsantos, kikalurez, milagomes, savridre

liked by: joaofelix79, cristiano, kikalurez and 2,753,930 others

yndossantos: vacation time

comments:

avrilsantos: I lost my top...

→ yndossantos: I think it's in my suitcase

→ brunosilva: Nah she lost it in the ocean

→ yndossantos: SHE WHAT!?

kikalurez: I won't be eating for a week after that vacation

→ yndossantos: ME NEITHER I'M SO FULL

→ milagomes: *for 8 hours

rodrigolurez: I don't remember taking that picture of you...

→ yndossantos: You didn't

→ rodrigolurez: YOU REPLACED ME!??

fan: Her pictures always look so aesthetic

fan: Okay, so we're gonna ignore João on the 3rd picture!??

fan: João casually chilling with his teammates sister on vacation

fan: João being the only one she didn't tag... suspicious

→ fan: Let's be honest, we all recognized him at the first glance anyway

load more comments...

tagged: portugal, avrilsantos

liked by: avrilsantos, goncalogomes88, joaofelix79 and 3,126,629 others

yndossantos: And onto the next game

comments:

cristiano: Shirt?

avrilsantos: That jacket looks so good on you...

→ yndossantos: hmm

rodrigolurez: Why wasn't I allowed to come?

→ yndossantos: "No, I can't, I have so many exams and I need to study"...

→ rodrigolurez: Okay but I didn't study and I watched the game anyway...

joaofelix79: Personal lucky charm

→ yndossantos: <33

→ fan: WTF?

cristiano: Are you wearing the right shirt?

portugal: vamosss

fan: She's been at the games quite frequently lately

→ fan: Yeah, she's dating Ramos lol

fan: Yn replying to everyone but her brother lol

cristiano: yn!!!

load more comments...

tagged: joaofelix79, yndossantos

liked by 33,842 other's

waggossip: Y/n dos Santos recent post looks a lot like João's closet...

comments:

fan: That's Ronaldo's sister...

fan: I thought she's dating Ramos???

fan: Would he really go after cr7's sister though?

→ fan: She's mad beautiful

→ fan: but she's Ronaldo's sister...

fan: Homie broke the bro code lmao

fan: It's not tho

→ fan: It literally is, look at the carpet, the door, the switch, the chair

load more comments...

tagged: atleticodemadrid

liked by: antogriezmann, yndossantos and 976,362 others

joaofelix79: Full focus

comments:

antogriezmann: What a goal brother

yndossantos: Those cheekbones, damn

→ joaofelix79: 💞

→ fan: ???

→ fan: What's this supposed to mean?

hugofelix18: Legend

felipe.augusto: Royal

fan: No one gonna talk about Yn's comment?

→ fan: EVERYONE is talking about her comment...

fan: Are you two dating?

fan: Wait we're talking about Yn dos Santos here right?

→ fan: yeah

→ fan: That's Ronaldo's sister...

fan: Y'all isn't she dating that other portuguese player?

→ fan: If you're talking about Ramos, then no, they never confirmed anything but always said they're just friend

→ fan: But no one believed them and made up their own story without knowing what's going on, so it always was just a stupid rumor that's been denied multiple times

load more comments...

tagged: portugal, joaofelix79, lindarodriguez, avrilsantos

liked by: joaofelix79, cristiano, avrilsantos and 3,577,482 others

yndossantos: vamos

comments:

cristiano: Traitor

joaofelix79: Beijinhos

→ yndossantos: <3

lindarodriguez: You just send your brother into a cardiac arrest with this picture

→ yndossantos: Oh he's seen me at the game :)

avrilsantos: GORGEOUS

kikalurez: All of you are so gorgeous omg

milagomes: Beauties omgg

rodrigolurez: Thanks for taking me this time...

→ yndossantos: u really still mad abt last time...

fanciscoborba: My pretty girls

→ yndossantos: beijinhos

→ avrilsantos: te amo

hugofelix18: No excuse not to win when you have supportors who look like this

→ yndossantos: You're such a sweetie

→ fan: Bro tryna flirt with his brother's girl lmao

→ joaofelix79: Heyyyyy

fan: WOAH WHAT

fan: That's not her brother's jersey...

→ fan: Yn about to be disowned lmaoo

fan: So they're dating now?

→ fan: I thought she's with Ramos??

fan: Bro really pulled Ronaldo's little sis

load more comments...

--

part 2

[nosenipped]

respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.

roleplayer name: lucien!

pronouns: deez / nuts. ( he / they. )

muse name(s): jackson overland frost. :3 his name is so fucking english i literally can't type this without giggling. he's got a korean name too, but im not revealing it because of plot.

preferred communication: discord or DMs. i'm still getting used to the mechanics on tumblr rn so. 😭😭 but there r some features in tumblr's DMs that kinda tick me off, so discord's the home place for communications for me. i run a shit ton of accounts on different platforms too, so if i don't reply it's bc im out of energy or im busy with work. ��

experience: started in pokémon. got traumatized. went to animerp. also got traumatized. the cycle repeats for about 6 years.

preferred roleplay type: dependent on the day! i've always preferred writing something fluffy as opposed to angsty, ( but the lines are very thin for this muse ) only because jack's already a VERY angsty character and as a whole and i feel if i kept writing angst i'd run out of material quickly.

pet peeves / dealbreakers: forced shipping &&. self—inserts that seem too inserted, eg. forcing themselves onto my muses. ( i realize it's essentially the same thing but trust there's a difference. ) i've only ever shipped muses after messages of development and if i see potential. it's also a matter of personal comfort.

i've had past experiences where people took it too far with their muses and got personally affected by their relationship which is INSANELY unhealthy.

another one is just ship jealousy? i've personally NEVER experienced it as the receiver before, i hope i never do anyway, but we're all friends and grown—ups here im sure we could just write without any hidden agendas. i've had people close to me suffer from this before and it's incredibly sad &&. pathetic, y'all don't do that pls.

best time to write: evening or like. really early in the morning LMAOOO. i'm a night owl most of the times so if im not getting to anything in the morning or afternoon, it's mostly all churned out at night. ( but ofc that doesn't mean i'm not active during the morning or afternoon. )

are you like your muse?: to a large extent, definitely. i wouldn't go as far as to call us twins tho? even if some people do, there's just some things that we see differently.

for starters, unlike this loser, i can swim. /silly i got medals to back my claim.

i'm definitely not as dense to love as this dude is, and i'm able to differentiate platonic and romantic ties. this SUCKS so bad knowing he's also a womanizer in the last books .. i need his ass GONE.

in terms of similarities, i truly see him as something of a vessel to articulate my grief and anger as well as nostalgia through my boyo. :3 and since i've practically rewritten his ass to incorporate book and movie and mythology lore ( it gave me a MIGRAINE during my work i swear ;; the amt of effort i place into him needs to go widespread to my course. ) parts of me are also within to fill the plot holes. <3

i offer my jack frost to write with you all with my heart and soul on the line, so it really means a whole lot to me whenever people love him.

i got tagged by @lcafman ! WAAAHHH ELLIE ILYSM /p ONE OF MY POOKIES AND A GENUINELY GREAT PERSON TO GET TO KNOW. <33

＊ tagging ... @nerdynanny ， @toothcollct ， @saheira ， @seachant ， @fatedarrows ， @chieftain-of-berk ， @pcterpan ， @wishfulmuses ♡ feel free to participate if you'd like!! ( ^ω^ )