#even though i would 100% do the same thing he did

[love-byers]

you know what's crazy?

i think most of us are aware that the song that plays over the monologue is titled "You're The Heart", but for a second lets think logically. if the monologue is truly just mike confessing is true love, and this is setting up for mlvn endgame, and there is no deeper connection or involvement of will's feelings, why is that the name of the track that plays through the entire duration of the monologue??

like think about that. the song doesn't begin until immediately after mike says the first "i love you!". that is what triggers the song to begin. nowhere in the duration of footage the song plays over in the episode does anyone say "You're The Heart". will said that several lines before the song began. kyle and michael (OST producers) know this. they watched the exact duration of footage that the song would be playing over probably over 100 times. so why when naming this song did their minds go to WILL'S line that is said well before the song begins?? a line that directly ties back to will expressing his deep seeded love for mike??? why not name it "I Love You" as mike said it multiple times during the duration of the song and it was what el had been asking for all season, or "You're My Superhero" since that line supposedly encapsulates everything mike feels about el and was said during the duration of the song?? no, it had to be will's line. will's line that was not even said during the duration of the song. they named a song that plays ONCE during the ENTIRE SHOW after a line that WAS NOT SAID DURING THE SONG. if mlvn are endgame and will get married and have babies and whatnot, why does will have ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS?????? why is will telling mike he's the heart more significant than anything from mike's grand declaration of love to el, which had a whole OST track made for it?????? well, we all know why, but we're called crazy when we say it, so the question still remains.

like just picture that. kyle and michael watched mike's monologue, watched him say i love you nine times, watching him say he fell in love with her at first sight, and said "we shall name this song You're The Heart!"

not "I Love You"

not "You're My Superhero"

not "Love"

not ANYTHING from mike's long ass monologue

no, it's "You're The Heart". it had to be "You're The Heart". it had to be a line not even said during the duration of the song, a line that is representative of will's love for mike. will's line. will, who mike asked to be his friend on the first day of kindergarten, who mike feels is the best thing he's ever brought into his life, who mike has a special relationship with, who mike jumps to defend, who mike cares for so much that he tried to fight his own bully because he said something bad about will, who's voice mike recognizes even though no one esle does, who mike is extremely attentive to to the point he is the only one to notice will is being slightly quieter than usual, who's floor mike slept on so he could be there for him, who's bedside mike slept by when he was unconscious in the hospital, who mike asked to go crazy with him, who mike always speaks softly to, who's hand mike held when he was afraid, who mike can't stand being on bad terms with, who mike jumps to apologize and take accountability without having to be told or instructed, who mike biked across town in the rain to apologize to, who made mike mike cheese just by saying he wouldn't find new friends, who ruined mike's ENTIRE day by simply being quiet and a bit moody, who mike feels is different than his other friends, who mike feels hawkins isn't the same without, who mike wants to be a team with, who mike chooses to stand next to when the world is ending right in front of them. it had to be will.

sorry, was that a bit overboard?

anyways i think you get my point lol

[syndrossi]

Happy New Year! For the prompts, maybe something from the vet!Jon verse, like the boys deciding their names, or the twins teasing Jon about Laena (or any courtiers batting their eyelashes at him)?😂

You know, I 100% intended to do the latter (with bonus Laena joining in on the fun of teasing Jon), but somehow ended up writing the former instead! Ah well.

x~x~x

“Rhaegar, of course,” his brother said, hands twisting behind his head with enviable precision as he braided his silver-blond hair.

It was still strange to hear, and even stranger after his older brother’s—his older self’s—explanation of his original parentage, but Jon was able to hold himself to a shrug. “If I am changing my name, you should change yours.”

Rhaegar shrugged, looking unimpressed with his argument. “You do not have to change your name. It would merely be confusing otherwise.”

“Daemon said that I must,” Jon said with a scowl, flopping back onto their bed.

Their father had claimed that duplicative names might throw their parentage into doubt, but Jon suspected he merely didn’t wish to be tittered at for having two sons with the same name. And since their older brother had lived with his name longer, it fell upon Jon to change his instead.

He turned his head. “What would you choose?”

It was not as though Rhaegar were truly his father, not anymore, and he had been no older than Jon’s four-and-ten years when he had been drawn through the doorway at Summerhall. But he found himself curious nonetheless. 

“Well, you cannot be Aegon,” Rhaegar replied. That was their cousin’s name. “Or Daeron.” Yet another of their cousins’ names, much to Jon’s disappointment. Rhaegar’s smile was bittersweet. “Those were my brother’s names. The ones who died in the cradle.”

Jon had not known that. He did know that two of the mad king’s children had survived him, though Rhaegar of course would not. The son’s name was Viserys, he vaguely recalled learning. The daughter’s name eluded him.

“I like Aemon,” Rhaegar continued after a moment, “but then there is already Aemond.”

Their father had suggested Aemon despite that, though not for Jon.

“I am fond of Jaehaerys, but I do not think it suits you.” Rhaegar’s hands paused, mid-plait, his mouth drawing into a frown. “Nor do I think Daemon would favor it.”

That left only one real option. “Baelon, then.” That had been their father’s wish.

“He was a skilled warrior and dragonrider—and a good father. His memory seems dear to both Daemon and the king. There were no others who carried his name after and lived past infancy.” Rhaegar studied him. “Or you could take a name that has no legacy, like Valerion, who died in the cradle. Or you could forge a new one of your choosing.”

“But what would you choose?”

Rhaegar did not answer for a while, seeming to sense the importance of the question to him, until at last he gave a nod. “Baelon.”

If two fathers had given it to him, who was Jon to deny it? “Baelon,” he repeated, sounding it out. “Not because it was Daemon’s choice?”

“He had short hair like you,” Rhaegar said with that crooked little smile that told Jon he was teasing.

Jon combed his fingers through his own hair, which fell slightly past his shoulders now. Ordinarily, he would have asked for it to be cut, but then he would be just like Jon—the other Jon. “It is only short by our family’s standards.”

“It is long enough for a foxtail braid, I think. Would you like me to show you?”

Jon hesitated, though he was not sure why. His hair before had held a slight curl to it, which often kept it from his eyes, but his hair was straighter now. It did not quite have the thick weight of Rhaegar’s or Daemon’s, which had always seemed to him the strangest thing about their hair—fair hair normally seemed very fine, like Queen Cersei’s and her brood’s. But it could sport a braid without becoming wispy.

“Here,” Rhaegar said.

He had finished with his braid, which captured hair from around his face to dangle down the back of his hair, and he showed it to Jon. It wasn’t the simple three-strand that Jon had helped Arya with many a time, but a series of thinly woven strips that reminded him almost of the bones of a fish.

“I can braid yours, and if you like it, I can teach you to do it yourself.”

It was nothing like the fashions of the North, where men mostly just wore their hair long enough to keep their ears warm.

But you are not of the North, are you? Not anymore.

Neither of his fathers had been. And only one of his mothers. But often the wolf felt at least as thick in his blood as that of the dragon.

And other times he dreamed of the craggy mountains of the Vale.

He did not know who he was—or it felt like what he did know kept slipping from him, piece by piece. He was Snow, he was Redfort, he was Stone, he was Targaryen. He had traded his direwolf pup for a hatchling, his fierce auburn-haired brother for a contemplative, silver-haired one. Ned Stark’s dutiful calm for Daemon Targaryen’s frenetic fire.

Jon for Baelon.

But he was not defined by it, not in the way that being a Snow had ruled his fate before. His brother was Lord of Runestone, and Jon was not a threat to his power but rather his heir.

And a braid was a braid. It meant whatever Jon decided it meant, and he had yet to decide.

He turned around, presenting the back of his hair to Rhaegar. “Go ahead.”

x~x~x

This Rhaegar honestly would have very little attachment to Aemon as a name, since he has yet to become penpals with Maester Aemon. So the fondest name for him would be his grandfather's, but Jon is very different from the frail man that Jaehaerys II was! So Baelon seems as good a choice as any, if Aegon and Daeron are out of the picture.

And if Jon had still been unenthused, he was going to start throwing dragon names at him. 😂

[mollywog]

What are your thoughts on Possibility of Peeta in Canon feeling guilt over a perception that he forced Katniss into the Star crossed lovers?

Oooo -Thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about this.

One of Peeta’s main survival tactics is his ability to read people and situations…. And he’s pretty good at it (which probably was helpful to him far before the arena with a volatile mother but that’s maybe more the stuff of HCs so moving on)

With that in mind:

One of the first things Peeta says to Katniss upon her discovering him in the arena is:

"Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

Even in his fevered state, Peeta is aware that this is an act (at least on Katniss’s side)

Later - when he’s trying to convince Katniss not to go to the feast and she claims that she isn’t, he says:

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

‘I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going.’ -> all moments he (accurately) clocked where Katniss wasn’t being 100% honest if not outright lying

The ‘I don’t know how you’ve survived this long’ part is particularly interesting to me but I digress.

So then fast forward to after the feast where Katniss risked her life to save him:

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there's real anger in his voice. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

I'm startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who ... who worries about ... what it would be like if ..."

I fumble. I'm not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread

"If what, Katniss?" he says softly.

I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I'm feeling, it's no one's business but mine.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he's probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me.

In this moment Katniss inwardly acknowledges that she has real feeling beyond the act and Peeta, again, reads those feelings correctly.

This is the turning point for him.

So, then imagine his surprise on the train tracks (and all the self doubt):

"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."

"Not all of it," I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

(Just picture Peeta replaying the games in his head and trying to figure out where he missed the tell.)

We often joke about Peeta being oblivious to Katniss’s feelings for him in Catching Fire, but really: He’s been burned by ‘misinterpreting’ her before and he’s trying not to make the same ‘mistake’ again.

In a way

“You love me. Real or not real?

Is a remnant of that doubt.

Anyways - back you your original question:

There wasn't a single person in Panem expecting the Gamemakers to allow for two winners prior to the rule change... 73 years of one Victor: It's unprecedented.

The star-crossed lovers strategy, under normal game circumstances,

Benefits them both. The romance makes them both fan favorites to sponsors. But, at the end of the day, there can only be one Victor. So when one were to die, public sympathy would swing sponsors towards the broken hearted other.

Relied very little on Katniss; she didn't have to opportunity to state her feelings for Peeta to the audience after the interview and in the arena, up until the rule change, she barely saw him. Had he died before the (unprecedented) rule change, there wouldn’t be much for her to do but appear sad. The star-crossed lover but is eventually just a sound bite.

No one could have predicted that both Katniss and Peeta would be crowned victors and have to maintain the strategy indefinitely.

So yes, on top of believing he mistook Katniss’s feelings for him in the arena, he then discovered they’d have to maintain the pretense of lovers for the rest of their lives… I’m sure he felt all sorts of miserable ways about that.

[spicyviren]

Based on the information we've been given, was the Coin Plan ever a viable solution?

And I say this because season 6 revealed the following with regard to how trapping someone in the coin actually works, with the most important points being:

The coin is not a prison in the same way the pearl was a prison

The coin only traps a part of the soul, not the entirety of it

Souls which have been split by the coin by all accounts seem to be trapped in the In-Between

So the problem with the Coin Plan is that while it keeps Aaravos earth/In-Between-bound, the door to the In-Between remains wide open. He can either walk right out and plot with his cohorts under the cover of night, or his cohorts can simply ("simply") go in. Now, it's very plausible that the portal could be re-closed. Lujanne DID live, after all, and perhaps the Moon staff somehow escaped the explosion off-screen. But if that were so easy a thing, why open the portal at all? Operation Eternal Night certainly implies something long-term. Even if Aaravos hadn't been killed - let's say he survived the same amount of time as however long it was until the final scenes of season 7 - to me, it seems like a giant oversight to forget that the Moon Nexus would have a mage guarding it, and rather sloppy to not run over her a few times to make sure she's actually dead (and to this point, I concede that a lot of things happened at once, including an arrow to the throat). UNLESS he was fairly certain that closing the portal would be a very difficult task. Or, maybe, it was simply a distraction away from some other thing, especially if him just up and exploding was one of his many contingency plans.

Anyway, I wonder if that's why Aaravos was so gleeful when Callum started casting the coining spell, because in addition to Callum making himself vulnerable to Aaravos, Callum is placing Aaravos into a cage which is missing a door. It would also answer my question of why Aaravos doesn't try to possess Callum at all during the final confrontation since that's what he's been threatening the entire time (again, I concede A LOT was happening). Even though Callum's spell doesn't work, in the end, he still ends up using Dark Magic and neither of the assigned assassins follow through. I can definitely see Aaravos playing up the immediacy of the possession angle to make everyone else more intent on killing him at that particular moment, but it could also simply be that Callum's time in Aaravos's master plan simply hasn't yet come.

Now let's poke holes in this because I 100% feel like there is some major thing I missed regarding the nature of the coin, and possibly my three points above are just wrong, ha.

I would buy that the coin disorients the prisoner in some way. Runaan, Lain, and Tiadrin had little to no self-awareness about their predicament, and perhaps Aaravos would be the same (though I AM curious how that disorientation would manifest). BUT I return to, Aaravos is so clear in his vision, so absolute in his vengeance, that I have a hard time believing he'd not have some self-awareness. Though again, I'd buy it if I had to, and I do wonder if over time, even he would fall prey to whatever it is that happens to those trapped in the In-Between.

Another thing I'd buy - his soul is just different, and not being a creature of earth means he'll be trapped some other place. What is unclear is if the In-Between is a place where only "mortals" go, or is otherwise a place reserved for the beings of this particular earth.

[blindhades]

i love knowing about other people's business so please tell me in the tags: what's something that lives in your mind rent-free?

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[solar-halos]

okay i give up i cant write this pjo fic percy loves sally too much

[leatherbookmark]

i had op blocked so ray’s rebloggathon was tragically Absent from my dash but now that i caught up, *hyeju voice* el oh el

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I don't think his (or mine) understanding of "playin nice" is rly up to standard though

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[hxney-lemcn]

Affection — NRC Students x gn! reader

summery: what is being affectionate with your fav like?

tw: bad parents (Riddle, Leona (?), Jamil (?)), angsty (Riddle, Leona, Ruggie (kinda), Jamil, Idia, Ortho, Malleus (kinda)).

a/n: A lot of these are based on my own headcanons (Jade).

wc: 2.6k (~100 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Growing up his mother didn’t give him much affection. He wasn’t treated like a child, more like a trophy. Something you keep just out of reach, something you only lay your eyes on. Riddle is terribly touch starved and doesn’t know it. So when you start showing him acts of affection he has no idea how to handle it. What does he do? When is it okay to do these acts? Don’t mind how stiff he is when you hug him or how red he turns if you hold hands. It's something he’s never felt before, and you have unlocked something deep inside Riddle that had been tucked away. So please, give him another hug would you? It helps slowly heal something in him he didn’t know was broken. 

❥ Trey Clover

Trey is a total sweetheart. He doesn’t mind affection at all. Growing up with siblings, he’s used to hugging and hand holding. Whether you're affectionate out the gate or need a little coaxing, it's like Trey instinctively knows. He’ll ask before doing anything, asking for consent, getting to know your boundaries. If you don’t like affection, that’s fine with him, if you only like being affectionate behind closed doors he doesn’t mind. Just know that Trey loves any and all forms of affection you show him, no matter how big or little. He cherishes you, and he’ll show you that in any form you prefer. 

❥ Cater Diamond

We all know Cater doesn’t mind hanging off you out in public. Hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, you name it, he’s probably done it. What he doesn’t want people knowing is how tiring it is for him to keep up that facade. Although, when it comes to you he doesn’t even register half the things he does. You’re like a magnet that pulls him in. Though, his favorite forms of affection are behind closed doors, just the two of you, no camera. Whether it be you two existing in the same room, or you laying on his chest or vice versa, those are his favorite moments. He doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to put on a mask to make others happy because he is happy with you. 

❥ Deuce Spade

Even though Deuce’s mom has showered him with affection growing up, he’s still shy about it. His image before was a punk, and now he’s trying to be an honor student. So if you ever hug him or try to hold his hand his face will flame up and he won’t be able to meet your eyes. He’s a gentleman though, through and through. Always makes sure you're comfortable even if you’re the one who initiated. He’s not too picky when it comes to affection…but he does prefer if you do it behind closed doors. He loves your kisses, but he doesn't love Ace teasing him about it.

❥ Ace Trappola

Oh boy. Ace is a little gremlin. He acts like your affection doesn’t do anything, acts all smug like you're lucky for being able to hold his hand. All the while his mind is melting and the bright blush on his face gives his true feelings away. I wouldn’t say he’s exactly touch starved, but he does crave your affection. When he became a teen he stopped hugging his parents ‘cus his brother would make fun of him otherwise. He crafted his unbothered persona, and didn’t realize how much he missed hugging until you gave him one. He rarely initiates, but sometimes he crumbles.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

He’s another one who didn’t grow up with much affection, always watching as his older brother Falena got all the praise. He’s bitter, seeing affection as a weakness, like showing your underbelly to your predator. Being soft got you nowhere in the animal kingdom…but he did enjoy it when you played with his hair or kissed his cheek. It left an odd warm feeling to fill him, making him grumble about your idiocy. Deep down, he was scared about how much he enjoyed your affection, scared he’d be upstaged once more and you’d find someone else to love. So he’ll just make sure that doesn’t happen, ‘cus there’s no one better than him after all.

❥ Ruggie Bucchi

Where he’s from, showing affection is like putting a target on your back. It shows a weakness that someone could take advantage of. This is why Ruggie is so skittish at first, always making an excuse to run away if you go to hug him, your hands brush and he’s lifting his hands up to his head (y’know that one position). But once he warms up, realizes you won’t snatch his food and run like a thief, he finds himself enjoying your embrace. It’s like heaven to lay his head in your lap as you feed him an orange. How your hands trace his face so lovingly, like trash like him is actually worth something.

❥ Jack Howl

Jack is a bit awkward when it comes to affection. He’s closed off, but his tough personality does melt away to reveal a heart of gold. He doesn’t mind if you hold his hand, just please don’t mention the pink that tints his cheeks. He does enjoy when it's just the two of you, he feels more relaxed, like he can actually take in your warmth. His hugs might be a bit uncomfortable with all that muscle, but don’t tell him that ‘cus he might stop hugging you then :( On the bright side, you could sit on his back while he does push ups :) 

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

This guy…you can’t even compliment him without him running away at first. Although Azul’s mom was almost over affectionate, he’s another one that gets shy at the thought of anything affectionate. He was ridiculed growing up, which made him sharpen his edges. He has a persona to uphold, he can’t be…clingy…oh is he clingy. Out in public it's only small acts, holding hands, hand resting on your lower back, kiss to the back of your hand. In private is a whole other story. Loves hugs, cuddling, kisses, staring at you. Azul doesn’t get much alone time, so the moments you have together behind closed doors he likes to use to his full advantage. Can you blame him? You looked so lovely all day, do you know how terrible it was to watch you without giving you a kiss?

❥ Jade Leech

Doesn’t really need affection, but finds it cute when you seek him out. He loves you, yes, but affection isn’t really his forte. He won’t deny you a kiss though, especially not when you pout so cutely. Jade’s more of a tease, due to the fact that he doesn’t mind a lack of affection, he finds it hilarious to watch you long for it. He’ll brush his hand against yours, but won’t hold it. He’ll lean in close to your face only to whisper in your ear. He’ll gently brush his fingers over your cheek…only to pinch it. But if you're feeling down, he won’t hesitate to whisk you somewhere private and hold you close. He does love you after all. 

❥ Floyd Leech

Another oh boy. His ‘affection’ can seem less like affection and more like torture. He won’t go easy on you either. In fact, he’ll probably squeeze you tighter due to his cute aggression. Floyd, unlike Jade, loves, loves, loves hugging, holding, squeezing. Then you opened him to the world of kissing, biting. Good luck with that. Most of the time he’s all over you, in public or in private, he doesn’t care, if he wants to nibble on you he’s gonna nibble on you. If you’re uncomfy with that he’ll try to tone it down (will he?), but he will probably forget and do it anyway. If he’s in a sour mood he won’t seek out affection, but if you do the right thing it might make him feel a little better…but be careful.

❥ Kalim Al Asim

He gives so many hugs it makes Jamil want to bash his head in. Do you know how many ways Kalim could get killed with how trusting he is? Expect hugs, hand holding, pulling, cheek kisses, and giggling. He’s not afraid to show the world how much he loves you, and he loves affection! When you show him affection though…get ready for a giggly, blushy, kicking his feet in the air Kalim. He’s so used to being the one giving affection he forgot what it's like to receive it. Yeah a lot of his siblings love him…but a lot have also tried to assassinate him so… Jamil finds you to be a double edged sword, as you tend to keep Kalim reigned in…but he also goes crazy over you.

❥ Jamil Viper

Does not like it. Not at first. It takes a lot to earn his trust, and growing up he didn’t get much affection if any. So he doesn’t like it, it's a foreign feeling and it's just too much for him. Though gradually, he finds himself thinking about your touch, the way your fingers felt as your hands brushed, or wondering how soft it would be to hug you. He curses himself for becoming so weak, but those curses quiet down the second your arms hold him so sweetly. No pda, none whatsoever. But behind closed doors he's more willing to give in to your tender touches (not that he’d admit it).

❥ Vil Schoenheit 

Vil is picky about affection. There’s certain things that you can and can’t do during certain times. With the media always on his back, you can never be too careful about pda. He doesn’t want the world to hound you about your relationship with him, so he tends to keep things behind closed doors. He shows his affection in other ways to compensate, whether it be picking out your outfit or fixing your hair. He has become your personal stylist and you should be thankful. When it's just the two of you though, he becomes such a sap. Holds you so sweetly, trails of kisses, murmurs sweet nothings into your hair. Vil loves you and he won’t let you think otherwise.

❥ Rook Hunt

When doesn’t he show you affection? Flowery words trail after you as you walk to class. Kisses to the back of your hand trail up your arm. No one can outcompete Rook when it comes to admiring you. You could kill a man and he’d be singing your praises while hiding all evidence for you. What's surprising is how he acts when it's just you two alone. Although he is sincere with his usual flowery words, it feels more intimate when you both are alone. When he’s holding your close, staring at you so lovingly, whispering how much you mean to him? I get it Rook lovers, I’ve finally gotten it.

❥ Epel Felmier

Nuh-uh. Affection? That’s for losers! Don’t ask about how loving his grandparents are. Blushes profusely at even the smallest act and then scolds you. He’s a manly man and manly men don’t cuddle! Off topic but I’d love to go on a rant about toxic masculinity and how those stereotypes hurt men more and see how he reacts. Epel warms up to affection quickly, but only if he initiates in public. When it's just you two he’s more chill about it. Resting your head on his shoulder, having you wrap your arms around his, placing a kiss on his forehead—don’t tell anyone that last one…

❥ Idia Shroud

Poor, poor Idia. He only knows affection from Ortho, and after Ortho…once he became a technomantic humanoid Idia couldn’t hug him anymore. It reminded him that Ortho wasn’t…yeah so let's just say Idia is hella touch starved due to self isolation. So you have to slowly bring him out of his shell, revealing that old wound he’s left to fester and tending to it so gently. He can’t help but shiver every time you run your hands through his hair, or when you kiss his temple, or when your body heat seeps into him. Over time he comes to crave your affection, seeking you out but never outright stating what he wanted. Thankfully for him you always seemed to know what he needed. 

❥ Ortho Shroud

This poor boy pt 2. After he was created he didn’t really experience physical affection. With his bulky bodies and being made from metal, he wasn’t comfortable to hug. Ortho never thought about it much, although he was curious what affection felt like. So when you hugged him without a second thought he almost cried (if he could). Soaks up your affection like a sponge and reciprocates tenfold. He now hugs you as a greeting and holds your hand when you both are going somewhere. He can’t help it! Who knew affection was so nice! And since you're willing, he’ll always come to you if he needs someone to lean on.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus knows of affection, but being the future king of Briar Valley and extremely powerful he only knows affection through Lilia and his grandmother. Lilia was super loving, don’t get me wrong, but Malleus could never shake that feeling of loneliness. The way people avoid him, how he’s always out of reach. Yet you…you were willing to listen to him and accompany him. So when you even touched him, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t well versed in means of affection, and human affection seemed even more strange. You didn’t just hold his hand, you’d lean on him, you wouldn’t just kiss his cheek, you’d boop him afterwards. Yet he thrived with anything you’d give him. Malleus is content with watching you eagerly, waiting for the next form of affection you’d show him.

❥ Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia isn’t afraid to show his affection, and more often than not it leaves his subordinates (children) embarrassed. So when you came along, you had become his willing victim. He shows his affection in less conventional ways. His favorite is scaring you, popping out at random like he was trying to put you into cardiac arrest. But he makes up for it by kissing your nose after. He’ll also cook for you…I pray for your sanity because he can be really sweet but it comes in underhanded ways. If you eat his food he’ll be over the moon…if you don’t he’ll pout. It’s up to you if you want to live or not.

❥ Silver Vanrouge

Growing up under Lilia’s wing did him some favors. He’s not against affection, he just never thought about it too much. He doesn’t mind if you hold his hand or if you kiss his cheek. His favorite is when you both cuddle. He’s a sleepy guy, so naturally this is the most common form of affection you both share. Even the animals will join you two. When he isn’t sleeping though, he’ll give you kisses on the back of your hand, guide you around, he’s your personal knight now. Although he does feel bad that he has to leave you a lot for his duty, he’ll always try to make it up to you at the end of the day.

❥ Sebek Zigvolt 

Nope. No affection allowed. Your eardrums will be shattered if you try. He’s another one who has to warm up to it. His parents are super loving, and he’s used to his mom always hugging him…but he stopped all that nonsense because he has to give his all to his Waka-sama. Sebek is so intense in his worship of Malleus he finds it indecent to even think of anything romantic/affectionate with you. But when you break him down, when you hug him so sweetly or kiss his cheek so softly…yeah he’s a goner. Deep down he craves for your affection, he loves it to a point it scares him. He felt his heart crack when he denied you once, the guilt in your eyes leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. He supposes he’ll allow you to hug him, but he’s still got a reputation to uphold.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Accidentally Sleeping Together

♡ Genre: Fluff, suggestive ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader (Imagine the bunny on the right is Bakugou, afraid of you waking up O-o)

Bakugou's arms curled tight around you, his sleepy fingers running across your skin rhythmically. It took his similarly sleepy brain a couple of seconds before he realized that this wasn't a beautiful dream.

This was real.

Bakugou leapt off you, his back slamming into his dorm wall. He rubbed the back of his head, swore several expletives at nothing in particular, and then assessed the damage.

You slept together last night. He didn't remember if it was an accident or if you two... did something, but his head was not 100% there yet in the morning.

You were even slower than him to wake, but he could see your figure rustling, and all he could think was "Crap, crap, crap, crap!" It was like he was pinned against the wall. Even if he had an easy exit route, he couldn't exactly walk out on you without proving his innocence first. Or making sure you were okay.

You finally opened your eyes, wiping them. Tentatively, Bakugou spoke.

"Hey, we need to--"

You shrieked and Bakugou cringed from the noise. You sat upright, whipping your head around like it was on a swivel, pure shock on your cute little face. Bakugou was the same amount of scared, but unlike you he was frozen.

"What did we do?!" you cried.

"I don't know!"

"Did we sleep together?!"

"I don't fucking know!"

Bakugou's heart was racing. The fact that you even considered sleeping with him as a possible event within this point of space and time just totally befuddled him. If this whole ordeal didn't screw over his chances with you, then his stupidly hopeful heart could take this as a good sign.

He chose his next words very carefully.

"Did we?" he asked, a little eyebrow cocked and his voice low.

You stared at him, the gears turning in your adorable thoughtless head. He wondered what things you were thinking right now. Your face was normally pure and innocent and cute, but your mind was typically evil and mischievous and always thinking of ways to prank and tease him, so it was hard to say what was happening in there at this exact moment. But being your best friend and all, he had some ideas of what you were probably thinking of.

He shouldn't be focusing on that right now though. Although you didn't look uncomfortable or creeped out, you were the type of person who'd struggle to voice your negative thoughts in a time like this. And as your best friend, Bakugou had to make sure you were okay. It was like, his calling in life.

"You alright?" he asked, snapping you out of your reverie. "I would never take advantage of you. You know that, right?"

"I know," you said, almost immediately. Bakugou was a little proud of your trust and your strong connection together.

"Are you okay?" he asked, again.

"Yeah, I'm okie dokie... Are you?"

You reached out to his face and he realized he had been blushing for some time now.

"I'm sorry," you said. "Did I scare you? Did I sleep here on accident? Can't believe I crashed in your room..."

"Don't apologize to me! Jeez. You're always apologizing to other people. I'm fine. I would never be creeped out by you. In fact, you've almost fucking dozed off here a couple of times in the past. You just don't remember 'cause I carried you back each time." That last part was a bit of a brag.

"Oh?" you cocked your head. "But you didn't tonight. Guess you were too much of a lazy little sleepy head yesterday."

"No more than you!"

That was how you both ended up grinning at each other, faces too close and somewhat red, but happy all the same.

If you weren't uncomfortable, if you were even smiling at him, Bakugou wanted to push things further. Your lips were only several centimeters away, and he wanted to close the distance. But he couldn't risk it unless he knew for sure you'd want him to.

"Had a good sleep, then?" he asked, voice rumbly and still low while his smirk never left his face. "After all, it's my bed."

"I would've, but maybe someone was hogging all the sheets." You mock glared at him, but you didn't back away.

"Well I bought them," he retorted. "Didn't think I'd get a new roommate tonight."

"Maybe I'll just steal your bed and then we won't have a problem."

"You're gonna steal my bed with me in it?"

You lightly slapped his chest and he laughed. You were laughing too, but dammit even if it was funny, he wasn't entirely joking...

Still, he couldn't say he was unhappy.

"Seriously can't fucking believe I woke up to you today," he said, letting some of his true adoration for you spread across his face. "Next time you sleep here, I'm not carrying you back..."

While he still had the chance, he needed to push things further, so you'd understand where he really stood on this situation. Bakugou had enough of all the near-miss kisses in your relationship. He wanted more.

Your hands cupped his face and he stayed put, obediently.

"You won't need to," you whispered.

His fingers grabbed your chin. "I don't ever want to."

And with that, he kissed you, finally.

[taintandviolent]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[reginyani]

Midnight Moments | s.reid x fem!reader

summary: rossi host's a new year's eve party at his mansion, where you and Spencer have too much to drink, and end up going home together. this leads from one thing to another, and you somehow end up on top of him.

cw: 18+, mdni, fem!bau!reader, drunk sex, vaginal sex, praise, drunk!reader, drunk!spencer, making out, unprotected sex, dom!reader

wc: 3k

authors note: this honestly is pretty lazy i haven't written smut or any kind of sex fanfiction in SOO long.. im so used to writing fluff, and i'm sorry for this monstrosity. i swear guys I USED TO BE GOOD!! but anyways, i hope you like because even though it's not as good as i wanted it, it took a while!! (reblog if u did!)

gif: reidgif

It was unreasonably warm for a New Year's Eve in Virginia, and the BAU team decided it would be fun to celebrate the holiday of transitioning to the new year at Rossi's sprawling mansion. The living room was lit by twinkling lights from a chandelier, casting a warm glow over the polished furniture. The scent of rich Italian food filled the air, mingling with the sharper tang of champagne. Laughter filled the room, and the unusual lightness of the air was noticeable tonight.

 

It wasn't too often that the team was able to unwind together. In fact, it had been months since they had been able to be in the same place without the stress of a case hanging over their heads. The new year was only a couple of hours away, and for once, nobody there was thinking about the darkness everyone had to face so often.

 

But tonight, you had been thinking about something else, rather... someone else. Spencer Reid sat on one of the plush couch cushions near the fireplace, his legs crossed with a glass of champagne in his hand. His tie was loosened, his hair a bit tousled from the evening's past activities. It had been quite some time since he had allowed himself to truly be 100% indulged in a night like this. His mind was usually full of numbers, equations, random facts, and the weight of the world's problems. But tonight, there was something oddly freeing about him tonight, and you couldn't tell if it was Garcia's laughter in the background or the sense that the world outside didn't exist.

 

Beside him, you took a seat, and you couldn't help but think how undeniably sexy you found him tonight. Maybe it was the loose tie, the way his hair was messier than usual, or maybe the way he was actively engaging in the conversations more than he normally did.

 

After a few moments of quiet conversation with Spencer, a bottle of wine appeared. You both shared laughs over something trivial—maybe the third or fourth joke of the night—but before long, both of your glasses were refilled. You didn't mean to drink so much, and you usually never did, but with the glow of the evening, it felt like such an easy thing to do. Spencer, though, seemed way more relaxed and loose tonight than you'd ever seen him.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asks, his voice a bit slurred, but his eyes still sharp.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you question back, smirking as you raised your glass. The night was still young, and if you knew anything about the people in this room, it was that they could always handle another round of drinks. But you never had Spencer like this, and he never allowed himself to be so vulnerable with drinking alcohol. So were you really sure he could handle another round of drinks?

 

Spencer hesitated, staring at his drink like it was something from a different world. But then, a slow smile formed on his lips. "Well, I guess if we're both doing questionable things tonight, I suppose I could join you." He raises his glass to yours and slowly raises it to his lips. In what felt like seconds, the liquid disappeared.

 

The evening had quickly turned into a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and everyone telling increasingly exaggerated stories. Spencer and Morgan's ties were long gone, and it was quite clear that everyone the night had reached its peak when Garcia decided to stand on the coffee table and dramatically recite a version of Romeo and Juliet with a very confused Reid forced to play the role of Romeo. At some point, Morgan drunkenly broke into a dance when one of his "favorite club songs" turned on, blasting from the speaker, which he received tons of criticism from Prentiss on. Rossi sat back, watching the spectacle unfold with a smirk on his face.

 

But as the night got older, the energy in the room began to wane. The champagne and wine had clearly done their work, and now basically everyone was drunk out of their minds, groaning in exhaustion. JJ was leaning against Will, slowly nodding off, while Hotch, looking slightly tired, kept checking the time on his phone. It was way past midnight, which meant the new year had already come around, and it wasn't long before the decision was made that it was time to go home.

 

"I think I'll call it a night, everyone," Hotch said, his words slow as he got up from his seat, groaning slightly.

 

"Agreed, get out of my house," Rossi replied, smirking slightly. "I'm getting way too old for this."

 

Morgan, still grinning but very clearly less steady on his feet, clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, clearly startling Spencer as he flinched. "You doing alright, Pretty Boy?"

 

Spencer blinked a few times, trying to completely focus on Morgan and regain his composure. "Yeah... I just need to make sure I don't forget my keys." He fumbled around in his pockets, very clearly confused about the whereabouts of his keys. "I'll be fine. It's just a very... long walk back to my place." He groans.You laugh at his comment, standing up from the couch and helping him gather some of his things.

 

Garcia was already calling an Uber, the sound of her bubbly voice ordering a ride with Morgan in the background. Clearly, the idea sounded good to Spencer, because soon he was on the app ordering himself one. His hand clutched his phone with an almost desperate intensity, his brows furrowed in concentration.

 

"Do you... need help with that?" you asked, your words just a little slower than usual. You both were beyond drunk, and Spencer's face was flushed, his eyes glassy as he stared at the Uber app.

 

"I've got it," he said, his voice more clipped than normal. "I—uh, do I just... wait, Do I need to set a destination first?"

 

You tried not to laugh, but the sight of him furiously tapping on his phone, trying to figure out how he can summon an Uber, was enough to make you let out a hearty laugh. "Spencer, you've gotten an Uber before, right? You don't need to give them a whole speech on how to get you home," you said as he started to type a long paragraph in the 'extra details' section, basically giving the driver a shorter way to get him home, forgetting they have Google Maps.

 

"Right, of course." His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he looked over at you. "Okay, well, it's on the way..."

 

"Good," you lean against the doorframe for support, already starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol take over your body completely and start to cloud your thoughts.

 

"Can I come with you? I don't think me going home alone with an unknown driver this late at night is a great idea," you say to him, saying your words without completely thinking them through at first. Did you seriously just ask if you could spend the night at Spencer's place?

 

"Yeah, sure... that's fine." He answered, leaning against a wall, breathing heavily. Clearly, this was his first time being as drunk as he is now.

 

The Uber arrived soon after, and after saying goodbye to everybody, you both made your way outside, barely noticing the crispness of the air against your skin as you both climbed into the back seat. You settled into the leather seats, and Spencer quickly buckled his seatbelt, though he wasn't quite as smooth with his movements as he usually was. You did the same, your fingers fumbling to find the buckle for a couple of seconds.

 

As the car started to move, a comfortable silence fell between you two, only broken by the faint hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the wheels. The lights from the city blared into the window, making you squint your eyes and turn away from the window.

 

"So..." you smirked as you began to speak quietly. "Do you always drink this much at parties?"

 

Spencer shifted in his seat at the comment. He didn't meet your gaze right away, but after a second, he shrugged. "Not usually. I don't know, I just... for some reason it felt different tonight. I didn't really want to be that guy who spends the whole night hiding in the corner, not enjoying himself."

 

"Well, you sure didn't hide tonight." You teased, your tone a little more playful than intended.

 

He chuckled, and you could tell he was relaxed—more relaxed than you'd seen him in a long time. Maybe ever, actually. It was strange seeing him act so... human. It wasn't often you witnessed that.

 

"I guess I was," he said, his smile a bit lopsided now. "I think I needed that more than I realized."

 

You nod, agreeing with him silently. "You know, you're actually quite fun when you let loose," you said, the feeling of the alcohol kicking in more with each passing second.

 

Spencer's gaze locked with yours for a quick second before he quickly looked away. "Yeah?" His cheeks flash red once again. "I've been told I'm too uptight."

 

"Don't listen to whoever says that," you replied almost too quickly. "You're just being you, and that's a nice trait to have." You faced him fully, your voice lowering as you continued to speak. "But... I do like this side of you."

 

His lips parted, a bit taken aback, but he recovered quickly, a soft laugh escaping him. "Maybe the alcohol is really taking in, but... thanks. I think I might also like this side of me too."

 

You smiled, everything feeling just a bit hazy, but the sincerity in Spencer's voice made your heart skip a beat. Before either of you could continue to speak, the car rolled to a stop in front of Spencer's apartment building.

 

You both thanked the Uber driver, then climbed out of the car. The cool night air hit both your faces, and then you realized just how unsteady you were on your feet. Spencer quickly steadied you, his hands gripping your waist to support you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly becoming serious again.

 

You nod, blushing heavily at his hand placement. Your thoughts wandered, and he raised an eyebrow, confused by your zoning out. He snapped a finger, and you snapped back to reality. "Yeah, yeah... One step at a time, right?"

 

Spencer smiles, continuing to hold onto you. "One step at a time."

 

Eventually, you both make it to his apartment door, and he's still holding you up, making sure you don't fall.

 

He leans to flick up the light switch, trying to have as minimal movement as possible. When the light hits his face, you observe his features. His cheeks were flushed, his lips plump and parted, and his eyes slightly watery. Your drunken mind was in awe, finding him completely and utterly breathtaking. Why though? You never had before...

 

He looks down at you, smiling a bit before guiding you over to his couch. You both sit down, his legs stretched out in front of him. You kick your heels off, finally feeling the freedom of what felt like bricks taken off your feet.

 

A few minutes go by, the silence becoming unnoticeable. He starts to speak; his words are still slurred but sharp. "You know... I've always found it fascinating how people underestimate the power of silence. Not just the absence of sound, but... the weight of it. Do you ever think about that?"

 

You laugh softly at his words, finding his brain process oddly fascinating. If you were sober, you generally wouldn't be interested in his new weird random topic, but this time you were.

 

"You're drunk, Spencer. You're talking about silence like it's some kind of breathtaking quantum physics thingy." You reply, looking up at him with your eyebrows raised.

 

"It is!" he argues, furrowing his eyebrows. "But you're right. I probably shouldn't try to sound profound when I've had at least, like, 1 glass of champagne and 3 glasses of wine," he says, puffing up his cheeks.

 

You glance up at him again, a warm smile spreading across your face. His eyes, the look a little too soft tonight, and it's driving you nuts, making your heart flutter like crazy.

 

"Don't worry, you're smarter than me regardless. Even when you're drunk out of your mind."

 

Spencer's gaze softens, his eyes locking with yours for a moment that felt like forever. He shifts a bit closer to you, trying not to make it noticeable. But oh... it is.

 

"You think I'm smart? and... not annoying?" He asks, his voice quieter, as if the question had more meaning than it should.

 

"Of course I do. You're literally brilliant." You say it without hesitation, almost like a reflex, and it catches him off guard for a second. But seriously, what kind of question is that? He had an IQ of 187 and could read 20,000 words per minute. He's quite literally a genius.

 

Spencer's lips curl into a smile, and he tilts his head to look at you. He studies your face, with a curious, almost vulnerable look in his eyes.

 

"You know, nobody ever really says that often unless they're teasing me. Sometimes I just wonder if I actually make sense to people, or if I just ramble everyone's ears off." You continue to smile, and for a second, Spencer feels like your eyes are literally twinkling at him.

 

"You ramble. But you make sense. You always do." You reassure him, but the atmosphere starts to feel heavier as you continue to compliment him.

 

He shifts again, and now his body is just a few inches away from yours. You feel the heat radiating off of him, and suddenly you feel hyper-aware of everything happening between you two. His hand brushes against your arm for a second, but he doesn't immediately pull back, his touch lingering. You gulp, his touch sending flutters down your chest.

 

He begins to speak again, but somehow softer than before. How is it even possible? "I'm glad you think that. Not many people allow themselves to tell me that or just think that in general." He pauses for a second, "You mean a lot to me, you know? More than I let on..."

 

After he says this, the air feels thicker, charged with unspoken tension. You look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and this time, the air feels anything but heavy and awkward. Instead, it's full of possibilities.

 

Without thinking first, you lean in just a bit, your breath starting to mingle with his. His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He brings his hand up to the side of your face, as if he's waiting for you to make the first move.

 

You whisper, "You mean a lot to me, too." And in one swift motion, his lips meet yours—soft at first. As if something inside of him shifts suddenly, the kiss deepens, the closeness overwhelming you both.

 

You pull away for a second, catching your breath. Spencer lets an overwhelmed whimper slip from his lips, and he looks at you with puppy eyes.

 

This drives you absolutely mad.

 

You lunge for his lips, grabbing his face and pulling him into it deeper. You pull him closer, shifting your body to straddle his lap, your skirt riding up your legs. He whines; feeling your body on top of him makes him feel so vulnerable, and he likes it.

 

You continue to kiss him, skillfully unbuttoning his shirt as you do so. You pull it off his arms, and you pull away from him, pulling off your shirt in one swift motion. You then go in to kiss his collarbone, and that makes him unwillingly gasp. When you start to bite on his skin, that almost makes Spencer scream.

 

The erection in his pants didn't go unnoticed anymore the more horny you got for him, and you start to shift your hips on top of him, feeling it through your underwear. And at this point, your pussy was throbbing.

 

 

"I... I need you..." He mumbles, throwing his head back.

 

"Speak up, baby. You need what?" You tease him. He looks back up at you, feeling defeated as you make him say it again.

 

"I need you!" He whines, and that makes you raise an eyebrow in amusement. You liked seeing him like this. Drunk and overwhelmed with pleasure, messy hair and slick, wet lips.

 

You lift yourself up onto your knees, quickly unzipping his pants and then pulling down his boxers. His hard cock sprung out, pre-cum already coating the tip. You look down at him, smirking as you pull your underwear to the side, your pussy throbbing, begging for touch.

 

You take his cock in hand, stroking it a few times, making him gasp in pleasure. "Ah—Y/N..." He lets out, barely able to form words, just a mess of sounds of please.

 

You smirk, groaning as you guide the tip of his cock to your pussy, rocking your hips back and forth as the tip rubs against you. You moan, throwing your own head back as much as you could.

 

Eventually, you slowly slide his cock into your pussy, slowly starting to bounce up and down. You speed up, and Spencer starts to breathe heavily, you both becoming a moaning mess.

 

He begins to rock his hips with you, "God, you're so perfect like this, Spence." You let out, your voice cracking between words as you try to praise him. Your fingers began to bury in his hair, pulling it slightly as you continued to bounce up and down on his cock.

 

"Y/N... I'm— I'm close..." He whines, holding onto your shoulders as you continue to ride him.

 

"Yes! Please, yes, Spencer... come inside me!" You moan loudly, chasing your high as well. This was enough to completely drive him over the edge.

 

Spencer came hard, his legs shaking as his hips pressed against your skin as he moaned loudly. You press your head into his chest, feeling pleasure take over your body as you also reach the edge, mingling your moans together.

 

Eventually, he pulls out, and you collapse onto the side of his couch, breathing heavily. You look over to the side, where Spencer is still breathing heavily, completely overwhelmed with the whole situation.

 

"Damn, Spencer... you're weak." You say, chuckling as you try to make it less awkward than it already was.

 

"Oh, shut up."

tags:

[flawseer]

Became curious based on a Smaugust piece: What are your thoughts on everyone's favorite royal suck-up, Pike? (also ofc compliments to your writing and art)

Surprise, I am still kicking. And thus my Sisyphean quest to answer all the questions in my inbox continues.

I like Pike. I used to think moderately favorably of him, but pondering this question and then drawing a bunch of pictures of and about him made me realize that, yeah, I am rather fond of him. He is funny and cute in the same way a small, yappy dog is.

I remember once talking to my partner about Pike and I asked: "Do you think the JMA staff has to deal with Pike constantly trying to sleep in the hallway in front of Anemone's room?" Only to then realize, upon re-reading the books, that this actually happens in canon. I was thrilled.

Most of the time when people ask me what I think of a character, they want to hear what my take on them is, so I'll get into that.

Background

I don't think a lot is known about Pike's life, outside him having been assigned as Anemone's (questionably) covert bodyguard. He is one of those background characters that fill out the student roster at JMA but don't get a lot of development, though he is one of the more lucky ones as he gets comparatively more lines and scenes than, say, Barracuda, or Garnet.

We don't ever hear about his home life or familial situation, but I think he comes from a common military family. Not a particularly prestigious one, but rather one of middling significance. I imagine one of his ancestors--like his great grandmother--once made it to captain and ever since the whole family has prided themselves on their military legacy and loyalty to the Seawing throne, even though nobody else really knows who they are.

Pike's parents are both bottom rung palace guards; trusted enough to be stationed vaguely near the seat of government over a remote outpost, but nothing more. As is tradition in their family, they signed up as soon as they were old enough to hold a trident. Pike was expected to follow in their footsteps, and so did the same. He is naturally eager to please, doesn't ask many questions, and knows how to follow orders, so he took to this life relatively well.

One thing immediately apparent when observing Pike is that he is very blunt, headstrong, and reckless. He is prone to self-injury and mishaps, routinely making a tail end of himself during exercises. One day, I imagine, he was out in the courtyard, practicing his combat maneuvers, when he somehow managed to trap himself underneath a training dummy in a humiliating way. Unbeknownst to him, the Queen and Princess were walking past a window overlooking this scene, and the latter happened to spot him.

Princess Anemone, starved for normal social contact due to being permanently leashed to her overbearing mother, immediately took a liking to the clumsy guard and wished to take Pike into her service. The Queen though, hated the idea. Anything she couldn't control with 100% certainty was not to be let near her only living daughter. She didn't even let her own sons approach the Princess for this very reason. So she refused.

But Anemone, sensing an opportunity to finally snatch a tiny mote of control over her own life, didn't relent. She would never overtly defy her mother, but pushed back against her in the most passively aggressive way she could muster. She WOULD have this one thing that was hers, no matter how many times she had to sigh wistfully or forget to eat.

Coral meanwhile still disliked the idea, but after some pondering figured this could work to her advantage. Granting her daughter this favor would make her grateful, and thus easier to keep in check. It was not like the boy would be able to do anything undesirable since she would always be there to watch anyway. And if he ever displeased her, a random guard was easier to dispose of without turning heads, than if she let Anemone play with one of her brothers.

So eventually, she acquiesced, and extracted Pike from the palace guard to assign him to her daughter's protection.

The news hit Pike's family like lightning. Suddenly, after decades of being nobodies with delusions of grandeur, the whole palace was paying genuine attention to them, and the new recruit who, overnight, got assigned to be the Princess' personal retainer. Pike's parents took him aside and impressed on him how important of a task this was. If he did his job well and kept the Princess content and safe, not only would the current Queen think favorably of all of them, but Anemone would remember his service and reward him once she took the throne herself. For his sake and theirs, this was an opportunity not to be squandered.

And thus, Pike shouldered this great responsibility suddenly thrust onto his wings and embraced being Anemone's personal servant and protector. Pushed forward by his sense of honor and loyalty, a desire not to disappoint his family, and the knowledge that, if he were to fail and lose the only heir, Queen Coral would surely kill him.

Day-to-day life

Pike takes his duty very seriously, both out of loyalty to his liege, and because of how much is at stake for him personally. I picture him getting up during the small hours each morning and beginning his daily exercise routine, to stay in shape for his job. His roommate Flame often wakes up to him noisily doing squats in the middle of the sleeping cave and yells at him. "Am I cursed to be tormented by a diminutive idiot Seawing wherever I go!??!" Pike is lucky that his other roommate, Bigtail, is a heavy sleeper. Otherwise the training session would likely be cut short, with Pike tied to the ceiling lamp.

After wrecking Flame's sleep, Pike usually seeks out Anemone and attempts to stay near her at all times. Initially this caused friction between him and the teachers, as he would often skip his own classes to attend Anemone's. He only stopped doing this when Tsunami made it clear skipping classes would get him sent home, and thus away from Anemone permanently.

As they spent time at the Academy, the Princess began to get better and better at giving Pike the slip whenever she got fed up with his overprotectiveness. He freaks out whenever she vanishes, which is often. To help manage his stress, the JMA staff make him attend regular seminars on inner peace and meditation hosted by Fatespeaker. He is not very good at it, but enjoys the exercises that involve listening to running water.

He began to mellow out for a bit after initial growing pains, until the History cave incident occurred. The bombing shook him back into the bodyguard mindset and he began sleeping in the hallway outside of Anemone's sleeping cave. It weirds out Ostrich whenever she has to climb over him. Attempts to get him to stop this have been unfruitful. The current policy seems to be to let him do this until things calm down and he stops on his own.

Anything else

I believe Pike may have a thing for Rainwings. He is generally hyper-aggressive and rude towards everyone he talks to, with two notable exceptions. One of them is Anemone, whom he is sworn to serve and keep safe. The other is Tamarin, whom he is uncharacteristically kind to. My personal impression is that he may have a bit of a crush on her, but keeps himself from pursuing it as to not upset Anemone.

To my knowledge, Pike never really interacts with Turtle. That is a shame, because I would like to know how they would get along. Pike may be greatly disappointed at Turtle's general un-regal-ness, but still begrudgingly respect him out of obligation. I can picture a scene where he berates Turtle for his demeanor, only for someone else to chime in with an affirmative "Yeah Turtle, you suck", upon which Pike turns around and starts ripping into them about disrespecting Seawing royalty.

Concerningly, Pike's future is very uncertain. He is actually in grave danger right now. If Queen Coral ever finds out that he allowed a murderous, seawing-hating ancient wizard to abduct Anemone, she will have some opinions on that. If Coral has one consistent character trait, it is homicidal vengefulness against anyone who fails to protect her children, regardless of circumstance, regardless even if the perpetrator IS one of her children. That means there is a very real chance she will recall Pike from Jade Mountain and try to tear him apart.

I don't think Anemone would allow this to happen, mind you. She has been privy to her mother dragging poor sods out to the plaza to rip their teeth out, enough to recognize the signs of it coming. If she suspected Pike's life was in danger, I believe she would prevent him from leaving.

For now though, he remains at Jade Mountain, doing the best he can with the responsibility he was dealt, acting as Princess Anemone's retainer. It is a difficult, stressful, at times thankless job, but he would not have it any other way.

"Honor, and duty."