#fucking. draw your system challenge

[kkoct-ik]

fake sticker sheet of my mipys because i love them so very very much

transparnets. if you are so inclined

[secretsofafangirll]

video star

summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.

warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.

a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.

"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."

"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.

"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.

"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.

"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.

I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.

"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.

"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.

"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.

"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.

"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.

Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.

"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.

"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."

"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.

"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."

"Loser", Nick teased.

"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."

As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.

I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.

Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.

"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.

What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.

I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.

"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.

Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.

Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.

Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.

"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.

At least I thought they were yelling at each other...

Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.

"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.

Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.

"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."

"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.

"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.

When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.

"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 

"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.

"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.

"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.

"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.

"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.

"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."

"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.

I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."

"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.

"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.

"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...

//

author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.

all the love, she <3

[6toru]

hi! I would be down and to see you write something with Dr. Ratio or Boothill. I was thinking something like hate s£x or dub con. Everything is fine...Have a great day tough either way <3

*ੈ✩ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. boothill x fem!reader, smut (mdni), cyborg fucking (his cöck is real tho), hate fucking, public sex, rough sex, pussy slapping, squirting, degradation (reader gets called whore & slut), explicit language / dirty talk *ੈ✩ 𝐖𝐂. 1.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. thank u for the request anon! please enjoy <3

Now, he knows pretty damn well how strong of a word 'hate' is, and he's pretty damn sure you're the epitome of the one thing he hates — that was the fucking Interastal Peace Corporation. Mission after mission, as if fate is against him, he always manages to cross paths with you; staring up at him teasingly with that coy fucking smile — coming up to him for one reason, and one reason only. He's honestly surprised as to how persistent you are despite his constant circumvents from the IPC's interventions.

"𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋, Boothill." You chime the cowboy's name, making fearless strides towards the cyborg with a piece of paper in your fists, and the other IPC staffs follow suit. Luckily, with his sharp vision, he caught wind of what the contents were in said paper, and of-fucking-course it had to be his wanted poster.

"The hell do you motherfuckers want?" The galactic cowboy raises an eyebrow, staring down at you with a look of scorn plastered across his face.

You tap the wanted poster lightly across his metallic chest, giving him the same coy smile that he's grown to hate. Right, hate. He fucking hates how dry his mouth gets whenever you pull this sort of shit. Just what exactly did you do to tamper with his system? Though, he decides to shrug those useless thoughts off his brain, as he stares down at you with a pointed look in his eyes, and a dry, disinterested chuckle escapes his lips.

"You know what I'm holding in my hand, right? Turns out, you're now wanted for deliberate acts of sabotage against IPC facilities and posing a serious threat to universal public property safety. Got anything to say to that?"

"The IPC deserves all the shit that's coming to 'em," replies Boothill, sparing you a toothy smile laced with venom all whilst adjusting his cowboy hat. You continue to stand your ground, raising an eyebrow towards the male.

"You're wanted," you firmly state, shrugging your shoulders. "Whether you like it or not, you're coming with us. I let it slide multiple times before, but the higher ups are getting rather impatient."

"Give the fuck up, Sapphire or whatever the fuck gem you are. I ain't going anywhere with you IPC shits." The silver-haired man retorts, "I didn't go with you then, and I ain't going with you now."

"If ya keep persisting..." He digs a hand inside his pocket, slowly drawing out his gun. "Then, I challenge ya to a duel. if I win, you gotta let me go again. how's that sound?"

Immediately, your henchmen draws out their weapons. You raise a hand up, signalling the men to lower their weapons. Heaving a sigh of chagrin, you roll your eyes. Crossing your arms, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fine, Cowboy. I'll entertain you one last time."

"If fighting's what you really want, then let's duel." You say, drawing out your weapon. "Though, don't blame me for what's about to come next. I won't go easy on you this time."

The exact words you had uttered are immediately shoved back down your throat when you find yourself pressed against the cool, brick walls along the isolated alleyway; both your weapons are splayed across the concrete, and your little mewls of wanton are muffled by the surprisingly soft plush of his lips. He bites down your lips softly, though it's enough to draw a small amount of blood due to his sharp canines.

"Hey, hey. Don't you care about your little henchmen hearing those dirty noises you're makin' right now, sweetheart?" Comments Boothill, and it's almost as if he's sneering at you – only, if it isn't for the way your walls clench around him so deliciously; making him nearly just as fucked out as you are.

Each rock of his hips sends you closer, and closer to cloud nine. You didn't know exactly how your due transitioned into fucking, but you're too fucked out to even care. The lines between that of hatred and arousal has long since been blurred.

He's supposed to hate you. For god's sake, you're part of the corporate he fucking despises — the very same corporate that reignited his need for revenge and destruction; the very reason as to why he became the way he is now. You're in the fuckin' IPC, but for fuck's sake! But, there's simply no denying that he's getting immensely high off of your pussy, and he can't bring himself to stop. Oh, how he loves the way he can easily wipe that coy smile off your face, only for it to be replaced with that of desperation and pure ecstasy.

"O-Oh fuck, fuck, fuck... Ah! Y-You're so f-fucking deep!" You stammer out, and when he resumes his relentless pace — your lips immediately latch onto his neck, biting at the cool metal plate that coats his flesh. If he continues to fuck you at this pace, you're convinced he's going to destroy you. With the way he's fucking you, it's beyond human.

"Where'd all that venom of yours go? Hm?" Boothill hums against your lips, swiping his tongue along the outlines of your lips; coating his tongue in crimson. "Ya told me moments before you wouldn't go easy on me. Be honest, you wanted this all this time."

With one strong thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and your body jolts forward. A sharp, pathetic yelp escapes your lips as your hands immediately reach towards his shoulders for support. Albeit, as pathetic as you appear beneath his larger frame, shocks of arousal travels straight down to his cock, so much that it almost becomes sore. It almost makes him want to fuck you with thrice the fervour.

A shit-eating grin begins to tug at the corners of his lips, and maybe you would have smacked it off if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s fucking the living shit out of you.

"You dirty fuckin' slut," hisses the male in between staggered thrusts, "can't even deny it too, huh? Hah— Wonder what your higher ups are goin' to think once they realize that their little IPC agent is nothin' more than a cock hungry slut for the wanted guy on the poster."

"Mm — Fuck, fuck. Ngh." You're barely coherent with your words, the climb to your release is inching closer, and closer.

A sharp sting emanates from your swollen cunt, and Boothill repeats the motion once more — placing light, yet firm smacks across your sensitive clit all whilst thrusting his cock inside yours like he's a fucking madman. He clenches his jaw, his brows furrowed as he relishes in the way your pussy squeezes on his cock like a vice.

"Answer me, slut." He orders, his warm breath fanning over your neck as he licks a long strip along your collarbone to your jaw. Without thinking, you lean your head back, giving the cyborg male more access to the spot. Waves of pleasure hits you like a truck when you reach your high for the second time, your juices spraying all over his cock and abdomen along with a shaky moan that slips past your lips.

"F-Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, sending him a death glare following his cruel ministrations. "Y-You... Mmh– You're so fuckin' mean..! Ah!"

"You're sayin' all that, but your pussy's beggin' me to stay." He rasps, his low, baritone voice hitching at every thrust he ruts into you; the little groans that falls past his lips effortlessly inches you closer and closer to your release, and the volume of your moans merely increases.

"Shiiiit," the word rolls down his tongue, his mouth hung open as he revels in the lewd sight before him. "You love bein' fucked by a cyborg man that bad, hm?"

Clenching his jaw and furrowing his brows, the male hoists you up in the air in one swift movement; anchoring your legs with his herculean arms, and when he thrusts his hips back into yours, eliciting a loud, uncontrollable squeak to fall past your lips. You didn't expect him to reach deeper, but he fully surpasses your expectations. Trembling beneath his touches, you swear you're this close to coming for the third time.

"Admit it, sweetheart. You lost." Boothill hums, though his breathing remains hitched – perhaps, even more so with each thrust he plummets into you.

"Shut up," you retort, and a small moan follows, and you fail to realize the small beads of saliva trailing down your lips; viscous like honey. "T-This wasn't... Mmm... part of the duel."

Shit. The sight's enough to get his dick twitching, growing more and more desperate for release.

"Ya do realize how slutty and pathetic you're lookin' like right now?" He huffs out, a guttural chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Besides – Hah, fuck. You think you can still fight right after I'm done with you?"

You bite your lip at his words, "What if I don't wanna?"

"Say it," orders Boothill, "admit I won, and I'll give you exactly what you've always wanted. If not, I'm gonna leave you high and dry, and I have no problem doin' that."

He eventually slows down with his pace, and his eyes slowly trail down your face; relishing in the way your face scrunches in pure ecstasy, your lips quivering as you attempt to mask your strong dismay at his words.

"You asshole..."

Your fingers travel up towards the back of his scalp, running your digits through his silver locks before giving them a harsh tug; eliciting a harsh hiss from your supposed nemesis. "The fuck was that for—?"

"D-Don't you dare fucking stop, Boothill." You hiss at him, cutting him off. It almost sounds pathetic, nearly coming off as a sob as you desperately rock your hips closer to his. Tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes as you begin to ramble off. "Fine, you fuckin' win! I don't care anymore, just make me come!"

Despite being stuffed full with his dick, you're still aching for more. Boothill nearly cums at the sight, but with the little self-control that remains within him, he relents.

"What about the higher ups?" He teases you, his warm breath fanning over your ears before he begins to nibble on the skin with his sharp canines. "Didn't you say they were... rather impatient?"

"I'll..." You try to utter, but another moan threatens to slip past your lips and you gulp, breathing shakily. "Mmm... I'll tell them to be more patient."

"Good girl," he praises you, digging his fingers deeper into the plush of your ass, "just exactly what I wanted to fuckin' hear."

"Fuck," you sob, "Just fuckin' give it to me, 'm so, so close. Please."

"Oh, don't you worry." Boothill hums at you, grinning. "I'll reward you generously."

© 6TORU do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

[pizzaapeteer]

𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

An: Hello, it's been a while, but I finally got a burst of inspiration in light of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge. I used the prompt 'or is it because you're not in love with me?' almost 3k Mattheo x fem!reader, fluff, with a hint of lewd thoughts

He knew you were off limits, a line he wasn't supposed to cross. She was A forbidden desire, and maybe that’s what made him want her so badly. Despite these feelings, ones that he couldn’t seem to suppress, Mattheo knew it would never end well if his best friend Theo found out he’d developed a crush on his bloody sister. He’d sure have him thrown off the astronomy tower before he could even so much as utter a word of apology. 

But how could he not, when she was always around, always taking up room in his head. Although she was a year younger than Mattheo and the others, she shared a close bond with her brother. Meaning she spent a majority of her time cooped up in Theo’s shared dorm. She fitted in so well, always making the group laugh, leaving Mattheo often with sore cheeks after spending time with her.

It’s not like Mattheo would ever act on these emotions, doubting she even thought about him past another brother-like figure. He cared for his relationship with Theo too much to do anything stupid. Though the temptations were there, whenever she would ask him a question, the sound of her voice like honey setting the butterflies in his stomach on a rampage to where he felt sick. Her smile was so captivating, drawing his attention towards her even on the gloomiest days.

Even away from her, his mind was constantly consumed by thoughts of her. He’d sit at home, running his hands through his hair. It was fucking him up. Doing his best to keep his feelings to himself, always aware of Theo’s eyes on him supervising. His threat constantly on repetition in his head, “If you ever even look at her past platonic, I’ll feed you to a horntail dragon”. His words drive him to act nonchalant around her, treating her like one of the boys. Like a friend who he had absolutely no interest in

Little did Mattheo know, Theo had repeated the near-to-the same speech to her. Theo knew what his friends were like, and while he appreciated the close relationship his sister shared with them, he didn’t want to see her get hurt. His protectiveness for her blinded his view on the way Mattheo seemed to truly care for her.

She, on the other hand, had assured her brother that he needed not to worry. Though she didn’t admit it to Theo, she was convinced Mattheo only saw her as his best friend's sister. His demeanour had always been apathetic, showing no other interest in her other than a friend. She was good at hiding her true feelings, but her heart felt contused, hating how he’d deftly crawled his way in. He’d probably done it to countless girls before her, and that fact stung her deeply. That was the hardest part about being around him, knowing she couldn't have him, and he'd never want her. 

It was currently Friday evening. The classic group of your brother's friends had been lounging in his dorm before you had challenged everyone, to who could create the best muggle fort. The room filled with tipsy laughter, everyone having passed around the fire whiskey Enzo and Blaise had sneaked in. The group was divided into two, with you being partnered with Blaise and Theo.

You had thought the three of you were doing well despite your disadvantage of one man down, Mattheo's absence due to another detention. But your optimism was dropping as you watched for the third time as the fort collapsed, with Blaise accusing Theo again of being a useless twat for misplacing the pegs.

Across from you, you eyed the way the others had worked, laughing as Daphne and Pansy practically ordered Draco and Enzo into working together well. Though you could see the firewhiskey in the boys' systems wasn’t helping, as they had started arguing about the best way to create the fort. You rolled your eyes, giggling at the stupidity of how the night had unfolded.

Taking another drink from the bottle, you clapped your hands and explained your game plan to your team, elucidating to them. “Right, you two idiots, I’m going to connect the fort together from the inside, while you two hold it together from the outside. Make sure you pass me a peg when I yell.” You eyed your brother, laughing slightly as he held his hands up defensively.

Mattheo made his way down the Slytherin dorm corridors, hearing the sounds of his friends vibrate off the walls. He shoved open the door, readily expecting the ruckus he was about to be greeted with a grin cracking. “Wassup fuck-”, his mouth dropped, brows raising as he takes in the current commotion happening in the crowded room.

His eyes are first drawn to the loud bickering occurring between Theo and Blaise. “How long have you been putting pegs on me!? That’s bloody why we can’t find any more!” Blaise complains, reaching around his back to take them off his shirt. Theo struggles to steady himself against the wall as he hurls over, cracking up, gripping his stomach, deep laughter exploding from him. Mattheo’s brows remained raised, watching in amusement as Blaise struggled, spinning around himself like a dog to pry off the pegs.

Mattheo’s gaze shifts as he steps further into the room, dropping his bag on the floor, the sounds of Draco complaining in the mirror. His hands moving in an aggressive action, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles he created during the fort building. Daphne sits beside him, filming his displeasure with her own enjoyment. Mattheo rolls his eyes at his cousin, losing his tie, as his attention is swept once again. This time by Pansy and Enzo, who seem to have moved on after the success of their fort by now throwing lollies into one another’s mouth.

He spins around again, his curiosity peaks as he wonders where the last member of the group is. His heart drops at the thought of you being absent from the night, the expectation of seeing you having pushed him through his boredom in detention. His curiosity is cured when the faint sound of your voice is heard calling out from inside your fort. “Would you two stop bickering and cooperate! I need another peg. I'm literally holding this thing together from the inside!” 

Mattheo chuckles deeply, being the only one to hear you over all the commotion. He takes a peg off Blaise’s back, bending down to pop his head into the fort. He grins at the awkward position you seemed to have put yourself in, finding it amusing and also stupid that you left the two most difficult sheets to be pegged together last. His eyes drift down your figure, taking in the cute loungewear set you had on as you puffed a piece of hair out of your face, sighing irritably.

He knows he should just hand you the peg, but his impulsive thoughts and the fact that you two were actually alone for once made him act. As he leans over your shoulder, reaching forward to peg the two sheets together, making the fort stabilize. Your body shivers slightly as his body retracts back, his curls brushing against your cheek, causing your body to warm up.

You let go of the sheets, turning now to face him, unaware of how close he still is to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in, leaving you unprepared for his now close presence. He shifts back, allowing reasonable space between you two, and you let out a small sigh out, brushing it off as just an act of kindness, nothing more than platonic. You smile casually, “Oh, glad you could finally join us. What was the detention for this time, Riddle?” You tilt your head slightly, teasing him.

His mouth pulls in a half smile before he rolls his eyes at your taunt, “This one wasn’t actually my fault, the guy was just asking for it. Fucking first years.” He scrunches his face in fake annoyance, watching you laugh at his grumble.

His eyes meet yours for a moment, taking in the way your face is lit up before he shifts his attention to the fort. He was quite surprised with the fact it was actually staying up considering how intoxicated the others actually seemed. “Let me guess, this was your idea Ace.”

You let out a light laugh, averting your eyes to the interior of the fort. Praying your cheeks were keeping their composure, feeling the rush of heat hit them at the nickname. You’d always had a soft spot for the nickname, though you doubted it was only being used in a friendly manner. Nodding your head to his question, your eyes still gazing at the roof of the fort, feeling something was missing. “Yeah, I thought it would be a fun competition. Not too late for you to help out though. I still wanna hang some fairy lights so we can see. Can you grab them for me?”

Mattheo nodded, lazily leaning only his upper body out the fort entrance, posing himself in a way that gave you a good view of his ass. Unsure if he had done it on purpose or not, you tried not to stare too long, but the way it curved nicely in his pants was making your mind run wild. As Mattheo stuck his head out the entrance, spotting the others in a discussion, catching the end of their conversation about sneaking into the kitchens. “Oi, grab me a pack of MnMs,” he calls out to them, as they head out the dorm door.

He spots the fairy lights reaching out his outstretched hand, grabbing them before retracting back into the fort. He twisted around, noticing the way your eyes darted around before meeting his gaze. His chest thumps at the realization that the two of you are alone, chuckling to himself that your brother must be too far gone to have noticed. He passes the tangled lights to you with a sly grin. “What did you do with these last? Tie someone up with them?”

You roll your eyes at his joke, your cheeks definitely blushing now, moving closer to grab a fistful of lights, slowly untangling them, “Ha ha”. Not bothering to actually reply more than that, the two of you work in a somewhat comfortable silence despite your heart practically pumping out of your chest. His hands work skillfully, untangling the knots down the string. He was clearly good with his fingers. You bit your lip as your mind started wandering off as lewd thoughts swarmed through it. Merlin, what would your brother think, if he knew the ideas Mattheo was unawarely filling yours with.

You spun around feeling your body relax now that you were no longer in his direct eyesight, as you squatted to peg the lights up around the fort. The sound of your friends returning allowed a breath to be exhaled, one you didn’t know you were holding. The temptation of just being alone with Mattheo was proving to be difficult.

You grinned, beaming at the finished success of the fort, the lights twinkled giving off a cozy and relaxed ambiance. Mattheo’s felt himself crack a grin at the appearance of your happiness. He’d never get over the way it made him feel as if sunshine was being shone brightly inside him. He patted your thigh gently, “Looks good Ace.”

Before you can react to his touch, the others burst through, chucking pillows and blankets in a multitude of places as they all arrange themselves. You move out of the way watching as Pansy sets up a projector for you all to watch a film.

As the movie started, you rotated quickly to find a spot, coincidently noticing only one left beside Mattheo. He had made sure not to make you uncomfortable, leaving enough space between you both, as you squeezed in beside him, laying on your stomach. Laying side by side, your shoulder grazing him as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt.

Throughout the movie, you couldn’t stop fiddling, slipping your thumb in and out of the makeshift hole you had made. Mattheo lay his hands out in front of him, his eyes drawn to the movement of your fingers fidgeting. He played with his own thumbs trying to focus on the screen, the urge to reach out and embrace your own hand in his.

Though with you distracted, he inched closer to you as stealthily as possible, as to not scare you away or draw any attention to himself. His eyes moved to check out for Theo, who was deeply engrossed in the movie, probably having taken an edible. His eyes moving back up to yours, as you offered him some MnMs, graciously accepting. 

Moving to put the chocolates back in the middle, you used the moment to peer at him, noticing him distracted by the movie. You were trying to act as normal as possible, feeling the way his heat flowed onto yours from the closeness of your bodies. The illumination of the lights were cast upon him, allowing you to make out his appearance under the soft glow of the fort.

Taking in the pretty colour of his mahogany eyes and the sweet shape of his rosy lips as he licked the chocolate off them. You couldn’t help but imagine what they’d be like to kiss. You had thought you were doing a good job of being discreet when Mattheo leans into you to whisper, “You're staring Ace.” His voice was quiet enough as to not capture the attention of the others.

You froze momentarily, your heart beating, not realising how close he was to your face. Before you whispered back, “You’ve got chocolate on your face.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you pray, your response was quick and clever enough to cover up that fact that you had been caught. You kept your eyes glued to his, trying to give off the appeal that you were being serious.

His face spreads into a cheeky grin, whispering back. “Sure, it’s not because you’re in love with me.” He had said it as a joke but realised as he watched your eyes widen that his whispering may have made it come across differently. His own brows scrunched in realisation as he makes out through the dim lights, a faint tint of redness creeping up your cheeks.

You averted your eyes back to the TV, your heart hammering as you repeated his words over in your head. You were panicking, your eyes darting over to your brother. If anyone else heard and saw your reaction, you totally would have given away your feelings for him. You chewed on your lip before you cursed at yourself, for now realizing by not replying you were making the situation look worse. You look back at him, the small amount of firewhiskey flowing through you. “That’s very cocky of you to assume, Riddle”.

Your initial reaction to his comment gave him the confidence to nudge your shoulder slightly. “Am I wrong though?” he challenged, keeping his voice low. Though he didn’t get to hear your response as Pansy shushed the two of you, making you both look away from one another.

You could hardly concentrate on the rest of the movie after the latest turn of events. Your brain was working on overdrive to calm your anxiety. Of course he’d be the one to make your brain melt, turning you back into your fourteen old-self reminding you of when you first met him. He must think you’re insane. He’s probably laughing it up that Theo’s sister is in love with him. You felt trapped, wanting to escape, feeling like a joke. Caught up in your own panicked nightmare, the soft feeling of fingers pulls your attention, brushing against your hand.

Mattheo had rolled his eyes at Pansy, shushing them, watching the way you averted your eyes from him. His mind was buzzing at the possibility of you actually being into him. He pinched himself, harder than he expected flicking his hand in pain before resting it beside yours. In the fort's darkness, he took the impulsive decision to rest his fingertips against yours. He made the action gentle, not wanting you to react badly.

His pinky brushed against yours, and his heartbeat quickened when he felt the sudden movement of your reciprocation. He glanced up at the others, noticing no one paying any mind to the two of you, moving his gaze back to you. A small smile rested on your lips, though your eyes were glued to the movie. He couldn’t help but risk taking it further and slid his fingers into yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

Mattheo’s mind filled with only thoughts of you as he blankly stared at the projector. Your hand in his felt like the most natural thing, and he couldn’t believe the way he was feeling. How could such a small action reduce him to feeling like a giddy schoolboy. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone's hand. As the movie progressed, the two of you didn’t break contact, fingers staying intertwined.

You finally turned to look at him, your eyes studying his sweet brown eyes. It was a quiet moment, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They knew they were crossing a line, treading into dangerous territories if Theo ever found out. But the emotions shining in Mattheo’s eyes, a sly smirk playing on his lips, inflamed a desire that you knew was too good to ignore.

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[winningmymind]

(wholesome twinyard ficlet) Andrew pats Aaron's head sometimes

It starts in their joint therapy session, when Bee has somehow managed to pull a truth from Aaron's screwed tight lips after switching up her tactics to get Andrew's other half to be more candid with his feelings.

"Is that really what you want?" The question hangs in the air, spoken from Andrew himself, his identical hazel eyes taking notice of Aaron's strained face and reddening ears.

They give it a few minutes. The silence having a chance to settle until broken between them. It's difficult for Aaron to process what he even said aloud. A deep yearning he never thought to let anyone know. Not even Katelyn. Let alone Andrew and Bee. Reminds him of stretching, how it can be both painful and relieving. He's experiencing both right now and it fucking sucks.

".......Yes." Aaron hisses, swallowing his pride, embracing embarrassment, and feels the rest of his skin flushing a pretty rosy color at the vulnerability of it all. He loathes this part of growing and healing.

If only he could turn invisible, or reverse his confession, anything to run away from confronting his barrier of repression head on. Aaron refuses to make eye contact with Andrew, latching his attention to his untied shoe and bouncing leg full of anxiety.

Bee simply smiles at the progress made in the last hour, fondly addressing both Minyards with a clap of her hands to draw their attention.

"Then it's settled. For this next step, Andrew, when comfortable, you are to pat Aaron on the head occasionally. Get used to touching him in a brotherly fashion. Give him the praise he needs when times get rough or just because you feel like being affectionate. How does that sound?"

It's sounds absurd in Aaron's opinion. Why oh why did today's session, and the previous one, and the one before that have to highlight on Aaron's touch starved coping mechanisms paralleling Andrew's touch aversion issues? Why did Bee have to point out that specific pattern of theirs? Why can't Bee be shit at her job?

He wouldn't know how to conduct himself if Andrew willingly ruffled his hair like how he saw other siblings, normal and loving siblings do on TV sitcoms/in the family picture movies/after Exy little leagues games when his fellow teammates had someone cheering them on and ready to take them home to celebrate wins/comfort any losses.

(Aaron had to walk by himself every time because Tilda never did the bare minimum of showing up to support no matter how many times he circled the dates on fridge calendar).

He still remembers the sting of his hair getting pulled, scalp screaming in protest, shock overtaking his system as Andrew demands if Drake got his filthy paws on him. In the midst of a dead body and fresh blood, a part of Aaron's brain had sent signals of irrational happiness that Andrew might possibly care for him deeply, and that he can count on one hand all the instances where he's felt his twin's frantic hands checking to see if he was hurt by someone Andrew meant to protect him from.

Bee waits patiently for Andrew's response on if he'll agree. Aaron, who is now nervously tapping a finger to his knee to keep from squirming in his seat, kind of hopes his twin rejects the task and they can never discuss this topic ever again.

"I'll do it." Andrew says after drinking the last remnants of his hot cocoa, his tone laced in boredom, but both Bee and Aaron are picking up on Andrew's subtle communication differences and know that the Foxes goalie finds this therapy challenge very interesting.

Aaron let's out the breath he didn't know he was holding in. He didn't expect Andrew to comply this easily. He learned not to expect anything from Andrew, really, so it surprises him how his honesty is getting him the desired results a teenaged Aaron, a toddler Aaron, any version of Aaron pre-college could only hopelessly wish for. Wish granted, it seems.

"Alright! We'll talk about it in next week's session then. Thank you both for sharing your time with me." Bee's smiles are too sweet after each dismissal and Aaron practically bolts out of her office to the car while Andrew's in absolutely no rush to leave, purposely taking his time walking.

Bee quietly wishes the twins good luck, happy they're taking the necessary and belated baby steps together that they once were robbed of at birth.

-------

"Dude. Just stay in bed. Seriously." Matt pleads, placing bottles of water, Gatorade, and a bowl of microwaved canned soup in a mug on the nightstand beside Aaron's bed.

"I... can... make... it." Aaron's throat is on fire. Body feels heavy, skin feels hot. He's shivering, though, enough to clatter his teeth like he's in a snowstorm. Fever's most likely setting in.

"You're sick." Matt dares to press a hand to Aaron's forehead and the touch feels nice, so reassuring. Aaron will take that to his grave. "Coach will understand. Trust."

"But-"

"Nuh-uh. You're useless like this. Plus, no one would appreciate you spreading your icky cooties."

"It's germs." Aaron corrects and Matt merely shakes his head, pulling out his phone, probably texting the group chat that Aaron's out of commission.

In seconds, Coach and Kevin have barred Aaron from coming to court (Coach because he worries about all his Foxes and Kevin because he needs Aaron fully functional for defense). There are a few well wishes from his teammates. Aaron has no idea if they're being polite or if they genuinely care. Neil texts him "don't die" and that's the closest form of concern Aaron will get from the mafioso brat.

Nicky's immediately calling and promising to nurse him to health once practice is over. Andrew doesn't text nor call. That pissed him off, but Aaron is used to it. Not being acknowledged. He drinks his liquids and forces himself to finish the soup because Matt unfortunately gives a damn about him, going above and beyond as a roommate. He can see why Neil likes the upperclassman.

Aaron took some medicine already, the kind that makes one drowsy, and Katelyn texts that she'll take notes for him should he miss class this week. If he's got a fever, then Aaron should just sleep in a light bedsheet. He's a creature of habit, however, and he rationalizes that the soft and thick covers are a better texture for him to wrap up in a cozy cocoon. Has Aaron believing he's being tenderly hugged and he burrows under them in poor judgement, ignoring how uncomfortably sweaty he's getting.

When he wakes up some time later, not understanding how he fell asleep in the first place, mind all dazed, Andrew is there in his dorm. So is Nicky, but Aaron can only focus on Andrew's glaringly unexpected presence.

"My baby!" Nicky is dramatic as always. Mother henning like no other like he said he would.

Andrew isn't standing too far away from the bed, leaning against the door threshold, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. Eyes on Aaron.

"Where's your shadow?" Aaron pants out the question, fatigue beating his ass, and apparently invoking Neil's whereabouts must be a curse because he unintentionally summons a nasty coughing fit.

"Drink! Aaron! Drink!" Nicky presses a bottle to Aaron's lips while patting his back soothingly.

Andrew intently watches Aaron's body loosen at Nicky's gentle touch, tense muscles relaxing instantly. He lets Aaron's coughing subside before answering. "Didn't want to risk getting sick. Sends his regards."

Aaron would laugh if he had the energy and if his throat wasn't against him. Andrew produces a big bag of throat lozenges from thin air it seems and tosses it in Aaron's lap. It's the flavor Aaron likes the most be it gum, chapstick, candy: cherry. Why the fuck does Neil "Always Lying Little Shit" Josten know that?!

"You need to change out of these sweaty clothes, Aaron. I'll go get you my hoodie. The one you like to steal from me. I'll be right back!" Nicky darts out the door.

Andrew lifts a brow to Aaron. Aaron interprets that as Andrew being curious about the significance of Nicky's hoodie. It's a story, an untold bond that Aaron and Nicky share that Andrew isn't privy to. Maybe, he's being immature, but Aaron won't tell Andrew shit if he's not asked. Let his twin stew in unsaid inquiries. Aaron can be mysterious too. He's eager for Nicky to return, choosing to distract himself from Andrew's piercing gaze and patiently wait by recalling why he's needy of his cousin's hoodie.

Whenever Aaron's sick (which is rare these days since Andrew became a constant in his life) he wears one of Nicky's hoodies. It started when he was much younger, a consistent sickly child. His mom barely cared to check up on him and Nicky had forgotten to take some of his clothes when Luther had the Hemmicks stay over Tilda's for religious holiday dinners as a family. Aaron had slipped one of the forgotten hoodies on and felt engulfed in warmness, his mind pretending that he was in Nicky's welcoming arms, cradled and cooed over, feeling loved for a brief moment in the chaos when Tilda preferred dosing on medicine meant for the improvement of Aaron's health.

Nicky leaving means Aaron and Andrew are alone with each other. Aaron wouldn't mind if he weren't weak right now. He struggles to open the lozenges, popping one in his mouth to suck on after numerous tries. Andrew still leans on the threshold, watching him. Aaron snuggles into the covers more like it's a shield from all his troubles.

"What do you have?" Andrew's straight to the point.

"Fever." Aaron replies.

"To break a fever you need to stay cool." Andrew steps away from the threshold, steps closer to the bed. "Ditch the covers. Bedsheets are better."

Aaron defensively tugs the covers more around his body. "I like it." As if that's any decent excuse.

By now, Andrew's standing next to Aaron's sitting form. He studies how ruddy Aaron's face is, the damp hair stuck to his forehead. In one swift move, Andrew rips the covers off Aaron. He sees his stubborn twin shout in protest while being drenched in sticky sweat, t-shirt clinging like a second skin.

"No more of this." Andrew orders, pointing at the covers swathing Aaron and Aaron scowls.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"This isn't up for debate."

Before Aaron could spit out another retort, upset that his brother is right, and that he should listen, and that he knows better as a pre-med student but since it's Andrew bossing him around with piss poor bedside manner it triggers Aaron's obstinacy...

Words die on his tongue the moment Andrew's palm lies flat atop Aaron's head.

Oh. He's doing Bee's task. Andrew is patting Aaron. He's delicately touching Aaron in such a subduing way.

"Bedsheets only until it breaks, Aaron." Andrew reiterates, expression unchanging as Aaron's jaw drops and eyes widen owlishly. It's like he's one of those fierce wild animals that gets pet for the first time and is paralyzed by the foreign sensation.

"....Okay." Aaron is quelled effortlessly, chest warm, threat of a smile on his lips, and he hates that.

"Hmm." Andrew still pats Aaron on the head for a long time, the only indication he's not as impassive as he looks is the glint in his matching hazel eyes, something cooking in his mind with this new information.

Aaron's eyes get half-lidded, from the medicine, his fever, or the endorphins and serotonin from Andrew's hand in his hair - he has no idea. When it's clear Nicky's coming back by the sound of his loud footsteps, Andrew pulls his hand away and Aaron wished their cousin stayed away a little longer so he could enjoy the affection more.

"Here ya go!" Nicky holds up the hoodie proudly, cluelessly interrupting the twins building a bridge they didn't know they needed, and Aaron peels off his soaked shirt to trade for the hoodie.

"I'll go make you food. A Nicky Hemmick special that'll knockout the cooties lickety-split!"

He's gone again. Aaron is drowning in the hoodie, sleeves floppy, and he looks smaller than he really is. Andrew wordlessly thumbs the material, nodding in approval that it's thin enough and won't overheat Aaron should he sleep in the bedsheets.

"Rest." Andrew lingers, making certain Aaron lays back down and closes his eyes, on the verge of losing consciousness.

Aaron is halfway into dreamland, breathing slowing and thoughts escaping. He thinks he feels a featherlight stroking on his forehead that threads through his hair and contentedly sighs.

-------

It becomes a thing. Andrew patting Aaron's head at random.

Aaron is healthy. Kevin barks game plays at him and Aaron rolls his eyes. Neil teases him for having a fragile immune system and Aaron takes pleasure exaggeratingly coughing in his face. Nicky is being extra and Aaron has to shame him to calm it down.

Andrew acts the same towards him, sans the head pats.

"When did this happen?" Neil is so nosy.

"None of your business!" Aaron growls, and his anger is less effective when Andrew is disheveling his hair to the point that Aaron is positive it'll look like he's having a bad hair day.

"I think it's cute." Nicky beams, always a cheerleader for the twins to get along.

"Who cares?" Kevin holds a tray of the most unappetizing glasses of protein shakes. "Stop stalling and drink these."

"Uh, no freaking way." Neil scrunches his nose. "No one told you to make that."

"Our poor blender suffered for this concoction?" Nicky faux cries.

"It has banana in it." Kevin fails to persuade.

Aaron leans into Andrew's palm some more, impressed with himself for not feeling weird about accepting Andrew's affection in front of their friends. It's a big change for Andrew, too, being physically expressive to Aaron. They only do this when alone or with the Monsters, not when the rest of the Foxes can witness.

Nicky and Kevin are busy arguing over the ethics of milkshakes being sugary and tasty or protein fueled and disgusting. Neil grew bored and sets his sights on Aaron.

"Andrew's been patting your head for five minutes straight. Someone's clingy." Neil can choke and die, bastard.

Instead of his usual rise at the bait, Aaron takes a page from Bee to switch tactics, his body too relaxed to be argumentative.

"Don't be jealous." He imitates Bee's calm and collected voice, smirking smugly at Neil's offended face.

"I'm not-"

"Ooh, shots fired!" Nicky, able to sniff drama like a bloodhound, joyously applauds.

"Shut up, Nicky!"

"I'm just saying."

"Say less, then."

"Excuse me! I didn't make these shakes for them to be wasted!"

"Do you want to be killed, Kevin?"

-------

Bee's office still irritates Aaron.

"How was it?"

Andrew sips his hot cocoa. Aaron picks at a loose thread on his jeans.

"It went well, I suppose."

"How do you know that?" Aaron glares at her and she smiles sweetly.

"Well, you aren't complaining. That's a key indicator."

Aaron huffs and crosses his arms. Andrew never looks at Aaron. He looks at Bee.

"It was nice." He looks away from Bee, back to sipping hot cocoa.

Aaron snaps his head at Andrew, surprised. Bee furiously jots notes in her pad, her face pleased.

"Aaron? Was it nice for you, too?"

He hesitates, eyes still on Andrew. Aaron doesn't look at Bee. "....Yeah."

The session ends and they leave for the car. Neither talk. Aaron stares out the window. He practices on autopilot. He cracks open his textbooks and puts on background noise. His routine is back to normal.

And when he stresses over an upcoming test that Katelyn can't comfort him in, or Matt snitches to Neil that Aaron woke up from another nightmare from past traumas, or if he's passed out from exhaustion on the couch from overstimulation...

Andrew comes by somehow in the nick of time and pats him on the head and it's almost like what Aaron saw between siblings on TV/in the movies/after Exy little league games. He never knows when it's coming, but when it does, Aaron is internally over the moon about it.

Each time Andrew reaches out for him, Aaron sways into it, and pretends, perhaps even believes, it's his twin's way of subtly saying "good job/you're wanted/I love you."

After all, Aaron's training to be a doctor, and doctors have to learn how to read people and figure out the facts from fiction. So, Aaron figures it out.

Andrew's actions speak louder than words and Aaron's finally listening to them.

[twstfanblog]

I am scrambling for a topic, hn...

Maybe Yuu talks about how they went about naming the planets in her world to the Ignihyde boys?

YuuTalks! Explaining the Planet Names

A/N: Some quick edits I didn't realize I didn't do. Sorry!

"What a lovely turnout."

Idia sat curled up in a section of the bench seating, Ortho sitting beside him in the otherwise empty classroom.

Giggling, Ortho tilted his head as he read over the chalkboard, "Most of our friends have made the connection that if one of your events isn't mandatory, it's in their best interest to not attend. But, your world's space exploration far exceeds our own. So, I wish to hear more about the advancements from your home!"

"I'm just here to make sure you two don't start making blueprints for weapons again..." Idia mumbled, glaring over the tablet he clutched to his face.

"Fuck you. Anyway, welcome to YuuTalks! A fun little thing I've decided to do to explain topics from my world to you poor little rat boys."

Yuu clicks a button on the master remote, sending the room into darkness and illuminating the chalkboard from the overhead projector. Smiling, Yuu gestured to the title, "YuuTalks! How We Named the Planets!"

Ortho's eyes widened, already recording the presentation and leaning forward in rapt attention, "You have multiple planets!?"

"Well...We don't live on multiple planets. But we've been aware of them since ancient civilizations took notice of the stars. Seeing how we can see most of them with the naked eye..." Yuu erased the board, drawing several symbols in chalk.

Idia quirked a brow, able to recognize a few symbols. Two were gender emblems, but another two were logos he had seen in his own family registry.

Yuu made a final symbol in the beginning of the line, a circle with a single dot in the center, "I'm gonna make this a game-"

"Oh no-"

"Shut up, this'll be fun. The planet names that I was taught were actually based on Greco-Roman astrology. Which makes the fact that only you guys showed up so fucking  funny to me."

"Greco-Roman...Ah! Those are your world's equivalents of the Valley of Woe and the Union of Mourning, Prefect Yuu?"

"Yep! The Romans basically ate Greek culture and passed it off as their own once Greece fell. But then they renamed a bunch of stuff to piss me off."

Idia frowned, though more interested than before, "I really doubt that's why they did it-"

"Shut up. It totally was. BUT! Since you guys are the smartest boys on campus about who these planets were named after. I'm going to describe the planet and you will guess who its namesake is."

Ortho clapped his hands, internally opening a search window while Idia himself poised his hands over his tablet.

He smirks, throwing Yuu a subtle challenging stare, "Bring it."

Yuu turns, pointing to the first symbol in the lineup, "First up, a freebie. This is the symbol for the Sun. It is the star at the center of our solar system, the gravitational pull dragging us and our planetary brethren behind it as we all go hurtling in space together. Now-...Yes, Ortho?"

Ortho turned the flashing lights of his arm off, putting it back down to the desk, "Was the Sun not named in the same fashion as the other planets?"

"It was. This is a freebie, Ortho. Trust me the pattern is quick to pick up and then I will fuck you over later. But, 'Sun' is from an old English — Queenian — word 'sunne' which itself is from a Proto-Germanic — Fuck, um...Central Shaftian — word 'Sunnōn'. But the most common name was Sol, after the Roman sun god."

Idia was actually taking notes, brow pinching at the information, "Wait...I'm not gonna try to say her name, but you said it was a goddess of the sun* when you told me about the gods you pay respect to."

Ortho tilts his head, "I thought it was the Star Lord, Lord of the Solar Palace?"

"The wha-"

"Ok. Quick crash course. My planet has many religions. Which, if I'm remembering what Lilia and Trein have told me, doesn't really happen here. You guys have more like...'Icons of Concepts' compared to whole ways of life based around group beliefs. But MOVING ON-"

"So wait. You said the Roman god. But these names are based on Greco-Roman? Where's the Greek? Are they taking turns?"

Ortho raised his hand again, lights flaring up to be noticed more easily in the dark, "What was the Greek name for Sol, Prefect Yuu?"

"Thank you for raising your hand, Ortho. The Greek equivalent to Sol was Helios, persona of the sun-"

"OOOOOOOOOOOO!" Idia’s eyes widened, an almost giddy vibe taking over as he tapped his tablet, "Helios was an Elden mage who pioneered fire magics."

Ortho nodded his head, "He created a large number of fire spell basics that we still use today! He died via immolation, so the fact your world saw him as a persona of the sun itself is fascinating!"

"Yeah, that's a word for it. Ok, let's start round one. The first planet in the solar lineup is currently the smallest planet. It's also the closest to the Sun, meaning it makes a full trip in only 88 days compared to my world's 365-ish days."

"Aaaa. So quick..." Ortho and Idia both took notes before whispering as to who they believed the planet to be named after. Idia had proposed the symbols would be helpful, seeing how Helios in his magical studies was the first to spell weave using archaic magic circles.

"Our worlds' ancient histories are weirdly closely linked. I think symbols were some of the things that were crossed over, like the stories about the Great Seven and such..."

"True...Then..." Ortho raised his hand again, thankfully without the blinking lights and called out when Yuu nodded, "Was this planet named for Hermes?"

"Correct! Romanized to Mercury, the planet is named after the God of travelers and communication."

Ortho giggled, "Because it's so fast!"

"Next planet." Yuu tapped the female symbol, "Second from the sun, yet the hottest planet in our system. It's covered in clouds of sulfuric acid and is literally the landscape of actual hell on the surface. But from the view of our world, it was the most beautiful star in the sky..."

"Hmmm...Maybe Eris? History did paint her as a rather malicious trickster, but she was known to be quite beautiful..." Ortho tapped at the desk, mentally reviewing the overwhelmingly large records of Woe and Mourning historical figures.

"It does sound like a pretty horrific status of a planet...pretty from afar, but a toxic environment up close- It's Aphrodite."

The laugh Yuu let out was short and barely contained. She smiles, looking at Idia with a head tilt, "What made you come to that conclusion?"

"Ah…A few hundred years ago, we found  what we think were Aprodite's journals. She wasn't much of a mage, but she did dabble heavily in potion crafting. The research she had put into her potions was interesting enough to be published as a scientific memoir. While most of it was her recounting on the properties of plants and other magic objects, she was also ripping on her family viciously..."

"She recounted several ways she's cheated on her husband..."

Yuu laughed harder, "Messy bitch, I love her. Yes. Aphrodite, Romanized to Venus, is the name of the planet. Venus is also called my planet's twin, since they're roughly the same size. Now skipping to the fourth planet-"

Humming under his breath, Ortho's brows creased but he skipped over the third info section in his notes, "We're skipping your planet, Prefect Yuu?"

"If you guys do well on the others, you can guess my planet's name." Yuu taps at the male symbol on the board, "Known as the little red planet, it's the planet we've studied the most. We've sent multiple explorer robots up there and have learned the planet is red because its soil is rich in iron. In fact, it's so red that it's a key naming feature in every culture that discovered the planet."

Idia hummed under his breath, scrolling through the list of historical figures linked to his homeland, "Little and red, huh..."

Ortho perked up and yelled, "Ares!"

"Ding ding ding!" Yuu tapped the symbol, "Ares, the god of war,  is the namesake of the little red planet. Romanized to Mars!"

"How'd you guess that Ortho?"

"Do you not remember the legend? Ares and Aphrodite had an affair for many years. During one such meeting, Aphrodite's husband came home. And since he knew what Ares looked like, she poured what was possibly the first draft of a color-changing potion over his head. Unfortunately, it was permanent as Ares remained red for the rest of his days..."

"We just named it because to the Greeks it looked blood-soaked. Your legend is cuter. Now," Yuu taps the next symbol, a stylized '4', "This is the fifth planet. Big as fuck, like insanely big, too big. Like, 13,000 of my planet can fit in this fucker."

"That is big…"

"That's cracked stats big..."

"We also sent a satellite up there named after his wife since a bunch of the moons are named after his lovers."

Ortho and Idia looked at each other, eyes glancing back to Yuu as Ortho asked, "Is that...a cute thing?"

"More along the lines of hilarious."

Idia sighed, "It's Zeus."

"Damn, say it with a bit more hope in your soul at least."

"I don't wanna talk about that asshole..."

Yuu held up her hands, nodding her head, "Fair. But, yes, the fifth planet is named after Zeus, romanized to Jupiter, the big daddy king of the gods."

"Don't...call him that..."

Ortho giggled, "You named a satellite after Hera and sent it to revolve around him?"

"The Romans called her Juno, but yeah, it's funny. Now...This one might be tough because they are not...the same person this time? But are? It's weird."

Yuu taps the next symbol, a stylized 'h', "The second largest planet in our solar system, after the big daddy king-"

"Don't call him that!?"

"Fine. The second largest after Jupiter, it's known for its dazzling outer rings made up of rock and ice. It also has the most moons of any planet."

"Oh? Quick query, Prefect Yuu. What are the moons of the other planets?"

"Well, Mercury and Venus don't have moons. My planet has one moon. Mars has two, Deimos and Phobos named after Ares’ sons. Jupiter has...95 that we know about? Or at the very least ones that are recognized as moons. And...the planet we're talking about now has...274-"

Idia’s eyes widened, even Ortho pulled back in surprise, "What, like, all at once!?"

"We think Jupiter has 600 we just haven't categorized all of them...Jupiter is so fucking big, it's annoying to think about..."

"What...what did you even name them all? At some point, you have to start using numbers instead..." Ortho tilted his head, brows creased in thought.

"Well, the biggest moon is named Titan..."

Idia groaned, "Just tell us, there's...there's too many titans to guess from if the themeing is following what I think it is. And you're saying there's 274 moons? We'll be here all afternoon."

"Well...Saturn is the Roman equivalent of Cronus-"

Both Ortho and Idia jumped back in their seats even more, Idia nearly scrambling backwards to the desks behind him, "Cronus!?"

"Damn...What did he do here? In my world he like...castrated his father and ate five of his children."

"By the Design...I don't...Cronus is theorized to be the first incident of an overblot? It's the only conclusion we can make from what few written accounts of the event we've found. He seemingly went mad one day and attempted to murder his wife and children."

Idia tapped at his tablet, "Was he known as a god in your world? I think after...the incident, his children tried to erase him from history with varying results."

"Uh...varying answer. He was worshipped, but nowhere near as much as his children were. There was kind of a soft spoken respect to him? But he wasn't really worshipped until he was romanized into a god of agriculture."

Ortho squints his eyes, "Agriculture?"

"You know...because of the sickle?"

"...You mean his murder weapon!?"

"Moving on." Yuu turned back to the board, tapping the next symbol, a hybrid of the Sun and Mars symbols mashed together. "We actually only discovered this planet and the rest in the past few hundred years! It and other planets were only theorized to exist, but the technology just couldn't find them yet."

Idia raised his hand, "I wanna keep talking about the fact your world had the legend of a man maiming his father and cannibalizing his children, and they were just cool with him???"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh. This planet has its own iconic set of rings and is actually tilted by 90°. Plus, it's the only planet named after a Greek god instead of Roman. It has fourteen moons, all named after book characters, giving them the title of the 'Literary Moons'."

Ortho hummed, doing brief math in his head before speaking, "So...it rotates normally, but its north and south poles are pointed facing the sun directly?"

Idia let out a terrified peep, "That's way too much sunlight! Wait...how long does daylight last then? If a whole hemisphere is looking right in the crosshairs of the sun?"

"Like 40 years."

"I'd kill myself."

Laughing, Yuu spoke, "It's kind of our fault? The theory is that an object the size of my planet hit it and caused it to tilt."

Idia mumbled under his breath, "Ruining stuff for everyone else is kind of the thing of your world, huh?"

"May we have another hint, Prefect Yuu?"

"Hmmmm...This planet is named after the Greek personification of the sky."

Ortho tilts his head, thinking over his options, "Is it...Ouranos?"

"I'll give you the win." Yuu wrote on the blackboard, giggling, "Uranus is what the planet was called in the end. Here's how we spelled it."

...

"...Prefect Yuu-"

"I know."

Idia held his hand over his mouth, "That's...so disrespectful...Why did you spell it like that...?"

"Because scientists forget at times that children are monsters. Next planet, because I wanna finish and get lunch."

Glancing at the clock, Ortho mused, "It has been a bit since we started."

Yuu tapped the next symbol, very clearly a trident, “This planet-”

Idia and Ortho both spoke, “Poseidon.”

“Let me…fucking speak?”

Idia gestured toward the board, glaring at Yuu in annoyance, “Its symbol is a trident. You’d have to be a noob of the highest degree to not know the symbol of the first Mer-King.”

“Fuck you, I’m still talking. Since it’s so far away, it’s basically a giant ball of ice with dense clouds over its surface. Said clouds were believed to give it an appearance of water though that has been disproven. It has sixteen known moons, all named after lesser sea gods such as Nereid and Triton.”

Idia called out, voice dripping heavily in a sarcastic tone, “Wow, more water-centered historical figures. How could I have not thought it was Poseidon?”

“Shut up, it's called Neptune and your knees are forfeit when we leave this room.” Slapping the board, Yuu nods her head toward the last symbol, “Guess it, you cunt.”

Idia opened his mouth but gave pause, humming as he studied the symbol closer.

Ortho tilted his head, “Is that a ‘G’?

“Ortho, does this look like a G?”

“Yes! It looks like a confused lowercase G!” At Yuu's continued silence, Idia gestured to the board, “Is it!?”

“No! You fucking dumbass- It was the smallest planet of our solar system until it got so unpopular with the scientific community that they declassified it as a planet. Can you guess who this one is named after? Huh? Can you guess, Idia?”

“...That's fucked up and mean.” Idia tapped at his tablet, shrinking back when Yuu leaned over the desk to continue taunting him.

“No, go on say it. Who is the little bitch planet named after that went on to have little bitch descendants?”

Ortho spoke up, the sadness clear in his tone as he looked at the board, “Was it really so disliked…?”

Yuu turns to Ortho, tone softer and all of her hostility gone, “No, it was declassified because after like…80 years of continued study and advancements in telescopes, scientists found that Pluto, romanized from Hades, didn't really…planet right?”

Idia spoke, “How does it not ‘planet’ well?”

“Well, for one, it's small. Like smaller than my planet's moon, small. Pluto's moon is actually only like half its size. And it doesn't orbit properly. It's like riding on Neptune's orbit sometimes. Plus its apparently on a fucking orbital angle different from the other planets, so that's making it weird too.”

Ortho leaned his head against Yuu’s shoulder, playing up his sadness and tapping his fingers together, “Did people really not like it…?”

Yuu sighed, patting Ortho on the head before backing away from the desk, “Nah. From what I remember people were pretty pissed that Pluto lost its status. They just kind of claim its a planet and are debating about it still.”

“Aw…That's nice. So Pluto is very loved in your world?” Ortho's eyes were shining, a clear contrast to Idia’s guarded and half hidden glare.

Rolling her eyes, Yuu smiles, “Yeah. We love that funky little planet. Oh! I have to show you guys a song about Pluto, I think you'd both like it.”

“We'll see about that…” Idia mumbled, glancing at the clock before sighing, “Hey. Did you still…want to do lunch…?”

“Yeah. I really don't even wanna try to find my main trio of braincells right now. So you two get to have me as a lunch date.”

“Oh goody…”

“Shut up, you fucking offered.”

“Wait! Prefect Yuu, you haven't told us your planet's name yet. I want to know.”

“I mean…I've said it before. You know the stuff I'd say when you guys first met me? ‘What on Earth?’ ‘Earth to dipshit.’ ‘Salt of the Earth.’ Stuff like that.”

“...It's Earth?”

“Yep.”

“But…but that's so boring, Prefect Yuu! That just means dirt!”

Yuu couldn't help but chuckle, “And our moon is named Moon.”

Idia huffed, already standing from his seat as Ortho remained fuming in his, “Talk about dropping the ball in the writers room. It's like playing an MMO with an immersive cast of high fantasy names only to find an NPC named Kyle.”

“Yeah…we didn't really see ourselves as a body in the universe…but the other names for Earth and our moon are actually Terra and Luna.”

“Doesn't Luna-”

“Yes, Luna just means Moon. Romanized from the Moon persona, Selene. And Terra is Romanized from the Greek Earth persona, Gaia.”

Both Idia and Ortho freeze, both looking at Yuu with wide eyes.

“...What?”

Idia coughed briefly into his fist, his mouth suddenly dry as his brain raced with theories and ways to soft launch questions to his parents, “Gaea is the name of our Planet…”

“...Huh.” Yuu clicked the remote, holding the door open as the room fell into complete darkness, “It's always kinda weird how close our worlds seem…”

Idia nodded, following behind Yuu and Ortho to the cafeteria, “You're telling me…”

Idia is talking about Xi He of Chinese mythos. Ortho follows up by referring to Tai Yang Xing Jun. She hasn't actually explained this to them, though.

[yanyandam]

(I just started following you and LOVE your work so far and… AHHH ITS AMAZING *chefs kiss*)

I was wondering if i could make a request JUST PURE FLUFF of a fic with Sanzu but the happy ending Sanzu u know how in the happy ending he becomes a pro YouTube with his sister?? Well do u think you could do Sanzu x painter reader with a big artistic mind??? Like where shes pregnant with his kid and having all these emotions making her artistic mind explode and sanzu is just posting lives/videos/pics reading out loud all the positive comments his fans are saying about her art though her 9 months pregnancy. Then going to a Timeskip where there 5-10 years old son/daughter (your pick) finds the old paintings there mom did while pregnant with them and asks sanzu about it to which he shows all the lives/videos/pics of reader painting and when pregnant and when reader comes backs from whatever she was doing she’s gets surprised to see their kid and sanzu painting together on a livestream

(AHHH sorry that’s its long and probably confusing you don’t have to do it if u don’t want to but it would be nice to see what you do with this NO PRESSURE PLEASE DONT FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO DO IT again LOVE your work <3)

YOOO omg this was so detailed I had to recheck stuff just to be sure I didn't misunderstand anything. HERE. It isn't very long but I hope you like it looove. LOVE YAA thanks for the support

SANZU X PAINTER!FEM!READER

Sanzu met her at school.

He barely showed up to class, maybe once a month, tops, just enough to keep the school off his back and say he “tried.” Just enough so the year wouldn’t be a total loss. Even he knew you had to fake it a little to keep the system from kicking you out too fast. Unlucky for him, they sat him next to the weird girl. The one who looked like she was in love with her pencils. Just her damn pencils. She was hunched over the desk like it was her altar, scribbling away while the math teacher's droning voice echoed through the room like static.

Haruchiyo stared at her sideways. She didn’t look up once. The table beneath her arms was covered in marks, doodles, notes written in tiny, loopy handwriting. All of it cluttered the desk like graffiti. It made his skin crawl. He hated mess. He really hated it when people treated trash like art. Faking interest in the lesson for a second, he clicked his tongue, leaned in a bit, and growled, “The fuck are you doing? Stop drawing on the table. That shit’s disgusting.”

She didn’t even flinch. Just kept sketching calmly, like his voice was background noise. And then, without looking at him: “Is it ugly?”

He blinked. “What?” She glanced at him for the first time. Her eyes were strange. Soft, but unreadable. Like foggy glass. “If it’s beautiful, it decorates. If it’s ugly, it dirties. So?” she asked, voice steady. “Which is it?”

Sanzu frowned, confused and irritated. “What the hell kind of logic is that?” She gave a little shrug, barely a movement. Like she didn’t care about his answer. He reached out and snatched the pencil from her hand with a swift motion, sharp like a slap. “Stop,” he snapped, voice low and venom-laced. “I fucking hate filthy shit.”

She didn’t fight back. Her hand just hovered mid-air for a second before resting flat on the desk again. She didn’t even look mad. No glare. No offense taken. “You’re not gonna grab it back?” he muttered, annoyed by her indifference.

“You’re not gonna give it back,” she replied. And finally, she looked at him, really looked. Not with fear. Not with challenge. Just this weird, distant calm like she was watching him from somewhere far away, even though they were just inches apart. “You don’t like dirty things,” she said quietly.

“No shit.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” she answered simply. “Just wondering what name I’ll write when I draw”

“You don’t need to know it,” he muttered.

She nodded.

—

“What the fuck is that?” he muttered, barely glancing at it. Sanzu sat on the cracked cement bench like it had insulted him. That’s when she walked up to him, again. He clocked her in his periphery, sketchbook clutched in her hand like it was sacred scripture. Without a word, she stood in front of him and held out a folded sheet.

“You,” she answered, plain as day.

His brows pinched together as he snatched the paper from her hand, unfolding it with the delicacy of a guy who never touched anything carefully. The drawing stared back at him: himself, sitting right where he was now, on that same busted bench. It was raw, a little messy, but there was something alive in the lines. Almost too alive. He blinked. “Yeah, I noticed it’s me. It’s also... not bad. But still, what the fuck.”

She tilted her head slightly. “I hope to revive some form of color in the depths of your dull eyes.”

He stared at her. “Stop speaking gibberish.”

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. For a second, neither of them spoke. Just the quiet hum of distant chatter and the occasional bird screaming like it wanted to join a gang. Then she looked at him, chin resting lightly in her hand. “Don’t you ever want to trade your gloomy life for something a little less... serious?”

His eyes narrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You always look mad. Even when you’re with your weird friend who looks like a vampire.”

“Wait—Baji? Are you spying on me?”

“A little,” she said, deadpan. “But it was unintentional. A coincidence.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Maybe. But so are you.”

Sanzu paused, gave her a sideways glance, then snorted. It wasn’t a laugh, but it was close enough to make her smile. “You’re fucking strange,” he muttered.

“Takes one to know one.”

Another beat passed. He looked down at the drawing again. It really was him, except maybe not the version he saw in the mirror. There was a softness in the sketch, tucked behind the sharp angles and tense posture. It made him uncomfortable. Like she saw something he didn’t want her to. “You seriously draw people all the time?”

“Not always. Just when something about them gets stuck in my head.”

Sanzu raised a brow. “So I’m stuck in your head now?”

She turned her eyes toward the sky. “A little. But it was unintentional. A coincidence.”

He huffed. But he didn’t hand the drawing back. He folded it neatly instead, stuffing it into the inside pocket of his jacket. A few kids walked by in the distance, laughing way too loud. The bell rang faintly from the building behind them. Sanzu didn’t move. Neither did she. “You should stop watching me,” he said finally, voice quieter.

“I probably won’t.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the bench like the world was too much to carry today. She pulled a small pencil from behind her ear and scribbled something tiny in her sketchbook. He didn’t ask what. He didn’t want to know. He just let her stay there, quietly, drawing lines around the edges of a kid with cracked knuckles and a thousand things he couldn’t name sitting in his chest.

“Here. My number.” She had actually cribbled her number with flowers around it.

Sanzu smiled.

Ever since that bench moment, something shifted. They didn’t plan to see each other again, but somehow it kept happening. Her sketchbook open while he laid back on the grass, eyes closed but fully listening. Sometimes they didn’t even talk, just existed near each other, comfortable in the quiet. Sanzu wasn’t the type to let people in, not even halfway, but she slipped through the cracks like sunlight through blinds. He didn't really hate it. But kind of.

He hated the way her presence made the silence less heavy. How she called out his bullshit without flinching. How she once sketched Mikey like it was nothing and handed it to him saying, “He looks like he bites people for fun,” and Sanzu laughed, genuinely did. How she remembered his favorite brand of cheesecakes and once stole a pack for him like it was an art form.

He caught feelings.

It crept up on him like a bad habit. One second he was making fun of the way she tied her shoelaces, the next he was staring at her lips mid-sentence, wondering what they’d taste like. Sanzu didn’t know how to confess. He’d never done that shit before. He didn’t even know if she liked anyone at all. But his dumbass heart wouldn’t shut up, so he did the only thing that came to mind.

He drew her.

Terribly.

He used a blue pen he found in his jacket pocket and one of those lined notebook pages that were already kinda crumpled. The result looked like a cross between a haunted doll and a criminal sketch, but he was proud of it. Sort of. So he waited after class one day, slipping the paper onto her desk like it was evidence of a crime. She raised an eyebrow when she saw it. “What’s this?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “You draw me all the time. Fair’s fair.”

She unfolded the paper slowly, curiosity in her eyes… and then she burst out laughing. Like, really laughing. Ugly, loud, head-thrown-back kind of laughter. “What the hell is this?! You made me look like I survived a house fire!”

Sanzu scowled, yanking the paper back. “It’s abstract, alright?! It’s art.”

She was still laughing, eyes glistening, tears threatening to fall. “This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful.”

He looked at her for a second, how happy she looked, how effortlessly she took the moment and turned it into something soft, and it stung in a weird, addictive way. “I like you,” he mumbled.

She blinked, catching her breath. “Because I laughed at your drawing?”

“No,” he said, shoving the paper back toward her. “Because you make me feel like I can breathe.” That shut her up. But the smile stayed.

—

Years later, no one could’ve guessed that the boy who used to barely talk, always looking like he had his two feet in apathy, would become a YouTuber. And not just any YouTuber. Sanzu & Senju, the chaotic sibling duo that somehow managed to rack up millions of views. Their content was just so entertaining and people loved them (not me though I clicked on the dislike button every time). Senju was the energetic heart of it. Sanzu was the wild card, sarcastic and oddly charming, with a stoic façade that always looked a little dangerous. And Takeomi was their not-so-known manager!

Their fans didn’t know much about his personal life. That was the way he liked it. Especially when it came to her.

She had become something of a legend in her own right: a professional painter, a digital artist, a graphist with a cult following in the design world. She never posted her face. Only her work. Abstract colors, twisted realism, raw emotion on digital canvases. She was the kind of artist that made people feel things.

And yeah, they were together.

Had been for a while, actually. Since those high school days when she mocked his terrible drawing and then cried laughing when he confessed with it. But she was never in the videos. Not once. No background glimpse, no tagged hand on Instagram, no anonymous voice off-camera.

Not because he was ashamed. Far from it. Sanzu just didn’t want to share her with the world.

She was his peace. His color. His most private form of joy in a life that had been built too publicly. Letting the internet chew on her identity felt like betrayal. Still, that didn’t stop her from helping him every step of the way. When the “Draw My Life” trend exploded in 2015, Senju begged him to do one. Sanzu wasn’t the type to get sentimental, but she insisted. And when he agreed, it was her who stayed up with him all night in their cramped apartment, sketching frames on the whiteboard, guiding his story out of him with soft encouragements and sharp jokes.

“Damn,” he muttered, watching her hand glide across the board, “it’s weird seeing my life come out in your lines.”

She paused, looked up. “Is that your poetic way of saying you’re traumatized?”

“Probably.”

That video went viral.

Fans loved the dark humor, the raw honesty. The illustrations, though: those were what stuck. “Who did the art?” people commented. “Those sketches hit hard.” Sanzu never answered. He just pinned a cryptic heart emoji and let it be. Over time, she became the silent architect of his aesthetic. His thumbnails, his merch, his channel banner, all her. And when he hit 1 million subscribers, she was the one holding the camera as he popped cheap champagne on their rooftop, laughing like a man who never thought he’d get here.

Only Senju knew the full picture. How much she meant to him. How Sanzu, the one who could barely say “I love you” without cursing in the middle of it, would sometimes sit in silence just watching her paint like it was his favorite show.

Sometimes she joked, “You’re just with me ‘cause I have better linework than you.”

And he’d reply, “I’m with you ‘cause you turned my life into art.”

It was fun, how the quietest guy on the planet had the quietest love story. But that’s the way Haru liked it. Because some things, the best things, didn’t belong to the internet. They belonged to late nights, shared playlists, ink-stained fingers, and stolen kisses between video takes.

They belonged to her.

She told him on a Tuesday. Nothing special about it, just one of those quiet, overcast mornings when the city felt a little too still. He was in the kitchen, arguing with the toaster. "Stupid piece of—" he was mid-slam when she walked in, barefoot, hair messy, holding a tiny white stick like it was a weapon of divine justice.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, blunt as ever.

He turned slowly. “…Sorry?”

She showed him the test, eyes wide but unreadable. “Two of them. Positive.”

Sanzu stared. He blinked once. Twice. Then placed the burnt toast on the counter with slow, almost religious precision. “…You sure it’s not one of those scam sticks?”

“I did two. And I feel like vomiting every five seconds.”

He stared a little longer, jaw tightening like his brain was buffering. “Wait, like… actually pregnant?”

“Yeah…?”

“Fuck.” Yeah that’s lowkey what you two did I guess? And then he sat down. Like, collapsed. Legs gave up, heart hammering in his chest. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not,” she said, walking over, calm and weirdly serene.

“I can’t be a dad. I don’t even water the houseplants.”

“We don’t have houseplants.”

“Exactly!”

But somehow, between the panic and the jokes and the sudden rush of weirdly tender silence, Haruchiyo didn’t run. He placed a hand on her stomach, even though there was nothing to see yet. Just warmth. Just the beginning of something terrifyingly huge.

“Shit,” he whispered. “I’m a dad.”

By month two, her hormones had turned her into a full-blown creative hurricane.

She painted like she was possessed: morning, noon, and three a.m. With charcoal-stained cheeks and wild eyes, she'd wake up from a dream and immediately sketch it out. Canvases piled up in the living room. The dining table was lost to acrylics and turpentine. Their walls looked like a gallery curated by Van Gogh on drugs.

He supported it the only way he knew how: chaotically, loudly, and publicly. At the end of every new video, right after Senju’s screaming outro, Sanzu added his own personal “ad segment.” “Before you click off—yo, check this out,” he’d hold up one of her pieces like a proud toddler with a macaroni sculpture. “This one’s called…uh…something. It’s wild. It made me cry. No cap.” People loved it.

What started as chaotic plugs turned into lowkey poetry.

“This one? Bro. She painted this after a nightmare. Said she dreamed the baby had wings. Look at the lines, man. That’s not normal talent.” His eyes would soften. Just a second too long. Just enough for people to start noticing.

@DJBigdaddyRin: “Wait, does Sanzu know this artist?”

@BajiKingTkyo76: “Why’s he always so emotional when he talks about her work?”

And finally, after three months of hinting and hiding and teasing. He cracked. It was in the middle of a video. A Q&A with Senju. Someone had asked, “What’s your favorite artist?”

Sanzu smirked. “Easy.”

Senju raised a brow. “Please don’t say Banksy just to piss people off.”

“Nah,” he said, leaning into the camera. “My favorite artist is the one who’s been painting her soul out in our living room. Who doesn’t sleep, eats pickles with whipped cream now, and…oh yeah, she’s pregnant with my kid.”

Senju’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” He pulled out a painting. “This one’s called ‘Heartbeat.’ It’s our baby’s first portrait.” The internet exploded. Fan pages lost it. The comment section turned into a war zone of congratulations, shock, and genuine awe. Haru felt light.

Because finally, the world saw her the way he did: brilliant, strange, burning with color. Not just the mystery artist. But his artist. And soon, the mother of his child.

For the full nine months, her paintings became the internet’s favorite miracle. No drama. No chaos. No exposés or scandals, just soft, surreal colors and honest brushstrokes that somehow resonated with everyone. People said her work felt like dreams they forgot they had, like lullabies whispered from the belly of the universe.

Every week, Sanzu would post a new one.

“This one’s called ‘Womb’s Eclipse.’ Sounds metal, right? It’s actually… emotional as shit. I almost cried again…”

Sometimes the pieces would sell before he even hit ‘post.’ Other times, he didn’t want to sell them at all. “This one’s for the baby’s room,” he’d mutter, already picking out a frame. Their walls were lined with that pregnancy, swirls of love, fear, craving.. And after their daughter was born, the momentum slowed—but the reverence didn’t. Her paintings stayed online, immortalized. People still messaged about them, tagged her in recreations, tattooed fragments on their skin.

They had made a small, strange legend out of that season of their lives.

—

Years passed.

Their daughter turned seven in the middle of spring, cherry blossoms half-dying on the sidewalks, breeze still sharp enough to cut. She had her mother’s eyes, Sanzu’s temper, and an obsession with painting that only made sense once you knew who her parents were. That afternoon, she tugged on his sleeve while he was editing a video.

“Papa.”

“What?”

“I wanna paint.”

He blinked. “What, like right now?”

She nodded. “Right now right now.”

He grinned, already shutting the laptop. “Say less.”

They dusted off the old supplies. Everything still smelled like turpentine and nostalgia. Sanzu laid out a drop cloth, filled jars with cloudy water, and pulled out a couple of the preserved canvases from The Pregnancy Era. “These,” he told her, tapping the edges, “were painted when you were in mama’s belly.” She looked up at him, blinking. “Inside?”

“Like, swimming around. Kicking her kidneys.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah. And beautiful. And painful. You were art even back then.” He wasn’t expecting the wave of warmth that hit him, seeing her crouch over the paints like her mom did, tilting her head, chewing on her tongue in thought. It hit him so hard, he opened his stream setup and pressed “Go Live.” No filter. No warning.

Just a raw shot of Sanzu and his daughter surrounded by paint and sun, laughing, talking over each other, blending colors without rules. Viewers flooded in immediately.

@IzanaTenjikuFund: “Shit I misclicked”

@HotRacerMikey: “She looks like both of them!”

@ManaMtsyaQueen: “THE LEGACY IS REAL”

They painted whatever came to mind. A castle. A tiger. A portrait of Baji with hearts around his head (“He’s funny,” she said. “He’s scary,” Sanzu corrected). For an hour, it was just father and daughter building color into the quiet. And then, click.

The front door opened.

She walked in, keys jingling in her hand, grocery bag slung on her wrist.

“I’m ho—” she paused in the doorway.

Paint. Everywhere. Her husband and daughter covered in streaks of blue and pink. Two canvases in progress. A livestream active. A thousand people watching.

“…You went live?”

Sanzu looked up at her like a guilty kid. “Uhhh. Yeah. Kind of?”

Their daughter waved a brush. “Mama, look! We’re painting me.”

She dropped the bag on the counter and walked over, eyes scanning the chaos. The familiar smells, the messy brushes, the wall of sunlight across the table, it all came back. Like those nine months never ended. Sanzu handed her a brush.

“C’mon,” he said. “We’re missing your color.”

And just like that, she joined them. One family, three artists, painting a new memory together, on canvas, on camera, on the walls of every person who ever watched them become more than just creators.

They became home.

[heejake-hoon]

Enhypen hyung line walking to you getting off

Tags: smut, soft dom hyung line, a lot of praising, i think the title is self explanatory

Heeseung:

The sound of the front door opening and closing barely registers in your pleasure-fogged mind as you lose yourself in the sensations your fingers are creating. Soft gasps and breathy moans fill the bedroom, your hips rolling to meet your touch as you chase your rapidly approaching climax.

Just as you're about to crest that peak, a low groan from the doorway makes your eyes fly open. There stands Heeseung, dark gaze fixed on your nude form, pupils blown wide with lust. He looks like he wants to devour you whole.

"Someone is so eager ha?" he rasps, voice rough with arousal. Heeseung leans against the doorframe, drinking in the erotic sight of you spread out before him, touching yourself so wantonly.

You flush under the intensity of his stare but don't stop the motion of your hand, emboldened by the raw hunger etched into every line of his face.

"Why don't you come over here and join me then?" you challenge breathlessly, arching into your touch with a sultry moan.

"Oh, I will..." Heeseung promises darkly, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing tantalizing glimpses of smooth skin and toned muscle. "But first I want to watch you make yourself come. Want to see that pretty pussy fluttering around your fingers, hear all those desperate little noises you make when you're close..."

He shrugs off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor before palming himself through his jeans. You whimper at the erotic visual, his dirty words and heated gaze stoking the fire in your veins.

"Heeseung, please..." you keen, walls beginning to clench around your digits frantically as your orgasm builds.

"Fuck, you beg so sweetly," he praises, thumbing open the button of his jeans and drawing down the zipper tantalizingly slow. "Love it when you get needy for me... Come on baby, wanna see you let go..."

His voice is pure sin, deep and dripping with lust, and it sends you flying over the edge. You cry out sharply as ecstasy floods your system, back bowing off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Through the haze of your climax, you're vaguely aware of rustling fabric and then the mattress is dipping under Heeseung's weight. He crawls over you, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, licking filthily into you as his naked body covers your own.

"So fucking perfect," Heeseung growls against your lips, hips rolling to grind his hard, aching length against your sensitive core. "Love watching you fall apart... Could never get tired of seeing you like that."

He nips at your bottom lip before trailing biting kisses along the column of your throat, definitely leaving marks behind. You mewl, hands scrabbling at his back as he sets your nerve endings alight.

"Need to be inside you, baby," Heeseung pants, sucking a bruise into the swell of your breast. "Gonna fuck you so deep, make you scream my name... Wanna feel this pretty pussy coming on my cock again and again..."

"Yes, Heeseung please," you babble mindlessly, achingly empty and desperate to be filled. "Want you, want your cock so bad-"

With a possessive snarl, Heeseung pushes inside you to the hilt and you keen at the sudden stretch, legs falling open to accommodate the intrusion. He sets a ruthless pace, snapping his hips in sharp, deep thrusts that punch the breath from your lungs.

"Fuck, you take me so well," Heeseung groans, voice absolutely wrecked as he fucks into you mercilessly. "Love your tight little cunt, baby, fucking made for my cock..."

Lost to sensation, all you can do is hang on for dear life, nails raking down the flexing muscles of his back as he pounds into you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room and you feel yourself rapidly approaching a second peak.

"Heeseung, 'm close," you whimper, legs beginning to tremble where they're wrapped around his pistoning hips. "Gonna come, gonna come on your cock-"

"Do it baby, fucking come for me," Heeseung commands, reaching between your bodies to circle your sensitive bud as he redoubles his efforts. "Wanna feel this pussy squeezing my dick, shit- I'm close too, gonna fill you up so fucking good-"

A particularly hard thrust paired with a deft flick of his fingers sends you hurtling over the edge with a broken scream of his name, eyes rolling back as your walls clamp down on him like a vice.

With a guttural groan, Heeseung follows you over, spilling deep inside you as his hips stutter erratically. He works you both through the aftershocks, stroking your trembling walls, wringing every last bit of pleasure from your willing body.

Jay:

 "Starting without me? Naughty girl..." Jay's amused voice cuts through your lustful haze, making your eyes snap open to find him leaning against the bathroom doorway, towel slung low around his hips.

He's clearly fresh out of the shower, raven hair damp and clinging to his forehead, rivulets of water traveling over the defined muscles of his chest and abs. The sight makes your mouth go dry.

Jay doesn't miss the way your gaze rakes over him hungrily and he smirks, slowly unwrapping the towel to reveal his hardening length. "See something you like, baby?"

Not breaking eye contact, he takes himself in hand, pumping lazily as he takes in your nude form laid out before him. "Fuck, you're so sexy... love watching you touch yourself. Gets me so hard..."

The visual of Jay stroking himself combined with his deep, rumbling dirty talk quickly sends you hurtling towards your peak.

"Jay... 'm close..." you whimper needily, walls beginning to flutter around your fingers as you chase your high.

"Don't come yet," he commands firmly, quickening his own pace. "Wanna watch you fall apart on my cock. Fuck, can't wait to feel you coming on my dick, baby- ahh fuck, I'm close too..."

With a groan, Jay strides forward, quickly replacing your fingers with his aching length in one smooth thrust. You cry out sharply as he fills you, already teetering on the knife's edge of climax.

"That's it baby, take it, fucking take it," he snarls through gritted teeth, hips pistoning furiously. "Gonna fill this pussy up so good, shit- come with me, baby, come on my cock-!"

Jake:

 "Oh fuck, baby..." Jake's choked moan makes you gasp, eyes flying open to find him staring at you with pure, unadulterated lust burning in his darkened honey gaze.

He's kneeling at the foot of the bed, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides, looking like he's barely restraining himself from pouncing.

"Don't stop," Jake grits out, voice strained. "Wanna see my pretty girl make herself feel good. Can I- fuck, please let me taste you..."

At your shaky nod, he dives between your thighs with a growl, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders. The first swipe of his tongue has you keening, back arching clean off the bed as he licks into your dripping center.

"Oh fuck, Jake, your mouth-!" you sob, fingers tangling in his golden curls as he devours you like a starving man.

Jake eats you out like he's dying for it, tongue fucking into you as he sucks your sensitive bud between his lips. Your thighs tremble around his ears as he takes you apart with quick, devastating flicks of his tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Jake, 'm gonna- fuck I'm gonna come-" you babble mindlessly, dissolving under his skilled ministrations.

He pulls back just enough to rasp, "Do it baby, come on my tongue, wanna taste you coming in my mouth, please-" before sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

You shatter with a scream, seeing stars as your orgasm crashes through you. Jake works you through it, lapping at you until you've stopped shaking, brushing soothing kisses along your inner thighs as you catch your breath.

"Fucking perfect, baby... So good for me," he praises hoarsely, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a deep kiss, making you taste yourself on him. "Love making you feel good. Wanna do it again... and again... and again..." and that was exactly what he did, eating you out until you left his face all glistening with your wetness, struggling to pull out from his grasp as he didn’t stop.

Sunghoon:

You're sprawled out on the bed, one hand between your thighs, lost in pleasure as soft moans spill from your lips. So caught up in chasing your climax, you don't hear the front door opening or Sunghoon's footsteps coming down the hall.

"Baby, I'm ho-" Sunghoon's voice cuts off abruptly as he stops dead in the bedroom doorway, eyes widening at the erotic sight before him. His breath hitches, arousal slamming into him like a freight train as he watches you arch wantonly into your own touch, little whimpers falling from your mouth.

"Fuck," he rasps, the single word dripping with desire. The sound of his voice startles you and your head snaps up, hand stilling as your eyes meet Sunghoon's burning gaze.

"S-Sunghoon! You're home early..." you stammer, face flushing at being caught in such a compromising position. But Sunghoon is already striding towards the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it drop to the floor.

"Don't stop on my account, baby," he purrs, kneeling on the mattress and crawling over you predatorily. "Watching you touch yourself is so fucking hot... I want to see you make yourself feel good."

His long fingers close around your wrist, guiding your hand back between your thighs as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You moan into his mouth as he encourages you to continue, elegant digits sliding through your slick folds.

Sunghoon swallows your needy whimpers eagerly, tongue delving past your parted lips to claim your mouth thoroughly. He rolls your sensitive bud between his fingers, stroking expertly and sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine.

Breaking the kiss, he mouths along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before rasping lowly, "That's it, baby girl... make yourself come for me. Wanna watch you fall apart on my fingers, wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make when you're desperate for it..."

Sunghoon's dirty words and skilled touch send you hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly fast. Your free hand fists in his dark hair as your back bows off the bed, high-pitched keens escaping your throat.

"Sung- ahh! I'm- I'm gonna-" you babble incoherently, thighs beginning to tremble as your peak rapidly approaches.

"Come for me, baby," Sunghoon commands, voice dripping with dark promise. "Let go, I've got you. Fuck, you're so perfect like this, wanna see you come undone..."

A few more firm strokes of his wicked fingers and you're flying apart with a sharp cry of his name, spots dancing behind your eyelids as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.

Sunghoon works you through it, touching you just right to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. Only when the last aftershocks have faded does he withdraw his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips to taste your release.

"So good, baby," he praises roughly, eyes glinting with promise as he settles his weight over you. "But you didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, did you? We're just getting started..."

_

The way this was only a Sunghoon hard thought .... Sorry i got carried away in Heeseung's part :( no m not sorry. Anyways hope you enjoy ^^

[tojipie]

ma’am you mentioned slipping a guard a wad of cash for a quick closet fuck in your story so like…how often did prison toji have to bribe the guards? 😅

prison boyfriend toji series linked here <3

content: semi-public, intimidation, mentions of incarceration, facials

custodial wing at 11:30

that’s what he’d whispered to you before you parted during your day visit, hand reaching under the hem of your shirt to trace shapes into the curve of your spine.

you didn’t need to ask questions knowing how often the two of you pulled this off. if the state wouldn’t grant you two conjugal visits on account of you not being married.. then you’d just have to make your own. 

getting started wasn’t a challenge in the slightest knowing entry-level guards melted like putty once a little stipend was involved. money was everything in this system, and toji had left you a lot of money.

once every two months was the deal. frequent enough that you’d both get your fill of each other outside supervised visits, but not so often as to draw suspicion. 

naturally, you make a beeline to your destination as soon visiting hours come to a close, mumbling something about needing the bathroom to a clearly peeved officer at the front desk. 

toji comes into view just at the end of the hall, facing away from you. you realize his body is obstructing another person as you you near, bits of their conversation floating in and out. 

“you really should be in your cell fushiguro...”

“just wait till’ she gets here before you do something stupid.. christ.”

you pause just beside toji, peering over at the navy blue-clad stranger in front of you. 

“where’s..” you trail off, eyes flitting between the two men. great, your regular officer wasn’t on duty today. a fucking warning might have been nice. 

the new guard is probably half your boyfriend’s size—and age, not a firm bone in his body by the looks of it. if he did, you figure toji would already be in solitary for sneaking out of his cell. your shoulders relax at the realization. at least this guy wasn’t a threat. 

the inmate shoots you a knowing smile, sly as ever despite the high-stakes situation. you quickly move to rustle through your pockets at the sight of his outstretched palm, placing a wad of cash in his hand.

“why don’t we give our pal a little gift, hm?” toji coos, holding the money up between two fingers and shaking it like a dog treat. “wanna give me an hour with my girl?”

the guard frowns, looking around cautiously.

“we’re not really supposed to take bribes…”

the fake smile on toji’s face falters. “fuck does that mean?” he says in disbelief.

“well honestly, it means that i’m going to have to report this.” the younger man says, reaching for his walkie-talkie to alert the rest of the security team. 

“are you stupid?” toji seethes. sizing the smaller man up. regret instantly washes over the the guard’s face, eyes blowing impossibly wide as he’s backed up against the wall.

“no sir— I mean— i’m sorry!” a tattooed fist slams against the concrete, dangerously close to his face. 

“i could kill you right now. could snap your neck and keep you in that closet over there,” he whispers, jutting his thumb behind him. you know there’s no real intent behind his words, toji simply wasn’t that cruel. 

the paralyzed guard cowers at the threat, taking the two of you by surprise as a wet spot grows on the front of his pants. gross.

“you gonna piss your pants every time a real man speaks to you? huh?” he barks, laughing at the younger man’s misfortune. 

“no no no please,” the guard babbles, motioning toward the closet. “i’ll keep watch i promise, i— i don’t even need the money i’m sorry.”

“good cause you weren’t getting it,” toji sneers, pocketing the cash before picking you up bridal style. 

“that was mean,” you whisper, oddly impressed at the inmate’s intimidation skills.

“yeah? you like when i’m mean?” he mutters jokingly, hands already squeezing the curve of your ass from where his palms are holding your body up. the contact makes you shudder, sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

you loved seeing him like this, as sick as it was. possessive, short-tempered, commanding. it all made your knees weak. 

you find yourself propped up against the door of the closet moments later, held up by his hands as he wastes no time, leaning in to mouth at the curve of your neck. 

the way he maneuvers you without so much as a sigh only stokes the flames deep in your core. toji’s strength was something to behold, an absolute marvel.

the closet is dim, lit by a pull-string bulb older than the two of you combined. you’re so close that you don’t know where your body ends and his starts, making it seem like there’s not enough air for the both of you. 

you reach down with one hand, keeping the other on his shoulder for balance. deft fingers work up the scratchy fabric of his brown uniform, exposing his abs with a hum.

fuck, he was getting bigger, muscles chiseling deeper and deeper as each day went by. the barest hint of black ink peeks just under the hem of his shirt, grabbing your attention for just a moment.

“lift it up angel,” he rasps, mouth still working at the thin skin of your collarbones. purple blood vessels bloom under his lips, the trail of hickeys growing larger by the minute.

the inmate helps you strip his upper half, lips detaching from your body with a sly smile.

“toji, oh my god,” you gasp, running a careful hand over the barely healed tattoo. 

“didn’t want you to see till’ it was finished,” he explains, grinding the hard length of his cock against your clothed core. 

toji hadn’t taken his shirt off the last two times you’d snuck off together, opting fuck you through three orgasms with his pants around his knees, showing off the barest hint of his happy trail. 

you figured it was for the sake of saving time, a precautionary measure in case your situation was compromised. naturally, there was a much deeper reason behind it.

delicate swirled letters brand your name across his ribs, etched into tanned skin amid a background of black and grey mist. the skin around the edge is still pink and delicate. blushed by the spike of a needle over, and over, and over.

god.. how did he even get this done? and so well at that? the things he manages to achieve even while serving time never fail to blow you away.

you hadn’t even realized he’d stopped grinding into you, his palm just barely cradling your face.

“you okay?” he says it so gently, like you’ll break. 

“it’s perfect,” you tell him, basking in the shy smile he gives you. scarred lips finally meet yours, setting you down on the floor of the closet to shimmy your skirt down. toji pulls away with an audible hum, tapping the inside of your calf to get you to open your legs wider.

the inmate wastes no time, hooking a thumb under the fabric covering your heat, and pulling your panties to the side. you feel his hulking body drop to a knee in the dim light, running thick hands up the soft skin of your calves before pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. 

“beautiful,” he whispers, though the stars that dance across your vision keep you wondering if he’s talking about you, or your pussy. 

and then your thoughts come to a screeching halt as a warm, dexterous tongue licks up the length of your slit. the noise he makes is obscene, desperate, groaning low in his chest as he tastes you for the first time in months. 

you nearly forgot how good it feels to be taken like this, struggling to maintain your balance as toji laps at your hole, two hands settling on your knees should they decide to buckle. 

“tastes so fucking good,” 

he says it directly into your heat, shooting vibrations straight into your core. warm velvet sneaks up to lap at your sensitive bud, tracing hot, wet circles in the spot that matters most.

you peek down just enough to see him free his cock from his boxers. two fingers swipe through your heat, using your slick to ease the slide of his hand along his shaft. 

it’s filthy, the way he’s always been so readily able to shift how he acts around you. cold, unforgiving hands turning into warm fingers that bring you nothing but pleasure. 

you’re the only one who sees him like this— who will ever see him like this. on his knees in the back of a cramped closet, making love to your cunt like a man starved. 

the feeling of your approaching high rips you from your thoughts, hands tangling into his mess of raven hair.

“gonna cum,” you whine, pushing at his forehead to get his face away from your clit. the tiniest bit of relief floods your core as he pulls away, his mouth and chin dripping with slick. 

“turn around.”

you haven’t even fully pressed yourself against the door before the blunt head of his cock is sliding into your entrance, filling you to the brim in one fluid motion.

toji takes a second to palm at the flesh of your ass, humming in appreciation as you adjust to his size.

“please,” you groan, “please just fuck me toji, please.”

the inmate pauses, slipping a hand under the hem of your shirt to play with your tits.

“should i?” he whispers, groaning as you clench down on his length.

frustrated, you push your hips back into his shaft, swallowing him over and over while harsh pants ring out behind you. large hands squeeze around your waist to stall your movements, giving him space to rut into you like you need.

the feeling is seismic, explosive. sending you right over the edge and into the abyss as black streaks over your vision. you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good before, taking deep, thorough gulps of air as you’re humped and rutted into against the fragile wood of the closet door.

large fingers wrap around your wrist and pin your arm behind you as you reach down to toy with yourself.

“like this,” he tells you. the implications clear as day.

cum on his cock or don’t cum at all. 

and cum you do, shuddering as you flood yourself between your legs. his pace doesn’t let up for a single second, bucking up into that special spot over and over.

“knees,” he commands, tone as urgent as ever. “fuck, get on your knees.”

you don’t have to be told twice, sinking to the floor to face him as he pulls out of you.

“open baby, open up for me.” the noise his hand makes while her jerks himself off is absolutely debilitating.

you tiredly rest your cheek just under the jut of his hip bone, pressing soft kisses under the far edge of his tattoo. the aftershocks of your high leave you breathless as thick spurts of seed cover the left half of your face. 

toji takes you by the face and holds you in front of him, fingers squishing your lips into a pout as he paints your face with the last of his load.

“there we go, there we go, eat it for me,” he pants from above you, chest heaving from the force of his orgasm. you gather as much as you can with your tongue, letting him thumb the rest into your mouth.

“beautiful,” he says, letting you clean off his fingers with your tongue. and this time you’re sure that he��s talking about you, his girl. his everything.

taglist ! 🏷️

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[bullet-prooflove]

Charlie: Charlie Reid x Reader

Tagging:@kmc1989 @littleesilvia @wrestlequeen @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @beebeechaos

Summary: Charlie meets someone unexpected one night at his pool hall.

Companion piece to:

Risk Management - Charlie realises the two of you have been keeping secrets from one another.

Deals With The Devil - Charlie's fall from grace starts with an act of love.

The Ghost That Lingers In The Nighttime - Charlie's becoming accustomed to the late night visits.

It starts with a game of pool.

Just one at The Thirsty Lion, the poolhall that Charlie frequents when he doesn’t want to be a cop anymore. It’s happening more and more lately, his disillusionment with the system, his despair everytime another kid dies in his arms, one that had nothing to do with the drive by that occurred on her block.

This city it’s relentless and Charlie, he’s tired, more tired than he’s ever been because all his job does is take. Emotionally, physically, it’ll drink you dry until there’s nothing left to give and then spit you out as if you where nothing. The only time he doesn’t feel that helplessness is here in the poolhall, he can focus on the game, the methodology, he can control the outcomes which is a damn sight more than he can do out there on the streets.

This is how he gets his kicks on a Friday night, hustling assholes out of their hard earned cash and that’s the great thing about the poolhall, there’s always someone looking for a match. You have your regulars that play in the tournaments but you also have your newcomers, the fresh blood. They’re usually high on ego but playing low on technical skill. They’re the type to hit the ball as hard as they can to see where it goes instead of playing all the angles like Charlie does.

He’s just finishing up a game with some college kid when you put down a twenty on his table. He’s caught sight of you a couple of times tonight, doing the rounds but he’s not been able to tune into any of your games.

“You ready to stop playing these amateurs and give me a try?” You ask as you place both palms on the edge of the table and lean forward. He knows what you’re doing, trying to draw his attention to perfect curves of yours so he fucks up his shot but Charlie, he’s nothing if not goal oriented. He sinks the shot, ending the game between him and the kid.

“Sounds like you need a challenge.” He says picking up his chalk cube, smudging it across the tip of his stick. “Those boys not doing it for you?”

“Why settle for pretty boys when you can have a man instead?” You shoot back.

Christ you’ve got a mouth on you, he likes you already. His façade cracks, his own mouth tipping up into a tight lipped smirk as he huffs out a rare chuckle, meeting your eyes. “You saying I’m not pretty?”

“Handsome.” You correct him, chalking up your own cue. You use is lilac, a soft, feminine colour compared to the harshness of the blue he uses. “I think you left pretty behind long before those beautiful curls of yours turned grey.”

“What’s the difference?” He asks taking the triangle out of the cabinet end and places the pool balls inside it. “Between handsome and pretty?”

“Pretty gives the illusion of innocent. Handsome is more weathered, more experienced.” You tell him as he racks up the balls.

“You’re saying I’ve been around the block a few times.” He responds as he removes the triangle and tucks it away. He steps back and gestures for you to break.

“That’s not a bad thing.” You say as you lean over, resting the stick on the cushion before you line up your shot. “Trust me, women prefer a man who knows what he’s doing.”

His gaze lowers to the position you’re in, back straight, ass out. It causes an uncomfortable stirring in his jeans as he imagines himself behind you, his palm running up the length of your spine, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging it. He’d enter you slowly, savouring the feel of your pussy fluttering around him as he filled you with every inch of him.

You strike the cue ball, snapping him out of his reverie, dispersing the rest of the balls across the felt. A striped one rolls into the pocket and you give him a smile that makes it feel like the 4th of July’s exploding in his chest. There’s hearts, fireworks, fucking sparklers, the whole damn show.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that knows what they’re doing.” He points out as you line up your next shot. The glow from the billiard light above illuminates your skin as you corral an errant strand of hair back behind your ear. There’s four silver piercings in it excluding the imprinted Celtic ear cuff and Chalie wants to run his thumb over every single one of them as he wonders if there’s anymore underneath your clothes.

“I paid my way through college on pool tables just like this one.” You inform him, sinking another ball. “Trust me I’m about to give you a run for your money.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to meet Charlie’s dark eyes.  He can imagine you doing the same thing as he’s fucking you, biting that pert lower lip of yours as he teases his dick along the wet seam of your pussy. “Unless you want to play for something else?”

He cocks his head, his voice gravelly and rough as he asks. “What’s on the table?”

“That depends.” You say turning your attention back towards the game. “On what you want to do to me.”

Everything… he thinks. He wants you tangled up in his sheets, tongue thrust inside you as you come all over his face. Your thighs locked around your hips, your nails raking up his back as he fucks you so hard the neighbours bang on the wall because you just can’t help yourself, not with him. He wants you on your knees, your tongue out ready to receive him as he rubs the head of his cock all over it.

He leans in close, bending over the table so that his firm well-muscled body presses against yours. His lips brush over your ear, his warm breath ghosting in it as he speaks.

“I think I’d rather show you than tell you.” He murmurs, his palm wraps around the pool stick, jerking it. Your shot goes wide, sending the cue ball  bumping into one of his. “But we gotta put some rules because I don’t wanna play rough if that’s not something you’re into.”

“Oh baby.” You tease as he nuzzles the curve of your throat. The scent of your perfume floods his nostrils, something dark, something sensual, black cherries and amber, he thinks. It makes him want to take a bite right out of you. “Do all those other girls need chocolate and flowers before you give them a good fucking?”

“I just don’t want someone who just lays there and takes it.” He says, nipping lightly at your pulse point. “I want a partner, someone who likes to play as much as I do, who wants…”

He trails off before he betrays himself.

“…who wants you.” You finish and he buries his face into the curve of your throat, hiding the flush creeping across his cheeks. “I don’t even know your name and already my panties are soaked, that’s how much I want you.”

“Charlie.” He whispers. “My name is Charlie.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[theshiftingwitch]

What to do when nothing is working

I see you're spiraling again.

Mhm, what's gotten you in a rut this time?

"I've been trying to manifest this thing/person/opportunity for months now and nothing is happening! I'm so fucking tired."

Valid.

Your emotions are valid.

Your frustration is valid.

You're allowed to feel down when everyone else is seeing great results and you are seemingly doing everything right and still having nothing to show for it.

It fucking sucks! I get it.

We have all been there.

Allow me to tell you what to do when things get bleak and you don't know what to do anymore.

Step n°1: take a few steps back.

You're way too invested in the problem to see the solution. Begin by walking away from all of it. Not forever, obviously. Not for months or years, just for however long it takes you to recenter yourself. It could be minutes, it could be days, you decide.

Go back to the basics.

We get caught up in methods and techniques and challenges and saturation sessions that our vision gets clouded and we miss the bigger picture. So take a few steps back, and like a scientist frustrated with the results of their experiment or an author suffering from a writer's block, you too should go back to the drawing board.

Look up the definitions.

What is the law of assumption?

What is reality shifting?

What is manifesting?

Keep them short, each definition should be exactly 1 (ONE) sentence. Don't overwhelm the system.

Step n°2: regulate your nervous system.

Now that you have a basic, simple, and easy understanding of the core concepts of this experiment, you need to get your body on board.

Losing your shit every time something goes awry means you're stuck in fight or flight. Your nervous system is fried, and you can't function properly without a fine-tuned motherboard.

Regulate.

What does that look like?

• Box breathing (inhale for 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4)

• Humming (it works okay?!)

• Walking, dancing, sitting in the sun, moving your body and getting out of your own head.

• Taking a cold shower (only if things are dire, don't get sick and blame me!)

• Screaming into a pillow (don't scare the neighbors)

• journaling (get your feelings and thoughts out of your mind and on paper)

You can do this over the course of a couple of days (preferably every day for the rest of your life, you want to be in tune with your body.)

Step n°3: Stop over-consuming.

You're scrolling on Tumblr, digging through Twitter, obsessed with TikTok (yikes on bikes) and you're listening to every guru and coach and expert on the planet. You know what that creates?

Noise.

Unnecessary, confusing, overwhelming noise that is drowning out the one voice you should be listening to.

Yours.

Your intuition knows what's up. She can guide you to the easiest, fastest way to get everything you want, you have to listen to her.

Step n°4: relax.

If you've done your homework as given to you in step 1, then you truly understand the law now. What you desire is already yours, right? You have it because that's your assumption and assumptions do not need proof (that's how an assumption works!) so even if you're not seeing any proof, you still have it. Right?

And what does the person who has all of their desires do?

Chill.

Lounge on a tropical beach. Drink mimosas or dry Martinis or bloody Mary (can you tell I'm an expert at this?) read a book, watch a tv show, hang out with your friends, make shopping lists, do your makeup/hair, go for walks, talk to the nymphs, make friends with the fae (do not give them your real name!) create a work of art, write, sing, dance, make love, share your thoughts, scream, squeal, live!

You came here to live.

And finally, I will leave you with this.

You are god.

You are love.

You are peace.

You are all that you desire because none of it would exist without you.

You are the creator.

You are everything.

Return back to yourself.

Happy manifesting ❤️

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

I'm absolutely terrified, it's not even funny. I can't even click it. But I have to... for the LOREEEEEEEEE... okay, let's-a go....

(The following is my live reaction:)

ay the TADC plug, of course

"Born to shit, Forced to wipe" - not smg3

wise words Three

also, the Ferris Wheel and rollercoaster thing is still there in the background (Ferris Wheel wedding, my beloved...)

I knew someone was going to bring up Meggy and her disappearance

LEGGY! MEGGY, WE'LL RESCUE YOU I PROMISE!!!

THANK YOU THREE for asking the right questions here

oh... not what I expected. at least the crew knows this is obviously Mr Puzzles

NAME DROP

OK, a LOT to digest here:

These are all the possible minigames that we might see in WOTFI. Well, at least all the attractions we could see...

a Mr Puzzles Chonk plush (in the bottom right)

a Tunnel of Love attraction... hmmmm.......

Huh, I didn't know this was by the coast of the Mushroom Kingdom. Or it could be an island/peninsula.

The what now, Leggy?

YEP I knew that once they found out, they would want to leave

...and of course, Mario wants to stay

Yeah, Luigi said it himself

but also, look at the Mr Puzzles cardboard cutout in the back, he's wearing Meggy's cowboy hat from Western Spaghetti

Alright, but before we go in, we gotta have a buddy system, guys

All these critiques are going to make Mr Puzzles lose himself even more than he already is

I think I saw someone posted about submitting a water gun game so congrats for getting in!

Leggy Plush!!

also spider-man plush... symbiote... venom... GOOP!4????

...Once Upon A Perfect SMG4?

[*points at Four and Mario*] The sillies

ok, but like, why is Three smiling like that while everyone else looks so disappointed?

They did the buddy system!

Bob: "Those dumbasses will see ANYTHING and get excited."

I feel seen and I don't like it.

I don't like this either. I already know this is a trap but like noooooo

Three just standing there like a dad watching over his kid

Someone else also submitted a mini-game involving a ducky fishing game

GOD DAYUM.... why did you have to pose like that, Three? You're not beating the allegations, huh.

Aw, Three really wanted to enjoy a carnival if Mr Puzzles wasn't involved (writers, write that down + carnival dates)

OK NOPE WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW

🫵 🏳️‍🌈⁉️

oh c'mon now, it's just plainly obvious. Not that it should be surprising, everyone's part of the skittle squad (tm)

STRONG WOMEN we love to see it

...that can't be a real thing... can it?

same Luigi same

YES PLEASE CAN WE?

sorry dude, they really locked in

also what the hell is that building in the back?

Luigi (or rather the SMG4 fandom): "See? I can handle this! I'm not afraid anymore! Do you hear me? I'm not afraid-" [*horror jumpscare*] [*scream*]

NOT EVEN MELONY'S GOD POWERS COULD HELP US, WE'RE FUCKED

NOOOOOO NOT KAREN AND SAIKO

THREE WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW

NOOOOOOOO THREEEEE I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO BE THE LAST ONE TO MAKE IT OUT

[*sobbing*] he sent one last text to warn them :( he really does care

AND HE SENT IT TO FOUR [*head in hands*]

the contact names they have for each other.... (I'm not well)

WE GOTTA GO [*runs*] GET OUT GET OUT

Leggy... why did your face change like that?

WHAT WAS THAT CRYPTIC CAPTION?!

Mario, please don't sacrifice yourself... oh, thank god! They really are having me panicking for the smallest things

wait... OMG THEY SAW MY SUBMISSION! THEY SAW IT!

the mini-game challenge that I submitted:

Pop & Whirl: Everyone gets a bag of popcorn. The winner must keep all of their popped kernels in their bag, without dropping a single one... while being chased around the carnival by a collapsed Ferris Wheel (Professor Layton style)!

I DON'T CARE IF IT DOESN'T HAPPEN AGAIN IN WOTFI, I'LL TAKE IT. But if it does happen, I'll draw lawyer Meggy with a redesigned Ace Attorney-esque outfit (somehow)

please don't tell me the green pipe is also a trap...

...the exit door from TADC?

oh god, why does this remind me of the dark web?

and the eyes on the mushrooms... [*IGBP flashbacks*]

heh heh, funny mirrors... AH SHIT PUZZLES, DON'T JUMPSCARE ME LIKE THAT

actually, now that I think of it, Mr Puzzles hasn't revealed himself this whole time...

THE DIDNEY ENGINE ROOM?!

...holy shit

so was I right about us getting to see Mr Puzzles' "truest form" and the whole "Eye of Ra" thing?

are those his arms? and the circle things, it could be part of his cyborg texture but they also look like eyes.

the fog part is really interesting because they could've gone with any "spooky" color but they chose this. It's the creative vision, the one Didney had in this room.

This really reminds me of the goo from IGBP and Wren's wire simulation in Western Spaghetti, but also from this angle, a bit of Zero's "no legs" body design.

"His obsession becoming his identity" - Puzzles connected himself to the single star Didney had. You got it right, past Ink.

HUH?! YOU CAN'T END IT THERE

AND THEY GRAY-ED OUT OUTRO, NO MUSIC! IT'S ABOUT TO GO DOWN, GUYS

also congrats to Nikej1708241 for making it to the credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

That was a pretty solid episode ngl. Probably not as "plot twist-y"

(i know that's not a word) as the previous episode but my spaghetti gods, it delivered! Not Marty again, we may have to rethink this one.

Ok, I've made a list of all the attractions and mini-games there are in the carnival grounds in Puzzle Park:

Ferris Wheel

"Tender Tunnel" (Tunnel of Love attraction)

Merry-Go-Round carousel

Basketball arcade game

Hammer game

Bumper Cars

"House of Crazy" funhouse (also that fits Mr Puzzles somehow)

A spooky cart ride

Water gun game

Rocket ride

Arcade (just flat-out an arcade)

Clown Ball Game

(There's apparently a cafe???)

Ducky Pond fishing game

Pizza shop (....marty?)

It's probably not all of them, we would just have to wait and see, but if you submitted a mini-game that involves any of these, congrats, you likely got in!!!

I still very much enjoyed this episode and some of what I theorized could possibly come true. And some didn't, which is totally okay with me. I'll cherish the Ferris Wheel chase scene regardless :)

We still have to wait for a trailer or a special video in regards to WOTFI, which I will have to analyze and see what's to be expected. From the looks of it in this episode, it seems like it's up to SMG4 and Mario to rescue their friends one by one by completing the mini-games. The more people they rescue, the more help they can get to complete the games. And that includes saving Meggy at the end.

Now, personally, I don't want Mr Puzzles to die. Not yet. There is still a lot of potential that could go for him. A similar redemption arc just as Three went through. Puzzlevision 2. Goop!4. Marty. Anything could happen. Then again, he could die.

Now you might think he might not die because he has a plushie, but there's literally merch of Axol and Desti and they're dead. Puzzles isn't safe from this possibility.

Put in your final bets, my dear fellows, because nothing will ever be the same again...

[the-californicationist]

he cleans up nice

Captain John Price has a medal ceremony and you help him get ready for his big event.

Warning: face fucking, domination/submission, literal boot-licking

The desire to breathe was overriding your ability to stay still. Because his cock was so thick, and because he shoved it deep enough to block your airway, you were losing control of your movements, your body writhing and squirming to free itself, tears running down your face as your system tried whatever it could to force you to take a breath. The tiles were slippery and cold on your shins as you shifted your weight, desperate to get oxygen into your lungs. He moved his hand from your jaw to the back of your head and held you snugly there, shushing you,

“Shh, baby. Count to ten for me. That’s it. Be good for me, alright?”

You nodded as much as his grip allowed and moved forward, nuzzling the dense hair around the base of his cock, lapping your tongue around his edges, moaning loudly and feeling the vibrations through your mouth. Hot, slick drool escaped the corner of your lip and ran down his skin. Your throat began to clench on its own, gagging with panic. 

John pulled himself from you quickly, making loud sticky noises as he did, your body gasping for air as it recovered. 

“Deep breath, sweetheart. So good. You did so good for me, you know that? Such a beautiful little slag, hm? Loves that cock.”

Without much hesitation, he fed himself back into your swollen mouth. You instinctively tried to push him back, begging with your bloodshot eyes for mercy, and he looked down with his brow furrowed,

“Uh, oh. It’s big, innit? That throat feels so fuckin’ brilliant. Lemme feel it, baby. Just wanna feel it again. Fuck, yes!”

John thrust his cock in and out of your mouth fully for three or four pounding strokes, head thrown back in joyous agony, leaking precome onto your tongue, salty-sweet and warm. 

He’d put you in the shower without the water on, playing with your nipples and kissing your neck at first, just sweet as a first love’s touch, but he had other plans. 

Kissing turned to licking. Licking turned to teeth, and with them he’d subdued you, not allowing you to come but keeping you dripping, drawing out more and more of your fluid onto his hands, smearing it onto your lips and thighs, eating it off of his hands.

By the time he even allowed you to fall to your knees, you were practically begging to taste him, mewling and whining, your hands constantly fondling his growing length, eager like an addict. 

And now, here you were, bruised and swollen, pink from your struggle, full of his hardness and sore from his challenging girth. He smiled down at you,

“Let me hear your screams. Scream my name around that cock. You look so hot when your mouth is full of me. Bloody hell, look at that.”

“Mmh?” You made an attempt, struggling to keep your eyes open you were so drunk from his power. 

“Oh, fuck. Again,” he groaned, bucking forward uncontrollably. 

“Mmhn! Mmhn, mmm,” you poured gasoline on his fire.

“Fuuuuuckkin’ hell. You wanna taste my come?”

“Mm hm,” you nodded, playing with your swaying breasts as he fucked your face against his hands. 

“So goddamn pretty. Fuck -” John rutted forward, almost losing his balance as he spilled himself into your mouth, filling your cheeks with his melting saltiness. Cruelly, he forced himself back down, making you swallow him in order to have access to the air again. 

“John!” You gasped as he released you, sitting on the tile beside you, panting just as hard as you were. 

He chuckled darkly, jerking his softening cock in slow movements,

“C’mere, love. Clean me up with that tongue of yours.”

You bent forward, awkward against the biting tile, trying to lick the stray come on his shaft and balls, dutiful and diligent. 

“Mmm, good girl. You’re so damn pretty when you’ve got my come on your lips like that. Gonna make me late for my speech.”

Captain John Price was receiving a Medal of Honor tonight, and Laswell had to threaten him with trainee duty in order for him to agree to attend. It was more meaningless “chest candy” - as Soap liked to call it - and he couldn’t have cared less. 

“Can’t wait to see you all dressed up. You know how much I like you in that uniform, babe,” you kissed his neck chastely, begging for attention again, needy and wet from your work. 

“Wish we could just stay in. I can smell your needy little cunt from here, and I wanna fill you up,” he stole your mouth to kiss and suck on your lips, not caring if he was covering you in spit and tasting his own come. 

“Come on,” he said, breaking away for a moment, “Shower with me so I can play with you, baby.”

He helped you up and turned on the steaming water. It sprayed over your skin and made you dizzy from its heat. John held you in his arms and rubbed you down with soap, smearing it all over your breasts and plucking at your nipples indulgently. 

You felt sparks rush through your core, and you struggled to form a coherent thought. Under his heavy control, you found yourself pliant and exceedingly needy. 

“John, please. I need…please?”

“You need to come, don’t you? Is that what you’re beggin’ me for?”

“Yes,” you nuzzled against him, canting your hips shamelessly, presenting yourself to him like you were in heat, “Can you help me, please?”

“Sweet girl, so desperate, hm?”

John kissed your neck through the stream of hot water and sank his thick fingers deep into your pussy, thrusting in and out, curling his fingertips to press into your walls. His thumb drew languid circles around your clit as you trembled in his grasp, screaming and nearly crying from the searing pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby. Use my hand to get off. Just like that. My pretty fucking slut, so good for me.”

“John - ah, fuck…” you lost your breath and gasped. The sensations rolled through you like a storm, lightning and thunder rumbling in your belly, flinging you into his chest to be crushed into his huge, looming frame. 

He cradled you as you recovered, washing your hair and his, kissing you when and how he wanted, touching you when and how he wanted, claiming you as he saw fit. You surrendered to him, fully under his thrall. Price helped towel you off, and he braided your hair reverently. 

You remained fully naked, but you began to help him dress for his event. His SAS dress uniform was black with a red stripe down the leg, a red sash, and a white belt. You zipped the fly of his pants and buttoned it together, making sure it sat exactly right on his waist. You helped him button his jacket, each one of the gold buttons slipping into the soft holes easily. 

The silver belt buckle slipped into its socket, clicking securely into place. His huge shoulders and wide chest stretched the expensive fabric and swelled beneath it. 

One by one, he held each of his medals in his hand, and you knew what was coming next. 

“Go on, baby. Shine them up for me," He held the medal out to you and you licked your tongue across it, behaving as if the sharp stars were the soft head of his cock. Each time you finished your work, he allowed you to pin the medal to his chest, making sure each one was straight and true. Then, it began again. With each new medal, Price breathed harder and harder, his voice becoming strained as he praised you,

“Such a good fuckin’ girl. Fuck…”

When you were through with the chest candy, you pinned his spaulders and his sash. The silk felt cool to the touch. It clipped at his waist and you knelt between his knees as he sat, lifting his foot for you to put on his socks. He put his boots on, but waited for you to tie them. You laced his boots with experienced precision and looked up to admire your work. 

He smiled down at you, glittering in his uniform, looking like a king,

“Thank you, baby. You take such good care of me. My sweet girl. You have one job left, you know…”

You nodded, blushing. You bent down on the ground and licked the edges of his boots, tasting the leather and smelling the oil on the laces. He pet your head and kissed your cheek when you finished, comforting you,

“You better be ready when I get back, baby. I’m not finished with that gorgeous mouth.”

[triangularz]

ZORO- FORGIVENESS

sfw- last line nsfw, maybe 700 words, soft zoro, est. relationship, wisely waiting to be forgiven, reader envisioned as blk/f, enjoy and imagine your thing! many of my fics are really "dense fanfictional narrative character studies" or something like that. Working on including more dialogue

Zoro's apologies are total like his sweet, unyielding love, seeping from his bone marrow, from every red blood cell- earnest, absolute, lived. Never burning or suffocating, each moves like convection heat from him to you- always warm, always healing. He has no need to search for you when he's caused distance, or use haki to sense your aura- instead, he draws on what he deeply and so accurately understands about you, and drains every drop from his stores of intuition to see beyond your rough exterior, passed your strained smile- notice your rigid movements or one too many blinks to hold back hot tears you hope he won't witness.

To fix and fuck the feelings away- shit that's all he wants; he hates it, hates it, but these are his consequences, to wait and refrain and respect, to fight his will, to conceal his impatience while pensive and in pain.

He refuses to weigh you down, won't allow you to become the comforter because of his own self-pity, scrambling to assure him you won't leave, that you do love him, that he isn't a horrible man. He'll own and absorb his mistakes, bow and honor you. So he makes no promises to placate you, doesn't bargain with you or swear on his life he won't do it again. To do those things would be to erase or medicate your pain without healing the wounds he's caused, and the promise would be a lie; perfection doesn't exist. He might- he will speak too harshly, ignore your needs, act selfishly... apologize again. But the coin's other side pisses you off and is hard for him: He won't take your upper-handed shit while he waits, allow you to be manipulative or lash out in ways he knows you'll regret; he gently pushes back. Later, you can't thank him enough for it- having calmly stood his ground with such love.

When you forgive him, he recognizes that hurt or anger or sadness may not dissipate right away, and he'll gladly wait longer, quietly processing how best... to be better. He stands on the edge of your universe, making his way towards your galaxy, then your solar system, then your planet and eventually back to you when you signal readiness for it. It feels like an age to him, but it's never long before you extend your hand and walk him home to your heart.

This perspective, this agony- he's stumbled to learn it in ways grievous to you both, after raging, fists through the side of the crow's nest, blame and defense, bewilderment. Shit you've also inflicted heinous wounds- but what happens in it (he, with a smidge of advice from Sanji and Nami) really is as beautiful as it is messy, your roots together growing deeper and stronger, better handling drought.

▪️

This morning, he scribbles a note on torn cartography paper before joining Jinbe at the helm: I know you'll have a good day. Don't let me spoil it. I'll miss you. Challenging for him to write, but a small thing you can choose to throw away, maybe smile about. Instead you cry, experiencing every little word and recalling a moment yesterday- his sorrowful eyes, his restraint and clenched fists when full of anger you left to wander the ship:

"Heading out."

"Okay. Whatever you need." Not me. I know.

*

The bed dips now with his weight; he'd first hovered near the bedroom while you showered and changed, giving you space before you sleep.

"This ok?" His hand rests tentatively on your hip.

"Yeah." You struggle with ambivalence- an urge to punish him and your own desperate need to reconcile.

"Thanks... I'm so sorry. I mean it," he whispers. Gratefulness to touch you again and a precious few words he always means; they melt away the last of your angst. You gently grab his hand and nestle it on your chest, interlacing his fingers with yours, and he cautiously plants a kiss on your shoulder- you aren't delicate, but he recognizes the kiss should be. It's automatic after a few minutes, to cuddle closer to you when he thinks you're asleep. His soul relaxes, but he doesn't, every muscle flexing to keep you close, aroused and fine with it, expecting nothing. You're wide awake, and just as he's found contentment, your back melts into his chest and your ass presses against his cock, heart pounding. You're repaired. He fucks you through tears, both relieved, and roots stretching longer into nutrient-rich earth.

▪️

[skyfallscotland]

Professor Riorson (Remi's Version)

"Remi for once can you please—" "Be an attentive student?" I widen my eyes. "Pay attention in class?" I just my lower lip out. "Of course!" My lips curve up. "I'm so excited to have a new teacher, Vi."

Hello! After what we shall henceforth refer to as the Onyx Storm Incident, I did not know if I would ever write for this fandom again (yes, that was three days ago, I know, shut up).

Anyway, I figured I should try and push through my reservations early instead of letting my disappointment linger, so I set out to write a little palette cleanser. As usual I tried to write smut and ended up with four thousand words of feelings first 🤦🏼‍♀️

This is set in some sort of alternate (completely unbelievable) universe where Xaden never gave in to Remi's flirting when she was a first-year at Basgiath (oh and he's not a venin) everything else is irrelevant, just go with it.

It's also basically straight up erotica, so explicit content! Not for minors! Minors DNI or whatever the fuck they say over here (I really should be posting all these on AO3, but that's for another day).

Finally, I'm sorry to all the teachers out there, I hate this kink too but it's minimally emphasised (they're still them) and it was what my girl Remi deserved—why should Violet get Professor Riorson and not her, the Queen of Tyrrendor, the Angel of Death? So here we are.

PS. Justice for chairs! Hopefully you can all visualise what's going on here 😂🪑

Professor Riorson (Remi's Version)

Fraternisation between cadets and those serving in higher chains of command, including the aggregate leadership cadré at Basgiath War College, is strictly forbidden. —Article Eight, Section One, The Dragon Rider’s Codex

I tap my foot against the floor, levitating my pen above my hand almost subconsciously as Professor Devera informs the rest of the cadets just how fucked we actually are. "Welcome to the new face of battle, where we are not only outnumbered in the sky but now equally matched on the field in terms of the skill of our opponents."

Equally matched? We're not equally matched, we're absolutely fucked. It's hard to find the energy to care anymore, knowing what awaits us. Maybe if I had a signet like Violet's, I would be in with half a chance at survival, but mending? Yeah. I'm screwed.

Heads drop in the rows ahead of us, like everyone else is reaching the same conclusion.

"With that in mind, the nature of challenges will change under the supervision of Professor Emetterio to include wielding in order to better prepare you for actual combat. Death is no longer an acceptable outcome when you face your classmates. The days of settling your scores on the mat are over. We need each and every one of you to survive to graduation.”

I scoff aloud, drawing more than one person's attention. Death should never have been acceptable. The military, the system gains nothing from it, it's just a senseless waste of life.

“Easy to say when you’re not facing Sorrengail,” Caroline Ashton calls out.

My lips tilt up. I hope she ends up facing my sister.

“We aren’t going to throw you to the wolves,” Devera tells her. “The third class you’ll be adding will be a hands-on approach to prepare you for signet-against-signet combat. You’ll have a rotating roster of professors to benefit from all signet types, and the Eastern Wing has temporarily loaned us their most powerful rider to start your instruction.”

Violet stiffens beside me and I frown, glancing over at her. The Eastern Wing…wouldn't that mean…

“And on that note.” Devera gestures to the door at the back of the room, and slowly, I turn. “Look who just arrived—everyone, welcome our newest member of your leadership team. Professor Riorson.”

My heart skips a beat and my lips begin to curve into the most self-satisfied smirk I've worn in a while. This is going to be fun.

Friday comes far too slowly for my liking, but finally it's our turn to head out to the Infantry Quadrant's outdoor amphitheatre. There's a skip in my step as we descend the stairs and Violet groans, eyeing me with disapproval.

"Remi for once can you please—"

"Be an attentive student?" I widen my eyes. "Pay attention in class?" I just my lower lip out. "Of course!" My lips curve up. "I'm so excited to have a new teacher, Vi."

Ridoc snorts, bumping me with his hip as he passes.

I glance up from my feet, taking in the man standing dead centre in the base of the amphitheatre, his impatience clear. His arms are crossed over his chest and his usual dark stare is ever-present as he watches us, waiting.

"This is incredible." Sloane is saying ahead of us, commenting on the weather and the temperature inside the amphitheatre's wards. It is warm in here and as Professor Riorson's eyes dart up to lock with mine, I shrug my arms out of my flight jacket. My pulse jumps at his continued attention and slowly I shake the snow from my braid.

"You're right, Sloane." I smile, running my hand over my hair. "It's so warm in here." I reach for the bottom of my shirt and draw that up too, pulling it over my head to leave me in just my leather pants and armoured corset.

"Remi!" Violet hisses and I smile innocently.

"What?" I lift a brow. "You don't want me to pass out, do you Vi?" She grumbles something about knocking me out, which I promptly ignore, dropping my things in the first row of stone seats beside our classmates.

If there's one thing my sister has always hated, it's my infatuation with Xaden Riorson. I suppose that's fair, given she shares a mind with him at times, but it does nothing to discourage me. If I see something I want, I go after it and I've wanted Xaden Riorson ever since I first laid eyes on him all those years ago at parapet.

Too bad he doesn't want me just as badly.

“Welcome to your first session of Signet Sparring, in what I like to call the pit.” He announces as we reach the base of the steps.

"Ominous." I mutter.

“Those who can wield, keep your feet on the rock but—and I cannot stress this enough—off the mat. Those who cannot, take a seat in the first row.” He gestures to the terraced stone behind us.

I assume it has something to do with the warding, so when Aaric and Lynx move to take a seat in the rows behind, I stand to follow.

"Remi Sorrengail!" Riorson calls. "I know you can wield."

I pause, turning slightly to arch a brow. "My signet is neither offensive nor defensive, sir." The slightest, most minuscule twitch jolts his shoulders at the word and I show him my teeth. "You wouldn't want me to get hurt, would you?"

An ember of desire flickers to life in my gut and I bite my lip, letting my eyes drag over him slowly from head to toe. The tight-fitting sparring gear is reminiscent of what he always wore in the quadrant when he was our wingleader, but the swords strapped across his back…they really add to it. It's doing something for me. A lot for me.

"I'll make sure you don't get hurt, Cadet Sorrengail." He reassures. "Take a seat. Now."

I hold his gaze for a moment, wishing he could read my mind and understand exactly what that tone is doing for me. For a second his eyes flare and then it's gone; his stony, unaffected mask falling back into place as he gestures to the first row where my sister waits.

"Whatever you say, sir." I simper, flopping down onto the stone.

"Sickening." Imogen mutters, rolling her eyes from my other side, and I grin. She's never liked my obsession with him either.

First wing begin to filter in, taking their places on the adjacent seating and Riorson's eyes dart left, then right. “Let’s go. It shouldn’t be this hard to sort yourselves out."

"You can sort me out—" All the breath rushes out of me in a wheeze as Imogen's elbow plants itself in my gut. "Ok." I cough, "understood." Violet stifles a laugh.

“You done gossiping among yourselves?” Riorson eyes First Wing with what I'd classify as menace.

“We were just saying that we’re not sure someone who graduated less than a year ago makes the best teacher.” Loran Yashil folds his arms.

I laugh aloud, drawing the attention of everyone in the amphitheatre. "Because you've been doing so well with Carr." I comment. "How many dark wielders do you think he's fought? Hiding back here behind the wards like a coward?"

"Remi!" Violet groans, though the chastisement holds no sting—I know she agrees with me.

What follows is perhaps the hottest display of power and dominance I've seen in a long while. He barely lifts a finger taking the third-year down and then proceeds to do it all over again…and again, and again until there's no one left but my sister and I.

"Sorrengail, you're up!"

Violet and I glance at each other and she lifts a brow. I wiggle mine in return. Quickly, we both leap to our feet and stride onto the mat.

"I meant—"

"You should have specified then." I cut him off, drawing my daggers from my corset.

"I didn't speak in plural." He all but rolls his eyes.

"Well that's just cheating, you can't both—"

I throw my blade to the side, never once breaking eye contact with Riorson. "Shut up, Caroline!" I call. Who asked her anyway?

Drawing another dagger to replace the one I'd thrown, I let my hips sway as I stride down the centre of the mat, coming to a stop directly in front of him. "If you're too afraid to fight us both, just say Professor." I taunt. "I don't mind if you want to have our session one on one."

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly. "You're infuriating." He murmurs.

"I think you like it." I whisper, tongue darting out to wet my lips, and the ground rumbles. Lightning strikes overhead and he drags his eyes up from my lips, locking gazes with me as shadows rush out, blacking out the area entirely.

"Fuck." I mutter, taking a step back, entirely blind. I take another and another until I run clear into a hard chest and an arm brackets my middle from behind.

"What was the point of this, Sorrengail?" He asks. "If I were venin, you'd be dead right now."

"You're not venin." I counter breathlessly. "If you were, the distraction wouldn't have worked."

"The—"

Boom.

Lightning strikes mere centimetres to his left, shaking the ground, lighting up the arena. I tear myself free from his hold, ignoring the shadows that chase me, caressing my hair, my cheek—and grin slyly. "We win." I smirk as sunlight filters back through. "You'd be dead if she wanted you dead."

He frowns, like the idea of it is ludicrous. "You'd be dead. You would have died before me."

I shrug my shoulders. "And she'd be alive." I tilt my head. "Like I said. We win."

With that I turn and walk away.

"You really need to give it a rest." Violet sighs as she slings her pack over her shoulders, prepared to head down to Chantara with the others. "Remi, I'm…worried about you."

I huff, folding my arms over my chest. "Worried?"

"Worried." She confirms. "It's not healthy to go chasing after someone like this. He's not capable of loving you. There are plenty of people who—"

"Who said anything about love?" I interrupt. "I never said I wanted him to love me."

Violet looks at the ceiling like she's praying to Amari for patience. "You're you." She finally says softly, reaching out to take my hand. "I know you. You want love—and I know him—he's not capable of it."

I know she doesn't mean it critically, she's been orbiting him for quite some time now, her dragon being mated to his and all. So she knows him, better than I probably ever will as a result and she's probably right, but…

"Sometimes he looks at me and I think, just for a second…" I swallow hard.

Violet's expression softens. "I know, I see it too."

My face crumples. "Then why—"

"Because it doesn't mean he can, Rem." She squeezes my hand. "You've been chasing after him since the day you met and him liking you, doesn't mean he'll risk his heart and that's what he'd have to do—we're at war." My sister frowns. "It's all or nothing."

All or nothing.

"Fine." My voice cracks as I speak. "Fine. I get it."

My twin chews on her lip. "So you'll come to Chantara?" She whispers softly.

"No." I shake my head. "I'm going to see him, one last time." Violet's face falls. "I can do all or nothing," I whisper quietly, "but I need a chance to convince him it should be all."

"You've had—"

"No." I shake my head, my heart clenching in my chest. "I've joked and flirted and watched him spend hours of his time dragging you around, but I never made it clear…"

My sister breathes in deep, her shoulders rising like she's steadying herself. "He knows." She whispers, the words leaving her in a rush. "He knows, Remi."

I sit with that for a moment and then slowly, I nod. "Ok." I accept, my throat tightening.

"Ok?"

"Sure." I turn around, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "I think I'll stay here anyway." I try and force a smile, but I'm sure it comes out as more of a grimace. "You go, Vi. Have fun with the others."

Her eyes are worried, but a lifetime of arguments and tears has told her when to push and when to leave well enough alone, so she leaves well enough alone. It takes a moment to collect myself, to pick the pieces of my heart up off the ground and place them back where they're meant to be, but when that's done and I've managed to still the shaking of my hands, I stand from the bed and head for the door.

If he doesn't want me that's fine, but he can tell me himself, one final time.

All or nothing.

I throw on my jacket and make my way down the hall, heading toward the school's academic wing. Pretty much everyone is either training or enjoying some recreational time, so I don't pass many people on the way there and when I raise my hand to knock, the hall is empty.

The door swings open with the help of lesser magic and I slip inside, not bothering to announce myself—the presence of a shadow curling up around my ankle tells me he knew exactly who was at his door before he ever opened it.

"Professor Riorson." I lift my eyes to his and attempt to shore up my resolve.

"Cadet Sorrengail." He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "To what do I owe this visit?"

My heart pounds against my rib cage and my pulse flutters like a caged bird. There's a desk between us and metres of clean air, but it may as well be nothing. The atmosphere in the room is charged and I absently wonder if Vi warned him I might be coming.

"I…"

He waits, lifting a brow. "Yes?"

"I'm failing!" I blurt, suddenly losing my nerve. "I'm going to fail your class and I don't know how to…" His eyes hold mine, gold-flecked onyx practically smouldering.

"Try again." He instructs, lowering his hands to the armrests on his chair. He splays his knees casually, leaning back while his eyes seem to stare right through me.

"I'm sorry?"

His lips tilt up, just slightly. "That's not what you came here for." He shakes his head. "Try again and don't lie this time."

My mouth runs dry. Suddenly every conviction I had, every ounce of bravado flees my body and I want to be anywhere but here because I know…this is about to hurt. Having your heart ripped out always does.

"I…came to ask for an extra credit assignment?" I try again, clinging to the minuscule hope he might believe me. It's nothing Vi hasn't done before. Well, before Basgiath, but still.

Riorson smirks. "And your suggestion?"

I frown.

"You're the professor. Don't you decide…?"

The hair on my neck stands on end and I shiver as something brushes the end of my braid. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He murmurs and my eyes blow wide.

"Uh…" His lips tilt.

"Not that it matters, you're lying again."

My mouth falls open. "Ok, you can't possibly know that!" I hiss. "You're not an inntinnsic, you have no idea what I'm thinking!"

"I know you." He counters. "You expect me to believe you, Remi Sorrengail, came here for an extra credit assignment?" He shakes his head.

"You don't know me!" I frown. "I've barely even seen you since you graduated." And not for lack of trying. I've personally been deployed up and down the Eastern Wing, but every time we've been at the same outpost he's miraculously busy. Violet however, sees him all the time. A fact I've always hated.

"Why are you here, Remi?" He tries again, looking more amused by the second and I can just tell—he knows. It shouldn't be a surprise to me. I've never made my interest a secret, I'm not ashamed of it, but that doesn't lessen the disappointment that even after all this time he'll refuse to give me the time of day when I know he's attracted to me too.

I lock my jaw and scowl. "Is there an answer you'll believe?" I finally utter, shame and frustration colouring my cheeks.

"Not extra credit."

I guess the all or nothing is going to be nothing then. How disappointing. I turn on my heel, refusing to waste a second more of my time on someone who clearly doesn't appreciate me.

"Remi." He calls sternly, his shadows tugging on my braid, and when the door won't open I resist the urge to stomp my foot like a sullen teenager—I want out.

My throat tightens. "Yes, sir?" I grit my teeth, glancing over my shoulder and his expression shifts like he's only now recognising the finality in the air. No more flirting, no more games, no more anything.

He closes his eyes and I recognise the minute twitches of his brow—he's talking to his dragon. I yank on the doorknob again but it refuses to turn, keeping me trapped in a mess of my own making.

When he stands from his chair and rounds the desk, my heart begins to flutter with panic.

"Sit down." He orders and I blink.

"No."

I'd have said it anyway, just to be contrary, but this time I mean it. I don't want to be here anymore.

"Sit. Down." His voice lowers, taking on a frustrated, threatening tone and my lip peels back from my teeth.

"No."

Before I can reach for a blade to defend myself with, his arms are around my waist and he's lifting me into the air, carting me back toward the desk like a sack of grain. He kicks the chair before it out of the way with his foot and deposits me on the desk's surface, sending papers scattering.

When I lash out with my foot, aiming to kick him somewhere painful, he catches my ankle between thick, powerful thighs. "Stop." He warns, his tone glacial. "Look at me."

Fuck you. I think, and when I glance up there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Sor—Remi." He corrects, leaning in. He plants large, calloused hands on my knees, keeping my thighs apart as he steps between them, ensuring I can no longer lash out at him with my boot. As his fingers curl around my knees, he leans in close enough for our jaws to brush, and I suck in a sharp breath.

"Sir?" My voice shakes and he all but groans.

He lifts a hand, tracing over my cheekbone with his thumb and my heart races. Each brush of his fingers, the feel of his stubble against my jaw, all of it—it sets my soul alight.

"Everything about this is inadvisable." He whispers, his voice gruff. "You are inadvisable."

I swallow hard. "So you've said." Never going to happen, he'd told me more than once while studying here.

"And yet…"

My muscles bunch, shoulders tensing. "…and yet?" I challenge, finally finding my voice.

He takes one breath and then another, and forces me to mourn the loss of his warmth as he steps away. "Article eight, section one—"

"You are not quoting the Codex at me!" I spit, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare as he takes another step. "You? Seriously?" Fury engulfs me, anger burning my chest with tendrils of white-hot rage. "You're a gods damned separatist, even now, Duke Riorson," I sneer, "and you're wedging the Codex between us?"

Of all things, of every excuse—

"You could be—"

"I'm exempt!" I throw my hands up, lashing out with my foot once more and growling with frustration as he halts it with his shadows. "Article eight, section one of the Dragon Rider's Codex states that calling cadets into active service in times of war may only be authorised by—"

"The Commanding General of Basgiath. I'm aware." He glares.

"So I'm no longer a cadet and I haven't been since July when they sent me to the front to mend." I point out.

"That's a technicality—"

"Oh so you're allowed to call technicalities and I'm not? Got it." I roll my eyes. "Just admit you don't want to fuck me professor and let's move on."

"In-ad-visable!" He yells, a deadly glare on his face and I jolt, rearing back a little. "If you were anyone else I'd have—" He seals his lips together and spins, facing the wall as he jerks a hand through his hair, gripping the dark strands roughly. I watch wide-eyed as his shoulders rise and fall, like he's short of breath.

"You'd what?" I whisper.

I don't dare move, frozen in place on the desk as I watch him, waiting with bated breath to see if he'll finally, finally tell me why. Why he refuses to see me as anything but Lilith Sorrengail's daughter, Brennan's little sister, Violet's twin. See ME, I want to scream at him. I deserve that.

When he turns, his eyes are dark and incensed. "If you were anyone else, I'd have bent you over that desk already and taught you a lesson."

My heart flies into my throat. "What?" It's barely more than a whisper leaving my lips.

He stalks back across the room, clearing the few feet he'd put between us, and slides his hand beneath my chin, long fingers curling around the back of my jaw to pull me in, tilting my face up to meet his. "You heard me."

Heat flushes my cheeks. "Wh…why not me?" I ask and embarrassingly enough, my voice breaks. "Why anyone but me? I'm—"

"Soft." His thumb drifts, brushing gently over my lips as he cups my jaw. "You have a soft heart, Remi Sorrengail, and I'm not the kind of man who can care for it."

I scoff, baring my teeth at him. "I'm a rider, same as you." I glare. "They don't call me the Angel of Death because I'm soft."

His hand slips, running back over my hair and down my loose braid. "Well they got the first part right." He murmurs, closing his eyes. I watch, taut as a bowstring as he takes one breath, then another. "Fuck." He mutters, face twisting up like he's in physical pain.

"Xaden?" I whisper, voice shaking.

"You have terrible timing." His hand tightens on my braid and then he's pulling, tugging me forward as he grasps my chin and seals his mouth over mine. My heart leaps into my throat and my chest tightens as he devours me, the hand on my hair sliding down to rest between my shoulder blades. His fingers splay as he pulls me in, holding me close.

His teeth nip at my lower lip and I gasp, tilting my head in submission as he slips his tongue into my mouth. Oh gods. I whimper, pressing myself further into his grasp as he kisses me thoroughly. A small sound of pleasure escapes my throat and he diverts his attention, nipping gently at my jawline.

His mouth moves right to the sensitive spot behind my ear, like he knows exactly where to nip, where to suck, where to pleasure to have me liquefy. His lips are warm against the shell of my ear as he whispers, "you choose now to take no for an answer?"

He worries the skin beneath it with his teeth and I moan, arching into him. "Y-ou didn't want me." I pant. "You've never—you—"

"I always want you." He growls. "You've been taunting me for years, angel." I gasp at the endearment, tilting my head to give him more access as he works his way down the column of my throat. "It's not a matter of want."

My fingers tighten on the timber of the desk behind me and I suddenly realise I no longer have to refrain from touching. Immediately I reach for him, slipping my hands beneath the leather of his flight jacket, running them up his sides to hold him to me.

"Then what?" I whisper, lifting a hand to rake through his hair, scratching my fingernails against his scalp as he sucks a mark into my throat. I want to touch him everywhere. "Xaden, please." I whimper, bringing my legs up to try and drag him closer. I need to wrap my thighs around him.

He groans, panting into my neck. "We should not be doing this." But he doesn't stop.

I gasp, arching upward so my chest brushes his as his fingers skate beneath the line of my corset. "You've yet to give me a good reason." I say, desire coiling low in my abdomen.

"I'm your teacher." He breathes, pulse skipping as I lock my ankles behind his lower back.

"And I'll be such a good girl for you."

Just like that, his control snaps. "Fuck, Remi." He pulls me forward forcefully, dipping his head to claim my lips once more. The kiss is deep and desperate, and I moan loudly into his mouth.

"So. Fucking. Tempting." His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly on the silver-tipped strands and I moan again, heart pounding as my skin gets hotter and hotter.

He kisses like a man possessed, holding me to him like he can't get enough and when we finally part for air again, it's all I can do to keep from begging. I grasp his hand, dragging it from where it rests on the side of my neck, down over my chest, past my stomach and to the button on my leathers.

He barely hesitates, slipping his hand beneath my waistband. I toss my head back, a small gasp leaving my lips as he slides his fingers over my clit and and back up again. "Gods," I whimper, "please."

"Please, what?" He whispers, slowly drawing his fingers through my arousal.

"Please, sir?" I gasp, leaning back to meet gold-flecked onyx. He chuckles.

"I meant what do you expect me to do with you, angel?" His thumb slowly circles my clit in soft, barely-there movements, "but the respect is a nice touch."

I swallow hard, a red flush spreading down my neck, but I have him right in front of me and I refuse to falter now. "Please make me come." I whisper and he groans, hips rocking forward reflexively. "I'll be good for you, I promise."

His eyes are so dark they're almost entirely black despite the light in his office, and he pushes my legs from his hips, spreading my knees further apart as he pulls me to the edge of the desk.

"These need to come off. Now." His hands are already moving, undoing the buttons and sliding my pants down over my hips, taking my underwear with them. I lever myself up on my hands as he drags them down and drops to his knees before me, fingers working on the laces of my boots.

He pulls them off one by one and dumps them on the floor, and when my pants are finally off and I'm half-naked on his desk, he tips his head back and stares. I flush deeper as he remains kneeling on the floor, slipping his hands up to cup my knees.

He rests his head on the inside of my thigh for a moment, his hair brushing my skin, and parts my legs further. Anxiety flares and I glance up at the door uncertainly, suddenly realising where we are.

"Is that door locked?" My heart skips a beat.

"Does it make you wet?" He murmurs, "the idea of being caught?"

I swallow hard. "No."

My heart flutters against my rib cage and his eyes soften, lips pressing gently to my skin. "It's locked, angel. No one's getting in." He places another careful kiss on my inner thigh. "No one can hear us. It's just you and me."

Something inside me settles and I relax enough to reach out, threading my fingers through his hair. "Ok." I murmur, admiring the silky strands as he moves closer, drawing in a sharp breath as he wraps strong arms around my legs and pulls.

"Xa-Xaden." I whimper as he lowers his mouth to my heat, parting his lips.

"What happened to sir?" He lifts a brow, glancing up at me, and my stomach swoops.

"Sir," I whisper, my voice shaking.

I watch as his mouth curves up in a smirk. "Better." He agrees, and lowers it to my clit.

"Oh, gods." I moan aloud as he seals his lips around it, wasting no time with foreplay. He flattens his tongue and I can't help but rock my hips, both my hands flying into his hair.

My back arches as he scrapes his teeth over me and I quickly slam one hand down behind me to keep from losing my balance, sending pens scattering everywhere.

"Look at you, making a mess." He murmurs between languid strokes of his tongue.

My chest heaves and I grip his hair tighter, trying to still the movement of my hips. "I'll make—a mess—of you." I pant, the last word pitched higher as he closes his mouth around me and sucks.

"Promises, promises." He murmurs as he drags his fingers along my inner thigh teasingly. "Are you going to come on my face, angel?" He asks, barely looking up as he slips a finger inside me.

I moan, arching as my heart pounds, desire coiling low and tight in my gut as I clench around his finger. "I—" I can't get a word out, entirely breathless as he sits back on his heels and waits, lips shining with the evidence of my arousal.

"Look at you." He whispers, lifting his thumb to swirl it around my clit. "So wet for me already."

"Yes," I breathe, curling my fingers tighter in his hair. "Always for you."

He drags his finger out and presses it back in again, eyes never leaving his hand. I squirm in place, wanting—needing—more. He thumbs at my clit almost playfully, finally looking up to watch my reaction and I whimper, screwing my own eyes shut.

"Can you take another for me?" He asks, moving his finger teasingly.

"I can take all of you." I whine, twisting with impatience. "I want your cock, please Xaden?" He lifts a brow and I already know exactly what he's going to say.

"Ask me nicely."

There it is. I swallow hard. "Please, sir?" I soften my voice, ignoring the embarrassment that flares in my chest. I'll beg if it gets me there. "I want to come on your cock."

"You will." He responds, stroking my inner wall with his finger. "Just not yet. Be a good girl and let me have my fun."

I manage to refrain from more than a single disgruntled whimper as he ignores my plea, starting circles with his thumb again. When he slides a second finger home beside the first and curls them up, I cry out, tugging on his hair to bring him close.

"Please, your mouth."

He flattens his tongue obediently and I gasp and whimper as he begins moving it over my clit in time with his fingers. He laps at me as he slides them in and out, curling them up to press against a spot that almost sends me over the edge.

"There! There, please!"

I decide I hate the desk. It's hard and uncomfortable, and it provides poor leverage, keeping me from rolling my hips or fucking myself against his face.

He swirls his tongue and presses his fingers up simultaneously, and the action takes me entirely by surprise, tossing me unceremoniously over the edge. "Xaden!" I cry out, jerking against him as I shatter, coming apart on his tongue.

His head is squeezed tightly between my thighs as I shudder, hips jerking, and he moans against me, sending my heart rate soaring as the vibration of it rumbles through my clit. I gasp, clenching my cunt down around his fingers.

I don't know where to look, what to hold onto as my pleasure rolls over me in waves. Sweat slicks my skin and when he finally pulls away, licking his lips in self-satisfaction, his eyes gleam. "I can't wait to get my cock in you."

I moan, tightening around the fingers still inside me. "You could have already been in me." I pant, whimpering as he finally rises to his feet, showing no signs of the difficulty I know I'd be experiencing if I were on my knees that long.

He slips his fingers free and brings them to his lips, holding my gaze as he licks them clean. My stomach swoops like I've done an aerial dive and my lips part, surprise and arousal no doubt written all over my face. Gods.

"Patience, cadet." He lectures, grasping my chin roughly. "You've been so good," he croons, leaning in to kiss me. "You don't want to ruin that now, do you?" When he slips his tongue past my lips, I can taste myself on him and I moan into his mouth, skin heating beyond comprehension. It feels like when I wield—all my power building up inside me, only now it's pleasure; building and building again until I'm ready to explode.

"We're going back to that?" I pant as we part. "You don't like your name on my lips?"

"I like you obedient." He fires back, his hand gripping the back of my neck. "You've spent years taunting me, having your fun at my expense. I think I'm owed some recompense."

I almost roll my eyes. Almost.

"You could have had me at any time." I whisper. "If you waited, that's on you." I tilt my head up, closing the gap between us myself for the first time as I kiss him sweetly. "Your room, mine, the sparring mats…" I murmur. "I've thought about us everywhere."

"And this…?" He asks, eyes heated. "What were you picturing when you came down here, all innocent, asking about extra credit?" His hands move to his own leathers and my heart skips a beat as he begins undoing buckles, removing his weaponry with quick, efficient movements.

"What were you picturing when you walked in here, Remi, and saw me sitting behind my desk?" He moves onto the button at his waistband, popping it open. I watch, breath hitching as he frees his cock, pushing his pants down slightly as he begins to stroke. "Was this what you had in mind?"

A small sound escapes me, more of a squeak than anything else, and I suddenly find myself at a loss for words. He's…sizeable. He grasps the front of my corset, dragging me up off the desk, levering me to my feet. I tilt my head back to look at him, but our eyes only meet for a second before he's pushing, turning me around and down.

I catch myself on my hands, palms flat on the desk, fingers splayed wide and gasp as he presses himself in behind me, a hand grasping my braid. He leans down, mouth warm against my ear and says, "be a good girl and spread your legs."

I obey on reflex, but I'm certain my skin is so red it looks like I've reached burnout. "Xa-Xaden…" My fingers tighten on the dark timber and I gasp as he presses down on my spine, forcing my back to bow, lifting my ass against him.

"You look so pretty like this." He murmurs in my ear and I jolt as he drags a finger up through my folds, adding a second to gently hold me open. I can feel his fingers on my skin, hear the stroke of his hand on his cock as he prepares himself, but all I can see is papers and tomes.

I gasp as the head of his cock presses against my entrance, heart fluttering wildly, and as he starts to slowly push inside, I panic. "Wait!" I call, reaching behind my back, searching for his hand. "Wait, wait, wait." I pant, anxiety thrashing in my chest as he freezes, holding completely still.

His hand closes over mine, fingers threading between my own and I squeeze tightly, trembling in place. "Not like this." I swallow hard, shaking my head. "Not—" Before I can finish speaking he has me on my feet, spun around and held against him, his cock pressing against my stomach as he spears his hand into my hair, guiding my eyes to his.

"Remi?" He asks seriously.

My lip shakes and a small, mortified sound escapes my throat. "I want to see you." I whisper. "The first time…I want to see you." I want to look into his eyes. I want to see the way his brows knit, the way his lips part in pleasure as he drives into me. I want him to see me and know it's me and no one else. I want all of him.

His gaze softens and he dips his head, kissing me softly, his movements slow and languid. It eases the pressure in my chest, the small part of me that thought speaking up might be a deal breaker, and when we part he reaches down and lifts me off my feet, carrying me in quick strides to the chair behind his desk.

"Tell me if you want to stop." He murmurs, pressing his lips to my cheek, my jaw, my throat.

My knees settle on either side of him and I hover in place for a moment, waiting for his eyes to return to mine once more. "I don't want to stop."

Slowly, I sink down on his cock, holding his gaze as I take inch after inch of him until I finally have to close my eyes, tipping my head back in rapture. "Gods, Xaden."

He exhales slowly and his voice is strained when he speaks again. "So tight, Remi." He murmurs, lips brushing my cheek. "So wet for me."

I moan, tipping my head into his neck as he jerks his hips up, pressing against all the right places. The stretch is just this side of too much and it's exquisite and entirely worth the wait. I reach around him, gripping the back of his chair as I lever myself up and drop back down again, squeezing my walls tight around his cock.

"Good girl," he praises, sliding his hands up my spine as he encourages me to move.

I blink my eyes open, kissing my way up his jaw, sucking a mark of ownership into his neck. I want everyone to know exactly what he's been up to in here—I want them to know he's taken. I lean back until I can see him properly—see every minuscule expression as I gyrate on his cock. "I've wanted this for so long." I gasp. "Wanted you."

He lifts a hand, brushing my hair from my eyes and the other palms my hip, encouraging me to move. "I know." He murmurs, shadows slipping free from his control. "I know everything, Remi. All your wants, your needs, everything." Wisps of black curl up around me, brushing my skin, disappearing beneath my clothes. "I'm just as fucking obsessed with you as you are with me." My stomach swoops.

"Are you—" I gasp, arching my spine as something cold brushes lightly against my clit. "Is—is that?" I can't even get the words out I'm so short of breath.

"Me." He whispers, thrusting harder. "All of me, all over you."

I groan, tipping my face back into his neck as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. I could interpret that very differently. "Do you want it harder, angel?" He murmurs, teeth nipping at my earlobe.

I nod furiously, panting as he snaps his hips up, pulling me down at the same time. "Please, Xade."

He sets a quick, unrelenting pace, slamming home inside me with the same desperation I feel, like he needs it—like he's a man starved. "You're so perfect, Rem." He praises, breath rattling out of him as his shadows circle my clit. They endless and determined just like him, slipping low beneath the neckline of my corset as he drives his cock into me over and over again.

"Are you going to come again for me?" He pants against my ear as I tighten around him. "Let me come inside you? Fill you up?"

"Yes, yes, yes—" The coil of pleasure building in my abdomen bursts and I cry out, holding on tight as fire floods my veins, nerve endings lighting up like a shooting star. "Xaden! Xaden—" I gasp and shudder, curling into him as he continues thrusting, chasing his own peak.

I'm so over-sensitised I can't help but whimper against his throat, my fingers tightening on his arms with every stroke. His thrusts grow less and less controlled as he hurtles toward the same cliff I'd just toppled over, and I clench down tight around him, sucking another mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Fuck!" He curses, teeth lodging in my dragonscale armour as his hips give one final jerk and he spills inside me with a groan. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath my cheek and I smile softly to myself, keeping my eyes down. "Gods." He rests his head on my shoulder, arms curling around me to hold me close, and I do the same to him, my heart swelling in my chest.

I lie my cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he presses a kiss to the back of my neck. His breathing begins to even out, pulse slowing but I hold onto him just as tightly still, keeping him close.

My knees are beginning to ache and the width of his hips isn't exactly comfortable for mine, but I don't dare move, knowing the second I do this will be over and I'll have to face reality again—awkward, uncertain reality.

I'm just as obsessed with you as you are with me, he'd said—but is he really? That seems unlikely.

"Remi." He murmurs, his arms falling from my sides, and I bite down hard on the inside of my lip, throat tightening. "Angel, we can't stay like this." He chuckles.

"Yes we can." I murmur petulantly into his neck, not loosening my grip an inch.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes." He replies, hand firm in the centre of my spine, "and while I'm happy to work with my cock inside you, I don't share."

A barely audible sound of surprise lodges in my throat. "Share?" I ask quietly, a tendril of hope curling in my chest.

He tugs gently on my braid, encouraging me to lean back so our eyes can meet. "You're mine, Remi, and I don't share my things with anyone." He says sternly.

That kind of possessive alpha bullshit should not fly with me. If it were anyone else, I'd probably punch them square in the nose for their insolence and tell them I'm not an object, but he's not anyone else and for him…

"Yes, sir." I whisper, cheeks flushing, and he groans, hips stuttering below me as his body makes a valiant attempt at an encore.

"Remi!" He chides and my lips curl up in a smirk, emboldened.

"Was that enough for extra credit, Professor Riorson? Am I passing your class?"

"Fuck." He mutters, mostly to himself. "If anyone finds out—"

"I'm happy to warm your cock while you work," I murmur, "if you still think I need extra instruction."

"Remi!" He groans, lifting me off him completely. "You're going to be the death of me." I guess he wasn't kidding about having a meeting to go to.

He sets me on my feet and I stare up at him innocently, chewing on my lower lip. "I feel so empty without you inside—"

"For fuck's sake!" He curses, sending a shadow to curl around my mouth. I go to speak further, to taunt him again, and find the dark mass blocks all sound—I can't so much as whisper in his direction for as long as he can wield. I pout, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes.

"How important is this meeting?" I sign, hands moving rapidly in the air. "I'll be lonely without your—" Shadows zip forward, swirling around my wrists to lock them tight together, binding my hands.

He finishes buttoning his pants and folds his arms over his chest, staring at my half-naked form in the middle of his office, completely unimpressed. "I suppose insecure Remi is gone then?" He asks, striding forward to cup my jaw with his hand.

That scores a direct hit and I guess he somehow knows it, because his fingers gentle as they tip my chin up. "Torment me in public and you won't like the punishment."

I'm absolutely certain I will.

Almost as if he hears my thoughts, his eyes narrow and he scowls. "I promise you won't, angel. I'll bring you to the edge over and over again and leave you there, bound and desperate while I get myself off—every day until you've learned your lesson."

I swallow hard.

"Thought so." He hums. "But if you're good, I'll help you come—on my face, on my hand, on my cock…over and over and over again." Onyx eyes glitter. "It's your choice, baby."

Baby. The word hits me like a punch in the gut and my chest tightens. "I can be good." I blurt the second his shadows disappear. "I promise."

"Good girl." The hand around my jaw curls up and he drags me in, dipping his head to place a soft, reverent kiss on my lips. "Go clean up and I'll see you tonight, Cadet Sorrengail."

I breathe in deep, a small smile touching my lips as I reach for my pants, hands shaking with relief. "Ok." His hand skates over my back as I finish dressing and he guides me toward the door to his office.

"And Rem?" He calls, halting me when my hand is on the doorknob. "That technicality is bullshit—it's not flying with anyone in leadership and you know it, so for fuck's sake keep this to yourself until this posting is over."

I bare my teeth in a grin, a joyful laugh bubbling past my lips. "Whatever you say, sir."

Who knew academia could be this satisfying?

[wileys-russo]

cheeky little angst to fluff blurb for leah??

leah didn't do her acl in this because i said so insensitive II l.williamson

"-so i'll rest again for a bit in bed, go to breakfast and then i think we have our team walk in a couple hours? oh! then a few of the girls are gonna go for breakfast and to the beach tomorrow before our flights since they're later at night. the beaches here are literally insane babe the water is so blue, i'll make sure to send you some photos. i'm keen for one last taste of summer before returning to the bleak dead cold of the uk." you joked with a smile, your girlfriend humming tiredly in response.

"i'm sorry baby i'm talking too much. are you sure you're okay? you played brilliantly leah really, i was so proud of you." you softly assured, as you had been for the majority of this phone call which was really annoying the blonde more than helping her to feel better as you intended.

both of you away with your respective national teams for international break you'd both been on the phone much as you could, forever attached at the hip you missed the older english girl who held your heart terribly.

however it would appear that your break was going a whole lot better than leah's, australia coming away with an 8-0 win a few days ago and england having just lost 3-2.

your chances of qualifying were looking up whilst hers seemed in a jeopardy she'd not predicted experiencing.

"i'm fine." if you would have picked up on the hidden sharpness of her words you might have caught on and changed topics, however still half asleep you missed it, having been up very early to watch your girlfriends match.

"losses happen lee it doesn't mean you girls have any less chance of qualifying, you've come back from worse yeah? heads held high and leave it in the past, same thing you tell us all each week in red babe." you tried to comfort her only your words had the opposite affect.

with the loss playing heavily on her mind and leah attributing a large portion of the blame toward herself in defence, she felt a bitter bubble of jealousy and frustration begin to build up in her throat. and before she could think any better of it, it came out suddenly like a toxic word vomit.

"yeah well some of us have actual challenges to face to qualify. we can't all get the easy draw and piss poor low ranking teams to smash 8-0, scoring hat tricks against players with half your professional experience and no funding into their programs, can we? the entire olympics qualification system is a fucking joke!" leah snapped, a few of her team mates heads swiveling toward her with a mix of frowns and surprise at her harsh tone.

silence was all that she was met with after her little outburst, you opening and closing your mouth in somewhat a state of shock at the venomous tone from your usually calm mannered and always supportive girlfriend.

"you must be tired and your flights soon. i'll call you later before warm ups?" you asked hopefully, heart hammering in your chest. "no, i'm going into the training centre soon as i get back." leah replied bluntly, clearly not intending to watch your match as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"right. well i hope you get some rest on your flight then." and with that the line beeped signaling you ended the call, leah shoving her phone into her pocket and resting her chin on the handle of her suitcase she was currently sat on.

"leah mate...that was painful to listen to." georgia winced from beside her, keira humming in agreement. "what? she's being insensative! if she knew me she'd know i fucking hate being coddled and thats all she was doing, as well as flaunting her stupid win." leah muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"is that seriously what you think?" keira questioned, eyebrows knitted together as leah only gave a small shrug. "leah." the younger girl sighed, shaking her head.

"she barely mentioned the win to you when it happened, she spoke about her hat trick maybe once on facetime that night? she stayed in to call you like normal instead of being out for dinner celebrating with her team." keira began to lecture the blonde beside her.

"do ya know what time it is in western australia right now leah?" georgia continued on, eyes wide looking at her phone as again leah only shrugged, though a hint of guilt was just starting to creep in.

"it was 3:30 in the morning there when we kicked off and she watched the entire match and then stayed up for a few hours afterwards to call you, so that she could comfort you and try to make ya feel better." georgia lectured, leahs stern gaze beginning to crack at her words.

"then you just dismissed all of the graft she put in last match and her entire teams hard work down to something they have no control over. doesn't matter who they play leah, they deserved each win." keira continued, leah taking her bottom lip in between her teeth as she sat up and rubbed her face with her hands.

"then she gets up at 3:30 to watch your game and you tell her you aren't bothered to watch hers when its at a more than reasonable time, because you're busy feeling sorry for yourself." georgia added on, yet another blow of guilt for her to swallow.

"did you think it was insensitive when we beat them in the semi final of their home world cup, and you celebrated with your team afterwards?" keira asked with a raised eyebrow.

"nah that was different! i went right to her first to make sure she was okay and tell her how proud of her i was, and she told me to go out afterwards and went out with her own team." leah defended suddenly, shut down by the looks from her best friends either side of her.

"exactly leah, so then how is that any different than her trying to console you after this loss? and then you had to go and open your stupid hot headed mouth, stick your foot in it and probably make her feel like shit before her final international match of the break, which you all but said you wouldn't be watching. how is that fair?" keira delivered the final punch as leah crumpled, head hung in her hands with a small groan.

"yeah alright alright i get it, i've royally fucked up here." leah sighed, standing suddenly and walking off with her phone held to her ear, calling you over and over as each time the phone would ring out only affirming to her that she had really stepped in it this time.

trying you for a fifth time, urged to hurry up from her team mates as their flight was boarding leah's phone vibrated with a message as again you didn't answer.

from; lover girl i need some space please, i'll call you once i land back in london x

with a frustrated sigh leah heart reacted the message not wanting to overstep, locking her phone and hurrying over to keira who was impatiently waiting to board.

she had some serious groveling to do.

~

you opened and scanned through the multiple messages from leah she'd sent while obviously watching the game, withholding the urge to smile at her running commentary and complimentary words about how you and the team played.

still quite frustrated with her and still wanting space you opted not to reply, locking your phone and tucking it under your leg as you rummaged around in your backpack for your airpods.

"you're not gonna call leah?" steph asked with a look of surprise as you settled in beside her on the bus back to the hotel, where as normally you'd sit by yourself to call your girlfriend after each match like clockwork.

"nope." you answered simply, shaking your head and tucking one knee up to your chest. "what's happened?" the older girl sighed knowingly, draping an arm over the back of you as your head came to rest on her shoulder.

through the four seasons you'd played together at arsenal the two of you alongside caitlin and now kyra had become like a family, relishing in the familiar comfort of having your fellow aussies around living in a foreign country where you hardly saw your actual loved ones.

"i think we had an argument? but we didn't exactly argue." you replied, still a little in the dark yourself on what had caused leah's outburst. steph only gave you a confused stare and nodded for you to explain further as you did so, recounting your conversation with the blonde captain this morning.

"ahhh, i see." steph nodded now caught up as you hummed tiredly, the time now nearing eleven at night. "you know she loves you very much. but we both know she hardly has a filter on what she says sometimes, and she's quite potentially the most patriotic person i know both for club and country." steph chuckled, patting your shoulder.

"norf london foreva." you mocked her accent quietly with a small smile, admittedly missing it even more now you knew you'd not be speaking to her for a couple of days while you flew.

"but thats not to dismiss how harsh she was and how that would have made you feel. i think some space is a good idea, gives her some time to reflect on why you're upset and why what she said was wrong. you gonna be okay?" the brunette asked softly as the bus pulled in outside your hotel.

"yeah, i'll be fine. it's been nice being back home and seeing all the girls again, and we're going for brunch and to the beach tomorrow. i'm just focusing on that and the horrendous jetlag we're due for once we touch back down." you groaned, steph agreeing as the two of you filed off the bus.

~

"kyra i promise you, if you so much as breathe near me for the next twenty four hours i am going to murder you." you spoke calmly, stopping to take a deep breath as the younger girl purposefully stepped on the back of your trainer again.

you loved her dearly but it was like having your own child as she'd wound you up for hours now, giving you a brief moment of rest when she'd finally passed out on the plane. but now fully awake and in her usual tiresomely hyperactive mood she'd been kicking the back of your knees out and stepping on the back of your shoes from the moment you stepped off the plane.

"leave her be! honestly mate you're so annoying." caitlin groaned on your behalf, wrangling the girl into a tight headlock and dragging her away from you as the four of you headed out of baggage collection.

"i see your personal chauffeur has arrived." you looked up in confusion as steph elbowed you, spotting leah a hundred or so metres away. "ooo she's off to kiss her little girlfr-" kyra's sarcastic kisses and teasing words were cut short as caitlin suddenly swept her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling to the ground on her ass.

"oi!" with that the two took off chasing one another around the terminal, steph kissing your cheek and telling you to call her if you needed her as she hurried off to sort your friends out, the three of them set to take an uber together.

you watched leah nervously shift her weight from one foot to another as you slowly made your way over, her face partially hidden by the hood drawn over her head. a hoodie which you quickly recognized as one of yours, a faded black australian national team hoodie from years ago.

you also noticed she had a bunch of flowers in one hand which she immediately held out to you. "hi." leah breathed out quietly once you arrived in front of her and had taken the flowers with a mumbled thank you.

"hi." you echoed back, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and shaking your head as she offered to take it from you, the two of you wordlessly making your way out of the airport and to the car park.

you dumped your bag in the boot which she opened and closed for you, sliding into the passenger seat with a tired sigh and carefully placing the flowers on the floor between your feet as leah sat beside you, starting up the car and pulling away.

"can we talk? or do you want some time to like actually sleep and rest, you must be insanely jetlagged. i can stay at beth and viv's place tonight? give you some space." leah offered, the two of you having been living together for well over a year now.

"no it's fine, we can talk." you confirmed, adjusting your position as your head slumped against the window, eyes struggling to stay open which didn't go unnoticed by the blonde beside you.

"are you sure? you look exhausted we can-" "leah i'm sure, we need to talk."

you hadn't mean to come across as bluntly as you did given your jetlag, as you saw surprise flicker across your girlfriends face for a moment before she nodded and you mumbled a quiet apology, rubbing your eyes.

"well i'll start. firstly; i am so incredibly unbelievably sincerely sorry for what i said to you love. i was tired and frustrated with my own performance not that thats any excuse, and selfishly a little jealous of your big win when we lost. which was completely unfair because i am so so proud of you in everything that you do. i promise!" leah started, glancing over at you as she stopped at a red light and you gave her a small smile, nodding for her to continue.

"you put so many hours of extra training in to prepare for the world cup and of course thats payed off and you're finally seeing the benefits. I was bitter and selfish and i lashed out at you when you were just trying to make me feel better, like always, and i am really really sorry baby." leah continued, falling silent after as you assumed she'd finished talking.

"well firstly; you were an asshole." leah winced at that but nodded, understanding her actions were to blame here.

"but i understand you were feeling poorly after a loss, i just wish you'd communicated that with me a little better and i would have left you be with your own thoughts rather than talking your ear off and probably worsening your mood." you sighed, the blonde quick to assure she normally loved you talking her ear off.

"i just felt like i didn't understand what i'd done to cause you to be upset with me, and then you snapped about the qualifying process and you weren't entirely wrong but-"

"i was! i was wrong about that. its been the way they're done for years now and its not anything you or i are ever going to have the influence to change single handedly, and i should have never dismissed the shift you and the girls put in for that win." leah was quick to clarify before apologizing for interrupting you.

"thank you. next time please just communicate with me how you're feeling and what you need lee." you smiled tiredly, your girlfriend reaching for your hand and smiling in relief when you allowed her to take it, the blonde bringing it to her mouth and placing a few tender kisses on your knuckles as she glanced toward you.

"eyes on the road thanks charmer." you smiled tiredly, leah not letting go of your hand but dropping it to rest on the middle console, her other hand expertly maneuvering the steering wheel.

the rest of the ride home was filled with a much more comfortable silence, leah thanking her lucky stars you'd been so forgiving and remanding herself over and over for ever wronging you, smiling softly at you asleep in the seat beside her.

parking in the driveway she flicked the car off, carefully getting out and softly closing her door. she grabbed your bags out of the back and hurried them inside, dropping them in your shared bedroom and rushing back to the car, leaving the front door open.

gently opening your door she caught your body as it slid out having been leant against the door, your eyes shooting open as you inhaled sharply and sat up. "we're home baby." leah advised, affectionately rubbing your flushed cheek with her thumb as she pressed a kiss to your temple.

with a tired nod you allowed her to pull you up and out of the car, walking yourself to the front door and rubbing your eyes. you stretched as you crossed the threshold of your home, squealing as leahs hands poked at the sliver of skin which popped out as your top rode up.

"hello." you latched yourself onto her the moment she closed the front door and turned, your cheek smooshed into her shoulder as her hoodie clad arms wound tightly around you. "i really really missed you." leah sighed, swaying the two of you back and forth as you relished in the familiar warmth of her embrace.

"so i can see, you've become an honorary tillie." you teased, tugging on the sides of the hoodie as your chin moved to rest against her sternum, looking up at her in amusement. "for you my girl? anything." leah promised with a soft smitten smile, leaning down to kiss you.

"leah what is that?" you spotted a piece of cardboard on the kitchen counter over her shoulder, pulling away from her right before her lips met yours causing her to frown.

"welcome home from prison!" you read out the sign with a scoff, leahs arms folding around you from behind as her chin rested on your shoulder and you felt her body vibrate with a quiet laughter.

"thought it might be a bit too soon for the joke to land right without an apology first." leah admitted, pressing a few light kisses to the side of your neck.

"mm yeah good choice. dick!" you shoved her playfully as she continued to cling onto you, spinning you around. "may i have a proper kiss now please?" the blonde pouted, puckering her lips as you smiled, shaking your head.

"well i am all for charity and since you asked so nicely." she pinched your side for the comment, pressing her lips to yours before you could say another word.

the way her lips slotted perfectly with yours would forever make your head spin, sending you into a love drunk haze of dizziness at the euphoric feeling of kissing her. the way her bottom lip would part slightly as her hand flew to the back of your neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thumb rubbed gentle circles just below your ear.

her lips always soft and welcoming, her kisses calculated and thought out, making sure that with every fleeting second you could feel how deeply she cared for you. this kiss in particular was two weeks in the making, the blonde pouring into it every inch of her adoration for you with each slight adjustment and touch, her other hand resting on your waist to draw your body even closer into hers, trapping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and love and safety.

"welcome home." she pulled away with a light smack, pressing a few softer kisses to your swollen lips before pressing her forehead against yours, closing her eyes and hugging you tightly, anchoring you in her arms like a lost ship coming ashore.

the sea of your relationship wouldn't always be smooth, but with leah at the helm and you loyal by her side the two of you could get through pretty much anything.

"it's two now baby. do you want to sleep for a few hours and then up for dinner? and we can stay up till around maybe ten to try and reset your schedule?" your girlfriend offered sweetly, warm lips pressing against the crown of your temple with each word.

"so long as you're with me i don't mind." you sighed, head falling to her chest as you squeezed her tightly, melting the older girls heart who hugged you back just as firmly.

"well you can't sleep standing up." with that she'd bent down to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. "bed or lounge baby?" the defender asked with a raised eyebrow. "not the first time you've asked me that while i'm off the ground in your arms." you smirked, kissing her nose and grinning as she scrunched it slightly.

"even half asleep with jet lag you remain a cheeky cheeky girl." leah tutted with a shake of her head and carrying you with her over to the sofa, turning around and sitting down as she pulled you to sit between her legs which stretched down its length.

"can you put the golf on please?" you mumbled tiredly, shuffling so your head was resting on leah's chest, hearing her heartbeat beneath your ear as leah smiled happily in surprise at your request. "really?"

"yeah, always sends me to sleep." you continued, closing your eyes as leah rolled hers, carding a hand through your hair but doing as you asked, nails scratching at your scalp and the english captain chuckled seeing within a few short minutes you'd fallen right back to sleep.

desite the fact she actually enjoyed watching the golf much to your horror, a few holes in, she was ashamed to admit she joined you, eyes drifting closed.