#he's trying to be as smooth and impressive as possible

[thilsiktonix]

small little doodle page for you @niceguyanonymous !!!!!

((I tried my best, I'm not a very good writer, but I hope you like it <33 sorry I didn't put too much detail into this one, I wasn't sure how exactly to interpret it!))

[lilacxquartz]

part 6 of 19 of kinktober: foursome

mahito x reader

plot: mahito surprises you by splitting his body into three copies of himself — themes: group sex, mahito changing his body to have tentacles, tongue throating, smut, anal, m/m/m/f, foursomes, f!reader — a/n: all consensual here, wanted to play around with such an imagine — w.c: ~1.6k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

“Can I help you with something?” you asked Mahito who was otherwise stood right before you; his eyes so dazed yet so focused at the same time, as though wide with fleeting wonder.

“Wanna see something fun?” he asked after a moment of unsettling silence.

Knowing Mahito, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of dread nestle within the depths of your stomach. Albeit reluctantly, you however did nod as to confirm your curiosity.

Noticing your discomfort, the patch faced cursed spirit giggled to himself rather suspiciously but seemed to be restraining himself into a smoother, more casual demeanour.

You then watched with wary eyes as he did something not only strange, but surely impossible.

Even for him.

Like the tethering flame of a dry wick kissing a burning flame, Mahito slowly emerged as a secondary, seemingly separated life form. You stared with a wide, unblinking gaze as his body began to split, plopping out another version of him.

It took a hot moment for you to even process what was going on. A thought that you must have been hallucinating had crossed your mind for a second, but no matter how you tried to shake off what you were seeing; you couldn’t.

You faltered for a second longer before regaining your voice again, quizzing him at an almost bewildered tone, “I beg your finest pardon?”

“Impressed?” the Mahito closest to you had asked. The clone version. His voice was equally smooth and seemingly equally just as playful as his original counterpart.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself while taking a long, deep breath. With a still shaky tone, you tried your best to keep it all together, but you couldn’t quite retain your composure completely, “I’m not… too surprised, actually. I’m just floored that this is even possible to begin with.”

The two of them laughed in response, both sounding eerily similar yet somehow vaguely different. It was very clearly that they both found this whole situation deeply amusing, although there was a slight inkling of something else that lingered beneath the surface. It wasn’t quite unlike Mahito to prod at your boundaries and test the limits of what you could and could not handle, but it didn’t seem to be going in such a direction.

Before you had a chance to gather your thoughts and finalise them however, the cursed spirit managed to split off once more and reveal a third addition to his two other copies.

With fluttering eyes, you locked in on the sight before you.

There were three of them.

Three.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything, but no such words came.

Just what the hell was this, exactly?

“What’s the matter?” one of them asked, their voice taunting yet somehow alluring at the same time.

“What’s the matter…?” you repeated in a strained whisper, your mind still racing to process whatever mess he had plunged you into now. Which one of them was even speaking to you right now, anyway? Was this the original? Or was it one of the other… clones?

Another Mahito that hovered near the side of the other two decided to chime in as well, “You’re looking a little overwhelmed, huh?”

Was… was this one the original? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Although, there was one version of him that was surely unsettling. The one that lingered towards the side, watching you from the shadows. That particular version of him had no playfulness leftover in his demeanour, with all accounts of his nonchalant personality replaced with something dread inducing instead.

“Just think,” one of the more laidback versions spoke up, tearing your attention away, “the more of me, the better right?”

The other one seemed to agree with himself, “Yeah, that’s right. Now you get to have three times the fun.”

You hadn’t really quite noticed it right away, but the three of them had managed to close in on you by now, walking you up against the living room wall. The sensation of the cool brick pressing against your spine threw you off a little, prompting you to flinch.

Yet, the three Mahitos were undeterred, still easing as closely possible towards you. It wasn’t that you were put off by this development—it was quite the opposite actually—but you didn’t want to admit it. That in the presence of three of him, you were flustered, maybe even aroused.

And given the hungry looks on each of their faces, it was highly likely that they all had the same idea going on. You paused for a moment, narrowing your eyes at the sight. Of course they were all thinking the same thing, surely. They were still one person—one curse, after all—just sectioned off into three.

Ah, how confusing it all was, but you were slowly losing your ability to otherwise care, blinded by your own arousal.

The middle Mahito pressed his body against your own, trapping you between him and the wall. His hand snaked around your waist, coiling down to your core like organic springs, while the others manoeuvred around however and wherever they could.

Dipping your arm below your hips, the middle Mahito continued onwards with his pursuit by pushing down at your jeans and your underwear in unison, dropping the fabric down to the floor. His fingers then closed and pointed, webbing together and morphing into a tentacle-like appendage that speared into the enveloping pull of your cunt.

The quieter, more unnerving Mahito turned your head off to the side while the middle one continued to drive himself into your body, by pressing his lips against yourself and slipping his tongue inside. Similar to the middle version, the fleshy muscle seemed to only lengthen itself, vining into the back of your throat and quite literally taking your breath away.

Muffled whines and moans slipped out of your throat as you barely processed the progression of events. The writhing pass in between your legs had bloated and swelled, pushing inhuman lengths of reach. It partially hurt, but also felt pleasurable in a way that was unlike anything you have ever felt before. At last however, the tongue retracted from your throat, allowing you to pass a low whimper on its removal.

The one opposite off to the side didn’t give you too much time to think however, turning you over towards him with an impatient gesture and repeating the actions of the quieter one—of who positioned himself right behind you next. While both your pussy and your throat were occupied, he freed his erection from slightly pulling down at his trousers and position himself at your slightly parted cheeks. Spitting onto his tip, he coated the head of cock in saliva before pressing it against the opening of your ass, easing himself into the tight position, though allowing you to take him in slowly.

“Keep up,” the quieter one murmured, the playfulness still somehow absent from his voice unlike with the other two. Something about such a development was both thrilling yet worrying, but you didn’t have neither the time nor the opportunity to think.

You tried your best to keep up, feeling his throbbing length press become swallowed by the encasing muscles, feeling ever so slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of being filled up by three of him. The one tightly packed in your behind, pushing himself back and forth in heated, almost feverish motion. It almost felt like he was tearing you apart, splitting into you with every grunted plunge.

Meanwhile, the one in the front was quickly getting a rise from within you. Morphing veins and ridges over his twisting arm, he elicited raw pleasure from filling you out in every sense of the word. His other hand focused on creating a suction-like addition, that he held clean over your clit, further feeding into the sensation.

Thoroughly stuffed to the brim by all three of them, your body began to quickly writhe and convulse as it succumbed to almost numbing bliss.

“Aw, are you going to cum already?” the one in front of you teased, although his tone of voice seemed to be almost endearing.

All you could do was give a slight nod of your occupied head, still being throated by his other self pushing his elongated tongue back and forth down your throat while the other continued to pound away ruthlessly into your ass.

Still keeping the sensation going, he removed his other hand from your clit, easing down to his knees instead while keeping his arm still thrusting into you. Propping open his mouth, he speared his tongue over towards your clit in a similar fashion to how the other two used their tongues, driving a focus on the sensitive bud. The wet muscle flicked and lapped over the nub, bringing you closer and closer towards your finish.

It was swift due to the overwhelming amount of both pleasure and pressure alike, but your lower stomach soon had found its limit. In a tight squeeze, your thighs quivered and clenched tight against his arm, while your hips stuttered from an intensely milked out orgasm.

Melting against the wall in much sought after recovery, the other two withdrew from you and seemed to fuse back together with the original, who seemed to be the one in the middle. You blinked at the sight, but didn’t question it anymore, needing to rest more than to process the madness he just demonstrated.

“Now imagine if i could make even more of me,” Mahito laughed to himself, settling right beside you to join you in your rest.

You gulped, unable to quite imagine the prospect of even more of him, feeling your cheeks redden from the very thought in near anticipation.

With a weary light hearted scoff, you leaned your head over his shoulder and felt your eyes droop shut. “Yeah, imagine…”

(Although a part of you couldn’t wait for all this to happen again. And again. …And again.)

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

So, since Crowe is definitely my fave, so I just had to write more about him! Mostly focus on relationship canons, but shoutout to @i90o3 for the inspo! 

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I also threw in a bunch of my own general headcanons because honestly, Crowe has so much lore that I could talk about him forever (I won’t; it’ll be too damn long.)

He's got this whole backstory and vibe that I can't get enough of. Plus, I’m all about fleshing out his character even more, so I added a few of my personal twists on how I see him in different situations, especially when it comes to relationships. 

He's such a layered character, and it's fun to dive deep into his personality.

Okay, so let's talk about Crowe as a boyfriend. Honestly, he's everything—the perfect mix of charm, attention, and emotional depth. If you're the type of person who wants a relationship that's all about connection, balance, and growing together, Crowe is that guy. 

He's basically the definition of a dream guy—like, he’s got that old-school chivalry thing down, a fucking prince, but it's not forced or anything. It just comes naturally to him. He’s thoughtful in ways that’ll make you smile, like he’s always paying attention to what you need and finding ways to show you he cares. The affection? Relentless, in the best way possible. He’ll make you feel like the center of his universe without hesitation.

And if you’re someone who thinks love can’t be that over-the-top, grand, movie-romance type, Crowe is out here proving everyone wrong. He’s the type to sweep you off your feet with the little things and make every moment together feel like an wonderful love story.

✑ The Gentleman Extraordinaire

GENTLEMAN, GENTLEMAN, GENTLEMAN. DEAR LORD! Okay, okay, hear me out—Like, I started playing the game for Sol—I was all in for Sol, but then Crowe shows up, and suddenly I’m sitting here like, "Sol, who?" Crowe doesn’t just win your heart—he walks in, takes it, and leaves you wondering how you ever lived without him. He’s that boyfriend who ruins all other boyfriends because he’s not trying to compete—he’s just naturally that good at loving you.

He’s got this smooth, polished vibe, like a real-life Prince Charming, but not in some cheesy, over-the-top way. No, Crowe’s the kind of charming that feels real because it is He’s not all about appearances—there’s this kindness and humility that just grounds him. He’s perfect, but not in an intimidating way; he’s perfect in a “why this man doesn’t exist?” way. T-T

You know when he shows up to meet your friends or family? Game over. He’s got that effortless grace, that charisma that makes everyone around him feel special. Your friends are like, "Wow, he’s amazing," and your mom is already planning the wedding. But here’s the thing—Crowe doesn’t care about impressing everyone. He just cares about you, His whole vibe screams, “I’m here to love you and make your life amazing.” And he does.

He doesn’t wait around asking, “When are you free?” Nope. Crowe says, “Meet me outside in 20,” and next thing you know, you’re at this secret little café, or on a picnic in some perfect, out-of-the-way spot, or just laying on the grass, looking up at the stars that somehow feels magical—not odd because he’s there. And everything he does feels so intentional—like, this man doesn’t try to be romantic; he is romantic.

He’s that guy who makes opening doors and pulling out chairs look like an art form. Like, you could be wearing sweats, but somehow when you’re out with him, the whole scene feels like it belongs in a movie. 

Date night with Crowe? Babe, you’re not just going out for a night—you’re straight-up walking into a fashion shoot without even trying. This man is obsessed with matching outfits, but not in a cheesy way. Nah, it’s all about that subtle, cohesive vibe—same color schemes, the same textures.

And when you’re brainstorming outfits together? That’s part of the fun! It's like a mini fashion show before the actual date. And don’t even get me started on how he lets you borrow his clothes. You know this man is elite when his clothes smell like pure heaven and still fit you like a glove. Yall see how that man is built.

Crowe isn’t just boyfriend material, he’s the whole soulmate package. Like, seriously—he’s everything. I’m not even making this up, this man is next level.

✑ The Romantic Idealist

Crowe loves you like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and he’s not shy about it—like, at all. His love is this big, bold, cinematic thing, but also these soft, quiet moments that hit just as hard. It’s like he’s figured out how to be a walking rom-com and your comfort person all at once.

And Prince? Oh, Prince is charming for sure, but let’s be real: he’s more of a mother hen than some storybook prince. Brittney nailed it when she said that. He’s got that whole “nagging but with love” vibe, plus the way he carries himself. It’s giving “protective energy” more than “royal decree.”

And, Oh, you’ll never be unsure about how he feels. The man says, “I love you,” like it’s second nature—like he doesn’t even realize it’s slipping out half the time. And the way he looks at you? You know, the kind of gaze that makes your knees forget how to function? Yeah, that.

Then there are the little surprises: handwritten notes that are so sweet they feel illegal, gifts that aren’t just thoughtful but feel like they were plucked straight from your Pinterest board, and dates planned around stuff you didn’t even realize you’d mentioned. He’s not just big on the show of it; he’s big on knowing you, like, really knowing you.

And if you’re having a bad day or feeling some type of way? Crowe is on it. Insecurity? What’s that? Because he’s about to drop a forehead kiss, some whispered reassurances or even a whole TED Talk about why you’re literally the best human being alive. He’s not stopping until you believe it.

Lastly, flowers? Don’t even get me started. Crowe’s the kind of guy who gives flowers just because it’s Tuesday, and he definitely knows flower language. Like, he’ll bring you a bouquet and casually mention the meaning behind every bloom. It’s all very “main character in a dating sim.” even though he’s very much a second lead energy. You know exactly what I mean.

✑ Intimacy, Comfort, and Softness

Okay, so Crowe’s whole vibe is just… ugh, so comforting, in the way he shows up physically and emotionally. 

Like, this man has a gift for making you feel safe and treasured, but also a little breathless. It’s the way he reads you, you know? He picks up on even the tiniest mood shifts and is right there—whether it’s to hold you, help you, or just let you vent without even asking for it. 

And communication? Oh, he’s the king of creating that safe little bubble where you can spill your guts and not feel judged.

Oh, but don’t let that fool you—this man is such a tease. He loves getting under your skin in that playful, flirty way that has you pouting and glaring at him, and he’s just standing there with this little smirk. And honestly? You’d swear you catch him blushing every now and then when you pout back, but it’s so subtle you almost gaslight yourself into thinking it’s the lighting.

Now, THE HAIR. His Hair ™ deserves its own spotlight.

It’s a masterpiece, okay? Always soft, always smelling faintly of lavender or jasmine or some other magical scent that just makes you wanna dive face-first into it and never leave. Like, what’s his secret? Witchcraft? Angels? I don’t even care—it’s perfect.  

And the texture? Bruh, it’s so smooth it’s unreal. Like, you run your fingers through it once, and suddenly you’re hooked. I’m talking brushing it, styling it, or just running your hands through it like it’s your job. Don’t even get me started. 

But here’s the kicker: when you start massaging his scalp? Game over. This man is so sensitive, like his entire soul leaves his body. But wait, I’m not even close to done. His hair has its own little personality, just radiating vibes that scream, “Take care of me, love me, worship me.” And you do. Because you have to.  

And if you dare to tug on his hair—ohhh, let me tell you, it’s a wrap. He just melts, full-on turns into a puddle with those big heart eyes, looking at you like you’re the only person in the universe. And the way he’s silently begging for more? Sir. Sir. You’re playing a dangerous game, Crowe.  

Soft words, soft touches—the whole package. He’s the kind of person who will cup your face like you're the most important thing in the world and just whisper how incredible you are.

Or he’ll casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you’re talking like it’s no big deal, but it makes you feel like you're wrapped up in this cozy, gentle bubble. Honestly, it’s the kind of affection that just melts you.

You’d have him all peaceful and chill, just resting on your chest, no worries. It’s like his version of a personal reset button. I can’t even deal with how perfect that sounds.

Oh yeah! Let’s talk about his sleep, though. Crowe sleeps like a freaking Disney princess. Aurora who? Like, imagine the most peaceful, beautiful sleeping face ever. And okay, yeah, there’s a bit of a “corpse but make it art” vibe, because how can anyone look that good just… lying there? I’m so sorry, couldn't help it.

Crowe is all about that closeness, like, he loves resting his head on you. Whether it’s on the top of your head or just leaning on your shoulder, he thrives on that kind of support. It’s like his way of saying he trusts you with his energy.

And if you smell nice? Oh, he’s all about it. Like, if you're wearing something musky, floral, or have a hint of perfume, he’s in heaven. It’s like his little sensory heaven, and he’ll lean in a little closer just to get that extra whiff. 

When it comes to hugs, it’s a mutual effort—you both kinda have this rhythm after learning each other’s boundaries. But when you do hug, Crowe’s hands usually find their way to your waist, not your chest or neck. It’s like this cozy, grounded thing where he wants to feel close but also be respectful of space. 

If you’re feeling extra chill with him, he’d probably fall asleep in your arms, no questions asked. This boy just needs rest, and you’re the perfect pillow. But if he does fall asleep while hugging you? Good luck getting those arms to move. It’s like they’re made of steel or something—they’re not going anywhere. And honestly, who would want them to? It feels so good being wrapped up in his arms. 

Seriously, though, his hugs are just addictive. Like, once you get one, you just want more. It’s warm, comforting, and feels like a personal little world just between the two of you. Just shower him with hugs in return—he’s craving it, trust me, especially when it’s just the two of you, behind closed doors. You’re honestly doing him a favor. But the only thing that could top his hugs? His kisses, hands down.

Like, don’t even get me started with his kisses—UGHH.

Crowe is ALL about them. Need kisses? Boom. Hands, cheeks, forehead, neck—whatever you want, he’s got you covered, babe. And if you’re cool with a PDA? Honey, he’s laying it on thick.

Like, smooches in front of everyone if anyone even thinks about making you jealous. But if you’re not into PDA, he’s got this smooth way of keeping you close—hand on your waist, pulling you into conversations, constantly checking in with those little glances that just scream, you’re my world.

And when it comes to love? Crowe doesn’t do things halfway. Do you need reassurance? He’s sitting you down for the most real heart-to-heart. Do you want more kisses? Babe, he’s already on it, no hesitation. If you’re the jealous type? Oh, he’s not just telling you he loves you; he’s showing it, making it crystal clear to everyone else, too. 

And the pet names? My love, my dove, my heart—he’s laying them on THICK with a capital T; I swear to god, those aren’t the exact nicknames from the game itself, more like examples as I want you guys to see for yourself as I’m not lying!—I was eating it up every single time.

✑ The Ultimate Hype Man

Crowe is that person who’s just built to hype you up. Like, your wins? Automatically his wins. He’s out here making sure everyone and their mama knows just how proud he is of you.  

But he has serious Cheerleader Energy—like, it’s not even casual. You finally ate today without forgetting, and this guy is acting like you just won Best Picture at the Oscars. Got a good grade on your test? He’s probably already planning a parade route through your neighborhood.

And if you failed that test? No worries—he’s showing up with your favorite snacks, ready to hype you up like, “It’s one test; you’re still a genius, obviously.” Honestly, I could’ve used that kind of energy after finals this year because…wow, the struggle. T-T 

But it’s not just about the hype with Crowe. Oh no, he’s deeper than that. He’s the guy who’s like, “What’s your passion? Let’s chase it down,” and he actually has good advice, not just “follow your dreams” fluff. Like, practical, actionable stuff that makes you feel like you can actually do the thing. And the best part? He’s not just clapping for the big wins; he’s cheering for every little step you take, even the awkward ones. 

Crowe’s that boyfriend—even friend who celebrates you while also making sure you’re constantly leveling up—and honestly, we all need a Crowe in our lives.

And oh, the reliability? Unmatched. Whether you need someone to hash out a problem, cheer you through a tough time, or just sit there as your unshakable rock, he’s there. No doubts, no drama. You can count on him to show up, fully present—both physically and emotionally.  

Also, let’s talk about his socials. They’re basically a love letter to you. Couple pics, goofy candids, and those long, heartfelt stories where he’s just out here spilling about how lucky he is? Crowe’s all about letting the world know how much he adores you.  

✑ Tailored to You

Crowe’s love language? All of them. He's like a walking, talking Swiss Army knife of affection, but with a twist: “I will become whatever you need me to be.” It's honestly wild. His default? Quality Time and Acts of Service, no question. He's the type of guy to be like, "I love you, and here's how I’m going to prove it." But the real magic happens when he adjusts based on whatever makes you happy. Do you like something? Oh, bet. He’ll be all over it, mastering it just for you.

— Physical Touch?  

Crowe's all about that. Like, he will hold your hand just because, mess with your hair while you're chilling, and literally just hug the life out of you. It’s not some half-hearted stuff either—it’s the kind of touch that screams, “You are my world, and I’ll keep you close.” 

— Acts of Service?

If you think you’re doing anything on your own, think again. Crowe's the guy who’s like, “Need help with your assignments? I’ll be your tutor, even if I don’t understand the material, I’ll pay someone or learn it myself. Running errands? I’ve got it covered.” He's all in on making your life easier, and that’s his way of showing love. He’ll get you that coffee you like without even asking.

— Words of Affirmation?

Man, if you thought he was shy with his words, you clearly don't know Crowe. He’s got this endless list of compliments, and he’s not shy about throwing them your way. “You’re amazing, you’re perfect, here’s why—let me list it out for you.” And let’s be real, he can’t stop talking about how great you are. Like, you’ll be sitting with him and next thing you know, he's telling his friends, “They are literally the best person ever,” and his friends just like, “Okay, we get it, you’re in love.”

— Quality Time?

When he’s with you, every second matters. Doesn’t matter if you’re just hanging out, watching a movie, or even just sitting there. He makes everything feel intentional like this moment right now is the only one that matters. He’s not just there, he’s fully present, and that makes everything feel special.

— Gift Giving?

This man doesn't just grab anything random. Oh no, every gift is like a peek into his brain where he’s thought about what would make you smile. It’s always something meaningful that shows he’s paying attention to what you care about. It’s like he can see straight into your soul and get you exactly what you didn’t even know you wanted.

✑ Tailored to Him 

When it comes to receiving love for himself, though? Crowe’s all about Words of Affirmation and Quality Time, with a little sprinkle of Physical Touch in there. And honestly, it makes sense because (okay, I’m guessing here), but he definitely has some emotional trauma—like, maybe growing up too fast? Like he’s so independent… I NEED more into his backstory because something made him this way. 

— Words of Affirmation?  

They’re everything to him. Sometimes he just needs you to remind him that he’s doing okay. Tell him he’s not a failure, that he’s enough, and watch him melt. Like, imagine gently cupping his face and whispering, “You’re amazing, Crowe.” Boom. He’s soft, he’s vulnerable, and he’s all yours.

— Quality Time?  

With his hectic schedule (hello, Student Council energy), any second you spend with him is like gold. And don’t even get me started on the fact that If you ask to hang out? Instant heart eyes. And the man STARES, okay? Like a full-on, unapologetic admiration station. Whether you’re looking back at him or not, he’s just soaking you in because, in his eyes, you’re an his actual deity. 

— Physical Touch?

Okay, so picture this: when you’re out in public with Crowe, there’s always some kind of touching happening, and it’s the softest, most consistent thing ever. Like, dude’s got this constant need to feel you’re there, but it’s not over-the-top—it’s just perfect. Holding hands? That’s a given. Arm brushing as you walk side by side? Absolutely. Waist-hugging? Oh, for sure. 

And you know what? Let’s throw in pinky-holding because I feel like he’s the type who’d totally be into that—like, tell me that wouldn’t be the cutest thing ever! Ugh, I’ve always wanted to try that. My heart can’t take it T-T. If there’s a way to be close to you, he’s doing it. 

Crowe’s basically the poster child for “can’t get enough of you” energy, but somehow it’s not overwhelming? Just... natural, like breathing?

Now, alone time? Oh man, let me tell you, this guy is so touch-starved, and it’s the sweetest thing ever. It’s not like he’s clingy—no, it’s way softer than that. It’s more like this quiet, unspoken please in his body language, like, “I just need you to hold me right now, and maybe, maybe for always.” And when he’s in that space, when he wraps himself up in you, it’s so clear he craves it—but not in a way that feels desperate.

It’s more like he’s letting himself finally believe he deserves to be cared for like this. And oh my god, the kisses. When Crowe kisses you, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world? It’s not just a kiss, okay? It’s an entire moment, a whole event. Like, “Shut up and take my soul, I guess this is my life now” kind of kiss. It’s breathtaking. You can’t just walk away from that; it stays with you.

Imagine this: you're just chilling on Crowe's bed, right? Lying there, talking about the most random stuff, maybe arguing over whether pineapple belongs on pizza or spiraling into some deep existential question. Just vibing, you know? 

And then… THEN, you start noticing the way he’s looking at you. Like, he’s not just glancing—he’s doing that triangle method thing. His eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, and you’re like, “Oh… oh he wants to kiss me. Like, RIGHT NOW.” You can feel it. It’s so obvious. He’s got that look, like you’re the only thing in the world he could possibly care about in this moment.  

And it’s so soft at first. You both kind of lean in, and his lips just barely brush yours, like he’s scared he’ll mess it up if he moves too fast. And let me tell you—his lips? SO soft, like pillowy clouds. They’re full and perfect, and the way he kisses you? It’s like he thinks you’re made of glass, like he’s handling the most delicate, precious thing in the entire universe.

But then… something changes.  

Like, something inside him snaps. It’s not just a kiss anymore—it’s a KISS. There’s this desperation, but not in a bad way. It’s like he’s been holding all these feelings in for so long, and now they’re just spilling out, like words he doesn’t know how to say with anything other than this kiss. His lips move with this crazy mix of hunger and tenderness like he’s trying to tell you without words how much you mean to him, how long he’s been waiting for this.  

And the wild part? You can feel it. Every ounce of longing, every stolen glance, every unsaid word—it’s all in that kiss. It’s sweet and fiery at the same time, like he’s savoring every second, but also like he’s terrified it’ll all just vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.  

And then when he pulls away? Oh my god. The way he looks at you. Those deep blue eyes of his just lock onto you, and it’s like the entire universe shrinks down to just the two of you. He rests his forehead against yours, catching his breath, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. It’s just there, written all over his face. That look that says, I’m gone for you. Completely, hopelessly yours.

Also, his hands? Oh, his hands tell their own story. They’re soft and deliberate, cupping your face like you’re his whole world, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheekbones. Sometimes, his fingers hold your hair, pulling you just a little closer like he can’t get enough. Other times, his hands settle on your waist, grounding him, but there’s this light tremble—like even touching you sends a wave of overwhelming affection through him.  

✑ Flaws? Hardly. But…

Crowe’s not perfect, but that’s the thing—his flaws are part of his charm, you know? 

Like, he’s this guy who’ll go out of his way to keep the peace. He’s not about unnecessary drama and will dodge a tough conversation if he can. But here’s the thing—his love for you? It’s bigger than his fear of awkwardness or confrontation. He’ll choose to work through it for the sake of the relationship every time. 

Take how he probably freaked out about confessing to you. Terrified. 

I bet he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he didn’t want to ruin what you two already had. But when push comes to shove, he’d face that fear head-on because, for him, it’s worth it. And don’t even get me started on what happens if someone dares to hurt or disrespect you. 

Sweet, peace-loving Crowe? Gone. You’ll see this bold, fiery version of him who’ll stand up for you without hesitation.

The thing about Crowe is he’ll do everything to make you happy, but sometimes he forgets about himself in the process. He’s so busy putting everyone else first that he can burn out or feel underappreciated, especially if he doesn’t see the same effort coming back. So yeah, remind him now and then that you’ve got his back too. He’ll probably act all humble about it, but he needs it.

And let’s be real—he’s not used to being the one cared for. Crowe’s always been the caretaker, so letting you in? Yeah, he’ll need a little nudge. (Cue those moments where he low-key deflects when it gets too real—classic fanfic material)

His conflict-avoidance thing? That’s where it gets tricky. Like, he won’t let you walk away from an argument upset—no chance. He’ll bend over backward to smooth things over because he has to see you happy. But if the shoe’s on the other foot? Spoiler alert: he might not just come out and say what’s bothering him. Instead, he’ll hit you with questions, all casual-like, about stuff that might be bugging him. It’s almost sneaky, but it’s totally him trying to figure things out without making it a thing.

And oh, my God, the romance. Crowe HAS TO BE extra af. Grand gestures, public displays—he’s all in, and everyone around you is swooning or jealous. It’s cute, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re the shy type?

Yeah, good luck with that.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

So, disclaimer upfront: none of this is canon, just my thoughts and headcanons. A lot of these ideas come from some scenes in the game (spoilers ahead) and his character profile, which I'll share at the end for context. 

Okay, so something about Crowe just screams "rich kid" to me. I know, it’s probably obvious to some people, but hear me out. In the game, he lives on the other side of town, right? And, spoilers, there’s that scene where he has a driver pick him up on the second day when you two get caught in the rain and at the end of the night, he has to go home.

Like, come on, rich people don’t just walk in the rain, they have drivers. Then let's talk about his clothes for a second. His shirts, especially that purple one, are super fancy. Like, where do you even buy a button-up shirt with that many buttons, and in that exact shade of purple? Not from a fast fashion store. I’m no expert on high-end clothes, but I’m pretty sure those are designer. 

Anyway, he’s definitely got a backstory in the whole “rich hierarchy” world, though I think he’s dropped down a peg or two. After all creator said so herself that Crowe story will be pretty rocky.

There are two ways you can lose that high-ranking rich status: either you flunk out of a class or you do something big that gets you kicked out. 

And with Crowe? I feel like it’s the second option. He’s definitely got that chip on his shoulder like he’s got something to prove, you know? That intense drive to show everyone that he’s more than just whatever they think of him.

— Example One! First-day scene.

So, if you choose the option (though, if I remember correctly, I think you’d become all overwhelmed), you end up having a little cry fest because you’re so worried about being too much for Crowe. 

You’re thinking you’re being overbearing, like maybe you’ve crossed a line, and it’s all too much. So, you’re crying up on the roof—classic, right? But after that, you dry those tears, pull yourself together, and go off to your next class. And, of course, Crowe finds you. And you know what? He’s already comforting you because he can see right through the tired, tear-streaked face and knows exactly what went down. 

But then, just when you think it’s a nice moment, someone from the student council shows up, searching for Crowe. They say he’s been looking for you all over the place, and they need him right now. And Crowe’s response? 

“I don’t fucking care…” Honestly, that moment threw me off guard, but also—like, low-key swoony? Like, you don’t see that kind of attitude every day, and it was kinda hot. 

— Then Crowe’s library scene—oh man.

So, Crowe kinda tests you there. He asks if you’d still stick by “Marie Antoinette” (which I think he’s talking about mom in metaphor) even with all the nasty rumors flying around about her. He’s basically asking if you’d trust her, or if you’d believe all the gossip from both the rich and poor folks alike. And the way he reacts if you choose to stay loyal to her? 

Tears in his eyes. Earn points. It’s heartbreaking, honestly. You can tell he’s got so much riding on that trust like it really means the world to him.

But if you fall for the rumors and go with what everyone else says, Crowe’s visibly upset, and you lose points for it. It’s a tough call, right? Like, on one hand, the rumors could be true, but on the other, I feel like you should trust the person you know best. Trust is everything to him, and it’s hard not to see that.

Also, I’m pretty sure Crowe is an only child. I’m just feeling that vibe, you know? I headcanon that his mom (or both parents, but mostly his mom) are always off working or traveling for work, leaving him alone for long stretches of time. So, he probably spends a lot of time by himself. 

That means he does all the household chores and probably picks up a lot of cooking skills, but here’s the thing: I don’t think he actually eats what he makes that often. He’s probably so used to being alone that he just makes meals for himself but ends up bringing the food to campus for you instead. It’s like a weirdly thoughtful gesture, even if it’s a little lonely at its core. 

— Okay, so I have to add to this because of the new Crowe update? 

Literally a chef's kiss. I just played it recently since I’ve been swamped with finals, so I’m a little behind, but omg. I’m so here for it. Like, I can't wait to see how the story unfolds and especially how Sol’s gonna react to everything. Dammit, creator, why make us wait for it? But honestly, I’ll wait. It’s gonna be worth it, I’m sure.

And, so before the update, Crowe was kinda just... there. Like, we all knew we had a crush on him, but there wasn’t really much to grab onto, you know? But this update? Oh my god, it’s like they gave him a whole new personality and I’m living for it. He’s such a dreamboat prince now, I just wanna smother him in kisses! Like, mwah, mwah, mwah—someone stops me before I turn into a full-on fangirl. Or Sol himself.

For real, I was laughing the whole time, twirling my hair like some cheesy romcom character. He’s got this whole new charm that’s completely irresistible, and I’m just here for all of it. His vibes are adorable, lowkey a lil freak. If you know, you know.

Like, how did they make him so adorable all of a sudden? He’s the good boy we never knew we needed; he’s out here winning hearts left and right.

Seriously, how can you not love him now?

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

02 / 627 words

You challenge Gaz to a pushup competition. And lose. What did you think would happen?

He keeps at it, though, maybe as a flex. Half-envious and half-curious, you lay on your stomach with your arms folded under your chin and watch him go. Gaz pushes himself up and down at the same even pace. You could always saboratge him, shove him over, but the satisfaction wouldn't last. Especially with his self-righteous ass taking it as permission to be a martyr about it. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Can you do those one-handed?" you ask him.

He glances at you. "Doesn't do much good for my triceps, but yeah, I can handle it."

"So what? Triceps, pff. The point of one-handed pushups is looking cool."

"If you can pull it off."

"Can you?"

"Obviously."

Gaz pushes up a little harder, repositioning one hand so it's centered under him when he comes down. The other hand he puts behind his back. To your disappointment, he continues with ease. He holds his body in perfect alignment despite the sheen of sweat glazing his skin.

"Wow, fine." You make yourself sound as unimpressed as possible. "Of course you can do it with your dominant arm. What about the other one?"

Gaz switches sides without missing a rep, making it look just as easy. You frown.

"That what you meant?" he asks.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay, that was smooth," you admit.

"It's all in the form. Keep everything straight and taut. Can't do it properly if your body's all loose and jerking around."

"Uh-huh," you say absently. "What about weighted pushups? Like what if there were something on your back?"

"I've done it before. How come you want to know?"

"Just wondering what if I, like, sat on your back while you did it. Do you think you'd be strong enough?"

"Ah, is that it?" Gaz grins. He pauses his reps with his arm taught but slightly bent, bracing him in a plank. "Try it."

"Really?"

"I can take it."

"I'm heavy."

"Mmm, sure you are. Come on."

Gaz lowers himself to the ground. You hesitate, but he's not letting you back out. He's calling your bluff and he knows it.

"Chickening out?"

You huff and push yourself to your knees. "You wish."

You feel like a ton of clumsy bricks, lowering yourself down onto his back. You really try not to think about how your hand lands right above his shoulder blade or how his tank top leaves so much of his muscled back and shoulders exposed or how your ass slides against the firm curve of his lower back. You pray you're not too heavy. But Gaz either doesn't notice or doesn't mind. As soon as you're situated, draped over him sort of on your back and sort of on your side, he resumes his reps. Slower. Like he's accommodating you as you adjust.

You keep as still as you can. Gaz is as focused and professional as ever. But this is a bit more intimate than you anticipated. Damn him for forcing you to contend with the consequences of your actions. It's impossible not to notice and feel his back muscles at work. His strength is impressive. You're dismayed at the very idea that you thought you could beat Gaz in a test of arm strength. Hubris, that's what it was.

"Is this... helping? The weight?"

"Helping my training? Yeah, it seems to be working. You're good resistance."

"Oh. Thanks. Glad to be of service."

"Yeah? You feel alright on top of me?"

Your cheeks go a little pink at his phrasing. "Yeah. Best seat in the house."

"Is it?" Gaz wears a cheeky smirk, though you can't see it. "Keep it there, then. I like a little extra motivation."

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[thoutisashark]

Accidental Courtship :3

Accidental courtship

ft: Savanaclaw, Octavinella

cw: possible minor spelling errors (blame the dyslexia), established relationship, swearing, implied fem reader

Penguins have this adorable courtship ritual where the male gives the female a smooth pebble, if the female is impressed by the pebble she accepts the gift and mates with the male

I know that jade, Floyd, and Azul aren't penguins, but i thought it would be so cute if their s/o gave them a pebble and basically proposed but not knowing what it meant.

And for the beast-men (Leona, Jack, Ruggie) i thought it would be cute if there was a special beast-men way of courtship, I couldn't think of anything though, but then i remembered that for a lot of mammals (and animals in general) grooming is a form of bonding, so what if licking was a form of courtship?!?!

ENJOY

Savanaclaw

Leona: he awoke from his nap when he felt a pair of hands running through his hair, he sniffed the air, realizing it was just his s/o he closed his eyes once again, surrendering to the comforting feeling of your hands, he hated to admit it but he loved when you played with his hair, it was something he looked forward to and expected. what he didn't expect however was the sudden wet feeling that graced his cheek his eyes shot open and his head snapped in your direction

"so soon? at least wait till we graduate"

your so confused, he realizes that you probably dont know what you just did

"for beast-men, your lick was you asking me to marry you you dumb herbivore"

he wont admit it but his heart was pounding in his chest

Jack: he had finished his classes for the day and was walking around the campus grounds, when he spotted you his tail started to wag a bit, he attempted to stop, annoyed that he was giving away how he felt. he walked over to you, he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him you smiled up at him, kissing his cheek, he smiled at you and walked with you to the ramshackle dorm, you guys sat in the guest room you had been working on you had been pretty bored all day and wanted to do something to make you laugh, why not lick your boyfriend see what his silly reaction would be, little did you know the implications behind this supposedly innocent action. as soon as your tongue brushed his cheek he was off to sofa and staring at you in shock, he moved so fast that your tongue was still hanging out of you mouth

"i-im not ready"

his voice was shaky and his tail was wagging at a super sonic spread

"i mean you need to meet my parents and my siblings, and i dont have any money, i mean were still in high school, marriage is a very large leap"

you were so fucking confused Marriage? when you asked what he was talking about he looked at you confused

"you licked me... you want to marry me...right?"

you blushed and told him that in your world its just a weird thing to do. he sighed in

"so no marriage then, good, i love you but im not ready for that yet... try again in a few years"

he winked, his tail giving away his feelings

Ruggie: you had gotten some powdered donuts from Sam's store earlier and you were super excited to eat them, you rushed to your dorm hoping to avoid the food thief you called a boyfriend but it was useless, he could probly smell them from 3 miles away, he saw you running smelt the sweet scent of donuts and took off after you, he caught up quickly, snatching the box from you hands

"watcha got here shihihi"

he held the box out of your reach and took a donut out, he quickly shoved it into his mouth as you pouted, you loved him to death but god was he annoying sometimes you noticed how he had gotten some of the powdered sugar on his nose and an idea of revenge sprung into your mind, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to you

"you gonna kiss me~" he teased you, he wrapped an arm around you resting a hand on the small of your back while his other held the donut box.

you licked his nose, he tensed up, his eyes widened and he stumbled back almost falling over

"i-i dont- i mean-" he turned around, he grabbed his ears and pressed them down, trying to calm himself down, he had never felt so flustered before, but could you blame him? his s/o just asked for his hand in marriage "i accept but... so soon?"

you looked at him confused, he took a moment, realizing that what is a marriage proposal for beast-men might not be the same for humans, but everyone was aware of the tradition, then it clicked, you weren't from here, you had no idea what you had just done. his blush was still there, and to be honest he was dissipated, he licked you cheek "that is a proposal for marriage" he admits, looking away embarrassed, he shoved the donut box back into your hands and quickly walked away mumbling a quick "i love you" his tail was small, but it was wagging as he zoomed away from you.

Octavinelle (penguin esc courtship)

Floyd: he hated working at the cafe, it was so boring, why would he work when he could be with his little shrimpy? he found you outside of the ramshackle dorm, you were on your hands and knees digging round a pile of rocks

"shrimpy~" he lifted you up and hugged you from behind "what are you doing?"

he asked, examining the rocks you held in your hands, you didn't answer, instead you picked on of the rocks you had and handed it to him, it was smooth, and had a faint blue undertone to it, he squealed and snatched it out of your hand, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you till you felt like you were about to burst, he kissed you passionately before skipping off to tell his brother and Azul, you just stood there, confused as to why your boyfriend was so happy about the rock you gave him, i mean sure it was cool but was it that exciting for him? a couple hours later there was a knock on the door to the ramshackle dorm, you opened the door and say Floyd standing there frowning slightly

"do you know what a rock means"

you shook your head and you swear it looked like he was about to cry

"so you weren't asking me to marry you?"

you shook your head again, now understanding why he was so upset, you hugged him and kissed his cheek promising him to marry him one day, as soon as he heard that he was happy again, hugging and squeezing you all night long.

Jade: he was observing the mushroom he was growing, they had a strange mutation that he hadn't seen before and was eager to study, he was writing down the differences and comparing them to known mutations when suddenly you burst into his room clenching something in your hand, he turned to you smiling at you, he closed his mushroom guide and walked over to you, kissing your forehead and ruffling your hair, you hold out your hand and show a small smooth rock to him, he blushed, hugging you tightly

"are you aware of what your asking me?" he asked, his voice shacking lightly as he hugged you tighter, part of him wished you meant what mer-people mean when they give rocks, but he knows you arent used to the tradtions and culture in this world

he pulled away slightly and when he saw your confused face he smiled sadly "in merfolk culture you asked me to marry you" he chuckled as you blushed "i want to be the one to give you the rock dear" he mumbled into your hair he pulled away caressing your face before picking you up and taking you to the couch to cuddle.

Azul: he was in his office doing paper work and for the cafe, he was stressed, his hand was starting to cramp from the amout of writing he had been doing. the door to his office opened and you entered, his eyes lit up as he say you, your presence always made him feel better.

"hello my love"

he smiled at you softly, he open his arms for a hug and you wasted no time crawling into his lap and hugging him tightly, he kissed your shoulder, you reached into your pocket and handed him a pretty rock you had found earlier, his faced flushed with a blush

"m-my love? i- i mean y-yes ill marry you, but at least meat my family first, do you have a venue in mind? a dress? i can help you look- wait your not proposing? oh... you dont know do you"

as disappointed as he was that he wasn't going to marry you he chuckled and laughed

"my beloved your little rock was a proposal of marriage"

he smirked at you, watching as you face as you realized what you had done, he kissed you shoulder and cheek again

"just know love.... i will say yes, i will always say yes to you"

a couple days later when you walk into his office you she the rock you gave him on the shelf behind his desk, it was in a glass container, when you asked Azul all he said was

"its special to me, i wish to keep it forever"

End notes:

i had no idea what to do for leona and i think its pretty obvious, but i had fun writing this! its my first time writing for twst characters and i think i did ok... i hope

I am accepting requests :)

[broodybuck]

Title: Broken Rules

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, one-night stands, rough sex, plot what plot/porn without plot, no kissing rule

Summary: After you get dumped, you want to stick it to your ex with a no-strings-attached, filthy one-night stand. You find an attractive man sitting at the bar, he should do.

[ao3 link]

That's it, I'm having a one-night stand, you decide. You're adamant about the idea even though it's not typically your vibe. You like connection, you like relationships. But if your boyfriend can break up with you on your seven-month anniversary then you can have a fucking one-night stand.

You see him at the bar. The place is pretty dead since it's a Tuesday night so there are limited options. Still, you would label this guy as out of your league. Too hot for you. He has short brown hair, cheekbones straight out of Hollywood, and a sharp jawline to match. He's dressed in a tight leather jacket and dark jeans.

Normally, you wouldn't go for a guy like this. Because as much as you know your beauty, you're typically labeled in the cute category, the pretty category. But he's gorgeous, model-level.

You stride up to him as confidently as you can manage and claim the seat next to him. He lowers the drink from his mouth slowly, glancing over at you skeptically. He's probably wondering why you chose the barstool right next to him when there are about eight other ones open. To get in those tight pants of yours, you answer him in your mind.

You smile at him, glad you kept on the tight red dress that was meant for dinner with your ex tonight. He notices, his eyes scanning down as subtly as possible. You feel a flash of heat hit your cheeks. The thought of this stranger getting under your dress, having access to every inch of you, makes you feel insane and hot all over. But tonight is different. Tonight, you're having a one-stand stand with a handsome stranger.

You smooth your hand over the sleeve of his jacket. He tracks your movement like a hawk.

"What're you drinking?" you ask sweetly.

"Whiskey," he clears his throat.

He seems more thrown by this than you'd expect. You would have assumed he gets hit on constantly, has one-night stands by the plenty — wherever he cares to.

You signal the bartender over and order two shots. The man beside you keeps eyeing you quizzically. But when the shots arrive, he accepts the one you slide over to him. He downs the shot with you.

You smile, licking your lips as you mask the face you want to make from the bitterness burning your throat. He looks impressed. Good, you think, you're here to impress and get fucked.

"I've had a shitty night," you tell him. "Really looking for a distraction."

Your tone is hinting enough. His eyebrows lift with surprise. He turns his body toward you.

"Another?" he asks and you nod.

You both take another shot, then it feels much easier to ask if he lives nearby. He does and after staring him down, he invites you back.

He keeps a hand hovering over your lower back as you walk to his place. You only stumbled twice so it's really unnecessary but it's a sweet gesture, you suppose. He helps you up the stairs of his stoop by taking your hand. You thank him but remind yourself that tonight is meant to be dirty, quick — meaningless.

Inside his apartment, you decide another rule for tonight.

"No kissing," you tell him.

He looks so confused, it's honestly cute. The way his brows furrow so deeply and his mouth parts open. He looks like a lost puppy, begging to be kissed.

Stop it, you reprimand yourself. He's not cute. He's here to fuck you.

You march forward, grab onto his leather jacket, and yank it backward down his arms. He doesn't stop you, he seems aware of what's about to happen regardless of his prior confusion.

His face dips forward and then stops. He blinks, pressing his mouth tight, and you try to ignore the fact that he almost kissed you. Already. You move onto the belt of his jeans, prying it open along with the fly of his pants.

"Gonna make me do all the work?" you tease.

You yelp when he hooks your legs and instantly lifts you up in one quick motion. You wrap both arms around his neck and ignore your impulse to inhale his mouth hungrily.

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down carefully on the bed. Your legs remain helpfully spread around his hips. He moves slowly now, more slowly than you'd like, as he glides both hands up your thighs. He pushes the hem of your dress up as he goes. This dress is so damn tight that it moves rigidly but he works it over your hips to reveal the lacy thong you're wearing.

He breathes in heavily, staring down at it. You flush warm again. He's so hot, you want him inside you. And you don't normally think something like that so quickly.

You reach out, instinctually moving to frame his face and drag him down into a kiss, but you stop yourself just in time. You still pull his face down but instead, move his mouth in between your thighs.

You hear him breathe sharply once more. Then he dives forward so quickly that you gasp when he tears the thin material of your thong with one hand. His mouth, his tongue, is on you the next moment. You suck in a moan, your thighs unintentionally squeezing together, but he holds them apart with his hands as his tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly. Next, he kisses it, mouths around your most sensitive area, and then sucks.

"Ooh god, yes," you cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

This was a damn good idea, you think, as you cry out again when he adds his thumb. Switching between his mouth and fingertip.

"Fuck, please," you pant.

He cruelly stops right then and sits back. The sight of his mouth glistening with your wetness makes you shiver. He reaches into his boxers and pulls himself out. He barely gives you a chance to get a good look before he's pushing inside of you.

His face hovers above yours as he bottoms out. He stares down at you, and you want to kiss him, but you need to stick to your dumb rule. This night means nothing, this night is only a fuck you to your ex.

He swallows, then his mouth stays open in a pout as he thrusts into you again. Your eyes squeeze shut, you grab onto him tightly.

Each thrust gains strength but he fucks you slowly. Ramming into you harder each time and stilling when he's buried inside of you as if for you to savor it. He's big which means each slam of his hips jolts you back on the bed and you feel yourself stretching to fit him each time.

His hands find your breasts now, cupping them in his hands, and his breath shakes. You find yourself amazed that he seems so taken with you. You're not sure your ex-boyfriend ever looked at you this way. Like you're an art piece he has to study, memorize.

He presses into you again. But this time when he draws back, he gives up the slow, hard pace and fucks you faster, steadily. It instantly makes your skin blaze, you pulse around him, your body hungry for him.

He groans, feeling it. He falls forward so close to your face, but his eyes snap shut. You hold him by the jaw, craving to close the space, but you refuse. He pushes forward and fucks you harder.

"Fuck, right there," you squeal.

He keeps himself there, fucking you right where you want it until you're too close.

"Yes—more—please," you whimper.

He grunts in your ear and doesn't stop. He grabs hold of your thighs, pushing your legs up, still plowing into you.

Then, you're coming so fast you can't think straight. It's never usually so abrupt, so intense. But you're levitating up, clambering to hold onto him as your body jolts and shakes with the shock of your orgasm flooding through you.

"God, god, ahhhhgn," you yell right in his ear but it doesn't phase him, he's still fucking you like his life depends on it, like you'll die if he doesn't prolong this orgasm for as long as humanly possible.

And it's so much. Waves of pleasure won't stop washing over you that when he plunges into you and groans brokenly, you're actually relieved that he's coming.

You're holding onto him so tightly, he doesn't pull out of you for a long time. He lies with you, breathing into your neck, warming your skin as you try to recover from your high.

And fuck, how was that so much better than the last seven months with your ex? Why haven't you been having more one-night stands, you wonder.

Finally, he sits up and looks at you.

"I'm Bucky, by the way," he smiles crookedly.

It's adorable, goddammit.

"I'm y/n."

"Don't hate me," he says and you're about to question what he means when he leans down and kisses you.

You don't hate him, far from it. You grab his face and devour his mouth, his tongue. You're desperate for it. You never thought you'd miss kissing so much. What a dumb, dumb rule.

You whine when he pulls back, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"That was torture," he huffs, "not kissing you."

You swallow thickly. "I didn't want tonight to mean anything."

He makes that endearingly confused face again but this time, it's mixed with discontent.

"My boyfriend just broke up with me," you explain quickly. "I was mad."

He slowly pulls out of you and backs away from you. You want to pull him back, not let him leave. He rolls next to you on the bed and lets out a long sigh.

"It's not you, that was… more amazing than it should've been," you confess.

He looks over at you and blinks, his face softening.

"Forget that guy," he says and rolls onto his side to caress the side of your face. "I'll make you forget about him... if you let me."

The offer is more tempting than it should be. This wasn't supposed to go anywhere. When you first saw him in the bar, you didn't even think he'd be interested.

"As long as I can kiss you," he adds.

You laugh unexpectedly because it sounds so ridiculous that this incredibly hot, well-endowed man not only wants to fuck you again but needs to be allowed to kiss you. And you want it all too. So much you need to laugh at how wrong... or right this night has gone.

You dive forward and kiss him. Through the elated breath he inhales, he sounds pleased and kisses you more deeply.

"Sorry for my dumb rule," you break to say. "Kiss me all night."

Bucky smiles and happily pulls you right back to his lips.

[hans-wh0re]

You could never resist the tempting opportunity to tease and taunt Chan with your insatiable lust whenever possible. Even something as simple as going for an impromptu nature drive together had your perverted mind racing with naughty ideas.

"Hey babe,m gonna pull off up here," Chan murmured in that deep baritone that never failed to make your thighs clench. He nodded toward a secluded fork in the deserted country road you'd been winding through, tucked away under a dreamy canopy of budding trees.

You bit your lip to suppress a smirk as Chan slowly steered his sleek black Jeep off the main path and rumbled over the grassy embankment into a small clearing framed by twisted oaks and wildflowers waving lazily in the breeze. This looked like the perfect private little hideaway for all sorts of indecent shenanigans.

As soon as he killed the engine, Chan swiveled in the driver's seat to fix you with a sultry gaze, the corner of his plump mouth kicked up in a sexy half-smirk. He knew that mischievous glint in your eyes all too well - you were already plotting some sort of erotic surprise.

"So what naughty thoughts are running through that dirty little head of yours, princess?" He rasped in a gravelly tone, large hand drifting across the center console to palm your bare thigh with a possessive squeeze. "You've been squirming around and giving me fuck-me eyes ever since we hit the road."

A shameless giggle bubbled up in your chest at Chan's playfully blunt assessment. You always did get unbelievably riled up whenever he pulled out his dominant bedroom voice. Feigning innocence, you parted your legs wider in a bold invitation while batting your lashes coyly.

"Who, me? I don't know what you're talking about…unless you were the one picturing me on my knees choking on your big dick in the woods like a filthy little slut?"

Chan's eyes flashed warningly at your brazenly dirty mouth, an almost feral growl rumbling up from his chest. In one smooth movement, he unclicked his seatbelt and lunged across the center divide to capture your lips in a rough, messy kiss.

"Such a bad girl, trying to rile me up," he groaned against your mouth between bruising smashes of his full lips. His tongue plunged past your parted lips greedily, chasing the sweet taste of you as his broad palms roamed over your body with shameless gropes. "You know how quickly you can get me riled up and ready to rail you into next week."

Whimpering into the deliciously filthy liplock, you rutted your hips up to grind your dewy slit against the rapidly forming bulge in Chan's jeans. His thick cock throbbed and strained against the unforgiving denim, leaving a tempting damp patch for you to press into.

"Mmm, feels like someone's excited to play too," you purred sultrily once he finally released your mouth with a final nip at your plump lower lip.

Chan let out a low chuckle that bordered on a growl, shifting backwards to blatantly palm and adjust his confined erection through the front of his pants. "Can't say I mind you teasing me like a needy little cockslut. In fact, I'd love to see those pretty lips wrapped around my dick, slobbering all over it right here in the front seat."

Your mouth practically watered at the tantalizing visual of bracing yourself in the cramped footwell and bobbing up and down on Chan's delicious length, his strong fingers tangled in your hair to guide your rhythm. With a needy whine, you immediately scrambled between his spread thighs to fumble with his belt buckle and zipper.

"Anything to make you happy, daddy," you purred, nuzzling your cheek against the impressive hard line straining against the front of his boxer briefs. The heady musk of Chan's arousal made your head swim and your cunt gush fresh dampness to soak the flimsy cotton.

With a theatrical swirl of your tongue, you mouthed a torturously slow trail along the shaft outlined beneath the soft fabric, savoring the taste of his salty precum already beading at the tip. Chan released a guttural moan, his hips twitching upwards instinctively to chase the hot suction of your lips. By the time you finally tugged his length free, his cock sprang out flushed, engorged, and glistening at the swollen head - undeniably aching to be buried in your velvety heat.

"Shit, look how fucking thick and pretty it is," you practically purred, wrapping one hand around the girthy base to stroke him from root to tip with teasing kitten licks following your snug fist. "Not sure I deserve such a nice treat…."

Hooking one toned leg over your shoulder for leverage, Chan carded his fingers through your hair to tilt your face upwards under his potent smoldering gaze. "Why don't you put that smart little mouth to good use and suck daddy dry then, hmm?"

Your tongue slipped out to drag a fat, messy stripe through the pearly beads of precum gathered on his cockhead, circling the engorged crown with torturous slow laps. When Chan's dick jerked heavily in your grip, you giggled and latched your lips around the tip in a tight suction to tongue at the sensitive bundle until he was thrashing beneath you.

"Fuckkk that's it, take it all down like a good girl," He groaned, head rolling back on the headrest as you slowly sank your jaw further to stretch your puffy lips around his considerable girth.

With a hand still fisted around the base, you eagerly worked the rest of his impressive length past your lips, swirling your tongue indecently and hollowing your cheeks to draw him deeper into your throat with filthy, gagging noises. Chan cursed vehemently, hips pumping off the seat to meet each sloppy down-bob of your head as the blunt head prodded into your convulsing throat.

"Such a cockslut for me, choking yourself sloppy and stupid on my dick…" Chan slurred through gritted teeth, one hand twisting in your hair to set a brutal cadence of forcefully skull-fucking your stretched mouth.

The sting of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, coupled with the sharp burn of being deliciously impaled on his throbbing length. But the grotesque sound of your noisily suctioning mouth, your saliva-slickened chin, and Chan's punishingly deep shoves into your gullet made your cunt throb with unbridled arousal. You keened around his cock with pleasure, practically humping the console in search of much-needed friction between your neglected legs.

With a guttural snarl, Chan hilted himself fully in the convulsing wet heat of your throat until your nose brushed coarse curls and your lashes fluttered with lack of air. The fat, leaking crown stretched your poor lips obscenely wide, pearly drool and stringy saliva dripping down your chin to soak your tits.

"F-Fuck, gonna fill your tight little throat with so much cum," Chan rumbled through gritted teeth, harsh grunts punching out in time with the debauched bobbing motion of fucking your sloppy face. "Going to drench you in a hot, thick load right down your throat like the cumdump slut you are…"

At his lewd words, you whined out a pathetic plea around the thick cock spearing your gullet. The prospect of being so thoroughly defiled and used as nothing but a jizz receptacle had your core gushing fresh arousal. Your muffled whimpers and gags only seemed to spur Chan on to jackhammer his hips upwards in sharper, more erratic thrusts. Every withdrawal left a fat trail of spittle and precum painting your chin before the fat cockhead stretched your lips wide yet again.

Out of nowhere, Chan delivered a stinging slap across your cheek, leaving a crimson handprint blooming along your face as more tears sprang up. But the harsh sting only made you moan deliriously around his member, angling your neck to take the next fierce thrust deeper, harder, sloppier. You were absolutely transcendent on the degradation, serving as his fuckdoll to relentlessly throat and use like a cockwarmer.

"I'm cumming, I'm fuckin' c-cummin'…" Chan growled out a final warning in a wrecked, guttural tone.

The first hot, viscous ropes of his seed erupted out into the back of your gullet before you could react, thick cream painting the insides of your throat and dribbling back out around your poor abused lips in a filthy mess. Your body shook with the desperate urge to swallow down each spurt of cum, only for Chan to sink his nails into the crown of your scalp to still your movements and pump his hips. More and more of his spend coated your tonsils, gushing down your sputtering windpipe and draining back out around your spit-slick oral cavity…

By the time Chan's pulsing cock started delivering its final weak spurts of seed down your raw throat, every inch of your pretty face was a sloppy mess of drool, tears, and thick globs of his potent release. Jets of cum continued to dribble from the plump, distended shape of your overstuffed lips even as he dragged his softening length from your mouth with a final groan.

Chan didn't give you more than a moment to gasp frantically for air before he was hauling you up into a bruising, possessive kiss. You keened against his mouth, allowing him to chase the musky taste of his own spend flicking over both your tongues in a nasty, unrestrained makeout. The erotic flavor made your head swim, pussy throbbing with need to be similarly painted with his seed.

"I want every drop cleaned up, baby girl," Chan husked in a low rumble against your spit-slick lips when you finally parted for air. The promise in his smoky gaze was undeniable - he planned to use and defile every part of your body until you were a slutty, trembling mess well into the night.

With needy whimpers tumbling from your puffy lips, you obediently scooped up the pearly strands and globs of potent cream smeared across your jaw, chin, and down your heaving chest with petite fingertips. You held Chan's heated stare as you unabashedly lapped the tangy puddles of cum from your skin, swirling your tongue around each digit with obscene slurping noises to polish them clean.

"Good girl…such a nasty little cumwhore for me," he groaned approvingly, thick cock already twitching back to engorged interest from watching your erotic show. "Get it nice and slick for round two now."

Chan spread his muscled thighs obscenely wider, nearly sprawled in the driver's seat while his slick, heavy prick lay gleaming and exposed against his defined lower abdomen. He was putting himself on unabashed display, shamelessly baiting you to make a sloppy mess of his gorgeous body next, and who are you to not fall for his bait…

[nonotnolan]

This Happens all the Time, It's Detachable

When I took this job at Port Atilis, I moved into the area without doing a lot of research about the area. I have no one else to blame but myself for the fact that I live four blocks away from the biggest tourism strip in town. I thought being close to the beach would be relaxing, but anytime I try to take advantage of it, I'm having to deal with all of the crowds.

That being said, the constant stream of tourists does have one unexpected benefit. The eye candy is top notch, especially for a guy like me who has a hard time finding dates. I don't even have to head down to the beach-- Grindr is filled with hot guys trying to score a one night stand while they're out on vacation, and their profiles make window shopping that much easier. Sadly, window shopping is all I'm usually able to do-- I'm not looking for a quick hookup, so the odds are stacked against me. Outside of the occasional online date that never goes anywhere, I spend most of my nights alone.

I've started meeting guys downtown so that if I get ghosted, at least I can have a nice meal alone somewhere. It's frustrating how often this sort of shit happens, but... that's just how online dating works, I guess.

I was walking along the shore as I headed back to my car when I saw it. There, flopped across the sidewalk, was a limp cock and balls. I nudged it with my foot at first-- I thought maybe it was a plastic mold or something at first, but it definitely moved like real flesh. I bent down and scooped it up. Sure enough, it was warm to the touch. I slipped it into my pocket and headed back to my apartment.

My hand kept stroking the shaft as I walked-- I couldn't believe I had such a realistic cock in my pocket. It was starting to grow erect, as if it was really someone's detached manhood. How was that even possible? By the time I arrived home, it was about seven or eight inches long, and enough girth that I could barely wrap my fingers around it. If it was someone's real cock, he was certainly a lucky guy. But what does one do with a detached cock and balls?

Well, I was already planning to take a shower after spending the afternoon out in the summer heat. I may as well take the cock in there with me. It probably needs at least a quick rinse after being in the dirt like that. I was also going to have to wash these khakis-- the damn thing had started leaking precum in my pocket.

It really was an impressive cock. Perfectly straight, and the glans had a beautiful shape and color-- I would have sworn it was a dildo if I hadn't felt it harden in my pocket. A bead of precum started to form at the slit, and my own manhood started to stir. Should I do it? It was almost certainly a bad idea, but weeks of pent up frustration and the smell of jizz overrode any concerns. I started to deep throat the strange cock, holding it in my fingertips so I could consume as much of the shaft as possible.

Pretty soon I was rewarded with its cum. I could feel the cock jump as it shot rope after rope into my throat. I damn near started choking on the sudden flood of jizz, but I was able to swallow most of it down. It was weird enough making a detached cock orgasm... but why did I feel warm all of a sudden? The cock was softening, in case I had any doubt it was alive somehow.

I didn't notice until I started rinsing the slime off my chin and chest when I realized what had changed. My smooth, twink stomach had developed abs. The cock had to be magical, somehow. I gently set it down on the shower floor as I started to give my body a thorough examination. My own cock was still the same size, but my arms and legs were starting to gain definition-- and my stomach was ripped, somehow.

Nothing about this day made sense. Plus I was starting to feel dizzy, so I quickly toweled off and climbed into bed. The cock would be fine on the tile floor of the shower. I didn't know if it could piss, and I didn't want to deal with cleaning it up if it did. Maybe the world would make sense when I woke up.

-----------------------------------

The world did not make sense when I woke up. The first thing I noticed was that my body had gotten even larger overnight, and it was all muscle mass. It felt... well, honestly, it felt amazing. But it made no damn sense. The detached cock was sitting in the shower where I'd left it. Maybe if I could find its owner, I could get some clues about what was happening to me? I threw on some gym clothes-- no sense in ruining my good shirts in case my body grew even more. I also took a selfie, so that if my body changed any more, at least I would have some sort of reference to compare it with.

I headed back down to the shore where I'd first found the mystery meat. My shoulders were wide enough that I found myself swaying them as I walked. The old me would have been far too embarrassed to walk with such a swagger-- was this transformation starting to affect my personality, too?

I wasn't really sure how I was going to find the cock's owner. I hadn't thought that far ahead. It's not like he could go up to someone and ask if anyone had handed over a penis to the Lost and Found. Maybe I'd see a guy anxiously searching the area? Would he still be here the next morning? Well, I was already here. I grabbed a smoothie from one of the shacks on the shoreline and started people watching.

Most of the pedestrians were walking with purpose, so it was fairly easy to spot the few people who were lagging behind for whatever reason. Most of those people were probably meeting up with friends or something, based on the way they were checking their phones. But there was one man, a handsome guy flashing a lot of chest, who kept staring at the ground as he roamed the area near the marina. His facial expressions ranged from pure sorrow to forlorn fear, which was certainly how I'd react if my dick suddenly went missing. Only one way to find out for sure.

"Hey bro, what's wrong? You keep looking around like you lost something."

"You don't know the half of it," he said, shaking his head. "But... yeah, man. I lost my... something really fucking important. Something, uhh... wooden."

Bingo. "Was it this?" I said, giving the cock in my pocket a tight squeeze. If he could still feel it, there would be no mistaking my intent. And based on the look of relief that washed over his face, I had guessed correctly.

"You're the person who found my dick? Oh, thank fuck!" He leapt to his feet and grappled me in a bear hug. "All I could think about was a tourist taking it home with them, or tossing it into the water, or... fuck, man, I don't even know. I like to carry around with me, I wear tight briefs to hold it in place, but... it slipped out last night and I was too drunk to notice."

We started walking over to the side of the street, where things were slightly more private. He was close enough for me to smell him-- a mixture of sweat, citrus, and sandalwood. "Well, I'm glad I can return this massive cock back to its owner," I said, looking side to side for any gawkers before pulling it out of my pocket. I grabbed his waistband, pulled it outward, and jammed my hand into his pants. I gave his hardening cock one last pat before I pulled my hand back.

"Someone's feeling confident," he said, flashing a wide smile. He leaned back on the stairs. "It's a good thing you're as sexy as fuck, or I'd be offended." He sized up my physique, and his face started to grow concerned as he did so. "You... I think I remember cuming last night. Did you... did you give me a blowjob?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "I did, yeah. Sorry, bro. Didn't mean to offend you. I was still trying to figure out if your cock was even real, or... honestly, that's part of why I was hoping to find you. I wanted to return your dick, of course, but I'm also... growing? Do you know why?"

He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You should take me back to your place. We've got a lot to discuss. If you swallowed my cum, there's no way you didn't catch my condition. The muscle growth is a sweet side effect, but... well, you've seen how it ends."

"You mean my dick is going to fall off?"

"It's really not all that bad," he said, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze. "And I give you some pointers to help you live with it. Mind if I stay at your place for a few days?"

Blake was as good as his word. I'm glad he told me to wait before shopping for new clothes-- It took a few more days for my body to stop growing, and I went up three shirt sizes by the time I was done. We've started dating. It turns out there are some experiences you just can't have without growing really close to a guy, and we do have a few hobbies in common.

I took a few sick days so I could be at home when my dick finally fell off. I was walking around naked and everything-- your dick only falls off once, after all, and I wanted to see it happen. And Blake was right there at my side, eager to give me my first detached blowjob.

We usually leave our dicks at home for safekeeping, at my insistence. Blake has a voyeurism streak, though, so sometimes I'll be out running errands when I suddenly feel him applying lube to my cock. Have you ever tried to shop for groceries mid-orgasm? It's a hell of an experience. Other times, we'll go out on a date with the other's cock tucked in our briefs. Feeling his arousal against my skin never gets old. My favorite, though, are the Detachable Male Support Meetings. We all get together, put our dicks in a large bowl, and then just shoot the breeze for a few hours.

I never could have guessed that finding an errant cock on the ground would change my life so completely, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

[marsmaximoff]

🪩; club pentagon 𖦹₊⋆☾

content warning: ‘long haired’ fem!reader. suggestive. drugs, alcohol.

word count: 1.4k 💜

author’s note: y’all idk what’s happening to me. like i swear when i watched the show i didn’t care about him. in fact i didn’t even like him. and now i can’t stop thinking about his hot face and hands 😔 expect more fics to come cause i’m going crazy. btw, i apologize for the possible mistakes as english is my third language. enjoy <3!

divider by @strangergraphics <3

the colorful lights create a shiny veil over the club. the music reverberating throughout the place, accompanied by loud, excited screams and intoxicated voices, acts as a barrier to the real world.

while i wait for my friend to come back from the bathroom, a guy catches my eye, separated from the rest, in a corner. he must be around my age, a bit older. and i don’t know what it is exactly, but something immediately lures me in. something about his aura, his vibe.... maybe it’s the dark hair, or the tattoos on his arm, the way he’s talking to the man next to him like he’s important... 

he looks hot. and like a total dick too. 

“you like him?” your friend inquires cheekily, noticing your stare. “i haven’t seen him before.” you don’t forget someone like him. his tall frame and dark clothes adding to the arousing pull i’m feeling. “he’s the reason we’re here. i found the club through him; he promotes it.” “do you know him?” there’s a growing curiosity inside of me, to know more, “not at all”, to get closer. “he looks like a playboy,” she declares, to which i can only agree. “an attractive one, tho.”

on cue, as if he had heard us -impossible given the distance- he takes his eyes from that man and locks his gaze on mine, sending a flutter through my stomach. but i don’t shy away, seeing his eyes go down my body, checking me out, unashamedly. a hussy grin accompanies the action while i keep the intense eye contact going for some time before turning around and heading back to the dance floor. as i do, i feel his gaze slide over my body and smile to myself, satisfied, trying to sensualize my walk a bit.

the night continues as usual: drinks, dancing, some flirting here and there, all that still carrying a boost of confidence from that previous interaction. 

eventually, i take a break sitting by the counter, and almost in no time, a smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and something else surrounds me. 

“hey” he speaks with confidence and a certain ego; the grin is back where it had been before. he leans on the bar and studies me, daringly, carefully. that seems to fuel my boldness, because my hand moves almost instantly towards his face, slowly. he doesn’t back away or stop me; he doesn’t even flinch. i gather the remaining white powder from the warm skin right over his upper lip with a finger and lower it, showing it to him. “oops, my bad,” he says playfully while grabbing my wrist. then, he brings it to his mouth and licks it off my fingertip without one of us breaking eye contact for a single second. holy. fuck. afterwards, he laughs softly, my heart rate going crazy, “want some? i only have the best.” i shake my head, choosing to keep my drifting lucidity. 

my gaze travels down his body until reaching his tattooed arm. “you like ‘em?” “i dont see many people around who have them” “yeah…bunch of pussies. these didnt hurt at all, you know.” the smugness of his words an obvious sign of his eagerness to impress. “you got more?” “oohh, someone’s interested…” i scoff finding his teasing annoying, yet unable to deny the way i have to press my lips together to hold back a smile. “i love tattoos” “yeah? wanna touch?” his comments come off so nonchalantly, flirting a natural habit of his. “i mean, you've already gone for my mouth...” his voice lowers a bit, having the clearly much-expected effect on me, and i give in, my yearning taking my fingers to his arm. the smooth and steamy flesh welcomes me with a satisfying shiver, and the hitch of his breath makes me slow down, caressing softly, seductively. 

i don't know if he's trying to contain himself, or enjoying it too much, but i see him biting his lip, and it feels so good to find a tiny crack in his confident facade, the growing heat in my belly seconding it. the initial trace of ink becomes a search of his now more prominent veins, up and down. “i like how it looks.” i give him a final graze, but this time it’s my hand that strokes his arm all the way down his slender, ring-adorned fingers which i hold and toy with before letting go to replace them with my drink, leaving him all greedy for more. his skin on fire. 

he’s affected now, trying to break the spell, attempting to somehow regain control while his breathing’s all over the place. cute. 

the drink sugars my senses, but it’s not nearly as sweet as the feel of him. 

“you like the club?” he goes back to his usual self, his comfort zone, something he can proudly show off. “yeah, i like the ambience”  “i can show you around…this place’s my second home.” i know what he's doing, using an excuse to move this somewhere quieter, more private, more comfortable…. but i decide to play a bit with him. “i don’t know… i'm really enjoying this area.” he smirks, “and it only gets better, we don't leave the best within reach of just anyone”, getting closer. “so you’re saying you'll make it worth my time?” he pokes his cheek with his tongue, turning me on even more. fucking tease. “in fact you'll regret it if you don't come.”  “mmm…im not sure…maybe i need a preview….” his face is mere millimeters from mine, giving me a perfect view of the mischievous look that takes over his. then, he grabs a small bag from his pocket -more white powder- and pushes my hair away from my shoulder, the contact leaving goosebumps everywhere. when the bareness pleases him, an unfamiliar feeling covers my skin. and then i realize, he’s pouring it on me. jesus christ. he leaves a shivery trail up to my neck, molding it to get a perfect line. his hot breath is getting me dizzy, his hand enveloping the other side of my neck, his allure a dangerous mix with the alcohol. he snorts the line in one, the tip of his nose tickling my burning skin. “yesss, shit baby”, he groans huskily underneath my ear, adding a bit of pressure with his hand, and i feel my wetness starting to become uncomfortable. 

he’s laughing when he pulls back, “how’s that for a preview?”, finishing rubbing the remains of his nose. but i can only focus on his fingers, fuck. i need more. “not bad” i try so hard to think of something witty, flirty, to keep the back and forth going, but i can’t. my brain is foggy, my body is flaming, and my belly is killing me with all those damn backflips. “not bad? that’s not nice of you….imma have to do something about that attitude of yours…” i stand up from the stool, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “maybe i do need that tour, a change from the loud music and everything” god i’ve truly become pathetic. and it seems to amuse him, “yeah? i thought you liked the ambience here….” “and i thought you said you’d make it worth my time” i make him smirk again, what a damn sight, and before i know it he’s taking me who knows where.

the moment the door closes behind us, my back is pushed to the wall, his arms caging me. this time, his eyes stay on my lips while he bites his. “fuck, you’re so hot” i can’t hold it anymore. the praise gets to him and makes him snap, harshly pressing our mouths together. the kiss is rough, desperate, as if we were running out of time. i let out a muffled moan as he brings me closer to his warm body and slides one hand towards my neck, adding some pressure. i’ve never had such a messy, intense kiss before, it makes my legs weak. he keeps asserting dominance the whole time, and bites my lip before pulling back and heading towards my neck. 

my moans get louder as i feel him leaving hickeys all over my skin. “it’s namgyu”, he corrects me, hovering over my flesh. but the blood is already pounding in my ears. “huh?” 

 “i want you to know what to moan”

[silverflqmes]

hi!! i hope this request finds you well, do you think you could write agszc with a s/o whos good with kids please 💕?

໒⦂ 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒.

notes. hi hi anon — i wasn’t sure how to go about this so i took a little inspiration from the interactions cloud and zack have with the sector five kids and applied them to everyone a bit! went for headcanons, i hope they are to your likings<3

genre. fluff + crack

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓢𝗘𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗  i hate to break it to you anon but i gotta slap some angst in here — sephiroth finds himself a bit confused, yet curious watching you among kids. had he been raised as normal kids were, would he have received this sort of attention too..? this kindness that was given without effort or consequences?

⌗  in the beginning he just let you do your thing, hanging out with them as you did while he waited to walk you home later.. but then he was slowly urged to join- by the kids no less.

⌗  he felt awkward, out of place and unsure of how he should act — but everyone was patient with him and something oddly warm began to spread in his chest. you didn’t pressure him into anything either — which he was grateful for.

⌗  the girls would braid brush his hair, place flowers in, and when the boys marveled at his height and overall build, begging to be carried, sephiroth obliged and found himself feeling elated — at peace among them.

⌗  you always told them bedtime stories but over time, the kids began to whisper and ask you if sephiroth could because his voice was so smooth and lulled them to sleep effortlessly

⌗  one time the children found a gray, stray kitten — and didn’t want to give it away.. so it became a combined effort between you, the kids and sephiroth, too.. who felt a strange empathy for the feline. it became an everyday thing from then for all of you to take care of the cat and welcome it among your group<3

⌗  someone crying or hurt? masamune’s out and ready to take out the reason behind those tears and wails — which you have to stop seph from doing, but it’s cute how much he cares<3

➫ 𝓒𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗 𝓢𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗  he’s um- cloud is uh.. he’s doing his best, remember?? ahem.. in other words, he is still trying to get accustomed to kids — it’s a work in progress, but you seem to be amazing with them??

⌗  bro is completely awestruck at how well you get along with them, how you have them following you around with such ease and looking all excited when you arrive. literally how is that possible?? it makes no sense..

⌗  but cloud, as stated before, is doing his best. during the times that you ask him to help out, he manages to provide a lending hand in busying them.

⌗  a lot of the kids are in awe with him and want a chance to ride on fenrir with him or learn how to wield such an impressive weapon like he does — so cloud does what he can to indulge in those requests..

⌗  not the best or worst with cooking but he does know some recipes from growing up with his mother and has shared them with you to cook together on occasion for the children<3

⌗  over time cloud does get better with them, becomes more natural and less stiff.. though he can’t help but stop at times and stare when he witnesses you with them — so serene and kind, delicate and careful. unknowingly, it brings a tint smile to his lips and thoughts of the future.

⌗  ..and then the kids call him out and he becomes a flustered, tsundere, mess — which has you stifling a laugh into your hand LMAO

➫ 𝓩𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝓕𝗔𝗜𝗥 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗  you’re good with kids?? him too!! zack is so so good with kids, they absolutely ADORE him ( can’t blame ‘em ) — he’s just so chill for an adult!

⌗  seeing you with kids literally clenches at his heart, your exchanges with them are just so so cute and you speak in such a sweet, gentle voice towards them. could honestly listen to you all day if he could😭

⌗  the kids always tease you guys about getting married and make kissy faces at you guys which has your face burning up with embarrassment meanwhile zack is like hell yeah!! ofc he’s gonna marry you, duh!!

⌗  the girls like to pick flowers for you both and do your hair all pretty<3 and zack’s too, cuz ofc he needs to look his best too!! he has little reluctance and is excited as a puppy✨

⌗  oh no a kid is crying?? zack is on the case.. had it not been for you comforting them already oops. but-! he’s on his way to find the culprit! even if it’s just a pebble or branch that happened to be in their path..

⌗  cooking? not his domain, but you seem to be good at it! especially making these cute bunny looking apple slices<3 he helps with cleaning instead ( sometimes )

⌗  now what he does do good in is bedtime stories! has the craziest things to tell and even some folklore from his hometown, gongaga! the kids eat up everything he tells them and are out cold within minutes🫡

➫ 𝓖𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦 𝓡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗦 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗  surprisingly, he’s very good with kids! more so the girls because they’re all heart eyes for genesis, thinking him to be some sort of a prince.. especially with the way he dresses, speaks and carries himself in general..

⌗  he often entertains their fantasies, going along with them and accepting the flowers they picked for him or the colorings they’d hand him — it was just so cute!

⌗  the boys enjoyed to see him in action more with combat, literally watching with stars in their eyes when he fights.. but they always seem to gravitate a little more towards you ahaha..

⌗  genesis has to pinch himself occasionally from staring at you, watching how loving and caring you were towards these random kids that attached themselves so easily to you because you had given them the time of day

⌗  as the kids are lining up for your cooking, so is your boyfriend — he is SO there for that food and is very much enjoying not only the meals you prepare but this overall side of you.. it’s refreshing, he feels special to see it🙁

⌗  organizes a little play for the kids to take part in — of course it’s loveless, it always has to be with him.. and the kids beg him to read it to them at night which brings tears to his eyes. finally some loveless enjoyers!! unlike his friends who make FUN of him..

⌗  always brings baskets of dumbapples to share a piece of home with the kids and even makes different deserts and pastries that he came up with personally! might not do much cooking but baking — and with his hometown’s fruit? yes he will!

➫ 𝓐𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝓗𝗘𝗪𝗟𝗘𝗬 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗  you would think he is another one of the awkward few ( seph and cloud, unfortunately im looking at you guys.. ) but he is not! angeal is really good at taking care of zack, almost as if he’s his own family.. so i believe he must be good with children too despite his stoic appearance

⌗  it was by chance one day during a mission that he had ended up helping you out with the kids you regularly took a detour to visit and hang out with, always bringing stuff from your missions — it was super cute honestly😭

⌗  he is a pretty family oriented guy tbh and totally seems like malewife material?? cooks for the kids, cleans up too, patches up them up if they get injured and tells stories to put them to sleep!! he’s doing it all, guys!

⌗  he wants to lessen your load as much as he can but you seem to have things pretty much under control and the kids are just so chill with you — it’s impressive honestly, he might need a tip or two for handling zack..

⌗  he was telling a story one time — about the buster sword, actually, and as attentive as the kids were, even you since it was your first time hearing, you’d ended up fast asleep along with the kids — it was the cutest sight seeing them curled up against you

⌗  games aside, you do try to teach the kids norms and values to keep with them and angeal also throws in a few words about dreams.. honor.. etcetera..

⌗  a few days later the kids ended up making cardboard and wooden cutouts of the buster sword and repeated his words along with the gesture — yourself included..🫣

notes. sorry for the wait, i hope these were okay and to your likings! i went in with no plan and this was the result basically.. i know it was meant to center around the reader but it shifted over to the boys ahaha.. my bad, hope you don’t mind :’)

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales

Summary: A Princess!Reader x Gladiator!Bat Boys fic that's been swimming around in my head for weeks after watching Gladiator I and II

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Mentions of Torture, Slavery, and Assault

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“So good of you to finally join us, cousin.” The din of the crowd nearly drowns out the words, the feverish cheers echoing off the massive stone pillars that hold the auditorium seats up and away from the stench of death and decay that permeates from the mud soaked pit beneath the plush outdoor auditorium. There are rows of decadent booths along the pit's edge, each box set with plush chases and golden edged pillows. Slaves with palm fronds fan ornately dressed royals, their faces obscured by gold lined veils. The auditorium oozes wealth and luxury, offers decadent food and drink and deep enough betting pools to make the strictest penny pinchers among the elite crawl out of their caves to try their luck.

The altar for the Mother gleams golden in the afternoon sunlight, the carved statue standing with arms and feathered wings outstretched in welcome. Beckoning those to come and offer a bit of blood in hopes of trading it for some luck. Luck for the gamblers, of course, never the males, and sometimes females, who fight and die in the muddy pit far beneath the first row of booths. My father says they made the Games to punish our enemies, and to reward our soldiers, but both fight and die as equals all the same. 

I frown first at the statue, how could our most beloved Goddess reward this kind of brutality? Then at my cousin, who I remember, is still waiting for me to speak. Dagdan sports his military regalia, the glittering medals across his chest all pinned there by my father for his service to our great empire. Service he never actually participated in. Dagdan can wield a sword because of the patience of his tutors, he’s never raised it in battle, despite the stories he tells at every possible turn. 

“Father said the Games would be impressive this year,” I reply, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. Mother raised me to be demure, to keep my chin up, to never let an enemy see what I was feeling. She had been good at that, too good, perhaps that was why she had been publicly executed. For all her poise, she had not been able to outmatch my Father’s paranoia.

Beside him, Dagdan’s twin sister Brannagh grins, her pearly white teeth a harsh contrast to her otherwise impassive face. It’s like watching a shark try to grin. “The Uprising in the Courts made for a lot of candidates this year.”

My stomach turns. The Empire is vast, spreading across continents and oceans. The Courts in Prythian were the last of the fae to fall in line before Father turned his attention to the Human Lands. Each year, more and more slaves and captives are carted in through the iron gates far beneath the smooth stones we stand on, all tossed into the mud to fight each other for a slim possibility of survival. Some come willingly, chasing fortune and gold; some are sponsors of Father’s Inner Circle, their armor always pristine, their weapons always sharp. But most of the gladiators are slaves, crammed into dingy cells in the catacombs beneath the arena. Despite the decadence of the auditorium, one visit down into the bowels of this awful place was enough to scar me for life. As Father intended, I’m sure. Our esteemed Emperor had not been shy about his disdain for not being able to produce a son and his paranoia often convinced him that I would one day find a husband crafty enough to steal his Throne before he found a match he thought suitable, he often dragged me to these things to remind me the brutality he was capable of if I stepped out of line. No doubt it was why he’d insisted I come out today. I had not been out in public in some time, not after the grief of losing my mother had so thoroughly consumed me. My grief had shamed him; had made some in his Inner Circle suspect I was also plotting against him. My presence here was as much a check into my loyalties as it was to remind me of what fate could befall me if I kept on wallowing away in the dark.

I smooth my hands over my skirts, putting thoughts of my Mother aside. It always feels like a gaping wound in my chest, nerve and sinew exposed and open for every onlooker to see. I must reign it in. For the sake of my future. 

“We’ll see a lot of Fae, then?” There were a lot of elves last year and shifters the year before that. There is no prejudice in the games. Race and gender matter little in a battle of survival. 

The twins follow me as I find my way through the bustling crowd to our booth, where I know Father will already be waiting. 

“Some humans for the first round,” Dagdan spits like he’s tasted something vile. 

“Some half-breeds and mutts for the second,” Brannagh finishes with far more delight than her brother. Their eagerness from blood is one of the few reasons Father didn’t name their heir in my place. Brutality is necessary, but bloodlust turns a well rounded Empire on its head. Father placates them by giving them titles, parading them around like their important so they remain loyal, but he will never truly give them the power they seek. They’re simply not smart enough to see it.

“But the final round will be entertaining,” Dagdan says, gray eyes twinkling as the wall of guards at attention in Father’s booth part for us. 

Our esteemed emperor sits on a throne made entirely of gold, a goblet of wine already in his hands. A circlet of gold leaf perches on top of his salt and pepper hair, the sharp edges reflecting the light along the crimson curtains that help keep out the summer heat. We all bow to him as we enter, and Father reaches out a hand for mine without ever looking at us. 

“It is good to see you outside again, daughter,” he says, chapped lips brushing over my knuckles in a brief display of affection. 

“I’m sorry it has been so long, Father,” I keep my voice even, unbothered. I will not let any of them see how much I hate all of this. 

He guides me to sit on the couch beside the throne, where I have ample view of the uneven floor below. Yesterday’s rain has filled the giant pit with mud. Mud that could have easily been covered and smoothed out to make the playing field fair for all, but that is not how these Games work. Bones still litter the uneven ground, a rib cage protruding from a mound of dirt, a crumbling arrow still caught inside it. There’s the skull of an animal turned upside down, a stream of muddy water running out the eye sockets like some sort of twisted water fountain. Old weapons lay scattered around the arena floor; a wagon weaves around boulders and mounds of loose earth to scatter more. 

“I trust you’re feeling better?” The question is pointed, for the sake of my cousins. He has been telling people the shock of my Mother’s supposed betrayal had been too much on my health and I’d been bed ridden. It’s not entirely far from the truth. 

“Yes, Father. The sunlight does me good.” Not far from the truth either. It is nice to be away from the palace and all the chaos that comes with it. 

Brannagh sits beside me, a slave scurrying behind her with a fan, a second not far behind with some wine. She stretches her long legs out in front of her with a sigh, the sunlight drifting through the curtains making her pale skin look translucent. “Do you have a favorite to win today, Uncle?”

My Father sips from his goblet, a bit of wine caught in his graying beard. “Just a favorite to lose,” he chuckles. Though he is getting older, the gleam in his slate gray eyes is still sharp and youthful. Even with his bouts of paranoia, his mind is still sharp and calculating. 

“Do tell, before it’s too late for me to change my bets,” Dagdan quips. Though I doubt it is all in jest, my cousin is far more in debt than he realizes. 

Horns blare from the upper rings of the arena, signalling those still milling about placing bets and finding food to get to their seats. The Games will start soon. My stomach twists itself into a new knot. There is no shortage of ways my Father will have found to torment the poor souls who find themselves in the pit today, I am not eager to see what they are. 

“There was some… trouble in the mountain regions of the Courts,” he says carefully. 

I force myself not to turn and look at him. Trouble for my father usually means rebellion, or outright war, anything else is too insignificant to mention. In my seclusion, I had not even caught wind of it. 

“We have a few insurrectionists I’d like to see fall today.”

Few are foolish enough to raise a hand against the Empire. It usually means their provinces go without food and aid in the harsher months of the year. I am curious to see who would be foolish enough to risk the lives of their people. 

“Those great wings of theirs would make an excellent trophy on my wall,” Father finishes. 

A shiver runs down my spine. It would not be the first gruesome trophy of his, but still, the outright admittance to such cruelty still makes me tremble. My unease is only heightened by the arrival of my Father’s General, who enters the booth followed by a handful of male slaves, all barely dressed.

“Amarantha!” It is no secret that my Father has always wished I shared the temperament and constitution of his beloved General. If he had to be cursed with a female for an heir, he wanted ruthlessness, cunning, and a smile that could peel paint. All things the red headed fae oozed in abundance. 

All things my Father was convinced I lacked. I’d take it. His disdain was better than being exactly like her. I can’t help the way my nose crinkles at the sight of her. Brannagh moves closer to the edge of the couch, in hopes of ending up in her line of vision, eager to swap stories before the Games officially start. Brannagh wants to be just like her, the gaggle of pleasure slaves included. The two of them would unleash hell on the world if my Father ever put the two of them together. 

“Your Highness,” Amarantha bows, the loose fabric of her nearly sheer gown spilling to give my Father ample view of her cleavage. I stopped allowing myself to question the nature of their relationship long ago; my stomach turns thinking about it. 

“It is a good day for betting, don’t you think?” She asks. Her voice is like gravel, fitting since its the color of her eyes. A finger bone dangles from her neck, an eye encased in glass sitting atop her finger; though she is lean, she is stronger and more deadly than most people assume at first glance. Everything about her is dangerously sharp. 

“I was just telling Dagdan the same thing,” my Father says.

Those dark eyes flick briefly to my cousin, who puffs up his chest, but she ignores him entirely as her gaze settles on me. “Princess! I didn’t know you’d be joining us today. What a monumental occasion!”

“I thought the fresh air would do me some good,” I say simply. What else is there to say to Evil Incarnate? Perhaps I should put more energy into being clever, I know that if Amarantha saw a benefit to cleaving my head from my shoulders, she’d take it--power is all she cares about, so far we haven’t faced each other because she doesn’t think I have enough to steal--but I cannot summon the energy. Ever since the incident with my Mother, I have not managed to find much in me at all. Especially not for Amarantha and her social climbing. 

“Nothing like a little blood sport to invigorate the mind,” she purrs as she lowers herself into the seat at my Father’s right hand. One of her slaves perches on the arm of her chair, bare chest glinting with oils in the harsh sunlight. Another sits at her feet, and her nails, sharpened to points, drift harshly through his thick curls. 

I watch my cousin run her tongue over her lips at the sight. 

“Did you place any bets, Princess?” Amarantha continues as someone brings her a goblet of wine. She sniffs suspiciously at it before instructing one of her slaves to test it first. Perhaps poison would be a mercy. 

Never admit weakness. Never admit that my solitude has kept me out of the loop and left me ill prepared for whatever is about to happen in the Pit beneath us. Instead, I say, “We have several days of entertainment, I prefer to observe on the first day.”

To his credit, my Father does reach over and pat my shoulder in approval. 

“Clever,” she says, but there’s enough bite in it to not make it a compliment. 

“My money is on your Attor, as always, General,” Brannagh says with the eagerness of a child with a crush. 

Amarantha huffs in annoyance, as if my cousin is a fly buzzing around her ear, “He’s too good, its almost boring at this point.”

Brannagh deflates, but before she can come up with something witty in response, the final warning horn blows from the rafters. The Games will begin. 

I turn my attention away from my company, watching brightly dressed royals rush to their booths. There are all sorts of creatures here to watch: Elves and Fae and Fawn, a few Goblins and Giants, observing from a standing platform opposite us. There is room for most, save for humans, within the Empire, as long as they prove their usefulness. That is my Father’s crowning achievement, the Hybern Empire has room for all, if you play your cards right and never step out of line. 

The groaning of the gates draws my attention away from the spectators and down into the Pit beneath us, where a whole cart of humans appears from the gloom of one of the entrances. They look small; mud and blood splattered as several Praetorian guards usher them out of the cart with spears bigger than most of their heads. The guards do not remove their shackles, leaving all twelve of them tethered together in the center of the Pit.

The cart rolls away, the guards with it, only once their out does another gate open to let out the challenger: Amarantha’s hulking Attor. The creature is battle scarred, lines criss-crossing over its leathery skin. Its giant wings flutter on the breeze behind it as it stalks into the center, Amarantha’s crest painted in blood red over its chest. 

The crowd goes wild as it enters the pit, clawed hands swinging wildly around its hulking body. “ATTOR! ATTOR! ATTOR!” The monster has always been the crowd favorite.

Amarantha yawns. She’ll make thousands off the creature, but that is nothing to her. Money is trivial, unless it can buy her the power she craves. 

I glance at my Father as the Games Maker starts addressing the crowd and explaining the match up. “Would it not be more entertaining to unchain them?” They’re all going to die anyway, surely this gives them a fighting chance to die with some honor. “We all know the Attor will win, why make it easy for it?”

Amarantha nearly spits out her wine, a gurgling sound coming out of her as she tries to maintain her composure. 

I do not let myself grin at the victory.

Father runs a hand over his graying beard in thought. “Perhaps your solitude did you some good, Daughter.”

I do not shutter. I cannot save any of them, as pitiful and helpless as they look alongside the Attor. It will give them all gruesome deaths purely for the fun of it. But perhaps the Mother will take pity; may the chance to die fighting grant them peace in the afterlife. 

Father stands and motions for the Game Maker to quiet. “Let the humans be unchained!”

The crowd erupts into varying shouts of surprise and approval. 

“Let us test the skill of the Attor!”

This pleases the crowd, but it makes Amarantha’s cheeks flush crimson. She hides a grimace behind her wine as my Father returns to his seat. 

A single guard returns with keys, and the crowd falls into a hushed silence, waiting for chaos to ensue. I force myself not to look away; to face what I have done. One of the humans cranes its head to look up at our box and flashes us his middle finger.

Dagdan bristles in his seat next to his sister. “He should pay for that!”

They will. There will be no rescue. There is none to be found. The Empire comes for all of us eventually, best that we can do is go into it with our heads up. I am trying to accept my fate in this, what other choice do I have, lest I end up dead or locked away. 

Once the guard is clear, the horns once again blow, telling the Attor he can start his hunt. Those great wings at his back kick up loose dirt as he launches into the air with a roar that makes the arena tremble. 

The crowd cheers, leaning forward in their seats to watch as the monster swoops down and gets its great jaws around the head of the first human. Brannagh giggles at the splatter of blood that erupts from the poor creature’s neck. 

I clench my hands in my lap. 

The second human tries to run, scrambling for purchase in the thick mud. It doesn’t help that they’re all barefoot. The Attor’s claws tear through the human’s back like butter, the poor thing going down with a wail that makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

The third manages to find a sword, the blade rusted from the rain; the man gets a good swipe in, nicking the inside of the Attor’s palm before it gets shredded to pieces.

Each human tries a little harder than the last, getting further each time. One manages to weave around the debris and avoid being swooped down on like the first, but the uneven terrain catches her ankle, sending her sprawling down with a shout as her leg is left twisted and broken. Another manages to get an arrow into the Attor’s back, but not deep enough to do damage. They all go down fighting, and each new one has me saying a mental prayer to the Mother on their behalf, but none survive. Much to the crowd’s glee.

“Wonderful!” Brannagh says, clapping as the Attor roars in victory. 

Amarantha shrugs. “Boring.”

The Attor exits the Pit, ever the victor. The bodies it left aren’t even carted away. No one comes to pick up the pieces. No one will bury them. Their bones will rot and decay into the Pit floor.

I ask one of my Father’s servants for some wine to try and settle the nausea that rolls in my stomach, but even the smoothest of wine does not dull it. 

My Father watches me carefully, calculating every move. I do my best to keep my features neutral. 

“What did you think, Daughter?”

I take another sip of wine before speaking, giving myself time to collect my thoughts. “Humans don’t make very good gladiators.”

He laughs at that and my cousins join in, as if it was the funniest thing ever. 

“Humans don’t make good anything,” Dagdan says.

“Except for a snack,” Brannagh adds.

“Worms,” Amarantha spits.

Father raises his cup in salute to me. “May the next match be more exciting for you.”

I ignore my revulsion and return the gesture. I cannot wait for this to be over. I shall retire back into my gloomy quarters with the curtains drawn and try to scrub the gory images from my brain. Perhaps my solitude would be more comforting than this.

The horns blow announcing the next match and the Games Maker drones on and on about where these next gladiators hail from. One side are all sponsored by royal families, all males trying to make a name for themselves and some coin to feed their families. They’re all well trained and well equipped for the task. They’re a filler spot, to give the rest of the Game Makers time to prepare the next victims of the Empire’s wrath. Beneath the Pit floor, in the dark of the catacombs, the next round of war captives are likely being hauled out of their cells and prepped. I can’t help but wonder if they can hear the roaring of the Bogges and Gladiator’s alike from down there. Do they understand what is about to happen? Are they saying their final prayers to the Mother?

I can’t help but glance at Her altar. What kind of world is this that we live in? Brutal and cruel and blood splattered. If we are so favored, how could our lives look like this? It is thoughts like these that have kept me sequestered in my room. I do not know what I am supposed to live for, or who I am supposed to be any more. My life feels like it is stretching out before me, and someone else is pulling on the strings, making me a puppet that moves at their will. I no longer have the protection of my Mother. Father will soon throw me to the wolves if I am not smart or careful or cunning. The world is different and dark and I have utterly lost my way.

I am so wrapped up in my thoughts I barely register the fight. One of the males gets eaten by the terrifying Bogge, his screams echoing off the great walls. The crowd eats it up, cheering and screaming and jumping from their seats. The more blood that flows the louder they yell and cheer. These are my people? These are who I am to rule one day? What does that make me?

Dagdan huffs about his losses as the gladiators exit the arena, the Bogge all dead. He drowns his sorrows in his cup as if the solution to his terrible gambling habit might lie in the bottom. 

“Finally, now we can get to the part I’ve been waiting for!” Amarantha declares. 

Father grins. “I take it they gave you trouble on the way here?”

She spits again, a nasty habit that doesn’t bother anybody but me, apparently. “Damned Illyrians! Had to use faebane on them the whole way, otherwise they tore through the damn chains!”

Father shakes his head. “I have to admit they surprised me-” certainly a feat few have ever accomplished in his lifetime “-usually their kind throw themselves on their swords before they get caught. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

I’ll chalk that up to his paranoia talking, but I have to admit, I am intrigued by the conversation. Anyone who can surprise my Father must be very skilled. Despite my disdain for these Games, I find myself leaning forward to get a better look into the arena when I hear the grates open for the third time. 

“What is there to be surprised about?” Amarantha counters, but her words feel farther away as I catch sight of movement from the dark tunnel behind the entrance of the arena. “They’re rebels, their deaths will make martyrs out of them. They want a public execution.”

The world feels as if it has narrowed into this moment. The din of the crowd starts to fade in and out of focus. I am suddenly very aware of the roaring of my heartbeat in my own ears.

The first male steps out of the tunnel, stripped to the waist, his bronze chest smattered with cuts and scrapes and bruises so dark they’re nearly black. Dark twisting tattoos trace their way up his broad chest and over his shoulders and back, until they meet great, leathery wings like that of a bat’s. Long, dark hair, matted with mud and what might be blood, clings to his face, but despite the disheveled state, his hazel eyes remain clear and bright. 

The crowd boos when they see him. A few people hurl food at him. 

“Cassian,” Amarantha scoffs. “The rebels call him their General.”

Father frowns. “As foolish as their militia was, do not forget how many of our soldiers he killed.” 

I cannot take my eyes off him. He’s taller than the guard that leads him by his bound wrists into the Pit. Larger too. Those broad shoulders and defined abs speak volumes about how skilled in swordplay he must be.

“Will you keep his wings when he dies, Uncle?” Brannagh asks.

The wine threatens to come up at the thought of having to see such beautiful wings pinned to a wall in Father’s study. The male clearly cares for them. When the guard gets too close he flicks them out of reach. While there are some nicks in the leathery membrane, the wings are the least scarred part of him. He has to take good care of them for someone so battle hardened to keep them looking like that.

“Happily,” Father says.

Even if I wanted to look at him, I couldn’t, not as the second male enters the arena. He’s a little shorter than the first, his hair shorter, the dark onyx locks curling gently around his forehead. Blood still drips from an open gash across his temple, staining his cheek and neck crimson. Like the first, his chest is bare and marked with the same swirling tattoos, but unlike the first, his great wings hang limp behind him. One drags along the mud like a cape, the leathery membrane ripped open and bleeding, the other is twisted at an angle sharp enough to make me wince at the sight. The urge to run down to him is overwhelming. My hands drift down to the seat cushion and hold tight to keep myself still.

The crowd continues to boo and throw things as he tries to keep his head up and meet the other male in the center of the Pit. 

“Azriel,” Father says to Amarantha, “ was quite a challenge for you, I hear?”

His beloved General frowns. “The shadow wielder managed to get a few good blows in, I’ll admit. But surprise only gets you so far.”

My eyes drift from his broken wings to his hands, covered entirely in scars, like someone burned him. The thought makes my chest heavy. 

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I have never been so obviously shaken by the Games, not since the first time I’d come. Father had made me sit through weeks of slaughter, watching as gladiator after gladiator fell prey to a magic storm and a slew of magic beasts. Even then I had managed to hold it together until I’d made it home to vomit, but now I feel as if I cannot keep my body in its seat!

The magic that lives caged beneath my, usually, pristine facade cracks through, a bit of dark mist seeping out from between my fingers. I unfurl my fists and take my hands carefully into my lap, using a bit of my skirts to hide the errant flow of power. I’ve been neglecting my studies, have not given myself an outlet, this is a terrible time for a flare up! I try to focus on my breathing, the pounding of my heart isn’t helping. I need to remain calm. I need to remain in control. 

A feat that feels utterly impossible as the third and final male exits the tunnel. Time comes to a grinding halt, every footfall against the Pit floor a drumming, haunting echo in my ears. I have utterly forgotten how to breathe; how to think. The male is by far the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, violet eyes twinkling with a thousand glittering stars. He sports the same tattoos as the others, the same bronze skin and battle hardened muscle, but it is the expression on his face that gets me. He is as battered and bloody as the second male, cheek split open, a slash mark clean down the middle of his chest; most of his body is a bruise, but he doesn’t wince at all. He keeps his chin high, high enough to look Father right in the eyes with every step he takes into the Pit. There’s a clear challenge there, unhindered by the chains around his neck and wrists. Those gorsian stone chains don’t often make an appearance, unless the person attached to them is exceptionally skilled with magic. 

“Rhysand,” this time Amarantha’s voice is an excited purr and the power trying to escape through my fingers slips faster from my palms. I dig my nails so tight into my palms they bleed. 

“I do admit, it’s a shame you have to kill him,” she continues. “He’d make such a pretty addition to my collection.” 

It is all I can do to not turn and hurl a blast of dark, obsidian power at her. I keep my gaze on the Pit instead, as the final rebel joins the others in the center. Its only once he’s there that something clicks into place in my mind. If Amarantha still speaks I can’t hear her. Time freezes again, the only signal of its passing the pounding of my heart in my ears.

They’re my mates!

And I’m about to watch them die. 

[waves-realm]

Miya Atsumu || Ace of hearts

Miya Atsumu was used to attention. On the court, he was a star—powerful serves, sharp sets, and that trademark smirk that had half the crowd swooning. Confidence? He had it in spades.

But all of that meant nothing the second you walked into the gym.

You weren’t flashy. You weren’t trying to catch anyone’s eye. Just sitting on the bleachers, quietly watching practice with a calm, curious expression. No swooning, no blushing, no wide-eyed admiration.

And that? That drove Atsumu absolutely crazy.

Because for the first time in his life, he was the one completely, hopelessly flustered.

Naturally, his solution was to impress you.

Badly.

The next practice was a performance. Atsumu turned up the charm to eleven—extra powerful serves, dramatic dives, exaggerated celebrations every time he made a perfect play.

“Tsumu,” Osamu groaned during a water break, tossing him a towel. “Ya settin’ for the team or auditionin’ for a commercial?”

Atsumu waved him off, flashing that signature grin. “Mind yer business, ‘Samu. Some of us got fans to entertain.”

But when he glanced toward the bleachers, expecting to catch you watching, you were… scrolling on your phone.

Ouch.

Not one to back down, Atsumu switched tactics. After practice, he “casually” strolled over, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead in the most dramatic way possible.

“Oh hey, didn’t see ya there,” he said, leaning against the bleachers with what he hoped was an effortlessly cool pose.

You looked up, unimpressed. “Really? Because you’ve been glancing over here every five seconds.”

Busted.

Atsumu’s ears turned pink, but he quickly recovered, flashing that bright smile again. “Can ya blame me? Hard not to notice someone like you.”

You snorted. Snorted. Not blushed, not giggled—just a full-on, amused snort.

“Wow. Is that your go-to line?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

His grin faltered for a second, then shifted into something more genuine. Less flashy, less forced. “Nah. Usually, people don’t need lines.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Then why bother with me?”

And there it was—the question Atsumu hadn’t really figured out himself.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling less like the confident setter and more like some awkward kid with a crush. “Guess ‘cause… ya don’t fall for all that. The flashy stuff. Makes me wanna try harder, y’know?”

Your teasing smile softened just a little. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know. I noticed you before all the theatrics.”

Atsumu blinked. “Ya did?”

You nodded, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah. You’re a great setter. But I like this version of you better.”

Then you walked away, leaving Atsumu standing there, heart racing, mouth slightly open.

Osamu passed by, chuckling. “Smooth, lover boy.”

But Atsumu didn’t care.

Because for the first time, he didn’t feel the need to show off.

You already noticed him.

[mylovesstuffs]

Dino is THAT type of boyfriend !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Dino has that boy-next-door charm with a twist of high-energy chaos. You never quite know when he’s going to drop into the room with a goofy smile and a dance move, but you always know it’s going to make your day a little brighter. Pretty sure SEVENTEEN would affectionately bully the fuck out of him for this, but that’s what makes it adorable, right?

Dino’s the kind of boyfriend who’s got your back, no questions asked. Whether it’s cheering you on through something big or just letting you vent about your day, he’s always there—usually with a goofy grin, but still completely present. SEVENTEEN would probably agree with me, but honestly, he might be one of the most mature when it comes to making sure you feel understood. He's like, “Don’t worry, babe. You got this.” And you believe him.

He's such a tease. Honestly, it's like he enjoys getting under your skin (in the most fun way possible). Dino’s playful jabs never come from a mean place. He’s the type to swipe the remote while you’re getting up just to mess with you. You can’t help but laugh... and maybe plan your revenge.

It’s never a dull moment with him around, and even when things get serious, his ability to lighten the mood is what makes him a keeper.

Don’t let the "youngest" energy fool you—Dino notices everything. He’s the kind of boyfriend who remembers the tiniest details from conversations you had months ago, like that one specific flavor of ice cream you casually mentioned once, and gets it for you because he knows you’ll love it. How does he do it? You’re lowkey convinced his memory is just ridiculous, and it's honestly so endearing.

As much as Dino loves to be silly, he’s also someone you can just chill with. When you’re curled up together watching a movie, his arm around your shoulder, or just lying together in silence after a long day, it’s like the world fades away. This is the vibe. No need for constant talking when the comfort of being around each other says it all.

There’s something incredibly attractive about his quiet confidence. It’s not in-your-face, but it’s there, and it gets to you in the most subtle ways. When he looks at you with that side smile, you just know he’s feeling himself—and you're definitely feeling him. Honestly, stop, Dino. You’re too much.

Let’s just say that Dino’s natural charm can get him into trouble. He doesn’t even have to try to be smooth, and yet, he always ends up saying or doing the exact right thing at the right time. Like, he’ll casually touch your hair and it’ll make your heart race, or he’ll glance at you and make you feel like you’re the only person in the world. How does he do it? Seriously. Help me.

As chill as he is, Dino is not immune to feeling a little possessive sometimes (don’t let his innocent face fool you). He’s the type to lowkey get jealous, but it’s never explosive. More like him giving you those big puppy eyes or pulling you away for a moment. And, honestly, you’ll just laugh because it’s cute how much he cares.

If Dino’s into you (and he is), he’s the type to randomly compliment you at the most unexpected times. It could be anything from, “You look cute today,” to, “You smell good” (even though he probably doesn’t know how to explain why), but he says it in the most earnest way. You're not even sure how to respond because his sweetness catches you off guard every time.

When Dino wants something, he’s not subtle about it—he’s just direct. Whether it’s planning a surprise date or randomly showing up at your door with flowers, he’s not going to shy away from putting effort in. Pretty sure SEVENTEEN would mock him, but deep down, they’d be like, “Dino’s got it figured out.” Like, maybe he's the secretly mature one here, after all.

He’s not even trying to impress you. He just genuinely wants to make sure you’re happy. Why is he like this???

Don’t be surprised if you find yourself being pampered for no reason at all. Dino’s the type to show affection through actions, so one moment you’ll be laughing, and the next, he’s pulling out your favorite treat from his bag like, “I thought you’d like this.” It’s such a simple gesture, but he knows it’ll make you smile. And when you do, his smile? Ugh. Game over.

He’s like the perfect combo of heartthrob and best friend, and it’s too much to handle.

[capquinn]

I was just thinking about bf!Quinn meeting your parents for the first time and being nervous about it beforehand lmao

god idk about you guys but my parents are neurotic so he’d be right to be a wreck 😅😭 ANYWAY nervous quinny coming right up

Quinn had been pacing the living room for nearly fifteen minutes, the soles of his shoes scuffing softly against the floor as he moved in restless, looping strides. His hands couldn’t seem to settle anywhere — shoving into his pockets, tugging at the collar of his button-up, dragging through his hair so often that a few strands were starting to stick up stubbornly. The brand new button up, the nice jeans, even the shoes you picked out for him were all perfect. But judging by the way he kept adjusting and pulling at them, they felt anything but. He looked like he was gearing up to take the ice in overtime during Playoffs, except this wasn’t about hockey. It was about meeting your parents for the first time.

And he was nervous. Really nervous.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the living room.

He stopped mid-step like he’d only just realised what he was doing, like he'd remembered he wasn't alone. His gaze flicked toward you, wide and a little uncertain, and for a second, he looked almost boyish, like a kid caught red-handed.

“I just...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. His fingers tugged at his collar next, as though it had suddenly shrunk two sizes. “What if they don’t like me?” he finally said, the words quiet but heavy, like he’d been carrying them around for a while.

You stepped toward him, closing the space with a softness you knew he needed right now. “Quinn, they’re going to love you,” you said, smoothing your hands over the front of his shirt. Your touch lingered on his chest, steady and grounding.

He shook his head slightly, looking unconvinced, the crease between his brows deepening. “What if I say something stupid? Or they think I’m boring? Or—”

“Or they realise how lucky I am to have you and try to steal you away?” you interrupted gently, a small smile playing on your lips.

His brows furrowed, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “I’m serious,” he said, though the nervous energy in his voice softened just a little.

“And so am I,” you countered, your tone warm and steady. “You’re sweet, thoughtful and incredibly kind. They're going to see all of that and love you for it."

He exhaled a slow breath, some of the tension in his shoulders melting as he leaned into your touch. “I just really want to make a good impression,” he admitted, his voice quiet but honest.

“And you will,” you promised, rising up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, like he was trying to anchor himself in your confidence. Your fingers found the ends of his hair, curling around them playfully, his shoulders sagging slightly, the tension easing a little more, and then he let out a quiet laugh — the kind that felt more like a release than amusement. It was progress, but you could still see the storm of thoughts swirling behind his eyes, his brows furrowing as another worry surfaced.

“But what if I run out of things to say?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost sheepish, like he already knew how you’d react but couldn’t stop himself from asking. There was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was bracing for you to tease him.

You didn’t disappoint. The laugh that bubbled out of you was soft, affectionate, and just a little exasperated. “You? Run out of things to say?” you repeated, your head tilting as you gave him a pointed look, the kind that always made him squirm in the most endearing way. “Not possible,” you said, your voice light but full of certainty.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile breaking through, but he still managed to look unconvinced. “It’s different, though,” he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly before flicking back to yours. “Talking to your parents isn’t the same as talking to you or the guys. I can’t just…say whatever.”

“You’re overthinking it,” you said gently, your fingers slipping from his hair to brush over his shoulders soothingly, like you could knead the tension out of him. "I mean it, baby. Just be yourself. That’s all they’re going to want. And trust me — once my dad gets going on golf or my mom starts asking you a million questions, you won’t even have to try.”

He let out a slow breath, the kind that made you feel like he was letting go of some of that tension. “Okay,” he said, nodding slightly. But then he paused, tilting his head at you with a faintly teasing glint in his eye. “And if I do run out of things to say?”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose before pulling back with a soft laugh. “Then you smile, nod, and let them do all the talking.”

He laughed again, this time louder and easier, his hands settling on your waist as he looked at you like you’d just handed him the answer to every problem in the world. “Alright,” he said, a little steadier now. “I can do that.”

So when you arrive at your parent's house, Quinn’s still a little stiff, shaking your dad’s hand with a firm grip and offering your mom a bouquet of flowers, his voice polite and quiet. You can see him trying, making the effort to seem calm, but the way his shoulders creep up toward his ears tells you otherwise.

It doesn’t take long for the ice to break, though. Your dad starts talking about golf — just as you predicted — and Quinn leans into the conversation, his face lighting up as they swap stories about their best (and worst) games. There’s a genuine ease in the way they laugh together, and you can tell Quinn’s nerves start to melt away with each passing moment. Your mom, meanwhile, peppers him with questions. Everything from his family, to his favourite meals, to what it’s like playing in the NHL, and even down to how he likes his coffee. Though he stumbles over a few answers, glancing at you for reassurance more than once, he’s so earnest and thoughtful in his responses that she’s absolutely beaming by the time dinner is served, like she’s already planning the next time he’ll be invited over.

By the end of the night, Quinn’s walking out with your mom’s Tupperware full of leftovers balanced carefully in his hands and your dad clapping him on the shoulder as he glances your way with a hearty, “good kid, this one.” The approval in his tone is unmistakable, and when you look over at Quinn, his cheeks are tinged pink, his eyes bright with a mix of relief and quiet pride, his lips curved in that boyish smile you love so much.

“Told you they’d love you,” you tease once you’re in the car, nudging him lightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, his tone aiming for dismissive but falling short, the warmth in his eyes betraying him. He shifts slightly, leaning back into the seat, his fingers reaching out to find yours, threading together as he exhales a long, steady breath. You can feel the tension leaving his body, the last remnants of his nerves melting away. “Thanks for… you know, making it easier.”

You grin, squeezing his hand as you lean over, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. “You didn’t need my help,” you murmur, your voice warm and sure. “You’re a natural.”

[swiftholic-13]

The Season's Scandal

pairing → Eloise Bridgerton x Female Reader

summary → Eloise is trying to escape suitors at a ball and finds unexpected company in a like-minded girl who came to join the marriage mart this season

warnings → none

words → about 1.6k

masterpost chapter 2

When I entered the ball room my eyes landed on the gracious decorations distributed in the huge room. Many people were gathered around some tables with lemonades and small deserts. The first ball of the season surely had something to offer. This Lady Danbury really outdid herself. Some men and women gathered on the dancefloor were dancing to a fast tune. I removed my hand from my brothers arm and smoothed out my dress. “behave, the queen might attend, so I´ve heard”. I rolled my eyes at his comment. I might not be in awe with his plan for me this season, but I would never dare to put shame on him or my family in public. “Yes, I know why I am here” “good, then enjoy yourself sister, I shall see you later”. He bows his head slightly and takes one last look at me before then leaves towards a bunch of gentlemen gathered and sharing stories about their recent travels.

I took another look across the room searching for any lost souls I might join. Everyone here knows each other since years and possibly grew up in the ton. All these families come here every season, wishing for their kids to marry. My brother has informed me a bit about the most influential families and provided me with a list of possible husbands. Of course, I do not wish to marry but I had to come here this season with my brother to satisfy my mother, I truly hope if I stay unmarried till the end of the season they shall finally let me live my life as a spinster in peace.

My eyes landed on a beautiful girl in a light blue dress. Her chestnut hair was put together and draped over her shoulder. She was wearing a light blue gown with delicate sleeves drawing attention towards her long sparkling gloves. She was wearing as loose silver necklace with matching diamond earrings. She looked breathtaking. She was talking to a blonde-haired girl until she was asked to the dancefloor. After she left the chestnut-haired girl looked around and started scribbling something into her dance card. I knew she was going to make this season a lot more worthwhile. I started making my way over to her. She was very focused on filling all the spots on her dance card. I cleared my throat as I was standing right beside her. She looked up at me with the blank fear of being caught. “do you mind?” I asked holding my arm with my dance card on it out to her. She looked me up and down and a smile formed on her lips: “not at all”. She softly took my hand and started writing some names into my dance card. “I truly hope none of these gentlemen exist” “Don´t be concerned, I have been doing this for some time now” she said in a proud tone. I already loved her voice and the way it made me feel. She smelled of oranges and looked far more beautiful up closely. Her presence was calming and already let me forget about my true reason for being here. When she was done she let go of my gloved hand and I already missed her touch. “your first season here?” she asked with curiosity. “yes, my mother wants me to find a husband” “You´re already making a good first impression” she said and a smile escaped my lips. Her eyes were in beautiful blue color and did not fail to have a lasting impression on me. “It is rather refreshing having another woman around who is trying to escape suitors rather than charming them” she turned her gaze towards the dance floor. “I´m Eloise, Eloise Bridgerton” she turned her gaze back towards me and our eyes met immediately. “Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” I said. She held her arm out for me to take “care for a turn? I might tell you some interesting facts about everyone here” “I do love some good gossip” I said smiling while taking her arm and letting her lead me across the room.

After a few hours of light conversation we were interrupted by a certain gentleman. “Eloise, Mama is searching everywhere for you” She let out a groan and rolled her eyes “Tell her I am busy with all of my suitors”. Her brother raised an eyebrow. She leaned closer to me “Excuse me for a moment”. I nodded understanding and offered a smile as she was leaving. “And you are?” he asked me. “Lady Y/N Y/L/N” “Ah the Dukes sister” I nodded. He turned around and as a debutante and her mother approached him he held his hand out for me “A dance Lady Y/N Y/L/N?” “Actually my dance card is-” Before you could finish your sentence he pulled you towards the dancefloor and placed his hand on your waist. “I apologize but I must escape their attention, also my name is Benedict” You chuckled as you went on with the dance. "nice to meet you" “You have already met the delightful company I call my sister” “Eloise seems to be the only likeminded spirit amongst the ton that I have met so far, she is indeed great company” “I see” He said as he noticed my gaze searching for her silhouette among the crowd. As soon as the dance ended I could not get off the dancefloor soon enough. I bowed my head “Thank you for the Dance Mr. Bridgerton” Behind me Eloise appeared and had an annoyed expression plastered over her face. “Has she not informed you that her dance card is full” She asked. I leaned closer to her “Your dear brother would not listen to me”. Eloise took my arm and pulled me along with her while giving Benedict an evil look. “Do not worry dearest I have no Intentions with your brother” I said nudging her slightly as we walked away. She released a breath she was holding and relaxed “Good, It would be a shame to lose you to him”.

The Evening ended sooner than expected and I said my goodbye to Eloise. She invited me for a visit at her house the next day. I was a bit nervous but my brother encouraged me, saying “It is a great opportunity to meet her brothers, I heard one of them is still unmarried”. At least that way I would get to spend some time with Eloise while satisfying my brother and giving him the wrong impression of my true intentions.

————————

The next morning my carriage arrived pretty soon at the residency of the Bridgerton family. A servant greeted me and showed me to the hall. I took a look around and took in the huge house. A servant motioned me to follow him and introduced me to the family. Eloise stormed towards me as soon as I was introduced. “Y/N! It is so good to see you!” She said and took my arm. I smiled at here as she led me inside the room and started introducing me to her siblings “So that is Francesca” She pointed at girl her age sitting at the pianoforte. She offered me a shy smile. “These are Benedict, which you know already and Colin” She said pointing at the sofa located at the other end of the room. She leaned closer to my ear she continued in a whisper “Do not ever ask him about his travels or he will never stop talking to you, it is pure torture”. I looked at her and chuckled. “And this is my little sister Hyacinth and my brother Gregory” She pointed at the kids standing close to us, seeming eager to talk. “Is she the Duke´s sister?” Hyacinth whispered to Gregory. “Yes Hyacinth, she is the Duke´s sister” Eloise clarified with an eye roll. “And we shall go” she said and pulled me out of the room “It was lovely to meet you all” I said while Eloise dragged me across the hall. “Eloise that was quite impolite” I said nudging her side. “They shall survive” She said and smiled at me. Her smile was beautiful and my eyes lingered probably a bit too long on her face. “A great weather for a promenade don´t you think?” she interrupted the silence. “I have not seen what the ton has to offer so far”.

In the Park Eloise told me everything about her siblings and why she was growing tired of living with all of them under one roof. “You need to come to Aubrey Hall with us it is gorgeous” “I can imagine” “I truly envy you” She said while looking down “Why is that?” “One brother, I cannot imagine how quite it must be” “Oh dearest Eloise, I can promise you it is everything but easy and quite” She locked eyes with me “Tell me about your brother” “Well since our papa died and he became Duke, he is insufferable. He used to grant me Freedom and protected me from our parents. He knows I do not desire to marry or to come with child like ever, but my mama has other plans. I am the sister of a Duke after all, I cannot die a spinster. She does not care about what I desire to do with my life” “I am sorry for that” she replied after a relatively long pause. She pulled me closer to her “I do not see the problem with dying a spinster, I find it rather appealing. Nothing is worse than being courted” “exactly” I laughed along with her. “I am glad I met you Eloise, you make my time here worthwhile” “I feel the same way” she looked at me with a smile on her face and I got lost in her beautiful mesmerizing blue eyes.

As you can probably guess this is not the end. I am planning on making this a longer story so many more parts to come. Also English is not my first language and I am sorry for any mistakes. Anyways, let me know what you think so far

[salsakiyoomi]

you had kuroo's jacket.

he gave it to you on a rainy day on campus when you forgot your umbrella and your own jacket and it was cold, and like the gentleman he is, he gave you yours.

that was a week ago.

at the time you had given him your number, but he never called nor texted about his jacket, and to make matters even worse, you hadn’t seen him around campus for the past week.

you asked your mutual friends about him and they said he was doing some family visitations.

family visitations in the middle of the week, seriously?

anyway, so, when you finally spot him out and about on campus, a giddy smile on your face with his jacket in your hand ( you totally didn’t have it on you for the past week ) you approach him.

“kuroo!” you call out, waving your hand at him, he spots you and a shy smile crosses his lips.

“hey," he greets, and he tries to ignore his thumping heart, “what’s up? how you doin’ ?”

you smile up at him, “great! what about you?”

“also great.” he says and it almost feels awkward, then he spots his jacket in your hands.

the actual reason that kuroo hadn't called or texted wasn’t because he was doing family visitations, it was because he was shy.

yes, shy like an awkward middle school boy.

usually, kuroo was a smug and confident man, he could easily make any girl's knees go weak with his cheeky pick up lines that were actually charming.

but when it came to you? oh no no, kuroo was an absolutely different man, he had his own knees going weak instead with how shy he was around you, whenever he dropped a pick up line to try and charm you, it came out awkward and meek, but nevertheless, you laughed and were actually impressed, which sorta boosted his ego.

to sum it up, he really, really wants to ask you out.

you clear your throat, “i have your jacket.” you say, holding up his jacket to him.

and kuroo thinks that this could be it, this could be his chance.

so he chuckles and smirks and says, “it’s fine, you can keep it.”

wow, so smooth, he thinks to himself.

but when he sees your face light up with joy and a slight blush form on your cheeks and a “really?!” falling from your lips, he really thinks that this was he shot.

he grins at you, a slight blush at his own cheeks too, “yeah, totally.”

you smile at him, and hug the jacket close to you, “thank you.”

and when you turn around to leave, his heart is screaming at him to just go for it, to ask you out, right here right now.

and so he does, your name falls from his lips and he tries to be as confident as possible, “do you wanna go out sometimes? you know,  grab coffee or something?”

and when you smile at him, and a “yeah” falls from your lips, he can’t help but feel like this is a score.

a/n : real ones know that this could be counted as a part two for this drabble