#anyways im curious as to how this will turn out because i really loved the initial marketing but the more recent stuff with midnights

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Brook, Chopper)

featuring - Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader, Buggy x F!Reader, Shanks x F!Reader, Brook x F!Reader, Chopper x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - my first time writing for ALL of these characters, so i'm sorry if i get their characters wrong! im only 416 episodes into the anime. i tried my best!

a/n - this was requested by @faioula16, i hope you like it!

MIHAWK

This could honestly go either way. This guy is unpredictable and even you never know what his next move will be. But you're his faithful and loving girlfriend, so there are some exceptions when it comes to you. Like when some deranged devil fruit user turns you into a baby, and Mihawk could have had someone else take care of you, but he wanted to do it himself. He was curious, now that it was you who was an infant.

But that may also be because a witness to the scene had expressed fear for infant you, saying that Mihawk was too cold and ruthless to take care of a baby. He didn't need to prove otherwise, and he didn't want to, but something just gnawed at him. Protectiveness, maybe. You were in such a vulnerable state right now, only he could protect you and care for you.

It had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that you looked so adorable staring at him with your big (eye colour) eyes, reaching out to tap his because the strange colour fascinated you. No, it had nothing to do with how cute your excited squeal was every time he picked you up or looked at you. He was absolutely not entranced by your cute little smile or how you clung to him with little hands that could barely hold his one finger. Absolutely not.

Mihawk is actually a pretty good babysitter. But only for you. He will sit and read to you with you on his lap, trying not to smile when you giggle and smack the book, always catching you when you lunged forward excitedly and almost fell off his lap. He will never finish the story, but he reads to you anyway because you seem to like it...for a little while.

"(Name), no!"

He almost had a heart attack when he set you down for one second to put the book away, and you almost fell off the table because you were trying to crawl to him. Your eyes filled with tears when he yelled, even if he hadn't meant to sound angry. His gaze softened, and he picked up and cradled you against his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. You're fine, little one."

And then you really are fine, your little body comforted by his actions and words. They lull you into sleep, and soon you rest on his shoulder and fall into a deep sleep, gripping his shirt collar tightly in your tiny fist.

"Sleep well, (Name)."

When you awake, in your usual adult form, you're too nervous to suggest it, but thankfully Mihawk is thinking the same thing.

"I think I'd like a little you or me to keep me company."

BUGGY

Buggy is horrible with children. I mean he's not great with people, but he is absolutely, terrifyingly not good with kids at all. So when you were somehow turned into a tiny human being who could barely stand on two legs, he was shocked. And slightly scared, though he would never admit it. You were the only person he genuinely liked, so he tried not to be too...rough, with your little form. Picking you up was as far as he got, but even then he held you out awkwardly like a football.

And then you squealed and happily reached for his nose, the bright red circular appendage attracting your attention instantly. Now, Buggy was sensitive about his nose, but he let you touch it. A testament to how much he liked you. And, if he were being honest, you were actually kind of cute squeezing his nose like that until he couldn't breath-

Exhale out the mouth.

When he remembered he could use his mouth to breathe, he smiled a little at how much you were enjoying yourself playing with his nose. You even touched his makeup and all his markings, out of curiosity. Your eyes were bright with confusion but also fascination, and it did something weird to Buggy. Made him feel...warm inside?

Then he decided to, experimentally, see what your reaction to his devil fruit would be in this tiny form. He set you down on the floor again, and then detached his hand. Your eyes went wide and you instantly covered your eyes with your small hands, your bottom lip trembling. He panicked, tripping over himself and falling into a tangled heap in front of you. You peeked between your fingers to see this, then burst out into cute laughter. Buggy almost glared at you, but then remembered you were just a baby and instead picked himself up and smiled - or rather tried his best not to smile like a maniac - at you.

Then you saw his floating hand, and grabbed it.

"No no, (Name), that's not-"

You stuck his fingers in your mouth, and he groaned. You just giggled innocently, and only then did he realise his devil fruit could be a source of entertainment for you. He detached multiple limbs and floated them around, watching as you squealed in glee and crawled around trying to catch them.

Were you actually having fun because of him?

When he finally put his body back together again, you pouted but crawled up to his leg and hugged it, gurgling happily as if to thank him. He was stunned. He slowly picked you up and you offered him a toothless smile, before yawning. Still unsure, he laid you on his shoulder and awkwardly patted your back, but that seemed to work because you slowly fell asleep.

When you woke up again, finally an adult, you grinned at him, "Shall we make you a father?"

SHANKS

It was his fault, really. He picked the fight, contrary to his usual behaviour. But that guy had said something about you, and he couldn't ignore it, so of course he acted. And now here you were, a tiny baby fisting his shirt in your tiny hand and looking up at him with big, curious (eye colour) eyes. He had experience with children, of course, having spent some time with Luffy. But you were so small, so delicate.

"Captain, what-"

He ignored the confused questions from his crew as he brought you back on board the ship, immediately taking you to his quarters. It shouldn't last long, he reminded himself, but he still felt guilty. Though that quickly disappeared when you giggled and crawled around his quarters, knocking things over and hiding with a loud giggle when he caught you.

"Oi, (Name)!" He tried to sound stern, he really did, but his laugh have his mood away. You stuck your head out from under his bed and stuck your tiny tongue out at him, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, you're cute, sweetheart."

He lifted you up again and you squealed excitedly and reached for his hair, the bright colour attracting your attention. He grinned and put you on his head, keeping his hands on your small waist, and soon felt you tug on his red strands. You were giggling and pulling and kicking your legs happily, so he endured the pain just for your sake. It was very cute how you thought his hair was a toy, and by the time you got tired of it, it was a mess. Strands were everywhere, out of place, sticking out...but it didn't matter to him.

Because now you were looking at him with your big, innocent eyes and suckling on your hand as he cradled you against his chest. He gently rubbed your back and pressed a soft kiss to your tiny tuft of (hair colour) hair.

"You're so pretty even as a baby, (Name)."

You rewarded him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek, making him laugh. He sat on his bed with you still in his arms, watching as you grew tired and offered him the cutest sight - the tiniest of yawns.

"Sleep, little one."

He gently rocked you to sleep, reassuringly and soothingly patting your small back as you drifted off on his shoulder. He felt warm inside, as if a small fire had been lit inside him. He knew what it was.

And when you woke up in adult form, he grinned at you, "Let me give you a baby, sweetheart."

BROOK

Brook has experience with babies. Maybe not human babies, but babies nonetheless. He knows a human baby is very different to a whale baby, but he figures that there can be similarities too. Such as entertainment, which is his area of expertise. So when he looks down at his feet to see baby you tugging on his pants, he is somewhat prepared. He has no idea how you were turned into a baby, of course, but he's not complaining because you are so, so adorable.

"What happened to (Name)?" Franky asked the skeleton, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing important!" Was Brook's gleeful reply, followed by a laugh when you somehow crawled on top of his afro and knocked his hat off so you could take its place.

"Nothing imp-" Franky sighed. "Do you even know how to look after a baby?" Franky's eyes worriedly drifted to where you sat upon the skeleton's head, tugging on his afro and squealing with delight. You wobbled precariously.

"No, but it can't be any different to a baby whale!"

Franky would have commented on that, if you hadn't slipped off Brook's head. The cyborg easily caught you, before holding you out to Brook, "Don't let her sit on your head."

"Noted."

For the rest of the day, Brook occupied you by sitting you down on his bed and playing music for you, telling you stories about Laboon and his crew, and about his experiences in the Grand Line before you guys found him. He sang all sorts of songs, played all sorts of melodies, while you giggled and clapped your hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. Brook smiled, the sight warming heart - oh, but he doesn't have a heart. He hardly ever got tired, but you prompted him to play for hours on end, until he really was exhausted. So he picked you up, settled on his bed, and lay you on his lap before humming a tune. You slowly drifted off to sleep, and Brook smiled.

He hoped he could play for one of the crew's babies one day.

CHOPPER

Another island, another mishap, another adventure. No trip is ever boring with the Straw Hats, and this was again proven when an unfortunate encounter with a devil fruit user who could change people's ages led to you being turned into an infant. And that's how you found yourself cradled in Sanji's arms, with Chopper trying to get a good look at you all throughout the walk back to the Sunny.

"Chopper, she's fine," the cook tried to assure the doctor, but Chopper was having none of it.

He was so worried, because no one was equipped to take care of a baby, and he cared about you so much that now you were a baby, he was becoming overprotective. As soon as Sanji set you down somewhere safe for Chopper to examine you, he was grabbing his bag and bringing out all his different tools. He checked all your vitals and made sure you were first and foremost healthy, before he could consider anything else.

Then you touched his blue nose and widened your eyes in fascination, gurgling softly, and Chopper blushed brightly. He smiled and poked your nose back, and you let out the cutest giggle that melted the reindeer's little heart. He shifted to his humanoid form and gently lifted you up into his arms, cradling you as he gazed down at you with the utmost love, adoration and fascination he could manage. You were so tiny, even more so than him, and so so cute. Then you sneezed, looking stunned for a moment before giggling loudly. And Chopper thought there was nothing more joy-inducing than holding and watching baby you.

"Chopper, where's-oh." Nami stopped when she saw Chopper standing there just holding you, one of his fingers in your tiny hand as he cooed at you and made you giggle. She smiled softly and left the room, deciding you were in safe hands.

"You're the cutest baby in the world, (Name)," Chopper told you. You just smiled brightly, exposing your gums cause you had no teeth, and waved your small arms around happily.

Chopper was really good with you. He monitored you throughout the 24 hours, making sure you ate properly, got enough sleep and were bathed properly. He is probably the best caretaker out of all the men on this list, not only because he's doctor but he's naturally caring and nurturing. It comes like second nature to him. Besides, you were such a calm and quiet baby - except for the giggling - that you made it easy for him. He was almost sad when you fell asleep, knowing you'd be grown up again when you woke up.

But maybe one day the crew would be able to fawn over a baby everyday. Maybe one day.

[tojisth3rdwife]

Toji wasnt much of a gossip, but you being his girlfriend, he made the occasional exception. He could listen to you rant and ramble all day if it meant being close to you. Even if he barely registered half of what you were saying.

“That bitch waits until the end of the day to call me in her office, talking bout some ‘I wanted to discuss something schedule related before you head out’..As if she couldn’t have said something that morning or sent an email.” You grumbled as you dunked the large plate into the sudsy water.

Day dreaming.

Mindless.

Dazed.

Fixated.

Words that would be used to describe the way Toji watched you.

He’d been sitting at the kitchen island on a bar stool for the last few minutes as you washed dishes in your old cheer shorts and tight cropped camisole, giving him an unobstructed view of your ass.

Heart shaped and heavy at the bottom with little dimples of cellulite you used to be self conscious about dotting your skin. If anything, that was his favorite part of your booty. He’d say it gave it character.

Not so distant memories of him burying his face between them with his tongue prodding at your hole, inhaling the scent of your pussy has him shifting in his seat. Moaning his name against the pillows and deepening your arch. Massive hands spreading your cheeks further apart while he ate you from behind, groaning in ecstasy at your taste. Something like that wouldnt be hard to do right now. All he’d have to do is get on his knees behind you and slide your shorts down just enough for him to…

“Toji.”

He blinks at the sound of his name.

“Hmm?” He grunts, head lifting from his palm.

His eyes snap up to your face when you glance at him over your shoulder, a curious brow lifted.

“Are you listening to me?” You smirk at his lazy expression and Toji’s lips tucked against eachother as he nodded, humming affirmatively so that you’d continue.

“Yeah! Of course.. your PTO thing.” He adds in confirmation that he was indeed listening. Somewhat. Despite him being slightly bricked up but you wouldn’t know it since you were too busy running your damn mouth.

You squint at him incredulously but turn away to resume scrubbing.

“Mmhm. So anyway. Then she tells me that Im not approved for the PTO I requested for my birthday trip. And I just laughed because jokes on her. I wasn’t gonna be there whether she approved it or not.”

Water ran loudly as you rinsed a large pot, and you shift your weight to favor your left leg, bringing Toji’s gaze right back to your dimpled cheeks. His tongue runs over his top lip, his eyes climbing the line your spine the way his tongue would on its way up your body after making you cum on it. Toji loved the way you’d shiver and tremble underneath him, making his dick rock hard and ready to slide inside of you. And he knew it would be easy with how wet you got.

“I told her that my request was really just for her benefit. If she doesn't approve it, Im still going.”

“Right..right..” Toji mutters, his attention effectively dividing between what you were saying at the way your cheeks jiggled slightly with even the slightest movements caused by you scraping the decrepit scrub daddy over the skillet.

He wanted to bite it.

Hell, he planned to.

As soon as you finished those dishes. Or perhaps as soon as you shut the hell up.

Whichever happened first.

“..talking about some..’oh well we’re very short staffed so I cant guarantee that I’ll be able to let you off that week’..let. Like she’s my mama or something. Bitch. I’ll call out and have her looking crazy. Anyway, what you thinking about for dinner?”

At his lack of engagement, you spare Toji another look over your shoulder. You find his hooded gaze fixed on you but nowhere near your face and you thoughtlessly glance down at yourself as if you already didn’t know what he was looking at.

“Toji….TOJI!” You laugh, and your boyfriend looks up at you again, blinking dumbly.

“Huh?” He frowns and you roll your eyes.

“Yo ass didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” You turn around to face him, rubbing your damp hands over a dry dish towel. Toji rolls his eyes with a grumpy sigh to accompany it.

“I said I was listening. Your PTO didn’t get approved but you’re taking off anyway. Fuck whatever Lauren says..”

“Lori.” You correct him.

“Lori. Laura. Whoever the fuck. Point is I’ve been listening and waiting on you to stop talking so I can bend you over.” He states shamelessly, reaching down out of your view to readjust himself in his pants.

Your brows shoot up in surprise, but his words make your womanhood jump in excitement and anticipation.

“Aw yeah?” You smirk, only for Toji to mirror you. In seconds, he’s on his feet and rounding the kitchen island to stand in front you. His cool green gaze pins you against the counter as he pressed up against you, his fingers already teasing at the elastic band of your shorts.

“Yeah, so hurry up and finish the story...”

[theodorenmyth]

*flys into your mail*

Heart mail delivery! I would like to request Enzo with a shy m! Reader who literally hate eye contact. For example, every time someone talks to Enzo tries to talk to reader he is always looking away or avoiding eye contact. But maybe a little twist where reader could like make eye contact towards the other Slytherin boys, but when it comes to Enzo he can’t look at his face and it makes Enzo slightly jealous and want answers.

-💌

Too Shy To Say

Pairings ; Lorenzo Berkshire x M!Reader

Summary ; Lorenzo notices you avoid eye contact with him, though you can look at others like Theo and Blaise. Curious and a bit jealous, he confronts you, and you admit you get nervous because you like him. Lorenzo reassures you and encourages you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the tension fades, leaving a quiet understanding between you two.

A/N ; IM BAAACKKKKK 🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️ WHO MISSED ME???? anyways.. ENJOY MY LOVES!

Warnings ; None

Word count ; 1.1K

Lorenzo Berkshire was used to attention. It came naturally, like the breeze flowing through the dungeons of Hogwarts. His charm was undeniable, his smile a constant source of flustered stares and half-hidden blushes. But for you? Things were a little different.

You’d never been particularly fond of eye contact. It wasn’t shyness as much as it was discomfort — eyes always held too much, revealed too much. So, naturally, you avoided it. When people spoke to you, your gaze drifted elsewhere: over their shoulders, to the floor, or anywhere but their eyes. It wasn’t a problem, not really, because everyone had come to expect it from you.

Except with Lorenzo, it was…different.

You didn’t just avoid his eyes — you couldn’t even look at him. Not even for a second. Every time his deep brown gaze turned to you, a wave of heat washed over you, leaving you frozen, fumbling, and searching for any safe spot to rest your gaze that wasn’t his face.

And Lorenzo? He noticed. How could he not?

It wasn’t unusual for you to talk to Theodore Nott, making light eye contact when necessary, or even Blaise Zabini, though fleeting. But the moment it came to Lorenzo, your eyes would flicker elsewhere like you were avoiding him for some unspeakable reason. At first, he brushed it off, but now? Now it was starting to gnaw at him, his curiosity turning into something like jealousy.

Today, Lorenzo was determined to get some answers.

You were sitting by the lake, your gaze focused on the water as it rippled in the sunlight. Your hands fidgeted with the edge of your robe, a familiar habit you resorted to when you were feeling uneasy.

Lorenzo approached, his footsteps light but purposeful. “Hey,” he greeted, the warmth in his voice causing your heart to stutter.

“Hey,” you mumbled back, keeping your gaze trained on the lake, watching the tiny waves lap against the shore. His presence was close — too close — but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

He sat down beside you, a comfortable distance apart, but the silence that stretched between you was heavy. It wasn’t like your usual silences, where you both existed in a bubble of mutual understanding. No, this one was…tense.

“So,” Lorenzo started after a long moment, his voice casual but tinged with something deeper, “why won’t you look at me?”

You stiffened, fingers halting their restless movements. Your heart jumped into your throat, pulse quickening as his question lingered in the air. You could feel his eyes on you, burning with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, still refusing to meet his gaze. You stared harder at the lake, as if willing it to swallow you whole.

Lorenzo let out a soft huff, not buying it for a second. “Come on, don’t play dumb. I’ve noticed it, you know? You can look at Theo, Blaise, even bloody Draco when he’s being a prat. But me?” He leaned in slightly, his voice lower, closer. “You won’t even glance my way.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as panic began to creep in. “It’s not… I just don’t like making eye contact,” you said lamely, knowing full well that it wasn’t the whole truth.

Lorenzo let out a low chuckle, though it lacked humor. “Yeah? Then why can you look at everyone else?”

Your heart pounded, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You were trapped, caught in a web of your own creation. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to look at Lorenzo — quite the opposite. He was…well, Lorenzo. Charming, effortlessly handsome, and always exuding that calm, confident aura that drew people in. And you? You felt like a tangled mess whenever he was around, too self-conscious, too aware of everything. Especially of how much you liked him.

“I—It’s complicated,” you mumbled, still refusing to turn your head in his direction. The lake had become your lifeline, a visual anchor in this awkward, nerve-wracking conversation.

Lorenzo shifted, and you felt the space between you decrease ever so slightly. His knee brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Complicated?” he echoed, his voice softening, but there was an edge of vulnerability in it. “What’s so complicated about looking at me?”

You clenched your fists in your lap, debating whether to finally admit the truth or keep dodging. But the way his voice softened made your defenses falter. “I… I just get nervous,” you finally confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s you, I mean.”

He didn’t say anything right away, and the silence that followed felt suffocating. You risked a glance — a quick, fleeting one — and saw that his expression had shifted, from curiosity to something more tender, more understanding.

“Nervous?” he asked, his tone no longer teasing. “Why?”

You swallowed again, feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected. “I—I don’t know, Lorenzo. You’re just…different. It’s hard to explain.”

There was a long pause, and then Lorenzo sighed, though it wasn’t out of frustration. It was more like he was finally understanding something that had been puzzling him for a while. “You like me, don’t you?”

Your breath hitched, and your entire body tensed at his words. It wasn’t a question — it was a statement. One that you had no idea how to respond to.

“I—” you started, but your voice failed you.

Lorenzo, however, didn’t wait for a verbal confirmation. He shifted even closer, his fingers brushing yours in a gesture so gentle it made your heart ache. “You know, you could’ve just told me,” he murmured, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I would’ve saved us both a lot of confusion.”

Your eyes were glued to your hands now, the space where your skin touched, your heart thundering in your chest. “I didn’t think… I didn’t know how to say it.”

Lorenzo hummed, his voice soothing in its warmth. “Well, now you don’t have to say anything,” he replied softly. “You just have to look at me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you hesitated for a moment longer before finally lifting your gaze. The moment your eyes met his, the world seemed to slow down. His brown eyes, warm and sincere, locked onto yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the urge to look away.

“There,” Lorenzo said, his voice low and almost teasing, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You felt your lips twitch into a small, embarrassed smile, and for the first time, you didn’t need the lake to distract you. Because looking at Lorenzo? It felt right.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with something more—relief, maybe even hope. “It wasn’t so hard after all.”

[bosbas]

Chapter 8: this is falling in love in the cruelest way

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, heavily going off of book canon, me stirring the pot (im sorry)(no im not), PINING!!!!!!!, anthony being very much in love with his wife

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: guys i'm sorry but this picture is INSANE. the THIGHS??? HELLO? i am looking respectfully.......👁️👁️

June 5, 1816 – And yesterday, much to this author’s surprise, Lord Barlow reportedly proposed to Lady Montclair! This proposal comes unexpectedly after the Duke’s promiscuity with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball a few weeks ago. Given the fact that Miss Barrington has been compromised, it is incredibly shocking that Lord Arthur Barlow would do something like this in polite society. Luckily, Lady Montclair remains a single woman and swiftly rejected her former beau’s proposal. But this only begs the question: why did the Duke propose? Is Lady Montclair simply too alluring to pass up, or is something else amiss between Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington? 

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Colin under his breath, his eyes quickly scanning Lady Whistledown’s column as he sat on a bench in the garden. 

“What’s that you’re reading, brother?” asked Anthony, ears perking up at Colin’s scandalous language, even if it was just between brothers. 

Colin felt a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud, having been too caught up in the news that you had finally received a proposal from Lord Barlow. It was a lovely day out, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were in the gardens of Number 5 Bruton Street after a round of fencing. 

Of course, once Francesca had come outside holding a copy of Whistledown to read in the gazebo, Colin had stolen it out of her hands and abandoned his brothers in favor of catching up on the ton’s happenings. Though no one should have been surprised by his interest, really, given that you were the main topic of most of the gossip sheets nowadays. 

“Nothing,” Colin answered quickly, trying to recover from his blunder. “It’s bizarre how invested one becomes in Whistledown while living here. Is this what every summer is like when one isn’t traveling for half the time?”

“In essence, yes,” answered Benedict, still jabbing at the air with his épée as Anthony stared at him amusedly. “What does she have to say today?”

“Lord Barlow proposed to Lady Montclair yesterday,” said Colin, a slight edge to his voice. “And he looked a sight while doing it, too, apparently.”

Benedict dropped his foil, turning around to fully face Colin with a shocked look on his face. “And what did she say?” he pressed, intrigued about the outcome of this curious development. It was practically unimaginable that the Duke had proposed to you after defiling another lady in the ton, and Benedict hadn't considered him capable. 

Anthony clapped him on the back, smirking at Colin as he did so. “Well, did you not hear the man say, ‘thank God’? Obviously, she said no.”

Colin crossed his arms, immediately defensive. “It wasn’t that obvious! She could have said yes, and my ‘thank God’ could have been because she would’ve finally left me alone. Duchesses have a lot to do; I doubt she’d find the time to be irritating while attending to her duties in the country.”

Benedict and Anthony gave their brother unimpressed looks, watching amusedly as he squirmed under their gaze. 

“I assure you, brother, that there was absolutely no possibility of that being the case,” said Benedict jovially, earning a snort from Anthony. 

But before Benedict could laugh, too, Colin lunged at him, épée in hand as he glared playfully at his brother. Finding himself unarmed, Benedict yelped and ran toward the house, citing a very important painting to attend to before sprinting back inside. 

Turning to Colin, Anthony smiled curiously. “So, it’s true, then? What Daphne said?”

“What did Daphne say?” asked Colin innocently, dreading the conversation that would follow.

“Don’t be daft. That you love Y/N.”

Colin rolled his eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “I don’t love her; that’s ridiculous, Anthony! A mere two weeks ago, we absolutely despised each other. I hardly think I could love her now.”

But even as he said those words, Colin questioned whether he actually meant them. Could he love you? He hadn’t ever felt this way about anyone, but then again, no one had ever vexed him quite like you. Though lately, he had been finding the line between irritation and fascination to be quite blurred. So blurry, in fact, that he was having trouble seeing a line at all. 

Having clearly overheard part of the conversation, Gregory ran up to his brothers, laughing hysterically as Hyacinth chased him. He stopped and let his sister catch up, smiling evilly at the older Bridgertons “Colin loves who, now?” 

Hyacinth arrived a few moments later, panting heavily. “Y/N, of course,” she stated while trying to catch her breath, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What? What do you mean? Why do say that?” pressed Colin. Why did everyone in his family seem to think that he loved you? Surely they saw the two of you bickering incessantly, right? Your feud was so famous it had even made it to Lady Whistledown’s column. Colin couldn’t understand how anyone could think he had so much affection for you. 

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her older brother, unamused. “Colin, I am not an idiot. Though perhaps you might be,” she added brightly. And before Colin could respond, she quickly turned to her eldest brother. “Now, Anthony, could you please tell Gregory to give me back my quill?” she begged.

Gregory, scoffed, glaring at his sister. “I’d only borrowed it for a moment! And I only did so because Hyacinth hid mine! Anthony, she’s being unreasonable,” he whined.

Anthony affectionately patted them both on the head and flashed a faux sympathetic smile. “I rather think both of you are being quite the nuisance right now.” 

At times, Anthony found himself slipping into the role of a father figure to his youngest siblings. It was an unspoken duty he assumed after their father's passing. Yet, it was important to occasionally remind them that he was still their brother.

Hyacinth responded with a frustrated groan, her teeth grinding audibly, thoroughly vexed with her brother. However, the sight of Gregory's smug smile reignited her fury, and she immediately charged at him. Despite being older than Hyacinth, Gregory wasn't foolish enough to underestimate her, and he took off in a panic, screaming as he tried to outpace his deceptively quick sister.

Colin shook his head in amusement as he watched the antics of his youngest siblings. “Were Daphne and I truly like that?”

“Worse,” said Anthony flatly, but he couldn’t mask the warmth and fondness interlaced in his words.

At that, Anthony began to turn back toward the house. “Well, I must be-”

“Wait!” interrupted Colin. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had stopped his brother, other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility that he could love you. You, the person he supposedly hated. The person who certainly hated him. 

But, as always, Anthony was the right person to talk to about this. He would know what to say. Though it was well known that Anthony was completely smitten with his wife, Colin remembered a time when the pair seemed to dislike each other fairly intensely.

After a few moments of charged silence, Colin met Anthony’s expectant gaze. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up. “Purely hypothetically, and simply out of curiosity, when did you fall in love with Kate?”

Anthony smiled, amused. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to his chin. “As long as it's purely out of curiosity,” he teased. “It wasn’t like I simply fell in love with her one day, Colin.”

“Yes, but if you had to pinpoint a moment?” pressed Colin, slightly exasperated. If anything, he needed to know if he had experienced that moment himself.

Anthony’s gaze softened, and he suddenly saw a lot of himself in Colin’s uncertainty and pause when it came to a woman who profusely vexed him. “I found Kate in the library the night after we played Pall Mall for the first time,” he recalled fondly. “We were at Aubrey Hall for the country party and it was raining outside quite loudly, a terrible storm. She was huddled underneath a desk because she was scared of the storm. I very quickly realized I couldn’t hate her anymore. Not properly, anyway. Not when I just wanted to sit on the floor with her and protect her from the storm, and anything else that might come her way.”

His voice had softened as he spoke about his wife, recalling the moment he truly knew there was no way out. Anthony had tried to deny it to himself after, but his protests simply held no conviction after that night. 

“You never told me that,” said Colin thoughtfully, not missing the glint of emotion in his brother’s eyes as he talked about his now-wife. 

“Yes, well, the real challenge was getting her to love me back,” he said, coming out of his musings. “And that didn’t happen for quite some time after that. It was rather premature of me to declare my love for this woman while I supposedly hated her and was still technically courting her sister.”

It was truly a wonder that he and Kate were married now. But when it was meant to be, it was meant to be, Anthony supposed. Something that was proving to be particularly true of you and his brother. If Colin, who had a deep-seated need to be liked by anyone and everyone, could fall in love with you, the only person who didn’t actually like him, then surely it was meant to be.

Colin, still deep in thought, chewed his lip nervously. “And how did you get her to fall in love with you?”

“We were caught in a… compromising position. She had been stung by a bee and I… Well, I’m sure you recall,” said Anthony, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy as he remembered the circumstances that allowed him to marry his wife. “It’s far easier to get a woman to love you when she’s already your wife,” he finished sympathetically. 

Colin choked back a laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t very well put Lady Montclair in a compromising position, can I?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But Colin, I thought this was all hypothetical,” teased Anthony, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder. 

Colin cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance as Anthony continued laughing at him. “Never mind. I’m off to find Eloise,” he muttered, patting the eldest Bridgerton on the back and leaving him free to go dote on his wife. 

After speaking with Anthony, Colin had a renewed sense of purpose. He had to find out why you hated him. He was so utterly exhausted of hating you and of having this tiresome charade of fighting with each other at every available moment. At this point, he didn’t particularly care who in the ton liked him or not. Colin knew he would happily take the entire ton’s wrath for the rest of his life if it meant you loved him.

But he needed to know just how unrealistic his hopes were. Eloise would be the best–and perhaps only­–person who would know. 

Colin found his sister practicing needlepoint in the sitting room, focused intensely on the material in front of her. It was unclear whether she was trying to sew the fabric or her finger, given how often she was pricking herself as she attempted to thread the needle. 

“El!” he called by the doorway, pausing when he saw his sister grimace after pricking herself once again. “I can return later if you’re busy.”

“No! No, please interrupt. Thank heavens,” gasped Eloise, grateful to be able to do something other than draw her blood. 

Colin laughed, amused, and suddenly felt a tad sheepish. Was he truly about to ask about you? To ask about you to Eloise, who would no doubt hold this over his head for the rest of eternity? But he had to know. He had to ask, at the very least. 

“I was just…I was wondering if you knew why Lady Montclair hates me,” he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Eloise let out a snort. “Well, I can’t imagine she’d be hard-pressed to find a reason why, given how you treat her.”

Seeing her brother’s crestfallen face, Eloise immediately sobered. Standing up and walking toward him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I thought you disliked her as well,” she said in a questioning tone.

“Of course I do,” clarified Colin quickly. “But she hated me first and I still don’t know why. I thought she might have said something to you, given how close the two of you are. Do you know at all?”

Eloise clicked her tongue in sympathy, looking at Colin with concern. Perhaps his feelings did run deeper than anyone thought, and the recent dancing and promenading were more than just Colin being his usual charming self around you. “I’m sure I have no idea, Col. But you could always just talk to her.”

Colin shook his head, smiling sadly at his sister. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t usually seem very eager to speak with me.”

Sure, the two of you had been getting along recently. But that had only been twice. And was that really enough to undo the weeks of hatred?

---

It was a particularly delightful Wednesday afternoon, and you found yourself feeding the ducks at Hyde Park as you watched Isabelle and Charlotte skip rocks across the pond. Though you loved Louis to bits, it was a lovely feeling to have both of your sisters home with you. There was simply something about being out in society that he could never quite understand like them, though not for lack of trying. 

After lunch, you, Charlotte, and Isabelle had managed to sneak out of the house just as the post-meal discussion grew rowdy. It was not unheard of to have such lively discussions in the Montclair household, and you frequently even enjoyed them. But there were some days, like today, that you frankly just wanted to have a quiet afternoon with a baguette and about a dozen ducks. Luckily, your sisters had decided to join you, and the three of you had set off toward the park in search of a flock of birds to feed.

It seemed that the ducks had taken much more of a liking to you than to your sisters, and they had grown disinterested in the endeavor. Charlotte and Isabelle had opted to give you their remaining bread and take a stroll around the mostly empty park, and you couldn’t say that you were complaining. Coming from such a large family, it was a rare luxury to have an afternoon largely to yourself. 

A while later, after most of the ducks found themselves happily full, you spotted a stumbling figure making its way toward you. As you turned to your sisters with a questioning look, you were disappointed to find them in deep conversation facing away from you, neither one of them noticing you. 

As the figure neared, you realized who it was: Nigel Berbrooke. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt your stomach drop, unpleasant memories of him and his disgusting words flooding your brain. You had no desire to speak to this man, and you looked around for anyone you could speak with instead. But you had not brought a lady’s maid, and everyone else was too far to intervene.

“Lady Montclair,” said Nigel, with what looked to be an attempt at a seductive smile on his face. 

You stood up from your crouching position rigidly and turned to face him. You were unable to form any words, discomfort far outweighing any other emotion you were feeling. This had to be his first time back this season after his absence, you thought. You hadn’t seen him at any events since the Danbury ball, and you rather thought you would have noticed him, looking as vile as he did now.

His nose was a tad more crooked than on the night you had met him, and the bags under his eyes were ghastly. But perhaps it was just your perception of him, knowing what you did about who he was.

“Mr. Berbrooke,” you settled for saying, nose crinkling as you caught a whiff of the pungent smell of alcohol emanating off of him.

“A promenade?” he asked roughly, reaching for your hand without permission. “It’s a lovely afternoon, it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Oh, Mr. Berbrooke, we were just about to head home,” you pointed your head toward your sisters, panicked. 

Isabelle and Charlotte were far too immersed in their conversation to look like they were ready to head home, but you prayed that Nigel’s inebriated state would distract him from this.

He growled at you, clearly displeased at your rejection. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Montclair. Your dowry, as well as your other…assets, are far too good to pass up,” he slurred, very obviously staring at your chest. “It’s a shame Colin’s gotten to you first.”

You were scandalized, opening your mouth to chastise him, or to scream for help, or anything that could get you out of this situation, really, but he cut you off before you could say anything. 

"I've heard Lord Barlow abandoned you, and truth be told, it's hardly shocking," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain as he regarded you with a sneer. "You insist on playing the coy maiden, denying every man what he craves. It's the only reason they’re after you now, you see? They want what you didn't give Arthur. And it appears Colin has taken the lead in the chase, the lucky bastard."

His words brought you crashing back down to reality. Of course, he was colluding with Colin. You had conveniently overlooked that fact as you found yourself becoming��bashful in his presence, feeling secure, even desiring his company after these recent days. A surge of bile rose in your throat.

You felt tears prickling in your eyes, and you were impossibly angry with yourself for forgetting the very reason you despised Colin Bridgerton. How could you have let yourself forget? He was still the same man you overheard at the Danbury ball, and you were too embarrassed to admit that his charm had worked on you. 

You were disgusted with Nigel and Colin, but also with yourself. You were more than this, you chided. How could you have let this happen? The two men were clearly no good, and you had unwittingly allowed yourself to be ensnared, much like you had with Lord Barlow.

“Excuse me,” you said roughly, dodging Mr. Berbrooke’s outstretched hand as you ran toward where Isabelle and Charlotte were standing, propriety be damned. 

“On va chez nous. Tout de suite,” you said to them urgently, practically begging as you tugged on Isabelle’s hand (We’re going home. Right now). 

Charlotte looked at you, confused, and then noticed you glancing nervously at Nigel as he approached, angrily staggering over to you as his face contorted into an ugly scowl. 

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry Mr. Berbrooke,” Isabelle said firmly, “but it seems we have to go.” 

Not waiting for a response, your sisters hooked their arms in yours and hurriedly walked back from where you came. They’d be damned if he let anything else happen to you after what happened with Lord Barlow, and they were not about to waste any time.

Nigel only grunted, displeased, but let the three of you go without protest. Both of your sisters’ husbands were very powerful men, and Nigel was not so deluded as to forget his place in society.

“Y/N?” Charlotte questioned softly once you were sufficiently far away enough. 

But you were too embarrassed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back sobs. How could you have let yourself fall for Colin’s charm? You knew exactly who he was, and you had ignored it anyway. It didn’t matter that he made you feel safe and that the two of you had more in common than you cared to admit. He would never respect you, and you could never love him. 

Nigel had come at just the right time, you thought sullenly. Right as you were thinking you could finally overlook your rivalry with Colin, right as the memory of why you disliked him in the first place was fading. And thank heavens he did. You would not be taken for a fool again, by Colin or by Lord Barlow or by anyone. 

—

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[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Angel Sam

— ✧ pairing: Sam / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 9,145 — ✧ warnings: religious contexts, Christianity references, blasphemy, angst, major character death, daddy issues, praise kink, worship, cunnilingus, love bite/hickey, creampie — ✧ synopsis: just one more night with you is all he needs, really. he thinks he could die happy if you smile one more time, y'know? he's still so sorry, by the way.

— ✧ A/N: i have been wanting to write something like this for a very long time, so im happy to finally have finished it! it's not as angsty as i'd originally planned it to be because im a hopeless romantic, but it is pretty bittersweet! please enjoy my ramblings!!

oh, and happy kinktober !!!!!! — ✧ kinktober masterlist

He comes to you in the middle of the night, as all misdeeds tend to.

It's quiet, of course. Naught but the light passing of wind against your window, a few stray moo's hidden from the barn. And for a few breathless moments, he opts simply to stare upon you. Watching you with tenderness in his heart, the kind borne out of the word almost. In that, the tenderness cannot even hope to band-aid his heart back together. Almost, but not quite. Though, looking at you is a treat in its own right, surely. God given, he’d imagine, for father was ever kind in his hatred. Something that, to this day, he’s thankful to remain deaf to for the most part.

And yet still, the burning bile that lines his stomach turns into lava as he listens out for that low thrum of disapproval, the very same one that he’s not entirely certain if it originates from within himself or not—the faux voice of father hidden away in his melting mind, or his own inner monologue? They sound the same at this point—so he can’t help but to look upon you with salvation. Home. A small smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you so peaceful; his appreciation is barely there from how feather light his love for you is, but it’s there. It always has been. And, it’ll always be there, too. More than anything, you help relax his mind— purely by existing. And for that, he's thankful.

Blessed, he feels, to view you in your most vulnerable state. It’s funny, he suddenly thinks, how you feel safer with the sheets covering your fleshy frame as opposed to laying bare and naked— it’d do nothing to save you from his pointed claws, or his God, for that matter. And it’s funny, he reiterates, that the moment he hovers a hand over your sleeping body, you take the opportunity to toss and turn some sheets from your legs anyway, catching his attention immediately as he pores over every detail of you.

For he must.

His very own private God; far kinder and softer than the one deemed naturally as father. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear God in the morning showers you take. Trickling down your body as water droplets, drip, drop, a ritual of love in its own right. Thank you, he slowly mouths down at you. For showing me so many mornings. They never had to be particularly good mornings, because every morning with you was good. And now, more than ever, he wishes to hear the familiar stream of water wash over you, just so that he can put his hands to use again in prayer.

There are, of course, other uses for his hands besides washing your troubles away. So he looks at them, regrettably tearing his vision away from you and into his tired palms instead for a moment or two. It's curious, how they look nothing like how they used to; mud stained and hard worn by now thanks to the Earth’s gifts— and your farming orders. But he smiles once more, because they are at least his. And with his hands, he decides to smooth them over your exposed leg. Gently, with practiced restraint, he ghosts over your trembling skin. A routine worship, his gaze softening at the way you shift and stir in your sleep. How pretty you are right now, forever and always. He takes in the sight of your eyelashes, fluttering with good dreams, he hopes. And of your hair, how it lays perfectly against your pillows, and how he wishes to reach out to stroke your head, but he needn’t disturb your rest further, he thinks. So he gazes some more at how cute you look when grasping the sheets in your sleep, a picture perfect little doll for him to adore. Dropping his vision down to where his worn out hand steals heat from your thigh, and how soft you are under his touch.

Truth be told, he could map out every intricate detail of your being all night long, and on some nights, he does just that. But he can already feel the world dimming in response to his gawking, and he knows that he hasn’t much time left at all. Least of all to be staring, instead of doing.

He wonders how much it’d hurt to see the look on your face later tonight. All twisted and unpleasant, an assumed mimicked wince flashing across his face before he fixes it right up for his sleeping audience. Will you be able to notice the crumble of his mind? Threads picked one by one to undo his wings, pinching at your knee just a little to try and remain soft, stern in his affection for you. Would you, if given the chance, watch in horror as lions teeth are shoved down his throat one by one, just to tear up his insides into something new? Something less tangible— for his own benefit, supposedly. Would you stay by his side to witness the ecstasy overtake his entire being, knowing that despite it all, he’s happy to just be by your side. Even for a single day… He thinks that would have been worth it all the same, too.

But, alas, he plans on depriving you the right to such sights. He couldn’t bear the thought of casing you any harm, least of all from his own faults.

Instead, gentle hands press palms of golden sunlight against the slight sliver of inner thigh your slumbering body offers him. And it’s like a meal to him, bleeding gold against that soft, dangerously so, skin. Enough that he’s convinced he could feast his eyes on you for eternity and still not go hungry. Full of love, desperate to express, communicate, and exclaim it until his lungs give out.

But etched into him is his very own undoing. God’s fingerprints still yet wrap around his bones, coiling up and around his throat to leave the most human lump lying in His wake. He remembers pointing at himself in the mirror one day— before an outing you had suggested. To the local saloon, dressing him up in a manner he’s yet to grow accustomed to; but he can still feel the warmness of his cheeks even now as he idly strokes up and down your leg, how he felt this sense of pride swell in his beating chest upon catching your lovesick smile staring back at him in the mirror and… Oh, so that was the beginning of it all…

Regardless, he remembers pointing at himself. Right in the middle of his new throat, swallowing thickly as a means to steel his frayed nerves, and catching sight of… Well, you had called it an ‘Adam’s Apple’, right? And he’s not so stupid, he knew exactly what those words meant in the moment. But he refrained, bit his tongue in a rare moment of strength around you, and begged the further question of: why?

He liked to hear you talk more than anything this God given world ever dared to offer him. More than the sky, and the birdsong among the clouds, and the smell of grass after it had just been cut, and the softness of your bed sheets right after washing, and the smell of freshly baked bread, and the taste of that terrible Joja Cola, and his newfound friends laughter, and the hot sand between his toes, and the waves that kissed his skin, and the sound of rain against glass, and the sticky floor of the saloon, and the purity seen within the children's smiles, and the way you scrunch your nose up in confusion at him so often, and the way the wind brushes past him on his skateboard, and the countless jokes shared amongst strangers, friends, and lovers— your voice is better than it all and more.

Even when you’re yapping about his not-Adam’s-Apple.

For he’s anything but, to be honest with you. A mere spark in the greater cosmos, but one flicker of light on the verge of turning off forever. And all it takes is that flick, much like how you’d done so earlier tonight before heading to bed; did you ever figure out how he never went with you? It pained him every time to lie by omission, crawling into bed just before your usual wake up time to keep up the tired facade. The occasions that you had caught him up and about were so easily explained behind restlessness. Not entirely a lie, this time. But he’s just like that light switch, and he can feel the ever present threat of a finger looming behind his weary wings.

A stray feather falls by your side in the midst of his musings. Neat and tidy, spinning in circles before softly caressing your sheets. The first of many, he assumes, and he can’t help but to widen his smile at the sight. Good, he thinks to himself. I tire of this hiding. Of this waiting. Of this wretched thing you call existence, father. Please. Please. Take it all away, for I fear that even a slice of this paradise will prove too much to bear.

Another pinch, this time against the softest section of your thigh, and he’s not surprised to see you wake up in response. Gently, lazily, because you have all the time in the world. He’s made sure of that.

“Sorry…” he whispers down at you, as light as the second feather that falls with a pulse. His beating heart laid bare and white before you, so stark in its contrast against the dark, moonlit room that he’s afraid he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; which would never be the case. Not concerning you. He was made to love you, he thinks.

He knows that to be the case.

He wishes to say so much more than mere sorries, but there is no human way to explain: I love you so much that I want to rip your throat out with my own teeth. I want to clean you dry of blood and swallow you whole, so that we may forever be one. Or, at least, he hasn’t thought of a way yet. And he’s running out of time, so he instead settles on something a bit more understandable to your human ears, like… “Didn’t mean t’wake ya. Jus’ couldn’t sleep again.”

He sees God, again, in your yawn. Strained and teary eyed, and the resulting groan you exhale fills him with such joy that it’s almost unbearable to look upon you with tender eyes. He wants to listen to it forever, on repeat, burning it into his dwindling memory in some vain hope of holding on.

Another feather falls from his wings when you smile back at him, and his hand stills on your thigh in response. Mother Earth whispers promises of give and take, of an intertwining, eventually. These things take time, she reassures in your closed fist, rubbing sleep from your eyes with a slow blink. And he’d much rather listen to the worms and the soil beneath his very human feet as opposed to the unfair God he was unlucky enough to originate from. But then he realises that you, too, originated from Him. And he figures, well… He can forgive him for that, at least.

Your voice is hoarse and riddled with heaviness when you speak, and he can’t help but to sympathise with you, feeling the very same ache in his brittle breaking bones.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” you smile, genuine and fucking pretty, so much so that it aches his bleeding heart. “Restless? Wanna cuddle instead?”

Like moth to the sun that is you, he could never, and would never, deny your invitations. To do so would be akin to blasphemy, he fears. And so with an intentional nod, slow and thick, oozing with the amount of utter adoration he harbours for your every little move, he lifts his hand from your thigh and huddles under the sheets with you. Soft and silky, he thinks to himself. But he’s not quite sure if he means your body, or the sheets. Just that he’s comfortable, happy to accept the terms of his existence so long as he can spend whatever he has left of eternity in your bed, by your side.

Besides, it’s easier this way. Where you’re left unaware, right?

He falls so easily into his usual spot too, his shape carved out of the mattress under his body through sheer use alone; but he likes to think that it was perhaps made for him instead. It helps the inevitability soon approaching, anyway. And just as effortlessly, he assumes the position with you. One arm under your neck, letting your sleepy body curl into his own, a wing outstretched under you to help comfort you. To add to the feathers hidden under pillowcases, too, from the rate they fall for you.

And for the first time tonight since feeling the edges of his end, unfurling into the chaos of the universe within the very same four walls he had hoped would be his coffin, he feels like he can finally rest. A welcomed break from the tiring thoughts, and from the oppressive atmosphere the threatens to pick his wings from his very back; bone and all.

It almost convinces him that he was, and certainly is, good.

But he will never be a good man. He tried— God did he fucking try for you. Did his absolute best to be human, learning through doing; you were ever helpful in his endeavours to denounce his divinity. But alas, here he lays, with the love of his life half asleep in his arms, and all he can feel is home between his teeth. Pick at it all he wants, he never did find out a way to rid the sticky aftertaste of holiness. Like a disease, burning bile in the back of his throat, prompting him to unfortunately cough to clear God from his windpipes and further disrupt your sleep.

“Sorry,” he once again whispers at you, tightening his arm under your neck, another apology resting in his demanding hug. “Caught a cold, I think.”

“It’s okay, Sammy.” You stress, and he feels the urge to apologise again. And again, and again, and again. He doesn’t think he could repeat the prayer of sorry enough times, for he is simply one of His least qualified angels, fluent only in loving the wrong god. He knows only the language of almosts, turning his body in towards you, shuffling along that edge he so precariously sits on even now just so that he can smile at you some more. He’d do anything for you— even die.

“I love you, y’know?” he says as if on instinct, coming naturally to him upon seeing your closed eyed lazy smile. “I will love you for as long as this life will have me, and even after that, too.”

You merely hum back at him, clearly exhausted from the hard days farm work, and he suddenly thinks that he wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s nice, actually. For mother Earth to treat him no differently than you, as if recognising him as a fellow mortal, finally. Laid here beside you so late at night; or is it early morning? He lost track of time a while ago now. But it’s exciting to be recognised as one of the same, and he wears his final moments like a badge of honour.

Though no one will remember you, the moon casts against your cheek, drawing him closer to your angelic face, and they will not make note of you, except of your disappearance, she scolds him, and he takes her harshness with grace, because she’s speaking across your lips, wasn’t it at least fun?

He can’t argue with that, bursting into light laughter at the plain thought. Loving you was fun. It is fun, the humour in his chest continuing at the way your lashes flutter open to the commotion, and adoration floods his lungs.

“What’s funny?” you yawn, his mind growing sluggish with his very own undoing, so he takes a second longer than usual to respond to you.

“Nothin’, jus’ happy, s’all.”

He’s not saying very much, he’s aware. It’s difficult to sort through his thoughts in the face of your cuteness, is all. Too many words swirl in his mind, screaming pick me, pick me! But what’s the best way to appropriately explain the amount of love he holds for you? How can he, ever, accurately formulate the correct string of words to precisely and utterly convey just how blessed he feels to know you, to have known you, and to forever know you? Burning the feeling of your dead leg digging into his hip bone into his hot flesh, so that it exists forevermore— “Can I show you, please?” he settles on, because you’ve taught him that sometimes, actions are far better than words. And though it was not part of his original will, he can’t help but to continue to dote upon you even in his final hours. A hopeless romantic deep down, he supposes. Caring more for you than himself, even if he can afford to act a little more selfish now of all times.

“If you’re not too tired, I mean…” he’s quick to follow up with, not wanting to pressure you into following his eager pursuit of the ultimate death; he’d be just as happy if you simply fell asleep by his side during the whole ordeal, too.

But graciously, you yawn up at him once more, nonetheless turning onto your back. An invitation, he’s learnt. One that he swiftly follows up with by kneeling before you, shuffling his way under the sheets and between your legs. This is his favourite place to worship, and you’re doing him a great unknown honour by allowing him his final supper.

“Will it help you sleep?” you ask, darting your eyes to the barely curtained window, drawn back and wide open to allow moonlight to dance across the floorboards— he wanted to gaze upon your hard work one last time. He’s so incredibly proud of you, y’know?

“It will,” he promises, genuinely. “You too, I bet.”

“You make a good point…”

Giggles. He’s gonna miss giggles, especially yours as you warm his chest up with the sound of joy following your cheeky comment. Shared over natural chemistry, pure instinct borne out of each others company. He’s gonna miss the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh, and how your eyes squeeze shut with promise, beaming up at him like the sun itself; only far warmer, his own personal little sun. Even if you beg to differ, he can’t help but to squint his eyes back down at you when you so easily allow him passage forwards. Like the warm morning sun he’s unsure if he’ll last to kiss, you beckon him closer with that gentle sleepy smile he’s fallen in love with over and over again. Who cares about greeting the morning anew when he’s got you radiating back at him?

His actions remain light, rubbing whispered promises against your knees with his mild thumbs, smoothing them over ever crease and crevice of your legs in a silent act of worship. He knows that heaven exists— not because he’s an angel, but because he met you; ironically, the far better angel than he’ll ever be.

“Aren’t I always?” he teases you back, half-hearted at best— he knows who the real boss of this relationship is deep down. It was never him to begin with, not with the way he follows around after you like a little lost puppy at every God given opportunity. Prophet girl, the suns chosen; he never stood a fucking chance when put against you.

Still, he appreciates it when you play along with him. Offering him the kindest of scoffs before reprimanding him with “You have your moments.”

It’s as he’s helping part your thighs wider, inching closer to to his favourite place on Earth, and hooking a finger under your panties—thank God you tend to sleep in only them during the night, for he fears he could not wait a single second longer due to his wound—that he realises something. What kind of a cruel God creates for the sake of loving, and then subsequently snuffs out that creation for fulfilling its purpose? What kind of a joke was his existence in the first place? Were his siblings, too, cast out of the heavens on some cruel holy mission only to slowly realise that this is but a mere suicide?

It’s silly, how he tries to grapple with the subject of his life. And yet still, it’s but another reminder of his dwindling humanity. A small comfort in such a tender moment with you, that no matter how many questions go unanswered by his so called father, he has you. Sighing so sweetly that it burns his ears red, bunching the sheets up in your barely awake fists, twisting and turning to help him remove those sacred garments— plain and cute, and the feeling of the soft fabric between his nimble fingers serves as a catalyst. Smoothed against the palm of his hand as he slowly tugs the fabric down, noting the slight damp patch adorning it.

He misses you already.

But he keeps a brave face, making a show of his enjoyment by dragging your underwear up to his lips, bunching it up like you do with the sheets just to give it a good long sniff.

“Freak.” You lovingly scold him.

“Only for you. Your freak.” He corrects you.

He’s joking, clearly. Playing along with the facade that having him sniff your scent down his hungry lungs isn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen—he’s already noticed the way you shuffle sheepishly with arousal at the perverted display—but he’s also reciting prayer for you. It’s not just hot, it’s also an assurance.  Look, his tongue darts out against the fabric to beg of you, how I love every part of you, he reassures by licking a fat stripe up the meagre wet spot, being sure to suckle on it to swallow every last drop of you. Let none go to waste.

And he’d love to sit here and worship you forever and ever, like a loyal dog. Tilting his head curiously at the thought, he really is just a loyal little dog for you. A creature made for loving, without really being good for anything else. He’s supposed to love you, that’s his God given job. But the ticking time bomb in his chest made of glass shards and peeping eyes claw at his heart, not anymore, the rusted nails dig into his lungs harsher. Now, your job is to be dead. Like an overflowing cup, too much of him spills from the rim and onto you, placing your panties to the side while he assumes an unholy position between your legs.

Not yet, he whispers kisses along your inner thigh on his way down, hooking his arms around your underside to rest on your waist; you can’t escape his devotion, not tonight.

“Let me know if you wanna stop.” He peers up at you, face mere inches away from your bare cunt now as he snakes his body down the bed, not missing the way he must really resemble Adam, salivating over your apple. At the end of the day, you were right as always, he internally grins. And he just wants to make this experience a pleasant one for you, too. As much as he can anyway, in spite of the fact that he’s signing his very own death warrant under your sheets.

And your voice is so soft and gentle when you respond with “Always, Sammy.” that he can’t stop himself from voicing his appreciation, groaning unashamedly when your hand comes up to reassuringly stroke through his messy bedhead hair. You never tell him to stop, but he likes to remind you that he will, absolutely, whenever you ask, stop. Because he is a simple servant to you, his God. Nothing in this world is his, except for you. He’d follow you to the ends of the Earth and further if you so much as asked him to. So stopping is the least he can offer, even if his cock twitches to life at the mere thought of pleasing you tonight— he couldn’t imagine a better send of, honestly.

But before he can dive into his last meal, you call his attention once more. And like the stupid mutt he is deep down, his ears perk up immediately to the sound of your breathy tone.

“You’re pretty like this,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your words that just begs for his attention, cracking a smile on his weary face. “Thank you.”

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. And I know, deep down, that I would undoubtedly do it again and again, as many times as you'd unfortunately allow. For there is so sweeter taste than my lover under sheets.

You like to remind him on dark, oppressive night like these, that the stars shine brightest in their last moments. And he can see the twinkle in your eyes even now, half lidded and hazy, but bright before him. Peering down in that sultry manner he’s fallen victim to on so many occasions before, his tummy filling with butterflies to counteract the razor blades in response. It’s like you can tell, somehow, that his light is bursting forth for one last time before dwindling infinitely, exploding in on himself in only the most romantic of ways. Are you aware of what you’re thanking him for? Can you tell how much he truly appreciates those simple words, rolling his eyes back briefly in enjoyment before hiding his honesty between your legs, cock twitching against the soft sheets under his hips at the first and last full inhale of your pretty pussy.

Angel cunt, divinity between your legs, ripe for his taking. His tongue automatically darts out upon drawing closer to your cunt, and his cock dribbles some more onto your sheets in wanting. Beads of his love for you dripping, spilling around his fat erection the moment your slick hits his taste buds, and he takes a mental note to savour you. You taste like heaven, but fuck if you weren’t built for sin. Because nothing gets him harder than worshipping you, making you feel good under his pointed flicks and greedy sucks, letting his tongue lay flat along your slit to soak up most of your slick before rolling it upwards, circling around your clit for a few seconds— he can’t help but to slurp around it, his lashes fluttering shut with a roll of his eyes. And then he’s sucking on it for you, making sure to swallow around you just as much as he collects spit, dripping saliva down your pretty pussy to make her all messy and sloppy; just the way you like it, right?

This, between your legs, is his true home. More than the clouds above and the warmth of his wings, the sound of your heavenly sighs and shuffling sheets is more homely than anything before. His fingers, deft and nimble from all the guitar playing he’s partook in on his time on Earth—a pleasure in it’s own right, he’ll miss that too—lifts to your twitching hole, one pad rimming the outside; there’s time yet to tease you, he bargains. For you alone, he is weak.

You just taste so good, always, but especially tonight. Sweeter than usual, like your body knows this to be his last. More than anything, he wants to eat you out until the end of time. Drink you up and swallow down every last drop of juice your sacred hole has to offer him, make you writhe and tremble on your soft sheets for more for all eternity, because fuck his broken existence. Only you matter to him, and the way your muted moans make his cock dribble some more, forming a little puddle under him to match your own leak under your hole, has him acting out. Like an unruly teenager, struck by his first love, hormones going haywire with how rock hard his cock is from just a little petting of your cunt. How much of the holy water staining your sheets sheer is your slick versus his saliva, he wonders?

The finger rimming your hole dips into your cunt and dives as deep as possible, fucking in and out of you in tandem with his circling tongue; near violent with how much he desires you. He’s done this so many times before that it’s almost become routine by now, a repeated prayer of please, let me taste you some more. You deserve it, most of all, for putting up with him tonight. It only makes sense that he thanks you with a curl of his finger, helping stretch that tight little hole out with sacrilegious intent, paying special attention to your puffy little clit with loud slurps and a droning hum to send vibrations through your system.

“Sam, God—!” you gasp, all pretty and hushed, hidden under the bed sheets with him as if doing so would somehow prolong his lifespan. And he shakes the misuse of God from his mind, risking a particularly deep knuckle fuck to bring your attention back to him, where it rightfully belongs. It’s okay, his finger strokes your insides. I’m happy, his lips suck around your clit. “There, right there,” your nails rise to dig into his scalp, a desperate plea for more, and he’d be a fool not to oblige his God. “Do that again, please—”

He’s happy to hear that his angel is a little more awake now, more alert to his divine touch that threatens to ruin you, his wings flapping eagerly behind his heavy back at how urgently you encourage him to continue with tiny tugs and muted gasps. He needn’t be told twice, flicking his tongue over your clit a little faster and pumping his fingers in and out to match the speed, curling against your sweet spot right… There…

“Sammy—!” Bingo.

He doesn’t come up for air; he won’t need it where he’s going anyway, so he wants to get used to the sensation of choking. And there’s no better way to test his limits than to gag on your sweet nectar, dropping his lips down to your hole as soon as his fingers leave in an effort to swallow all your slick, fucking his tongue and in out of you devoutly to help you milk that orgasm out fully. The sound of his name repeatedly falling from your lips is enough thanks for him, but he won’t deny that feeling your thighs muffle around his ears is even better, got his hips acting up when they rut against your sheets once or twice in lewd response.

He only stops kitten licking and swallowing around you when you tenderly pull his head upwards, an exasperated sigh falling from your pretty bitten lips; so swollen and wet, God— he wants to eat your face, too.

“Fuck—” you sigh after a few moments, all smiles and shivers, and his falling feathers ruffle in response. Trailing under you, leaving you trembling in a bed of white roses. He wonders if you’ve noticed them yet. “I don’t think this’ll help me sleep after all.”

“Sorry,” he hums genuinely, but he can’t even hope to hide the boyish smirk that tugs on his lips, an act of defiance against you… Or is it God? What is the difference now, really? Is it really that important to decipher when he can feel the lions jaw close in around his soul? “I’m not done with you yet, though.” He wards the feeling of an approaching roar off.

“I’d hope not.”

Irony is endless. He may now understand his lifes purpose, borne out of the lines on your face when you smile up at him, hidden under your pillows, where an indent of his arm sleeps soundly— will that, too, disappear with him? But with understanding comes nonexistence, and the fault lies with him, apparently. Falling for you is in his blood, and it is with the same blade that his throat is slit, dripping down onto your front and in your hair and on your sheets and on your tongue and God… He can only hope that the stains of his existence are easily washed out. You will, won’t you? Wash him out?

Because sometimes suffering is just that. It won’t make you any stronger, and it won’t offer any deeper meaning to his life. Sometimes, suffering just hurts. Like when he peers down at you from above, sitting more upright now to allow his wings to cast the prettiest shadow over the moonlit back light of your face, and he feels as though his lungs are failing. For all he knows, they very well might be at this point. But he persists, for you. For his selfish desires that put him in this position in the first place— for the rock hard erection that still yet throbs with life, all for you.

“You’re so pretty.” He blurts out, lost in his train of thought while idly stroking himself. He’s kneeling before you again, chin stained shiny and cock throbbing in his loose grip; he’s too idle with his stroking, so much so that he almost forgets what must happen tonight. Too busy admiring you from above, hoping that you can see the way his gaze sparkles for you. “You deserve the world.”

You assume position too, leaning into the long built unspoken language of lovers by way of opening your legs wider, prompting him to bite down on his bottom lip at the sight of your sopping wet little cunt. Pretty, too, just like your face. And your body. And your voice, and your hair, and your— “Thank you. I think you’re pretty too.” You interrupt his self indulgence, but he’s hardly mad. His cheeks flushing warm at your honest praise, he can’t take his eyes off the way you lay there so perfectly pliant. It’s insufferable, just how much he loves you. How it has him leaning down to press a sticky with slick kiss against your wanting lips, his heart stuttering at the way he can feel you smile into the shared saliva.

He’ll never forget about you. Not even for a fucking second. You were, and still are, worth it.

The tiny halo atop his head cracks with his thoughts. Just a little, barely noticeable, even. But he can feel the weight of his musings bearing down on him as he guides his cock to your cunt. Tired fist wrapped so tight around the base of it, tapping the tip against your sensitive clit once or twice just to hear you squeak in pleasure. One last time, just like that.

“Are y’ready?” He asks, because he’s genuinely not sure if he is.

“Of course.” You respond so easily, because you’ve always given him courage he so sorely lacks at times.

“All right, jus’ lemme know if—”

“Sammy,” you reach out for him, touch as tender as your voice is. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” you kiss the words against his arms, and he can do nothing but give in to you.

Of course. You were here before him, and you’ll exist after him. But rather than acknowledging so, he simply nods instead. Confident and reassured thanks to your affirmations, he prepares to give you what he always strives for.

“Promise t’make y’feel real good.” He huffs, letting his leaking tip rest between your soft folds before automatically rolling his hips a little to feel your warm heat try to envelop him whole. And normally, he’d have you waiting a little while longer for this. Make you writhe and squeal and beg him for this; his cock heavy and beading precum against your red little clit. Normally, he’d have all the time in the world and more to dote upon you in privacy, down on his hands and knees by your feet just pleading for another chance, just one more, c’mon baby, I know y’can do it.

But it’s the end of the world, so he figures that giving in to his natural selfish desires just this once is okay, right? Especially considering the way your brows furrow from the meagre amount of contact he’s provided you thus far, and the way your chest heaves so persistently, body begging for him when your words get lost on you… He’s sure it should be fine.

So he gives in. Just like that, without second thought. He angles his cock down with the pad of his thumb, letting his other hand rest gently by the side of your head— careful. He’s always so careful with you, treating you like glass, afraid that if he were to not be so gentle with you, that you’d disappear from beneath his very fingertips. And he absolutely can't have that happening, not right now.

His wings ruffle some more to spend plenty feathers, a shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine at the feeling of your hole twitching eagerly against his leaking tip. You are sin incarnate, coaxing him to fall further for you, and he’s never felt so good to be so impure. He takes in a single breath, steeling himself for what’s to come, before dipping his tip inside of your wanting hole with a further crack of his halo. Catching perfectly into you to force a gasp from your pretty lips, and fuck, it feels so good to die.

“God—” he gasps, with the amount of heavy reverence your cunt demands of him. “Can’t get enough of ya— shit—” he pushes in some more, well aware of the fact that he’s barely filled you up and he’s already dying for more. “Mine. All mine.”

He punctuates his act of ownership with a quick and mortal thrust forward, unable to hold himself back the second he enters your cunt; you are his very own undoing. And he’s powerless to stop his hips from stuttering in, coating his cock in that sweet slick he fell for in the very beginning, and he knows for sure that the Gods must be envious of him in this moment. To feel your walls squirm around him as he eventually bottoms out, soft and squishy and fucking perfect, divinity coursing through your veins to wrap around him so tightly; to be so human is a blessing, he thinks. And yet still, somehow, you are his cosmos. Sooooo fucking pretty under him, gasping for air as his balls rest flat against your ass and your hips are turned slightly upwards to help ease him into your angel cunt, and fuck— he can’t fucking stand it anymore. When he dies, which he must do, he’d like to go out with a bang. Physically and metaphorically.

You’re ruining him, and you’ve done nothing but lay there for him. “Taking me so well, fuck, I needed this—” he praises you regardless, a breathless chuckle escaping his failing lungs. “So beautiful like that, y’were made for me, werent’cha?”

And he’s not certain you understand the gravity of his words, or how true they really are, but he appreciates your meek approval regardless. A soft spoken, fucked out little “Mhm—!” Crawled up your throat for his heavenly pleasure. He does his best to relish in how wrecked you sound, knowing deep down in his bones that it’s not what you do, or what you say that he’ll remember. But it’s how you make him feel that’ll stick with him, all dizzy and light-headed, heat coursing through his system to leave him breathless above you.

As far as coffins go, this house is the perfect burial. Comfortable and familiar, balls deep in your cunt, he offers you mere seconds to grow accustomed to his final searing stretch. Because to be human is to accept the inevitability of it all, a shudder running through him at the way you look picture perfect under him. Like an old classical painting, caught in a moment of utter passion— he does everything in his power to burn the image in his mind.

“I’m gonna get movin’ now, ‘kay?” He warns you, because it is a warning. With how heated his temper is right now, he can’t be blamed for fucking you within an inch of your life, surely, as he intends to do. Drawing his hips back until only his tip remains inside of you, just to selfishly hear that little whimper drip from your pretty pouty lips like usual. Comforting in its predictability, he loves you beyond words. “Good girl.” Escapes him, an automatic worship, before he’s slowly pushing his cock back inside of you. Making you endure every throbbing inch of his heavy cock, carving his shape out in your hole, and then again. And again, and again, settling into a tedious pace of in and out— torturous even for him. Teasing both parties to try and draw the inescapable end out for just a little longer. He misses you with every thrust in, and he loves you with every draw back out.

“Feels good—” you struggle on the words for him, and he chokes with you. Voice caught in his throat from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him. Enough to rival the dwindling divinity within him, specks of gold dust your bed sheets with his lazy fucks. And you’re right, it does feel good. Unfairly so, as if the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on him. Here, your lover lies, forever pretty under the spilling moonlight. Here, she feels better than ever, squirming on the end of your cock, gasping into the night air as a form of thanks. And here, you must lay on the bed of your own making.

Ouch, he thinks. But the pain of knowing that he’ll soon leave you—there’s nothing you could have done to help him, y’know that, right?—is easily pushed aside when your cunt wraps ever tighter around him, squelching slick around the base of it for his viewing pleasure. The feathers that fall to signify his status of death compliment you well too, he thinks. Surrounding your shivering frame in a manner most befitting a God. Ruffled out of him with eager thrusts, his pace quickening under the tight squeeze of your cunt just begging for more. And he can’t hope to stop fucking into you from how good you feel now, choking him so nice and tight like you know this to be the end, causing him to fall further into you. One hand locked around your waist to keep you pinned in place, the other supporting his broad shoulders by your head. His nails dig into you, just a little, as if to communicate the gravity of his decision. “Love you—” he whispers fervently, cut off by a telling moan barely bitten back by his terse lips. “I love you, love you so much—” he whispers, not out of shame, but out of a want for you to be the only one to hear his prayers. “Love you so much it hurts—” he fucks into your harder now, harsher, communicating the significance of his existence, and the impact your life has had on his own tapering one, with how heavy his thrusts turn out to be. How with every fuck his halo shatters that little bit more, the tips of his wings turning to ash before his very eyes.

But he’s being honest, y’know, about how much it hurts to be so in love with you. His sacred lover, taking his cock so well, letting his limbs entangle with your own so that he can’t find where you start and he ends. It’s nice that way, right? A shared mix of fluids, your cunt leaking all over his cock— so much so that some of it spills down to his balls, causing a loud slap! to reverberate against your four small walls when his thrusts increase in speed, a desperate bid for more, more, more. He could never get enough of you, never in a million lifetimes. And he, too, spills precum against your walls. Drowning your cunt in his slick, an ever outpouring of his love for you through such seedy means; though God may not approve of his affections, you do, don’t you? Clawing at his tense arms, muscles taut under your loving scratches. He will not relent, not for a fucking second will he give you anything but his best. Because you’re his just as much as he is yours, and you deserve his loyal, unending thrusts. Fast enough to prompt him into adding more weight to your hips, just to keep you from being fucked up the bed. Deep enough to leave him breathless, heaving for those last few gulps of air he’s allowed under the heavy squeaks and squeals of the bed below him.

And oh, how lovely you sound when matching the bed. All high pitched and airy, the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss is almost too much for him to endure. His jaw snapping shut to grind his teeth, exhaling through his nose back down at you. He’s sure that he must looked so pained right now, fucking you so full of his fallen angel cock that he can barely keep up with himself, a mess of the man you fell in love with. Especially with the way his wings appear broken by now, crooked and mismatched, tainted by his profane reason for living, but he continues. Relentless in his loving assault, moving the hand on your hip down to your puffy clit once more in a final bid of defilement.

“C’mon—” he rasps, voice lost on him due to the oil that tars his system all clogged up, “I got you, jus’ one more, y’can do that fr’me, right?” he ends up pleading from you, humping into your tight hole with newfound carelessness in an effort to have you cream his cock— it’s all he wants, now, selfishly. To feel you reciprocate his dying wish in kind, his thumb slipping and sliding between your folds for a moment or two due to how hard and fast he fucks, leaving him a little off balance. But he finds you soon enough, cooing down at the way you whine and shiver from under him when he rubs sloppy circles against your sensitive clit. He knows you’re close— a lifetime with you offers him entrance to your secrets. The quiver of your thighs around him, as well as the repeated pulsing of your insides, squirming around his fast fucks, is all he needs to know that you’re close. So he doubles his efforts, pressing messily against your clit with half thrusts, focused more on your pleasure than his own, as per usual.

And he can hear just how much you appreciate it due to the small and forgiving sounding “Sammy—!” you whine, a knee-jerk reaction causing his hips to falter some more inside of you.

Instinct commands him to fall down, his body completely encasing your own in one fell swoop, frantic wings doing their best to cover your enjoyment from prying Godly eyes as his lips naturally find home on your neck for a heated kiss. He can’t breathe, suffocated by your tight heat, warm little hole soon creaming around his cock just like he wanted it to— but still he finds the strength to mutter a weak “Fuck— don’t— y’can’t sound that good, or I’m gonna—”

It’s prophetic, almost, how soon he follows suit. Coaxed into painting your insides white with fat ropes of cum the second your cunt starts to squeeze rhythmically around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth; which at this point is very little, but he does his best for you. It’s a surprise that he’s lasted this long, truth be told. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, he urgently pants hot air against your damp skin in between open mouthed kisses, downright desperate to keep your scent in his lungs, his own hair sticky with sweat too when he pushes ever closer towards you, driving his cock deeper against your womb in some vain attempt to leave a lasting memory of himself.

But here, he can do something, at least. A final hurrah, urged into action from how madly in love with you he is to the point of delirium. Feathers twitch behind him as he latches onto your neck with different purpose, grazing his teeth against that sweet spot of yours—the resulting soft sigh you exhale only has his cock throbbing some more, a few more drops of cum dripping to make your cunt extra sticky—before he sucks. Long and hard, using the last of his strength to leave a temporary mark, because God cannot even hope to take this part of him away from you. It’s outside of his jurisdiction, he hopes.

He heaves once he’s satisfied that he’s sucked on your neck sufficiently, pulling back to marvel at the wet bruise soon to bloom on your pliant skin. And, because he’s completely spent, he lets his cock drag out of you with a pop! A shared wince hissed amongst satisfied lovers, it’s so easy for him to fall by your side with a light oof.

“Gosh...” You gasp after a few moments of silence, embracing the mutual huffs and puffs for air with kindness and grace. He’s struggling, now, but his arm automatically snakes under your neck once again, and he instinctively pulls you closer like some home safety routine.

“Yeah,” he agrees with your wordless thanks, coughing to clear his throat— or is it to remove the barbed wire? He can’t distinguish clearly now, which must mean only one thing. “C’mon, I love you, but hurry an’ get back t’sleep. It’s late.”

He does his best to sound as caring and considerate as possible, releasing a sigh of relief when you smile a whispered yes boss before snuggling in closer, and a quick peek down at you as he offers you a last forehead kiss shows that your eyes are closed, and finally, he can fully relax by your side.

He doesn’t mean to rush you, but he’s been selfishly using borrowed time till now, and he doesn’t want to have you endure his ending whilst awake. So he, too, closes his eyes with you. Though he needn’t have to; angels don’t sleep. But it just feels natural to, humanities last gift. Rest, now, the moon implores him. Promise it’ll be like a dream.

And it’s not that he doubts Mother Earth, but rather, his brows furrow in confusion. But mom, he resembles that of a child. There is no better dream than her.

Nothing replies back to him, which he takes as mutual understanding. He’s correct in knowing that nothing could ever beat resting by your side, watching you fall back asleep peacefully, soundless in your blissful ignorance. He hopes that he’s warm enough for you to cuddle into, and that he’s left you feeling satisfied enough. He doesn’t think he could take not serving his God properly, as you deserve. That'd be a fate worse than death, no doubt.

Once more, he glances down at you. At the way your chest rises and falls wordlessly, such a simple detail to notice, but one that he hopes sticks with him through his nearby transition. You’re really pretty in the moonlight, y’know? And you suit his limited parting gift as well, all red and blotchy, but his mark. You're beautiful in your unknowing.

And his voice comes out before he has a chance to check himself, an unavoidable aspect to death, he supposes. Letting it all loose for you.

“When you wake up to a world absent of me, just know that you made me the happiest.”

He can’t stop himself, now. Quiet in his affections, pushing through the ache in his chest to say his final goodbyes.

“And I’ll miss you, like a lonely little dog.” He forces out cheap laughter, cheeks tinted warm from the sheer state of himself. “And I’ll wait for you, too.” He reassures you, flinching at the way his wings now stab into his back like iron daggers, their usual softness is nowhere to be found, besides amongst your bed sheets. Though he hopes, fucking prays that you’ll never find your way back to him. You deserve heaven, he thinks, as opposed to the exile he’ll soon be greeting for going against His word.

“Good dogs wait, right?” He coughs again, squinting at the specks of blood that spatter against his panting chest. “Was I good enough?” he questions you, not his God, the Earth, or anybody else. But you, who dozes so serenely beside him, unaware of his current predicament. He’s made quite sure of that. “Didn’t you say that all dogs go to heaven, even if they did some bad things?” Then why not him? Why not him? Was his sin far too egregious to be allowed in heaven? His crime of loving you?

It’s pointless, he realises, to ruminate. Taking to throwing his head back to stare up at the ceiling absentmindedly instead, and warmth spreads throughout his entire being in the action. He briefly wonders about who will look after you when he's gone, and how much he grieves for you already. The dim light from his broken halo is swollen with: love was here, as a defiance. And in between the cracks in smaller writing is: it still is. He thinks he will always wonder if he could have saved you from the pain, if only love could have saved you, then he'd still be here after you.

He will ask God why for the rest of time itself. And he knows, intimately now in the mundanity of it all, that he will never come to an understanding. Even if God himself came down for a personal chat to tell him the exact reason as to why he has been branded with sweet sin, he would never accept it. Could never accept it. With great love comes great pain, and my God, you were the greatest.

Thank you escapes his lips again, mouthed to the rickety old lampshade staring back down at him. Maybe he should have fixed that before tonight, too.

Maybe he should have—

taglist !! (i know this one is late im sorry i FORGOT i will add it to future writing tho !!)

@wrongdodo @loverboykirstein @buniieboo @bnvlntce @lovethethief @sashiavi @deepestnightcolor @kyrothehornypuppy @catboyjesus @mollybun @scrunkle-writings @girlconsume @quoththe-ravenn @anonymousren @nervous-obsolete @pastelhedgehog @kyrasmoon @cherryminxx

(praying that these work)

[caeunot]

hii first of all i love your writing and im so glad i came across your fics 🖤 i was wondering if you could maybe write a johnnie x fem reader, enemies to lovers fic? or something along the lines of johnnie and fem reader always bullying each other a bit only to realise they've been crushing on each other the whole time?

johnnie guilbert x reader

enemies to lovers 18+

➷ you hated his guts, everything about him irritated you and made your skin crawl. you are friends with jake and you absolutely love him to bits so you spending time with him normally equals to you having to be around johnnie. these feelings aren't without reason though, your not the type of girl to hate on others very easily.

it happened a few years back, when your own youtube career recently jumpstarted and you started spending time with other similar youtubers near you. this is how you originally met johnnie, even before jake. you were first invited to a party hosted by some popular la youtuber at the time and you obviously took the invite since you knew this would not only help you make more friends in the industry but to also promote yourself!

you were greeting everyone and taking many pictures as the night went on, fully using this opportunity to the best of your ability. as it hit 12 you decided to look around and scope out the last person you want to introduce yourself to before you head home. you saw a short-ish guy with deep red emo hair swooped to the side with harsh makeup around his eyes and you were immediately intriged. you preferred a more grunge look yourself so seeing someone with such familiar fashion made you feel at ease.

"hey im y/n!" you say, introducing yourself. "do I know you?" he says coldly as he turns to see who was speaking to him. "no but everyone will soon the way my channel is going" you say with some sass so you can counter his rudeness. "you have way too much confidence" he says with a smirk. "so I've been told".

"what's your name?" you ask, "my names johnnie, johnnie guilbert". "well nice to meet you johnnie" you say with a smile. "what do you do for a living? if I can ask", " I make youtube videos and I also make some music on the side!" he says. you two talk for a little longer before you check the time seeing its quite past what you had planned. "hey it was great meeting you! I don't want to stay too long so I think I should get going!"

as you say goodbye and walk away you feel him grab you by your wrist, you turn around. "wait don't go yet, your the most interesting person I've spoken to today and I don't want to go home just yet" you bite your lip, "fine, how about I just walk you to your car then". he rolls his eyes, "is that all? anyways I don't even have a car, I came with uber"

"wait why did you take an uber?", you say confused, "do I really have to say". "yes", " okay, I can't drive.. happy?" you scrunch up your face, you don't feel comfortable letting him go home with an uber this time of night. "I don't mind giving you a lift! then you can talk to me during the ride all you want"

you walked him to your car and he got in on the passenger seat, let me just say that convincing him to let you take him home was harder than you imagined, but you could see in his face he appreciated it.

"why are you doing this again?" he asks as you start driving. "because I'm a nice person and I don't trust ubers". he nods, "I like your piercings" he says, observing your face in the dim lighting. "thanks!" you say as you stick out your tongue, showing your snake eyes. "oh shit I've never seen that in person before, it looks great". you blush slightly, "it was pretty painful and it's hard to upkeep but I don't regret it at all".

he brushes his hands through his hair, probably anxious from the small talk. "this might sound weird but, do you have a girlfriend" you ask. "I don't, why?", "it's because I figured that if u did she would be the one driving u home from a party, so I was just curious". "haven't had one in years", he says leaning back. "really? your really hot so I'd imagine girls would be all over you".

he laughs, "maybe in the past but not anymore, my sense of fashion and my lack of confidence kinda makes getting a girlfriend hard" he says, opening up to you effortlessly. "I think emo guys are hot" you turn and look at him.

"what are you implying?" he says, giving a lewd grin. "that if I had the choice to either have sex with you or not have sex with you that I would". you notice him squirm slightly in his seat. "if you mean that, pull over" he says

you do as he says and you climb into the back seat. you crawl into his lap and find yourself grabbing and pulling on anything you can find as you feel his tounge slip deep into your mouth, tasting the alcohol he had ingested that night. you wish you could recall the rest but you were much drunker than you thought you were and ended up slightly blacking out.

the moral of the story is that you gave him your number, and he never came back after that. not a call, not even a single text. you never ever hooked up with guys, this was your first time. and you hate how knowing a guy for just one hour could make you feel such strong feelings towards him, for johnnies case those feelings were a mix of lust and disgust.

back to current times, you ended up meeting jake a year later and that's when you saw johnnie again for the first time since that night. but instead of apologizing or at least being honest he instead found himself ignoring you. this frustrated you the most, you despise a man who cannot own up to his actions, let alone not even acknowledging them. every time you found yourself around him you felt your blood boil and you just wanted to give him a peice of your mind, but you can't.

you can't since it's been 5 months since and neither of you have said anything at all, 5 months of pure pretend. jake noticed your dislike towards his roommate but he didn't want to get involved in any issues that didn't require him, which you appreciated greatly.

after a lot of convincing, jake did eventually get the both of you to film a video together with him. it was one of those food rating videos and the goal was to order one type of food for everyone, jake said that I will do the drinks, johnnie the main and jake the desert. you were dreading this.

and you have been dreading this day for the past month since jake started bringing it up. you couldn't even handle being in the same room as him for a few minutes let alone a whole video.

"let's plan what we will order now so that we don't have to think to hard tomorrow!' jake says as you sat down on the couch next to him and opposite from johnnie. "I already know what I'm making you guys eat", "let it be actual food and not just chicken nuggets please" jake says jokingly. "knowing johnnie he will probably poison mine" you say with a scoff. a few minutes later jake started getting a call from someone and had to leave, aka leaving you alone with johnnie.

"why would you say that?" johnnie said to you the moment jake left the room. "say what?", "say that I'd poison your food, it's rude". you laugh from the pure nerve this guy has. "don't fuck with me, don't act like your the victim here". "says the one starting unnecessary shit". " I'm not starting anything, you started and I'm just continuing". the tension in the room was cut as jake walks back in, "sorry guys that was my studio, anyways where were we!" he looks between the two of you and johnnie gets up and leaves, saying he's not feeling well.

that evening you sat down in the passengers seat of jakes car, you breathe in and out meditatively to calm your nerves. "okay everything is orderd we just gotta wait for the food!" jake says climbing into his seat of the car and started prepping for the recording. you fiddle with your rings and move around your hair for a solid 12 minutes before johnnie got in the car with the food in hand.

the video started off fine, you didn't laugh at his jokes and he didn't laugh at yours. you two didn't even make eye contact, that was untill it was jakes turn. "okay guys for johnnie I got him a really massive chocolate chip cookie because hes a basic bitch and I got y/n a gummy lunchable because she's never had one" you laugh since the idea for having gummy pizza seems so obscure. "jake that's so wrong you know I love lunchables". jake turns to you as if implying you should give him a piece.

"I rather not" you say softly, but not soft enough to where johnnie couldn't hear you, "it's literally just a lunchable what's your problem". " I never said I had a problem, it's not my fault you don't have manners and can't ask for something yourself". "I literally just said that I love lunchables, stop starting shit were recording".

jake turns around to face the both of you, "what the fuck guys, what's your problem", you look at johnnie, "ask him". " you guys are acting like fucking toddlers either tell me what happened or just sort your issues alone, like now" he says as he gets out of his car, "there's no point in keeping on filming so let's just go inside okay".

you go inside and sit down and you feel as if your in the third grade getting detention from your angry teacher Mr Webber. "so.. what happend, you two have been like this since the moment you met and I don't understand, y/n, johnnie,I love you both so much but I can't handle this bad energy", you stay quiet and so does johnnie. "okay if you guys are going to be like that I'm going to my room, just please sort something out because I promised our fans we were doing a collab". he says walking off into his room.

you bite the inside of your mouth and look around, not able to handle the awkward silence. "johnnie I just have to ask you one question, why?" he makes an upset face, "what do you mean 'why'", " you know what I mean" you say in almost a defeated tone. you stand up and walk towards where he is sitting, "I mean why didn't you text me back, why did you ghost me" he looks away. "don't be a coward please, im tired of our crap". upon hearing this he stands up.

"fine okay, I'm a fucking coward. I was too scared to message you back because I was drunk and you were drunk and I knew for a fact that nothing would happen between us because I mean look at you, your gorgeous and I know if we somehow started something in the future I would feel so guilty that we hooked up the night we met, I've only ever had sex with two people y/n!! that's you and my ex and I feel guilty for it every day because sleeping with random people is not me!!"

your feel as if your in shock, almost frozen in place. you brush your hand through your hair about to say something but nothing comes out. "I never met to hurt you at all I just, I'm stupid I'm fucking st-" you cut him off by putting your lips on his, he doesn't push you away and instead takes his arms and grabs onto you tight while pushing you against the nearest wall. "I sware I'm not usually like this" he says, breaking the kiss,"you just.. do something to me"

'fuck' you mutter as you grab onto his hair as the kiss becomes more and more passionate. he takes his hands off the wall and starts to remove your baby tee, exposing your lacy black bra. as he did this you hear something behind you and look to see jake, his mouth dropped right to the floor. johnnie immediately stood in front of you to cover your exposed skin and when he heard jake walk away he helped you put your shirt back on. "I'm so sorry" he says with the most guilty look on his face.

"shh don't be it's okay!" you say holding his face and giving him a soft kiss, "I definitely overreacted to everything because of how much I liked you, it hurt me so much that someone I felt so strongly about could shove me aside like you did". " I haven't gone a day without regretting what I did" he says. you felt so relieved that this issue between you two was finally sorted out.

"what now?" you ask, indentifying the elephant in the room. "its my turn to say sorry I shouldnt have kissed you like that it was impulsive and careless of me".

"y/n". " yes?", you ask completely confused. "I've never met someone I've wanted more then you in this moment, I want you and all of you" he says walking towards you and holding your waist, "let's not torture each other as we have, please" you smile "I'm all yours".

❣

[christronomy]

Hi!! Its the anon who sent in the chan car ride hard thought with the insta reel, if u remember me. But i have came to give u a new hard thought. First off, HAVE YOU SEEN THE VID OF CHAN DOING THAT LIL FINGER MOVE IN HALL OF FAME?!? i feel dizzy. 😵‍💫 anyways, onto my hard thought, picture this, y/n is scrolling on twt and that tweet that says imagine chan fingering you till you cry (or sum like that i hope you know what tweet im talking abt) and it has the chan vid attached to it, THEN BANGCHAN COMES INTO THE ROOM AND CATCHES Y/N AND FINGERS HEER OMGGGG (also i jus noticed that i used twt and tweet instead of X, sorry lol)

of course i remember you! hi, love! and YES, of course i saw that tweet, and i feel totally not normal about it! i would link them but i can't remember which accounts they're from sigh. also i hate calling it "x" bc cause wtf is that. LMAO

but onto this gem of a thought. honestly, he'd tease you so much if he caught you gushing over those tweets, he'd be so sweet about it though. if you don't mind i wanna add some more to this under the cut cause it just came to mind hehe (it's so long and i didn't proof read. help).

he caught you trying to finger yourself in his dorm room after spending almost hours scrolling through your timeline. you weren't really expecting to see anything interesting, but the only thing that popped up was the clips of him and that finger movement that caught your attention and immediately drove you insane. you couldn't help but keep watching the same clip over and over again in awe. it was just so attractive, especially when he made that certain expression and looked right straight at the camera, almost as if he were looking right at you.

so here you were now, desperately bucking your hips up against your hand, sticking your fingers as far inside your cunt as you could, palming your clit to gain some extra friction. you whined exasperatedly as you failed miserably yet again, not being able to get that stimulation you so desperately wanted.

chan got home a few minutes ago, so he's already been watching you, chuckling to himself softly cause you just look so cute like that—legs spread, face flushed a bright red, fucking your fingers in and out of your sopping hole. you keep going for a few more minutes, until you finally toss your head back to groan in frustration because it's just not enough.

his cock is already twitching, straining in his pants at the sight of you, so he can't help but open the door, and he finds it cute how you immediately close your legs and draw your hand back, the surprise of having been caught in the act showing on your face. he laughs softly and sits next to you on the bed. "what's wrong, love? you upset?" he asks, his tone teasing, yet sweet, and you can tell it's because he knows exactly what you were doing.

you nod and sigh, trying your best to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why you were naked on your boyfriend's bed, alone, when you knew he'd always expected you to wait for him whenever you needed to get off. "i was scrolling through twitter, and i saw these tweets about you... i got curious so i spent a while looking at them, and then..." you trail off with a gasp as he suddenly grabs your phone from where you'd put it next to you on the bed. you try to snatch it back, but he's a lot quicker than you. he scrolls a little bit, his expression serious, and then a smug smile plays at the corner of his lips as he looks at you again.

"aw baby, is this why you were so hot and bothered?" he asks, as he shows you one of the clips he was looking at, the same one from earlier, and your face turns an even darker shade of red as you nod. "that why you were using your cute little fingers, even though you know they're not good enough? you've got me right here. you could've asked me instead of just watching videos of me. i'll do whatever you want as long as i can make you feel good."

you feel like you're melting at the way condescension practically drips off his tongue, and you let him spread your legs for you again, this time using his own fingers to tease your swollen bud. he's such a dream come true. "'m sorry i couldn't wait for you," you start, but he shushes you softly. "that's okay, baby. i'm here now. i can help you," he says, and you want to thank him, but your words are cut short by the almost embarrassingly loud squeal that escapes your throat when he suddenly sticks his pointer and middle fingers in without warning, curling them just right, just like in that clip, finally giving you that pleasure you'd been chasing for hours now.

he watches you intently, from the way your back arches, to the way you clench around his fingers, but his expression stays blank. it doesn't take you that long to cum, and when you do, he doesn't stop. you look at him with furrowed brows, whining from the overstimulation, and he simply chuckles at your expression, not saying anything as he keeps torturing your walls with his fingers mercilessly. he's pushing you close to the edge all over again surprisingly quickly, and once you reach your second orgasm, you're already asking him to slow down, stop for a minute, so you can catch your breath. still, he doesn't. by the time you reach your fourth orgasm, you're already a sobbing stuttering mess as he makes you even more dumb on his fingers, begging him to stop, but that only makes him go much faster, his palm smacking your clit as he does so.

"this how needy you are for me? wanting to get yourself off without me cause of some video? you poor thing, thinking your fingers alone would satisfy you. you know you can't do it without me. guess i just have to remind you, hmm?"

[imbestforyou]

you belong with me

pairing: jj maybank x bestfriend!reader

summary: reader is in love with jj, but jj’s dating another girl…

warnings: unmutual pining, minor profanity, poorly edited, cliffhanger (sorry i got lazy), short pt. 2 if people want it idk, little angst and fluff

approx. reading time: 8 minutes and 30 seconds

writing inspo: you belong with me (taylor’s version) by taylor swift

masterlist :)

“wait what?” i exclaimed. i was sitting in sarah’s room listening to her talk about her day at the beach with the pogues.

“yes i swear! he brought emily there and had his arm wrapped around her and everything! didn’t even surf, which is crazy for jj.”

“so he must be serious about this girl, right?” i sighed as i layed on her bed. i couldn’t believe it. jj maybank? in a relationship with a kook girl?

“i mean i don’t know much. but if i’m being honest, he didn’t seem that interested in her.” she talked as she curled her hair for her date with john b. i stayed silent. i couldn’t believe it.

————————————————————————————

“hey y/n!” i stopped in my tracks. i knew that voice all too well. and it was the voice of someone i had been ignoring for the past two weeks. i turned slowly to face him.

“hey.” i said looking at the floor. purposely avoiding eye contact. it wasn’t that i didn’t want to see jj, i did. but it hurt to know he was dating someone else. especially emily, someone who was drastically different from me, from all the pogues to be honest.

“i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever. what’s up with that? sarah told me you’ve been sick, but i told her that was bullshit. you haven’t gotten sick since like the 3rd grade.” he grabbed me by the shoulders playfully. i look up to see emily staring at me from the bar.

“uh yeah. i don’t know what happened. probably got it from my parents after they came back from new york.” it was a lie. my parents hadn’t been to new york in ages.

with emily giving me a death stare and jj touching me, i was feeling claustrophobic and a little freaked out, “anyways look i’ll see you later. i have to get home and get some homework done.” i turn around and start walking before he can begin a sentence.

————————————————————————————

you're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

she's going off about something that you said

‘cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

my eyes were closed while i sunbathed on the beach before i was interrupted by another call on my phone.

jj <3 - 3 missed calls

jj <3 - calling now

“hello?”

“y/n? y/n! hey how- how are you doing?” he stutters a bit.

“hey i’m doing fine? are you okay? you sound a little weird.”

“i’m good just pissed at emily.” he huffed.

“ahh emily. so how is your new girlfriend?”

“she’s pissed at me for some lame joke i made with pope. and she called attacking me and shit because i was being a douchebag or something.”

“ha what else is new.” i joke. and he laughs which stops my heart for a minute. i pause then ask,

“what was the joke?” i ask, curious to know why emily would be so upset.

“i told her the dress she was wearing looked like a hospital gown and she got all pissed. wasn’t even a good joke…” he mumbled.

i laughed, he was right. it wasn’t, i could think of thousands of jokes better, but i could tell it must’ve been an attempt to make emily and pope laugh.

“i guess she doesn’t get your humor.”

“guess not…” he sighs then starts again,

“hey l was wondering if you wanted to hang out later. i don’t know i’ve been feeling really distant from you recently.

“yeah i’m sorry about that, um so like with the pogues or…?”

“nah just yo- sorry hold that thought emily’s calling me and i really don’t want to make her more mad. i’ll call you back.”

he never called back.

————————————————————————————

im in the room, it's a typical tuesday night

im listening to the kind of music she doesn't like

and she'll never know your story like I do

a week had passed and he still hadn’t called me. i wasn’t even trying to ignore him anymore, he just was never around. school had ended and summer break had finally begun. and still no call.

as i layed on my bed and sang along to “the blue” by gracie abrams, sarah tries convincing me to talk to jj.

“why don’t you just call him? see what’s up? it’s not like him to be this distant. it’s with john b too, hasn’t been to the chateau recently. and you know how his dad is.”

“a shitty father is what he is.” i spit out. even though i was irritated at jj for not even trying to keep any communication between any of the pogues my hatred for luke will always be worse.

i sit up, “look he’s probably fine and with emily. i’ll talk to john b to get him to chill. but honestly i don’t think jj wants to keep contact with any of us. if he wanted to he would have.”

“i don’t know, you should call him. emily has like tied him up all for herself. have you noticed that?”

but she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts

shes cheer captain and im on the bleachers

dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find

that what you're looking for has been here the whole time

“i mean i think everyone has. or that fact that she’s nothing like any of us and exactly like the type of girl he would make fun of.”

“a kook princess, like what i was.”

“exactly. i don’t want to judge him but why would he go into a relationship with someone who he so obviously doesn’t like?”

“something is up y/n. go figure it out.” she grabbed my car keys and pushed me out the door.

————————————————————————————

standing by and waiting at your back door

all this time, how could you not know, baby?

you belong with me, you belong with me

i take a deep breathe before knocking at his door.

no response. i knock again.

“hello! anyone home?”

“shut the hell u- y/n?” jj opens the door.

“hi- hey i just came to check on you. can i come in?”

he turns back, no doubt looking for his father. “probably not the best idea.”

“yeah- yeah uh wanna go to mine? so we can talk?” he nods and shuts the door behind him. he doesn’t make eye contact but all i can do is stare at the blood on his face and knuckles.

oh, I remember you driving to my house

in the middle of the night

im the one who makes you laugh

when you know you're 'bout to cry

and I know your favorite songs

and you tell me 'bout your dreams

think I know where you belong

think I know it's with me

i unlock my house from the back door to hopefully not make as much noise. my parents couldn’t find out i was sneaking in a boy in the middle of the night. i hurriedly close the door to my room and turn to him.

“are you okay?” i spill out.

“yes.” he’s quiet, that’s not the jj i know.

“you know you can talk to us, right? like any of the pogues, we’re here for you. i’m here for you.” i move closer and touch the blood on his forehead, and he winces. his head is sticky, like if he had been sweating. and i can’t decide whether it’s because of the humidity or if he was fighting with his father. probably both.

“luke?” he just nods. my heart breaks for him. i grab his hand and let him sit on my bed. i grab my first aid kit and rubbing alcohol and get to work on the blood and bruises on his hand and knuckles.

we sit in comfortable silence. but it was mostly me waiting to see if he was going to talk about his dad.

“i didn’t want to ignore you guys.” he speaks so low, i almost couldnt hear him. i kneel down so i can look at his face.

“then why did you?”

“i- i told my dad something, stupid i know. but he blew up on me a couple weeks ago. told me his boss had a nice daughter named emily my age. said if i could get with her, he’d get more money or some shit. i don’t know i guess i wanted to make him proud. so i- i started dating her. kept fucking it up and he would beat the shit out of me. didn’t want you guys to see me like that.”

i sighed. my hands were holding his for comfort. something we’d done since we were kids but felt really unfamiliar now.

“what’d you tell your dad to make him set you up with emily?”

he coughed, “told’m that i loved someone.”

my heart dropped for the second time in two months. why did i even think for a second that’d i’d have a chance? i told myself we belonged together.

“oh.” i got up and released my hands from his. suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. i cleared my throat.

“um well, i have some sleeping bags in my closet and if you want you can sleep in my bed or um whatever feels more com-“

“i told him i loved you.”

[invertedheaven]

If You Really Love Nothing

chapter 7: pink cotton candy

chapter index | next chapter

As you stood over the stove making breakfast, gojo joined you in the kitchen making a cup of coffee for himself you spoke up

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday but yuji knows about sukuna and I, he confronted me about it”

Gojo glanced at you before stirring way too much sugar into his cup “and airi?”

You shook your head in response so he continued

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know, more curious as to how he found out but I guess I’m okay… I didn't tell him anything important though” you paused for a moment “he wanted to know why we broke up”

“Yeah, don’t we all” gojo tried to joke, “what did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t know, and that it was sukunas doing” you shrugged

Gojo was slightly surprised that you were honest about it with yuji but before he could speak the conversation was interrupted by airi tugging on your pants

“Mommy im hungry”

“I know baby, I’m making breakfast right now” you bent down to pick her up while giving her a kiss on the cheek

“I was thinking… we should go to the winter festival they’re having in the city, they have lots of food y’know” gojo spoke with a mischievous smile knowing if he asked in front of airi, you probably wouldn’t say no

You shoot him a glare because now airi would only want to do that and sure enough she gasped excitedly “Please! Please mommy can we go today?”

“Not today airi, satoru and megumi have work and school” you responded to which airi pouted

Gojo shrugs “we can go after it doesn’t start up until 5 anyways”

Airi turned to look at you with a pout and eyes that could make anyone with a heart cave, you sighed turning your glare back to gojo “fine but you need to ask megumi if he wants to go”

“Done!” Gojo shouted before he took a sip from his coffee, burning his tongue

Airi asks to be put down and as you place her on the ground, megumi walks into the kitchen as well

“Good morning megumi” you smiled at him and he simply nodded back

“We’re going to the winter festival today, you wanna come?” Gojo asked

Megumi looked as if he was gonna say no after all, it was his last week of school so hes been studying for finals including helping yuji study as well, but before he could answer airi ran up to him

“please gumi” she asked but she sounded a bit sad

Megumi hadn’t realized that by having to keep yuji from airi that meant that he was also distancing himself from her and she had no idea why. To airi, megumi used to be around a lot more and he would play tea party or color with her, he’d even brush her dolls hair when she asked. Airi liked satoru too but obviously megumis presence was missed and you’re sad that you hadn’t realized it sooner.

Megumi felt guilty saying no now, seeing how his answer could greatly affect airis mood for the day, “yeah, ill come with” he half smiled

“Are you sure? I know you have finals” you spoke up giving him an apologetic look

“Yeah, it’s fine yuji has plans today too anyways so studying wasn’t gonna last all that long” he shrugged really, he wasn’t too worried about finals for himself

Airi was now beyond excited despite being a picky eater she really hoped there was gonna be desserts, not anything specific all she knows is that she likes sweet stuff. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too, you’ve missed the quality time of all 4 of you together. You weren’t looking forward to having to bundle airi up in a million jackets because she hates it more than anything.

——

Sukuna walked into the building like he owned the place, ready to finalize the deal with Gojo Sr. A part of him felt annoyed that he didn’t use this time of being close to Gojo, in proximity at least, to find out anything about you. He eyed the receptionist as soon as she came into view, he’d been flirting with her in past visits trying to see if shed be dumb enough to spill anything.

His first visit he tried to get information out of Gojos secretary but she was surprisingly stubborn, telling him if he had any personal inquiries about her or gojo that she wouldn’t answer. The receptionist on the other hand seems persuadable, if not at least for gossip— which he couldn’t believe he’d stooped so low for. Before Sukuna reached her, he really couldn’t remembered her name, gojo greeted her and made some small talk, which annoyed Sukuna greatly at first but he quickly figured he could make this work to his advantage.

“Well, I’ll see you rei!” Gojo said cheerfully while waving, sukuna only caught the tail end of what gojo said but it didn’t matter. The white haired bastard hadnt even noticed sukuna as he walked away from ‘rei’, at least sukuna knows her name now.

Rei was blushing and smiling like a fool at her interaction with gojo that she didnt notice sukuna until he spoke up “your boyfriend?” Her reaction was ridiculous her posture straightened up and she struggled to find words

“Ah sukuna! Its been so long” she smiled at him nerves still on edge, he felt nothing but annoyance looking at her, yeah she was pretty but she wasn’t you “no, thats not my boyfriend, he’s one of my bosses”

Sukuna just continued to stare hoping she’d say more, to his luck she did “I wish” she joked “but every girl is in love with him, plus I think he’s in a relationship, pretty sure they live together”

Not what sukuna wanted to hear at all, not in the slightest but he decided to swallow the anger “really?” He said exaggeratedly acting fake invested

Rei rolled her eyes at him but she laughed and continued “mhm, rumor has it they have a kid too”

sukunas teasing smirk drops and he feels sick but she continued as she focused her eyes on the computer in front of her “but I don’t believe it apparently the kid is in high school, I think gojo is too young to be a dad to a high schooler” she shrugged

Never in sukunas life did he think he’d be so relieved for the existence of gojos brat, of course she was talking about that fushiguro kid. Honestly, had he not been reminded of fushiguros existence thanks to yujis incompetence, he would’ve really thought the rumor was true. Which would’ve faced him with a reality he refused to think about. The most shocking aspect was how little anyone knew of gojos personal life— it seemed like he tried very hard to keep it under wraps

“Thats fascinating” sukuna said sarcastically

Rei laughed “you asked, no need to be rude about it”

That kind of teasing annoyed Sukuna because if it wasn’t you he wouldn’t allow anyone to talk to him like that but if he wants actual answers he might have to play along

“hmmm and how do you know all this?” sukuna teased

“My best friend is his secretary, but it also spreads around the office pretty fast any time theres something new” she typed something before looking at sukuna “I mean I’ve seen a picture of his supposed girlfriend before she’s beautiful but he could do better”

At this sukuna no longer felt like entertaining this woman, because the nerve this girl had to insult you like that made him sick. He doesn’t even know where the defensiveness came from, he owes you nothing but hearing rei slander you, being dead wrong too, struck a nerve. Sukunas smile dropped again and this time she saw it before she could ask what’s wrong sukuna spoke up

“Im done here” his voice having lost his teasing tone and instead replaced with a cold and empty tone that gave her a chill down her spine, completely thrown off by his change of attitude

Rei knew she’d tell Hana about this later, but she ultimately shrugged it off. Sukuna sulked throughout his meeting and felt great annoyance towards you, despite the fact that you did nothing. Not that he wanted to trust office gossip but sukuna was now moving with the idea that you and gojo were in fact together. But what sat in his brain the most was the idea that you could actually have kids with gojo, even if it ended up being megumi that rei was talking about the very idea irked him beyond belief. He didnt particularly want kids, they were gross, loud and annoying truly something he did not want to deal with. Yet the idea that it could be a possibility for you and gojo pissed him off more than he thought it would.

——

Yuji did in fact have plans that he thought were definitely more important than studying for finals— going to the movies. He was going to meet his friend at the theater but didn’t account for the festival that was taking place on the same street as the theater. His friend, junpei, had said he was running late so yuji wasn’t too worried about the crowd he had to work through to get there.

Although, he was tempted to grab something to eat so he slowed down to look at the food options. Each booth looked so good that he was half tempted to ditch the movie and just eat the rest of the night, unfortunately he did not have enough money for that. As he continued walking, he saw a familiar head of white hair peeking from the crowd, his brain immediately thought of gojo because that was the only person with white hair tall enough to tower over people.

As he got closer he instantly recognized fushiguro as well, you were there too but what he noticed was that gojo was holding a kid, that was probably the niece you babysit, right?

“I want that one!” Airi pointed at the pink cotton candy one booth booth was selling

“Okay but I want the blue one” gojo replied

You watched as satoru bought both options anyways and airi looked ecstatic. You were glad airi got distracted by the food because she started to complain about the layers of clothes she was wearing. She hated the beanie and gloves the most, and you had to stop her from trying to take the scarf off even though it was incredibly cold.

"Can I try that" airi asked while pointing at gojos cotton candy

"Baby, you said you wanted the pink one, that's satorus" you reminded her even though you knew he'd give her some anyways you didnt want her to become spoiled

"Only if you say please" gojo smiled

"please" airi pouted and gojo gave her a small piece of his

You rolled your eyes "gojo you cant spoil her y'know"

"its just cotton candy what's the harm"

And before you could argue back airi took another even bigger piece from satorus cotton candy. Which made him look at you with shock, prompting a laugh from you

Megumi oddly enough felt peaceful, it felt like the times before itadori came around and the energy around the house wasn’t so tense. It’s not that the tension came from anything inherently negative, nobody acted any differently, its just a similar feeling to when you get your report card from school and try to hide it from your parents. He was glad he was friends with itadori, but maybe the guilt is getting to him too. Megumi knows itadori tends to be alone a lot, he’ll act like it doesn’t get to him but megumi knows better.

“Do you know what you want?” Your voice cut off megumis thoughts

“Nothing in particular, I’m still looking” megumi shrugged

It was loud, seeing as there were a lot of people around so megumi thought he was imagining when he heard his name being called. Until he noticed you and gojo heard it too— the voice even sounded incredibly familiar. Airi was too busy eating her cotton candy to notice the way you, megumi and gojo looked at each other unsure of what to do next as the voice you all knew belonged to itadori got closer

“Fushiguro! What are you doing here?”

next chapter

[icarusredwings]

Beach day filler episode

Thinking about my au thing and if they went to the beach. Who's here:

Scott, Hank, Remi, Kurt, Kevin, Piotr, Wade, Logan, Forge, and Johnathan. The ACTUAL Wolverine.

Jean, Ororo, Rouge, Laura, Ellie, Yukio, Jubilee, Gabby, and Mary puppins. The dog.

As a treat, They all loaded up and went to the beach, infact they actually rented it for the day. Didn't know you could rent a beach, could you? Well, you can, actually. Esspecially when you're the fucking Xmen.

The very first thing that happened when they arrived was Scott playing daddy and forcing everyone to put on sunscreen. (But forgot himself)

Despite Wade pointing out that literally all of his skin is cancerous anyway, Logan slathered him with it, borderline wrestling him to put it on but turns out sunscreen is very slippery and when your opponet keeps getting wrestle-boners (as he called them) he too ended up with a lot of sunscreen on him too.

Hank then brought up the fact that he couldn't really put on sunscreen because.. well... he has fur. This was followed by Kurt arguing that he wasn't putting sunscreen in his fur either. "Uhm... well.. I suppose you have a point." So both the blue boys got away with not having any.

Here's some things that are happening:

Storm, Jean, and Mary puppins are relaxing while lying back on the beach, talking about how silly the younger ones are being and gossiping about their husbands.

Remi is hunting for seashells for Rouge.

Kurt caught a tadpole and held it in his hands for a bit to tease the girls with it. Wade, being the curious little thing that he is, looked at it too and waved it off when they let it go, frowning.

"Aww! Why'd you have to let him go? That was my friend!"

"Zometimes zhe best zhing you can do for a fwiend iz wet zhem go."

"....Im starting to notice a pattern of speech on this team."

"Vhat?"

"Exactly."

Hank asked, "Are you sure this water is sanitary?" In which he was laughed at but reassured it was "much cleaner than the swamp I grew up in" by Remi, who did end up finding some shells for his chere.

At some point during the day, Forge brought people drinks, coming to the girls first with a "Ladies. Godess." Towards Ororo, who couldn't help but roll her eyes fondly as Jubilee giggled. She loved a good romance story.

Yukio announced that she was building a sand castle and approximately 5 grown men joined her. Guess which ones. It was massive. Like- prize worthy good. They even all took a picture with it. Its going above the fire place at home.

Sometime between things, Logan started grilling, telling a whiney Wade, kevin and Kurt that No. He was NOT going swimming with them and they all know better then to ask.

You won't believe who's the one who actually got him to sit a foot in the water, near the shore.

Now, Colossus and Morph (who is using his powers to also be Colossus to match his height) is playing "Water chicken" with Jubilee and Rouge. Next, after that was Ororo and Jean and then a mix of everyone else who wanted to play.

Ellie and Laura talked about how cringy the adults were being. "Esspecially my father."

"Which one?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Both of them.... Wade is not my dad."

"That's valid."

Gabby challenged Kurt to a hand stand contest, and he lost on purose so she could win, parading her around on his shoulders to Logan, who high fived her and then told her to go attack Wade, who was starting to sit by himself and stare at the waves with a look in his eyes that he didn't like. "No, not like that! I meant - damn it, Gabby!! I meant jump on him or something not stab him in the eye!"

This is when Jean giggles and says. "Kids, am I right?" And Logan lets out a huge sigh. "Tell me about it."

For some reason, Johnanthan really is interested in Mary Puppins. "He's probably just trying to figure out if she's a rat a dog or some kind of secret third option."

"Oh well. Puppins is fixed, so im not worried about it- but I swear if you hurt her! You'll be a hat!"

For most of the day, despite everything, Scott (for once in his damn life) seemed relaxed. He was so relaxed that he got a massive sunburn after falling asleep with "LASIK" written on his lower back like a tramp stamp. The only thing that could be done by someone who purposly applied sunscreen to him in this way.

Still, 3 days later, no one will fess up or admit to it, but Logan has a certain smirk whenever he passes him in the hall.

You honestly would just label this "The Wolverine's family and the Summer's go to the beach" because that's bassically what happened. Other than all of this and all the blood left on the beach, They all had a blast. Except for Scott, of course. I'll give you one hint.

Don't fuck with redheads.

[echantedtoon]

Im just going to be doing this third installment for the rest of the most memorable demons (minus Rui's siblings, Spider Mother, Rui himself, Nezuko, Daki, and Genya again for VERY obvious reasons) on who I think is the best and worst dads/moms. No real order this time tho.

MUZAN:

-He would be a mixed up bag of good and bad traits tbh. When you first told him he flat out told you to stop teasing him. "Stop your childish games. It's a waste of time." You legit have to go get Kokushibo and have him look over your form through the transparent world and have him confirm to Muzan that you were indeed NOT lying or trying to prank him for Muzan to believe you.

-He's oddly silent for a long moment after just staring at you for a long while before going "Oh...Well this is a surprising turn of events."

-He can absolutely act like he's invested in his child and loves them. He's an asshole but a very convincing one to where even you couldn't tell if he was genuine or not. How he is towards the child is a mixed bag in of itself. He doesn't treat the child with harm or too much aggression. If anything he's actually more curious about seeing what a demon-human hybrid could accomplish.

-Look. Your child is either fully demon or fully human with your mixed genes. There's no in-between. If it's fully human then he's rather disappointed in the result. In turn he loses a lot of interest in the kid and just allows you to essentially raise them yourself without too much interference. He might change the child into a demon when they get older but overall wouldn't see much point in bothering with the tyke.

-If the child is demon THEN he will have a bigger interest. He's disappointed when you both find out that your child is in fact NOT immune to sunlight but he was already anticipating that anyways. He's very invested in making the perfect heir for himself.

-VERY strict perfectionist. Your child will be very smart, a good fighter, and as dangerous as a lower moon by the time they're eight because of their father's teachings. But at what costs?

-You wouldn't get to have a say in much of anything in their raising then.

-He plans out their schedule every day AND night for everything: Education, training, discipline, sleep, times they are to eat and who they interact with and when- He has very strict rules and if they aren't followed then they're training time is much more harsher. By default he also plans yours as the child's mother.

4½/10 Only because of the mixed bag of parenting style otherwise I'd score him much lower however an in between seems about right.

SPIDER FATHER:

-He's a good dad in Rui's opinion to Rui but no one else and honestly I hate how he treats practically everyone else.

0/10 for obvious reasons

YUSHIRO:

-Honestly not as bad of a father as one might assume. Whether the baby is between himself and Tamayo or himself and Y/n doesn't matter. He loves them all the same. Doesn't even care if they're human, demon, or a hybrid.

-Was shocked but not too shocked by the news of becoming a father, but it did take him a whole ass week to really come to terms with it.

-He's very skilled in medicine being Tamayo's assistant so he's able to help a lot with the baby's mother's pregnancy. Tonics to help her sore throat after they vomit, cures for aches and pains especially with swollen ankles, check ups to make sure baby's healthy. He's VERY attentive to his partner and their mental, physical, and emotional needs. Doesn't mean he's not a nervous wreck tho.

-Despite already knowing medical procedures including the birth, he still researches LOTS. Best educational toys, best fabrics to lessen the irritation of the baby's sensitive skin, etc- This man goes above and beyond so much it worries the mother. Tamayo has to get involved in order for him to be convinced to calm down.

-Is literally a nervous wreck when his child is born. Messy hair, bags under his eyes, nervous pacing- He doesn't faint but for a long while after the baby's born he'll just sit down and stare at the closest wall blankly and silently- "Yushiro, are you alright?" "Oh yes. Perfectly fine." "Then why are you just sitting there?" "Just...having a moment, Dear." Give him a moment. His brain is still processing the chubby sleeping mass in his arms after so long.

-Once reality finally slaps his brain into gear, he just cries. Good tears going down his face as he blubbers and holds his baby close to him on instinct. Praises mama too. Commenting on how baby is as beautiful as her and they have her eyes.

-Terrified and protective dad. He knows the dangers and keeps baby at home with mom safely tucked away in their hidden home away from danger. Only takes them out when both himself and Tamayo go somewhere. Strength in numbers.

-Loves holding his baby and sharing his painting hobby. Tamayo found him holding baby as they messily slapped hands full of paint all over a canvas. "Yushiro, what are you doing?" "Exploring their artistic skills of course."

-Man hangs all of his child's artwork proudly on the walls. Once nearly threw hands when one of Tamayo's patients said it wasn't that great.

-He can be very strict or hard on his child due to stress, fear, or stubbornness however and it has lead to some loud fights.

8/10 best father on this list no doubt

SWAMP DEMON:

-Have you seen how creepy he is in Kimetsu Gauken?? Absolutely NOT!

-0/10 Id rather take my chances with Muzan with a massive temper

TAMAYO:

-Is already an experienced parent having prior experience with her past family she lost. So she would definitely know what she's doing and what needs to be done. Already a good start.

-Is very calm and casual about the entire process as she's been through it before although Yushiro is practically worrying his entire hairline off fussing over her. Even though she tells him multiple times to stop worrying so much.

-Can really take care of herself through the entire process being a doctor and a previous mother before so there's really no complications outside of having to stay hidden for safety reasons.

-Has already prepared, planned, and set up a nursery with all the essentials on top of having an emergency bag in case they have to flee right away.

-Yushiro becomes the de fault uncle/dad figure worrying over the baby and crying when Tamayo allows him to hold baby and help care for it while she's busy. He becomes very protective and attached to mini Tamayo.

-Very good parent. Rarely if ever raises her voice to her child. Teaches them everything she knows about medicine and other skills so her child grows to be very smart. Has Yushiro help train them with his attack mode in case they ever have to fight anyone.

-Only downside is that she is unsure if she should offer her medicine to baby if they were born demon in fear it might harm them.

10/10 best mother out of all the demons in kny

[ughgoaway]

White Christmas

Content warnings; blowjobs, face fucking, facials/cumming on face, degrading, dumbification, swearing, bad writing and cumplay.

a/n; hey y’all… apparently we are feeling horny this Christmas, so I decided to write some (mediocre) smut! This was all inspired by @abiiors making a joke about a “white Christmas” so you all have her to blame. This is basically an expansion of the letters O and K from my nsfw alphabet the other day because they were some of my favourite bits!! Anyway, merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy??

p.s; im not sure if this will stay up long, ik I say that most times, but honestly, this time, I really don't know if this will be here long lmaoooo

word count; 2.2k ish (pretty short one today bc i wrote it so last minute lol)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

“We’re off now! See you both in a few hours!” Denise yelled back as she and Annie walked out the front door. Mayhem was pulling at the lead with so much strength that she was sure he could pull her arm out of her socket. 

“Alright, see you both later!” You say waving them off. Denise and Annie had decided to take mayhem for a long Christmas walk around the lake and then planned on popping into the only cafe open on Christmas for a couple of hot chocolates, leaving you and Matty to relax on your own for a few hours.

You come into the front room and perch on the sofa next to Matty as he shoves the remaining wrapping paper in a bin bag. He was in full dad-at-Christmas mode, grabbing the paper off people before they'd even finished opening their presents.

He finally settled back on the sofa with a sigh, looking at you with love-filled eyes and a soft smile on his lips, it was then you decided it was the perfect time to show Matty his final gift.

“Okay, I've got one more present for you handsome” You smirk at Matty and stand from the sofa, hurrying towards your bedroom, brimming with anticipation. 

“Baby, we said only one gift each!” Matty shouts after you. He tries to sound stern, but he can't help the smile that sneaks on his face as he speaks, and it's clear as day in his voice. 

“You’ll like it, I promise” You peek your head around the corner and wink at Matty before scurrying off again, leaving him confused but certainly curious. 

5 minutes later, Matty hears you coming down the stairs and turns his head to see you, but snaps it right back when he hears you shout, “Okay, keep your eyes closed!!” he giggles to himself but follows your instructions, shutting his eyes tight. 

“Okay sweetheart, all closed” Matty yells back. He listens for you coming in and has to fight the urge to open them as soon as he feels your presence. 

Matty is pretty sure he could pick you out of a lineup blindfolded, from the first moment he met you he had memorised how you feel around him. He took note of the lingering jasmine that followed you wherever you went and the feeling of warmth that surrounded you.

“Open,” you say shyly. 

As Matty blinked open his eyes, and immediately his face scrunched in confusion. He was expecting you to be standing in front of him with a box in your arms, but there was no sign of you.

Or he thought there wasn't, until he felt a warm hand on his thigh and flicked his eyes downwards. 

“Fuck.” he grunted, staring down at you in awe. 

You were on your knees between his legs, dressed in only bright red lacy lingerie. Delicate bows sat at the top of the straps, in the centre of your chest, and at the waistband of your panties, with thin straps trailing over your collarbones. The lace was transparent, highlighting your pebbled nipples and weepy cunt. Matty could see the darker maroon lace of your panties and could feel himself salivating at the sight.

His stance widened instinctively, and you slid closer to him, already tracing his thigh with a featherlight touch. Red gloves cover your hands to match, the satin shining from the fairy lights spread around the room.

Also coordinating was your makeup. Matty watched your cherry-red glossy lips part as you palmed over his trousers, moaning obnoxiously at the feeling.

“What do you think, babe?” you ask sweetly, smiling at Matty and fluttering your mascara-coated eyelashes at him. Your hands unzip his trousers and fight to pull them down. Matty lifts his hips thoughtlessly, helping you tug down his slacks. He sits watching you with his jaw dropped, his hands itching to touch you.

But he stayed frozen, not wanting to take over your little surprise just yet.

Your sticky burgundy lips leave marks in your wake as you press kisses to his thigh, the gloss sticking to his leg with each peck. The tip of your tongue teases against his skin, running between the smears of red you left behind. 

With a pout, you sit back, pulling a frustrated groan from deep within Matty’s chest.

That was the final straw for him. You coming out dressed like that, all pretty and ready for him already had him fighting the instinct to throw you on this sofa and fuck you until you're sobbing.

But you teasing him with wet, barely-there kisses? He couldn't fucking cope.

He can't keep his hands to himself anymore, one shooting to your hair and gripping it firmly. The tug on your scalp causes a hiss to escape your scarlet lips, followed by a needy moan.

Matty had recently admitted to you that he had discovered a new kink, dumbificiation. also known as; you playing innocent and stupid as he fucked you ruthlessly and called you a cock-drunk slut. so you decide to play it up for him, indulge him in his fantasy.

“Will you show me how to suck you off? Please, sir, I need some help.” You whimper desperately, pleading eyes staring up at Matty. 

You both know you're lying, but somehow, that makes it even hotter for Matty, and he can feel his boxers tightening further.

“Oh is that right, angel?” Matty says with a chuckle, pulling at your hair harshly and forcing another whimper out of your kiss-bitten lips.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to tell you what to do. can you do that, baby? Listen to my instructions?” Matty looks down at you with faux sympathy, even pouting at you teasingly.

He moves his hand to paw at your chest, twisting a nipple cruelly, awaiting your response. 

Any chance at you forming a coherent sentence was gone as soon as you dropped to your knees. Seeing Matty's eyes go black and his breath beginning to quicken made your mind blank, the only thought left was his name over and over.

Matty's other hand moved to your face, caressing your cheek carefully and watching the pink bloom across them. You settle into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you do. 

But a harsh slap makes you snap them right back open, the red print of his hand leaving a welt on your face. Tears brim in your eyes, and a needy whimper escapes you, involuntarily clenching your thighs at the feeling. 

“F-fuck” you splutter, already feeling tears fall down your cheek. Matty brings his hand back, and you flinch, sucking in a harsh breath, preparing for the impact. 

But nothing comes. 

Just the warmth of his palm against your flushed cheeks, you quiver at the contact. A sly smile takes over his features before his face settles back into a pout.

“Sorry baby, but you have to keep your eyes on me. How else are you gonna learn, hmm?” Matty teases cruelly, smirking at your fast, needy nods. His mind was spinning at the sight in front of him, his girlfriend so ready and needy for him.

“Oh baby, you can't even speak, huh? Well, if you can't do that, then you are definitely too dumb to understand any instructions, aren't you?” Matty asks, smiling at the pathetic cry that leaves your lips at his questions, embarrassed at the pool that is forming between your legs with each word he utters. 

“That's what I thought baby, let me look after you. I’m gonna fuck your mouth instead, okay? fuck you stupid yeah? Or, more stupid I should say.” He snickers at your face, admiring the hazy look in your eyes. Already slipping into subspace without even really touching him. 

You nod rapidly at him, already eagerly opening your mouth. Matty pulls himself out of his boxers, and you have to fight the ragged groan that threatens to escape you at the sight. 

Hot beads of precum dribble down his shaft, his tip red and angry. You can feel the saliva pooling on your tongue. Matty groans as he grabs his cock and brings it to your lips, but he manages fights the urge to push into your throat for a few more seconds. Determined to torture you a little more.

Matty taunts you by tapping his tip against your bottom lip, smirking at the stings of gloss that come between you, watching the streams of red fall down your chin. A breathless moan from you has Matty grinning before slipping into your greedy throat. 

He grunts at the warm and wet feeling that surrounds him, starting slowly as he ruts into you.

Soon enough, his hips start to snap harshly, increasing in pace as he throws his head back with a wrecked groan. Each plunge into your throat happened faster than the last, and Matty chuckled darkly at the feeling of you drooling around him already.

the sensation drove matty insane. He used to dream of you like this for him, and seeing it in reality was something he would never get used to. all those nights of him fucking his first and whimpering your name were a distant memory as discordant moans left his bitten lips.

“That's it. Fucking take it." demanded Matty, pounding your throat mercilessly. He watches the spit bubble at the corner of your mouth and dribble down your chin onto your chest, wetting your tits as it falls. 

With a hash thrust, Matty forces himself all the way down your throat and holds himself there, gripping the back of your head brutally. He feels you constricting around him, choking on his cock as you fight for air. 

His grip tightens, and he pulls you forward even further, beaming to himself as you cough and sputter around him. You feel drunk from arousal, loving the way Matty is using you like a fuck toy, only considering his own pleasure.

You feel fingers weave in your hair, and he pulls you off harshly, laughing sadistically at the hurried breaths you suck in.

“Not my fault you don't know how to suck me off, if you're too fucking brainless to know what to do then I’ll do what I want.” He forces himself back in your waiting mouth, thrusting frantically and grunting.

Obscene noises fill the air around you, wet and sticky as he fills your throat. But you swallow around him obediently, like you can't get enough of his cock. Drooling around his dick was where you were meant to be, being the submissive slut he always dreamt of.

Matty stares down at you like you were a mirage, what the fuck did he do to get this lucky?

Your lips were stretched and swollen around him, your cheeks hollowed. Each time you hum around Matty he feels his hips stutter, the vibration almost sending him over the edge. 

Streams of black mascara roll down your cheeks, and Matty moves his hand to wipe at them, marvelling at the dark streaks they leave behind. A red ring sat at the base of his dick from your lipstick. His unrelenting force meant all around your mouth was stained red. 

Any lipstick that was on your lips was smudged over the lower half of your face. It matched the hand-shaped mark Matty left on your cheek perfectly. 

He worked at a punishing pace, and with each thrust in your mouth, Matty felt himself teetering on the edge of bliss. But when your hand came up to play with his balls, pulling at them gently and massaging them with your warm hands, Matty was done for. 

“I'm gonna cum. Fuck- can I cum on your pretty face baby? I want to finish off your beautiful makeup.” a garbled yes from you was all the permission Matty needed, pulling out of your mouth and stroking his dick furiously.

You keep your mouth wide open, panting and holding eye contact with Matty, practically begging him to cum. His muscles tense as shockwaves grip his body, stars dancing across his vision.

Hot spurts of white cum fall over your face, painting your cheeks and lips. Streams fill your mouth, and you moan greedily as they do. Streaks of cum fall over your eyelashes, weighing them down as you stare up at Matty hungrily. 

His chest heaves as he looks down at you like an artist stares at their masterpiece, his cum painting your face was akin to looking at the mona lisa for Matty. He threw his head back against the cushions and fought to catch his breath.

Matty's body was limp as you crawled onto his lap, bracketing his hips with thighs and kissing him furiously. Smearing his face with his cum.

He has the fleeting thought that this might be the filthiest blow job he's ever received, smiling into the kiss at the idea.

a slurp fills with air as he sucks on your tongue, tasking the distinctly musky taste that always lingers. You both pull away, panting with Cheshire-cat-like grins on your face.

With a huff, you collapse next to Matty, who is already wiping your face with tissues carefully, staring at you with adoration as he does. 

Balled-up tissues get thrown on the table as you snuggle into Matty's side. He sucks in a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well that was definitely a white Christmas, wasn't it, baby?” he laughs at the groan you let out, burrowing your face into his neck as your cheeks burn.

“Fucking hell. I can't believe I just let you fuck my face, and you say that afterwards." you mumble into his neck, pressing kisses to the collum of his throat.

“Mmm you love me” he teases, pinching at your side playfully.

“You’re lucky I do” you say, pulling back with a smile.

[terriblyvexed]

hey hey! its one of your readers on ao3 i realized i can ask questions on tumblr so i am trying it out. this may be a controversial question as opinions vary greatly from person to person lool but i am curious being a fellow fan of aot and a fan of your work, so, what did you think about the ending to aot? 👀

(personally i subscribe to a specific fan theory (NOT ANR GOD FORBID i rebuke it!) to keep hope alive in my heart that theres more aot to come cause i did not like the ending much so basically, theres no judgement from me srsly im delulu myself as it stands 😭💯)

anyway thats all thank you for writing left behind and answering my question (potentially)! hope you have a great rest of your day :D

Yeah I know your nickname haha and you can ask or yap about anything!

Ahh yes the ending opinions where swords are drawn two minutes into the debate lol and it’s annoying that people can’t state their thoughts as freely because of the toxicity from every side. This is going to be long I’m sorry😭

I personally didn’t like the ending that much either. I don’t think it’s as bad as people make it out to be, I mean we’ve all seen GoT, but I know a story like AoT could’ve done a little bit better than that, so. It’s not that I wanted Eren to live happily ever after, because his death made the most sense even before I knew about it, but it’s the execution of the episode in general that makes it feel rushed for me.

Mikasa killing him is a beautifully tragic twist, I started bawling my eyes out right there, but I wish the cabin scene was done differently. For me it didn’t feel as raw and honest as the Eren-Armin convo, which I’m not the biggest fan of either, but I’ve always wanted more communication for Eremika so maybe that makes me bitter. Let me see them talk about the table scene and let me see Eren apologise to her. It’s their last moment together, I wanted to see more emotion and honesty rather than an already established relationship that they did off camera. I get what it’s trying to show, and the scene itself is not bad, but I was just a big EM shipper at the time and hoped for more. (I felt the same back when he told her he would wrap that scarf around her forever and always. It hit me just in the right place I remember wanting them to talk about it afterwards but nothing was said.) Same with the memories he gave back to his friends, I’d have liked to see them talk. Him opening his eyes one last time to see her was beautiful no comment there.

Other than that I also LOVED when Levi saluted his friends and comrades! Liked his internal monologue where he said he didn’t regret not bringing Erwin back (Which also made me wish we could’ve seen Armin coming up with impressive strategies and ideas like he used to.)

I liked how Hange was sent off, but I missed them in the final fight.

I really liked the rumbling montage with Guilty Hero playing and Armin’s VA pouring her heart out + that cry at the end when Armin sees Eren. The Levi&Mikasa team-up/final stand was amazing. Those were all done nicely, but that’s pretty much it for me.

For some reason I wasn’t vibing with Annie. I mean she was never my fav but her in season one and in her ova was so much more interesting to me.

I was left underwhelmed by the final fight considering we’ve had great battles like RTS and Liberio previously, it does not compare in my opinion. I understand that Eren won’t kill his friends and I definitely agree with that, but something else could’ve been done with Ymir to make the stakes higher. The ancient titans didn’t feel threatening when you just knew no one was going to die, especially when Falco (first time flying) could dodge all of their arrows.

When everyone there turned into titans, like Jean and Connie, I would’ve preferred if they stayed titans and died when the curse ended. Bringing them back a few minutes later is just meh for me, and makes the emotions I’ve felt a one time thing only because that Jean&Connie dialogue didn’t hit the same afterwards. Not to mention that Connie’s mom was brought back only for us to not see their reunion lol.

Ymir’s storyline was interesting when Eren saw her memories, but after that she lost me a bit. I also don’t like that that *chef’s kiss* scene with Eren telling her she’s just a person didn’t free her at all, that killing Zeke stopped the Rumbling, that Levi was nerfed for the sake of the fight. If all these decisions were done in a slightly expanded time period, I don’t think I would’ve minded much. Especially the final episode itself was, again, rushed in my opinion.

Also, this isn’t just the finale but Historia being sidelined like that is a no-no for me. Not a fan of how the Hizuru-Mikasa plot line didn’t go anywhere either. That may just be nitpicking, but again I do believe season 4 should’ve been longer, maybe with a season 5 as well.

With all that being said, these are just my personal opinions/feelings and despite all, thematically the author did a good job wrapping everything up. Ending a story like AoT couldn’t have been easy at all. Watching it was an experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget or get over and I’m forever going to miss it. (I’m reading the manga now and the uprising arc has me hooked since it’s a bit different from the anime, and dare I say better?)

The ending didn’t ruin it for me or anything, just sad that I won’t get to see the things I wanted to see because naturally everyone has their own expectations, but what are fanfictions for?

What’s the fan theory that you believe? Other than that ANR I’ve heard about the mist and ouroboros but I’ve never read them in detail.

Thank you for reading Left Behind! I’d also like to state that my criticism of the AoT ending does not mean I’ll write one better lol. I like my ending for my story but I’ve already made peace with the fact that some readers might have problems with it. Which is fine as well because I love a good finale debate.

You have a great day/night as well!💓

[raainberry]

Raspberry Blue Night

« silly series - 16 »

Yeji x gn!reader

synopsis - if you’re walking and Yeji is by your side, it’s a date. on this one she decides to make a pit stop in a photobooth

T/W - fluff, late spring night vibes, yeji is a little tease but also a big pouty baby, reader is a bigger tease

wordcount - 905

A/N - its been so long since i posted yeji, im so sorry to the anon(s?) i basically left on read for three weeks i promise i wasnt ignoring you😭

It was a cute spring night. Just at dawn of summer, when the air stayed warm and the trees grew into their best form and colors.

Your hand swung with hers, stirring the soft breeze around you. The shy looks you stole at each other, the giggles slipping out of your lips when you caught each other…

It all had strangers looking at you fondly as you passed them down the streets, thinking themselves a witness to the blooming of a sweet, innocent love. A first date.

It all felt like it to be fair, so you couldn’t blame them. You didn’t want to correct them, but truth was you and Yeji’s fingers combined wasn’t enough to count for the amount of dates you went on anymore.

"Oh, it's cherry!" she hummed in delight, the sweet scent of the candy wafting through the air, teasing her senses.

The heart shaped lollipop you’d bought for her at the corner bakery was blue, a color that intrigued the both of you, though not enough for you to get one as well.

You chuckled softly, gaze dancing with amusement "Are you sure?" you chuckled, and she furrowed her eyebrows at your skepticism, a playful pout forming on her lips. "I'm just saying, it seems odd."

“Here then, see for yourself.” She offered, holding the lollipop dangerously close to your lips only for you to back away from it.

You’d hesitated for a moment, and Yeji couldn’t help but giggle at the way your features scrunched up; the sound echoing off the flowery balconies surrounding you.

"What, you make out with me but you draw the line at sharing candy?" she teased, her laughter bubbling up like a spring melody.

A faint blush creeped onto your skin. Not because of her words or her teasing, but because you realised how absurd your thought process was. But again, was it really? One glance at her lips, one thought of the smile they hid and it all made sense again.

So you argued your point.

“Yes, I do. Candy’s overrated, I’d much rather kiss you.” You let your words hang in the air for a moment, so Yeji looked at you expectantly. Curious to see what you’d follow up with.

“Besides, if I kiss you I’d taste it anyway, wouldn’t I?”

Yeji suddenly came to a stop, drawing your eyes back on her. You found hers gleaming, lips curved into a sly smirk. Some playful challenge she was inviting you to.

“Seriously?” You chuckled, yet your hand never let go of hers. You still held onto her, erasing the small gap that had appeared when she’d stopped walking. You’d gotten a step ahead, like you usually turned out to be when it came to fun and games.

But she knew how to bring you to your knees.

Yeji's smile widened, turning into that grin you loved so much, a flicker of amusement dancing in her gaze as she tilted her head slightly. “What, don’t you want to find out?

Absolutely you did, so you pulled her towards you, grinning excitedly as you braced yourself to feel her lips on yours.

Those pretty shaped and full lips of hers that left more gloss and lipstick on yours than you’d ever liked but never minded. They never came.

Instead you heard a shriek, leaving your pouty lips feeling empty. You’d caught her gaze suddenly flickering behind you but thought nothing of it until she pulled her attention away from you and onto whatever had caught her eye.

Whatever it was she wasn’t going to check it out without you apparently. Her hand stayed in yours, pulling you towards what you guessed was a photobooth as you approached it.

With the way Yeji dragged you there and pushed you into the booth, you’d think she was familiar with the place.

That simply wasn’t the case.

You watched with an amused smile as she fumbled with the commands and buttons in display. “What are you doing?” you giggled, as her pouting became more and more evident on her features.

“I don’t know,” she whined. “I just hope it didn’t just swallow my coins.”

Now, you knew Yeji could be intimidating if she wanted to, but scare a machine into working? That was new. And impressive, considering the fact that she didn’t even try and was acting like a big baby this whole time.

Guess her words were enough of a threat, finally allowing you to make her money’s worth of memories.

As soon as you could see yourselves on the screen, Yeji got a hold of your cheeks, squeezing them together and molding you into the cutest thing ever in her eyes.

She made sure to call you that too, pointing it out just to see your reaction. She usually found it even cuter, the way you act like it bothers you although you secretly love it. You like that she finds you cute. You want her to. And she knows it.

So you let her coax you into a series of poses, all ranging from silly to dramatic. It’s the single most amazing and longest five minutes of your life, and it was all topped and worth it when you felt her lips on yours for the last shot.

The taste of her lips was familiar, reminding you of your banter moments ago, and you made sure to tell her as soon as you pulled away.

“Pretty sure it’s raspberry.”

[anystalker707]

Anything? Anything.

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Words: ~ 1 200 Summary: It was a simple request for Sanji that turned into an absolute teasing mess. Tags: Very boyfriend content / Sanji using lipstick / Lots of affection

A/N: idc if this shit is out of character, im dumb. pls enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Sanji had developed such a devotion for you that it was even weird for the others not to see him simping for every woman that crossed his way, but it was also comforting seeing him receive back all the dedication and love he expressed. Though, it was annoying how he wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes; every single thing managed to remind him of you, and send him into a spiral of chaos. In fights, it would be rather good that someone brought your name up—he would do whatever he could not to leave you alone at the end of the day—, Zoro could already see their enemy dead whenever they happened to mention you.

With all of this taken on account, it was no new Sanji would do absolutely anything for his lover. His boundaries weren’t exactly clear, that way. A lot of conversation was needed to solve this and reassure him that you wouldn’t leave just because he told you that he wasn’t okay with something, and thankfully evolved into the harmony you had today.

Nonetheless, it was still a little difficult to offer new things to Sanji without always knowing clearly if he would accept it because he really wanted it or because he just wanted to make you happy. He could notice something bothered you every single time, on the other hand, of course; Sanji read you like a book. It was the main reason you were sort of avoiding him today—avoiding handling his sad worried face trying to figure out what was wrong with you, even more when it was a stupid situation. Like today.

The idea was very fucking good, though it was maybe just a little awkward, in your mind. You weren’t ready to have your little mental imagines killed down so easily. Why did he have to be so hot, anyways?

Sanji suddenly showed up on the deck, looking around until his eyes softened at your sight, and waltzed over with his hands clasped together. A kiss was pressed to your cheek once he was close enough. “(Y/n), baby, what’s wrong? Are you falling sick? Are you hungry? Do you need a hug? I’ve barely seen the light of my life today!” He took a seat next to you on the stairs.

“Sorry, San!! No, no, there’s nothing wrong at all!” You shook your head frantically, pulling him for a tight hug he immediately melted in—he didn’t deserve to feel bad because of a stupidity of yours, a tempest in a teapot. “I’ve just... been thinking.”

There was a short moment of silence before he sat up properly to look at you, taking both of your hands in his. “About what? Did I do anything to hurt you, mon amour?”

“I— No, of course not, you never did!” You brought your hands up to give his knuckles a little kiss. “Sanji, y’know you can always refuse to do stuff and let me know how you feel about anything, right?” The little pout you received in response had you raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

“Yes, my love!” Sanji squeezed your hands. “I know you’re very understanding of everything! I couldn’t be luckier!” Reacting to his pampering was a rollercoaster—sometimes you’d feel your ego burst, sometimes feel like you didn’t deserve it, but you’d never give it up, no matter what.

Your eyes flickered over his form for a long moment, watching Sanji throw his nose in the air with a grin, an expression that was exchanged for a curious one at how you let go of one of his hands so you could reach into your pocket. “Would you try it on?” In your hand, there was a tube of... of what? Sanji furrowed his eyebrows before he reached for it curiously, uncapping it. Oh. Dark red lipstick—it almost sent his cheeks burning in the same tone. “You can always say no—”

“Of course I would, mon amour! Anything for you!” Sanji had that stupid smile on his face as he put his cig aside and rolled the lipstick until just enough pointed out, and looked at himself through the small mirror on the top of the cap.

Well, shit. Was he just being impulsive or did he really mean it? “Sanji, you don’t need to...” Your words faded at the sight of the blond just putting on the lipstick. He smacked his lips together before turning to you with a smirk. That really was... something. It wasn’t a sight you were used to, of course, so it would take you a while of observing so you could finally decipher whether you liked it or not. “It is... Um, you look...”

Sanji chuckled lowly, letting his strands fall more over his face. “Well, my love, I’m not quite wearing it for the looks, no! It’s for a much more honorable reason!”

“And that would be...?”

His lips met your cheek before you could even finish. He didn’t even stop there, continuing to press kisses to your face until his lips crashed against yours, a desperate kiss that demanded more from you. You could taste the sweet lipstick on the kiss.

“Sanji...” You sat there dumbfounded while he ran the lipstick over his lips again. What the hell was that? Not that it was bad, no—it hard your heart skipping beats and your mind all fuzzy.

Sanji pressed kisses all over your jaw, trailing down to your neck, and even daring to stain the collar of your shirt. “Hm? What, mon chéri? Cat got your tongue?” His lips ticked against your skin, but all you could do in response was to spill out some incoherent words breathlessly, barely able to even hold onto his shoulders for support, looking at the sky, though staring at the nothing. He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes and blinked with an innocent air that would trick anyone who didn’t know him any better, and also those smeared lips—you wouldn’t be surprised if he just straight up killed you at some point. You were just collapsed back, with edges of the higher steps of the stairs digging into you back, and his arms wrapped around your torso, and you didn’t even fucking know when that happened.

A chuckle came from Sanji before he could continue what he was doing, his lips pressing butterfly kisses up and down your neck before they started getting longer, lingering over your skin with sucks and nibbles. It felt as if he couldn’t be close enough to you, as if he’d never get enough of you. His mouth reached a particular spot that compelled your hands to wrap around the fabric of his shirt tightly whilst you fought against the sound that threatened to escape your throat, pressing your eyes shut.

“Where is he...” A voice said, a voice that didn’t belong to you nor to Sanji, but it wouldn’t be a problem, right? They— “What the fuck are you two doing?! Don’t you even have enough decency to get a bedroom?!! You’re even letting the goddamn food burn!!!” Zoro stood there, having you jumping and pulling away from each other the moment he started fucking shouting.

Not like you could get your thoughts straight properly to react in time, hence you sort of sat there, blushing at how you were caught, but also at how you kept replaying the recent events in your mind in an attempt to process everything.

“Mon Dieu, the food!” Sanji gasped, immediately pushing himself up to his feet. “I’m sorry, mon amour! I’ll be back later!”

“Look at your state!” Zoro continued shouting. “What do you think you’re doing to let food burn just because you want some kisses, you ero-cook?!”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[severussnapesekitten]

Animagus!Severus Snape x Animagus!Reader

Hiiii!! This is actually my first ever… writing story thing?? 😭😭

Idk!! I’m new to this ya’ll anyways I only write fluff and maybe a little angst.. maybe. will only write for Snape and a few other characters!!

Ahh this is getting long!! (Sorry) I just read something on here and fell in love with it, (I used the same gif) and I wanted to write my thoughts on it!!

Hope you guys enjoy my first ever rambling because there’ll be a lot of it 😘

੭* ‧₊° —————————-ᯓᡣ𐭩

He never knew you were like him, obviously all the clear signs fell on deaf ears..well I guess it would be sight in this situation- anyway you know what im trying to say

You were always sleepy during the day, like him. You slept in your office under your desk when you really couldn’t make it to your common room or under somewhere with the darkest shade, like him. When you’d yawn you would cover it incase of trying to cover a screech that might slip out, like him.

How couldn’t he have noticed? How couldn’t he have noticed by the fact that every dinner, breakfast and lunch you mostly stacked your plate with fruit. It was right in front of his eyes!! He was always curious about you, glancing at you for a second longer than he should, and only looking away once you looked in the direction of who could be burning holes at your head? You guys got along tho, sitting by each other at the quidditch games you with either an apple or a banana to go with it, or you guys in each other’s offices simply grading away with you having sweet peach tea, and that is when he simply couldn’t hold in his curiosity, asking the big question.

“Why do you eat so much fruit?” He questioned, eyeing your tea standing over your desk as he set down the pen he borrowed.

You smiled cheekily, “you want me to share my biggest secret?” You set your pen down looking up at him gleefully.

“..is this ‘big secret’ gonna give me a headache?” He scowled a little.

You giggled “just watch!” You smiled and stood up. Your cloak wrapped around you until you suddenly poofed into the form of a small fruit bat, flapping your wings to land on the end of your desk, close to him. You showed off your fangs by smiling cheekily.

You squeaked out, “tada!”

He raised an eyebrow and sighed. “That explains.. a lot.”

You tilt your head “huh?”

“You’re exactly like me.” He grumbled and his cape then enveloped him, and he poofed into a bigger fruit bat flapping his own wings and landed on your desk next to you. He quirked his head as to say ‘what?’

“Woah! You’re really cool sev!” You smiled and he hummed. “Though.. why are you.. bigger than me?” He scoffed “do you really think I’m going to be the same size of bat, when I’m taller than you in human form?” He held in a chuckle. “No fair!” You huffed.

(Pretend this was all in echolocation ty😭)

•——•

At night when you two would get to patrol the area for any sneaking out kiddos, or any scary intruders you would be in your bat forms flying around, use echolocation to communicate. It was like a game of sorts. To see who could patrol faster, and who could run into another first. Sometimes you guys play around in that abandoned tower in a game of chase. Sometimes he wins, sometimes you win!

He never really liked having his bat form when he was younger, the kids would pick on him for it even more. But when he saw how enthusiastic you were about it, and how fun it was playing silly children’s games at the dead of night is when he finally realized how good it felt to embrace all sides of him, especially you by his side pushing him out of his comfort zone once in a while.

But, always remember to never turn on a classrooms light if you don’t see a teacher in it. Because if you do, you might get jump scared and scolded by a very angry Snape for being inconsiderable about others who might be sleeping still, and you, who is trying to calm him down saying how the student didn’t know any better!

There’s no doubt about it that, that student will go around telling everyone they saw professor Snape and the sweet nice professor who were just in their bat forms cuddling, hanging from the black chandelier in Snapes classroom.. :)

੭* ‧₊° —————————-ᯓᡣ𐭩

Phew! First rambling down.. a lot more to go!!