#he is like down below on the list on such muses

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

oh no i remembered about it and now i feel petty x))

[pearlzier]

────⠀ soldier boy has a glasses kink WHO said that

warnings / SMUT ! MDNI. soldier boy. bro hes a warning just, as himself. glasses kink ???. oral(m!recieving). uhhh kinda filthy i gotta say. he cums on reader's glasses + face. dirty talker. degradation? he says whore once. first time writing ben uhhh let me know if u guys like it <3 and if u wanna be on the tag list for uhhh the boys or jensen stuff idek

thank u @theosaurous for gracing our earth with this beautiful hc all creds 4 this thing to them <3 (its been almost a month HELP)

it's humiliating. completely degrading and demeaning and you're lapping it all up even then. the way he holds you so gently but lets the meanest things fall from his lips, his words gruff and gravelly, it makes your head spin. your skin feels hot, your knees digging into the shitty motel rug beneath you as he keeps you on your knees below him. your chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, eyes darting up to him frantically from where you're kneeling. "look at you," he grunts.

the entire reasoning for your position beneath him and status of being gagged by his cock? those glasses of yours. usually you wore contacts, since they were easier for your line of work and simpler to handle everyday. ben had never seen you without contacts before, wearing glasses. he'd be a damn liar if he tried to say that it didn't turn him on so bad to see you with those lenses over your eyes and nose bridge adorned.

"teasing me with those fucking glasses, huh? shoulda' worn 'em earlier, maybe wouldn't have ended up on your knees like a whore for me, huh?" he pats the head of his cock against your lips, grasping the back of your head tightly to push himself between your lips once more. a guttural groan escapes him and he swallows thickly, a low chuckle escaping him too.

"that's it, take that fucking dick. that's it, fuck." the look of your glasses slipping down your nose, too low to actually help you see however perfect for ben to get off on.

you're practically drooling on him, lips stretched around him with every inch he pushes further down your throat. the whimper you let out by the time he's near bottoming out makes him groan, and his grip on the back of your head tightens instinctively. "ben—"

"shh, sh, don't wanna hear a word out of your mouth," his tone is practically a snarl but still soft enough to coax you into listening to him. "just wanna look at you, those glasses, shit," he didn't know he was into glasses, to be honest with you. ben was into everything about you, but this? this new development? yeah, he'd take advantage of it for a long ass time.

"look so good takin' my cock," he muses, thumb stroking over your cheek. it brushes over your lips, soon smearing your saliva over them with another low chuckle. he likes leaving you a mess, not just likes, he loves leaving you a mess like this. "that pretty mouth's great for fillin', ain't it? always chattin' shit, just gotta stuff it full of me." ben knows he can get away with it since your mouth's a little preoccupied with sucking him off.

all you can do, really, is look up at him with wide, watery eyes. your jaw lax with the intrusion of him between your lips, hands grasping loosely at his legs as best as you can to make sure you don't end up falling over.

"a little deeper," growling, he grasps at the back of your head once more and tugs you further along his dick. the gagging sound has him groaning, hips rutting up against your face instinctively afterwards. "suckin' the fuckin' life outta' me," despite how rough he is in practically fucking your face, he's soft, in a way.

this is ben, he isn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows, but he's always in awe of how well you do for him—every single time. and he makes you feel perfect afterwards, he'd rather die than leave you unfulfilled.

"doing so good," he tells you, voice breathy, low with his arousal and how worked up he's getting right now. he swallows thickly, glancing down at you, "feel so fucking good, that mouth, shit.."

"mmh?" you mumble around him, eyes lifting back up to his again as your breathing picks up a little. every little bit of encouragement from him meant a lot, because you knew he meant it. he really does.

"yeah, yeah.." ben's head falls back with a groan, his hips picking up pace and thrusting into your mouth a little more rhythmically now. you can feel he's getting closer now, from how his grip on your head tightens and his sounds become more and more frequent. "you're gonna make me—fuck, fuck, come off for me, there we go, fuckin' warm mouth, nice and warm for me. made for me, huh? say it, wanna hear you fuckin' say it."

ben's hand quickly wraps around his cock, his grip tight as he starts pumping it quickly, thumb brushing against his slit occasionally—only tensing his thighs even more. "made for you," you mumble instinctively, batting your eyelashes as you adjust to the loss of him in your mouth.

"what's made for me? huh? c'mon," ben pats your cheek with his free hand, his other still moving up and down himself in quickening paces. his brows raise, gaze turning expectant as he looks down at you.

"my mouth," you tell him, tone a little whiny. he's smirking, that stupidly attractive smirk, as he hears that. "my mouth was made for you," and he really believes it too, 'cause you take him so damn well every single time.

"that's it, you learn so well, hm?" ben coos, condescension in his tone as he speaks. it's all loving, really, but he's not exactly thinking much with his heart here as much as he's thinking with his dick. especially right now, as the pressure tightens in his abdomen, the movements of his hand growing less controlled and more jerky. "you ready for me, baby? for me to come all over that face? those glasses? god, those glasses. c'mon, tongue out. there we go, that's it.. there's that mouth i love, huh?"

he's practically babbling right now, his eyes squeezing shut. your tongue stuck out for him, waiting and ready, has him pumping his hand faster till his thighs start trembling, thick white ropes of cum spurting from his throbbing, aching tip landing in globs on your glasses, cheeks, tongue. you look so good like that, and he tells you, "that's a pretty picture, ain't it? might take a photo of that, mmh?" his head tilts to the side a little bit. the whine you let out in response makes him laugh, the corners of his lips tugging upwards at the corners.

"open your eyes," ben coaxes, thumb brushing against your cheek and pushing a little bit so your eyes open. he hums, "there you are," he lets out a gruff laugh, "can't see, can you?" you shake your head in response, swallowing thickly. your gaze is all blurry, without the glasses, not able to see properly. "glasses all messy? let's take 'em off," he eases your glasses off your face, inspecting them all messy with his cum before he looks back at you.

"that's alright," he tells you, placing the glasses down onto the bedside cupboard, before he gets your attention again. "only thing you gotta see is me. just me."

[theemporium]

love your work congrats on 10k!!! from the ❤️ list could i request 6 w/ max?

i took the max x teammate!reader concept that had been driving me and @scuderiahoney crazy over the last few days and used it for this prompt so🤠thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty, little head."

.

The race was close. 

In fact, the whole fucking season had been close, like a game of cat and mouse where the two of you had been chasing after each other race after race. With a car that was dominating the rest of the grid, it made sense that the only real competition the two of you faced were each other. 

But that didn’t make it any easier. 

Team orders didn’t mean shit when it came to you and Max. You both had the urge to fight, to push, to test the limits. And it didn’t matter what the team said or did, the second you put those helmets on and got in those cars, it didn’t matter that you two were a team fighting for the Constructors’ championship too. 

It was always you and Max at each other’s throats, on each other’s rear wings, ready for a fight. 

And the race had been Max’s. He was the one who had been fastest all weekend. He was the one who had put his car on pole. He was the one who had led the first half of the race. And then you were there and you two were switching positions for the remaining laps and it was a risky move on your part that let you take the lead and steal the win from him.

He was seething. He didn’t make it hidden to anyone who looked at him. Not in the cool down room, not on the podium and certainly not in the team debrief after the race. He was angry and he was pissed off and the little smirks you kept flashing him were starting to make his skin prickle. 

“Not so cocky now, huh?” 

The whine you let out was pathetic, muffled and garbled with your face pressed into the pillow. Tears were streaming down your face from pleasure, cum leaking down thighs onto the sheets below you and bruises the shape of his hands beginning to form on your hips.

 But Max wasn’t done.

“What would the world say if they could see you now?” He grunted, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through his hotel room. Your clothes were laying somewhere on the floor next to his, ripped and ruined. You would probably have to sneak out in his clothes again, like you had done a few weeks earlier in Spain. 

He fucked you harder at the thought.

“You’re—” A gasp cut you off, your eyes fighting to stay open as he smacked the side of your thigh. “Such a sore loser, Verstappen.” 

“And you’re a fucking brat,” he hissed, crowding over you and leaning down until his chest was pressed against your back. His dick slid in deeper, hitting spots inside you that left you reeling and shaking and whining underneath him. “A fucking slut for me, aren’t you, princess?” 

“Asshole,” you muttered out, but it was breathless and whiny and not as convincing when your hands were clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

“I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty, little head,” Max muttered, his lips brushing against your temple as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in, deep and hard. “And then we will see how that ego of yours is doing, yeah? See if my little slut can even remember her own fucking name.”

“Max,” you breathed out, your lips parting and giving him the perfect opportunity to slide two fingers inside and lightly press down against your tongue. 

“That’s right, princess,” he mused, something almost patronising in the smile he gave you. “Gonna have you chanting my name like you’re one of my fans.”

.

[cr4yolaas]

every year, with you — kageyama tobio

content: timeskip tobio, established relationship, self indulgent, fem reader, angst if you squint but mostly fluff, not proofread

note: happy bday to me !! i’m not celebrating irl, so this is my way of appreciating the day :) (p.s. mezzo forte will be updated eventually — i unfortunately don’t have the energy for anything more than this rn 😓)

tobio doesn’t usually celebrate his birthday.

he isn’t attracted to the notion of a sweet sixteen, nor does he find the idea of bar hopping at twenty one appealing. he’s content with whatever is below the bare minimum — quick greetings, maybe one small gift, and a normal day. that’s all he needs.

as such, he doesn’t find it necessary to do much for his friends’ birthdays. he’ll usually purchase something small, like a plushy or a gift card. it’s simple. it’s easy.

but with you, his routine shifts. he marks down your birth date on his phone as soon as he catches wind of it, and in the weeks leading up to the day, it fails to slip his mind. he wants to do something more than simple, something more than easy.

after all, he thinks you deserve more than that.

if you were to peer into his notes app and figure out the password for a locked note with an ambiguous title, you’d find a list of everything you’ve ever mentioned — the show you watched religiously for two months straight, a clothing collaboration you were particularly excited for, the animated character whose merchandise is littered throughout your bedroom — all neatly listed for him to remember. the contents vary; some items are specific, like the shade of the lip tint you searched up a week ago, and others are vague, like ‘silly white mouse with big round eyes.’

tobio finds that, when it comes to you, he wants to give you the world. he wants to cradle you gently in his arms, as if you’re the most important figure in the world (to him, you are). he wants to make your special day just that — special.

the summer heat pierces through your air conditioning, even in the middle of night. your boyfriend has yet to return home, presumably preoccupied with volleyball practice, and you decide that tomorrow you’ll greet him with extra kisses as a reward for working so hard.

but as soon as your hand flicks the lights off, the front door squeaks open. you’re silent. soft footsteps thump against the floor, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear tobio’s heavy breathing in the kitchen. your rationality overpowers whatever yearning has festered within your heart throughout the day during his absence. a soft wave of quietude washes over you as you lay down, opting to wait for him to come to you when he’s ready.

it comes sooner than later, however. tobio slowly opens the door to your shared bedroom, assuming you’re fast asleep given the time. he’s a little startled to find you awake.

“i got you something,” he whispers against your forehead. he doesn’t realize you just laid down — he’s quiet, as if there’s sleep riddled in your system. but there isn’t. he doesn’t know that. and yet, he’s still careful in his movements. his hands reach to brush away hair from your eyes, and his lips ghost against your skin as he stamps his affections onto your flesh.

he slips away for a moment to carry something up onto the bed. it weighs heavy in his hands, although you can’t quite make out what it is in the dark of the room. “well, it’s a lot of somethings,” he muses while he reaches around for the bedside lamp. when the warm light floods the bed, you see it — a gift basket, overfilled with everything you could possibly like. you look at tobio and find his ears dusted with pink and his eyes cast aside. “i wasn’t sure specifically what to get you. so… i got a lot of different things, in hopes that you’d like at least one of them.”

it’s hard not to laugh at him (endearingly, of course). “tobio, you put all of my favorite things in here. i’m not sure why i wouldn’t like it.”

his lips, albeit chapped from his troubles of the day, curl up into a smitten smile. “there’s more, by the way. it just didn’t fit into the basket. and i’m way too tired to bring everything here right now,” he speaks as he curls up on his side of the bed. his athletic wear clings to his muscles from the coalescence of sweat on his skin, but nonetheless, he finds himself clinging to you. the gift basket sits on the table beside you, and in the morning when you arise, you’ll thank him for it, again, but with a little more energy.

“happy birthday,” tobio mutters into your shoulder. he looks like a sleepy baby. “i love you.”

[honeyhotteoks]

After that absolutely delicious ateez dom/switch/sub analysis, we need the separate Yunho dom analysis, please ♡ (no pressure)

no pressure as if i wasn’t kicking my feet excited to answer this the minute i saw your ask lol

okay once again, below the cut, lots of yunho dom analysis specifically around his kink list too though because there are reasons i added all of those and i figured it would also be fun to get into.

see this post here for the full ateez dom/switch/sub analysis and disclaimers that apply here too!

okay! so hopefully this all makes sense, but truly yunho is my ult and i’ve spent an insane amount of time headcanoning him for all the writing i’ve done, so please forgive how in depth this may get. i promise i’m not weird delulu i’m just a writer with a muse in this man.

general thoughts / evidence on yunho as a man with big dom potential:

natural leadership - yunho is a natural leader, and that’s been pointed out several times throughout the years in various pieces of content, though most recently in the fortune teller video. this is a role that i think he naturally gravitates towards, and leads me to believe that he is the type who will step up if there’s not a leader in the room, or will guide if someone needs guidance. i think he likes to feel appreciated and needed, but doesn’t necessarily need a bunch of fanfare or attention for doing so, which to me is such a quality in a good dominant. someone who wants to guide and lead his submissive, but doesn’t need everyone to know it.

his gaze - something you’ll notice if you watch yunho carefully is that when he needs the members to quiet down or when he’s trying to communicate something without words, all he needs to do is look in just the right way to get what he wants. most often you can see this with mingi and wooyoung when he levels them with a look and they either stop ‘misbehaving’ or fall apart into giggles. this is one of those things where i think you can see he’s kind of exuding masculine dominance without ever having to say anything or cause a fuss.

his propensity to tease - okay so he’s a joker, and a classic older brother, but that isn’t the thing that makes me think big dom potential. what does though is the ways he needles on a specific thing that riles someone up and just keeps applying pressure. mingi is a great example, if you watch the way he talks to him and calls him princess, particularly during his birthday live… that is the epitome of a dom. you can see other examples with other members, but you can also see it with atiny. in the live when he said he liked to hear atiny call him “yunho-yah” in a whining tone was pretty revealing. also since he’s become aware of the hotteok hand kink, he keeps playing up hand content. that is certainly something the company is doing to drive engagement, but to hear him tease about it on lives? the tone tells me knows he’s getting a flustered reaction and he enjoys it.

jealousy - this is a brief one, but he’s quietly jealous as fuck in a possessive way. just reference the live where he talks about his brother or the one good looking manager, you can see it underneath the teasing that he’s like okay no focus up. that’s someone who in a relationship would have to handle feelings of jealousy and could potentially channel that into a d/s relationship.

caretaking / gift giving / silent support - yunho naturally takes care of his members and staff, there’s a lot of stories about him getting up early to get coffee for people, being an ear during tough times, being thoughtful during holidays and birthdays, etc. and i just think in general that’s a quality that means he enjoys caring for his loved ones. in a d/s relationship, that’s such a key point of a good dom as they are trying to support and guide their submissive and ensure their needs are met.

pain tolerance - there’s a lot of clips where you can see yunho taking pain or discomfort and just eating it, and while i don’t think that implies he enjoys it, i do think that implies a certain level of control. that is a key quality in a good dom, especially in much harder scenes when they are supposed to be providing the guardrails, punishments, and safety nets.

emotional intelligence - i truly don’t think you can be a good dominant if you’re lacking in emotional intelligence and yunho has that in spades. i’m not saying that means he is a dom, but i am saying it ensures me he would do well at it or have the proper level of emotional intelligence for the role.

the kink list breakdown

rigging / shibari - he’s incredibly tactile and good with his hands, and after all those clips of him with the wire from imot and ropes from outlaw….. my thought is that yeah that’s promotion, but watch him move the ropes and cords. i think it comes naturally to him, but what’s more is that this is an ultimate form of control and dominance over a partner. i think he would excel at the slow preparation, the methodical nature of binding, the photography he could take of his sub tied up with different knots and colored ropes, and then the ability to control their pleasure or pain from there is something the rigging would allow.

edging / orgasm denial - another form of control. if he’s guiding his submissive through the experience of orgasm, then confirming their compliance by only letting them orgasm when he says is full control. i also think it plays into the idea of teasing, something that would leave his sub whining and begging.

pleasure / overstimulation - it’s the exact inverse of the above but the principles are the same. control, but also pushing his submissive’s limits.

praise - there is no way this man isn’t telling you how good you’re doing while you do it. yunho is ultimately a soft boy, a boyfriend boy, a husband boy, so no matter what hard kinks he has the potential to play with, i think praise and kindness is a huge hinge back to the relationship and the very real emotions underneath it all.

degradation - i personally think this would be done with a softer, teasing vibe. not meanly calling his submissive a slut, but more so from a corruption angle… something like …. “my fingers in your mouth get you this wet? listen to you whine, my good little slut” etc.

breeding and pregnancy - this one is a little self indulgent but that being said…….. my read on him as quite traditional hits this for me. yunho as a natural caregiver translates pretty heavily for me into yunho wanting to provide for his future partner, and he’s extremely close to his family and family oriented. if yunho wants children, i could see him loving the idea of intimacy that getting his partner pregnant would provide. and i think in general that could manifest in the idea appealing to him in general. i think also there’s possessiveness in this kink that could appeal to him - the idea that he claimed her body, that the changes visible in her body are something he did, etc.

impact play - his hands were made for spanking, next question… no but actually this one is something i want to call out. spanking hits control, punishment, aftercare but it also is something they some submissives need and helps ground them. pain in general can be like this, but as i think yunho would not be full blown into sadism, spanking would fulfill that need for them both.

restraints - again, another opportunity for control. we’ve touched on ropes, but i also think he would enjoy pinning a partner down, someone he can fantasize about being on the more submissive / innocent / corruptible side

free use - i mentioned in the original post this being an extension of the traditional idea. i just want to emphasize again, this is not in any way from a misogynistic angle whatsoever. what i’m talking about here is specifically an extension of his control, within this idea of possession and consumption. i could see yunho being the type of guy who would love to come home and just push his partner’s skirt up before dinner, or hop into the shower and just take his partner against the wall. i don’t think he would be into free use in the super extremes of this kink where his partner is like completely passive / truly available at EVERY moment, but some version of this i can see.

fingering - look at his hands, he’s going to make his partner squirt and he’s going to make his partner suck on his fingers and beg for it, next question.

oral - this man has an oral fixation. watch the way he touches his lips, the way he bites, the way his tongue is constantly present, how often he puts things IN his mouth? he’s absolutely going to be the type to just hold his partner down and eat her out for as long as she can take it.

omorashi - this one is a little off the wall but walk with me here. omo isn’t piss kink in the way that a lot of people might assume, it’s specifically about bladder control. this is one of those kinks that fall right in line with aspects of his dominance and personality so i’m saying if this hit for him, i’d believe it. the idea that he would control his partner’s ability to use the rest room to facilitate a scene, and then use that discomfort against them while he pleasures or edges them, verbally degrading and pushing his submissive to begging and pleading? yep. now some people with omo stop there and it’s all about the control, but if he took it a step further to actual bladder release i think you could imagine the way he’d comfort and praise his submissive through it. and once again, ultimate control.

corruption - listen…….. this catholic boy??? i will die on this hill. i think while yunho’s a good guy and wouldn’t actually care about things like body count or experience, especially with his person, i do think that he would lose his god damn marbles at the idea that his partner has only ever been with him or has only ever experienced certain acts with him. as a guiding presence, a caretaker, and a man with a jealous streak? this just makes sense. the idea that he’s the reason why you’re a begging crying mess for his cock? iconic. the idea that no one in the world knows what your body looks like but him? he’d quite literally cum and die.

breath play - hands. but also control, you get it.

somno - ultimate control but also it’s his submissive placing the ultimate level of trust in him and i think he would take it exceptionally seriously. it’s a responsibility more than anything to ensure that his partner is cared for and feels safe through that experience. also think this plays a bit into the corruption kink and when i mentioned in the previous post that he would enjoy being called daddy…… you put those dots together. (though to be perfectly clear i do NOT mean age play whatsoever)

cockwarming - i think this is something that’s actually quite comforting for some submissives so i see it as less of a kink and more of a sex act that he would engage in with his sub to be caring and tender and help ground them. similar to what spanking does, it helps ground some submissives and this is something he would want to provide. just picture his sub resting against his inner thigh, cock in mouth just resting on the tongue, yunho petting their hair and soothing them.

size kink / size training - i dont mean he wants a “small” or “thin” partner, i mean this from the corruption angle. he would enjoy slowly working his sub up to being able to take his cock comfortably in….. many….. different holes.

throat fucking - see above lmao

and good god could i talk about dom yunho and aftercare but that’s a whole other post lmk if anyone cares haha

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Simon 'Ghost' Riley headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: l.t. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, size!kink, dirty talk

a/n: and of course a few HC's for Ghostie as well🤭

Simon 'Ghost' Riley MASTERLIST

sfw

-you know those mascots in full-body costumes? Yeah, Ghost hates those, gets on edge each time he sees one. He just gets this uncomfortable feeling in his body bc why go around masked like that?

-yes, he's aware of the irony

-your first kiss, technically, happened with his mask on,

-he wanted to kiss you but wasn't ready to commit fully, showing you his face meant a lot and he wasn't there, yet, so he just kinda directed your face from the TV to him by your chin and pressed his lips to yours despite the clothing concealing them

-you don't scare easily, even if he would disagree, but when having a shadow the size of him creeping up on you silently, which should be physically impossible for someone his size, it always makes you jump

-Ghost enjoys it for some reason, always repressing a smile when you gasp and clutch your chest with a hissed 'Simon!' despising that you never got used to it

-what you don't know is that he actively makes it harder for you, always staying in your blind spot when coming up behind you, silencing his step just like he does on stealth missions

-standard case of you falling first but he fell harder, it was a slow endeavour getting to know him, even slower when you started dating and he demanded that things wouldn't be rushed, but once he opened up he was practically already in love with you considering he rarely did open up to people

-he doesn't like gifts

-contrary to what people think, it's not because he doesn't know how to react, closer to the truth is that he's picky and doesn't like random things coming in surprises

-that's why Ghost always keeps a list of things he wants or is in interested in buying, one that you have unaltered access to just to keep track if you ever feel like gifting him something for a special occasion or if other people come to you when he just won't answer what he wishes for read Soap

-the ONLY casual gift he doesn't mind is when you get him a book, within reason of course bc yeah, he likes to read

nsfw below the cut

-on the topic of books, he doesn't read romantic stuff, if it isn't a book you push into his hands, then he knows what's between the pages: raunchy ass stuff you more often than now want him to act out, leaving you nervously giggling and then panting when he fully went into the role of fucking you silly

-another thing about Ghost that people think, but is wrong, is that he always so reserved

-this man can run his fucking mouth when he wants to

-perhaps others just don't notice, because he doesn't do it with them, but when you're by his side his face is for the most part ducked in level with your ear, making it his mission to rile you up enough so you're the one who grits out 'we're leaving '

-and the cocky bastard knows he will manage too, your resolve wearing down quick when he whispers stuff like 'pretty necklace, lovie, would rather it was my hand wrapped around your throat' and if he manages to catch you off-guard with that, mouth agape kinda surprised, he'll muse 'pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild'

-in the Riley household, there's one particular rule: if you buy any piece of clothing, either online or in-store, you're going to model it for Ghost

-doesn't matter what it is, he's gonna sit down in the living room waiting for you to come out for him to drink in your pretty self

-he always twirls a finger in a sign for you to spin around, not because he has any sense of fashion more than the normal man, he just likes to see all how your clothes flatter your figure

-and if it just so happens you only bought a pair of pretty panties or a flattering bra, his rule applies to those too, with the addition you'll come out in only those

-and so help you, but if your tits are on display or that pretty cunt of yours bared, he will not only make you spin but curl his finger, beckoning you towards him

-usually ends with you in his lap as he either plays and sucks at your nipples or you grind against his growing bulge before riding him

-guilty pleasure of his? your obsession with his arms and tattoos

-when you first started seeing each other, he always noticed how your eyes strayed to the ink peeking forth from his long-sleeved clothing, when you both got more comfortable and you saw him without a hoodie constantly, the way you drooled at his bulging biceps made it difficult adhering to his own rule of things going slow

-in fact, the first time you slept together was a consequence of your intrusive thoughts winning during a cuddling session

-you'd been positioned in-between his legs, running your hand over his arm curled around your waist, gaze following those delicious lines running along his forearm and then you just... dragged your tongue over his bicep, licking a long wet stripe on the muscle that tensed upon feeling your tongue

-there was a rumble against your back and a 'what the fuck was that?' making you glance up at Ghost with a sheepish smile with some explanation he didn't fucking buy for a second

-it ended with the both of you kneeling on Ghost's bed as he fucked you from behind, his arms circled around your neck, your nails digging into his forearm, a moaning mess as if you didn't know he killed men just like this but in a tighter chokehold

-so that's why he always wraps his tattooed arm around your front when you cuddle with him behind you, most time also seating himself on your right side, offering you the opportunity to trace the intricate lines decorating his skin

[ganxiously]

So, it turns out what I needed to get out of my writer's block was soul-wrenching grief and heart-crushing disappointment. And while I am happy about that (to an extent), I also wish my muse wasn't angst because I think I am hurting myself writing this fic and I need to now make it everyone else's problem.

Sitting there in the dark, on Eddie’s sofa, curled in on himself like it’s supposed to do anything to hold him together, one thought pops into his head, bright, neon red and in bold among the constant litany of boorish, black ‘This is all my fault’ — All of this is because I didn’t know what a Kinsey six is. The thought is unexpected enough that Buck unfurls a little, wondering where it came from and then he remembers their anniversary date. The memory leaves him breathless but he is curious enough to push past the newly burgeoning hurt and take out his phone. A quick Google reveals it to be the rating for ‘exclusively homosexual’ on the Kinsey scale so he looks that up next and as he’s debating whether to start from Wikipedia first or dive right into the Kinsey Institute website, his eyes land on the conspicuous ‘test online’ button right below the search bar. A part of him doesn’t want to find out, doesn’t want anyone else telling him what he is but the taunt is too much. If you had known, if you had just taken a moment to figure yourself out, maybe you could have said something. Maybe you could have stopped him before he walked away. He clicks on the first test that pops up, looks at the first question, goes to select option 1 and then stops and stares. ‘To whom are you attracted?’ should be an easy question to answer but the confidence to not think much has left him. He could easily choose ‘Both men and women’ but would that even be correct? He’s been so sure that he has felt attraction towards men a few times in the past but what if that was a mild interest at best? After all, no one had really pinged his radar the way Tommy had. He looks at the next question and that’s when the panic really starts to set in because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he prefers men over women or if he just prefers Tommy over women, over everyone else. What if Tommy is the outlier and he prefers women over men after all? The pressure in his chest becomes more and more painful the longer he stares at it so he closes the test and opens the next one on the list. That one starts off mild. The way the first question is framed makes it easy to answer that yes, while he mostly notices women, the occasional man does turn his eyes. The next one asks what he would be comfortable in calling himself and he thinks he could get away with calling himself bisexual but then there’s an option saying ‘could be bisexual but not sure if that’s correct‘. And again the thought hits, What if it’s just Tommy? He debates it briefly and then gives in and chooses the latter option. He breezes through the next couple of questions because he is at least sure that he would find it desirable to kiss people from both genders but then they hit him with the sexual preference question again. He backs out so fast his phone nearly slips out of his hand and with a sigh of frustration, he clicks on the next test. That turns out worse because the very first question stalls him and so it continues again and again and again until tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes and his breath starts coming in sharp, short bursts pulling his throat tight but not taking any air to his lungs. He keeps at it until there’s one more nameless person behind one more useless test clamouring at him, Tell us, tell us, tell us. Tell us you know what you want. He hurls the phone across the room, thankful when instead of landing on the floor, it silently hits the backrest of Eddie’s armchair and slides down into the crease with a swoosh. He should get up and retrieve it, he should go home really but what he does instead is let his head fall forward onto his raised knees and give in to the caricatured voice of his mind telling him, Of course, he thought you would break his heart. Look at yourself, you idiot.

This is basically just the set-up for the fic but rest assured I am dragging Buck down to the trenches before I let him swim up to Tommy again.

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Three: Chrysanthemums - Joy

Summary: You and Andrew meet outside of your workplace for the first time for a completely platonic coffee on him.

Word count: 2385

Author's note: i am so sorry that this took so long 😭 last week of school combined with finals combined with life i guess hindered me from writing. but i'm back on track!!! hopefully you all enjoy and if i don't update again soon happy holidays <3

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3 (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

This is not a date.

That was your affirmation all of Friday morning, repeating it to yourself.

You muttered it under your breath as you fixed your hair. It was mumbled as you laid out your outfit, specifically chosen to be fashionable but casual: your favorite sweater and a nice pair of jeans. You whispered it before spraying your perfume, a scent you had to dig through your closet for five minutes to find. Ironically, the scent was nothing close to floral. You said it to each of your houseplants as you watered them. They remained unconvinced.

Slipped on your shoes. Locked up your flat. Walked down the stairs. You repeated your mantra every time, because maybe if you said it enough times, it would become true.

By the time you made it to your car, you had said it so many times it felt like breathing. Your hands gripped the wheel. You locked eyes with your reflection in the rearview mirror and whispered your phrase of the morning one more time for good luck.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

Stepping down on the gas pedal, you began to drive.

On the drive there, you prepared yourself for all possible scenarios. This kind of thinking came naturally — it always did, especially in situations like these. You ran through what your reaction would be if he showed up, what it would be if he didn't. What you would do if he had an insanely complex coffee order, or if he ordered a drink with six shots of espresso. What if he tried to order for you, or if he made some backhanded comment about another woman at the cafe? You doubted he would do any of these things, but you believed it's better to be safe than sorry. This thinking only paused when you parked in front the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of Andrew waiting inside. All of your previous repetition and fretting had made you ten minutes late, a fact you weren't fond of and hoped Andrew wouldn't chastise you for.

The moment you stepped into the coffee shop, all of your previous affirmations were thrown out the window. It wasn't a date. But after seeing Andrew you wished that it was.

It wasn't any particular factor. It wasn't the black denim jacket he was wearing, or the way he'd tied half his hair up, leaving the other half down. It wasn't even the smile on his face, reserved like he wasn't sure how to react properly when he saw you. It was a combination of everything; his presence alone was enough to make you flustered. So flustered that you were very close to forgetting to say anything when you walked up to him. Thankfully, at the last moment, you actually spoke.

“Hey! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” you greeted him with a small smile.

“Oh, no. I just got here, too. You're alright.”

You walked inside together, and you looked around at your new surroundings. It was a small business, quaint and cozy, with framed photos of artworks by local artists; it was exactly what you would imagine a coffee shop that Andrew picked to be.

Because all of your overthinking (or what you preferred to call planning) on the way there, you ordered your coffee with ease. Andrew recited his order, a black americano, a surprise to you. You watched as he paid and gave his name for the order, the barista already recognizing him. He turned his head towards you and offered an explanation:“I’m a regular. I always come here whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“I’ll have to come here more often, then,” you replied.

You found a small table in the corner and sat down to claim it for the both of you while Andrew stood by the counter, waiting for your coffee. What a gentleman.

You had yet to notice any flaws in him, only making your self-imposed rule of this not being romantic harder to follow. There had to be something about him that was off. There was no way he was so caring and endearing and funny all at the same time; he had to have an imperfection eventually. You didn't find it in the few minutes you watched him stand around, occasionally fiddling with his hands or putting them in his pockets. Your efforts grew even more futile as he walked over with the coffees in hand, setting them down on the table.

He shedded his jacket and carefully placed it on the back of the chair before sitting down in the chair opposite you. This simple action caused the fact that you barely knew Andrew to pop up in your head. Despite how connected to him you felt already, you had only met him twice before. On both occasions he wore long sleeves, so seeing him without a jacket for the first time gave you a much appreciated surprise.

His right arm had an entire sleeve of tattoos.

He had turned his arm into a mural for myths and legends. A portrait of a falling Icarus, wings disintegrating beneath a red sun. A tortured Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back. Dante and Virgil arm in arm wandering through a circle of hell. Writing in script filled the empty space, seemingly verses from poems. It was all centered around two words placed across his bicep: Noli Timere. You’d be lying if you said it didn't make you even more attracted to him than you already were.

You could've spent hours just looking, analyzing every line of ink. It felt as though you did, though it's much more likely it was only for a few seconds. You were brought back to Earth by the sound of his voice.

“It's rude to stare, y’know?”

There was no real annoyance in his voice, but it caused you to attention like you had been caught. An explanation mumbled its way out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I like your arm. Tattoos. Your arm tattoos. They're…”

Beautiful? Enticing? Very attractive?

“…cool.”

You took a sip of your coffee, finding it the perfect time to cover up your embarrassment, as well as the flushed face that came along with it. Luckily, Andrew didn't notice (or if he did, he didn't mind) and continued the conversation, accepting your compliment with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. I try to put a lot of thought into them, give them some meaning, so they're all based on these stories that are important to me.”

“Makes sense. I’d hate to get a tattoo just to regret it a few years later. Even worse, a few months later.”

“Too many of my clients have had that exact issue. Come in a year after and ask for a coverup. Makes me question my work sometimes.”

“Clients?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“Oh, right. I never mentioned it.” He paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing. “I’m a tattoo artist. The parlor I work at’s only a few blocks away from your shop, believe it or not.”

“Wow. Small world, I suppose. Maybe I could stop by someday and say hi.”

The boldness of your statement didn't fully process in your brain, and you quickly backtracked.

“If you’d be okay with that, of course.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can come by whenever I don't have a client.”

“Call me over if anyone gets a tattoo of a flower and I’ll be there to explain everything it means. There is always the very dangerous possibility of someone getting a flower that means jealousy or a rejection.”

He didn’t reply, just flashed a smile, and the silence between you seemed… awkward. Combined with the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it almost made you think he was nervous.

“I’m actually thinking about buying a bouquet to put on the front desk,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people, they get nervous before their appointment, whether it's their first tattoo or their tenth. Having flowers right when you walk in might ease some of the tension.”

“That's a great idea. I know I’m biased, but flowers do tend to brighten my day."

“Do you have any ideas?”

You bit at your bottom lip as you thought, finally speaking again once you racked your brain for what could work.

“Chrysanthemums are a favorite with customers. Those mean joy and optimism. I could start with those and build from there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“That's all I’ve got right now, but I’ll see what else I can come up with later. After coffee, I’m much more… insightful.”

As if to prove your point, you took another sip of your coffee, a longer one that left only a quarter of the cup left.

“So… this is official? You're placing an order?”

He nodded.

“If that's how this works, then yes. I’d like to place an order of one chrysanthemum bouquet for the purpose of making my customers happy. Please,” he replied genuinely.

“Your order will be marked down as soon as I get to the shop.”

“Feel free to take your time, by the way. I don't mean to pressure you. It's not like I have a deadline, and I know you probably have a million other things you have to do.”

You considered reaching for him, your fingertips flexing in his direction, but you restrained yourself, choosing words instead.

“You're not pressuring me at all. You made your order. Now you're asking me to do my job. My job that I love, by the way. If anything, I’m thrilled that you're so interested.”

The real question is whether you're more interested in my job or me.

You weren't bold enough to say what you were thinking, but you never had been. You had gotten so used to biting your tongue it was a miracle it was still in your mouth. You spoke again, but selected a much safer option of what to say.

“It's gonna take a few days since there's some orders before yours, but I have your number on file so I’ll call you when I finish it up.”

“I’ll be there. With my wallet, this time around.”

You thought about your proposition before realizing there would be a much more effective, though maybe you just wanted to visit Andrew’s job for a change.

“I mean, you said your place is only a few minutes away, right? I could always deliver it. Gives me an opportunity to get some fresh air during my day. Besides, you're probably much busier than I am, so it might be harder to find the time. Meanwhile, I can deliver it as soon as it's done, and everything works out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

He sighed and shook his head, a reaction you originally feared was out of annoyance, but you felt a small amount of relief when you noticed the smile that accompanied it.

“You need to stop doing nice things for me. Otherwise I’ll go bankrupt from buying you so much coffee to compensate.”

“I also accept gratitude payment in compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks.”

“What about credit cards?”

“Ooo, sorry. Compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks are your options.”

He chuckled, a deeper and richer laugh than before.

“Fine. You want a compliment? You're incredibly kind for doing all of this for me, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you.”

Another sip from your cup to hide the flush of your cheeks, though no amount of caffeine could calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“That covers your gratitude payment for now. I still need real money, of course,” you muttered. “And you're not getting your way out of it this time.”

“I would never. You can't pull the same con on the same person twice.”

“Oh, so it was a con? Did those flowers even go to your mother?”

“Nope. Underground flower smuggling ring.”

“Ah, I should've guessed. Tell your flower-loving crime boss that I’m thankful for all that you've done for me, but I unfortunately need to get going, because it's 9:30 and the shop opens at 10.”

Andrew complied. You two wrapped it up, and he put his jacket back on, covering up his tattoos much to your dismay. Your coffee cup, now empty, was discarded by the door.

“Thank you so much. For the coffee, for the company. Everything. Especially for the coffee, though, considering you barely even drank yours,” you commented, pointing at the half-full cup still in his hand.

“You’re welcome. And trust me, I was going to drink it, but I found myself much more engrossed in the conversation.”

Andrew grabbed the door and held it open for you, and you walked past him and thanked him. Both of you stood on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, unsure of how (or if you even wanted) to say goodbye.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said with a sigh.

“You say that like we're never going to see each other again.”

“A lot can happen in a few days, Y/N. You have no idea what the universe has up her sleeve.”

“Do you have some kind of knowledge about an apocalypse that I don't? Because when it comes to that kind of stuff, sharing is caring.”

“Just… prepping for the future, I suppose. If there is no apocalypse, I’ll see you when my bouquet’s finished.”

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

You walked to your car, only a few footsteps away, the smile slowly fading from your face as he walked in the opposite direction. You sneaked a glance over your shoulder at him before opening the car door.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality. Your mantra had been proven right: that was not a date. It just felt like one. A very successful one at that. He was a gentleman, listened to what you had to say, gave you a compliment, and you even set up an incentive to meet again. This not-a-date went better than most of your actual dates, and it was with a guy who, to your knowledge, had no romantic interest in you.

You were totally and utterly screwed.

[sandwitchstories]

Stoned and Boned

It's been a while since I posted any new smut hasn't it? I also owed you all a True Form Sukuna x Reader fic to celebrate 250+ followers…Well, here you go, my fellow heathens! Come get your dinner!

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: This story would not exist without @osunism and ou equally stoned and horny minds! Muse, you were my muse!!🤣 (Side note: You guys should check out their works! They are incredibly talented)

Additional: Kiseru pipes were used to smoke tobacco, not weed, but pot usage was common in the Heian era. In this fic Sukuna smoked it out of a kiseru because I said so

Summary: A completely self indulgent smut fic of reader getting stoned with Sukuna while they fuck.

WC: 2400+

CW: MDNI, Marijuana usage, recreational pot usage, getting stoned during sex, shotgunning pot smoke, Fem reader, afab terms used to describe readers body parts, cunnilingus, blow jobs, Sukuna has 2 dicks, fingering, anal, double penetration, p in v sex, Sukuna's belly mouth - for a full list of warnings please check out the AO3 link!

Divider by me -DO NOT USE

“Go on,” Sukuna’s deep voice slid over your skin like you longed for his fingers to be doing. 

You did as he instructed, untying your robe and letting it fall to the floor, leaving you standing bare before him. With a devious little smirk on your lips you got on the bed, crawling towards him in a slow teasing way. His gaze openly devoured the sight of you.

You settled down on your knees between strong, thick, tattooed thighs, taking in the sight of the King of Curses sprawled out naked before you with his head leaned back on the pile of pillows behind him. You ran your fingers lightly, teasingly, up his thick thighs. Gods, was he gorgeous. 

Sukuna had a lazy grin on his face as he watched you through hooded eyes. He had a hand behind his head and two more lying lazily by his side. But it was the fourth hand that had your full attention. 

You licked your lips as you watched his large hand fisting and stroking both of his hard cocks as he took in your every move. You met his gaze, the look in his eyes making your pussy clench. “Let me.”

Sukuna grinned, letting go of his cocks and gesturing with his open palm towards his cocks. “By all means.”

You leaned forward, you moved one hand to brace near his side, the other took over stroking his cocks. Even though your hand was too small to wrap around them both fully, you had mastered the art of jacking your husband off long ago. You leaned forward and began to slowly kiss up his body. You smiled up at him when you stopped to press a kiss to his belly mouth, making both of his mouths smirk. 

You continued up his body, stopping to playfully flick at his nipples a few times, eliciting a soft grunt from the man below you. You scooted him a little and leaned more over him to further your reach, You took your time mouthing and nipping at his skin, leaving little love marks in your wake, marking him as yours. He moved a hand to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb rubbing circles where it laid.

As you got to the crook of his neck you nuzzled into him, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. Gods, how you loved the intoxicating scent that was uniquely your husband mixed with the alluring scent of kyara. His hands roamed over your body as you kissed up his neck to his ear, placing a gentle kiss to his ear.

You moved to give him a kiss. Your lips met and parted several times before his tongue slid into your mouth. He moved his tongue against yours in slow but commanding movements as his large hand cupped the back of your head. 

You pulled back from the kiss and gave his bottom lip a little nip. You gave his cocks a gentle squeeze. “Your kiseru is loaded for you with your favorite taima, my love. All you need to do is just lay back and let me take care of you.”

“Go on then. You know what to do.” 

You kissed a trail back down his body as you scooted back on the bed to be able to get to your destination. You kept stroking his cocks as you kissed each of his thighs on their markings. You leaned your mouth forward, your tongue swiping over one of his balls before taking it into your mouth. 

The smell of the taima being lit caused your gaze to flick up to Sukuna, watching him take a long drag of the relaxing herb. He reached down a free hand, gripping your hair and pulling you up from his sac. He pressed your mouth to his bottom cock, moaning softly when your tongue instantly shot out of your mouth and swiped up the sensitive flesh of the underside of his cock. 

You kept your mouth open with your tongue out, flat and accessible. Your hands moved to brace on his thighs. Tingles of arousal spread through your veins as he lazily dragged you up and down his cock, his head back relaxed and enjoying very second.

Sukuna pulled at your hair, guiding you upwards until he had your pretty little mouth hovering over the swollen tips of his large, thick cocks. With one of his other hands he dragged his cocks against you, spreading the pre on your lips and chin. You opened your mouth and let him press you down on his top cock. 

“Be a good girl and take it.”

You began to bob your head up and down in a torturously slow manner, like you had all the time in the world. As you sucked his cock, you left more spit behind with each pass, allowing you to take him deeper until your nose was pressed against him. His cock settled into your throat and he held you in place, almost whimpering when you swallowed around him. It felt incredible to have your mouth and throat wrapped around his cock. 

“You look beautiful like that. Exquisite,” he said, still smoking his pipe. “Your pretty, filthy little mouth knows just what to do.”

You grinned around his cock at the praise and began to move up and down the hard, hot velvet lengths of his flesh. You worked at alternating cocks and switching between stroking his lengths, taking him into your mouth, occasionally giving your jaw a break and using your tongue to trace over the striped patterns of his curse markings that decorated both of his cocks. You glanced up at him to see him taking a long drag of his pipe. 

“Come here,” he said, his hand again in your hair pulling you up his body until your face hovered over his. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, eyes closing when his lips fixed to yours and he blew the earthy flavored smoke into your mouth. You inhaled deeply, enjoying both the experience and the flavor as it filled your lungs. You tilted your head back to breathe out slowly, the action allowing Sukuna access to mouth at your neck.

Your hands shot to the back of his head and held him close as his teeth sank into the sensitive junction of your neck and shoulder. “Oh, shit, Suk…”

He grinned and chuckled against your skin, pressing a kiss to the bite he had just left. He moved his head and took another deep drag from the kiseru and motioned you forward, repeating the previous process. There was just something so sexy to him about you getting high off of the smoke he blew into your mouth. It was another pleasure he alone got to give you. He alone got to watch you lose all inhibitions and give in to anything that popped into your mind. That knowledge made his cocks twitch. 

He gave you a slow, deep kiss before pulling you back with a firm grip in your hair and giving you a smirk. He nipped your bottom lip before releasing his hold on your hair. “As you were.”

With a slight daze you moved back down his body, returning your lips to his cocks. He couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked as your mouth stretched around each of his cocks in turn. 

Soon he was once again directing your movements, having you now take his top cock slow and deep. You wrapped your hand around his bottom cock, stroking it in time.. 

“That’s it, precious one. Just like that… Just a little more…” He babbled as he used your mouth to get himself off. “Shit, keep doing that…You can do it…You want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Mmmhmm,” you enthusiastically replied around his cock. 

He groaned and began working his hips against your mouth, fucking his hard cock into your mouth while your other hand milked his bottom cock. “Fuck, beautiful. Here it comes… Be a good girl and don’t let a drop go to waste.”

You loved to watch him cum. You loved the way his eyes rolled back and clenched shut, the way his stomach muscles tightened. The feeling of his cock twitching and unloading in your throat sent a throbbing desire to your empty cunt. 

His bottom cock erupted at the same time, painting your chest in generous splatters of warm, white. You smiled as you pulled off his cock with a pop. He opened one eye and glanced down at you. You opened your mouth to show him your empty tongue.

“Good girl.”

You grabbed a towel you had thrown on the bed earlier, wiping his cum off of your tits. You gasped  when his large, calloused hands grabbed onto your hips and moved you right to where he wanted you. A shiver ran through you as you realized just where he had positioned you.

The feeling of his belly tongue lolling out and leisurely stroking through your slick folds was incredible. It was so wide, and thick, so warm and flexible. The things that tongue could do inside your cunt were absolutely sinful.

Sukuna’s fingers gripped your hips harder and pressed you down.  He licked stripes up and down your slit before using the tip to tease the very edges of your leaking hole and giving you just an occasional little dip of the tip. 

He chuckled at the frustrated whimper you let out. “What’s the matter, precious one?”

You shivered as the tip of his belly tongue gave your clit a hard flick. “You are teasing me, ya big meanie.”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck. “You want me to give you more?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He was only too happy to oblige. “Then be a good girl and ride it.”

You sat up straighter, bracing your hands on his chest. The shift in positions gave him the perfect angle he needed. He began to work the thick appendage into your eager cunt.

You moaned and closed your eyes as he worked his tongue in and out of your hot, creamy tunnel. Your nails dug into his chest and you pressed yourself down against him, grinding your pussy against him as the tongue inside your cunt rolled and unrolled, slowly thrusting into your gummy walls.

“Eyes open. You know the rules.” Your eyes shot open and your gaze locked with all 4 of his. You began to move your hips, rocking against him, keeping your movements slow and intentional, grinding your so sensitive clit against him. “Feels so good, Suk.”

Sukuna set to work using his four arms to his advantage. One of his thumbs found its way between your folds, taking over stroking your clit as his belly tongue worked your cunt even more open for him. Another hand took up residency on your chest. The devious man you married conjured a mouth on his large palm, sucking in your nipple harshly and giving it a nip and tug. A third hand cupped the back of your head while his fourth brought the kiseru to his lips.

As he had done before he pulled your mouth to his, shotgunning the gratifying mist into your mouth, watching your eyes get a little more dilated and glossy. He set the pipe down, your movements relaxed enough to tell him you were right where he wanted you. He let you sit up, the hand on the back of your head now joining the other on your currently vacant breast.

Sukuna swiped a finger on his free hand through the saliva and arousal soaking your thighs and carefully slid his hand over the swell of your as before sliding between the twin globes to begin teasing open the tight muscle hidden there. He grinned as you shuddered, staying still momentarily with your jaw hanging just the slightest bit low as you took in the pleasure he was giving you. 

“Keep movin’,” Sukuna said as he carefully worked a second finger into your ass with the aid of the juices spreading on his abdomen.

You did as he said, your movements getting faster and sloppier as you neared your orgasm. “Suk… gon…gon… gonna cum…”

“You have been a good girl, haven’t you?” He smirked as you made an affirmative noise, nodding your head quickly, a pleading look in your glazed eyes. “Go ahead. Cum.”

Your orgasm rocked through your body, setting nerves ablaze and making your pretty little cunt clamp down on his belly tongue, still inside you, lapping up every drop of your honey he possibly could. You slumped forward against his warm, solid body as you panted, twitching and coming down from a powerful orgasm. 

Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close. He kissed the top of your head, giving you a few moments to rest in his arms. He captured your lips before turning you both so you were on your side facing him. 

He hiked one of your legs over his hip. He rubbed his cocks up and down your weeping, sensitive slit, gathering a slick coating on the sensitive heads of his weeping cocks. 

He easily slid the head of his top cock into your waiting pussy. His other hand reached over your thigh to line his cock up with your impossibly tight ass and he began slow rocks of his hips, feeding you inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside both of your holes. The stretch was delicious and you were so fucking full.

You locked fingers with him on the arm above resting above your heads while the other buried in his hair to pull him closer for a heated kiss. You began to move your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust as his cocks bullied your holes and the hand he had cupping your ass guided your speed.

“That’s it, precious one,” he praised, sucking on your bottom lip. 

“Feels so good…” you moaned, pussy and ass clenching on his cocks and making the large man in your arms damn near whimper.

“Keep taking it just like that… Keep going, precious one,” Sukuna said, pulling you flush against him and nuzzling into your shoulder, inhaling deeply as his hips continued to roll at that maddeningly slow but somehow comforting lazy pace. He kissed the skin of your neck, scraping it with his teeth. He was absolutely gone - pussy drunk and high as fuck. He licked up the column of your neck and nipped your ear lobe. He kissed the shell of your ear and said in a soft, husky voice, “Don’t stop.”

As if you had any plans to that. Pfft!

[killuasskateboard]

HIHI AI !! can i pls req a oneshot abt killua and reader having an enemies to lover trope while during the heavens arena arc. LIKE CAN U IMAGINE THEM COMPETING OVER WHO CAN HAVE MORE DEFEATED COMPETITORS and who is better at nen !!! AND THEN THEY SUDDENLY BOND MORE DURING THE TIME THEY GET TAUGHT UNDER WING EHHE.. JUST A THOUGHT 😁😁

A/n: Hi iceee (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠), thank you sososo much for requesting !! I hope the story is up to your expectations 🫶🫶

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

More than rivals

The 200th floor of Heavens Arena was your battlefield, and Killua Zoldyck was your biggest obstacle.  

From the moment you met him, it had been a competition.  

Who had the most wins, who defeated opponents faster, who was better at dodging attacks—the list went on. And, of course, who could piss the other off more.

“You’re keeping track, right?” Killua asked the second you stepped out of the arena, another victory under your belt.  

You wiped some sweat from your brow. “Obviously. 24 wins now.”  

He smirked. "Still one behind me."  

Your eye twitched. 

But when you both reached the 200th floor, things changed.  

The fighters here were different—stronger, more calculated. There was something in the air, something unseen.

Then came Hisoka.  

“You two are interesting,” he had mused, his eerie smile never fading. “But unfortunately… unrefined.”  

And then came Wing.

# Learning about Nen

"You both have talent," Wing said, arms crossed. "But raw talent alone won’t take you further. If you want to survive here, you need to learn Nen."  

Killua leaned forward, intrigued. "Nen?"  

You frowned. "What's that?"  

Wing only smiled. "Something far beyond your current abilities."  

You hated how Killua’s eyes lit up like this was a game.  

And you hated even more that you felt the exact same way.  

But Nen training? It was brutal.

Controlling aura, maintaining Ren, focusing energy—everything felt unnatural. And the worst part?  

Training with Killua.

Whenever you struggled, he was there.

"Wow, you suck at this," he teased when your aura flickered out.  

Your glare could've burned through a wall. "I don’t see you doing any better!"  

Killua smirked and immediately stabilized his Ren.  

…Smug little—  

"You’re just jealous I’m a natural."  

"Jealous?! Oh, you’re dead."  

And that was the moment Gon had to physically get between you.  

"Guys, calm down!" he laughed nervously, holding up his hands. "We’re supposed to be learning!"  

You and Killua exchanged heated glares but begrudgingly backed off.  

"Fine," you muttered.  

Killua rolled his eyes. "Tch. Whatever."  

But despite the constant arguing, something shifted.

Training together made you better.  

Killua’s raw instincts and speed pushed you forward.  

Your strategy and endurance forced him to slow down and think.  

Somewhere between the competition, the bickering, and Gon constantly playing peacemaker, the rivalry started to feel… different.  

And then, one night—after a particularly exhausting session—you both found yourselves on the rooftop of Heavens Arena, the city lights flickering below.  

The usual bickering had faded into silence.  

For once, Killua wasn’t making some snarky comment. Instead, he glanced at you, looking almost hesitant.

"You, uh…" He scratched his cheek, looking away. "You're not bad."  

You blinked. "What?"  

His expression immediately soured. "Tch. Forget it."  

Oh.  

Oh, this was gold.  

"You were gonna say something nice, weren’t you?" You grinned, leaning closer.  

Killua turned away so fast you thought his neck might snap. "No, I wasn’t!"  

"You sooooo were!"  

"Shut up!" His voice cracked slightly, and you swore you saw a tiny blush dust his cheeks.  

It was silent for a moment.  

Then, he muttered—so quietly you almost missed it—  "You're… actually kinda strong."  

Your heart did a weird flip.  

You smirked. "What was that?"  

Killua groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I said—you’re not weak, okay?!"  

He refused to look at you, but you caught the way his fingers fidgeted.  

And then—  

"I knew it!" Gon suddenly appeared from behind, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Killua does think you're strong!"  

Killua choked on air. "Wha—?! Gon, shut up!"  

You laughed, while Killua looked about two seconds from throwing himself off the roof.  

Maybe he was still annoying. Maybe he still got on your nerves. 

But somewhere between enemies and rivals…

Maybe you had become something more.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Thank you for reading !

I'm sorry if there are some grammar mistakes or any mistakes in the story.

Have a nice day/night !! Feel free to request ^^

(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

[sandsorghum]

I'm finally putting together a masterlist! It's not comprehensive but should capture the gist of the past 5+ years of this blog's writing. Right now I exclusively write for JJK, with Nanami and Higuruma as my all time favourite characters (I may make separate lists for them in the far off future heh).

For now the list below contains mainly one-shots: *Pink indicates smut

Multi-Character

Fake Dating

No Nut November analysis

Thoughts on Who'd Get to Third Base on a First Date

How JJK Guys Would React to You Asking for a Threesome

Good Cop, Bad Cop, Worst Cop JJK characters as your co-interrogators/investigators/instigators

JJK Week Day 6 What watching horror movies with Yuji, Megumi and Nobara is like

2021 Xmas Love Language Analysis Gojo | Geto | Nanami | Choso | Toji

CRACK

Cursed techniques, cursed pick up lines If they made gingerbread cookies Oh right, the global pandemic.

Higuruma Hiromi

There was Only One Bed trope musings/drabble

Midnight Mendacity An exploration and exercise in delayed gratification.

Omelette There's no need to prod his offering so suspiciously.

Nuzzler! What it says on the tin; just down bad thoughts of nuzzling Hiromi

Baby it's cold outside~ Something unusual happens while you're both stubbornly shivering on the regular cigarette break you share with him

XOXO Types of kisses he deserves in a day (indulge him, i implore you)

8:14am You give your Sisyphus some socks

Nanami Kento

2021 NanaNov Appreciation Month Written in the earliest throes of 💗 1. Ley Lines 2. Formal Fabrications 3. False Sobriety 4. Damned Sweet Time

Smoke Spires Fragments of himself and smoke spires into a night shared with you. Nanami Kento is reminded of other occupational hazards.

Sloshed Nanami would much rather be inebriated off you than all the alcohol at his insipid corporate function.

Wardrobe Your love is weathered and worn; all it takes is a little patching up. 2:37am Nanami takes you on a late night drive date.

The Collatz Conjecture [Non-sorceror College AU. On hiatus] (Nanami x Math Department Professor!Reader) There's no formula for falling in love...or is there?

A Cutting Room [Hollywood AU Concept drabble] (Screenplay writer Nanami x Starlet!Reader) He tells you he's no leading man yet you want to read between the lines.

Redundance You're too engrossed in your novel. Your husband is determined to wrest your attention (and affections) back from fictional competitors.

Lumber Lumbar [Nanami x Sports Masseuse!Reader drabble] You relieve some of his aches.

9/10 Nanami isn't going to let something as trivial as good oral hygiene get in the way of getting his morning smooches in.

Thread Count Nanami doesn't mean to inconvenience you; as sincerely and surely as he intends to hinder himself in matters of the heart.

Clouds & Curtains Perhaps Nanami's approach to...rousing you in the mornings has changed over the years.

Mise En Place [Yandere!Nanami x Reader] It was a fairy tale, wasn’t it? Or a cautionary one, as most of them turned out to be.

Geto Suguru

Tonkotsu Suguru's feelin a lil' extra frisky on your Friday date night. Well, at least one of you is concentrating on their meal...

Studies in Graphite [High School AU] You can't help being a recalcitrant doodler during remedial lessons, not with a muse so nearby. And perhaps, he's been paying attention to where your focus wanders...

Honeycomb Mornings mandate the laziest make out sessions, according to him

To Refuse Refuge [Cult Leader Geto x Non-Sorceror Reader.] A requiem on the disquiet of unrequited love.

Tsubaki Suguru doesn't dwell in or on the past. Yet, he lingers in your garden. Just this once, excavation hints at a stay of execution.

Misc

No Rematches [Gojo x Reader] Gojo goes a little too far with the teasing this time

No, Gege didn't see simply a gap in his "hot, overworked dudes" harem and just replace him [Extensive Nanami vs Higuruma meta]

[dewracle]

Idk how kink friendly you are but if someone doesn't write Vessel with a spit kink I might die. Please prevent my death unless it makes you uncomfortable in which case, I forgive you, rip me lol

Rain Down On Me

PAIRING - Sleep Token Vessel X Reader

WARNING - NSFW! Spit Kink, Power Play, Slight Degrade, Heavy Drool, Switch Vessel

AUTHOR'S NOTE - Sorry It's short y'all! I hope y'all still enjoy it though! Slowly put surely working through request to possibly open them up again

WORD COUNT - 844

Master List - Ao3

The thick glob of spit from his mouth, his smirk as it hit your tongue, everything about this was turning you on. It wasn’t fair to you because no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had a spit kink and so did Vessel. 

Whether it be you spitting in his mouth or using your spit to jerk him off, or Vessel spitting in your mouth after an especially filthy make-out session. Spit seemed to always be involved in your sexual activities with the singer. 

“Good pet…” He mumbles softly as he watches you swallow down the liquid.

Your eyes flutter shut at his praise; it was impossible not to be turned on by the idea of swallowing something he gave you.

Once you open your eyes, you hum softly with a pleased smile on your face. “Give me more..”

Vessel couldn’t help but chuckle at your comment; of course, you’d be greedy for him. He reaches for your face, cupping it and smiling at you with pride. 

“You want me to spit on you like I did III that time?” He muses as he pulls you closer.

You open your mouth expecting for his spit to land on your tongue. Except, you were pleasantly surprised when the warmth landed just below your eye. You close your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as you look at Vessel with a pout. 

“You said like I did him…” Vessel chuckled before grabbing your jaw and smearing the spit across your face. He only chuckled more as your eyes widened with shock and arousal. “Filthy bitch!”

Vessel’s spit dried under his hand, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “God, you’re hot… Pet loves that, don't they?” 

You tried to nod but the tight grip on your jaw forced you to just let out a pathetic whine. From your position, you grabbed at his cloak, fists tightening on it as you tried to pull him closer.

Seeing your struggle, Vessel let go of your face, dropping his hand to the back of your neck to hold you in place. His lips twitched into a pleased smile, the desperate look on your face only serving to make his cock twitch roughly. “Yeah, that’s it…”

“Fuck- Vess, you can’t just-“ You tried but Vessel cut you off. He allowed drool to well in his mouth, leaning forward to lick a thick wet stripe from your jaw to just below your eye. 

You yelped softly, body trembling with arousal as the heat pooled lower. Yet Vessel wasn’t done with you, no. He pulled back and spat every bit of drool he had collected onto your face. 

It dripped down your face, onto your chest and you could do nothing but stare at Vessel. The shock slowly wears off, leaving you to moan out in pleasure. Arousal surged through you, driving you to want more.

Finally, after gathering your strength, you pull the singer into a messy kiss. At first, it surprises him, forcing a soft grunt out of his mouth. But he kisses back, the hand on the back of your neck tightening as he devours your mouth. 

The kiss is a mess, drool dripping down both of your chins. You couldn’t help but moan, dipping your tongue in his mouth for the source of the sweet taste. 

Though Vessel tried to pull back, to breathe and question if you were okay, you did not allow it. Going as far as wrapping your hand around his throat, smearing the combination of spit.

The singer had to fist your hair, pulling you away from the kiss as you desperately whined for more. Your eyes were cloudy, soft yet ready to pounce once more; chin and bruised lips covered in spit. 

“Heel bitch, fucking calm down or I won’t give you what you want.” Vessel growled softly, yanking your hair to emphasize his words. 

A smile stretches across your face, your hand on Vessel’s throat tightens. “But Vee, don’t you want me to suck you down? Drool on your cock?”

Your words made Vessel inhale deeply as he pictured it; pictured how wet your mouth would feel and how beautiful it would be to see your own drool dripping down your chest. 

“You’ll get what you earn.”

The softness in your eyes disappears as you eye Vessel up and down, weighing your options. Would you be good? Earn your way to sucking his cock? Or would you rather act out and take what you want? 

He yanks your hair again, edging you to give him an answer. But instead, you pull him forward by the throat, and spit on his mask. It lands perfectly on the white part, staying for a moment before dripping down his nose. 

“I'll earn your submission Vessel, take control over you.” You hummed and Vessel’s mouth opened slightly, his body shuddering.  “You fucking-“ Vessel began, only to be cut off as your spit drips on the nose of his mask and downwards. “Then earn it, pet, but I will put up a fight.”

[littlefreya]

Hi Freya! If you have the time, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for some August Walker fics, whether by you or another writer, it doesn’t matter to me. Most of the fics I’m finding recently make him out to be rough, animalistic, and cruel (which makes sense cause he was the villain after all lol). But they also include non-con, degradation, etc, which I’m not comfortable with. Don’t get me wrong! Stories with those elements are fine! It’s just not my cup of tea, personally. And I do like rough August, but I guess it’s more in the sense of him being rough to his enemies and being soft, sweet, and super protective of his sweet and innocent girl. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if it doesn’t, and for the rambling, to this day I still get nervous and panicky whenever I write an ask. 😅 Hope you have a great day! 🥰

Hey love, no need to be nervous about sending an ask. We are all just humans here :) 💖

I have several August stories where August is a pure softy - smut and non smut included.

List below the cut

Smut 🔥🔥🔥

Velvet Chains - Soft!August x Reader (smut. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c… ) - For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable. 

Whiskers and Wet Silk - August comes home to find his princess watching Shadow and Bone and simping for the General and gets a bit insecure…

A Perfect Day - August Walker x Reader (smut to heavy fluff. Mentions of oral sex performed on a woman, male masturbation, and bodily fluids.) A perfect day in rural italy with the most dangerous CIA agent on earth. 

Pink Umbrella - August x Reader (Fluff to smut, soft!August Walker, DD/LG, thigh riding, gloves fetish (it’s a thing now), dirty talk, a tint of angst and slight twist ending.) August is on a mission in beautiful Paris and had you join the ride, but while he wants you to stay safe at the hotel, you have other ideas.

Gentle Monsters - August x Reader (smut, vaginal fingering, groping, grinding, cock grabbing, virginity. SoftDom vibes. August is the big bad wolf, but he can be soft for the right woman) It’s your first date with agent Walker, and things get a little too raunchy, but you are not ready to go all the way… 

One more touch before we die August x OFC (Explicit smut, romance) Set in a cabin on the mountain, August and his woman make passionate, desperate love. Sense Challange - Touch

Bourbon and Candy August x OFC (Explicit Smut, size kink, daddy kink) After a frustrating day at work, August just wants to sit down and enjoy his princess, in any way possible.

Poison Honey - August Walker x Reader ( Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.) Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker. 

Fluff 🌈🍧🧁

Kiss it Better - August Walker x OFC (3rd person POV Fluffy, sticky, gooey fluff and floof with a tint of naughty suggestion)  August takes care of his girl after she fell

Monster August Walker x OFC (Romance) They call him a monster, but he is your monster    

Eivor - August Walker x ofc (Fluff)   August Walker wore many masks and had done horrible things but never in his life he imagined he would become someone’s father.

Shelter - August x Reader (Strictly soft sticky fluff) Lazy morning cuddles with August 

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly and you decide to exploit the situation. 

Angel, can you hold me? - Soft!August x ofc (Angst to fluff) Bad guys need to be held as well

No More Tears - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, Angst) On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost.

Behind Blue Eyes - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV,  angst, bad language, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, longing, love, heartache. August being poetic AF and August being a prick and stealing candy. ) Beaten and broken, August Walker walks the streets of an unnamed city while he is taken by sudden longing.

Some drabbles

August doesn’t like it when his princess is sad (fluff)

Soft Tender August - August x Reader (Fluff, aftercare)

August singing Sinatra to you - August x Reader (Fluff)

Watching porn with August - August x Reader (mutual masturbation)

Forever Yours - August loves his cuddly princess

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,324

Previous Part: Chapter Four -- Vox

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I've just had a lot of people asking for part five of this series.

The shadows released Alastor and Y/n in his old studio. They melted into the ground around them as Y/n smiled brightly, her eyes traversing the familiar space.

"Happy to be back?" Alastor asked, watching her excitment fondly and Y/n nodded.

"I most certainly am. This is the most fun I've had in ages."

"More fun than murder?"

"Fucking with Vox like that? Definitely more fun than murder. That was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time."

"That's why you're lucky to have me around."

"Hey, you're the one who left, not me. You don't need to convince me I like spending time with you. Rather, you are in a need to be proving your care for me I should think."

"Am I, my dear?" Alastor crooned, leaning in slightly with his hands behind his back.

"Yes, you are."

He laughed.

"Well, I will have to get on that."

As Alastor approached the desk, his horns sprouting in shadows from his head, she made her way over to the corner of the space covered in of pillows and blankets. Hitting the pillows, they released a cloud of dust. Y/n shrugged slightly, waving the dust away from her nose before sitting down.

Alastor held his microphone to his mouth, recommencing his recording.

"Lets begin." Alastor announced as he sat down in his chair and began fiddling with the knobs on the table, "I'm gonna make you wish that I'd stayed gone, tune on in."

Y/n spotted her old crocheting project she'd started seven years before and smiled. Taking it in her hands, she began to continue her previous work.

"When I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run." Alastor continued, his demon form becoming even wilder and sharp at its edges.

"This will be fun." Y/n mused, watching him carefully.

Alastor turned to her, his smile sickeningly wide.

"Yes, it will be."

It was just like the old days. Alastor broadcasted his show while Y/n watched, working on whatever craft project was nearest to keep her hands busy. There was a deep seated comfort rising in her soul, a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in years.

Every once in a while over the course of his show, Alastor would turn his head back towards her. Y/n wasn't sure if he was checking in or making sure she hadn't left. Either way, she didn't care. After about three hours, Alastor at last signed off.

As soon as he hit the button that stopped his broadcast, Y/n placed her crocheting to the side. Getting to her feet, she walked over to him and took a seat on the desk, smiling brightly.

"What did you think, my dear?" Alastor asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at her.

"Amazing as always, Al. I swear, your voice was made for the air waves."

Alastor laughed lightly at this comment.

"I missed it. I missed you."

"I found myself missing you too, my dear. I had become so used to your constant presence, it was an odd thing to suddenly be alone."

"You like me!" Y/n teased in a singsong voice and Alastor smiled back at her, "Admit it!"

"Perchance. So, seven years." Alastor sighed.

"Seven years." Y/n confirmed.

"You work for an imp now? Seems an odd turn of events."

Y/n shrugged, turning her head to look out the window at the street far below.

"Blitzo is a friend. He helped me out a lot when you first left."

"So you joined his little team? How sinful, breaking the law and going to the living world to reap souls for paying customers."

Y/n turned back to him.

"I didn't realize you knew that much about what we did."

"I have my sources."

"Husk? Are your sources Husk? He's the only one that knows what it is I do now from the old crowd."

Alastor didn't reply.

"It's for sure Husk. How is he doing?"

"Y/n." Alastor warned, "Answer the question."

She sighed, kicking her legs slightly.

"I mean, nothing we do is technically legal." she admitted, "None of them have human disguises and our way to the human world is a book Blitzo stole from a fucking Goetia."

"You don't say." Alastor mused, "That would happen to have anything to do with this contract you're under."

Y/n's eyes locked with Alastor in silence. They glared sharply at one another in a battle of will. At last, Y/n relented.

"Yeah. It does."

"So, what is it? Why does a member of the Goetia family own your soul. Why is it that you have fallen so far."

"You really aren't gonna let this one go."

Alastor shook his head.

"Blitzo... well he was friends with the guy. Stolas, one of the Goetia princes in charge of the heavens or some shit. It's... Basically, I made a deal that if Stolas stays away from Blitzo and let us use the book, I would give him my soul."

"How altruistic. Though not unexpected from you, I suppose."

"It was only a few months after you left, Al. I couldn't take him on. Hell, you can't even take him on. He's a fucking Goetia. I did... I couldn't think of anything else. I did what I had to do to keep my friend safe."

"And why did he deserve your protection? He dug his grave and instead of lying in it, put you in."

"It's not his fault. Stolas got all weird with stuff and Blitzo was uncomfortable. There's this big threat of him tattling on us he hangs over our heads at all times. I... Blitzo did so much for me, Al. He helped me pick up the pieces of my life when it was clear you weren't coming back. I've become better now, stronger but back then, it was all I could do for him."

Alastor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/n's phone buzzing.

"Sorry, gimme a second."

Alastor eyed the device in irritation as she pulled it from her pocket. Whatever was on the screen dampened her mood even further than their conversation had. She jumped down off the table, hurriedly typing something out on her phone.

"Shit, Al. I have to go, I'm sorry."

"Work?"

"Sorta."

"Ah. Your deal. Why does he not just pull you to him like a normal demon would."

"Well," Y/n began, sliding her phone back into the pocket of her dress, "first off, he's a hellborn not a demon. And second off he has this weird thing about being wanted? Well, not weird. Everyone wants to be wanted just like, he doesn't want to force me to come. At the same time, he knows if he asks for me, I have to. It's... he's complicated, Alastor. It's complicated."

"I could kill him for you. Make it a whole lot less complicated."

Y/n laughed.

"Thanks hun but I don't think even you could manage that one."

"You could make a deal with me, that would most likley cancel it out."

"And have you own my soul? No, I've seen how that pans out for people. I think I'll pass."

"Just a suggestion, my dear."

"Is it? You've been trying to make a deal with me since I first met you, Al. I feel like you shoulda caught the hint by now."

"It was worth a try." he shrugged.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why is it you want my soul so badly anyways?"

"No reason. No reason at all."

"Yeah. I totally believe that."

Y/n's phone dinged again and she pulled it once more from her pocket. At the sight of the words on the screen she sighed, her brow furrowing in irritation.

"Pushy pushy." she hummed, "Look, I gotta go. I'll be back later."

And with those parting words, Y/n disappeared through the studio's door.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Six -- Stolas

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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