#good yes excellent this is exactly what i wanted to be able to do when playing this game

[suguslve]

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— 7 MINUTES OF HEAVEN IN HELL

synopsis: you’d been doing an excellent job at avoiding Lucifer these past few days—you kept your distance, stayed busy, kept your focus elsewhere—but of course, fate had other ideas. Getting stuck in a small closet with him was definitely not part of your plan, yet here you were.

♰ pairings. lucifer morningstar x afab!reader

♰ genre. smut (porn with plot unfortunately)

♰ warnings. fingering. reader gets called doll by Luci like…twice i think. she also gets called whore and slut :P

♰ word count. 1.7k

♰ a/n. first ever smut pls go easy on me 😕 YES THIS IS PORN WITH PLOT IK I HATE IT TOO BUT I HAD TO!! enjoy reading and lmk your thoughts!

Ignoring Lucifer wasn’t something you had planned, not exactly, but under certain circumstances, you had to. It all started one evening when you poured your heart out to him, confessing that you liked him—so much so that the weight of your feelings felt like it could drown you. You were a mess—sweaty palms, nervous gaze, shaky breath—but he stayed calm. "Y/N..." he said, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his, you saw only pity, and cold harsh rejection. Before he could say anything more, you had already turned away, desperate to escape the suffocating tension. You had gotten good at avoiding him, finding company with his brothers instead.

A few days had passed and Asmo decided to host a small, intimate celebration at the House of Lamentation, to honor his milestone of 2 million followers on Devilgram. You sat in his room as you waited for him to finish getting ready, he had insisted that he would be the one to doll you up.

“You know you really should take this chance to stop avoiding Lucifer. The tension between you two is so painfully obvious, everyone can see it! Even Beel can tell!” he said, making finishing touches to his makeup. You rolled your eyes at him. “Uh huh and then what? Face his rejection? I think I’ll pass.” He glanced over at you with a sigh. “Well, maybe he won’t reject you—maybe you’re just overthinking it—” You cut him off.

“Shh! No more Lucifer talk from this point on. I forbid it! Now, are you finally done so you can start dolling me up?” you asked, giving him the cutest puppy eyes. “Fine! Come here. I just got this new makeup palette that would look fab on you.” he said, ushering you to his makeup table.

After hours of hair styling, lipstick swatching, and dress fitting, he was finally done. He motioned for you to stand and turn so he could admire his work. “Perfect! Now no one will be able to take their eyes off you—especially dear old Luci—AHEM, I mean... You better not steal my spotlight okay? Not that you can anyway.” he clasps his hands together as he urged you both outside where the others were waiting.

The night was as lively—as expected from Asmo. You had danced to your heart’s content and drank without any care in the world. As you sat on the sofa, chatting and drinking with Solomon, Asmo stumbled over to you both. “Hey, want to join us? We’re about to play 7 minutes in heaven—well, hell, I guess.” he slurred. You shared a look with Solomon. “Why not?” you said, feeling carefree from all the alcohol, Solomon nodded in agreement. “Perfect! Let’s go then, everyone’s waiting!” Asmo said, cheerfully pulling you both along.

When you arrived, you noticed the group consisted of just the brothers and a few other demons. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lucifer chatting with Barbatos, but you paid it no mind at all. You sat between Mammon and Satan, and to no one’s surprise, Lucifer sat directly across from you, his gaze fixated on you. Great, you thought, this was going to be a long night.

After a few rounds and drinks later, it was finally your turn. Asmo shot you a mischievous glance before spinning the bottle. You stared at the floor, not wanting to know who you’d be paired with. The room fell silent as the bottle came to a stop. You looked around at first before your eyes landed on the bottle—it landed on Lucifer. You were about to protest when you saw him stand up and make his way towards you. Without a word, he took your hand and gently pulled you toward the closet.

Once inside, you quickly pulled your hand away from him. Great—here you were, stuck in a closet with the one demon you were avoiding like the plague, and for 7 minutes no less! You tried to focus on anything but him, grateful for the dim light in the small space. Your dilemma was cut short when you realized the position you were in: you were face-to-face with Lucifer, his thigh positioned in between your legs, his arms placed above you. ‘Oh fuck me.’ you thought. ‘You know what? I could just ignore him for the whole 7 minutes. How hard can that be?’ your thoughts were then interrupted by a deep voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” he said, his tone firm. You rolled your eyes but decided to remain silent. He sighed softly before his fingers gently grasped your chin, turning your face to meet his.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes locking with yours, the closeness between you two evident as you smell the faint scent of alcohol lingering on him. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” you answer defensively. He let out a soft chuckle. “You really expect me to believe that?” His voice was low, a hint of teasing lacing his words. You tried to avoid his stare, but it was impossible to look away.

“Was it because of your confession the other day?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with intensity. You sighed, trying to step back. “No. I’m not doing this with you. Not now, not ever.” You attempted to open the closet door, but before you could, he pulled you back toward him.

“No, we’re doing this now,” he insisted, his grip firm as he turned you to face him. He looked at you for a brief moment, and then, without warning, he cupped your face and kissed you. The kiss was full of intensity, passion, and something deeper—something you couldn't deny. You were taken aback and was about to pull away, but before you could, his hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer. Everything around you seemed to fade as you gave in, kissing him back with the same intensity. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever before he finally pulled away, breathless.

“This was not how I wanted things to go.” he murmured. “But you’re just so stubborn so I had to take matters into my own hands.” he caressed your face before speaking up.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice low and filled with desperation. You nodded eagerly, your heart racing. “Please.” you whimpered. He let out a soft chuckle, but it was quickly swallowed by him pulling you into another kiss. This kiss was raw, fervent, and intoxicating, leaving you weak in the knees.

His hands gripped your waist possessively, bringing you closer to him as you tangled your fingers in his hair. A deep growl rumbled from his throat before his lips trailed down to your neck. You moaned softly. “Luci, please. I need you.” you gasped, the alcohol fueling your boldness and longing.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Are you sure? We can—” But before he could finish, you crashed your lips against his. “If you don’t touch me right now,” you whispered breathlessly against his mouth, “I swear I’ll lose my mind.” Without a moment's hesitation, he slowly unzipped your dress, just enough to free your breasts. He immediately captured one with his mouth, while his other hand explored the other. You moaned louder this time, completely unbothered by the possibility of being overheard by the others. His eyes burned with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Luci— fuck… I need more.” he chuckled as he pulled away from your breast. “Your wish is my command.” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot, before kissing you deeply as his hand went lower.

His hand roamed at your thighs before placing it on your pussy. His chuckle was dark, almost cruel, as his fingers brushed over the thin lace of your panties. “Jesus, doll,” he breathed. “Already this soaked for me? And I barely even touched you.” He hooked a finger under the edge of your panties and tugged them aside. The cool air hit your exposed core, making you flinch, but then his finger was there, brushing over your slick folds, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Fuck.” he muttered, circling your entrance lazily. Without warning, he pushed a finger inside you, curling it just right to press against that spongy spot deep within. You bit your lips harshly at that. He leans in closer to you, his head tilting slightly, as if mocking you. “Yeah? You like that, doll? Like being a good little slut for me?”

This man was going to be the death of you.

You clenched as he added a second finger, stretching you further. His thumb found your clit, rubbing circles that had your vision blurring.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, and you whined softly, reaching for him instinctively. But he caught your wrist, pinning it to the wall above your head. His other hand wrapped around your throat. “As much as I’d love to see you cum on my fingers right now, we’re still in the closet. And as much as I want to hear you moan my name over and over, my brothers are still outside, wouldn’t want them hearing how much of a whore you are for me now would we?”

You blinked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. He was right. You fumbled with your dress, your hands shaking as you adjusted your panties and smoothed the fabric back into place.

As you made your way out of the closet you were surprised to see the empty room, the mess of the after-party still scattered about. Lucifer’s chuckle echoed softly, a mix of amusement and something else, as he looked at the scene before him, then he effortlessly lifted you in his arms.
“Well, it seems my foolish brothers have finally managed to use that brain of theirs.” he remarked, his tone teasing, as he carried you toward his room.

“Let’s continue what we started then. I’ll make sure you’ll scream and writhe for me.” he whispers against your lips before kissing you once more.

You knew that you still needed to have a long conversation about the whole confession thing, but you have plenty of time to worry about that. God, you owe Asmo one.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[charlie-pippin-faraday]

I have received an item called "Rose in Vitro" from the Monomono machine. Its description is: "A small rose stored inside a test tube. It's good for both hellos and farewells. In the language of flowers, a red rose means passionate love."

And I remember from the last time I looked at the wiki that this is an item that Kyoko LOVES, because of COURSE it is!

Guess who is about to go and make Makoto give a rose to the love interest like nature intended?? I am!!!!!!!!!

[reiding-writing]

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

[defmaybe]

[AER-698] My Boss(?) Loves My Ass So Much She Puts Her Tongue on It, Then She Fucks Me in the Ass Like I’m Her Cockslut and Make Me Cum!

aespa’s Uchinaga Aeri/Giselle x Male Reader

1.2k words

Sequel to Excel

“G–Giselle, nghh.”

“Shh, call me Aeri, baby. I won’t bite you–and your ass.”

A giggle leaves Aeri’s lips just before her tongue dives right back onto your asshole, leaving you tensed up in the sensations.

Again, you’re caught in this “predicament” of having your collar tugged by someone while walking in the SM building’s hallway—happens to be Aeri this time. 

Should’ve been more careful.

Her hands grip the outer of your thighs ever so tightly, locking your willing, lithe body in place. Her dexterous flesh finds its rhythm in lapping up your rear, having your cock leaking droplets of precum on the tile floor. She doesn’t taste the insides of your body yet, but you’re quite sure that she won’t stop on the outside.

“You know–wait, Yizhuo would probably have told you this, our little rankings, haven’t she?”

“Y–Yes, yes, Aeri. I–I got the best ass for four years straight.” You aren’t certain whether to be proud of it, but it gets you here, bent over a desk to have your asshole licked.

“Yeah, you know, it’s not just the ass. There’s legs, abs, face, and you didn’t do bad in other categories!” she stops the tongue action, but still playing with the rim of your tightness with her deft fingers. The pleasure is still there.

“T–Thanks, hgngnn, Aeri.”

“Anyways, yeah, I’ll go back to eating your ass now.” Aeri chuckles, before placing her tongue on you again, eliciting an inaudible sound from you.

She lets out a quiet, satisfied moan with each swipe of her flesh. How can she be so good at eating ass? God, this woman, she’s making you struggle to stand upright. You would’ve fallen to the ground a long time ago if it’s not for this poor wooden desk.

You swear that your moans keep getting higher and higher with each lick of hers. She does it so, so well, fuck.

And as if she can listen to your body, she starts to invade your butthole—piercing her tongue into your body every two or three swipes. The shocks become stronger now, any contact with your cock and you’ll cum.

“Hmm, baby boy, you taste good,” Aeri says. You can feel your puckered hole clenching in front of her face. You can feel her warm breath on your cheeks. And you can feel the tightening of her hold on your legs. She want you so, so fucking bad.

“T���Thanks, nnhh, A–Aeri, again.” You just can’t form your thoughts with the waves and waves of pleasure surging through you now.

And she stops.

“W–What?” you utter, glancing back to catch her determined eyes.

“Oh, baby boy, my poor baby boy. Just wait a second, okay?” Aeri says with her doe eyes, her hands searching for something within her tote bag.

As she brings the object out, the size of it makes you gawk—a six-inch black strap-on. To be honest, the expectation of it being a dildo plowing your slutty ass isn’t exactly too far. But with the size of it, you won’t be able to walk home properly today.

“A–Aeri? I–I don’t think I–”

“Shhh, baby boy, let me fuck your ass, alright? Be a good boy for me~” Aeri speaks as she’s harnessing the plastic phallus on her waist.

You nod.

She paints lube on her shaft, and she manages to snuck a finger into your tightness to lather her target.

And so it begins.

She slowly pushes her cock into you. The coldness of the lube makes you shiver, and how her length enters your pliant body. You keep your mouth tight shut, unable to make any sound out of this otherworldly sensation. God, she’s fully dominating you.

“C’mon, make some noise, baby.”

And that’s when you let go.

You let out the loudest moan of your life at her command.

“Fuck, ngnghhn, Aeri.”

Her first filling of your snug hole brims with care—the ridges of her cock grazing your inner walls, the gentle hold of her hands on your slutty, slim waist.

“God, you’re well worth the wait, baby boy.”

The tip of her rod sears into your body up to your prostate, sending waves and waves of indescribable ecstasy through your frame. You’re such a slut for her.

“That’s it, baby boy. Take me inside you.”

And with an inch more, she’s buried inside you to the hilt. The edge of her hardness is poking your stomach. It hurts, but it’s also fucking satisfying.

“I wish I could stay like this forever, but unfortunately–” she pulls herself back, leaving some space inside you once again. “–I don’t have all day.”

And she thrusts back into your ass, violently.

“D–Daddy!”

Fuck, where does the moniker come from?

“Yes, yes, moan for me, baby girl. Be my good girl.”

She doesn’t let the slow pace linger for too long, as she starts to up her ante. Any leftovers of the initial gentleness are now replaced by the roughness of her cock ramming into your ass, into your prostate. Each stroke sends you closer and closer to ecstasy.

“Fuck, I wish I could stay soft. But god, fuck, I now know why Yizhuo was smiling that whole damn day.” Her grip on your waist—that slutty, slutty waist—becomes tighter. “Because of a slut like you, baby girl.”

“Ngnh, d–daddy.” You’ve submitted to Yizhuo before, but this is on another level. “Daddy, please use me like your slut. I–I’m your cockslut!”

“Good fucking girl.” And she gives your ass a slap, fuck, leaving you in such pleasurable pain.

Wet squelching sounds vibrate through the room. Aeri is fucking your ass relentlessly. She’s not leaving any room for your breathing. Her plastic phallus hits your prostate again, and again, and again. You’re her fucking dirty cockslut—made to be used and abused.

With each contact, you can feel your release coming in close. It’s building up in your loins, that familiar feeling. The echoing of each “daddy” doesn’t help either, only serves to declare your full submission for Aeri.

“Daddy, I–I’m gonna cum.”

“Fucking cum then, you useless cocksleeve. Cum on the floor!”

It doesn’t take many thrusts into your rearhole for you to lose your hold. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum onto the white tile floor. She doesn’t relent, still ramming her own length into your prostate, so eager to squeeze every drop out of you.

Your cock twitches violently, each spurt descends in its intensity. Still, all of them send the same message: you’re Uchinaga Aeri’s cockslut.

“Yes, just like that, you fucking bitch.” She gives your ass a slap once again. That’s going to leave a mark.

Eventually, you come down from your high, all panting, desperate for air. You’re trying your best to keep hold of the table.

“F–Fuck, that was fun,” Aeri says, also panting.

“Nhgn.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s get some sleep.” And Aeri helps you walking towards the bedroom upstairs, being fucked in the ass and all. You can barely walk.

As you reach her room, she places you into her bed. Before tucking you in, letting you rest after one of the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Good night, baby boy.”

–

[bamfkeeper]

Pregnancy

RQ: 'Hi! Hope you’re having a good day! I Saw your requests were open! Would I be able to get some headcannons for Kurt as a father/with a pregnant reader? If not that’s perfectly fine!' - @cherri-leaf

Warnings: Kurt x f!reader, pregnancy topics, birth and baby themes

A/N: This is not helping my baby fever. Do I care? Nope. Soo happy to get one of these, I love writing things like this. Ignore any grammar errors bitte und danke.

Kurt would be the best father to be. When he found out you were pregnant, he was completely overjoyed.

He would absolutely do everything in his power to make sure that you are comfortable and happy throughout your pregnancy. He can hardly wait, and he'd want you completely stress-free during.

Kurt would always ask what he can do to help, he wouldn't want you bending over or lifting anything.

Kurt is an excellent cook, so he'd be cooking a lot of your meals. He doesn't want to control you, but he only wants you to be eating the best foods he can get you. And cooking it himself, he knows exactly what is going in your body and feeding your baby.

His German heritage comes out more, he likes to feed you typical German meals, most of which are high in protein and good for your body. Lot of meat and potatoes, and lots of fruits and veggies.

He does let you have desserts too, he makes them himself though. Or if you want to bake with him that's obviously okay! He loves to bake, as long as you don't get too tired with your belly.

He loves massaging you, knowing how laborious and exhausting pregnancy can be. He always tries his best to massage parts that hurt. Kurt massages your legs, ankles, feet, back. He also tenderly will massage your breasts, it's good for milk production and to help the tissue as your milk comes in.

One of his favorite things is to sit down and lay his head beside your belly. He loves listening to your little one most around, gently rubbing over it and speaking to it. He talks in German to your little one, speaking soft and sweet, laying kisses all over your stomach.

Kurt does a ton of research on pregnancy too. Before you are even pregnant and you're both trying, he reads books and watches videos of pregnancy and what it does to your body, getting as much information as possible about it. He wants to know what he can do to take the best care of you. Plus he wants to understand what's happening to the love of his life.

Some of it makes him cringe, and he frowns seeing how your internal organs shift, or all the symptoms and mental strain pregnancy causes. "Liebe...I will do everything I can to help you. It is scary, but I will be right here." he reassures, even if you have no worries about it.

Does he go nuts over the nursery? YES. Circus themed, naturally. Without the bad parts of his youth of course. Lots of fun colors, circus stuffies, (elephants, zebras, lions, tigers, bears, oh my!), and he absolutely paints it with you.

He also loves to shower you with gifts during your pregnancy, some for the baby, but some for you too. He always makes sure your friends know what you need when the baby showers comes along.

Baby clothes shopping? He goes nuts. "Liebe, bitte, bitte our little one has to have lederhosen! Bitte!" he begs and pleads with you, and you can't resist for long.

He makes a lot of jokes when your baby moves around a lot. "Heh, takin' after me already? Mein Gott...a little acrobat you are..." he coos to your belly, "Careful now, little one, you're gonna hurt your mama." he kisses your belly where the baby seems to be doing summer saults.

Kurt does really well with your hormonal changes too. He understands, sometimes you get impatient or lose your temper, never at him, but things are so overwhelming and stressful sometimes. You get frustrated with your self esteem or the fact that standing up is always a struggle. He calms you down, helping you ground yourself. "What do you need, schatz...anything. Food, space, love?" he questions, wanting to ensure you are okay.

When you go into labor, he tries his best to stay calm but...he can't help it. He freaks out. He rushes to you, no teleporting, it makes you too dizzy. He helps you to Beast's lab, no hospitals, he heard about how they treated Madelyne, he didn't want to deal with that.

You feel better surrounded by friendly faces anyway.

Of course it's just him in the room when you do give birth, he talks you through, telling you how good you're doing...how close you are, to breathe, etc.

He is so worried, giving you lots of love and making sure you're doing okay above all else.

When your little one arrives, he is in complete awe. Imagine how you want the baby to look ofc, but come on...it's gotta be a little blue!

It is such a sweet bundle of joy, it doesn't cry more than necessary when it's first born, and you hold your baby as it's placed on you. Kurt doesn't care if it is a boy or girl, that is his little one and he will cherish it with you.

Kurt respects the motherly bonding, so he steps back and lets you hold and be the first one to cuddle and kiss, and of course warm the baby with your skin. It's a sight he won't forget.

Ideally, he'd like to name the baby a German name, but he of course talks with you if you have any cultural or personal preference. You both come to a conclusion on what to name your new baby.

He's the best after too. He does everything he can while you recover with the baby, and helps wherever is needed. He helps if you nurse, he cleans and cooks still, makes sure you have hot showers ready, anything you could imagine.

You know you and your baby will be forever and always be loved by your adorning blue teleporter ~

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[gilverrwrites]

Hi friend!

Would you be interested in doing a NSFW alphabet for Bruce? Just read your black mask one and damn heheh

Bruce Wayne: NSFW Alphabet

AN: Thank your so much, glad you enjoyed! And yes I would be interested.

As always readers; please take whatever you vibe with and leave what you don’t. It’s all in good fun.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It really depends on your existing relationship, and its level of intimacy.

A hook-up is getting the bare minimum to keep his image where he wants it to be. He’ll help you get clean, offer you his bathroom, and if he can, he’ll help you redress and get you out asap. If you decide to stay, he’ll be cordial; he’ll do the pillow talk, let you wear his shirt, make sure you’re fed and watered or whatever but he won’t hold you, and he won’t be there when you wake up. He will however leave a note with some half-truth about having to leave for business, and money/gift cards for a coffee and an Uber.

If you’re more than that (dating/married/so on) then it depends on how well you’ve voiced your needs to him, and how much time he has. Let’s be real Bruce is a hypocrite, he wants you to tell him in explicit detail how you need to be cared for, and if you don’t he’s profiling you until he gets it right, but he ain’t saying anything about himself.

So provided he doesn’t have to run off to save the day, or your escapades haven’t coincided with a routine patrol, Bruce is excellent at aftercare.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Him: Bruce is highly critical of himself. He’s not blind, he knows he’s physically fit, widely intelligent, and highly attractive, but there’s also always room for improvement.

But if he had to choose, it would be his brain. He enjoys being able to look at you and knowing in an instant that you want him. Knowing if it’s a right here right now, or a tease me till I’m begging kind of want. Knowing exactly what you need to hear or where you need to be touched. Being able to predict and acclimatise to your desires is such a big thing for him.

As for you: It’s all in your eyes. You may or may not think you’re quite stony-faced, but not to Bruce. He just loves how expressive your eyes are. Yes, when he’s analysing you; looking for those dilated pupils and heavy lids. But also just the delight when he surprises you with sneaky kisses, when the skin around them grows crinkly as he growls something totally scandalous, or how they grow wide and doe-like as he’s stretching you out, or when they twitch and roll when he’s fucking you just right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not particularly vocal about it unless he’s really lost in the heat of the moment but; breeding kink. He wants his cum buried as deep inside of you as your body will allow. He wants you so full it’s spilling out and leaking down your thighs, soaking into the bedsheets. And then he’s gonna scoop all those stray drops up and push it all right back in.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

At his age, he doesn’t really get the terms that people use in sex nowadays. That information wasn’t easily obtained in his prime but if he had to identify with something he’d claim soft/dom and/or a brat-tamer, and he’d be right.

But sometimes he likes to switch roles.

He’d never admit it, because he’s a goddamn control freak, he considers (his own) submission as weak and at best he’d be a power bottom but damn it’s so comforting and so hot to be at your mercy or just taken care of sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ooh ho ho. Brucie has been around many blocks, and back again.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I have no explanation for this, I just feel it in my bones but he’s so into doggy. Especially when it’s a hook-up and/or a quickie. By extension, the flatiron because it offers that really deep penetration that has him cumming right against your cervix.

Also the eagle and the leg lock/missionary, specifically with a pillow under your hips and one of his hands pushing on your stomach so that he can keep you in place as he punishes your g spot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very rarely goofy, at least not until he’s at a level of familiarity and intimacy that would allow him to let those walls down. He’s not without a sense of humour, it helps if you’re goofy first.

Blow a raspberry on him, and he’s pinning you down and giving you 10 back. Give him a ridiculous nickname and he’ll start testing new ones out on you. “Ohh Brucie boo boo, that feels so good.” “You like it when I bend you over and fuck you like this honey bunny?”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s thick and dark, but well-trimmed. In his younger years, he waxes off his happy trail and chest hair, but from his mid-late 30s, he starts letting it grow.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This again is widely dependent on your relationship.

If you’re a hook-up it’s just about fun really. It’s sensual, borderline pornographic but ultimately impersonal.

But if you’re more than that, then sex is very intimate for him, and he’s surprisingly passionate.

He struggles with voicing his emotions so this is how he shows you his appreciation for all that you do. It’s how he apologises for being gone so much, for making you worry. Your body is where he takes out his frustrations but also where finds respite and comfort.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not something he particularly enjoys, but it is a necessity. He’d rather the real thing, but if that’s not accessible when he needs to let off some steam then so be it.

There have been many, long frustrating nights that have ended with him beating it in front of the batcomputer, unable to focus, and wishing it were you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As previously mentioned, breeding kink. (See c for cum)

Bondage: I’m specifically talking about him being the rope bunny here. Nothing extreme, soft ropes holding his wrists to a chair or a bed frame while you grind on him. Yes he could break out at any minute, but he doesn’t, that’s part of the submission, the fun.

This can be flipped, he’ll tie you up if that’s what you want but he prefers to pin you down with nothing but his own strength and body weight.

Roleplay/primal play: His interest in the whole cat and mouse (or bat and cat) has never been subtle really. He likes being the predator, catching the prey and taking his reward. Ties in closely with the brat taming too if you’re a fighter or mouther.

Extending on prev, I think he’d also like interrogation play: again both ways but primarily he likes to be the interrogator. To hold you down, tease, and question about whatever subject matter, probably what you want to have done with you, until you beg him to make good on all your confessions.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He’s boring in this regard; the bed. It’s a comfortable, safe environment where he can let loose.

If you wanted to do it in the cave or the Batmobile he’d comply, but explicitly when off duty with low risk.

But if it was up to him, he’d keep you all locked up in his chambers, squirming in his sheets, eyes rolling back to look at his ceiling. It’s like he’s claiming you, inside and out, full and scented by him and his bedsheets.

Maybe, with the certainty that nobody will be home, he’ll find other places to fuck you; the marble stairs, the hot tub, in front of the fireplace.

But be prepared for the unmitigated guilt and humiliation of traumatising at least one of his kids when they inevitably stop by unannounced.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He often comes home in the early hours of the morning still full of adrenaline and looking for relief.

Outside of that, he’s highly receptive to teasing and shameless levels of flirting. Clothing too; he likes skimpy, short skirts low cut tops but that’s not always necessary. Just knowing you’ve got nothing on under that flowy outfit, or that he bought you those shoes, or that’s his button-up will do it for him.

And then there’s domesticity. When you bring him food during a long and intense research session. Seeing you be really good with Damian, or helping Cass with her ballet hair, or scheduling dinner for the two of you with Babs and Dick.

Just you clicking so perfectly into his life, predicting and meeting his needs without being asked, makes him want to show you just how much he appreciates it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you want to call him daddy that’s fine, he can be your baby daddy, but you are not his baby.

You can be his baby momma though. He wants to fuck a child into you, not fuck a child, even in a fantasy capacity.

If he wanted a child he’d be adopting you, not sleeping with you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

50/50

He rarely gives oral when hooking up, because he’s a fucking beast at it. Wet and sloppy, just going to town, which affords him a lot of women wanting to ride again. But in that same vein, he doesn’t expect these people to give him anything. If they’re gasping for it, he’ll oblige but otherwise, he just avoids the whole oral thing.

But when it’s his love, there’s no stopping him from spending an afternoon worshipping those perfect hot, wet folds. Drinking you up until your fluids are dripping down his neck, until his scalp aches from your grip and you’re seeing stars.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It varies of course but preferentially 70/30 rough/sensual with a lot of crossover.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As mentioned in J for Jack-off, if he needs to release some tension quickly, and you’re available then he’ll take you. Bend you over the nearest surface, bruising you with his vice grip, no sound but for his grunting and the salacious slap of your skin against his until he’s got everything out of his system and can get back to the job at hand.

But otherwise, he’d rather take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you’re an adrenaline junkie, then sure he’ll take risks for you.

That said, the risks he takes are calculated, and he is good at maths. He won’t bore you with the statistics, just know that he’ll always find a way to give you what you want.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No average human can keep up with Bruce Wayne’s stamina, let’s be real. But that’s okay, when you’re all spend and cock drunk and too weak to move, he’ll make sure you don’t miss out on anything. He’s strong and fit enough to do all the work for the both of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Holy utility belts Batman!

For all his gadgets and tech, I want to say he has sex toys galore but honestly I really don’t think he does.

He probably has the classics: retrains, cock ring, remote control vibe, plug, dildo and/or strap.

And some more out there things: electro collars/low impact tasers, clamps, a swing.

Heaven knows he can afford anything and everything. But beyond that, I don’t think he reaches for them often, nor does he seek out or experiment with new ones. Not unless something sparks it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Are you kidding? The moment he sees his opportunity he’s laying the teasing on thick. Sneaking touches when nobody is looking, speaking to you in that voice, calling you while you’re busy to tell in explicit detail what he’s been thinking about doing to you since he saw you in those pants this morning.

And when he finally gets you alone, he’s 100x worse.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Noisy but not loud. He has such a low, deep voice. So when he groans and coos in your ear it’s certainly clamorous to you. All the filthy things he says bellows.

But nobody outside the room you’re in will hear him, not unless he wants to be heard anyway.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

With time and experimentation, Bruce knows what turns you on better than you do. Kinks you’ve never thought of. Subtle touches you barely notice, getting just close enough for you to smell his natural musk. He moves his body in precise ways, and uses really specific words that have your mind racing.

He’ll play you like a fiddle and have you thinking it was your idea.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s packing, and we all know I don’t mean guns.

And that's when it’s soft and in the cold. At full glory, I’d say at least 8 inches, above average girth. Cut, with some very prominent veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fair to moderate, adrenaline heightens the senses and emotions and can be an aphrodisiac which is where a lot of his drive comes from.

But removing that from the equation, he’s trained himself not to think about you or anything that turns him on when he needs to focus. So when he gets to relax or when he sees you again, all that pent-up denial comes running back to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends on his mindset. More often than not, by the time post-climax hits, after an already long night, he’s out like a light the moment you’ve signalled that you don’t need him any more. Sometimes sooner.

But if something’s on his mind, a series of clues that aren’t adding up, a villain that shouldn’t have gotten away, when he’ll be up all night thinking about it. In this scenario, it’s not uncommon to find his side of the bed empty within an hour or two.

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

okay so full transparency: i've never really read much fic. i don't have a ton of free time set aside for creative/recreational purposes and the time i do have, i use to write because that just fills me up a lot more. however, i made a commitment to consume more fan-created work in 2024 and i succeeded in that!!! there were still periods where i wasn't able to read much, which has lead to an ever-growing tbr, but i wanted to take a moment at the beginning of this new year to share a hodge-podge of some (completed) fics that wow'ed me this year. a great deal of these are several years old and likely 'old news,' but i got to experience their magic for the first time in 2024 and want to spend some time showing them some love!!! in no particular order:

in losing grip by @keep--driving - 2024 was the year of me learning to love a good second chances au. this fic has all the trope-y goodness you could ever want, along with toe-curling kiss scenes, the perfect kind of humour that makes you squeal into your pillow or porridge or wherever you find yourself, and characters that you just love and root for so easily. i especially loved her take on james and lily's mums and the ways they navigate the world with and beside their children. i read a large chunk of this fic on my kindle as i pushed a stroller this autumn and i will forever associate it with peace and calmness. i'll be re-reading it soon!!!

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by lizardcookie - enter: the other trope i fell in love with in 2024—failed friends with benefits. the way this fic deals with grief in such a poignant, devastating, incredible way had my jaw on the floor. yes there is sexy jily, but there is also giggly jily and insecure jily and scared jily and earnest jily and oh mannnn this is the good ish. the small detail of lily coming around to sirius and james both through her help with the flying motorbike. i love the minute breakdown of lily's thick walls until they come tumbling down and james is right there, waiting, as he always is, patient and Good.

i would drink a case of you, darling by treacherous_talks - one of the tags on this fic is "a good old fashioned 'lily and james get together fic' because there aren't enough of them" so obviously i was in from the jump. this magical fic does such an excellent job at highlighting exactly what it means to be a teenager with a crush on another teenager who you think has a crush on you but you're not completely sure and so you can't ruin it because what if you're wrong. that is such a jily sweet spot i don't often see done as well as it is in this fic!!!

poison of trust by soopsiedaisies - not a jily fic! gasp! in fact, it's remus and sirius (not wolfstar) who are actually not usually as compelling a relationship as some of the other marauder era possibilities. but this fic made me eat my words because it is delicious. the part that i literally included in my ao3 bookmark and that i think about all the time is when remus tries to accuse sirius of equating harry and james and sirius says, oooooh i have chills thinking about it, "i dare you to finish that sentence." YES guarddog sirius black! his position as sole protector of the potter family will never not be important to me and this fic highlights that in such a unique and compelling way.

bad day wall by @apalapucian - there's nothing i could say about this incredible fic that hasn't been said, and recently, but truly—jayne is such a phenomenal wordsmith. this has a dash of 'texting fic,' but make it canon compliant and so beautiful it makes you wanna diiiiiie. the blackevans is unmatched, of course. but james's head-over-heels-ness for lily also has to be mentioned. i love every single one of his batty contributions to the bad day wall as he mopes and wades through all the chaos of trying (and failing) to get over lily evans.

The Guide to Becoming a Better Man for Lily Evans by bronzeagepizzeria - the shirtless james potter agenda is quite special to me, which needs to be stated right out the gate, really. the shirtless james potter who is shirtless on purpose just to get under his dream girl's skin agenda is an ascension i have yet to come back down from.

Of Chrysalism by @maraudersftw - i shall give you this, line, dangling on a stick as a perfectly buttered and garlic'ed (??) carrot, enticing you to cast your cares aside and come read this fic: "He’s spoilt, and persistent, and endearing, and she’s hopeless." like??????? yeah. okay. sure. i'll pretend that i'm capable of returning from that in this lifetime. but actually: james "my feelings matter, too" potter is so important and i love the agency this fic gives him!!!

Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub by @bcdaily - i think i read this years ago. perhaps. idk i was basically a baby when it was published in 2012. but i recently stumbled upon it (again? maybe?) and just absolutely devoured it. this is quintessential jily to me, in each iteration, as they grow and learn each other and finally, finally, finally choose each other. each of these scenes is so carefully crafted to showcase really important moments in their relationship, but does it using really unimportant moments, which is genius. it's the grand fromage of showing, not telling, and this would absolutely be the first week assigned reading on my syllabus if i got to live out my dream as a professor on jily.

say goodbye to my heart tonight by spinawren - my bookmark for this was literally just "SQUEEEEEEE" and i don't exactly know what i meant by that, but i think it's more eloquent than anything i could come up with here. the premise of this fic is genius: james and lily repeatedly having 'one-night stands' with each other until they realise they've accidentally started dating. but james potter's devotion to being in lily evans' presence is what makes this fic belong on the top shelf!

Bluebird by ocean_away - whewwww, this fic knocked me back in a way i didn't expect. it's a second chances fic of a different calibre all around, but what stands out to me the most in this particular fic is the way james and lily are both shown to so seamlessly grow. they begin as two broken, purposefully hurtful individuals (read: teenagers) and become young adults who choose goodness and each other over and over, even though it's not easy. i feel proud of them, when i read this fic. what a labour of love for our favourite couple.

The Way the Light Looks by @stonecoldhedwig - i have nothing more to say about this fic than this: BEST KISS SCENE I HAVE EVER AND WILL EVER READ!!!!!!!!!!!

Whispers in the Dark by @yallthemwitches - okayyyy so it's difficult to choose just one of tay's fics, but this is such a stand-out to me. friends to lovers!!!! james "but i've never lied to you" potter, i want to kiss you on the MOUTH! he's so earnest, so pure, so "no actually i just wanted to see you" when he has no business being such a sweetheart. honourable mention: the beyond-precious proposal scene at the end.

Love is Complicated by @theesteemedladydebourgh - this fic feels like sitting in the most beautiful library in the world watching rain trail down the ornate, darkened windows—and then the hottest professor on earth walks up to you and snogs you without preamble. except it's made better by the fact that he is somehow both james potter and an indiana jones variant? listen. just read it. then squeal and kick your feet with me, okay?

Sunshine in my Eyes by monroeslittle - another fic i devoured on my kindle this year (but definitely not during standardised testing at school when i was supposed to be actively monitoring teenagers for academic integrity and technically signed an oath that i locked all my electronics in the closet). ahem. this is some of the most rewarding angst i have ever read, which is genuinely some of the highest praise i could ever bestow on someone. lily going to james for lessons on how to kiss and the entire scene that follows will follow me forever. they're so endearing and sweet and did not deserve all they went through. but. angst with a happy ending xx

[cozymoko]

Ohh!!! Can i have fruitykawa with a reader who's kind of insecure about their relationship with him? Like,yes she's aware that they are married and all,but Fruity is such a wealthy (and handsome) man that surely there are alot of women around him. It makes her feel upset and tries to distance herself from him.

🌕 anon

ALWAYS, MY BELOVED

It's been a while since I updated. Shoutout to my homie, 🟡 anon for this request. Kinda got burnt out at the end, but I tried my best. Enjoy~!

Pairing: Hachiro Furukawa x Female! Reader (1.9k words)

Format: Headcanons, mini scenarios

WARNING(S): yandere themes, jealousy, insecurity, mentions of cutting (plastic surgery).

Synopsis: Hachiro Furukawa, my oc, with a wife who's insecure due to him being so handsome! (≧∇≦)/

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

NAVIGATION 🍮

Being WEDDED to the BEST is not for the weak-spirited. You had to appear stronger — better than the average woman so that they wouldn't dare question the legitimacy of your place. With your status, a ring costing nothing less than a fortune would never be enough. 

Your marriage had become public only a few years ago. Due to Hachiro's wishes. Yet that didn't seem to stop many promiscuous women from testing their luck. You bit back the unladylike words bubbling in your throat as they approached him. Fluttering their long lashes and flashing their pearly white teeth.

Models, lawyers, entrepreneurs: the party was bustling with so many. For a moment, you felt like nothing more than a pretty little accessory.

“Mr. Furukawa, how nice of you to make an appearance!” The host's eyes shift to you, thick and clouded with disdain. “It's a joy you brought the misses with you this evening.” The snarkiness of his tone was palpable. It seems the host wasn't exactly a fan of you, but then again, who was? After all, no one bothered to hide their curious gazes when Furukawa was not within earshot. But all you could do was hold your husband's arm just a little tighter.

The women especially.

"Is that Furukawa? Isn't he just dashing!"

"Wah~! He's even taller than I imagined!"

"Do you think he'll drink with me?"

Tightly sewn dresses, embracing the ladies that adorned them. Various warm shades painted lightly across their lips. Bouncy twists and swirls curled into their hair. Bedroom eyes peering over the many men scattered across the room; married or not. It's safe to say you weren't exactly pleased that your husband was one of the few.

You often hid yourself behind layers of lovely fabrics and excellent posture, in hopes of maintaining your modesty. In your eyes, it only seemed right that you matched the appearance and aura of that of your Husband. Though it seems each and every day was a torturous test of your self-restraint.

Nonetheless, you were never one to lose your composure. A straight face was essential in any type of business setting. Sure, you weren't as deadpan as Furukawa, but you could definitely play the "cold wife" role perfectly.

RECENTLY, you've had QUITE THE OBSESSION with FASHION. You have encountered plenty of upcoming entrepreneurs, many of who you've managed to befriend. One of your closest ones is a fashion designer.

She would soon be introducing her new line of work after months of a troublesome hiatus. So, after pulling a little bit if strings, you were able to help her out. By strings, you mean asking Hachiro for some assistance. With his support of the project, people were bound to come and see the clothes. Granted, he was skeptical of your request, it didn't take him long to break and give you what you want.

That evening, the two of you attended an induction ceremony for the company's new clothing line. Hachiro had no reason to attend, but the grin on your face was much too difficult to resist. Just knowing that he made you happy warms his heart immensely. You were the cutest.

But, all good things, of course, come to an end.

“Oh, my! Look who decided to grace us with his presence.” A woman with rosy lips approached the two of you, swaying her hips a bit too much for your liking. “Hachiro, dear, it's been so long since I've seen you!”

Even other women didn't dare to acknowledge you, especially in the company of Hachiro himself. He didn't take kindly to people dismissing your presence. But this girl, definitely had some guts.

“Inoue,” he hums languidly, watching her in masked disdain. “I'd rather you not address me so informally in such a public setting.”

That's right, KAMIKO INOUE, one of the top models that had recently taken Japan by storm. You were expecting her appearance after Hachiro's announced sponsorship, but her rudeness surprised you a bit. Especially her addressing your husband as though they were closer than friends.

You scoff, looking away from the two. Seeing how you'd much rather watch them set up than listen to Inoue's mindless flirting. Hachiro placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. But you couldn't dare look into his tender gaze, knowing of the possessiveness bursting within your chest.

She giggled, “How silly of you, Hachiro!” She reached her manicured hand out to grab his free arm just for him to grab her by the wrist.

“Please refrain from touching me so familiarly, Inoue. I'm a married man, and I'd be simply overjoyed if you would respect that.” He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his steely eyes, before pulling you flush against his chest.

A bright red bloomed across your skin at his affection. Hachiro never showed too much PDA. "You have a photo shoot to attend to, no?" He asks coldly. "Me and my wife will be sure to cheer you on from the sidelines.

That soiled your mood for the evening. Snatching the genuine smile from your lips and replacing it with one faker than the plastic on that whore's skin. For once in your life you were truly feeling vulnerable.

YOU had CONTEMPLATED GOING UNDER the KNIFE more times than YOU CARE to ADMIT. Not for your own pleasure, but the sake of your sanity. You didn't know what you'd do if you saw another beautiful woman talk to your husband.

Even in your youth, he was the center of attention. He had captured the hearts of many girls from various levels of wealth. You would know as you were one of them. But you were in no way richer or as elegant as the others who approached him. So why did he choose you? You asked yourself.

That night you had taken the guest room. It felt cold and quiet. Absent of the usual scratching of pens and occasional shuffling of papers you had grown accustomed to. The pleasant rumble of his chest as he attempts to entertain you whilst working. But you couldn't bring yourself to lay by his side with such heinous thoughts roaming your mind. You were able to fall into a long, dreamless slumber. But not without the company of a few heavy tears and a single question.

Were you selfish?

From that day, you didn't bother answering his calls, whether it be morning or dawn. You didn't bother visiting him during those long hours he slaved away at the company, though many times you truly wanted to. You didn't bother to allow your personal driver to pick you up, and if he tried, you merely snuck out of the house.

Any and everything reminded you of him, and that alone rendered you to tears. While he was away, you didn't allow yourself to be another burden pestering him on his business trip. You couldn't allow it.

AND IT WAS ALL DRIVING HIM CRAZY.

THE FLIGHT HOME was DREADFULLY SILENT. Aside from the tapping of someone's sleek dress shoes. Hachiro had not so much as uttered a word since boarding the plane, nor did he intend on it. For if he did, nothing kind would leave his mouth. Perhaps a, "hurry up," or two — or three. But all of it was for the sake of his sanity.

Hachiro needed his wife, desperately.

You slip through the large double doors, entering your bedroom with wary steps. It was quiet, as expected, and without your presence, it felt almost dead. A week had passed since you last drowned in the warm duvet. A week had passed since you relished in his scent nestled deep within its silk. And oh how you missed the smell of him. Finally, at peace, your shoulders dropped. You took a seat on the edge of your bed. Under your confident front, you were only one person. One person with one mind; though you usually had two. Hachiro and your own. But your pride didn't allow you to confine in the man you loved. What were you scared of? Being shamed, or perhaps laughed at — scolded? Though none of it seemed likely, you could not shake the feeling of embarrassment that held you on a tight leash. CREAK! You jumped, startled by the sudden weight pressed against your back. "Thank God you're safe," your heart swelled at the sound of his voice. The voice of not a stranger, but a lover — a partner. Hachiro grabs you by the chin and lifts your face up. You quickly recoil away in shame, praying he didn't get a peek at your messy face. The need to prove yourself had increased tenfold, you couldn't allow yourself to falter in his presence. “look at me, [Name]," he whispered softy. Hachiro lifts your head once more, swiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. "You're crying? Tell me what's troubling you. I can help you, [Name]."

And just like that, you broke. Loud, anguished sobs tore through your throat. Your stomach fluttered at the familiar smell of citrus and mint. You couldn't get enough of it. His arms were warm and comforting, and you couldn't deny the safety you felt by his side. His embrace was stronger than anything you've ever known, as if holding him wasn't enough, you held him as though he were your lifeline. It wasn't your intention to tell him, but you just couldn't help it. Each and every thought was placed on the table. The insecurities that you felt bestowed before him. The people you despised and envied slipped past your lips without thinking. All while Hachiro cooed sweet nothings in your ear, promising you his loyalty until his last breath. “God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered, running his thumb through the swollen flesh of your eyes. His usually cold eyes burned with something you couldn't possibly describe. “I can hardly control myself sometimes.” You stared at him dumbfounded — in utter disbelief. His glasses must've been dirty, you thought. Your hair was a literal wreck. And the past couple of weeks had not been too kind to your skin. Small breakouts peppering your cheeks from stress; bags that could carry at least a ton of sorrow nestled beneath your eyes. Surely his vision was just a little blurry. But upon further inspection, you couldn't spot not a spec of dirt on his lenses. Upon your lack of response, he hums, leaning in a bit closer. “I'm serious, dear.” You huff, burying your face into his neck as your skin takes on a feverish shade of red. Damn him for being so attractive. You felt like a high schooler all over again. Smiling softly, you held him closer. “You're the best, Hachi.”

Hachiro sat awake by your side, gently stroking your back with easy motions. His lips had found themselves on your warm skin. And his heart beating vastly at the things you had confessed to him. The possessiveness you had experienced for him. The jealousy and anguish that had consumed you on his behalf.

Of course, he never wanted to see you upset, but seeing how you value him makes him a bit selfish. Just seeing you made him snap a little on the inside. His rational mind fought for control over his need to have you, to prove his love to you. But he decided against it. He would be sure to show you how deeply his love runs on a later occasion. But for now, he settled for cradling you in his arms. Promising to take all those bitter emotions away from you.

“Good morning, Japan!” Shouted the host. “It's come to our attention that Ms. heartthrob Kamiko Inoue has quit the modeling industry after a life-threatening accident!”

“...HUH!?”

©CozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Play Me

Llewyn Davis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 8: Fingering

Summary: You run into Llewyn at a party.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: kissing, fingering, swearing, terrible jokes, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 849

It wasn’t how you’d exactly planned to spend your Tuesday evening, with Llewyn pressed up against you in a cramped little room. 

Your friend had dragged you to a friend’s of a friend’s of a friend’s party in their newly moved into apartment. 

And with the amount of people there, it looked like their new place was going to need a huge clean up after the night was over. 

Your friend had only really wanted to go so she could shoot her shot with some guy she’d been making eyes at who was going too. She’d been very upfront about it and you’d agreed to go as moral support. 

You’d planned to just hang out and eat as much free food as you physically could. 

So your current situation was a little different than your previous objective. 

When you’d run into Llewyn you’d been pleasantly surprised. 

“And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” You’d teased and to your shock, he’d smiled. 

“I’m just here with Dave,” he’d motioned to the crowd behind him. “You?”

“I’m just here for the free food.” 

“Excellent idea.” He’d grinned at you, leaning against the wall. “I’ll join you.” 

Halfway through your makeshift feast you’d paused. He’d been regaling you with stories and anecdotes the whole time, beaming when you snorted and laughed. 

“How come you’re in such a good mood?” You’d asked.

“Aren’t I usually?” He’d leaned close, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“Llewyn...” 

“It’s just nice to see you.” He’d shrugged a little bashfully, “Is that okay?” 

. 

You’d followed him when he took your hand in his and pulled you into a tiny utility room, kissing him back when he pressed his lips eagerly to yours as he pushed you up against the wall. 

His mouth was warm, the faint taste of beer on his tongue as he slipped his fingers under your top and ran them along the waistband of your jeans. 

He pulled back, breathing hard. “Can I make you come?” 

Your brain had malfunctioned for a moment, your ears taking a second too long to process. 

“Please?” He asked sweetly, his voice husky and thick. 

You’d swallowed and nodded, not trusting your voice. 

He grinned, eyes sparkling as he undid your trousers and pulled them off your legs dizzyingly fast, yanking down your underwear with them. 

“Here,” he’d hooked your left leg over his hip, kissing you hard as he slowly ran his left hand down your stomach and to your folds. 

You jumped as his touch grazed your clit and he groaned into your mouth, humming in appreciation as he slipped two fingers inside. 

The sound of your slick echoes in the small space, your wetness allowing him to glide in so easily.

He moans louder, swearing as you gasp, “fuck, you feel nice.” 

You bite your lip, breathing hard as he slowly works his fingers in and out of you, circling them as he rubs your clit with his thumb in time. 

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth and pressing close. 

You grab hold of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life, rolling your hips as he moves. “Oh god…”

“That good?” 

You nod, barely able to form words as pleasure runs along your nerves.

He grins at your expression. “Knew you liked me.” He breathes.

You manage to give him a glare, about to tell him to lovingly fuck off but he strokes your walls purposefully at the exact moment you open your mouth, making you cry out. 

“Fuck yes, that’s it.” He groans, watching you intently as you squirm and shake. “You can be loud, no one’s gonna fucking hear.” He rocks against you, pressing his straining erection against your thigh to take the edge off.

“Llewyn,” you whine.

He picks up the pace, fucking you faster with his fingers and making colour dance at the edge of your vision. 

The deep stretch is maddening, the way he curls and strokes sending shivers of sensation up your spine. 

“Your fingers are so big,” you mutter in a half sob. 

“That’s not the only thing that’s big.” He groans and then chuckles, “Sorry, that’s awful.” 

 You pull him closer, licking into his mouth and yanking at his curls until he whines blissfully against your lips. 

The pressure in your stomach tightens, twists, makes you gasp and quake until finally it shatters. 

You cry out into his mouth, smothering your moans with his lips as your body convulses under the weight of the pleasure.

He works you through it, stroking and teasing and only stopping when your body starts to relax. 

When he pulls back he’s smiling softly and slowly pulls his fingers out of you as he places your leg back to the floor. Llewyn stays close, while you recover, stroking your cheek with one hand while he shoves his fingers into his mouth and groans. 

“That was fucking great sweetheart, but I didn’t get to see you finish.” He slowly drops to his knees, running his hands up your thighs. “So I gotta make you come again, yeah?”

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[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Could I get a Hc for how the M6 would react to an Mc that has regeneration like an axolotl due to it being the fools body?

Like during the ending of the route or during a fight post route Mc loses a finger or an arm and as their recovering they notice it growing back and like a few weeks or a month later it's like they never lost it to begin with. Due to how they view themselves and the fools body making them look like how they ses themselves.

Similarly to how Lucio lost his arm so long ago his metal arm is just a part of him so when he took the fools body it come with the metal arm.

(Let me know if it's not a good Hc idea and I'll change it for a different one.)

The Arcana HCs: When MC can regenerate their limbs

Julian

His first thought is "I have to keep them away from Valdemar"

His second thought is more along the lines of a very intrigued medical scholar. He's dying to figure out exactly how this works - how does your body know what to form and where??

His third thought definitely bears his younger sister's influence, because it's the sleep-deprived, melodramatic theatre kid version of "twinsies!!!"

Yes, twinsies! Because now you're one of the only other people in the world who knows what it's like to have crazy regenerative abilities! (though, he gave his up, but still -)

Will chart the growth of the limb and regularly ask you if you got any new injuries that day (obviously he hopes the answer is no, but if it's yes he has multiple reasons to want to know now)

Occasionally thinks himself into an anxiety spiral worrying that he's treating you too much like a medical phenomenon and not enough like his beloved partner. A round of smooches will take care of that

Asra

Honestly? They're more relieved, than anything

He is uncomfortably aware of the level of responsibility he has for yoinking you back to this plane of existence and knowing that you have this safety net for physical injuries is very reassuring

That said, they're still very curious about just how far it goes (not that they'd ever try to find out)

May or may not add "lizard" to his list of pet names for you, because lizards are also cute and known for losing limbs and then regenerating them for self preservation reasons

May or may not study just enough of the magic involved to suggest trying to grow said limb to be ... different than the previous one. You could grow an arm of neon tentacles!

May or may not regularly use body paint to turn your slowly regenerating limb into some kind of illusion, like a large, funky looking hamster hanging onto your shoulder (with your permission)

They love you regardless of how many limbs you have

Nadia

To say that she is intrigued is an understatement. She is borderline obsessed with your slowly reappearing limb

Much of that has to do with her desire to provide for you and the duty she's given herself of making sure that you are taken care of

Plenty of that has to do with what an excellent excuse it is to initiate touch and general affection

But a good portion of that is because, while she can tell you're a unique case, it's the kind of ability that would do so much good if she could find a way to recreate it even a little bit

She's not going to ask you to do anything unreasonable, but she might suggest allowing lead researchers in the medical field to chart your progress and study it in case they find anything

On another note, she does love to make you feel and look your best. If you've lost an arm and your outfit has gloves, you'd best believe she's ordering a mini one for your tiny hand

Pulls out old baby jewelry to try on it while it's small

Muriel

He's not going to lie, he does find it just a little disturbing

He's not going to go as far as saying that it's unnatural (he knows of plenty of creatures who can do the same thing) but it's definitely not a normal thing for humans to do

It's far outweighed by his gratitude that you're able to heal from such difficult injuries to this extent. He likes your limbs :)

He's also terrified of accidentally ruining whatever unforeseen magical force is allowing your body to manifest itself back together

You're clearly already very good at losing limbs! He doesn't want to make you lose another one! What if it's like one of those budding flowers that's really sensitive to touch?

He doesn't want to find that out the hard way! What's he going to do if he reaches for your mini-hand and the rest of your mini-arm comes with it? Stick it back on??

The above freakout is happening on the inside. On the outside, he's avoiding that area of your body and being very protective of it

Portia

It goes without saying that she thinks this is pretty cool

First off, you lost a limb, which is badass by default, and now you're completely regrowing it on accident - that's amazing!

She does casually mention that she is curious about just how far your body can regenerate itself at one point, but that's just idle wondering unless it's something you want to look into too

Fascinated by your mini-limb while it's growing back

Comes up with a whole list of pet names for it (squishy, tiny, silly, mr peach, miss millie, The Growth ...) but she mostly sticks to referring to it as your baby

"Good morning MC! And good morning squishy! How's your baby growing?" (all this is said while she hands you your preferred morning beverage and rubs the affected limb like it's a belly)

Overall she's so adaptable that she kind of ... forgets that it's weird. At least, until someone else sees it for the first time

Then she'll tell them it's because her shrink ray missed

Lucio

Seriously?

No no no no no -- SERIOUSLY?!?!?

He's been living with a prosthetic limb (albeit a really cool one) for TWENTY YEARS NOW, and you just randomly start growing yours back just like that? JUST LIKE THAT?! NO!!!

He's not mad because he thinks you don't deserve it! You do deserve it! You saved the world without having to make a life full of criminal oopsies first, and you did it while you rehabilitated him!!

He's mad because even if he doesn't deserve it more than you do, he wants it more than you do! WHY DIDN'T THE ARCANA OFFER HIM HIS ARM BACK, HUH?!

(This is a very good point at which to tell him that you think the metal arm is attractive. He will quickly switch gears into crooning and flirting at you and rarely bring it up again)

He does often comment on its growth patterns, and has definitely made an innuendo or two about it for funsies

[howtofightwrite]

Speaking of martial competence, do you have any examples of characters that are actually written with this in mind?

Loads. Some actually even make good on that.

So, there's different kinds of martial competence. There are characters who are proficient in combat directly, there are well written strategists, there are characters who excel at military leadership, and when they're written well, you can actuallylearn some things from them.

I'm going to give some examples, and at least one cautionary example.

For, just, raw combat prowess, I still go back to Robert E. Howard's Conan short stories. It's easy to meme on the character, especially 90 years after the fact, with the cultural persona that's grown around him, but Howard's original writing is excellent. The character would not have survived Howard's early (and, frankly, tragic) death if it was just the one note gag you might expect, if your only exposure to the character was through cultural osmosis and the films.

Howard's fight scenes were shockingly well written. To the point that it is still absolutely worth reading if you want to write a fantasy fighter.

For strategists, three characters come to mind, but only two are literary, and all are Science Fiction.

Grand Admiral Thrawn is probably one of the best villains Star Wars has ever produced, it's part of why he's one of the few characters that's migrated from the original EU to the Disney era. My personal take is, as a character, he's lost a lot over the years, but the original incarnation from the early 90s novels is a very solid model for a strategist. Particularly in how he takes time to understand his opponents while looking for potential weak points to exploit.

His practice of studying a culture's art to understand their psychology might sound a bit goofy, but the concept does have a real basis. (At least, until it metastasized into a superpower, in later adaptations of the character.) Being able to psychologically assess your foe is an incredibly valuable element of strategy, and one that you probably want to consider when you're writing a character who is supposed to be a “strategic genius.”

When writing fiction, you want to consider all of your characters as if they were people, rather than as hollow, plastic toys. And, yes, the obnoxious villain who knows exactly what your heroes will do because of authorial fiat is going to be a more compelling character than the ambulatory goldfish villain who exists as a prelude for your heroes showing off how badass you think they are.

Granted, even in Heir to the EmpireThrawn was already drawing strategic insights that strained credibility, but understanding your foe is an element of strategic thinking that is often forgotten in literature. So, even as a villain in a tie-in novel (we're not done with tie-in fiction yet), he is worth looking at. At least when written by Timothy Zhan, Thrawn was a well written character, and even if he bordered on a Mary Sue at times, he escaped a lot of that stigma by justifying his competence.

It's also probably worth mentioning in passing that he's one of the few Imperial leaders in Star Wars who isn't also criminally incompetent.

The non-literary example of a strategist would be John Sheridan from Babylon 5. Unlike Thrawn, Sheridan's main strategic focus is on situational exploitation. A little of that comes from his knowledge of enemy procedures and psychology, but at lot of it comes from a rather ruthless approach to technical limitations. An alien race is using technology that blocks human targeting systems? Set up a nuclear mine and then send out a fake distress single to lure them in. Need to deal with a significantly larger, more dangerous ship? Lure them into a gas giant and and let the planet's gravity well drag them past crush depth. Bruce Boxleitner's performance helped sell the character, but Sheridan is a really solid science fiction strategist, who really exemplifies how technical limitations can have enormous strategic considerations.

I'm not citing Sheridan as an excellent example of a leader per se,it's certainly there, but it is harder to unpack from Boxleitner's performance. It does have some good payoffs much later in the series when he starts making some orders that cause his subordinates to sit up and stop what they're doing. And that is a consistent theme even back to his introduction, but, it's a tangible consequence to an intangible cause.

The last example is a negative example, both for strategy and leadership. And, as much as it pains me to say this, at least Orson Scott Card understood that Ender was a bad leader. At least in the original novel. To be blunt, Ender is a mediocre strategist at best. His highlights in the book involve, “inventing armor,” and creative movement in micrograv. That's setting the bar exceptionally low, and while it is reasonably within the range of what you could expect from a pre-teen, that's not much of a justification.

Again, I'm not a fan of Card, and I'm reallynot recommending Ender's Gameto anyone. However, if I didn't mention it, you know there'd be a reblog going for twelve hundred words about how Andrew Wiggin is the best strategist in literature, which, yeah, no.

Do you want a goofy, tie-in fiction, literary suggestion for the best leader in sci-fi? Too bad, because I'm pretty sure Ciaphas Cain is not that person. The Ciaphas Cain novels by Sandy Mitchell are unusual as leadership recommendations, because of how much Cain internally processes the social manipulation involved in military leadership. He's not a great leader, but he is exceptionallygood at explaining to the reader how he's creating that illusion to motivate the soldiers around him. In fairness, some of that is an intrinsic character flaw, he is incredibly insecure, and desperately trying to hide that fact. And the difference between being a great leader, and effectively creating a comprehensive illusion of a great leader is: There is no difference. As a serious complement, it is one of the few times I've seen an author treat leadership as an actual skill, and not simply an extension of a character's charisma. Which is why I'm singling this one out. It might sound like a joke inclusion initially, and the books are quite funny in a Warhammer 40k kind of way, but there is quite a bit of  value to be had.

-Starke

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[metaphorwritings]

psssst heyyyy do you have any nsfw louis thoughts to share... asking for a friend

¡¡¡Metaphor 🔥SPICY🔥 Headcanons!!!

{MDNI 18+ Content and Spoilers}

-. I dreaded this day to come and yet here we are!!!!

-. Okay, so I will start by saying Louis is a top. No questions.

-. He's the type of man who wants something and will do anything to get what he wants, that includes sex.

-. And he is a very mean top, I might add.

-. He will not let you climax until he says so, and if you do, expect punishment!

-. Other such things that will lead to punishment is if he finds you too needy, being too sloppy, loud moaning in public areas, and of course, being a brat.

-. Sometimes, when Louis is having a stressful day, he will call you to his office and will have you go underneath the desk.

-. Louis has a poker face, so he appears unfazed unless you pull some sort of stunt to get his attention and rile him up.

-. At that point, he wouldn't care and as soon as the person is leaving, he tells them to lock the door so he can absolutely ravish you on his desk.

-. It doesn't matter if it is from behind or facing him, this man will do it until your toes curl and you are holding onto the garbs of his attire.

-. What he loves is teasing you the most.

-. He is also excellent with his hands.

-. If he is able to jack you off, he will do so, if he can finger fuck you, absolutely.

-. But he refuses to give oral, he doesn't like the idea of giving you something that he finds to most pleasure in when you perform it on him.

-. Sometimes, when you are needy and visit him, he won't even give you the satisfaction you crave. He will place you on his lack and have you hump his leg.

-. He quite likes seeing you when you are begging and quivering, and even more so when he barely does anything to you and you are already stuttering and gasping and moaning beneath his very touch.

-. Oh, and this guy LOVES his toys.

-. He is not exactly fifty shades of grey kind of kinky, but still kinky.

-. I'm talking shibari ropes, chains on your wrists, blindfolds, beads, a collar and leash even for his little pet.

-. He loves to just take you from behind while you call him sir with that fucking leash on your neck.

-. He will be nice, occasionally.

-. He offers you praise saying you're being a good girl/boy/pet, and he'll comment on how you make him feel good and how you take him so well.

-. He also loves it when he's fucking you senseless and calling you a whore as well.

-. He loves how you leave claw marks on him and you whine.

-. And he cannot get enough of seeing you teary eyed when you say you can't do it anymore, it just gets him so worked up.

-. All he needs to do is just slap your ass and say "Yes you can, don't you want to be a good pet?". And once you comply with a nod he will insist by saying "Use your words, pet".

-. He loves hearing you babbling and confirming things when he's ramming into you.

-. And just before your climax, he will grab your hair and passionately kiss you until you cum.

-. Surprisingly, this man is actually really good at aftercare.

-. He has everything prepared before hand, water? He has it, a hot bath? You got it! If you just need to be held and praised? He will provide words of sweet nothings in your ears.

-. Louis knows what it is like to be let down, so, if he truly cares, he wants to provide a piece of his utopia to you in these intimate moments. He doesn't want to fail you as a lover in these moments, because to him, they prove his capability of pleasing you with his ideals overall.

-. In reality, Louis after sex seems to be him at his most vulnerable.

[cursedzucchini]

Sandwiches taste better be without ketamine — part 1

Y'know all those Danny is in wayne mansion and Alfred drugs him (bc they're sus of this dude, Bruce wants to interrogate him whatever).

Well i had a thought and i think i wanna write it haha

Tw: drugging, disasosiaction (from first pov), overall Danny is not in a good mental space

--------

It was evening.

Danny wasn't sure where exactly he was, nor even what year it was. The mansion he broke in was huge and fancy, all the gothic aesthetic this city seemed to be almost worshipping and the slimy smell of money, included.

At first he hoped no one will notice him, as foolish as it was with his luck. He wasn't all that suprised when an elderly man in black suit tapped his shoulder and asked if he would want a 'brunch'. If Danny didn't have ghost sense, he'd suspect he was the ghost of a butler or something, but no. The man was very much alive, if not a little liminal. But at this point who wasn't.

:read more:

And yes, Danny can admit it was stupid not to ran the moment he noticed the man, but... was it so wrong to hoped maybe for once he met nice people who wouldn't try and vivisect him?

Feeling the familiar artificial feeling of fatigue, yes, yes it was.

In the private of his mind, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. The man seemed nice, but more importantly his food was divine. God, if his existence wasn't banned by the government, he might've even take the drugging for the food.

Yes, he might be disasosiacting. Not like he has any other choice, if he doesn't want to destroy this place.

“Is something wrong sir?” the elder (he introduced himself, but Danny figured trying to drug someone made him loose name privileges) asked, a great imitation of genuine worry lacing his voice. The boy had to give it to him, he was an excellent actor (who tried to drug him. Put something in his food and he didn't notice. Wanted to do who knows what with.him. druGgeD hIM lIKe tHE gIv dIiiiIIiIi—)

Danny blinked. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He opened his mouth to speak, but the ever boiling anger was now even stronger than normally. He wanted to scream and punch the man. He wanted to take the tasty guacamole toast and throw it so hard it cracks the wall. He wanted to destroy and wail and-

Instead he continued staring at the man, no emotions visible on his face. Danny didn't want to say anything, or even move, because what if that was the catalyser for him to break and just... do something he might regret later. But the longer was sitting on the stool, the stupid toast in front him, the man's eyebrows scrunching in fake worry—

"If there is anything I can—"

"is it normal for you to drug every guy who visits, or am I just that special?" he could hear himself say. Or well, Danny knew he was saying this, but it was as if it was beyond his control. Like he was just a onlooker in his own life.

The butler blinked, but other than that no surprise showed on his face. So it wasn't a mistake, Danny noted, ignoring the rising tension in his body. Some part of him sighed, already preparing to fight the grandpa before him.

"it appears there was some sort of—" the boy jumps over the island, zeroing onto the older man's hand. He wrenched the stun gun out of his grasp, not afraid to bite or scratch, all the while dodging a kick to his side. The other man had suprisingly strong grip, but it was nothing in face of Danny's rising suspicions and surprise attack.

The boy swiftly got as far away as he could, dismantling the weapon without taking his gaze away from the butler. The man was watching his action, apparently already gotten over Danny's surprise attack. A shame, he hoped he'd be able to overshadow the elder when he was in shock. He wasn't otherwise suprised, when he brushed his mind before, he could feel his mind was strong.

The familiar haze of pills was starting to take over Danny's body. He had to leave quickly. He couldn't leave without injuring the older man. If he didn't do something right now, he will fall unconscious.

Snarky quips it was than "If you wanted to get rid of me, you could've just called the police like a normal person y'know" the words came out more bitter than he wanted, but even that didn't shake the man before him. The butler was still watching him, positioned in something Danny vaguely recognized as fighting stance, face impassionate. That fact alone made him add "Or just... Tell me to leave. Literally anything but putting anesthetics in a perfectly good sandwich" only to see him squirm. The way he was so unbothered... Well it made Danny uncomfortable. (No one who drugged a kid, even if they had white hair and glowed, without showing an ounce of remorse was not a good person)

His eyes were closing, and he could feel his grip slipping on his power. What was the old man thinking?? The average human would probably be dead if they ate this much ketamine... This was getting more and more dangerous by the second, he had to... He had to... He...

"I apologize for all of this, but anyone able to enter this mansion unnoticed, cannot simply leave before some... Conversation happen" and didn't that sound ominous as hell. His vision was swaying, and he couldn't stay on his feet anymore. The panic was the only thing keeping him conscious. The moment he fell asleep, he wouldn't be able to keep his ecto signature in check, meaning They would immidietly know where he is. He would no longer be putting only himself in danger, but also the old man (as much as he deserved it for drugging him).

And he didn't know how his powers worked after everything. He could easily destroy this whole mansion, just by unravelling his true appearance.

"No... I- I have to... I..." his core was screaming. the similarity of this situation was a reminder of how he changed and what he used to be. He try to move towards where he thought could be the outer wall, but his limbs were so heavy. The boy didn't even bother to look at the old man anymore, just trying to get out of here. He turned on his stomach, crawling away from the man, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. They stung in anger and hopelessness that once again filled him.

"It will not take long, you have nothing to worry about child" if he was little bit more aware, he might catch the pity in his voice, but he wasn't. All he could hear were threats and scorn. A noise, that wasn't entirely human, build up at the back of his throat. He couldn't stop the pathetic high pitched whines that escaped his mouth, even as his eyes were closed and body no longer moving.

And exactly in that moment the door to the kitchen smashed open, a burning core answering his own "What the fuck is going on here?!"

---

Yeah idk this was just something on my mind, idk how this would even continue lol

Uh some more stuff i thought of for this

Danny wouldn't have a good relationship w Alfred at first. Like dude wouldn't trust him at all, not his food anything he says, and all. Idk the batfam could feel guilty, or it'd just be a cool new experience it doesn't matter

On that note, their relationship would probably get better, but i just wanted to acknowledge that someone drugging u is super traumatizing even if they do it w good intentions

Danny got kidnapped/sold to giv it doesn't really matter, but what is important is that he's full ghost. Why? Idk i just think it'd be so terrible for giv to see this Schrodinger's boy and went "yo what if we made him full ghost" and them succeeding. Like first of all that shit would destroy Danny and also it'd be such a terrible situation. Also batmans reaction to Danny dying, surviving (kinda) and than dying again would be so interesting

Also the person to come in is obviously Jason. He heard a kid screaming and felt it, and the pits went "baby >:((("

No idea what happens after, but at some point he stays at the manor and stuff happens. Idk what yet but it could be anyying

Where's batfamily? In batcave probably idk

I'm so tired i just finished writing this an holy wow kill.me. it's been a rough week haha. Hope u liked this i might continue this but probably not

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Teacher AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 23, word count 966

Sirius had been a teacher for quite a few years, and while he loved teaching the children, his true passion lay in his evening classes. Once a week, he gave up his time to teach adults who wanted to learn and, for some reason, and Sirius was only too willing to help them. 

The class was just beginning. This week, they’d be going over the short story he’d asked them all to read as homework and make a start on one of their own. He’d been told there would be a new student joining them that evening. It was very irregular. Normally, there was a start date that you had to begin at and not come halfway through the course. He’d been assured that the young man had been keeping up at home, but his ongoing health condition had made it impossible to attend the previous classes. 

Sirius sighed when he read the email from the course manager but vowed to help the chap catch up.

He cleared his throat, and his class went quiet. 

“Good evening, everyone. I hope you’re all doing well. Let’s begin with a show of hands. Who’s read the homework?” A sea of hands rose in front of him, and he couldn’t keep the beaming smile off his face. “Excellent! Now, who can tell me why Nellie did what she did?” He pointed at a woman in the back row. “Alice, you’re up.” The short woman checked her notes and began to speak. 

“She was tired of her life and wanted to be free of the chains that kept her there.” 

“Exactly.” He turned and wrote on the whiteboard. “She was a prisoner, and she longed to be free. So when the chance came, she took it. Now, when Nellie escapes, she rushes into the jungle in the dead of night with nothing but a small trunk filled with her few possessions. Was this a good idea or not?” He waited for a hand to go up. He could almost see their brains whirring. The classroom door opened, and a mousy-haired man popped his head around the door. Sirius stared at him, his eyes greedily taking in the slightly flustered handsome man. 

“Are you Mr Black?” He asked politely. 

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?” Sirius’s professional brain snapped back on. The man grinned, looking relieved. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I’ve ended up in the wrong room twice, and no one seemed to be able to point me in the right direction.” He pushed the door open and hobbled in. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick and took the only empty seat at the front of the class. 

“Right, where were we?” He asked, having completely forgotten. The new man raised his hand. “Yes—er?” Sirius nodded for him to talk. 

“Remus. Remus Lupin.” Remus helpfully supplied. 

“Thank you, Remus.”

“I think the risk of staying captive was far greater than whatever awaited her in the jungle. However, taking anything other than food and water was risky, but as we know, it worked out for her.” He answered Sirius’s question. 

“Yes, well done. I dare say even if she’d met a tiger while she fled, it would still be preferable to that iron chain, don’t you agree, even weighed down as she was.” His class all nodded at him. “So now free and on the run, no forced to perform, no matter how good she was at the tasks they set her, what do you think made her go the way she did?”

Remus raised his hand again, and Sirius signalled for him to continue. 

“She went home. There could have been something familiar about the surroundings, which is why she escaped when she did. But the inner child in me wants to say it was magic.” Remus grinned shyly at him, and Sirius had to chant to himself that he couldn’t date students no matter how ruggedly handsome they were or how intelligent they seemed to be. He had to swallow before he continued. 

“Yes, I think we all want to believe it was magic, as though she heard her mother calling out to her across the many miles she travelled.” He cleared the whiteboard now they were done with that and wrote up the next part of the lesson. “Okay, I want each of you to write your own short story. It can be about literally anything you want. Make a start now. Plan it out. I want them finished for next week, and I’ll go through them.” 

He gave them a few minutes to start their work and made his way around the class, answering any questions they had. Eventually, he had to talk to Remus. He couldn’t put it off any longer. “How’s it going?” He asked, making Remus jump. He’d been so focused on his work that he hadn’t noticed Sirius approach. 

“Oh-er, it’s going good. I think.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Sirius peered down at the paper. 

“A werewolf and a man who can magically turn into a dog and an enchanted forest? Sounds thrilling. I can’t wait to read it.” Remus blushed hard. 

“It just popped into my head.” He admitted. 

“All the best ones do,” Sirius reassured him. “Oh, here, before I forget. Take this. It’s got all my information on it in case you can’t make it for whatever reason or need help throughout the week. I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” He handed Remus the little white card. Their fingers brushed as Remus took it, and Sirius felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him, stemming from where Remus’s fingers had been. They looked at each other wide-eyed and stunned. Well, crap, this was going to be harder than he thought.  

[twstfanblog]

Brothel AU!

There's an old historical thing about how, when someone wanted to marry a prostitute, they'd have to buy out their contract with the brothel they work at, or wait for it to run out, but due to a mixture of financial abuse and hidden taxations on food and board, typically the former was pretty much always required.

So.

I guess I'm asking as such, exactly HOW expensive are each of the boys in that regard, and whether or not they'd respond well to someone wanting to buy out their contract to marry them? Assuming they knew the person 'buying it out' relatively well.

Like, in no way is this an equal partnership, but nonetheless, it's fun to think about.

[Excluding that time with Vil and that one customer.]

I was actually going to touch on that in a funfacts post I had planned on making! So thank you for asking about it now.

So far I'm not putting concrete numbers on anything since most of the fun for me is just world-building in the form of character interactions and relationships. But the price is basically built on rank. So depending on how popular the Entertainer is the more expensive they are. So as of now, the most expensive Entertainer to buy out of the brothel is Vil.

In terms of how an Entertainer can leave the brothel, there are three ways; four if you count death.

One is to simply run away; doing this will basically forfeit all protection, pay, and employment the brothel offered. If you run from Crewel's brothel you better hope you have somewhere stable to go. I haven't spoken of it yet, but the setting I have this AU is pretty much just a crime city where the only way to live a peaceful life is to live in gang territory. Since the brothel is linked with the Leech family, the biggest and most powerful gang in the city, there are very few areas that would accept a runaway Entertainer from Crewel's brothel.

Two is to accept a marriage proposal. This can go one of two ways. Since Crewel is the 'Madame' of the brothel, he gets the final say. He has accepted marriage proposals for Entertainers who were troublemakers or who caused unneeded drama in the brothel with clients they CLEARLY didn't like. But if you are in his good graces, he will negotiate with the Entertainer on what they actually want to do but the client will still need to make a lump sum payment of the Entertainer's current value if the proposal is accepted. In Vil's case, Crewel would not have accepted the proposal because he is fond of Vil, Vil is an excellent worker, and Vil said NO.

Three...Is getting pregnant. Which is another way that can go multiple ways; your standing with Crewel once again matters. He will either give you the choice to forfeit your last paycheck and simply leave the brothel to raise your child in peace; the client still needs to make the payment, but you're able to still access the benefits the brothel offers. He could tax both the Entertainer and whoever they claimed knocked them up until the child comes of age, OR the client has to pay either a lump sum or make payments as child support until the child comes of age if the Entertainer chooses to raise the child in the brothel. Kinda the safest option as children of Entertainers are treated like lil lords and ladies. Plus they get free education.

So far, Vil is painfully aware Rook seems to have the means to just outright buy him since he just easily throws around the money to book him for a whole day and STILL sends expensive gifts like clockwork.

Azul teasingly asks Jamil at the beginning of their sessions if he'd let him have his hand in holy matrimony. Jamil then hypnotizes him and reads for the next two hours.

Ruggie asks Leona to marry him every night as a joke. (He fucking falls off the fence when Leona says YES one day)

Riddle's path is predestined. Either Floyd gets tired of him or they're getting married. These are his two fates.

As of right now, asking Crewel how much Yuu costs will result in a ban. Crewel costs the amount of the building's yearly profit

[liquorishblack]

Inside the twisted mind of Hisoka Morow (part 2)

Relationship headcanon

Before you start reading, you should definitely check out part 1 , so you can understand my reasoning a little bit better.♡

Part 1 , Part 2

Synopsis: What a relationship with Hisoka Morow would look like, from sweet beginning to bitter end.

Genre: nsfw!, fluff, angst, headcanon, psychoanalysis, a little bit of everything

Reader: genderneutral

TW: nsfw!, mentions of: physical abuse, emotional abuse, manipulation, violence, murder, blood, sex, size kink, bdsm, praise, humiliation, cheating, trauma, mental illness ... basically everything, it's Hisoka after all

Wordcount: 5.066

➽───────────────❥

Part 1 already checked? Yes? Then let's get started...

Theoretical babble aside, now we´re getting on to the practice… so, what would a relationship with Hisoka Morow look like from sweet beginning to bitter end? Here we go…

Get to know him:

As for his prey pattern one might think that the only two things important to him are 1) at least one hole and 2) pulse. But that´s far from the truth! Hisoka has strong narcissistic traits, so it will be important for him to be able to decorate himself with his newest conquest, just like with an expensive accessory. So he´s quite superficial when it comes to picking his next target. 

If you manage to attract his attention, it will be quite easy to „get to know“ him in a sense of „he only shows you of his what he wants you to see“, but you wouldn´t even be able to notice since he´s an outstanding liar and manipulator. For you, it will seem as if you are talking to an open-minded gentleman. If you fall into his pattern, he will - after observing you for a while - approach you in polite and friendly manner and open the conversation... probably with a pick up line that makes you cringe, laugh and blush at the same time. Since Hisoka is a sweet talker, he´ll have no difficulties to convince you, to go out with him, but there are occasions when wine and dine seems like a big waste of time to him. He has better stuff to do after all. In this case he´ll straight up ask you to hop under the sheets with him, cause he doesn´t feel shame either. If your answer is "no", he will, without deterioration, fly on to the next little flower and since he's a good looking gent, sooner or later this strategy will lead to success. But if he is bored anyway and looking for entertainment, you´re in for a date with a gentleman par excellence. The path of doors being held open, food at his expense, and a bunch of compliments is the most straightforward right into your pants, after all. 

After a nice evening out he'll get down to business relatively quickly back at home - if you two even get there before he gets to the nitty gritty. He doesn´t shy away from PDA after all, since he is in fact completely shameless (neither has he empathy for you, nor for himself) and since he´s quite exhibitionistic, it might even turn him on.

When it comes to sex, it would be better, if you don't care about your physical integrity too much… since he has self control, he won´t hurt you seriously, but like I´ve mentioned before, this man needs strong stimuli to get *all excited*. But if you´re down for his messed up shenanigans, such as bdsm and bloodplay, you´ll enter an extatic world of domination and devotion, pleasure and pain, denial and overstimulation, humiliation and praise. And since promiscuity is quite a common trait of people who fall under the ASPD spectrum, he has plenty of experience and knows exactly what he´s doing and how to please you. For him sex is - besides the fun it is by itself - also a tool for boosting his ego. He just loves to see the impact his cock and his little tricks have on you and he will watch your facial expressions while fucking your brains out with great enthusiasm and pleasure. Only when you´re a total mess, he will allow himself to release and give you some rest. If he really likes you, you can expect at least some kind of aftercare, to make sure you´ll sleep with him again, just in case he decides wanting to do so. It´s an opportunity nice to have after all. If you´re just a random hookup, a towel is all you get… if you ask for it very nicely. He likes to see you suffer and he´s big on teasing and humiliating after all. 

Dating-Phase:

Honestly, when it comes to relationships of any kind, casually hooking up is as uncomplicated as an interaction with Hisoka can get - as long as you can keep up with his kinks to say the least. You two meet, he´ll fuck you senseless and afterwards you both go separate ways as nothing ever happened. That's probably how most of his „relationships“ will go. They serve their purpose and are uncomplicated … just according to his taste. 

But what if the thought of your sweaty skin against his, the sound of your greedy moans and the sensation of your nails, digging into his flesh, while you´re silky wet insides clench around his cock won´t leave his mind no matter what, even long after you´ve left?

Chances are high, that such a twist of events would happen with a s/o who is quite unaffectionate. See, Hisoka seems to like a good chase as he makes advances towards Machi over and over again and this would even match up with the theory I mentioned in part 1, that Hisoka was in fact a neglected child. When it comes to love relationships, it can be quite instructive to look at the earliest relationships we all had: Namely, those to our primary caregivers. Hisoka simps for a woman who doesn´t give a shit about him, because that´s probably the kind of „love“ he experienced at an early age. So chances are, that he has infact mommy- or daddy-issues, probably both. As Alain de Botton once said: „We don´t fall in love first and foremost with those who care for us in ideal ways, we fall in love with those who care for us in familiar ways“ (Adaption Level Theory). Furthermore people who shy away from intimacy, because it means making oneself vulnerable, tend to chase after individuals, whose affection is unattainable (such as Hisoka does with Machi), since there is no danger from a relationship that will never come about. In these cases psychology talks about different attachment-styles and attachment-disorders. But back to topic: It's very unusual for Hisoka to have his bed-bunnies still haunting his mind after he have had his fun, so this keeps him guessing… 

Probably out of curiosity and ambition to get what he wants, since he´s an opportunist and at this stage might not think about the consequences (like he could fall in love, common, this is ridiculous), he´ll reach out to you again and observe… observe what it is, that you do to him and how he reacts to it, how it makes him feel, just to wrap his head around what is happening. His search for an answer can already take on obsessive traits, because in such an unfamiliar situation Hisoka is confronted with the old familiar feeling of loss of control once again. His ambition will be to regain control, but this endeavor will automatically lead to a conflict of interests: he has a crush on you, he wants to spent time with you, hold you and be near you, just as anyone would, when you grew quite fond of someone. But at the same time his danger-radar screams at the top of it´s lungs „JUST THE FUCK LEAVE, MAN“!, which he actually will do! Over and over again. 

In this early phase he will disappear on you often… ghost you for days, weeks, even months. And this, my friend, believe me, will get you hooked. Those push & pull or hot & cold tactics are even used by those dubious dating coaches and you know what? THEY WORK! The culprit in this case is in fact the dopaminergic system. Since we are human beings and therefore social creatures, attention makes us happy - especially if it´s given to us by a good-looking jester. But the moment Hisoka disappears on you, without any shitty excuse even, you´re lacking your daily dose of dopamine, which in fact can lead to withdrawal-like phenomena on a psychological level. Even if you were not so much into him from the beginning, now you´ll be craving your next hit like a junky in rehab. You´ll question yourself, why he got blank on you so sudden… did you do something wrong? Did he find someone better than you? Does he do this to you on purpose? Even a certain sense of ambition can be triggered by this whimsical behavior. With everything you do, you´ll try desperately, to get his attention back, just to get your ego at ease.

So, this bastard got you hooked, not even because this was his intention in first place (not that he would mind either), but because of his own insecurity, which he would never ever show to you, since it´s an admission of weakness and this would give you power over him. Power, he doesn´t want you to have, since he doesn´t trust anyone. You on the other hand will notice anything of that said insecurity. All you see is a fuckboy, who goes blanc on you and uses you like a toy. Your meetings are of fire and passion, while the dead end silence in between will evoke an excruciating sense of longing. Not so much for him, since he doesn´t have great access to his emotion, but you, my dear, are fucked at this point. And so it goes on for a while…

Feelings arise:

We value things, that make our everyday life easier and keep boredom at bay. If you manage to entertain Hisoka to a sufficient degree, he might decide to keep you. Spending time with you, feels always nice - no matter if you´re out on the streets, visiting an amusement park or just chilling on the couch. You have a great sense of dark humor that makes him laugh and he´s somewhat impressed by your high intellect. Sometimes he just sits their, watching you scrolling through your phone, admiring your beauty and wondering, what’s on your mind. Although he's good at reading people, you seem to be somewhat unconventional in your way of thinking - unpredictable even. You don't exactly make it easy for him to see right through you, but that´s what makes you so interesting to him. You are a challenge, which he doesn´t stumble upon often. And you give him sass! You´re not afraid of talking back and speak for yourself, traits he always appreciates. Your attitude somewhat humors him. Somehow Hisoka enjoys the danger radiating from your innocent face (again: Your behavior gives him a sense of insecurity, never knowing where he stands with you - a feeling he is familiar with from childhood days). 

Also the genuine acts of affection and kindness you show towards him, will leave him wondering: He isn´t used to being taken care of. Most people avoid him, so every time you snug up to him for a hug or say something nice to him (and he can sense that you mean it) it leaves him somewhat pleasantly surprised. 

You help him to fill the void inside of him, an ever-bleeding wound, that tears open again, as soon as you are not near him and he´s confronted with his inner emptiness again. This comforting feeling you give him, he no longer wants to miss and so it happens, that he develops some sense of care for you. He wants you to be happy, because when you´re in a good mood, you are most entertaining to him. He wants you to be safe, so many more shared nights are guaranteed. 

You might have noticed a slightly egoistic tinge to these motifs… this is, because they are. This is what Hisokas „love“ will be like. Don´t get me wrong, he will do everything to make you happy and more. He will help you become the best version of yourself you can be and he´s the wind beneath your wings, there is no doubt about that. But Hisokas love will always be conditionally. 

(If love is ever unconditional - mother love aside - is a topic for itself, I personally don´t think so and therefore wouldn´t mind, but anyway).  

In this phase he might consider to disappear on you and this time it would be final, but that would mean losing you, even risking, that you would move on easily and he can´t have that. So he stays. 

Hisoka would never ever be verbal about his feelings at an so early stage. He´ll show his affection for you with, of course, physical touch (believe me, you guys will always have physical contact in some way or another), gifts and quality time - acts of services not so much, but occasions might occur.

If he happens to really fall in love with you (not crushing on you like before, I mean truthful deep feelings), this is when things can potentially get dangerous. When stronger feelings arise, it means that Hisoka has lost control and as said before, he can´t have that. He will consider leaving you once again, but feelings are stronger than ratio at times, so again, he stays. 

Now remember why Hisoka doesn´t like the feeling of losing control in the first place: because it makes him vulnerable. It puts him into a position, he isn´t used to. You have the power to hurt him now, not physically (let´s be honest here, he wouldn´t mind that anyway, it would even turn him on), but emotionally, which is were his real weakness lies. As he´s afraid that you could abuse your power and actually hurt him, he will do everything he can, to avoid that from happening. Since he´s quite overwhelmed by this unfamiliar experience, cause he isn´t used to having someone he cares about, expect whimsical and impulsive behavior - but to an extent that goes far beyond what you are already used to from him by now. Just multiply those hisokaesque-traits with 10. His antics will align with his emotional state and therefore become even more unpredictable and uncontrollable. 

At times he might try to push you away, maybe by being nasty and saying such hurtful things, that make you consider leaving and never coming back. Without doing it on purpose, you´ll probably touch old wounds of him and make them bleed again. That´s just how relationships are… people who share a great deal of emotional intimacy, trigger and hurt each other from time to time, which in itself is not a big deal, if it weren´t for Hisoka we´re talking about. 

Sometimes he might even hate you for making him fall in love with you. For making him feel weak and therefore turning his world upside down, which he absolutely hates at times. If he´s feeling unsure about the relationship or - even worse - about your feelings towards him (not because of you doing something wrong, it can be external circumstances as well), this will throw him off. 

Giving him the cold shoulder, like you did in the dating phase, is only good as long he hasn´t invested much, but when feelings come up, that's a big no-no. Jealousy might be a problem as well and yet again, since it´s Hisoka we´re talking about, this might go hand in hand with stalking, obsessive and even possessive behavior, since he can´t find the ability to trust in himself. 

It will be your task to show and teach him, how to trust and to convince him, that you can be trusted and for that I hope you have the patience of a saint. Even though from the outside Hisoka seems quite self-confident, remember that this might be a mask. This man has definitely an inflated ego, which is often based on feelings of inferiority. As he has narcissistic traits, he´s highly dependent on external confirmation. The chasing phase is over, so now he wants to be treated. You better look up to him and show him your love and respect as much as you can. Praise him, make sure that he knows that you´re feelings are genuine. Make him feel safe in your arms. Hold him, don´t push him away, even if he can be clingy and a bit much at times. 

At that early stage he needs to be your No.1 priority. Don´t dare to ignore him or hurt his ego. Don´t lie to him. This man will notice immediately and get back at you tenfold and he does not shy away from acting up, just to get your attention back, that´s sure as hell. Nothing feels worse to him then not being seen and feeling neglected, since this triggers his childhood trauma. Also, if he gets a reaction out you, that must mean, that you do still care about him, doesn´t it? The bigger your reaction, the better. In this early stage of you´re relationship it is most likely you, who gives the biggest investment, since out of the fear of being hurt, he´s still holding back. But if you´re able to deal with his antics for a distant span of time, this might change. In this early stage he feels best, when you are around him (where he can see and control you, making sure that you don´t dare to act irresponsible with the heart of his in your hands) and therefore he´ll try to have you near him as much as possible.

On a more positive note, I don´t see Hisoka as a physically violent man, unless you ask him nicely about it. He will push boundaries, that´s fore sure, but never to such an extend, that´ll make you leave, since that´s quite the opposite of what he wants. He wants to convince you of what he already knows: namely, that he is the best you´ll ever have. Hisoka is a passionate and sensual man after all, so you´re in for treatment as it would be worthy of a queen/king. Flowers, exciting dates, romantic dinners (hell, he would even cook for you), lots of childish shenanigans like dancing through the sleeping streets and pillow fights after hot and sweaty hours under the sheets. As trust growths, you´ll see more of his soft side and you´ll be surprised how gentle Hisoka can be during intimate hours. He´ll praise you as well, since he wants you to feel good around him. Many many compliments, passionate kisses all over your body, especially on your neck (he´ll definitely mark you as his property), soft caresses and cuddles on end, just holding you close to him for hours. Just for you. Just to make you happy. Just to make you his. At this time he´s more than willing to let troupe duties and even fights in heavens arena slide, just for a lovely and cozy night in, cuddling, giggling and playing cards with you.

Established Relationship:

If he would ever officially propose in case of verbalizing, that you two are in fact in a relationship, is questionable, but his wall is getting cracks already and therefore you´ll get to know his real self more and more over time. He´s no longer the outgoing jokester who teases you all the time (ok, lets be honest here, he´ll stiIl tease you every now and then, he always will, because that´s how he is), but you´ll see a more introverted side of his, which comes along with a certain softness. More often he´s more quiet than loud and he´ll just listen to you for hours, while his bedroomed gaze rests on you attentively. You got his full attention as well as his heart. He cares about you, so he is interested in what you have to say. 

But the longer you guys are in a relationship, the bigger of a challenge it will be, not to bore him. He´s volatile after all and it´s highly possible that he nostalgically remembers his times as a lone wolf sometimes. 

If bored, he might start arguments out of the blue, just to make things more exciting… and fighting with Hisoka is very unpleasant to say the least. He is bratty, arrogant, petty and has a hard time apologizing. He will only do so, if he wants something from you. He´ll gaslight and manipulate the shit out of you, just for you to feel sorry in the end, doesn´t matter, if you did something wrong or not. In addition your guilt will get him lots of make up sex and sloppy heads afterwards, which is always nice to have. However, these are just squabbles we are talking about… a real argument will look extremely different. 

Hisoka has the patience of a saint and nothing makes him fly off the handle so easily (which is quite unusual for people who suffer ASPD tbh). But one thing that will push him over the edge is you being reckless with your own physical well-being… or you flirting with Chrollo, which threatens his ego, cause this man might even be stronger and therefore more impressive to you than Hisoka himself (which he will obviously never ever admit, so he would find some other shitty reasons to justify his anger). When Hisoka snaps, bloodlust oozes from him and the possibility exists that he´ll put you into your place with harsh words spoken in a stern voice, maybe even screaming at you, which might scare you, since he´s quite intimidating in this emotional state. He does this, because by putting yourself in danger, you are endangering himself, too. He doesn´t want to lose you because of some unnecessary incident that could´ve been avoided easily after all, so he´s quite protective when it comes to you. 

Also frustration might push him over the edge. He´s not used to not getting what he wants and has his difficulties with terms like „no“. Since he respects you, he won´t cross any major lines, but he´ll push your boundaries and manipulate you into giving him, what he wants. Let's call it psychological warfare. If you somehow manage to hurt his feelings, he´ll go cold on you, pout and even ignore you for hours, days or weeks, depending of how much he´s hurting. Not because he´s so resentful, but because he wants you to feel sorry for what you´ve done to him. When he´s ready to talk to you again, you´ll have to apologize in very very sweet tounges to get back into his good grace.

So, to keep boredom and unnecessary quarrels at bay, it is important that you both find ways to spice things up a little. Now that he has a certain sense of security when it comes to you, you should also lead a more self-determined life again, at least to a certain degree. Don´t be to needy. Don´t run after him. Give him his space and try to find the trust that he´ll come back to you... even though there will never be a guarantee that he does. But give him the chance to miss you, to be longing for your touch, as he´s on his missions and you are mining your own business. 

Also you´ll need a high libido to keep up with his insatiable needs, not just during the honeymoon phase, also beyond. Otherwise you´re taking the risk, that he goes elsewhere to get what he needs. I don´t think that Hisoka is big in monogamy when your relationship has been going on for a while… at least when it comes to him. And that´s a problem: He might look after other (wo)men or even consider „cheating“ on you (unless you aren´t fine with an open relationship), but I think his ego might get in the way, when you express the desire to sleep with other (wo)men as well, which is quite unfair, but that´s how he ticks. Maybe consider visiting swingerclubs or participating in threesomes every now and then, as a compromise. It is important, however, that you only get your appetite elsewhere, but always always always eat at home! Don´t deflate this mans ego. This would be a thing you might regret later. If he catches you cheating, he´ll be furious and I don't know how you could, or if you ever could, make up for that. He will definitely kill the person you cheated on him with and I think this could be one of the rare occasions, where he might turn even violent against you. Just to make sure that you´ll never ever dare to do this again. If he decides to keep you despite the cheating, he will treat you like a good-for-nothing slave for the next few weeks, just to make you suffer and get back at you. As for building trust on his side, you can start from 0 again at this point, as you can imagine. Also I should mention, that if Hisoka ever cheats on you, that doesn´t mean that he does not love you. Sex and feelings are two completely different things to him. Therefore his anger in case of you cheating, isn´t based on severe heartbreak, it´s in fact his ego, that is hurting. As if he's not enough and all you need.

I´ve talked about Hisoka pushing boundaries before, but just to make clear what could come along with it: There might be occasions when he comes home after one of his fights, emotionally still heavily loaded and in the mood to celebrate his success, aka break someone. This energy needs to go somewhere and since you´re sleeping right over there so peacefully, you´re the perfect target. He will take what he craves and just destroy you in the most pleasant way possible.

So he comes home in the middle of the night, highly aroused, and will wake you up by indulging your crotch with fiery kisses, bloodlust dripping from his tongue, and greedy blood stained touches. He´ll bend you over and start thrusting into you merciless, without giving you the chance to come to your senses first. All you feel is his hard pulsating cock stretching your insides, his tight grip around your waist, sharp nails digging into your flesh and the cold blood of his enemies dripping onto your hot skin.

These are occasions when sex feels best to him. Every single thrust inside your clenching walls sends shocks right through his body, making him feel more and more extatic with every second. He is completely in charge, not just over you, but also over his opponent, who is most likely already dead by this time. His orgasms are intense in this state of mind and he´ll sure as hell not be satisfied by filling you up just once. After he has absolutely destroyed your downstairs, he´s finally satisfied and will just lay there, with you on his chest, admiring of how much a mess his cock made you become, and enjoy the soothing calmness that floods his body instead of bloodlust. He´ll listen to your soft and exhausted snores until he falls in a deep and dreamless sleep, just like you did, the moment he pulled out of you. 

And that is what I mean when saying, he´ll push boundaries. The longer the two of you are together and the more secure you make him feel, the less he needs to fear that you´ll leave by the moment, he shows his real self to you. For the first time in his life he feels accepted as he is… loved even. You stayed. No matter how much of his deviant personality traits he had shown to you and despite the many times he pushed you away. And therefore he´ll be forever grateful. 

Breakup:

Is „forever“ even a possibility with Hisoka? I´m not sure about that, to be honest. That would require that you both grow together, to support each other in the fight against the inner demons that I'm sure you both have, otherwise you wouldn't have played along with his games for so long. So always remember: „I´ll admit, I have my issues, but you are just as bad“. Even if the possibility exists, I find it hard to imagine that Hisoka would attend trauma-therapy and engage in inner child work. In addition to that, it would take him years, to put down his mask to such an extend, that he´ll open up about his past, if it ever happens. Also, even if he does, this could cause an initial deterioration of his condition, which could have disastrous consequences. For both of you. Therefore, some things might better stay untouched, otherwise they might break you.

Also, I don´t think that the chances of a consensual break up, without any drama or heartbreak, are very high. What ever the reasons might be, if Hisoka is the one being hurt, he might decide to kill you. Not because of hatred (unless you have treated him tremendously wrong), but because of safety reasons and therefore it´ll still hurt him like a bitch. It would be a scene as tragic as from a love drama. He would hold your lifeless bleeding body until it gets cold, kiss your soft lips as your last breath leaves your lungs and gently close those your/eyecolor eyes, he lost himself in so many times. He might even shed a solitary tear. Whatever happened between the two of you, you showed him, what love is, and therefore he´ll never forget you. But it just had to be. In the end, you two didn´t work and you just know too much, to keep wandering this planet. He has many enemies after all and with your connection, the trust in you, that you won´t use your power against him one day, is broken. Depending on the circumstances, he might decide to never love again.

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♠ „Farewell, my dear. Too bad, it didn´t work out. We just weren´t meant to be… and still, you´re the only one, I´ve ever loved and therefore I´ll never forget you.“, he says, plenting a last heartfelt kiss on your forehead, before he leaves. ♠

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The End.

TYSM for reading!🫶🏻 You made it till the end, so you deserve a flower.❀ If you enjoyed my writing, feel free to send me requests, I'm always grateful for some inspiration. - Yours truly, Ava 🤍