#i love how wordless the first one is

[basu-shokikita]

Kyman being whipped for each other obeying each other

A Boy and a Priest & Mexican Joker

[metalcorebarbie]

x

[howdyboyhowdy]

Has anyone written a dumb soulmates AU for harrykim yet?

((I am but a simple man- I crave my dumb fanfic trope))

[lymtw]

"Can I try it?"

Toji's voice snaps you out of the heavy focus you have on your reflection as you apply your lip gloss. You twist the cap back on the plastic tube that presents its Rosé colored contents and turn to look at him. "Hm? You want some?" You ask, extending it towards him.

He shakes his head and pushes it back towards you, stepping closer. "Looks better on you, doll. This another flavored one?" He asks, eyeing the sparkling prominence of your lips. You nod, a giddy smile on your face, which only serves to attract his attention to the feature more.

"It's apple flavored," you chirp.

"Ah. You look really pretty, mama," he says, loving the way your face glows with his compliment. You smile before turning back to look in the mirror. "Hold it." His hand goes to your arm. "Let me look at you a little longer."

"Give me a second. I feel like it's messed up," you say, going into one of your vanity's drawers, where you keep your makeup wipes.

Toji tugs on the back of your shirt, trying to grab your attention. "Put away the wipes and come here. If there's something there, i'll get it."

You sigh, dramatically, closing the drawer before simply turning to look at him, annoyance riddled on your face, because you can feel the excess lip gloss on your skin.

His eyes trail along the area of your mouth, and a grin surfaces on his face when he spots the small, glossy splotch, just below your lips.

"You look silly," he teases, entirely fascinated by the pretty, barely messy sight.

"Thanks," you respond, sarcastically, to which he hums, a wordless, yet, equally sarcastic 'you're welcome'. "You didn't mention it when you first looked at me. A little rude, don't you think?"

His hand reaches for your waist and he pulls you closer to him. Once you're right in front of him, he wraps his arm around your lower back and keeps you pressed flush against him, so he can look down and stare on at your lips.

"Honestly, I didn't even notice until you mentioned it."

You know better than to swoon over the sound of his voice and that longing gaze he has set on you.

"You always say that. It's like you want me to walk around looking like a mess." You crane your neck to look at your vanity, mentally set on wiping the gloss off yourself, because Toji is just staring at the smear.

He's trying not to laugh at how grumpy you are about this. "Ma-" he pauses, a chuckle escaping him. "Just-" He blocks your view of anything other than him. If you turn your head, he follows. "Doll, let me get it for you."

You roll your eyes and begrudgingly look at him, again. "If you're gonna do it, do it, already. This takes a maximum of three seconds, normally."

"Alright, alright. Stop turning away from me," he says, scarred lips still quirked up with amusement. You stand still for him, watching as he brings a hand up to cup your jaw. The gentleness of his touch and the intimate proximity has your heart racing. That and he's taking forever, just staring at your lips. It's a simple swipe of his thumb, what could possibly be taking him so long?

He leans in and juts out his tongue, dragging the tip of it beneath your bottom lip to get the sweet, artificial apple flavor off.

"Ew, Toji!" You snicker, turning away with a laugh. Your hand flies to his chest, creating almost nonexistent distance between you and him.

"What are you saying 'ew' for?" He playfully chides, clicking his tongue. "Face me. Stop moving." You don't even have a chance to turn your head, before he's doing it for you, thick fingers pressing into your jaw to get you to look at him. "You didn't even let me get all of it. Made me smudge it even more, instead."

He's lying. Not about not getting all of it, but about the smudging part. There's barely any lip gloss outside of your lips, anymore. It's the smallest speck, but he'll make it seem like it's messier, just so that he can keep you in front of him for longer, while getting to taste the sweetness of your lips.

"Okay, then get it off. Not with your tongue again. I'll laugh, and this will take much longer than it already is."

"Fine." He smirks, watching the twitch in the corners of your lips as you wait in anticipation for his next move. He leans in, again, and you let out a huff and roll your eyes expecting his tongue, only to be surprised by his lips pressing against the small streak of that sweet, misplaced product on your skin. His quick "cleansing" kisses move up to the corner of your lips and then go higher, before moving along your cupid's bow. Once he's in the middle, he starts going back down, lower and lower until he ends up centering his lips with yours, giving you a proper kiss. It doesn't end with just one kiss. He's picking up every bit of the tacky product on your lips, now, ignoring the fact that he was only supposed to get the excess product. His hands go to your waist, keeping you firmly against him as he carries on with the kisses. He swipes his tongue over your lips, completely clearing them of any sweetness, the gesture causing you to laugh between kisses.

When the supposed tidying came to an end, your lips were wet and shiny, but without a trace of the sweet product that was smothered on them before. Toji watches your flustered expression, mischief lingering in his gaze at your speechlessness.

"It really does taste like apples," he says, earning a deadpan expression from you.

"You overdid it. It's all gone, now." It's hard to stay serious when you see him licking the remnants off his lips. You can see the gears turning in his head, like he's preparing to diffuse your faux irritation.

"No, it's not. You still have some," he says, looking behind you at the practically full tube of lipgloss.

"I can't feel or taste it on my lips, anymore, Toji. What do you mean I still have some?" You say, clearly not thinking the same thing as him.

He takes your hand and drags you over to your vanity. "Put some more on," he says, picking the bright colored tube up and putting it directly in your hand. "Wanna do it, again."

"Toji-" you start, unable to hold in your laugh when you see the random specks of glitter that remain stuck to his lips.

He grins at your the sound of your laughter, before going on to defend himself. "I asked if I could try it, and you offered, so..." He prolongs the word for a couple seconds, unable to find the ending to his sentence.

"So, what?" You prompt, your smile lingering.

"So, I got it indirectly." He smirks. Out of impatience, he takes the tube out of your hand and twists the cap off, before offering it to you, again. "Now, put some more on."

"You're just gonna wipe it off," you argue, shaking your head.

"Only if you mess it up. I can do it for you, if you want. I'm very precise."

He's so eager to do this, that you can't help but sigh and give in. "Fine. You don't have to use so much of it, though. You're precise, but you've also got a heavy hand."

"Yeah, I do," he says, a smug grin on his face. You playfully smack his chest, feeling somewhat disappointed in yourself when your laugh slips out at the dirty innuendo.

You stand still, allowing Toji to take your chin between his fingers with one hand, while the other squeezes the tube and brings the lipgloss applicator closer. It makes contact with your lips and he starts spreading it around, evenly. His attention flits between your lips and your gaze, which isn't on him, because having him examine you so closely will lure your giggles out if you focus too hard on it. Toji can see color blooming on your cheeks and feel your skin heating beneath his fingers, so he decides to push it even more.

"This color looks really good on you, doll. One of my favorites. So pretty," he mumbles, as he continues to layer your lips with even more sweetness, definitely more than the necessary amount. You can feel the thickness being dragged back and forth, repeatedly. "You know you can kiss me whenever you want, but if you're wearing this, i'll lean in first, every time. I'll even chase you if I have to." His voice is smooth, like he's hypnotized by how stunning you look while wearing something so simple to apply.

You laugh, unable to contain it any longer, then suddenly, you feel the gloss drag out of your lip line, again.

"Aw, damn. You made me mess up." He picks the cap up off the vanity and covers your lipgloss. You mentally facepalm, and your eyes lid when you look at Toji, who doesn't look the least bit upset about you ruining his masterpiece. "Don't worry, baby. I can clean it up for you."

[willowser]

your little angel of a son inherits katsuki's bad temper, and it manifests in his terrible fours.

there's an awful little shriek that echoes throughout the house and katsuki is on his feet and halfway to the living room before his eyes are even open—but the only danger awaiting him there is a pouty little brat.

his son is sitting amidst a swarm of toys that have been strewn about haphazardly, and his arms are crossed and big fat tears are in his eyes and he looks mad as all hell. you do, too, sitting across from him with a deep frown, holding the ripped page of a book from his little shelf.

"no sir," you warn, "we do not treat our things this way."

you incite a meltdown.

katsuki feels his own temper flaring—half from shock and awe at his little mini-me and also from the exhaustion wearing him thin—when your son kicks his legs out in a burst of rage, letting out another little shriek of anger. your cheeks puff up, wearing the same furious expression, and at the hiss of his name, the little brat jumps to his feet and snatches a toy truck nearby and launches it across the room.

"oi!"

your son's attention snaps to katsuki, startled, losing a hint of anger as he pouts at the floor.

"what'd she just tell you?" and when he gets no response, katsuki prods with a, "hah? answer me."

but the little boy only stamps his little feet and grunts out a furious, wordless sound that has katsuki's lip curling. you let out a heavy sigh, shaking your head at him before frowning down at the torn page in your hands, and then katsuki is planting a hand on the back of his son's head and steering him towards the front door.

"time to take a walk."

the boy goes, even though his arms are crossed and his eyes are downcast. he only resists once, as katsuki tries to shove his little feet into his shoes.

"i don't wanna." he mumbles, face scrunched and wet before promptly looking away.

"i didn't ask."

"hmm!"

katsuki has to resist the urge to pinch his own son.

they get out the door eventually, and the little boy stomps along for the most part, no longer needing a guiding hand on the back of his head once they get around the block a time or two. neither of them say anything.

fatherhood has taught katsuki a lot of things, which was expected, but the one thing that's surprised him is—he's learned all the things he doesn't want his son to be.

the first of them being angry. not the way katsuki was, mean and selfish, throughout his childhood; hateful and careless, in his teens; shut off and simmering, even now.

he waits until the tension has melted off his little shoulders, until his little face has dried and evened out. his arms swing at his sides, occasionally coming up to wipe his snot with the back of his hand, and he eyes the few wildflowers they pass with a little hum and a small smile.

katsuki tugs once on his ear, frowning down at the little brat when he peeks up at him. "that how you're supposed to treat your mama?"

he doesn't answer at first, leaning his head all the way back and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, until katsuki stops walking. "no, sir."

"how you s'posed to treat her?"

"with love."

"how you s'posed to treat your toys?"

"with care."

"uh-huh," katsuki squishes his son's cheeks in his hand, shaking his head lightly from side to side until he starts giggling. "that how you acted today?"

"no, sir."

"that how y'r gonna act again?"

"no, sir."

"okay," katsuki murmurs, nodding once before letting him free. the little boy bounces on his feet and sucks on his lip, grinning when his tummy is pinched. "now pick those for your mama."

and he does, carefully plucking a small handful of flowers from the grass as they make their way back home, and just before he runs up the steps to the house, katsuki's little angel of a son hands him the biggest one.

[mellowswriting]

new perspective

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || 2.8k

summary || teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

content || SMUT, domesticity, simple pleasures, shower sex, sensual massages (i'm incorrigible), p in v sex, cowgirl position 🤠, slow sweet sex, post-orgasm planning for the future (this is din, after all)

a/n || i know, i know. i can hear it all now. "mel, where the fuck have you been???" celebrating my graduation and then immediately devolving into an existential crisis. but that's okay! not only have i figured out my direction in life, but i've returned with everyone's favorite topic: simping for Din Djarin.

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library Blog

Din Djarin is not a man who knows how to take his time. He’s a workhorse, constantly on the go from one job to the next. He simply never learned the skill of savoring the little things in life. A good meal, a hot shower, a full night’s rest, leisure time. All of those things are simply a stranger to him. Any pleasure he takes, usually at his own hand, is perfunctory at best, a release of tension for its own sake.

Until you.

It starts simple - a set of silken sheets that you bring onto the Crest. Din returns to find you sprawled out on the small bed you share with a sleepy smile that makes his chest feel funny. Your fingers fan out against the soft material.

“Come feel.” You murmur. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off the thick leather gloves and brush the fabric with the back of his fingers. You watch as his shoulders soften, his head tilting as he takes in the foreign feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” He says contemplatively. “It’s soft.”

Your smile widens and you shift over, making room for your lover. “Join me?”

“In a bit,” Din promises. The chill of his beskar soaks into your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. His warm palm cups your cheek and he holds you there for a breath before pulling away. “I have some more work to do.”

It isn’t hard to convince him to strip down when he joins you later that night. He’s exhausted, body aching from a long day’s work. He lets you strip away his armor and flight suit until he’s left in his briefs. You’re used to him falling asleep the moment he collapses into bed - but tonight is different. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he relaxes back into the pillows, his fingers rubbing circles against new sheets. Din is a man of few words but it’s obvious how much he likes the new addition to the bedroom.

“Come here,” He whispers, beckoning you to join him. The tension melts from his body as you curl up against his side. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, a wordless offer of his thanks that you eagerly accept. Surrounded by the cool sheets and the woman he loves, he falls asleep within minutes. That morning, Din lingers in bed for those first drowsy moments after waking. He wakes you with a few gentle caresses of his hands over your shoulder and arm and a murmur of your name. He looks more rested than usual.

You make sure to buy matching pillowcases the next time you’re out.

With every passing day, Din learns how to slow down and savor the morning. It doesn’t take much to keep him in bed with you a little longer each morning - a few soft touches and sweet kisses, and Din sinks right back into your arms. He rubs his face into the crook of your neck and drifts in and out of sleep, practically purring with every brush of your fingers through his hair. His voice, so deep and rough first thing in the morning, rumbles low in his chest as he murmurs his love into your skin. It’s simple, this early morning peace the two of you share. So simple, but so important.

You slip into the shower with him one random evening. You can’t help it. He’s been gone for two days straight on a bounty hunt and you’ve missed him. His eyes light up with interest as they trail over your naked body, his hands finding your waist and tugging you against him. A shiver of desire arcs up your spine - but you didn’t come here to get fucked silly in the shower. Well, not yet at least. You loop your arms around his shoulders and press up on your toes to kiss him properly. Din groans against your lips, already moving to press you against the shower wall. A gentle tug on his hair is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, looking up at him like the picture of innocence.

Din blinks at you, confused. “You want to… wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You say softly.

There’s no need to over-explain. The two of you have mastered this silent communication over the months you have spent together. He searches your face for a moment before his expression softens, implicit permission given in the way his eyes shine for you. You gently lather shampoo into his thick curls and let your nails drag along his scalp in the way he loves. His eyelashes flutter under your touch but his eyes don’t close. He’s too intent on watching you. The grip he has on your hips tightens as you work, little groans falling from his lips at the simple pleasure of your hands on his body.

He lets you maneuver him and tilt his head back into the water without a hint of resistance. For a man so used to keeping everyone at arm's length, the trust he holds for you is plain as day. His cock twitches against your belly as your fingers meticulously work the suds from his hair. The barest hint of your skin against his is enough to get him riled up, but this…? The press of your slick, bare body pressed against his? His body language begs for more. He leans into the press of your fingers and cants his hips forward, slowly grinding against you with stuttered breaths.

The moment the water runs clear, Din lifts you by your thighs and presses you against the cold shower wall. You can’t help but admire the bulge of his biceps as he leverages you up and nudges your entrance with the head of his cock, searching your face for permission. The hungry kiss you drag him into is all the permission he needs. A new rush of adrenaline seizes his body as he sinks into you. He fucks you hard and fast, pace faltering at the pure heaven of your body. He wedges his hand between your bodies and rubs insistent circles against your clit. He just knows your body too well - within minutes, those frantic bursts of pleasure built into a powerful orgasm that leaves you trembling and weak in his arms.

Din buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside of you just seconds later. Every moan and panted breath echoes through the small shower. You shiver at the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. He always knows just where to kiss and touch to leave you like putty in his hands. He goes willingly when you guide him in for a real kiss, lazy and slow as the water streams against you. Careful not to let you slip, he lowers you onto your feet and maneuvers you until the water pounds against your back.

You should have expected him to return the favor. Din doesn’t take no for an answer.

“It’s your turn.” He murmurs, too adamant and stubborn to be swayed. You’ve always loved that about him, even when it gives you grief.

You melt into his chest as he works product into your hair, his fingers massaging at your scalp in a way you didn’t even know you needed. Little sounds of satisfaction fall from your lips with every touch. Sometimes you forget just how big his hands are. He palms the back of your head and draws you close enough that your noses brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just watches you for a moment as he thoroughly washes your hair. He takes in the way you look up at him with an expression so full of love that he aches.

“I love you,” His voice is so low that it almost gets lost in the thrum of water, but you hear it. He can tell by the way your eyes light up, by the soft smile that curls your lips.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back. Din kisses you softly before tilting your head back and rinsing the suds from your hair.

Slowly but surely, you introduce Din to a life he never realized was possible. He learns how to revel in the attention and care you give him. He learns how to give it in return. His thoughts always return to you when he’s on a bounty, knowing he has to return to his little love waiting for him at his ship. Every now and then, he finds something to bring back to you - a little trinket, some sweets, a new book. You always look at him as if he’s placed the entire universe in the palm of your hands. Fuck, he would do it, too. Anything to see you so happy.

Din returns from a week-long bounty exhausted, sore, and with a little gift in hand. It’s just a new robe, something soft and airy for you to wear on those long nights in hyperspace. You gasp softly when he hands it to you, your fingers exploring the silky fabric as if it’s precious - and to you, it is. Not because it’s some rare or expensive treasure. Just because it comes from him.

Allowing you to remove his armor is as easy as breathing. He eagerly accepts every touch and kiss you give him, more than happy to let you do as you please. You set every piece of armor aside with care and neatly fold his flight suit. It doesn’t take any convincing to get him into the shower with you. The burning heat of the water soothes some of the aches that linger in his muscles. A dull throb still follows his every move but he powers through, not wanting to spoil such a pleasant evening with his lover.

He never really learned that he can’t hide anything from you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as he eases himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Just sore,” He concedes, slowly rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to ease the tension. Your eyebrows furrow as you look him over with a keen eye. All you wear is that scrutinizing expression and the pretty robe he got you, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. He sighs and reaches for your hand. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.”

“You can’t sleep if you’re this uncomfortable.” You squeeze his shoulder, frowning when you feel how tight his muscles are. “Let me help.”

Din meets your gaze, your eyes so earnest that he doesn’t even think to deny you. He lets you maneuver him as you please until he’s laid out on his belly with you straddling his hips. A low groan rumbles through his chest when your hands bear down on his shoulders. Every pass of your fingers brings a strange combination of pleasure and pain that leaves him melting into the bed.

Even after all these months, he just isn’t used to the feeling of your skin against his. A simple passing touch is enough to have him shivering, but this? It’s overwhelming, all-consuming in the best possible way. It doesn’t take long for that pain to melt away into pure pleasure. Breathless, needy sounds follow every pass of your fingers. He can't help but rock his hips, grinding his cock into the silken sheets.

By the time you've finished working your thumbs into his lower back, you've reduced the Mandalorian beneath you into a desperate, hungry mess. He goes without hesitation when you urge him onto his back. His hands immediately find your hips and he grinds up into the heat of your cunt. The only thing that stops him from flipping you over and fucking you into the sheets is the gentle hand you place on his chest.

“Let me.” You whisper. Your voice carries a soft thrum of need that leaves him aching. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers tighten at your hips at the mere brush of your fingers against his cock. That grip becomes bruising as you slowly sink onto him. Pleasure curls through his belly at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, so hot and slick and perfect - it would be so easy to lose his mind in the rapture of your body. It isn’t easy to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure, but it’s well worth it. He’s rewarded with the sight of your jaw falling slack and a shiver wracking your body. The stretch, the angle - it’s all new to you. You aren’t used to taking him this way. He isn’t used to letting you.

You sigh a breathy, pleased little sound that makes his heart skip a beat or two. Fuck, you might just be the death of him one of these days. It’s a demise he welcomes if it means meeting his end at your hands. That first roll of your hips has his head tipping back into the pile of fluffy pillows, yet another addition of comfort you’ve brought to this bed. You can’t take your eyes off him - the flex of his biceps, the clench of his jaw, the sheen of sweat that glistens on his tan skin. A delicious vision of the man you’ve come to love so dearly. You lean down and press a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, to that sweet spot where his pulse thrums in his neck.

Your fingers comb through his curls, bringing his pleasure-clouded gaze back to your own. His lips part as you set a slow, steady pace. Every rise and fall of your hips makes his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t look away. He’s too entranced by this, by the pure newness of it all. Heat pulses and courses through your belly with every grind of your clit against him, grows stronger with every needy sound you pull from him. His chin tips up, an obvious plea, and you kiss him. Soft and slow, full of tongue and teeth.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything quite as overwhelming as this. He isn’t a stranger to the feeling of your body or the love you somehow hold for him, but this is all new. Every slow rock of your hips sends honeyed pleasure slinking down his spine. There’s no need to rush. He can take his time and truly feel you, revel in the plushness of your thighs and the wet heat of your cunt. For the first time, he lets himself explore your body unhurried. His hands drift up and palm your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipple with a gentle touch. Your head tips back as you hum a pleased little sound.

Din can’t help but press his hips up, rising every time yours fall. He doesn’t take control, doesn’t try to set a faster pace. He just moves with you as fluid as rushing water. His hands shift to cup your ass, his fingers digging in and spreading you out for him. Desire clouds your gaze as he grinds his hips at that perfect angle that makes you see stars. You’re so close - he can feel it in the telltale rhythmic pulse of your cunt, in the way your thighs tremble. Slick drips in little rivulets down his thighs.

“Perfect, so perfect,” He rambles between rushed breaths. “My sweet girl, all mine.”

“Yours,” You promise. “I’m yours.”

All it takes is one perfect rock of his hips to have you falling apart for him. That tension finally bursts through your belly, your cunt tightening around him with every aching wave of pleasure. You lose all sense, all ability to keep your pace, but Din is quick to take over. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you down, spilling himself as deep as your body can take him. You let yourself melt into his chest, a wave of pleasure shuddering through you with every twitch of his spent cock.

Din locks his arms around your back, all too content to keep your body against his. No complaint comes from you. You just tuck your face into his neck with a spent sigh. The two of you float together in that sweet, exhausted haze. He doesn’t know for how long, but he never wants it to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants this forever, for every possible moment of his life to be soaked in this contentment. Surrounded by soft sheets and the smell of your perfume. Unhurried and easy, with you.

Months ago, such a realization would have thrown him into an existential crisis. But he didn’t have you all those months ago - this sweet, bright-eyed, spitfire of a woman currently taking a cat nap on his chest. He didn’t have the sweet scent of your shampoo infused in his sheets. He didn’t have your soft exhales ghosting along his throat. He just didn’t know that life could be like this. The moment you shift as if you’re making to get off of him, his arms tighten around you.

“Just a little longer,” He murmurs, his voice sleepy and pleasure drunk.

You're more than happy to indulge him.

[little-diable]

A bit of heat, a bit of anger - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

It's been a while, but this idea found its way to me and I simply had to write this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Aaron has never treated her as kindly as he treats the rest of the team, but after a fight between them and a guy trying to chat the reader up, Aaron can't hold himself back any longer.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, somewhat enemies to lovers, clear power imbalance, jealous Aaron

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!reader (3k words)

The heat was burning down on them, letting the sun heat their bodies as the warmth travelled straight through their dark clothes which added an almost dangerous touch to their appearance. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on JJ, listening to her talk while they took in their surroundings.

It should be an easy case, allowing them to catch their unsub in a few days before they could fly home again to escape this heat. (Y/n) could barely believe that she had once grown up with temperatures this high, forced to accept the sweat pooling on her forehead, the thin clothing she’d wear for most parts of the year, things she now hated more than she could put into words. 

“(Y/n), Rossi and I will visit the families, Reid I need you for the geographic profile, JJ and Prentiss talk to the journalists again.” Aaron Hotchner’s voice rang in her ears. A sound so strong, so familiar, she didn’t understand how it still had that same effect on her. (Y/n) had joined the BAU a while ago, instantly drawn in by their friendliness and how they treated her like a member of their small family. She had found things to bond over with every single one of them, all but Aaron Hotchner.

The man was a confusing case to her, a case she struggled to solve. He was kind to her, treated her with just enough warmth to lead her on, and yet he was more distant with her than with the others, drawing a clear line between them. The others had tried to tell her about his cautious self, how he struggled to trust new people and that it would take him a while to warm up to her, but now, months later, he still hadn’t managed to give in to the friendly talks (y/n) tried to rope him into. 

“(Y/n), you should focus on the sister, she is about your age, so you should manage to bond with her, while we will talk to the parents.” Aaron’s dark eyes found hers in the rearview mirror while he spoke to (y/n). She knew better than to protest, knew better than to object – there was no use in going against Aaron Hotchner, at least not when they were on a case away from home. All she could do was nod her head, shooting him a tight smile before focusing on the files she was rereading. 

“I think, (y/n) should be the one to speak to the parents, she did better than we did last time.” Rossi’s voice filled the SUV, forcing their eyes towards him as his grin grew wider. There was something lingering in his gaze, something he and Aaron seemed to understand while (y/n) didn’t see through their wordless back and forth. 

“It’s alright, I will gladly speak to the sister.” She couldn’t bear an awkward atmosphere, couldn’t bear being roped into some useless bickering that would push Aaron Hotchner further away from her. His eyes snapped back towards hers, studying (y/n) for a few more moments before nodding his head at her. 

(Y/n) could only pray that this day would pass quickly enough, already set on visiting the bar Emily had picked for them on their way to this town, all too excited about riding a mechanical bull while putting on a show for whoever would dare to look at her for too long. 

……

To say the visit with the first family had been a bust would be an understatement. Within moments everything had escalated, forcing the three agents out of their home because the sister (y/n) had spoken to had flipped on her, screaming at the confused agent that had been pulled out of the room by a fuming Aaron Hotchner. 

No words had been shared on the ride back, leaving her stomach in knots while overthinking what had happened. It hadn’t been her fault, at least deep down she was aware of that, and yet she had instantly feared Hotchner's outlash, unable to live with the knowledge that she had disappointed him. 

“Do you have a moment, sir?” She was holding open the door to the room they had been offered at the local police station. The others had left for the bar minutes ago, leaving Aaron and (y/n) behind who were still working on new files they had picked up today. A nagging feeling deep inside of her had urged her on to search his closeness, to speak to him while the others were waiting for them. 

Aaron’s eyes flickered up from the file, studying her expression that dripped with too many emotions, a confusing mess she couldn’t fight through. He nodded his head at her, watching (y/n) take a step further into the room before closing the door behind herself. 

“I’m sorry for today, but I need you to know that I would never do something to escalate a situation. She wasn’t in a good mindset and was easily triggered. Disappointing you is something I don’t want to do.” Her hands were interlocked in front of her, tightly squeezed together while the words rolled off her tongue. 

“I shouldn’t have let you do this alone, I’ll make sure to supervise you the next time.” The words felt like a punch to her gut. He treated her as if she was a new agent, as if this was her first time out on the field and not like she had worked with other teams before joining the BAU. Anger began to simmer deep inside of her, an anger that threatened to take over her system. 

“Why are you treating me like this?” Her voice was small, quiet as if she was scared of his reaction. But this wasn’t about fear, no, she was trying to stop herself from spiralling, from getting lost in the rabbit hole he had just pushed her down. 

“Excuse me?” He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. A fire was burning in both of their eyes, a similarity both shared and yet couldn’t focus on. 

“You treat me as if I’m a child, as if I came here straight from the academy and not like an agent with years of field experience. You know, people always told me all these stories about you, and how I should be grateful for the chance to work with you, but so far I don’t see what they all see. It’s quite disappointing, really.” She shook her head at him and turned from Aaron to flee from the room. But the call of her name forced her to a sudden halt. 

“I will let this pass, write it off as an exhausting day we all had. But the next time you speak to your supervisor like that, you will be asked to leave this team.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears she blinked away while her feet carried her away from Aaron and the brooding expression nobody wore as well as he did. 

……

“It’s your turn, (y/n)!” Emily had her arm slung over (y/n)’s shoulder, dragging her through the bar towards the mechanical bull Emily had ridden minutes ago. It had been a while since (y/n) had left the station, making a quick stop at their hotel to trade her work clothes for a nicely fitting dress that allowed her to blend in with most people at the bar.

“You know, I’m only doing this because I love you, right?” Her laughter bubbled out of her, ringing in both their ears while Spencer, JJ and Derek came to a halt next to Emily. They watched (y/n) climb into the ring before swinging herself onto the bull. It had been years since she had last done this, and yet her body still seemed to remember the routine well enough, giving her the confidence she needed.

Her wandering eyes were instantly drawn to his, watching him sit down next to Rossi, who was also looking at her with a wide smile. Parts of her wanted to put on a show, wondering if any of this was getting to Hotchner, the man whose jaw muscles were clenched and whose arm muscles were stretching the fabric of the dark shirt he wore. But another part of her was convinced that no matter what she’d do, he wouldn’t care, not about her. 

Music filled the air, buzzing through (y/n) while her surroundings began to spin. The people around her cheered for her, letting her smile grow as the movements gained some speed. She tightened her grip, her thighs clamping down as she rode each motion with determination. Her hair flew around her face, but she kept her focus on him, her laughter ringing out above the noise.

She managed to hold on even as the machine made an almost violent lurch, set on throwing her off. With one final, spectacular buck, the bull tried to unseat her. (Y/n) held on for a heartbeat longer before she was finally thrown, landing in a heap of laughter and exhilaration. The crowd erupted in applause, and she looked up to see her friends leaning over the barrier, smiling down at her. 

A guy she hadn’t seen before reached his hand out for her to take, pulling (y/n) back to her feet and straight into his chest. The guy was cute, about her age with piercing eyes that wandered over her features, all while she felt the eyes of the others on her, still cheering for her. 

“You were good, seemed like a natural.” His words left (y/n) chuckling while running a hand through her hair. 

“Did lots of these things as a teenager.” She watched her friends back off, leaving her alone with the guy who still held onto her.

“Will you let me buy you a drink?” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering back to Aaron who was still watching her with a darkening expression. Perhaps it was stupid of her to say yes to the guy, but the alcohol already buzzing through her system made her feel all too excited about the knowledge that whatever she was doing was clearly getting to Aaron. 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” They were leaning against the bar, he had his hand placed on her waist, while she had her front turned towards him. She struggled to focus on him, struggled to think about anything but her fight with her supervisor and the desperate need to impress him she couldn’t shake. 

“It’s (y/n).” Her voice trembled slightly, something the guy seemed to misinterpret for attraction or nervousness. His hand moved down from her waist, coming to rest on the small of her back with his fingers spread out on her skin. It was time to put an end to this, to gently push him away while mumbling something about having to return to her friends, but (y/n) didn’t get far. Before she could even try to speak up, she felt a hand clamping down on her wrist, pulling her from the guy’s grasp against a broad chest. 

The scent of his cologne instantly forced its way into her system, making (y/n) shudder against his hold. She didn’t need to look up at him to know that it was Aaron, already feeling much more comfortable than she had seconds before. She barely paid the harsh words Aaron and the guy shared any mind, too focused on the way her heart skipped a few beats as his hand left her wrist only to sling his arm around her waist. 

She didn’t protest as Aaron pulled her out of the bar, past their grinning team mates who studied the two with curiosity. No words were spoken, nothing but silence settled between them, a silence she feared more than the fights she had grown used to over the past months. Aaron started driving away from the bar, dark eyes set straight ahead. 

“So, will you tell me what this was about?” (Y/n) angled her body towards him, studying her supervisor with furrowed eyebrows. For a second, his eyes snapped towards hers, threatening to get lost in her pupils and that overly innocent gaze she shot him. “First you treat me like trash and now you sweep in to rescue me from a guy? You’re confusing me, Aaron.”

It was the first time she used his first name, making his jaw muscles twitch. She kept watching him, every expression tugging on his handsome features while a grin began to grow on her lips. (Y/n) had the upper hand, she had lured him into a trap with his own confusing behaviour. 

“Careful, agent.” His voice was raspier than before, dripping with a dangerous warning she ignored.

“Why? We are no longer on the clock, I can say what the hell I want.” Her grin turned into a full smirk, leaving the man brooding while driving back to their hotel.

“Don’t be a brat, (y/n), I’d hate to punish you.” Aaron’s words shot heat straight down to her core. She clenched her thighs together – a sight that drew a raspy chuckle from the tall man. This seemed to play out exactly like one of her dreams, reminding her of the scenarios she’d come up with whenever she touched herself to the thought of Aaron Hotchner. 

“I think you only speak empty threats, you would never do such things like punishing me.” The words seemed to push him over the edge, forcing the SUV to a halt in the middle of nowhere, parked on the side of the empty road. Within seconds he had turned towards (y/n), pulling her in for a searing kiss with his palm pressed against the back of her neck. She forgot how to breathe, fully sinking into the kiss with her heart pounding in her chest and her hands finding the collar of his shirt. 

Without breaking the kiss, she climbed over the middle console, finding rest on his lap to deepen the kiss. Their tongues were tangled, fully focused on every single touch as she let her hands wander down his front to find his belt. Aaron’s big hands were resting on her thighs, palming her skin with an urgency that left her trembling. 

“Aaron,” she mumbled his name against his lips. For a moment, they broke apart, looking at one another with glassy eyes. She couldn’t stop her chuckle from rumbling through her, buzzing through (y/n) while Aaron tightened his grip on her. “Be honest with me, what is this all about?”

“I hate myself for looking at you differently, for having this selfish need to protect you and pull you away from tasks because I fear you getting hurt. It’s egotistical and stupid, but I can’t stop it. I tried not to get too close to you, because I knew from the first day you’d make me suffer. But seeing you with this guy, how he had his hands on you, it forced me to act.” She kissed him again with as much passion as her dazy self could muster. Aaron instantly responded to the kiss, allowing his hands to move once again while she shuffled closer, letting her clothed heat rub against his growing bulge. 

“I need to ride you like I was dreaming of me doing for the past months.” Aaron’s fingers danced up her thighs, pushing her damp panties aside to tease her pulsing bundle. Her moans were the sweetest sounds he had ever heard, Aaron was sure of it – sounds he’d forever remember. 

“I don’t have anything on me.” His mumbled words left her humming, drawing her away from the kiss to reach for her small bag and the condom she had been carrying around with herself. Aaron let her fumble with the package while freeing his cock, giving himself a few tugs before (y/n) rolled the condom down his length. 

With their lips pressed together once again, (y/n) sank down on his cock, groaning as he stretched her all too perfectly. Both held still for a second, letting her adjust with fluttering walls before slowly raising her hips to fuck herself on his cock. Aaron and (y/n) moaned in unison, high on the feeling of him buried inside of her and the way she could feel him oh so deep. 

“Fuck, baby.” Aaron’s head rolled back, while his hazy eyes kept watching her. His big hands supported her movements, placed on her ass to keep her close. She looked thoroughly fucked out, happy to feel him this close as they got to know one another’s body for the first time. 

(Y/n) had one of her hands pressed against the window, trying to support herself while her limbs began to quiver. Aaron seemed to pick up on her trembling, letting his hips jerk upwards to fuck into her, needing to feel her cum around his cock. Curses left them both over and over again, blending together as they lost themselves in the different sensations. 

“Feels so good, don’t ever stop, please.” She was begging for more than she could handle at that time, and yet (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to care. She didn’t mind the overstimulation she was begging for, didn’t mind the desperation dripping from her words, all she cared about was both of them cumming together. 

“I’m so close, fuck, please Aaron.” The smirk tugging on his lips made her see stars, pushing her even closer to the edge.

“Touch yourself, baby, make yourself cum for me.” That’s all she needed to hear, allowing her fingers to rub her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. She struggled to keep her eyes open, struggled to focus on anything but her nearing orgasm, all while Aaron kept holding onto her. 

And with one last whimper, (y/n) let herself fall into her orgasm. Her walls clenched his cock, pulling him in further while he pushed himself over the edge with a few more thrusts. (Y/n) was trembling in his grasp, holding still with her forehead pressed against his broad shoulder. 

“I,” a shaky exhale left her. “I am happy this finally pushed you over, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on with my feelings for you.” Her words left Aaron smiling, pulling her in for another kiss that left her heart fluttering. 

“You won’t ever have to worry about that again, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me this long to realise.”

[if-loves]

on the question of love

// Yandere Capitano

sum: you refuse to eat. capitano makes sure you do.

wc: 966

warnings: probably OOC capitano

a/n: the capitano brainworms are going crazy

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

“A monster like you doesn’t know love.” Your words are cold and biting, the hatred in your eyes burning. Capitano pays you no mind as the two of you walk to the dining room, maids and guards at every door in between. He knows you’re trying to provoke him.

On the table lies a wonderful selection of dishes, the delicious aroma wafting through the air. No words are exchanged as you sit at the opposite side of him, and he makes no move to eat. Instead, he leans backwards in the chair and clasps his clawed hands together, as if asking you to. You know he’s trying to provoke you.

You refuse to make the first move. Even as your stomach growls, even as your throat thirsts, you’re adamant about winning this imaginary fight.

The clock ticks as each second passes by, the shuffling of shoes the only accompanying noise. The food has grown cold, you’re sure.

Capitano doesn’t seem to be provoked in the slightest. He looks all too happy to sit there for hours on end, watching your refusal of sustenance. Between the two of you, he knows he’ll win this fight; after all, you’re just a hungry little rabbit trying to intimidate a wolf.

“Eat, dearest.” He finally speaks, shivers running down your spine. You can’t see his face let alone his eyes, but you know he’s staring you down.

“I refuse.” You will yourself to continue this rebellion, knowing full well that if there is anything a military captain hates, it is that. However, he doesn’t make any visible indications of displeasure or frustration, only the same icy indifference.

“Is that so?” He hums, and you think it’s quite a horrible sound. All of a sudden, your heart starts pounding and you have an urge, a very strong urge, to run away, to hide, to save yourself. Your fears are given a reason when the once lax man stands, his chair screeching against the floor as he drags it over to your side.

“W-what are you doing?” The stutter in your voice is unavoidable when a monster like him is sitting mere centimeters away from you, and even though you’re trying to quietly move away you find yourself trapped in his presence.

“Merely performing my husbandly duties.” Before you can react, his arm shoots out to grab your jaw, trapping you in his grasp. Perhaps he is unaware of his strength, or perhaps he’s doing it with intention, whatever the reason may be it doesn’t change the fact that you’re sure a bruise will form.

With a leg, he pushes your seat to face him, and locks your legs between his own. His grip has yet to falter, and you’re starting to think that when he does eventually let go (because he has to, right?), you’ll be wearing the shape of his hand for a few days.

With his free hand, he takes the spoon and scoops up some of the food, and brings it to your lips. You’re forced to open, chew and swallow, a wordless threat hanging in the air.

“If you insist on acting like an undisciplined mutt, then I shall treat you like one.” Is all he utters as he almost shoves another spoon into your mouth, and tears of humiliation start to form. You’re vaguely aware of the guards stationed at the doors, of the maids and butlers roaming the mansion, but all you can do is pray for this to be over.

He is insistent on not giving you a moment to breathe as he forces spoon after spoon down your throat, and you can do nothing but let it happen to yourself because what can you do against a Fatui Harbinger? What can you do when faced with one of the strongest beings in Teyvat, except abide by his will?

An eternity has passed when he lets your face go. You’re still trapped between his legs, the darkness of his mask staring at you. Blinking the remaining tears away, you turn away, refusing to look at him, especially not after how he just humiliated you.

“There’s no need to be pouty, beloved.” His horrible, horrible voice calls out to you, and you vaguely feel his hands caressing your cheek. When he stands, his shadow envelops you, and you dread what he intends to do next.

Without warning, his arms slide under your knees and behind your back, and all of a sudden you find yourself in a bridal carry. It feels wrong, unrealistic even, to say that he is doing it gently; a monster like him doesn’t know that word, let alone how to express it.

Capitano is silent as he brings you back to the bedroom he’s forced you to share with him, settling you on the begrudgingly soft bed almost delicately as if he wasn’t just forcing food down your throat.

“You say I don’t know love.” He murmurs, a clawed finger resting idly on your cheek. The sharp tip traces unknown shapes lightly, careful not to dig too deep. You close your eyes and find yourself at a loss for words.

“Perhaps you think I have not the capacity for it.” He lays with you, helmet settled to the nightstand. You don’t feel quite so safe.

“And maybe so. War is not a kind master, and neither am I a kind soldier. However…” The bed rustles quietly as he pulls you into his embrace, his warmth engulfing you like the start of a wildfire.

“If the ache I feel when I am forced to part from you, if the yearning that nestles itself deep in my heart when I am apart from you, if the devotion I feel for you isn’t love… tell me then, darling, what is?”

You don’t quite know either.

[bi-writes]

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

[pearlymel]

A Dragon and his Muse— Neuvillette

SUMMERY : As days turn to weeks, a wordless routine develops. You arrive, set up your workplace, then you lose yourself in your art. Neuvillette takes his usual seat, sometimes pretending to work but secretly admires at your creations.

WC : 8.5k

WARNINGS : Neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a painter, fluff, smut, crack, a sprinkle of angst, love at first sight (?), inexperienced Neuvi, NSFW mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, premature ejaculation.

NOTES : this is one of my favourite piece out of everything I've written, probably because neuvi is my main and he's very sweet <3. I wish it was more slowburn but i suck at thoseI hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it.

His office is too quiet. His mind is too loud. Too messy.

Everything seemed just not in place, it was the constant overwork and less appreciation, not that he’s really complaining. But it was taking a toll on his energy nowadays.

Constantly for 400 years.

A thud on the glassy window wasn’t enough to grab his attention, but once the noise continued, he finally turned his attention away from the papers

Ah, it was a bird. Knocking on the window using it’s beak.

oh dear, it’s friend joined, but rather than knocking on the window, it flew straight into the glass and fell down.

Neuvillette stood up slowly from his stiff cushioned chair, walking towards the large window, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room.

Upon reaching the window, he gazed contemplatively down, lost in thought, his gaze was drawn once more to the two birds. The first bird, still pecking at the glass with a persistent curiosity, seemed undeterred by its previous failure to gain entry. The second bird, now recovered from its fall, fluttered its wings and joined its companion, pecking at the window with renewed vigor. There was something almost endearing about their determination, a small yet poignant reminder of persistence and companionship.

He reached out to open the window, so they can fly away. This place isn’t suitable for them after all.

His eyes fell to a certain melusine, unmoving. Just like a statue.

And there you where, someone he didn’t recognize, he noticed how your hands were covered in all sorts of paints and stains. Your hair had random streaks here and there, and the look on your face… you were enjoying yourself, despite looking a bit serious.

Hm, he tilted his head and continued to watch you paint the melusine, it was a bit relaxing to say the least, though he couldn’t help but observe your features more and the way you dressed up.

You definitely weren’t from Fontaine.

Perhaps… a tourist? He thought then leaned against the edge of the window, crossing his arms.

He was too lost in thought that he didn’t notice the paint on your fingers that are now on your face. A smudge of dark blue paint right under your eye.

The dear melusine abruptly stood up from the wooden stool chair, and it’s like she was able to read Neuvillette’s thoughts, she gestured you to bend down so she could wipe the stain off your under eye.

You both laugh, a sound that seemed to break the tranquility of the room in the most gentle way, although not quite audible from above, it was calming to hear such noise. Neuvillette observed this interaction with a faint smile, feeling a strange sense of warmth in his chest. It had been a long time since something so simple had brought such a calm feeling to his chaotic mind.

This is embarrassing…

With a shake of his head, he took one last glance down then returned back to work, where he unfortunately belonged.

—

he doesn’t even know why he’s standing by the window again, it’s been days since he admired, observed you painting.

One day it would be the nature, the next another melusine, then a random couple or a best friends.

But you weren’t there today like he expected you to be, it’s has only been a week since he was watching you, did you already leave Fontaine?

He sighed, he knew it wouldn’t be forever to watch some random stranger have fun with the colors, but he was a tad bit disappointed to find you gone so soon.

And now be finds himself in lyney and lynette’s magic show, sitting with the crowd on the front row, hands resting politely on his lap while he waited for the preparations and people to join in.

“I’m so sorry,” he hears a voice from behind him, followed by a gentle thud, the person most likely apologizing for bumping into somebody, he doesn’t pay much mind to it to turn around.

This person walks through the narrow row, carefully stepping past other seated passengers, muttering quiet ‘excuse me’s’ with each step. They finally reach his row and, with a polite nod, maneuver past him, their bag brushing lightly against his arm. After what feels like an eternity, they let out a long sigh of relief as they settle into the seat next to him, adjusting their belongings and making themselves comfortable.

Today is crowded, he thought, glancing around the packed space.

He blinked in surprise when there were fire poles starting at the stage, everyone clapping and gasping in excitement. A laugh emitting from next to him, followed by the rapid claps of their hands.

The laughter rings in his ears, it was almost familiar, listening to it in the air… relaxing as the colors splash—

Oh,

Oh.

Neuvillette is too afraid to even look to confirm it was you, sitting next to him all along. He was frozen in place, gloved hands gently clenching on his thighs as he kept his eyes glued to the stage.

Wait, why would he even be nervous? Maybe it was odd because he kind of knows you in a sense, but you don’t.

He finally got the courage to glance at your way, trying to be as discreet as possible. And there you were, the same paint-stained fingers now clutching your bag, probably full of brushes, eyes wide with wonder at the magic unfolding on stage. You turned slightly, catching his gaze for a brief moment, and he felt like he was caught in his act, both of you awkwardly staring at each other for a good five seconds before you awkwardly speak.

“It’s like a cinema,” you utter out to him, and he’s bewildered. A… cinema?

You both then awkwardly adjust back to your seats, continuing to watch the magic unfold like nothing ever happened.

Maybe he should’ve said something instead of leaving you hanging like that.

At the end of the magnificent show, the crowd claps in sync, and Neuvillette notices how your eyes shined in awe at the twins bowing down.

“Your first time?” Neuvillette decides to speak this team with a lot of thinking through.

“yes.” You nod, “I've never seen something like this…”

And he hums, observing how you were excited over this little thing he sees occasionally. Was it that rare?

“I feel like it is rude to be speaking to you without letting you know of my name,” he clears his throat, “I am Neuvillette.”

Such a unique name, you think. “I'm…” you say your name out firmly, “I'm a painter or an artist.”

“i know.”

You raise both of your eyebrows in shock, have you gotten famous already?

Upon seeing your expression, Neuvillette's eyes widen slightly in horror, it now sounds like he was some sort of stalker watching your every movement.

“What i meant is that.. that I've seen you paint.” he clarifies quickly, keeping his voice smooth and composed.

Seems like you've really earned yourself a medal.

“It's nice meeting you, Neuvillette. But i have to go…” plus you suck at small talks, so this was a good excuse.

“right, my apologies. Be careful on your way out.”

Neuvillette feels… odd, to say the least as he watches you leave in a hurry with your bag slinging over your shoulder.

You seem interesting, like a new breath of fresh air, and he wanted to know more about you. Anything to talk to you more to ease the unfamiliar fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Alas, he doesn't have time to make new friends, he'll only have to hope to bump into you next time.

—

Another broken quill.

Neuvillette watches as the ink runs down on the paper, completely ruining it, and he sighs to himself.

The weather is awful today, the rain just continues to pour down because of today's trial. What even is justice anymore?

He pushes himself out of his chair, maybe watching you paint will ease the amount of work—

But all he's met with is the harsh rain, remembering that obviously you wouldn't paint in such weather.

I ruined their day, Neuvillette thinks. And it only causes another frown to appear on his face, although the frown leaves as quickly as it came when he narrowed his eyes outside the window, watching a figure sitting under the building, seemingly waiting for the rain to pass.

Upon the realization it was you, Neuvillette doesn't hesitate for a moment. Without a second thought, he leaves his office with quick movement, the rain is still falling heavily, but he doesn't care. All that matters to him is reaching you.

There you were, sitting unbothered right outside, your legs stretched on the concrete with a notebook on your lap.

“You…” it was the first thing he managed to utter, and yet it was enough to catch your attention. “Oh, it's you.” You smile at him, standing up while dusting the dirt off you.

He should've told you to stay seated, to not bother you.

“I'm sorry about our last encounter, i didn't know you were the Chief Justice of Fontaine.” You quickly say out, your hands behind your back and your head lowered.

“No apology is needed.” He tries to reassure you, “I am more concerned about your well being. The weather is inconvenient for your art.” And the slightest frown appears on his face again, but you surprisingly don't seem as sad as he was. “When the sun comes and the rain stops, the prettiest rainbow and sight touches the sky. And it's worth waiting for—besides, I'm not bothered by it at all.”

Neuvillette only stares down at you when silence follows after, he feels reassured back that the rain, caused by his emotions, didn't make you upset.

And you notice, the way his shoulders seem to relax, his eyelids no longer weary, showing the slightest softness to it, and the downward curl of his lips disappearing in a matter of seconds.

The rain.

“Oh,” you watch as the rain starts to slowly stop, leaving only a few patters and drops of the earthy scent lingering in the air. “The rain stopped.” You seem more cheerful, he noted. You sat back down on the concrete, watching the sky brighten once again.

It's been a while since Neuvillette had seen something so simple and pure. And he would like to join you this time as you talk about your love for colours.

“I'm not sure if it's appropriate to ask someone like the Iudex to sit with me,”

“… i would love to join you. But please, just address me by my name.”

—

Today's sight was different, it was more colourful, more cheerful, was he the only one who was cooped up in his office while missing out the fun?

Neuvillette looks around, left and right, there are melusine's with colours and drawings adoring their faces, adding a bit or—more personality to each Melusine.

Even children and adults.

"Good morning, Sedene," he talks to the melusine right outside the door of his office, his eyes lingering on the butterfly painted on her cheek.

"May I ask what the face paints are for?" he inquires, his curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. “It's from the artist, Monsieur. One person asked for their face painted, so everyone wanted one.” She responds instantly, pointing at the drawing on her cheek. Neuvillette's eyebrows raise in surprise at Sedene's revelation. It seems your artistic skills continues leaving a lasting impression on everyone.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he processes this piece of information. "I see," he murmurs, his curiosity only growing stronger. "And where might they be at?”

Sedene hums, turning around to point outside, “they should be right outside.” his gaze flicks to the entrance. So you're nearby, and he can't deny the flutter of anticipation he feels at the thought of seeing you again.

He clears his throat, "thank you, Sedene," he says before nodding in farewell and making his way towards the entrance.

There you are. Giggling while talking to each one in a soft matter, and the Iudex can't help but be mesmerized by the way you work, the concentration and care you pour into every brushstroke.

The sight of you amidst the children and melusines, their faces adorned with vibrant colors, is both heartwarming and intriguing.

“Monsieur!” Neuvillette visibly freezes when you call out for him, and he glances at you, your hand waving for him in the air.

He must've been too occupied admiring your work.

His legs seem to lead the way towards you on command, watching how your smile only brightened, “take a break, want me to paint your face? Or maybe your hand?” You ask, gesturing him to sit on the stool infront of you, and the others giggle.

“i suppose I can't say no…” he replies softly, taking the glove off his left hand to stretch out for you.

“and what symbol would you like?”

“a water droplet, perhaps?”

You begin almost right away, taking some blue and white paint, blue for the colour of the droplet, and white for the shiny details.

Your hand envelopes around his, and while it's a normal gesture, it doesn't stop Neuvillette to make him have weird feelings stirring in him, how your fingers brush against his skin, he notices that. Or when you squeeze his hand unintentionally to focus perfecting the shape, he also feels that.

“you have nice hands, Neuvillette.” You whisper while now adding some white highlights, and this time, he squeezes your hand unintentionally. “Thank you.” He manages to say something back to your compliment.

Just a normal compliment, nothing to overthinking about.

“All done.” The warmth of your hand leaves his, and he raises his hand infront of him to look over at the final finish.

A symbol that represents his love for water, he couldn't be more satisfied with it.

“I will see you next time.” You wave once again at him before tending to your other ‘clients’.

Next time, it's like you're also wishing to see him again.

That day, Neuvillette tried not to wash off the symbol on his hand, wanting to keep it on for as long as possible.

And now, here you both are again, about the next day.

Neuvillette listens intently as you talk to him over a cup of tea, his eyes fixed on your face as he absorbs the details of your story. The mention of your journey from one nation to another makes him sit up a bit straighter, his curiosity piqued.

"Indeed, that sounds like quite the long and eventful journey," he muses out loud, "But to uproot your life and come a lomg way here, it's quite a bold move.”

You take a long sip from your tea cup, “how so?”

"Well," he begins, "it takes a certain amount of courage and determination to leave everything behind and embark on such a journey. It's a significant change and a leap into the unknown, which most people tend to shy away from.”

To be fair, it was your first time travelling out of your nation, you never intended to visit Fontaine first, but you heard about the lovely views this nation has.

"I understand, for me... I just needed to see the other nation's aesthetic and culture. So I won't be staying here forever."

Won't stay. That's all Neuvillette heard that came out from you, "Ah," he whispers, his voice stiff, "I see. So you don't plan on staying in Fontaine permanently, then?”

You shake your head, "Oh no, i plan to stay for a certain time before visiting another nation... Maybe sumeru next.." you continue talking, not noticing how stiff the Iudex has gotten, mindlessly speaking and spouting about your next travel. Each word out of your mouth about your future travels and eventual departure from Fontaine causes a hint of disappointment to grow in Neuvillette's chest. He listens in silence, his expression growing more sullen with each passing moment.

He had grown accustomed to your presence, enjoying your cheerful banter and easy conversation. The realization that you don't plan on staying in Fontaine for good is a bitter pill to swallow.

—

“Monsieur, you have a gift.”

Neuvillette remembers Sedene delivering a vase filled with white flowers earlier, she says it's a gift from you.

And until now, hes continues glancing at the vase sitting on his desk while he handles some papers. The question was, what was your intention behind this beautiful gift? Or was he perhaps overthinking the whole situation? Maybe you just gave it because it has art or some meaning behind it… sure, he could think of that.

But he wants to think that you gave it because of something more, because your heart raced everytime you both talked, or how his whole mood would change when he hears you laugh as he makes a silly joke to try and be light-hearted.

Poor Neuvillette, he doesn't understand these feelings that he felt for you, he thinks he's being a creep with you.

What if you weren't comfortable in his presence? He doesn't know, he wants to understand, understand these human emotions he was feeling deep in his heart.

He feels hot from overthinking, even though the weather is good enough to walk around without sweating, his hands clench against the sides of the tables.

He can't concentrate.

Neuvillette calls for the melusine again, informing her that no one is allowed to enter his office for the next three days.

—

“he's sick?” Your frown deepens when Sedene explains to you to why she barricaded your way from entering the Iudex’s office.

“Monsieur Neuvillette told me not to let anyone enter for the next three days.” Sedene says cautiously and you both just stare at eachother. “What if he needs medicine?”

“he insists he doesn't.”

“Being sick isn't good, what if he's unconscious right now?”

“oh no, don't worry.” Sedene smiles to try and reassure you, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “… can you send him this instead then?” You hand her a paper bag filled with different desserts you both agreed to try—for a break.

“Right away.” She takes the paper bag and skips her way through her desk to put it on the back.

You're so evil for this, but you're determined.

You hurriedly and quietly make your way inside his office while she was distracted, and when she peeked her head up to see you gone, she just shrugged it off, thinking you left already.

You don't move further when you see his head resting on top of his desk, his hair splayed out messily and his arms under his forehead.

You're concerned, just how could anyone leave the chief of justice to suffer all alone when he's done so much? It didn't make sense.

You don't mean to startle him when you were by his side, your fingers brushing over the burning skin to check his temperature and your eyebrows furrow.

But your wrist were suddenly being grabbed by him, and you gasp. His eyes half-lidded when he starts examining your wrist, still unaware that it was you in this very room with him.

When Neuvillette takes in your scent that seems to linger on your skin, his eyes snap up towards yours and he pushes himself away.

“I-i’m sorry—” Neuvillette was quick to fix his disheveled self, one you've yet to see. The Iudex that always kept a presentable appearance seemed to be dazed at this very moment.

“I'm sorry,” you echoed his apology, not meaning to entirely frighten him with your sudden appearance. “I heard you were sick, so i wanted to check up on you.”

Neuvillette had one had gripping the wooden desk to the point his knuckles turned white, and his eyes diverted his attention away from your face, “i assure you.. I'm fine.” he stands up, hurriedly, turning around to somehow avoid you.

Only if you know, you'd be disgusted from him. He needs to drive you away from here—or else you'll drive him towards insanity.

“can i.. check up and take care of you?”

damn it. Who is he to refuse? Especially when you asked so nicely.

Neuvillette is now seated on the couch per your instructions, a blanket wrapped around him because you were convinced he felt cold despite his fever.

Sedene is now not even surprised you didn't listen to her, she only sighs as she brings the herbal tea you asked from her.

“It won't work.” Sedene tells you flatly at the door, but you take the cup anyway, “call me if you need anything more.” She says one last time before you wave her off.

“here, herbal teas are the best when you're sick.” You carefully hand him the tea cup, “it's hot.” You warn him softly, and he takes the cup just fine—thanks to his gloves.

“did you get the tea from Wriothesley?”

“… who?”

“no—nevermind, thank you.” He offers you a weak smile before nearing the cup close to his lips, then inhaling sharply to take in the scent of the strong herbs, just anything but your scent.

“Are you comfortable like this?” You ask while adjusting the blanket around him and he only nods while taking a slow sip.

Leave. He wants to tell you, it's already dizzying.

He crosses his legs before clearing his throat loudly, almost like coughing on purpose.

And you are already scooting closer while patting his back, you're doing the complete opposite of what he's trying to let you do. “Are you okay?” You tilt your head to take a better look at his face, his neck twisting to the other side. And you notice just how red the tips of his ears were.

“How about i fetch you some cough medicine?”

“I will be just alright without it, thank you.”

You press your lips together into a thin line, he seems to be refusing everything. Or maybe he's just stubborn when sick?

“you need to eat,” you stand up to grab the paper bag filled with croissant that you bought earlier from a nearby bakery.

You don't know what his favourites were, so you bought a variety of things.

“this one is not sweet, it's buttery.” you rip a small piece for him to try, but he still keeps his head away from you.

You are already frowning, “Neuvillette, are you upset with me? Could you please look here? I just want you to get better…”

That's all it took for him to snap his head back to your attention, he would hate to be the source of your sadness, and that little change in your tone said it all.

You smile when he faces you, “say ‘ahh’.” You laugh quietly to yourself as you near the piece closer to his lips, and he only watches in amusement at first.

“i didn't poison it.” You joke, and it manages to make his lips curl, “I'll eat it first to prove it to you,” you now piece of croissant between your teeth before on it with your mouth closed while humming.

The remenats of the croissant lingered on your lips, and he can't seem to tear his gaze away from your bottom lip.

You notice, of course. Assuming it was crumbs, you glide your tongue along your lower lip, leaving a glossy sheen to your lips.

You weren't even trying, his mind just decided it was attractive coming from you.

And his breath quickens, his pupils dilate, his hand slides along the couch right to your side, and god you smell just so swe—

“Neuvillette?” He blinks, and he's met with your confused face. Just then he realizes his head was tilted to the side, gestured to leaning in.

Oh god. You're going to so hate him.

“leave.” He abruptly stands up, brushing the blanket off his shoulders to walk towards the window, opening it for him to breath some fresh air. “… please.”

“Okay.” You don't argue back, you respect his privacy of being alone. And you stand up to carry yourself out of his office before shutting it close.

Sedene wants to ask you what happened, but she doesn't bother when she sees how your hand is resting above your chest to feel the quickening of your heartbeat as you slowly make your way out.

What was that?

—

“I owe you an explanation.”

“you literally don't owe me anything,”

“Do you hate—”

“Neuvi, i don't.” you tap at his arm, giving him a sincere smile before laughing. “It's not a big deal. Sick people tend to be stubborn.”

Neuvillette has healed after a week, and he immediately asked for you to hang out together again after he fully recovered, and you suggested you both talk over a picnic.

That's how you find yourself under a tree, above the cottony blanket beneath both of you with a basket of goodies on the side. You also brought two canvases with you, because why not?

Neuvillette contemplates whether he should tell you about his true nature, he fears you'll never talk to him afterwards.

“Something's on your mind,” you mindlessly speak as you put the canvas on his lap, “let's paint together, I'm sure it will ease our minds a bit.”

He now focuses on the way his brush strokes the white canvas, now filling it with different colours, he wants to try every colour, and you encourage for him to do so.

“i am not who you think to be,” Neuvillette starts as he continues gliding the brush.

“Mm, do tell. Are you a fairy?”

You earn a chuckle from him, and you chuckle right back, “or perhaps a merman?” You raise an eyebrow, yet your eyes don't leave your art.

“neither.” He sighs, “I am the… Hydro Dragon Sovereign.” He mutters under his breath, and he could see from his peripheral vision how you seemed to stop your work.

Both of your eyes meet, his of worry, and yours of curiousity and shock.

“no wonder,” your voice lowers and his eyebrows furrow before his eyes widen when you reach to brush your fingers along the shape of his ear. “It makes sense now. This is very interesting.”

He's at a lost. You were not upset, nor angry or anything, you were more amazed than any of these pessimistic emotions.

His shoulders relax, he was worried about nothing. It was you after all, the most understanding, gentle human being.

“thank you for telling me.” You now keep your hands to yourself, “as for me,” you turn to hold your canvas again to show him your newly art piece.

“I'm actually a turtle.” You try not to burst out laughing when you show him the detailed drawing of a baby turtle next to a pond, he looks quite shocked and mortified.

“… i would not like you to be a turtle.”

“why? Because they're slow?”

He shakes his head while trying to hide his smirk, “That's one,” he quips before it was his turn to show his canvas, “you remind me art.” You witness his painting, and you think it's the most beautiful sight.

It's a brown canvas with all sort of colours that blend well together, and you could clearly see the flower at the bottom of it, showing that it was growing. “I'm jealous,” you pout, “i should've painted a dragon, had i known you were one much earlier.” You groan before making a mental note to yourself of what your next art should be.

Neuvillette laughs. A genuine sound coming from him as his hand finds his cheek to try and hide any signs of redness. The sound makes you feel the familiar feelings whenever you were around him, shyness, happiness and the racing of your heart.

He calms down after a breath before speaking again, “I trust you won't spread our secret.”

“The secret will die with me.” You reassure him. “though i am curious now, maybe i should buy books about dragons?” You speak your mind while smiling mischievously and he shakes his head in response, “you shouldn't tire yourself with such matters.”

“it's not tiring, it's more interesting.”

"I understand your curiosity," Neuvillette replies with a gentle smile, his eyes softening at your enthusiasm, and he keeps his attention to you, since you're everything he ever thinks of these days.

“I will miss this.” You prop your elbow on your thigh as your chin rests on the palm of your hand, “i know you're a busy man, and having the privilege to meet you like this so often… i feel lucky.”

No. You? Lucky? He's the lucky one. You're the only person he's excited to see after a long trial. The only person he's enjoyed having company with in a very very long time.

He had grown quite fond of you in the short time you've known each other, he forgets that you'll leave soon, "When... when do you plan to leave Fontaine?" He asks, his voice reluctant.

“… in two weeks.”

Neuvillette nods slowly. A week... That's all the time he has left with you. He's quiet for a moment, processing the information. Then, he speaks up, his voice quieter than usual, "just a week, huh?”

You can feel his mood shift, and you can't help but be upset. You think you have upsetted him a little too much, you want to reach your hand out to him… but you keep them to yourself when you see how he seems to ponder in his own thoughts.

—

The weather is bad. You note, the clouds seem to darken as you continue your walk, a few droplets falling from the sky and right on your cheek, and you quickly hold your bag close to you, you can't afford ruining your art supplies now.

You wanted to pass by Chioriya Boutique, you hear it's a popular fashion label, but with the current change of weather, you will most likely postpone your plans to tomorrow.

Oh no, you need to seek shelter. Rain is pouring harder now, and you witness how the citizens expressions turn to disappointment.

The kids playing nearby stop their feet from kicking the ball around as well.

“hydro dragon, hydro dragon! Don't cry!” You're surprised to hear one of the kids chant and run, was this some fontanine thing that you didn't know about? Come to think of it, you heard it once when you were painting on one rainy day, but you didn't pay much mind to it.

You smile at the silly words as you try to imitate them, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't…” your smile drops when you realise something, and your eyebrows furrow.

Hydro dragon? Crying? Could the rain possibly be—

You don't waste time when you begin running towards Neuvillette's office. The only place where you're guaranteed to see him.

The rain is pouring harder now, drenching your clothes and hair, the puddles splashing from your feet and dirtying your shoes and pants, but you're too focused on getting to him to care about your condition.

Finally reaching the doors to his office, you barge in, panting slightly from the rush.

“Neuvillette!”

Neuvillette turns away from the rain-soaked window, his eyes widening with surprise and a little startled as you burst into his office, panting and calling out his name. He takes in your drenched appearance, confusion and surprise etched across his face.

"Are you okay? Hurt?" He asks, striding towards you. He's worried. He's afraid of what must've happened to you.

"N-no but—the rain, are you.. upset? Is the rain from you?”

Neuvillette's eyes flicker away for a moment, avoiding your gaze. He had hoped no one would catch on to the connection between his emotions and the weather, but you being here, figuring it out after that children's chant, means he can't deny it.

His heart aches, yet he doesn't want to lie to you, "yes," he admits, "the rain is... it's a result of my emotions.”

You take a step forward while water drips from your hair strands, “is it my fault?”

He shakes his head vigorously as you blame yourself for his upset. "No," he insists, his voice firm yet gentle. "It's... it's not entirely your fault. Yes, you're leaving, and I'm... I'm not taking it well, but my emotional outburst isn't your responsibility." He, as well, moves closer to you, his fists clenched to his sides.

“i don't know, i don't like upsetting you.” You frown.

Seeing the sadness in your eyes, he reaches gently to touch your damp hair, his fingers brushing a few stray strands out of your face, "you're not upsetting me," he reassures quietly. "I... I'm just struggling to accept the thought of you leaving. That's all. It's not your fault.”

Your arm reaches out for him, Neuvillette stiffens a little when he feels you wrap your arm around him. Your shivering body against his own, your face buried against his shoulder... it's both soothing and stirring.

His heart races in his chest as he gently returns the embrace, one arm encircling around your waist, and the other holding you close, it's comforting, you feel warmer, even when you feel your eyelashes dampen a little.

His hug is gentle, tight, it's as if he's hugging your soul. Just when you were the one who wanted to comfort him.

“I will miss you.”

“so will i, although I'm just a normal person.”

“No, you're not.”

“how so?”

Neuvillette presses his lips together, "You make me feel things I've never felt before," he confesses quietly. "You make my heart race, my palms sweaty, my mind confused... yet, in a good way. You make me feel alive.” you lift your chin from his shoulder, your hand coming up to caresse the smoothness of his face, and your lip curls upwards.

“Can i…” your eyes are glued to his lips, and you don't sense yourself nearing closer to his face. Neuvillette's were wide when you come closer and closer to his face, his hand fisting the fabric of the back of your clothes too tightly, and he gasps quietly as your cold, damp lips meet his own.

he's too stunned to respond.

But as your lips remain pressed against his, he slowly melts into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. This was his first kiss, and it was with you, the person who'd stolen his heart in such a short span of time.

Neuvillette can't believe what's happening. Your lips against his, the way they fit together perfectly, it makes his heart race in his chest, his head spin. He reciprocates the kiss, his lips moving gently against yours.

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck to push yourself closer, your fingers brush at his hair, and it makes him shudder.

you kiss him harder, your lips ravishing his own. He follows your lead, his inexperience showing in his slightly clumsy, but enthusiastic response as you smack your lips in soft kisses over and over again.

You seperate your lips away from his, but it doesn't last before your thumb parts his lips gently, “open your mouth.” You whisper, he obeys, slowly opening his mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

An involuntary moan escapes Neuvillette's lips as you plunge your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. He's never experienced anything like this before, his arms tighten around your waist, his fingers digging slightly into your hips, as he responds to your kiss, his own tongue clumsily trying to match your pace.

It's addictive. His taste, his touch, you feel selfish enough to want him all for yourself.

You both pull away when you fell the oxygen run out from your lungs as you inhale back sharply. Your hazy gaze meets his half-lidded one's and you think you've never seen such a prettier sight.

“… have i gone overboard?” You whisper, and he swallows thickly before resting his forehead against yours to close his eyes, “no..”

The rain has stopped, the pattering against the window nothing more than a soft drizzle.

He runs his fingers through your damp hair, feeling how it clings to your face, and how your eyes seem to lit up.

A soft smile plays on his lips as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. The world outside seems to have calmed along with his emotions, mirroring the peace he feels in your presence. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, savoring this intimate moment between you.

“you have your own life, your own path to follow. I can't keep you here, it's not fair to you.” He wants to keep you to himself, he's too selfish, and he knows it.

And you're greedy, and you know it.

You part your lips to protest, but his eyes tell you everything. He just wants you happy, to continue living your human life and not waste it.

That he, will be just a memory to you. A precious one. Just how you will be the most treasured memory that he will keep in his heart.

—

“Monsieur Neuvillette, i got you the macarons.” Sedene taps his desk lightly to grab his attention as sets the plate and water cup in front of him.

“Ah, thank you, Sedene.” His fingers pull at the plate to take a better look at them, ever since you left Fontaine about a month ago, Neuvillette never stopped ordering the sweets you used to give him every now and then.

Every day, Neuvillette finds himself missing your presence.

He goes about his duties, attending to his role as Iudex, but his mind is often elsewhere. Despite his attempts to focus on his work, he keeps finding his thoughts drifting back to you, memories of your time together replaying in his mind.

At night, he lies in bed alone, the silence in his quarters almost deafening. He finds himself reaching out, almost subconsciously, as if looking for a body that isn't there.

Or when his fingertips brushed along his lips to try and feel your cold lips that day, was it a goodbye kiss?

“Is it about that artist?” Sedene speaks her mind when she notices how dull the Iudex gets as the days go by, even though he tries to act unaffected per your words. He wouldn't want the nation to drown in his tears just because of his own reasons.

“This reminds me,” She takes out an envelope from the pocket of her uniform before standing on her tip toes to hand it to him before making her way out.

The envelope was neat, with a pretty designed stamp on, Neuvillette opened it carefully before taking out it's contents.

It's you. Or, a photo of you. Smiling brightly with the aranaras, it makes him smile to himself as he traces the photo. You look even more charming than he remembers.

There's another note with the photo, but it's a vague message. A written location here in Fontaine, with a specific date and time.

Neuvillette is confused, was this a message of your return? And based on the date, it's three days from now. He will try to clear his schedule for the set time, he doesn't know what to expect, maybe a gift awaits for him, he wishes you wrote more, but that was the end of it.

—

Neuvillette stands in front of the wooden door, hesitant to knock on it. This is the place, the exact date and time. The sun is disappearing for today, and it's the moon's turn to show it's face.

He knocks twice, the sound ringing in the still air. Just as he was about to go for another knock, the door opens, and he barely comprehends what's going on before he feels a hand pull him in, and he gasps.

He's startled in the moment, but all of Neuvilette's worries and frustrations melt away when he realizes it's you who threw their arms around his neck, he wastes no time in returning the embrace, pulling you tight against him.

He holds you close, his arms practically enveloping you as he buries his face into your shoulder, relishing the feel of you in his arms again.

“Such a vague message you sent me,” he tries to speak light-heartedly, and you giggle in response. He's now assured it's your laugh.

“I've missed you.” He whispers next to your ear to make sure you hear the words, “I've missed you more.” You whisper back, mimicking his gesture.

“impossible.” he retorts, the corner of his wrinkling from how much he's been smiling.

And the moment your lips meet his to shush him, Neuvilette feels like he's come alive again. He responds instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him.

He knows how to kiss you now, hopefully he does it the same as the last time.

He kisses you passionately, now devouring your lips, hungrily trying to make up for every moment you were apart. The taste, the texture, the feel of your lips against his, it all floods his senses, reigniting the spark that's been missing since you left. And he remembers it all.

Neuvilette follows your lead, stumbling a little as he's guided backwards towards the bed. His mind is filled with a haze as you strip off your coat, he finds his hands roaming over your body while panting softly as you staddle his lap. His emotions are a mess, but what he knows is that he needs you more than he's ever thought.

“Neuvillette,” you utter his name in a soft, low tone. It makes his jaw slack a bit when you kiss at the skin of his neck, and he tips his head back to give you more space. He's all yours.

He thinks he's about to go dizzy, it's all unfamiliar, he's overwhelmed that he doesn't know what to feel first. But you going slow for him makes him want more and more—

His head goes blank when your middle and ring fingers slip inside his black glove to feel his skin against yours. You slide the material off with each to intertwine your fingers together.

You're incredible, he thinks—knows.

“Can i go further?” You ask, and he doesn't hesitate to nod, “paint your lips on my body.”

He expected to feel the graze of your teeth along the curve of his collarbone, what he didn't expect was for you to palm his bulge, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. The tips of his ears grow redder and this is the most embarrassed he's ever felt. He can feel himself growing harder with each touch, his body reacting instinctively to your ministrations, and he can't help but thrust upwards.

“M-mon amour, i… i—” he cannot bring the words, not when you're showing him too much love and affection all at once.

He's never experienced such intense pleasure before, and the thought of reaching his release so quickly is both exhilarating and terrifying. He wants to savor every moment, to prolong this incredible feeling, but his body apparently had other plans.

You stop when you hear him almost whimper, it takes you by surprises. When your eyes search for his—all you're met with is his half-lidded full of lust gaze. You realize what had happened when you felt the damp spot sitting on the fabric.

he grabs the back of your neck gently to pull your face right in his hair, “give me… a minute.” He clears his throat before giving your intertwined hands a squeeze.

“May i?” He mutters, “mhm,” and his hands beginning to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing the smooth skin beneath. He leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts, which makes your grit your teeth together because you know you'd be moaning too fast with whatever of his touch landed on your skin.

His fingers trace the lacy edge of your bra, feeling the material before Neuvillette's lips find yours again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, and his hand slips beneath your bra to cup your breasts. And this time it successfully managed to make you moan against his lips.

One clasp, and your bra falls from your body to reveal your bare self, he thinks it's a sin to stare at such a perfect body.

“you're perfect,” he rasps against your skin. His hands map the contours of your body, memorizing every dip and swell, as he trails lower.

Neuvillette's mouth finds one pert nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand cups your other breast. He lavishes attention on your chest, alternating between licking, sucking, and gentle nips, until you are arching into his touch, your breathy moans and whines filling the room.

His other hand slides down your stomach, fingers dancing along your hip bones before dipping between your thighs after having rid of the unecessary barrier between you both.

He wants to touch you in the way you like it, and so sensing his hesitation, you take his hand in yours, and he groans at the wetness he finds there, his fingers gliding easily through your slick folds.

When you guide his fingers through your slit, you stop at your clit, and he takes it as cue to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb which ultimately makes you moan louder, your hand leaving for him to take control.

Neuvillette captures your lips in a searing kiss as he keeps your thighs parted for him when he feels you wanting to close them together.

Your heart races, with each tight circle around your sensitive nub, it makes you pant softly, your lips parted before gasping in surprise when you feel him slowly pushing one long finger inside you, relishing the way your walls grip him tightly.

It's warm, it's tight, how would he even fit inside you?

He experimentally curls his fingers repeatedly before setting a steady rhythm, curling and thrusting his finger to hit that perfect spot inside you. He was already so hard that it was starting to ache and throb, he wishes to have some self control just for now.

“gonna cum—” the minute he heard you say that, he withdrew his finger out of you which makes you whine at the loss. “Wh—” the words die on your tongue when you watch him undress, his hand holding his prettily flushed cock right at the base to position himself between your legs, “I am an impatient and greedy man, forgive me,” his voice is soothing as he pecks your lips before you feel his fat tip starting to stretch you at your entrance, and you both groan in relief.

Your hot and tight walls clamped around him when he thrusted forward to bury all of himself in you at once. Which literally, almost makes him cum if not for the way his gripping your thighs so harshly.

He presses your thighs down until they reach the sides of your ears, it makes your back arch, and your cunt swallowing all of him as he buries his face into your neck, “H-hah please relax—i can't, you're going to make finish sooner again—” you listen to his quiet pleas, and you try to relax your body, you also want this to be a lasting moment.

Neuvillette's heart pounds in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts, he can feel your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rocking to meet his movements. The sounds of skin slapping together in the air is so lewd that he tries to divert his attention elsewhere.

His thrusts grows sloppier by the minute as he breathes heavily, his cock twitching inside you before he starts increasing the pace to reach both of your release, one hand leaving your thigh to rub circles around your swollen clit, and suddenly, you're crying out, your body convulsing beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans, the shivering sensation of your cunt squeezing aroud him sends his face into your neck, muffling his cries of ecstasy as he empties himself inside you. He cums harder than the first time, as if emptying everything he has to give you until a white ring forms at his base.

Your eyes roll back when you feel so warm and full, your legs giving out tiredly as you both relax in the comfort of one another.

Yeah, you're tied to him now.

—

“I'd like for you to treasure this painting.” Neuvillette frowns when you gesture towards the large canvas that took you months to finish.

It's you, and him.

Living with Neuvillette feels right, although he doesn't steal your freedom and passion to continue travelling around different nations, as long as you come back to him, your home.

you wish for him to travel with you one day. He already promised you to after all.

“It's marvelous,” he comments, almost breathlessly. He'll have to hang it where it's only visible to his and your eyes.

He knows why you do this, why you create simple art that's a memory of both of you. Favourite food? You'll draw it. Favourite hobbies together? You'll catch the moment right on the canvas with extra vibrant colours.

“One day when i—” he doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want to hear how one day you'll leave this world permanently and he'll have to live on. Painful years after years without you.

“I want to treasure every second with you,” he lifts your hand up to his lips, for him to kiss the back of your hand before his thumbs rubbed over your knuckles.

You give him a reassuring smile, “you are going to be a wonderful experience until then.”

“and you… will be everything to me, even after that.” Neuvillette smiles back before exhaling deeply.

[wosoamazing]

Shadows of Victory

Your parents die before the world cup final. 1.7k words

So i know I said the fic that won the poll would be out next but um, that obviously didn't happen, but I hope you all like this, came up with the idea and decided to just run with it. (I also do apologise for the cringy title - if it is cringy)

You were late, you were late to training and you were going to get punished for it, even though you had permission to go, even though you shouldn’t have even been playing. Two days post semi-final and two days pre final, you needed to be there, you needed to be at training and on time, even if you'd just gotten on a 21 hour plane ride.

Hoping to just slip into the group you walked onto the pitch, boots already on and tracker in. However your plans were foiled when Vilda shouted your name from across the pitch, you quickly transitioned to your pace into a jog and moved towards him.

“You’re late,” he snapped, looking at you expectantly.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, as you looked to the floor..

“Well, I hope somebody died for you to be this late,” he mocked and you felt like you could punch him. He knew someone had, he was the one that allowed you to go back to Spain so you could go to your Parents' funeral that the city had planned. It was a flight you wished you never had to do, sitting with Luis on a 21 hour flight, but it was the only way you could go to their funeral.

“Do my parents count?” you asked, verbally punching him rather than physically punching him. You don’t think you’ve even seen the and left wordless and yet you did, he stared at you, in shock and you immediately regretted the decision.

“Alright everyone, back to training, we have a world cup final to win,” he said and you were confused, but quickly joined training, maybe he was just waiting to punish you until after training. 

You hadn’t spoken to anyone since then and you played the full 105 minutes of the final, most would see that as a reward but it was punishment, you didn’t want to play at all.

You sat on the pitch, a mix of gold confetti and grass under you as you watched everyone else celebrate, you couldn’t celebrate the weight of the medal around your neck, the weight of victory was nothing compared to the weight of your heart.

“Mind if I join you,” you heard the ever recognisable voice of Emma, and you knew she wasn’t asking, she sat down next to you but she didn’t say anything, waiting for you to talk first. 

Emma had been your coach for the past season, you’d signed for Barça at 18 however you’d never actually played for them, you were loaned to Man United for that season, then in the 21/22 season you were Loaned to Man City and for the most recent season you were loaned to Chelsea. You enjoyed all the clubs, but Chelsea was probably the best, unlike how Emma seemed to the public she was actually really supportive and kind. 

“It’s weird,” you said finally breaking the silence between you, “them not being here, it’s weird”

“I know. It is,” she replied. It was weird for Emma too, your parents were at every single game physically possible, they didn’t care if it meant stepping out of a meeting and onto a plane and then stepping out of the stadium into a virtual meeting, they would be there, no matter what. They were there for every award, every final, every first, and now they weren’t, they’d missed a final, a first and two awards. Emma also knew how much you loved your parents and how much they meant to you, you spent all of your free time with them, you called them every night. “They’d be really proud of you, I know you played against your will tonight, but you still showed them up, I’m not happy you’re going back to Barça, will make them harder to beat,”

“Why? Because I’ll be on their team or because you won't have me on your team?”

“Both,” she replied with a laugh, “Alright, up you get, you don’t have to go celebrate but at least go sit on the benches,” you nodded at her before getting up and making your way to the bench, where you brought your knees up to your chest.

-

Alexia had noticed you sitting by yourself on the bench, and decided to go sit with you, dragging Jenni behind her. 

“Pequeña,” Jenni said as they sat either side of you.

“Please just leave me alone,”  you mumbled.

“No,” it was Alexia this time, “you played really well today,”

“Thanks,”

“We know you’re having a tough time Pequeña but you could talk to us,” Jenni said softly not wanting to come across too harshly.

“What do you want me to talk about? That my parents are dead. That I was forced to play in this match even though I’ve flown 42 hours in the past 4 days. That I am teammates with most of this team yet I don’t know any of you because I’ve never actually put a Barcelona kit on. That I’m starting a new season with a new club that I’ve actually been part of for 3 years, that has some of the best players on the world on it, but mostly i was excited to finally actually get to play in the same city my parents played in and now they’re dead,” you snapped before tears started to spring out of your eyes, “Sorry, I’m sorry, you’re just trying to be nice and-”

“It’s okay Nena,” Alexia cut you off as her arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you all but launched yourself into her lap, surprising her slightly, however she was quick to adjust her arms so she could hold your shaking body in her arms, “We’ve got you Nena, you’re okay, it’s going to be okay,”

You sat next to Ona on the plane back to Barcelona, which was where you finally got some sleep, the exhaustion had settled in and you could barely keep your eyes open, you slept for almost the entire flight waking up an hour before landing. 

-

You were practically catatonic by the time the plane landed, you hadn’t made any indication of plans to get off the plane and so once everyone else had disembarked, alexia crouched in front of you, placing her hands on your knees.

“Nena, you’re going to come home with me, Olga, is waiting in the car for us, we just need to get off the plane and get our bags,”

You nodded your head once at her, as she stood, and she placed a hand between your shoulder blades, gently guiding you through the airport, and out to the waiting car.

You slid into the car and didn’t even notice when Olga greeted you, or notice the fact that Mapi, your idol, was sitting next to you. Your whole body felt numb and your head was fuzzy but despite that your heart felt heavy.

You were guided by Alexia into her spare bedroom, where you immediately lied down on the bed, on top of the covers, completely missing the way Mapi had gone into your home to get some items you would need for the next few days, having been instructed by Ona to do so, hoping that by the time you needed to return to that home you would be in a better place.

You laid on the bed with your eyes wide open, however you couldn’t actually see anything or at least you weren’t registering it. You didn’t see Alexia’s silent celebration when she realised you were at least drinking water, nor did you realise when she filled it up multiple times. You didn’t notice the multiple times Ona had sat in front of you on the floor, trying to coax you out of whatever state you were in. You hadn’t slept, you hadn’t cried, you hadn’t eaten and you hadn’t talked for two days, which is how Lucy and Ona ended up at the airport, picking up your girlfriend. Something that shocked most of the team when Ona mentioned it.

-

Alessia walked into Alexia’s house and straight past the multiple teammates in the living room, ignoring their varying facial expressions. She was expecting it, after all no one even knew if you were both straight or not, let alone the fact you were dating.

“Baby,” she said as the door to Alexia’s spare room closed behind her, she walked up beside you and crouch down, “hey baby,” said softly spoke as she placed her hand on your back, she noticed your eyes flicker and land on her, before the corners of your lips lifted ever so slightly, “hey, can I help you get up? I think it would be a good idea to have a shower,” you started to move and so Alessia helped you, guiding you to the bathroom where she sat you down on the edge of the bath, placing a kiss on your forehead, before grabbing clean clothes for you both, and messaging Ona quickly asking if she could get Alexia to get more sheets so Alessia could change them. She stepped back into the bathroom and locked the door. Placing the clothes on the counter she walked to you.

Alessia’s hands moved to the hem of your shirt before they stopped, “Can I?” she asked and you nodded, before putting your arms up helping her to take it off, she hesitated again before just going ahead with your shirts, you’d seen each other naked thousands of times, she’d undressed you thousands of times but this was different, you were so vulnerable, broken. Alessia’s heart broke at the vacant look in your usually bright eyes, she didn’t miss the bags under your eyes, or the way you were unsteady on your feet.

-

“I-I can’t do this, how do I do this without them?” you sniffed.

“I’m sorry, it sucks, I’m so sorry, but I’m here for you, I will always be here for you, no matter what,” she said softly before kissing your head, “I love you so much,” she murmured as sobs once again started to rack your body. Alessia held your trembling body in her arms, occasionally murmuring comforting words in your ear. Eventually your breaths slowed and evened out, allowing Alessia to relax slightly.

[cringe--is--dead]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝔻𝕠 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕔𝕜

Incl. Umemiya, Hiragi, Tsubakino, Choji, Togame

Umemiya

Having grown up in a group home, Umemiya knows how to be the best care giver ever

That being said: he’s also insanely clingy and affectionate on his worst days

He’s attentive to a T

With Kotoha’s help he’s bringing you homemade soup, full of fresh veggies from his garden

He’s making you tea and keeping water bottles near by whenever you even mention wanting a drink

Sends his four kings out to watch over while he’s with you because he refuses to leave your side until your healthy— doesn’t matter if it’s a cold or the flu

Still cuddles with you, despite you telling him he’ll get sick— he tells you his love and affection will make you feel better

Whenever your fever spikes he’s quickly getting a wet cloth, laying it on your forehead and humming a wordless tune or telling you stories softly

He’s there to wake you up whenever you have fever induced nightmares, and holds your hair back if you rush to the bathroom to be sick

If you even feel the tiniest bit insecure because you feel gross and greasy he shuts that down: by telling you:

“In sickness and in health!” “That’s— those are wedding vows?” “Ha, yeah! But think of them as…pre-engagement, pre-wedding vows now! Hey— your face is all red, did your fever spike again?”

If you’re far enough into your relationship he’ll help you bathe: his hands are gentle as he washes your hair, no wandering touches as he helps you clean your body

He’s so soft you nearly fall asleep in the water, lulled into a serene peace by his soft voice and gentle touches

He combs your hair once it’s dry enough, braiding it to keep it out of your face and wrapping you your freshly washed sheets you have no idea when he had time to clean

Overall; 11/10 to take care of you when you’re sick

Even if he does end up getting sick himself after

Hiragi

You probably got sick after he warned you to bring your coat with you or not to stay up too late let’s be real

Dad sighs and twitching eyes

But he’s buying all the best meds and electrolyte drinks

I personally believe this man knows how to cook so he’s making you homemade soup, congee and other things his mom used to make him when he was sick

Brings a type of lemon “candy” that helps with your throat, knows they work because he keeps them on him in case Kaji needs them

He stays with you, but he gives you space

1. Because he needs to make sure he doesn’t get sick— he has to take care of you firstly, and secondly he cannot let Umemeiya free of him for too long

2. Because he knows you’ll want space occasionally; to sleep, to rest, to regenerate your social battery

While you nap he’s cleaning around; washing and folding clothes, doing dishes, organizing your mail— he’s completely husband material

When you want him near he’ll have you lay your head on his lap, and he’ll run his fingers through your hair and read to you— literally any book you choose he’ll read without hesitation

He’ll be so attentive and supportive when you’re sick, and he makes sure to continue to give you vitamins even after to help you avoid being sick again

But even when you are he’ll be there again

15/10 he’s just so HUSBAND MATERIAL

Tsubakino

LOOK

if there’s one thing anyone knows about me it’s I am a Tsubaki stan first and a human second

that being said

I imagine him taking care of you being sick is, while sweet, also a bit panicky

I imagine he has this weirdly insane immune system so he’s hardly ever gotten sick, and he’s also an only child so this isn’t super familiar territory

but he tries

does so much research he might go a bit overboard

“My darling! I got cough medicine, fever reducers, cooling masks, some cough drops Hiragi suggested! I got some water bottles and Suo-chan suggested different teas— I wasn’t sure which one would be best so I got all six! Nirei-chan said to get electrolytes so I got different flavors of those! And Kotoha-chan made soup! And congee! And I can order more, in fact I have a few different soups on the way!”

he just hates seeing you feel so bad

he’s a ball of nerves around you, always checking in on you and asking what you want, what you need, what you’d like

you can’t even be annoyed he’s so sweet

he helps you bathe, much like Umemiya, he’s sweet and attentive

he brings over his own stuff too; bathbombs, shower steamers, hair masks, face masks

he can’t make the illness disappear but you’ll at least feel clean and good on the outside

he takes his time with your hair and face, and he’s basically your personal masseuse in the bath

you’re never felt so relaxed despite being as sick as a dog

even though you’re sick he’s still quick to press kisses to your cheeks and forehead, face red from fever, embarrassment, and lipstick stains now

paints your nails while you rest with a cold press on your head, tells you about the latest debacle between Umemeiya and Hiragi and Sugishita and Sakura

by a miracle he doesn’t get sick

and he stores all the leftover meds and electrolytes (there’s a lot) between your place and his so he’s prepared next time

overall: 1000000/10

realistically: 10/10 (but always 100000/10 in my eyes)

Choji

oh boy

o h b o y

let it be known you try to hide the fact you’re sick from him for as long as possible

read: you fail

he’s showing up at like 7am, waking you up and charging in

did he bring anything?

of course

he’s brought snacks

not healthy ones

you’re not hungry because you’re nauseous, so he just stores them in your fridge and comes to cuddle you

he’ll wait on your every command don’t get me wrong

want water? he’s grabbing you a glass

need to go to the bathroom? he’s helping you up and walking you there, waiting outside the door and helping you back

bored? he’ll tell you all the thoughts in his head! and there’s a lot!

hungry? he’s grabbing those snacks for you!

he’s attentive and sweet, but he definitely is spoiled by Togame so much he’s not entirely sure how to take care of a sick person

but he’s strong so he’ll just beat your illness for you!

he’ll hold you while you rest, turn your fan on when you say you’re hot, turn it off when you’re cold

he tries to braid your hair while you rest, it’s messy but he tried

he ends up getting sick before you’re even better yourself

now Togame is tasked with coming to your place and taking care of both of you

overall: 7/10

he tries he really does

but he charges in with no instructions and just love

which is great but doesn’t treat the flu

Togame

he probably has taken care of an ill choji (^) so he knows what he’s doing

the patience of a saint holy—

he comes to see you when you’re asleep, and he’s silent as he unpacks stuff from the nearby convention store

you wake up startled at him just chilling, probably drinking a ramune and reading something

he keeps his voice soft as he asks if you’re hungry or thirsty

helps you sit up as he hands you a water bottle, and if your hands are too shaky he’d holding it for you to drink out of

he won’t even let you open your mouth to apologize before he’s giving you that stupidly soft smile and telling you he’s happy to take care of you

he keeps the curtains shut so the light in your room is dim, and he brings in candles with your favorite scent so the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the scent helps you feel calmer

not much of a cook himself when it comes to specific food to help you, but he grabbed take out on the way and heats up the perfect portions whenever you’re hungry

not too much so you leave food on the plate but not too little so you’re still hungry after

the man that he is

can definitely see him massaging your hands, your arms and your shoulders cause you’re tense from feeling ill

keeps a bucket or a bag nearby in case you get sick and can’t make it to the toilet

does a little braid to keep your hair out of your face, jokes about how he learned how to braid his hair so he’d he perfect at it for you

tries to brew you tea, and either burns it or under-steeps it

you both opt for just water for the time being

doesn’t get sick, but definitely sleeps for an entire day after you’re healthy

you both do actually— a long sleep cuddled up together

overall; 13/15 i think i made myself fall more in love with him

[arminsumi]

★ 'Cause I'm Sagittarius

Pairing : Gojo / fem reader

Synopsis : birthday boy Gojo Satoru unwraps and enjoys his gift — which is you!

Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+ content, riding, some hair pulling (him), light size kink, deep penetration, f*ngering, f*replay, cr*ampie (reader is on birth control)

Content : smut, birthday sex, some pining/love sick Satoru, some plot

Note : this is my happy birthday to this man 😗✌️

The glitter on his skin shimmers under the chandelier light. There's confetti stuck in his hair, which has been ruffled up throughout the night. Crimson and burgundy lipstick kiss marks decorate his face and neck, but he wipes them off when he sees you arrive.

Gojo Satoru certainly didn't expect to see his high school crush at his 34th birthday party. You're the one he used to be obsessive and desperate about when he was 17. Unbeknownst to him, Shoko invited you — she had to practically beg, because you lived so far away from Tokyo. Shoko convinced you after telling you how much Gojo Satoru still blabs about you to this day.

You completely steal his attention without realizing. Your oblivion charms him even more.

But each time Satoru tries to reminisce with you and bask in your company, it only lasts a few minutes because he's stolen back by the smothering crowd.

And then for the first time in years, he feels annoyed to be the center of attention.

Can everyone disappear except for her; I just want us to be alone together.

Someone gives him a plastic crown at some point in the night. It adorns his snowy head it until it falls off while he's dancing — and wow, Gojo Satoru dancing is a spectacle.

The way he moves his body to the music captures your attention and you stare.

You and him make electric eye contact. He sends a wink your way and you bite your lip back to him. It takes him aback and he stutters on the dance floor. Just this small, wordless interaction between you and him — even though you two haven't seen each other in years — is enough to excite him and get his heart pumping harder.

He pries his dance partner off of him, half-heartedly apologizes to her, and then desperately follows after you as you get lost in the hazy crowd.

Satoru finds you, he looks sweaty from dancing. He grabs your arm, mutters a breathless hey and asks if you want to go somewhere quieter with him. So you giggle and agree, taking his hand and letting him lead you out of the heat of the party.

Clutching his gift, you acknowledge the pile of presents that are piled up in the foyer. It makes your gift seem pathetic, but Satoru's eyes glitter when you give it to him and he pockets it as if you've gifted him your heart.

Just flirting and talking back and forth with you for a bit makes his cock harden. He can feel each inch slowly grow and press against his inner thigh, making a prominent bulge in his tight suit pants.

"Sorry I didn't bring you a good gift..." you say.

Satoru gives you bedroom eyes, then replies with, "But you brought yourself..." he rasped, "How about I unwrap you?"

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Trapping you in a heated, sloppy make out, Satoru slithers his tongue past your lips and groans into your mouth. You've lured him upstairs.

His pale, veiny hands slip under your dress and massage your thighs and hips, inching up until the bottom curve of your ass shows.

He leads you down the empty hallway, and desperately opens the door to his bedroom by pressing his back into it, never breaking from your lips as he pulls you in with him.

You gasp when he finally relieves your tension by rubbing the heel of his palm into your pussy. His big hands cup and squeeze it.

Satoru's jaw juts a little as he sucks a mark onto your neck. You lace your fingers into his hair and squeeze your thighs together. His dick throbs when you start begging him to rub your pussy.

Lowering your panties until they rest mid-way between your thighs, he gathers your juices on his fingertips and rubs up and down your puffy clit for a bit before sinking his middle finger into your pussy to stimulate your G-spot.

You pull on his hair and he moans, "Fuck, pull my hair harder."

Now this is the attention he actually needed tonight. Your fingers snuggling into his white hair and pulling on it while he snuggles his fingers in your slippery pussy.

Satoru stretches you out on his fingers and toys with your G-spot until you're trembling. Then he withdraws before he starts working up your orgasm.

When you try undress yourself, he stops you.

"I'm the birthday boy and you're my gift," he smirks, "Let me undress you."

And he starts undressing you like he's unwrapping a present. Satoru's nimble fingers peel off your dress and panties and unclasp your bra. His touch is cool against your hot skin.

He drifts his fingers up the middle of your back with a touch so light it's ticklish. It's on purpose, to make you shudder and tense your back into an arch.

"You're really g-good at this..." you breathe.

"Yeah, I know. It's 'cause I'm a Sagittarius." he replies smugly.

He unbuckles his belt and slides it off.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

The party is still ongoing, and guests are craning their necks and darting their eyes around in search of Gojo who just suddenly disappeared with you.

Satoru wants you to ride him; he begs like a spoiled prince.

"Come on, please, I wanna see those hips bouncing on my lap." he coos.

His eyes light up when you agree to ride him. The next request the birthday boy has is if he can do it raw, and he doesn't expect you to agree so his jaw drops open when you nonchalantly agree, telling him to go ahead and cum inside too if he wants because you've got birth control.

Soon you're bouncing up and down on his bare cock and he's relishing in the sight of your body jiggling. He tilts his head back and bites his lip, hungrily feeling up your breasts and your back.

"Faster." he groans, "Don't get sloppy now. Keep bouncing those hips on me or I'll do it myself."

When he feels his orgasm build up, he grabs your hips harshly and takes control.

"Fuck, Satoru!" you gasp, melting against his broad chest, cheek squishing against his pink nipple.

He pounds his cock into you at an angle that turns your brain to mush and slurs your speech. You hiccough and curse, feeling his big cock's tip rubbing deep inside you.

"Oh my god," he chuckles through a moan, "That pussy's so clingy. You're driving me insane, baby."

His muscular thighs hit your ass, his tight, full balls slap against you as he goes as fast and hard as he can. "That's it, just lay on me and take it."

"I'm so close, gonna cu—mmm! Cumming, 'mmm cumming, Satoru!" you scream. Good thing the party downstairs is so loud.

He groans and gets off to watching you orgasm on his cock. You cross your eyes, feeling his dick rubbing so deep makes you cum like a slut.

"Fuck, I'm cumming too. Take it." he grunts, fucking you hard but holding back his true strength.

It feels like his breath runs out when he cums. He gasps so dramatically and spurts out a huge load of cum deep into your hot, tight pussy. His toes curl and he pinches his eyes shut, while his lips naturally stretch into a slutty O shape.

You slide off his sensitive cock and whimper, feeling so empty after getting stretched open so much.

Rolling off each other's bodies, glowing, panting like you've run a marathon.

He hardly looks roughed up like you do; his hair is tousled from the sex, yes, but his skin glistens and glitters with sweat and body glitter, giving him this ethereal beauty. He has to close his eyes after cumming so hard and so much. His balls feel empty.

Satoru lays with you for a while, massaging your sore parts with his big hands.

"I'm so glad you came tonight." he says cheekily. "Wanna go out for coffee sometime?"

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: lovesick!minghao, established relationship, he's so sweet it makes me sick, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 1298

a/n: i 100% believe minghao would be absolutely obsessed with his s/o which is why i loved writing this hehe tysm to the person who requested <3 i also clearly missused the word lovesick idk lmao anyways he's in love!

masterlist

you were his favorite sight. you always had been. even before finally growing the balls to make you his, he had always been extremely infatuated with you. there was no wrong you could do in his eyes. you were pure perfection.

it was easy for him to lose himself in you night after night. after coming home from an exhausting day of schedules, there was nothing he loved more than to arrive home to you.

he would usually arrive late into the night, which meant that he was always welcomed by the pretty sight of you laying on your shared bed, waiting for him. nothing excited him more than slowly undressing himself as he made his way towards you, pliant and ready for him to take you. this had become a bit of a routine. he'd come home, wordless in his arrival as he made his way to your shared room. that's where you'd be waiting for him, only a shirt (one of minghao's, of course) and some pretty panties covering your body while you awaited for him to join you in bed.

that's where things would get fun. neither of you needed to say anything. he'd usually be in just his boxers by the time he made it to the bed, having slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he walked towards you. he'd hover over your body immediately upon making contact with the bed, allowing his hands to caress you to his liking before throwing off your shirt. your body would be so warm and soft for him, making him sigh at the lightest of contact. it was all soft and intimate. the lights dimmed and the atmosphere warm. it was always like this, and today was no exception.

'"my love ..."

"hao ...", you breathed back at him.

he had started to run his hands up and down your body, feeling every warm curve under his wake. he loved the goosebumps he'd provoke from your skin, feeding in on your breaths of contentment at his touch.

"you're so beautiful. can't believe i have you in my bed every night," his eyes were glued to your nude body, continuing his teasing soft touches. his hands had moved up to your breasts, giving you the lightest of touches but still enough to make you quietly whine at him.

"what is it, beautiful? want my fingers here?" he reached to your nipple, pinching it lightly as you let out a deep breath, "no? how about my tongue?" he lowered his head to make contact with your nipple, keeping eye contact with you all the while. he licked lightly at it, making you whine at him. then he got a little mean. he blew on the now wet bud, relishing on the increase in volume of your next whine.

"god, you make it so hard to control myself. so beautiful and pliant for me. all for me, right?"

"yes, hao. yours ..."

there were no words he enjoyed hearing more than those. and now his lust was growing too strong for him to hold back. he needed you. he needed you in all ways possible.

he made his way to the edge of the bed, dragging your legs along with him to sit you at the edge, now with his face in direct line with your cunt. it all felt like slow-motion; his movements all soft and calculated.

with no warning, he dove in, tongue first as he softly licked at you. he fed on your whines and the feeling of your hands digging into his hair, demanding more. there was no way for him to deny you. you were far too perfect for him to not want to indulge your every need.

"h-hao ... fuck, feels so good ..."

"yeah? like my tongue, angel? gonna drink you up. taste as beautiful as you look."

and it was true. minghao had grown addicted to your taste over the time you'd been together. he'd insist on having you on his tongue almost every day. some days he'd simply come home and place you on your hands and knees without so much as a word, only to eat it from behind as he pleaded at you to push up against him as he frantically licked and sucked you to completion. today he was a bit softer than most days, allowing himself to truly savor you.

your end came very quickly despite the slowness of his movements. minghao knew your body like his own by now, knowing exactly how and where to touch to get you to writhe against him as your toes curled. he savored your orgasm just as much as you did, groaning against you at the sound of your whines of his name. his. his and no one else's.

now it was time for him to have his beautiful girl. easily his favorite part of the day. he gave you no time to rest before he positioned you in order to hover over you once more, allowing his hands to run through your body once again.

"can't seem to stop touching you, pretty. you're just too unreal. can't believe i got myself such a pretty angel."

"hao ... touch me, please ..."

"shhh. let me take my time, yeah? just wanna enjoy my beautiful girl", and enjoy you, he did.

he lowered his head to yours, pulling you in for a deep kiss. your immediate mewl against him had him losing control. he'd always known how much you liked his lips, sometimes even using them as colateral to make you chase after him. he loved that without fail, you would always trail after him whenever he pulled away from a kiss. almost as if you could never get enough of him. he felt very similarly about you himself.

he couldn't help himself for much longer, beginning to grind his hard length against you, loving the way you whined against his lips at the feeling. he pulled away for a second, with you predictably trying to keep your lips glued as you chased after his touch. his touch only left you for a second as he adjusted himself in order to enter you. the moment he finally slid in, you cried out his name in the prettiest voice he had ever heard.

he connected your lips again, now thrusting his hips against yours while he pulled your legs to your chest, wanting you as close as physically possible.

"you bring me the most, pleasure. didn't know it was possible to fee- fuck .. to feel this way until i met you. my gorgeous angel. prettiest thing i've ever held in my arms," his breath was ragged, clearly having a hard time keeping up with his words as he over exerted himself in dragging his hips against yours.

you were worse off than him, unable to produce any word other than cries of his name. but this was just how he liked it. he adored knowing he was the only thing in your mind. that the thought of him made you as lightheaded as you did him.

you met your end as he began to toy with your clit, only to provoke his own orgasm just seconds later. he groaned against the tightness of your cunt, letting out a few 'i love you's throughout his climax, relishing on your quiet 'i love you too's. he laid you under his covers after that, softly cleaning you up of any traces of your intimate acts before giving you a soft peck and pulling you into his arms.

"thank you for welcoming me home into your arms every night, my angel. i love you."

"love you more," he knew that was impossible, but chose to let you win this once, too spent to argue with you about his endless adoration for you.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Kinktober day 31: Gangbang - 141 x reader

Warnings/tags: F!reader, f receiving oral, PIV sex, ect. Over stimulating, light bondage.

Um…. Better late than never?

If you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I didn’t finish Kinktober remotely on time, but I guess if you can say one thing about me, it’s that I’ll keep trying.

Anyways, just pretend like it’s not August.

There’s a hand over your stomach, resting over the layer of fat covering the area as you try to take deep breaths. In, and out. All in an attempt to calm yourself.

Your hands are restrained above you, secured to the head board via a pair of handcuffs one of them got from god knows where. The four of them are all standing over you, watching you with varying degrees of patience for what’s coming next.

Over the years, you like to think you’ve memorized every inch of your partners. Where Price’s and Johnny���s hands were both large and calloused, John’s were always warm to the touch with thicker fingers, short, neatly trimmed nails, and a thicker layer of hair on the backs- while Johnny’s were almost always ice-cold with dry skin, bitten-down nail beds, and old, picked at hangnails. Kyle and Simon both had longer and slightly thinner fingers, but Kyle kept his nails neatly trimmed, often just slightly longer than Price kept his, while Simon’s nails were more often than not left unattended. Simon would rather just tear the ends whenever he deemed them too long than bother finding a pair of clippers. Both Kyle and Simon’s hands were rough from work like the other two’s, but Simon’s preference for wearing gloves left his a bit softer than the rest’s, which posed a stark contrast to the remnants of past injuries that decorated his hands like medals- scars and crooked fingers and swollen joints- all with a story to tell and a memory to stir.

At this point, you think you could tell blindfolded whose hands were on you, so even without looking, it’s easy to tell that the hand on your stomach belongs to Price.

His fingers ghost along your skin, ticking just enough for your core to jerk and your breath to hitch at the touch. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, nearly shrinking back at the undeniable hunger to his gaze.

You jerk your gaze away, shifting on the bed as you try desperately not to squirm. You feel the weight of their eyes on you, their full attention devoted to watching, admiring, lusting over your body laid out for them.

Price’s hand pulls away from you as he takes a step back, tugging a cigar out of his pocket and clicking on his lighter as he speaks in a calm, authoritative tone.

“Alright, boys. Let’s take care of our girl.”

And with that, it’s as if a spell is broken. The other three all take a step away, shuffling around you in wordless understanding as Simon takes his place as the first between your legs.

“It’s alright love, ‘going to get you nice and stretched open so you can take us.” He says, pulling off one of the black leather gloves covering his hand and slipping his hands under your butt to lift your hips, tilting them up for a better angle. Wordlessly, Johnny grabs a pillow from the top of the bed, handing it to Simon to prop your ass up, which he takes with an unintelligible grunt.

After positioning you how he wants you, Simon bites the fingertip of his remaining glove, tugging it off before rubbing slow circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You let out a needy noise, arching your back and trying to grind down onto the pressure on your clit.

You don’t do much more than turn your head into the warmth of his skin when Kyle and Johnny sit down- with Johnny moving behind Simon, watching with a slack jaw and hungry eyes as Simon rubs easy circles into your clit, and Kyle takes a seat beside you, pulling your head into his lap and tucking a wayward strand of your hair behind your ear. Already, you’re nearly too out of it to notice Price taking a seat in the dark, brown leather chair situated in the corner of the room and taking a long draw from his cigar, exhaling and filling the room with the rich smell of his favored brand.

A needy moan escapes you as Simon moves his touch lower, rubbing at your hole with two of his fingers but not pushing in. You try to arch your back to wiggle back down onto his fingers, whining softly when he only pulls his hand away.

“Be patient.” He says sternly, and you want to whine about it, but you’re distracted by Kyle’s thumb running over your mouth, pressing gently at your lips.

When you part your mouth for him, he smiles, running the pad of his thumb over your molars and the inside of your mouth as you struggle not to try and speak around his finger.

“So pretty.” Kyle coos, holding your head gently as he continues to distract you from Simon’s prep work.

“Right’ Bonnie lass she is” Johnny adds, nodding dumbly as his accent thickens to the strongest you’ve ever heard it.

Simon chuckles, “Careful, Johnny, you’re drooling.”

“Wha-?” Johnny’s head snaps up, looking around in confusion before he rolls his eyes. “Very funny.” He grumbles, settling back into his spot.

Kyle laughs, continuing to stroke at your hair and hold your head in his lap.

Without warning, Simon pushes a finger inside of you, curling it up and rubbing circles into the walls of your cunt in a way that mirrors his motions at your clit.

You moan, jerking your hips and squeezing around his finger as tight as you can to wring every bit of sensation you can from the digit.

Again, Simon chuckles, pausing his rubbing of your clit to lean down and lift his mask, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the swollen bud.

The stubble lining his jaw pokes and prickles at the sensitive skin between your legs and you whimper, trying to squirm away even after he pulls away.

“You like that, princess?” Simon coos, slight condescension evident in his tone as he rubs at your thigh and works to stretch your enough to fit a second finger inside of you.

You whine and shake your head no.

“S’ scratchy-“ you mumble, wiggling your hips even as you’re held firmly in place.

Simon laughs, a deep, amused noise that you’re rarely allowed to hear in full force.

“Alright love, I’m sorry. I’ll make sure I’m clean shaven next time.” He says, before beginning to work a second finger inside of you and ducking his head down to give your clit a firm suck.

You can feel his triumphant grin against your skin when you moan and try to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“It’s fucking- yer hand.” Johnny practically whines, and you feel a surge of arousal move through you at the view he must be getting- of Simon’s hand pistoning in and out of you as your cunt seems to swallow his hand with each thrust.

The force behind the fingers fucking you intensifies and Simon’s tounge circles and rubs at your clit and Kyle pushes his thumb deeper into your mouth, holding your head still and using his thumb to press firmly down on your tongue, trapping the muscle against the bottom of your mouth.

You moan loudly, unable to cut off or muffle any of the sounds you’re making as your hips twitch and jerk.

Your cheeks burn as you realize you can already feel an orgasm beginning to build, each thrust feeling better and better as the feeling begins to build.

“Add another, Simon.” Price says from his chair in the corner. He’s leaned back in his seat with his legs spread comfortably. In one hand, he holds his burning cigar while the other lazily rests atop the tent in his pants as he watches the four of you in the bed.

Simon pulls his mouth away from your clit and sits up. You feel a third finger prod at your entrance, whining when it’s pulled away instead of pressed inside you alongside the other two.

“I’m trying.” Simon growls, looking up. “Garrick, get me the lube.” He adds, thrusting his hand hard enough into you for you to bounce and be shoved slightly up the bed.

You moan, trying not to drool around the thumb in your mouth, swallowing whatever drool had accumulated when Kyle moves his thumb to rest between your lip and the side of your teeth. He turns and uses his free hand to reach behind him and yank open the nightstand drawer, grabbing the bottle of clear liquid before passing it up to Simon and Johnny.

Simon’s hands don’t move from between your legs, instead, Johnny is the one to take the bottle and pop open the cap, squirting a generous amount onto where Simon’s hand is buried between your legs.

You moan as the slide of his fingers inside you turns 100 times sweeter, it’s almost enough to completely distract you from the stretch of a third finger being pushed into your cunt, and you can feel your orgasm creeping closer and closer with every thrust of Simon’s hand.

“It’s alright Bonnie, you’re almost there- Simon’s just got real gnarly fingers, not a good fit for pretty girls like you.” Johnny coos, rubbing his hand up and down over your tensed stomach in a soothing motion.

“Shut it.” Simon growls, decidedly unamused, increasing the force behind his fingers and going down to suck and lick at your clit until you’re twitching- hips jerking as you cry out and cum around his fingers.

You’re squirming your hips down and side to side to try and get Simon’s fingers deeper inside of you and drooling from both ends. From above your head, you can hear Kyle laughing, although you’re not sure whether at Johnny’s words or the pitiful display you’d just put on. Even Price is stifling a chuckle from his seat in the corner, looking down to hide his laughter even as his shoulders shake from the force of it.

Simon’s hands don’t still, even after the last aftershocks of your orgasm finally fade. Instead, he adds a fourth, continuing to bully your clit with his tongue and batter your inner walls until you’re writhing from overstimulation.

Kyle’s thumb goes back to pressing down on your tongue, and you let out what you're sure is an absolutely debauched sound as you squirm. It’s like you’re a doll stuck between them- made solely for them to poke, prod, play with, and bully. Your moans and cries only serve to spur them on further, and your squirming is easily negated by the strong arms that hold you in place.

You look pleadingly at Price, begging him with watery eyes to make Simon give you any kind of mercy, but he only laughs, his legs spread as he languidly jerks his thick, full cock and watches the four of you.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dove. I can’t save you.” He says, and you sob, looking up at Simon and tugging on where your hands are cuffed to the head board.

Simon switches from his mouth to using two fingers to rub circles into your clit, not missing a beat as he keeps pace with the hand currently fucking you.

“Simon- I can’t- it’s too much-“ You whine, only to be cut off by a hash slap to your hip.

“Shush. I’m almost done.” Simon responds, not looking up from where he’s meticulously stretching you open that last bit.

You open your mouth to speak, but Kyle shoves two fingers deep into your mouth, watching with a pleased grin as you gag and choke around the intrusion.

Tears that may be a bit more than reflex prick at your eyes, and just as it’s about to be too much, Simon pulls his fingers out of your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch.

“She’s ready.” He says, scooting back and wiping his hand on the side of your stomach, leaving a streak of cold wetness shining on your skin. “Who’s first?”

“ME!” Johnny yells, practically flinging himself forward. He scrambles between your open legs and yanks open the fly of his pants, freeing his drooling cock and giving it a few rough pumps before climbing on top of you.

Kyle has to move out of the way so as to not be crushed in the whirlwind of energy Johnny has become. He makes a teasing remark you can’t quite catch as Johnny captures you in a wet and messy kiss.

His hands trace the curves of your body, taking every opportunity to grab onto the pockets of fat you carry and squeeze. He gropes at your tits, ass, hips, thighs- anything he can get his hands on, all while kissing you as deep and hard as he can.

“Fuck, Bonnie- yer’ perfect.” He pants, giving your tit a particularly harsh squeeze. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

You can hear rumbles of “get on with it” from across the room and Johnny scoffs before sitting up, giving a slight roll of his eyes as he pats you twice on the hip.

“Alright, alright, the peanut gallery is getting impatient. Roll over for me, love.” Johnny says, and his face splits in a grin when you do exactly as he says, letting the chain of the handcuffs keeping your hands above your head twist as you roll on your stomach and get onto your knees. You keep your upper body against the mattress, sitting in an ass-up, face-down position that puts somewhat of a strain on your back.

The position prompts a deep groan from Johnny behind you. Your cunt is aching again. Johnny’s groping and kissing and practicing jumping your thigh had been enough to make you as wet and needy as you felt around Simon’s fingers.

“Fuck- Simon, you should’a opened up her ass for us too. Bet she could’ve taken two of us at once like that, yeah?” He asks, and you moan at the thought, squeezing around nothing as you press your hips back, silently begging for Johnny to hurry up and get inside of you.

The only response from Simon is a noncommittal grunt, but you hear a vague “we’ll see,” from Price.

Without warning, Johnny’s cock starts pushing into you and you moan, a warm, happy and content pleasure spreading through you as his cock easily slides inside of you.

“Fuck!” Johnny curses, hips stuttering halfway as he squeezes his eyes shut, his grip on your hips turning bruising as he takes deep, panting breaths.

“Gonna cum before you’re even inside our girl, sergeant?” Price barks, his words degrading but his tone light and amused. Regardless, you feel the jerk of Johnny’s hips in response.

“No, Sir.” Johnny says through gritted teeth, taking a final shuddering breath before pulling out and beginning to fuck his cock into you.

You moan, already somewhat lost in the pleasure as your head turns to the side.

You find Simon standing near the edge of the bed, looking down at you with his cock out and an unreadable expression. You feel yourself drooling at the sight of his large hand roughly jerking his fat cock, and you feel almost compelled to put on a show for him- moaning messily when Johnny curses and doubles over, thighs slapping your ass as the room fills with the sounds of sex.

When you see Simon’s hand tighten around himself, you take it as a victory, making a show of letting Johnny keep you pinned in place. His knees rest bracketing you on the mattress, while his hands pin down your arms by the wrists and his cock forces you again and again deeper into the mattress.

You’re so close, and it’s almost enough- but you don’t come with Johnny. He tries, continuing to fuck you even after you feel his thighs shaking and his cum spurting inside of you, but after a moment of fucking you though his own orgasm, he curses, pulling out and panting out apologies as he strokes your hair.

You whine when he pulls out, feeling his cum beginning to drip out of you and flopping onto your side to ease the strain on your back.

“Fuck- fuck, I’m sorry Bonnie. ‘Sorry I didn’t make it good for you. I can take care of you, I promise. I’ll lick your pussy so good you’ll never wanna-” He starts, being cut off by Kyle shoving at his shoulder, rolling his eyes.

“You can do that later, mate. ‘Rest of us want a go.” Kyle says, nudging again at Johnny to get him to move.

“But-“ Johnny whines, looking desperate.

“Kyle will take care of her, Johnny.” Price says, and Johnny relents, moving so Kyle can settle between your legs, his hands running up the sides of your hips gently.

“Alright love, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you, how about you just roll onto your back for me, alright?” He says, gently guiding you to roll back onto your back.

You mumble something incoherent, needy and dripping. Your body aches from holding your earlier position and you nearly moan in relief when Kyle scoots you up on the bed so your shoulders can be bent.

A hand smooths over your stomach and a kiss is pressed into the inside of your thigh. Kyle is sweeter about it than Johnny, rubbing appreciatively at whatever parts of you he can reach as he pulls his cock out.

“Please, Kyle-” You whine at the sight, admiring his- fittingly- pretty cock as he guides the tip to your hole.

He laughs, smiling down at you while his guides his swollen tip to your hole.

“It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” He says, pressing in slow and steady while petting gently at your still sensitive clit.

You moan in relief, relaxing into his touch as he starts to pull out and thrust back in, rolling his hips into you so his cock hits every right place.

Again, it’s slower- sweeter than with Johnny, but you find yourself enjoying it just as much. The drag of his cock inside of you steadily increasing in pace, Kyle’s undeniably handsome face smiling down at you, the stimulation to your clit- all making for a slow, building orgasm that feels less intense but longer and harder all at the same time.

“Kyle-“ You whine, letting your head fall back and shuddering as he sucks wet hickeys into the tender skin.

When you come, Kyle is quick to follow, groaning at the feeling of your cunt squeezing and pulsing around his cock and grabbing you by the hips to pull you as deep onto his cock as he could as he came.

“Fuckin’ hell-“ Simon growled, watching the two of you, eyes transfixed on how your head flopped lazily to the side, watching him with hazy, post-orgasm high eyes.

You hear similar sentiments from around the room, but you’re too taken by the sight of Simon jerking himself off- almost mean in how he tugs and strokes himself.

You barely notice Kyle pulling out- too distracted with the sight of Simon practically bullying his cock into an orgasm.

“You’re up, Simon.” Kyle pants, heaving deep, heavy breaths as he moves for Simon to take his spot.

“Don’t fucking think I need it.” He hisses through gritted teeth. “Our girl paints’ too pretty of a sight.”

You squeeze your thighs together with a soft moan at the feeling of cum oozing out from between your legs, struck by a sudden urge to keep as much of it in as possible.

“Wait- Simon, inside-“ You say, spreading your legs, silently begging with your eyes as you try to reach out for Simon, desperate to have his cum inside of you with the other two’s.

But it’s too late. Simon groans, shuddering as he catches his release in his hand and braces himself against the night stand.

You watch as some of the precious liquid oozes out of his cupped hand, whining needily at the sight of it going to waste.

“Fuuuuck, L.t.” Johnny drawls, watching Simon’s hand full of cum with almost as much need as you.

“You didn’t finish inside….” You mumble, your lower lip wobbling. You’re sensitive enough that even this feels like it’s enough to bring you to tears.

Simon laughs softly at your despair, glancing down at his hand full of cum before slapping it against your cunt with a loud squelch, earning a yelp from you and a laugh from Soap as your back arches and his palm hits your thoroughly worked clit.

“That better, love?” Simon coos, his tone condescending as he wipes a tear from your face with the pad of his thumb, leaving what was left of his cum smeared on your face.

Despite the mocking nature of his words, you find yourself nodding. You would probably thank him for smearing his come over your abused cunt if he asked.

Before it can go any further, Price is stepping forward. You’d been so absorbed in the other three that you hadn’t noticed him standing up until just now- when he’s towering over you and holding his cock out, already moving to situate himself inside you.

“Alright, that’s enough. Leave the poor girl alone, she’s still got one more round she’s gotta’ give us tonight.” Price says, lifting your legs to his sides as he slowly starts to push in.

You make a noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and with the first thrust, you’ve already lost it- your entire body is bounced with the slaps of his thighs against your ass and moaning like a porn star as you do.

“Do you think that if we fuck it back into her enough it’ll take, Captain?” Kyle asks, earning a groan from Price.

“Fuck- don’t joke about that, Gaz.” He growls, his hands squeezing at your waist.

Vaguely, you can hear Simon say something about you already having “a belly full of cum,” and the other’s reactions to that statement, but you’re too lost in your head to understand what they’re all saying.

The only thing that mattered was the head of Price’s cock hammering into you- you were well and truly fucked dumb. Your clit was over sensitive and your cunt as a whole felt sore in the best of ways. You were too sensitive to take much more than a few minutes of Price fucking you like he was- thrust after thrust, bullying the same spot until the heat in your belly started to build and build until it snapped and you came with a cry, spasming around Price’s cock as he continued to fuck you. His own pace only started to falter when your moans turned to pitiful overstimulated cries- his hips twitching as he finally finished, burying himself to the hilt and gritting his teeth, groaning as he shot his load into you.

He remains draped over you for a moment, panting as he tries to catch his breath- stroking gently at your hair to keep you nice and floaty through your post-orgasm high. When you crack your eyes open, it's to Kyle unlocking your handcuffs and massaging the blood flow back into your hands while Price slowly pulls out of you, leaving you to whimper at the rough drag of his cock as it leaves you.

“Fucking hell…” Johnny groans at the sight of all the cum pooling out of you, his eyes wide and focused. Price is quick to catch his staring, patting Johnny on the shoulder as he speaks.

“Go get some water for her, alright?” He says, to which Johnny nods, swallowing thickly before standing up and grabbing a cup from the nightstand, going towards the bathroom to fill it up.

He nearly walks into Simon as he’s coming out of the bathroom with a wet washcloth. Johnny ducks to the side he sees him, barely managing to fit between him and the wall, which earns a raised eyebrow from Simon but not much else.

Price sits you up and leans you against Kyle, who’s perfectly content to hold you and coo soft praises to you while he pets at your hair and rubs your back.

You’re absolutely exhausted, and Kyle’s arms are more than comfortable enough for you to start to doze off in.

“You did so good for us, Love. So good.” Kyle says, wiping some of your tears away with his hand as Simon spreads your legs, making you perk up as he starts to gently wipe away all the cum, slick, and lube that’s smeared between your thighs.

No matter how gentle he is, the rough material of the washcloth is hell against the tender skin of an already sensitive area. You whine at the pain and try to close your legs, but your attempt only results in firm hands holding them apart.

John watches you squirm for a moment, still catching his breath as he watches Simon clean you up.

“Stop squirming.” Simon says, rolling his eyes at the whine you make in response, but ultimately continuing to work to get you clean.

Johnny comes back from the bathroom with a cup of water, standing to the side as he waits for Simon to finish before taking his place and working in tandem with Kyle to get you to drink something.

“Come on, you’ve got to drink some water before you can drift off.” Johnny says, and when the first bit of water touches your lips, you find yourself suddenly parched, draining the entire glass in a single sitting.

“Good job.” Kyle says, patting your head when you finish the water, pulling it to rest against his chest the same way you had been before.

You try to say thank you for the water, but all that comes out is a muffled, unintelligible noise. The moment your head’s back against Kyle’s chest, your eyes are closed.

After getting you situated, Simon folds the rag over to present a clean side and hands it over to Price, who thanks him before using it to clean the remnants of cum and slick off his cock, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up once he’s done.

“Alright, hand her over to me.” Price says, standing up and sitting down at the head of the bed, his back leaning against the headboard.

You groan softly as you’re passed from Kyle’s lap to Price’s, but you’re quick to settle into his arms regardless.

Around you, you can hear the sounds of the other three settling. You feel the bed dip as someone (or someones) lay down beside you, and someone pulls a blanket up over you.

“It’s alright love, you can go to sleep now.” Price says, patting you on the back and placing a kiss behind your ear.

You barely manage to acknowledge his words before you’re out cold.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[poppy-metal]

oooh what if fail marriage!art after separating with reader and being a sad miserable fuck now with tashi and patrick, sees you on a date, like on a random tuesday evening? He sees you all dolled up with this guy and you‘re smiling and giggling and tashi and patrick just feel him vibrating from anger and sadness next to them. How long has it been that he made you smile like that? How long has it been, that you wore something slutty like that for him on date night (when was the last date night ouchies)

sm came over me this au is dangerous.... cause why did i add some reader x patrick drama at the end..... failmarriage au is slowly riding closer and closer to toxic polycule but its gonna be drama drama drama till we get there !!

tashi has to put a hand on his arm to physically stop him from picking up a knife and slitting his throat - or yours - committing a murder - suicide. he thinks god is punishing him. because there's just no way, no way, the one night hes able to drag himself from bed to go out with patrick and tashi you're at very same restaurant. with another man.

and you look beautiful, like honesty his lips are parted, mouth open - because your style has always been a little on the modest side, you wore it well, sundresses and long skirts and blouses. you looked lovely in them.

but this - a skin tight body suit. black and hugging every curve on your body. he knows your body. well, he knew it. not as well as he wanted to, maybe, but he'd seen you naked - he'd been inside you countless times. but this. it feels new. it feels like hes seeing you for the first time. your tits look amazing, somehow appearing fuller with the fabric of the bodysuit clinging to you. and your ass.... he could weep, he really could. it moves like water when you walk, the smooth glide of your steps making the cheeks jiggle just the right way. strappy heels that accentuate your legs.

even patrick lets out a 'damn' and tashi would shoot him a glare except she's staring at you too. all of them just kind of gawk as you walk past them - you dont even look their way - you must have noticed art, you must have - and settle into a booth across the restaurant from them. you're smiling at your date. lips painted a dark seductive red.

art wants to go over to you. stab your date in the eyes. fall to his knees. beg for you to take him back, spare him a glance, just let him touch you. he misses the feel of you, the unique texture of your skin. the way you giggle when your ankle receives soft touches because you're ticklish. are you going to spread your legs for that man tonight? are you going to let his touched burn away arts?

he swallows. sets down his silverware. "im going out to the car." he can't watch. tashi frowns at him, like she wants to say something, encourage him to say, encourage him to talk to you, even, but he just looks at her, pleading. wordless communication that they've gotten down to a science and her lips press into a thin line, her eyes going sad. she nods and drops her hand from his arm. lets him leave.

you watch him go, taking a sip of your drink to hide your expression. the unpleasant turn of your mouth at the way he walks out, head down, fingers nervously twisting the watch on his wrist. you crunch ice between your teeth, swallow down the disappointment of his easy retreat. typical of him, to recede instead of fight.

your eyes catch on tashi's - dark and cunning, assesseing and all too aware, like shes peeling you like an orange and she knows what she'll find - you look down quickly. focus back on the date you'll inevitably ghost.

____

patrick zweig is smoking a cigarette behind the restaurant for a moment - tashi is paying the bill - art is moping in the car still, probably. its just a brief moment of reprieve from the borish melancholy cloud he'll be suffocated in the moment he gets in that car and gets engulfed in the pathetic yearning permeating from art like slick oil, and the even worse tension from tashi over her inability to fix the situation.

god, he just wants to fuck. he expected to be getting alot more ass when art moved in, if he was being honest. like a full on fuckfest. you'd come around eventually - as soon as the facade of a boring monogamous marriage lost its appeal and you realized you'd been missing the thrill you had in college when all of you, the four of you, were in eachothers orbit at all times.

but it'd just been a fucking drag. all he'd gotten was one sad moment, where he'd been throating arts cock and enjoying himself very much, before art had started crying - going on about how he missed your mouth - very mood killing. not that he'd mind if art pretended he was fucking your throat instead of patricks, because that'd be kinda hot, but the tears were a bit much. he hadn't touched art since. he didn't know if he and tashi were fooling around, but he doubted it was a common occurrence with the amount of time art spent moping.

he was on his last drag when the back door swung open and you stepped out into the humid night air. you startled to see him, like a frightened doe, and made to grab the door handle, "oh, im sorry -"

"no - stay." he blew out a cloud of smoke, right in your face - "i got something i wanted to ask you, anyway." he stubs the cig under his shoe.

your eyes dart around nervously but you lower your hand. cross your arms like its chilly. maybe your own cold heart keeps you cold, fuck if he knows.

he leans a shoulder on the brick of the building as he studies you - eyes perusing your outfit languidly. his lips twist, like he's hiding a smirk.

"this is new."

you shift on your heeled feet. look away, "you dont know enough about me to know if its new or not."

patrick straightens and steps forward, you hadn't realized his hunching posture before was doing so much to hide his height until then, when you have to crane your head to look up at him, scramble backwards so he doesn't bump your chest with his.

"see that's what pisses me off about you." he pokes you, and you jolt at the sensation of the touch "i do know you. because before you decided to become betty fucking crocker we used to be what you call 'friends'. do you know what that word means? or have you sniffed so much lysol your little brain gave you temporary amnesia."

your mouth parts in shock. you stare at him, speechless. speechless because its been years since anyone has talked to you this way, speechless because the only person who did were him and tashi, when they'd call you out, pull you out of your shell - it makes your cheeks flood with heat.

"i-" you scramble for what to say, trying to pull words, defenses out of the air. "i dont have amnesia...." fucking great line.

patrick nods. "right, okay. so-" he waves a hand in the air, his wedding band glinting in the moonlight. you want to look at it. see if it resembles the one you and art share. you didn't attend his and tashi's wedding. guilt pricks at you. "my question for you is how long do you plan on playing this game? because that's what this is. and dont -" he shakes his head with a laugh - " and dont give me that shit about art and tashi when you know damn well how they felt about eachother in college. you still married the guy. you wanna know why?" another step. you can smell him. spicy and sharp. something tashi would have bought him, no doubt. its too polished to be something he'd pick for himself.

you inhale. lashes fluttering with the memory of the over expensive boysih cologne he wore in boarding school - in college - the kind that stung your nose, but. but made you feel comforted. because it was so distinctly patrick.

"because deep down you know he loves you just as much. you've always known. and this whole act you're putting on-" he looks you up and down, "- of the scorned neglected housewife? its tired. its fucking boring. i mean-" he licks his lips, leans down so close his nose almost brushes yours. "-does art know you almost let me eat your pussy on prom night?"

you gasp, stepping away. flushing. eyes wide. "no." you gasp, voice small. "that was - you promised you'd never -"

"i promised my friend I'd never bring it up again." he looks at you, "you're not my friend, sweetheart. haven't been for awhile."

you glare at him. patrick smiles. one dimple indenting his cheek. so boyishly charming for a man in his 30s. you want to kick him.

"i hate you." you hiss. "i hate all of you."

"uh huh -" patrick shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets. starts to walk backwards. tashi will be getting impatient by now. wanting to head home to tend to a wounded arts wounds. "keep telling yourself that."

you huff. spin away from him and yank open the back door, ready to storm back inside when his voice rings out one last time behind you.

"your ass looks great, by the way!"

they'd all be jerking off to the thought of it tonight, probably. he knew he would.