#because he’s like ah yes back to nothing

[somnoir]

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

[i-dared-myself]

Cuddle Fort

Stray Kids x reader

In which an exhausted Chan and an exhausted reader take a much needed nap

Chan knows you get tired often, which is why it is no surprise to him when during a particularly long practise, you keep stumbling over your own feet. You are usually better than this, but practise had been gruesome yesterday as well.

“Water break,” Chan calls before walking to his bottle. It’s next to the wall of mirrors, so he can still have a view of the others while drinking.

Chan hears Jeongin murmuring to you before you say something in response, laughing quietly. He ignores the sounds as he tips his head back to drink his water.

“Hey, did you finish the mix yet?” Changbin asks as he approaches. His baggy hoodie bunches around his forearms.

Chan sighs and nods. “I stayed up all night on it, but I finally have it ready to submit.”

He sees you in the reflection, sitting in the corner. You prop yourself up against the wall as Felix speaks with you.

“Again?” Changbin says, voice tinged with disapproval. “When are you going to have a healthy sleep schedule?”

Chan shrugs and smiles brightly. “One day.”

“Go take a break.” Changbin adjusts his sleeve to push it up further. “You have bags under your eyes again.”

Chan lifts a hand up to his face. “Ah, nothing a little makeup can’t hide.”

Changbin scowls slightly, but walks away nonetheless. Chan glances at the mirror to notice your eyes shut and breathing heavy. Felix crouches next to you and meets Chan’s gaze with a tiny nod of his head.

“Alright.” Chan presses a button to cut the music on the speakers. He keeps his voice low as to not wake you. “Practise is over. I’ll stay with them until they wakes up.”

Felix crosses his arms. “I was gonna call it. It’s my turn!”

Chan frowns. When was just sitting with you so exciting?

“Nuh-uh.” Hyunjin juts his hip out to the side. “Dibs.”

Felix splutters. “What- No! That’s not how this works!”

Chan massages his forehead. He can feel a headache coming on.

Jisung raises his hand. “Can I do it?”

“No!” Seungmin sharply says. “You did it last time!”

“You’re gonna wake them!” Minho hisses and smacks Seungmin’s arm. Seungmin flinches back before glowering at Minho.

“They look so peaceful when they sleep,” Jeongin remarks. He watches you for a moment before turning to Chan. “I wanna stay, pretty please?”

Changbin cleared his throat. “You’re all fighting like children. I’ll stay.”

“No way!” Felix protests loudly. “I-“

“What’s going on?” you blearily ask as you rub your eyes. You blink up at them in confusion.

“Practise is over,” Chan tells you before any of the others can speak. “You ready to go?”

“Oh! Is it move night?” You scramble to get your bag as everyone files out the door. 

“Sure,” Chan agrees, even though he had been planning to work more.

Why did he say yes? Was it because of the way your face lights up at his words? Was it due to how your hands clapped together in joy?

So everyone files out the door together and you somehow fall asleep in the car. Chan has no idea how you do it, considering the others are all bickering, but you do it.

“Quiet!” Chan calls from the driver’s seat. His grip on the wheel tightens. “They’re sleeping again!”

Hyunjin’s mouth falls open. “Again? I still think they should go to a doctor.”

“I think they’re drooling on you,” Jisung points out. He motions to Hyunjin’s shoulder, where your head was resting.

“Ew! Ugh!” Hyunjin curls inward, gagging. “Get them off!”

Jisung snorts and turns the other way. “Nah.”

Seungmin stretches out in the seat next to Chan. “Don’t wake them up, or Minho will air fry you.”

“Better believe it,” Minho mutters from the backseats.

Hyunjin pats your head comfortingly, barely hiding his disdain. “See? We get along. I like them.”

“Is movie night cancelled?” Jisung whines. He groans and crosses his arms. “I wanted to watch something!”

“You can still watch something by yourself,” Chan reminds him. “Seungmin, text whoever’s not driving in the other car and tell them movie night is off.”

“Sure.” Seungmin pulls out his phone. “Are we taking them back to the dorms or driving around to not wake them up?”

Chan glances back at the others. “Any thoughts?”

“I need to pee,” Hyunjin says. 

“We’re going to the dorms,” Chan tells Seungmin. “We’ll meet the others there.”

When they arrive, Chan carefully unbuckles you before carrying you inside. Jeongin runs ahead, opening doors, while Felix just follows.

Chan moves to lay you down on your bed, but you cling to him like a koala. He gives a hopeful look to Felix, who merely shrugs.

“You gonna nap with them?” Jeongin slyly smiles.

Chan gets flustered and straightens. You’re still hanging off of him with a frankly impressive grip strength. “What? No! I’m not even tired.”

“Fine. I will!” Jeongin volunteers cheerily before throwing himself into your bed. He spreads his arms out. “Give them to me.”

Chan wraps his arms around you tighter. “They said we could cuddle them if they fall asleep, but…”

“I want to, too!” Felix protests from the doorway. 

Changbin skids to a halt, having been walking by. “Wait, it’s cuddle time?”

Chan sighs and turns around. “Being everyone to the living room.”

Felix pumps his fist before sprinting away. Jeongin hurries after him, while Changbin stays by Chan’s side.

By the time they reach the living, a huge blanket fort has been created. Hyunjin makes grabby hands at you from his spot.

Chan rolls his eyes, but gently puts you down. You stir slightly, head lolling to the side. You snuggle further into Hyunjin, who grins widely.

“I want some of that,” Seungmin declares before claiming your other side. He tosses a leg over yours to pull you closer.

Chan perches himself on the edge of all the blankets and pillows, waiting to find a place after everyone else was settled. Felix surprises him by dragging him closer to you.

“It’s your turn to have the good snuggles,” Felix tells him. He pats Chan’s shoulder.

Chan hesitantly places his head in your lap, tense and unsure. In all the times he’s done this, he always was at the edge. It was easier to slip away to work.

You peek an eye open, staring down at Chan. You make a little sound from the back of your throat and reach down to run a hand through his hair.

“Shh,” Jisung shushes you. “You can sleep if you want.”

Your eyes flutter shut easily, chest rising and falling slowly. Chan swallows before letting his own eyes close, comforted by the warmth of the other members settling around him.

Maybe a short nap wouldn’t hurt.

[windsson]

Hugging someone for the first time when you’re blind reveals a lot. Granted, Makani didn’t have a lot of hugs in his life, but there were sometimes family members, the occasional elementary teacher, where Makani could get a better idea of what everyone else got to see, even if just for a moment, like a flashbulb.

Makani had already felt his hands (way softer than mine, long fingers, kind of clammy but it was kind of sweet) and his forearms (skinnier than I expected) and he knew he had long-ish hair. When you wrap your arms around someone, gather them up into all those points of contact, for just a second you can add to your mental image.

He didn’t necessarily need one, since his ideas of people became more about things like the sounds of their voices, textures, smells, and sounds that remind you of them- but since Makani had once been able to see, in many ways he still thought somewhat visually. He remembered what people looked like, generally- maybe not all the nuances, but having somewhat of an idea of what someone might look like made him feel more connected to the person.

It’a a few seconds, maybe (maybe lasting a liiiittle longer than what was normal hug length, but when you’ve only had a few in your life, you haven’t got the timing yet, perhaps) but in those seconds Makani could gather a few things.

First, whatever he was wearing (a poncho, maybe?) was like, insanely soft. He’d have to ask where to get one of these. Bruno was also shorter than Makani, which he wasn’t expecting. Not only was Makani shorter than most other men, but he knew Bruno was older, and he supposed he always pictured people older than him as taller. He was thin all around and Makani could even feel his hair for a second against the side of his face- okay, THAT was insanely soft too, no fair.

He was saying some kind of “thank you thank you thank you!” or something of that caliber when he pulls away and the world got a little darker again.

“Whatever you need to do, let me know how I can help. A-And if it’s ever too much trouble, please, we don’t have to do this,” he says, waving his hands a little as he sensed what sounded like hesitation in the other man’s voice.

“And hey, you aren’t even alone! You’ve got me, and Hernando, and Jorge~!”

Makani listens carefully, pale eyes fixated toward the floor as he concentrates on Bruno before perking up with a gasp.

“That’s it!” He exclaims, maybe a little too loudly, but the longer Makani spent in the casita the more he didn’t feel like he needed to keep himself so composed. He even cried in front of Bruno.

He reaches up after feeling Bruno’s hand on his shoulder, grabbing to find the other man’s arms, then his hands, before holding both of Bruno’s hands in his own.

“I can’t be mad! You can see the future and that means I’m supposed to be here! F-For some reason. Gah, if we just knew for what, maybe I could convince father…”

Makani thinks for a second before turning his head back toward Bruno, not really making eye contact but facing him, using Bruno’s hands to pull himself up to his feet. He keeps a grip on his hands (are my hands really that calloused in comparison??) and continues,

“Do they just happen, or can you make them happen? Like, when you see the future- can we see what happens later? O-Or is it- does it not work that way. If it’s too hard, you shouldn’t! You’re an adult, I don’t need to tell you that-“ he trails off, smiling sheepishly off to the side.

[sunny374940]

May I have this dance?

So I'm finally done with the story about Rook and Emmrich attending a ball. Or not done, because it got way too long, but at least the first part is finished (the second part wil be them jumping each other's bones).

@profoundlyfaded, this is what you made me do (thank you, I'm having a great time).

Cw: sexual harrasment directed at Rook, because nobles are annoying, but nothing terribly graphic.

Here on ao3

And here are my other stories.

“Presenting Rook, leader of The Veilguard, and his companion, Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch,” the master of ceremonies announced (and he was yelling too much, Rook thought).

The rest of their friends had all made their excuses to the Archon as to why they couldn't come (there were suddenly so many pressing matters everywhere, that Rook was surprised the world wasn't ending again), but not him, because the leader of the damn Veilguard had to attend a ball to celebrate the defeat of the Evanuris. It stood to reason, but that didn’t make it any better.

There were assorted claps and oohs and aahs from the starstruck crowd as they made their way down the stairway. Emmrich was holding onto Rook’s arm and he looked so beautiful, almost regal in his finery, clinking gently with his grave gold. One bright spot to this, at least. They finally descended onto the ballroom floor and Rook gently steered Emmrich away from the crowd. 

The ballroom of the Archon's summer “villa” (if the word could be used to describe a network of buildings several times the size of the Lighthouse) was a vast place. The ceiling was glittering with magelight and the stained glass windows were letting in the last of the sun's rays, creating a kaleidoscope of color on the walls. 

“Do we really have to be here?” he whispered through gritted teeth. He did come (almost) willingly, but the amount of people populating the ballroom and the attention they were paying to them were getting to him.

“Darling, the Archon of Tevinter himself is holding a celebration in our - and especially your - honor. So yes, we do have to be here,” Emmrich whispered back to him. He seemed to be enjoying himself, which was the only reason Rook wasn’t already begging him to leave. He knew how much Emmrich liked mingling at parties and there hadn’t been many of those while they were saving the world.

“Ugh.” Rook rolled his eyes. Emmrich had persuaded him to wear formal attire (“Darling, I must insist you wear shoes for once in your life!”) and he was very much not into it, but he would do it for him, if begrudgingly. But the damned shoes were pinching his feet and this was where he was drawing the line, regardless of the fact that it was the very love of his life who had made him wear them. 

“I'll be right back, love,” he said, kissing Emmrich on the cheek, and left under the pretense of going to eat some of the tiny cakes that were set out on the tables bordering the ballroom (though he did actually eat some, seeing as he was already there, and made a note to come back for more later). He toed off the blasted things and slid them under the table with his foot in the hope that the long tablecloth would hide them from sight.

He padded back to Emmrich, who was now engaged in conversation with Dorian and The Iron Bull, and slotted himself against his side.

“And how is being the Archon treating you, Dorian?” Emmrich said as he brought his arm up to sling it across Rook’s shoulders. He relaxed gratefully into the touch.

“Ah, yes, someone needs to lead the masses and all that,” Dorian waved his hand a touch dismissively. “Though I do hope to lead them into a better future.”

“A worthy endeavor, to be certain,” Emmrich nodded.

Dorian turned to Rook, taking in the way he was keeping his eyes down, trying to hide away from the nobles who seemed to be just itching to have a conversation with the leader of the Veilguard.

“I can see you’re suffering,” he said and Rook could only nod miserably.

“And I get him, kadan, I really do,” Bull said, flicking his eyes to Rook’s bare feet. He made no comment, but gave him a grin and a one-eyed blink (was he winking at him?).

“Yes, yes, the horrors of fine wine and noble company,” Dorian retorted with a wry chuckle.

“I could do with more wine and less company. I’ve got better ideas about spending the night than this,” Bull said and then he tilted Dorian's face up with a finger under his chin and kissed him gently, making Dorian’s cheeks turn red. 

“Bull, I am the Archon! I can’t be seen blushing like a- a maiden,” Dorian sputtered.

“You’re not the Archon of the bedroom, though,” Bull said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Bull!” Dorian smacked a hand against Bull’s arm and Rook was laughing, holding onto Emmrich, and finally the party was looking up.

“Darling!” Emmrich chided gently, but there was an amused quirk to his lips.

“Please excuse us, I have something to discuss with my husband.” Dorian bowed to them with an exaggerated flourish and then took hold of Bull’s arm, dragging him away. They heard a faint ‘finally’ from Bull as the pair made their way to the door.

“Hey, since they're leaving, can we-” But Rook wasn't allowed to finish the sentence, as a young nobleman took advantage of the opening.

“May I have a dance, ser?” he asked, voice syrupy sweet and Rook didn't want to dance with him at all.

“No, thanks, I don't dance” he said, hoping to get rid of him quickly.

“But I am sure that you would be very good at it, with a proper partner. One that could keep up with you,” he said with a sideways glance at Emmrich and touched Rook's chest in a gesture that he likely meant to be flirtatious, but it only made Rook's skin crawl. 

Rook took a breath in outrage. He might have been able to deal with him quietly, but after taking a jab at Emmrich? He would let the man know just how much he miscalculated. But as he opened his mouth to speak (and cause a scene), Emmrich placed a hand on the noble’s arm, looking the very picture of calmness.

“My dear ser, I believe you have just been told no,” he said levelly.

“I wasn't asking y-” 

There was the tiniest sound, almost lost in the noise of the ballroom, like a lightning spark earthing itself, and the noble snatched his hand back with a yelp and gave Emmrich a wide-eyed stare, before retreating without another word. Rook turned to Emmrich with a disbelieving grin.

“Emmrich?”

“Yes, darling?” Emmrich said, radiating innocence.

“Did you just zap the guy?”

“Oh, I would never! You wound me!” Emmrich put a hand to his chest in mock outrage, but then their eyes met and they burst out laughing, holding onto each other for support.  

“I believe we have earned a moment of respite, what do you think, Rook?”

“Finally,” he whispered to himself, but Emmrich’s barely audible answering snort (though he would never admit to doing something as unseemly as snorting) told him he’d been heard.

They left the ballroom hand in hand and crept along the silent corridors, giggling like schoolboys, stealing kisses in alcoves, until they found a door leading to the gardens. The moon was hanging high in the sky, casting the jasmine trees in a soft silver light. They stepped onto the grass and it was damp with evening dew, making Rook sigh in contentment at the refreshing feeling of it. He wiggled his toes, closing his eyes for a moment and Emmrich noticed his lack of footwear at last.

“Darling, where are your shoes?” Emmrich was raising an eyebrow and Rook found himself grinning sheepishly.

“They, uh, ran away? They didn't want to be here either, I guess.”

Emmrich sighed in fond exasperation and stroked his fingers against Rook's cheek. He leaned into the touch, enjoying the warmth of Emmrich's hand against his skin.

“Whatever shall I do with you?” Emmrich asked and the music from the ballroom was floating down to them from the open windows and Rook knew exactly what he wanted.

“Dance with me?” 

He held his hand out to Emmrich, who took it, but made no move to start dancing just yet.

“Weren't you saying you don't dance?” Emmrich teased. “I distinctly remember hearing it but a little while ago.”

“It's called lying, love,” Rook grinned. “But you should probably lead, I'm not very good at this,” he added bashfully.

“It would be my honor.” 

And they danced, in fits and starts at first, as Rook was figuring out where to put his feet without treading on Emmrich's, but they were growing more confident with each step. Emmrich was leading him with a sure hand at his waist and Rook surrendered to the motion, loving the way Emmrich's other hand was gently holding his, the way he was looking into his eyes with such soft adoration that it was making Rook's heart melt.

The violins swelled and Emmrich twirled him around and he laughed breathlessly, feeling like a hero of one of Lucanis’ romance novels. As the music was dying down, Emmrich dipped him, making him look up into his face and then he bent down to kiss him and there would have been fireworks if the novel he was in knew what it was doing. As it was, Rook felt his cheeks warm and returned the kiss with wild abandon and no fireworks could ever be as good as this.

“What would you like to do now, Rook?” Emmrich asked after he helped him stand up again.

Rook knew that if he asked to leave, Emmrich would oblige him, even if he would have preferred to stay himself. But he wasn't going to be that selfish, not when Emmrich was doing everything in his power to make him feel comfortable.

“I guess I could manage going back inside, if you'd like. I know you were enjoying yourself before.”

“You want an excuse to eat more dessert, don't you, darling?” Emmrich laughed softly. And it wasn't completely untrue, if Rook was being honest. 

“You know me so well. But seriously, I want you to have a good time tonight.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. And I must admit that I noticed a colleague earlier who I haven't seen in quite some time. She has made incredible advances in the preservation of the dead and I would love to discuss her findings with her.”

“Let's go then. But the shoes are staying off.”

“I wouldn't dare suggest otherwise, dearest. I have learned my lesson.”

Emmrich offered him an arm and they made their way back to the ballroom. They managed to get in through a side door, rather than the main entrance, and that thankfully meant much less attention this time. They took a moment to walk around, poking fun at the decor (“Hey, Emmrich, that candle holder looks like a pair of boobs.” “It most certainly does n- Oh.”) and then Emmrich spotted his colleague and went to greet her, but not before repeatedly assuring himself that Rook truly was okay with being left alone. And Rook really preferred not to join them, as there was only so much talk of embalming methods he could stomach before having to excuse himself.

Rook was leaning back against the dessert table, snacking on some kind of round, brightly colored pastry. It tasted faintly of almonds and he had no idea what it was, but it tasted really good, so he grabbed a few more for later. He saw that Emmrich was caught up in an animated discussion and was gesturing wildly with his hands, likely trying to get a point across and Rook smiled to himself, glad they came back in.

He was finishing his third colorful snack while watching couples twirl around on the dancefloor, lost in thought, when a large hand clapped him on the shoulder and stayed there, gripping him uncomfortably. And why the fuck did everyone think they were welcome to touch him today? Just what the fuck was wrong with them? Rook looked up, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. A large man, a good head taller than Rook was standing next to him, giving him the worst excuse for a seductive smile he’d ever had the misfortune of seeing.

“So, you finally ditched that old windbag, eh? But a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be left all alone-”

A thing. That was all he was to this kind of person and he definitely didn’t feel obligated to engage him more than necessary, or even let him finish speaking, so he went straight to the point.

“Fuck off,” he spat and tried to shrug off the offending hand, but the hold on him was strong and the man's other hand came to clutch at the front of Rook’s shirt, dragging him closer, until his face was inches from Rook's. 

“I could fuck the fight right out of you,” he whispered, and the smell of alcohol in his breath made Rook want to retch.

Rook glanced over to where he last spotted Emmrich and saw him still deep in conversation. Good. Emmrich would probably be a little mad at him if he knew what he was about to do, so he might as well do it while he wasn't looking. He leaned away as much as the hold on him allowed, then he brought his head forward full-force and struck his forehead against the man's nose with a resounding crack, hard enough to send him falling onto his ass.

“Ow.” 

Rook rubbed at his forehead. This would definitely bruise, but it was very much worth it. The man was holding onto his bleeding nose, trying to scramble back onto his feet and yelling at him.

“You filthy knife-ear, I’ll show you-”

He got no further than that, as he was suddenly being hoisted up by the scruff of his neck by The Iron Bull, who was grinning at Rook. He must have seen what happened and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

“Hey, kadan, we almost missed the fun!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“You shouldn't have taken so long, then.” Dorian was sauntering towards them, straightening the collar of his robes and Rook thought he could see a faint hickey on the side of his neck, before it was quickly concealed.

“I didn't hear you complaining when I was doing it.”

“Shut up, amatus,” Dorian hissed in Bull’s direction. Then he turned to the guards who were posted at the doors closest to them to order them to take the man away, but Rook wasn't paying attention anymore, because Emmrich arrived at his side. He was looking him over with a worried expression, and his eyes widened as he took in the bruise on Rook's forehead.

“Darling, are you alright? What happened?”

“I'm fine, just a headache,” Rook grinned. “He wanted to get a piece of me. So he got it.”

This vague description was met with a singular raised eyebrow. Fine, he would tell him if he wanted to know so badly.

“He wanted to fuck me and I disagreed, so he got mad, I guess.”

“He what?” Emmrich almost shouted, outraged. “I shall have some words with him.”

Rook suspected there would be less words and more violence, if the way Emmrich's hands were shaking with barely contained anger was anything to go by.

“No need, my dear professor,” Dorian interjected. “He will get what is coming to him soon enough.”

“Very well. I trust your judgment,” Emmrich said, a tad reluctantly, but didn't press the matter.

“And you lot can go back to whatever you were doing, nothing to see here,” Dorian added, shooing away the many guests who stopped close by to pretend they weren't staring. The musicians began a new piece, prompting Bull to offer his hand to Dorian with a bow and they left for the dancefloor. 

Rook hissed at a new pang of pain from his forehead. Did he manage to give himself a concussion? Emmrich turned back to him at the sound and the pain was gone in an instant with a quick healing spell.

“Thanks, love.”

“You are welcome, my dear. Do you need to leave?” 

“I'm good. I don't think that there's anyone around who wants to try getting close to me after this. But I wouldn't mind letting them know who I belong to anyway.”

And it was just like Emmrich to completely misunderstand, worried as he was about Rook's wellbeing right now.

“Rook, I would never presume to claim ownership of you. You are your own person first and foremost,” he said sincerely.

“I know, love,” Rook chuckled. “But I like being yours,” he purred into Emmrich's ear and heard a sharp intake of breath as realization dawned. 

“Is that so, dearest?”

Rook nodded, eyes glinting with mischief, and raised himself up on his toes to kiss Emmrich passionately, heedless of the whispers he caused among the nobles who still insisted on pretending they weren't watching them. They finally parted and Emmrich’s eyes were dark with desire, making Rook’s breath hitch. 

“May I have this dance?” Emmrich asked, taking hold of his hand and kissing his knuckles. 

Rook nodded eagerly and they joined the other couples on the dancefloor. Emmrich took the lead again and Rook noticed with some satisfaction that the hand on his waist was holding onto him tighter than before, and despite all of Emmrich's protests to the contrary, he had a feeling that he did actually like showing others that Rook was his. They were swaying together to the music and Rook was doing his best to stay as close to Emmrich as possible, their bodies touching, though he did enjoy the few times Emmrich made him twirl around just for the fun of it. The music then quieted down, but they stayed pressed together, breathing heavily, though not just with the exertion of dancing.

“Rook, you have no idea what you do to me,” Emmrich said, and there was a faint flush on his cheeks. Rook liked the sight a lot.

“Oh? Wanna show me?”

“Is that a challenge, my dear?”

“And what if it is?”

Emmrich drew closer, his breath warm against Rook's lips, but he didn't kiss him just yet.

“Then I will make you mine tonight,” Emmrich whispered and Rook took him by the hand and dragged him out of the ballroom.

[francisofthespook]

DIY Santa pt.2

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to 'DIY Santa', after walking Judith home, you run into 'Santa' and you both elaborate a little bit on your 'Christmas wishes'

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Suggestive content but nothing too explicit

Word Count: 2,455

A/N: OKAY OKAY IM SORRY HERE IT IS FUCK ! In my defence, I'll say in twd they lost track of days and yes I am posting this on janurary 11th but for all we know, they could have celebrated Christmas in Janurary because they don't know the date ! Lol but fr sorry this took so long, I just couldn't figure out exactly how I wanted it to go. And I was in a bit of a writing slump after Christmas, then school started and ugh idk. But I'm back now and I've got tons of ideas and I think I wanna open up requests ??? We'll see... anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this very very very late part two to my little Christmas one shot !!!

(Divider made by me :) )

“What did you ask Santa for?” Judith asked as she swung your interlocked hands. Laughing, you told her, “I asked Santa to make sure your wish comes true.” You looked down at the little girl and gave her a big smile. She squealed in excitement and began making plans for you two to go on daily loops of the neighborhood when she got her new skates. You zoned out a bit as she went on, thinking about if you had maybe been too forward with Daryl. Maybe he wasn’t really looking for anything, just flirting with you out of boredom. You made a plan to try and avoid him for the next few days, in hopes that the possible awkwardness will diffuse by the next time you have to go on a run together.

As the two of you finally reached Rick and Michonne’s porch the sun had set, leaving the streets of Alexandria in a dark blue hue. Michonne opened the door and Judith ran inside to tell Rick all about seeing Santa. “Thanks again for taking her, she insisted that you were the one to do it.” Michonne laughed. “It was really no trouble at all, definitely worth it to see Daryl dressed up as Santa.” You laughed in response. “And by the way, she wants rollerskates and a jump rope for Christmas.” You whispered to Michonne. “Ah well, I think I can make a jump rope happen.” You were both thankful that Judith had kept her Christmas wishes simple. “Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard to find. I think I remember seeing rollerskates at that old sports supply store a few towns over. I was gonna grab those for her, I’ll look for a jump rope while I’m out.” The lack of sun was making the air even colder and unfortunately, you had opted for just jeans and a thin long sleeve today. You wrapped your arms around yourself to try and keep warm as you two spoke. 

“That would be amazing if you could! God, it’s cold. Do you wanna come in for a minute? We have some soup left over if you want any.” She kindly offered. As enticing as that sounded, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your own bed and read a bit before going to sleep. You had recently found yourself a thick fluffy comforter that was absolute heaven on the colder nights. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m gonna head back, found some new books the other day I’ve been dying to start.” You gave her a warm smile and she gave you a hug before you turned to leave.

The slight wind from earlier began to pick up as you trudged down the street and back to your house. It was so quiet outside, almost like it was just another normal day and there weren’t dead people walking around just outside these walls. It made you think of before, and the evenings when you would walk home from your grandparent’s house after dinner, the street lights flickering as you walked down the empty streets listening to music. You would give anything to be able to do that just one more time. As you walked past the gazebo, you saw the last family leaving. Daryl stood up and stretched as Carol began to clean up. You slowed your pace just a bit as you got closer. You weren’t planning on stopping, but you were hoping you could get a sense of how Daryl was feeling after that interaction. Hopefully, he would wave if he saw you?

Daryl waved Carol off, telling her that he would take care of it. As she turned to leave, she spotted you, calling out “Hi (Y/N)! Thanks for stopping by!” You gave her a smile and a nod as you continued walking. Daryl hadn’t said anything, so you assumed he had felt weird about what happened. You began to pick up your pace just a bit before you heard, “Hey!” Turning around, you saw Daryl at the gazebo waving you over. Maybe it hadn’t been as awkward as you thought… hopefully. 

You slowly turned and headed in the direction of the gazebo, its dull twinkling lights being the only thing shining through the dark. As you approached, Daryl slowly walked towards you. When you two finally met at the steps, he gave you a warm smile. “I hope Jude had a good time meetin’ Santa.” He said, with air quotes around the ‘Santa’. You laughed a warm laugh and replied, “Yeah, I think she did. Not sure if she actually believed you were ‘Santa’, but I think she had fun.” He chuckled and a small silence filled the space between you, but it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it kinda felt…comfortable. You looked down at your feet, trying yet again to hide the warmth on your cheeks. The wind blowing around you making it cold enough that you had to wrap your arms around yourself again. 

“Oh, here, lemme give ya this,” Daryl said, running up the steps to grab his coat. As he came back to you, you tried to argue, “No, really it's fine, I’m not that cold.” But the chatter in your teeth told him otherwise. “You don’t always gotta be like that,” He said, as he walked behind you to drape his coat over your shoulders. When he positioned himself back in front of you, he grabbed the two sides and pulled them tighter around you. “Like what?” You asked, confusion obvious in your voice. “Ya know, like yer always fine and dun need help. Puttin’ others ahead of yerself.” He chuckled, “I know yer gonna say now that I need it more than ya do, and yer warm enough with that thin long sleeve on.” 

“I was not gonna say that…” you tried to retort, but he knew you better than that. He gave you a knowing look and you couldn’t hold back your smile. “I would have worded it differently.” You both chuckled and returned to the silence, just staring into each other's eyes. It was almost pitch black out now, but the dim glow of the moon and the string lights lit the small area around you. Daryl looked angelic in the soft warm light, and you couldn’t keep yourself from breaking eye contact to look at his lips. He smirked, the movement bringing you back to reality. “So what does Santa want for Christmas?” you tried, being half flirty, but also half serious. Talk about someone who's hard to get gifts for…

“I think Santa,” he started, stepping closer to you. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and looked up at him through your lashes as he got close enough that you could feel just a whisper of his hot breath on your face. The smell of cigarettes brushed past your nose as he continued, “Would like to find his Ms.Claus fer Christmas.” You tried not to look shocked as he spoke in a low tone. As cool as you could, you leaned closer to him and whispered, “Is that so?” He smirked at you again and gently reached up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. His fingers were soft but warm, and that warmth burned through you as he moved his hand to cup the side of your head. “Mhm,” he replied as he leaned in towards your face.

You were so close now, that your noses almost touched. Every exhale he made swept across your face like the wind from a flame at a campfire. The smell of cigarettes had never smelled so enticing before, and you felt like you could get a buzz just from breathing him in. You weren’t sure if time had actually slowed, or if you were just so comfortable around him that the silence wasn’t noticeable. You opened your mouth slightly, to breathe out “That’s funny, because what I really wanted for Christmas was to be Ms. Claus…” 

If time had been slowed before, now someone had hit fast forward. It happened so quickly but so smoothly that you didn’t even have time to register what was going on. At some point, Daryl had wrapped his free hand around your waist and pulled you in closer. Using that hand that was cradling your head, to tilt it slightly upwards so that your lips landed right on his. He tasted sweeter than you would have thought, and you basked in the taste for a moment before you started to match his movements. It was a tender and gentle kiss, but you could feel the need and desire behind it. Like it was second nature, you unwrapped your arms from around your sides and brought your hands up to his head, tangling your fingers in his long locks. He moaned slightly into your mouth, causing you to grip and tug lightly at his hair. 

He exhaled roughly and gripped your waist tighter, pulling you into him as much as he could. You felt yourself slightly leaning in his grip, your knees beginning to feel like they would give out. The way you moved against each other was like a practiced dance, like you had been doing this for years and didn’t know any different. It felt right, and you didn’t understand how you had survived before without this. Slowly, he broke the kiss and pulled back enough to rest his forehead against yours. The both of you were so out of breath, that you just stood there for a moment, exhaling into each other's mouths.

When you finally came back down, you removed your hands from his hair and rested them on his shoulders. He moved his to the small of your back, thumbs gently rubbing in soothing circles. “I think my Christmas wish just came true…” You whispered to him, this time not trying to hide your blush or bite back your smile. “Mine too” He replied, mirroring your grin. He leaned down again to quickly peck you on the lips before grabbing the fallen coat on the ground. You had been so mesmerized in the moment, that you didn’t even notice it falling off. “Now let's get ya home. It’s too cold for a pretty little thang like ya out here.” He chuckled as he put the coat back on you.

You looked at him with so much love and adoration that it made his heart flutter. He put his arm around your shoulder and the two of you walked toward your house. The walk was short and quiet, the two of you basking in the silence of the world. All the houses were dark as you walked down the sidewalk, and the moon was now the only source of light. As you approached your house, you both walked up the steps and you turned to look at him as you rested your back against the door. He leaned down to rest one hand above your head and gently grabbed your waist with the other. 

Smiling, he spoke in a low voice, “Now are you gonna invite me in? Or am I gonna have ta come down yer chimney?” You couldn’t help but giggle. You glanced down at your feet for a moment, trying to calm your heart rate, before looking up at him and biting your lip. Slowly, you leaned in, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’ll invite you in,” taking a beat to stare at his lips before making eye contact again and continuing, “If you promise to also come down my chimney…” With that he moved his hand from above your head to the doorknob, holding your waist so you didn’t fall as he opened the door.

The next morning the two of you tried to stagger your exits in hopes of preventing rumors from spreading around the small community. Daryl had left out your back door about thirty minutes earlier, while you took a little extra time to get ready (and to dress yourself carefully enough to hide the marks on your neck). As you left the house, you spotted Carol and Judith in the garden and headed their way. 

“Hi Jude!” You called out as you approached the two. “Aunt (Y/N)!” she shouted as she ran towards you to give you a hug. You knelt down to catch the little girl and picked her up. She started telling you all about the tricks she was gonna do with her new jump rope when she got it as you walked toward Carol. “Thanks again for setting all that up.” You told her as you set Judith down. “Of course! I’m glad you had fun.” She replied then looked down at Judith. The two of them shared a look that confused you. “What?” you said, laughing. The two of them looked at you and then back to each other, Judith bursting out in laughs while Carol tried to hold hers in. “Oh nothing,” Carol said as she looked back again at Judith, the little girl unable to stop giggling. 

“Aunt Carol said she saw Aunt (Y/N) kissing Santa Claus!” The little girl squealed before running to hide behind Carol, her laughs never ceasing. You stared at Carol with a shocked look and were speechless. You tried to stutter some sort of explanation, but nothing was coming out. “I-Um-It wasn’t-We just-” Every sound you made just made it worse. Little Judith started skipping around the garden in circles chanting, “(Y/N) kissed Santa Claus! (Y/N) kissed Santa Claus!” You tried to hide your face with your hands in embarrassment, “Oh my God.” Was all you could finally say. “Oh honey,” Carol said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’ve all been wondering when it would finally happen” You dragged your hands down your face before meeting her eyes. “I also saw that Santa spent the night, but we can keep that between us” She whispered in your ear. 

“OH MY GOD. OKAY. BYE! SEE YOU GUYS LATER!” You said as you turned and walked away. You could hear the two of them laughing behind you as you speed-walked away. You turned back and rolled your eyes at them in a playful way so that they knew you weren’t upset…just embarrassed…very embarrassed. You couldn’t wait to see Daryl later and find out how they had harassed them. Your heart sped up at the thought of seeing him again, sure it may be a bit embarrassing to feel like a schoolgirl in love, but it also felt good. Like finally, your heart was starting to beat again after having been still since the world ended. Your Christmas wish definitely came true.

eeee okay I hope y'all liked it <3 I only proof read this once so I will go back in and edit it more later today, I just didn't wanna wait any longer posting this !!! ok I love you all <333

(ps also should I make a tag list ? Like would anyone even be interested in being notified the 2 times a year I post ? lol)

[braceletofteeth]

— I thought about how you would feel, so I didn't dare say anything.

— Shutting me out like this doesn't make me feel better.

[overnightheartbeats]

Isaac didn't comment on anything Wally was telling him. He had pulled some of this from his file after all. Graduating top of his class, the divine intervention from the late Agent Hurst. His question about becoming an agent seemed rhetorical, though it did invite him to answer. But, before he had a chance, Wally continued. "From analyst to field agent." That doesn't just happen. Isaac just found it so interesting how easily that agent maneuvered through the agency and set Wally up to exceed expectations. Isaac had seen that too. All supervisors had nothing but good things to say about his work. Even the performance reports from Karina were filled with compliments. "You've been at this for a long while, maybe at first you owed him. But he kicked the bucket, a while ago." Why was he still there?

Leave it to his timing, of course. Isaac's question being answered. His head tilted curiously at how adamant he was to not go against her. It did sound like loyalty, something that was burning on his tongue to question. "Your niece?" What the hell was he...? Ah. "She has your niece." Not holding her somewhere, he'd assume. Isaac figured Wally wouldn't be standing here talking to him if that were the case. If his initial reaction was any indicator, chances were, he'd be tearing the place apart. Isaac wouldn't blame him, he'd do the same for his own niece. "If your niece is at risk, why wouldn't her parents deserve to know? It's not about whether I blab or not, but if we're going to work against Karina, I don't feel comfortable leaving your niece on the playing board." His frown was quick to make an appearance when Wally poked his chest, he wasn't serious. "You've made your point. That's why I'm here gathering everything before we go in."

Medically induced coma, therapy, and all the other things he mentioned. Karina's vendetta against him had to be something deep, because, even from his limited viewpoint, it was clear she was trying to wipe him off. Laser focused on destroying him. "That does sound pretty damning. Canary's? I won't ask if all the information I need is in front of me. Trust me, I'm not interested in involving more people in this. Everything you say seems to end in multiple injuries. I have to say I'm impressed you're not dead yet." Did Isaac struggle just a bit to say that? Yes, maybe. Just when he thought they were doing better, he seemed to say something to irk him once again. His eye roll was impossible to hide. Ask someone to not get caught, and in the same breath tell him to not lurk. Make it make sense. "I won't lurk if I don't have to, but don't kill me if I still lurk next time I see you." With that, he adjusted his jacket before making his way out the same way they had come in.

The walk back to his car should've helped Isaac cool down and find his footing again. Sure, Wally was irritating him to his very core, but he still deserved the help. Yet, Isaac couldn't look past the insane amount of frustration he felt dealing with him. Once he was back in his car, he dialed the person who could give him some clarity. The person he trusted with advice and the wake up calls. His brother. "I don't even know if I'm calling for you to talk me out of this or to tell me to keep this case. I just can't do this. Is it crazy to think that I rather be chasing some sick criminal around the globe over being here? And no, Louisiana is not the reason I'm losing it." Though it also didn't help.

"Since I was twenty two." That was a long ass time ago. "I have an idea but nothing concrete that I can work with." He hummed as he confirmed without saying much on the matter. "He took me out of Quantico the day before graduation. Graduated top of my class. Star pupil and the like." It was almost like he was watching it replay in his mind as he talked about it. "Recruited me for a special Black Ops division. Needed someone like me and my skills. I wasn't supposed to be an agent you know that?" He didn't let Issac i interrupt. "I was an analyst. Desk duty bound. Except I had exceptional field skills. Part of the Christmas project. You guys know all about it. Your offices handed out those standardized tests to kids. Being smart didn't need to give such a sentence as this."

"I can't. Even if I wanted to. I can't and will not go against her. Not for loyalty but I can't risk my niece. Hence," he gestured around. "All this cloak and dagger bullshit. Her parents don't know so don't you go blab it." He got down from his counter and sighed. Poking his chest, "So if you got a plan. It can't be half cocked."

He hummed. "Madrid was the case I was in a medically induced coma for a month. Therapy was assigned too. My cognitive skills were not harmed luckily as I heard all of them say. But that was the only time she had a neutral stance. I can't prove she did anything to me but there's one I can. Canarys mission. You can't ask me how I got this." Another person he wanted to keep out of this was his girlfriend. Who back then was just a friend or an annoyance if you asked her back then. "Sustained multiple injuries then too. But if you're really here to help then," he shrugged and nodded. "Dont get caught." He knew he'd see this guy again. "Do yourself a favor don't lurk in the shadows I hate that.'

[sotogalmo]

12:22

Nevermore by sasakure...... Such a Luka song but like. Also. Ivan- but I see it as like. How similar they are

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

god they just. rebooted the show during s5 huh

[tonycries]

F*ck You! (Literally) - T.F.

Synopsis. Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, angry séx, spítting, degradation, y’all are both mean, rough, jealousy (Toji’s side), bréeding, smackíng, arguíng during it, cúmplay, overstím, oral (female receiving), mentions of Megumi and Shiu, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.7k

A/N. Gojo next week because I miss my man smh.

It’s not often that you contemplate something that would definitely end up with a night in jail - but it seems that somehow whenever you did, your ex-husband Toji was always sure to be the cause of it.

Like that time he had the audacity to ask you out to dinner right outside the divorce attorney’s office, mere moments after signing those papers. Or when he “accidentally” sent you some mouthwateringly shirtless photos - through email, of course, because you had him blocked otherwise. Although, you’d saved those pictures - a secret you’d take to the grave.

And now. 

Standing right outside your front door, on the night of what would’ve been your fifth anniversary. His imposing figure filling the frame, that tiny scar you loved and hated so much quirking up ever-so-slightly as he shoots you a sly grin. 

He’s here.

Looking as devastatingly handsome as the day you left him.

“Happy anniversary, ex-wifey.”

And just as irritating, too. 

That snaps you out of your traitorous little reverie, and before long you’re sputtering out a shaky, “Y-you. What do you think you’re doing here?” Not even waiting for his response before moving to shut the door in his face.

“Oh, believe me,” Toji lets out a humorless little laugh, reaching up a sculpted arm to stop the door in its tracks. “I wouldn’t be here even if I wanted to.”

That was a lie - and Toji knew that. He had half the mind to think that you knew that. But it didn’t matter when you’re glaring up at him so prettily. The confusion evident on your face as you grit out a shrill, “Then why am I seeing your stupid face tonight?”

“Chance? Luck? A blessing?” 

Scoffing, “A curse.”

“That mouth’s still as sharp as ever, huh?” He cocks his head in amusement, “Did you not see my email?”

“No, I uh-” you mumble, face burning. And oh you wish you could stop yourself from thinking back to those photos - stop yourself from wanting to smack the smirk off Toji’s face that told you he was, too. “-blocked you on…that…as well.”

“Mhm.” he hums, eyes lingering too long on your comfy pajamas - his favorite ones -  and the way you’re squirming so adorably under the intensity of his gaze. “Well, m’just here to pick up one of that brat’s toys. Won’t take long n’ I’ll be out of your sight, doll.”

And you can’t say anything about that familiar little petname, because it hits you with a pang - oh, how you missed Megumi. 

He’d thrown a tantrum until he was allowed to visit you occasionally, of course. But still, it was nothing compared to how inseparable the three of you were before your relationship with Toji soured. His line of work too dangerous, the fights more frequent until you’d had enough.

“Ah, yes. Megs probably won’t even leave the house without it.” you chuckle, opening the door wider. “I was surprised to find it the other day since he said that lil’ plushie was his best friend. After me.”

“After me.”

“Liar.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fitting for our anniversary, huh?” And oh how Toji enjoyed riling you up. To spy that little furrow between your brows as he strides inside your apartment like it was his own - he did know it like the back of his hand. “I already know where the bed is, after all.”

“Yeah, and you know where the door is too.” you mutter, acting like it didn’t make your head spin to think of Toji - in your home. With you. You and Toji. In your home. You and Toji in your home. 

You hadn’t seen him since the divorce just four months ago, and here he was looking so unfairly like he fit right in. Taking up much more time than necessary as he walks towards that little wolf toy on your couch. Eyeing up the sappy romance movie paused on-screen, and those familiar photographs on the wall. 

You still had that one of the two of you from that beach getaway two years ago, he noted with delight. 

“Heh, for someone that hates me so much, s’funny you have my face hung up here.” he smirks, words just dripping with that familiar dark tone that has shivers running down your spine. “Knew you were still into me.” Defiant - challenging, even, because he always did like to push all your buttons. 

Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for-

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, walking towards where Toji stood. “I jus’ use it to scare off clingy dates in the morning.” 

And you loved to push his buttons even more. 

“Oh? Dates, huh?” And something about those words make you feel like something’s too-tense. Exciting, even. Especially as he repeats - more to himself than you, “Dates.”

“Jealous?”

“Heh, of whatever scrub took you out? In your dreams, doll.” Maybe it was the way Toji was joking - but didn’t sound like he was at all. Or maybe it was the way he didn’t move as you stepped closer, enough that you’re almost toe-to-toe with him. Probably it was the way he murmurs out a strangled, “M’not jealous.”

Oh. 

You watch the way his body stiffens, darkened eyes flitting between you and the picture and you- Smirking “Good, because m’having one over soon.”

“Oh, you little bitch.” He spits out the words, gaze hardening in a way you knew did not bode well for your - or down there. Hitting it where it hurts, “This is why I’m so fuckin’ glad we divorced.”

“Fuck you,” you tilt your head, anger simmering beneath your skin - and you didn’t know who was pissing each other off more. “So then you can get out before my date gets here.” And the emphasis on “date” isn’t lost on him.

“Such a liar.”

“M’not lying.” You were - but you didn’t care if Toji could tell because it was ticking him off just the same. “You could say he’s an-” Now close enough that you could feel the heat of his proximity. A finger stabbing right in his pecs with each word, “-upgrade.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled to his rock-hard chest, all the dips and curves of his body so sinfully obvious against your skin as he questions, “How so?”

“Well, for starters he’s-” you gasp, casting a sidelong glance at the way the muscles in his arms ripple. And it takes everything in you to try and keep your voice steady, “-bigger.” Thighs pressing together at the tiny grunt of disbelief that leaves your ex-husband, too-aware of the strong hand wrapped around your waist. “And sexier.”

“And?”

“And what?” you gulp, raising your head to blink up at him in confusion and oh- 

Oh, shit. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Toji’s eyes were wide, a mirthless smirk spreading across his face, jaw tensing as he leans down to whisper hotly against your ear, words hoarse - stilted, like it pained him to even speak them into existence. “And what other lies are ya gonna make up?”

And you might be a genius - you might just not know what’s good for you. 

Because you’re batting your lashes just the way you knew he liked, the words - saccharine sweet, and falling from your lips faster than your whirling brain could even register them. “And he makes me cum so much harder.”

Toji’s lips are crashing against yours - and you knew it was coming. You wanted them to. Bruising, angry - like he was telling you to just shut the fuck up, another word of your imaginary date and it would kill him. 

He tasted the same as he did all those months ago. Sweet, like those cheap lollipops he would buy you and that absolute sin of his scar rubbing against your lips. 

“Fuck-” he lets out a guttural groan into your lips. Only a sloppy mix of teeth and spit as he kisses you with the collective desperation of a little over four months. “Hate how you’re-” Like he didn’t even care if it left your poor lips swollen and bruised - at least that might give whatever loser coming here a hint. “-still addictive.”

With that, he picks you up like it’s just nothing, your traitorous legs easily wrapping around his toned waist. Letting you pull off that sinfully snug t-shirt to feel the smooth planes of all his muscles. Soft. Warm. 

You gasp at how he manhandles you so that your thin pajama pants are just above his achingly hard cock, throbbing, and so so angry against your core. Trousers already so damp with- precum? Your slick? 

“Hah- not jealous my ass-” you hiss, grinding down on his bulge.

And Toji’s parting mere millimeters, chuckling darkly at the disappointed little whine that escapes you. “Yeah, well, does he ever get you like this?” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, purposely not giving you what you want. “Does he ever get you this-” Grinding you against his straining erection, two fingers sliding down, just teasing the drenched front of your shorts. “-this fuckin’ wet?”

“Nah,” you pull on Toji’s silky locks, nipping at his collarbone. “He gets me wetter.”

“You little-”

It’s like something snaps - whatever’s left of Toji’s sanity, your patience, possibly you by the end of this. Anything but the thick, suffocating - tension in your living room. Now too small. Too hot. 

Before you can react, your back  is hitting the soft cushions of your couch. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw as Toji looms over you. 

“Thought you knew where the bed was?” you manage to get out, in the heat of it all. 

“Thought you hated me?”

“Gonna kill you if you break this cou-” but the rest of the retort on your tongue dies as Toji’s hands are suddenly everywhere.

Groping your breasts - your waist - your ass. Barely giving you time to even think before fisting your shirt in one hand. Too impatient - too starved - to do anything other than pull down, down, down until it-

RIP!

“Oh you fuckin’ slut.” Toji’s jaw drops into a soft little oh! at the sight of your heavenly breasts before him. No bra - exactly how he liked it. “How I missed these.” Massaging them under his hands, “Is this for him or ya really had no idea I was coming?”

“You’re t-too fuckin’ hah-” you whine as he immediately takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipples. “-full of yourself.”

And you don’t even know if Toji registered the insult - looking like he was on cloud nine as he rolled your other nipple between two fingers. Pulling off with a lewd pop! only to say, “Wonder if you’re the same down there.”

You are - Toji discovers, with wonder. 

Hooking a finger underneath the hem of your already-soaked shorts to pull them off. And, hey, Toji hasn’t had this view in months - so he really can’t help himself from bringing them up to his face. Your jaw drops at his pure audacity as he breathes in the scent of your dripping pussy with a strained, “M’keepin’ these, doll.”

“You’re sick.” 

“And you’re soaked.” strong hands spread your legs so shamefully. You can’t fight it - how fucking wet and glistening you were for him under the dim-lighting. Toji grins cockily, “Who’s she this wet for, huh? Me or him?”

“Not- not you-” you whine, despite how your sloppy cunt was leaking all over your legs - such a mess. A mess that Toji was shifting down the couch to lick up. Slow, lazy circles right at your inner thighs. Sweet - so sweet, his favorite. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste and oh, how Toji missed this. 

Missed teasing you until you broke. 

Which, it turns out, happens fairly early.

“Y-you’re just fucking talk.” you hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. Your voice betraying how badly you wanted him. Needed him to do something - anything. “He-”

Toji doesn’t even let you finish your sentence - and you don’t need to - because without another word, he’s surging forward until he was nose-deep in your messy cunt.

Licking one, long stripe up your swollen folds - up and down, up and down, up and- He murmurs into your cunt, “Do ya still like when I-” Hot tongue flicking roughly against your clit. Just barely, and you’re bucking wildly underneath him. “Ah, you do. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Of course, the only response that Toji gets is a wet, pathetic murmur of something - maybe a plea, probably a curse at him to shut up. 

But it’s something that has all the blood rushing to his aching cock, something that has him biting down lightly on your inner thigh - just a little punishment. 

“What was that?” he purrs, “Didn’t seem to hear you right, wifey.”

It takes everything in you to gasp out, a barely-audible determined little, “I-I said-” fingers threading through Toji’s hair, pulling up his face. Hard, so that he’s forced to meet your eyes instead of admiring your pretty lil’ cunt. “-fuck you.”

And you don’t know what you expected - maybe an insult back, maybe for him to get up and leave you all high and dry right then and there.

But oh you should’ve known your ex-husband better, because he has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh, more to infuriate you than anything as he promptly spits on your quivering pussy. 

Once. Twice.

You flinch as some splatters against your thigh, and you both know it’s on purpose. Because Toji Fushiguro always had perfect aim - but when it comes to you, well, he had to knock his bratty lil’ wife down a few pegs. 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders to lick all over your sloppy pussy once more. “Fuck me, huh?” he groans out little profanities into your cunt, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me-” 

Smack!

You register that delicious little sting on your ass far before the realization that Toji smacked you - and even later do you realize that you liked it. Slick beading through at the painfully good feeling.

Liked the way his rough palm was soothing over the sting, words strangled and slurring together as he smacks his lips against your swollen, sensitive ones. “I’d rather you fuck me than some hah- other loser.”

“S-so fucking mean-” you moan.

“So what?” His thumb draws tight little circles on your throbbing clit, the other hand looping around your waist - bruising - as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his hot mouth. “No one else could do this.” Soft tongue going all the way up from your base, “Get you this wet-” Just dipping into your clenching hole. “-taste you like this.”

“Hngh- fuck-” you groan, as he alternates between flicking your clit so mean and squeezing his tongue into your tight cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck- s’too much-”

Too much? Toji wanted to laugh - if he wasn’t so addicted to the feeling of your gummy walls stretched out so obscenely on his tongue, anyway. He knows you can take it - you always did. 

And he tells you that - a little over ten times, actually, as the hand on your waist arches you deeper and deeper onto Toji’s tongue. Fucking you so harshly - merciless. Unrelenting. Like he was taking any and every shred of anger out on your ravaged cunt.

Bucking your hips wildly, you tipping your head down to look at the sight below you and oh-

You gasp at how sinfully blissed out Toji looks between your thighs. Eyes glassy and hooded, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. Your slick glossing his lips so prettily - and if you angled your head just right you could catch the way it drips down his jawline. Yeah, maybe you really did like his face between your legs. 

“Always knew ya did, doll.” he echoes against your glistening lips and shit, did you say that out loud? 

It doesn’t matter, because Toji has his lips smushing against yours, such a filthy mess of spit and fingers and tongue - everywhere. Like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to taste more. “Knew your pussy missed me, even when you’re such some other bastard. She’s still so sweet.” Thrusting in and out faster past that first, feeble ring of resistance. “So messy f’me. Fuckin’ my tongue so good for s-someone that hates me.”

And you have half the mind to wonder whether it hurt - how his fingers weren’t cramping up yet, lips aching. Letting you push his face deeper into your pussy, ankles locking around his broad shoulders in a desperate attempt to shut him up. Close. 

“Y-you talk ngh- too much.” Blood roaring in your ears, feeling his smirk against your cunt. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“Nah, I know you ah- love it.” Smack! Another handprint on your ass that has you stuttering and jolting on his face. “Can feel you clenching all around me because I-” Toji gives you such an infuriating wink from below,  “-eat this pussy the best.”

 And you would be mad at how cocky he was being - if you weren’t cumming all over his pretty face. 

Stars behind your eyes with each little lick of Toji’s tongue as he fucks you through your high, lapping up all your sweet sweet juices. 

“W-wait oh-” you were letting out such delirious little whines. “S’too sensitive- too- hngh-”

“No-” he grits out, voice shot. “No no no no- wan’ it. Need it.” Scrambling to pull your hips back onto his mouth. Fingers just bruising on your skin. 

He was like a man possessed, and you can only lay there and take it as Toji tips his head back to let your slick slide, down, down, down his throat. Voice shot, as he grits out, “Oh fuck, been holdin’ out on me.” Eyes unfocused and miles away as he comes up to squish your cheeks together in an embarrassing little pout. “Open that fucking mouth.” 

And you barely even realize it when you are - tongue lolling out so sinfully. The only thing jolting you back to whatever senses you have left is Toji spitting in your mouth. 

A steady, angry stream of saliva before his lips are clashing once more with yours. Purposefully letting your juices smear all over both your lips, tasting yourself and him and how desperate you were on his tongue-

“O-oh my god.” you break the kiss at the feeling of something so hard against your cunt. Delicate strings of spit snapping as you whirl down to look. Shit, when did he even take off his-

Ah, how Toji loves the breathless little whimper that leaves your lips at the sight of his too-tight boxers, the insults failing you now. Humming, “Like what ya see?” 

As if to prove his point, he tugs them down just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free. Fuck, you think you’ll never get used to it, even after so long - Toji was so fucking massive. Flushed red, soaked in beads of precum that drip down, down, down all the way to the tufts of black at his toned pelvis. 

So thick and angry that your legs were clenching together just at the mere sight. And Toji notices - how could he not?

“Yeah…” he murmurs, as if continuing a conversation from before. Muscled arms pushing your thighs apart to watch how your sloppy pussy was drooling all over the couch. “She definitely missed me, look how much she’s gushing.” Pooling your juices on his fingertips, “Clean your act up, doll”

“Shut up.” you squeal, embarrassedly, giving Toji a glare that makes his balls squeeze so painfully. Smirking, “You’re not even as big as him.”

Oh. 

Well, Toji didn’t like that - not one bit, in fact, as he shoves his dripping wet fingers in your mouth - pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knows will have your pretty eyes welling up with tears.

“Then why aren’t you with him, you little bitch. Think I like you better when you’re f-fucked dumb.” he spits dangerously against your lips. Fisting his cock to lazily drag up and down your puffy folds. “Don’t you hah- agree?”

He doesn’t get to find out if you agree - and he doesn’t care, either. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to give an answer even if you wanted to. Because his swollen cock was too thick, the stretch too sinful, too dizzying as Toji splits you apart on his unforgiving cock. 

“Mmmpf- fuck! Hah-” you mewl, torn between running away from his cock and bucking down for more more more-

“More?” he laughs, “Ya ask him for more like this too?”

And oh how so very cute and pliant you were being stuffed full. He barely gives you the time to adjust because - why would he? Toji has his mouthy wife all breathless and splayed out so shamefully, desperately trying to milk his cock for all he’s worth. 

Barely even halfway in, yet he rocks into you in shallow, teasing little grinds just to fit himself inside your tight pussy. So mean. Not giving a fuck about those teary whimpers leaving your mouth.

“They ever ngh- fuck you like this?” he rasps, dropping his head to leave little bites down your tender neck. “Ever h-having you crying for his dick like ngh- this?” And despite all his confidence, Toji didn’t want to hear the answer - didn’t want to know the truth. “Such a slut.”

Your nails rake angrily down his sculpted shoulders - a warning, and it’s about the only thing you can do as Toji speeds up. Faster. Deeper. 

“Heh, what? Markin’ me up for others to hah- see?” he cooes, mockingly. And you could just cry as his grin widens, finally - finally - pulling his fingers out. “Why don’t you ngh- use your words instead?”

And you should probably breathe, probably tell him to fuck you exactly the way he wants to - to confess to him that this is all you’ve ever wanted on those lonely nights these past four months. But the both of you know that it’s more fun this way.

So instead, you smile sweetly, “F-fuck you. They do - a lot better, too.”

If only your voice hadn’t cracked so unconvincingly at the end - if only you hadn’t let out such a pornographic moan as Toji pulls your face to meet his. Kissing you over and over and his hips-

“I’m the one fucking you, doll.” he bites down on your lower lip, tugging and pushing at a senseless little rhythm - the complete opposite of his hips. “Remember that.” And that’s all that’s said before Tojis finally bottoming out all the way to the hilt. Heavy balls smacking sinfully against your ass, fat head just kissing your cervix. “It’s me. I don’t give a hah- shit if it’s been f-four mouths, it’ll always be ngh- me.”

The couch creaked in protest as Toji fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do. Like he was trying to fuck every thought of whoever came after him right out of you - along with those silly little thoughts about the divorce.

“B-but-” your eyes widen as Toji runs his mouth - as hasty and urgent as his movements now. Fingers snaking up to toy with your still-sensitive clit, not even drawing circles anymore - just messy, little patterns just to get you off. “We’re already-”

“You s-still think we’re oh- nothing but exes?” he questions, sounding as surprised as you felt. “We can’t stay ah- God, we can’t stay apart and you fuckin’ know it. So…”

You gulp, already knowing the answer to the question he was just goading you into asking. “So?” 

“So…” Toji muses, giving your swollen lips a short, chaste peck. Whispering against them, “M’gonna hah- fuck you till everyone knows you’re mine.”

A promise that Toji Fushiguro was well and fully intent on fulfilling. And you didn’t doubt that he’d have any trouble with it, in fact. 

Because he’s rutting into you so animalistically now, so so sloppy. Torn between savoring the feeling of your plushy walls squeezing him to insanity and abusing your poor cervix. Prominent veins making you feel a maddening little thump thump thump as he roams for that one-

“Ah! Hngh- Toji!”

Found it. 

And Toji had everything he needed - you, his wife, spread so sinfully and stuffed to the brim with him. Hitting your sweet spot over and over- 

“No loser’s gonna fuck you like this.” he breathes against your ear. “Have you ngh- feeling this good.”

“I- ngh- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” you let out, hips mindlessly bucking down in a pathetic attempt to meet his rough thrusts. “S’too- hah- oh my god. S’too good-”

“Shut up.” Oh he sounds so absolutely wrecked. Sanity crumbling away bit by bit every time he’s plunging his cock - so painfully hard - into your wet pussy. “Do you even ah- realize how sexy you look right now?” Toji throws his head back, eyes still locked on you like it killed him to look away. “Never lettin’ anyone else s-see ya like this. They’re gonna look at you and see me-”

You don’t even know what he’s babbling about anymore. Just that his achingly hard cock was making such a mess of you, pulling back only to go deeper. Massaging all the right spots as fucked you harder into the couch. 

“Me-” he gasps. “That date is gonna fuck- know,” Hips stuttering and absolutely filthy, “That cashier d-down the ngh- street that eyes you up every time is gonna know-” Angry. Desperate. So, so needy. “Your fucking lawyer- ngh- s’gonna know. They’ll s-see you and see me me me me-”

At this point you can only nod deliriously, letting out a broken little, “Hngh- yeah, wan’ that, Toji. Wan’ you so bad.”

Toji presses another chaste kiss - this time to your forehead. Whispering a quiet, “Then cum f’me, doll.”

You do - the hardest you ever think you ever have in your entire life. Thighs shaking, vision spotty, sparks of white-hot electricity going all the way from your hazy brain to where Toji was fucking you through it.

Muffling your moans with his mouth as he gives one, harsh thrust. Then spilling into your gummy walls, painting it all an obscene white with rope after rope of hot cum. 

So wet and hot - with him. All him. 

And you look so cute taking it all like the good little wife that you are, that he can’t help but press down on your lower stomach. Awe-struck at how your cunt gushes around him, coating his twitching cock as Toji fucks his seed deeper and deeper into you. 

But, hell, that wasn’t his favorite part - not by a long shot. Instead, it was probably when you pulled him into his arms, whispering sweet little nonsense in his ear about “how you missed this” and “that date wasn’t real anyway” as he fucks the two of you through your highs. Sweet. Familiar. 

“Oh, God-” he mutters into the crook of your neck, slightly calmer now. Much more clear-minded than the two of you were mere seconds before. “We broke the couch.” 

And it was true - one side was sagging much more than the other. Though you can only let out a giggle in response. Doesn’t matter, the two of you’ll pick out a new one tomorrow - he always hated this new one, anyway. “Happy anniversary, wifey.”

---

“Damn kid, that ol’ dad of yours sure is running late.” Shiu crosses and uncrosses his legs with slight nervousness. Eyeing the small, dark-haired boy playing with blocks a few feet away, “Maybe we should-”

“It’s okay. He’ll be back.” Megumi deadpans, sounding like the absolute last thing on his mind was why his dad was taking way too long for what should’ve been a half an hour errand. Shiu - on the other hand - had his mind whirling with imaginations of traffic accidents or murders or- what if the two of you killed each other- “And he’ll bring back mama too.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. The older man stared wide-eyed at a slightly-smiling Megumi. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait- no, what did you-”

“Nothing.”

Because, hey, Megumi might’ve had to go without his favorite wolf plushie for a bit - but a magician never reveals his tricks, right?

A/N. So how does it feel to be played by a kid, hm?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[slvttyplum]

suguru could admit when something was too much for him; that was the part of his personality that everyone loved. he was blunt with his thoughts, and that's why he could admit that your pussy was too much for him.

he had his trials and errors with sex, but he was a god in bed, flipping and tossing you around like a pancake on a pan, and you were all for it, but he always stopped an hour deep.

yes, he could go a couple of hours, but that was only when he "released" himself beforehand. your body, it was sexy, but he could manage, but whenever his dick was inside of you, he couldn't bring himself to keep going without almost passing out.

losing his breath and holding onto your hips like you were going to float away, taking deep breaths while recollecting himself. he felt like an old man, always catching his breath and telling you to slow down when things were getting too fast.

"ah… okay, just a little slower. i cant fucking breathe." smiling as you bounced away, having you do some of the workload but still embarrassed that he was about to bust a load again three minutes after the first one.

your pussy was so good it had him shooting blanks after a while. it gripped onto him in ways he couldn't comprehend and didn't want to; he found it scary, but you got the job done every time, and he hated it.

"baby, are you okay?" turning your head a little to look at him because of his pace slowing down and his forehead resting on his back, cursing himself for his cum slowly dripping out, trying to stop, but it was already too late.

even when it was just you lying there, taking every bit of him and listening to his sexy groans, he was still finishing before the deadline and was forcing himself to overstimulate.

why? why did you have to eat his dick up like this? why did you have to feel so good, a little too good? he just wanted to go at least thirty minutes without finishing, but between your face and the way your pussy clung to him, it wasn't possible.

it was a challenge, but he was going to try to pass it every time. he had a job, and that was to please you.

that was his ego talking. he got you off every time; he just hated the fact he couldn't hold out, and his ego was bruised, but you were going to be there for him every time, keeping it a secret that it turned you on that you had this effect on him.

nothing turned you on more than hearing his blabbering mumbling behind you, trying to hold out, your face in the pillow, all smiles.

[mirchloe]

mirtala and bobby are such a fun duo. silly circus girl climbing on him like a squirrel. nothing he can do about it because chloe told him to be nice. she can use his hair as a landing pad if she falls from a high height because it's buoyant enough for her to bounce. they have metamour outings while chloe is on a mission or in space, and mirtala swings his hand on their way to a spa or sneak their way into a movie theater. they're like that duo dynamic going around twitter about one having eyebags and the other having eyeshadow. mirtala is fixing his, though, she's spritzing him with hydrating mists! they're sunbathing with cucumber slices over their eyes outside the family circus. bobby is a joy to have because he can be their strongman (free labor - donatella thinks he's a genuine joy, though!) and mirtala sits on his shoulders practicing her stretches and acrobatics. as soon as chloe gets home, they pouncing on her. gf is home. gf is home. gf is home. pushing each other out of the way to hug her first. chloe thinks they are ridiculous!! but hugs them at the same time, and they squeeze her tight.

[rafesangelita]

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 rafe is tired, but never too tired to have pretty little sheep!reader bouncing on his cock <3

warnings: dealer!rafe, light fluff, sleepy sex, riding & reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, praise, spanking, hair pulling, use of the name ‘daddy’, tit sucking

a/n: sheep!reader has been getting heavily requested.. so ask and you shall receive! i’ll be giving longer fics a small break until my pogue!sweetheart!reader series is done because my brain is actually going to explode lol

nothing felt better than coming home to you after a long day of bullshit and seeing you in nothing but those cute thigh high socks of yours. especially when you were so needy and willing to do all of the work. you’d give rafe what felt like a thousand kisses all over his face, his arms wrapped around your waist as you gushed about how much you missed him and thought about him all day. “yeah? i missed you more.” you’d smile at his words, quickly getting him out of his clothes.

you massaged the tension out of his shoulders and left trails of kisses along his skin, your boyfriend growing more relaxed as your skilled hands worked to get him unwinded. by the time you were finished, he was barely able to keep his eyes open, his heavy-lidded gaze meeting yours. “what do you want, baby? you’ve been looking at me like you got something on your mind..” your cheeks heated in response, his fingers dancing along your flesh.

“i know you’re tired.. but can i get on top?” a lazy smile made its way to rafe’s lips before he pulled you onto his lap.

“fuck, yeah.”

those two words were all the confirmation you needed, your shaky hands planted on rafe’s thighs as you moved on top of him, his cock filling you to the hilt. watching you move so fluidly on top of him was enough to make his eyes roll to the back of his head, the sight of your soaked cunt gripping him with every drag of your hips drew more moans from him than the last. “ah, f-fuck! you’re just taking that shit..” rafe was mesmerized, his large palm resting in the curve of thigh.

you cried out when his hand came down on the globe of your ass, a stinging sensation spreading across your sensitive skin. “riding me dumb, huh?” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before pulling you back against his chest. you were arched almost painfully in this position, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. “poor baby, here by herself all day..” you whimpered, his free hand snaking down your tummy until he had your clit pinched between his fingers.

you shrieked, white, hot pleasure blinding your vision. rafe knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what would have you yelping in pain, and what would make you all soft and warm like putty in his hands. “riding daddy makes you so fucking wet,” your hips stuttered when rafe starting rubbing hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the lewdness of his words, “just letting me use you like the cock slut you are, right?”

“y-yes!” you whimpered, sighing in relief when he let your hair go. “make yourself cum, ‘pretty girl, let me feel you.” rafe watched as you leaned forward, your back arching deliciously as you bounced on his length. your ass met rafe’s thighs in rhythmic claps, the sound making both of you moan. “turn around, precious, ‘needa see that pretty face.” you slid off of him for a moment, finally swinging a leg over his lap before sinking back down on his cock.

pushing his face into your chest, you whined when you felt him take one of your tits in his mouth, his tongue circling around the sensitive bud. he licked and sucked as you worked to make both of you cum. you relished in these moments when you two were panting into each other’s mouths, skin hot and burning with fiery need and desire, never wanting it to end. rafe’s abs constricted as he inched closer and closer to his climax, your thighs aching for a break.

“don’t fucking stop..” rafe dug his fingers in the flesh of your hips, “oh, my god, don’t stop!” he repeated, your eyes brimming with tears as your clit slapped against his pubic bone. as soon as you doubled over, your head falling against his shoulder, rafe knew the band in your tummy finally snapped, his own orgasm hitting him at the same time. embracing you tightly, rafe thrusted up from below you so you could just cum without keeping up your pace.

you shook against him, tears rolling down your cheek and onto his collarbone as you reveled in each wave of pure bliss. rafe’s mouth stayed open, his eyes screwing shut as you milked him for all that he had. eventually, you two came to a stop, your breaths being the only sound in the room. if rafe felt tired before, he was even more drained now.. literally. nothing beat his pretty thing of a girlfriend taking his load at the end of the night.

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

[arminsumi]

ADULT STORE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."

1.5k words

Pt. 2

Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)

Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈

Playme : wanna know what it's like?

The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.

The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.

"Yo."

Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.

He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.

"Ah, h-hello..."

He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.

"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.

"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."

Yeah, that's what I thought.

He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.

"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"

His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."

Aw, of course.

"M'kay... then let me assist you."

He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.

"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"

"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.

I know exactly what she needs...

"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."

His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.

Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.

"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"

Aw, she's flustered.

"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."

Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.

"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."

There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.

He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.

"This one's got ten functions—"

"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."

"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."

The two of you share a long look, then laugh.

"But it really is an excellent product."

"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.

"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."

I could make her squirt.

He's running his eyes up and down your body.

"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.

"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."

He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.

"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.

A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.

Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...

He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.

"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.

You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.

He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.

"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.

"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.

He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.

"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."

"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."

Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.

His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."

After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.

He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.

He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.

"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."

He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.

"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?

"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"

"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"

He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.

Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.

He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.

She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.

You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.

"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.

You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.

"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."

"Fuck, okay."

And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.

"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.

Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.

His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.

This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.

"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.

Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.

"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."

And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.

Please cum on my face. Please please please.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"

You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.

He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.

"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"

Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.