#i need to hang on to this crumb of hope

[yaksha-lover]

I know there’s a lot of debate about whether Malleus could ever actually be with someone like Yuu, considering he is a fae and prince, but the more I think about it the more it feels plausible. While there’s most likely never going to be any canon romances in the game, I think it’s an interesting discussion. Keep in mind this is just my opinion!

We know about the fae-human war that occurred in Briar Valley before Malleus was born (the one that Lilia fought in). Lilia has talked before about wanting there to be peace and understanding between humans and fae.

Well, what would be a better way to do this than uniting the two groups through a royal marriage between a human and a fae? Irl, this kind of marriage does have historical precedent. This union allows both parties to come together and witness specifically the ruler of their nation forgo any prejudice for the other group by sharing this deeply personal relationship.

Even though a lot of fae may look down upon humans and vice versa (probably similar attitudes to Sebek), if the King of Briar Valley were to marry a human, it would facilitate both political and social change amongst both groups. Families and relationships like Sebek’s parents (human-fae) would probably become much more common and socially-acceptable

Furthermore, the next royal heir would be of both fae and human descent, making them more appealing to both parties (aside from those who would remain prejudiced against half-fae like Sebek).

Lilia speaks of how a constant inability to compromise led to such conflict as the war. Marriage is pretty much the ultimate compromise to tie the two groups together. There will be incentive for both human and fae to support the royals of Briar Valley. The political change would hopefully be having everyone be allies, of this being the thing that makes them actually sit down and have political discussions instead of going straight to war. This would hopefully only facilitate more compromise and unity between the two factions, with them being able to support each other with resources and trade, for example.

The catch is that some of these benefits would likely only apply if the human Malleus married was chosen by the humans in Briar Valley who previously fought against the crown/fae. This is difficult because (as of now) we don’t have much knowledge of any such powerful (human) political opponent groups, or if they even exist after the war.

I think it would still generally be beneficial for him to marry a human (probably one of another kingdom I suppose is another solution). Marrying Yuu specifically may be difficult because of them being of ‘low-birth’ in the eyes of snobbish royals (it seems like Briar Valley is still a feudalist society) and being magicless, but I’m not sure those things are deal breakers.

Another problem that arises is the difference in lifespan, but (and this might be cope) but I like to think the Draconia family would have access to something that would make extending an otherwise healthy person’s life possible (whether magic, magical artifacts, etc.).

I honestly doubt Malleus’ grandmother would really deny him the choice of who he marries after everything that’s happened in his life. Also just like…realistically, who’s going to stop him? Malleus will be King and he also has his magic to back him up, so it’s not like any advisors can say no and his grandmother doesn’t have any other family members so she can’t threaten to disinherit him.

Plus, I don’t think there’s evidence to say that he would necessarily be forced to have a very specifically arranged marriage with any other kingdoms right now. I doubt Malleus is down to marry any of the other powerful royals or families (Leona, Kalim, etc.).

So it’s not really like he’s necessarily making a fatal mistake in ruling by not gaining an essential alliance through marriage. Sure, he probably couldn’t marry just anyone, but I think there is a case to be made for him marrying a human (and perhaps Yuu in some alternate timeline where twst is a dating sim).

[cubicpeebles]

Silly ways of communicating in games without using any sort of chat function are so important to me. Crouching up and down, jumping around in circles, spamming emotes or voicelines... It makes me feel like some sort of little bug and I love it. We are little critters and we are having fun together.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

[irndad]

kiss me (under the milky twilight)- s.r.

a/n: this took so long and i'm so sorry! based on this post- reader has an ex that she keeps running back to, and spencer just wants her to see him. fake dating and hijinks ensue. VERY long. 4.6k words!! thanks to @fadingplaidtrashpatrol for ur thoughts and ideas!! masterlist // ask

The unraveling begins on a Friday. 

This is one of the rare Fridays where a full weekend is staring back at them, and Spencer is immeasurably pleased at his plans. He’s rented a Russian old movie, and his best friend had agreed to sit next to him on his shitty old couch while he whispers translations in real-time.

He loves spending time with her, a little hedonistically. She’s so kind, warm in both spirit and disposition, and Spencer treasures the time he gets to spend with her. Her desk adjoins his, and so one might assume that he could tire of her presence, but there’s something a little addicting about her, something he tries to have as often as he can. 

On this fine evening, she’s wearing an oversized sweater tucked into jeans- her position is mainly out of the field, and so she takes full advantage of the dress-code flexibility. Lovely earrings hang around her face, adorning her lovely features like a frame. 

Spencer’s more than a little in love with her. 

This has never really been a convenient fact, but Spencer’s used to wanting things he can’t have. And it was never really feasible not to want her- anyone who’s ever been in her presence would know this. It’s a foreign feeling, looking over at someone he’s lucky enough to know, and wanting them enough for that desire to turn into fantasy. 

“Spencer!” She greets him warmly, standing up to do so- if this wasn’t a workplace, if she was meeting him at the cafe like they do on Wednesdays, or his home, like she often finds herself in whenever he invites her, Spencer is certain she would wrap her arms around him in an incredibly warm hug. 

Because they are in the BAU, she believes it is inappropriate to embrace this way (which Spencer would argue isn’t true, given the way Morgan and Penelope are with each other, but if he told her that, it might be a little too obvious how desperate he is for her to touch him.)

The way she beams at him almost makes up for the fact that he doesn’t get to hug her. 

“I got you something,” he says in lieu of a response, clutching the bag of muffins in one hand. He’d woken up early to get her to stop by her favorite bakery, and it was worth it to see that look on her face. No one’s in the office now, the day long finished, and they’re getting ready to walk to his place. He lives so close by, and he’s grateful for this fact when they walk together back to his place. 

She grabs the bag, and he’s just so endeared by her, the giddy expression written over her lovely face.

“Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I do. You need to marry me, immediately.” She says to him, eyes closed in bliss, and even though she’s clearly joking, Spencer finds himself preening at her praise- wouldn’t it be incredible if she meant that? It sounds so pretty in her voice. I love you. 

He beams back at her, in a way he hopes doesn’t betray how much he wants. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he says back, his heart in his throat. 

“I have some news that you are going to be incredibly mad at me about.” She says, and a crumb is on her painted lip, and fantasy of kisses that he cannot have enters Spencer’s mind before he can shake it away.

“I could never be mad at you.”

“I think I have to raincheck tonight,” she says almost sadly, her voice apologetic, as though she has no choice in the matter.

“Is everything okay?”

He had picked up her favorite snacks yesterday night, tidied up his apartment top to bottom. 

“Josh texted me- he’s going through something and he needs me to come over-“

“He doesn’t need you to come over.” 

He rarely interrupts her, and he usually isn’t capable of being upset with her. He’s not really even upset with her now, but this is so exhausting, watching her deal with this asshole. 

It is a continuous surprise to Spencer that someone like her can be in a position like this.

Through Spencer’s eyes, the idea that anyone can not be in love with her is almost an impossibility. It’s not even his bias alone that makes him think this- it’s the truth of her. 

Josh is an asshole finance bro who works in the city center, and Spencer hates him more than most serial killers. 

He’s fucking careless with the thing Spencer wants the most in the world. Josh knows what it’s like to be with her, to be the person to falls asleep with her in his arms.  

Sometimes when Spencer can’t sleep, which is quite often, he pictures her soft cheek on her chest, pictures what she would feel like entwined with his own body, legs tangled with his and her fingers in his hair. It’s a sacred thing, this image- even though it isn’t real, Spencer knows he values the imagination of her presence more than Josh gives his attention to the real thing. 

They’ve “gotten together” and “broken up” and “started talking again” about 12 times respectively.

Spencer could kill him.

“Spence,” she sighs, shaking him out of his angry stupor, “please don’t be mad at me. He’s really going through something right now- he needs someone to be around. Besides,” she breathes out, “I can’t dump him. 

“Why is that?” He tries to temper his tone, but the memory of her mascara running down her cheeks as she sobs in his arms shoots through his mind, and manifests as a physical sharp pain in his chest. 

“That wedding is coming up,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes. They’re scuffed, and Spencer thinks she might be embarrassed. Why should she be? He’s the asshole. “I told people I was going to have a date. Do you know how many people are going to be there, Spence? How many people are expecting me to bring my boyfriend?”

Her best friend is getting married. Spencer knows this because she’s told him, and told him gleefully when Josh had agreed to go with her. Spencer remembers thinking that he’d like to punch a wall.

Anyway. 

She’s the last of her friend group that’s not in a long term relationship, and in some twisted way, he kind of gets how Josh would be better than nothing, if you didn’t want to be seen as alone. 

“You don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, Spence.”

“I could go with you.”

It escapes his mouth without his permission, and he regrets it almost instantly. Because there’s no fucking way she’d go with him. He’s lanky and awkward and his blazers never fit and his ties are always tied wrong, and she’s beautiful and wonderful in ways he finds new ways to see everyday. He’s not a solution to her being worried about how she’s seen, he’d only make it worse-

“You would do that for me?” Her voice is small as she asks, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. He looks down at her, eyes softening at her lovely face. She looks touched, and he has to wonder, doesn’t she know?

He’d do anything for her. 

“Of course,” he breathes out, a nervous hand playing with the strap of his bag, “If it gets you to stop giving that asshole the time of day, I’d do it a million times.”

Her face shifts in a way he can’t read, and she swallows. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I want to,” he says, “Please. It would be fun, C’mon. You’re always saying I need to get out there and do things.”

“Being my fake boyfriend at my friend’s wedding is not getting out there and doing things,” she pouts, and his heart nearly jumps. It’s pathetic, but hearing her refer to him as her any kind of boyfriend is intoxicating. He wants to hear it, over and over. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, touching her hand as it rests on the table, making intentional eye contact. She has been prettiest eyes. “C’mon, let me do this for you. I’m sick of this guy.”

She gulps again, an endearingly confusing gesture, and he finds the feeling a little desperate. Pick me, choose to be with me, even if it’s just pretend. 

“He’s going to be there anyway,” she breathes out biting her lip in a nervous gesture, “I- I’d owe you so much, Spence. It would make him jealous, I think.”

It’s a little hedonistic, how much he would enjoy that, he thinks. Someone would see her as his girl. He knows she might be doing this to get Josh’s attention, but still- the evening together seems like too lovely of a thing to turn down- too wonderful of a chance to not offer. He’d take a night of pretend over never getting to be with her at all. 

It’s enough to make him ignore that making Josh jealous is probably the reason she’s saying yes. 

“Okay, okay! Spencer, will you do me the honor of taking me to Julie’s wedding?”

“I would be honored. 

The weeks approaching the wedding are a bit of sweet torture. She’d had the idea that they could practice, whatever that meant, and the memory of it lives in his mind rent free. They’d been watching the movie, already touchier than most would allow of best friends. (She’s his best, Spencer’s just the tiniest bit resentful of Julie). 

She’d been sitting next to him on his worn out couch, her legs thrown across his, and true to his word, he was whispering the translation along to the movie. She smiled at him, watching his mouth move instead of the movie, and he felt tingly under her stare. How wonderful and bright it is, to be under her gaze. He kept speaking even though she wasn’t watching, because he imagines that if he stops, she might look away. 

Then, she had held his hand. 

Grabbed it really, fingers lacing with his own, and Spencer’s brain had short circuited. She has soft hands, he had thought to himself, and it was about the only thing he could manage to think. 

“We should practice,” she had whispered, even though it was just the two of them in the lowlight of his home, “Y’know, so people believe us.”

He didn’t say that he’s pretty sure no one needed to be convinced he’s in love with her. 

“Sure,” he had nodded, and squeezed her hand, “I think that’s a great idea.”

So they’ve been practicing. 

This has been in equal measures wonderful and torturous. She walks with him to work on half the days, with her fingers twined with his own, and Spencer finds it intoxicating that any passerby would assume he belongs to her. 

More than he already does, anyway. 

Her affection is her own, just turned up to 11. She’s gorgeous- this is a fact that was not instrumental in his love of her, but ornamental- still, this is hard to ignore when she touches him as much as she does now. When she’s out with the team at the bar, she rests her hand on the small of his back- he preens every time at this. This is simple, her domesticity, her claiming his presence as her own- it’s more than nice, Spencer realizes. It’s wonderful, to be wanted by her. Even if it’s not real.

On this night, they’re celebrating. They caught the unsub before he’d been able to kill his first victim. This is a rarity in their field, and she’d given the interview that had gotten the confession. It’s the closest to field work she’d gotten, and they’re all celebrating their win. Her win. 

She looks like a figment of imagination, lovely in a way he literally cannot believe he didn’t conjure up in fantasy. Her favorite song is playing out of pure serendipity, and Spencer likes that word for her. She is serendipitous as a whole. 

“Do you want something to drink, honey?” The endearment feels warm and natural as it comes out of his mouth. His hand is resting on the small of her waist, and he knows he’s being egregious with the practice thing. But this is so nice, her leaning into him, one drink deep and touchier than she is tipsy, and he loves this. He loves that under this pretense, he gets to know what she feels like in his arms. 

He hands her the water before she gets to answer, and she happily sips it. 

“Are you proud of me, Spence?” Her voice is immeasurably fond and he drinks it in like a man starved. 

“Of course,” he smiles at her. I’m always proud of you, he thinks. “You did so well, love.”

He’s not used to endearments, but she showers him in them. Before their little pretending, too. Called him dove, honey, darling. Packed an emergency lunch in his go bag in case he forgot his. She’s such a good friend, and he wants to be her lover more with each breath. 

He tries to return them, now. 

“Good,” she says serenely, looking at him in a way that kills him, because he will never, ever kiss her. She can hold him, and look at him like that, and he will never get to be with her, “I think my cider is too sour,” she scrunches her nose, and his heart swoops. 

“I’ll get you something sweeter, baby.”

“Yeah you will!” He hears Morgan laugh, and he flushes bright red. No one seems surprised, by how touchy they’d been. Even Hotch- he’d expected a talk, but then got a stern nod of understanding in its stead. 

She sips the sweet drink he got her, a little cherry on the step, and he thinks he’d do anything to keep looking at her. 

Five weeks to the wedding. 

He can do this. 

“Could you do me a favor, Garcia? I come bearing gifts.” 

Spencer’s snuck into her office- there’s not much to do today, but she hadn’t wanted to take PTO for no reason, so here she is, in her feathered and pink glory. 

“Is that a hot chocolate? From Dominicks? Ooh, you play dirty, Dr. Reid.” Penelope almost squeals, and despite his nefarious purposes, he finds himself joyful- it’s alwaysgood to talk to her. 

After a joyful, eyes closed and serene sip, she asks, “Alright, my sweet furry friend, what can I do for you?”

“Could you check on a Josh Collins for me?”

“Isn’t that your girl’s ex?”

“No,” Heat rises to his cheeks, before he can help it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, and my favorite color is black.” Penelope scoffs back, but begins typing furiously anyway. 

He needs to know what is so fascinating about this guy. Because lately he can’t figure it out. He’s always fucking hated the guy, even though he’s never met him. He never had to- she’d shown up enough times at Spencer’s door crying, been broken up with and brought back enough to know that this guy is awful. Doesn’t even come close to deserving the woman that she is. 

“He’s a financial analyst at a Marketing firm, went to state school for his Bachelor’s, says here that he played football in college, but I don’t think they met until after,” she says, “Oh, he has a scuba license. And skydiving! Looks like he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

It’s an evil thought. Is that what she likes? He finds it hard to imagine, picturing the moments where she’s wrapped up in his arms on a movie night- that always seemed to be her preference. In, not out. 

“Is that him?”

There’s a picture of him on Penelope’s screen. Josh is chiseled and strong, smiling brightly in a polo on a jet ski- this is a photo posted on his social media, and Spencer has met a million of this guy. They bullied him in school. Spencer as genius and he’s a lot of things, but that will never be one of them. It’ll never, ever be him. 

Good to know, anyway. Better not to fantasize about what he knows he can’t have. 

On the day of the wedding, it’s actually a 6 hour drive. She’d offered to get them plane tickets, but he enjoyed his time with her. He was also desperate to extend the time until the wedding was over, and she’s probably the only person he wants to be trapped in a car with. 

They’re sharing a hotel room. She’s booked two beds, which he’s honestly grateful for- if they’d shared a bed, he might’ve combusted. 

Still, there is so much intimacy. She sings in the shower. He imagines a world where he’d know that in domesticity, where after a night spent in laughter and something like love, she showered in his home. But that’s not how he knows it. He knows it because he’s at her best friend’s wedding, pretending to be her boyfriend. 

When she comes out of her bedroom, she’s gorgeous. 

She’s got a green and purple dress on, a cinched waist and a sweetheart neck, a dash of plum lipstick on her lovely pout, and he’d like to kiss that smile very, very much. She’s a delicate kind of lovely, saturated in sweetness, and it’s sweet torture to have her this close.

“You look...” He struggles to find words, an uncommon occurrence in his life, “Like a vision.”

It’s sentimental and warmer than he wished he sounded, but god- she’s stunning. She looks like she’s made of old film, beautiful in that way that’s just a bit too good to be true. He adores her more with each breath.

“You think it’s okay?” She speaks to him with her doe eyes adorned with a concerned expression. He wants to kiss it away.

“You look lovely,” he says, a vast underselling.

The ceremony is a lovely affair, and Spencer learns that she cries at weddings. The bride and groom have lovely, saccharine vows, and Spencer tries not to picture a wedding that he will never get to have. 

It’s a little bit impossible with her at his side. 

She’s touchier now, even mores then when they were ‘practicing’. Her hands are warm laced with his own, her head leaning on his shoulder, and he feels lucky to have even a piece of getting to be with her. 

At the reception, she is tackled by her friends, and he performs dutifully as the caring boyfriend. It’s not hard.

It’s a lovely night. His arms glued to the small of her waist, and he’s been introduced as her “genius FBI agent boyfriend” many times tonight. He turns bright red every time. 

“This is my boyfriend, he’s the smartest ever,” she brags when she’s half a drink deep, and he cherishes the ability to draw circles on the small of her back in this moment- his words fail him in moments of praise, and touch is an avenue that he is rarely allowed to use.

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified-“

“Which is a thing that humble geniuses say.” 

So he’s having a great tine. 

Her lipstick is transfer-free, and his cheek is proof. She’s so affectionate his heart keeps doing somersaults. There’s a signature cocktail with some pun in the couples name.

“I’m fucking obsessed with these, Spence,” she says, a light airiness to her voice that he recognizes as her tipsy voice, “Can you get me another, my love?”

“Yes, honey.” He smiles at her, and kisses the crown of her hair before leaving her in the company of her friends. He’s indulging a bit too much, he’s aware. He’s going to have to give up this up when the sun rises, like some fucked up fairytale where Cinderella never gets the guy because she’s not worthy of it without the pretense.

“Could I get the house cocktail?” Spencer asks the bartender, flashing a smile at her with the giddiness of knowing he will return to her.

Spencer had nearly forgotten that part of the reason he was here was because of Josh. 

Who is at the bar.

“Hey man- you’re the dude she brought, right?” 

Josh is actually about 2 inches shorter than Spencer, and Spencer makes the most of this difference. He’s a broad chested muscle man, but he looks woefully underwhelming. 

“Yeah, I’m the lucky guy.” Spencer replies in a deadpan tone, turning to face him with a stony expression. 

“Careful, man,” Josh says, and it’s a little pathetic how he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t care, “She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’d leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s clear that she just brought someone to make me jealous.”

“Actually, while I can’t read her mind, I imagine you’ve slipped hers entirely. Clearly your entire energy is based in whatever ego-driven shell your youth has shaped you into- and maybe one day someone will care enough about whatever tragedy made you the way you are, but I am deeply uninterested, and I’d wager she is too.”

He’s not sure if this is true, but Spencer’s noticed that in the time since their ruse has begun she hasn’t mentioned Josh. Not once. She might not love Spencer,  but she might not see Josh anymore. 

“Also, if you ever speak disrespectfully of my girlfriend again I promise you it will not end well for you.”

His voice is even and has an underlaying of quiet rage. It’s wonderful to call her that, even more so as she enters into his eye line.

“You looked mad,” she says in lieu of a greeting, her nimble arms wrapping around his waist with fluid ease, “Is everything okay?” 

It’s only then she sees Josh, and there’s something wonderful about knowing that she came here to check on him. Josh is about to say something, he can tell even though he’s only visible in the corner of his vision. 

It’s a calculated risk but he chooses to do it anyway. 

When he kisses her, he doesn’t know what to expect. It falls into line like puzzles into place, one of her hands falling to his waist and the other cradling his jaw with a delicate softness. She leans into him totally and this is an intoxicating feeling- her lips are so, so soft and it’s what he’s been fantasizing about since she first smiled at him and asked him to keep going when he was rambling about Russian literature. 

It’s actually better. 

When she pulls back, she scans the space. Josh is gone.

“Well that had the intended effect,” he says- it seems better than anything else, like confessing that the only reason he did it was that he could. He kissed her. 

She nods, clearly a bit frazzled, and fuck-

“I should have asked, fuck, I’m sorry-“

“No, no, you’re okay, um-thanks for getting rid of him.”

Her voice is hollow. 

Despite the awkwardness of the kiss, which Spencer cannot stop thinking about.

Did he imagine it, or did she lean in? Did she sigh into it? How is he going to ever get over the fact that he’s never going to do that again?

Her lipstick is grape flavored. Now they both know that. 

They get back to the hotel at half past midnight, and she’d been a little distanced- not so much they still didn’t look like a couple, but enough that Spencer knows. They’re winding down the artificial love affair, and all of the things he’s become kind of addicted to are going to go away. Her fingers running through the tendrils of his hair, her delicate fingers rubbing tiger balm on his temples when he’s got his migraines. Her cheek kisses, the honeys, my loves, sweethearts. 

Kissing her. 

When she drops her bag on the hotel bed and sits on the edge of it, he sits next to her. She’s been quieter, since the kiss. 

“Hey.”

“Hey back,” she replies, bumping her knee with his in fondness. 

“I’m sorry I surprised you with, you know.”

“Kissing me?”

“I should have asked- I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset that you kissed me,” she says, looking down at her shoes, “I’m upset that you only did it because you wanted to spite Josh.”

“What?”

“I know that this is my problem, Spence,” she says, “You never… led me on, you know? I know that this was always my thing to deal with. Being in love with you was never something that I thought would be a problem. But when you offered to go with me- to pretend to be my boyfriend, how could I pass that up?”

This makes no sense.

“I know,” she runs her fingers through her hair in a frustrated motion, “I know that it was never a good idea. But the idea of getting to be with you was just too much to turn down, even it it wasn’t the real thing. And now we’re going back to normal and I promise that I will go back to being your friend. It might take me a second, though-I might need some space.”

She needs space from him? Because she can’t transition away from being his fake girlfriend?

“You don’t need space from me.”

He’s so fucking bad at talking. 

“Spencer-“

“No, no,” because now he has a shot- now  there’s a reality where the pit in his chest doesn’t have to live there forever. He can be with her. Because for some crazy, insane reason, she wants him. “You don’t need space from because I don’t want space from you, okay?”

He sits next to her on the bed, eyes a little crazed with want with nowhere to go. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice is tempered, and he thinks he hears hope. 

“I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with you as long as I’ve known you,” he grabs her hand-it feels desperate to say and he sure he sounds it, “I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to spite him. I did it because I couldn’t live with the idea that I would spend the rest of my life never have kissed you.”

He probably would say more- so many things are coming to mind, most of which are pleading. She’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this much. Before he gets to, though, she kisses him. 

It’s sudden, as all things of this nature are, but he pulls her close on instinct. She ends up on his lap, her hands around his neck, and it is so rare that fantasy lives up to reality. But this is better, the feeling of the weight of her pressed against him and the taste of her grape lipstick. 

It’s a minute when she pulls back, and it takes everything to not chase the contact.

“I love you too,” she says, the sweetness of it dripping from the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again.

“For real?”

“For real.” 

When the run rises in the morning that follows, he’s wrapped around the length of her like a vice, right and close to him, Her head rests on his chest, and while there is another bed there, it’s clearly not seeing any use.

He’s never slept better in his life. 

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

From the moment you were ten, you had sought their attention like a moth drawn to a flame. But the flame was always too hot, always too far away, and with every desperate attempt to get close, they burned you. You had been a shadow in their world, hovering at the edges of their lives, wanting, needing. Needing. That word, so simple, yet it had been the curse of your existence. You needed them. You needed their time, their care, their love. But they never saw you, never acknowledged the pit of loneliness that gnawed at you every time you begged to be included.

They had brushed you aside, every single time.

The family, your family, was never really yours.

It started when you were just a kid. “Not now, kid,” they would say. Or “Go play somewhere else.” Every time you tried to insert yourself into their lives, they shoved you away, like a toy they’d grown tired of. They didn’t need you. Not when there were bigger things at stake. Not when Gotham was drowning in its own darkness, when the Batcave was filled with the hum of machinery and the rush of adrenaline.

You were just a distraction.

You were nothing.

The words didn’t change as you grew older. They only got sharper.

When you were twelve, you tried again—this time with more subtlety. You offered to help, to be something, anything that would make them notice you. I can be useful, I promise. But no. No, they couldn’t have you tagging along. Not when there were more important things to do, more important people to be with. You were only a child.

By the time you turned fifteen, the bitter reality had set in. You weren’t wanted. You weren’t needed. They were a family—their family—and you? You were the outcast, the inconvenience they only tolerated because they had no choice. They didn’t want you, but they had to keep you around. The occasional glance from Tim, a brief acknowledgment from Dick—enough to keep the illusion of familial love alive, but never enough to make you feel like you mattered.

It wasn’t just Bruce anymore. He had become an empty figure in your life, a distant authority figure who only spoke when there was something to be done. Do this. Do that. Don’t ask questions. That was how you learned to live under his roof—like a shadow. Like a nothing.

There were moments when you thought you might be able to break through. When you thought maybe—just maybe—they would see you for who you were, someone who could stand beside them, shoulder to shoulder, not as a burden but as a part of the family.

But those moments were fleeting. They were crumbs, pieces of hope that you clung to like a starving animal, only for them to be yanked away, leaving you empty once again.

By the time you turned sixteen, you no longer asked. No longer begged. You had learned that your needs were nothing but noise to them. So, you stayed quiet, retreating into the corners of their lives. You were there, but invisible. A ghost that haunted the edges of their family but was never invited to sit at the table.

But it wasn’t just the coldness that broke you. No. It was the sharpness of their words.

The day it all ended—the day your last shred of hope died—had come like a storm.

You were seventeen when you finally broke. You had asked, yet again, for something so simple. You wanted to hang out, to spend the evening together, just for once. No work. No patrols. Just them. Just family. But Dick—always so perfect, so composed—snapped.

“Stop nagging, goddammit!” His voice was low, but the venom was there. The venom that cut deeper than any blade. “I don’t have time for this. You’re not a kid anymore. You should know better.”

And it was in that moment, when the words hit you like fists to your chest, that you knew. It was over. They will never care about you.

No more pleading. No more silence. You were done.

You wanted to scream, to break down and tell him how it felt to always be ignored, to always be pushed aside. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was stare at him, the person you had once looked up to, the brother who had made you feel like you belonged. And now? Now he hated you. He resented you. You were just a thorn in his side, something he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

The Batfamily didn’t need you. They didn’t even want you. You were just a memory in the background of their perfect little world.

And so, you left.

You packed your things and left Gotham without a second thought. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care about them. You didn’t care about the lies you had told yourself for years, that someday they would come to love you. No. You were done.

You found a small apartment in a city far, far away. The rent was cheap. The food was okay. It didn’t matter. For the first time in years, you felt a strange kind of peace. No more begging. No more hoping for something that was never going to come.

But the peace didn’t last long. It never does.

Months passed, and the Batfamily went on without you. It wasn’t like you expected them to notice, but they did. They always did.

It started slowly at first. A message from Bruce, terse and businesslike, asking how you were. A phone call from Dick, his voice hesitant, full of uncertainty. Tim sent an email—just a few lines, but still. He’d written “We miss you.”

You didn’t respond. The first few days, you let it sit there, those words ringing in your ears. We miss you. The words came so easily now, but where had they been all those years? You stared at the screen, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. Miss you? They had pushed you aside when you needed them most. They had ignored you, told you to shut up, told you to go away.

Now they missed you?

You threw your phone across the room and sat down, gripping your hair, letting the quiet take you over.

It wasn’t until the second month that they started to call. At first, it was Tim—his voice softer than it had been in years, like a penitent ghost, when he called you.

“Please… just talk to us. We’re… we’re worried about you.”

You didn’t pick up.

Then, Dick. His voice cracked when he asked if you were okay. Just talk to us. How many times had you told them that? How many times had you begged? And now, they were begging you? You felt the rage swell inside you, the bitterness of those years threatening to break you apart.

And that was when they came.

It wasn’t just a phone call. It wasn’t just messages anymore. They came looking for you.

Nightwing was the first. He showed up at your door, standing there in his familiar suit, but his smile was tight, his eyes uncertain.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We just want to talk.”

You stared at him, the same person who had once smiled at you like you meant the world to him. And now? Now he looked like a stranger. Someone who didn’t know who you were. And maybe, in a way, he didn’t.

“Why?” you asked, your voice rough from months of silence. “Why now? Where were you when I needed you?”

The guilt in his eyes only deepened. “We were wrong,” he said, the words fragile, like he was afraid they would break if spoken too loudly. “We… we miss you.”

The anger rose in your chest. They missed you?

The words sounded so hollow. What good was their love now?

They all came. One by one, each member of the family arrived at your door, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, for your attention, your love.

But it was too late.

They had pushed you away for too long, and now you could feel it: the suffocating weight of their regret, the twisting hunger of their need.

They needed you. They needed you so badly. They would never let you go again.

It wasn’t just about family anymore. It wasn’t just about reconciliation. Now, it was about possession.

And the family would do whatever it took to keep you close—no matter the cost.

Gotham had never felt farther away, yet the shadows of the family loomed larger than ever.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back, to reopen that door. But deep down, you knew one thing.

They would never let you leave again.

And now?

Now, they were willing to do anything to make sure of it.

(A/n: no part 2 becuz it's a one shot 😸)

[paarksunghoon]

Another request if if’s okay! ❤️

Drunk jealous jake x reader—messy make out leads to drunk sex but Jake’s been too afraid to tell y/n he’s in love with her

best idea ever

***

It’s eleven o’clock but the time doesn’t matter to you. Somehow, you’ve scored an invite into Park Jongseong’s luxurious family mansion because of a friend of his. The end of the summer party exists downstairs with the music blasting so loud that you swear you can feel it in your bones.

You’re occupied in the upstairs guest bathroom because Jake couldn’t get enough of you.

You know him in passing but he wants to get to know you better than that. You aren’t quiet by any means but you’re not itching to get the know the rich, obnoxiously wealthy people your friends know. You’ve heard enough stories from Heeseung about his lavish vacation enough to last a lifetime. Their conversations about international trips and rich guy problems doesn’t appeal to you.

Jake, also part of the wealth club, has been fascinated with you ever since the day you walked into Heeseung’s house like you owned it. Jake didn’t feel an air of arrogance when you showed up to an impromptu party after Heeseung texted you about it, nor when you ate leftovers from his kitchen without asking (Heeseung later explains to his friends that this is normal behavior and he welcomes the boundary you cross because you don’t walk on eggshells around him).

Maybe it’s the way you were careless about topics of conversation and had no problem inserting yourself even though you couldn’t relate. He always sits back and listens to you even if you don’t realize it.

It came to a point where Jake stalked your social media accounts (an Instagram account that you update semi-regularly). None of Heeseung’s friends followed you after the first time meeting so he felt weird about following you first. You don’t hang out around them that often but Jake wishes you did.

He watches you from afar and holds onto the crumbs of information he learns about you. Jake tries his best to ask about you when he and Heeseung are together without making himself seem like a pathetic loser for caring about someone be barely knows. He refrains from liking your posts and went as far as to ask Heeseung to show him your stories.

Seeing you at this party felt like a wake up call. With alcohol flowing through his veins and the music right up his alley, Jake was set on talking to you with the hopes that something would come out of it. An hour of conversation has led you to Jongseong’s bathroom with your wine in hand and his face in your neck.

“Jake,” you moan, holding a wine glass with your right hand while clutching onto his body with the other. The sounds you make shoot straight to his cock and he lifts your leg to wrap around himself.

The sudden movement makes your body jerk and causes some of the wine to spill into the bathtub. His lips tickle against your skin along with the wisps of hair along your jawline.

“I’m so fucking hard for you,” he mutters against you.

“Fuck me now.” You say it like you might be just as desperate as he is. “I need you.”

Jake pushes his hot mouth against yours with his teeth as he unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down. The small number you wear is hiked up your waist and your heels add an element of eroticism when Jake looks down and sees that you’ve pulled your panties aside for him.

He groans and puts his mouth back on yours. You pull him into you with your wine glass discarded and feel the way his cock presses against your wet pussy. Jake, too, twitches and glides himself against your folds.

He pulls back eventually to grip himself by the base and guides his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your clit as he gathers your essence around him. Jake relishes in your tiny gasps and how you clench at nothing. It’s so euphoric to him to see you with your mouth hung open. Pride swells in his chest that he made you sound like that.

You wrap your legs around Jake’s waist and pull him in by your heel. He gets the message and impales you with his dick until your tits are bouncing in the confines of your dress because of the medium pace he’s set. The initial moan from you is enough to make him orgasm.

“Fuck me,” he moans, throwing his head back. “G-God. You’re so good like this.”

You clench at his words and he pushes himself even deeper into you at a rushed pace. His ass is hanging out but he doesn’t care that the two of you aren’t fully naked and hooking up on a bathroom sink. Your back is pressed against the cool mirror as Jake’s cock continues to hit you at your pleasure point and you cum so fast that you surprise yourself.

“Are you—fuuuuuck!”

He looks down and watches as he pumps himself in and out of you with the white sheen covering himself. Jake moans and bucks his hips like he can’t imagine that you’re letting him fuck you at all.

I love you, he wants to say. But he doesn’t.

“Come in me.”

Your encouragement is all he needs to hear. His mind is too far gone to think about anything else and his hips rut automatically. He looks at you when he tips over the edge and the satiated smile you give him makes Jake nearly confess his feelings to you.

He’ll say it eventually, but he’ll do it when he’s taken you out on a date and not after the two of you hook up a few more times in Jongseong’s bathroom.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[littlechivalry]

Eddie wakes up alone.

It shouldn't feel like a surprise. Apart from a few nights after he first moved in with Wayne when nightmares chased him out of his own bed and the few foggy memories of his childhood and mom that weren't colored by the looming presence of Al Munson he has always slept alone. Likes it that way in fact, he gets to stretch out and move, leave a light on if he wants it, pace next to the bed if he needs to.

Still, he thought...

This thing with Steve had been a surprise. Absolutely no part of it was predictable, starting with a broken bottle and Reefer Rick's shitty boathouse, racing through the closest to hell Eddie ever wants to see not once but twice, and then the hospital room.

Eddie hadn't even had the chance to make full eye contact with the guy when suddenly they were invalid neighbors, ass-baring hospital gowns and all.

Two weeks at Hawkins General, another month in Loch Nora while Wayne got their new place sorted and Eddie spent almost every waking minute feeling his mangled bites healing with Steve beside him, a full companion in misery.

Eddie had never spent that much time with another person, not one on one. The kids came and left without warning and Buckley had taken up part time residence on the living room couch but there were a lot of hours where it was just Eddie. And just Steve.

They talked about everything.

The full tale of the Upside Down was their first topic of conversation, with the rest of the party popping in to add details and commentary. Then it was music, and school, and family. They talked about their pasts, the shared moments they had discovered talking through everything else and the moments that neither had ever shared before.

They talked about the future. Eddie's first and truest love was stories. It's why he read. It's why he played D&D. It's why he loved the music that he loved.

Steve talked about family, both the one he had been born into and the one that had built up around him.

It had built so slowly over the weeks and Eddie had never felt something like this before so he didn't realize he was falling in love until he was well and truly right in the middle of it. And wonder of wonders it felt like Steve was there with him.

So why did Eddie wake up alone?

After all the time they spent hanging out together Steve had finally insisted they have an official date or as close to one as it was safe to get. They drove out of town, visited a diner neither of them had ever seen before where they knew nothing and no one and no one knew them. They had burgers, and split a plate of fries. Two vanilla milkshakes that they traded halfway through their meals, not quite sharing but as close as they could get to the single shared milkshake of Eddie's first date dreams. So close it took Eddie's breath away, that he could have something like this.

Steve drove Eddie home, dropped him off at the door with a chaste kiss. Like a gentleman. Like a knight.

And then an hour later he climbed through Eddie's window with a bag of chips and a movie.

They had fallen asleep together in a pile of crumbs and though Eddie couldn't see Steve's face in the dark, he assumed the other boy was smiling too.

Eddie rubbed his eyes. They were dry. He wasn't crying. He wasn't going to cry.

His head felt heavy with the tears he had decided, as an adult, not to cry. He used the bathroom without turning on the light and then headed out to the living room, half hoping Wayne would be there, half hoping he might be alone to mourn something that had barely begun before it ended.

"Hey there, kid," Wayne murmured behind the newspaper. "Have a good night?"

Eddie sighed. "It was. The morning, not so much."

"Yeah, I saw your boy off this morning."

"That's more than I can say," Eddie scoffed.

Wayne put the paper down and Eddie felt pinned in place by his uncle's eyes.

"Look, it's fine," Eddie said. "We had a good night but he had to leave. And I get it. This is a lot. I'm a lot." Eddie gestured at himself and if he flailed his arms a little more than usual it was fine. He was just... on edge.

Wayne looked at Eddie again and his concerned expression faded into something almost like... glee?

Eddie pointed at his uncle. "What are you laughing at, old man?" He had to admit he felt a little betrayed. Wayne had been almost as excited about this date as Eddie was.

"Look at your arm, son," Wayne says softly before picking the newspaper up again.

Eddie stepped back. "What?" He looked down at his arms.

Scars and the tattered remnants of his tattoos, nothing he hadn't seen before. He twisted his arms, trying to see whatever it is Wayne had seen and high on his bicep he saw it.

Thick black marker lines, smudged into his skin in the shape of Steve's terrible penmanship.

'At work babe. Love you.'

"How the fuck did he do this," Eddie muttered.

"You sleep like the dead," Wayne muttered. "He could have written an essay if your arms weren't so damned skinny."

Eddie gasped, then laughed. "Wayne! How could you?"

Wayne just laughed, the paper jostling with his breath.

Eddie stumbled his way to another kitchen chair, his eyes still focussed on the note.

"Don't think he wanted to leave," Wayne said. "Practically had to shove him out the door."

"Yeah," Eddie said, softly. He could get it tattooed. Those words. 'Love you.'

"I expect he'll be back tonight?"

Eddie nodded, then stood up sharply. "Not if I go to him first!"

Eddie charged for the door. Too many times had Steve chased after him, now it was Eddie's turn.

"You might want to put a shirt on," Wayne called.

Eddie froze in space, his outstretched fingers only inches away from the doorknob.

After he put a shirt on. And probably shoes. And grabbed his keys.

[strang3lov3]

A Favor

You’re on your period and needy. Roman takes advantage. (4k)

Tags - stepdaddy!roman, unprotected piv, period sex, free bleeding, nipple stim and titty play, dirty talk, creampie, blow jobs, fingering, daddy kink, aftercare that healed something in me, needy reader, typical Roman sexism, weird mix of roman being manipulative and dominant and condescending but tender and soft all at the same time,,,don’t give me that look. Fic Help - @endlessthxxghts and @ovaryacted thanks for your eyeballs! A/N - Let’s just indulge ourselves, okay? Let’s have daddy romey do a little bit of manipulating and teasing before fucking us while we’re bleeding our guts out.

Stepdaddy!Roman Masterlist

It’s midday and you’re finally showering. After lying in bed for a little too long, you did a workout in the home gym Roman had built for his home - just a little walking on the treadmill, some stretching too. You felt a little crappy, so you kept it light. You wash and condition your hair and then scrub your body, letting the hot, steady stream of water soothe all of your aches. After this, you’ll probably nap. It’s the perfect day for it, after all. Dark and overcast, a little rainy. You’ll waste the day away in bed, listening to the distant sound of What We Do In The Shadows playing quietly on your TV as you doze in and out of sleep. 

After shutting off the water, you reach for your towel and begin to dry off, squeezing the water out of your hair, patting beads of water off of your skin with the terry cloth. When you take the towel off of your body to hang back up, you notice splotches of red on the fabric where you dried the area between your thighs. Well, that explains why you’ve been feeling under the weather.

You look in the cabinet under your sink for a pad or tampon or something. You’ve got a hair dryer and a diffuser attachment that doesn’t match it, cleaning supplies, expired Bath & Body Works sprays, but no menstrual products, which makes sense. You tend to overbuy, thinking you won’t need to buy again for a while. And so you don’t, but you burn through supplies quicker than you ever anticipate. It’s not the first time this has happened.

You pause your shower playlist on Spotify and check your purse first - surely you’ve got some year-old tampon in there, probably covered in granola bar crumbs and melted lip balm. Nothing. You gave that last tampon to a stranger in a public bathroom last week. You call your mother next, but you’re met with no answer, leaving you with one last option: Roman. 

Do you really wanna call him right now while he’s at work? And have him make fun of you, or call you dramatic? Or worse yet, make some sick and perverted jokes? You’ve been trying to put distance between yourself and him, and the last thing you need is to invite any more opportunities for him to have his way with you. But then, what other choice do you have? You know that day one of your period you can’t exactly get away with a bunch of toilet paper rolled over the gusset of your panties. Your flow is way too heavy for that.

Your thumb hovers over his name in your phone as you contemplate the decision. You feel a warm rush of blood between your thighs, then quickly reach for the toilet paper to avoid a mess on the floor or another shower. Fuck it, you’ll call Roman. You press Roman’s name on your phone, flush your toilet paper and grab another towel, laying it out on your bed as you wait for him to pick up. 

“Hey, you.”

You hesitate before answering, “Um…hi,” Your voice shakes and wavers.

“Yeah, hi.” Roman picks up on your nervousness immediately and sounds concerned. “You sound - I don’t know. Is - is everything okay?” You hear him shutting what’s probably his office door. 

“Yeah, no. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” 

“If everything’s fine, what are you calling me for, then?”

 You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I started my period and I don’t have any pads or tampons here at home.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Oh.”

“So what, you’re hoping I’ll come home from work just to bring you some?”

“…Kind of.” 

“Kind of…I see. Yeah, it just kind of sounds like a you problem, is the thing, though,” Roman murmurs in a teasing voice. He waits for your laugh, but he’s met with an awkward silence. “Kidding, I’m kidd- it’s a joke. You can laugh.”

“Don’t be weird.” 

“I’m not being weird. You’re we- you’re being weird.” 

You sigh. Leave it to Roman to make a phone call awkward and longer than it has to be. “Can you just come…” 

“Yeah, yeah. I was just about to go to lunch anyway. Do you have a preferred brand or flavor or–” 

“Gross, Roman. See? You’re being weird. Just pads. Regular fucking pads.” 

“I was gonna say ice cream if you’d have let me finish, you fuckin’ smartass. But I guess I’ll forget the Ben and Jerry’s, since you insist.”

“No, wait. Please. I want ice cream.” You feel a little bad for thinking the worst of Roman. He’s gonna get you ice cream? “Please,” you repeat.

“Nope. You’re shit out of luck, baby girl,” Roman says. “Ship has sailed.” 

“Please?”

Roman hums on the other end of the phone, pretending to contemplate. The act doesn’t last long, though. “Fuck you, you make me soft. What flavor?”

You smile. “Gimme S’mores.”

“Got it. Phish Food. Hang tight, I’ll be home soon.”

You chuckle after he hangs up. Asshole. 

After stopping at a CVS and picking up a basic box of pads and a variety pack of tampons, as well as making a special trip to find your Gimme S’mores Ben and Jerry’s at the Walgreen’s across the street, Roman comes home. He kicks off his shoes, then puts the ice cream in the freezer before heading upstairs, knees cracking as he walks up the steps. He knocks on your door, “It’s Roman. Your knight in shining armor.” 

“It’s open.” 

Roman opens the door and finds you in bed wrapped in a towel, lying on another towel as you bleed freely. “My stepdaughter, withering away into nothing in a pool of her own blood. How grotesque. You look like hell. Like- like, straight out of The Exorcist.” 

You roll your eyes. “Fuck off. I’m dying.” 

“Oh, always with the dramatics. You’re not gonna get any sympathy points from me, you know,” Roman says, lifting his brows as he points at you. “Not a one.” 

“Can you just put the stuff in my bathroom, Roman?” 

“So impatient,” Roman murmurs, walking into your bathroom where he opens the cabinet under the sink and tosses the bag inside. He comes back out to see you lying on your side, your towel stained and hiked up past your thighs, exposing just the slightest sliver of your bleeding pussy to him. He bites his lip and presses down on his half-hard erection.

Roman rounds the bed to look at your face all scrunched in pain, moaning softly. “Is it cramps?”

“Mhm.”

“And a headache, maybe?”

“Mhm. You’re the headache.” 

“Charming as always, sweetheart. Never change.”

Short hums are all you’re able to vocalize as the pain begins to worsen. It always works this way when you’re on your period. It’s nothing, then all the pain at once. 

“Wow. So you’re uh…really not feeling too hot, are you?” 

You shake your head slightly. “Mm-mm. No, I’m not.” 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Roman says softly, reaching for you. He strokes your hair, rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. What he wouldn’t give to fuck you like this right now, all wet and bleeding and pliant. He’d make it all better. “Poor thing. What can I do?” 

You open your eyes and look up at Roman, who’s frowning in concern above you. “Are you serious? You wanna help?”

“I can’t promise I don’t have ulterior motives, but yeah. So put me to work, what can I do? Want me to kiss it all better?”

 His eyes are dark and hungry like they usually are when he looks at you, but there’s a gentleness to them, too. Roman’s rubbing his hand up and down your bare shoulder, the simple touch calming you. “Can you just be with me?” Your voice is more desperate than you want it to be when it comes out. 

“Just like, be with you? Like, you want me to lay down with you?” 

You nod. 

Roman’s heart swells a little. “Yeah, okay. Fuck it. I have a few minutes,” he says after a second, as if he had to think about the choice at all. “Move your ass. Fucking bed hog.”  

You scoot closer to the edge of the bed and Roman climbs over you, hushing your whines with an I know, I know, when his movements disrupt you. He pulls you close to himself, soft middle pressed against you, his body heat soothing the aching in your back. It catches Roman off guard when you unwrap your towel and take his hand, then press his palm flat against your tummy. Fuck it, you think. He’s seen it, felt it all anyway. 

Roman traces his fingertips over your soft belly, rubs you with gentle circles. “You like that?” he asks, “Does that help a little?” You hum in response, relief evident in your voice. “S’warm,” you mumble. “Feels nice.” 

How vulnerable you are right now. Roman’s seen you at your most vulnerable before, albeit forcefully. He loves taking what he wants from you but fuck, the way you’re giving himself over to him on a silver platter right now has him aroused in a way he’s not yet experienced. You belong to him; Roman’s made that undeniably clear and you’ve been obedient to that. But he wonders if without the obvious circumstances of the age gap and being tied through family, without the wrongness of it all, if maybe the relationship could be just as special. If it’d make him feel the same, feel that raw, animalistic power. Maybe you’d still be his to do with what he wants and there’d be no guilt, no anxiety. But then again, maybe the discomfort is what makes this what it is in the first place.  

Roman’s hand slides up, up your torso, between your breasts. He palms one of them and squeezes, loving the way your soft skin feels in his hand. You moan, and Roman squeezes harder. “Little sore here, huh?” he murmurs. 

“Yeah,” you answer. “But you don’t have t–”

“Don’t,” he says. “Just let me.” 

You sigh and resign yourself to his touch. The pressure hurts, but feels relieving too. Roman has a strength to his hands that you do not, and he’s able to work out all the soreness, melt it all away with just his fingertips. 

Roman peers over your shoulder as he massages your breasts. He watches your flesh move and billow beneath his fingers, he loves their softness and their warmth under his palm. Intentionally, Roman rubs his thumb across one of your nipples. You gasp his name and back into his body and god, he never gets tired of working you up like this. You sigh in more than just relief, but pleasure too. Good.  Roman licks his fingertips and circles your areolas, watching your nipples pebble into small peaks as your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “Roman, Roman…I…” 

Quick and easy, you’re too easy for your own good. Roman loves the effect a little bit of his teasing has on you. “What’s that, huh? Are you moaning for me?” he taunts, like he’s not the one with his fingers gently twisting and pinching your nipples. 

“Roman,” you breathe as he continues his teasing.

“Spit it out, sweetheart. What are you trying to tell me?” 

“I d- I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. I think you do know, but you’re shy,” Roman purrs. “C’mon. Don’t beat around the bush, just tell me what you need. Use your big girl words and tell your daddy.” 

You’re always horny on your period, and you know what he’s doing to you is intentional, probably calculated too. He was probably stroking his cock on his way home thinking of doing this to you. Pulling your strings just to watch you move for him - and yet you fall for it all the same, what with your squirming and your moaning. But can you even ask for this? If it weren’t for Roman’s deliberate teasing, could you really ask for what you want? He’s taken what he wanted from you before, given you what you needed without your say in the matter. It feels unnatural to have a hand on the wheel with him, even if just for a brief second.

“You’re not getting out of this, baby girl, I know you want me to make you come. Just ask me,” Roman says, pulling on your shoulder to lay you flat on your back. He crawls on top of you, caging you in as he closes his lips around one of your nipples, his fingers working the other. “It’ll fix your cramps, too. Win-win.” 

“You’re - fuck - you’re full of shit, Roman.” You hold Roman’s head, tugging on his hair as his tongue flicks and swirls around your sensitive bud.

“Yeah, you’re right. Guilty,” he shrugs. Roman pulls away momentarily to shuck off his shirt and pants, tossing them on the floor. He’s back at your chest in an instant, the head of his swollen cock rubbing against your hip fills you with need. “Bet it’d still feel good though, huh?” You bite your lip and nod, unable to conjure the words. “Still not gonna say it, are you?” Roman waits for your answer, his eyebrows raised. “That’s fine,” he says, “But one of us is coming here and I guess that makes it me.”

Roman pulls you by your feet down the bed, then plays with his cock as he climbs up it, each of his knees on either side of your chest. He taps it against your breasts a couple of times and then moves up even further, his knees snugly fitting against your armpits. He leans over you and takes both of your wrists in his hands, then slides them up the mattress so that he’s got you pinned beneath him. With one hand holding your wrists together, he grips the base of his cock with the other. “Open your mouth.” 

You open your mouth and Roman taps his thick head against your tongue, then slides it toward the back of your throat, causing you to gag. “That’s it, yeah. Fuckin’ choke on it.” Roman reaches under his heavy balls and holds your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, forcing your lips to stay open for him. He pushes himself into your mouth just a little at first, pulling out before going further. In time, he finds a rhythm he likes. Roman holds both of your wrists again as his hips roll against your face, his warm balls bouncing against your chin as your nose is buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair. 

You breathe him in as he thrusts, his slim, soft belly touching your face. He smells like sweat but clean, too, and comforting. Your eyes close as you relish in the feeling of his hard cock on your tongue, the feel of each little ridge and vein. “Yeah, you’re good for this. Made for sucking my dick, aren’t you?” 

Roman pulls out of your mouth and watches a little string of saliva connecting his shaft and your lips break. He thrusts his hips forward so that his balls drag up your chin to rest between your lips, where you suck one into your mouth, then the other. Roman trails his cock down your cheeks before he shoves himself back down your throat unceremoniously. He folds his hands behind his head and groans long and guttural, drawing in and out of your mouth, savoring all of this - how powerful he feels right now, how pretty and helpless you look on your back and with his cock between your lips. 

Roman pulls out of your mouth for the last time and wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it furiously. “Fuck, I’m gonna - ohhh, god - this is your last chance, sweetheart, or I’m coming all over your face. Don’t you wanna come on my cock?”

You nod. 

“Then fucking ask for it.” 

Roman’s voice is low. He stares at you, eyes piercing and deadly serious. All charm, playfulness, affection - it’s all gone, and it sets you on fire. You’re panting, “Fuck - can I - oh, fuck -” 

“Get to the point.” 

You swallow thickly. “Can I come on your cock?”

“Oh, there it is.” Roman smiles, really, genuinely smiles. He thinks that like a young puppy, you don’t always know when the game ends. The way its mother bites its scruff, a stern reminder from Roman is all that’s needed to push you in the right direction. Poor baby. You’d be lost without him, all helpless and confused. “Yes. You may.”

He moves away from you so you have room, “Spread your legs,” he says, wrapping his hands around your ankles to part your thighs himself anyway. He fits himself in the space between them and pushes his middle and ring finger into your dripping hole, all the way to the knuckle so that you feel his wedding ring, cold against your hot skin. He curls his fingers up repeatedly, stroking that sensitive place inside you. You gasp when Roman presses down on your lower tummy, intensifying the feeling of it all. “I need you now, Roman,” you whine, “Now.” 

Roman pouts mockingly as he pulls his fingers away. “So needy all of a sudden, look at that. God, you are ornery.” 

You push Roman’s hand to the side and lift yourself off the bed a bit, then reach for his cock. It’s the first time you’ve ever really felt it; the weight of him in your palm, the satin-softness of his tip. “Please, daddy,” you whimper sweetly, stroking his length. 

Roman tilts his head back and inhales sharply through his perfect nose as you move your hand up and down. Daddy. The way you say the word never gets old, it’s special each time. Pathetic, needy, sweet. Just as much for him as it is for you. “Ohhhh, you fuckin’-” Roman lets out a breathless laugh, “You play dirty, kiddo. You and that daddy shit. You know what you’re fucking doing.” Roman shakes his head as you bite your lip and squeeze, giving him the gentlest of tugs to urge him closer. I need you. Now. Inside me. “I know, Jesus Christ. Daddy’s gonna make it better. Just like he always does, huh?” 

Roman pries your fingers from around his cock and lowers himself between your legs, hardly taking the time to fit his head in your entrance. He pushes himself inside you, the motion so swift and brutal that it has you gasping, choking on his name. You cling to his body, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pulls out and peers down at the place where your bodies connect. His cock coated in blood, that same beautiful, crimson mess between your thighs. He slams in again and this time sets a pace, without waiting a single moment for you to adjust to his size. You wanted this, didn’t you?

As Roman rolls his hips into you, his strands of hair tickling your skin, you bury yourself in his neck and inhale his scent while nipping at his collarbones. Roman grunts, “You’re so fuck - fucking desperate, baby girl. You know I’m not going anywhere.” Roman adjusts himself, spreading your legs further apart. He keeps one hand on the back of your thigh, the other by your head as he fucks himself into you. He draws in and out, each rock of his hips into your warm, wet, bleeding pussy has him biting his bottom lip, fighting to keep it together. He could come right now and leave you on the bed, seeping a pretty, pinkish mixture of his spend and your own blood. But Roman’s just as addicted to your pleasure as he is his own. “Yeah, I got you,” he breathes, “Daddy’s here. I’m right here.” 

You whimper as Roman fills your cunt impossibly perfectly each time he thrusts. It’s hard and fast, the head of his cock rubs exactly where you need it to as you grip him tighter, your fingernails scratching up and down his back, leaving little dents in his skin. He’s so close to you right now, exactly where you need him. You take in all of it, committing every little detail to memory - the weight of his torso on yours, his hot skin, his flexing shoulders and biceps, the pleasure building deep in your gut. God, he smells so good and you can almost taste him. You still don’t know the feeling of his soft, pink lips, or his tongue mingling with your own, the feeling of his scruff scratching your cheeks. 

Roman lowers himself further so that he’s resting on his forearm. He wriggles his hand between your bodies and finds your clit, then rubs those tight circles against it. “Come for me,” he whispers as he thrusts. “Right now, sweetheart.” 

You’re there. You come hard on Roman’s cock, walls pulsing around him as you moan freely. Roman fucks you through your orgasm until those sweet noises of yours subside, until he’s drawn out every bit of pleasure from you that he could. He lets himself go then, emptying inside you as he moans, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

Roman pulls out of you, furthering the mess made on the towels. He’s not worried about it. He leaves you lying naked on the bed as he goes to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth with warm water, then returns to gently scrub your skin. He washes between your thighs, he turns you to the side to clean away the blood there, the action so profoundly intimate it sort of stuns you. Roman leaves the dirtied cloth on the towels and goes back to your bathroom to clean himself next, but first grabs a fresh pair of your underwear from the top dresser drawer. After washing his hands and his cock with soap and water, Roman fits one of the pads he bought you onto your panties. There’s a bit of your blood still in his wedding ring. 

Roman returns to you again, panties in hand. He puts one of your feet and then the other through each leg hole, then hikes them up your legs. “C’mon, lazy ass. Up.” he says, and you lift your hips for him to pull your panties on the rest of the way. “It’s like I have to do everything for you. There. That good? Did I do it right?” 

“Nope. It’s crooked.”

“Fuck off. I did good.”

You smile. Roman smiles too, then dresses himself. He draws your curtains shut, then pulls the dirtied towels from under your body, he’ll throw them in the washer downstairs. “Be good. Try not to bleed out or anything, I don’t know how it fuckin’ works,” he says, “I’ll see ya.”

“Wait-”  you grab his arm and toy with the fabric of his sleeves, fingers traveling lower until you’re holding his fingers. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah. Lunch break isn’t all day, so…” he trails off and laughs awkwardly. “What, you thought I’d-”

“I - sorry. Yeah. I just thought you’d stay with me. I thought you’d…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Roman’s heart breaks a little. You look disappointed, genuinely sad. A small part of him feels delighted; he knows you need him. You always have, and he’s known it this whole time. But you’re getting sloppy again, letting that facade begin to crumble. Letting whatever this is happen. 

“But you’re not gonna stay late tonight, right?” 

“Mmm. I might just have to, if this-” Roman holds your chin in his hands, “-is what I’m coming home to. A whining, bleeding mess…I might be better off in the office. Don’t feel like getting my head bit off, you know? I happen to like having it attached to the rest of–”

“Roman.”

“Chill. I’m fucking with you. I’ll be here and we’ll eat your Phish Food, hm?” Roman kisses your cheek, his lips lingering a little longer than they should. “Take a nap. You’ll feel better.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, jump in my ask box ♡ your kind words go so far in keeping me motivated to write.

Tags -

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

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@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @/luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @/doll-0f-flesh

[auclairedetoru]

May I request Levi crushing on a stranger he saw in the coffeeshop? (Idk if you accept nsfw requests but if you do, with wet dream pls)

Hi first nonnie~ thank you so much for sending in a request! I'm not comfortable with writing detailed nsfw, but I'll try my best to deliver your vision 🤍

⭒๋࣭ ⭑. Content warning : mention of wet dreams so MDNI!!

“fuck...” Levi mumbles to himself after he wakes up from another... Strange dream, hands wiping the sweat from his face as he tried to catch his breath.

This is the second time this has happened in a week. He doesn't want to admit it out loud, but he's been having wet dreams and they all include the same person, a person Levi shouldn't be thinking about to begin with for one specific reason,

She's a stranger.

Now, he wasn't a pervert, and anyone who knows him wouldn't describe him as one either. Levi's life behind the bedroom doors has been practically nonexisting lately, too focused on his nine to five so he can provide a comfortable life for himself and that little furry brat he calls his cat. His days of meeting new people and building a relationship are left far behind him in his college years, and he honestly couldn't care less about it all anymore. So why are his dreams showing a completely different story?

The stranger in his dream, he didn't even know her name. He sees her every morning at his neighborhood's coffee shop that she started frequenting around a month ago. He would walk in and find her sitting on the sunny spot facing the window.

The first thing he noticed about her was her choice of beverage, a modest cup of green tea, not his first choice - as he prefers black tea - but a good one nonetheless. She paired it with a millefeuille with strawberries, the marble top of it being white and pink. She always has her off white cross body bag on the table, a keychain of a pink pig with bunny ears (he thinks it's a weird combination of animals, but he admits that it's cute) hanging from it. He remembers exactly what he felt when he saw her face for the first time. She had a soft smile as she read something in her magazine, her cheeks covered in a blush that he believes is makeup, the shade suiting her tone perfectly, her nose scrunched as she took a bite off of her millefeuille, a hand delicately cupped under her chin to catch the crumbs. Levi felt his heart fluttering at the simple sight of her, which he tried his best to control but it ignored his deep breaths and continued its dance.

Why was she in his dreams? And that specific type of dreams as well? He never had them in his life, let alone with a total stranger! Levi was confused, drenched in sweat, and in need of a cold shower.

As he got ready for the day, his thoughts couldn't stop drifting towards the coffee shop stranger, so he let himself indulge in them for once. He thinks she's very pretty, gorgeous even. He thinks her voice might be as sweet as her smile, and he thinks her favourite colour would be pink, given that it's what she wore most. He wonders what her music taste would be, she gives off the vibes of someone who listens to Laufey, and he likes that thought, he hopes he's right about that because he enjoys Laufey too.

Is this what having a crush feels like? Based on the books he read, movies he watched and people's experiences he's been told about, everything adds up. The nerves at the thought of talking to her, his fluttering heart, the dream... It all made sense.

Levi has a crush on a stranger.

He wants to be wrong, he wants his heart and mind to be confused and got things mixed up. He could ask his therapist about it, but he knew himself well, he just didn't want to admit it. Still, he mastered the courage on his way to the coffee shop, hoping he wasn't too early and she'd already be there like always.

Levi decides he's going to approach her today, ask if he can take the seat across from her and start a conversation with her. He has always been told he's very well spoken and that conversations with him flow easily, he hopes he'd be able to do that when talking to her without his voice shaking.

Luck must be on his side, because when he opens the door and his eyes land on her usual spot, she is there, reading a magazine like always. He takes a deep breath and walks up to the barista telling him his usual order, but to not put it in a to-go cup. After the barista smiles at him and tells him his order would be ready shortly, he turns towards the fascinating stranger, and without allowing another thought to cross his mind, he walks towards her.

“is this seat taken ?”

Levi gives himself a mental pat on the back, he didn't stutter like he was afraid he'd do.

“not at all, you can have it.”

Shit, her voice isn't like he was expecting it to be, it's way better. It sounded smooth like butter gliding on fresh croissant, silky like the bed sheets his mother gave him as a house warming gift, soft like the way his cat's fur feels after a bath. His heart is about to beat out his chest and his hands are starting to get clammy with nerves but he's still playing it cool with his posture and his nonchalant way of speaking.

His lips are about to part and speak to her, but she beat him to it.

“I noticed you come here every day at the same time, and you always order the same thing.”

She noticed him!? And knew his order!? This is the last thing he expected to hear from her, in fact, he didn't expect her to talk to him at all, he thought he'd have to start the conversation!

“yeah, I used to make my own tea before I discovered this place, couldn't find the blend they use anywhere, apparently the owner makes it from scratch with his own leaves.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued.

“I enjoy their green tea, certainly better than the ones at the grocery store. I wonder if their chamomile tea is just as good.”

Now it's Levi's turn to raise his eyebrow.

“Don't tell me you buy all your tea from the grocery store.”

“only chamomile! I drink my tea here now,” she defends herself, her pretty smile still on her face, “I don't know where else to buy it from, I'm new to town.”

“Perfect.” Levi thinks to himself. This can't get any better for him.

He casually grabs the cup of tea the barista placed in front of him a moment ago. His eyes still locked with hers despite feeling like he's about to pass out from nerves and excitement.

“how about you meet me here tomorrow? We can have our breakfast and I'll take you to my tea dealer, everything I can't get here I get from her, she's the best.”

The sweet angel in front of him giggles and he nearly melts in his seat. If only he can take that heavenly sound with him so he'd listen to it every chance he gets. It's better than any song he ever heard.

“how would I know this isn't your plan for killing me? You're a stranger after all.”

He places his cup back down after taking a sip.

“my name is Levi, Levi Ackerman. You are?”

“y/n y/l/n. It's nice to finally meet you, Levi.”

He feels like he's about to explode. He knows her name now, and it matches her so incredibly well. And the way she said his name? He never thought it would sound so beautiful until now.

“if you agree to come with me tomorrow, I'll let you search me before we go and I'll have my location turned on the whole time. Promise I won't try anything to hurt you.”

She looks down bashfully before nodding, agreeing to go with him wherever he is planning on taking her.

Levi discreetly sighs in relief seeing her agree. God, he couldn't even imagine hurting her, she's too delicate, too precious, he only wants to hold her close and hear her sweet giggles. To protect her from anything that could hurt her, whether it's big or small.

“now tell me, does Laufey happen to be your favourite artist?”

“how did you know!?”

A hint of a smile pulls at Levi's lips. He'll do anything to make her a part of his life and to keep her there forever.

[buckyalpine]

Spicy Snacks

Bucky x reader, Steve 

Warnings: 2 high super soldiers who get into your stash of spicy snacks, fluffff 

“Dear god” 

You weren’t sure what it was you were going to walk into when you heard a ruckus in the kitchen but it was everything but this. Literally anything. The last time you’d seen such a mess was when Peter thought it’d be a good idea to babysit Morgan alone. Even that was salvageable. You should’ve known how bad it would be, given the trail of crumbs you followed from your drawer to the kitchen, but still. 

This was something else...

There were snacks strewn about left, right and center. Bags of chips and candy littering every inch of the counter tops. 

But what truly topped it all were the two massive super soldiers sitting cross cross apple sauce on top of the kitchen island, giggling like school children with their hands, literally in the cookie jar. 

“Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Steve sang to himself while stuffing a chocolate chip one into his mouth, practically swallowing it whole. 

“Steve stole the cookie from the cookie jar” Bucky snickered, taking the jar for himself and scarfing them down two at a time. 

“Who me?”

“Yes you!”

“Not me!”

“Then who?” 

“What are you two idiots doing” Your voice broke them away from their nursery rhyme, staring at your boyfriend first before turning to his bestfriend, the both of them trying to hide the jar behind their backs. 

“Nothing’ y/n” Steve gave you a dopey grin, his baby blue eyes glazed like donuts, snickering at his bestfriend attempting to stab an apple juice box with the straw.

“S’too hard!!” Bucky whined, sticking his tongue out in concentration, eyes wide, trying to get his straw in to no avail, looking back up to you for help. He gave you his most innocent puppy pout hoping you’d help him, sticking his hands out for you to take his juice. 

“Bucky get down” You huffed, trying to hide your smile when he clambered down like an admonished child with his head hung. You rolled your eyes, pushing the straw and giving it back to him, shaking your head at the grin he gave you, whispering a shy thank you. 

“Ooooooo you like herrrrrr” Steve howled, now kicking his feet, letting them hang off the counter while Bucky blushed, peeking at you through his lashes. “BUCKY HAS A CRUSH” 

“Nooooo” He drawled out, taking a long sip from his juice box. 

“We’ve been dating for 2 years you dork” You watched his cheeks redden more, which only made him more adorable but you weren’t sure how much more nonsense was going to ensue when the both of them were higher than kites. 

“She’s my girlfriend” Bucky giggled at the last word, now struggling with a new box while Steve’s eyes lit up, a classic God awful captain America plan had bean to manifest itself. He slipped off the counter, the effects of the gummies and whatever else he’d swallowed had knocked his agility off its rockers; he moved with the grace of a donkey. 

“Where are you going” you stopped him before he could sneak off, your boyfriend looking equally guilty. 

“Noooowhere” Steve shrugged but you gave him a pointed look while Bucky flailed his hands, hoping to silently communicate they were not about to do something idiotic. 

“Sit down. Finish your snacks and then you both need to go take a nap” You felt like you were talking to toddlers, not bothering to add they had to clean their mess because you were sure that would only end in more chaos. 

“But we were gonna go flying with Sam’s wings!” 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this” You muttered to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking again, “No. You can’t just go take Sam’s wings and go flying. Now finish your juice boxes and go to bed” 

“NOOOO” Steve jumped onto Bucky, wrapping his long legs around his waist, holding onto him like a massive koala, giving you his best puppy eyes, matching his equally ridiculous best friend. “WE DON’T WANNA GO TO BED” 

“Boys....”

“Please???” Bucky pouted effortlessly holding the captain up while your face scrunched up, mentally face palming yourself.

“No. No, you cannot go flying! You’ll end up hurting yourself or breaking the wings or- for fucks sake what are you doing?!” You gawked; Steve and Bucky had stopped listening many moons ago. They were back to rummaging for food, a stray sour patch kid falling to the floor. 

“5 second rule” Bucky shrugged, bending over to pick it up, not seeing the smirk that crossed his bestfriends face. 

“Chubby dumpling” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s ass a poke, making him yelp. Bucky stared at him like a deer in headlights while Steve cackled to himself, tossing back another packet of nerds into his mouth. You were to engrossed at the scene in front of you to notice Tony walk in, his face equally perplexed at yours. 

“What it God’s name” Tony stared at the chaos that was taking place with you in the middle, “Do I even want to ask?”

“They got into my stash of....snacks...” You smirked while Tony cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“Snacks, y/n? Really?”

“...Spicy snacks”

“Who would’ve thought this would be their downfall” He mused beside you “Oh-I think clothes are coming off-oh fuck” Tony ducked while Steve's shirt flew above his head, eyes growing wide when a pair of jeans followed.

“It’s so hot!!” Steve huffed, star fishing on the cool tile floor, arms and legs splayed out to the sides. “Soooo hottttt, n’I’m sleepy now” He yawned, stretching out like a cat before closing his eyes, a sugar crash sneaking up on them.  

“Okay, someone call for this ones bromantic partner to figure this out” Tony covered his eyes while calling for Sam, hoping to get Steve into some clothes before hauling him back to his room. “Y/n, I’m assuming you got terminator covered?” 

“Yeah, I- Oh no” you were met with your boyfriends Henley, followed by his joggers, landing on your head, squealing when you found yourself hanging off his shoulder seconds later. 

“Buck, where are we going?!” He mumbled something while making his way to the elevator in just his boxer briefs. 

“S’nap time” he mumbled sleepily, trudging with you to the bedroom and plopping down on top of you, using your chest as a pillow. “wan cuddles” 

“Mhm, then you get cuddles, baby boy” you giggled, carding your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling from how ridiculously adorable he was. He let out a content sigh, softly snoring moments later. You bit you lip to keep your laughs down, hearing the commotion outside your room in the hallway. 

“Steve, you need to put on pants”

“Pants are for the WEAK”

“No-Steve NO!-don’t take off your-for fucks sake” 

“THIS IS AMERICAS ASS”

“That’s America’s cock and balls” 

“Please, for the love of God, go to your room” 

“I’M GOING TO MAKE A TIKTOK” 

“Steve no”

“Steve yes”

“STEVE” 

“What’s the live feature” 

*Sounds of Steve shrieking and then a thump with continued muffled pouting*

“You’re never eating spicy anything again” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: New at This

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd tugs in his ear lobe as you get up to take your empty bowl to the counter. The lone cashier smiles and gives a nervous look past you to the corner. You return to the table and wonder if he has a reputation here. You wouldn't be surprised with his behaviour. 

"Is your ear alright?" You ask as you take the cup of iced tea. 

"Huh?" He turns to you and drops his hand. "Yeah, hearing's f-- off. Just got back from a job and... the machinery was loud." 

"Hm, it could be a busted ear drum. I know someone who had that. He never could hear me but that coulda been the TV too," you shrug. 

"It's fine," he taps his fingers on the table as you stay standing. "So, you headed out?" 

"Yeah, I guess I should. Getting dark." 

"Right," he nods. "Well," he stands and tugs at the bottom of his shirt, shaking off the crumbs. "You need a ride?" 

He zips up his jacket, the collar ending just below his chin. You button up your blue houndstooth coat. "No, I can make it." 

"Wait, you're not walking are you?" He asks as he gathers up the wrapper and napkins. 

"Not too far if I cut behind the barbershop--" 

"Cut behind-- are you serious? You can't be walking down alleys in the dark. Trust me." 

"Oh?" You give him a curious look, "you hang out in dark alleyways a lot?" 

His brow tweaks and his lips twitch, "is that a joke?" 

"Not a very good one," you smile. "I always make it." 

"And this might be the time you don't. Least I can do. You bought me dinner, I feel like I owe you a ride." 

"You don't owe me anything," you assure him. 

"Huh, you're too nice, you know that? You could give a guy the wrong idea." l

"No, I don't think so," you sigh. "Being nice isn't anything but. I hope your enjoyed your dinner." 

"You know what? The chipotle wasn't bad," he says. "So now that's two things. I owe you for paying and for the good advice. What's that you said about paying it forward?" 

Checkmate. Using your own words against you. As it is, you're starting to feel rude for saying no so many times. It would be nice not to have to walk home with your phone light on. 

"Is taking a ride from a strange man better than walking home alone?" You ask, "since you're the expert?" 

"Wow, you can be mean," he snorts. "Reading me like a book." 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kidding.” 

“I know, tootsie roll,” he says, “sweet like candy, aren’t ya?” 

You smile again, “well, you can be too. I’ll take the ride. Thank you.” 

He dumps the garbage in the bin and heads for the door. He lets you out ahead of him. It’s colder than when you got there. 

“It’s cold as... hell out here,” he says follows you out. He points you ahead, “the white one.” 

He blows into his hands and rubs them together. You’re no fan of the cold either but you can see his nose already turning red. You approach the white car; it’s sleek and shiny. You’re not sure what make it is but it must be expensive. 

The doors click loudly, “should be unlocked.” 

You nod and open the passenger door. You sit daintily, wary of the luxury interior. You shut the door just as carefully as he gets in the other side. He grumbles as he starts the engine and flicks switches. 

“Get those seat warmers on,” he says. “Ah, better.” He puts his palms to the blast of warmth from the vent before he grips the wheel. “Help me out, tootsie roll, where am I going?” 

“Right down to Harbour. East.” 

“Harbour East... you kidding me? You were really going to walk there alone?” He scoffs. 

“It’s not so bad once you get to know the area,” you say.  

“How’d you end up there?” He pulls into a three point turn as he reroutes. 

“I guess it’s just where I am right now. Thing’s changed fast and I had to make it work,” you lean into the seat. You’ve never been in a car with seat warmers. 

“Huh, that’s too bad,” he clucks. “You still looking for a place? I know a guy, owns a few properties...” 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you hum lightly. “Really. It’s nice. I got my own space, I got food, I’m happy as can be.” 

“Simple things, so I’ve heard,” he mutters. 

You let a lull wash over you. Judging by his car, simple isn’t exactly to his taste. 

“So...” you brush your fingertips over your palm, “what do you do for work? You travel? When you mentioned your ear...” 

“Ah, yeah, er,” he squeezes the wheel tighter and coughs, “you know, I’m on the road when I need to be. Work can be sporadic but pays well enough. Specialty type of work.” 

“With loud machinery...” 

“Military engineer. You know, artillery, tanks... whatever,” he peeks over at you as blows through a four-way. 

“Hey, you missed the stop sign,” you crane to see behind you. 

“It’s fine, no one was crossing,” he says. 

“Yeah but... it’s not safe.” You turn forward again and frown. 

He’s quiet again. He sucks his teeth, “fine, you’re right. Not fair of me to offer you a ride then drive like a maniac. I’ll do better.” 

You let out a breath and subtly grab onto the door. Despite his promises, he doesn’t let off the gas. With how quiet the car is, it must be easy to go over the limit.  

He pulls onto Harbour and finally slows, “so, uh, why don’t you give me a call next time you head down to the shop? We could do it again. I’ll be nice this time.” 

“I don’t go too often but sure, I could use a friend,” you perk up and direct him to your building. 

“You telling me you don’t got friends, tootsie roll?” He stops in front of your apartment. 

“I... did. They’re gone now,” you look away. You try not to get to wistful about it. “Anyway, thanks--” 

“Holy f—moley,” he corrects himself as he leans forward to see around you, “this place can’t be up to code--” 

“Lloyd,” you blurt out. “I’m fine. Really. Home safe. Thanks to you.” 

“Mhm, well, friends are supposed to worry about each other, right?” 

“And as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry,” you smile and pull the handle, “have a good night.” 

He huffs as you undo your seat belt, “yeah, good night.” 

[robobarbie]

I need......xyx.......crumbs .. . PLEASE

here's smth I wrote for the bp server a couple years back (jesus) when I played a game of Saw with them (they were great sports about it)

When Xyx drove you out for a 'romantic weekend getaway', you knew there would be some sort of twist– there always was– but as you peer at the massive cliff looming overhead, you start to wonder if you'd live to see the romance part of the trip.

"Having second thoughts?" Xyx pops up from the pile of equipment in the back of the car behind you, flashing you a razor grin. "Too late to back out now. I've got the car keys."

"Ha ha…Me, chicken? Never."

You had hoped that engaging in his banter would keep him satisfied, but your anxiety is too transparent to make the lie stick. Xyx frowns and sets down the equipment. "Hey, love. If you're unsure, we can always do something else. I won't be offended."

"No, no! I'm just– having some jitters."

His eyes search yours for a moment, and the silence hangs heavily between you, until Xyx finally sighs and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

"Alright, if you insist. Let's get you suited up, then." He gives one of the harnesses an appraising look before handing it to you. "Step into the loops and pull them up. We'll tighten everything once you've got it on."

You stare at the pile of straps and loops, turning it over in your hands to puzzle out where your legs go; in turn, Xyx sees your predicament and bursts into laughter.

"Aw, doll, I didn't mean to stump you. Might have to start, though," he smirks. "You're adorable when you make that face."

You huff as he takes the harness from your hands, obediently stepping in with his guidance despite your scowl. "Adorable?!" 

"Well…" You watch his hands shift the loops around your thighs, and gasp when they linger and squeeze. "Actually, for this particular moment, I don't think I would use that word."

"Y-you sure you still want to go rock climbing?"

"Mm. Yes. But I think we may have to change our plans afterward." He gives the harness–and your thighs– one more squeeze. "Be a doll and stay still for just one more minute, would you? I have to tie you in." 

Xyx turns back to the equipment, retrieving a length of climbing rope that he gathers loosely in his hands. His face moves tauntingly close to yours as he reaches for your waist, loops the rope, and sets to tying a complex knot with ease; you can count the freckles on his face at this distance, and start doing so in order to keep your focus from slipping. Instead, it's reminding you of how easily you could kiss him right now, how if you tipped forward just enough–

He gives the knot a final, decisive tug, savoring your reaction as you're jolted back to reality (and pulled closer by the hips). "Now, just one more thing."

"Huh?" 

Closing the distance you had just been mourning, Xyx leads you in by the jaw and meets your lips in a slow, deep, kiss. You instinctively tilt your head; he replies with a pleased hum that rumbles through your head and down your spine. His hand caresses your cheek when it finally, reluctantly withdraws along with his face.

"For luck," he breathes.

You can scarcely breathe yourself, but with Xyx so close to you, looking at you so playfully and yet so helplessly in love, you imagine that the luck he's given you could take you anywhere.

“Now,” he says, taking your hand in his, “let’s go exploring.”

[webslingingslasher]

angel distracting nerdy peter from his homework…. i’ve been dreaming and drooling over this…. she like sits on his lap and kisses his neck and he can’t help but drop his work and give her the affection she so desperately craves……

(i saw u say u don’t get many nerdy!peter concepts so i hope this suffices!)

'petey.'

'angel.'

you pout, he doesn't even look at you. he's landlocked to his desk chair and computer monitor. 'petey,' you drag out the end in a whine. 'yes, angel?'

you want his attention, he's been focused on his homework since you came over. peter might've told you he had homework to do but you were more than welcome to come hang out with him, you just didn't expect him to actually ignore you for it.

'i'm hungry.' if he gets up you can bid for some cuddles, but he doesn't. 'i think may's making dinner right now but if you want a snack go for it.' you switch your methods. 'i'm thirsty.'

peter doesn't look where he's pointing, 'you can have some of my water.' you hold back a dramatic sigh, sometimes he can be a teensy bit dumb. you didn't come over to watch him do homework but he's not getting the hint.

'i'm horny.' bingo. peter looks over at you in his bed before refocusing on his computer screen. 'i'm sorry to hear that.' your mouth parts in shock, peter's never blown you off before.

'excuse me? you're my boyfriend, it's your job to fix it.'

'is it?' oh, he's teasing. he finds this funny. 'when i'm with you, yes.'

'i didn't know it worked like that.' you nod and speak seriously, 'it's understandable, you've never been a boyfriend. but you're doing a great job.'

'aw. thanks, angel.' you wait for him to move, he doesn't. you give him a whole minute before you're questioning him. 'i love you.' maybe you needed to be nicer with the approach, you can see a smile form and you think it worked this time.

'i love you too, honey.' it doesn't. you'll have to take measures into your own hands. 'alright, move over, i'm coming in.' peter backs up his chair just enough for you to slide between the desk and staddle his lap.

'behave.' he's trusting you to control yourself, the teensy bit of dumb is coming out again. you immediately crush all his hopes of finishing his homework when you kiss his cheek and down to his neck.

'angel,' he's warning you. you back off and play innocent. 'i haven't kissed you since i've been here!'

'i kissed you when you got here.'

you straighten the collar of his shirt before lightly tracing his jawline. 'it was a peck. i want a real kiss.' peter narrows his eyes and stares into yours. he doesn't trust you for a second but he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

'one kiss and you let me finish my work?'

you'll agree to anything. 'sure.' you move in, peter turns his head at the last second and you hit his cheek again. 'i don't believe you, you're gonna keep asking for more. i know you.'

'well, i'd sure hope so. kiss me.' peter gives in and gives way more than you expected. you're left slightly breathless and feeling warm, it doubles when he shifts you up his lap and wraps his arms around you for a tight hug.

peter said you'd ask for more, but you're not asking. you give little marks to the side of his neck before you graze your teeth against the skin below his ear. peter's breath hitches, you have him where you want.

it's ripped away from you and you can't stop yourself from pouting.

'you're really not gonna kiss your girlfriend?'

'kissing my girlfriend isn't going to make me a physicist.'

you drop your forehead to his shoulder before slumping against him. 'you hate me.' peter clicks his tongue and lightly rubs your back. 'of course i don't, i could never hate you, angel. i'm just trying to finish my work.'

'i just want a little attention, just a little crumb.'

'i'm giving you attention, aren't i?' he is, but it's not enough. you're about to tell him it too but you have one more trick up your sleeve, he's susceptible to your touch but stronger than you think. he's able to push past it. but if you were feeding his ego at the same time he wouldn't be able to say no.

'you are. you just look so handsome today i can't control myself. you know how much i love this shirt on you.' peter takes a second to glance down, he didn't mean to wear it on purpose. 'and you look so hot when you're focused and being smarter than me.'

you give another trail of kisses, tilting your head and ending at his adams apple. 'the more i watched you concentrate... the more i wanted you.' you peck the corner of his mouth, purposefully brushing your lips against his before sighing.

'but if you need to finish your homework, i understand.' you push up to remove yourself, peter stops you with a vice grip on your hips. 'keep talking.' words of affirmation are a sweet spot for him and you're making him feel special.

'you're so tempting. i've never seen anyone hotter than you, i swear. the second i saw you for the first time i felt like i couldn't breathe, and when you asked me out i swear part of me thought it was a joke. because you're like, i don't know, you're magical i think. because you have this ability to be hot and sexy, and handsome, and beautiful, and cute all at the same time.'

peter's cheeks are red, you give him a chaste kiss and keep going. you're on a roll now. 'and don't get me started on the smart thing because i'll start sweating. do you know how fucking ravishing it is to ask you any question and you know the answer? and the tech stuff you do? everytime i see you with a screwdriver i start panting. i was biting your pillow when you built your computer.'

you're telling him how hot it is when he's smart but he's about to ditch all traces of physics for you. you think of another thing and it throws you over the edge, you toss your head back and let out a moan. 'and the sewing? oh my god, that's the absolute hottest thing ever.' you saw him patch up his suit one time but peter snapping the thread with his teeth was enough to make you replay the image every two days.

you can feel peter's heart racing under your hand, you both sit in silence for a few seconds before he pats your thighs.

'you win. being a physicist can wait.' 

[hoshinasblade]

i woke up sad today and im also super stressed at work so im taking it upon myself to make other people miserable too, hence this drabble -

"it has to be me", hoshina declared, in a tone that reflected his strong will. "if number 10 wanted me to use it as a weapon, i'll do it." regardless of the consequences, he intentionally omitted. he didn't need everyone in the room to hear what is already a known fact.

the emergency meeting lasted 10 minutes, and as soon as it concluded, the oak doors opened with a loud bang, the high-ranking officers of the anti-kaiju defence of japan pouring out. hoshina soshiro, the vice-captain of the third division remained on his spot, unmoving. "hoshina -" captain ashiro approached him with a concerned look.

"commander, don't look at me like that", hoshina responded, a smirk on his face. captain ashiro would have complied, but she's known her vice-captain for year to see when he's faking confidence. "i'm tough to kill", hoshina said, dismissing himself.

retiring to his quarters, hoshina relished the small privilege he was given - it would be embarrassing to break down in front of other people if he was sharing a dorm room with his teammates. he laid down the mattress, the soft surface giving in to his weight. he did not bother to take his uniform off.

it was an hour or four before he decided to do something. the clock read past 10 pm. you're probably taking a shower. he took his chances.

you always pick up. and tonight was no different. even the mere sound of your breathing was sufficient to set his insides afire. "i miss you."

it's ridiculous even for him to realize that his feelings could be summarized in three one-syllable words. he closed his eyes, imagining that he was not holding his phone in his ear, that you were with him instead. your presence would effectively solve the majority of his problems.

"how was your day?" you whispered softly. if hoshina concentrates hard enough, he could see your lips part while you're talking. the hole in his chest grew more and more by the second.

"they're converting number 10 as a weaponized suit. they're making me wear it." hoshina wished he was not speaking to you about this.

"isn't that dangerous?" your reply was quick and straightforward. you were familiar with the protocol and you weren't even an officer.

"i could die." once the truth was out of his mouth, there was no stopping it. "it could significantly shorten my lifespan if i use the suit too much."

hoshina had always been proud of his skills as a competent swordsman - he's survived and made it this far with his blades despite most people advising him to give up. he's never cursed his own lack of power until now. if only he was strong enough, maybe he wouldn't need a suit to be able to fight better.

"then -" you started but paused and hoshina could tell you were steadying yourself. . "then don't use it too much", you suggested. in normal circumstances he would smile at you - flattered that you are worried about him, pleased that you care. but now everything from you simply feels like tiny crumbs of affection, and hoshina settled on being a beggar.

"would you cry for me when i die?" hoshina heard you gasp on the other line.

"i'm hanging up now", you exclaimed without saying goodbye. the silence after that was deafening, but even then hoshina kept his phone on the side of his face, listening. "i wanna see you tonight", you spoke at last.

"would it make a difference?" his voice cracked but he didn't care. he was exhausted of pretending he was doing alright without you, in making himself believe that his love reaches you where his hands couldn't.

he said your name once more and it felt like a knife was being twisted within him.

"don't you dare do this to me," you threatened. "wait for me there, okay?" you added this time, pleading.

hope is a greedy, grasping thing and hoshina soshiro let it take hold of him fully.

"i will."

[12thhouse-sun]

Axioms of heavenly bodies; an intimate analysis of systems unknown and the pleasures contained therein

Gale x f!Tav

6.8k words

Explicit

Ao3 link

Tags: named Tav, modern era au, pwp, mostly smut, mystra mentions, blowjobs, cunilingus, penis in vagina sex, science puns

banner from @firefly-graphics

Gale can’t believe she’s here in his kitchen.

He lives in a perfectly serviceable post-divorce apartment with a small and if he’s honest too small kitchen. But it’s his and she is here, sitting on prime countertop space but her dress shows off her legs and she’s drinking his wine and thus Poppy is probably the finest addition to his kitchen possible. Occasionally he’ll feel a brush against the back of his leg and he’ll turn and find her bare foot swinging away, her eyes observing his every movement over her glass of wine with a teasing look in her eye.

The talk never stops as he works, and whenever he has a few minutes to let something sit on the stove he steps in between her legs with his hands on her knees, his thumbs rubbing her soft skin as he hangs on her every word.

A few kisses are shared and all are lingering, them only having shared their first kiss but a few days ago. As such, every brush of their lips against one another feels loaded with anticipation. They also are incredibly distracting, Gale almost burning the meat on the stove when he became too enraptured with how she moaned into his mouth and he wanted to figure out how to make her make that sound again.

When he decided to “get back out there” he had intended on taking things slow with whomever he met. But his attraction to Poppy is well and truly beyond anything he could have anticipated and her obviously reciprocated attraction only amplifies his own even more. The wine helps but only to a point, Gale having to pass up a refill so he can actually finish their dinner instead of turning all the burners off and carrying her to his bedroom. Poppy does nothing to deter this, or rather she does everything to tempt him. After slicing up some cherry tomatoes he picks up a half and offers it to her, bringing it up to her mouth. Her lips sensually wrap around the juicy fruit without breaking eye contact and Gale is half-mast in no time at all.

She makes him nervous, of all things. Her mere presence is enough to soothe him and simultaneously drive him wild. His need to impress is ever-present, still not quite sure how he attracted such a vibrant woman and he is trying his best to keep her. She has this grounded nature that Mystra, who kept him at arm’s length for the entirety of their courtship and marriage, never had. Poppy may love to tease him but she doesn’t toy with him like that, she gives freely; all touches, all words, everything. Even just a look from her is enough for Gale to know that she wants to be here with him, in any capacity. He’s forgotten what it feels like to be desired, to not have to constantly chase in the hopes of receiving crumbs in return.

Even just a few nights ago at the end of their previous date, Gale found himself snogging her against her car, all hot breath and frantic hands, in public. Mystra would have never, even when their relationship was finally out in the open, even when they were long-married. He’s barely known Poppy a month and she’s shown him more affection than Mystra had in their 15 year-long relationship. He told her as much, feeling awfully raw and vulnerable after being so thoroughly kissed by her and she replied with a resolute, “Then clearly you need to make up for lost time,” before kissing him once more.

“Can you bring our wine to the table, my heart? Dinner will be ready in a moment.”

“Your heart?” she asks wryly, jumping off the counter nimbly. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you,” he emphasizes. “I’m sorry to say you have replaced that all-important organ, I hope you understand. Terribly sorry.”

“I can think of much worse fates,” she murmurs, bridging the distance between them with half a step and kissing him on the cheek. Gale can’t help but stare at her and warm at her closeness, at how her pupils are dilated slightly and how her mouth is pink and swollen from the wine and the kisses. Grasping her by the waist, he pulls her in for a quick kiss, earning him a most delightful giggle, before letting her continue on her way.

Despite how quiet her feet are on his hardwood floors, he hears her stop and effuse a quiet, “Oh hey there, pretty lady.”

Gale looks behind him and sees that Poppy has crouched on the floor and is looking at Tara who has decided to emerge from one of her hiding spots. His mottled Maine Coon and oldest friend rubs her cheek up against the corner of the wall and stares at Poppy, taking her in from a safe distance.

“Ah, apologies if she doesn’t seem interested, she’s quite particular and doesn’t get overly familiar with new people.”

“That’s fine,” Poppy replies, keeping her voice soft and low. “I’m willing to put in the work. Whatever pace she wants, I’ll follow.”

No food in danger of burning any longer, Gale begins to plate while stealing distracted glances over at Poppy, who has reached out a hand for Tara to smell. Tara, old stubborn girl that she is, takes her time making her way closer and at first seems to be wholly uninterested in Poppy, giving their guest her best cold shoulder. But it’s when Gale looks away that he catches the slightest gasp that has him whip his head around to find Tara primly sniffing Poppy’s outstretched hand, Poppy not giving any excitement away except in her eyes, not wanting to startle Tara. 

But it’s the next thing that’s even more surprising—instead of sniffing Poppy and walking away, Tara instead tucks her head and pushes her cheek into Poppy’s hand, asking for pets. Poppy’s mouth is agape in awe and triumph, and dutifully begins scratching at the spot behind her ear that Tara has requested.

Gale is dumbfounded, not having seen Tara treat a guest like that in…well quite some time. He wracks his brain to remember all the times this has not happened and it occurs to him that any houseguest she has met has been a friend of Mystra’s, Tara never taking kindly to his ex either now that he thinks about it. It’s as he’s wrapped in his own thoughts that he doesn’t register that Poppy now fully sits on the floor and Tara crawls into her lap, batting her paw at Poppy’s other hand, asking for even more attention. Just like with him, Poppy gives her affections freely, scratching Tara behind both ears and singing her name over and over again with a different intonation each time, as if she’s tasting a new food and trying to get a sense of it. 

He can’t help it. Without thinking about it, Gale pulls out his phone and swipes over to the camera app, aiming it across the tiny kitchen to where Poppy sits with Tara in her lap, smugly accepting pets from her new thrall. Poppy hasn’t stopped singing Tara’s name, adding in some hums here and there clearly trying to fit something together and it’s after a few more mumbled words that something coherent quavers throughout the small apartment.

“Oh hey there Tara

What’s it like to be a kitty?

I’ve heard so much about you and 

Tonight you look so pretty, yes you do…”

She’s singing. About his cat. To his cat to the tune of…is that? “Is that the Plain White T’s?” he asks incredulously. “Did you change the lyrics of ‘Hey There Delilah’ to be about my cat?”

Poppy tears her attention away from Tara at his words without stopping her hand’s attentions upon her. “And so what if I have?” she asks with a grin.

Gale can’t stop the look of complete and utter adoration that possesses his face. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this happy. He imagines a similar image of Tara draped over Poppy’s lap like she is now but Poppy is dressed down, comfortably, and sitting on his couch next to him—no, laying against him while he reads. A lazy Sunday, just the three of them, something Gale now wants so very desperately. More than he’s wanted anything else in quite some time. 

The moment ends, however, Tara’s head shooting around to something only she can hear and she bolts away into the living room for some feline-related shenanigans. Poppy stands, stretching her back and making it pop before turning back to him. She’s smiling wide, in that irresistible dress, and covered in cat hair. Gale just might be falling in love.

“There’s a lint roller by the entryway if you need it,” he suggests, portioning out their dinner onto plates.

Poppy glances down at herself and the copious amount of cat fur that covers her front. “As rewarding as that was, I will take you up on that.” 

Dinner is served and anticipation thrums under his skin. Their conversation never stops, a boon to Gale as he has no idea what he would do if there were any silence between them. He still itches to apparate her to his bedroom and she continues to not help by tangling her feet with his own under the table. Does she like feet? He would give it a try, for her. 

Even dessert passes through smoothly, Gale’s galaktoboureko he slaved over yesterday going over well with the woman next to him. Poppy hums and moans over her first bite and Gale feels his pants tighten even more at the decadent sound.

Poppy almost gets one over on him and tries bringing dishes to the kitchen to clean them but he deftly brushes her off, stealing the plates right out of her hands and quickly loading the dishwasher. Only one more thing is on his mind tonight and he intends to follow through.

When he leaves the kitchen, he finds Poppy looking over his bookshelves by the hallway, taking in his collection. He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, planting soft kisses on her shoulder and slowly traveling up her neck. She melts into him, one of her hands coming up to weave into his hair, encouraging his attentions. 

Hungry, so very hungry for her, he spins her around and captures her lips in a fierce kiss, pulling her into him by her hips. They’re alone. Beautifully, gloriously, alone, and now he can do with her as he likes.

They stumble down the hallway, Poppy’s hands tugging at his clothes as they go. So lost in her, Gale doesn’t notice how effective she is until he feels a cold wall press against his bare back, his sweater and shirt discarded somewhere back down the hall. Her hands make quick work of his belt and quickly enough his now fully-hard length is in her warm hands. Poppy’s lips move from his lips to his jaw, to his neck, down his chest and stomach, until he opens his eyes in a haze to see her kneeling before him, pumping his cock in front of her face.

Suddenly overcome—this is now how this was supposed to go, she doesn’t need to do this—Gale cups her face and pulls her back so she looks at him. 

“Darling, he gasps, “You don’t need to do that. Let’s move onto the bedroom.”

She kneels there, eyes black as night and glazed over with unmistakable desire that contradicts everything Gale has ever known about this sort of encounter and her brow furrows just a bit as if something just occurs to her. “She never did this for you, did she?”

He has told Poppy only a little about Mystra. They had been seeing each other for such a short time thus far, and he didn’t want to inundate her with the details of that whole sordid affair. But clearly it was enough for her to be able to hit the nail right on the head of this particular situation. Mystra never did this for him, vocally revolted it in fact. And so seeing Poppy nuzzle against his arousal with obvious want short-circuits something in his brain.

“Never,” he utters, trying to make sense of this woman below him. 

Poppy leans back and reaches a hand up, taking one of his own in hers. This one act is so unbelievably grounding, Gale doesn’t realize he had felt unmoored until the feeling dissipates just by her touch.

He shakily removes his other hand from her hair and cups her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheekbone.

Poppy stands, pressing herself fully against him and still gripping his hand. “Well professor, if you’re so concerned about my enjoyment I have a proposition for you. An experiment, in fact.”

His mind buzzes with her using those words in this context and his curiosity is piqued.

Gale merely nods, signaling for her to continue.

Poppy takes the hand she holds and guides it under her dress, pulling aside her panties so that his fingers directly touch her arousal. They both moan, Poppy at the relief and Gale in shock at how wet she already is.

“You haven’t touched me yet, but this is all you,” she says breathlessly. “Aren’t you curious to see how much wetter I’ll be after I go down on you?”

“You’re this wet already?” he asks, awed. He slides his fingers through her slick and pushes a single finger into her, enjoying how her mouth hangs open in pleasure, reveling in how hot and wet and soft she is.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all evening, all day.” Poppy steps closer so that she speaks directly into his ear, “I think about you when I’m home in bed, imagining all the things you’ll do to me, imagining you fucking me, imagining sucking your cock until you come in my mouth.” She moans out the last few words and Gale feels her gush over his hand at just the mention of going down on him.

If he was unmoored before he’s lost to the wind now, but with Poppy at the helm, pulling him hard and fast down into heady arousal that completely and utterly overtakes his mind and all his senses. Cupping her sex, he thrusts his finger into her and grinds his palm against her clit, making Poppy cry out and sling her arms around his shoulders, hips rolling into his hand, begging for more.

She is intoxicating, Gale notes every move she makes, every sound. He has never experienced anything more glorious, more beautiful. He feels dumb, of all things, brain sluggish with how all his blood is rushing elsewhere. He feels her slip and so he wraps his other arm around her, keeping her from falling. Every breath of hers comes out as a gasping pant, so different from how she normally composes herself. He’s always liked the idea of being worshiped, of being adored. If she’s this worked up by just kisses and his hand, what will she be like when he has more of her? What will she be like if he listens to how much she wants to please him, and lets her?

“You really want to taste me? To get me off with your mouth?” Gale shudders as he keeps working her with his fingers.

Her “yes” comes breathlessly, ending on a whine, her tongue flashing out to lick her lips and Gale is entranced by the action. 

“Well I can’t have you kneeling on the hardwood floor, let’s get you undressed and in my bed, shall we?”

Gale removes his hand from her and as he guides her down the hall by the small of her back. He licks his fingers clean, groaning at her taste. He can’t wait to taste all of her.

Once in his bedroom, he closes the door for no Tara interruptions, and is upon her once more, kissing her and guiding her backwards to his bed. Her hands are busy, tugging on his pants and underwear until Gale stops to step out of them, now fully bare. But unlike him, she’s still fully dressed, this damnable woman.

He pushes her onto the bed, hands roving down her back to try and find the zipper while he kisses and licks at her neck. Poppy’s hands are everywhere, touching every inch of skin she can find. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she coos. 

“I’m just Gale,” he murmurs into the crook of her neck, “but I appreciate the affectation nevertheless.” His joke has her scoffing into the dark bedroom and it’s at that moment that Gale’s fingers finally grasp the tiny zipper pull and finally pull this dress away from her body. 

He backs away for a moment to switch on his bedside light as the dress pools on the floor between them. Looking back the dim yellow light casts a warm glow over her, alighting her body to him. She sits there, draped across his bed, looking utterly divine. 

Poppy still wears her bra and underwear but when he kneels on the bed to cage himself over her, she instead meets him and pulls him down so that he’s propped up against the pillows. Her mouth returns to his, kissing him eagerly, hands dancing over his chest. Gale has no time to feel self-conscious as she kisses and nips her way down his chest and stomach, he’s not sure he even has the brainpower. Her dark pink hair pours over his skin like water and he pulls it back with a hand so he can see her face.  

Finally reaching her quarry, Gale once again finds her face nuzzling against his impossibly hard member, and he moans at just a brush of her cheek against his sensitive skin. She finally raises her eyes to his and he can see her asking a silent question, if he still wants this. He nods, nervous but also so terribly excited.

She starts by mouthing at his cock, leaving open-mouthed kisses up and down his length. Gale can’t help but tremble under her touch and his hand in her hair flexes as he tries his best to not thrust into her face, especially when she hasn’t even put him in her mouth yet.

This is made difficult when her tongue finally makes an appearance, swirling circles into his skin while her mouth sucks along his sides. The whine he squeaks out would be embarrassing if it weren’t for how Poppy’s eyes flashed at him in triumph and lust in response to the noise. She continues her work, one hand grasping him at the root and pumping gently while she drools all over his cock.

Just when he feels like he can’t take it any longer, she swirls her tongue around his soft and sensitive head, closes her eyes, and begins to take him in her mouth. His eyes close involuntarily and the groan he unleashes ripples throughout his whole body along with the pleasure. Poppy is done teasing him now and gets to work, working more of his length into her mouth in consistent strokes while her hand gripping him pleasures what she cannot reach. Her head bobs up and down beneath his hand and while his other hand grips the duvet. If he had enough blood left in his brain, he’d be worried about how he’s coming first, about how she hasn’t been taken care of yet, that he should stop her before she finishes him. But he’s unable to think through all of that when her mouth feels incredible and her tongue is doing whatever maddening thing it’s doing whenever she slides down his length each time. 

So lost in it all, he doesn’t realize until it’s already happening that the head of his cock is hitting something and when he opens his eyes he sees that Poppy’s hand has been removed and her nose is almost pressed into his abdomen. Her eyes water and make her makeup run and drool pools over his balls and he has never seen anything more beautiful. He’d be concerned for her comfort if it weren’t for how she’s humming in pleasure around him, how her hands now grip his hips as if he were to float away, her thumbs rhythmically rubbing circles into his skin in time with her bobs.

It’s so overwhelming, all of it, and his end is fast approaching out of nowhere. 

“Poppy, I’m going to come,” he gasps. He doesn’t recognize his voice, how desperate and raw he sounds. His words embolden her and she works faster, backing off his length enough so that she’s no longer choking on him and giving room for one of her hands to return to its spot on his cock. She’s so good at this, taking him like this. Even any of the attempts at this pre-Mystra pale in comparison to how she’s pleasuring him now. Poppy keeps pace, pushing him farther, farther, until he cries out raw and vulnerable, shooting ropes and ropes of spend into her mouth.

It feels an age before his mind clears, the orgasm having rippled through him like a lightning bolt. Opening his eyes, he finds Poppy peering at him, looking quite pleased with herself. He opens his mouth to say something but stops short when she opens her mouth and he sees all of his seed pooled in her mouth and about to pour out before she shuts her mouth and visibly swallows, licking her lips afterwards.

Of one mind, he releases her hair and grabs her by the shoulders, hauling her up until she’s face to face with him. He kisses her like she’s the air he breathes, he kisses her so thoroughly that he tastes more of himself than he does her. Encompassing her with his arms, he turns them over so that their positions are switched, Poppy’s shoulders and head now propped up by the pillows.

She is still more clothed than him, a tragedy that must be resolved with due haste. Gale reaches behind her while he continues to explore her mouth, grasping at the hooks to her bra until it comes undone. Backing off to remove the garment, his eyes are arrested by two glittering bars piercing her nipples. 

A growl he didn’t know he could produce rumbles through him and he descends upon her, lavishing her breasts with his mouth and hands, his plan to continue undressing her temporarily forgotten. If her noises earlier when she was wrapped in his arms in the hallway, the mewls and keens she utters as he obsesses over her breasts are on another level. Both of her hands tangle their fingers in his hair and he feels how her hips roll into his stomach, aching for friction. 

Removing himself from one of her breasts with a pop, he looks up to her and sees her debauched, eyes heavy-lidded and lower lip quivering with every panting breath. Satisfied, he returns to his original plan and kisses down her front until he reaches her lace underthings, deftly removing the final barrier between them.

Fully bare to each other now, Gale pushes her legs back, exposing herself entirely to him, and dives in, all restraint gone. She is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, every drop ambrosia. Oh, how he wanted to take his time, oh how he wanted to tease her and build her up slowly. But fresh off of his own wild orgasm and tasting how wet she is for him after all that, he has become a man obsessed. 

She was right, she is impossibly wetter after pleasuring him, without a single touch from himself or one of her hands. Gale laps up every drop and begs for more, sliding his tongue up and down her folds, teasing her entrance for more. One of his hands comes up and presses atop her mound, pulling it back to expose her clit for him. Moving his lips up to kiss and suck on her clit has Poppy bucking against his face, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard. 

He hungers for her, all of her. Gale wants no, needs nothing but for her to fall apart on his tongue, to hear her scream his name. And with how she’s gasping his name as he ravishes her, he is very likely to get his wish. Gale Dekarios is very good at achieving whatever he sets his mind to, after all.

He desperately wishes he could spend all night between her legs, the weight of her thighs on his shoulders something that he finds simultaneously comforting and deeply riling. He just came a few minutes ago but his desire hasn’t abated in the slightest, if anything it has only increased, magnified, in the wake of all of her before him, under him, tasted by him. 

Poppy on the other hand hasn’t stopped trembling since he unveiled her breasts, every action enough to make her whimper and gasp. He’s heard her sing and she has one of the most beautiful singing voices he’s ever heard, but these noises are on another level and he has a deep-seated need to learn every way he can produce each of those sounds by pleasuring her.

Between how wet she is and his added fluids, there’s a puddle forming under where he works but he doesn’t give a damn. The sheets can be washed whenever, Poppy must be attended to now.

Despite the pace at which he started, Gale does not slow down. He ruthlessly devours her like she’s his last meal, like he just spent years in the desert without a drop of water, and she pays him back with her sweet, sweet, sounds.

“Gale,” she quavers. “I’m so close, I’m so close, fucking hell you’re so fucking good at this—”

The praise pours over him like hot water, rippling through him and straight to his core, his cock twitching in acknowledgement of all that is happening. He listens to her and doesn’t stop, his thumb on her clit and his tongue all over the rest of her, willing her to come.

It surprises him, her hips thrust forward once harder than they have been and then she’s shaking, crying out his name and working through her orgasm on his tongue just as he wished. Gale keeps working her until her hands are no longer tugging but pushing his head, and he reluctantly extricates himself from her legs, his face completely drenched in her.

Poppy has turned to a literal puddle before him, a sheen of sweat over her skin and her limbs laying almost lifelessly upon his bed. Her breaths come in shudders as she regains herself, coming out of the haze of ecstasy. He takes her in from where he kneels before her, spotting tattoos normally covered by clothing he has yet to admire and he realizes that he has yet to take in all of her like he originally intended to for this evening.

He doesn’t realize that he was lost in thought over this, over her, until movement catches his eye: her hand raising up to beckon him closer. Poppy’s eyes are now open and they are full of awe and something Gale cannot place. Gale comes as he’s called, kneeling over her and kissing her collarbone and neck, feeling her overstimulation shakes from his attentions. 

“You’ve been keeping that trick up your sleeve this whole time?” Poppy jests, her voice hoarse.

“Now, to reduce that to a trick I find belittling of the art of cunnilingus and as for sleeves,” he raises one arm, “none here to be seen.” This earns him a trill of giggles from the beauty beneath him. He can’t help it, he leans down to kiss her and she hums into his mouth, cupping his face with her hands. He’s certainly getting her arousal all over her face but that does not stop her from kissing him deeply, lingering every time they pull away slightly.

Loath to break the kiss, but with a new goal at the forefront of his mind, Gale sits up and drags his hands down the front of her chest. “Pardon me, I must now take my time with you after being so effectively swept up by your wiles,” he drawls. This earns him yet another giggle and he sets his focus to the rest of her, leaning down to kiss her sternum.

Gale lingers over every inch of her, attempting to dedicate all of her to memory. Poppy is perfection, whether beneath his gaze, under his fingers, or teased by his mouth, to the point of obsession. She is impossible yet so very real and grounded and here with him. He takes mental notes of every freckle, every scar, every line of every tattoo; where she is ticklish, where she tenses under his touch, where she hums and blooms under him. She is delightfully responsive, a novelty to him. Mystra had seemed to be, at first, but as the years went on her enthusiasm had waned, making him want to try harder. But this? How a brush of his beard against her breasts makes her shiver? Unheard of. He needs more of it, of her.

“Why do I feel as though I’m under one of your microscopes?”

His trance is broken then, and he looks up at her from her abdomen where he is inspecting a particularly rougher looking scar there, likely from the removal of her appendix. Her gray eyes are alight with amusement and now he feels as though the tables are turned and he is under her microscope and not the other way around.

“Forgive me, I am merely familiarizing myself with my most remarkable discovery to date. Surely you’ll understand I must commit a not insignificant amount of time into admiring you, enjoying you. Taking note of every lovely bit of you–my yield thus far is 100% by the way,” he ends with a wink.

She scoffs at his bad joke but she’s still smiling that ever-brilliant smile. “With your already busy schedule? How ever will you find the time?”

“I would quit my job and spend the entirety of my days obsessing over you,” he declares easily.

She laughs, “You like the stars too much, you couldn’t give them up for long.”

“On the contrary, as I would have this heavenly body to become my muse,” he breathes, roving his hands over her sides.

“I can’t wait to find your papers about me on Google Scholar.”

“Oh, not just papers. Poems, essays, hell I would write novels upon novels for and about you,” he says, kissing down her chest.

“Mmmm—all I’m seeing is a lot of talk and not a lot of writing.”

Gale leans forward, pressing his chest into hers and his now-hard cock against her folds. The resultant gasp that escapes her mouth could only possibly be described in song or even dance. He would learn, of course. Would learn and do anything for her. “Oh really? You’d like me to grab pen and paper this very instant to get started? There’s no other action you’d like me to take?” he says, rolling his hips into hers.

Poppy rolls her hips back into his and he can’t hold back the groan that slips past his lips. Her eyes flash teasingly at him, beginning to glaze over with lust once more. “I never said that…but clearly you’re interested in some more immediate research. To further explore these systems unknown.”

“Experiments must be duplicated thrice to ensure accuracy of course. We’ve completed our first one, but we have two more to go. Is my lovely assistant and object of my study ready for such an endeavor?” 

“R-ready whenever you are,” she shudders.

“Then let’s begin, shall we?”

His fingers slide easily through her slick folds, down towards her slit. He dances around her opening, watching her face to take in all of her gorgeous expressions. Her mouth falls open with a soundless “o”, her hips trembling beneath his touch. After ensuring his finger is suitably lubricated, he slides it inside her slowly, taking in every inch of her. Crooking his finger up, he finds that soft spongy spot and begins petting it with the pad of his finger, taking his time, teasing her with what’s to come. Gale had intended on continuing this motion but deepening it, only to find that in his hand’s current position, his palm almost fully cups her mound and presses against her and at just a brush of the flat of his hand against her lips Poppy’s hips are grinding against him, chasing her pleasure. He presses back, not one to miss out on a new discovery 

Her breasts bounce with her efforts and Gale takes his free hand to capture one of them, kneading the soft flesh and flicking her pierced nipple, making her keen at his touch. He files away the observation that her breasts are incredibly sensitive for experimentation at a later date.

Pressing his free hand flat on top of her mound, his thumb sliding down just past her lips to graze her clit. Simultaneously, he slides two fingers of his other hand inside her and begins a relentless rhythm. When his fingers thrust out his palm presses against her lips and the back and forth drives her crazy, making Poppy babble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me Gale—oh my gods—you’re so hot whatthefuck.” He preens under her words but doesn’t let that deter him, his eyes locked on her half-lidded ones intent on feeling her come on his hands.

One of her hands grips his bedsheets and the other is locked on his thigh, unmoving while the rest of her writhes beneath his hands. Pumping in and out, pushing her farther and farther, he coos to her, “Look at you. You’ve come once already and you’re so eager for another. Are you going to come for me again? I know you’ve got it in you, love.” Her eyes grow wide and before she can answer him her walls clench around him erratically and she swears, coming and gushing all over his hand.

Gale feels as though his body is glowing under the pride of making her come a second time, just as delicious as the first time. He cleans his hands once more with his mouth, not tiring of her sweet, sweet taste. 

Poppy recovers faster than the first orgasm, pulling him on top of her and reaching for his cock between them.

“Slow down, beautiful, slow down,” he soothes, kissing up and down her neck. “We have all the time in the world.”

“I think I’m addicted to you,” she breathes. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“I’ll be sure to include that in the abstract.”

She swats him on the shoulder, without any heat to it, and just giggles once more.

“I think I know the answer, but I would be remiss to not ask it, do you want this?”

“Of course I do—”

“With a condom?”

“I have my implant now please come inside me.”

“As you wish,” he hums, his body thrilling at her words.

Sitting up, he grasps his cock, pumping a few times and groaning at how sensitive he is, how he’s come once already tonight and he’s ready to burst again. In front of him lies this glorious, wanting woman and he cannot deny her. One of her hands shoots out towards him and he takes it, holding it while his other hand guides his cock into her. Her legs spread wider as he pushes and even with just his head in the sensations are overwhelming. She is so unbelievably tight and hot and wet and—gods he can’t help the whimper that falls from his lips.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, “I don’t think I’ll be able to last very long.” He’s ready for the rejection, the snappy retort to not bother, that he should take care of himself.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she winks, breathless, perfect, so perfect. He has never felt more seen, more appreciated, more adored, more desired than with her. He has never felt more whole than when he’s with her. He knew Mystra appreciated his intelligence but even that often felt inadequate, but he never finds himself lacking when with Poppy. He instinctually reaches for that feeling but does not find those supposed gaps and instead finds himself, not quite as she sees him but enough. And when compared to the absence of, even a little feels like a bounty.

I love you. It appears, fully formed in his mind and his body warms in waves at the thought.

I love you, I love you, I love you. It’s too soon, it’s far too soon but oh how he’s so far gone for her. He’d do anything for her. Without question, without hesitation. He realizes that he’s stopped moving and, shaking his head, flexes his hand in hers.

Trying to focus on his breathing, he keeps pushing until he bottoms out, his hips flush against her. If just his tip inside of her was overwhelming this is somehow even more so, Gale’s mind swimming with the effort to not come right this very moment. He feels as though he’s in the ocean, choppy and windy, like he could be ripped away at any moment by a stray current. But he breathes, he holds, and once his mind settles enough, he pulls out slowly, all the way, until just his tip is inside her where he thrusts back in, a little harder this time. Gale feels how her hips reach up to meet him and he stares at her in awe, in awe of her desire for him so apparent and raw. He wants her too. So very much. And that’s where his resolve begins to break, his hand that had been on his cock planting on the bed next to her head while the other still grasps hers and he pumps into her faster and faster as words of adoration pour out of his mouth.

“God, you’re incredible.” 

I love you. 

“Perfect, you’re perfect.” 

I love you. 

“Stay with me, stay with me now.”

I love you.

The obscene sounds of their coupling fill the room, the bed rocking and squeaking under their efforts. Poppy meets every thrust, wrapping an arm around his neck to give her leverage. She babbles as well but her own words are less coherent, mostly swears and different intonations of his own name. “Fuck, Gale you fuck me so good—ohmygod, shit, just like that gorgeo—ah!.”

He seems to have caught an angle that she loves and so he adjusts. Gale knows he’s got it right when all her words fail her, now all her noises consist of gasps and pants and he continues to fuck her.

He thought he’d last longer having come once already but he’s been thinking about this all day, and even longer before that if he’s honest with himself, and his newfound feelings only make his desire even more heady, even more amplified. To the point where he’s now losing control, he can’t hold back any longer.

“Poppy, I’m so close. I’m so close,” he whines, peppering her face with kisses. 

She snakes a hand between them to touch herself and the other cups his cheek, her eyes boring into his. “Come for me,” she begs. “Come for me, fill me, I want to feel you come.”

His jaw slackens, mouth agape at her words. Gale’s thrusts become erratic as his resolve snaps completely and he’s coming, thrusting through it all in hopes that she comes one more time. 

Just as he finishes, Poppy falls apart, her walls fluttering around his length now beginning to feel oversensitive and her hips slapping against his own.

Gale collapses, aiming for the side of her so as to not crush her, his softening prick slipping out of her. His skin tingles all over with goosebumps as the sweat on his skin begins to cool. 

Their heavy breaths fill the room, both taking their time to come back to this moment and not wanting to break it. Tiredness begins to creep across his mind when her voice cuts through it with words he doesn’t expect: “I love you, too.”

His eyes snap open and meet hers, full of what he now sees is love but his face heats at the realization. 

“Oh, don’t tell me I was saying that out loud. Please don’t feel pressured to say it back, I—”

“I do mean it, I love you. You’re quite easy to love, in fact.” She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, Gale notching his mouth over hers for a short but sweet kiss. 

“Now, let me go clean up and when I can get back we can discuss your findings. I hope you took notes.”

It’s now Gale’s turn to laugh, more comfortable and loved than he’s felt in ages, pulling her in for another kiss before she goes.

@dr-demi-bee @lanafofana @spooky-lil-bee @feedthepheasants @waterdeep-weavemoss @crimson-and-lavender

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 13: First Impressions

Woo! DRDT! It is time! Time for despair! Let’s go! My excitement has not faded in the slightest from last week; if anything, it’s stronger than before. Here are my first impressions of this week’s episode!!!

Spoilers for CH2 EP13

CW Suicide, violent murder, mafia mention, suicide, hanging, self-harm.

It’s starting! Levi’s got some explaining to do. Will someone (say, Eden) have an interesting reaction?

Alright, J’s not the one I expected to have first reaction, but cool.

“You…” Is Ace okay? 

“Ah. I didn’t expect that.” Rose’s legendary reaction.

YOU CANNOT “THAT’S WACK” THIS SITUATION WHIT

Oh, so people know, but the court struck it. Interesting.

Ah, there’s the Ace reaction. Also, “no way Hope’s Peak scouted a murderer” but you have a poisoner on another secret and an art forger, at least. Not the same level maybe, but still. 

“Don’t make the mistake of switching cause and effect.” Of course Hope’s Peak is responsible, that was my first gut instinct. God, it’s so shady in this universe.

Woo, Levi backstory! Three “old enemies?”

… Bro??? I don’t think any of us actually expected more than one murder, but I might be wrong on that. Self-defense, then two first degrees, huh?

“Were you in the mafia or something?” Thanks J.

“I don’t think I need to elaborate” No, you do. You really should elaborate. Please? For me?

“Who did you even kill?” And… Levi!Accomplice is looking rougher by the second. Then again, maybe she didn’t know.

Levi tracked two of them down, but doesn’t know who they were? How?

“That car I blew up once?” HUH???

“That’s… kind of a lot to admit all of the sudden.” True, Rose. I’m trying to see what he’s cooking, but I can’t tell.

How do you forget this? Jeez.

“How could you forget?” You know, Arturo, I was kinda irrationally worried Charles was about to throw in his secret phrase, but it’s cool that you avoided that. Thanks.

[For the uninformed; it’s theorized the characters will, at some point in the series, say the quotes hidden in the source code of their dedicated pages out loud, since Min and Arei both said theirs, and Xander’s could be in a flashback. That means that if a character says their secret quotes, their chances of dying go up drastically.]

“If you don’t care about murder, you could be the murderer.” (Paraphrased) Yes thanks Veronika not the point. 

“Almost as if you don’t care…” Great. I didn’t know where Levi was going with this, now I don’t know where Veronika is going with her schtick.

I’m surprised Ace is taking it relatively well [as in, not outwardly terrified]. I guess near death does that to someone.

Woo! Time frame! Junior high school! 

Interesting, so he didn’t start fashion because of the murder. That’s kinda what I was thinking, but I was wrong.

We’re getting our first crumbs of Hope’s Peak being ultra shady in main series! After Rose’s backstory ig. Unfortunately the “pretentious revolutionaries” aren’t here to “hand out tickets of lead” ← LGI brainrot

“It could also refer to the time I murdered my father.”

… 

???????????????????????????

You didn’t lead with that?! Also, what?! I laughed out loud at the fucking absurdity of the statement, but what?!

“It’s a bit of a bother.” The bothersome part is that they’re phrased vaguely and not that they reveal you’re a murderer, got it.

“Go back!” Thank you J.

What do you mean I think. Bro how many people have you killed? What in the name of Kirisaki Shidou [/ref]?

“Not even the police cared about a man like him.” ??? Also, wasn’t your dad a bad influence? You’ve mentioned him before, it didn’t sound that bad- Wait, is he lying? No way he’s lying. Hold on, let me watch more.

[In retrospect, I doubt he’s lying, but his story is certainly weird]

“I see no reason to remain hung up-” Then why are you bringing it up. I still can’t fucking tell what you’re trying to accomplish here.

Eden’s reaction is… neutral, I guess? Makes sense either way?

Eden!Culprit has always been hard to maintain during the trial, huh… Still took the tape though. And I guess it’s potentially interesting she’s getting this much dialogue about Levi’s thing. Teruko’s yet to speak this episode.

“I wonder if I should really tell the truth…” Bro what do you mean there’s more truth to tell?

Oh, hey, speaking of Teruko. And it seems she and I share a mind.

“I don’t care about people at all.” Ooooh, I like this. Some kind of condition?

I feel a little bit like Veronika, interested in hearing his experience with this. Feeling like Veronika is probably a bad thing.

“You’re still a stranger to me.” Levi’s quickly climbing the ranks of fave characters, btw. This is super interesting.

“But you’re a good person-” DO NOT “good person” right now, Eden! That’s a point to Levi!Accomplice, maybe? Maybe not? I don’t know what’s happening. And I still don’t get what Levi is trying to do here.

Double “good person?” Bro what is happening.

“I don’t personally care what happens to Ace.” Mood (that’s a joke I like Ace).

PFT- Ace’s reaction lol.

“But it is “good” to make sure someone else doesn’t die-” Goodbye Levi!Accomplice! I liked you, but I’m probably gonna go try to find other theories after this episode :p (This is a joke, btw; if I didn’t discount theories like Hu!Culprit when the new alibis came up, I’m not going to completely abandon Levi!Accomplice over this. But, just saying, there might be a few revisions to be made)

“Haha. You…” Ace breakdown! Breakdown! (I'm absolutely acting like Veronika now).

“I was right all along.” Yeah, Ace ‘can tell a hawk from a handsaw’ Markey, nice one. (Does anyone even know/remember why I’m referencing that line or is LGI too far in the past for that?)

New Ace sprite! Cool one too. Clutching his heart, Acevi shippers eating ig. 

“Good thing I didn’t fall for it. Not one bit.” Oh they’re eating GOOD good!

“There’s only one person in my whole life who I’ve ever been able to call my friend-” IS THAT A FUCKING TAYLOR REFERENCE?!?!?! Holy shit, I don’t know how many people are even gonna remember we have a canon name for that dude. I hope someone still has the screenshot of the deleted answer from the CH2 Part 1 Q&A. 

“I really hope you fucking die.” We are active in Trial 2 Part 2, huh? Between Arturo telling him to “shut his whore mouth” and this, Levi’s getting verbally jumped!

“You’re quite the interesting person, Levi” Please Veronika, give me the psychoanalysis.

Dude, that’s three “good person” drops all on Levi. Chat the importance of this phrase may have been slightly overexaggerated by me (then again, the list of “good person” people has yet to grow from last chapter).

“You act like a big pushover because-” This is the psychoanalysis I came to see!

I don’t know if I’d call it “intuitive understanding” but I guess Levi’s not fully wrong about Veronika.

Four “good person.” And that’s not counting Veronika’s “good people.”

Five. Also, this continues to be interesting. Why did Levi bring this up again?

“After looking at David, I thought being honest-” Okay that’s hilarious.

“Try looking in a mirror…” First David line of the episode, right? And it’s a nice one of course.

That’s six cases of “good person” in this chapter alone holy shit. At least it’s David, who still had counts.

“I apologize for this tangent” Then can you please explain why the tangent exists in the first place? Or is it really just because being honest is "good"?

[Spoilers. It really was because of that. What]

“I can’t believe there was a time I liked you.” Yeah Acevi is still eating good. I doubt the hostility is gonna drive the shippers away; that’s what they’re here for, right?

And of course Whit’s first line makes him look suspicious. Bro you have an alibi for the time of disappearance of fish and you didn’t take the tape from the gym, stop pretending to be the killer.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Thank you Hu, but let me jump to a conclusion. Is Levi not gonna explain why he revealed his secret beyond the honesty thing?

Okay J’s response is good too.

“No, [Arei] didn’t [talk to Levi about the secret]” Bro what the fuck are we even talking about anymore.

“I don’t have a defense” (Paraphrased) No but seriously what. I’m this close to ripping out my hair. What is he doing.

“We don’t have evidence [Levi is the murderer]” Thank you Teruko Tawaki for being one of three competent people in the building. This is affectionate, one of my favorite parts of the DRDT cast is that they all suck at class trials lol :p

Bro Whit is trying REALLY HARD to look like the murderer rn. I’m still not letting him convince me. Yet.

“I realized that motives alone are not concrete evidence.” Yayyyy! Progress!

“I feel a sneeze coming on…” Dude David and Teruko need to get into comedy, they’re fucking hilarious.

“One second please.” Hu I trusted you. Why. You’re revealing your secret, right?

“...I didn’t want you all to think less of me.” Aww, poor Hu. No one’s gonna think less of you, you’re doing awesome (I am assuming she has hopeless child btw).

“I wanted to believe the past never happened” Butterfly motif and “water as rebirth” symbolism go brrr. 

“I’ve always been a selfish person, haven’t I?” Hu please, you’re really nice, even if you go overboard at times.

“I will share my secret if you promise to immediately move on.” (Paraphrased) Good idea. It would probably be good to talk about it if she wants, but this is kinda not the time.

“I have Veronika’s secret, and she has mine.” Okay I did NOT expect her to reveal she had Veronika’s, but alright! That’s two more on the board, and two more most of us got right! At least the theorists are doing well on the secrets.

[Veronika agreeing to the pact] Bro what pact, how did you communicate that? Also, “I have such little interest in both of our secrets” is wild, but it makes sense given her personality. Recap foils go brr, I’ll sit down and think about this later.

“My own so-called secret isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done.” Uh…??? It’s just bombshell after bombshell, these episodes!

Oh, we are questioning the pact. I kinda thought they’d managed to do that in the trial, now I’m really curious. Please tell me we aren’t gonna have to ignore that question because of what Hu asked of them.

Shit.

“We’re not gonna talk about me?” Oh, Vero, I would love for them to talk about you, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen.

“Arei– Achoo!” WHEN I TELL YOU I CACKLED LIKE A MADPERSON HOLY SHIT

“Bless me! Also, excuse me! Wow, thank you for your support everyone!” WAIT IT GOT FUNNIER.

“I have another interruption–” Either it just got even funnier or he’s about to reveal Teruko’s secret and shit got serious, let’s see.

Oh, right. But, dude, I’m relatively sure the last two unclaimed secrets can’t be hers. Maybe the survivor’s guilt one, even though that felt like Xander’s? Are you absolutely certain you don’t have her secret?

“My family.” Figured she’d try that one. [She probably feels it's true to some extent].

Oh, now THAT’S a David sprite alright. Pretty sure that settles it, the most common theories for secrets during hiatus were all correct.

I’m guessing David’s still not gonna reveal it. We still need to see a Teruko teacher CG, and I don’t think we’re gonna have time for that if he brings it up.

“We did it!” Yeah he ain’t revealing shit. 

“Sir Light Pollution” is actually crazy. Do his eyes really emit light like a flashlight? That’d be really fucking funny actually.

Oh, it was actually funny because Whit is a boyfailure. Alright, joke understood. I smiled.

“I am truly impressed… by how bad that was.” And there I laughed!

“I’ve started to detect this trial isn’t about me.” Iconic of you, Sir Attention Whore /affectionate

Thank you J.

Eden bro can we please let Teruko speak. Also you are not helping the culprit allegations miss Tobisa.

“What happened between you and Arei?” Jesus, we really cannot get to the fucking murder, huh? Fair, though, I’m really curious about this too, though I feel we’re gonna skip past it without an answer or David’s just not gonna respond seriously.

“I know that she’s dead and that she’s never coming back.” We’re getting worryingly close to your secret quote wording here, Eden. You sure you wanna go this route?

What are we, on seven “good person”s now?

Oh shit are we actually getting an answer?

YES! YES! YES! LET’S GO! I wasn’t expecting this!

Eight. Though I think this one’s repeated, though I might be wrong.

Yeah, this is old dialogue.

Man, Arei’s and Eden’s VAs did amazing work this episode!

“That makes me feel really relieved.” Lie. She didn’t say that. That’s my gut reaction, anyways, I could be wrong.

“I was pissed at you for a bit.” Oh shit chat David’s not getting cut off. This might actually be true. What the fuck?

Oh, also. Nine. David again.

“There’s not even anything positive…” Okay this hurts a fucking ton. If David’s lying, I want him dead. If this is true, holy shit this is sad.

“A metamorphosis like that…” Jeez this is actually getting sad sad. Auch.

“I’ll never be a good person.” Ten, and the tenth hurts a LOT. I don’t think David’s lying, members of the jury. Holy shit this is sad. 

“It turns out that you might be a total piece of shit…” Holy shit I miss Arei already.

Eleven.

“Like Santa Claus…” Didn’t Charles bring up something like that talking with Teruko in the computer room? Interesting connection. I guess not “all that glitters,” yeah.

“It’s okay that I’ll never be a good person, because no one else can be either.” Okay, first; twelve. Second, ouch.

[I know my commentary's not exactly thrilling. Forgive me, I'm suffering]

“Even Eden.” And what does that mean?

[Eden with blood on her hands CG]

…

HUH????????????????????????????????????????

I can’t- Words- Not working. Hold on, I gotta see what the fuck is happening here.

[Pan to fork]

I’M EVEN MORE CONFUSED THAN BEFORE! WHAT THE FUCK?!

It has four prongs, which matches the Xander one. Did Eden take out Xander’s eye? How in the actual fuck? No chance, right? I’m just going insane?

“I’m sure even Eden has hurt someone” (Paraphrased). Brain is still not working. Sorry.

“Even someone like her must have made a mistake she couldn’t take back” WE ARE GETTING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO SECRET QUOTE WORDING!

We’re just moving on? That shit didn’t happen? I’m fucking sorry?

I can’t even- Does this imply fucking MM!Eden? I don’t think so, she doesn’t look like she wanted to- WAS it Xander she stabbed? Again, how? What? I’m so confused. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO US DEV! I NEED ANSWERS!!!

“Second ever friend…” Ouch ouch ouch-

Another “good people” btw.

[Arei CG] That’s the fucking- THAT LOOKS LIKE THE FUCKING GIRL FROM LGI?!?!?!

Like, obviously they look different, but that’s the same pose, with the hand and everything- WHAT?!

Is Arei/David a ship? It’ll probably be one after this. 

“Nothing-” You absolute piece of shit. Holy shit David, when I get my hands on you David…

“Nothing else happened between us, I promise.” Wow. Who would’ve thunk this is how I come to fucking despise a man so much while he simultaneously rises in my fave characters ranking, huh? Holy hell.

“One hundred percent promise-” I get more mad every line. That’s good character writing, folks. Jesus.

I can’t read Eden this episode. Still think she’s the culprit lol.

“Finally.” Yeah, Teruko. Same.

[By the way, the next section has a lot of me rambling about my own theories, so if you don't know them, here's a link to the latest, now likely outdated version]

“From that low of height…” I like where we’re going.

“I’m starting to realize how long it's taken to get here.” (Paraphrased) Yeah, Whit. Yeah.

“Some people had to wait one year and five months-” PFFFT- Also Whit’s reaction means he’s not fully fourth wall aware, which is cool.

NON-STOP DEBATE! LET’S DO IT! 

[Sees truth bullet] Yes! The jugs were used as weights! Tell me I’m right about this!

YEAH! I GOT IT RIGHT! Also Veronika’s “consent” animation is… uuh… very ‘Ronika if you catch my drift. I love it!

“Those jugs ended up breaking…” You know it! I wonder if maybe they didn’t have time to clean the fish? But they could have gotten water literally elsewhere, so they clearly did use them for alibi.

“The jugs alone aren’t enough…” (Paraphrased). Yeah, we gotta go higher. Like, the girders at the top…?

“... rafters on the ceiling.” Yeah!!! Wrong name but I also got this right!

“It must have been one long rope…” Or two, because you need the stopper.

“Oh, wait, you’re agreeing with me. Yes.” Funny, laughed.

“The rafters were way too high…” Ball of clothes, come on.

“...something like a pulley…” Yeah, Whit knows what I’m talking about! The fact he’s being helpful makes him less suspicious. Finally, he managed to open his mouth without incriminating himself of something!

“High location…” Are we actually doing stopper rope? My guess is that that’s when we’ll get teacher Teruko.

“In drop hanging…” Okay, first, love the monologue. Second, is there a reason you know so much about drop hanging? Did your mother…? I guess it’s not necessary. I also came to the same conclusions and I don’t have any history with the stuff. 

“We also know she didn’t hit the ground-” Does anyone have a counter of tasteless Whit jokes? Just checking.

“Aren’t I so smart…” And we’re back to kinda incriminating ourselves, because you're denying pulley method. Fantastic.

WOO! ANOTHER NON-STOP! Let me guess, “spinny thing” is the truth bullet?

“Tape on carousel.” Close enough. Although, hold on, are we actually gonna go “stopped with hands?” No chance, right?

Also am I stupid or does Arturo’s VA sound different in the debates?

Yeah btw Levi!Accomplice is dead and buried, I need to find other ways for Eden to have done this.

I like that Teruko still calls it a spinny thing :p

Wow, everyone’s correcting her, huh? I guess I’m the only one that appreciates her smh.

“...when I need to correct the killer’s grammar.” Funny comeback, but you know, the letter does actually have quite a few spelling errors.

Yay! Teacher Teruko! She looks so cute with glasses!

Also I cannot believe it. These Microsoft-Paint ass diagrams remind me of when I did them too lol.

Oh, shit, under the seesaw! That’s a good one, Teruko! I didn’t catch that. (Then again, I always thought the seesaw was in a different place, but oh well).

Is that dog ears Whit? My guy, you know Charles dislikes dogs, right? Then again, you do canonically have negative rizz, so :p

Oh, tying the rope! Not quite a stopper rope, but same concept. Yeah, would work. Good one Teruko!

“The carousel is made of smooth metal.” THAT’S WHAT THE TAPE WAS FOR! Clutch.

Oh shit, is the cliffhanger going to be the tape’s origin?

“I’ve seen this murder method before.” Okay, wait. One, no origin of tape. That’s big for Eden!Culprit: My current guess is that someone (ie Veronika) will want to discuss the Ace-Nico thing, which will lead to them discovering Eden took the tape. Two, what the fuck do you mean you’ve seen this before?!

“You have?” Looking kinda worried there, Eden…

“And so have you.” Okay am I forgetting something? Min’s execution wasn’t like this, what the hell…

“Me?” Eden, honey, the allegations…

“We’re going to talk about a different case…” Oh shit Teruko’s got the Ace method figured out? I would really love to hear that because I have no idea what the hell was happening with that one. Also, I called it! Didn’t expect it to be Teruko who brought us back to the Ace case, but still. 

“Explain yourself, Nico.” YEAH!!!! I’m actually really excited. I’m gonna look into revising my theory on that case before the next episode, see if I can figure it out, since I think the old methods I’ve discussed with others don’t quite line up with what Teru’s describing. 

What an episode!

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General Thoughts:

Holy shit. Just. So much happened. It’s too much peak.

The Eden CG is the first thing on my mind; that’s crazy. Did she really take out Xander’s eye? I have zero idea what else I would be looking at. Certainly not MM!Eden, too obvious, but I don’t know what’s happening there. No fucking idea. I might make a more detailed post when I get my thoughts in order, but all I’m saying; the possibility the girl she kissed was Mai? That Mai told her about Teruko, and Eden attacked Xander in the pre-prologue killing game to protect Teruko? Hmm…

The secrets are huge, too. Nothing wild, given like 75% of the fandom had assumed these secrets anyways, but still nice to get them all. The Levi explanation was fascinating, but I don’t know what the fuck it has to do with the trial. Was it really a pointless aside? I don’t know…

The Arei scene was fucking insane even outside the Eden CG. Stabbed through the heart, haven’t felt that sad since Min’s death, and, yeah…

Not to mention, the fucking “Ideal Country Woman from LGI” looking ass frame. At least I finally got my answer; it was a wrist bend, not a glove. 

And David. David. Why are you like this. I genuinely can’t tell why he does anything anymore.

Finally, I love the Taylor mention, that’s insane. And Veronika has a darker secret? She really wants those MM allegations, huh? Jokes aside, I’m really curious about both those things. I kinda wonder if somehow the students will see the motive videos from Trial 1, since we’re hearing about Taylor and I’m hoping Alyssa later.

Just… Holy shit this episode was awesome. Cannot wait for next week.

First Impression Murder Theory Updates

It’s looking like Levi!Accomplice will end up being a nice AU and nothing more, although I’m not 100% ruling it out. That said, I’m still pretty confident in Eden!Culprit, especially with how we mentioned the tape on the spinny thing was easy to grip, but no one’s made the connection to the gym yet. 

The big thing to solve in the Arei case, then, is how Eden got the fish. There’s a few other accomplices she could have, but those are looking rough unless she somehow got Arei to do it. That said, I’m considering the possibility that she took the minnows ultra early, before Nico started feeding them. That would explain how they didn’t notice there were a few missing the night before; they just never counted the ones in the jugs in the first place. That has issues too, but I’ll see about it. 

That said, I’m pretty happy with myself! I got a lot of the major points of the pulley system right. The only thing is the “stopper rope vs tie a knot” thing, but the principle is similar enough. We’ll see about things like the ball of clothes to put the rope over the rafters. There’s still plenty of murder to discuss. 

As for the Ace case… It’ll need a full review later. If it’s supposed to be similar to Arei’s case, I really have no clue what the hell was happening there. Though I guess the ridiculous wire circuit I made might actually have some merit, given we're doing some kind of pulley?

... Maybe not :p

I have no further insight; I just need to look at it again.

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Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Watching this episode took me like two hours and a half while writing this… this almost 4k word post… so… yeah. Gods save me if there actually is an hour long episode left. See ya’!