#i feel like maybe it's still sitting in his stomach? when he has eaten things previously he's either barfed or shat them out by this point

[californiaquail]

the observerrrrrr

[mythicmanuscripts]

I bet Aemond wants you to just sit on his face for hours after a long day 😈

Oh you’re so right anon, so right. I’m gonna talk a little bit about how I think this would first come about, but this is so good and I’d love to hear more thoughts or expand on it more :))

NSFW sub!aemond x reader content below the cut!

So firstly, as we all know: Aemond LOVES to give you head. He loves it. He loves it more than receiving head actually.

The first time he tries this, it’s a few days before you’re actually supposed to marry him. He tries to remain all respectful and honourable but you’ve been calling him pretty for the last week and telling him stories about your family and giving him more positive attention than he’s had in the last 20 years of his life combined so he’s kinda losing his mind.

I think you’d give him a handjob first? You don’t go to his chambers intending on doing that, but you end up kissing on his lap and he’s whining into your mouth and trying so so hard to restrain himself and not do something he’ll regret.

And well, you’re over it. Your soon to be husband is a whining mess underneath you and you want to make him feel good.

So, after a very intense and honestly really quick handjob that ends with Aemond sobbing out your name and burying his face in your shoulder, leaning against you and trying to recover cause he’d never come so hard in his life.

Once able to form full sentences, he starts to realise he hasn’t reciprocated at all. But he also doesn’t really know what to do? Cause yeah sure he lost his virginity to that brothel worker (which, by the way, I have many many thoughts on this because I am convinced this completely fucked him up for years afterwards), but that is no help whatsoever and that only makes him feel bad.

He’s blushing so hard and his hands are shaking and he kinda just looks up at you cause he doesn’t know what to do and but he knows he wants to do something.

You ask if he’s ever eaten a woman out before, and he shakes his head, blushing and admitting that he has no idea how to do that.

You remove your bottoms and tell him to lay flat on his stomach between your legs and slowly instruct him on what to do. He’s very nervous and VERY light in his touches at first because he’s so scared to hurt you but from the moment he got the first moan out of you, he was obsessed. It’s his new favourite past time. He eats you out every single day before the wedding, he can’t get enough of it.

The first time the face sitting happens is actually a few weeks later, once you’ve been married for a while and the tradition of Aemond eating you out after a stressful day has been long established.

This time though, he seems unsettled? Maybe something his mother or brother said really got under his skin and as much as he’s loving what he’s doing to you, it’s like it’s not enough? He’s moving a lot more than usual, gripping your thighs and hips harder too.

Eventually you tug at the hair on the bottom of his head to make him look up, and he’s immediately trying to duck down again. You try to ask him what’s wrong and he kinda just says “closer” and you have to figure out what the fuck that means.

You know that Aemond often really enjoys being held down. He doesn’t like bondage because that makes him feel too vulnerable but he’s a big fan of when you hold him down and he LOVES when you lay directly on top of him, the deep pressure is so nice for him.

You realise he’s acting similarly to how he does when he wants that, and so you offer it to him but he shakes his head because he doesn’t want to stop what he’s doing.

So you think fuck it, and tell him to lay on his back and let you sit on his face. You honestly aren’t even sure if he’d like that idea but immediately he’s sitting up and moving.

You try to hover above him, not wanting to suffocate him but nope. You must SIT. He will pull you down with zero care for his own need for oxygen.

And he loved it, it was every single thing he needed. He could still eat you out but he was being made to feel so protected and held down and he loves it.

So in conclusion, new favourite position unlocked.

[moremaybank]

okay I still cannot stop thinking about best friend jj and reader. Its mentioned her parents have body shamed her in the past and her mom makes that comment about her hips. What if it really got to her at one point and JJ is the only one who noticed. Not like a full blown eating disorder thankfully but that he noticed her skipping meals and he had to sit her down on his lap and tell her she was perfect...sorry just me thinking lol

eeek! first in between au request! thank you for the continuous love ♡︎ warnings reader skipping meals, body shaming (r's parents), bsf!jj being a sweetheart as usual [1k]

At first, it wasn’t a big deal. 

JJ was well aware that sometimes, when you were stressed, you’d forget to eat. He’d urge you to at least steal a few pieces of food off his plate (okay, maybe more than a few), and his mind would be at peace knowing that you were now fed and taken care of. 

But soon, he noticed that it became a daily thing. You’d tell him you weren’t hungry, or that you’d already eaten earlier, but then, he’d hear your stomach growling and watch you blatantly ignore it. You looked exhausted all the time, your physical strength was depleting. He’d watch you grow snappy at the smallest things, watch the way you’d pick at your food and move it around on your plate mindlessly every time you two ate together. Then, you’d dismiss his concerns with a forced smile.

After a few weeks had gone by, and your actions had remained the same, he knew something was up. He couldn’t stand to see you become a shell of who you usually were. There was no spark of wonder in your eyes. It was like all your hope had been sucked out of you. 

He also knew that your family was hard on you when it came to your body. And it sucked to admit, but at the beginning, he hadn't thought too much of it. Now, though, something was going on with his favourite girl and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

“Hey, you feel like goin’ to the Wreck? I'm feelin’ a seafood boil right now.”

You simply shrugged him off, your gaze remaining on the work in front of you. You’d been consumed in it all day, barely even blinking an eye in JJ’s general direction. 

“Not really hungry. I can come with you, though?”

Approaching you at your seat in front of your desk, his hands pried the pen from your hand, and he placed it down on the wooden surface. Then, he crouched down to get a better look at you.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” 

You turned away from him, scared of looking into his eyes. His tone indicated that you’d been caught. You should’ve known that he would pick up on your change in demeanour sooner or later. 

It was JJ.

Getting things past him simply was not a thing. It never was. 

Still, though, you’d make the effort even if it proved to be pointless. You weren’t sure the honesty was worth seeing the disappointment on his face. 

“Nothing. Jus’ not hungry.” 

“Y/N, I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in two weeks.” 

“I said I'm good, J.” Your voice was bitter and sharp as you picked your pen back up, breaking free of his hold and trying to continue with your work. “If you wanna eat, go eat.”

He took the pen from your hand again, stuffing it in his pocket so you couldn’t get to it as easily. 

“You really think that by now, I don’t know when you’re actin’ up?” He held your face in his hands, ensuring that you couldn’t look away from him again. “Jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on so I can fix it.” 

“You can’t fix this, J.” 

He sighed softly, his thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. “Try me.” 

You stalled for a moment. You didn’t want the judgement, You knew what he would say. 

Y/N/N, don’t listen to him. He’s a piece of shit. He has no idea what he’s talking about. 

If this was about anything else, maybe you would’ve believed him. But after hearing comments from your parents about your body for almost two decades…maybe their words had some truth to them, right? 

But when you looked into those oceanic puppy-dog eyes, it was as if he was willing the truth out of you wordlessly. Sighing, you broke free of his grasp carefully. You strolled over to your dresser, pulling your phone off of the surface and opening your messages on your way back to him. You handed him the device, the glow of your screen illuminating his face as it showed him the texts you’d received from your father earlier last week. 

You think your mother and I haven’t noticed how you’ve gotten fuller? Everything you’ve worn to our events lately has only made you look worse. A girl your age should be slimmer. We should get you on a diet, up your physical activity.

If you don’t fix your appearance, you’re going to embarrass us in front of our colleagues. We can’t secure this deal if you’re looking plump.

I’ve had it. You shouldn’t accompany us anywhere for the next few months. Not until you get your weight under control. 

Rage bubbled deep in his core, threatening to swallow him whole. It had always puzzled him beyond belief — how your parents could look at you and see the complete opposite of what he had.

Perfection.

He tried to remain stoic. You’d never been happy when he got upset over things your parents had done in the past, and right now, when you were looking so pained, how could he make things worse?

“Y/N/N,” he said, hands bracing your shoulders. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” 

You couldn’t even find the courage to look up at him. You were too scared, too ashamed. You didn’t want his pity, you just wanted the voices to stop, and though you believed JJ could do anything, you weren’t sure if he could quiet that noise. 

It was too blaring. 

“You’re actin’ like there’s somethin’ to fix, but there isn’t. You’re perfect. I don’t care what your dress size is. You don’t need to be cuttin’ back. End of story.” 

“J, it’s just not that easy—”

His index finger found your lips, effectively shushing you and garnering your attention. “They’re wrong about everythin’ else, right?”

You nodded slowly. “…Yeah.” 

“So what makes ‘em right about this?” 

He got you good. He’d always had a certain way with you, and thank God he did. 

One of his hands abandoned your shoulder, finding your face instead. Blue eyes bore their soul into yours, trying to engrave how he viewed you into your brain. 

“Eat whatever the fuck you want. You’re beautiful, and you always will be.” 

[cameronspecial]

One for the Angel series

Maybe she has an eating disorder or don't like eating because she doesn't want to gain weight. Rafe finds out and low key gets mad at her for not eating for like hours and he's like "What's wrong with you, you need to eat something......" then becomes soft when she explains to him

Thanks love 🦋🤍

Let Me Feed You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Not eating for a whole day (not bc of an eating disorder but because she was busy)

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

A/N: I altered it a little bit because Angel doesn’t have an ED. I feel she is much more likely not to eat because of school. I hope that is okay!

Masterlist

Ever since they started dating, it has been rare for Rafe to not see Y/N all day. He normally meets up with her at lunch so they can eat together; however, her group meeting during her lunch period impedes their routine. His plans to see her after his afternoon class are foiled by Wheezie calling in a panic because she had gotten into a fight with their dad. It took a good hour to talk to calm her down and then he texted Y/N about going over to her dorm. She finally responds to his text around nine o’clock and Rafe can’t contain his excitement, even if it is pretty late. He had dinner earlier in the evening because Kelce ordered something for the whole house and Rafe assumes Y/N has too, so the only thing on his agenda is cuddling her. He knocks on the door, fidgeting with his fingers while he waits for someone to answer the door. A short brunette with light brown highlights, which doesn’t match his girlfriend, stands behind the door. “Hey, she’s at her desk. I’m going out with some friends. See ya later,” Daisy announces, leaving the doorway so he can enter. He steps inside the dorm and locks the door behind him. Like Daisy said, he finds Y/N hunched over textbooks at her desk. It isn’t an unusual setting, but the dark circles under her eyes and her fluttering eyelids are new for Rafe.

Her nap typically helps her hold off her tiredness until eleven. A grumble coming from her stomach causes his eyebrows to form a caterpillar. He has been here for about a minute and she still hasn’t acknowledged her. This worries him. “Have you eaten anything for dinner yet? Why are you so tired?” he stresses, placing a hand on her shoulder for comfort. She jerks awake with her hand on her forehead, “Umm…. what time is it? I still need to get a late lunch?” His brain processes the information. If she hasn’t had lunch, then that means she hasn’t eaten all day. She doesn’t eat breakfast daily and snacks are not in her vocabulary because she prefers to just eat at meals. “Angel, it’s nine-thirty at night. Does this mean you haven’t had anything to eat all day?” he verifies. Her eyes widen as her head turns toward the clock on the wall, “I guess not. You can wait on my bed. I just need to study for another half an hour and then we can cuddle.” 

He shakes his head away and begins closing her books for her. “What’s wrong with you, you need to eat something. You are running on fumes. You can’t keep studying,” he argues, turning her chair toward him. “Rafe, I have a test on Friday and I can’t study that much tomorrow, so I have to finish this up,” she complains. Her attempt to reach for the books is halted. He holds her back, “Nope, we need to get some food in you.” “I already told you, I can’t. Please,” she begs. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I do this all the time.” This causes Rafe to loosen his grip on the hardcover book and his gaze to soften. He immediately takes his phone out to order food for her. She tilts her head at his actions. “What are you doing?” She stands to try to see what he is doing. He looks at her over his shoulder, “Ordering you food.” “I told you don’t worry about it. I’ll finish studying, then we can cuddle and I’ll go to sleep once you leave. It’s fine, I have enough energy to make it until then,” she informs him, sitting back on his chair. Not taking no for an answer, he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up. She struggles against him and is thrown onto her bed. He lets out a sour chuckle, “It’s funny that you think I would let you not eat. It’s not healthy for you. So let me feed you, Angel.” He flops onto the bed beside her, burying his head into her neck. Knowing she can’t get out of this, she relents to his insistence. “Okay, I’ll eat, but I don’t like eating alone,” she whispers, lying her head on his. He looks up at her with relief, “Of course, whatever it takes to make you feel better.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”

[etherealyoungk]

comfort and love - hoshi

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

warnings: reader has their period, fluff

word count: 1.1k

when you wake up feeling icky and your stomach lightly paining, you internally groan because you know your period started. you change and go back to sleep, only to wake up a few hours later to your doorbell ringing and you wake up sleepy and dazed. when you open the door to a smiling hoshi. your heart sinks because you forget to tell him you couldn't make it to the date he had planned. and here he was at your doorstep.

"shit, hoshi im sorry", you mumble out as you make way for him to enter. he looks at you confused. "why are you saying sorry baby", he asks and then he realizes you're still in your pyjamas and you look tired. "i got my period so i don't think out date can still happen", you tell softly. his gaze softens with understanding. "that's okay. i can still be here and spend time with you. i'll take care of you", he says with a newfound passion and before you know it, he's guiding you back to the bedroom and making you lie down.

periods are a little bit of uncharted territory for hoshi, but it's nothing a little research can't fix. so after quickly searching for what to do when someone is on their period he's coming to your room but you're curled up in a ball and he's running to your side.

"baby? are you okay?", he asks worried. "i'll make you a hot water bottle wait", he says and he rushes off to the kitchen. a few minutes later he's bringing you the hot water bottle and gently placing it on your stomach. you gladly take it and mumble out a small thank you to hoshi who's sitting on the edge of the bed. "have you eaten?', he says, looking at the time. you shake your head weakly. "not hungry", you tell and he's now even more worried. should he get you some chocolate? icecream? some snacks?. he decides to at least bring you a glass of water for you to sip on.

"you don't have to stay, i can manage", you tell him but he denies, telling you he's gonna take care of you. you try to lie down and rest, but the cramps only get worse. you open your eyes and don't see hoshi in the room. you weakly call out for him and he comes running, skidding across the floor in the process. "what's wrong?", he asks, concern flashing across his face but the tears brimming in your eyes are all the answers he needs. he wastes no time in coming by your side and gently engulfing you in his arms. you lean into his warmth and snuggle into his arms as you rest your head on his chest. he lightly rubs your back in hopes it will somewhat help ease the pain. but the way you were occasionally gripping his shirt told him you were still in pain and he hated in so much. he wished he could take your pain instead.

when you finally fall asleep, he gently tucks you in bed and decides to make a quick run to the convenience store to get you some snacks. you stir awake from your sleep and realize hoshi isn't next to you. you hear noises coming from outside and the smell of something in sweet in the air. you get up and waddle out of the room to the kitchen to find hoshi in front of the stove. "babe?", you call out and he turns around, smiling when he sees you. "you're awake?", he asks and he removes something from the pan and puts it on a plate.

"i made you some french toast, i know you like it so i tried following a recipe", he says in one breath, grinning as he presents the plate to you, guiding you to sit down and take a seat at the dining table. the other half of the table is covered in snacks of all kinds. you look at hoshi. "i thought you might want to snack or eat something sweet? i read up about period cravings but i didn't know what you'd like so i got some of your favorite stuff and things i thought you might like", he explains. you look at him and pout. you could cry right now. '"hoshi", you tell and he thinks maybe he's done something wrong. "what's wrong? did i not bring the right snack? did i forget something?", he asks, a lopsided pout forming on his face. you shake your head.

"you're so sweet, this is all so sweet", you finally tell and the tension disappears from his shoulders. he watches as you eat the french toast he made, happy.

if you told him you were feeling cold, he's drowning you in blankets. hungry? ready to order food or make you something again. thirsty? aksing you if you wanted water or an other drink, the phone in his hand ready to order whatever you wanted. want ice cream? he's ready to buy all the flavors.

but then later when it's afternoon he can tell your mood is a bit off and he's confused. (he's a little clueless about how the mood swings work sjjgg) so when he comes over to cuddle you when you are watching something you move away telling him you don't want to cuddle right now. he's shocked. how could you not want his cuddles? poor boy will be next to you and just be all pouty and glance over at you.

after a while, you feel find yourself scooting closer to hoshi and linking your arm around his as you lean your head on his arm. he's over the moon from this small action and pecks the top of your head, happy.

he'd sit on the counter as you watched him make ramen for you for dinner, even though you said you were feeling a little better now and could do it yourself. he'll order ice cream and watch as you eat, happy to indulge you in whatever you want.

he'll stay over that night, mostly he didn't want to leave you in pain and because you asked him to stay. if the cramps bothered you in the middle of the night, and you woke up in pain, he'd take care of you and do his best to help alleviate the pain. you're grateful he stayed as you slowly fall back asleep in his arms, his presence comforting and warm.

taglist: @idubiluv @icyminghao @kyeomyun @joshuaahong @daisycheols @fallingforshua29

[ghosty-writes-23]

𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏!𝙷𝚢𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍!𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜.

!TAGS!: Fluff, No Smut, Slight Angst, Leon Acting Like A Puppy.

Ghosty's Notes: Hello, I'm back with a small headcanon series, I mostly wrote this because I wanted to write a Werewolf!Leon oneshot but I didn't want to forget my idea, so there maybe a oneshot version of this coming in the future.

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

----------

You had moved out small city apartment in favour of a small cottage in a small wooden village, the only catch was the village was full of hybrids, ranging from cute and small hybrids such as mice, bunnies and small animals, to larger ones such as cats and dogs.

Everybody was so friendly with you, helping you move in, giving you a small tour of the village, showing you all the local hot spots and best places to eat, everybody seemed to be excited a human had moved in.

In your first week there you had managed to open up a small café/bakery since you were going to put your degree in patisserie to work.

After a month of opening, one day the doors opened and what you didn’t expect to see was a wolf hybrid walk in, his arms wrapped around his stomach and his tail tucked between his legs, his ears where flat and almost hiding in his blonde hair.

It wasn’t common for predatory hybrids to come into the village, so it had made you wonder why this hybrid was here.

You could hear some of the customers whispering among themselves, some even leaving the bakery in fear of the wolf hybrid, you could understand why when a hungry wolf walks into a room full of prey, you would be leaving too so you didn’t get eaten.

When the wolf hybrid came to the counter, you could see he was exhausted from the bags under his blue eyes, he had some cuts on his face, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him a little bit. He didn’t say anything but pointed to the black coffee on the menu, it was the cheapest thing you had.

He gave you the money in crumpled up bills, before you gave him a table number, he nodded his head in thanks and went to find a seat in the café.

The wolf hybrid stayed all day, nursing his coffee cup, when you began closing up you noticed he was still sitting in the seat he had been sitting in all day, putting your cloth down you were using to clean the counter you walked over to the wolf hybrid.

“Sir, I’m about to close up for the night, might be time to head home.” You suggested but you noticed his grip on the coffee mug tightened slightly. “I don’t have a home, not anymore.” The man spoke, his voice was rough.

You felt your heart ache before you sat down opposite him, he was still pretty young looking probley around 21 or 22, he had such a baby face and puppy dog eyes, you knew this would either be the best decision you have ever made or the worst.

“well, I could do with some help around the bakery, with some heavy lifting and cleaning.” You suggested and you see him start to perk up a little, as his wolf ears twitched ever so slightly. “and I have a spare bedroom, its not much but I am sure we can make it more comfortable.” You added and you could hear his tail start to wag, hitting the chair sides behind him.

“You would really offer me that, despite everybody’s reaction to me?” the man asked and you nodded your head. “just because you’re a predator hybrid doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” You said and the man slowly nodded his head, but you could see the tension leaving his shoulder as he began to relax.

“I’m Leon by the way, Leon Kennedy.” The wolf hybrid introduced himself formerly, to which you just gave him an ease going smile. “I’m Y/n.” you say to him introducing yourself, this was going to be the start of a very chaotic but fun adventure for you both.

It has been a couple weeks since Leon moved in, he helped at the café with heavy lifting the mornings when you got goods delivered and would help you as much as he could with the baking, he was a fast learner and within his first week he knew how to make cupcakes and basic cakes without burning them.

The people of the village where a little skeptical at first with Leon’s arrival but once they saw he was completely harmless they welcomed him with opens arms, as they did when you first moved in.

Leon didn’t talk much at first, he would only growl or grunt at you, but eventually you learnt what he growls meant, a deep growl meant he was annoyed or angry, a soft growl meant he was wanted attention or was being playful.

He would let you eventually pet him, he pretended to not like it, but you could see him melt when you would scratch behind his ears, his tail would wag and you hear hear him softly whine when you would stop and he would give you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

Eventually he opens up after leaving with you for a couple months, you find out he was running from hunters, people like that catch predatory hybrids and sell them on the black market for their aggressive behavior, when Leon came back to his pack’s small community it had been ransacked, wolves had been killed, pups had been taken and his pack was gone without a trace.

He had spent weeks searching for them and trying to ask for help, but mostly everybody ran away from him because they thought he was going to eat them.

The reason he had stumbled into your café was because he smelt the pastries and baked goods, his body was tired and it needed to rest, so he thought he could rest in the café.

After hearing his story, you decided you would help him try and find his pack, to which he was really grateful for he couldn’t thank you enough for everything you had done for him.

But when Leon found his pack, would he stay with you or go back to his pack??

----------

©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[aspiring-house-husband]

!! monsterfucking !! it’s sorta kinda dragon porn time !!

and other fairy tale shenanigans.

~~~

royalty doesn’t fucking make sense. 

you were pretty sure there was only one prince. there’s only been one prince this whole time! so how could it be POSSIBLE that there were two princesses brought in from far-off lands to marry to the prince? and beyond that, how is it possible that the king needs a THIRD bride??

doesn’t matter, you suppose. father, the king’s favorite shepherd, was ordered to cough up your younger sister, and like hell you were gonna let that happen. 

and then there was a witch, and some confusing advice… life could be stranger. probably. 

the ten dresses made some sense. they really added to the poof of a wedding dress, and they helped create a curve or two you didn’t have yourself. under the veil, your face was hidden- the king wouldn’t be the wiser. you’d marry off and hide it from the prince who’s last two wives weren’t good enough, for some definitely not-death reason, and your sister would be free to live her life. it’s really no trouble at all. you can’t very comfortably sit down, in the ten dresses, but uh… you’ll be fine. 

oh. uh, also, there’s a dragon. 

royalty doesn’t fucking make sense. 

you suppose there’s one more prince, and this one is a dragon. that explains the very-most-definitely-not-eaten princesses. and the witch’s advice to “tell him to shed a skin with every dress he asks you to take off.” the rope hidden under your bodice makes a bit more sense, too. 

the only question left was what she meant by “lie with him to break his curse.”

you’ll figure it out. 

all things considered, he’s not that massive. probably four of your leg lengths in circumference, hands maybe the size of your rib cage. manageable… once he’s shed ten skins to match your ten dresses. he’s looking pretty sorry for himself, tired and weak, when you stand before him with no clothing. his eyes flick up at you. 

“you’re no… no princess…” he pants out, and you lash his wrists each to the metal torch cages, spreading his arms wide and propping his back against the wall. 

“and you’re a dragon. whine about it.” you cross your arms as you take him in. with so many skins shed, his scales aren’t as sharp or dirty, and you aren’t afraid to touch him while his hands are bound. you walk along the length of his body closer to his head. 

“the witch told me how to break your curse. i think i know what she meant.” silent, he keeps his gaze on you. 

you climb onto the great dragon and straddle his body to keep your balance. as such, your cock pressed down into the cool scales, soft and ridged. you let out a soft whimper, closing your eyes and pressing your palms down to hold yourself still and stable. 

you feel a rumble beneath you, and look up at him. he’s lifted his chin slightly. 

“scoot back. just a bit.” confused but trusting him, you do as he asks, and feel something warm and slick press against your ass. you look over your shoulder, and his weeping member has jutted out proudly between his scales. somehow, you gain enough traction to lift yourself up and back down again so now his cock sits between your thighs, pressed against your core and your stomach. he’s… well, draconic. big. 

you steel your nerve and line yourself up, sinking down over him with a long moan and almost a choking feeling. he is still big, and you can feel him, surprisingly warm and pulsing inside you. your body throbs in time with him and you squeeze around him, whimpering, unmoving. 

but then there is a flash of magic, and you shut your eyes against it. he gets warmer, hotter, brighter, and you have to lift one elbow to cover your eyes. you feel him shift beneath you, but he stays inside you, and when the light is gone, you open your eyes again. 

he’s a man. he’s got slitted eyes, still, and rough scale-like skin on his collar- and cheek- bones, his rib cage. his knuckles, too, when he lifts his hands to look at them. 

“am i..?”

“your curse is broken. like the witch said.”

now having your knees pressed to the soft rug, you have far more purchase to raise your hips over him and drop down again. you catch a glimpse of fangs as he moans. it’s only one or two bounces before he sits up, pulling you to his chest to kiss you, letting you feel the scratchiness of his scales. 

“to the bed, my bride,” he growls with a smile, and you can hardly tear yourself from him. 

the king barges into the dragon’s room in the morning, expecting to see another woman dead and a dragon demanding a new bride. instead, he sees a valiant son, peacefully asleep wrapped around his favorite shepherd’s son. for his own peace of mind, he ignores the hickeys spread across both of their bare chests. 

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Okay so for this request I would like a nerdy reader x basketball player Tyler high school moment !! Maybe they get paired together for a project in class and reader has always liked Tyler but has been too shy to talk to him but they realize they both love music and maybe Tyler asks her to a dance at the end or something equally fluffy and cute 😊😊😊

School Project - Tyler Joseph x Nerd!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst - argument

Word Count: 3603

A/N: Loved writing this ngl... I've worked with people who were just like this and I was so frustrated so totally love this. Hope you like it too!!

PART 2

“Tyler and Y/N.” Mrs. Davis’s voice cut through the classroom, and my stomach sank as soon as I heard it. Of all the people I could have been paired with for the project, it had to be him. Tyler Joseph. The guy everyone knew. The captain of the basketball team, the one with the bright smile and the group of friends who seemed to orbit him like he was the sun. And me? I was the quiet one who sat in the back, hoping to be invisible. Of course, I knew who Tyler was. How could I not? I’d noticed him long before this. In fact, I’d liked him for a while now, though I was pretty sure he didn’t even know I existed. So when I heard my name paired with his, I thought there had to be some mistake. But no—his eyes briefly flickered toward me, before he turned back to his friends, as if it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter at all.

But it did. To me, at least.

After class, I tried to gather my things as quickly as possible, heart racing, a nervous knot tightening in my stomach. Tyler was still surrounded by his friends, laughing, joking, the center of attention as usual. I considered slipping out unnoticed, but then his gaze landed on me, eyebrow raised. He was waiting for me to say something.

“So… when do you want to start working on the project?” I mumbled, barely looking up.

His friends snickered behind him, but Tyler just shrugged, not even bothering to fully turn toward me. “I don’t care. Whenever.”

The casual indifference stung more than I wanted to admit. I nodded, feeling my face heat up. “How about Saturday at the library?”

“Sure,” he replied, still distracted by his friends. And that was it. No enthusiasm, no real interest. Just… “sure.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves. I got to the library way too early and sat at a table by the windows, anxiously watching the door every time someone walked in. When Tyler finally showed up, my heart leapt. He was wearing his usual Ohio state basketball hoodie, left hand in his pocket, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. I braced myself for an awkward day, but then I noticed something strange. In his other hand, he was holding a small box. 

“Hey,” he said, a little less cool and distant than before. “I, uh, brought donuts. Didn’t know if you’d eaten.”

I blinked at him, surprised. He handed me the box, and I awkwardly took one, not sure what to say. This is… not what I expected. Tyler sat down across from me, not saying much at first, but there was no group of friends here, no audience to impress. It felt different. “So, what’s the plan?”

I opened my notes, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “We need to divide the research on the Civil War. I was thinking I’d handle the causes, and you could work on the key battles?”

Tyler nodded absently, barely looking at me. His attention kept drifting back to his phone, where I noticed he had a live stream of a basketball game playing.

“Are you serious?” I blurted, unable to hold it in anymore. “You're really going to watch the game while we work on this?”

He glanced up, surprised by the sudden bite in my tone. “What? It’s the state game. It’s not like I need to be staring at the research the whole time.”

I crossed my arms, my frustration bubbling over. “I get that you don’t care about this project, but I do. And if you’re just gonna sit there distracted, why did you even bother showing up?”

His expression hardened slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might snap back. But instead, he sighed and put his phone down, though not without a hint of reluctance. “Fine. I’m here. Let’s do this. I bit my lip, the tension between us thick. “Thank you,” I muttered, flipping through my notebook, trying to focus on the research.

For a while, we worked in silence, the awkwardness palpable. I kept sneaking glances at Tyler, wondering what his deal was. Was he always this dismissive? Or did he just not care because it was me?

After what felt like forever, he finally broke the silence. “So… what kind of music do you listen to when you study?”

The question threw me off, mostly because it came out of nowhere. “Um, I don’t know. Alternative, mostly.”

He looked a little surprised. “Really? Me too. I love that stuff.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “You do?”

His face lit up, and it was like a different version of Tyler appeared, one who wasn’t so detached and uninterested. “Yeah. Have you heard the new My Chem album?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I’ve been meaning to.”

“You should,” he said, his voice softening in a way I hadn’t heard before. “It’s amazing. The lyrics… they really get to you, you know?”

There was something genuine in the way he said it, and for the first time, I saw past the surface of the guy I’d built up in my head. Tyler wasn’t just the basketball star everyone admired. He was more than that.

For the next hour, the tension between us eased, and we talked about music in between bouts of research. The conversation felt… normal. Almost easy. And the longer we worked together, the more I started to see a different side of him. One that wasn’t trying so hard to be cool or detached.

But as the library lights flickered, signaling it was closing time, Tyler’s phone buzzed with a notification. His attention shifted immediately, and the wall between us went right back up. “Gotta go,” he said, already halfway out of his chair. “I’ve got practice tomorrow, so we’ll just pick this up later.”

I watched him leave, my chest tightening with frustration. Typical. He was nice for a minute, but at the end of the day, basketball always came first.

The next day at school, I tried to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like I expected Tyler to suddenly care about me or this project. But when I saw him in the cafeteria, sitting with his usual group of friends, laughing and carefree, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of something I didn’t want to admit—disappointment.

Later that afternoon, I texted him, asking when he wanted to meet again to finish the project.

His response was short: “After practice. Don’t worry, we’ll get it done.”

I rolled my eyes at my phone, the frustration building again.

By the time we met again later that evening, the air between us was tense. Tyler sat across from me, scrolling through his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you even care about this at all?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He looked up, frowning. “What? I said I’ll help. Chill.”

“Chill?” I echoed, incredulous. “I’m doing all the work, Tyler. You’re barely paying attention. You couldn’t even come to the library without bringing a basketball game with you!”

He stared at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he put his phone down with a sigh. “Look, I know I’ve been a little distracted, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Physically, maybe,” I muttered under my breath, feeling a lump form in my throat. “You don’t even care about this project.”

“I never said that,” Tyler countered, his tone softer now, but still defensive. 

“Didn’t have to,” I retorted. 

“I’m just not used to spending my Saturdays doing research. I’m trying, okay?” 

I looked at him, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something I couldn’t quite put into words. “I just… I don’t get why you’re even bothering.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly, he replied, “Because it’s not just about the project.”

His words hung in the air between us, and I stared at him, trying to understand what he meant. But before I could ask, he looked away, his walls going back up.

“Let’s just finish this,” he said, picking up his pen, his voice flat again.

The following Monday, school felt a little different. I didn’t think much of it at first—just the usual pre-test tension in the air, people chatting in clusters about how they were not ready for another round of finals. But then, at lunch, something unexpected happened.

I was sitting at my usual spot, tucked away in a quiet corner of the cafeteria, when I saw Tyler walking toward me. At first, I thought he was just passing by. Maybe heading to the table full of his friends, where the laughter was always loudest. But instead, he stopped right in front of me.

“Hey,” he said, looking down at me with that same casual coolness he always had, but there was something softer in his expression this time.

I blinked, taken off guard. “Hey...”

“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing toward the empty seat across from me.

Was he serious? I nodded, still a little stunned. “Sure, go ahead.”

He slid into the seat, ignoring the whispers and glances from the nearby tables. I couldn’t help but feel like I was suddenly the center of attention, and it made my skin prickle with nerves.

“We still need to finish up the last part of the project,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich, like it was the most normal thing in the world to sit with me in front of everyone. “I was thinking we could meet up again tomorrow after school.”

I nodded slowly, my mind still racing. “Uh, yeah, that works for me.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed his friends watching us. One of them—Ryan, I think—called out from across the cafeteria. “Yo, Ty! You ditching us for the nerd table now?”

My heart sank, and I glanced down at my tray, suddenly feeling like the whole cafeteria was staring. But Tyler didn’t flinch. He just rolled his eyes and called back, “Shut up, man. We’re just working on a project.”

His friends snickered, but he ignored them, turning back to me like nothing had happened. The knot in my stomach loosened a little, but there was still a lingering awkwardness that I couldn’t shake.

“So,” he continued, completely unfazed, “about the oral presentation part. Are you good with that?”

I bit my lip, hesitating. The truth was, no, I wasn’t comfortable at all. The idea of standing up in front of the entire class and speaking made my stomach churn. But before I could answer, Tyler seemed to read my mind.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice softer now.

I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I’m not good at talking in front of people. I… I don’t think I can do it.”

Tyler frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle most of it, okay? You just back me up. We’ll make it look like it was all you.”

I looked at him, wide-eyed. “What? No, I can’t let you do all the work—”

“You’re not,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You did all the research. I’ll just talk. It’s not a big deal for me.”

“But—”

“Hey,” he cut me off again, his voice firm but kind. “Seriously. I’ve got you.”

There was something about the way he said it, like it was the simplest thing in the world, that made my anxiety ease just a little. I nodded, grateful but still unsure how I’d repay him for this.

The day of the presentation arrived, and my heart was pounding in my chest as we stood in front of the class. Tyler looked calm, like he always did, and as he started speaking, it was like all eyes were on him. He was natural at this—confident, charismatic. But every so often, he’d glance at me, as if to check in, like he was reminding me that he had my back.

When it was my turn to talk, Tyler gave me a small, reassuring nod, and I somehow found my voice. I stumbled through my part, my hands shaking slightly, but Tyler was right there, smoothly picking up where I left off. It was like he knew exactly when I needed him to step in.

By the time we finished, Mrs. Davis was beaming. “Great job, both of you. It was clear you worked really well together.”

Tyler grinned and, without missing a beat, said, “Y/N did most of the work. I'm just lucky I got paired with her.”

I blinked, startled. The class turned to look at me, but this time, I didn’t feel quite as anxious. It was strange—he didn’t have to say that. He could’ve taken all the credit, and no one would’ve questioned it. But he didn’t.

After class, I was putting my books in my locker when I heard footsteps approaching. I glanced up, expecting to see someone else, but there was Tyler, leaning casually against the locker next to mine.

“You did great today,” he said, his voice low, a hint of that same smile playing at his lips.

I shook my head, smiling nervously. “You basically carried the whole thing.”

He shrugged. “Nah. You were solid. Told you I had you, didn’t I?”

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. I was still trying to wrap my head around this whole new dynamic between us when he suddenly spoke again.

“Hey, I’ve got a game this Friday,” Tyler said, his voice quieter now, almost shy. “You should come.”

I looked at him, surprised. “I… I don’t usually go to games.”

“Then change it up,” he said with a small smirk. “Come see me play. And, uh, maybe after, we could... hang out?”

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “You want me to come to your game?”

He nodded, a little more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “Yeah. I mean, it’s our last one of the season. Kind of a big deal.”

I hesitated, but the hopeful look in his eyes made me nod before I could talk myself out of it. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

Tyler’s smile grew, and for the first time, I felt like I wasn’t just another background character in his world. Maybe, just maybe, I was someone he actually saw.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of nerves and anticipation. Every time I thought about going to Tyler’s game on Friday, my stomach flipped in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the idea of sitting in the bleachers, surrounded by his friends, cheering for someone like him—someone who lived in a completely different world from me. It was the fact that he had asked me to be there. Tyler Joseph wanted me—me—to come watch him play.

By the time Friday night arrived, I was a bundle of nerves. I hadn’t told anyone I was going, not even my few close friends. It felt too personal, like this moment between Tyler and me was something that belonged to us alone.

When I got to the gym, the place was packed, like it always was for the final game of the season. The bleachers were buzzing with excitement, filled with the usual crowd of students, teachers, and parents. I felt out of place as I made my way toward the back, finding a seat high enough that I could fade into the background, but still close enough that I could see the court clearly.

The game started, and from the moment Tyler stepped onto the floor, the crowd erupted into cheers. I watched as he moved across the court with the same ease and confidence he always seemed to carry with him. He was in his element here—fast, precise, like he was made to play basketball.

And yet, every time I saw him glance up into the stands, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was looking for me.

The game was intense. Both teams were neck and neck, the score climbing higher with every passing minute. But in the final quarter, our team pulled ahead. The crowd roared, and Tyler was at the center of it all, leading his team with that same quiet determination I’d seen when we worked together in the library.

When the final buzzer sounded, signaling their victory, the gym exploded with cheers. Students poured onto the court, celebrating the team’s win, and I watched from my seat, feeling strangely proud. I hadn’t been a part of this world, but I could see how much it meant to everyone. And to him.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do now. Should I leave? Wait for him? The thought of pushing through the crowd to find him felt daunting, but before I could make up my mind, the loudspeakers crackled, and suddenly, a familiar beat started playing.

My heart stopped.

It was my song.

I blinked in disbelief as the opening chords of ‘Every Breath You Take’ filled the gym. I glanced around, but no one seemed as shocked as I was. In fact, people were smiling, pointing toward the center of the court, where Tyler stood, holding up a giant sign.

Prom?

My breath caught in my throat. Was this really happening?

The crowd around him parted, and Tyler looked up into the stands, directly at me. His grin was wide, confident, but there was something in his eyes that looked almost… nervous.

I was frozen in place, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear the music. Tyler was still standing there, waiting, holding that sign like it was the most natural thing in the world. The crowd started chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

Without thinking, I stood up, my legs shaking as I slowly made my way down the bleachers. The gym seemed impossibly loud, but all I could focus on was Tyler, standing there in the middle of the court, waiting for me.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the crowd parted to let me through. Tyler lowered the sign slightly, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You came,” he said, his voice just loud enough for me to hear over the noise of the gym.

I nodded, still in shock. “Of course I did.”

He grinned, stepping closer. “So… what do you think? Want to go to prom with me?”

For a moment, I could hardly speak. I was standing here, in front of the entire school, with Tyler Joseph—someone I’d admired from afar for so long—asking me to prom in a way that was so much bigger than I’d ever imagined. And yet, all I could focus on was the way he was looking at me, like none of the other people here mattered.

I smiled, my heart swelling with a mix of disbelief and happiness. “Yes. Of course.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Tyler’s grin widened. Without missing a beat, he dropped the sign and pulled me into a hug, lifting me off the ground for a brief second as the gym filled with applause. My heart raced, not from the noise or the attention, but from the fact that Tyler was holding me like we were the only two people in the room.

When he set me back down, I could barely breathe, my face still flushed from the unexpected whirlwind of emotions. Tyler leaned in closer, his voice low, meant only for me.

“I was worried you might say no,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly shy.

I laughed, still trying to wrap my head around everything. “Why would I say no?”

He smiled again, that familiar confidence returning. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not always the easiest person to be around.”

“You’re not,” I teased lightly, remembering the way he acted around his friends, how distant and uninterested he seemed at first. “But you’re not as bad as you think.”

Tyler chuckled, his eyes softening. “I’m glad you think so.” He glanced around the gym, where people were still cheering and clapping. “Sorry for, uh, making this a huge thing. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

I shook my head. “No, it was perfect. Really.”

“Good.” He smiled again, but this time, it felt more genuine, more real. “So, prom. You in?”

I nodded, feeling the butterflies in my stomach fluttering again. “I’m in.”

Tyler grinned, looking relieved. “Awesome. And, hey, maybe before prom, we can hang out more? Just us. You know, without the whole school watching.”

I smiled, feeling my nerves settle. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The crowd around us began to dissipate, but Tyler stayed close, his hand brushing against mine as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this moment. And neither was I.

As the music faded and the gym started to clear out, I realized something. This wasn’t just some fantasy anymore. Tyler wasn’t the untouchable basketball star I’d always imagined him to be. He was real, and he’d seen me in a way I hadn’t expected.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was in the background anymore. I was part of his world now.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[ghostaholics]

𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆

PAIRING(S): Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader (established situationship but this is a very short stand-alone drabble) SUMMARY: Simon’s had enough. Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a little shit; maybe you should’ve shut your mouth the first time he suggested it. WARNING(S): unprotected p-in-v-sex; sub/dom elements; panty-gagging; reader is bratty; references to anal but no actual attempt included; my complete and utter disrepect of proper grammar rules

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

❝ FUCK ME. ❞

It’s hissed between clenched teeth, impatient. You mean it as a snide comment, to get under his skin.

Bold, considering that he's got you ostensibly trapped under him, the solid weight of him pinning you down as he straddles the back of your thighs, flattening your front against the mattress. He'd guided you into position easily enough: on your stomach, face down.

“Aren’t I?” His tone is untroubled, unhurried. As though he’s not fully seated inside you – and he has been, for quite some time actually, without moving, merely keeping himself nestled in the warmth of your cunt like he doesn't have any other intentions beyond that. The only thing worse than when he's mean is when he's indifferent; can't be bothered to care. You can deal with a pissed off Simon, not whatever the hell this is. It doesn't even have anything to do with what he wants; it’s only about teaching you a lesson.

You'd wanted to feel the drag of his cock through your walls, to feel him thrust so deep it'd practically kissed your cervix – a constant reminder of the sheer size of him. Completely full, taking him to the hilt.

And he had done that, hadn't he? But then he fucking stayed there. Agonizingly still.

Simon husks a warning in your ear: “Don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, sweetheart. We're gonna have to do something about this mouth – gag you, maybe."

You huff out your annoyance. “Wouldn’t do either of us any favors. Especially since you like me loud.”

"I don't mind change," he says. "Besides, still got plenty of other holes to fill in the meantime."

"You actually gonna do something about it, or is it all talk and no show?"

“Maybe learn some bloody patience.”

It flies out of you without much thought. “Be a better teacher then.”

Ah, shit—

“Christ, fuckin’ shut up," Simon finally snaps, tired of your input.

Yeah, that did it.

Out of the corner of your vision, you see his arm reach for your panties that'd already been discarded earlier. Ever the improviser, Simon scrunches it up in his fist to ensure that it's tamped down to the perfect size. Not that it hadn't already been small in the first place, but it'll be easier to take now.

You make a small, little noise of astonishment. If it weren't for practice, you might've choked; you've had to swallow him before, relax your throat to accommodate the entirety of his cock, so it makes almost no difference when there's something else stuffing you full like this.

It's a measly scrap of fabric, thin and delicate – lace clamped between teeth, filling the cavern of your mouth. You should feel scandalized. After all, it'd already been soaked from the way he'd edged you earlier, liquid pooling onto the material so profuse that it'd been allowed to gather, accumulate, saturate.

You’d been thoroughly drenched.

Now your own arousal sits on your tongue, wet and heavy, and sweet.

Heat blooms across your face. Fuck, you shouldn't be turned on. This is humiliating. He's making you taste yourself the way he'd done (when he'd eaten you out, buried his face into the heat of your cunt and coaxed enough orgasms from you to leave you shaking) except this is in a far more degrading fashion.

You'd probably be adamant about that belief if it wasn't for the sudden gush of slickness now coating your inner thighs where you and Simon are joined together.

Small dribbles of saliva begin to leak out of the corners of your mouth. You’re forced to breathe through your nose, inhale deeply.

And, great.

All you can taste and smell is yourself. There's nothing in your empty fucking head but white noise. Static – a majority of your senses devastated by Simon; you relinquish control over to him, a surrender of some sort. Every single nerve ending is overwhelmed.

“I like you better this way. Should've done this ages ago."

Your moan is muffled, unintelligible. You're not even entirely sure what you had to say.

"Yeah, exactly," he agrees. Like the bastard he is.

Simon's touch is heavy, searing everything he comes into contact with. His fingers travel down the curve of your spine; they're conscientious, wandering over the expanse of your skin – purposeful – trailing further south (more), right to your ass where that tight ring of muscle is waiting for him, empty. “So now that I’ve got your mouth and cunt occupied, what do you think I should do with this, sweetheart?”

[threehardcandy]

Cinnamon roll

Had a lot cinnamon roll talking on my twt today, wrote a Little short Drarry story (maybe more like an idea with drafts?) with cinnamon roll .

English is not my first Language.

Good cook Draco and Auror Harry. 

_____________________________________

Draco has excellent cooking skills, but due to his identity as a Death Eater, he can't come to daily work, so he secretly develops new recipe for some restaurants. Harry and Draco are in love relationship for a year, Harry had Draco move to Grimmauld Place to live with him, Draco said yes.

To keep Draco safe, Harry announced his love relationship with Draco, no one dare to harass Draco after that. 

Draco has just moved to Grimmauld Place, first day after Draco settled all his belongings, he start to work. 

This night, Harry has been dealing with criminals all day, exhausted and returning home from work. His stomach is growling, Auror's work takes too much enengry. No wonder his colleagues have a big appetite, and the working meals at the Ministry of Magic are not enough.

As soon as Harry stepped out of the floo, he was stunned. The entrance hall of Grimmauld Place is filled with a sweet baking smell.

Harry walked to the dining room, Draco is busy with something on the kitchen table，a plate of cinnamon rolls sat besides him. He swallowed, Draco turned around and looked at Harry. 

He asked Harry:"It's late, have you eaten yet?"

Harry said: "I've had it in the Ministry." 

Draco watches Harry staring at the cinnamon rolls, he turned around, and took a plate and a fork, pick up a cinnamon roll on the plate, scooped up a spoonful of fresh vanilla cream and placed it next to the plate, he set plate in front of Harry, then said, "I'm trying a new flavor and made a whole batch of cinnamon rolls, they're all yours. Eat."

Harry looked at Draco, swallowed, and he began to eat.

The sweetness of apples and the aroma of cinnamon danced on Harry's tongue, and the soft bread filled his mouth.

When Harry finished washing up and went to bed, Draco had already lay down. Harry hugged Draco from behind and rubbed his shoulder with his nose.

Draco's voice was blurry: "You eat so much sweets, did you brush your teeth carefully?"

Harry nodded against Draco's shoulder, Draco patted his furry head. Harry closed his eyes with satisfaction.

In the morning, Harry woke up in the smell of butter filled the room and saw Draco had already up.

The table was filled with food, a giant pot of green juice, a row of croissant that were still hot, probably freshly baked. There were two plates of smoked beef and bacon, and fried eggs in the pan.

Harry thought about how early Draco had to get up to make these things in the morning.

Draco turned around and found Harry standing at the entrance in his pajamas, he urging："Oh, you're up. Change your clothes now, you're going to be late."

Harry changed his clothes and walked to the dining room while putting on his Auror coat.

He said to Draco:"Hey, I may not have time for breakfast..."

Then Draco stuffed a large paper bag into Harry's arms and push him to the floo. "Breakfast is in the paper bag, don't be late. Chop chop!"

When Harry sat besides the office table, Harry opened the paper bag Draco gave him. Inside was a croissant sandwich with fried egg, bacon and smoked beef, a cup of fresh latte, a cinnamon roll, all a warming spell, and a bottle of green juice, cold.

There is also a note with Draco's pretty handwriting: breakfast - croissant and coffee, kale and apple juice after lunch, cinnamon rolls for afternoon tea, just in case you're hungry. Don't eat them all at once!>:(

Harry came home from work at night, today he didn't feel so tired, perhaps because he had eaten a cinnamon roll that Draco made in the afternoon.

Harry walked to the dining room and saw Draco sitting alone at the dining table.

As soon as he saw Harry, he stand up at once also try to slow his voice for some dignity, he drawls: "Have you eaten yet?"

Harry said:"I've eaten at the Ministry." 

Draco frowned:"What did you eat?" 

"My usual, chickpea sandwich, some fries."

Draco snorted with anger:"I'm going to sue the Ministry of Magic, their food is simply abusive of employees..." He waved his wand, steak, grilled vegetables, mashed potatoes, red wine, apple pie, and other foods flew out of the kitchen closet and oven, "Especially Aurora is the most important force in protecting the wizarding world, they must not be malnourished!"

"It's not like we are malnutrition..." Harry watched the red wine opened itself and poured into the glass set up on the table, his voice decreasing.

Harry has never had such a full and delicious meal before.

Late at night, Harry wrapped himself around Draco, rubbed his neck, and whispered: "No one has ever done this for me before. Thank you, Draco."

Draco gently caressed Harry's face, his silver eyes shining like moonlight. He whispered: "I will take good care of you."

Harry turned his face slightly and kissed Draco's palm, saying: "Me too."

They cuddled into sleep.

[silverstudios]

Mum says it's my turn to write!

(Based on that break in idea I had)

The plan was simple, Patrick had told them, wait for the owner to leave, smash the window in the back, steal everything not bolted down. It was simple:sell everything they stole to the pawn shop down the street and under that shitty breakfast place, make bank, go back to the frat house and use that money to party all night long. 

Marcus glanced at the other three of this “Operation”, Patrick (their self proclaimed “Leader”), Nicholas (the “Brains”- the mere thought made Marcus roll his eyes), and Tom (that football playing brute). And then, of course, him- the only one of the group who knows how to drive a car. 

Truth be told- he knew this was a stupid, bad idea. They were committing theft, a crime punishable by law, and even if the police here were chill as hell, that doesn’t mean this was alright. But he needed that cash, and he needed the good social credit with these dumbasses to get through the rest of his college courses in peace. 

He just has to finish those courses- and then he can leave this backwater town behind and live it with his business major in some fancy city somewhere. 

“Oh- there they are.” Patrick whispered and pulled the group down into the bush- poor thing- and watched as a lanky person exited the house, locking the door behind them. Marcus raised a brow at the weird outfit- white lab coat and red goggles?- before shaking his head and watching as this poor bastard entered into their car- beaten up thing, almost as bad as his car is- and drove off. 

The rag tag team of thieves waited for a few more moments to see if they’d return, but after a minute or two Patrick stood, smiled at them and motioned for the group to move. 

Marcus took a deep breath to banish away the rising feelings of guilt and shame as he followed after his “friends”- god they were actually going to do this, robbing this poor guy blind- and had to close his eyes as Tom broke the lock on the back window, shoving it up so hard a small crack formed on it. 

“Remember- everything that isn’t bolted down.” Patrick snickered- like this was funny, like this was a fucking gaming and not a criminial action- and climbed in, followed shortly by the other two. Marcus waited at the window, his stomach flipping and throat thick. 

He could run and leave these dumbfucks with no ride back, he could do the right thing and call the police station, there are many things he could do…

And he chose to climb into that window. 

…It was a nice house, a bit small from the looks of it. The kitchen seemed nice, with its wooden floors…with….claw marks on them??? Maybe the dude has a pet. There was a cork board with newspaper clips pinned to it, a sink full of dishes (mood my guy, mood)....multiple things of peanut butter jars on the counter (not even the good kind of peanut butter) and a fridge with more claw marks on it. 

Marcus looked toward the others, who were already shoving glasses and pictures into their shitty backpacks, and sighed. They seem to have the kitchen under control…

He wanders out of the kitchen, looking around the living room. The guy had turned the lights off, making it nearly pitch black in there. Marcus slammed his hand on the wall and began fumbling for a light switch, eyes downward looking for any small critter on the floor. He might be robbing a house but dammit he will not kick someone’s pet, even by accident. 

The light flashed on, bright and sudden, and made Marcus squint his eyes shut. This dude has a lightbulb that has the power of the sun, or maybe all those drinks from last night were still messing with him….

He blinked away the spots in his eyes, sighed heavily and flung his backpack off his back. He looked up, ready to see what kind of things he could fit in this dinky old bag-

And his heart stopped in his chest. 

Sitting there, on the couch, a mostly eaten sandwich in its hands, blinking just as heavily as he was (maybe he had flashbanged it as well when he turned that light on), making direct eye contact with him…

Was something he thought was just a small town boogeyman, a grim fairy tale to keep the kids from being stupid and trusting strangers. The Smiling snatcher, east ridge  demon, whatever other fucking nickname this town had for this- This creature. This creature that, even while Sitting down, could tower over him. This creature which was slowly gaining a twisted, malicious grin on its face, its snack placed onto the coffee table next to the beaten up couch. 

“Ey Marcus, found anything good?-'' Patrick stopped dead in his tracks next to him, his breath caught in his throat. And based on the pause on the rustling, the other two dumbfucks either saw the creature as it stood through the little kitchen window thing or heard their fearless leader shitting himself-

But they all heard this creature Snicker and glare at them…

And if anyone was near this house- they would have heard all four boys scream bloody murder as it charged forward, a sickening cackle escaping it. 

…

…

Alex flung their door open with a loud sigh. Just another day working for Lankman, another day of intense guilt and mild annoyance at all the incorrect veligun information stated as truth. They glanced up, blinking for a few seconds….and sighed even louder. 

Clyde laid across the couch, a satisfied looking smirk on it’s face, a hand resting on it’s chest and tail flung over the top of the couch. Claw marks lined the walls that weren’t there this morning, a keep plastic table they had gotten a few days ago sat broken in half and they could barely make out the sight of their back kitchen window being both open and broken. 

Part of them wanted to ask, part of them wanted to know….but the rest of them was just too tired to give a single shit. 

“Hiiiiii Sandwich man~” Cylde purred from it’s spot as Alex passed it. “How was work?” “Same as always, awful and guilt wrecking.” “Hey, at least you have tomorrow off, yes?” “Yeah at least there’s that-” Alex paused, looking back toward Clyde with a raised brow. “.......Clyde?” “Yes?” “......Why do I hear….screaming, coming from you?” The veligun merely smiled larger, it’s clawed fingers tapping across it's chest and shrugged. Alex watched it for a second…sighed and shook their head. “Want a sandwich?” “Yes!” It sat up quickly, a short, muffled chorus of screams and shrieks racing from it’s body. Alex just rolled their eyes and headed into the kitchen, taking a mental note of the four backpacks sat in the corner.

[ghoulangerlee]

this is just a longer look at that copia post i made a whiiile ago about him being a dad - pregnancy stuff under the read more and all that :)

mentions of nausea, but it's not very descriptive, just mentions of the act of it.

at this point, copia is trans and has not been on hormones for long, nor has he had any surgeries beyond top surgery. this is like. early cardinal copia stuff if you live in my chaotic mind, this takes place right at the beginning of Terzo's reign.

Unfortunately, I could go on and on about the lore behind Copia finding out and what happens after and his feelings on that. In my heart of hearts, Terzo and Copia were friends before The Clergy made their friendship fucked (yknow death and making Copia the leader etc etc etc). Also in my heart of hearts, Omega is probably my favorite lil guy and I think he'd probs be Super Concerned about Copia being sick all of a sudden but not Smelling Sick.

This is a short and sweet sorta thing, I'll def do more of these when I'm feeling inspired but YEAH lmao i hope this is somewhat what you meant @skywarpie

-

He wakes up nauseous, sick to his stomach in a way that his mind can't comprehend—and fuzzily, he nearly stumbles over a pile of books on his way to the bathroom to upend the contents of his stomach.

Forehead against the cool porcelain, he inhales deeply through his nose—there's tears tracking down his cheeks, bubbling up along his lash line but not quite falling over just yet and he sits there, for an indeterminate amount of time.

Long enough for there to be a knock at the door, a gruff voice calling his name, one of the Papa's ghouls, Omega probably, or maybe Alpha, but he's not one hundred percent sure, their voice distorted through the doors and the ringing in Copia's ears.

When he does find himself able to move away from the toilet and make himself at least somewhat presentable, he stumbles through his room until he's prying the door open, peering through the crack.

It's Omega, Terzo's right hand ghoul—the transition of power over to him had been pretty smooth, though he knew that Alpha had felt a bit snubbed, though not enough to complain, when Terzo had announced that Omega would be handling most of the decisions this time around.

"Cardinal," Omega says with a nod of his head, mask impassive as ever, still otherworldly despite not being enshrouded in a cloak and hood anymore. "It's forty past the hour," he continues.

There's not quite concern in his voice, but Copia can see the way Omega's eyes narrow a bit as he takes in the disheveled state of his face.

"Sorry, sorry," Copia says, closing the door a bit more, feeling another wave of nausea build in the back of his throat, "Can you tell Papa that I'm feeling under the weather? I think I've eaten something spoiled." He presses his lips together, feeling shaky and exhausted.

A beat of silence passes, long and stretching between them before Omega nods, slowly and clears his throat, "Of course, Cardinal. I'll pass along the message." He uncrosses his arms from behind his back, shuffling backwards, "Feel better soon," he says, though now there's a hint of something in his voice that Copia's not feeling up to trying to decipher.

In the end, the nausea doesn't last for long, thankfully, it goes away as the day passes and Copia feels hopeful almost, that it's just a twenty four hour bug and things will be alright once he's had a chance to sleep everything off.

Sometime later in the day, there's a knock at his door, but when he goes to answer, there's no one there—instead, sitting on the floor is a bag, a deep purple color with black tissue paper inside of it.

Curious, he takes it into his room and places it on his desk, pulling free the tissue paper—there's a piece of thick card stock inside, and written in black ink is Terzo's loopy scrawl.

Omega mentioned you were ill. This is to let you know that I've given you the next few days off, I believe you'll need it.

-Papa Emeritus the Third.

Copia frowns but places the card aside, digging through the rest of the tissue paper, there's another note inside, but this one is less formal.

If I'm overstepping please know this comes from a place of concern, are you pregnant? In an attempt to be discreet, I had a Sister leave the grounds and pick this up.

A pit forms in his stomach as he drops the card, digs the rest of the way through the tissue paper until his fingers hit a cardboard box.

"No," Copia says, mostly to himself in the silence of the room as he rips it out of the bag—it's a pregnancy test, though the words on the box run together as he stares at it, a tightness in his chest.

It couldn't be.

A new feeling, something like anger, builds in his chest and he opens one of the drawers on his desk, tossing the test and shoving the rest of the stuff—tissue paper, the notes and the bag all in there as well before he slams it closed.

He realizes that it comes from a place of care, that Terzo is of course, his friend for the most part, but it feels weird, wrong, sort of like a violation almost and the longer he thinks about it, the longer he wonders what Omega had sensed that morning, if the odd look had been something relating to that.

Copia's tired, he's working tirelessly to situate himself as part of the Treasury, to prove to the Clergy that he can handle being a Cardinal, and that he can assist Terzo with whatever extra duties he needs to, he can't add a pregnancy to this whole thing.

Impossible.

(Impossible because, because, in the back of his mind, despite everything, if he is, then he'll want to keep it—the Clergy already have a few choice words about him, about everything, if he were to bring a child into this it would be—)

He goes to bed then, puts the test out of his mind and does his best to ignore it—wakes up for the next two weeks miserable and sick, the sickness extending into the day most days now, instead of just the morning. He's back at work now, filling and forging Terzo's signature on things—most of the time he can feel Omega hovering around him, can tell Terzo is watching him, but he refuses, he won't entertain the idea.

(Until he does, in a fit of desperation one morning—it's his day off, but he's so tired and so sick, nearly crying into the bowl when he remembers the test, remembers everything. Stumbles into his room and digs it out, rips open the package and—and—and—)

He doesn't know what else to do, really, beyond go to Terzo, request a meeting with him, locked tight in his office while Omega stands guard by him—his face gaunt and sunken and he's so tired, he thinks somewhat deliriously as he stands there in front of Terzo, in front of Papa who's watching him curiously, his request for the meeting had been vague.

"Cardinal?" Terzo asks, careful but professional and well, maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's the stress, maybe it's something else entirely because Copia feels the tears come before they do, the building in the back of his throat—they fall before he can stop them, before he can swallow them.

"I'm pregnant."

There's a shuffle, cloth rubbing against each other and the sound of a chair hitting something as Copia stands there, hunched in on himself, a hand fisted in the front of his cassock as he tries to control his breathing, the heaving sobs catch in his throat and he feels so terrible about it all.

"Copia," Terzo says, closer now, standing beside him, his hands extended like he wants to touch him but careful to keep his distance, unsure and something about that makes Copia cry harder and he pitches forward, into Terzo's arms, ugly crying into expensive fabric.

"Omega, cancel my meetings for the rest of the day," Terzo says over where Copia's made himself small, "If Sister asks questions, tell her to reach out to me directly." as he speaks, his hands rub slow circles into Copia's back, silent comfort.

He doesn't speak directly to Copia until Omega's left the office, until he's gotten the two of them to the couch and a blanket wrapped around Copia's shoulders, "You won't be able to keep it," he says after a while, there's something resigned in his voice, "The Clergy won't be happy."

Copia makes an angry noise, gripping the blanket tighter, "They're never happy with me anyway," he says, and then quieter, "I'm in my forties, Terzo, how the fuck did this happen?"

There's a look on Terzo's face, almost like he wants to make a joke, but he thinks better of it, "You and I had the same health class, Copia," he says instead, keeping his voice even. "Sometimes, shit happens." He leans forward, "Do you know who the...other person is?"

"I don't sleep around that much," Copia says defensively, and then he sighs, "Yes, though. I do know who the last person I slept with is, thank you." He clenches his hands and unclenches them, "If I go to the infirmary about this, the Clergy will know immediately."

There's a solemn look on Terzo's face, "If I could protect you from them I would," he says, something like regret in his voice. "Unfortunately, if you want any sort of protection during this, you'll have to go to Sister."

Copia bites his lower lip, almost hard enough to bleed, and he looks down at the floor between his feet, "I'm going to have to go to Sister about this," he echoes miserably, "My mother is going to lose her mind."

Terzo winces a little, shifts and nudges his shoulder against Copia's, "Ghouls aren't well versed in human pregnancies," he says apologetically, "Otherwise, I'd have Omega look over you, keep this quiet as long as we could."

He's silent for a while, still staring at the carpet, feeling numerous emotions well up inside of him, "I'll have to talk to her first," he finally murmurs, sad and resigned, "I...how did you know?" he asks, looking over at Terzo. "Your note, how did you guess?"

Terzo gives him a look, somewhat sad, "Omega said that your scent had changed," he says quietly. "That he could smell you, but he could also smell something else, said that something similar happens in ghouls when they're expecting."

Copia makes a soft noise, "Shit," he says softly, "I'll need to request that meeting immediately then," he mumbles, pressing his hands to his face, "Before there's gossip, you know how those hellbeasts like to gossip."

He hunches in on himself more, lets out a long sigh, "There's so much to do now," he mumbles into his hands, miserable.

Terzo rests a hand on his shoulder, leaning into his space briefly in comfort before standing up, "Lie down," he says, guiding him down onto the couch, "Rest here first, I'll send for Mist to bring up some food, something to drink. A brief reprieve for you, time to get your head on straight. What is said in my office is confidential and not even the Clergy can take that from me. You're safe here, Copia. No matter what."

Copia makes a noise, something miserable and he curls up on his side, his life seems to be precariously resting on a ledge at the moment but, but Terzo is right and when he opens his mouth to say that, Terzo shakes his head, offers him a smile but says no more after that, just goes back to his desk and sits down to work on paperwork.

The gravity of the gift given—a reprieve, a moment to breathe, sits heavily on his shoulders, but he feels somewhat lighter for it, hears Terzo pick up his phone, there's silence, and then—

"Sister Imperator, I'm calling to inform you that I'll be unavailable for the day, I'm sure Omega's mentioned it but I wanted to bring it up personally before there are any questions. Please inform the Clergy I'm dealing with a matter relating to one of our own and that I'm not to be disturbed until I say otherwise."

There's silence, a murmured thank you and then Terzo places the phone down.

It takes him a moment, and he thinks about the locked door separating him from the rest of the church, the key that sits around Terzo's neck on a piece of ribbon, feels choked up all of a sudden, "Thank you," he whispers, sniffling a bit. "I feel like I'm overreacting about all of this."

Terzo doesn't say anything at first, but then, "Friends look out for each other," he says quietly, "And you're not overreacting. You're mourning. You've always wanted a family and here you are, presented with a chance for one and it'll be taken away from you as soon as it's born." He exhales loudly, "It's an archaic rule that we shouldn't follow. We should be celebrating this, celebrating you bringing forth a child. But the Clergy wish to keep things old fashioned."

He says it with so much contempt and Copia makes a sad noise, "I know," he murmurs on a sigh, "Maybe one day, there could be a change."

It's wishful thinking, but Terzo gently knocks a fist into his desk, "As long as I'm in this position I'll do whatever I can to change those shitheads' rules."

There's a finality in his voice that sounds like an omen, but the day's catching up with Copia and he's not sure if it's a good one or bad—so he tugs the blanket over himself instead, wedging a throw pillow under his neck, humming lowly. "You're going to do good for the church," he says instead.

And, in that moment in time, they both believe it.

[nyanashima]

Breakfast in Bed (Undateables Edition)

finally finishing this ask!! the brothers version is right here

Content warnings: tooth-rotting fluff and domesticity

Diavolo 

Diavolo has a busy schedule, so he can’t afford to lounge in bed often. Because of this, he only really has breakfast in bed when he’s sick.

When you bring him breakfast, he tips his head in confusion. You’ll have to explain to him that sometimes people do this for their loved ones, just because.

Once you do, he lights up. What a sweet gesture!

He’ll ask you to sit with him, and he makes sure you’ve eaten before he starts. He’d be more than happy to share with you either way.

Loves whatever you made, even if it’s burnt toast and a rock-solid egg. You went out of your way (and likely fought Barbatos) to do something nice for him. To say Dia’s soft is a massive understatement.

“Come to think of it, I believe my father mentioned doing this for my mother once… I never thought I would get to experience it myself. Thank you, MC. You truly make this castle feel more like a home.”

Barbatos 

Much like Lucifer, Barbatos is up at the crack of dawn. You’ll have to be up real early to catch him still in bed.

This right here is an ‘acts of service’ man. Most of his life is about making others’ days easier, and he takes pride in it. Needless to say, it’s rare for him to be on the receiving end of such treatment.

At first, he’s a little uncomfortable because he’s not used to people seeing him in such a state. He’s in his pj’s, with bed head and drool on his pillow– yes, he is not as graceful a sleeper as one might think.

But then you sit on his bed, smiling and lovingly fixing some stray hairs, looking at him like he’s the world? Lord, he might just faint.

Maybe a little vulnerability is fine, actually, for the sake of love and domesticity.

Barbatos cups your cheek and pulls you down to kiss your forehead. His smile is unpolished, wide, and genuine.

“Thank you, my dear. It smells wonderful… May I be selfish and ask you to stay with me a while?”

Solomon

Bold of you to assume he even went to bed

Solomon is asleep at his desk when you find him, drooling on an old spellbook.

Extremely disoriented when you wake him up. He takes a minute to fully understand his surroundings, doing half-hearted stretches.

Once he’s somewhat conscious, he gives you a dopey grin and takes your hand with his eyes half-closed. You can see him mouth the word “morning,” but no sound comes out.

His mouth makes a little “o” when he sees what you made for him. He turns to you with wide, soft eyes– he doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you says “really?”

He’s not blinking back tears you’re imagining things

Solo’s too sleepy to hide how he really feels. He tugs gently on your shirt to get you to lean down and plants a little kiss wherever he can reach. His voice is soft and slightly raspy from sleep.

“Thank you, MC… Let me wake up a little more, and I’ll return the favour.”

Simeon

Luke helped you cook whether you like it or not

Simeon wakes up once your side of the bed goes cold. He feels around for you and sits up when he realises you’re gone.

Shortly after, you and Luke waltz in with a tray, giggling at one another. Simeon feels Cupid’s arrow pierce his heart again, right then and there.

A rush of warmth fills his chest. Despite already being in a comfortable relationship with you, his stomach is in knots. Is this what having your own family is like?

His expression is the epitome of tenderness.

“Thank you, both of you. You know, MC, sometimes I think you’d make a good angel yourself.”

Luke 

Luke is thrilled when he finds out you packed his lunch.

Despite his insistence that he’s not a kid and can make his own, there are stars in his eyes when you hand it to him. 

The little man handles the container like glass while vibrating from excitement.

A picture of your cooking gets sent to Simeon and Barbatos later that day (NOT Solomon, lest he gets any ideas).

The next day, Luke packs you one in return and asks you to teach him some human-world recipes.

“Thank you so much!! Don’t pack a lunch tomorrow, okay? I want to make you something too!”

[drpeppertummy]

truthfully my friends this isnt something im overly into or experienced in & as such i have Absolutely no idea if its any good or not. godspeed

[alien-esque parasite creature-in-stomach bordering-on-rapid-horror-preg situation, ends in hospital post-surgery bc you know id never let it explode him but the hospital isnt like a whole big thing, nobody has a good time in this but hes fine]

Val was beginning to wonder if eating at that sketchy restaurant in Hell had been a good idea.

Truthfully, he'd known it was a bad idea from the start. He hadn't liked the look of the place when his sister had brought him there, the service had been awful, the food had been worse, and he'd felt a little off ever since. That had been a few days ago, and he was back home now. It was always shockingly cold returning to the mortal world after visiting his family, but he was glad to be back in Connie's arms, even if it meant braving the chilly autumn air.

Exhausted from the busy week behind him, Val flopped down onto the bed. He was freshly showered and dressed in his pajamas, and very glad about it. Connie was taking her turn in the shower now. Sprawled out flat on his back, Val looked down at himself, and his brow furrowed. He hadn't felt quite right ever since visiting that restaurant, and he was still a little bloated. He laid his head back down on the pillow and rested his hands on his belly.

"Looks like your mom stuffed you like a turkey," Connie teased, standing in the doorway. "Does she think you're as skinny as I do?"

"Christ, does she," Val laughed.

"Maybe you oughtta visit more often, let her beef you up a little," she giggled, dropping herself onto the bed next to him.

"I don't think I could handle that," said Val. "You know everyone else in my family is like ten feet tall?" Connie laughed.

"And I bet they feed you like you are too, right?" She placed a hand on his rounded tummy and raised her eyebrows at how firm it felt. "Sheesh, you really feel stuffed."

"Tell you the truth, my sister dragged me out to some weird restaurant a couple days before I left. It was a mess, you never woulda gone in. Whatever I ate didn't sit right, I guess, my stomach's been a little funny ever since. I've spent the past few days feeling like I swallowed a bowling ball."

"Huh," said Connie, rubbing his belly. It gurgled uncomfortably under her hand. "Maybe you got, like, mild food poisoning or something."

"Maybe," he sighed. "Probably."

"Do you feel sick?"

"I don't know. Not quite. Just off. ADR, as they say at the vet. I mean, I definitely feel bloated, I can tell you that much."

"Believe me, you don't have to tell me," she chuckled, patting his belly. It didn't sound hollow, like it was filled with gas. Instead it sounded solid, like patting a rock, and it let out another sickly gurgle. Connie winced sympathetically.

Suddenly, Val sat up. Connie looked up at him, surprised. His face was difficult to read, but he seemed tense. Concerned, she sat up beside him.

"Val, what's the matter?" She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," he said uncertainly, holding both hands against his tummy. He looked down, brow furrowed. Was he more bloated than before? His stomach felt tighter, and…strange, somehow. Almost as if something inside him was pulsing.

"Maybe you should go to urgent care or something," said Connie. She didn't like the look on his face, and she didn't like that he was still so bloated days after eating whatever he'd eaten.

"I can't go to urgent care. I'm not even human. They wouldn't know what to make of me even if I was feeling fine."

"Yeah, but…I don't know. I'm worried," she said, squeezing his shoulder. Now that he was sitting up, his belly looked even more distended than it had when he was laying, and it was oddly top-heavy, as though whatever was making it so swollen was stuck up in his stomach. She didn't like that at all.

Val couldn't disagree with her point of view. Still, he preferred to avoid letting people find out he wasn't human if he could help it. It was a dangerous secret to reveal, and there had been plenty of times where he'd nearly paid a heavy price for it. He didn't have much time to mull it over, though, because his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a bizarre wave of pain in his stomach. He doubled over with a groan, clutching his belly.

"Val!" Connie grabbed his shoulders. Val remained frozen, trying to process what he'd just felt. It was pain, certainly, and pressure, but it almost felt like movement as well. Cautiously, he sat back upright, his breathing shallow and shaky.

"That's it, you're going to the hospital," she said, standing up. Val opened his mouth to protest when another surge of pain shot through him, and this time he definitely felt movement. He doubled over again, gaping like a fish as his belly pushed out against his hands.

Carefully, Connie pulled him to his feet, putting an arm around his waist to hold him steady, and hurried him out of the bedroom. As they walked, she felt something shift under her hand, and for a moment she froze, looking down at him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"I don't--I don't know," he choked out, desperately hugging his middle.

"Let's go," she urged, and practically dragged him out of the house.

Connie hastily put the directions into the GPS and was off like a flash before Val could even finish buckling up. His belly bulged conspicuously over the seatbelt, undeniably rounder than it had been earlier, and whatever was inside was growing restless. A moan of terror escaped him as he watched something move under the skin.

"Connie, I love you," he blurted out, his voice shaking.

"I love you too. Don't talk like you're gonne die. You're not gonna die." She reached out and grabbed his shoulder tightly before returning her hand to the wheel. Val thought she looked like she definitely thought he was going to die.

The pressure inside his stomach was unbelievable, and only seemed to be increasing as whatever was inside continued to move around and grow. It was growing fast now, and he could feel his stomach stretching and straining to contain it. He tried not to think about how far it could stretch before it burst.

"We're almost there," said Connie, trying to reassure herself just as much as him. She glanced over at him and was horrified to see his belly visibly squirming. Suddenly, his belly surged violently, and he let out a hoarse cry as the creature inside him began to thrash, pushing out hard against the walls of his stomach.

"Oh, god, please," he cried out, clutching his belly as his tightly-stretched skin was pulled tighter still. "Oh, please, god, no--"

Val woke up feeling like he'd been run through with a chainsaw. He wasn't sure where he was or what had happened, and he didn't have the strength to care. All he knew was that there was a horrible searing pain in his belly. As he regained consciousness, though, he began to recall the events of the night, and he looked down at himself. His belly was flat. Flat, and bandaged up. He let his head fall back onto the pillow with a sigh of relief.

The surgeon told him that he'd barely made it in time, and that they'd pulled something like a sucker-mouthed chupacabra out of his stomach, and that it was nearly the size of an infant, and that his wife had urged them to just not ask questions, and that after the procedure they were inclined to just roll with that, and that he'd have to stay in the hospital for at least a week. Val groggily accepted all of this information; the surgeon could've told him he'd grown a second head and he'd have nodded along. With his stomach intact, all he cared about now was seeing Connie.

EPILOGUE BECAUSE I CANT WRITE ENDINGS: It took one day for Val to win the hearts of all the nurses with his charm and only five for him to be released--for good behavior, he'd joked. Against all predictions, he recovered surprisingly quickly, although his tummy remained terribly sore for weeks; that was, of course, to be expected. He'd persuaded the hospital to let him ship the creature back to Hell for further evaluation. Astonishingly, they'd managed to get it out alive after sedating it right along with Val, and it had been nicknamed "Fluffy" by the frightened staff who were in charge of keeping it under observation. Fluffy, as it turned out, was a relatively common parasite found in undercooked lava cod, which was exactly what Val had eaten, although most of his fellow demons and devils were built sturdily enough that it wasn't much of a danger to them. Connie, who had been even more shaken up by the incident than her husband, received even more affection from him than usual in the following days. He felt awful for putting her through the experience--he'd expressed this, and she'd incredulously assured him that it wasn't his fault--and he made sure to bake her something special for taking care of him.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘 (8)

In which Jungkook isn't sure what those signals you're sending him are supposed to mean- but he's got an idea.

Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, mute!reader, Angst, Fluff, Slight humor, Crime and violence, mentions of kidnapping, graphic description of adult content (violence, smut, Jungkooks questionable interrogation tactics) strangers to lovers

Additional Chapter Warnings: fluff, mutual pining

Length: Mid

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Jungkook has learned that your actions definitely speak louder than you ever could.

All of the things you do point towards one simple thing- and yet he's still holding back. What if his interpretations aren't correct? What if you don't want the things he thinks you want from him?

Because sometimes, you act on instincts, and he knows this.

These days, you both almost always sleep in the same bed.

He likes to have you close, to know that you're there when he's at his most vulnerable and unable to make sure you're safe. It reassures him at least a little that you rest close to him so he can act quickly if something was to go wrong.

But man, is it torture sometimes.

You've kicked off your pants again during the night, your ass barely covered by your panties as you roll over and stretch your legs next to him, toes curling and back arching. It makes him wonder, but also scold himself. He shouldn't think like that about you if he doesn't even know if you'd want that with him.

So he keeps his eyes closed, pretends to be asleep- until he can feel the cool tip of your nose against his neck.

You've been scenting him often, he knows what you're doing. It's a possessive habit of yours, and he doesn't mind it one bit- even if it sometimes leaves him rather hot and bothered. Jin had been trying to tell him that you're attempting to show your attraction to him for weeks now-

But for Jungkook, it's hard to believe that one could be attracted to him like that.

It's not like he's not aware of his physique, it's more or less.. what's beneath it. He's killed before, he will kill again, he lives in a game of eat others or get eaten after all. He's not a good person, but a good person is what you deserve in his eyes.

And yet, he can suddenly feel you lick his neck, like you're testing the waters.

"Stop that." He grumbles lowly, voice still raspy from sleep as he opens one eye, watching you lay next to him on your stomach, tail swaying from side to side a little more excited than usual. "Are you in heat or some shit now?" He wonders quietly, but you shake your head.

Your thoughts are clear as day. You like him- you know he likes you back. So what's his problem?

You do this odd thing again where you point to his heart, tapping it before you point at yourself. He's got a vague idea of what you might be trying to tell him, but he's also scared to get it wrong.

Yeah, he's scared.

But you seem to realize his fears, pointing at it again before you point at yourself, nodding. Only when you suddenly realize he might understand but doesn't like you like that, doe your eyes loose than spark, cheeks red in shame as you sit up and think to yourself for a moment.

Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the one to hurt you. But maybe, right now, he has to- because it's best you just don't get involved with him like this.

Later after breakfast, you're avoiding him it seems like. You follow Yoongi around like a shadow for a while, before you play with Taehyung down the hallway, your day ending with Seokjin in the kitchen. Jungkook knows deep down that this is better. Anyone he loves will only end up putting more pressure on him, it'll make him weak and dependant and he just can't have that happen. And yet?

"Can I talk to you?" He asks you as you started to curl up on your actual bed and not his own this time, looking up at him. You nod, and he sits down on the mattress on the floor, feeling weirdly out of place. "You know I'm not a good guy." He reminds you, inspecting some stuffed animal you have on your bed instead of looking at you. "I'm not gentle. I'm not kind. I'm not.. I can't be, you know? I have to ruin people's lives so they don't ruin mine instead, and if that means I have to shoot someone I'll do it." He bluntly explains to you. "It'll always be like that. There's a bullet out there with my name on it, and one day it'll kill me." He tells you quietly, turning to you. "And once you.. you know, really get involved with me like that, like, with love and all that- there's gonna be a bullet with your name on it too." He tries to explain.

And you nod. You fully understand what he's saying- and he can see it in the way you look at him- there's a sobering seriousness in your eyes that show him yet again that you're definitely not some pet with no idea of the real world around her. You're very much aware, that's for sure.

"And you still want that?" He asks, putting the toy somewhere in the corner of your bed. "You still want me?" He wonders, and you nod without hesitation- reaching out to tap his heart, then yours. "Thats stupid, you know?" He jokingly scolds, and you scoff playfully offended, pushing at his chest now.

Until he leans over, kissing you.

And suddenly, all falls into place.

The reality won't change after this kiss. What he told you will still be true when you part, when you kiss again, and again, and again. But maybe, he can make an exception for you in his heart.

It'll be worth it- he just knows.