#but if the Feelings keep tormenting me in this way more is definitely going to come

[uhhhitsme]

thinking so hard about agent curt mega i sort of am losing my shit because he just cares so much. about saving the world. about other people. about being the saviour he thought he was always meant to be. about owen. and how throughout the show we see curt struggle so much trying reckon with all that feeling, that vulnerability, and ultimately that grief. and his humanity.

right from the moment the curtains part, and we meet curt, we are greeted by the the thing that defines most of curt's personhood---his cool, cocky persona as a spy. as a hero, in his eyes---throwing himself into the heat of action to defeat the bad guys, "overthrow" an evil power, "save the world again." he and owen handle bombs and murder men like its nothing, grinning as they fight guards and are pursued by enemy agents. they're the definition of confident, competent, strong. the best in the field. its the thing he takes most pride in, boasting about his success and skill, actively making things harder for himself and owen just for the fun of it. he presents himself entirely as this one dimensional character---the good guy. the one who gets things done, who saves the world, the brave, daring hero of this story that you trust to do the right thing.

and then owen falls. and in one, full swoop, that image---that thing that curt prides so much of himself on---is blown to bits. because owen falls, and its his fault, and seeing the body of his partner laying broken on the ground is too much for him to bear, so he runs. he isn't brave. he isn't selfless. in the one moment that it really, truly mattered, he could not save the man he loved. he could not do the right thing. he wasnt the person that he had so desperately tried to be. and i think that haunted him, afterwards---that moment of selfishness, that moment where he was a coward. he ran and left his partner behind to save his own skin, because he was afraid, and he didnt know what to do. because at the end of the day, he's not just a tool for his government or this flawless, incredible spy. he's human, and he made irredeemable mistakes, and theres nothing he can do to fix it.

so when he comes back to spying, when he gets that second chance to try again---he wants to escape his humanity entirely. he refuses to acknowledge his fear, refuses to let go of what is ultimately a hopeless mission, is cocky and brash and everything he thinks a spy needs to be. he can't let himself feel, can't let himself acknowledge his emotion, cant let him confront how much he cares, because thats what made him kill owen. he can't live with being anything other than that untouchable hero he has always tried to be. at his core, he wants, desperately, to be good. to be the man that the world looks up to, righteous and fearless and the protector you can rely on, the american hero---not the deeply flawed, deeply human gay man he is, who would be shunned and criminalized if anyone knew. he needs to be good, to mean something, so much that he cannot bear trying to be anyone else.

and so he tries, and tries, and tries. and it ends with a bullet in the brain of the man he loves, and a mission he was always doomed to never complete, and the failure of not being the person he never could've been in the first place. he cared. so much that it made him unravel.

[omniuravity]

Hazbin Hotel Characters During Rut/Mating Season

Okay, I love rut/mating season fics so much that I made headcanons. These are mostly based on actual animal biology, so I tried my best.

Tags: @bloodypeachblog, @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered, @pinkhimecat, @je-suis-eternel-jennie

TW: Sex (obviously), animalistic behavior, way too much research, creature cocks (kind of), mention of pregnancy, Alastor having sex despite him being asexual, Valentino is his own warning

Husk:

Husk does his best to keep his urges under control, especially in public. If Alastor caught wind of it, he would be tormented to hell and back. However, he does tend to be a bit more grumpy in public to hide it.

He tends to drink a bit more during this period just to help fight these urges and to keep them hidden from others.

He is also extremely protective, especially around Alastor. Other men don't bother him as much, but he absolutely despises Al getting even close to you when you are HIS mate after all.

To combat this, Husk makes sure to mark you with his scent every chance he gets. Even if he doesn't want Al to know he's feeling this way, he wants Alastor to know that you are his.

He is also a bit more adventurous in bed than normal. Typically, he prefers to keep things pretty vanilla, but due to his urges he does become a bit more possessive.

"What? Just want to try somethin' new. Maybe, make a few kittens while we're at it."

Sir Pentious:

Pentious can't hide most things well, let alone his need to mate with you. When he's not in his room, he is spending all hours of the day near you or talking about you. Though, other residents of the hotel find that pretty normal.

He also likes cuddling with you a lot during the early days of his mating season. Occasionally, letting his tongue flick against your cheek like a little kiss.

Though typically only female cobras build nests for their eggs (even if he can't impregnate you with his eggs like that), he will try and make one for you as a gesture of his love.

As for the sex aspect, you will definitely need to help him out. He does have two dicks, but he does not know how to use them.

He is a very sweet partner during his mating season, making sure you're comfortable every step of the way, even if he's a bit unsure of what to do.

"I've never had a mate thisss time of year before, but would you consssider making a nessst with me?"

Valentino:

Anyone who is "lucky" enough to be Val's partner during this time of year is in for a wild ride. Though his mating cycle is much shorter, he is much more intense than any other man you will ever be with.

Val is constantly making sure you smell like him both in and out of the tower. He wants everybody to know who you belong to. His aphrodisiac is so much stronger during this period as well.

He is also super overprotective. If another man so much as glances at you, Val will "have him fired". Which is code for, "I'm gonna fucking shoot him, so he doesn't look at my mate's face again."

Val's emotions are at an all time high during mating season, "for his future larvae" he says, but it's really an excuse to be more of an asshole to everyone except for his precious mate.

Val just adores seeing you filled with his cum. Even when it's spilling out of you he'll just finger it back in. Couldn't have you losing a single drop of his precious seed.

"Don't worry, chiquita, Daddy's home. Now I hope you're ready for me, because it's going to be a long night for the both of us."

Alastor:

Alastor's rut is practically unbearable, especially without a partner. However, this year, he has you by his side.

Alastor isn't really one for spoiling his partners, but he wants to make you feel happy and loved during this time. He'll buy you new clothes (after ripping off the ones you had), food, and cute little trinkets to remind you of him.

He is very aggressive around men. Lucifer, especially, though any man that crosses your path and so much as looks in your direction can set him off.

Alastor also doesn't normally entertain his sexual impulses. Of course, he'd do it for you, but typically, the most you'll get are a round or two if he feels like it. During his rut, he just let's himself go and fucks you until neither of you can move anymore.

He enjoys a little game of cat and mouse before having sex with you. It makes him feel powerful and feeds into his animalistic instincts.

"This has been an entertaining game, my dear, but you can't hide forever. You know I'll find you, one way or another. And when I do...well, I believe it'll leave you...breathless."

Lucifer:

Lucifer's ruts have been unbearable lately. It has been seven years since he's had a partner to indulge in them with, but now he has you.

Lucifer is all for spoiling his mate. Mainly shiny things or anything that catches your eye. He likes decorating your shared bedroom with the things he finds for you.

He isn't nearly as aggressive as Alastor during his rut. However, he is very protective of you. He barely lets you do anything on your own out of the risk of you hurting yourself.

He's the type of guy to start coming up with baby names as soon as his rut starts, just in case.

Normally, Lucifer is very mindful during sex knowing every spot that makes you feel good. During his rut, he loses his control and makes sure to find those spots every single time while marking your body as his. He, of course, apologizes profusely after.

"I'm sorry, birdie. I just can't control myself when I'm around you, especially this time of year. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you later."

[anadiasmount]

night in - jb blurb.

warm bubble feeling burns your chest as you feel jude place a kiss on your temple, sitting right next to you on the floor, placing your hot drink next to his. “you’re having way to much fun on this,” he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder, while looking at you intently as you finished the second bag of the moana’s flowerpot legos.

“i fear i’m having way too much fun,” you joke back, clicking and connecting the small lego. “you realize these are made for nine year olds right?” he pushed further, helping you separate the legos in piles so you could find the legos easier. “so? i don’t complain when you play fifa at your grown age? screaming like a little girl when you unpack a player?” you defend watching jude open his mouth in shock, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“i’m glad we stayed in. i haven’t seen you much lately and i didn’t want to have just dinner and the call if a night. i love these little moments with you, d’you know? our playlist playing in the back, some baking, maybe cooking? but definitely how i have you all to myself…” jude says, his hand running up and down your spine, making you spin and face him directly where you brush a tamed curl back to already done hair.

“sounds like you just want to keep me for yourself?” you say watching how jude is ready to explain and yap but you cut him off quickly. “i’m kidding. i love staying in dates. especially around this time of your when your season is beginning to get hectic. believe it or not these dates have so much more meanings to when we’re out. i get to see a side of you only i can experience and see, and im so incredibly grateful for that. for you,” you smile leaning into his side where jude shyly looks down.

“don’t get shy with me mister.”

“oh like how you get shy after we-”

“okay so that’s like completely different?” you laugh dismissing the idea that was brewing in his head. “also i get to play house when i’m here. look at this place! the kitchen? the pool? the garden? the garden is my favorite we’ve grown so much in just under a year!” you say excitedly, giving up on the lego set, as now all you wanted was to be next with jude. to feel his safe embrace, his scent, to feel the comfort only he can give.

“those damn bunnies ruined it at first, i swear i was going to insane. i just know they were doing it on purpose after one stared me down as it ate the cherry tomatoes!” jude reclaimed, leaning back against the couch, bringing you to his lap where he traced your bracelet and the tiny tattoo on your thigh. the one of many you had, but this one was jude’s favorite. you didn’t have to tell him, but he could tell it was meant for him.

“to be fair you tormented that poor thing,” you recalled, thinking of the endless possibilities jude did so he could get rid of the bunnies in a happy manner. “it got what it deserved,” jude shrugged, taking a sip of mug, offering one of the infamous pumpkin pilsbury cookies to you.

“what else is on your fall bucket list?”

“we’ve done mostly all besides watching scary movies, visit a pumpkin patch and get a couples costume for trent’s party soon. besides that we’ve knocked everything else out,” you say cheery, the sense of joy never leaving you, knowing you were able to cross off and completely those wishes. “what has been your favorite activity yet?” he asked, tugging on a tiny string from your knitted sweater.

“probably decorating your house for the fall, since it was way to white… that or when we painted the pumpkins with the little kids,” you spoke softy and gently. watching jude’s eyes crinkle from paying attention to remembering the beautiful memory. “i really enjoyed that too, but nothing could beat fright fest,” jude laugh making you shake your head rapidly. t

“jude! i still haven’t forgave you for that! you take us to apparently a theme park and then walking in, there’s horror everywhere. especially those damn clowns…” you say, a tint of nervousness as you spoke out loud. “but i made it up to you,” he pouts, leaning up and pulling your face closer to his. “i won you a plenty stuffed animals and went downstairs for a week to get a glass of water. i was your protector.”

“you always are,” you hug him, your fingers grazing and tracing his ears down to his. “the beard has grown on me. you look very manly,” you say, his hairs tickling your palm. “i was thinking about shaving it soon,” he says, feeling completely relaxed as you touched him. it was that effect you had on him and he loved that so much. no feeling or person could make him feel the way you felt.

“nope. it will take too long for me to get used to,” you deny shaking your head as jude chuckles, grabbing your thighs and placing you on your back, jude not holding back from his physical touch. peppering kisses on your forehead, nose, cheeks, your lips then down to your neck where you had another tattoo. your weak spot. “stop it, i know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to show you my love and affection,” he said sarcastically, playing with the fabric on your chest, as he had layed his head gently on you. “yes but you have two meanings towards that… your mom is also right upstairs…” you whisper the last part, afraid of speaking to loudly. this was her house as much as it was his as well. he sighs, accepting defeat and pulling you closer to him. not before pulling you into a kiss that made you want to say fuck it. that damn kiss that forever leaves you breathless and wanting more.

“we should watch a horror movie,” you try to say between his kiss but jude was to focused on you. how you kissed him. how you tasted. feeling weaker but also stronger than ever. “no,” he stoped, this time flipping you over so you could lay on his chest.

“right i forgot. you’re a scaredy cat when it comes-”

“no i’m not! i just don’t want to bring any bad energy in my house,” he cheesed hardly, looking up knowing you were giving him a “are you serious look”.

“the best i can do is watch the nightmare before christmas. take it or leave it,” he shrugged hearing you laugh. “works for me, i’ll hold you tight so you don’t run off,” you teased, jude gasping. “listen the movie is already creepy as it is… especially that little scientist,” he shuddered.

after cleaning up and putting away any mess and cleaning the dishes, instead of traumatizing your tall boyfriend, you settled with his choice of movie. happy either way since you knew jude loved showing you his collection of favorite old films. another part of his love language towards you. you couldn’t count how many times, not just with movies, but items, people even, that meant so much to him.

“are you sleepy?” you whisper, jude nodding. “i am but i want to stay up because i want to spend all the time i can with you,” he yawned, kissing your head. “i can stay the night if that’s okay with you and your mom,” you suggested knowing jude would be immediately agreeing. “my mom adores you and you know she would rather have you stay than leave so late, especially me,” jude said, his thumb drawing circles on your hip.

“i’ll stay,” you smile, cuddling closer to jude as he looked down and smiled. not holding back from taking a picture and posting it, with an old school r&b song. soft launching you once again to the world. which you didn’t mind. “hey, why aren’t we shark boy and lava girl for trent’s party? or-” jude said abruptly.

“i’m leaving.”

“wait no!”

[divinesolas]

lies and sneaking

summary; requested: you are sick of being stuck inside the stone hedge walls and decide to sneak out. You end up running into the worst man you know but it leads to a lot more.

fancast!benjicot blackwood x bracken!reader

w.c: 1.4k

c.w: fluff, minor angst, twin!aeron bracken, minor smut, benjicot is annoying, not proofread

perm benjicot taglist: @lyssaluvs @yeolsbubbles @lenasvoid @at-a-rax-ia @poppyflower-22 @helpyourself-9 @kiraflowersworld @randomgurl2326 @valdezthg @mysticmusicinkpop @tiredsleepyhead @secretf1lms @hardkiddonut @hydrxxxmrti @stlzking @smh-anon @shootinqstars101 @charvsz @helo1281917

you were giddy that you had even managed to sneak out of the castle at all. despite the late hour the town seemed to be as alive as ever and you could barely believe it.

But you got careless and weren’t paying attention until you bumped into somebody’s back. “oh my gods i am so sorry.” the guy turns around and waves his hands, “no no its,,,” his face drops and you freeze upon seeing him “bracken.” benjicot blackwood. Of course you had to run into him. he was the fucking worst. always tormenting you and your brother, not that you never tormented him back, you all were stuck in this endless hateful loop.

you shush him and look around desperately praying nobody heard him. “please just act like you never saw me.” you try to move away from him but he grips your arm and pulls you into his chest and peers down at you a large grin. “oh i dont think so.” you try to pull away from him but he keeps an arm firmly wrapped around you. “what would your dear old daddy think about his precious little baby sneaking out to town to do gods know what.”

you huff and manage to shake your way out of his arms and hiss at him, “if i am going to get caught i might as well make the most out of it.” you turn away and just pray he truly does not knock on your fathers door and tell him you were here. you thought that would be the last of it and you would not see him again but you hear footsteps trailing behind you and you stop and the footsteps stop too.

you turn around and glare at him while he still has that mischievous grin on his face. “what do you want?” his smirk cant seem to leave his face, “im merely making sure the pretty little pampered princess makes it around okay, wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” you tsk and turn away from him, “fine follow me i dont care.”

you walk for awhile merely looking around the town. “you have no clue where to go huh?” you groan and turn around to him throwing your hands up with annoyance. “yes okay i have no clue where im going i just want to have a little fun but the only place i ever go into town is to the bookstore with aeron but i doubt that would be any fun right now.” you scratch your head in frustration. he takes a step closer to you and you step back, “i can show you somewhere fun.”

You want to say no that he should just go fuck off and leave you alone. but you’re sure he knows a good place to go. is he even trust worthy? no he definitely is not. “fine.” you still cant help but accept his offer and he grabs your forearm and begins to pull you along with him. you almost want to ask him where hes taking you but you dont get the chance before he walks you into a building and you’re immediately hit with the strong smell of alcohol and sweat.

you cough lightly into your fist but he just pulls you against him and continues to walk along. “why are we here?” “where else are we supposed to have fun hmm? you have any ideas?” when you say nothing he hums, “thats what i thought.” when he walks up to the counter and buys the two of you a bottle you take the opportunity to look around the place. It was packed, bodies at every corner and turn, you can see people dancing and turn your head when you see a couple in the corner having way too much fun. suddenly you feel a hand on your ass and turn to look at the guy and he just grins at you.

Benjicot sudden pushes the guy on his chest and glares at him. “get the fuck away from her.” the guy runs away at benjicot’s hard stare and deep voice and you place a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. you dont know what has your heart racing, the fear or the fact that ben had gotten protective over you.

you shake the feeling from your head you shouldn’t be thinking like that. he is a blackwood for god’s sake. He pulls you to a darker corner of the room and sits you down next to him. pouring you a cup of the ale. The two of you just sit and chat for a while, you hate to admit it but he is good company, hes funny, he pays attention when you talk.

The more and more you drink and the closer and closer you sit next to each other. you don’t know who makes the move first, you think it was him or maybe that was your brain denying it had been you but neither of you reject the action. you grab the collar of his tunic and he grabs your hips, placing you on his lap. his fingers reach down and touch parts of you you never dared to. biting onto the fabric on his neck as your legs quiver from your peak.

Your peak brings a sort of clarity and guilt and dread washes over you as you can feel benjicots hardening cock on your thigh. so you run. you run and run until you can see your home back into view. you cannot believe you had done that and you would never forget it, how could you be so stupid? but as you toss and turn in bed you want to regret it but you cant. you want to see him again. but he’ll probably never want anything to do with you since you ran out on him. this is as it should be you remind yourself you two are supposed to hate each other.

you hope to let yesterday be nothing more than a memory as you tend to the cattle in the afternoon. you hear footsteps approaching and you turn around a smile at the sight of your brother. “brother i…” your words trail off as you see the furious look on his face, “aeron?” “were you in a brothel with benjicot blackwood last night?” you freeze. how could he have found out? “what,, what are you talking about?” you try to laugh it off as a joke but he just glares at you. “answer me.” you shrug as you begin to sweat, “no, that’s ridiculous.” “then why have i been informed you two were seen together last night?”

You feel heat crawling up every inch of your body. you did not want to lie to him but you certainly could not tell him the truth. “i was at the establishment and he let me sit as his table thats all.” “what in the hells were you doing there?” “i am locked here everyday with nothing to do i just wanted to see what it was like brother!”

You can see him having an internal conflict at your words. you want him to believe you. to drop this all in its entirety and move on. but he hardens up and he looks you in the eyes. “did benjicot blackwood touch you?” you straighten up and grab his hands, “no of course he did not aeron.” he turns his head away slight. you can tell he does not believe you and you heart aches, you love your brother but you cannot admit to him the truth.

“Benjicot Blackwood never touched me; I swear this to you, upon the memory of our mother!”

You know its a bad move to bring up your mother, his face completely softens at her mention. he has not been himself since she passed but you know its the one thing to get him to believe you. and he does he nods, “i believe you. im sorry for believing such rumors.” you pull him into a hug and stare out into the distance as he wraps his arms around you. you feel like absolute shit but at least it was over and that was that.

At least until later that day lord blackwood and benjicot show up at your father’s door and you find out benjicot had asked for your hand.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

safe place.

an: ngl, I wanted to hug jude & bukayo through the screen when England lost😔

requested: I remember seeing that Jude said his mom helps him when he gets "too low with the lows or too high with the highs." Can you do a fic where his gf is that way?

pairing: jude bellingham x black!reader

series: lyrically inspired tales.

if my heart aches, you breathe with me at my pace.

song: safe place by ruthanne

warnings: this is most definitely not edited lol.

The stadium lights had dimmed, and the roar of the crowd had faded into a distant memory, replaced by a haunting silence. Jude Bellingham sat in the quiet of his hotel room, the weight of the Euro final's loss pressing heavily on his shoulders. Exhaustion seeped into his bones—physically, mentally, and emotionally he was tapped. The missed shot that could have changed everything replayed in his mind, a tormenting loop of what-ifs and if-onlys.

He felt utterly drained, each breath a reminder of the effort he had poured into the match. The worst part about losing was feeling like he was at his lowest, despite all the hard work and dedication he had poured in for his country. The memory of the silver medal being draped over his shoulder, the relentless flashes of cameras, and the disappointed faces of fans loomed over him like a dark cloud. He had tried to keep his head up, stopping to hug each of his teammates, whispering words of encouragement, but it still hurt like hell. He had forced a brave face, stifling the sting in his eyes, reassuring his family and friends that he was alright. Keeping up the front until he reached his room had been a monumental task, and now, alone in the dim light, the facade crumbled.

He stared blankly at the wall, the ache of disappointment settling deep within his chest. Hours seemed to drag by, each minute stretching into an eternity. His phone was on Do Not Disturb. Although he knew the messages were meant with the best intentions, Jude wasn’t ready to read the encouraging texts sent to him. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the bus doors closed, needing space to process the defeat alone. The team’s efforts, the dreams of a nation, all seemed to hang on that one moment when his shot had veered just slightly off course.

A knock at the door broke through his reverie. Jude ignored it at first, unwilling to face anyone. If he didn’t call out, whoever it was would go away. But then it came again. 

A single knock, followed by three softer knocks, a distinct rhythm that was all too familiar. It was a special knock. Your special knock, a signal that meant more than words ever could. It prompted him to rise from the bed and cross the room.

Your interaction at the stadium was still a blur. A rushed kiss against his lips, nose, and forehead, a whispered “I love you so much,” was all he could receive before he was moving through the line of friends and family. In the few short hours that had passed, you had showered and changed.

When he opened the door, Jude found you standing there with your travel backpack pressed against your chest.

Jude paused to take you in, grounding himself by focusing on your familiar features. It was a routine he had built over the last six months of your relationship, a way to find solace in the midst of chaos. His eyes passed over your smooth, deep brown skin, which seemed to glow softly in the dim light. He traced the contours of your face, from your cheekbones to your lips that carried a gentle, reassuring smile. The sight of it relaxed the furrow of his brow.

Your eyes, warm and filled with understanding, were his favorite feature. They held a depth of emotion and wisdom that made him feel seen and understood. Your lashes framed them perfectly, long and curled, adding to the natural beauty that always took his breath away. His gaze traveled up to the soft curls, pineappled at the top of your head, his hand instinctively reaching forward.

As he studied you, taking in every detail—his touch tracing the curve of your jaw before settling against your cheek—he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

"Hi," you greeted softly, your voice a balm to his battered spirit.

Jude managed a weak smile, the corners of his lips lifting. "Hey," he replied, his voice rough.

You stepped inside, Jude’s hand instinctively settling on your hips as the door closed.

The scent of lavender and chamomile wafted from the bag you carried, filling the room with a calming aroma. It was a scent that lingered on the sheets of each hotel room Jude stayed in, his bedroom at home, and even in his shirts and jerseys. He associated it with you, and only you—a fragrance that instantly brought relaxation and comfort. Whenever you couldn't make it to his games, Jude would find the aromatherapy tucked away in his bag, a thoughtful gesture that made him feel close to you even when apart.

“My flight leaves at 9:30 tomorrow,” you began as you unzipped the bag. Gathering what you needed, you started towards the bathroom. “So, I’ll probably leave here at 7. I’m sure traffic is going to be insane.”

Jude listened to your voice, the calm cadence soothing his frayed nerves. You didn’t expect a response; you knew him well enough to understand that after a loss, he needed time to recover. So, you verbally went through your travel plans. The turnaround was quick, but you needed to report to work. While slightly annoying, the plan was simple: report home, get back to work, and into your routine. Jude would soon follow.

As you focused on starting the bath, Jude began to look through the items you bought. His hand paused on something small and familiar, tucked beneath his favorite snacks—a stuffed lion. He picked it up, a wave of bittersweet memories washing over him. The lion had a soft, golden mane and big, friendly eyes. Stitched into the pad of its right paw was a heart. Jude remembered the day he won it for you at the Ice Palace, the way your face had lit up with joy, your smile so wide and genuine it had made his heart swell.

"My lion," you’d giggled, hugging the plush toy tightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, your laughter ringing in his ears. “I can keep him with me when you’re away.”

You paused in the bathroom doorway, watching him hold the stuffed lion. "That always makes me feel better when we're apart," you said softly, a smile finding your lips as the shared memory hung between the two of you.

You began to take out and explain the things you had brought to cheer him up—a selection of his favorite snacks, your iPad full of movies, and some comforting toiletries. "I brought these because I thought they might help you relax. And I know how much you love Shawshank Redemption. So...being the gracious, loving girlfriend I am, I will sit through it for the hundredth time. But, only if you promise to share your sour st-"

You were mid-sentence when he moved towards you, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind. For a moment, you stayed that way, the warmth of his embrace speaking louder than words. Jude buried his face in your shoulder, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape.

You could feel the tremors in his body, his grip tightening as if you were his anchor in the storm of his emotions.

"It's okay," you whispered, turning to face him, the warmth of your palms against his cheeks lifting his eyes to yours. "You gave it everything you had, and that's all anyone can ask for. I'm so proud of you, Jude. You’ve come so far, and this is just a moment in your journey. It's okay to feel hurt and disappointed, but remember that you are stronger than this. Everything happens exactly when it's meant to."

Finally, the dam broke, and Jude rested against you, the tears he’d managed to keep at bay all night came pouring out. He remained pressed against you until the stress of the past few months drained his eyes dry. He allowed you to lead him to the bathroom, welcoming the warm, fragrant steam filled the room, creating a cocoon of comfort. 

He allowed you to help him undress, your movements tender and deliberate, as if you were peeling away not just his clothes but also the layers of his hurt.

"Let's get you in," you murmured softly, as his lips brushed against yours, guiding him into the tub. Jude eased himself into the warm water, letting out a deep sigh as the heat began to soothe his aching muscles and weary mind.

You stepped back to gather the other things you had brought, but Jude's hand gently traced soothing circles into your thigh as you stood by the tub. The simple touch spoke volumes, a silent plea for your presence, for you to stay close.

Jude leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he let the warmth of the bath wash over him. The exhaustion and frustration that had gripped him began to loosen, replaced by a growing sense of peace. He listened as you moved around the room, lighting a few candles and setting out the items you had brought—a fluffy towel, his favorite shampoo, and a soft robe for when he got out. 

You joined Jude in the tub, settling behind him. He welcomed the loofah against his skin, the gentle, rhythmic motion of your hands soothing his frayed nerves. You massaged his shoulders, careful with the one that had been previously injured, as he rested back against you. His hand found its place on his leg, grounding him as he watched the movie playing on the tablet propped nearby.

Your touch worked magic, and you could feel his body gradually relaxing. The tension that had coiled within him slowly unwound, and he seemed to be coming back to himself. The voice in his head, the one that echoed with doubt and personal criticism, grew quieter with each passing moment. Each gentle kiss you pressed against his skin, each laugh you shared from the film, chipped away at the walls of his frustration.

By the time most of the bubbles had dissipated, Jude was completely relaxed. His gratefulness showed in the way he gently squeezed your thigh and the soft kisses he brushed against your knuckles. The warmth of the water, combined with your presence, created a cocoon of comfort and safety. 

He tilted his head back slightly, letting it rest against your shoulder, eyes half-closed in contentment. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, fingers tracing small circles on his chest. "You don’t have to," you replied softly. "I’m here, always."

Jude sighed, a deep, contented breath that seemed to release the last of his lingering tension. He turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for being his anchor in the storm. The doubts that had plagued him earlier were now a distant memory.

The kiss he left against your lips was soft, almost sloppy. The physical and mental strain he's been under from Real Madrid and the Euros suddenly registering. His body begging for sleep.

"Let's get you outta here," you giggled. "I don't think I can carry you to bed if you fall asleep."

You press against the corner of his mouth, the action stopping the closing of his heavy eyelids. "Come on, Jude."

"Mmm...hold up..." Jude mumbled, eyes drifting shut as your lips brushed against his. Brow arching, his smirk prompting your eyes to roll. "...I'm not even tired."

"Uh-huh," stifling your giggle, you watch as Jude nods. His heavy eyes blinking before dropping down to your smile.

"'m not," he mumbled, his kiss missing your lips and settling on your chin.

A series of soft and light kiss lingered against your jaw, drifting to your shoulder. As much as he tried to fight off the comfortable sleeping tugging at him, Jude couldn't resist. By the time he reached your lips, a tired and goofy smile stretched across Jude's lips.

"Alright," he relented. "Let's go, but we gonna finish this in the morning."

"I'm sure we will," you smiled.

You place a final kiss against his lips. The brushing of your nose against his pulling out the smile that left you the victim of constant butterflies and euphoria. Before Jude knew it, the words slipped out.

"I love you," he murmured, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate promise. "Thanks for this."

The words halted your movement of slipping from beneath him, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. It was the first time he had said it aloud. You had never pressured him for those words, knowing that he showed his love in countless other ways. Just as you did for him.

"I love you too, Jude," you replied as his lips found your forehead.

Letting his lips pass over your nose, Jude pushed himself.

[dizzycoffee]

hihiiii can i ask for hc’s and maybe a small drabble for lucifer, lute, adam, and charlie with a (fem) reader who tends to unintentionally fluster them ?

— Lucifer, Lute, Adam, Charlie / Fem!Reader; Headcanons

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ HEADCANONS ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

— Lucifer;

Intentional or not, he always wonders how you can be so smooth with your words / actions

He tries to reply with the same tone, but he always stumbles with his words

“You’re so cute when you stutter—” “STOP IT.”

Whenever you lightly tease him, he melts from both embarrassment and love

You chuckled softly upon seeing his already blushing face. “Aw, come on, don’t go shy on me already,” you teased, getting pleasantly surprised when you see the way his face reddens at your words. You truly don’t understand how your choice of words could affect him so much — but you weren’t really complaining.

You always laugh it off, but you definitely like the way he just begins to flush over your words

There are times that you forget that he's Lucifer, though. He'll catch you off guard yourself, saying something surprisingly smooth with that enticing voice of his, and he'll eat up every detail of your own flustered face

"Oh so this is how it feels to fluster, huh?"

Essentially, you both match each other's energy <3

— Lute;

my guilty pleasure fr

She'd totally try to cover her blush with frustration

At first, you used to think she hated being around you. Her face always turned red and judging by her scowl, you assumed it was because she was angry

The only reason you found out otherwise was because of Adam, who was brutally teasing Lute

"HAH, no way, your face is so red!" You were going down a hall when you heard Adam's taunting voice ring out. Before you could tune them out, another voice spoke up, "You heard her, who the hell says that so casually?" Oh, Lute was with him too. You paused for a moment, letting Adam reply. "Ooooh Lute, you look so cute with your hair pulled back!" he spoke in a mocking high-pitched tone, laughing right after when he heard Lute bark out, "Unlike you, she didn't sound annoying!" ... Wasn't that the compliment you told Lute earlier that day?

After that, you couldn't help but to stop by a bit more often during training, simply to converse a bit more

While you didn't understand how you can cause her to have that reaction, it didn't stop you from pushing forward

I mean, it just means she's not mad at you. And she also hasn't said anything about you needing to stop... you're sure it's fine!

It wasn't until one day she just yells "Why do you feel the need to torment me?!"

"I'm sorry... I just think you look so pretty when you blush."

She "reluctantly" asks you out on a date after that

— Adam;

guilty pleasure 2.0

Whenever you first catch him off guard, he goes silent for like,, a good minute

It takes a moment to register that his heart skipped a beat and his face began to burn from the blood that was rushing to his cheeks

After hanging out with you, he has to take a moment to sort of realize that someone genuinely makes him flustered and not the other way around

Initially, he's like "well no duh I'm blushing a bit, she's hot as fuck" but that later turns into him being like "she said my hair looks nice today, does that mean anything?? my face is burning, does she notice all of that?? is all of this on purpose??"

He'll call you (jokingly) an attention whore, which you're confused about and leaves him to explain...

Adam chuckled dryly, "You know... because you're, like, constantly flirting with me. That makes you an attention whore." He tried to keep his cool, he really did. But when all you could do was muster up an awkward smile and head tilt of confusion, he realized you genuinely didn't mean to actually fluster him. Fuck. "Don't take it to heart, sugar tits. I'm just joking!" he laughed it off.

After that "incident" he actually tries to match your energy

If you make him blush, he makes it his mission to see you at least giggle from his flirting

I think it's safe to say Adam sort of sucks at flirting because most of his "flirtatiousness" it just lewd comments and stuff

So it takes a while to actually make you blush from his words and not because he said something embarrassingly lewd

You still appreciate his efforts of course :)

— Charlie;

You are, by far, her biggest distraction

She'll be in the middle of trying to come up with lesson plans when you come up to her and say something like "but Charlie, I miss your kisses..."

Immediately folds for you

I'm positive she openly simps for you, no other way around it

"Isn't she just the cutest? She said I look so adorable with a bow tie! She's so considerate and so..." Charlie swooned as her words drifted off into a ran, face already flushed. Angel raised a brow, "Isn't it, like, the third time she makes you go red? You don't think you're sick or somethin'?" "And it's only the morning," Husk groaned behind the two.

The hotel residents are sick of it /hj

Something that they do appreciate it whenever you're able to calm Charlie down from going overboard. Whether it's with the lesson of the day or her going into a near breakdown over how the hotel isn't going how it's supposed to

While, yes, your words definitely have her giggling and kicking her feet, she mainly goes wild over your actions

The way you'll take her hands into yours, looking her in the eyes as you gently tell her "it'll all work out, just be patient."

She just can't imagine a world where you're not by her side, constantly making her heart flutter

She doesn't typically try to match your flirting, especially because she knows that you don't exactly mean to be flirty

But that doesn't stop her from complimenting you and your words/actions

"You really make my day with your words!"

[sickwhispers]

eeeee!! yay!! ^♡^ can I ask for finn x reader and/or sprout x reader hcs?? I don't wanna overload u so I'll keep it at those!!! tysm ^_^ -incredibly desperate annon from earlier

Oh my gosh you are such a cutie (/p) don't worry about overloading me, I'm at your service!

WRITE ME LETTERS (hot freaks)

Credits to xx675ehf on tumblr for the finn picture

Pairing: Finn x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: he doesn't understand personal space all that much, but he means well

Type: headcanons + drabble

"Whale, whale, whale... look what we have here!" Would be the first thing you hear before he comes barreling towards you at a hundred miles per hour. His body colliding with yours from behind as he brings you in for a tight squeeze

He was never one to really announce his presence, preffering to instead tackle you with affection after a quick fish pun

They never seemed to end when it comes to you

Or, really, they never seemed to end in general

But, if you indulge him just the slightest, it's easy for him to get carried away

He's almost like a dog, in a way

He'd follow you everywhere

To each machine, to each hiding spot, right by your side the second you make your way into the elevator

Every break is spent with him practically glued to your hip, his hands holding onto you in anyway they can

Whether it be by holding your hands, clinging onto your arm, tugging at any article of clothing he could reach rapidly to bring your attention back onto him

He's a Hyper one, and he isn't scared to prove it

He's even been trying to come up with new and improved fish puns

Something that'll impress you

He's self aware, he knows not everyone's a fan of his fish puns

But, even if he was able to score just a tiny giggle from you, he'd be over the moon

"Oh, c'mon! Don't act so koi with me, i dont bite!" His arms wrap around you just a bit tighter, head pressed up right against your side as an proud grin spread across his face.

You had sat on the floor of the elevator, giving yourself a few seconds of peace before having to go back to being tormented once more by the threats lurking around practically every corner. But, of course, there was rarely any moment of peace with finn on your team. He meant well, you knew he did, and he definitely wasn't the malicious type. He just... never seemed to realize when the right time for affection was. And right now, with your chest heaving up and down from a chase you had just endured, you weren't exactly begging for psychical touch.

But at the same time, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Your arm slowly lifted up, shaky from the adrenaline you had just experienced only a few moments ago, before wrapping around him, bringing him just a bit closer. This had caused him to let out an ecstatic gasp in return.

"Yknow, Finn... you're really-" you take a pause, avoiding eye contact with him. Although, despite you doing everything you can not to let your gaze fall right back onto him, you could still feel the way his eyes bored into you. You almost didn't want to say it. Your mouth opening and closing a few times as you tried to muster up the courage. "krilling me with the puns..."

There was a pause. Not one long enough to be considered worrisome, but it had definitely been a decent amount of time before you finally craned your head in his direction. And, once your gaze finally landed on him, the first thing that greeted you were his eyes staring right back into yours. They had widened significantly, and along with that his lips parted slightly. For a second you wondered if it was his body that was shaking or the movement the elevator made as it climbed up to the next floor.

"That..." He began to speak, taking another pause. You soon realized it was his body that was shaking, not the elevator. And, as he took a deep breath, signifying that he was ready to finish his sentence, his smile seemed to stretch farther then you've ever seen. "Was fin-tastic!"

It's safe to say that he'd enjoy it if you ever decided to reply to his puns with some of your own

Nothing would make him happier then hearing a fish pun slip from your mouth, whether it be intentional or a complete accident from all the times you've heard him say them

PERSONAL BODY GUARD

Pairing: Sprout x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: none!

Type: headcanons + drabble

Overprotective

That single definition was a word you heard thrown every round every now and then when it came to sprout

And, not once was it ever used as a lie

Because he was, in fact, overprotective

A gentle tug of the wrist in an attempt to drag you away from running head on into a twisted, a two hour lecture afterwards about how much danger you could've been in had he not saved you in time

His presence constantly looming over you each floor, never too far away.

It was a natural instict at this point

No matter how far away you were on a floor, the second one thing goes wrong, he's right by your side

Sometimes he could be a little too much

Not that he cares about your complaints when he's grabbing you by the cheeks, twisting your head in every single direction as he inspects you for any sort of wound

"Do you know how risky that was!? You could've lost a heart!" Despite the almost desperate tone behind his movements, turning your head from side to side, his touch was always gentle. He had taken a good blow to the back, his scarf barely holding onto his form as it threatened to slip at any second. You hadn't lost a heart, thankfully, but he sure did.

He kept you huddled behind a few boxes, legs trembling beneath the both of you as you tried to regain your stamina from the chase you had only managed to survive from. His grip was tight, and once he had made sure you hadn't gotten hurt during your little stunt, he slowly let his hands slip from your face.

"Are... you okay?" You tried to reach out, your arms stretching out to check him for any injuries just like he had done for you. And yet, they didn't have to move an inch before sprout's body seemed to slump against you. His head resting against your shoulder as his arms stayed hanging lazily by his sides. He almost didn't want to move, finding too much pleasure in having you pressed up against him.

A sigh slipped past his mouth, the sound drawn out as he hesitated for a second before speaking. "Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Well- I'll be fine. But, let's just stay here for a second, okay..?"

You couldn't remember the last time he had ever admitted to not being okay during a run

Typically, he'd brush off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand

As long as you were fine, he was fine

It didn't take too long before he was reassuring you, smiling as he always did while he stuck a bandaid over a wound too serious for just a simple bandaid.

He always kept the better stuff for you

Did he ever want to admit he put you before himself almost all of the time?

No.

He didn't want you to worry

He's the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around

He's a bit of a hopeless romantic, it doesn't take much before he's head over heels in love after a simple smile you threw his way

It's always better to be focused and prepared, especially when the people he loves are constantly being hunted down by corrupted versions of his friends

He doesn't like it when the others point out how distracted he gets everytime he spots you from far away, his body freezing up on the spot as his eyes lock onto the way you pick up protein bar off the floor

For a second he wonders if your admiring his picture on the wrapper

But surely that's wishful thinking...

[naughtyjjk]

gojo coming out of the shower

characters: gojo x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, strip tease (kind of?)

sitting on the bed, you watch gojo as he enters the room, fresh out of the shower. and you’ve always known that he’s good looking, but now, like this, there's no denying that he's fucking hot. you can't even pretend to hide your lust for him, not when his gorgeous body is on full display right in front of you.

the worst thing about it is that he knows the exact effect he has on you, hair still wet and droplets of water running down his body as though he purposely didn't dry himself off. your eyes trail down from his face, his neck, those broad shoulders, his chest where his nipples are hardened. down, down... you have to resist the urge to throw yourself at him and lick the water off his toned abs.

there's a towel tied loosely around his waist, the v-line of his crotch and happy trail visible just enough to have you drooling. because, god, you would do anything to be able to see more of that, to have him fully exposed in front of you. it's his cock that you want to see, his cock standing straight up in arousal, big and hard and thick...

"what's wrong?" gojo brings your attention back up to his face, and he's smirking. the bastard. "like what you see, baby?"

he runs a hand through his hair, licking his lips as he does so, like he's the very definition of sex. he can tell that you're lusting after him, craving for his body; it's not like you're being very subtle with your staring. and he decides to torment you further, beginning to rock back and forth on the spot, thrusting his hips as he mimics the action of fucking someone.

you can feel heat rushing down between your legs and you ache to touch your pussy. the towel gojo has on really doesn't hide much. it's easy to tell that he's hard under the fabric, the outline of his cock visible from the way it's bulging out. you swallow, mouth suddenly dry, and fuck, you're so damn horny that it's almost unbearable.

"want me to remove this?" gojo slips his fingers under the towel, playing with the edges. teasing you.

you nod eagerly—yes, yes, please. your panties are drenched already, so fucking turned on that you might go crazy.

slowly, agonizingly slow, gojo pushes the towel down—not all the way, but just enough to make you whine. partially in frustration, partially in arousal. because the tip of his cock is now revealed, poking out from behind the fabric. the head is flushed red and leaking, pressed right up against gojo's abdomen.

"fuck," you whisper, growing desperate. you want him so bad. "please, just—take it off."

grinning, gojo releases his fingers one by one until the towel unwraps completely and drops to the floor. his cock bobs in the air, twitching, pulsing. precum glistens down the shaft in a steady stream. then, he takes one hand and holds his cock in a loose fist, jerking himself off languidly like he has all the time in the world, hips thrusting to the rhythm of his movements.

meanwhile, you're already imagining the dirty things he could be doing to you with that delicious, leaking cock: teasing your entrance, penetrating you, fucking you hard and deep. your pussy throbs with desire and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

gojo steps toward you, moving closer until he manages to push you back on the bed with his body on top of yours, caging you beneath him. you can't help but moan softly at the sight of him above you, keeping you in place and preventing you from escaping—not that you would ever want to. this close, he's almost kissing you. almost fucking you. his cock hovers just inches away your aching pussy.

when you reach out to touch him, he grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head in a firm grip.

"open your legs, baby," gojo says, whispering directly into your ear. his voice is low and seductive, and it makes you impossibly aroused, shuddering at those words. "if you beg for it, i just might give you what you want..."

.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs (comment to be added!)

[veilofaponia]

Actions Better Left Undone

yan chrollo x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: yandere content, kidnapped reader, unhealthy relationship, shitty first fic

The constant thumping of your heartbeat drowns out the sounds of the movie playing on the television. You’re surprised Chrollo hasn’t noticed (or atleast, commented on) how violently your heart is beating against your ribcage.

You try grounding yourself. Deep, slow breaths, occupying yourself with your hands, focusing on the movie playing in front of you on the screen. Focusing on anything but the man sitting comfortably next to you. The way the air feels heavy with his presence. The way his cologne is the only thing you can smell. The way how when you accidentally make eye-contact with him, he simply gives you an easy smile in return.

It does little to reduce your stress. If anything, it just makes you feel more uneasy. Even if there’s no actual proof, there’s just the underlying feeling that he knows. That he’s feigning ignorance just to see what your next course of action will be. Whether you’ll confess your wrongdoing to him (if you can even call it that), or if you’ll remain stubborn and pretend you did nothing of the sort.

Back in highschool, you and your friends would combine bobby pins and paperclips to make lockpicks. Then, you’d unlock the lockers of strangers in your school and fill them with fake letters and secretly giggle at their reactions. In the past, you were embarrassed of how you acted back then. But now, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief and pride that you developed a talent for creating makeshift lockpicks.

Chrollo had supplied you with hair ties and bobby pins when you complained about your hair constantly getting in your face. You felt a bit suspicious at first. Surely he knows bobby pins can be turned into low quality lockpicks. Yet you’d brushed it off, simply deciding he must’ve thought the lock to be of too secure.

You knew this too. There’s no way he wouldn’t have settled for the highest quality when it came to the lock that keeps you confined. But even then, when you came across paperclips in a little container on his desk, it was hard to resist. Without thinking too much of it, you’d already made a lockpick. The rational part of you told you not to bother; what would such a cheap alternative do against a heavy lock? But you had to try, right? It’d be a wasted opportunity otherwise, wouldn't it?

That’s what you told yourself when you inserted it into the lock and continuously tried to twist it open. You opted to try your luck while Chrollo was in the shower; the time at which he might come was always irregular, but you noticed the amount of time he took cleaning himself was constant. You spent minutes messing with the lock, but it showed no signs of budging. Just as you heard the running water shut off, the lockpick snapped. Part of it was stuck inside the lock, while the rest was in your clenched hand. With no other options coming to mind and time running out, you walked away from the door and pretended not to have done anything.

All this brings you back to your current predicament: sitting next to your tormenter on an expensive couch while a romcom functions as white noise for your overactive thoughts.

He’s definitely going to notice. He’ll know there’s something stuck in the lock. He’ll immediately realize I tried to escape. He’s going to punish me he’s going to punish me he’s going to—

“Are you okay, dearest? You’ve been acting off all evening."

Chrollo’s steady voice breaks your train of thought. You just blankly stare at him. It takes you a few moments to regain you ability to speak and give a somewhat solid response.

“No– I mean– Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a headache, that’s all.”

He looks to be considering your answer for a second. He wants to pry for more, because there’s definitely something off. But he merely blinks and responds softly with “I see.”. Then he redirects his attention back to the movie.

A wave of relief washes over you when you conclude he believes your (rather weak) lie. Just as you think you’ve managed to escape the topic, he strikes again.

“If it's that much of a bother, I could get you some painkillers.”

“Oh. Okay, sure.”

He pauses the movie and stands up. You assume he’s going to start walking to the bathroom, where the painkillers are usually kept. Instead, he starts walking towards the door and putting on his shoes. Panic shoots through you. You don’t do a good job at masking it. Sensing your confusion, Chrollo steps in and offers enlightenment.

“We’re all out,” Your blood runs cold. “I’m going to buy some more at the store.” He explains, while now putting on his coat.

You abandon all ideas of trying to remain calm and instead hyperfocus on your next objective: get Chrollo to stay inside so he won’t discover you tried to get out. Granted, it's just delaying the inevitable, but if he notices tomorrow morning while you’re still sleeping, he probably won't wake you up and maybe he’ll be less mad when he returns.

“No! N-No need, really! I’ll be fine, so there’s really no need to go out now. You should just stay inside, the weather isn’t very nice either. I’d hate to be such a bother.”

Chrollo himself remains composed, but his eyes give away how amused he is at your pitch.

“How sweet of you to not want to inconvenience me,” Gross. “but you were shaking heavily,” He’s reaching for his keys. “It pains me to see you like that,” He’s going to put his keys into the hole. “So don’t worry, I’ll gladly buy you— Oh.”

The keys don't fit into the hole. Because of the lockpick in it. That you got in there. Because you tried to escape.

You take a good look at Chrollo’s facial expression while he inspects the keyhole. He looks perplexed, but then again, he’s a great actor, so it’s hard to tell when he’s being genuine.

He sighs. He must’ve figured out what happend. Or maybe he’s just pretending he didn’t already know.

He begins to slowly take off his coat and shoes. You’re convinced he’s doing this on purpose; dragging the process out so you’ll be left anticipating what comes next for longer. You think to come up with another weak excuse or an awkward joke to ease the tension in the air.

Your lips part to speak, but immediately close again upon seeing the expression on his face as he walks back to the couch.

He’s not mad, no, he’s good at regulating his emotions. But there’s an odd look in his eyes that wasn’t there before, one that says more than you need to know. He’s not happy with your stunt.

Your heart is pumping blood through your body at an insane speed. Your breathing is becoming rapid and shallow. You redirect your gaze to the paused film on the television screen.

Chrollo sits down next to you. He doesn’t speak at first. He just fixates his eyes onto your figure while you continue staring at the screen.

After a moment of silence which feels like an eternity, he speaks.

“How did you create the lockpick?”

“I combined the bobby pins and paperclips on your desk.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Did you think a lockpick like that would be enough to grant you an escape opportunity?” He sounds curious, but you’re guessing he’s just asking to embarass you further.

“Well, not really, but…” You can't think of a reasonable explanation.

He chooses not to linger on it and instead asks his final question. “When did you try to pick the lock?”

You mutter your answer. “When you were showering.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t it be smarter to try when I was out?”

“You always lie about when you’re going to get back. If I tried while you were showering, I could hear when you were done and if the lockpick didn’t work I'd just take it with me and walk away from the door.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing more. Your explanation seems rather flimsy now. You hadn’t considered the lockpick breaking, and you had no way of getting it out.

He’s stopped questioning you. You wish you could peer into his mind to see his thoughts, because yours are only causing you more stress.

If he’s displeased with you, he’ll reprimand you somehow, won’t he? You can’t imagine him getting violent with you, but the countless possibilities there are can’t be much better.

To give yourself some semblance of grounding, you meekly ask him “What are you going to do?”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he answers. “That all depends on you. If you can make it up to me... then perhaps I’ll go easy on you.”

His reply doesn’t comfort you. Instead, now you’re left fretting about how much of your pride you’ll have to throw away to please Chrollo and soften your punishment.

[nekovmancer]

Broken porcelain

pairing: Ramattra x f!reader  prompt: sexual tension when tending to someone's wound from this list warnings: semi-nsfw, mentions of blood, injuries, semi-nudity, swearing, reader being a bit masochist etc etc word count: 2272 a/n: backstreet's back, alright! and finally. 😎 I’ve been a bitch with a big B for Ramattra over the past couple months, and of course I had to write a piece on that robot guy. He gives me… feels I can’t explain. So, for all my fellow robot fuckers, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing! Feedback is always appreciated and please please please send an ask, a chat, anything so we can talk about this big guy and more fanfiction prompts. 😭 also on ao3!

Who would ever say to be a human amongst killing machines would, impressively, be a dreadly task? Or deadly, you would remark to yourself after a long walk of dragging your wounded body through the corridors from the training field to Ramattra’s personal workshop. At least, those new assassin omnics would perform their duties impeccably, you could tell from the way they cut through your skin without a single issue.

The wound was still covered under the thin layer of the tank top you have on, the white fabric damp of crimson blood denouncing something went terribly wrong, not to mention the pained expression contorting your face. 

As soon as he eyes your state, if Ramattra could bring a worried expression to the surface of his faceplate, he would, a mirror to the torment running through his systems. He was an engineer, not a human healer, but you needed him to act more as such in the present moment if you’re both willing for you to stay alive, which you indeed were. 

Growing impatient, not to mention the pain reaching under your skin, you adjust yourself slowly on top of his workbench, holding your side to prevent any further damage. Your fingers get moist with blood, and that has your lips twitching. “Can you fix me or not?��� 

“That depends on your meaning of fixing,” he states, a stoic demeanor on the outside despite feeling quite the opposite inside. Feeling. Something he didn’t think to be inclined to, at least not when those diverged from the violence he was shaped to perform as a being… and yet, here they are, as foreign to him as the surgical aspects of flesh and bone. “I can’t weld you, obviously. At least, not as a first resource,” his slight humor brings a faint smirk to your lips, slowly shaking your head in a quiet response. In a lighter tone, Ramattra proceeds, and now it’s definitely a command. “I would like to have a closer look.”

Quietness follows, not as fast as the warmth spreading from your neck to the tip of your ears. To say you hadn’t considered you’d need to remove your shirt was unnecessary, in front of him of all people, ‘cause you’d rather overcome your own fear of blood if a second thought had you aware of the chances before. But as the old saying remarked: if you are in hell already, just go and sit on the goddamn devil’s lap.

Proceeding a thick swallow, you do as you’re told, diverting your eyes to a corner to avoid examining the cut yourself, or to avert them from Ramattra’s, anything and everything were an excuse in such a situation. It hurt just enough to be something you knew you couldn't handle alone, and considering how sharp that assassin’s knives were… fuck’s sake, what a weak fool you were.

On the other hand, at the sight of your almost bare torso, Ramattra felt inexplicably tense. The wound itself was not too deep to reach anything vital, but would need a patch up indeed in order to heal properly. Yet, his sight wasn’t restrained to that minor part of your skin, and that’s when tension was found. Maybe the vocabulary wasn’t a perfect fit, ‘cause that jolt of electricity running through his circuits was something else, something as sublime as the curve of your hips, and the way you shallow breaths of anticipation had your body quivering, despite an enormous strength to keep it still. He could hardly find beauty in human beings, and let’s not even mention himself, but that was a whole different scenario… warm, with a hint of degradation he couldn’t ignore, and something that could only be named as akin to desire. 

The silence was killing you now, almost making you forget the very pain which brought you there in the first place. “Will we be helding any funerals?” you risk, in the same light humor he used with you before. At least, if you didn’t consider the shaking tone in each syllable you’d pronounced. You thought Ramattra couldn’t  never understand your concerns fully, even if he invested all his force to: if the worst happened, he could be reconstructed, you were there for it after all. But as a human, it’s not like you have a respawn chance anytime. That’s why, aside the anxiety turning your stomach into a knot, you needed him to act. 

“You speak as if it's more severe than it is in fact,” he muses, tilting his head as the scanners on his optics do the rest of the work, searching for the right proceeding in a shared data file, where he was hoping to get anything from an omnic model whose initial propose, contrasting his, was to heal, not to kill. “No funerals, you have my word. The pain may be harsh, but the wound itself is of little harm in the bigger picture. You’re safe,” the addition of the last sentence has you sighing in relief, and a pinch of pain reaches you once more, but it’s bearable. Ramattra made you feel protected, or better, cared for. The warm feeling is enough to soothe your anxiety, dissipating the chill air in the workshop for a little while before rushing up to your cheeks as you’re reminded you’re still half naked in front of him. 

“Lay,” he commands, and your breath gets caught in your throat in the act. Only if your mouth were open, your heart would surely jump out if it during one of its chaotic heartbeats, contrasting the steady tone on Ramattra’s voicebox, echoing those words without a single trace of malice. But when they hit you, they sounded profane, leaving a delicate trace of forbidden to the tip of your tongue. 

You curse your mind as you lay down, a shiver erupting from the contact of warm skin to the cold metal of his workbench’s surface. Fuck, he’s your commander, superior office or whatever goes between you both, your boss to be short. Thing is he saw a purpose for you and spared your life long ago, and that purpose goddamn sure didn’t imply any… deeper contact than the occasional intellectual help you provided, with efficient (and smaller) hands and a cunning mind. After all, no Ravager was made to indulge in such a thing as intimacy, the very same thought cursing through Ramattra’s systems right now. He wasn’t built for delicacy, a single gentle touch for his standards would be brutal enough to leave you bruised for days, and how he would lament to see such perfect skin ruined by his own hands… unbearable to even think of it without feeling a strange sensation housing between his metallic limbs, pushing further inside in search of a bloody beating heart among the cold hardware. 

It wasn’t the first time he felt unsure in his existence, but that was a whole new thing. To think one like him was able to possess a spirit tender enough to be mesmerized by such a fragile thing as you touched him not physically, but deeper than it could ever be… how thrilling it was, but insufficient to make him search for its source on his internal data to completely erase it. No, never. He was actually holding into it with every fiber of his soul, curious to see which path it would lead him through. A bit embarrassing, at first impression, like the sight of you would burn his optics until they melt.

After all these years working along, was it there all the time? Within him, within you? He would search for it later, revisiting each time you shared each other's company in his memory, to see where a quiet admiration turned into this. 

After gathering the resources to fix you, ensuring everything was sterilized, he turned to sight over your form once more. Ramattra could sense the rapid heartbeat against your chest controlling your breath motions, the rising and falling of your chest following along, where he caught a peek of your nipples drawing a small circle under the fabric of your top, the last barrier between him and your fully exposed torso. Thankfully, unlike any human, his faceplate didn't betray any of his thoughts. They’re guarded within his systems, safe in his memory and imprinted there forever. Nothing could ever make him forget of you, nor time, nor enemies, nor… fuck, the injury. 

“It would feel better if you were asleep,” he commences, carefully. You’re already scared for it seems, and it’s not on his wishes to make it worse. “Instead, I will ask you to bite on this,” the discarded cloth of your tank top is brought to your lips, and your heart could have stopped right there. Instead, avoiding the disbelief, you silently obey. “Try not to move. I shall be slow.”

A nod follows, and you gather your best to not whine, or flinch, or sob too much when his hands begin to work, stitching the wound close. Whatever sounds leaving your mouth are muffled, and the pain is great. But erotic. And, fuck, you should be loosing your mind by this point. How could your brain process such agony in a pleasurable way? You’d be blaming the omnic in charge of patching you up, for sure. It was him, after all, all about him. 

Ramattra was enormous, and the effort he put in each precise movement didn’t go unnoticed. He could have discarded you, blamed you for your mistakes, assigned anyone else to deal with this bullshit, but there he was: the infamous Null Sector leader, treating you as a precious porcelain tea-cup, once broken, now being patched in threads of gold, despite the gold being metaphorical. It was a form of art, wasn’t it? You’ve read of it somewhere, once. If so, right now, you’re his masterpiece.

To say he’s being delicate is a statement. Ramattra is afraid he could shatter you again, worse than they did with you before. The responsible for it would be severely corrected, later of course. The pads on his fingertips could never be soft as your skin feels under them, and an eagerness to venture further brings a shiver of electricity through his spine. Should he ever be thinking of it in your state? In fact, was it reasonable to have you consuming his memory like this, injured or not? What could be a groan echoes from his voicebox, and within a few long minutes, it was done. 

Your jaw clenches to the minimum effort of raising your torso, sitting on his workbench once more as a small discomfort to the newly sewn cut emerges. Covered in bandages, you can’t see his work, but there’s no blood and the pain is moderate, so you trust with your eyes closed it’s perfectly fine. Your shirt is sitting by your side, bloodied and wet from your own saliva, but you don’t mention reaching for it. 

Blinking, your eyes search for him, meeting the stoic faceplate turned to you. Silence lingers as you both stare at each other, considering every single thought that coursed through your minds during the late couple of hours. Was it genuine? Absolutely. Would you voice them? No, surely not. Tension is still there, so palpable you could touch it, and shattering it would come with a price. 

A small blush color your cheeks red, and you finally manage to break eye contact with a hint of timidity. Too much to ask of you for a little time of strong, contrasting emotions, still tickling under your skin as the adrenaline begins to sparse. Clearing your throat, you’re the first to speak. “I apologize,” it begins as simple as it, almost ending the sentence there as your eyes don’t dare to move from your lap and you choose carefully what to say, and what to keep to yourself. Ramattra may have performed a solid progress towards emotions, but you feared he would fail to comprehend the turmoil in yours. “It wasn’t strict of your concern, nor a matter you should care for as you did, and I-”

“I had to,” he cut you off, sternly. Now that you’re safe, his worries tend to other subjects, still resonating over you. Was he too obvious, despite his best efforts? Couldn’t be, and yet he wished fervently for you to point it out, verbalizing what he was too afraid to: he wanted to keep you close, and safe, more than he ever did. “Whatever happens to you is my business, especially if it's a menace to your well being,” Ramattra takes a step closer, his fingers aching to reach for your face, and soothe that sorry expression out of it. Instead, he keeps them to his sides, clenching them a fist. “So don’t apologize for it. It wasn’t your fault, in the first place, and yet I’ll ask you to be careful and not wander over the training field whenever a new IA is being tested.”

A short nod follows a faint smile. His words were gentle, not explicitly voicing what he meant in between the lines, but you knew it nonetheless. Ramattra cared for you, more than you could have thought, and enough to satisfy your heart. “I don’t even know how to begin thanking you.”

“Dressing will do,” a chuckle reverberated in his metallic rib cage, and if his words alone wouldn’t catch you yet, it would be enough to make your face red as a cherry for, somehow, you were able to sense a trace of malice in Ramattra. “Rest now, human. I shall meet you when the day is done.”

[lightlycareless]

Naoya's reaction when y/n's thighs expand 3 times its size when she sits down. For my girlie's that have thick thighs 🙏🙏 plus me. Serious insecurity but damn wouldn't that be Naoya's 2nd favourite thing after tiddies. Definitely would give some criticism that y/n don't exercise enough and that's why her thighs are like that,but would br also smother his face between her thighs? Yes

Hello anon!!

Ngl when I first read this ask (the beginning) I was like HUH? But then I read the rest and was like ugh same. I kind of relate to what you feel, that plus chafing and what not 💀

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this debauched piece. :) ehehehe dunno what was going through my head but I liked it.

warnings: NSFW. THOUGH NOT DETAILED, THERE'S SMUT. MINORS DNI. Naoya and the Zen'in are perverts, some more explicit than others. Also misogynistic views, unwanted commentary about bodies.

Happy reading!

You know what I was thinking?

Naoya being so obsessed with your body, that the moment he sees you he doesn’t even bother to make formal introductions or anything; nope.

He just needed to see you sit down one time, one time, unwittingly getting a very detailed look of how your thighs just become bigger underneath your skirt, alongside the adorably cute way you attempted to tug the edge down to avoid revealing too much (Naoya had seen more than enough at that point, of course he did.) and that was it for him to know you’d be the perfect wife.

So, fast forward a few weeks, after making the right arrangements, you’re effectively married to him, “happily” living in the Zen’in estate, where he can keep an eye on you, close to whenever he might need to make use of your wifely commitments—but most importantly, underneath constant scrutiny that not even your role as future Lady of the House could save you from.

The torments you’re subjected to here aren’t ones you haven’t heard before, in fact, you’ve heard enough of them to not care anymore…

But perhaps being married to Naoya, something that many cautioned would probably never happen due to your appearance, was enough to finally make them hurt.

His family just couldn’t… wrap their mind around the fact that from all women in the world, literally anyone else, he chose you: the epitome of laziness as they’d like to say. The sheer example of not being able to control one’s selfish desires in favor of temporary satisfaction.

In a world where thinner, athletic physiques were encouraged, you sure stood out like a sore thumb.

It wasn’t your fault, though. Some people were simply born that way, with different genetics and there was nothing wrong with that.

But to them, that was not enough of an excuse, if there ever was one; and once you heard for the last time how Naoya was simply tolerating you because, well, because of some unknown reason, you had enough.

You were tired of constantly hearing them belittling your worth, comparing you to whichever woman they brought along to hopefully convince Naoya into divorcing you—or at least sow his seeds on a more suitable candidate; a fact made worse when he seemingly didn’t put a resistance to their invitations, chipping away at your confidence.

And above all, you were exhausted of unwittingly highlighting the faults in your relationship, the clear signs that Naoya was never truly happy with you, such as those scarce moments of intimacy the two shared. Those that you didn’t think much of, outside of fear and pain, for he never struck you to be the kind, patient lover (and he wasn’t).

But now that these issues were highlighted… you could only feel sorrowful.

Naoya, while insatiable when it comes to lust, seemed to have only spent the night with you for political reasons. To fulfill his duty of securing the future of the Zen’in—not because he ever harbored desire for you.

Yet, why did you even expect otherwise? For he too demeaned you with cruel commentaries, and with the one thing you were mostly self-conscious about…

“You know, your thighs wouldn’t be that big if you actually worked out or something…”

“Don’t wear that. I don’t want you to show your legs—it’s already unbefitting a woman, but in your case… well, it’s only necessary.”

That was more than enough to finally push you to the edge and do the one thing many were constantly pestering you about: not to eat. Though in your defense, it’s not like you felt like doing so anyways, the voices and faces of those that hurt you were quick to put you back in your place if you even did as little as consider it, ruining your appetite.

And you managed to keep this way for a few days, at least until you began to grow sick, tired, unable to tend to your duties as you did before, which did not escape your staff’s attention, and subsequently, Naoya’s.

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” Naoya would exclaim first thing upon returning from a mission; tired. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the complaints of your lacking commitment, the only goddamn thing you had to do around the estate. “To go ahead and cause problems to my family, taint my name—have you got no shame?!”

“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur, yourself tired as well, due for other reasons, made worse by Naoya’s reproach.

“Then do you mind explaining what the hell were you thinking? What were you planning to do? Get my attention??” He frowns. “Dramatic, but what else could I expect from a woman like you?”

“Please, Naoya… I don’t feel like arguing…”

“No, of course not. You don’t feel like doing anything, do you? Not even eating!” He remarked. “What? Trying to lose some weight, now? Is that what’s gotten into your mind?”

You remain silent, giving him enough of an answer. He laughs.

“So it is that!” He boasts. “I can’t believe it, Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be so stupid to actually do that!”

“Leave me alone…” you whisper, tears beginning to pool around your eyes.

“To what? Puke your guts out, now? Don’t be stupid!” Naoya continues to jest. “I knew women were desperate, but I didn’t think you’d break the mold!”

His words, perhaps out of your already brewing insecurities, or simply because you’ve grown tired of his mockery, wash you over with an unprecedented wave of anger, dropping your heart to the pit of your stomach as you sharply turn around, ready to take a stand for yourself once and for all.

“And why do you care so much, hm, Naoya?!” You cry. “Weren’t you also one of those that always bothered me about my weight? About how embarrassing I am to your name simply because of the way I look?!”

He flinches, startled by your reaction at first, but soon angered by it as well.

“I won’t tolerate your disrespect—” he frowns, yet you don’t let him continue.

“You even ask me to cover myself up!” you gasp. “You’re so—you’re so disgusted by how I look that you—you wouldn’t mind if I spent the rest of my life locked away so you won’t ever have to see—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Naoya seethes, taking your hand and pulling you to him with such strength that instantly startles you, making you squirm in reaction, trying to move away but he keeps you still, understanding you’ve officially made him furious. “Do you hear the stupidities you’re spewing?!”

“Leave—leave me alone.” You whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “You’re hurting me!”

“I ought to hurt you more for insulting me!”

“Insulting… you?” you repeat, confused. “How was this insulting to you?!”

“You think I’d let you walk around the estate like a whore? Let you display what’s mine?!”

“Naoya, you’re not—you’re not making any sense.” You respond, shame settling in your heart. “If you’re going to make fun of me—!”

“You’re fucking stupid, did you know that?” Is all that he says before pushing you against the wall, making you whimper when roughly hitting the wooden pillar behind, a noise that is quickly shut by his lips landing on yours, wasting no time for his tongue to battle yours, subduing you. “So fucking stupid…”

He’d murmur, you moan.

“Na—Naoya—” you breathe, torn apart by his desire and your confusion. Didn’t he… dislike you? “St—stop!”

“What is it that you wanted me to do? Stand aside as my family ogles at you?!”

“Don’t you mean—don’t you mean scrutinize?!” you gasp, flinching when his lips move from yours, down to your jaw, then neck… “Stop—stop mocking me!”

“I should feel offended by your stupidity, if anything.” He responds, pulling away from you to take a good look into your teary eyes—as if trying to assess if you really declared such atrocity, or if it was work of his own anguished mind. “Your blindness to acknowledge what I truly think of you.”

“They—they hate me.” You tremble, why would he want you to remember such an awful thing? “You hate me—”

“No, Y/N.” Naoya groans, pressing closer to you while taking your hand once more to move it down to his groin where his hardening cock was in full display for you to feel, destroying the perceptions you had of everything around you—around him. “This is what you make them feel— what you make me feel!”

“Nao—Naoya—” you tremble, trying to move away your hand from his growing length, intimidated that he somehow felt even bigger underneath your palm; giving the impression his desire for you right now was much stronger than any other instances. But… how? Or more likely, Why? “I don’t—I don’t get it—!”

“Do you really think I’d be blind to the way they stare at you? To their futile attempts of bringing you down, of changing you, just so they’d stop thinking what your skin feels like underneath their fingertips—or how sweet your cunt tastes like?” Naoya breathed, continuing to rub your hand against his cock, desperate to let you know how much he needs his release—how he wants to throw this senseless discussion away…

But not without declaring his upper hand, the one he always had with his family, of course. “But they can’t” He smirks. “The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be the perfect wife, the perfect mother for my children.”

The thought of harboring such desire from Naoya made your cunt tighten, the same way his cock twitches.

“They’re just jealous I got to you first.” He continues. “That I was able to see your worth just by your wide hips and ample bosom—you’re the epitome of femininity… but even better—

You’re all mine.”

“But you—but you said horrible things to me—” you cry, his lascivious words still not enough to remove the pain from those awful moments. “Why…?”

“Aw, my love.” Naoya chuckles, cupping your face with his hands and squeezing it so softly, making you pout, a face he always loved to incite from you, amongst others. “I just can’t help it; your reactions are so adorable; you simply make it too easy.”

His hands then travel down to the edges of your skirt, lifting your kimono just enough to reveal your smooth legs to him, the same ones he always had touch and kneed whenever you were close, the mere sight of them enough to make him further spiral into his desire—

If not anger when seeing the flimsy piece of cloth covering your cunt, fingers quick to grab the edge and rip it apart, letting out a quick gasp from your mouth.

“How many times have I told you to stop wearing these stupidities?!” He hisses. “You know damn well than to go against the words of your own husband!”

“But you—you hadn’t touched me.” You fret. “Since that night, we… you hadn’t—I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You truly couldn’t be any dumber, could you? Just because I’ve been busy does that mean you can go on and disobey my words?” Naoya accuses with a jesting tone that serves to place the direction of his following actions. “My lovely wife is really that naive… luckily for you, I’m the one in charge of doing all the thinking, while you—you just have to stay like this, ready for me…

To take my cock like the good whore of a wife you are, with that lewd body of yours that is only mine. Exclaiming for me to give you a baby, make you a mother, make your hips wider, your breasts bigger, filled milk—”

And the way your body tightens against him, letting out a moan when his hands parted your legs, guiding his cock onto your dampened slit and gently pushed the head into you, let’s him know this desire has settled in the back of your mind for quite some time, but never revealed itself by the stupidities of his own family, his too undeniably.

But after these agonizing days away from you, forced so by his job, if not those insignificant whores his family brought in an attempt to push him away from you, failing to do so for he quickly discarded them as soon as they crossed his sight…

He’ll never let the opportunity to claim you pass again.

Naoya will do whatever necessary to drill that idea into that little, pathetic mind of yours, even if it means fucking you in the middle of the hallway, where all servants and relatives alike would be able to hear his message loud and clear.

The reality they could only dream of in their most desperate moments—but to him, it was only a matter of taking.

“Naoya—Naoya please—not here.” You whimper, your husband had effectively forced you onto the ground and made you take his cock, either from behind, hands and knees on the wooden floor as he teased and kneaded your ass and hips; he was an avid enjoyed of many positions, but this one had to be one of his favorite ones. To see your skin bounce whenever his hips slammed into you, savoring the way your lewd cunt swallowed him whole, down to the base, with no intentions of letting go, regardless of what you said, it was surprising he still had some restraint. “Please—they’re—they’re going to see!”

“Let them.” Naoya moans, the thought of being caught sends a shiver through his spine; and while it’s not something he necessarily advocated for, the constant, tiring need to be proving his authority over you is what forced him to do so. You might as well play along. “Let them hear how tight your cunt is around my cock! How only I can make you come undone like this—”

“N—No—I don’t—I don’t want…!” you whimper, but even when he changed positions, having you on top of him, giving him sight of the breasts he couldn’t wait to see grow when you’re inevitably pregnant, you still do not stop jumping on his cock, moving your hips up and down alongside his, clenching whenever hitting that sensitive spot that always had you seeing stars. “I don’t want to cum—!”

“Then maybe—Maybe you shouldn’t have this lewd body.” Naoya moans, truly believing that he would never be able to stop himself from using every inch of your body for his own pleasure—from fucking his cock between your soft thighs and boobs, admiring the way they completely cover his cock, drowning it in a combination of softness and his own seed, barely able to see where the tip of his head was…

To relieve that same sensation with his own face, asking you—no, demanding you to smother him with your thighs, a sensation that has him thinking if he were to die this way, cock hard, eased by your soft licks and moans, while deep in the sweet taste of your cunt, he wouldn’t mind it, not one bit.

In fact, he hopes that’s the way he goes.

But he’s in no rush to avoid enjoying the present, the warmth of your body besides him when the two eventually stop, careless to acknowledge if they ever gathered an audience, certainly so when Naoya’s mind was firmly set in getting you pregnant, as heard by his following words.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He declares. “It’s about time you give me a heir.”

And you do nothing but oblige, though you doubted all the cum nestled inside your cervix hadn’t done the job already.

“Naoya, you’re—oh!” You gasp when instead of waiting for you to stand up to properly greet him, he lowers down to your level, taking a seat before eventually resting his head over your lap, taking a deep sigh and resting for the first time after a long week of work. “Is… everything alright?”

In fact, you relished the idea. If it meant getting this side of Naoya’s desire, attention you didn’t think to be deserving of, or even capable of obtaining…. Then you were nothing but obedient.

“I’m tired.” He responds, adjusting himself into an even better position and sighing once more. “I don’t want to talk.”

So, you don’t, preferring instead to softly caress his head, moving some of his silky black threads away from his face and letting him relax, enough to dive into the beginnings of his slumber, but not before clearing his mind from one doubt.

“Our baby—”

“He’s fine.” You murmur, placing your hand over your stomach. It’s still very early during the pregnancy to know so, and yet, there was something about you that just made it so obvious that you were carrying a life inside you—

Perhaps it was the way you glowed, or how you became softer with him ever since it was first announced.

Though the latter was mostly the fact that you started to feel… wanted by your husband, a kind of desire that while far from perfect, was enough for you to change your perspective of this marriage, allowing you to open up to him, mostly so when Naoya now defended you from those unwanted comments from his family.

You’re carrying the future of the Zen’in, after all, some decorum must be maintained.

Yet something tells you his changed demeaner ran far deeper than what Naoya wanted to reveal. «All in due time» you suppose.

“I love you, and our baby too.” You say, instinctively taken by this calm moment of domesticity with your loving husband, not expecting a response considering his somewhat cold nature—only to be proven wrong when he turns around to see you, silently placing his gaze on yours in such way that initially makes you think you might’ve ruined this moment, just for him to pull you closer to him, taking your lips in a soft, quick kiss before returning to your lap, closing his eyes and sleeping.

He may not have said it, but the sentiment was the same, and that was enough for you to be happy.

Naoya is still a jerk, but I like to think he eventually got to genuinely care about you. Also, he got real lucky that one time he thought with his dick, imagine if you were a piece of shit too? NAH He'd lose it. He got real lucky that you were nice, I tell you...

Also, I'm still with the pregnancy stuff :) sorrynotsorry.

OH! and also!! It's safe to say that the things Naoya said are NOT a reflection of what I think!! Everybody is beautiful and deserving of love, no matter what body type ❤️

Now, thank you so much for sending this niche ask... I gotta say, I have been thinking about it since I do relate to it............... but I try to keep my work pretty open-ended so anyone can relate :) Still, if there's something you'd like me to write a bit more detailed, just let me know! I'll be sure to try my best tho, some I might reject if I don't feel like I know much about the matter....

Anyways, thank you so much for this ask ❤️ take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

[onlycosmere]

“He kept on the proper face all the way to his rooms, and was proud of himself for it. Then he stepped inside and found an empty nothingness. His were the quarters of a highlord, supposedly luxurious and spacious. He had little furniture though, and that left it feeling hollow. Dark, the sole light coming from the balcony. Every honor he’d been given seemed to highlight how vacant his life really was. Titles couldn’t fill a room with life.

Still, he turned and closed the door with a firm push. Only then did he break. He didn’t make it to the chair. He sank down with his back to the wall beside the door. He tried to unbutton his coat, but ended up bending forward with his knuckles pressing his forehead, digging into his skin as he hyperventilated, gasping in deep breaths of air while he trembled and shook.

Exhaustionspren like jets of dust gleefully congregated around him. And agonyspren, like upside-down faces carved from stone, twisted and faded in and out. He couldn’t cry. Nothing came out. He wanted to cry, because at least that would be a release. Instead he huddled, knuckles pressing against the scars in his forehead, wishing he could shrivel away. Like the eyes of a person struck by a Shardblade.

In moments like this—alone and huddled on the floor of a dark room, tormented by agonyspren—Moash’s words found him. The truth of them became undeniable. Out in the garish sunlight, it was easy to pretend that everything was all right. In here, Kaladin could see clearly.

You’re just going to keep hurting.…

His entire life had been a futile effort to stop a storm by yelling at it. The storm didn’t care.

They’re all going to die. There’s nothing you can do about it.

You could never build anything that lasted, so why try? Everything decayed and fell apart. Nothing was permanent. Not even love.

Only one way out …

A knock came at his door. Kaladin ignored the sound until it became insistent. Storms. They were going to barge in, weren’t they? Suddenly panicked that anyone should find him like this, Kaladin stood up and straightened his coat. He took a deep breath, and the agonyspren faded.

Adolin pushed his way in, a treasonous Syl on his shoulder. That was where she had gone? To fetch Adolin storming Kholin?

The young man wore a uniform of Kholin blue, but not a regulation one. He’d taken to having embellishments added, regardless of what his father thought. While it was sturdy—a little stiff, starched to maintain neat lines—its sleeves were embroidered to match his boots. The cut left the coat longer than most—a bit like Kaladin’s own captain’s coat, but more trendy.

Somehow Adolin wore the uniform, when the uniform had always worn Kaladin. To Kaladin, the uniform was a tool. To Adolin it was a part of an ensemble. How did he get his hair—blond, peppered black—so perfectly messy? It was both casual and deliberate at the same time.

He was smiling, of course. Storming man.

“You are here!” Adolin said. “Rock said he thought you were heading for your room.”

“Because I wanted to be alone,” Kaladin said.

“You spend too many evenings alone, bridgeboy,” Adolin said, glancing at the nearby exhaustionspren, then grabbing Kaladin by the arm—something few other people would have dared.

“I like being by myself,” Kaladin said.

“Great. Sounds awful. Today, you’re coming with me. No more excuses. I let you blow me away last week and the week before.”

“Maybe,” Kaladin snapped, “I just don’t want to be around you, Adolin.”

The highprince hesitated, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes and putting his face up close to Kaladin’s. Syl still sat on Adolin’s shoulder, her arms folded—without even the decency to look ashamed when Kaladin glared at her.

“Tell me honestly,” Adolin said. “With an oath, Kaladin. Tell me that you should be left alone tonight. Swear it to me.”

Adolin held his gaze. Kaladin tried to form the words, and felt of the ten fools when he couldn’t get them out.

He definitely shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Storm you,” Kaladin said.

“Ha,” Adolin said, tugging him by the arm. “Come on, Brightlord Master Highmarshal Stormface. Change your coat to one that doesn’t smell like smoke, then come with me. You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to talk. But if you’re going to be miserable, you might as well do it with friends.”

Kaladin extracted his arm from Adolin’s grip, but didn’t resist further. He grabbed new clothes—tossing aside the ones he’d been fighting in.

He did, however, shoot Syl another glare as she flew over to him. “Adolin?” Kaladin said as he changed. “Your first thought was to get Adolin?”

“I needed someone you couldn’t intimidate,” she replied. “That list at best includes three people. And the queen was likely to transform you into a crystal goblet or something.”

Kaladin sighed and walked out to join Adolin, lest the highprince think he was dallying. Syl eyed Kaladin as she walked in the air alongside him, keeping up with him despite her dainty steps.

“Thank you,” Kaladin said softly, turning his eyes forward.”

- Rhythm of War

[krakensdottir]

Also something really important I want to point out about Aziraphale's religious trauma.

It's often framed as him being directly abused by Heaven, generally emotionally. And while I don't doubt he's been belittled at points - probably not by Gabriel, the iconic exemplar of the Toxic Positivity boss, but we know how Michael and Uriel etc. can be - it also seems like he's received quite a lot of praise and has generally managed to pull off the appearance of being A Good Angel, or at least a satisfactory one. I don't think, and this is controversial, but I don't think Heaven was usually overtly hard on him.

Because that's not how this kind of cult mentality usually operates. Instead, it teaches you to abuse yourself. Your overseers don't have to directly hurt or insult you if you're so ingrained with fear of failure by the culture you were brought up in that you constantly question yourself as not good enough.

It's not as... satisfying, I guess? As an external abuser being the main issue. But it's a lot more real. At least to me, because I suffered so much anxiety over being 'good' when I was a kid, and it wasn't from direct abuse. It was absorbed from the culture I was surrounded by. I picked it up by osmosis from society at large, and it tormented me. I worried, I doubted, there was a time I literally feared going to Hell. And I wasn't raised strongly religious. My mother certainly treated me as a Good Kid, and never gave even the suggestion that I wasn't. But I felt that way anyway. And it tore me apart. Because internalizing that shit makes it so much harder to fight.

And to be clear at this point, I am not saying Heaven isn't abusive. I just think the nature of its abuse is more subtle and insidious than it's often given credit for. And - this is even harder to accept, but it's true, and it's important - it's not just abusive to Az. All the angels are victims of it. Yes, even Gabriel. The moment he, one of the most powerful forces in Heaven, steps out of line, we see that no one is exempt. Never even mind Muriel, who is literally on the lowest rung of the Heavenly ladder and has probably never been told they're worth anything beyond being, you know, an angel, so at least you're better than humans and demons.

It's a contrast with Crowley, who has long since accepted most (not all, there are definitely some deep issues remaining, but they're nothing like Aziraphale's) of his internal doubts and struggles. His fears are almost entirely external. He doesn't beat himself up if he fucks up. He doesn't have to. There are people happy to beat him up for him. So when things go really bad for him, his instinct is to run. To get out of the way of harm as much as possible.

The fact that Aziraphale is harder on himself than anyone else could be is a vital part of his character. He self-punishes. He self-criticizes. He feels awful every time he breaks the rules in the slightest, even though he isn't usually caught at it. Crowley can find some safety in solitude if he keeps his wits sharp and his head down. Aziraphale can't, because he carries Heaven's conditioning with him at all times. He doesn't need oversight, it doesn't take external threats to keep him in line. You don't need direct threats when literally everyone in your celestial workplace has seen firsthand the consequences of rebellion.

I don't know if I'm making sense here. Again, this is informed by personal experience and I can't claim to be unbiased. But I see so much internalization with Aziraphale. He literally can't even accept praise without being nervous as hell, and I don't think it's fear of punishment or ridicule that's his primary motivation. He simply cannot ever be good enough for himself.

That's how they get you.

Anyway, I think it's why his reaction to disaster is the opposite to Crowley's, why he feels he has to turn and face it and somehow avert the horror (or, alternatively, find some way to reconcile it in his head and accept it - because let's be real, that's often what happens) rather than get himself away. He's less afraid of failing his superiors than he is of failing himself. And God, who is, objectively, the biggest abuser in the entire story.

[dekariosclan]

Idk if this has been done before (apologies if it has), but do you have any thoughts on how our Wizard™️ might act/feel towards a plus size or chubby Tav? Like before or during the relationship?

No worries, anon! I have answered a similar ask about this, but I think your question is different enough to warrant a separate answer.

First and most importantly, I am 100% certain that Gale would love a plus size or chubby Tav the same as he would any other Tav. No question, no argument. And I can confidently say that because of the Mindflayer Tav romance ending, where Gale says this line:

Gale: “Your present condition is that you’re the one I love. And your current form is merely a reflection of the depths of your sacrifice. It only makes me love you more.”

There is simply no way that Gale—a man who can look at his beloved in Mindflayer form and proclaim his heartfelt adoration—would have any negative feelings about Tav being plus-sized, regardless of whether or not society deems it ‘undesirable’.

Here’s a quick rundown of how a romanced Gale would react to Tav in different scenarios:

Has Tav gained weight in a way that they are unhappy with?

Gale: “Your present condition is that you’re the one I love. And your current form is perfect. Every day that I am blessed by your beauty only makes me love you more.”

Does Tav have stretch marks, rolls, scars or other physical ‘imperfections’ they are insecure about?

Gale: “Your present condition is that you’re the one I love. And your current form is perfect. Every day that I am blessed by your beauty only makes me love you more.”

Has Tav expressed insecurity or self-loathing towards their size or how they look?

Gale: “Your present condition is that you’re the one I love. And your current form is perfect. Every day that I am blessed by your beauty only makes me love you more.”

And so on.

(Note: I do not cover God Gale in these scenarios because the question stated ‘Wizard’ Gale, but you can bet your ass God Gale would also love & worship a plus-size Tav.)

Now, there’s a key point I made in my previous answer that I also need to include here:

I do want to clarify—Gale does still recognize and appreciate the physical aspects of his beloved. Very much so, obviously, with his practiced tongue, his appreciation for Tav’s glistening muscles, and his (definitely thirsty) comment on Illithid Tav’s ‘moist tentacles.’

But all that’s a bonus in his eyes. That’s the result of his love for Tav; it’s not what made him fall in love with Tav to begin with.

So now we get to the *fun* part. Where plus-size Tav gets to turn Gale’s intelligent mind to jelly and send him directly to horny jail. Where Tav gets to torment the man who famously said, ‘You look…comfortable. What’s on your hind?—I MEAN MIND.’

Maybe Gale fantasizes about the way Tav’s hair flows over their curvaceous body; maybe Gale is driven wild over Tav’s soft tum. But my own personal HC is that Gale would be a thigh man—and the bigger they are, the better. On a plus-size Tav they’re the absolute perfect pillow for his head, he wants to live there, he has trouble keeping his eyes off them, etc.

If Tav wears armor that happens to show off a lot of leg, it’s going to be a hard bad time for Gale. He will be distracted in battle. There will be epic Freudian slips.

And if Tav wears the Wavemother robe or a similar thigh-enhancing outfit? Gods have mercy. Gale will have difficulty speaking coherently and difficulty walking. His face will be flushed at all times. After battle he will, ah, need to speak to Tav most urgently—now, please, if at all possible. Right now. In his tent. For a conversation. Please.

My point is this: Gale falls in love with Tav via their kindness towards him and their good heart, not via Tav’s physical features. But once Gale has fallen for Tav, and he truly takes the time to appreciate Tav physically?

It only makes him love Tav more.

[simplyzeeka]

Warnings: Adult content, profanity, infidelity. MDNI!!! You're gonna hate them, a lot...

Pairing: Terry × stripper!black fem oc (Syrae)

Note: This is a piece about storytelling. This is fiction! I do not condone infidelity in any way, and neither should anyone. Terry Richmond is a fictional character, as well as my Oc. Thank you.

Something Seasonal

Sometimes, life throws you into the damnest of predicaments just to fuck with you, taunting you as a reminder that you could never be in control.

“Your fiancé know you here?” A question slips past the sly smile she had on her lips. He chuckles, gaze unmoving, needing to commit her beauty to memory.

“It's my bachelor party, pretty sure she doin’ the same thing as me.” A shrug, he wasn't worried, pretty confident he would maintain his faithfulness. “Hmm, a shame, really.” her voice echoes, flying like pretty little monarchs into his ear and straight to his stomach.

“And why's that?” Curious, he needed to know, even if it would possibly kill him. “Cause I could've given the greatest dance in your life.” because if it did, satisfaction would most definitely bring him back. “You still can.” A nonchalant shrug, a mistake more than anything… because once lines blurred, it was hard to draw them again.

“Put it on me, baby.” And who would deny him with eyes like that? Syrae wouldn't, and Indigo? Indigo wouldn't dare to.

And no matter how many times you try to take it by its reigns…

“Terry, we said just friends.” Kiss right below her ear, she tilts her head because who was she kidding trying to take control. “And these are friendly kisses” kiss behind her jaw, she shudders because she was stupid enough to even pursue something as mediocre as friendship with him. “What's happenin' in my panties is not very friendly…” a laugh, a pussy fluttering laugh, because how was he supposed to stop this when she said shit like that?

“Could help you with that if you let me.” kiss on her shoulder, faux reassurance he gives because they knew they shouldn't do anything with what's happening between them. A little something to keep the guilt at bay, before it eats at them, like the way he pined to eat on her.

Experience is something you can never avoid, because that's all life was about.

“You fuckin’ him?” Rich baritone, enough to command her attention. Syrae stops stacking her money in the plastic bag. “You not ‘sposed to be here, T.” She says with a sigh, resuming with her task. She'd be damned than to look him in the eyes, didn't want that kind of torture.

“Syrae.” One eye roll grants her one step closer from him, a sigh grants another and by the time she turns to face him, he's right in front of her. “Terry no, how you feel happy bout what you doin’ to that girl? Is the guilt not eating at you? Now you come prancing ‘round here talkin’ bout some ‘you fuckin’ him?’. Get out my face and go home to your wife. What we had was wrong, but it's done, okay? I'm do-.”

Doesn't even give her a chance to finish before smashing their lips together. And like that dumb woman Syrae always patronises herself to be, she reciprocates. Terry didn't want her to finish that statement, didn't want it to be true. She couldn't possibly be done with him.

A little selfish in the way he wanted to have the best of both worlds. Keep her in a little jar like she was a monarch, like the ones she always gave him when her voice reached his ears, or when her smile was directed at him. When he was the cause of her laughs, her content sighs, melodic moans, and ghostly gasps.

Because it was something about the way Syrae looked at Terry, the way she conformed his love, mind, body and soul to be hers entirely, that made him believe that their destiny was written in the stars.

He just hoped that they weren't star-crossed. Because there was a tormenting heartache that came with knowing someone was meant for you, but not meant to be with you

And with experience, comes heart-wrenching lessons.

Syrae Yasirah Belles. Terrence Richmond

"Indigo" "Terry"

Note: "I'm not gon' do it girl, I was just thinking about it...

Might turn this into a whole series because I'm THAT invested, but I also might just leave it like this. The former sounds very much enticing because I'm very much procrastinating.

These are just little snippets between Syrae and Terry. Just a little something to keep my brain at bay.

[vtoriacore]

✧ the flirtiest one of all! [2]

note: part two of this, fun fact it was actually 6.9k words on the original doc and i’m not telling you this for any particular reason haha i am the epitome of maturity i promise <3 (lying)

characters: azul, jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, vil, rook, epel

synopsis: pretty simple, you confess by out-flirting just about every human being, merman, beastman and fae on planet earth. because you’re suave babe, go for it!

heartslabyul & savanaclaw | ignihyde & diasomnia

♡ OCTAVINELLE

✯; azul ashengrotto

azul quirked an eyebrow when you entered mostro longue with that mischievous smile of yours but what caught his attention next is the purple rectangular box you were carrying, addressed as 'Ashengrotto'

"My, my. Got something for me, prefect?" 

"Depending on the answer you'll give me, maybe."

the little spark of excitement in his azure blue eyes which perfectly reflected the light definitely confirmed your suspicions on whether he knew or not

"Hm~ Well then it seems I'm inclined to ask for the question."

"That was a statement."

"Is that relevant?"

"No I just wanted a reason to talk to you longer~" 

the slightest surprise on his face quickly vanished as he tried to control his rapidly increasing heartbeat

"Well, don't keep me waiting [Name]. I'm a very busy merman after all. "

"Haha, okay I'll spare you the embarrassment."

"So, will you accept my feelings or are you just going to continue blushing?"

"Me, blushing? N-never."

"I have eyes, Ashengrotto. You'll have to do better than that!"  

"There is no winning against you . . . Regarding your first question though, it would seem a waste if I said no."

"Yeah, a waste of the countless affection I'd be willing to give~" 

"Affection doesn't produce a profit dear."

"No, it produces mutual feelings instead. And happiness, with the right person!" 

as always, your witty remarks never failed to make him gain those adorable red hues across his cheeks 

"If I ever die of exhaustion, it will be because of your antics."

"Correction, my cute antics :)"

"Well my dear angelfish, the exit is that way if you're done tormenting me."

"But the entrance to your heart is this way."

"Whatever will I do with you?"

"Dunno, but you got time to figure it out cause I'm not leaving." 

.

✯; jade leech

his cryptic smile stayed on the minute he saw you at mostro lounge, discussing something with azul as the merman gave this huge sigh of exasperation and nodded his head at whatever you had asked

he (naturally) came up to you once azul decided to walk away from you 

"Oya, oya~ What are you doing here my pearl?"

"Good question~ I'm sure you're smart enough to figure it out."

and figure it out he does once he catches a glimpse of the heart shaped turquoise box in your hand addressed to him in beautiful handwriting

"Hm, it would appear I'm totally clueless. If only you would be so kind as to explain the meaning of this." 

"Oh what a true shame, Leech."

"Yes, very unfortunate indeed."

"Need I make it more obvious?"

"I might have to request a verbal explanation, fufu~"

"How about I give you the physical one instead~?"

undoubtedly, the wink and statement you gave him managed to make even the jade leech's heart itself skip a beat as he gulped slightly

"I wouldn't be entirely opposed to that."

"I'll take that as a yes for the feelings I'm confessing to you, then."

"And who am I to decline such proposal?"

"Just about the most charming man in existence~"

"Ah, you never do fail with coming up with pick-up lines it seems."

"Of course not, deem yourself lucky for being my test subject in that aspect Leech."

oh jade would definitely consider himself a winner if this is what he gets to hear after today

"Well I cannot say they're not entertaining~" 

"And completely genuine, by the way."

if there was a world record for the most times someone manages to make the merman even slightly flustered, you'd definitely take the title with ease

"At this rate, I'll have to start coming up with my own quips. I can't be the only one getting swept of my feet like this."

"Hmph, that was smooth I'll give you that one!"

.

✯; floyd leech

has this stupid grin the second you step foot into his dorm room when jade is out, and it only widens once he realises what you're carrying with you 

"Heya Koebi-chan~"

"In high spirits are we?"

"Hmmmm? Have I ever not been?" 

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. And are you not going to ask why I'm here Leech?"

"No, why would I~ You're obviously here for me!"

"What if I was here for Jade?"

"Then I would make you stay here for me instead!"

even with his playful response, you could definitely tell that if you brought jade into this once more, floyd wouldn't spare you any mercy and have you be a victim of his infamous squeeze

"No need~ I actually did come here for you."

"Ehehe~ Of course you did!"

"Tsk, confident one aren't you?"

"Mhm~ Confident enough to say that the chocolates you're carrying are for me Koebi-chan!"

"Won't you look at that~ You guessed it right!"

the beat that floyd's heart skipped amplified the excitement he felt when you handed him the box of goods

"They smell really good! Are you sure you don't wanna work as a chef for the lounge"

"I'm good. And they look good too, I spent around an hour making them for you." 

"No fair! I was going to confess first on white day. Spoiling my plans like this, the nerve~"

"I didn't confess yet Leech! But now that you reminded me, you better accept my feelings." 

"Threatened with a confession? Didn't think that was your style haha!" 

the merman definitely felt nothing but pure joy as he unwrapped the first chocolate and popped it into his mouth 

"Hm~ So what if I did? As far as I know, the law doesn't prevent me from wanting to be with my crush." 

"Ah, ah~! One more word and I'll give you a lil' squeeze." 

"Did I ever say I would mind that?"

"Then I guess you won't Koebi-chan! But just so you know, I don't plan on letting go!"

___

♡ SCARABIA

✯; kalim al-asim

pleasantly surprised to find out that you're visiting scarabia and is immediately beaming at you when you enter with a cute looking box of what appeared to be spice laced chocolates (the smell made his mouth water!)

"Good morning [Name]! What a nice sight to see so early on!"

"Morning Asim, you're in a good mood~"

"That's because Jamil let me host a banquet for Valentine's day! Isn't he the best?"

"Let me guess, he made you promise to not cook with him after you insisted you wanted to help, right?"

"Woah are you sure you don't have magic yourself? That was so accurate!"

"You're too sweet sunshine, unfortunately that's still a no."

kalim grinned at the nickname as his heart palpitations grew, amplifying when he looked at the crimson box of chocolates with golden trimmings again

"So, is there a reason as to why you're visiting Scarabia?"

"Yeah, you're actually the whole reason." 

"Ahhhh that's cute! Would you like to stay for the night?"

"Depending on your answer, maybe~" 

"My answer to what?"

"To whether you'll accept my feelings or not."

the pearly white haired boy swears he felt his heart leap out his chest as his ruby red eyes widened 

"Oh my- I'm so happy you feel the same way! I absolutely do accept yes!"

"You should also be happy about the fact I spent an hour making these!"

when you handed him the chocolates his perpetual grin only became bigger if that's even possible

"Awe thank you so much [Name]! You're the best!"

"Mhm no problem~ I made it a point to ask Viper for your favourite kind of chocolate."

"You're so sweet, how about we go on a magic carpet ride?? Like the one of that very old tale where princess Jasmin and-"

"Ah spare the details Asim, I know exactly which one you're talking about."

"Great! I heard it's very romantic. Ooh! Maybe we can do a cute duet too!"

"Whatever you want, just make sure you'll focus on the steering."

"But how would I focus on anything but you?"

"You asking me this so genuinely is actually surreal."

.

✯; jamil viper

the moment his smoky grey eyes landed on your form and the maroon heart shaped box you were carrying with you, he immediately knew what was up, or hoped he knew what it was

"Oh prefect. Good morning."

"As formal as always I see?"

"Were you expecting anything but?"

"I don't set unrealistic expectations, Viper."

"Was that an insult?"

"Are you taking it as one?"

"Do you ever give straight answers?"

"No but I will be needing a very straight answer from you though."

the teasing smile you gave jamil never ceased to make his heart skip a beat, no matter how much denial he was in at the present moment

"Depends on the question you ask, [Last name]."

"Hm rude~ I should be asking Kalim if he would accept my feelings instead . . . Too bad I'm already super invested in you, no?"

just the mention of kalim alone made a scowl appear on jamil's face as he gazed straight in your eyes

"Yes, and too bad I'm already accepting your feelings so you can't back out. What a shame."

"Woah Viper~ Possessive much! Not that I don't like it, ehe." 

"Tsk, you're really irritating when you want to be."

"But it's only because I love your reactions. They simply get cuter as they go."

jamil looked at the ground as a red hue crept over his face, he feared that if you said anything else he might just lose every bit of self restraint he has

"And . . . you're sure you want to be with me? You know what it means . . ."

"Absolutely, 100% positive that you're the one and I am not budging on this no matter what you say."

"Tsk, you're not making this easy for me at all."

"Easy wouldn't be fun, just accept that we're totally fated already."

"Because you're madly in love with me ;)"

"Why do I even bother. . ." 

"There you go, being delusional again."

♡ POMEFIORE

"Wouldn't have to be delusional if you didn't make me darlin'!"

___

✯; vil schoenheit

notices when you walk in right away, and is very quick to spot the velvety box you're carrying, definitely surprised when the tag reads 'Schoenheit'

"Afternoon prefect, do you need anything from me specifically?"

"Yeah your attention on me for a second or two."

"Well in that case, make it quick."

"Wow being this rude should be illegal~" 

"So should taking up someone's time. Someone who has a scheduled shoot in approximately 4 hours."

"Are you saying I'm wasting your time?"

"Did you take my statement as such?"

"Guess I'll go confess to LeBlanche then~ I'm sure he'll like what I made." 

vil's eyes narrowed in the slightest as a light scoff left his lips, he didn't expect such a reply but your fiery nature was one of the things as to why he fell for you in the first place so he didn't have a place to complain

"You're really something else entirely."

"Always have been, love~" 

the nickname itself made the blonde shiver, but combined with your killer smile, he couldn't help but avert his eyes for a few seconds

"So I'm guessing you're here to confess after all?"

"Yeah, so if you would be as kind as to accept my feelings please~" 

"You were already aware of what my answer would be, weren't you?"

"Oh definitely~ Now before you deny the gift, it's dark chocolate. And won't affect your daily calorie intake too much."

"Good, I do admire the thought behind that."

vil couldn't help but smile at the notion of you caring enough as to take care of the small details, but may have become even more smitten with you when he opened the box to see the beautiful designs which were clearly inspired by him

"You better appreciate them, took over an hour to make~"

"Would you really spend that much time and effort into making something so superficial?"

"Duh~ Only for you though!"

"In that case, thank you dear. Please do expect something in return on white day." 

"Positively can't wait. Anything you do is bound to turn out great!"

.

✯; rook hunt

chances are he already knew you were making something, but didn't know for who so when you came into the pomefiore dorm and requested to see him, boy was he mildly amused (not to mentioned excited)

"Bonjour mon amour~ I've heard from Roi du Poison that you inquired about my whereabouts?"

"Well then your hearing must be excellent because that's exactly what I needed!"

"My, my you seem to be in a bonne humeur~"

"That's because my hard efforts to make the greatest chocolates ever paid off!"

"Oh? Tu as fait du chocolat? How intriguing, for who~?"

"For the person who stole my heart~"

rook glanced at the velvety red box in your hand yet to his dismay, couldn't see what was on the tag. however, that didn't stop him from wishing it was reserved for him

"As always, tu es très énigmatique, my dear."

"Hehe~ I saw you glancing at the tag. You must be curious~"

"Naturally, anyone would be, non?"

"Well, you better appreciate the effort I put into this because it's for you~"

the blonde haired hunter couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture as he anticipated the confession which was sure to follow with a hitched breath

"Well I'd love to accept them." 

"Since you're accepting the chocolates, you have to accept my feelings too Hunt~"

"With pleasure, [Name]. Or mon cœur. Whichever you prefer!"

"Are you trying to woo me with the way you say my name? Because it's working."

"That wasn't my intention, but I'm glad to hear this."

despite the cool facade rook maintained, he would definitely be lying if he said he didn't feel his heart drum faster throughout his chest at your endearing words

"If that's the case, then I should politely ask for you to stop charming me like that, it just isn't fair~"

"You're as equally charming mon amour, does that not equal out?"

"Unfair! You're doing it again."

"Je n'ai rien fait, je promets~" 

.

✯; epel felmier

the way you came into his dorm with an apple pie laced with cinnamon, he definitely tried to suppress a smile that was threatening to break out on his face

" Hey prefect, what brings you here?"

"Oh you know, my legs."

"Hey- you know what I meant!"

"Okay, okay~ I'm here for a very important reason."

"That would be?"

"You're very impatient, read what's on the tag~"

"Uh, 'Felmier'. My last name?"

by this point, the lilac haired boy began to suspect what was up but nonetheless waited for what you'd say next with a hitched breath

"Congrats, you can read~ Now guess why I'm here."

"W-wait . . . Don't tell me you're . . . confessing?"

"That's exactly what I was about to do but I guess I won't tell you."

"Ah- wait that's not what I was sayin'- uh saying!"

"You should stop hiding your accent around me, it's so adorable~"

"Gh- whatever ya say just spill it!"

"Okay, okay~ Well I'm here to ask if you'd be willing to accept my feelings?"

"I- yeah . . . Yeah I do-"

"You're making it sound like we're getting married~ You should ask for my hand first!"

the red hues decorating epel's face along with the loud beating of his heart did not make it easier for him to look you straight in the eyes

"Oh just hand over the pie . . . I'm puttin' your efforts to the test."

"Hehe~ Okay, okay but you better appreciate it or else."

"I do . . .. And don't make a comment on that!"

"Okay I won't haha! For now."

"Hah- tsk I'll never carve apples for you again . . ."

"Hey Felmier! You take that back this instant!"

"Maybe if you beg for forgiveness."

"Is this how you treat your future spouse?"

"[N-name]!"