#before decided it would probably be 5 parts

[vainilladollie]

fruitcake track 5; is it new years yet?

pairing ; shy!matt x fem!reader

summary ; matt and you had a fight on new year’s morning, so you decide to apologise by making him feel good.

warning(s) ; mdni. smut. oral | blow job (m!receiving) established relationship. makeup blow job. semi public sex. creampie. me writing after months be sweet or i’ll end crying (IM SERIOUS) ik the song it’s sad BUT im ovulating so leave me alone please AND OMG THE SANTA PART IS SO GOOD??? genuinely this song makes me wanna dance

❛ december is a prison

it just makes me miss him

is it new years yet?

im gettin' bored, so can we skip ahead? ౨ৎ

“shh..kay?” you said pressing your index finger against matt's lips, who would have babbled a thousand gibberish in the last 4 minutes, in which you managed to drag him to the guest bathroom, after unzipping his jean, you pulled his pants down using the car keys he never seemed to put away; always hanging on his pants or belt.

“matty..” you murmured softly forming a smile as your hand massaged his noticeable bulge. “doll...? w-we shouldn’t be doin' thi-” matt said as he nervously glanced at his watch, it would soon be new year and they would probably notice you two were missing. “matt, listen! im really..sorry” you said as you left a kiss on the tip of matt's cock, your hand around pumping his length, licking the traces of pre-semen, slowly you began to suck the tip; to slowly continue to move forward, leaning back with your hand still holding his dick, giggling at matt's nervous babbling.

“are you gonna forgive me?” you asked separating yourself for a moment from his probably aching cock, matt let out a moan, his hands shyly bringing your face closer to his member, immediately taking the opportunity and getting the message, you let your tongue start swirling again around his shaft, going all the way down you just could keep moving your head, bobbing up and down faster, synchronized, matt looked at you with his lips slightly parted his heart beating faster as such a beautiful sigh. spit dribbles down your chin, your lips stretched obscenely around his girth, so pretty just for him, you were hurrying as matt helped you with his hands, his breathing was getting more and more agitated, in a quick movement you broke away and looked at matt, trying to heard to what he was saying.

“doll...im..” matt started but you quickly began to ask awkwardly before he could finish his phrase. “so, you forgive me, m-” but before you could finish matt pushed your face against him, and all his discharge crashed against your lips, and immediately, matt panicked. “i...fuck, let me help you” matt said pulling up his pants, wiping your face with a wet towel, totally preoccupied, but you just asked, “is it new years yet?” maybe he already forgive you.

۫ ꣑ৎ bella little message ; ik this song is supposed to be sad, but i have cold and im ovulating so ur asking me too much, ofc cindy lou who, is gonna be SAD as fuck, dw!! sorry if this is bad or something :( love you for reading this btw!

© vainilladollie ; all work is owned by me. please do not copy, translate or transfer my work to any other blogs or sites and do not claim as your own. drivers are mine, don’t use them at least ur giving me the credit. love u to the moon, xx.

[sir-sunawani]

Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 5: Endure

Crocodile talked you through what he was doing as he cleaned you. He ended up cleaning you twice, because the first time you were still out of it, but he didn’t seem irritated by it. His voice was soft, and his touch was careful, and while he easily manhandled you, there was nothing left of the beast that had plunged his tongue into you earlier.

He dried you off after, and carefully brushed your hair.

A fresh shirt of his, and he helped you roll up the sleeves, pulling you into bed with him and sleeping beside you with a gentle, almost chaste manner. Nothing happens during the night, except one of the deepest, most satisfying rests of your life.

In the morning he hands you a small box after breakfast. You look at it a little oddly, but open it to find a black leather choker, with a simple golden clasp on the back, and a twist of gold on the front.

“It’s a collar.” He explains. “One you can remove with a single hand. You’re not required to wear it, but it will act as an effective warning to anyone on the island that you are my… guest.”

Taking it out of the box you put it around your neck, surprised at how well it fits, and how easily it clasps and unclasps. You leave it on with a smile and see a smirk pull at Crocodile’s lips. He’s pleased, and you imagine that’s as close to a genuine smile as you’ll see on his face.

After breakfast, Crocodile was back to work. You didn’t know what the island full of pirates did, but it apparently created a massive amount of paperwork. As far as you’d sorted the last couple of days, Crocodile dealt with expenses. Pages and pages of numbers and accounts, and it all blurred together no matter how often you tried to watch him work.

“You can sit in my lap while I work.” He says evenly, eyes not even shifting over to you as you stand nearby watching him. “You’re so small it won’t hinder me.”

He leans back, and opens his legs, patting the space on the chair between his legs. You aren’t sure why you decide to accept the offer. You just know that the room smells nice, and he smells even better, and the space he’s offering to let you sit probably smells the best.

The leather of the chair is a smell that doesn’t linger. Instead the sweet scent of old scotch, honey, and warm sand curls around you. The steady scratch of his pen along the paper, the faint whiffs of ink that lead your nose back to his smell, it’s all a little mesmerizing.

The even pace with which he works is probably from years of practice. Not so slow he’s easily distracted, not so fast he’s burned out before the day is done.

The only breaks in his work come from the people who come into the office space at seemingly random intervals. You didn’t pay the much mind, the vulgar scents of harsh salty air and often unwashed pirate dissipated quickly. No one ever lingered long, giving their report and then leaving.

Sometimes a stern man who said nothing would come in and leave more paper, or take papers. He didn’t smell vulgar, but he seemed to pay little attention to Crocodile and even less attention to you.

The scent, the steady thrum of work, the soft lighting of the room. It was relaxing. Terribly relaxing. Some part of you was concerned you were too relaxed, but a larger part of you was happy for it. Happy for the contact. You knew the concept of touch-starved, but since you had been allowed contact with your omega attendants, you hadn’t considered it. You weren’t devoid of physical contact.

But you had been denied a kind of it. The pleasure of physical intimacy and the relaxation that came with having that euphoric feeling flood your senses.

It was addicting.

Or at the very least, you weren’t against feeling it again. Certainly not at Crocodile’s hands. Hand. His very large hand. Large, broad shoulders. Large tongue.

You can’t help squirming a little at the idea, but you force yourself to stay still. You want to stay perched in this space for as long as you can, and if you make a fuss he’s likely to make you leave. You’ve only been around him two days, but he’s disdainful of idiocy and inefficiency, that much is obvious.

“Will you help me relax?” He hums, setting down the pen.

You nod, mind a little fuzzy from the scent of him. You wanted more of it, more of him. You needed it to be stronger, but you didn’t know if saying so was rude.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want,” he explains, large hand cupping your breast. His finger brushes your nipple through the shirt and you gasp, shivering in his lap. “Or beg me for more.”

He rolls his finger over your sensitive flesh until your nipple is hard and you have a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds of your panting. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were, the warmth rolling through you was already maddening and he’s only just begun.

Rolling the small nub between to fingers he tugs a little, a slight smile forming on his lips when you gasp, biting your lip and moaning. Your body is trembling against his chest, and he wants little more than to pin you down and fuck you until you cry, but he wants you to beg for it.

Needs you to beg for him.

The whimper that falls from your lips causes him to reach over and play with your other nipple, his forearm brushing against the tingling right side as he teases your left with his fingers.

“This… this relaxes you?” You question, the shivering pleasure skittering through your chest and heating your body.

“It does.” He answers honestly.

“To-touching me?”

He flicks his finger lightly over the tip of your nipple. “Yes.” The cool metal of his hook rests on your thigh, sliding and pulling the hem of your shirt up with it. “Everything you do when I touch you like this relaxes me.”

“It’s… it’s not relaxing for m-me.” You admit. You’re squirming and whining, but you’re not pushing him away or asking him to stop.

“It’s not?” He questions, knowing amusement in his voice as he twists your nipples, tweaking one then the other. “Should I stop?”

“No! No, ah, no, it feels good… it does.” You cry. He’s gone back to rubbing lazy light circles around each stiff peak, moving back and forth between them, never leaving one unattended long enough to soften and relax. You’re worried you’re going to stain the chair, you can feel the mess pooling between your thighs at the attention.

But it’s not enough to bring you over the edge.

He leans down, lips close to your ear. “Do you want it to feel better?”

“Buh-better?” You need a minute to pull your thoughts together. “Orgasming, you mean, like last night?” You question, body rolling in his as his hook threatens to expose you at his desk.

“You want me to make you cum, little flower?” He purrs and you feel the sound coil around your thighs and lick at your ears.

“Yes! Yuh-yes please, please.” Nodding, you mewl as you’re shifted easily, turned around and sat up on his desk.

Hand and hook grab the top and rip it open, sending buttons flying. He leaves the shirt on you otherwise, your back to the door.

“Put your feet on my thighs, and your hands on the desk.” He instructs, helping you and guiding you as you move into the position he wants. Your face is flushed, and you’re panting with need. It’s not a heat, but you’re so desperate for him to make you cum again that you’re not thinking clearly. Your ass is barely on the edge of his desk and you can see and feel sand moving up your stomach.

The small handfuls of sand brush your nipples, teasing your skin.

“Haaanngh!” You gasp. “Rough, it’s… rough,” your breath falls down your lips as the gritty sensation sends thrills into your chest.

“Painful?” He questions and you shake your head as the sand rolls and shifts over your stiff nipples. “Good.”

His thumb rubs against your slit and you wonder if he’s going to put his lips down there again. Instead he rubs your clit once before pushing your labia apart and slowly working his middle finger inside of you. It’s an easy intrusion, you were wet before he started teasing your breasts, and now you’re almost painfully needy.

The sweet stretch of his thick finger pushing inside you makes your hips buck. He moves with you so he doesn’t go too deep too fast. Once his entire finger is inside you he presses his thumb against your clit and starts rubbing slow circles.

“Haa, haaa… that’s…” You gasp. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding into his thumb and riding his finger. You’re pushing off the desk and bracing yourself against his legs, practically fucking yourself on his finger while he teases your clit and nipples.

Pleasure ripples through your muscles, curling around your lungs and leaking from your pussy so much you can hear the soft drops with each wet shift of your hips on his finger.

You don’t care about the sounds. You don’t care about his eyes on your body, but you do like that he’s watching you. It’s the high you’re chasing, the one he’s letting you reach for. It felt so good yesterday, and you can feel it coiling through you again. Building. Tightening.

A knock at the door stutters your pace for a second, but one look from Crocodile has you continuing to move. Your lips are pressed together and you’re trying to be quiet.

“If you stop, I’ll edge you until your next heat.” He warns softly. His eyes stay on you even as shame pricks tears at the corners of yours. You nod, lips still pressed tightly together.

“Come in.” He calls out and your body tenses for a second as the doors swing open.

“Please,” you whine softly, still riding his finger. His eyes shift from your body to the figure beyond.

“Don’t dawdle in the doorway.” He growls and you hear the footsteps approach.

“Please, I-.”

“Keep doing what you are doing, or I will strip you bare and take you in front of this man, do you understand?” He snaps the words and you nod your head, focusing on him, and his hand, and his sand and trying to desperately ignore the other person.

“Report.” Sir Crocodile snarls and the poor messenger stammers a few times unsuccessfully until he finds his words.

You have no idea what the report was. Even if you weren’t trying to ignore him entirely, you hadn’t really kept up with what people had come in and reported earlier. Crocodile’s sand was tugging at your nipples making you whine and moan no matter how tightly pressed you kept your lips.

“No,” you gasp softly, voice barely above a whisper. The pleasure was building and you knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out until the messenger left.

The messenger goes quiet and Crocodile shifts. His hook presses harmlessly into the middle of your back and he holds you close, bending down enough to look into your eyes as he fucks you with his finger. The lewd wet sound of his finger pumping in and out of your vagina is all you can hear, and his thumb against your clit pushes you over the edge.

You hold onto his shirt, mouth open and gaze hazy as you come undone for him, fluttering against his finger. He keeps going until you’re a panting, shivering mess, your orgasm dripping onto the floor. Pulling his finger out he licks the tip before pushing it into your mouth.

“Get out.” He says, never taking his eyes off you. You’re licking and sucking the finger in your mouth, too focused on him and the taste of your pleasure against your tongue to care about the man. You can hear the hurried click of his shoes against the floor, and the door closing behind him.

Crocodile lays you down on his desk, letting the shirt fall to either side of you. His finger is still in your mouth as he leans down and licks your body. His tongue starts against your throbbing pussy, and trails a thick, heavy line up to your breasts. You squirm beneath him, hands holding onto his arm as his teeth graze your skin.

An impossibly large bulge presses against your soaked slit as his cock strains against his pants. He pulls his finger out of your mouth and puts the curve of his hook under your chin, teeth nipping at your collarbone as you hear his belt being undone.

“Beg for it,” he growls into your skin, the sound of his zipper the last thing you hear before a hard and throbbing length lays against you.

You can’t look down, but it feels massive. Far too large for your body.

“Please,” you sob, the hazy pleasure in your eyes quickly being replaced by cold fear. “It’s… you’re too big, Sir, please.”

Even as you say it, your legs stay open and two thick fingers push inside you. The stretch is sweet, and taut, fear tightening you up, but it doesn’t hurt. The loud squelch of pleasure lets his fingers go in deep. Your cry is half pleasure, half surprise, and he looms over you, keeping your face tilted back with his hook, but still looking into your eyes.

“Beg for it.” He repeats, scissoring his fingers gently inside you. “Beg like a good girl and I’ll make sure it feels good.”

“Buh, I-.” You moan as he pushes a third finger inside, gritty sand wrapping around your legs and pushing them wide. “Please-please, I… I want you… you, inside me,” you stammer the words, hands holding onto the gold guard that attaches his hook to his wrist. “I-.”

“Say what it is you want,” he instructs.

“Your… your…” Your mind whirls through all the possible words, but the aching pleasure inside your vagina is distracting. “Thing! Your cock!” You gasp the word as his fingers push in deeper. “Please! Please p-put your kuh-cock in my… my heat, my … you’re going to split me in half.” You sob.

“I won’t.” He asserts, licking your scent glands. No one’s ever even run fingers over that part of your body. The new pleasure sends a shiver through your whole body and you can feel the rush flood over his fingers. “Relax. Tell me where you want it.” He urges you on, your hands trembling against the gold.

You mewl, blood rushing to your face, and close your eyes. “Puh… my pussy… please.” You suck in a breath as his fingers curl inside you, sending stars into your vision. “Please, please put your, your cock, in my, my pussy, please, Sir, please. I’m buh-begging for it, please, please.”

He licks at the delicious parts of your skin more, sending shivers through your body and ripping gasping cries from your lips. When you could form words you continued to beg him to take you, even though the idea of it scares you.

More than the sand that held your legs open, and more than the tongue, teeth, lips, and fingers that licked, nipped, kissed and pet you, his scent was driving you to the brink. No one’s smell had ever bothered you. None of the other omegas that cared for you, none of the rare few alphas they let watch you writhe in pain, no one else until now had a scent that sank into your skin and clawed at your brain.

“Please!” You scream. “Fuck me, I can’t take it!”

His hook moves away, and his hand is under your head, holding you and forcing you to look at him as he begins to push in to your hot, wet, needy cunt.

Crocodile’s POV

His eyes were blown wide, taking in every detail. The way your cunt shivers at his tip as he pushes in slowly. The way your mouth hangs open, unable to say anything more, your tongue slipping past your wet lips, tears dropping down your cheeks.

You’re not in your heat, but the scent of fear has turned to need and he feels like he could tear pieces of the savory smell from the very air. What fools thought your scent had been ruined? What utterly worthless people dared to tell you that you needed fixed?

He can feel your toes curl as his tip pushes in deeper, the pleasure finally over taking the sheer stretch and you breathe in. Your lungs fill and you clench against him, hands pawing at his chest, fingers flexing against his vest.

You gasp air in once, twice, unwilling to let it go, or unable to think of such an action as he stretches you to a degree that must seem impossible. If you weren’t so deliciously wet, if he hadn’t stretched you with his fingers, you’d be in incredible pain right now.

And by the seas he almost wants to break you.

“Breathe,” he commands gently and you finally breathe out, the clenching pressure turning to a fluttering shiver and he takes the moment of relaxation to push the rest of the way in. His hips snug against your thighs, the sands dissipating now that there’s no way for you to close your legs. You’re not in a heat, and he’s not in a rut, so there’s no throbbing knot at the bast of his cock, making it easier for you to take him.

“See? You took it all.” He purrs, guiding your gaze so you can see it. “You’re made for me. A perfect fit.”

Your POV

He pulls back and you watch as the thick, bumpy shaft slowly exits you. You can’t believe something that is easily the size of your own forearm can fit between your thighs. That it isn’t actually splitting you in half, tearing you apart from the inside, is beyond you to really comprehend right now.

It does, however, feel amazing, and as he pushes back in, your body shivers and jolts, as pleasure licks you from the inside. You writhe on the desk, held in place by his hand on the back of your head, and mewl as he slowly hilts again.

Only to slowly pull back out.

It’s almost painful how carefully he pushes back inside you, leaving your body desperate for something it had never had before.

“Fuh-faster, please, faster!” You cry, as he hooks your leg in the crook of his left arm, pushing it back and pinning you more securely to the desk.

He grinds into you for a second before pulling back out faster this time. The long, smooth motion is still slow, but he presses back in faster, pulling out a little more quickly. Your body is shaking, and the building pleasure is both similar to the times you’ve cum before, and very different.

His first heavy thrust in pushes the air from your lungs, it rushes past your lips and out into the air in a breathy moan. One hand is on the bell of his hook, the other clutching the forearm that disappears into your hair and holds you in place. Fear tenses your body, but it’s not fear of him, or fear of pain.

It’s that as he speeds up and falls into a faster and faster pace, the loud, wet smack of his thighs against yours, you just keep ascending. The pleasure is only building. It’s an overwhelming climb and when you look at him you know he knows.

He’s not going to show you mercy.

“Too much!” you squeak. “It’s - it’s gonna be- too much! I’ll die! I’ll die!”

“You’ll live.” He husks and the way his words drip from his lips and grab your throat makes your heart pound.

Your breath falls out of your mouth in short bursts, forced out with each heavy thrust as he starts to properly fuck you. You can’t plead with him, you can barely pull air back into your lungs as your heart pounds and your body flushes with heat.

Crocodile leans down as your pleasure finally starts to break, his body rubbing against yours and teasing your throbbing clit. You suck in a breath as the orgasm slams into you and he claims your lips, devouring your scream and your mouth as you cum hard against his cock. Your legs kick and twitch as your toes curl and flex.

The heavy kiss steals what little air you had, and you’ve not the sense to try and breathe any other way. The pleasure and lack of oxygen is a dizzying combination, and you don’t know if you’ll pass out from pleasure or lack of air. As the orgasm subsides, he breaks the kiss, leaning back as you gasp and cough to catch your breath.

 He doesn’t let up, letting go of his hold on your head, and pressing his thumb into your clit. He’s still holding your leg with his other arm, and he moves enough to carefully put your neck inside the curl of his hook.

You don’t need him to tell you not to move.

You focus on breathing as the pleasure builds again, worried each uncontrollable twitch of your legs and fingers will prove to be too much. You’re caught in the beasts jaws, completely immobilized, and any useless thrashing on your part would only lead to harm.

You carefully put your hands on the hook, steadying yourself against it as the second orgasm threatens to overtake you. You don’t want to defy him, or even appear to do so, but you can’t control your own body right now.

“Please,” you gasp. “I can’t… can’t stay still… I can’t, it’s-.”

He growls, and you see what you saw before. Eyes that seem too reptilian, and teeth that seem too sharp. A face that’s terrifying and beautiful. Protective and inevitable.

“If I hurt you,” he growls, his voice deep and grinding between his teeth like rocks. “It would be on purpose.”

He slows a little, his thumb still teasing your clit.

“Beg.” He commands.

“Please,” you let go of his hook and reach out to him. “Devour me.”

The growl that rolls in his chest, the light behind those amber gold eyes, the smile that splits his face. You let your arms fall to the desk, submitting to him completely as he resumes fucking you. The pleasure rolls through your body, but it’s not your will that moves you. Every twitch and whine pulled from you is because he commands it.

Every shiver and gasp is because he’s granted you the pleasure of it.

You’ve given in for now, drowning in the vice-like grip that forces another orgasm into your exhausted muscles, but you know. You cry out in euphoria as the pleasure drags you under, and you know. His thick cock throbs inside your hot cunt and he fills you full of his seed, and you know.

You know if you don’t escape him, he will claim every fiber of your soul when you go into heat.

What you don’t know, is if it’s what you want.

[sabraeal]

at home with the glass half empty, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Sunlight already spills through the blinds when Gojo’s ringtone rattles across his bedside table, phone millimeters away from a precipitous— and most assuredly, screen-shattering— drop. That is, before Nanami slaps a hand out, snatching its death from the jaws of fate. “This better be good.”

“Nanami-kun.” Gojo-senpai’s never breathless— not since that time he went up against Fushiguro— but he doesn’t bother to croon and that’s warning enough. “As long as you’re flexible on the definition of ‘good,’ I think we can both walk away happy on this one.”

He scrapes a hand over his face, swallowing a groan. “Might I remind you, this is my day off.”

“I’m afraid the cursed spirits didn’t get the memo.” Gojo-senpai laughs. Not that fake one he does to play at being normal, fooling no one but his students, but the other kind— the harsher one that scrapes up from his throat when he’s winning. Coupled with the crack in the background, like a felled tree— no, telephone pole, Nanami realizes— threatening to fall, he can take a guess at what his senpai has gotten up to in the twelve hours since he’s last seen him. “No rest for the wicked and all that.”

There’s no effort in sitting up in bed, in pinching his nose and letting the air rush through his teeth, but that doesn’t change the fact that Nanami doesn’t want to do any of it. “Are you fighting it right now?”

“Well, I asked if it’d give me a moment to make a call” — there’s another crash, metallic this time, and he can only hope it’s a mailbox or vending machine and not some car— “but it didn’t seem amenable.”

Nanami stifles a sigh, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, the chill of the floor seeping up through his heels. “Where are you?”

“Close. Just down the street really.” No time for coffee then, not even to fortify him against whatever bullshit Gojo-senpai is choosing to play close to his chest. “I’ll send you my location. I’ve got another guy meeting us there. Now, gotta go! I think this next bit might take two hands.”

“But—” The call cuts out with a swift click, the duration flashing across the screen —1:20— before it goes dark, leaving him with only thin strips of sunlight leaving tiger stripes across his covers.

He should have known better, really. Nearly a year and a half back in this world, and it’s the same as it had been when he was in school: last minute, frantic, no information, no questions. His phone rumbles in his hand— Gojo’s email, the only contents a set of geo coordinates. Two blocks away, as promised. A relief, since the last time senpai informed him a hunt was ‘just down the street’, it was on the other side of Shibuya.

A man his age shouldn’t creak getting out of bed, but after yesterday’s hard landing— two flights down onto a fire escape that would have held his weight in high school, but as an adult, decided to squeal and groan and unceremoniously give out over the dumpster below— everything from his shoulders down is shot. If he’d known he wouldn’t have his requisite forty-eight hour recovery period, he would have let Ieiri-sensei look at him. Now he’ll have to settle for only fixing the problems a hot shower can solve.

Halfway through his trudge to the bathroom, memory niggles at him, and his frown furrows deeper into the sharp planes of his face. “’Another guy?’”

*

“H-hold up there, Kento-san.” Takuma’s all wide eyes beneath the edge of his mask, hands held up like he has any chance of holding another grown man’s weight. Trust Gojo-senpai to mention arranging backup and have it be some child, barely graduated and still smelling of spring. “Are you sure you can handle getting up to your place all by yourself? I mean, I could always—”

“It has an elevator.” A dubious eye inspects where his hand presses to his side, bright red staining pale blue. “I can make it across the lobby. This is hardly the worst injury I’ve ever gotten, Takuma-kun.”

At least the child isn’t still wearing his school uniform. Unlike some actual grown men Nanami has the displeasure of associating with. “Shouldn’t you have Ieiri-sensei take a look? Gojo-sen— er, Gojo-san said that you had a bit of a spill yesterday too.”

Funny, he hadn’t seemed too concerned with it at the time. Perhaps he had been too busy yucking it up to pass on his condolences. “I have a perfectly serviceable set of bandages in my apartment. Ieiri-sensei has more than enough on her plate, she doesn’t need to be dealing with a little scrape like this.”

“Scrape?” Takuma squints into his wince. “That thing looks like it’ll need stitches at least.”

Good thing he’d taught himself to do them back in first year. One could only wonder what they were teaching the children now if even a cut like this had them scrambling to see someone with the reverse curse technique. “I’ll handle it. Now, make sure you have someone look at that head of yours. Concussions may not present obvious symptoms at first, but they can pose quite serious problems if untreated.”

“Are you kidding me?” the kid huffs as Nanami turns toward the doors, arms thrown up in the air. “You’re bleeding out over there, but I get a tap on the head, and you think I should see a doctor?”

“You’re a promising sorcerer, Takuma-kun.” An understatement; barely a few months out of school and he’d managed to acquit himself well in a fight that had taxed even Nanami’s reserves. Not as much of an accomplishment during work hours, he’ll admit, but if he’d been considering overtime, then the spirit was no slouch. “It would be a pity for you to be taken out of the fight by a simple mistake.”

Air hisses through the boy’s teeth, and in the reflective glass of the door, Nanami sees him shake his head. “You’re really something else, Kento-san.”

“Trust me,” he croaks, hooking the handle with his free hand. “I know.”

*

The classic location to stitch up wounds is the bathroom, perched on the edge of the tub while the easily bleached white porcelain accepts the brunt of the bleeding. But trading down from a stockbroker to a sorcerer’s salary had necessitated the removal of a few everyday luxuries of his last apartment, one of them being the soaking tub. So between balancing his sewing kit on the sink crushed between shower and toilet, and a flat and clean countertop, it’s the kitchen that wins out as his makeshift emergency ward.

A mistake, since even as he strings the sutures from flesh to ragged flesh, the muscles of his abdomen clenching from the sting, he sees it— that wrinkled scrap of white visible no matter what angle he approaches his morning coffee. It mocks him from its place on the counter; his scarlet letter, a badge of shame, the physical proof of his wavering resolve; an accusation and a condemnation all at once.

Sayo, the characters still read, not a single stroke of it or the number beneath the slightest bit smudged. How could it be, when it hadn’t managed to stay in the bin long enough for him to finish his jambon-beurre? He winces, not from the sensation of string sliding through skin, but his own lack of discipline. How many excuses had he found to walk past it that night? Just a glass of water this time. Then a perusal of condiments, wondering if his dinner might need any, only to decide— three times!— that no improvements were possible on such perfection. Followed by a foray for the proper side dish for a sandwich of that caliber.

He cannot recall the exact instance that he plucked it from its resting place, only that one moment it was canted on its paper bag, destined for the municipal dump, and the next it was cradled in his hand. Foolish for him to set it up like that, as if it were an idol on a shrine; his countertop a poor excuse for an altar. Even more foolish still to have rescued it at all.

It’s a crutch, he knows; proof that there’s another world out there, one he could be part of if he so chose. A place he could possibly escape to, so long as he turned a blind eye to the grotesques that slithered around every corner, ignoring every monstrous curse that clung to a smiling stranger. A simple task to put his back to the single evil that he could change and mindlessly participate in worsening the rest.

There’s no point in keeping it. He tried that once; staying away, being normal. Exchanging endless existential dread for the everyday concerns of status and reputation and making ends meet. Focusing his attention on the money he could make rather than the curses he could dispatch. Sorcerers rarely made it to retirement, and Nanami wanted to to have the chance at a life, at a family, at something that might pass for love. To travel, to see more of the world than the darkest places in Japan, tearing evil out by the root. To see forty, and the crows feet it might bring.

He’d had so many plans that day he’d left, so many hopes. And all he had done in those four years was make rich men richer.

One day, when he’s been run through and wrung out, missing limbs or eyes and no longer of use as a sorcerer at all, he might go back there. Might take that chance for a normal life. But— he hisses, skin pulling tight as he knots the gut— it won’t be any time soon.

And yet. Yet.

*

It’s not about the girl, he decides as the bell chimes above his head. It’s about the fly-head; about how in twelve months, she’d had one nearly as large as the last. How it’s nearly been five months now— no, six— and she might have another just as big. It’s not common for curses to act like that, to keep clinging even once they’re exorcised. For someone to keep attracting them, even once cleansed.

There’s something going on, is all. A reason for fly-head after fly-head to keep chittering in her ear, nibbling the shine off her smile. And if he can fix it, well—

Then he can stop wondering about it. One day off is a fair price for his peace of mind, even if his side twinges with every sway of the metro. Even standing here, lost among the tables and chairs, takes a kind of stamina, though with the way one of the cashiers looks at him— a quick once over from the broguing on his wingtips to the sleek shape of his hairline— he’s wondering if that particular anguish is less physical and more…social.

There’s no rush at the moment; just as he planned. It’d been tempting to come as soon as it opened, to disappear into the rush of salarymen looking for morning coffees and warm breakfast sandwiches, but the thought of surviving those mindless drones and their jostling elbows makes him suppress a shudder, even now. And in any case, it would be easier to assess the progress of any curse without a line of hungry customers between him and the baker. Or at least it would, if she were manning the counter. Which she isn’t today, it seems.

Ridiculous. This little side trip ended up futile as he knew it would be. He came all the way here— even crossed through Shibuya— only to be fouled up by a concept so simple as shift work. Typical.

The other cashier at the counter glances up, catching their co-worker’s inattention. It’s strange to see a diligent employee from this angle; the way her brows furrow and her cheeks puff, exasperation in every ounce of her sigh. In the way her mouth rounds, ready to call out, when—

When she lets her gaze slip from them to the object of their attention. The one standing at the back of the shop. Namely, him.

Ah, yes. This was definitely a mistake.

Her eyes widen, and she digs an elbow into her co-worker’s side, earning herself a startled glance. There’s some sort of miming— something around her neck, and then a hand shot up high in the air, and the other girl nods, scurrying to the back. A curious occurrence, but not one he has any reason to bother himself with.

At least, not until the baker emerges from the kitchen, sans beret this time, head swiveling like one of her displays.

“It’s you!” Clouds must part somewhere beyond the bakery windows; there is no other reason for the girl’s face to brighten so much between one breath in the next. A soft clap brings her hands together, every pore of her far more pleased than he can account for. “Just give me one minute, I’ll…”

She edges around the counter, back to him as she bends over a case, the white line of her shoulders bared to him— and there it is, that same damn curse, small and larval, one of its tendrils curled around the curve of her neck. Obnoxious, that’s what it is. Tenacious. He might respect it, if it was anything but a mindless manifestation of the world’s misery and malaise.

As it is, he can only think of the movements to exorcise it; the precise methods he might use to keep another of its kind from gaining traction again—

“Here.” A white bag hangs in front of him, her smile peeking around the edge of it. “Your casse-croute. On the house.”

“I…” The paper settles into his hands, awkwardly cradled between his palms. It’s a jambon-beurre, he wants to say, or, it’s pronounced casse-croûte, but he can’t manage it over the ringing in his ears, an alarm set off from far away. “I haven’t even ordered anything…”

“I told you, didn’t I?” She rocks on her toes, just once, her smile stretched wide. “I keep one ready,  hoping you’ll drop by.”

That’s not quite the way she put it before, he’s sure, but with Gojo’s finger pressed to a temple, he couldn’t say why. “Oh. Thank you.”

“I don’t know what it is you do with your hands or whatever, but” —she rotates her shoulders, one after the other, a fine display of physical fitness— “I can’t complain with the results. My neck feels wonderful after you’re done. A sandwich is the least I can do.”

There’s far, far less she could be doing— that most people do, whether they mean to or not— but that’s not what he says. No, instead he catches that little tail of her curse lashing from the corner of his eye, and asks, “And how are you doing now?”

That gets a blink out of her, a recoil that drives her one step back. A much safer distance, in his opinion. “Excuse me?

“You’re all right, aren’t you?” He’s too large a man to follow her forward or even bend down in inquiry; he knows all too well how intimidating all hundred and eighty-four of his centimeters will be to a girl her size. He’d gotten more than his fair share of kicks aimed at his shins-- courtesy of his much more…vertically challenged senpai--before he’d learned that fact for good. “Feeling well? Sleeping well? Nothing—?”

The bell jingles behind him, and Nanami steps aside as a customer elbows past, eyes reserved solely for the chalkboard hung on the brickwork.

“I’m doing fine,” she murmurs, absent, attention drawn to where the customer stops just short of the till, shooting out his order rapid-fire as her employee keyed it into the cash register. With a shake, she turns back to him. “I supposed I can’t really complain. I mean, except for this little twinge—”

Her fingers brush over the joint between neck and shoulder— right where that little bastard curls his tendril tighter, siphoning off a sip of her pain— and then skitter away, knocked askew by the next customer through the door. At least this one mutters an apology before they skirt past, bobbing a bow as their companion comes around the other side, asking, “Have you tried the sandwiches here? I’ve heard they’re to die for.”

“Ah, sorry.” The baker wrings her hands as another glut of customers traipse through the doors, louder this time, debating their orders only a few steps away. “I guess the lunch rush is starting early today. If you don’t mind, I could just—”

“Don’t worry.” He raises a hand to ward off her apologies, shaking his head. “I’ve taken too much of your time already.”

“No, I—”

“Thank you again for the sandwich.” He holds up the bag, offering her a faint smile. It’s the least he can do, when she’s already been so kind. “I can just—”

“Wait!” Fingers brush over his sleeve, dimpling 100% cotton but flinching away before they can meet the more solid barrier of his flesh. “Ah, I just thought…after the rush, I can have someone watch the till. And maybe” — she glances up at him, eyes far too wide, too hopeful to be aimed at him— “I could take you to dinner? As a thank you, I mean.”

He blinks. “It’s lunch.”

“Oh!” Her hand claps to her cheek, the pink blooming there all the more obvious for it. “Right, of course. How silly of me. But maybe I could, um…”

Both their eyes drop to the bag clutched in his hand, still hanging between them. “You already gave me mine,” he reminds her, gently.

“Right, of course I did. But I mean…” She grimaces, gaze darting to the windows. “Coffee? Not here. But, um, elsewhere?”

You’ve got to watch out for women, Nanami-kun. Even now he remembers how Gojo-senpai’s glasses glinted under the summer sun, the slant of his grin hiding an edge while Geto-senpai shook his head. They’re always trying to get you to a secondary location.

What for? Nanami had asked, only fifteen and already suspicious of the advice his senpai doled out with the same enthusiasm creepy old men on street corners did candy.

One long, pale finger pressed to his lips. I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Ridiculous to think of it now, when this baker is only wanting to thank him. When his only reason for accepting is to understand how to rid her of that stupid fly-head once and for all.

It chitters on her shoulder, bug eyes cocking, curious. As if it could sense even a fraction of his malevolent intention. As if it were just becoming cognizant enough to realize he might be an enemy.

“I suppose…” The words ring out in too high a register, and he clears his throat. “Coffee would be nice.”

*

“I’m sorry to make you wait.” The baker is flushed when she hurries out to meet him, tossing a warning glare through the glass doors at the two cashiers waving them off. “I never thought it would last that long!”

Without the red beret and chef’s coat, she might well be a stranger, the sort he might pass on the station platform without even a second glance. Perhaps he has before, eyes only drawn for a moment by the fluttering of her hair— so different now that she’s released it from the care of its holder— before he let them slip away. “It was no trouble at all.”

“It was an hour and a half,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Honestly, you’d think if the rush started early, it’d have the decency to end early. But at least we don’t have far to go— the café’s just around the corner.”

“So close?” He’s not sure about the wisdom of eating at the competition, but the question doesn’t make her skip a step, even though she takes two to three for every one of his, no matter how he tries to slow his pace. “That seems like a…conflict of interest.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They have a metro stop right on the other side of this street, so they get customers from that station, and we get ours from the one right outside, so it’s just like…ships passing in the night, or whatever. But I come here sometimes when I get tired of the coffee we make.”

He blinks down at her, tracing the haphazard line of her part. For as much care as she’s taken to straighten her clothes, it seems letting her hair down had been a last minute decision, a few strands falling astray. “You get tired of your coffee?”

“Not really,” she admits, slanting a smile up at him. “But it’s good to get away sometimes. Put a little distance between me and my work, if you know what I mean.”

Nanami lets his mouth hook at a corner. “I think I do.”

Her breath catches, right before her eyes slip away, catching on a chalk sign board. “Ah, um, here it is. Do you mind sitting outside? It’s nice today.”

It is— warm enough that when he slings his jacket over the back of his chair, the breeze is still pleasant. Summer hasn’t quite arrived, but its perfume unfurls over the city, enticing its denizens to linger, to let the sun wash over them for just a few minutes longer each day.

He lets his eyes shutter, just for a moment, wind running its fingers through his hair. “This is quite nice.”

“Isn’t it?” The baker— ah, Sayo, he supposes, at least with her out of uniform— slides into the seat across from him, propping her chin up with a hand. “Our sandwiches are better, that’s for sure, but I wish we had the square footage for an outdoor space like this. I’d need another full employee to bus those tables, but— ah, just ignore me! I didn’t bring you here to complain about business stuff.”

“It’s quite alright.” Better, actually, since it gives him the excuse to segue into, “You were saying your neck was getting tight again?”

“Well, yeah, it’s getting that way lately, right up around— ah, no wait!” The hand she’d lifted to her neck falls onto her cheek instead, covering an embarrassed giggle. “I’m taking you out to thank you! Not to fish for, er, well…”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind,” he assures her, letting his mouth curve into a softer shape. “But I’m happy to know that I’ve been able to help, at least a little.”

“More than little!” she insists with a laugh. “I don’t know what it is you do, but I even sleep better after. Better than any massage I’ve ever gotten!”

“Glad to hear it.” If only glares could exorcise curses, the fly-head on her shoulder would already be withered, just black energy flaking off in the breeze. But instead it just wriggles its eye stalks at him, undaunted. “But it is getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Oh, well, maybe just a twinge here and there.” Even as she waves him off, her hand lifts, working at that joint where the fly-head sits, eating his fill. “You know, the regular amount of stress.”

“Really.” Nanami leans over the table, attentive, the fly-head quivering under his stare. “Or would you say you have more than the usual amount of stress? More…complex problems?”

“What?” Her mouth hooks, rueful. “You mean aside from all the regular problems of running a bakery?”

“Oh.” He blinks, settling back. That’s right; she owns a business. Not in itself enough to spawn these little pests, but possibly a contributing factor. “Of course, that must be difficult. You seem to be doing so well, I hadn’t even considered…”

“Very well,” she informs him with no little pride. “But you know how it is. There’s always a machine that’s breaking or a dough that doesn’t rise right, or a batch that comes out wrong. The nature of the beast, or whatever.” She shrugs, unruffled. “I’m just lucky that it was doing so well when I took over. Keeping an already profitable business in the black is a heck of a lot easier than trying to drag one out of the red. Or worse, starting one from scratch!”

His brows raise, appraising her. “It wasn’t your business to start? So you bought it off the former—?”

“Oh, no no no.” She waves a hand, laughing. “No way, I could have never afforded something like that. It used to be my parents’— my mother’s really. But she died while I was in uni, so I picked up a few shifts around the place to help my dad out. But then he got sick a few years back, and…”

She strives for casual when she shrugs, but he can see the jagged edges in it, the places where a little fly-headed bastard could really stick its proboscis in and cause trouble. “My younger brother’s at university now, trying to be some sort of engineer. With Mom gone and Dad pretty much retired, someone has to make the money to get him through the rest of his degree. And that’s not even talking about Dad’s treatment…”

“That’s a lot for someone your age.” And would certainly explain how these curses keep glutting themselves on her the second he turns his back.

“Oh!” Her laugh is softer this time, accompanied by a delicate flush across her cheeks. “I’m not…I’m not that young.”

Nanami cocks his head, mouth flirting with a frown. “You’re younger than me, clearly.”

“Maybe. I’m twenty-seven.” She sighs over her coffee, chin in hand. “You know, my grandmother likes to remind me she was married at my age. With three kids! I’m lucky to keep a plant alive.”

He doesn’t realize his mouth is open until he closes it to swallow his, “Ah…”

“What?” Her head tilts, playful. “Can’t believe it? I know, everyone says I have a babyface.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, you do have a very youthful face.” He wouldn’t have placed her above twenty-two, and even then, it would have been a stretch— but that’s not why he clears his throat, his own face suddenly hot. “It’s just…I’m twenty-five.”

“Oh!” It’s her turn for her eyes to go wide, for her own jaw to slacken in disbelief. “You’re a baby!”

A scowl slips out of him before he thinks to suppress it. “Only two years younger.”

“You’re almost my brother’s age.” A corner of her mouth twitches; she ducks her chin to hide it. A futile exercise when he can already see the way her shoulders shiver. “Practically in the cradle.”

“I think,” he says, testing out each teasing step of his tone as if it might give out beneath him. “You’d be hard pressed to find one that would fit me.”

Her gaze cuts across the straight line of his shoulders. “That’s for sure.”

They both take a sip of their coffee— regular for him, two creams, no sugar, and hers some a latte of some sort, the pattern in the cup long since gone. He’d been too distracted to even look at what it was. Strange; it was the sort of detail he liked to note in the coffee shops he visited. A good artist usually denoted a high quality café, and if there was one thing his former life had shown him, it was that every bit of luxury was well-worth the price you paid for it.

“It’s funny.” She’s quieter now, more thoughtful as she speaks. Slower, even, as if she’s savoring the taste. Or perhaps the moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about this sort of stuff. You know, my mom, my dad. Daisuke’s tuition. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve really talked to anyone since my mom died. Not about real stuff.”

He hums, sipping at his drink. The bitterness floods his mouth; an apt flavor for when he says, “It’s hard to talk about grief with those that haven’t experienced it.”

Sayo glances up at him. “Have you?”

It’s impossible not to remember Haibara and his quick laugh, the boyish face that never missed a chance to smirk or smile. Boyish— ha, of course. He’d never had the chance to be anything but. Right at the cusp of manhood, plucked from the precipice before he could fall over it. Hardly the only friend he'd lost during those years, just...the first. The hardest.

“Yes.” He clears his throat, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “You could say that.”

She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating her cup. “Does it ever get easier, do you think? Carrying it around like this?”

“I think it only gets different.” Easier to forget about in the moment, at least, but perhaps that’s because Haibara was a only friend, not family, and certainly not...something more complicated. Just someone he knew for a few brief years in his life. “But it’s easier when you talk to people who have suffered in the same way. Harder to find, but they are here, if you look.”

Her head tilts, her mouth matching its angle. “Like you.”

Ah, that was foolish of him. Here he is trying to close the door on this world, and he's gone and practically held it open for her to slip through. “I don’t think that’s….”

His tongue trips over itself, tangling as his gaze darts somewhere, anywhere but her eyes and finds— the fly-head. Significantly smaller now, chittering angrily.

“I suppose,” he sighs, wearily. “If you need too.”

“Then we should exchange contacts, shouldn’t we?” She plucks her phone from her purse, giving it a cheeky little wave. It’d be charming, if he didn’t know what a terrible idea this would be. “If we’re going to talk, that is.”

“Of course.” He slides his own out of his pocket, passing it over hers until it beeps. Hamasaki, it reads, Sayo.

“Oh, Nanami!”

A shivers shoots up the length of his spine before fizzling out to his fingers. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, I mean, that’s your name, Kento-san. Kento Nanami-san,” she says, mouth hidden behind her hand. “I just thought it was funny because I’m, well, Sayo.”

He could hardly forget it, the way that paper had haunted him the past few months. “I know.”

“Oh, right, you would have already…” Her cheeks flare a brighter red. “I just thought it was interesting, since the characters of your name are seven and sea, and mine is…”

He blinks, the meaning suddenly resolving in the single character. “Sand.”

“Right.” Her mouth splits wide, into a smile that takes the breath right from his lungs. “We go together, don’t we?”

“I…” It’s terrible how nice that sounds. A coincidence meant for a better man than him. “I should really go.”

“Oh, right! I’m sure my employees will be wondering where I’ve gone off to.” She shakes her head. “Well, anyway, thank you for talking to me, Kento-san. It was…nice.”

It was. Nice. Normal. That’s half the problem. She begins to stand, and before he can stop himself, Nanami blurts out, “Wait. One more thing, if you don’t mind.”

She blinks at him, wide eyed. Too hopeful, once again. “Sure.”

His hand sweeps over her shoulder; a solid, unbroken line. The simplest spell in his repertoire, the first he ever learned. The knit of her sweater tickles the pads of his fingers-- too close, he realizes, sloppy-- and he can't tell whether it's that or the worm's collapse that causes the static to rush through them, both numb and too sensitive all at once. He draws back, arm dropping to his side, and Hamasaki-san—

She’s flushed, breath rattling out of her with noticeable effort.

“There was something on your sweater.” It’s not quite a lie, but still. “Have a good afternoon.”

“R-right,” she murmurs, just barely audible as he strides past. But it’s him that stutters to a stop when she calls out to him on the street, bouncing on her toes as she promises, “Don't forget! I’ll be keeping a sandwich in the case for you.”

[mercless]

🗡 mad cowboy disease....

[medicinemane]

So... saw something about Zip Stitch, and was reminded I might want to get them given I'm in the middle of nowhere

Go to try and find stuff about their efficacy...

...literally... every... last... study... I... find... is about their efficacy, very specifically, in "vaginal cuff closure during laparoscopic hysterectomy"

Every single one across multiple sites (can't even tell you if they're good at it, I didn't click through to the studies cause I find studies often very very dense and hard to pick out the worthwhile info, so I'm not doing that for not what I'm looking for)

Like... I mostly want to know if this is a good idea to grab these (look good) or if it's a good way to bleed out (advertising isn't always truthful)

I'm not totally sure if it's the same study on many sites, or if they just... really wanted to study this but... that's what I've found

We know at the very least that they tried it out with a very specific application

[pomefioredove]

only one bed room

summary: it's the sdc and everyone's staying over at ramshackle but, oh no! you're one room and one bed short. being the generous (or gullible) soul that you are, you agree to share characters: all sdc competitors, separate additional info: fair warning I have no replayed book 5 in a while, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, most scenarios end in cuddles. can be interpreted as romantic or platonic (nix vil and rook's part)

Deuce Spade

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor!"

it's a big fat no from Vil. waking up sore and tired is unacceptable, and will affect his performance during practice. he will use the bed, end of story.

you offer to take the floor or one of the many stiff and uncomfortable couches in Ramshackle, but he refuses

what kind of aspiring honor student would he be if he kicked you out of your own room?

so, yes, you end up sharing the bed

he's a perfect gentleman about it

he insists on sleeping on the complete opposite end of the bed

to give you your space, of course

not because he's nervous

obviously it doesn't pan out- he's kind of a messy sleeper, and on the first night you wake up with him sprawled on top of you

you decide not to wake him up

you'd been thinking about saving for a weighted blanket, anyway

Ace Trappola

"you better not hog the blankets,"

takes it like a champ, though he might be screaming internally

he already sleeps in a dorm with three other guys- this can't be any different, right?

it totally is

sharing a bed with someone? someone he likes, who he isn't just forced to live with for convenience?

he's not sure how to tease you about this one without coming off as nervous himself

so he just shuts his trap about it (for once) and accepts his fate

in the end, it's no big deal for a player like him

he ends up hogging the blankets, though. hypocrite.

Kalim al-Asim

"YAYYY SLEEPOVER!"

he means exactly what he says

not a care in the world

all he's thinking about is how fun this is going to be! just him and his favorite Ramshackle prefect (Grim heard the news and will be staying in deuce's room to avoid any cracker mishaps)

Kalim, admittedly, is not a creature of great thought. he tends to be dictated by his feelings, and he can be a little selfish sometimes

so when Jamil pulled him aside and asked him to just buy another bed for ramshackle, he ignored him entirely

why would he do that? the situation is resolved, and everyone's happy!

well... not everyone, but Kalim's happy!

he stocks up on Vil-approved snacks, insists you two braid each other's hair and stay up late into the night talking with no one to remind you to go to sleep

(he tried to invite Jamil and got the door slammed in his face)

this arrangement lasts approximately one night

when Vil sees the dark circles under your eyes, it's over

you are confined to the couch, and Kalim is forced to sleep alone

Jamil Viper

"okay,"

really. he's totally fine with it.

besides the fact that he doesn't want to cause any more trouble, he's shared beds with his siblings before. no big deal

he just wasn't expecting to wake up with you snuggled against him

but this is fine

totally fine

he's barely conscious and it's early morning, still dark, the time he's used to getting up at

Vil has things covered, right? he can stay here for a little while longer. it would be awkward trying to get up without waking you

it feels nice having something all to himself for once

he smirks, imagining how jealous everyone else would be:

the beautiful, kind, intelligent ramshackle prefect in his arms? oh, the looks on their faces would almost make this whole thing worth it!

but in the end, he decides to say nothing

he wants to keep you all to himself, after all

for just a little while longer

Epel Felmier

"ain't no way I'm sharing!"

that's what he says in his head, anyway. but it's late and he's worn out from practice (and being shouted at) so he just sighs and accepts his fate

of course Vil would make him do it. it's probably because he's the smallest, isn't it?

you can tell he's unhappy with the arrangement (not that he's making much of a secret of it- he's grumbling under his breath all evening)

he starts coming around to the idea when he wakes up holding something warm

his heart jumpstarts and he nearly panics before remembering where he is

and then he realizes the thing he's holding is... you. somehow the two of you had ended up spooning during the night

but, more importantly... he's the big spoon!

he's almost tempted to wake you to announce that he, in all his manly glory, had naturally assumed the most masculine cuddling position!

(yes he sounds ridiculous. just let him have this one)

he lets you sleep, though. just a little more won't hurt anyone, right?

he's okay with the arrangement after that

Rook Hunt

"I will do it!"

Vil isn't even able to finish his sentence before the vice housewarden is practically jumping up and down

pretty much everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief; a volunteer! thank the sevens. otherwise, this could get awkward...

of course, he quite intentionally ends up with you in his arms

but not for any nefarious purpose, he insists!

he's a light sleeper, and can be stirred by any sudden noise or movement

you appeared to be having some kind of nightmare

it reminds him of a small animal caught in a trap, struggling for its life. he can't bear to see it- it's cruel to let a poor creature go on suffering before you can make the kill

of course, instead of killing you (thank the sevens), he decides to comfort you

he presses your head against his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, and he runs his fingers through your hair until you calm down.

then he keeps you there, just to be sure you don't have another bad dream

if you gave him permission, he would gladly be all over you in seconds. kissing up and down your shoulders, caressing every perfect inch of your body, whispering words of admiration

but he's perfectly content just cradling you for now

hopefully, you will continue to have these nightmares and give him excuses to do this again

Vil Schoenheit

"don't argue with me,"

initially, you just gave him the bed

maybe you were afraid of him; maybe you like him; maybe you just wanted to avoid a conflict altogether

either way, you spent the first night on the terribly uncomfortable floor, and trudged through Ramshackle like a zombie the next morning

Vil was feeling guilty watching you

what? he's not a monster

and he's a leader, which means he has a responsibility. and you had so graciously invited them all into your home...

fine! he'll share. he insists, even

when you try to argue, he shuts you down, repeating all that stuff about responsibility and hospitality, blah blah

and he doesn't want the team manager dead on their feet

arguing with him is pointless, so you just agree

he wakes up with you against him, sleeping peacefully

now, if it were you clinging to him- he might have had a good chuckle. can't keep your hands to yourself, prefect? I'm just that irresistible?

but the way he's holding you, the way his arms are so tightly wrapped around your waist, the way he's so clearly pressing you against him...

he hates to admit it, but you're an elegant sleeper. it's almost cute

the tension is relieved from your face, your breathing graceful and steady, and your perfect lips open just a sliver...

he is a perfect gentleman, and would never dream of doing anything without your explicit permission, but for one shameful second he thinks about how easy it would be to kiss you

... and then he quickly puts those thoughts aside and tries to get back to sleep

he doesn't want any dark circles, after all

[amoeganism]

PROJECT PARTER HCS (he wants you so bad) haikyuu

ft: aran, kita, atsumu, osamu, suna

ATSUMU:

HES TRYING!!! but is it successful? (no)

literally cannot shut up the entire time you two meet up but it's ok because he's funny

"hey you wanna see pictures of my teammates" "yeah sure" he pulls out a blurry .5 of suna's nostrils

offers you protein bars and osamus leftovers as snacks

compliments you on literally everything

you wrote two words? he starts cheering and clapping his hands like you're shakespeare presenting a new play

loves pretending to be your strict teacher whenever commenting on your work

makes up for his lack of preparation by making you laugh and flustered

"i think you can add a little more to this part" "you look so sexy calling me dumb"

if you two meet up at a cafe he ALWAYS!!! pays for you

started off as a mistake because he asked you for your order in front of the barista

but he thought for a moment and decided you're worth an extra $5 out of his wallet

always loses his pencils but has dozens of erasers?????

SWEARS by wooden pencils. he sees a mechanical pencil and jumps 5 feet into the air and starts screaming

last few days of the project he looks constipated every time you two are together

"do you need a diaper" "I WANT YOU"

you accept his confession because you unfortunately like him back and because you want a good grade

also because you don't want him pooping his pants

ARAN:

the sweetest!!

always asks how you're doing before pulling out his notes

digital note taker 100%

loves loves loves writing with erasable pen and only uses pencils for exams

is a "let's work on everything together" kinds guy

he says it's to make sure there aren't any disagreements in content and aesthetic (he just wants to talk to you)

if you guys aren't at your house, always offers to walk you back!!!

great academically but if you're making a poster or slideshow do NOT let him decorate it... pls watch out

"does this look good!" "i'm gonna hold your hand when i tell you this..." "omg you want to hold my hand 😍"

starts giggling to himself in his head whenever you guys accidentally touch

you catch him staring at you one day and you don't know what to say so you just stare back

he thinks its so romantic

you're just confused but go along with it

after presentations you think you guys are gonna go back to being friendly classmates but he finds you after class and asks you out :)

KITA:

ACADEMIC WEAPON TEACHERS FAV EVERYONE LOVES HIM

"do you want to read my notes?" he pulls out 5 notebooks with everything color coordinated, sticky tabs, perfect handwriting, and factually correct

he can sit and work for 5 hours straight and still somehow have perfect posture

first time you asked him for help on something you were about to piss yourself because you thought he would call you stupid and send you to hell

he gave you a small smile and started walking you through it with an unmatched level of patience

that was the moment you folded and had to physically restrain yourself from grabbing his cheeks and kissing his face

always offers you tea when you come over and brings out a small tray of snacks

"are you comfortable? do you need any help?"

is suuuuper meticulous but kind with his 739273 different corrections

he swears by the sandwich method of compliment-critique-compliment

"your analysis is amazing in this section but i think you can expand a little bit after because..."

you're the one who confessed first because you thought you would explode from cuteness aggression if you didn't

and also because you thought even if he did reject you, he'd do it in the most painless way

was super happy and bursted into a bright red face but shy smile!!

still told you to go back to the assignment though...

SUNA:

menace i hate him (no i don't)

literally doesn't understand anything that's going on and probably doesn't process what you're saying at first

realizes you're serious about this assignment and forces himself to lock in

asks a BUNCH of questions and jots them down on a google doc

loves to make random conversation when you two are working

actually insane gossiper

nosiest birch you know

allergic to minding his own business that mf has shit on everyone

are you slightly scared of what he has on you? yes. do you still want to hear everything he knows? yes

"i'm taking this info from page 175 of the textbook" "got it, but did you hear that kato is trying to get with his exs best friend??"

leaves notes on your project that are both unserious and encouraging

"omg u are literally einstein"

folds origami when bored

will give you paper cranes, frogs, foxes, and cats whenever you see each other

you discovered that there's small doodles in the posts it's he uses to make them

one day there's your name and his surrounded by hearts like the corny mf he is

confronted him and it and he was just like "oh you found that? well, do you want to go out with me?"

he was NOT SLICK with the way he skipped home and whistled to himself that day after you said yes

OSAMU:

HES TRYING HIS BEST!!! (pt. 2)

can only meet up after school because of volleyball so he offers to cook for you before starting to work

takes notes in class but doesn't understand half the stuff he jots down

writes actual bullshit but half a page in decides to abandon his pride and ask you for help

leans in a little too close whenever listening to what you're saying

tries to make sure your knees are touching and that it's all an accident when your fingers brush (he prepared each scenario in his head before sleeping the night before)

down bad LOSER

spends his time doing his portion of the project while sneaking glances at you

doesn't know how to decorate presentations for the life of him so he is on doodle duty

gives surprisingly good suggestions and takes your corrections to heart

one of the best project partners because of how willing he is to learn and contribute!!! (also because he wants to impress you)

talks shit about his brother to you

atsumu has walked in while osamu was telling you an embarrassing story

they start fighting

osamu gets super embarrassed when you laugh at him

then gets overly confident when you tell him you were rooting for him

will not stop dumb smiling whenever he sees you after that

asks you out after the project is turned in with his hands in his pockets with how they're shaking so much

[s0urw00lf]

Love is in the air

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: you unknowingly give Dean another reason to fall deeper in love with you

Warning: complete and utter fluff and sam is a girls girl.

A/N: idk if anyone has done something like this, but I really loved it and I think it’s my favorite fic I’ve written yet. Also this isn’t proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know. I wrote this at 5 am so I probably won’t notice any mistakes. Anywho hope you enjoy!!!

Today’s hunt had been a bust after you and Dean were tasked by Sam to be the cliche “couple in love” so that the envious love witch would target you instead of some other innocent couple.

So now you and Dean were in the impala driving back to the motel that happened to be about a fourty five minute drive away from the restaurant she was targeting.

The night was silent aside from the quiet music Dean had playing in the background and the light tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel. Dean looked incredibly good in his suit and tie, a look you wish he’d worn more often.

To Dean you looked better than any angel that could grace his presence, when you exited the bathroom with your off the shoulder black form fitting dress and high heels that made your legs look like heaven, his knees almost buckled and they would’ve hadn’t it been for Sam who was there to catch him before he could.

“Hey dean?” You asked softly, drawing his attention from the empty road to you, replying with a ‘hmm’. His green eyes were extra bright in the darkness and made you want to melt in your seat.

“Can I roll down the window?” You asked, it was an odd request on your part, because you usually don’t like the pressure the harsh wind puts on your head. Dean eyebrows rose in surprise before answering “f’course sweetheart, sure it’s not gonna make your head hurt?” he asked sincerely

You shook your head “no it won’t be for long I just… want to try something” you said, pausing in thought you hoped that the feeling would push away the sadness you felt. He nodded glancing back at the road, “okay then go for it” he said with a smile.

You clicked the button to roll down the window and felt immediately relaxed. You put your arm out of the window, closing your eyes and let the wind blow on your face and whistle past your ears.

Dean watched with love in his eyes at how relaxed you looked, he could tell that the your failure to obtain the witches attention had bothered you but decided against saying anything, but as soon as the wind hit your face its like all that sadness slipped away with the wind.

You sat like that for a minute or so before deciding that was enough, you opened your eyes looking for the button again before an idea struck you. You paused in thought ‘would that be too cliche’ you asked yourself, but ultimately you told yourself ‘who cares, do it’ so you did.

You surprised Dean when you stuck your torso out of the window, he immediately grabbed on to your thigh in case you accidentally slipped. You raised your arms as the wind that was way stronger whipped past you, the air was sticky which you’d guessed was from the rain that had fell a few hours prior but you could care less.

For the first time in a life time you felt completely and utterly free, from the worries of the things that lurk in the dark, from death, and disappointment. But the feel of dean hand on your thigh mixed with the wind whipping past you and through your hair made you want to cry of happiness.

Dean watched you from inside of the car, how beautiful you looked, in that moment he was convinced you were sent right from heaven into his arms just so he could live this moment. He saw all of your worries slip away as a carefree smile graces your face. The light from the streetlight lit you up like a pop star on stage and he was your audience.

You caught him even more by surprise when you let out a loud and cheery “woooo” and it seemed like time had slowed. If both of his hands weren’t occupied he would’ve taken a picture, but he couldn’t and he would have to rely on his memory to recall this moment for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t crashed the car.

Your heart thumped loudly at the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and that’s when you decided to get back in the car. You seated yourself back on the seat and rolled up the window before letting out the most cheerful laugh Dean had ever heard from you and just the sound itself had his heart souring. “Holy. I see why they do that in movies” you said, looking at him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen.

Dean couldn’t help the smile that took over his features at the happiness gleaming from your face. You were glowing and it was the most precious moment of his life. “You are gorgeous sweetheart” he said, he couldn’t help that it slipped past his lips, but the look on your face showed it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You rolled your eyes, still smiling “whatever, eyes on the road Winchester, I don’t want to be roadkill because you’re too distracted” you joked. Dean huffed out a laugh in response.

For the rest of the ride the two of you basked in the happiness that replaced the previous gloom. And when you arrived at the motel, Dean was the first one out the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you. “Such a gentleman, if I’d known you’d be this sweet I would’ve let you take me on a date sooner” you joked, but Dean didn’t take it as one. “Then let me” he said genuinely.

Your smile faltered, ‘is he messing with me?’ You thought “what” you said, it was the only thing you could get out. “Let me take you on a date. A real date not one where we have to look over our shoulders the whole time. Let me take out on a date to drink champagne and eat all those fancy meals that don’t even fill you up” Dean said almost sounding as if he was begging.

Dean grabbed your hands “y/n if you let me I will go the whole nine yards. Flowers, a gift, rent a fancy car and order valet whatever you-“ you cut dean off with a kiss to which he immediately returned. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your cheek, and the way he relaxed into the kiss made you swoon.

His hands dropped yours and he placed his on your hips and you bought yours around his neck pulling him deeper into it. You only pulled away because your lungs had began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Deans eyes remained closed for a little longer, reveling in the feel of your lips against his and your body pressing against him. “Woman you drive me insane” he muttered before opening his eyes.

He was graced with the sight of you smiling up at him with your arms still around his neck. “You can take me on a date Winchester, but it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go to a diner in baby and I’d be just as happy” you said softly, your nose brushing his.

It wasn’t often Dean was rendered speechless, but in that moment he was sure you were made for him and only him. “O-okay” he stuttered. You giggled in amusement “have I rendered you speechless?” You teased, and deans cheeks reddened. “Maybe this will knock some words back into your head” you said before pressing your lips against his for the second time, only this time you didn’t give him enough time to recuperate.

“Hey I wasn’t done” he pouted, and you laughed loudly. Pulling away from him you closed the door to baby and began to drag him back to your shared motel room with Sam who you were sure was watching you wondering why it was taking so long for you to enter the room.

“C’mon Winchester we can talk out the details later” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs that led to your room.

Added bonus:

Sam had seen the blush on deans cheeks and he pure happiness in the both of your eyes. Dean quickly excused himself to the bathroom and Sam looked at you with raised brows. He’d helped you pick out that dress, telling you “Dean won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you”. You gave him the biggest smile trying to contain your excitement “it worked” you whisper yelled. A huge smile broke out on Sam’s face “I told you it would” he said.

He had been the biggest supporter of you and his brother’s possible relationship. “He asked me out Sammy” you whispered so Dean wouldn’t hear. You threw yourself on the bed like a teenager from one of those romance sitcoms you claimed to not like, but before Sam could ask for more details the bathroom door opened revealing a slightly less blushy Dean.

He eyes you two skeptically “what are you two whispering about” he asked. “Just figuring out how we’ll get the witch now” you quickly lied. If Dean suspected you were lying he didn’t show, because he immediately turned his back to you and Sam trying to get his tie off. You sent Sam a quick and subtle wink that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’ and he nodded trying to hide his smile

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @mimimar

Hi! I’m Michelle (Mimimar), an illustrator born and raised in Venezuela, currently based in Italy. I enjoy making colorful illustrations that reflect the things I love: fairy tales, fantasy, tenderness and queer (especially sapphic) stories. Occasionally, I also make paper dolls, comics and animatics. I have a lot of interest in book illustration and I’m currently developing my own stories that I hope to share as an author-illustrator someday!

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I always enjoyed drawing when I was a kid, but it only became a hobby that I did almost every day when I was around 11. At first I only used traditional mediums, but I decided to make a serious effort to learn how to draw digitally when I was 15, and once I got the hang of it I never stopped!

I didn’t go to art school so all of my learning was done through studying the tutorials and resources that other artists generously share on the internet and lots of practice / trial and error.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I want to do many things but what I want to do the most right now is work on books! I want to make art for other authors’ stories and also my own stories as an author-illustrator. I want to grow as a storyteller and create art and stories that will really resonate with people emotionally. I’m always striving to improve my skills as well.

I also really love dolls, so working on doll box art or as a doll designer is something I would love to do someday. I actually have been designing paper dolls on my Patreon for the past few months, it’s been a fun project that is still ongoing right now!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Probably using a lot of purple! It’s my favorite color so I find myself using it a lot. If I can find a way to sneak a little bit of purple into an illustration or a character design then I will.

Congratulations on finishing your Ivy Comic! Did the outcome turn out like how you expected or were there some unexpected bumps along the way?

Thank you! It’s a project that I worked on very slowly in between other art because I wanted to really take my time with every spread and make each of them a fully detailed illustration. I thumbnailed the full comic before starting but I kept changing the sketch for the final spread until the very end! Overall I’m really proud of the end result. I sprinkled a lot of hidden details in every page that I hope some of the readers will notice. For example: the meanings of the flowers in each page represent what the characters are feeling in that moment, and the colors of their wardrobe become gradually lighter as the story progresses to represent their emotions, as well as the changing of seasons.

We’ve noticed that you have created some amazing cover art for TGCF. Is there another series you would like to do something similar with? 

That was another passion project that took some time to complete. Initially, I didn’t intend for them to be specifically covers, it was just a series of illustrations based on the 5 books/main arcs of TGCF. But since they were well-received and I had people telling me they wish they could use them as covers for their books, I decided to rework them into dust jackets for the english translation of TGCF!

I haven’t thought of any other specific series but I love doing cover art so maybe I’ll do something similar again in the future!

What’s your favorite part of your style? Why?

I’ve heard from other people that there’s a delicate quality to my art, this is something that I like a lot! I like pretty things, fairytales and vibrant colors. I think all of these things probably reflect in the art I make as well.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I hope that they remember how it made them feel. Feelings and colors are the two things I give priority to in my work. Most of the time I like depicting tenderness, softness and emotional intimacy. If that could reach the viewer and stay with them it would make me very happy. 

I make a lot of art with queer (mainly sapphic) themes because they’re the kind of stories I personally like and want to see more of, so whenever people tell me that my art has helped them in their journey to discover and accept themselves, or that they see themselves and their partner in my art, it is always extremely meaningful to me. When art that I made to give myself comfort can provide comfort for others, no matter how small, it reminds me once again that despite any hardships art is genuinely worth pursuing.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many artists! To name a few:  I love @sakizo’s amazing eye for fashion and detail,  @paneeps’ gorgeous style and striking colors,  the sweetness of @bevsi’s art,  @vickisigh’s pretty colors and concepts,  @idledee’s warm and heartfelt art,  @littlestpersimmon’s dreamy wonderful art,  and @loish has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @mimimar.

[desireangel]

A Good Girl's Reputation | Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: It was the last place you wanted to be but nonetheless, you found yourself pulled along to a party you hosted by none other than the Targaryen's, only for spilled wine to force you into Aemond's shirt. A sight that had him dragging you to his bed, eager to corrupt the well-behaved girl who had set him ablaze with desire.

Word Count: 6.7k.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only!! Oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex, dirty talk!!, a major cliche on the good girl trope, reader is shy!, slight degradation, mean friends at a party maybe?, Aegon being sneaky, bad language. Unedited. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Okay, I wasn't going to post this one because it was purely self-indulgent and I kinda wasn't happy with my pen game in this but I was feeling bad about the delay in Dark Cherry part 5 so wanted to share something!! I also love the idea of Aemond being totally feral about seeing reader in his clothes. Share your thoughts my loves, I'm more than happy to discuss things, thoughts and feedback with you all - xoxo, kisses!! <3

There was a nonsensical grandeur about everything that Jilly dragged you into. This time was no different and you silently waited for the sound of the elevator ding while listening to your best friend chatter about the ‘world’s best fucking boyfriend–wait, do you think this makes him my boyfriend?’

“I don’t know, Jilly,” you nibbled on your lip, craning your neck to look around the corner of the entrance hallway. For what reason, you weren’t sure but there was a crawling nervousness on your skin and the urge to make sure there were no unexpected surprises was consuming. “It’s Aegon. Only he can answer that question for you.”

The elevator was taking an infuriatingly long time. You wondered if this was the building’s way of telling you to turn around and return to the dorm room that had become your safe haven over the last two years. Jilly had somehow gotten herself involved with none other than Aegon Targaryen, a man notorious for his partying and hedonism.

It was entertaining at first, and you were more than happy to remain a spectator of the ridiculous pairing. Jilly was entirely different to Aegon and tended to carry herself with a lot more modesty than Aegon was known for. She was calculating and calm where he was impulsive and excitable. 

You thought back to the first time they had met. In a tutorial for a statistics class you needed to take to meet course requirements, the three of you paired together to facilitate a useless discussion on probabilities. The bickering between the two of them was amusing and the first greeting that Aegon had graced the two of you with was a grumbled ‘what kind of name is Jilly?’

And weeks later, Aegon had decided to hold another one of his campus-famous house parties. He had obviously invited Jilly–and by extension he had invited you because there was no chance Jilly would go to a party without you. In fact, before she had met Aegon, there was no chance Jilly would go to any party regardless. 

A loud, excited hmph! fell from Jilly’s lips when the elevator doors finally opened. You had hoped it had broken down on its way to pick you up and that there was a rather convenient lack of staircase to climb instead. 

“I don’t think–”

“Don’t say it,” Jilly held a hand in front of your face. She clicked on P with her other hand. For the penthouse, you guessed. “I know you don’t want to be here. But we are going to have a good night.” 

You sighed, tugging the short, black skirt that Jilly had wrestled you into further down your thighs. It looked good paired with the white satin button down you had insisted on wearing for comfort but it was shorter than you were accustomed to. The thought of maintaining it enough so it didn’t ride up past your bum was tiresome but there was no arguing which you could do to wiggle your way into some pants instead. 

Jilly snickered. “Quit fiddling with your skirt, you’ll poke a hole in your tights–Oh!”

The two of you shared a gasp when the doors opened. No wonder people had so much to say about the Targaryen siblings and their parties when their apartment looked like it was straight out of a Forbes magazine. For a moment, it seemed impossible that the apartment housed two students. It was incomparable to the wardrobe sized dorm you had been living in over the semester. 

Distant chatter pulled you out of your thoughts and you followed Jilly further into the apartment, reminding yourself not to let your jaw drop as your eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting. The party was an hour or so away from starting - Aegon had told everyone to head in after seven but had given Jilly an earlier time so that the two of you could join their pre-game. 

Not that you would. The prospect of getting as drunk as Aegon planned at your (embarrassingly?) first student party was daunting. 

Anxiously, you followed Jilly into the living area where a handful of familiar faces were lounging and drinking. There was a deep bumping of bass, and you could feel the floor vibrating with it, but you couldn’t make out the song that was playing. 

“Jill!” Floris, Aegon’s friend who you had only ever seen on campus, pulled Jilly towards the nearest couch. Hesitantly, you followed, flashing Aegon and Cregan a purse-lipped smile as they made their way to greet you. “We were worried you wouldn’t show up. Is this your friend?”

With a smile, you introduced yourself. Floris only grinned at you before returning her attention to Jilly, who had started up an animated conversation with Helaena. Aegon whistled at Jilly, tipping the neck of his beer in her direction as if to say hello, and threw his other arm around your shoulder. 

He laughed when you cringed, pulling back from him slightly. Aegon smelled like a mixture of beer, red wine and sandalwood cologne. “We placed bets on whether you’d show up. Glad you did. There’s multiple motherfuckers in here who owe me a silver stag each. Not that I need it.”

You spluttered a bit. “What-” 

“Relax,” Cregan teased you from the other side of Aegon. He was clearly drunk. “You’re clearly not much of a party girl but that changes two-” he held up two fingers and then aggressively pointed them down at the floor with a jerk. “-night.” 

Aegon laughed, handing you a glass of wine which suddenly appeared in his hand. You shook your head and he shrugged, downing it himself. He turned away from you, waving someone down. “Aemond!”

Oh gods, no. 

You tried to keep your smile on your face. Aemond fucking Targaryen was leaning against a counter, a beer loosely hanging between his fingers. He was in the middle of a conversation with Criston Cole, a friend of their family who you had heard of only through mindless campus gossip. Aemond glanced toward Aegon in response, an eyebrow raised lazily. 

If there were ever a man you had crushed on, it really had to be him. It was a little bit maddening because you were exactly like your peers in thinking Aemond may be the most attractive man you’d ever see in your lifetime. He was tall, had an air of darkness and mystery to him and his silver hair framed his defined cheekbones and sharp jawline perfectly. But it was the severity in everything about him that had caught your eye–right from the first lecture you had seen him in. 

Aemond, as you understood, had no idea who you were. And while you knew exactly who he was, it wasn’t odd. Everyone knew of him and his family. He had practically been birthed into the public eye. 

“This pretty thing here,” Aegon, much to your protest, had pulled you across the room to introduce you. “Jilly’s best friend. Much like you, dear brother, she hates parties and is not here by her own will. You’d get along.”

Aemond looked at you and you suddenly had no idea what to do with yourself. You met his eye, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and waiting for whatever this moment was to end quickly. Your skin was tingling under his gaze which dropped from your head to your feet and then back to your face. 

When he didn’t say anything, you offered him a tight lipped smile and a timid wave. “Hi?”

He was going to respond. You could see it in the way he had moved but Aegon was quick to cut him off, ever the loud mouthed brat. As subtle as Aegon believed himself to be, he was an incredibly obnoxious drunk.  

“Surely,” Aegon drawled, wrapping his arms around Jilly’s waist when she appeared by your side and pulling her into him tightly. Mockingly, he targeted his question at Jilly but switched his gaze between her and Aemond. “Your little-good-girl friend could use a bit of corrupting, Jills. Seems like Aemond would be entirely capable, from what Floris has–”

“That’s enough, Aegon,” Aemond’s voice was smooth and darker than you’d expected. He gave you a small, reassuring yet tight smile. “Don’t be an ass. Let her be.”

You were a little breathless. Sure, you didn’t quite let go of yourself as much as everyone else did but you were no prude. Right? 

There was no offence intended in Aegon’s teasing but you couldn’t help but feel the sting. He was right–you were relatively good. All of your time and effort went into studying and working. Where you weren’t doing either of those, you preferred the solitude of a good book at a quiet cafe. There were very few bad habits in your life, the worst of which would only be the likes of a dependence on tea or coffee. Parties were a rarity but on the odd occasion you would tag along wherever Jilly would go. And, regardless of that, here you were.

It was embarrassing. You had hoped that if you were to ever introduce yourself to Aemond, things would go slightly better than this and your uptight prudish reputation (which you didn’t realise you had until today) would remain undiscussed. He was different and he didn’t tend to spend his time with people of your tendencies. Aemond was the object of everyone’s desires; if they didn’t want to have him then they certainly wanted to be him. 

You were clearly different from his normal type. If only for the fact that he also had a reputation and that reputation consisted of a string of heartbroken girls who he had never pursued or never shared more than his bed with. Those girls were a lot more like his friends; confident, daring and well accomplished. Aemond was not Aegon; there was a lot more respect in the way people spoke of him and his academic and professional talents were impressive to most people. 

Thankfully, Jilly had pulled you away from that dreadful conversation with a harsh glare pointed at Aegon. The kitchen, which was the closest place for you to hide, was filled with snacks and drinks almost falling off of the countertops. You recognised Helaena, and waved at her.

Helaena had been a friend whenever you had bumped into each other. She was sweet and kind and you actually enjoyed her company. “It’s nice to see you, Helaena. Didn’t think we’d ever run into each other at a house party but hey, it’s been an hour full of surprises.”

She laughed with you. There was an easy flow of conversation between the two of you and when Floris and Jilly had taken to what they called ‘Kitchen Karaoke’, you had even danced together. Jilly, as drunk as she was, pushed the bottle of wine in her hand to you, waiting for you to drink. With some encouragement from Helaena and Floris, you smiled and took a few sips. 

The peace you had found in the kitchen was short lived and when Jilly, joined by Aegon and caught up in her exaggerated Lady Gaga performance, flung her arm out, the bottle of wine in her hand spilling right onto your chest and soaking through the white fabric of your shirt. 

“Shit,” she winced. It was cold and you had a small sense of panic that raised goosebumps on your skin at the thought of wearing a wet, stained shirt all night but at the drunken apologetic look on her face all you could do was force a smile. Jilly giggled nervously. “At least it makes your tits look good.”

“Right,” you mumbled, fingers pulling the wet fabric off of your skin. It was uncomfortably sticking to your skin and the smell of the red wine was beginning to catch. “No problem.”

Aegon tapped your shoulder gently and gave you an animated salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you something from the fresh laundry.”

You followed him into the laundry, which was only just around the corner, waiting as he grinned and shuffled through the clothes that were sitting in the dryer. When Aegon turned to you, he had a stupid toothy smile and passed you a grey shirt. “Wear that. It’ll be big but it’ll still look good with the rest of your outfit if you tuck it in or something.”

The t-shirt Aegon handed you was a little long but you weren’t going to complain when you were much happier to be in dry clothing. It was a Slipknot shirt, the graphic on the front slightly worn down with time and washes. You figured it could have been worse–at least Slipknot were good. Aegon had long gone, giving you privacy to change and when you stepped out of the laundry room, you were surprised to see that people had started piling into the apartment. 

Some hip-hop song you could barely recognise played loudly and you were a little thrown off by the crowds of unfamiliar faces. But everyone was having a good time, smiling and dancing among themselves. 

Cigarettes, cologne and coffee filled your senses and you let out a small yelp as you met with a hardened surface, stumbling a little to catch yourself. Aemond’s hands reached out to grab hold of your arms, holding you steady against him so that you wouldn’t fall to the ground. 

“Easy, missy,” he stepped back slightly, as if he were trying to get a good look at you. As Aemond dragged his gaze over you from head to toe, he smirked and hummed deeply.

The heat that rushed to your cheeks was quick and you wondered if Aemond had always smelled so delicious. Your mind was clouded by him and the way he didn’t remove his hands from you, his fingers still gently squeezing your flesh and keeping you far closer to him than you needed to be. 

Whatever it was, if he continued to look at you with so much intensity and hold you as if he didn’t want to let go of you, there was a high chance you’d do something that would only leave you disappointed and embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” you squeaked, pulling away from him in one movement and rushing into the kitchen. Jilly grinned at you, eyebrows wagging exaggeratedly in her drunken state. 

The rest of the girls had found their way to the kitchen, which had actually quietened down even more in the short moments you were away. You found yourself once again at Helaena’s side, watching as Jilly danced with her bottle of wine in hand, and failing to listen to the conversation that was somehow still in flow. 

If you were being honest, the party was a certain type of boring. There was a lot going on yet nothing at the same time and you chalked it up to the fact that you weren’t that friendly with anyone here. Helaena was only part of the crowd because she lived here and Jilly was becoming a part of Aegon’s group of mates, all of whom you knew of but had no real friendship with. 

Floris, who had been staring at you on and off since you had returned, took a sip of her drink and flashed you an odd look. “Is that Aemond’s shirt?”

Helaena giggled beside you, watching you keenly as you frowned. When you answered, Floris looked at you with narrowed eyes. You cleared your throat, nervously nibbling on your bottom lip. “I assumed it was Aegon’s since he gave it to me.”

“What was wrong with what you came in?”

“Floris, you saw that blouse get ruined,” Jilly rolled her eyes, stepping closer to you when she noticed the gentle alarm on your face. “She couldn’t have stayed in a stained top. It won't dry out until tomorrow.”

Floris only huffed, regarding you with a harsh stare and a forced shrug. There was an odd silence that lingered and you considered offering her an apology. But you quickly realised that you didn’t really have anything to apologise for, even though it is probably Aemond’s t-shirt and it was no secret that Floris was all about Aemond. 

The night was passing slowly and you continued to make small talk with the same few people you knew. But the weight of Floris’ glare never disappeared. And Aemond, with his gentle smirk and quiet confidence, had been lingering the entire night. You were half-certain that it was Floris who was the purpose of his prolonged presence in the kitchen, which had become somewhat of a break room for everyone at this point.

There was a pointed silence from him aside from the few words he had muttered in conversation with Helaena or Daeron yet his gaze was communicating more than his words could. Aemond kept looking towards you, his wanting eye holding yours assertively whenever you’d catch him watching you. You couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck at the way he looked you up and down at every chance he got. 

It was suffocating when paired with the daggers you could feel from Floris’ stares and Aegon’s vexing grin. 

“I’m going outside for a bit,” you told Helaena, placing your glass down on the counter and flashing a pursed-lip smile at whoever caught your eye on your way towards the terrace. 

The journey to the terrace wasn’t easy and you could feel your throat closing in as you tried to squeeze through crowds of people. It was sweaty and loud, shoulders knocking and elbows bumping as you finally pushed your way through to a secluded part of the terrace, sighing at the fresh air and solitude. 

Once again, your peace didn’t last long before you caught a flash of silver in your peripheral. 

Aemond stood beside you, so close that your shoulder brushed the leather of his jacket. “You alright?” 

His proximity had turned your brain silent and you simply nodded, forcing your eyelids not to flutter shut at his delicious smell. There was a comfortable silence that followed. He rested his elbows on the railing as you were, relaxing against it and watching the street below. 

A tickle on your cheek from a loose strand of Aemond’s hair following the breeze woke you up from the haze you were entering. “Not enjoying the party?”

“I don’t like parties,” he chuckled, reaching into his pocket. 

You snickered, eyes trailing across his hands as he fiddled with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Taking a moment to admire the way his rings complemented his nimble yet clearly strong fingers, you couldn’t believe how attractive a man’s hands could be.  “You’re not like your brother, then. That’s good–couldn’t handle having two Aegon’s about.”

Aemond shook his head, smiling as he held the box out to you. “Thankfully my brother and I are not alike. Cig?”

“Not for me.”

He hummed, popping a cigarette between his lips and holding the lighter to it. “Good. Do you mind?”

You didn’t have much else to say other than a shrug, letting him know it was alright for him to smoke. It would hardly be anything to complain about with the way Aemond seemed to look ten times sexier with a cigarette between his fingers and hanging from his lips. 

“I guess your reputation isn’t a lie,” Aemond let his eye fall to you, holding a world of darkness and sin as he smirked at you. A cheeky grin played on his lips as he turned to his side, resting on his arm and leaning back a bit to look at you better. 

You swallowed thickly. A wave of heat to your core had you turning away from him, the intensity of how he looked at you like you were tempting all of his urges. “I just try to stay clear of bad habits. It doesn’t really matter.”

“So you are a good girl,” Aemond leaned closer, his fingers gently tipping your head upwards at your chin. He was closer than he was before you had blinked and all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. “I like that. I wonder if Aegon was right about us.”

Because of the way he was holding your chin, firmly and gently at the same time, you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Goosebumps arose on your skin and you shivered despite the burn of his fingers on your skin. 

“Let me take you somewhere more comfortable,” Aemond drawled. The air grew charged when he grazed his lips against yours, so softly it was almost nonexistent. “They all thought I would be the one to corrupt you but I can show you all the ways you’ve corrupted my mind instead.”

The small gasp that fell from your lips made his jaw tick and he let go of your chin, dragging the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek affectionately. 

You nodded and cleared your throat quietly, surprised at your own eagerness. “But I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” Aemond gently lowered his hand to hold your hip, letting one last puff of smoke out before putting his cigarette out. He guided you inside, keeping you right in front of him and his free arm loosely extended in front of your body to stop people from pushing into you. His lips lingered at your ear all the while. “You were already a pretty little thing, missy. But I never could have guessed that you’d be so fucking delicious in my clothes.” 

You were grateful that you weren’t facing him. He couldn’t see the flush that had crossed your expression and had you shying away gently but only to sink further against his chest as he led you through a quieter hallway. When Aemond pushed open the door to his bedroom, he finally noticed your dishevelled state and let out an affectionate huff. 

Only letting go of you for a moment so that he could close the door behind him, Aemond had turned you to face him and pulled you back to your place against his body. His bedroom was pointedly his; neat and collected, the walls decorated with a few posters of the bands he likes and bookshelves that were almost filled entirely. It smelled like clean linen and his cologne. 

“Wait.” You remembered the girl who had been far more than unhappy to see you in his shirt and stiffened. “I thought you and Floris-”

“Floris and I are nothing,” Aemond was calm when he spoke, still watching you with that fierce desire that you had felt from him when you bumped into him earlier on. You swallowed down your apprehension visibly, avoiding eye contact. “I promise.”

Odd, considering you were well aware he didn’t need to promise you anything. 

Aemond watched your chest heave with your heavy breaths, covered entirely by his favourite t-shirt which draped perfectly from your breasts. A hand returned to your hip, squeezing lightly while the other rested at the crevice of your neck and shoulder, his fingers tickling your warm skin. 

He pursed his lips, hyper aware of how tense you were in his hands. “Tell me to stop and I will. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can just chat and get to know each other.” 

“No,” you shook your head.“I don’t want you to stop.”

It was impossible to resist the way that Aemond was pulling you against him, as if you weren’t close enough despite how you were pressed flush against him and the fabric of your clothing was all that could fit between the two of you. Gods, he smelled so good. 

Confident with your reassurance, Aemond dipped his head so close to yours that you were sharing air, his smirk returned when he felt you shiver against him. “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t usually do this,” you muttered, eyelids fluttering shut when he brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek and pressed a featherlight kiss beside your lips, dragging them to your jaw when you instinctively moved to try catch his lips in the kiss you only now realised you were craving. But you failed and he cheekily worked away from your attempted kiss. His lips felt good on your skin and a soft gasp in his ear had him squeezing your hip harder. It reminded you what you were telling him. “We technically just met.”

He never stopped placing the smallest of kisses along your jaw, moving them towards your neck. “Technically?”

“We have a couple lectures together.”

The thought that it was rather surprising that he had never noticed much of you crossed Aemond’s mind but when you let your hand fall to his chest, fisting the lapel of his jacket and tugging like you needed him more than oxygen, it disappeared into a haze of your perfume and warmth. 

Aemond hummed as you noticed he did often. “Does it count if I take you out the day after?”

“I’m sure it does,” you bit your lip to hide your smile, frowning when he pulled away from your neck. “But only if you really want–”

All your thoughts were lost when Aemond swallowed your words, his lips finding yours eagerly. You moaned against him, stiffening for a moment as your skin flushed under his touch but returning his vigour when he laced his fingers through your hair, holding it in a tight fist. It was a perfectly coordinated mess of tongue and teeth, and Aemond never once faltered in his fervour. 

Blindly, you let him guide you to the bed, pulling him down without breaking the kiss when the edge of the bed hit the back of your legs.

In the soft glow of candlelight, the both of you were enveloped in a world of your own. The air was thick with anticipation as your bodies drew closer, the heat shared between you palpable. You tilted your head back, inviting his lips to trace a path along your neck, each kiss sending your blood rushing to your core.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

“Everything, Aemond.”

As his hands found their way under his shirt, fingers gliding over your soft skin, you let out a soft gasp, arching into him. His hands roamed freely, seeking out the warmth beneath the soft fabric, craving your skin against his own.

You felt the weight of him above you, powerful and intoxicating. With a careful urgency, Aemond sat back momentarily, pulling you with him so that he could reach to unclasp your bra. When you moved to take the shirt off with a soft smile, he stopped you. 

“Keep it on,” Aemond placed a kiss to your clothed shoulder, running his hand across the side of your leg as he let you get rid of your bra underneath the shirt. He pulled your skirt and tights off with steady hands, humming appreciatively at the way your underwear peaked out from where the t-shirt had bunched at your hips. “I want you in my shirt only.”

You watched him, entranced, as he took in the sight of you and muttered under his breath about how perfect you were for him, his eye dark with longing. Aemond moved downwards, nestling himself comfortably between your legs, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his mouth warm and inviting. 

When you whined impatiently he smiled, a wicked glint in his eye, and returned to his explorations, kissing his way closer to your core. Aemond never took his eye off you and you could see him watching you from where he teasingly licked at the skin where your thigh met your covered womanhood. The tension in your core tightened and you jerked when he wrapped his lips around your clothed clit and sucked hard. 

Strong hands held your hips down as he wrapped his arms around your thighs, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. Again, you whined at him. “You’re not very patient are you? Already so wet for me that I can taste your delicious pussy through the fabric. Tell me what you want.”

You propped yourself on your elbows, your arms quivering under your weight and breath hitching when you noticed his own clothes had been haphazardly taken off. Aemond was ridding you of your mind and he had barely done anything. “More, Aemond. I want more.”

“More what?”

“More of you,” you whined again, mouth watering at the way he gazed at you from where he was nestled. “I want more of you.”

Aemond complied, pulling your panties off as soon as your hips had lifted on his command. He gave you a pointed look, scolding you gently when you gave him a shy whimper, moving to shut your legs so he couldn’t see you spread for him. 

“Spread your legs, pretty girl,” he let out a coarse breath when you wordlessly did as he said, baring yourself to him and gracing him with a sight more tempting than all the gold and jewels the world had to offer. Aemond’s hands guided your thighs apart encouragingly. “That’s it–little bit more.”

His gentle commands were both exhilarating and daunting. The weight of his gaze was both thrilling and intimidating, sending heat rushing to your cheeks and your cunt and the chuckle coming from the man between your legs was enough to tell you that he had seen you clench around nothing. 

Trailing his kisses from your knees and down your thighs once again, Aemond groaned, fisting the bottom of the shirt that rested against your raised thigh and licking a long stripe between your folds. It had you sucking in a breath, the sensation of his wet tongue suddenly exploring your cunt taking over every part of your mind and body, your fingers grasping at the sheets when he lapped at your clit and moaned into your wetness.

“Gods, Aemond-” you made the prettiest noises but Aemond’s cock jumped at the way you said his name, giving him a newfound fervour as he ferociously sucked at your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 

Nothing you had experienced with anyone had you trembling from sensitivity and pleasure so easily. His tongue and lips moved against you expertly and he let his arms wrap around your thighs as they rested against his shoulders, using his thumbs to spread you even more for him. 

Spit mixed with your wetness, creating a slick that dripped from your cunt and tainted his chin and his cheeks but Aemond seemed only to revel in it. His cock grew painfully hard at the beautiful sounds you made and the sweet, slightly tart and metallic taste of you on his tongue. 

At a particularly harsh suck on your clit, you jerked, legs clamping shut around Aemond’s head as you felt your orgasm building faster than you had expected. “Aemond. Oh fuck, it’s good-”

“Are you going to come for me, missy?” Aemond asked and the vibrations of his voice while he continued to feast on you had you moaning out an incoherent answer. He was watching you as you nodded, head thrown back so all that he could see over your body and his t-shirt was your chin and glimpses of your blissful expression. 

Shuddering and struggling to even your breathing, a heated pleasure took you with surprising intensity. Aemond continued to suck on you, delving into you with his tongue and teasing you with his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm, groaning at the way your body tensed and your pussy clenched. 

Placing a final kiss on your clit with a cheeky grin, making his way up your body, enjoying the way you continued to tremble and whimper under his touch. He took a nipple into his mouth through the shirt, teasingly only giving it a moment of attention before his lips were back on yours. 

Sharing the taste of you, Aemond kissed you hungrily despite having done the same within your folds only seconds ago. It was unbelievably hot in the room and you became dizzy with how your body gave into his, moulding against him perfectly as his hips found their place between your legs. 

Aemond’s voice was dark and confident, dripping with lust. 

But you salivated at the thought of taking him in your mouth and tried to push him back. “I want you in my mouth too.”

“Not tonight.” His hand found one of your breasts, touching you over the shirt. When you pouted at him, legs still jerking around his hips, Aemond softly moaned. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Good girl like you, so eager to suck me.”

Hot and heavy, Aemond grinded his cock against you, pressing it deliciously to your clit and then taking its place with his fingers. He wondered whether the pout on your lips would disappear when he pushed a digit into you, satisfied to see it fall away and be replaced with a furrow of your eyebrows and a silent gasp. 

Keening at both his words and the way that Aemond slid another finger in and curled them inside you, searching for that spot that had your toes curling, you were increasingly desperate to taste him now that you had felt how hard and ready he was for you. “Please, let me taste you.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities for that.” He sighed deeply when you moaned loudly, grasping at his shoulders and pressing your face into his neck. “I would kill to feel your pretty lips on my cock. Do you want to know what I think, missy?”

Aemond was intoxicating, sending your body into overdrive and your mind hazy with need. All you could do was nod, lost in the way he was perfectly bringing you to so much bliss. 

“I think,” he purred. “That I’m going to make you mine. And that I’ll fuck the well-behaved girl right out of you in each and every shirt that I own.”

Gasping for air as he pushed himself into you, replacing his fingers with his cock, you clung to him as he stretched you out. There was a sharp sting from his size but it subsided quickly and you could feel the effects of Aemond’s cock in you all the way down your legs and to your toes. 

Aemond’s breath hitched, his eye holding yours as he gave you time to adjust, jaw clenched and holding you tightly as if he’d fall to the pits of the hells if he were to let go of you. 

For someone he had just met properly only hours ago, Aemond thought he had found his own heaven in you and your body. 

You mewled, pushing your hips forward greedily. “It feels so good-so good, Aemond.”

He slowly moved his hips, hissing and letting his forehead fall to your shoulder where he bit down gently. The way Aemond pushed deeper into you at every thrust forward stole your breath from your lungs each time. He felt like he was a virgin once again, feeling the comfort of a wet, hot cunt for the first time, losing the control he had over the urge to claim you properly and spill into you already.

Aemond was no stranger to the pleasures of the body but never had he fallen victim to weakness by a woman and Aemond was of half a mind to understand that he would do anything you asked of him simply because your bodies were a carnally perfect fit. Right now, he would burn down cities if you asked him to. 

Keeping the steady pace, Aemond’s thrusts became more forceful, driving into you harder and drawing out nonsensical murmurs and whimpers from you. It was white-hot, each thrust sending a barrage of pleasure and sensitivity through your body. 

“If only they could see you now,” Aemond’s tone was deep, laced with lust and somewhat desperate as his hips snapped into you, the sound of skin against skin and his cock pushing lewd sounds from your wetness that couldn’t be drowned out by the distant thump of the party’s music. “The perfect, innocent girl that they all believe you to be, squeezing my cock like a good little slut. Just for me.”

Blissful, incoherent sounds that he pulled from only spurred him on further and you could feel how his cock twitched and moved within you. The way that Aemond’s body fit with yours was perfect and it had that tension return to your stomach, your skin tingling and toes curling as he sped up his movements. It was blinding and deafening at the same time, stealing your breath from you each time he dragged his cock out only to push it back in. 

Shaking and trembling, your legs squeezed around his hips and Aemond grunted, his head falling to your shoulder as he grabbed the flesh of your thigh and pushing it up and holding it beside you. Angling your hips perfectly, Aemond’s rough thrusts found a sensitive spot and you gasped, back arching off the bed as you gripped him tightly in your arms. You were barely of the right mind to notice him hiss when your nails scraped across his skin. 

Aemond was convinced he had found a version of peace in your body, the feeling of your warmth and wetness squeezing him, quieting the loud, painful thoughts that never ceased in his mind. He swore, his voice constrained and his fingers digging further into your flesh. There wouldn’t be a day that could go by in which he wouldn’t be haunted by your perfect cunt and pretty sounds. It was a thought that would have had him scoffing in any other circumstances but he was so lost in you that he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. 

“You are so fucking-” he groaned. “Tight. Made to fit my cock perfectly.”

“Aemond-”

He chuckled, enjoying the way his name was the only word you could force out between your moans. Aemond’s hips stuttered as you clamped down around him, your eyes rolling back and falling shut as you turned away from him reflexively, pressing your head into the pillow and whining pathetically. 

“Yes, missy?” Aemond’s voice was constricted but still smooth. 

“Gonna come–I’m gonna come,” you gasped out between whimpers and moans, calling out his name as if he was your salvation.

Aemond let go of your thigh, his fingers clasping around your throat and squeezing the sides enough so that he could force your head out of the pillow. “Look at me when you come, pretty girl.”

When your eyes met his, you were surprised to see that his eyepatch hadn’t been discarded but couldn’t linger on the thought. Not with the way that overwhelming tension had become too much, coiling in your stomach and making you quiver underneath Aemond’s strong body, coming to its peak and snapping with an earth shattering, burning intensity that forced your entire world to go quiet. 

With strained gasps, Aemond’s peak quickly followed yours and he pulled out, surprised to see how swiftly your hand replaced his. You felt the ropes of his hot seed fall onto your stomach, the warmth of his breath against your skin as he buried his face into your neck, heaving as he rode through the strength of his orgasm. 

Strings of curses came from him as he let his body fall to the space beside you. Aemond barely wasted two seconds before pulling you into him so that your head rested against his chest as he held you against him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting yourself melt into him, too spent to spare a thought for the mess on your stomach. “But I doubt I’ll be feeling so great tomorrow.”

A deep chuckle vibrated against your ear. “I’d apologise but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it.”

“Cheeky.”

Aemond took a hold of your wrist when you slapped his chest gently, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles before letting his hand fall to that spot on your hip. “I wasn’t lying you know.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow, craning your neck so that you could see his face without moving away from him. 

“I will take you out.” Aemond grinned, squeezing your flesh playfully. “And I will fuck you in every single one of my t-shirts.”

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (the tiniest bit), a lot of cussing (typical of bkg), reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg

masterlist | part 1, part 2 (they're all bite-sized, dw), part 4 (this one not so much), part 5 (this one too), part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

You drop your new 0.38 ballpoint pen and it goes tumbling down, down, to the pristine carpeted floor.

Right where your jaw is.

“My what?”

The man of the hour has the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes.

Is it too late to actually follow through with your fantasy of strangling him?

As if he’s daring you to go for it, he tosses you the nth annoyed look of the night. “What did I just fucking say about not making me say things twice?”

You feel yourself flush with what you think is anger and embarrassment. “Bakugou, sir—”

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Smartass.

That’s it.

Before you know it, you’re already on your feet, stalking your way toward the man with the proverbial steam coming out of your nose and ears. His eyes widen in surprise as you get closer and closer before you stop right in front of his desk, towering over him for once.

“My date? Really?” You sound so incredulous, even to yourself, and you can’t help the seed of pride that blossoms over what you think is worry dancing across his features. He’s out of his goddamn mind, and between the two of you, you’re not about to be the only whose feathers are visibly ruffled over this dumb-as-shit idea. He has no business being so cool about it.

Never mind that your heart is hammering in exasperation.

Yes, just that.

Shaking your head, you press on. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re coworkers.”

You gesture to the space between you, and he merely raises his eyebrow in response with his strong arms crossed in front of his chest—snobbish as ever. “You’re my boss and I’m your underling. And I’m the HR head, for crying out loud.”

You pause to debate whether or not to say the next thing before deciding fuck it. “And what makes you think I don’t have—”

“Do you?”

Your face scrunches involuntarily at being cut off, “What?”

He leans forward, not breaking eye contact as if he’s challenging you. “Do you have a boyfriend?” He cocks his head to the side, “Or a date, at the very least?”

Your voice is small when you respond with the pitiful truth.

“…No?”

At that, Bakugou grins. If you didn’t know any better, you would say the fucking behemoth of a man looked pleased. He pushes against the edge of his desk, effectively creating a much more appropriate distance between the two of you. “Well, that settles it then. I’ll be your dashing date, we show up to your shitty ex’s wedding, and I finally teach that dickhead a lesson or two.”

A million questions start racing in your head, like: Why is this his first solution to the problem? Did he even consider whether or not you wanted to go in the first place? What did he mean by finally? And just—why?

But the one you manage to stammer out is: “Dude—what the fuck are you going to do? Are you about to mangle a guy at his wedding?!”

He looks at you like you just unceremoniously bit his ass. “What? No. What do you take me for, a brainless Nomu who just goes apeshit?”

You can only grumble in response. Yes, sometimes.

He sighs for the umpteenth time as if you’re the one who has steered the already unpleasant conversation into this bizarre topic. He stands up from his seat, and you’re back to being the one looking up at him.

The same thing probably registers in his mind because a smug look takes over his features within seconds.

“And, if you must know, I’m going to do so by being the best trophy date ever.”

You fight the reflex to choke at his words. Instead, you squint your eyes and muster your most scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond for a while, choosing to circle his desk and plant himself to your right. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, let alone jerk back at the proximity, he bends toward you until his mouth is a breadth away from your ear. His minty breath tickles your skin when he finally says: “I’m a hero, remember?”

With that, the “hero” in question sashays to the glass doorway like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you, leaving you slackjawed and unresponsive.

He’s almost out of view by the time you manage to collect yourself and blurt out a reply.

“Hey, where are you going? We still have work to do.”

“Relax,” he calls out from the hallway, his voice receding as he walks farther and farther away from you. “’m just gonna take a piss.”

When you’re sure he’s out of earshot, you slump back in your seat, all the strength that’s left apparently having dissipated after that ludicrous exchange.

How could he throw every caution to the wind just like that? Did he forget he was just one spot away from being number 1? His PR team is going to kill both of you for even thinking this.

As you wait for Bakugou to finish his trip to the comfort room, you can’t help but contemplate the absurd idea. Needless to say, and despite Bakugou’s apparent nonchalance, there’s planning involved.

What are people going to say? If (once) the people from your agency—no, anyone who knows the #2 Prohero, really (which is virtually everyone)—find out, you’re toast. You’re going to be the subject of every tabloid in Musutafu—no, the entirety of Japan and maybe even in some news sites overseas—and you are absolutely not ready for that scrutinization.

And all that over a one-day fake dating stint? You’ve got to be kidding yourself.

But the more you think about it, the less foreign and preposterous the idea becomes. You know you shouldn’t even be considering it, but you can’t help it.

Getting dumped by your boyfriend over the phone only for him to reconnect with his high school sweetheart (did they even ever lose touch?) and get engaged five months later was humbling enough, let alone going to his wedding alone?

The first, obvious answer when you first saw the invite in the mail was to not go. But the more you sat on it, the more you realized how pitiful it would be to be a no-show. Was not going wiser than going alone? Probably. But you’re sick of hiding— avoiding—and you promised yourself this year that you’ll be facing your fears head-on.

Chewing your lip in deep reflection, your brain drifts back to the very person who came up with the proposition.

He seemed sure and determined enough—and it wasn’t like Bakugou to not be calculating and to not have everything mapped out, as similar as he can be to a raging bull. He probably has thought about the consequences to the T, in the few minutes of processing your situation, potentially more than you have.

And damn it, the man is attractive.

If there’s anyone you’d bring to your ex’s wedding to make him regret everything he did to you, it would be Bakugou Katsuki. Although you’d never admit it to the man even if you were held at gunpoint.

“Oi.”

Speak of the devil.

You startle at the sound of his gruff voice, abruptly dragging you out of your reverie.

He’s now standing beside you, hands in his pockets and face studying yours closely as if he’s searching for something.

You stare him back down before you finally decide on what to say.

You can’t believe what you’re about to do.

Gulping, you maintain your gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

“Would I be suggesting it if I wasn’t?”

Fair point.

To your surprise, Bakugou crouches down to regard you and you find yourself directly face-to-face. Despite yourself, you gulp in nervousness at the sudden proximity, and you think he notices because the jackass has the nerve to flash you a smirk.

You furrow your brows in an attempt to regain your composure and any semblance of control over the situation. “And you’re sure you’re gonna succeed as, and I quote, my ‘trophy date?’”

He sneers, although he doesn’t seem to be offended by your challenge. It’s probably because the statement means nothing to him—at this exact moment, the guy is practically oozing with confidence.

Bakugou chuckles, and you find yourself grateful that you’re seated because the next thing he is about to say instantly floors you.

“One thing about me, princess, is that I always win.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[moonstruckme]

roomate jamess 😭😭😭💓💓🤍😭😭💓

I agree !

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!james x shy!reader ♡ 733 words

James gets the text just as he arrives home: Are you hungry?

He grins, putting his car in park as he types out a reply. 

I’m wounded. We’re coming up on our one-month roommate anniversary, and you still don’t know I’m always hungry? 

This makes a grand total of four texts between the two of you. You’d conversed a bit more on Craigslist before agreeing to let James move in with you, but barely. Your radio silence is much like your actual silence, but he’s happy to be making a dent in either. 

Your response comes while he’s fishing his keys out of his pocket. Sorry. Want thai?

James laughs, opening the door and toeing off his shoes. He calls in the general direction of your room, “I hope you’re joking about being sorry.” 

He’s hoping for maybe a reply via text, so it comes as a pleasant surprise when you appear on the stairs. You move like a ghost; if he put you and Remus in an old manor together, James is half sure it’d qualify as a haunted house. 

You’re in your pajamas, which means you must already be done with work for the day. James has noticed this is one of your habits; once you’ve decided you’re staying in the house, your outside clothes hit the hamper and you’re living in fuzzy socks. These ones, standing halfway up the staircase, are blue with white stars. Something about seeing you in full cozy mode makes James’ stomach twinge. 

“Do you want Thai?” you ask again, longer and in person. Several decibels quieter than he’d just been.

“Sure.” James gives you a smile, flopping backwards over the arm of the couch. He was going to cook pasta for dinner, but he’s a bit tired anyway and agreeing to the first bonding opportunity you’ve offered him takes precedence. “Do you wanna use my card, or should I pay you after?” 

“Don’t.” You wave him off, already typing on your phone. “I’m getting it.” 

“Not happening,” James replies. He starts digging in his pocket for his wallet, unearthing a half dozen gum wrappers and a receipt from last March. “But in theory, to what do I owe the honor?” 

Your eyes flit to him, something like accusation in them. James feels his eyebrows lift. “I know you don’t have that many leftovers,” you say. 

So, you’re onto him. “I cook a lot,” he replies with a shrug. “If there’s extra, someone should eat it.” 

“But why not you?” 

“Why not you?” he counters. 

You look suspiciously as though you might be biting down on a smile. A real one. “The point is, I owe you at least a meal. Do you want to see the menu?” 

“Sure, thanks.” He reaches out a hand. You come down the stairs to give him your phone, but once it’s in his hand your eyes narrow mistrustfully, fingers tightening on the device. 

“If you try to pay,” you tell him, “I’ll hide the money in your room so you don’t find it until you move out.” 

A laugh bubbles up out of him at your serious tone. “We live together, babe. I think I’ll come across it at some point.” 

“Not with your room as messy as it is.” 

Damn it, you’re right. “Fine.” James holds up his hands in surrender, credit card between his fingers. “But when I make dinner tomorrow, just eat it while it’s hot, yeah? Let’s do away with the pretense.” 

You sigh through your nose, sitting down beside him with one leg curled under you. You’re attempting something that’s probably supposed to be a glare. James would hate to have to tell you how unintimidating it is, but he may if you keep it up much longer; it’s almost too adorable to take. 

“I appreciate it, but you really don’t need to cook for me,” you say. “I eat plenty when you’re not here.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“That’s the point, James.” You roll your eyes, looking halfway amused. Shit, the day he actually makes you laugh he’s gonna have to bake a cake. “You’re not here to see it.” 

“Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?” He passes you back your phone, having added his order to your cart. “They’ve just added a slew of new movies to Netflix. Also, for tomorrow, do you prefer pasta or chicken?” 

[zevrra]

—𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [⋆｡°✩]

syn: just some random sfw & nsfw hc’s i have for jayce and viktor from arcane!!

includes: gn!reader, 18(+) only, fluff, established relationships, mention of kïnks, mention of drinking/being drunk

extra(s): may flesh these out a little more at some point but these are just little thoughts i’ve had in my head recently AAA (check out my other arcane stuff if you enjoy <3)

JAYCE

a heavy sleeper!! can sleep through all 11 alarms he’s set(they’re all set 5 mins apart) but when he does finally wake up he’s somehow a morning person…wakes up full of energy and ready to start the day

drinks black coffee straight up. no sugar or cream and hates the taste but says it helps him “wake up”

sleeps in just boxers

a light WEIGHT!! it takes a total of 2 drinks before he’s buzzed. his max is probably 6 drinks before he’s almost black out drunk

takes 2 hour long showers

hums! he hums aaaalllll the time just anywhere and everywhere! is always humming some kind of tune

when he’s nervous he bites his lips

runs so so hot! like is a natural heater and is constantly warm so he prefers winter over summer

also packs on some weight during the winter like a bear getting ready to hibernate (he hates it, you LOVE IT)

i feel like he LOVES to swim

book smart not so much street smarts

is terrified of insects, specifically wasps (isn’t allergic he just thinks they’re the spawn of satan)

secretly dislikes most sweets. he doesn’t mind them but he wouldn’t reach for sweets over salty snacks if they’re offered

oh he looooooves spicy food!

pet name king. loves calling you everything but your name. especially enjoys calling you “baby” or “babe”

physical touch is 100% his love language!! keeps his hands on your waist or your back he just enjoys touching so much

clingy

clean and perfect handwriting

he’s also either a really good cook or a really bad one i can’t decide jshsjsjd

when he has a bad day he droops like a little rain cloud but is so easy to cheer up

has two left feet and dances for shit (does it anyway because he enjoys it)

is a whole ray of sunshine; laughs with his whole chest, smiles just as bright as the sun, always looking on the bright side of things

[—NSFW BELOW]

obedient asf!!

literally loves being told what to do and how good he makes you feel

is the definition of service top

THRIVES OFF PRAISE!

stamina goes CRAZY, takes some pretty good build up before he comes

100% is a munch

he loves coming home, shutting off his brain from being at the lab for too long, and sitting between your thighs while he makes you feel good

begs for you to sit on his face

begs in general all day every day for it though

“pleaseee pretty… let’s just sneak away…”

says please so much it’s incorporated in his everyday vocabulary

loves kissing too

wild rutting thrusts, fast and rough reaching the deepest parts of you with ease

list of kinks i think he would have; public outings, bareback, begging (receiving or giving), marking (hickies), püssy/cöck worshipping, size kink, breeding, exhibitionism, face sitting/fucking, somno (w/consent!), and sqüirtïng

is huge and he knows it

thick at the base, keeps his girth until the very tip, where he’s a light brownish-pink. veiny and girthy; 7.5 inches

VIKTOR

rarely EVER sleeps (at most he sleeps for prob 5 ish hours every night) but when he does it’s never in an actual bed; says sleeping anywhere else is more comfortable than a bed

a light sleeper for sure, he def wakes up at every little noise and it drives him nuts

is NOT a morning person. he wakes up groggy and irritated before he morning coffee

always asks for “five more minutes” when he needs to get up

either he sleeps in the clothes he wore the day before or when he actually changes he wears a t-shirt and swaps between shorts or actual sleep pants

sometimes needs to be reminded to eat because he gets so focused on working in the lab he forgets to eat a lot

is actually a decent cook! can make basic and simple dishes but nothing extraordinary

drinks very rarely and when he does it takes him chugging liquor to get drunk

messy but pretty handwriting (only he can read it)

a blanket HOG! he has to be fully wrapped up in at least 2 blankets before he can get comfortable enough to sleep

always runs cold and favors summer over winter!

it just gives you a nice excuse to hold his hand out in public

will drop something on purpose just so he can bend over and struggle to pick it up then act like you’re being mean to him jshshfk

will hit you with his cane if you ask him a stupid question

has the BIGGEST SWEET TOOTH

secretly snuck candy whenever he could growing up so now he constantly has it on him

says it helps him focus if he has a little bit of sugar

is actually packed full with sarcasm and makes so many sarcastic comments throughout the day

doodles when he’s trying to figure out an equation

his pet names for you consist more of “my love” or “darling”

his love language is quality time and gift giving (while he HATES receiving gifts)

writes you notes and leaves them around everywhere for you to accidentally stumble across and see

if you manage to get him to accept a gift, he uses/takes it everywhere with him

[—NSFW BELOW]

is a power bottom!

loves it when you dress up for him

SENSITIVE KING

oh he’s so sensitive, especially around his thighs

comes so so so easily (but can go several times in a row)

like a little handjob and some kissing could have him weak in the palm of your hand

well placed, slow, and methodical thrusts. never misses and it always leaves you breathless.

after a really good night spent together is about the only time he’ll ever sleep comfortably in a bed (next to you of course)

would try ANYTHING once

is not shy when it comes to telling you when he wants to fuck

will grab you by the waist with his cane and pull you closer to him just to tell you he wants you sitting in his lap right now

gives me a lil bit of a brat vibes

“why don’t you try asking nicely darling.”

list of kïnks i think he would be into: dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, choking, blindfolds, biting/marking, degradation/praise, püssy/cöck worshipping, oral, cüm play, roleplay (secretly loves professor/teacher stuff)

not as thick as jayce but he makes up for it with length, pale until the tip where he’s a pretty pink. slightly curved upwards, 6 inches

[minkiverse]

SONG MINGI FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

The behemoth part two 🫡🫡 fun fact at the time of me writing this san and mingi have equal amount of posts on this blog and thats what you call being double-biased 👍👍 once again unfortunately this will have another part as i could not fit all my recs in this post fuck tumblr but i hope you all enjoy reading about my sweet sweet princess 🥹🥹 and give a lot of love to these authors!!!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

Princess pt 2 - @choisanboobenthusiast 🔥

it probably won't be shock that a lot of the mingi fics i recommend are sub!mingi and this is just the beginning 🤤🤤 HOW HE IS WRITTEN HERE IS JUST SO FUCKING CUTE I COULD CRY 😭😭 hes just so needy i- 🫠🫠

Under the Radar - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Fuckboy!Mingi ✧ Ongoing

like i said in my reblog i truly can understand mc because i would also be in love immediately with this man that it would be a concern for everyone around me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ her making him chase her too AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THAT

Genesis - @songmingisthighs ⛈️💗🍑 Fashion Mogul!Mingi ✧ SMAU

i will say the main trope of this story isnt for everyone BUT IT SURE AS HELL IS FOR ME!!!!! what can i say about this author's smau's they are so interesting with dynamic characters and plotlines but still so funny and i love mingi in this 😭😭😭😭

Use me pt 2 - @hwaightme 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers

mingi is deeply in love with mc and offers himself up to them and i will cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 hes just so precious in this two shot literally the sweetest bub that deserves everything 🥺🥺

show & tell pt 2 - @jensthwa ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

a friends to lovers trope will always get me especially when it starts with them "helping" each other which makes the realization that they love each other sosososososososoooooooo good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the princess treatment chronicles pt 2 - @yuyusuyu 💗 Friends to Lovers AU

oh god everyone in this fic is absolutely adorable 🥹🥹🥹 mingi has a list of how to make him fall in love and mc is doing a real good job at completing that list 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 THEY ARE JUST SO CUTE THIS IS JUST FLUFFY FLUFF I LOVE IT!!!!!

Dirty Little Secret pt 2 - @xosannie 🔥 Friends to Lovers ✧ Sex Worker!Mingi

mc stumbles across mingis secret twitter account and cant stop thinking about it but same of course absolutely completely normal reaction to seeing videos of mingi getting himself off like???????? n e ways mc gets to help mingi in his career what a good friend 🥰🥰

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES

Sweet Juice - @hongism 🔥 Magic AU

the patient in 206 - @frenchkisstheabyss 💗 Hospital AU

[5:04 AM] - @edenesth 💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

Untitled - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Supernatural AU ✧ Ghost!Mingi

look at the way i ride - @biaswreckme 🔥

edging mingi - @1ovewoo 🔥

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

realistic sex with mingi - @byuntrash101 🔥💗

[12:03 am] - @min-gis 🔥

steamroller - @fallinforgyu ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

this fic..... oh my god..... if i wasnt already in love with mingi THIS JUST MADE IT 10000000% WORSE 😭😭😭😭 childhood friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (not really but u kno asdfsdfgfddf) and just the sweetest exploration of each other as they decide to lose their virginities together AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😩😩😩😩😩 its just perfect ok i love them

Untitled - @thetypingpup ✨🔥 Dragon!Mingi

fucking sub dragon!mingi.... what else is there to say 🤤🤤 like him just soaking in the praise and possessiveness ohmygooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo😩😩😩😩

Tuesday | Seven - @sluttywoozi ✨🔥💗

we have 3 major hits in a row AND I AM LOSING MY MIND REREADING ALL OF THEM 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this is some of the hottest domestic smut ive ever read quite possible 🫠🫠 reader is so incredibly horny for mingi AND I LIVE FOR THAT SHIT and damn mingi is down 😩😩

Assert your Dominance - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Mechanic!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits - @gamerwoo 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers ✧ Wererwolf!Mingi

Yeehaw - @desirehorizon 🔥

Kinktober Day 30 - @ateezreactionsandscenarios 🔥

Face Sitting with Mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Use it. - @a-soft-hornytiny 🔥

NSFW Alphabet - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Sleepless Inquiries - @catkyunie 💗

mingi x chubby!reader - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

After Work - @ateezscupid 🔥

It's okay, baby - @ateezscupid 🔥

Make Up - @nateezfics 🔥💗

12:06 - @desirehorizon 🔥

booksmart - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥

i am probably a broken record at this point but god do i love sub!mingi AND NERD LOSER MINGI FUCK ME😩😩😩😩😩 mc is such a good tutor for him wowowow 🤤🤤

Killer Eyes - @pirateprincessblog 🔥⛈️ Prisoner!Mingi ✧ Doctor!Reader

[9:47 PM] - @edenesth 💗

most vulnerable - @taexual ⛈️💗 Mafia AU

Hibiscus - @desirehorizon 🔥

Dear Princess - @ateezscupid 🔥 Medieval AU ✧ Vampire!Mingi

Unspoken Desires - @yourlocaljonghoe 🔥

play hooky - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

under the sheets - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

save a horse, ride your best friend - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗 Friends to Lovers AU

pussy drunk w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

22:46 - @seonghwaddict 💗 Roomates AU ✧ Friends to Lovers AU

country boy w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Country Boy!Mingi

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive - @sorryimananti-romantic ✨⛈️💗 Fantasy AU Demon!Mingi

tortured cursed mingi my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 this was a fic i read early on into getting into ateez and it is so fucking good ��👏 like the concept is so interesting (esp for someone like me who hasnt watched any ghibli movies) but catch me sobbing for erebos on a daily basis😭😭😭😭😭😭

Eyes Roll - @jjunieworld 🔥

Wave - @sorryimananti-romantic 💗 Teacher AU

Tired - @hongism 🔥💗

mind over matter - @mingisaddctn 🔥

worship w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Cowboy!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Dragon!Mingi

brainless w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥💗

butterflies - @hwaslayer 🔥💗 Parent AU

11:15 pm - @minranghae 🔥

backseat serenade - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

boyfriend texts 2 - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

sacrifices - @lustfuldevils 🔥

Rainy Morning - @nateezfics 🔥

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Dry Humping - @gingersxng 🔥

Untitled - @dairyminki 💗

Fantasize - @2cupids 🔥

song mingi as boyfriend - @mybelovedwoo 🔥💗

skinny dipping - @byuntrash101 🔥 Swimmer!Mingi

Sour Candy - @0097linersb 🔥

Track 017 - 2Seater - @desirehorizon 🔥

please baby - @starminzoo 🔥

still your biggest fan - @byuntrash101 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

situationship w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun ⛈️ SMAU

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Baby Fever - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Untitled - @justaaveragereader 🔥

00:00 - @iannmin 💗

Untitled - @hrt4yongie 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 💗 College AU

friends to lovers with mingi - @lxvemaze 💗🍑 Friends to Lovers

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

Rings of Temptation - @crimsonbubble 🔥

6:52 pm - @323cutie 💗

Obsession - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥⛈️

10:02 - @kwanisms 🔥⛈️💗 Hyena!Mingi

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU pt 4

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. AU masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more.

Part 5 is here.

Two weeks had passed since you and Baldwin had met Salauddin. As much as you tried to stay in your room to try and work on your time machine a bit, Sibylla was far too excited with the wedding preparations and was dragging you along. Even the maids were too eager to do everything, be it dressing you up or accompanying you around the castle. You suppose it was their way of trying to get in your good graces so that you'll choose them to be your court ladies. Its all politics really. The few moments that you did try to have for yourself, they'd be with Baldwin. You cant ever have meals without him, even if you were sneaky. You theorised that Baldwin probably had someone in the kitchen to inform him the moment you're having a meal made so that he can join you too (and proceed to handfeed you the first and last bite from his plate).

You decide its finally time to bring up the agenda you had in mind. "Baldwin?" You call softly, earning a surprised look from him because he's used to your admonishing tone. "Yes, princess?" he quickly closes his book, giving you his full attention.

"Do you think... it could be arranged for me to travel?" He raised a brow. "Travel? Where?"

You mustered up the courage. "Egypt."

"Egypt? Why?" Of course he was alarmed because at the time Egypt was under Muslim rule, and Salauddin was the sultan of Egypt. It was his territory and it was far too.

"Why not? I thought you said you would show me the world." You reminded him of his promise when he was trying to bribe you into marrying him.

He sighed and nodded. "That can be arranged. Come on, now." He took your hand and pulled you towards him as he moved towards the corner of his room, keeping you facing him. "I always keep my promises, princess." He whispered kissing your chin before turning you around to face the mirror.

"See? Now you've seen the world. In fact-" He spins you back to him before turning you towards the mirror again. "-ooh! Now you've seen the world twice!" He keeps on spinning you back and forth a couple of more times making you laugh before you get dizzy and lightly smack his arm.

"Be serious for once, Baldwin!" You glare at him. "Dont you get tired from your flirting attempts?"

His eyes twinkled as he cupped your face with his hands. "Never!"

With your face still in his hands, you repeated your request. "I want to go to Egypt, Baldwin." "But why? Do you want something from there? Because I can have it brought here-"

"No." You cant believe you have to manipulate him. Eh, he'll get over it. "I... I dont have a family, Baldwin. I was an orphan and well- things werent great at my orphanage, so I ran away. I wanted to find out about my family, about my parents. What happened to them. So I've been travelling here and there. I suppose thats how I developed an interest in history." You could seem his resolve melting with the way his eyes softened, so you continued on. "Please, let me go to Egypt. I think... I think I might find some clues about my family there. And if I dont..." you chuckled. "Well, I could always write something on Salauddin."

"Do you really want to go?" You nodded eagerly. He smiled. "Alright. I'll talk to Salauddin. If he gives permission, then you can go. I dont think I could accompany you there. Guy has been stirring up some problems here and I cant have him try to start a rebellion."

"Its okay, I can go alone." "Well, not alone. I'll send my best knights along." Shit. Oh well. Better them than Baldwin.

Breaking the pattern for once, you decided to initiate affection and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Baldwin!" You heard him inhale sharply, his body stilling for a moment before his arms slowly but surely wrapped around your frame, and you felt him melt into you a bit. This is psychology 101, okay? Pavlov's dog experiment, if you reward him for "good behaviour", he is more prone to be "good".

If only you knew this may have been the first time in more than a decade that he's been hugged. And now that he has... it only cements more in his mind that your hugs are his- you are his.

-

As expected, Salauddin agreed and allowed you to come to Egypt. However, Baldwin still delayed your trip by almost a week under the pretence to make "necessary arrangements for your trip".

It was just him trying to find excuses to make you stay longer, or even change your mind about leaving at all.

"You know it's going to be soooo hot in Egypt? What if you get a heat stroke?"

"I'm going with Salauddin. He's been living in the desert for so long, I'm sure he'll teach me how to protect myself from the sun."

"You- what if you get thirsty? You won't get cold water!"

You looked at him baffled. "Salauddin literally had a box of ice in the desert- he served us ice water. Did you forget? I'm beginning to think you might be suffering from a heat stroke."

He huffed. "Surely, you cant be safe in Egypt without me by your side. People will attack you for being my weakness!"

Your heart skipped a beat. I'm his weakness?

You shake your head. Not the time. "How would they even recognise me? I'd be in a niqaab! Besides, I thought you were sending your "best knights" with me." You said turning around to fold your clothes.

Baldwin's hand reached for your wrist and he pulled you back to him, your body stiffening against his hard chest. Damn, how long did he work out for? Just a few weeks ago, he couldnt even stand for long without passing out.

He rested his chin on your shoulder. "I'll miss you." He mumbled, and the corner of your mouth quirked up. "I know." You replied as you tried to break out of his arms and return to your packing. But Baldwin spun you around, his brows furrowed. "You wont miss me?" His eyes held deep concern, while his voice reminded you of a scared child.

He's adorable.

His grip on your arms tightened the longer you stayed silent. Fearing he'd change his mind about the trip, you cupped his face and brought it closer to yours, staring into his eyes.

"No." Hurt flashed through across those blue pools, but you continued. "Because the mere thought that you would be waiting here for me will make me want to return home early." His face softened.

"Home? You consider this your home?" He whispered, clearly affected by your words.

Oh, he's about to die when he hears what you've got next.

Your eyes smiled. "You're my home, Baldwin." You knew if this was an anime, then right now Baldwin would be animated with a pink background with halo behind him, and probably cupids shooting arrows and crying.

His reaction proved you right. Baldwin pulled you in for a tight hug, hiding his head into your shoulder and before you either of you could react, you both fell on your bed, though Baldwin didnt let go of you.

When he finally pulled away, he caressed your cheek with one hand. "What?" you asked with a lazy smile. He didnt say anything, just kept tracing your face with his fingers, looking at you as if he was in a trance. Considering you were leaving tomorrow, you didnt move from the bed. You didnt want to break whatever fantasy Baldwin was in (truthfully, you didnt have the heart for it. He looked like something was healing inside him.) So you stayed there next to him, letting Baldwin run his fingers though your hair and falling asleep to that.

"How did I get so lucky?" He whispered to himself, still looking at you in awe.

Baldwin didnt sleep that night. No, he wanted to memorise your face.

-

The next morning, you were sent off with a small entourage, even though Baldwin wanted to send you with a bigger one, but you reasoned with him that a large group of people would only draw more attention to you.

"Be safe, princess." Baldwin said, pressing his lips to your forehead. You smiled and nodded. "I'll be back before you know it." He gave you a lopsided smile before pulling out a pouch and placing it in your hands. It was heavy. "I have given the knight commander gold to cater to your every need, buy anything you like but- I still want you to have this. Just in case." You peeked into the pouch and your eyes bulged out at the gold coins in there. "Its too much, Baldwin. I cant take-" He cupped your cheek. "I insist. If- God forbid, things go wrong, I want you to use this to get out." You leaned into his touch. "Nothing will happen to me, Baldwin." He prays so (he and his church is praying for your safe journey). "I know, but please- keep it. For my peace of mind." You finally conceded, giving him a hug before starting your journey.

From Jerusalem, you first reached Salauddin's caravan in the desert, where the Kurdish leader was waiting for you.

"So, have you come up with a plan to leave Baldwin?" He asked, guiding you inside his tent, taking note of the niqaab you were wearing. It was the one Baldwin had helped embroirdered for you- he recognised the ugly flower on your sleeve.

"Its not a priority at the moment." You lied, deciding it wouldnt be good to reveal all your cards to him. After all, he is a conquerer. You dont know what kind of games he may be playing.

He raised a brow at you, setting up the chess board. "Then why are you going to Egypt?" He wanted to gauge your expressions, but your eyes were solely focused on the chess board as you made the first move.

"I have some matters to take care of. Personal matters." You watched him move his black pawn.

"Anything I could help with?" He asked. You took his bishop. "No, you have already helped a lot. Thank you. But I must ask- how did you just agree to Baldwin when he asked if I could go to Egypt?"

He scoffed, taking your knight. "You think I did this for free? Please, your husband had to pay a pretty penny to take his "little heaven's angel" through the desert safely. Honestly, how have you bewitched him?" Salauddin gazed at you. "Either he's too stupid or you're much smarter than you look, the latter is something I highly doubt, so it only leads to one conclusion- Baldwin is stupid." He mocked.

"Hey! Dont insult my fiance." You admonished, looking back at the board to make your next move. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, looking at you expectantly. "Or else what?"

Your eyes finally made contact with his, and he could feel he had insulted you somehow. "Or else... you'll regret it." You threatened, which he didnt take seriously, because- why would he? You're nobody.

His eyes lit up. "If you were any less threatening, Y/n, you'd be a dandelion." You rolled your eyes, clearly not amused. "Say whatever you want, but you and I both know you didnt do it for the money."

"What do you mean?"

"Mmhm, I dont know. Dont you have enough money already? I think- oh, you made a mistake there." you smirked taking his queen and now his king was left wide open for attack. "I think... you were scared to say no."

"Excuse me?" He moved his king. You chased him with your knight.

"You heard me." Your rook pushed his king into the corner. Frustratedly, he tries to escape by moving his king diagonally, but you were quicker with your bishop.

"Why would I be afraid of a man whose own brother-in-law is starting a rebellion against him and he's been allowing him to do so just because his sister claims to love him?" He taunted at the messed up family dynamics. Of course he knew how ready Baldwin was to give his kingdom away to Guy to be perished, but that was before he was cured of his leprosy.

You had boxed his king from all sides. No escape. "Why wouldnt you be? The same man was only just a 16 year old when he defeated you on the battlefield devastatingly. And that too, when he was so sick, his face was melting off." You knocked down his king. "Can you imagine how strong he is now that he's cured?"

His anger was subtle. Eyes glaring at you, mouth pulled into a thin line, his nostrils flared ever so slightly.

Clearly, you had struck a nerve.

"You shouldn't play with fire." He warned. You twirled his king between your fingers. "Who said I was playing?"

You both sat in silence for a few more moments, with you mostly relishing in your victory. "So, what do I get for winning again?"

His eyes narrowed, though they werent as hostile as they were a few moments ago, "You get to keep your head."

"Am I always playing for my life everytime we play chess?" "Yes." "Huh. So how does it feel to know that I will outlive you?" You teased, making him roll his eyes as he stood up, leading you out of his tent.

"My men are going to accompany you to Egypt. They're ready, so-" he looked at you with a scowl. "Leave."

"Aww, thank you, aljedu!" You waved, leaving before he could get mad at you for calling him "grandpa".

-

The journey to Egypt took a little over 4 days, but you really cant complain with the small army of people at your service. Even the men and women Salauddin had sent with you made sure to cater your every need, and more importantly, help you and your entourage survive the desert.

The pyramids were still as magnificent as in the future, though the area was now surrouded by a bustling market of sorts. As your caravan moved further into the town, you saw a large centre built that had the traditional Islamic architecure elements- huge domes, minarets, white pillars. The colourful tile works (prominents turqoise and dark blue themes) and a few gothic arches displayed the catholic influence as well.

"What's that?" You had asked one of the knights. "Thats the madarasas." You nodded as you recalled reading about it in "the golden age of Islam" era. Madarasa was essentially an educational institution that were devoted to the study of law, maths, science, medicine, religion, philosphy and other subjects. The complex itself consisted of a mosque, a library, a boarding house. They were home to both students and professors, and were maintained by charitable endowments and unlike a modern day college, it lacked a specific curriculum or institutionalise system of certification. Information was usually passed on informally from teacher to student, and both men and women were able to attend.

It was heaven for anyone who seeked to learn, and this was exactly where you would be going to get help for your time machine.

But that would have to wait, as you were now lead to Salauddin's palace for rest. It was massive and just like the madarasa, it was also beautifully constructed. The palace spread over on a large area of land, and although it was was around 80-100 feet in height with those humongous pillars at each corner, the palace was largest in horizontal dimensions. Inside, after passing a throng of soldiers stationed who kept their gaze lowered even though she and most of the females were completely veiled, you saw a huge pool that continued throughout the palace, even through sharp corners. It almost looked like the castle was built around the turquoise pool. Despite it being hot as hell outside, the palace was cool and insulated even though there were no air conditioners or fans and was open enough to be well ventilated. You had seen the palm date trees through the city, but there was a huge new variety of exotic plants inside that you dont think would be able to survive in the desert.

Egyptians were truly ahead of their time.

-

After dinner, you were sitting in your room with your maids. They were talking about the hospitality of Muslims and all, helping you unpack and get ready for bed.

"Alright, time to sleep." You said with a yawn and they all immediately began leaving. All but one maid, who had to stay by your side at all times even when you were bathing. Apparently, Baldwin had ordered her to do so because he didnt trust anyone in the foreign lands.

"You can go to your chambers with the others, Isabella." You smiled politely at the blonde girl, no older than 19. She shook her head, her brows furrowing in concern. "No, princess. It is my duty to be with you at all times. What if you need me for something?"

"I wont." You smiled tightly. The sooner she left, the sooner you could sneak out of here and go to the madarasa. "You must be tired from all the travel. Please, go rest. I insist." But it was like she couldnt imagine committing a grave sin like this.

Fine. If she's not going to leave then-

"Isabella..." you come close to her, fiddling with your thumbs. "Can I trust you, Isabella?"

She nodded obediently. "Of course, my princess."

"I need to get out of the palace for some time." You tell her slowly, letting her absorb the words. Automatically, she responds. "I can have them arrange a tour tomorrow-"

"No, Isabella-" you let out a distressed sigh, rubbing your forehead as you paused for a dramatic effect. "I need to go out right now."

"Now? At night time?" The young girl wondered what possible emergency you could possibly have. "Oh, um- well, I can have the guards prepare a-"

"No!" You turned around, reaching for her hands. Isabella's eyes widened. A princess- royalty is touching her? You tilted your head sligtly, eyes making a desperate plea.

"I have business that I need to take care of on my own. I-" you sigh dramatically before looking at her with most remorseful eyes. "I have to find my family. I need to- I cant get married without them attending. I- I- just need them and I know! I know they're here! I can feel it!" Isabella's face softened at your "distress" but you can still see her hesitance, and so before she could protest, you squeezed her hands. "I tell everyone I am an orphan but- the the truth is... I was a slave. I was stolen from my family and- and I was raised with other slaves. It wasnt until I was 8 that I had ran away. I've been running from my owners for a long time, all while trying to find my family. I dont care if they're dead but- I need to know. I need to know, Isabella. You... you understand why, right?"

Tears slipped from Isabella's eyes as she nodded her head feverently.

"Of course I do, princess!"

-

You pulled your shawl around you tighter. Temperatures really did drop significantly at night in deserts. You were now standing outside the madarasa you had seen earlier in the day after convincing Isabella to stay behind and pretend to be you under the covers in bed while you went out.

The building was much more quiet now, although the market was still alive but people were less and everyone was mindful of how much noise they made.

You quietly walked into the madarasa, pretending to be one of the several servants who were entering the place. Inside, the area was designed in the shape of a rectangle without a roof in the center. The moon light illuminated the common ground in the middle while lanterns were lit all around the 4 sides, numerous doors on each side.

Keeping your veiled head down, you walked past many scholars and students. You wanted to enter a room, but with all the doors closed, you feared you'd enter the wrong room with someone who wouldnt be as forgiving to a stranger entering this place.

But luck was on your side tonight, as your eyes finally caught sight of an ajar door, and you slipped in once you noticed no one was currently in the room. The room was far more spacious than you had anticipated and even though the equipment was far too old, you recognised it to be a sort of lab. Nearing the desk in the corner, you noticed some papers spread around with some maths done. Even though the numbers were in Arabic, you recognised it- algebra.

"What are you doing here, woman?" You look upto find a man in his late 30s with a white turban and a black beard looking at you angrily. "Who sent you here? By Allah! Leave right now or I will have you punished for trespassing and attempting to seduce a pious man you devil-"

"I'll leave but I cant go without correcting your error." You said pointing to his papers.

He blinked at you. "What error?"

You laughed tauntingly. "Im surprised you dont see it." The man's brows furrowed as he marched over to you. "There is no error! I am the finest mathematician of this decade, if not century! I study astrology, biology, physics, alchemy, philosophy and you dare tell me that I made an error?! I am Al-Abbas ibn Bashir! Who are you to correct me woman?!"

You stared at him unamused. "The square root of 8 is not equal to the square root of 4 + square root of 4." You said pointing at his paper. He squinted at you, trying to process your words before looking where you were pointing.

"Yes, it is. It is additive-"

"Not everything is additive." You sighed, pulling out a blank sheet of paper and solving the question step by step for him. "See? Square root of 8 is 2.818 while square root of 4 is 2, so since we have two square roots if 4, it'll be 2 plus 2, which adds to 4."

You sat down on his chair while he looked over your explanation, trying to find an error in your work. There were none.

Abbas looked at you, brows still furrowed. "You- fine, you are correct. I made a small error-" "Small?" You teased. "Yes, small!" He snapped back as you chuckled. He continued. "But that doesnt explain what youre doing in my office. Who are you?"

You rested your head on your palm and stared at him. "I have work for you."

"And what might that be?"

"Hmm, depends. Are your studies purely theory based or... experimental as well?"

Abbas gave you a nod. "I like to mainly focus on theories, but I like to test my theories as well, so from time to time, I do have to conduct experiments as well."

"Fantastic!" You straightened up and grabbed a paper as you began drawing a tool. "Here, I have mentioned the dimensions and I need you to engineer this for me." He took the paper from you. "What exactly is it?"

"I cannot tell you." "Why?" "Well, I'm a scientist too, and I dont want you to stealing my work." You replied as you pulled out your coin purse that Baldwin had given you. "I suppose this would be sufficient for you?" You placed 5 gold coins in front of him.

Abbas scoffed. "You think you can buy me? I dont care for money!" He stood up, turning away from you.

You raised your brow. "Name your price."

He shook his head. "I cannot be bought, woman. I am a man of science. I have far more important things to be doing with my time-"

"Like making more mistakes?" He glared at you. "One small error. Thats all it was. Besides, just because I made a small miscalculation doesnt mean youre smarter than me."

You smiled under your veil.

"Wanna test that?"

-

Abbas had decided to work for you after you had outsmarted him in every subject he presented. I mean you only had to touch the basics of what you had learned in 6th grade science class but he was- bamboozled.

After he had recovered from his shock, he had agreed to work for you on the condition that you check his work for mistakes and impart some of you teachings. He swears he wont copy any of your "works". You gave him the gold coins and told him to work under complete discretion and that you'd meet him again in 3 days time, when you're ready to return to Jerusalem.

The plan was to collect your tool from him and then give him a couple more tools to design which you would collect 2 weeks later when you visited Egypt again. Because while you do need to work on your time machine, you also need to find ways for Baldwin to go to war with Salauddin again, because originally Baldwin dies of leprosy, but since you already cured that... you need to find a way for Baldwin to die and so far, a war seems to be the only answer.

But youve seen their relationship... Baldwin and Salauddin wouldn't simply jeopardise everything like that. They have a good bond, a strong friendship even.

However, if highschool has taught you anything, even the closest friendships end because of misunderstandings.

And so, a week later, you were back in Jerusalem with your new tool and a new plan in mind.

You walked up the stairs and towards Baldwin's office. Since you had arrived earlier than he was expecting, you wanted to surprise him. Honestly, you missed him and his adorable expressions-

You stopped at the foot of the door, your heart dropping at the sight.

Baldwin and a woman... kissing.

Thoughts? Also send asks