#ignore how some are in uniforms and some casual…

[saekin]

Persona 5 drawing I’m putting on something cO-o

[7nuh]

WAS IT 'CASUAL' WHEN...? — TWST 1ST YEARS

Headcanons on the 'casual' things you do with him that made him wish that there was something more between you.

CW 𓂃 sfw, gn!reader, reader is implied to fit in Deuce's clothes in his part, pining

CHARAS 𓂃 Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, and Sebek Zigvolt

AN 𓂃 mostly* edited now 😎👍

ACE TRAPPOLA — you slept in the same bed?

Ramshackle isn't exactly known for having the best facilities or furniture, and that is a fact Ace has to make peace with whenever he gets kicked out by Riddle. It's always a little too chilly at night and the floors still creak beneath his feet. Even with a makeover, half of the beds are broken and that stiff couch downstairs is your next best bet at getting some semblance of sleep.

You insisted you really didn't mind sharing a bed at all and Ace took you up on your offer. In his words, "if you say so then!" Just create an invisible partition down the middle and the two of you should be fine. Sure, yeah, that'll be infinitely more comfortable than the couch, and Ace absolutely agrees. He repeats the thought to himself over and over again— this is supposedly the better alternative, isn't it?

Yeah, totally. He tries to convince himself that it's really not a big deal for him to be inches away from you at night and feel your warmth spreading through the sheets. God, you'd think he's a weirdo if you woke up and caught him staring right now, but he could always twist it into a dumb joke about your sleeping face looking like an ogre. Consequently, he would have to watch your face twist in annoyance and pretend he wasn't watching every rise and fall of your chest. He would rather lose his magic entirely than admit the ugly truth and make himself vulnerable to you.

Ace does realize he's being embarrassingly sappy and romantic, and he's disgusted at himself for these thoughts, but he can't help it. He can't change the fact your lips look so soft and your eyelashes are so pretty. This is freaking him out so much more than it should. Does this really mean nothing to you? Do really only see him as a friend? Fine, then the two of you are just friends sharing a bed then!

It's really nothing! Ace was the one who joked about it months ago, after all. But things (and his feelings) have changed and he cannot ignore that. Back then it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but now it is and he cannot calm his heart down no matter how hard he tries.

You're right there. It's not the first time he had to share a bed with someone but it's different now because it's you. He did the math and the two of you are only 10 inches apart. Ace almost reaches for you in his weakest moment until he remembers that the two of you are supposedly just two friends sharing a bed. You're doing him a favor by sheltering him for the night, that's all.

Ace retracts his hand right away at the very last second. He might have as well taken the goddamn couch (lest either of you wake up in each other's arms).

DEUCE SPADE — he lent his clothes?

You came here with next to nothing. You had exactly one change of clothes and pocket lint for change, so Deuce, being the righteous and honorable student that he is, decided to lend you some of his clothes for the meantime. It's what a good friend would do! It's a temporary arrangement that would last only until Crowley spares enough change for you to buy another set of uniforms.

But this arrangement drags on for so long even when you have a functional closet and multiple sets of better-fitting clothes. Deuce never really noticed until recently that a third of your (albeit very limited) wardrobe actually belongs to him. But whenever you tug on his sleeves for his latest sweater, he doesn't have the heart to tell you no.

When he went home during break, his mom even noticed that certain sweaters and shirts had gone missing. "I left them at the college," he tells her as to not worry her. It's technically the truth— it's back with you in the college (and you're probably wearing them right now; the mental image is enough to fluster him all of the sudden when it never did before). He has to get them back eventually since those clothes are his. He's sure you wouldn't mind? Right?

Simply asking for them back is the difficult part for Deuce. You're there in front of him wearing one of his older shirts that fit snugly around your figure and he's at a loss for words. It's worn down and outright hideous as hell but the very first thought that comes to mind is that you look good in it.

Ah, yeah. You walk around campus on non-school days wearing his clothes 1/3rd of the time and nobody else knows that those jackets and shirts and sweaters and button-ups are all his. You make even the ugliest ones look good, or maybe it's because you're the wearer and you always looked good to him? Do his eyes need to be checked...? Deuce is tortured by these thoughts while merrily go about your day. You're laughing at something stupid that Grim said and he can't hear anything else. There's a fight in the courtyard but he can't see anything else. There's a midterm tomorrow but he can't think of anything else. You're too distracting.

When you finally do remember to return a shirt or two, Deuce tells you there's really no need to return them. He insists that they're better off with you, but you laugh and remind him that you're no longer the same pathetic charity case you were at the start of the year.

The truth is, your scent still lingers on recently returned shirts. It's the closest he'll get to being skin-to-skin with you, and Deuce is supposed to ignore that but he cannot. Or maybe he's the only one making this weird for the two of you because it doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest (and he's bothered by that).

But when Deuce looks at the recently returned shirts in his hands, he hopes he has a chance. He hopes you think of him as much as he thinks of you. He hopes the odds of him not actually liking you after all make your guts churn and set butterflies in your chest at the same time. He hopes he isn't the only one yearning for used shirts, lingering scents, and ghost touches. But at the same time, you've only ever asked these kinds of favors from him... Deuce doesn't want to assume anything, but a blush creeps upon his cheeks all the same and he continues to hope for more.

JACK HOWL — you played with his ears and tail?

Beastmen weren't a thing back in your world, so seeing them regularly made you morbidly curious about their animalistic features. Jack was easily the best candidate to satisfy your intrusive thoughts because just who else could you ask about this? Leona wasn't exactly an option and Ruggie might rope you into some scheme of his. And Jack owed you a favor, after all, so this is what you decided to ask of him.

Jack's ears twitched— did he hear you correctly? His face scrunches up in confusion because you barely knew each other for you to be asking something like this. How could you ask something so personal from him? It's in your innocently eager expression that he realizes what's going on... you just didn't know. Fine, it should mean nothing to you and thus he agrees to let you pet his tail and ears for five seconds. Maximum.

It's supposed to be a one time thing but he finds him involuntarily offering up his tail whenever you look him like that. He's not even sure how it got to this point. After all, there are romantic connotations of having your tail petted by someone else and... nevermind. Ruggie and Leona have started simultaneously teasing him over it the very moment they caught wind of this peculiar arrangement. It doesn't help that Jack's tail is particularly sensitive and reactive, but he keeps a straight face no matter how much it embarrasses him.

Jack doesn't understand why you're so fascinated by his tail and ears because there are so many others just like him. However, he supposes it's not an entirely terrible feeling, though, to have your fingers absentmindedly rake across his tail and hair as the two of you study. It's relaxing, even, but he won't tell you that. Jack will never tell you that it gives him goosebumps all over and makes him shiver whenever you play with his tail. Or that he's begun wondering what it would be like to have your hands elsewhere, or for him to touch you in similar ways in return.

He doesn't understand why he craves your company but doesn't question it either. All he knows is that your hands are so soft and gentle and that he likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile in satisfaction. And when you hum a soft tune as the gap between the two of you closes, he wonders if he's the only one feeling this tension.

"Again?" Jack huffs. The pretext of this being a silly favor has been long forgotten. He should probably tell you soon that you shouldn't be doing this, but you just look so pleased with yourself when the two of settle down in a lesser-known corner of the library. The routine persists, the cycle continues. Hours later, the both of you have gone through multiple bags of chips, two movies on his laptop, and his tail is now comfortably curled around your abdomen as you read a book and he tends to his beloved cactus.

Again? Jack silently asks himself whenever he sees your face in a crowd. Could the two of you spend hours in a comfortable silence while the unsaid implications haunt him? He's started to ask himself— were you just playing dumb at this point or just plain stupid? Or what if you had known all along and the two of you were just dancing around it?

EPEL FELMIER — you kissed him?

Epel eventually learns to use the way others perceive him to his advantage; there's strength in appearing to be weak and striking when the iron is hot. Still, he couldn't help but wish to be seen for his talents and strength instead of his beauty at the first glance. The first assumption everyone makes of him, for god's sake, is that he's a fragile little thing from a rich family, and, quite frankly, he's sick of it.

So he's secretly delighted when none of his charms worked on you and you yank him by the ear for even attempting. A few curse words and rough shoves later, both of you are on the floor, grappling and wrestling against each other. The two of you are laughing so hard and swearing so loudly that you'll probably wake up the rest of Pomefiore at this rate, but neither of you care. It's just the two of you right now grasping at each other like your life depended on it.

It's a nice change of pace to be openly exchanging insults instead of restraining himself. He enjoys the comfortable rhythm the two of you share— from all the brawls and the bantering and the hugs and to the kisses on the cheek. Yes, kisses. They started as simple thank you's after a few favors here and there, and just one of them is enough to make a mess out of Epel for weeks. Better yet, you only seem to be showering him with more and more of your attention and he relishes in it.

Ah, things are finally working out for him! He found someone he could confide in and he's sure that there's a spark between the two of you. By the end of the year, he might have someone to bring home and brag about to his relatives—

All the momentum halts when he sees you across the hall granting the rest of your friends the same levels of affection. From all the brawls to the bantering to the hugs and the kisses, none of those were ever solely his to take delight upon. It doesn't matter that he opened up to you about all his fears and insecurities because he was never special. You were just the kind of person who got along and felt comfortable with everyone around you, but Epel hates that he has no one to blame but himself. He willingly walked your warmth but it was never his to take.

It finally dawns upon him that you have never seen him in a romantic light and that was why you were so comfortable around him. In retrospect, the bond you two shared was more sibling-like than anything— and believe him when he says he's incredibly grateful that the two of you were that close —but it doesn't make it hurt any less to know that your affections never carried any romantic intentions after he had pinned for you for so long.

Even when he takes a step back, you're cruel in a roundabout way by continuing to be so kind and loving towards him. How was Epel supposed to make sense of your relationship after realizing he misunderstood you...?

And he also hates to admit this, but his self-confidence takes a huge blow from this. Epel genuinely thought he could be loved for who he was based on the time you spent together. It gnaws at him and eats him alive to finally know the truth, and sometimes he wishes he never found out at all.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT — you wrote him love letters?

So, Sebek asked (demanded) to be penpals...

It's all because Lilia told him it would be a good exercise of diplomacy, he insisted. As the young master's bodyguard, he will have to be as courteous as possible even in unpleasant company. He also rationalized, admittedly partly because of you, that forging bonds with magicless humans may be a worthwhile endeavor after all! It's all rather suspicious (and you suspect his real intentions have something to do with your friendship with Malleus), but Sebek has never been one to lie about his intentions. If anything, the popular opinion was that he's a little too honest and should learn a thing or two about holding back.

There's something very unconventional in sending handwritten letters in this day and age of modern technology, but also something very romantic and fantastical— much like the many fictional knights he had read about. It helps a lot that he's not directly confronted by the fact you are very much a magicless human who shouldn't be in NRC whenever he spills out his heart's contents unto multiple pages. It was a way for him to release his frustrations, celebrate his achievements, and talk about the dull, little things thats happened in his day-to-day life to someone who listened.

And listen you did. Turns out, when you're not subjected to his 1000 decibel shouting, Sebek is a rather earnest guy who worked hard and acknowledged others who also worked equally as hard no matter their disposition. To say the least, you understand why Lilia found it so entertaining to tease him.

It completely flies over his head that you had been flirting with him for months through these letters. Your everyday interactions with each other had been completely normal, so how was he supposed to notice?! It takes multiple rereads and many late-night discussions with the other Diasomnia dormers to decode and understand all the double entendres and hidden 'i love you's' in each and every letter. It was so needlessly difficult, but Lilia laughs in his face and pats him at the back for a job well-done.

"There's no way," he thinks to himself late at night and finds himself doubting Lilia's claims for once. But when Sebek steals a glance in your direction and you smile back in return, he's never felt weaker in his knees. You're absolutely and undeniably magic-less... but somehow you had casted a spell that made his chest tighten and shut him up. He hadn't even realized how much time he was spending with you and thinking about you when he wasn't.

Except nothing has changed in-person. You're acting like you hadn't meticulously hidden your affections for him in those letters, and he was starting to seriously doubt all of it. Yeah, were you event smart enough to pull off all that? As some magic-less human?

Actually... Sebek realizes that you are capable of outsmarting him after getting to know you much better through those letters. He's never been one to deny where credit it was due. Now, Sebek's just deeply ashamed that he failed to accurately assess your character before making judgements based on superficial traits. He knows better than anyone that you're witty, charming, brave, kind, beautiful, ambitious—

Oh no.

Oh no.

Sebek simply explodes on the spot once he realizes that he had been oblivious to his own feelings for you too. He had thoroughly examined every aspect of this conundrum except from within. Quite embarrassing from an esteemed knight of the prince of nocturnal fae to be this slow, really.

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men pretending to date you to get rid of unwanted attention

Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count; 3,9k (Gojo's part is loooong)

Warnings: got carried away by Gojo again lol, no real warnings except creepy guys and fluff over fluff, forgive me Noritoshi lovers, I know I did our man dirty in Megumi's part

Geto Suguru

It’s a quiet afternoon in the city. You and Geto have been meeting at this cozy café once a week for months, a little ritual that started after one too many of countless exhausting missions. The place is familiar and comfortable, usually a perfect escape from the noise of jujutsu sorcery. But today, things are a little off.

You notice it immediately when you enter, the way the barista’s eyes follow you. He’s new, someone you’ve never seen here before, and while it’s normal for people to glance over at new faces, this guy’s gaze lingers. It’s unsettling, but you ignore it, not wanting to overthink things. Maybe it’s just the way your hair falls today or the fact that you’re still wearing your uniform since you’ve just returned from another mission.

You sit down across from Geto, who’s already sipping his tea and scrolling through his phone while lounging with his manspread on point.

As you allow yourself a sip of your favorite drink too, you try to relax. This has to be your imagination running wild, you aren’t even that pretty, right?

But every time you look up, the barista is staring at you, his eyes heavy with intent. Eventually, he makes his way over, holding a plate of complimentary cookies. Fuck, what are you supposed to do?

“These are for you,” he purrs, offering you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“On the house.”

You blink, taken aback. The stinging smell of way too much masculine perfume almost makes your guts turn and forces you to hold your breathe. You can tell by one look in his eyes what his intentions are – and they definitely aren’t sincerely.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you murmur, unsure of how to refuse without making things awkward.

The guy lingers, his attention focused solely on you. When he takes another step towards you, the alarm in your head starts going wild. What the hell does this creep want?

“You come here often, don’t you? I’ve noticed you a few times.”

Geto looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he notices the barista’s attention. He says nothing at first, but there’s a subtle tension in the air that wasn’t there before. There’s no doubt in the fact that you’re feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah, we come here a lot,” Geto interferes smoothly, his tone polite but firm.

“Together.”

The barista’s eyes flick to Geto for the first time, a shadow of irritation crossing his face. He clearly hadn’t noticed him before.

“Oh,” the guy mutters, his smile faltering.

“Are you two…?”

Geto leans forward in his chair, casually placing his warm hand on your thigh while giving you that smile that almost makes you choke. The move is subtle but possessive, his body language making it clear what he’s implying. And your body? Oh, you’re all over the place, your face already hot from the minimal touch of his palm.

“Yeah, we are” he replies simply, giving the barista a look that’s both confident and warning.

The guy frowns, obviously not pleased with the answer, but he doesn’t push it – much to your relief.

“Well, enjoy your cookies,” he gabbles before turning on his heel and heading back behind the counter.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body finally relaxing as the barista moves away.

“That was weird,” you comment, glancing at Geto with a small, grateful smile.

Geto shrugs, his usual calm smile returning.

“Some people don’t know how to take a hint.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand still resting against your thigh.

“Thanks for stepping in. I didn’t know how to handle that without being rude.”

“It’s no problem,” Geto replies, his fingers brushing lightly against your covered skin while he leans in slightly.

“Besides, pretending to be your boyfriend has its perks.”

Your cheeks flush even deeper at his words, but you laugh it off, knowing he’s just teasing…

Does he?

There’s something about the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual, the faint smirk on his lips that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” Geto finally declares, standing up and offering you his hand.

 “Let’s get out of here before that guy decides to bring us another free snack.”

You take his hand with a smile, letting him lead you out of the café, the tension from before completely forgotten.

Are you actually going insane or was there a…spark?

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s a typical day at the jujutsu high training grounds. You and Megumi have been sparring for a while, your breaths coming in short gasps as you try to keep up with him. He’s quick, precise, and annoyingly good at reading your movements, but you’re giving it your all.

During a quick break, you head to the sidelines to grab some water. As you wipe the sweat from your brow, you notice one of the students from Kyoto High approaching. You’ve seen him around before, but you’ve never spoken much beyond the occasional greeting. After all, you’ll wring each other’s next in a few hours, there’s no need for any formalities. Was his name Noritoshi Kamo?  Before you’re even able to finish your sentence, he stands right in front of you…

And talks?  

“Hey, that was some impressive stuff out there,” he begins, leaning against the fence next to you.

His smile is strangely friendly enough, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes you uneasy.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you take another sip of water.

The guy doesn’t take the hint.

“You know, if you ever want some private training, I’d be happy to help,” he offers, stepping a little closer.

“I could teach you a few tricks.”

You stiffen slightly, your eyes flicking to where Megumi is standing a few meters away, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes. Before you can respond, the guy takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out as if he’s about to touch your arm.

But before he can, Megumi steps forward, his expression hard.

“She’s not interested,” he says flatly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The guy blinks, taken aback by the sudden interruption. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were-”

“We are,” Megumi interrupts firmly, moving to stand between you and the guy.

His presence is protective but not overbearing, a silent wall that the other student quickly decides not to challenge. All you can do is to stare back and forth between the two. That guy, who never said anything to you and now suddenly tries to flirt and Megumi, who stands in front of you like a wall in order to protect you from unwanted attention? You have to be dreaming.

“Right… well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” the guy mutters awkwardly before turning and walking away.

Once he’s gone, you let out a small sigh of relief, glancing up at Megumi with a grateful smile, even though you can’t shake off those violent butterflies roaming around your stomach.

“Thanks for that. He was pretty straight forward and I was too bamboozled to act.”

Megumi shrugs, his usual stoic expression back in place.

 “He was bothering you.”

You smile, appreciating the way he always looks out for you, even if he tries to downplay it.

“Still, you didn’t have to step in like that.”

Megumi glances at you, his cheeks flushing just slightly before he looks away.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he mumbles.

“Besides, I didn’t want him to distract you from training.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his stubbornness. While this is the first time Megumi stood up for you in this strange way, you can’t help but fall over and over for that boy who hides his feelings like a treasure. Is there a chance that he might like you as well?

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a faint smile on his lips as he turns back to the training ground, ready to spar again. And though he doesn’t say it, you can feel the warmth in his actions - the way he stands a little closer, the way his eyes flick to you more often than usual.

“Maybe”, you mutter to yourself before returning to the training field by his side.

Choso Kamo

You never imagined that a simple grocery store run would turn into a whole situation. You’re wandering down the aisles, trying to decide between two different brands of pasta when you notice a guy lingering nearby. At first, you think nothing of it, people shop all the time, after all.

But then he approaches.

“Hey, need any help with that?” he asks, giving you a smile that’s a little too friendly for comfort.

You offer a polite smile back, shaking your head. Oh, you know men like him good enough, the ones who are only interested to drag you into bed. You’ve seen them countless times before, but in the grocery store? People are really desperate nowadays.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, he steps closer, his eyes roaming over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“You sure? I’ve got some great recipes I could share with you. Maybe over dinner sometime?”

You glance around, feeling trapped in the narrow aisle with no way out and no one nearby. Fuck, this isn’t good. Even if he won’t do anything in the grocery store, you still have to get back home – alone. And with that dark lust glittering in his eyes, he definitely won’t give up.

Just as you’re about to make up an excuse to leave and steady yourself for ramming your knee into his groin, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“She’s already got dinner plans,” Choso announces, his tone calm but firm as he steps up beside you.

Choso.

Your heart skips a beat when you seem him, his eyes resting comforting on yours. Choso’s here? He didn’t even mention that he’ll go shopping when you last saw him at jujutsu high.

He places a gentle hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the guy with a quiet confidence that leaves no room for argument.

The guy raises an eyebrow, clearly irritated by the interruption.

“Oh yeah? And who are you?”

Choso’s expression doesn’t change, his dark eyes locked on the man with a quiet intensity.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

The guy snorts, clearly not believing it at first, but when he sees the way Choso stands protectively at your side, he seems to reconsider.

“Right… well, my bad,” he mutters before turning and walking away.

You let out a shaky breath, your body relaxing as soon as the guy is out of sight.

“Thank you. I thought this creep will follow me until I’m home” you murmur, looking up at Choso with a relieved smile.

“You could have just killed him.”

“You know I couldn’t do that…”, you reply with a scolding undertone.

These past weeks, you’ve spent a lot time with Choso and taught him simple human interaction. Was this why he stood up for you like that?

Choso glances down at you, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, more than grateful for his presence. Even though his hand still resting against your back sends shivers down your spine.

In a strangely good way.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. I just… didn’t know how to get rid of him.”

Choso frowns slightly, his gaze softening as he watches you.

“You don’t have to deal with that alone. I’m always here if you need me. From now own, we will go to the grocery store together” he replies quietly.

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that goes beyond simple gratitude.

“I know. And I’m really lucky to have you.”

Choso’s cheeks flush slightly at your words, but he gives you a small nod, his usual calm demeanor returning.

“Let’s finish shopping,” he says, gently guiding you toward the next aisle.

“I’ll stick close, just in case.”

Gojo Satoru

The bass thumps through your body, the vibrations of the music almost tangible as they pulse through the packed nightclub. Neon lights flash over your head, casting everything in a rainbow of colors, and the crowd moves like a living, breathing body. It's a typical night out with Gojo, who insisted you both hit the club after a long week of missions.

You spot him easily in the chaos, standing at the bar with his signature sunglasses on even in the dim, flashing light. His presence is impossible to miss. After all, Gojo is always the center of attention wherever he goes. His tall frame, casual stance, and self-assured grin naturally draw people in. And tonight is no exception.

You watch from the other side of the club as a woman approaches him, her gaze locked on Gojo like a predator targeting her prey. She’s tall, confident, and clearly intent on making her move. At first, you don’t think much of it - this kind of thing happens all the time when you’re out with him. Gojo is Gojo, after all. But the way she leans into him, brushing her hand against his arm, makes something sharp twist in your gut.

You try to shake it off. You’re not the jealous type, and Gojo has always been playful when it comes to flirting. He simply enjoys the attention, but you know it’s harmless. Still, there’s something about the way this woman is looking at him that makes you feel uneasy.

Even though your not even his fucking girlfriend.

As you make your way through the crowd, heading toward the bar, you see the woman press herself closer to Gojo, her lips moving near his ear as she says something you can’t hear over the pounding music. Gojo’s grin only widens, and he says something back, causing the woman to laugh, her hand lingering on his chest.

Your pace quickens, a mix of frustration and something else bubbling up inside you. You’ve been with Gojo long enough to know how he works, but tonight, for some reason, the sight of him entertaining someone else makes your chest tighten.

Finally, you reach the bar just as the woman leans in even closer, her hand now resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say, louder than necessary to cut through the music.

“I see you’ve made a friend.”

Gojo turns his head at the sound of your voice, his trademark grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, hey, babe!” he calls over the music, completely unfazed.

“I was just chatting with—uh, sorry, what was your name again?”

Wait, did he just call you babe?

The woman looks visibly annoyed as Gojo fumbles for her name, her gaze flicking to you with thinly veiled irritation.

“I was just about to get us drinks,” she purrs, trying to brush off your presence, clearly not deterred by the fact that Gojo is here with you.

You raise an eyebrow at her audacity, but before you can respond, Gojo’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close to him with a casual but unmistakably possessive gesture. His hand rests securely on your hip, and he leans down so his mouth is close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You feel like fainting. Or maybe dying? Oh, your heart will definitely beat out of your chest if that dream continues.

“She’s not really my type,” he murmurs, his voice low but playful.

“I’m more into, well… you.”

Despite the loud music, the tension in the air shifts instantly. The woman stares at you, clearly catching Gojo’s not-so-subtle dismissal, her expression darkening. And you? If it wasn’t for Gojo’s hand that keeps you in place, you’d land straight on your wobbly knees.

“Really?” she huffs, glaring at you like you’ve somehow intruded on her territory.

“Yeah. Besides, I’m already taken” Gojo replies easily, his grin never wavering.

You feel a small surge of satisfaction at his words even though you know he’s lying to annoy the hell out of her, but the woman isn’t ready to give up just yet. She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You sure you’re not missing out?” she challenges, giving you a once-over that makes your skin crawl.

Gojo’s grip tightens on your waist, and this time, his playful smile fades just a fraction.

“Nope, I’m sure. I don’t think we need any drinks after all. They won’t help with your disgusting attitude anyway” he comments, his tone firmer.

With that, he smoothly turns his back on her, guiding you away from the bar and into the crowd. You glance back just in time to see the woman’s face fall, a mixture of disbelief and irritation crossing her features before she disappears into the crowd of people.

Once you’re safely away from the bar, Gojo turns to you, his grin back in place as if nothing happened.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice light and teasing, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you mutter, feeling your face heat up slightly.

“But you…Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up so you’re looking at him.

“What if I did? Would that be okay for you?”

Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting to his words in an instant. Is he making fun of you, testing you? No, you can feel that he means it by the way he holds you by your waist, his fingers resting there like he’s afraid to let go. The world around you feels muffled, the music and the crowd fading into the background. It’s just you and Gojo now, his bright blue eyes shining under the neon lights.

You swallow, trying to find your voice.

“I-I… I don’t know,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like the confident façade you normally carry around him has vanished. The way he’s looking at you so seriously, intently, is doing things to your heart that you can’t quite control.

“I mean, you don’t-”

Gojo interrupts you with a soft laugh, his hand sliding up from your waist to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to answer right now, you know,” he mutters, his voice a little softer than before.

“But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I guess tonight just gave me the perfect excuse.”

You blink at him, too stunned to speak. Gojo Satoru, who flirts with everyone, who acts like nothing ever truly gets to him, has been thinking about you as more than just a friend? You’ve always had a bit of a thing for him, of course. It’s hard not to when he’s charming, gorgeous, and undeniably protective when it comes to you. But you never thought he felt the same way.

“I thought you were just messing with me,” you admit, your voice a little quieter now, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

He grins, though this time it’s softer, not the usual cocky smirk.

“I mess with everyone. But with you? It’s different. I don’t just want your attention, I want you.”

His words sink in, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something huge. You’ve seen Gojo in action. So fearless, confident, always in control, but the way he’s looking at you right now is different. He’s giving you the choice.

A swell of warmth floods through you as you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the alcohol you drank earlier, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s just so close, but you can’t hold back anymore.

“You’re not playing around, are you?” you ask, searching his face for any sign of his usual teasing.

His smile softens further as he shakes his head.

“Not this time.”

Something inside you snaps, and before you can stop yourself, you close the gap between you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a kiss that’s been building for far too long. Gojo freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but it only takes a second before he’s kissing you back with an intensity that makes your knees weak. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world around you disappears completely.

The kiss is electric, everything you imagined it would be and more. You can feel the pent-up tension between you finally break as his lips move against yours, and when he deepens the kiss, your mind goes blank. All you can think about is the way he tastes, the way he feels, and the way your body seems to mold perfectly against his.

When you finally pull back, breathless and a little dizzy, Gojo is grinning down at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“Well,” he comments, his voice slightly rougher than usual,

“I guess that answers my question.”

You laugh, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“I guess it does.”

He doesn’t let go of you, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist.

“You know, I don’t usually do this. Y’know, getting serious with anyone” he starts, his tone light but sincere.

“I know,” you reply, your smile softening.

“But I think we’re both a little different when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he nods.

“Yeah, we are” he murmurs, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek.

The club around you is still loud and chaotic, but in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Gojo, for once, isn’t playing his usual games. His smile is genuine, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“So, does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend for real?” he questions, his grin slowly returning.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and happy as you look up at him.

“Only if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He raises an eyebrow, that familiar playful smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

Before you can say anything else, Gojo leans down and kisses you again, slow and deep, like he’s making sure this is real. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[peachdues]

ALL THE THINGS WE LEFT UNSAID — PROLOGUE + TEASER

Tengen’s Bundle of Joy • Secret Pregnancy AU

A/N: surprise! Have a first look at Tengen’s installment of my Bundle of Joy series.

This fic will be multi-part canon-AU. It is a non-linear story (alternating between Then and Now) and double surprise! It will be a slow burn (just because they fuck doesn’t mean they’re in love!)

CW: MDNI • this story features explicit sexual content • secret pregnancy • angst • mentions of injury/head wound • these two are stubborn as fuck lmao

PROLOGUE

“The Sound Hashira is rumored to be in this region. Some mission.”

Your comrade’s off-handed comment freezes you in your step.

“Where.”

Your fellow Kinoe shrugs, unaware of the way your eyes dart anxiously around the clutter of wooden homes and ramshackle shops, as though you half-expect the silver-haired swordsman to leap out from the shadows at any moment.

“It’s not like we get details of the Hashira’s missions shared with us,” he brushes you off with a yawn. His arms fold behind his head, his gait lazy and far too casual for someone of his position as he struts lazily along an uneven path that leads to the small building marked with a fading, painted wisteria crest. “We might be Kinoe, but we’re still bottom feeders compared to them.”

You hum in half-hearted agreement, but your attention to your fellow Slayer — to your mission — flounders as the knowledge you’ve worked desperately ignore explodes out of the mental bottle you’d shoved it into.

Beneath the ever-tightening buttons of your uniform shirt your stomach has begun to swell. Slight; not yet noticeable to the naked eye, but sure as hell prominent when you’re fighting to close the last two buttons or fasten your hakama pants.

You thumb absently at your belt — now loosened two notches. Perhaps you’ll take a cue from the Love Pillar’s book and opt for a skirt. At least the waist would sit higher up, the pleats, offering cover you’ll need while you figure out what the fuck it is you’re going to do. It won’t be long before your secret is exposed; before word inevitably reaches the jewel-crusted ears of the very one you want most to avoid.

You’d be more useful dead.

A callous thing to say to a subordinate, let alone someone who’d risked their neck on more than one occasion to preserve his. And, for all the testiness that had built between you over the years, a resentment born of your mutual inability to confront the other honestly, you hadn’t expected him to resort to that.

You’d known he regretted his words the moment he hurled them your way, but it was too little, too late. And it hadn’t stopped you from leveling his ire with your own, your response a series of poisoned darts you were only happy to launch right back his way.

I look forward to meeting your expectations.

But it was his regret, perhaps, that led him to grab you by the bicep as you’d tried to leave, that yanked you back to face him, breath heavy and pupils dilating.

The crack fissuring across your chest had been dulled by the way his hand swallowed your arm; how his mouth crashed into yours, and the powerful movements of his body. But once he’d collapsed atop you, panting and spent, the wounds he’d inflicted turned raw once more, the salt of his sweat preventing your blood from clotting where he’d torn your chest clean open.

You manage a furtive shake of your head, dispersing the memory of his body and his violence from your mind. This is not the time for you to pick at the scab over your heart, not after you spent the better part of the last two months trying to force it to form. For now, you need to focus on getting the hell out of here; to get as far away from this desolate corner of the earth before the universe decides to throw you back at him.

Before he knows.

Your comrade prattles on, bragging over how he’s been lucky enough to see the Sound Pillar in battle, oblivious to the smirk settling on your lips in spite of yourself. The Kinoe you’ve traveled with seems unaware that in detailing the way the Corp’s great Uzui had appeared out of thin air to save him and the handful of other slayers cornered by a particularly fearsome avian demon, he’s admitting to his own ineptitude in finishing off the beast on his own.

The Hashira don’t come unless hope is lost; the fact Uzui had appeared at all meant they’d been done for. Yet, he wears the boast of having needed his ass saved by one who’d undoubtedly disposed of the demon with a painful swiftness like a badge of honor.

You know better.

For all the ways your fellow swordsman brags over having witnessed the Pillar’s great display of strength, you’ve seen him weak. Not only that, but you’d been the direct cause of such weakness; you’d broken him down, made him give into temptations he believed he’d suppressed.

But that weakness has led you here — chewing on your thumbnail in a fit of anxiety your comrade remains woefully ignorant of as you try banishing the memories of the Sound Pillar’s weakness from your mind.

More, you’d begged him, sweaty and panting and delirious. More.

He’d obliged you — enthusiastically so. And the way you’d fallen apart in his arms showed you that you were just as weak as he.

Not once had he bothered to apologize for what he’d done; what he’d said. And his too casual pronouncement that your death — as gruesome and violent as your profession demanded — would be a better convenience than for him to work through his own bullshit was a slash through your chest even his most fervent apologies wouldn’t be able to stitch back together.

Not that you thought he ever would offer one — but the image of him dropping to his knees and begging you for forgiveness you wouldn’t allow yourself to give was a small comfort to your bitter heart.

Besides, you’d claimed the privilege of having the last word by not saying any at all. Instead, you’d crept away from the inn, leaving him asleep on the discarded heap of his uniform in the room you’d been forced to share.

You’d given him exactly what he’d given you — nothing. And that vindication had been as sweet as it was short-lived. Now, you’re stuck with the consequences of your own pride and weakness without any idea of what to do about it.

Feigning indifference where Tengen Uzui was concerned, however, is your speciality; a skill you’d perfected just as surely as you’d mastered shadow breathing. Thus, the mask of cool neutrality is easy to slip on as you listen to your comrade continue prattling on about skill levels and techniques to improve breathing styles, chiming with a mildly interested nod when necessary.

And you plot; plot your escape from this tiny fishing village, plot how best to guard the secret you know won’t remain such for much longer. Running away from your problems had always been far easier than forcing yourself to choke them down, and this time will be no different. Of that much, you’re certain.

Coward, a voice that sounds suspiciously close to Uzui’s hisses in your head. Coward.

And so, you continue to strategize your best chance at avoiding the storm brimming on your horizon as your fellow Kinoe continues, too consumed by his blustering to notice how your had drifts to your stomach, resting on the hidden curve where the Sound Hashira’s child grows.

—-

BONUS

“The baby — the baby —“

“Where?” Tengen surveys the wreckage scattered around you, ears carefully pricked for any cry, any smaller, weaker heartbeat, but for all his strain, he can discern none. “Was it a village kid?” He jostles you as much as he can, trying to force your eyes into focus. “Where, Y/N?”

But you only keep muttering the baby, your brow furrowed, your head twitching as though in dissent, though it remains limited where it is braced in the crook of Tengen’s massive arm.

He swears under his breath as your eyes roll into your head, your lips straining to form the mantra you cannot stop repeating, even as your breath turns shallow and raspy. Two fingers find the pulse point in your neck, and Tengen swears again at weakened beat of your heart.

“You don’t get to die.” He snaps at you, hand slapping lightly at your bloodied cheek. “You don’t get to run away. Not now. Not again.”

He needs to figure out where else you might be injured — that way he can help, can stabilize you before the Kakushi arrive. You’re not taking the easy way out this time. He would stand at the gates of heaven or hell itself to block your way, ready to haul your ass right back to life so he could chew your ass out the way you so obviously needed. And once he did, he can put this volatile, tempestuous thing between you to rest. He can free himself of the bonds you’d snapped around his wrists the moment you first sized him up and cut him down with a few, caustic words.

Then, he might finally be able to let you go.

Gritting his teeth, Tengen surveys your body. Your head wound is the most prominent, but no matter how much blood mats in your hair and streaks down your face, he knows better than to assume that it’s the worst you’ve sustained.

Gently, his hands smooth along your body, and he notes every odd bend, every lump along your joints that does not belong.

“The ba — baby —“ your voice grows fainter with each word, and Tengen can only see a sliver of white peeking out from between your eyelids.

Beneath the dark crimson of your blood your skin has turned ashen.

“Y/N.” The hoarseness of his voice has nothing to do with the smoldering flames and thick smoke that has burned the village to its skeleton. His hand slides to your abdomen, ready to position you in his arms so he can run with you, can tow you to the nearest Kakushi. You will not die; he forbids it, he forbids you from even trying —

His hand settles on your navel and freezes.

Beneath the flush of his palm is a curve; an outward swelling of your stomach that had been hidden under the loose fit of your uniform shirt, but under his touch, it is unmistakeable.

A bump. A sizeable bump extends from your abdomen.

The grunts and groans of the houses and structures giving way to the crackling flames fall away, his ears filling instant with a high-pitched ring that pulses in time with his thundering heart. The sweat rolling down his neck turns cold, his chest tightening until his lungs burn. Slowly, his eyes drag back up your body until he finds your graying face once more.

For one, brief moment, your eyes flutter open and search wildly before landing on his, wide and frozen in his horror.

“The baby.” You say once more, in explanation and confession. And then your eyes roll back into your skull and you turn limp in Tengen’s trembling arms.

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 12

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry if this one's not as good as some of the other Kinktober things I've posted. I am running on a serious lack of sleep and an unhealthy amount of caffeine. So there may be some mistakes I missed proofreading. But hopefully you still enjoy it!

PROMPT: "Do you know how hard you make it to keep my hands off you?"

KINK: Uniform Kink

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Oral: Female Receiving, P in V Sex.)

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

TAG LIST: See Comments Below

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

You weren’t nervous walking into The Hard Deck—not at first. You’d been in San Diego for the summer, looking for fun and maybe a little excitement. Matching with Jake Seresin on Tinder seemed like just that—a summer fling with a ridiculously attractive guy who, based on his profile, didn’t take life too seriously. All of his pictures were casual: him in a white or black T-shirt, jeans, and that one photo of him at the beach that had you staring at your screen longer than you’d admit.

You’d chatted for a few days—mostly flirty, nothing too deep—but when he invited you out to this bar, you figured why not? It was supposed to be just for fun. No pressure.

But the moment you stepped inside, all that confidence you’d walked in with started to falter. Your eyes found Jake instantly, standing near the pool tables at the back of the bar. Except he wasn’t in jeans and a T-shirt like you’d expected. No, Jake was in full Service Khakis, his uniform pristine and fitted in a way that made it impossible not to stare. He looked so different from the laid-back guy in his profile. Somehow, seeing him like this—with his blonde hair perfectly tousled, green eyes sharp, and that devastatingly handsome smile—took him to a whole new level.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you wondered if you were in over your head.

Jake was in the middle of lining up his next shot when he saw you step through the door, and his focus shifted entirely. Handing off the pool cue to Rooster without a word, he straightened up, a grin already forming as he moved to meet you halfway across the bar. His Service Khakis fit him like a glove, the kind of look that was impossible to ignore. And from the way his green eyes lit up as he saw you approaching, he was just as eager to finally meet in person.

“Seresin,” he said smoothly, offering you a hand. “Jake Seresin. But I guess you already knew that.”

You smiled, taking his hand, feeling the warm confidence in his grip. "Nice to meet you, Jake."

He wasted no time, gently guiding you over to the bar, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. 

As the bartender approached, Jake’s eyes flicked toward you with a teasing grin. “So, what’s it gonna be? Let me guess—something fruity with rum or vodka?”

His voice dripped with playful confidence, clearly assuming he had you figured out. 

But when you raised a brow and said, "Whiskey. Neat," you could practically see the moment you caught him off guard. He blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before that smirk returned.

“Whiskey, huh?” he drawled, clearly impressed. 

You raised a brow, leaning against the bar. “Why, what drink did you think I was?”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Honestly? I was expecting something sweeter.”

You shot him a teasing smile as you took your drink. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping just enough to feel intimate. “I guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out.”

You grinned, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Guess you will.”

With drinks in hand, you and Jake made your way back to the pool tables. The room was alive with chatter, but your focus was entirely on him—and his was undoubtedly on you.

He grabbed a pool cue and handed it to you, his eyes trailing down your figure with a smirk. "You any good at this, or should I go easy on you?" His voice dripped with teasing confidence.

You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. "Oh, I can hold my own, Seresin. But I wouldn’t mind watching you try."

His eyes glinted at the challenge, and you felt the buzz of anticipation in the air between you, the kind that made your skin warm. He was everything you'd usually avoid—cocky, a little too charming for his own good—but in that uniform, with that grin, he was impossible to resist.

Jake leaned over the table to line up his shot, and your gaze flickered down to the way his biceps flexed beneath the crisp fabric of his uniform. He noticed, of course.

“Like what you see?” he asked, a low chuckle escaping his lips without breaking his focus.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let on how much you did. "Maybe. Haven't decided yet."

He straightened up, walking over to you with that confident swagger, closing the space between you just a little too much. 

His voice was low as he said, “You know, you’re making it hard to concentrate over here.”

You grinned, biting your lip before responding. “Do you know how hard you make it to keep my hands off you?”

Jake’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying how flustered you were trying not to be. He stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing against yours. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

The tension simmered, unspoken but undeniable. You took a small step back, forcing yourself to keep the upper hand, and shook your head with a smile. “I’m not that easy, Jake. If you want me to take you seriously, you’ll have to work for it.”

He grinned, leaning casually against the pool table, his gaze never leaving yours. “Who says I’m not up for the challenge?”

Over the next hour, the flirting became a game of give and take. Every shot you made, he found an excuse to stand closer, to brush his hand lightly against yours, to flash that smile that made your stomach flutter. His eyes would flicker to your lips, lingering just long enough to make you wonder if he was going to kiss you right then and there.

You were acutely aware of every move he made—the way his fingers gripped the pool cue, the effortless confidence in his stance. He was making it hard to say no, and he knew it. The cockiness wasn’t overbearing, though; it was just enough to keep you on your toes, wanting more.

Finally, after another round, Jake leaned down next to you as you lined up a shot, his breath warm against your neck. 

“So,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing your ear, “how long are we going to pretend you don’t want me to take you home tonight?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you managed to keep your cool, straightening up and turning to face him, keeping your expression teasing. “Maybe I’m just making sure you’ve earned it.”

Jake raised a brow, stepping even closer until you were almost pinned between him and the table. His voice was low and full of that confident drawl. “Trust me, sweetheart, when you’re ready, I’ll make it worth your while.”

There it was—the line between teasing and something more serious, and you could feel it shift in that moment. Your pulse quickened, the weight of the decision settling between you.

You gave him a playful smile, letting the tension linger just a little longer. 

“You know, I think I might just take you up on that offer,” you said, tilting your head. “But first, I think you owe me a win on the pool table.”

Jake’s smirk was instant, the cocky edge returning as he handed you the cue. “Whatever you say, darlin'. But just so you know, when I take you home tonight, it’ll be the best win you’ve ever had.”

The two of you were deep into the pool game, but you could tell by the way Jake was playing that he wasn’t giving it his all. You smirked to yourself, noticing how his shots always seemed to fall just short of the pocket, his moves just a little too casual. It was clear he planned on letting you win, and while you appreciated the gesture, you had no intention of dragging this game out. Not with the way your heart was racing every time he leaned a little too close or flashed that confident smile.

Lining up your next shot, you took a deep breath, feeling his eyes on you. You purposely missed, standing up straight and stretching your arms as if calling it quits. 

“You know, Jake,” you said casually, glancing around the bar, “it’s getting a little crowded in here. I think I’m going to head out.”

Jake’s brow furrowed for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden decision. You could see the flicker of confusion cross his face, quickly replaced by that easy grin.

“Calling it a night already, darlin’? I thought you’d want to finish the game,” he teased, though his tone carried a hint of disappointment.

You smiled softly, stepping back from the table and slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Maybe some other time. Thanks for the drinks though,” you said, your voice light, as if you were genuinely planning on leaving alone. 

You gave him a small wave, turning toward the door. Jake straightened up, watching you head for the exit. His grin faltered just a touch, clearly not expecting you to walk away like that.

But just as you reached the edge of the crowd, you stopped. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned your head slightly, glancing back over your shoulder. You met his gaze, holding it for a beat longer than necessary before flashing him a knowing smile. 

“You coming, too?”

Jake blinked, his surprise melting into something far more playful. His grin was back in full force as he handed his pool cue to Phoenix before making his way through the crowd toward you, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“You know,” he said as he caught up, that cocky edge back in his voice, “you could’ve just said you didn’t want me to go easy on you.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk as you started toward the door, Jake falling into step beside you. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The heat between you had been simmering all night, but now it was undeniable. Every step you took together, side by side, had an electricity to it, an unspoken promise hanging in the air as you both headed out into the night.

The night air was warm as you stepped outside The Hard Deck, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filling the quiet space around you. Jake was close behind, his steps slowing as you reached a spot away from the crowd. You stopped and turned to face him, your pulse quickening when you met his gaze—those piercing green eyes that had been focused on you all night, filled with a quiet intensity now that you were alone.

Without thinking twice, you closed the distance between you in one smooth movement. You reached up, sliding your hands around the back of his neck, and pulled him down toward you, your lips pressing against his. The kiss was sudden and electric, all the teasing and tension from the night culminating in this one moment. Jake's response was immediate—his hands found your waist, gripping you firmly and pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

His kiss was just as confident as he was, but there was a hint of something more, something that made your heart race faster. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his touch strong but careful, as if he had been waiting for this all night.

When you finally pulled away, your lips still tingling from the kiss, you looked up at him, breathless but composed. 

“So,” you said, your voice teasing as you tilted your head slightly, “are you going to take me home…Lieutenant?”

Jake’s grin was instant—one of those slow, easy smiles that seemed to light up his whole face. The title sounded damn good coming from you, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you said it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, his voice low and full of promise. 

His hand slid down to capture yours, and with one last look that made your knees weak, he turned toward the parking lot, tugging you along with him.

As you walked side by side, the charged energy between you had shifted. No more teasing, no more holding back. Tonight, you were both crossing that line, and neither of you was looking back.

Jake’s truck rumbled to life as the two of you settled inside, the low hum of the engine the only sound at first. He focused on the road ahead, but you couldn’t stop sneaking glances his way. Even now, after the kiss that had left your heart racing, the sight of him in that uniform was doing things to you. His broad shoulders filled out the khaki shirt perfectly, the crisp lines of his Navy service uniform making him somehow even more irresistible than you’d imagined.

Jake noticed, of course. After a few minutes, he smirked and glanced over at you, his green eyes catching yours as you quickly looked away, trying not to be too obvious. 

"You keep staring at me like that, darlin’, and I’m gonna start thinking you’ve got a thing for guys in uniform," he teased, his voice light but laced with that ever-present cocky confidence. "You know…you could just take a picture. It’ll last longer."

You rolled your eyes at him, biting back a grin. “Well, I would,” you replied, glancing at him again, "but something tells me no picture could really do you justice." That made Jake’s smirk widen, but before he could fire back, you continued, your voice a little softer now, more honest. "But...I have to admit, there’s something about you in that uniform that makes it hard to help myself."

He glanced over at you again, raising an eyebrow as if he hadn’t expected that level of honesty. 

"Oh yeah?" His tone dropped, the teasing giving way to something a little more serious. "And what exactly is it that gets to you, sweetheart? The authority? The way it fits?" He let the question hang, his voice like a low rumble as he asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t back down. You leaned back in your seat, turning fully to look at him now. "Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself in it," you said, your eyes tracing his profile, "or maybe it’s just how good you look in it. Either way…it’s working for you."

Jake chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your response, though his grip on the steering wheel tightened just a little. "Well, I gotta say…I like the way you’re lookin’ at me right now," he said, his voice quieter, more intent, as he focused on the road. "Makes it real hard to keep my eyes where they’re supposed to be."

The tension in the truck thickened as your words hung between you, the atmosphere shifting from playful to charged once more. You both knew where the night was headed, but for now, the anticipation was building with every shared glance, every teasing word.

When Jake pulled up outside your apartment, you could barely wait to get inside, that teasing grin of his still playing on your mind. As you led him up the stairs, your heart raced, knowing exactly where the night was headed.

As soon as you unlocked the door and stepped inside, Jake wasted no time. His hand caught the door, swinging it shut behind him with a soft thud before his lips were on yours again—hot, insistent, and full of that same hunger you’d felt building between you all night. His hands were on your waist, pulling you firmly into him, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of his uniform as he pressed against you.

You melted into the kiss, your fingers threading through his sun-kissed hair as you pushed up on your toes, giving into the intoxicating pull of him. The smell of his cologne—woodsy and warm—mixed with the scent of the sea still lingering faintly on him, a reminder of his life out there, on the edge.

Your back hit the wall near the entryway, but neither of you broke the kiss. If anything, it deepened, the urgency between you growing as his hands roamed your sides, finding the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath, his touch warm against your skin. Jake groaned softly against your lips, his body pressing harder against yours as if he couldn’t get close enough.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, your chest heaving, his forehead rested against yours. He was still holding you close, his eyes half-lidded but dark with want. 

"You sure you want me here, darlin’?" he asked, his voice rough and low, a mix of that cocky confidence and something deeper, a kind of restraint that surprised you after the way he’d been looking at you all night.

You met his gaze, your hands still tangled in his hair as you nodded, your voice breathless but certain. "Yeah, Jake. I want you here."

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips were back on yours in an instant, his hands lifting you off the ground as he backed you toward the hallway leading to your bedroom. Each step he took felt deliberate, as though he was savoring every second, every touch, the intensity between you simmering just beneath the surface.

The moment you reached the bedroom, the tension that had been crackling between you and Jake finally snapped. His lips stayed on yours as you fumbled your way toward the bed, your hands roaming over the fabric of his uniform. When your legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pulled back just enough to tug at your clothes, his fingers moving with surprising gentleness given the hunger in his eyes.

Piece by piece, he undressed you, taking in every inch of newly exposed skin with that signature Hangman smirk. When you were finally bare in front of him, Jake’s eyes darkened, his gaze raking over your body in a way that made your skin tingle.

"Goddamn," he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. "You’re perfect."

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the compliment, but before he could strip out of his uniform, your hands shot out to stop him. You placed your palms on his chest, shaking your head with a teasing smile. 

"Keep it on... for now."

Jake raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into that cocky grin you’d come to love. "Yes, ma’am," he drawled, his voice low and rough.

His hands found your hips again, and with gentle pressure, he guided you down onto the bed, your back meeting the soft sheets beneath you. His strong hands slid up your thighs, spreading them apart slowly as he kneeled between your legs.

You felt your heart race in anticipation as he leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Every kiss, every touch, sent a jolt of electricity through you. He paused, just shy of where you needed him most, and looked up at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes, as though waiting for you to say something.

But you couldn’t, not when he was this close, not when your body was already aching for him. Your breath hitched as his lips finally found their way to the space between your legs, and any teasing thoughts you had were replaced by pure, unadulterated need.

Jake didn’t waste any time. The moment his mouth pressed against you, a wave of pleasure hit you, and it became clear just how skilled he was. His tongue moved with purpose, tracing every sensitive spot, and you couldn’t help the small gasps that escaped your lips. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it felt as if every flick of his tongue was calculated to drive you closer to the edge.

The sensation was overwhelming, but what really did it for you was the sight of him—his head between your thighs, looking up at you with that same hungry intensity. His khaki uniform was still on, the sleeves pulling taut around his arms as he gripped your legs, keeping you in place. The combination of that pristine military uniform and the absolute sin he was committing between your legs made the whole experience even more intoxicating.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and thick as he pulled back just enough to speak. His lips glistened from his efforts, his eyes locked on yours. “You look so good like this. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could barely respond, too wrapped up in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. He knew, though—he could feel the way your body tensed, the way your breathing quickened.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, his voice soft but commanding. “Let go for me. I want to feel you.”

His words were like a spark, setting off something deep inside you. The combination of his mouth and his voice, that low drawl filled with desire, pushed you right to the brink. His tongue circled you again, slow and deliberate, and your body responded instinctively, arching up off the bed as your release started to build.

“That’s it,” Jake whispered, his fingers digging into your thighs as he held you steady. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”

With a final flick of his tongue and the pressure of his lips, you felt yourself unravel. The world seemed to blur for a moment as your climax hit you hard, your moans filling the room as Jake worked you through it, never letting up until every last bit of pleasure had coursed through you.

Jake climbed onto the bed, hovering over you, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your face. The warmth of his body radiated down to you, and your heart raced as he leaned in for a kiss, his mouth moving softly against yours.

Your hands instinctively moved to his uniform shirt, fingers deftly working to undo the buttons. With each one that came undone, his kisses traveled down to your neck, teasing and sucking softly before he pulled back, leaning closer to your ear.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice thick with that signature Hangman cockiness, “I know you like the uniform on me, but I think you’d like it even better off.”

With that, he sat up, leaning back on his heels, and you watched, entranced, as he slowly undid the buttons you hadn’t gotten to. The fabric fell away from his shoulders and arms, revealing toned muscles that made your breath hitch. Then he pulled his white tank top over his head, and your hands instinctively reached out, running down his chest and abs.

You’d seen the beach pictures on his profile, but seeing him in person was a whole different experience. The way his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips sent shivers down your spine.

He moved to the edge of the bed, his fingers deftly removing his belt and sliding down his pants. When he was finally undressed, he joined you back on the bed, sitting on the edge as he pulled you gently to straddle his lap. His hands found your waist, grounding you as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

“I want to feel you,” you whispered, desire lacing your words.

Jake’s expression shifted, a hint of hesitation flashing across his face. “I don’t have any protection with me,” he admitted, the cockiness momentarily replaced by sincerity.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. Thankfully, you still had some condoms in your nightstand from your last relationship. Leaning over, Jake’s hands steadying you, you reached into the drawer and pulled one out. He slid it on himself with ease, and the moment felt electric, anticipation crackling in the air.

You positioned yourself over him, lifting your hips slightly. As you slowly slid down, both of you let out moans, the feeling of him filling you making your body tingle with pleasure. His hands on your waist began to guide your pace, but soon he decided he wanted more, thrusting up into you with urgency. Your head fell back as waves of pleasure washed over you. 

“God, that feels so good,” you breathed out, lost in the moment.

“Let me hear you,” he encouraged, his voice deep and low, urging you to speak.

You called out his name, breathless with desire, but he smirked, challenging you. “Uh uh, what’s my name?”

In that moment, the realization of what he wanted ignited something within you. You moaned out, “Lieutenant,” and the satisfaction in his eyes made you feel even more exhilarated.

He picked up the pace, thrusting into you with a hunger that matched your own, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“That’s it, baby,” he breathed, his hands gripping your waist as he continued to drive you both higher, the world outside forgotten as you focused solely on each other.

The rhythm between you two intensified, each thrust igniting the fire building within you. As you felt the heat coil tighter in your core, Jake's hands gripped your waist, guiding you as he drove deeper, his breath ragged against your ear.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his voice thick with desire, urging you to reach that peak with him. You felt every nerve ending come alive, the pleasure building to an exquisite tension that threatened to consume you both.

With a few more powerful thrusts, the dam inside you broke. A wave of ecstasy washed over you, sending you spiraling into bliss. “Jake!” you cried out, feeling yourself unravel as pleasure coursed through you. Your body tightened around him, pulling him in deeper as he met you, the two of you surrendering to the moment together.

Jake let out a low groan, the sound sending another shiver through you as he hit his own release, filling you as the heat radiated between you. You could feel the tension dissipate, the world around you fading into the background as you both lost yourselves in the afterglow of your shared climax.

The two of you collapsed onto the bed, breathless and entwined. You lay there, bodies still connected, as the warmth of the moment enveloped you. Jake’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, his breath gradually slowing as he smiled down at you.

“That was…” he started, searching for the right words, his grin wide and genuine.

“Unforgettable,” you finished, looking up at him, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

He chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know that?”

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up with your hand as you gazed at him, feeling a mix of affection and exhilaration. The energy still buzzed between you, a reminder of the passion you’d just shared.

As you both lay there, the reality of your summer fling washed over you. Jake wasn’t just some guy you met on a dating app; he was the kind of man who took your breath away, and for tonight, you were grateful for every moment you’d get with him.

[auroralwriting]

Consider: Bucky thinking he’s misplaced his dog tags, only to find that the reader’s been holding them hostage/wearing them because he’s (accidentally) ignoring her, and the reader knows this was the best way to ensure she finally gets his attention

attention

avenger!bucky barnes x avenger!reader (after tfatws)

bucky's been ignoring you, and you know how to get his attention.

word count: 1.5k | warnings: light angst but overall fluff

Bucky had never been one to keep too busy. He liked things low key, relaxed, casual. Even while Sam, himself, and you were reforming the Avengers, he always made time for you, his best friend.

Deep down, though, you knew you both weren't just friends. Late nights drinking beer and dancing were enough to tell you that you both were more than just friends. It seemed like Bucky knew it too, seeing as he refused to go on any dates Sam tried to set up or even download Tinder, which he wouldn't have done anyways.

After a long, hard few months of trying to find funding, Clint had suggested Kate Bishop, his somewhat protege, who happened to be rich as fuck as you'd later find out. After seeing her skills, you knew she was perfect for the team.

Kate was quick to suggest Yelena, who took a week and a half longer than Kate to convince, meaning it took her a week and a half to say yes after what she called, 'obsessive behavior' of finding her and begging her to join.

Now, the Avengers were back, and slowly becoming better. Sam was busy working out arrangements with the government while Kate bought the necessary equipment for you all. Yelena was focused on making the best uniforms for you all (filled with many pockets), and Bucky was focused on finding leads to focus on. You, on the other hand, handled the press that was looming over you all.

Even with all of that, Bucky made time for you. However, it was becoming apparent he was finding excuses to not see you.

It began with the excuses that he was busy with leads.

"Buck!" You called in a sing-song voice as you walked in the room he was sat in. "I just bought us a twelve pack, and I think Star Wars is calling our names." You smiled as you walked up next to him.

He barely even looked up from his computer screen, "I can't tonight. I think I have a lead and I need to focus before it goes off-grid."

Okay, that seemed totally reasonable. "Oh, of course. Maybe tomorrow," You smiled.

"Maybe," Bucky said, voice so nonchalant you weren't sure if he had even registered your voice. So, you said a soft goodbye and left the room, feeling confused and awkward.

The next time it happened, it was four days later. Bucky was sat on the computer again when you approached. "Hey Bucky, I was wondering if you wanted to take a nighttime drive on your Harley? It's been a while since we've ridden."

"Outta gas," Bucky's voice was monotone as he replied. "Some other time."

Immediately, it felt like a punch to the gut, which you've felt more than once and this one hurt worse. "Oh, yeah." You muttered as you walked away.

That night, you contemplated everything that had been happening. What had you done to upset Bucky to the point of avoiding you? There had to be some reasonable explanation to this, right? The only way to find out for sure was to get Bucky to actually speak to you again.

When the morning came, you woke up extra early. Bucky was an early riser. You weren't sure if that was from his time in the military or Hydra. You made your way to his room where he was absent. It took just a moment to see the steam leaking from under his bathroom door for you to figure out he was showering. As you looked around his room, you looked at the table next to his bed and saw your target: his dog tags.

Bucky never did anything without those on. They were a part of him, and you'd never even seen him without them on. Maybe it was a bit too invasive, but it felt like the only solid way to get Bucky to speak to you.

You carefully walked up to his nightstand and grabbed the tags, looping them around your neck and tucking them under your shirt. The metal was cold on your sternum, and you had to wonder if the coolness of the tags reminded Bucky of his arm.

The thought was quickly thrown to the side as the noise of running water disappeared. You quickly made your way out of his room, making sure to be extra silent due to his super soldier hearing. You shut the door as quietly as you could and made your way to your room where you collapsed on your bed, the adrenaline of it all making you feel out of breath.

You looked at the clock, six forty-three. The time began now to see how long it took for Bucky to realize you were the thief of his dog tags.

Bucky felt the panic rise on his chest when he saw that his dog tags were not on his nightstand where he left them after getting up. He had the same routine: wake up, take off his tags, and shower.

He searched all around the area to see if they fell. No luck. Bucky felt stumped about where they could be.

There was no way they could've fallen off at any point yesterday. Sam and him spent the evening sparring, and he would've told Bucky if he'd seen the tags laying around. Plus, Bucky remembered taking them off when he woke up.

So where could they possibly be?

They couldn't have broken and fallen off without him noticing, right? They were tags from the forties, there was a chance they just didn't withstand the test of time. Bucky always knew they were on him, though. Those tags were almost a part of his body. He would have felt if they weren't on.

Then, it hit him. The only person who knew just how much they meant to Bucky was you. Was there any way you had taken them?

Bucky quickly made his way to your room, knocking on the door a little bit harsher than he intended too. He looked at the clock that was hung on the wall next to him, it was seven o'eight. There was no chance you were awake.

The door opened slowly and a very anxious looking you. All Bucky could see was just your head, the rest of your body was hidden behind the door.

"Well, look who's come to see me." You said in a flat tone.

Bucky sighed, "I'm sorry, I've been busy. Have you seen my tags?"

His abruptness made you flash your eyebrows upward. "Your dog tags?"

"The only tags I wear," Bucky sighed, growing more frustrated by the situation as the second hand on the clock ticked. It was then that Bucky spotted a flash of silver from the small part of your neck. He pushed the door open further and was able to spot the chain just peaking out from your shirt.

Before Bucky got a chance to say anything, your eyes became watery. A small sense of newfound panic coursed through Bucky's veins. "You kept blowing me off," Your voice sounded small and fragile as you admitted your feelings to Bucky.

"Doll, you know I didn't mean too." Bucky sighed as you sat down on your bed. He was quick to follow, sitting thigh to thigh with you.

"But you were so mean," Bucky didn't think he could feel his heart break more until he heard you small voice call him mean. You were right, he was being mean, but it wasn't on purpose.

Bucky set his hand over your own, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. "M' sorry, Doll. I didn't mean to be mean." Bucky sighed, his head hanging in a sense of shame. He'd never meant to hurt you.

"Why?" You asked in reply, looking at him with confusion.

Bucky stuttered over his words for a moment, taking a breath to calm himself. "I realized that my feelings for you aren't just.."

"Friendly?" You offered. Bucky's eyes flashed to your face, surprise taking over his features. He didn't know you also realized it, too.

"Yeah, that." Bucky nodded. "And I got scared." Bucky sighed, his metal hand rubbing over his face as he took a shaky breath. "I never expected myself to feel this way about someone, especially someone so good."

You felt your heart melt at Bucky's words. "Buck," You mumbled, flipping over the hand that was over yours so your fingers intertwined.

"I never meant to hurt you, doll." Bucky reiterated, looking at you with a gentle care. "Please, forgive me."

"Only if you forgive me for taking these," You replied, hand slipping from his so you could take off his tags.

You set them in his hand as he stared at them. "You know exactly what to do to get my attention, huh?" His next move surprised you, his hands going behind your head as you felt the coolness of the chain relaxing around your neck once more.

"Bucky, no. I can't-"

"I want you too," Bucky urged, staring deep into your eyes. "They're yours. I'm yours."

You felt your heart warm at his words. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything, doll." Bucky replied, a soft smile playing his lips as you enclosed your fist around the tags.

"I'll guard them with my life," You promised.

Bucky exhaled, "I know you will."

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.” 

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.” 

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

  Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment. 

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you. 

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time.  In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying. 

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie. 

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—” 

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back. 

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.” 

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality. 

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.” 

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?” 

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better. 

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?” 

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said. 

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone. 

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum. 

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you. 

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence. 

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.” 

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?”  You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful. 

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.  

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before. 

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows.  "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I have a question, so for most of the day to day things that the students do, they where some from of uniform for, wether it be their normal school one, the PE one or their dorm clothes they wear (that still are basically uniforms) or the ceremonial robes so my question is, are they allowed to at all wear what they want during any time at school? Because even in events such as the masquerade or the savanna one we had not long ago (bare with me I am bad at remembering names) that happen outside of school, they are commonly seeing wearing their uniform or at the very least their PE kits (that changes if the event gives them different clothing such as the outfits for the masquerade). The one time I can kind of remember the students being allowed to kind of wear what they want is during the event with stitch (again I can't remember the name). If their are times they wear non school can you perhaps give a list or something of what they wear? Or perhaps times they mention their style or what the normally wear?

Sorry if my English is terrible it is not my first language and spelling and grammar over all aren't my strong suit. And sorry for the ramble, feel free to ignore it as I know this is kind of stupid.

Have a good day/night and rest well

NOTE: NRC supplies uniforms (ie school, P.E., etc.; one copy of each) but if you ruin it then you have to buy a new one.

While the game doesn’t outright state when the students must wear their school uniforms, we can probably guess based on irl British boarding schools (for which NRC is modeled after). In the UK, the general policy is that students must wear their uniforms during ALL school hours and breaks. This typically ranges from ~8 or 8 am to 5 pm every week day. If students leave campus on a trip or in some capacity to represent the school (ie inter-school events, conferences, etc.), they are also expected to wear their uniforms. After school and on the weekends, students are allowed to dress casually or however they like.

As for why the students are almost always depicted in one kind of uniform, part of it is limited assets. It’s a lot of time and effort to give everyone different outfits all the time (most anime and manga, even the ones that don’t take place in a school setting, have one “standard” outfit for this reason). It’s easier to design the outfit(s) they’ll be seen in for most of the time and have that become the iconic look. This is, of course, excluding special occasions or promotions, limited time merch, etc.

The in-game reason often provided for why the boys largely wear a NRC uniform of some kind is because of association with the school. Night Raven College is extremely prestigious, so they must be mindful of how they present themselves, especially to the public and in the presence of other schools. Their uniforms are seen as cool, elite, and emblematic of NRC the institution, so this is why students wear them not only at special occasions (opening ceremonies, unbirthday parties, etc.) but also in front-facing events (sporting matches, cultural festivals, Halloween; the campus is open to the public). They wear their school uniforms to Noble Bell College as representatives for NRC. Kalim and Floyd wear their robes when entertaining guests from outside NRC in Kalim’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes. Vil also makes the VDC/SDC squad wear their school uniforms as their outfits for the performance, citing that it’s a symbol of their youth as well as them being the NRC team. Azul states that the ceremonial robes are “popular with the ladies” in Ruggie’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes. Even Fellow, who had ill intent toward the NRC students, was only able to pin them as NRC students in the first place because of their iconic uniform. The dorm leaders are allowed to alter their dorm uniforms as they like, allowing them to stand out as the “boss” of their respective dorms. There is a lot of perceived power and status that comes with wearing NRC clothing—and it’s also the responsibility of those wearing those clothes to make NRC look good. I think Deuce states it the best in a Ceremonial Robes voice line: “These robes are the face of Night Raven College. They're covered with intricate embroidery to make it clear that we stand above other schools.”

A minor thing I’d like to tack on is that the NRC uniforms, especially the dorm uniforms, are enchanted with magic that makes them more durable and combat-ready than your average clothes. This means there is actual practicality and utility behind always wearing the uniforms, especially if you’re like… taking a course that’s intense with its magical workload. I’d also like to think that after spending what is basically a third of your day in the same clothes (which are also functional), some students may be too tired to change into something else so they instead choose to stay in their current uniform. Students in clubs are already obligated to change into other uniforms (like sports team members do) so maybe they’d get too tired to swap out into casual wear.

A lot of the characters don’t talk about personal fashion at length. However, here is a compilation of my own impressions of the prominent NRC characters’ takes on fashion and personal grooming (based on canon information). Please note that this can change based on new content that comes out. For example, the new Relaxing in Room series of cards may contain more details about personal grooming and dress.

Riddle

Riddle thinks outfits that are casual or show too much skin are outrageous. (He dislikes his beachwear for these reasons.)

In book 1, he helps Yuu fix their tie. He also praises his own dorm members when they wear their uniforms correctly or are in formal attire. This implies he has an eye for detail and prefers for uniforms, especially when worn properly.

He states that he values what is inside more than looks.

Riddle describes his Suitor Suit as being similar to what he would wear for the parties he attended with his family. He is therefore no stranger to very formal looks.

His Dorm Uniform heels are high to emulate the Queen of Hearts; however, Riddle also implies he wishes to be taller, which is another reason he wears high heels.

My impression: Riddle honestly is probably used to wearing whatever his mom makes him wear. If he doesn’t have her guidance, then he’ll default to sets of clothes/uniforms or very formal attire. Likely also a stickler for stray hairs, dust, loose threads, etc. Very preppy. Would probably wear high heels to augment his height.

Trey

He has had bad eyesight since elementary school so he has worn glasses since. In fact, Trey collects frames (you can see them in his room) and has tried many styles, as well as considered contacts. However, he looks more intimidating without glasses and in half-rim glasses (according to his mom and younger sister), so he foregoes those options now.

Trey says he gets complimented the most when he wears rounded Wellington or oval frames. Quirkier cat-eye or rimless frames don’t go over as well.

He finds casual and "lived-in" looks like his Outdoor Wear comfortable. However, he also says he would prefer more muted colors.

He apologizes for not buttoning up his vest, but it seems he prefers it that way.

Trey doesn’t like being the center of attention. If in a group, he would rather not be wearing something that makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

He likes hats, so he has a few. The one he wears in his Dorm Uniform was custom made to match Heartslabyul.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Like Trey says, he likes casual fashion and muted colors. Whatever will not attract attention to him and allow him to keep his peace. He seems to be really into being experimental with his looks when it comes to glasses though. Likely would also wear a hat.

Cater

Cater seems to like wearing matching clothes. He has, for example, matching T-shirts with his Light/Pop Music Club bandmates.

He enjoys colorful and flashy fits like what he wears for his club.

Anything ‘cammable!! Cater gushes a lot about aesthetically pleasing clothes, including his costume for Halloween and other alternate looks like the Yasmina Silk and Beans Camo.

He has considered going for a different hair style but has trouble committing to one. Cater says if you change your hair, it also changes your image.

Keeps up with the latest trends.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Cater has an eye for what looks good and will grab attention on social media. He also goes for outfits that signify group unity (which might tie back to the “twinning” trend and/or his desire to belong somewhere). However, although Cater makes these claims it also seems he is interested in reinventing himself, as indicated in his discussion of changing his hair.

Ace

He likes luxury and name-brand fashions but can’t always afford it.

Ace likes to look at shoe magazines with Floyd.

He has been gifted fancy outfits and accessories before, such as luxury sunglasses for his birthday from Vil. Ace vows to take good care of these, but also tends to want to show them off to his friends.

Ace uses a little bit of wax to do his hair in the mornings.

He remarks that some outfits don’t have sleeves, which makes it hard to conceal things for magic tricks. Still, he is confident that he doesn’t always need sleeves to pull off his stunts successfully.

He doesn’t like outfits that are all one color, especially white. Those can be boring!

He likes to pick accessories or shoes of similar colors as his top. This gives his look the appearance of being well-coordinated.

He buys new clothes from the Foothill Town.

Ace is usually very skilled at imitation, but he notes that even he has a hard time figuring out how much makeup to use. He once tried to follow a tutorial video and overdrew his brows.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Bro has the fashion sense of the average teenage boy. He covets name-brand and high-end items that will make him seem cool to his peers and is confident that he can wear these well.

Deuce

Deuce normally tries to present as an honors student; this means wearing his clothes properly, wearing his hair neat and natural, etc.

Formal clothes like his Dorm Uniform make him nervous since he's not used to wearing such things.

He doesn’t seem to have a strong aesthetic sense and just goes with whatever he thinks is most cool. For example, he thinks flaming skulls would be a great magical wheel/blastcycle decal. He also thinks masks are cool because they remind him of superheroes.

He has issues with clothes that are too long, like his Starsending Robes. While Deuce doesn’t take issue with the look of tbe clothes, he does find it hard to move in them, as he is always stumbling over the fabrics.

Deuce is embarrassed by cute, fluffy, rabbit-themed clothes. This is because he used to dress this way as a kid and wants to be taken more seriously now that he’s older.

Draws on his card suit with makeup.

My impression: Boy is trying his best, but his best isn’t much in way of fashion. He tries to come off as cool, but his idea of what’s “cool” may not always be the most appealing to the eye. Not a fashion disaster or anytime though; I think he just… for as much as he tries to be preppy, his true style is more wild and tough. Doesn't feel entirely comfortable in formal wear.

Leona

He seems to like his clothes worn loosely and in his own way; for example, the buttons are undone in his School Uniform and his armband is worn like a belt.

Many of his looks involve low cut tops or unbuttoned tops to reveal… let’s say more than it probably should 😭

Leona says that people back home took issue with his sense of fashion.

Beaded bangles are a specialty of his home country; Leona himself wears quite a few bracelets.

Leona complains about clothes that take forever to put on and take off. He also hates outfits that are heavy and have too many decorations.

When his braids fall out of place or get loose, he’s too lazy to redo them and commands others to fix it for him.

He doesn’t care for compliments about his looks.

Leona claims be only buys what “catches his eye”; price is not an issue. He says that any clothes are fine as long as they look good on him and fit.

In the manga, Leona sleeps shirtless. We also see that he handles his clothes carelessly and slings them all over his room.

He recognizes the Fairy Gala Couture as being tasteful, but just not to his style.

He appreciates extravagant and traditional clothes from his home country. In fact, Leona cites his outfit as being the only good part of going home for Catch the Tail/Bead Brawl.

Leona sometimes has Ruggie shop for clothing for him. This is the case for his Outdoor Wear.

We have to account for his ears + tail in regards to fashion. He also has a sensitive nose, so that’s a consideration for perfumes.

My impression: Leona is able to tell what does and doesn’t look good, but he usually doesn’t like to make the effort to dress up himself. He has a very “wild” sense of style, meaning loose fits and showing off… assets… and doesn��t like overly complicated or impractical outfits. Leona appears to like luxurious looks, as he buys what “catches his eye” and praises his own King’s Garb.

Ruggie

Ruggie will generally go with anything he gets his hands on, even hand-me-downs that are too big for him. This is the case for his Dorm Uniform, which is one of Leona’s.

If he thinks he can sell it later for cash, he'll pick the most extravagant clothes and accessories he can. He doesn't like to wear fancy clothes himself though; he doesn't feel comfortable in them.

He prefers for his outfits to have fewer buttons, as they're a hassle to deal with.

Ruggie likes shorts, which are light and comfy. He values mobility in his outfits, which is why he also says he likes casual clothes.

Not a fan of pure white clothes, as they get dirty easily. Ruggie says he can't eat in them.

He praises his Dorm Uniform for being easy to move in and not too fancy. Ruggie calls it "right up [his] alley".

We have to account for his ears + tail in regards to fashion. He also has a sensitive nose, so that’s a consideration for perfumes.

My impression: Ruggie has very practical tastes, though he generally isn’t picky and will accept clothes as long as he’s getting them for free and they fit him. He prefers casual clothes that allow for mobility, aren't too fancy, and are easy to slip into, similar to his Dorm Uniform.

Jack

He says he's not into highly glamourous fashion.

When instructed to wear something "neat and tidy", Jack's immediate thought is his Lab Wear.

He uses wax instead of gel to style his hair, as he finds gel to leave his hair much too stiff.

Doesn't like heels that are too high. They make it difficult for him to balance!!

Jack reports he usually wears a shirt and cardigan or jacket back home. This combination makes it easier to regulate his body temperature.

He likes the Savanaclaw Dorm Uniform because it's easy to move in and durable; it doesn't flop around.

We have to account for his ears + tail in regards to fashion. He also has a sensitive nose, so that’s a consideration for perfumes.

Jack also shops in Foothill Town for clothes.

My impression: Jack has a more simplistic fashion sense; he isn’t into super flashy or impractical clothes, instead choosing to prefer function or how the clothes perform in a given situation. For example, he will choose to wear cardigans or jackets in his cold northern home and something “neat and tidy” when working at the Mostro Lounge.

Azul

He only has a single pair of glasses, the rectangular ones that he wears on his face. After speaking with Trey, Azul says he feels like trying new frames out. Azul worries that glasses that aren't his usual style (like the circular lenses in his Masquerade Dress) may not suit him.

Though he does need correction for his vision (he says his lab goggles have a prescription), he implies that he wears glasses because they make him appear smarter.

He wears a cologne because it helps to sell the image of him being well-composed and trustworthy, especially in business dealings. Azul is very particular about his cologne, as it is one of his favorite parts of living on land.

In fact, a lot of how Azul presents himself is to create this impression that he is cool and can be trusted. This extends to his clothes, hair, and makeup.

Having grown up in the frigid Coral Sea, he has a higher tolerance for cold than most others do.

Azul is particular with how the twins present themselves too. When Floyd gifted Jade a goofy T-shirt, Azul told Jade not to wear it outside.

My impression: Azul carefully considers his grooming and dress, taking care to not appear disheveled to others. It's all a part of his personal brand! He typically sticks to the same frames, but has indicated that he may branch out. It sounds like Azul isn't too confident about changing his style until he gets validation from his peers.

Jade

When camping, Jade wears a hat so as to prevent sunburn. He also dresses in layers so he can adjust his outfit depending on the changing weather conditions.

He is also very well-put-together like Azul; this helps with gaining others' trust as he goes about gathering information for Octavinelle.

Jade says he is fond of asymmetrical designs, such as what is featured in his Halloween Dress.

Not used to clothes with excess fabric; presumably, this is also true for Azul and Floyd, although not explicitly stated.

He recommends sling bags so as to free up the hands. This is especially useful for the mountains.

Fascinated by the concept of dressing up differently for different occasions. He didn’t know the difference between pjs and street clothes back then and once walked out in public in pajamas.

Jade seems to prefer a certain brand and tends to buy his clothes from that brand.

He wears shoes that Floyd calls "way too basic", even if they are high-quality.

Having grown up in the frigid Coral Sea, he has a higher tolerance for cold than most others do.

Jade tries to get people to wear things he think they would look funny in, though Jade claims he is simply “curious” about the fashion of other races.

He irons his clothes in the morning and makes sure they are free of wrinkles.

Received a T-shirt from Floyd that he loves.

Jade describes simple black cloth as “gentlemanly and demure”.

Applying sunblock is important to him. All of his products, including makeup and lip care, include SPF.

Removes his earring when exercising.

My impression: Jade mostly dresses formally (“gentlemanly and demure”), but when he is engaging in his hobbies he plans for the scenario (layers, hats, bags, etc.). We do see bits of his disdain for boredom peeking through though, as he says he likes asymmetrical designs that will keep the eye amused. He’s creative with fashion mainly when he is dressing others for his own amusement. When it comes to himself, he tends to dress to disarm others.

Floyd

Floyd loves fashion and the freedom to pick what he wears for himself (though he handles his clothes carelessly). But! He takes good care of his shoes and shines them.

He leaves his collar unbuttoned most of the time because he finds buttoned collars constrictive.

He wasn't a big fan of clothing when he first came on land. Again, they felt constrictive and he didn't like how you have to wash them after wearing them once. It seemed like a waste of time to him.

Floyd loves to coordinate with shoes and accessories, expressing a love for fashion. The trouble is that he keeps buying more stuff and just piling it in his room.

He likes graphic tees and goofy looking moray merch. Floyd has previously purchased clothes for Jade, who loved it.

Floyd states he would rather be naked than wear “lame” clothes.

According to Jade, he tends to like flashy things.

Floyd can easily spot brand name clothing.

He chooses clothes that are easy to move in and durable for Vargas Camp.

He's especially interested in bespoke shoes, sometimes looking at shoe magazines with Ace. Floyd doesn't wear shoes in his true form, so he figures he should enjoy shoes while he's on land~

He's good at coming up with ways to experiment with his looks. For example, when considering sandals, he says you can jazz them up with nail polish, anklets, etc.

Like Jade, he doesn't understand wearing specific clothes for certain occasions such as visiting the beach. Floyd does go out of his way to buy outfits for outings though.

He still fights and nail with Jade about wearing a bow tie to this day and is notably the only member of the Octatrio that doesn't care to maintain a pretense of polite or proper dress.

Having grown up in the Coral Sea, he has a higher tolerance for cold than most others do.

Removes his earring when exercising.

My impression: Floyd is much more openly adventurous and flashy with his outfits than Jade is. He doesn't like formal clothes or being told what to wear; the wants to be allowed to be experimental, especially with his accessories. Additionally, Floyd really likes luxury shoes--they're an item he pays a lot of attention to.

Kalim

Kalim often guns for the fanciest outfits without a second thought, sometimes calling for them to be made even fancier with jewels.

He tends to go for excessive jewelry too, whether for himself or for others. Kalim once almost bought everyone in Scarabia diamonds as souvenirs. Usually wears earrings himself.

Loves the color white; he says that he always picks this color when he is getting outfits tailored. Kalim is also a fan of loud and bright colors.

He reports having "lots of outfits [like the Fairy Gala Couture] at home".

Kalim usually has his head in a scarf. There are some voice lines in which he claims he cannot do his headdress by himself and other voice lines in which he offers to help you wrap your own.

He only wears clothes of the highest quality.

My impression: Kalim has a very extravagant and excessive fashion sense. He wears a lot of white and loves tons of detail and accessories in his outfits, including head scarves and jewelry. Really doesn't know when enough is enough.

Jamil

Jamil works hard at taking care of his appearance. This is partly because he, as a servant, could impact the reputation of his employers, the Asims, if he presents in a slovenly manner, especially when on the job or helping at an event.

He particularly likes to take care of his hair. Jamil likes it long, even if it takes more effort to maintain. He uses a variety of high quality and rare products on it, and his sister also gifts him hair products. Jamil has taught himself how to do his hair in the mornings with magic, though it took significant practice.

He has a keen eye for textiles and embroidery, often examining clothes and commenting on its quality when browsing.

Jamil tries on clothes before he buys them. He of course considers the design and material, but comfort is also an important factor for him.

Jamil states that he likes to wear oversized and comfortable clothes. The loose fit is nice and allows him to easily move, which probably helps with fulfilling his duties. This is perhaps why Jamil wears a hoodie in his School Uniform card.

He wears many hair ornaments. Jamil buys them himself and receives them as gifts. He claims he is not too particular about them.

Jamil feels a little uneasy about bugs, even if he knows they are fake. He's reluctant to touch the silver insects on his Fairy Gala Couture boots. Ironically, he does not express any anxiety about the scarabs on his Dorm Uniform shoes.

He likes the arm sleeve on his Basketball Club Uniform—both the design and its function, which keeps his shots steady.

Jamil doesn’t normally choose colors like silver. It’s hard for him to feel comfortable in it.

He does not like accessories that can throw off his balance.

Warns others to be careful with delicate items such as corsages.

Jamil says prefers to not be bothered and to not stand out.

My impression: Compared to Kalim, Jamil's fashion is much more demure and dialed back. He still dresses well and fine fabrics so as to not bring shame to the Asims. For more casual attire, he prioritizes quality and comfort, preferring oversized and comfortable clothes he can easily move in. Probably avoid bug designs. Jamil wears his hair in an elaborate style but claims he doesn't think much of it + the accessories... which I don't personally buy for one second. It's one of the few things he has control over in his life, and why would he keep buying accessories and being gifted them if he supposedly doesn't care??? I think bro's humble bragging www

Vil

He, as a model and influencer, is familiar with the top brands and even works closely with some of them. He's well aware of the value of his face and won't allow others to use it without proper compensation.

He sometimes has to wear disguises to avoid paparazzi.

Notices little details like slightly different stripe thicknesses.

Vil is comfortable parading around in a variety of styles; he doesn’t seem to have a particular preference for one over the other, as he tends to have praise for whatever he finds himself wearing, as well as the clothes of other cultures. If an outfit can be stylish as well as functional, he can commend that too.

Often agrees with Crewel. For example, they both think Vargas has very "strange" tastes in fashion.

He won’t compromise on his looks. For example, he’ll bring an entire skincare routine with him when camping.

Expresses a jealousy towards his celebrity rival Neige's popularity. This may be in part to Vil being aware that he can't pull off the same "cute and innocent" aesthetic that Neige does.

Vil creates his own perfumes, skincare, and other cosmetics. He gives these to his dorm members as well.

Has scathing words for those who put no effort into their appearance and/or those who look down on caring about one's looks.

Notably, Vil is the concept of gender itself/j very comfortable wearing even very feminine outfits, such as more makeup-heavy looks or skirts/dress-adjacent additions.

My impression: One of the most fashion forward in the NRC cast, as well as one of the most flexible with his dress. He doesn't have one particular style he favors, though he is often seen in classic and elegant clothes that the public seems to think best suit his image. Vil is also gender non-conforming in his fashion, sometimes wearing traditionally "feminine" looks and being conident in it. Able and willing to call out what he deems as unseemly.

Rook

He used to cut his bangs with a knife. Back then, Rook was only concerned about keeping his vision clear. Nowadays, he ties his hair back when he exercises or cooks.

His hair is easily damaged by UV, so he has to take extra good care of it. Without that extra care, Rook says his hair becomes wheat-like in texture. Vil describes his old hair as being "long and unkempt" "dry and shaggy", and lacking in volume.

He used to wear denim jeans with holes and tears in them (as the result of animals). He also wore sweatpants often.

Rook tans easily; before meeting Vil, Rook didn't really have a skincare routine. His cheeks were freckled and the tip of his nose was red.

Vil says that Rook's only criteria for casual clothing used to be that it should be easy to move in. Rook has no trouble still hunting in his Pomefiore uniform, but also remarks that it was much easier to move in his Savanaclaw one.

Rook consistently wears hats. In his Savanaclaw days, the hat was consistently dirty with sticks, leaves, and soil. He recommends it to others as well to keep the sun out of their eyes while hunting.

He is also usually wearing gloves. This is probably because, as an archer, he needs to protect his hands when he pulls on the strings. Additionally, it could be that the gloves help to further conceal his presence (fingerprints).

His concept of beauty is not grounded in looks alone; Rook is able to appreciate even things others would typically consider ugly or odd.

Rook adopted a more elegant “Pomefiore” sense of style after he transferred and was encouraged by Vil to make himself as beautiful as the subjects he observed. To be clear, Rook states he does enjoy the Pomefiore uniform. He now also encourages others, such as Epel, to embrace the Pomefiore ways.

He says, "I never forget my duty to live up to the clothes I wear."

He doesn’t wear scent unless commanded to by Vil. This is because smell can give away his presence to others.

Rook has a keen eye for detail and can hone in on slight physical changes in both himself and in others.

My impression: Though Rook prioritizes dress that is easy to move in, allows him to hunt, and still conceals him, he currently dresses very differently and follows a new style that’s more in line with Pomefiore traditions. It’s not certain whether Rook still prefers his old threads and self-care routine, but he definitely seems loyal to his new ones at the moment. I get the sense that he really wants to "live up" to the standards of whatever outfit he has on.

Epel

Epel agrees with Deuce that flaming skulls would be a cool motif. It seems they share a sense of style.

He admits to having never thought much about his own appearance. If given the choice, however, Epel would prefer to be called cool rather than cute.

Epel appreciates the light, warm nature of the Applepom outfits. He's proud of his hometown and how the community comes together to prepare clothes and such for visitors.

Though Epel often scoffs at the skincare items Vil forces upon him, he does extol sunblock, as the sunlight bouncing off the snow of his home village can be very harsh.

He's somewhat clumsy, so he cannot handle outfits with excessive fabric too well. Epel tends to trip over himself.

He likes apple patterns on clothes, particularly the poison apple. Epel just thinks it's so cool!

Doesn't like tight clothing or clothes with ribbons and frills on them.

My impression: Epel wants to be seen as "cool"!! ... Which, if we know anything about Epel, is probably something along the lines of "traditionally masculine", seeing as how he looks up to people like Leona. He can learn to appreciate non-masculine outfits like his Rabbit Costume and Applepom, given the right circumstances (the former is rabbit-themed, which he likes, the latter is practical and comes from his hometown). His clothes should fit him and not be oversized in case he trips over it. Epel also favors apple patterns when possible.

Idia

Idia despises the idea of dressing up. It's implied that his usual threads are pretty plain (which makes sense; he doesn't like being stared at).

He repurposes his lab coat and goggles over his pajamas, finding the combo comfortable yet functional. The large pockets allow him to stash his phone or anything else he wants in them. The coat can also catch any spills or crumbs that get on it while he is snacking. Idia has modified the lenses to filter out blue light to make the goggles optimal for gaming. The gloves keep his fingers from getting sweaty and playing poorly. He gets all the functionality while others can't tell he's actually being a slob; Idia calls this "stealth mode".

Idia praises the functionality of the Applepom outfit as well. (The pom-pom on the hat is protective.)

There are rare instances in which Idia will praise the aesthetic; for example, he claims the gloves in his Lab Coat are part of the "aesthetic", but then he immediately continues to comment on the practicality of them.

Idia expresses that he is unable to relax when his hair is pulled back. This is likely because it called more attention to his face.

Very hyped about getting merch of his favorite things, such as a very exclusive T-shirt of his favorite girl group.

He speaks more confidently when he is wearing a mask or helmet, as it conceals his face.

Idia notices the quality and skill it takes to make cosplay. He incorporates his own knowledge of technology and materials to (for example) make a functional Halloween costume with light armor and sound effects.

My impression: Overall, Idia values function over form/looks and prefers his face to be hidden as much as possible. He chooses to dress in a non-descript way and loathes getting dolled up. There are exceptions to this rule; Idia can appreciate a good aesthetic and be passionate about clothing items if they are related to his niche otaku hobbies and interests.

Ortho

Ortho doesn't wear clothes like the traditional human would; rather, his parts can be switched out as needed. Many of his Gears are designed and installed by Idia, whom Ortho praises. He even refers to himself as his older brother's "masterpiece".

Ortho has a large span of capabilities depending on which Gear he is currently wearing, as each is designated with specific functions in mind. He describes Gears as containers he can upload his data into.

His body is capable of having many external add-ons. For example, Idia has made an Oral-Energy-Intake Gear so Ortho can simulate eating food on his birthday.

He thinks that cleaning his individual parts must take forever compared to just doing a load of laundry.

Ortho must consistently update his data to stay up to trend. To do this, he goes out to look at what's currently avaliable.

Post book 6, Ortho becomes more independent of Idia and more willing to design his own Gears. For example, Ortho is responsible for his White Rabbit Gear and contributes his own idea of "evolution" to his Fairy Gear (designed by Crewel).

Sometimes Ortho will ask Idia to make his Gears more decorative. For example, he requests that stars be added to his Starsending Gear.

Other times, Ortho will want to try out new Gears simply to sate his own curiosity. One example is in his Athletic Gear; he was curious about what it feels like to have feet, so Ortho asked Idia for them.

My impression: Like his older brother, Ortho values functionality. Unlike Idia though, Ortho is more experimental and curious with his looks. He actively goes out to gather more data about fashion and seeks new experiences which will enhance his own understanding of what it means to be human.

Malleus

Black is the color of Briar Valley’s royal family. Therefore, Malleus often wears large swathes of black.

He is not comfortable in clothes he barely wears such as his Ceremonial Robes. In the case of the robes, they stir up memories of being left out or uninvited.

Malleus points out the gold rose embroidery on the black fabric of his Masquerade Dress. He then remarks that the maker must “shares [his] tastes.”

Malleus is interested in uniforms. He thinks it is fascinating how, simply by wearing clothes, people assume a new role (such as “student” or “teacher”). Notably, be says few people dress “like this” in Briar Valley, implying that the fashion norms there are very different.

He notices striking makeup and accessories, as well as good fabric quality. Malleus invites others to take note of these too.

Malleus needs specially tailored headwear to accommodate for his horns. For example, his ceremonial robes have holes in the hood.

He rarely shows his tail, so it normally doesn’t need to be accounted for in his outfits.

My impression: I get the feeling that Malleus's fashion sense is elegant yet VERY outdated due to a combination of being so long-lived and sheltered. He seems interested in learning more about fashion as it relates to social status and occupations, but doesn't make a strong effort to explore it. It seems he also longs to be invited to events so he has an excuse to wear clothes that suit them, such as NRC's ceremonies. He defaults to wearing a lot of black to show off his affinity to the Briar Valley royal family.

Lilia

The most experimental in Diasomnia. He loves to paint his fingernails different colors, as well as dye his hair different colors.

In his days as a war general, he wore a mask that most humans would call scary. Lilia however thinks that the mask is "pretty stylish."

He cuts his own hair, as well as Silver and Malleus's.

Lilia is quite confident in his looks, often playing up and praising his own cuteness and charm.

He loves seeing clothing from cultures outside of his own.

Lilia notes that he used to wear stuffy uniforms to formal events. It seems he doesn't quite care for those clothes.

He is weak to the sun, so he has various methods to minimize his exposure and/or to deal with the sunlight.

Lilia doesn't mind clothes that impede him, such as his lab coat which has long sleeves. He "just [deals] with it" because he prefers his clothes to stay cute.

Like Vil, Lilia is another member of the cast that is comfortable wearing traditionally more "feminine" clothes, such as ruffles and skirts.

My impression: Lilia definitely has the most unique sense of style in Diamonia. Despite his age, he is flexible and willing to change with the times and cultures he encounters. He loves trying new things and adopting clothes, hair, and makeup that, although burdensome, enhance his cuteness. He also doesn't mind more "sinister" or edgy styles, such as what he wears for his Club Wear card and in his General's Armor card. Probably no formal clothes in his free time unless there's some added spice to it.

Silver

Silver thinks black uniforms are cool because Briar Valley's royal guard wears black too.

He grooms himself to "meet basic standards" but doesn't know much about fashion. Silver says he is 'clueless" about these kinds of matters.

He has a limited understanding of beauty in general. When Vil asks him to think of something beautiful, Silver replies with "Vil-senpai", and when Ortho tells him he looks like a fairy tale prince, Silver wonders if he looks like Malleus.

His headwear may be crooked sometimes, as Silver is falling asleep while standing up so often. He may also rub at his eyes, which smudges his makeup.

He likes practical clothing, nothing how his Dorm Uniform is easy to move in and how his Fairy Gala Couture boots could make for useful weapons in a pinch.

Silver thinks of some articles of clothing and accessories as obstacles. He notes that he may have to remove necklaces and such, as they could catch on his sword and impede him.

Other times, he thinks that bothersome items could serve as good training opportunities for him. For example, in his Masquerade Dress, his hat limits his field of vision but Silver says it can help him learn to be a better knight.

Silver reports that even if he is dressed up fancily, he is always prepared for emergencies.

My impression: Silver is (in my eyes) the least fashion forward of the group just based on his dialogue. He has a very limited way of thinking about how he dresses and prioritizes optimization for combat or training, not even considering how outfits look for the most part. Silver strikes me as the kind of guy who wears whatever others tell him to (particularly his dad), otherwise he'll go with something sensible and simple.

Sebek

Sebek maintains a neat and tidy appearance so as to not dishonor his liege.

He uses a LOT of hair gel to slick his hair back every day.

Sebek is sensitive to the cold, so he has to bundle up in the winter or snowy areas. He considers wearing a hat that covers his ears all year-round due to how comfortable he finds it.

He says he is not sure what clothes suit him best; he usually wears whatever he is given.

Sebek seems to favor protective gear, describing his coat for Vargas Camp as “durable, waterproof, [and] breathable”. He has lovingly stuck on Diasomnia iconography onto that rainwear too, really letting his inner fanboy speak.

Enthusiastic about clothes endorsed by Malleus and/or Lilia.

My impression: Like Jamil, Sebek takes care of his appearance so he, a servant, doesn't make his master look bad by association. This includes styling his hair so not a single strand of it falls in his face. He also seems to favor protective clothing, sharp uniforms, and anything with approval from Malleus or Lilia.

Crowley

Crowley presents as quite the vain character; he takes quick 3 minutes showers in the morning but leaves ample time for massages and beauty treatments.

He loves shiny things like jewels and precious metals, stating that he could stare at them forever if allowed to.

Crowley calls the mirrors on his belt beautiful. Again, this is probably because he likes shiny things.

He takes care of his shoes. When he notices they are even a little scuffed, he says that he will polish them until they are sparkling later.

He is reportedly never seen without his mask.

Students say they think Crowley would enjoy vacation clothes.

My impression: Crowley is upset when others—staff or student—do not give him the respect he feels he deserves. He is also shown many times over to care about the prestigious reputation of his school. If we extrapolate these feelings, it may explain why Crowley dresses the way he does: to come across like a respectable man, one who represents the interests of NRC (symbolized by the raven). The raven look may also just be because that’s the kind of fae he is, though this has not been confirmed by canon. Of course, he has also managed to incorporate the shiny accessories that catch his eye. People seem to think he likes vacation wear (such as Hawaiian shirts) due to his penchant to slack off.

Crewel

Crewel enjoys both current trends as well as vintage fashion; on his days off, he says he visits some vintage shops, as he finds older clothes that have lasted a long time have a certain aura about them that is hard to replicate.

He loves that the world of fashion is always evolving. It reminds him of his own inadequacies, which he works tirelessly to improve upon.

Crewel designs clothes and has done so for various students and himself. He is also shown to be capable of magically reinforcing them to be studier for combat.

He has experience working in the fashion industry prior to teaching. It’s clear that fashion is very near and dear to his heart, even to this day, since he continues to keep up with and engage with it.

Crewel also concocts his own cologne. He wears one of his own creations.

His fur coat is custom-made. It seems that he finds value in the uniqueness of it.

Crewel may share similar tastes and design philosophy as Vil, as the two work together in Fairy Gala and Fairy Gala: If to design and train the NRC runway models.

My impression: Crewel’s style strikes me as very flexible, forward-thinking, and willing to change. He demonstrates respect for both classic and modern fashions and doesn’t allow himself to be bound by a specific era. The man is always inventing something or on the hunt for the next best thing.

Trein

Trein claims that he is not particular at all with his outfits.

When asked about the way he dresses, he says he just makes sure his outfit and personal grooming befit that of a professor. This includes carrying around a lint roller to clean himself and the area of Lucius’s fur.

My impression: Though Trein doesn’t really seem to care for fashion, I wouldn’t say he has no sense for it or that he’s a slob—he very clearly puts effort into his appearance, if only to look professional. It’s just not an area he has a particular investment in, but he what he does take seriously is his job. This is therefore reflected in how perfectly groomed his appearance is.

Vargas

He prefers clothing that is easy to move around in; in one of his Unified Exam lines, he expresses that he cannot understand why Crewel’s fur coat is so expensive yet is also so impractical to move around in.

Vargas seems to canonically have a poor eye for aesthetics. In Vargas Camp, he appears in a strange beast-like outfit that he designed himself. In the sequel event, he gives Crewel a similarly eccentric and over-the-top outfit which everyone hints it is odd-looking. Vargas however thinks his designs are cool and powerful.

He suggests a heavier material for the school's P.E. uniforms so as to help the students enhance their muscles while they work out.

My impression: Vargas is really into sportswear/garments that are easy to move in, as well as things that look cool or strong to him (but are weird-looking to everyone else). He may also like clothes that help him with his training in other ways.

Sam

Sam states that he has multiples of the same suit that he just swaps around.

He explains the charm of his outfit as “whimsy peeking out from the formal”, most likely referring to the unique skeletal pattern on his suit.

Crewel states that Sam is aware of how he presents himself. Crewel also commends Sam's style as "unique" and "splendid", even if his tastes differ from Sam's.

My impression: Bro’s a NPC— I think Sam has said it pretty plainly himself; he likes formal clothes that have some fun or whimsical element to it. It also sounds like he doesn’t change up his style very often, given that he has so many of the same thing in his closet.

Yuu and Grim as a bonus

Yuu and Grim often have matching outfits whenever they get new ones (especially during events).

Grim loves outfits that make him stand out and emphasize his coolness. He tends to show off when he’s in something new.

Yuu realistically may have a NRC school uniform provided for them by Crowley; this is noted in the light novel (as in, Crowley actually hands Yuu a uniform), but not in the game or manga.

The Ramshackle Ghosts have made Halloween costumes for them out of old curtains. It follows that perhaps this is something they do for other occasions.

My impression: Aw, twinsies 🥺 That aside, Yuu and Grim have to take what they can get cuz otherwise Yuu’s literally only got the clothes on their back when they first arrived in Twisted Wonderland and Grim is basically naked. They can’t afford to be picky, just take whatever is handed to them and walk off with it

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 13-Wednesday

Paris couldn't believe what they were seeing: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in Gotham Academy, in uniform! They hadn't see her in four years! What shocked them even more was seeing her arguing with some guy and she wasn't backing down.

The students in Gotham Academy didn't pay them any attention. Everyone ignored the shouting and yelling; they just kept walking as if they didn't see or hear them.

"Shouldn't you get a teacher?" Nino asked a student passing by.

"For what?" asked the brunette.

The class pointed at the arguing students.

"Wat day is it?" the brunette questioned.

"Wednesday." Max answered, "Does it matter?"

"It's their 'Argue Day'." the Gotham student declared.

"Argue day?" Mylene asked, confused.

"Yeah." the student stated, with a shrug, "Like clockwork. Teachers learned to deal with it. They get competitive, too."

"My boyfriend wouldn't put up with this sort of thing." Lila declared, "He hates violence."

"Oh, who is you boyfriend?" the brunette questioned.

"Damian Wayne." Lila smiled.

The brunette started laughing and pointing at Lila.

"Dude?" the blonde nearby questioned.

"This bitch said Damian Wayne is her boyfriend! She also said he hated violence!" the brunette answered and continued to laugh.

The blonde joined, howling with laughter. The Paris class shifted uncomfortably.

"Listen here, Faker," the blonde spoke, "you're not dating our ice Prince. Not to mention Damian is one of the most violent Waynes to roam these halls."

Lila sniffled, "He just doesn't want the media to know. I'm not lying."

"Well, that's lie number two." the brunette counted, "Damian doesn't care about the media. They gave him the title 'Ice Prince'."

"Do you know how many reporters have broken their arms, hands, or fingers trying to get a scoop from him?" the blonde questioned.

"You the ones lying!" Aly shouted, "Lila said he was kind and helpful Damian Wayne does charity work with her, for the environment!"

"It's not that hard to look up." the blonde scoffed, :About every other weekend, he's in the park casually talking to Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and playign with their hyenas as they plan 'How to green up Gotham'."

Lila paled hearing how he associated with rogues. That hadn't been what she expected.

"Supposedly, his mother is just as bad as they are." the brunette declared, "If not worse."

Lila gulped, trying to figure out how to keep her classmates under her control as her lie began to unravel.

"If anything, it sound like you googled 'rich kid+my age in Gotham' and Damian Wayne popped up first." the blonde responded.

"How can you say that about our friend?" Kim demanded.

The boys pointed to Marinette and the boy arguing still.

"That is Damian Wayne." the brunette answered, "By tomorrow, they'll be back to cuddling and kissing, like they have been for the past three years."

"They basically chose one day a week to let their frustrations out on each other." the blonde spoke, "It just happens to be on Wednesday."

The Parisians turned to Lila for an answer.

"I-I'm sure that's not it." Lila declared in a panic.

"Oh, really?" questioned the blonde boy, "Yo, Mari! How many times did Damian drug your coffee and drag you to bed, last week?"

"Four!" she shouted, still glaring at him.

Damian scoffed, "It was three."

"Liar!" Marinette screamed.

The class watched on in confusion.

"Damian, how many times did Mari make you new clothes last month?" the brunette asked.

"Ten!" Damian exclaimed in frustration.

Marinette scoffed, "Like you don't complain about those 'monkey suits' and how uncomfortable they are."

"I didn't ask you to go out of you way, Angel, and make me those things!" Damian rebutted.

"Oh, so now my designs are things?" Mari declared, "I just wanted you to be comfortable!"

"I'm fine!" the young Wayne sighed, "You need to sleep!"

"How long did she stay up?" the blonde questioned.

"She didn't sleep." Damian growled.

Marinette threw her hands up before resting them on her hips, "I slept on the drive over. I drank Tim's coffee. It usually has at least five espressos. Not the most I've had."

"What?" Damian shouted.

"Ah, so that's the reason this time." the brunette spoke.

"Sorry, Liar, but no one in Gotham will believe that you are anything to Gotham's Ice Prince when there are pictures being posted, like this, by his very own brothers." the blonde declared.

He turned his phone around to see Marinette and Damian dressed in pajamas and curled up in bed together.

"Everyone in Gotham Academy knows they live together at Wayne Manor." he continued, "Not to mention, the moment someone tries to touch her or get in her personal space, he threatens to kill them."

"He had five knives taken away this month." the brunette stated.

"Actually, it was eight." the blonde commented.

"Oh, when did I miss those?" the brunette questioned.

"You were sick for a week." the blonde answered.

"Gotha." the brunette spoke, "So, good luck and welcome to Gotham."

"Have a good Wednesday." the blonde spoke as they walked away.

Marinette yawned, "Why am I yawning? I drank Tim's coffee."

"Todd switched his coffee with decaf." Damian smiled, "You just happened to drink it, instead."

"No." she whined, "You did this on purpose!"

"I did not force you to drink Drake's coffee not did I force you to stay up all night." he answered, "If anything, Todd is upset that you ruined his prank."

"But-" Mari yawned again.

Damian smirked and picked her into his arms, "We are going home and you are going to bed."

"School." Marinette replied.

"I already messaged the teachers on the ride over that e would be missing the next two days." the young Wayne answered, "I've also paid Todd $100 for messing up his plan. In exchange, he will bring you lunch and dinner."

Marinette didn't respond and curled up in his arms. Damian just walked out of the school.

"Okay!" someone shouted, "Who had them making up under fifteen minutes?"

"Awww, man!"

"I could have sworn they would argue longer today."

"Didn't expect her to not sleep."

"Or have decaf."

"If she had just had that coffee."

"How much did you lose?"

"$20."

"Lucky; $30."

"50."

Paris watched on as money was exchanged. Marinette and Damian Wayne's couple argument had gotten so common that people were gambling on it. They started to turn to Lila, who obviously had no idea how to explain what had just happened.

"So, you really were a liar." Nathaniel whispered, "Marinette was right, all along."

"I don't think we'll get to apologize to Marinette," Rose sniffled, "But she looks happy."

"Can't say you will be by the end of this trip, Lila." Alix sneered.

Lila was out of her element as Gotham had quickly spread her lie about dating Damian. No one believed her and if she said anything, they would just laugh at her. Not to metion her own classmates were now ignoring her. This hadn't been what she had planned; it was just another Wednesday. Nothing special about it.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[wisecura]

Pretty

Suguru x fem-reader p.2, p.1 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ p.3

summary: You're Gojo's cute little sister.

AN: thank you for continuing, these are still under edit so please be aware

Warning: Yandere behavior oncoming please continue with caution

And the saga continues

The boys had been buzzing with excitement at the prospect of meeting the Satoru Gojo, bombarding you with questions for weeks—how did his technique work? How strong was he? Was he really the strongest?

You loved your brother, but their admiration seemed to border on idolization, perhaps even surpassing your own.

While it was initially flattering, it quickly became annoying. And finally, you arranged for them to meet. If not just to shut them up.

Yet, when they came face-to-face with Satoru and his upperclassmen friends, their initial excitement dissolved into…intimidation.

Watching their shy, flustered demeanors made you giggle, just a little bit—they stuttered over their words, fidgeting nervously, trying to make a good impression.

It was almost endearing.

However, when you introduced your two new classmates to Satoru, his reaction was anything but impressed.

It didn’t help that you had been endlessly talking about your new "friends." for weeks now. You’d been gushing about how adorable you found them, and how well you all got along—much to Satoru’s growing irritation. He hadn’t meant to come off so protective but he just couldn’t help it.

It didn’t escape Satoru’s notice that the two boys were a little too…comfortable around you.

They didn’t hesitate to touch you during conversations, brushing against you casually, their tone toward you too familiar for his liking.

And the more he watched, the more his irritation grew. One of them casually draped an arm over your shoulder, another brought you your favorite snacks (for the three of you)—each little gesture, a silent declaration of how at much they liked you.

It was all too much, and Satoru couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their “obvious” flirty moves. His cute little sister was too sweet to shove off their advances—no doubt mistaking it as nothing more than friendly. The closeness, the comfort—all of it—he couldn’t stand.

What did you see in them? They weren’t particularly strong—actually, they were pretty fucking weak, in his opinion.

Satoru hadn’t realized it before, but now he understood just how much you’d changed. You weren’t the small, helpless child who used to follow him around the estate looking for midnight snacks.

Or the baby who clung to him late at night after having yet another nightmare, proclaiming that only being with Satoru would make you feel better.

You’d, unfortunately, filled out a little too much in his opinion. Grown into your squishy cheeks in a way that made him uneasy. You’d started showing more skin, wearing shorter skirts—tighter outfits (In reality, you were simply wearing the standard school uniform for that time of year, which was hardly revealing at all—)—Becoming a little too friendly, and that…that bothered him.

The fact that you had the two boys constantly at your side, eyes locked on your every movement—seemed to eat away at him, itching at his conscience in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Those boys were absolutely not worth your time. Satoru was convinced you were far too good for some high school kids who still picked their noses when they thought no one was watching.

Nasty boys who snuck peeks in the girls' changing rooms or even stole your underwear when you invited them over—Okay, maybe that was pushing it a bit far, but that’s all to say: Satoru didn’t like the type of attention you were attracting.

He was certain you were leagues ahead of them in every aspect. They could never protect his sweet little sister the way he thought necessary. They’d never measure up to the high standards he held for you in his eyes.

He only hoped you would see it too.

So—no. He couldn’t help but grip their shoulders just a bit too tightly. Refusing to let go even after they winced.

And—no. He couldn’t control the icy look in his eyes, the sharp, cold furrow he gave any boy who dared get within a few inches of you.

And he had no intention of stopping his "antics" of placing himself between you and your classmates—jokingly—any time soon.

Nor could he stop the "teasing" that bordered on outright bullying. Why the hell were you always surrounded by boys, anyway?

Did this school even bother recruiting female sorcerers anymore?

And you know what?

He felt a such a sense of relief when Suguru seemed to pick up on their overly familiar behavior, too. Made him feel a little less crazy when he too noticed their blatant offenses.

But Suguru.

Fucking Suguru.

He did nothing to ease his best friend's growing paranoia. In fact, he seemed to feed off it, taking every opportunity to stoke the flames of Satoru’s irritation.

It wasn’t entirely deliberate—it was just…impulsive.

A reflex.

He felt protective of you too, though not in the same obvious way Satoru did. Maybe it was a shared bond, a need to keep you safe from anyone who got too close.

But Suguru couldn’t deny the unease that twisted in his gut whenever those boys so much as spoke to you.

And not to mention the way they looked at you, the way they touched you…it made him…restless.

These nasty feelings formed an itch, urging him to push Satoru into action. It became a daily occurrence, provoking him like this. Hoping to achieve his one goal.

To make Satoru do something drastic.

So he’d lean in, just close enough for his breath to brush against his ear, low and soft—quiet enough for only Satoru to hear, but loud enough to burn. Whispering just the right things to set him off.

“I’m positive he’s flirting with her. Did you see how he brought her favorite snack today? Cute little gesture, don’t you think?” Suguru’s words were practically dripping with mock sweetness. She doesn’t need his fucking snacks.

“Why’s that kid sitting so close to your little sister, huh, Satoru? Is he that desperate?” Suguru’s voice was almost playful now, laced with the right amount of indifference to feign nonchalance. Why the hell was that shrimp blushing so much?

“Why’s she grabbing his arm like that, huh? Seems a little too…close, don’t you think?” Suguru teased, letting the words linger, his eyes glinting in that usual teasing way. Why touch filth like that?

“I think I just saw him peek up her skirt, Satoru. What do you think about that?” The words weaponized and angled. He’d better keep his fucking eyes to himself.

And a final blow.

“Who do you think she’d marry out of those two losers, Satoru?” Suguru leaned in, his voice so low it was almost conspiratorial. Satoru only saw red. Red.

It wasn’t hard to rile him up. Not when it came to you.

And Suguru wasn’t stupid.

He knew exactly who could stop those two parasites from staring at you with such longing. Who could make an impact—without you getting too upset. Without shutting him out completely. It didn’t take much to figure it out—the damn near possessive, overprotective streak that ran deep in Satoru. One that you tolerated well.

You were just so unbearably sweet.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the idea of you with those two boys tore him apart, twisting his gut into something ugly. He hated it. He hated the way they were always lurking around you, always so close. Closer than he could ever get.

Suguru would watch these minuscule, fleeting interactions you had with them—those light touches, those knowing glances. As to put it plain and simple, he couldn’t fucking stand it.

So, as usual, Suguru did what he did best—he prodded, poked, and nudged Satoru in the right direction. Subtle. Calculated. Sneaky as hell. All of it was done carefully, out of your earshot.

After all, Satoru was protective in his own way—overprotective, really to a fault—and Suguru had a feeling he’d agree easily, knowing it needed to be handled somewhat discreetly. You were just too innocent to call those boys out yourself. You’d never do it, no matter how obnoxious they got. You were too good-hearted for that.

And you hadn’t noticed. At least that’s what they thought. But of course you had. One of the boys confided in you about how terrifying your big brother and his best friend were.

How they glared at them both with pure vitriol, though neither couldn’t figure out why. How they’d found some of their school stuff mysteriously torn to shreds—books, assignments—how everything they left in the hall would vanish, only to sometimes reappear ruined, as if someone was sending a clear, hostile message.

And, of course, how they wanted absolutely nothing to do with you, your brother, or the rest of his friends.

This confession only came after you cornered questioned them, demanding requesting to know why they’d been so distant. Why, after everything, they had suddenly gone cold.

You’d watched them for days, racking your brain to figure out if it was something you’d done—if you’d somehow messed up—but nothing made sense. Sure you weren’t the most social, but you didn’t think you were that bad.

And, funny enough, you didn’t take this news well.

Satoru was genuinely shocked when you came storming to his dorm room, looking like you were ready to knock the damn door off its hinges. He had no clue what was coming, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“Satoru, open up!” you hollered, your voice sharp with frustration and something deeper than anger, maybe even hurt. You were fuming, practically vibrating with a storm of emotions. Frustrated with your loss of friends, the betrayal, the fact that your brother was always so…so—

Satoru didn’t even have time to process before the door swung open, and you stormed past him like a whirlwind. The door smacked right into his face, and he instinctively stumbled back, rubbing his nose as he tried to regain his balance.

“What’s wrong now?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and mild irritation, though his tone softened the moment he saw your eyes.

You didn’t hesitate. “What did you and Geto say to my friends? They’re barely talking to me anymore!”

Suguru, sitting across the hall in his room, perked up at the sound of your voice. Not able to help pick up the conversation.

“Not much,” Satoru mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, glancing away. “Just told them to stop making those big, dumb heart eyes at you… and maybe to keep their hands to themselves. That’s all.”

He almost whispered the last part, his confidence faltering for just a moment as he realized just how mad you really were. Satoru wasn’t great at lying to you—he never had been, no matter how hard he tried. He’ll just leave a few bits out.

You scoffed, your cheeks flushing a furious shade of pink, not from embarrassment but from sheer indignation.

“They are my friends!” Your voice dropped to a dangerously low level, forcing Suguru to press his ear to the door to catch what you said next. He’d never heard you so upset.

“And just because my focus isn’t on you all the time doesn’t mean you can take it out on them.”

Your words were sharp, each one cutting deeper than the last. Satoru flinched—actually flinched—at your tone. You’d never been this upset with him before, and it threw him off completely. You two had always been close, so this sudden, biting anger felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

Satoru wasn’t weak—far from it. But if he had one weakness, it was you.

He swore he could hear the crack in Satoru’s voice.

“I… I’m sorry, imouto,” Satoru stammered, his voice softer now, unsure. He almost sounded small, an unusual vulnerability creeping into his tone. “I didn’t think it would upset you like this.”

Suguru’s leaned closer. Was that hesitation he heard? Maybe even guilt? Satoru Gojo wasn’t one to crumble, yet here he was, faltering under the weight of your anger. Your dynamic was just so…interesting. You practically had him eating from the palm of your hand.

“I just didn’t like the way they were getting so close to you,” Satoru admitted, glancing at you like he was bracing himself for the backlash. His voice dipped, barely above a whisper. “Do you really have to hang around them so often?”

For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and unrelenting. Suguru, still eavesdropping the room over, had to strain to hear your response, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He could practically feel the shift between you and Satoru, and oh, if it wasn’t keeping him on edge.

Suguru thought he heard you let out a sigh.

“Toru, c’mere,” you said, the soft command in your voice.

Suguru could picture it clearly—the way Satoru must have hesitated for half a second before stepping closer, his usual confidence giving way to something more careful, more tentative. He could almost see the two of you in a loose, familiar embrace, the tension between you softening just enough to make room for understanding.

Maybe it was jealousy creeping in, though Suguru quickly shoved it aside. It was ridiculous to feel that way, wasn’t it? This was between you and Satoru. Nothing more. Nothing less. He wasn’t here to be jealous, after all. He was here to observe—just an outsider, listening in on the sibling bonding he had no place interrupting.

“They’re going to be my classmates for the next several years,” you explained with a heavy sigh, your voice carrying a softer tone. As though you were comforting a child. “I need to get along with them. Besides, I’m not interested in someone weaker than me and uglier than you.”

At that, Satoru let out a soft, genuine laugh. “Yeah, well, how will we ever find you a husband like that? Can’t you just stay with me forever, imouto? I’ll make sure no one hurts you, and I’ll buy you anything you want.”

His teasing tone was back, playful as ever, yet soft. So soft and Suguru could hear something deeper in it—something protective, maybe even a little desperate. It wasn’t loud, but it was there, tucked beneath the layers of humor and charm that Satoru wore so well.

The comment made you laugh, light and airy, but Suguru caught the tension that still lingered just beneath it. Your laugh had always been warm, but this one didn’t quite sit right. And somehow, that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He could tell Satoru’s comment dug at you a little. But his mind kept a shifting back to your previous words.

Weaker than her and uglier than Satoru?

Was that really all it took? If anything, Suguru fit that description perfectly. He shoved that thought down quickly. He’d deal with it later. He reminded himself to pull Satoru aside to tell him to stop spoiling you so damn much.

But before he could spiral too far into his own thoughts, your voice broke through again, quieter this time, but with a weight that made Suguru pause.

“Satoru, I can’t stay with you forever, you know that.”

“Yeah, well,” Satoru shot back, “I’ll sure as hell make sure you don’t have all these trashy men crawling after you.”

That made you laugh again—though this one sounded more genuine.

“You’re really somethin else.”

Suguru leaned back against the wall, sighing as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. What was he even doing?

This wasn’t like him. Not at all.

And yet, he couldn’t stop listening.

p.1 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ p.3

come home

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone Part 6

You can find more chapters here

Summary:

Danny Fenton’s part-time job at The Fun Zone—a chaotic arcade and entertainment center that’s secretly a gang front—was going great until a certain vigilante stormed in to shut the place down.

It was another night of chaos at The Fun Zone. Danny was manning the counter, the arcade humming with the usual neon glow, when the doors slammed open yet again. This time, the intruder was a gang leader Red Hood had been gunning for: "Blackjaw," a burly man with a cybernetic jaw and an arsenal strapped across his chest.

Danny sighed, not even bothering to look up. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Do you need tokens, or are you just here to wreck my night?”

Red Hood emerged from the office with guns drawn, his helmet glinting in the fluorescent light. “Blackjaw. You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“Yeah, well,” Blackjaw sneered, pulling out a high-tech rifle. “I figured it was time we settled things.”

Danny groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can you guys not do this in front of the counter? I just cleaned the carpet.”

“Get behind cover, Fenton,” Jason barked.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just stay here and watch you two macho it out.”

Blackjaw snarled, aiming his rifle. “Smart-mouthed brat. You should’ve stayed out of this.”

Everything happened in a split second. Blackjaw pulled the trigger, and Danny caught a glimpse of Jason moving to return fire. But the villain had shifted his aim. Jason was in the crosshairs—and Danny didn’t think. He stepped directly into the line of fire, the bullet catching him square in the forehead.

The arcade went deathly silent.

Danny staggered back, the impact knocking him to the ground. His coworkers screamed and scrambled for cover. Jason froze mid-aim, the sight of Danny’s limp form sending a rare flash of panic through him.

“Fenton!” Jason yelled, dropping to one knee beside him.

Blackjaw cackled. “Serves the kid right for getting in the way.”

Jason’s guns clicked, his fury palpable. But before he could pull the trigger, Danny groaned, sitting up as if he’d merely tripped. He pressed a hand to his forehead, glaring at the crimson stain on the carpet beneath him.

“Great,” Danny muttered, his tone laced with annoyance. “Now I’ve gotta clean that up, too. Bloodstains are the worst.”

Jason stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “What the hell?”

Danny waved him off, getting to his feet. “I’m fine. No thanks to you.”

Blackjaw’s laughter faltered, his expression twisting into confusion. “How are you still alive?”

Danny turned, pointing an accusing finger at Blackjaw. “You know, I was willing to let this whole ‘gunfight in the arcade’ thing slide, but now you’ve gone and made it personal. You ruined my carpet!”

Jason was still frozen in place, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just witnessed. “Fenton, you just got shot. In the head.”

Danny shrugged, brushing off his uniform. “Yeah, well, it happens.”

“It doesn’t happen,” Jason snapped. “Normal people don’t just walk that off!”

“Well, lucky for me, I’m not normal,” Danny muttered under his breath. Then, louder: “Can we focus on the guy with the gun?”

Blackjaw, clearly unnerved, aimed his rifle again. But before he could fire, Danny stepped forward, casually phasing his hand through the barrel. The rifle sparked and sputtered, the circuits frying instantly.

“What the—” Blackjaw yelped, dropping the ruined weapon.

Danny smirked. “Oops. Guess your fancy toy broke.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed behind his helmet. “What did you just do?”

Danny ignored him, grabbing an arcade token from the counter and flicking it at Blackjaw with a burst of ectoplasmic energy. The token hit the man’s cybernetic jaw with enough force to send him reeling.

Blackjaw stumbled, clutching his face. “You little freak!”

Jason, finally snapping out of his daze, moved in. With a swift series of punches and a well-placed kick, he had Blackjaw on the ground, unconscious. The villain’s men had already fled, unwilling to face Red Hood and whatever the hell Danny was.

Jason turned to Danny, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve got five seconds to start explaining, Fenton.”

Danny raised his hands in mock surrender. “Uh, let’s call it… a perk of working in Gotham?”

Jason took a step closer. “You got shot in the head. You’re still standing. And you just melted a gun barrel.”

“Did I?” Danny said, feigning innocence. “Must’ve been the adrenaline.”

Jason wasn’t buying it. “Don’t mess with me, Fenton.”

Danny sighed, glancing at the bloodstain on the carpet. “Can we maybe do this later? I’ve got a carpet to clean.”

Jason folded his arms, his stance unyielding. “You’re not off the hook.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny muttered, grabbing a mop and bucket. “Take a number, boss.”

Jason watched him for a long moment before muttering under his breath and stomping back to the office. Danny sighed in relief, mentally kicking himself for letting so much slip. He’d have to tread carefully—Red Hood wasn’t the type to let things go.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 149 }

wingmen.

megumi fushiguro x fem.reader

no curses | high school au

warnings: slight crack, but mostly fluff.

dedicated to @xbarrjallenx

to my beloved girl,

you are all that i can think of. from your bright eyes, to the way your hair seems to shine from beneath the sunlight-

you drive me crazy.

i am madly in love with you.

please say that you’ll be mine someday?

-yours truly,

your admirer.

{ … }

your lips were parted with absolute shock in response to reading the love letter that was left within your locker. your mind was in a haze as you kept reading the neat script over and over again.

in fact, you were still in shock because you didn’t think that something so sweet could even happen to you!

you recall waking up this morning feeling stressed and nervous about your upcoming trigonometry exam. even with your best friend’s meticulous and detailed notes, you ended up goofing off with nobara and yuji and didn't do much studying (much to megumi's chagrin!)

you had plans of going over your notes with megumi during homeroom, but after receiving such a sweet love letter, your desires to study went down the drain. your eyes kept trailing over each written word, but couldn't seem to recognize the style of writing at all.

as your fingertips trace at the written words, you suddenly had a epiphany-

perhaps your friends could help you figure out just who this secret admirer was!

with your eye practically glimmering with hope, you slam your locker shut before making a mad dash to your classroom, almost too eager to see megumi, yuji, and nobara again.

{ ... }

megumi was simply looking over his notes when he sees you bursting into the classroom. your features appear flustered, and he could see the way your strands of hair fell across your face.

he feels his lips twitch in a slight smile, but successfully fights back those happy emotions because it just wasn't in his style to be anything but cool, calm, and collected while in the presence of his friends-

(even if he did have the tiniest crush on you-)

but he digresses.

while yuji and nobara were talking about some new music video that was dropped by their favorite band, you take quick strides to them while holding up what looked like a letter from within your hands.

"guys look! someone sent me a love letter!"

upon hearing your outburst, yuji and nobara stopped talking about the new music release and turn their attention to you.

"whoa! that's so cool! do you know who wrote it?"

"this is actually sooooo sweet!"

megumi frowns upon hearing how overly happy and excited yuji and nobara were, which was what made the warning bells go off within his head. standing from his seat, he closes his notebook and goes to where you were all huddled together.

megumi narrows his emerald green gaze down at nobara, seeing a suspiciously familiar piece of stationary. he was itching to see just what this letter was all about when he snatches it away from nobara's hands.

"h-hey! i was still reading that!"

but he ignores nobara's protests, scanning through each written word as his forehead began to pulse with annoyance.

this was nobara's handwriting when she actually tried to write neatly!

just what were these clowns up to?

"come with me." megumi returns the letter to you and picks up yuji and nobara by the back of their uniforms, leaving you alone as you went back to staring dreamily at your love letter.

hearing both of his friends laughing while dragging them out into the hallways was more than enough proof that they had done something. only when he knew he was away from you did he finally begin speaking.

"what the hell are you guys up to?" megumi hisses at them both, feeling the annoyance grow when they casually look away from him. "i know that letter was written by you, nobara. so spill, what's going on?"

"i'm just trying to be your wingman." she tells him with a wink, all while smirking at him. "because yuji and i both know that you don't have the balls to tell her yourself."

his face began to turn hotter in response, nearly being choked with embarrassment as he pointed an accusing finger at her, "it's none of your business! if i want to confess to her, then i'll do it on my own terms!"

"yeah, surrre, you've been saying that since the end of our middle school year... and we're in our second year of high school now." yuji reminds megumi with a snicker.

"haha, yeah, yuji knows what's up! so that's why, we're gonna keep sending your beloved letters until you actually confess!"

"no, you won't-"

nobara then flashes him a sly smile, "did you not see how happy she looked after receiving that letter? she would be utterly devastated if we stopped... or maybe... even more hurt if you don't write the letters yourself."

megumi freezes, thinking back on to the joy that paints your features and how excited you were to have such a letter. in fact, seeing your sweet smile was enough to make his heart clench in response...

perhaps the reason why he was so angry and annoyed was because his friends had managed to make you smile first-

not him.

megumi moves away from them with a click of his tongue, shoving a hand within the pocket of his pants, "fine. you got me. just... don't send her anymore letters, okay? i'll come clean to her soon."

while megumi kept his back turned, he couldn't help but smirk when he hears yuji and nobara high-fiving each other, knowing that their plan was a success.

{ ... }

at the end of the school day, (when you were sure you, yuji, and nobara had failed that trig exam), you drag your feet across the linoleum floors of your school, switching out your slippers with your actual shoes when you saw a folded note fall out of your shoe cubby.

your eyes go wide when you received yet another letter, but this time, it wasn't written on a cute stationary, or even placed in an envelope.

instead, it was a folded piece of what looked like a torn page from a notebook. feeling intrigued, you unfold the note as it read.

hey, i wanted to apologize to you, since the letter you received this morning wasn't from me-

but it was written on my behalf.

those words were really cheesy, and there's no way in hell i'd ever say such things-

but that doesn't mean that my heart doesn't race for you;

it doesn't mean that i don't find you beautiful, or think about you all the time.

if you want to know who i really am, come meet me at the school's rooftop.

i'll be waiting.

-your admirer

your heart begins to race, because this handwriting was one that you actually recognized-

for you had seen such neat writing while copying and reading over a certain sea urchin head's notes.

with your heart pounding from within the confines of your chest, you immediately push your legs forward, allowing your footsteps to echo across the floors. you ignore the burning felt against your feet as you saw the door leading to the rooftop, pushing it open with the entirety of your weight.

your chest heaves with each breath that escapes from your parted lips, eyes now narrowing with a fondness when you see megumi standing several feet away from you.

his expression was shy, with his hand running across his hair as he waits for you. allowing the door to shut from behind you, you step closer to megumi and smile up at him. you don't say a word, allowing him to speak first. your eyes meet with his tranquil gaze, basking in his sighs when he says.

"nobara was meddling again... she was the one who wrote that note and put it in your locker."

you let his admission soak in before nodding, "...and...what prompted her to do such a thing?"

megumi remains silent for several seconds before admitting, "it was because of my own hesitance."

he frames at your face with his two hands then, making your face heat up in response as you were forced to look up at him. with eyes filled with adoration for you, and you feel megumi press the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip before telling you, "but, i won't hesitate anymore..."

leaning closer to you, you allow your eyes to shut in response when his lips finally met with yours in a kiss that you had been waiting for since the moment you first laid eyes on him...

a.n. - ahhh finally wrote another story for the best boy! i had a lot of fun writing this story, even if it's feels like it's been forever since i wrote for megumi 🥹 i hope you readers still enjoy it!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 4)

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader - lingerie

summary: yelena is a serial killer in uniform, and that turns you on. you turn her on by wearing her favorite lingerie.

warning: yelena being a serial killer so.., mentions of murder, teasing, some dirty talk

word count: 1k

an: i´m on my knees for yelena, 25/8 or something like that

The sound of Yelena zipping up her tactical uniform pulls your focus away from the TV. You glance over to see her adjusting the straps, her movements smooth and precise. The dark uniform clings to her frame, accentuating her strong, toned physique, and it's impossible to ignore the confidence she carries. She´s going to work.

She catches you staring in the mirror, and a smirk spreads across her face. “Like what you see, detka?” Her voice is dripping with playful arrogance, knowing full well the effect her uniform has on you.

“You look good,” you murmur, biting your lip as you admire the outfit.

Yelena in her killer mode does things to you, things that you can't quite explain. The combination of her dangerous edge and casual confidence sends heat spiraling through your chest.

She turns around, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Good? Just good? I’m hurt.” She places a hand dramatically over her chest but quickly drops it, her smirk only growing wider. “I’m off to hang out with someone, you know… gotta make a lasting impression.”

You know exactly what she means by that. Another target, another "job." And you should probably be more concerned, but the way she looks right now? It’s hard to think about anything other than how hot she looks in that uniform.

“Make it quick,” you tease, your eyes lingering on her. “I get lonely when you're gone.” Your voice drops just a little, enough to make your meaning clear.

Yelena quirks an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your reaction. She walks over to you, her boots heavy against the floor. When she reaches you, she grabs your chin between her fingers, leaning down until her lips are just a breath away from yours.

“Lonely, huh?” she purrs, her voice low. “Don’t worry, dorogaya, I’ll be quick. Just gotta take out the trash first.” She presses a brief but heated kiss to your lips, her smirk evident even as she pulls away. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Before you can respond, she grabs her keys and heads for the door. You watch her go, admiring the way her hips moves just perfectly. As the door clicks shut behind her, an idea sparks in your mind—a surprise she won’t see coming.

By the time Yelena returns, the apartment is dark, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp is visible. She steps inside, perfectly composed, as if she hadn’t just taken someone’s life. Not a hair out of place, her uniform pristine. No one would ever suspect what she's capable of, but you know better.

She closes the door behind her, her sharp eyes quickly scanning the room. The moment she sees you, her lips twist into a smirk. “Oh-ho, what’s this?” she drawls, her voice carrying a note of amusement as her gaze roams over you, sprawled across the bed in her favorite lingerie. The black lace leaves little to the imagination, and the way her eyes darken as she takes you in sends a thrill down your spine.

“You like?” you ask, shifting slightly under her gaze, feeling the heat of her stare. You know you’ve caught her attention now.

“Like?” she scoffs, tossing her keys onto the dresser. “Kotenok, I love it. This is a very pretty way to come home after dealing with a… tough client.” The grin on her face tells you exactly how "tough" that client was.

She steps closer, her boots heavy on the floor, each step deliberate. “You know,” she continues, her voice teasing as she stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you. “I should go out and kill people more often if this is the kind of welcome I get.”

You laugh, but it’s cut short when she reaches out, her fingers brushing against the lace of your lingerie. Her touch is light, but it’s enough to send a shiver through you.

“You wore my favorite,” she comments, her eyes locked on yours as she traces a path up your thigh. The teasing smirk on her lips never falters. “Trying to butter me up, huh?”

“Maybe,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady under her gaze. But Yelena knows exactly what she’s doing, and you can feel your confidence wavering as her fingers trail lazily along your skin.

“How thoughtful of you,” she murmurs, leaning in closer. Her breath is warm against your skin as she whispers, “But I think you’re the one who’s going to be begging for attention, kotenok.”

You swallow hard, your bravado slipping under her intense gaze. She tilts her head slightly, her smirk widening when she notices how your breath hitches.

“Aw, look at you,” she purrs, her tone a mixture of affection and amusement. “All this effort to look pretty for me, and now you’re nervous?” Her fingers brush along the lace at your waist, her touch light and teasing. “What happened to all that confidence earlier, hm?”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Yelena’s eyes glint with mischief as she leans down, her lips just inches from yours.

“That’s what I thought,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your skin. “I love when you try so hard for me. But let’s be honest… I like you even more when you can’t handle it.”

You shiver, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. Yelena’s hand lingers on your thigh, her touch sending heat through your body as her smirk deepens.

“Now,” she says, her voice low and playful, “why don’t you let me show you what happens when you look this good for me?”

Thank you for reading!!:)

[bloody-cupcakes]

Perv! Chuck Bass x reader; he corners you in the bathroom at school

Tw: yandere/dark content, male reader, nsfw/smut, perv! Chuck, swearing, excessive teasing/dirty talk, Chuck refers to the reader as "pretty boy", dubcon, slight humiliation kink, groping/fondling, implied bottom Chuck, dry humping/grinding, slight dom/sub dynamics but both the reader and Chuck are switches (dom Chuck/sub reader at the beginning and dom reader/sub Chuck at the end), handjob (reader receiving), Chuck is really pathetic here tbh

A/N: part of me will always yearn to experience the homoerotic way that men tease/make fun of each other. this fic reflects that greatly

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were washing your hands in the school bathroom when you heard the door open behind you. Not thinking anything of it, you didn't bother to look up until you heard the person speak.

"Hey, pretty boy," Chuck purred in a low and flirtatious voice, casually sauntering over to stand at the sink beside you.

"Go away," you grumbled in response as you turned off the sink and grabbed a towel to dry your hands with. "I don't want to see you right now."

"Aw, well that's too damn bad, because I've been looking for you everywhere." He moved so that he was leaning against you, very much in your personal space as he rested his hands on the countertop, effectively caging you in.

"Get out of the way," you attempted to speak in a firm and unquestionable manner, but the obvious tremble in your voice did nothing to work in your favor.

He let out a dark chuckle at that, pressing his body closer to you as he moved so that his lips were right next to your ear. "Hard pass. You're far too cute to let go, pretty boy."

"You're disgusting," you spat out, but he only laughed again, his hands traveling from the countertop behind you down to your hips.

"Has anyone ever told you that the way you fill out your school uniform is absolutely irresistible?"

He was messing with you, he had to be. There's no way Chuck Bass of all people would actually be talking to a guy (least of all a guy like you) in such a flirty manner if he wasn't trying to make fun of them somehow.

"What- what do you want?" You demanded while glaring at him, your body tense and rigid as he brushed his nose and mouth across the side of your neck in what could only be described as an affectionate nuzzle.

"I just wanna spend some time with you, pretty boy," he murmured softly, his tone far too sweet compared to his current actions, which involved one of his hands slipping down between your bodies and cupping your crotch.

A gasp escaped you at the feeling, your face heating up in humiliation. Was he seriously feeling you up in the school bathroom? Typically you wouldn't be able to believe that someone could ever be so perverted to do something like that, but then again this was Chuck you were talking about.

"Stop- stop that," you whined while trying to pull away from him to no avail. He still had you pinned against the counter, and you doubted he was going to let go anytime soon.

"Aw, but why not?" He replied in an equally whiny tone, clearly mocking you. "I bet you're just so big underneath all these clothes, aren't you? I bet you'd fill me up nicely."

If your face wasn't hot before, it certainly was now. "Don't- don't talk like that," you half-heartedly mumbled while turning your face away, biting your lip as you felt his hand palming at the front of your pants some more.

He ignored you and kept going. "You're already so hard, baby. You must be enjoying this a hell of a lot more than I thought."

"I- I'm not-" you began to protest, though it was difficult to deny it when the combination of both his words and his touch were starting to make you feel all hot and bothered despite yourself.

"How salty do you taste, I wonder?" He mused out loud, talking more to himself at this point than to you, though it was obvious he was still trying to get under your skin. It was working too, your cock uncontrollably jolting forward in your pants at his words.

"You're- you-" It was hard for you to even come up with an insult in general, let alone a clever one, as his hand was still groping and feeling up your now-visible bulge, causing your pants to get tighter with each and every touch.

"God, pretty boy, I just can't get over how hot you look," he muttered while keeping his face pressed against your neck, kissing and biting along the area as he started trying to discreetly hump your thigh. "You know, if you cum for me now maybe I'll let you do it inside next time."

"You're a pervert, Chuck," you finally blurted out, but he didn't seem fazed by it.

"Yeah, I know. But I bet I could be good for you if you'd let me." It was hard to tell whether or not he was being genuine. On one hand, his voice was so soft and innocent you'd think maybe he was, but on the other it was well known what a master manipulater he could be.

"Stop humping my thigh," you demanded suddenly, trying to see if you could get him to keep his word when he promised that he'd be good.

He grumbled something incoherent but obeyed, stilling his movements rather reluctantly. "I just wanna be a good boy for you," he said even as he continued to palm at your hard cock in your pants.

"Good boys don't corner me in the bathroom and pin me against the counter so they can grope my crotch," you stated bluntly, which only caused him to whine in protest.

"But- but I need you-" he insisted pitifully, looking up at you with big brown eyes that were surprisingly pricking with tears at the edge.

"And I need to get to class." You glanced down at the outline of your still-hard cock in your pants and sighed. "Finish taking care of this so I can go, do you hear me?"

His eyes lit up with excitement at your words, and he nodded his head in understanding. "Thank you, thank you-" he crooned while kissing all over your neck as his hands quickly moved to unbuckle your pants, pulling your cock out just enough so that he could jerk you off properly.

A low groan left you at the feeling of his fist wrapping around your hard cock and pumping it. Despite your earlier frustration you had to admit he certainly knew what he was doing.

"Will you come over to my place later after school?" He asked in a way that was just so pathetic and desperate you couldn't find it in you to say no, even if you did want to mess with him a little.

"Make me cum first, then we'll see."

He whimpered softly at your authoritative tone and began jerking your cock a little bit faster, his hand wrapped firmly around the shaft as his thumb swiped over the slit on your head, smearing your precum a little. "I- I'll make you cum, I promise-"

And he did, your orgasm approaching you mere seconds later as milky white cum erupting from your cock, his hand being covered with the hot and sticky substance.

"I wanna see you later," he begged while you began to clean yourself up, still pressing his body close to yours as you did. He was acting a lot more clingy and vulnerable than you were used to, but you certainly weren't complaining.

"You can see me after school. Right now I need to get to class," you stated firmly, something that caused him to let out another low whine. He grabbed onto your hand as you went to leave, tugging you back some.

"Do you promise?" His eyes didn't look dark and cynical like they usually did. Instead, they were bright and full of hope.

"I promise," you affirmed, giving his hand a light squeeze to help put emphasis on your words. "You can even pick me up in your limo, how does that sound?"

That definitely did the trick, the grin that formed on his face making him look like a child at Christmas. "I'll see you then," he confirmed before letting go of your hand and watching you leave.

You had no clue what it was about you that made him go from acting like a sleazy creep to an obedient puppy, but as long as it meant he wasn't being his usual perverted self you really didn't care. Besides, it was nice to have someone obsess over you in that sort of way, even if it was him of all people.

A sigh left you as you adjusted your clothing, hoping it didn't look like you'd just gotten a handjob in the bathroom. If Gossip Girl happened to catch wind of your recent encounter, you knew you'd never hear the end of it.

[liquidcatt]

Baby Your My Fantasy ♡ Hinata x f!reader

While on an evening stroll, you take a detour and visit an 'adult' establishment. What happens next turns into a night to remember.

tags: post-timeskip, stripper!Hinata, strangers to lovers, making out, dry humping, pompoir, cowgirl position, ahegao

Also on AO3

You made a mental note to go walking more often, especially after long days at work. It was a Friday night when you finally came home from a seven hour closing shift. You quickly change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. 

There was hardly anyone out at this time, just the gentle breeze and clacking of your shoes could be heard. You’d bring your headphones whenever going out, but left them at home when it was dark out. Lord knows what kind of slimy perverts were just waiting around the corner to take advantage of you. 

You decide to take a different route and soon find yourself in another — more vibrant — part of the city until you end up in front of a stripclub, the sign reading ‘Adonis’ Oasis.’ You wondered what went on in those places, but always chickened out for some reason. After looking both ways to make sure no one was following, you show your ID to the person at the window, and go inside. 

The club was brimming with excitement, as you expected, with hues of blue and purple radiating off the walls by neon lights. Spotlights beamed from the ceiling with a large chandelier dangling over the stage. The song playing had a slow, sensual beat to it; the deep bass vibrated against your body. Around you was the distinct smell of alcohol and women’s perfume in the air, creating an intoxicating blend that flooded your senses. 

You figured it wouldn’t hurt to spend the next couple minutes casually observing the place. To your left were the restrooms where a (very) drunk woman was being carried out by her friends towards the exit. To your right was the bar with people sitting on stools, drinking their worries away while chatting amongst themselves. You chose a Roy Rogers as you weren’t keen on getting drunk. You like to step out of your comfort zone once in a while just to have fun and meet new people. Sometimes it was worth it. You hope tonight was worth the walk. It didn’t take you long to finally relax and be engrossed with the performance on stage. 

This place didn’t get its name for nothing, these guys were gorgeous. There was a lot of whistling, squealing, and cheering as they appeared, each wearing an outfit that hugged their skin that you could see muscles ripple under the fabric. The way they sway their hips to the rhythm of the music while thrusting the air was like something out of your wildest dreams. It was only when each man began stripping, with virile pheromones glistening off their bodies, that the night went from great to fantastic. 

One guy you were closely eyeing on wore a military uniform, complete with white gloves, combat boots, and a captain's hat that covered his slightly ruffled hair. He looked handsome walking on stage; you would’ve given anything to have him sweep you off your feet. Immediately, the crowd began to chant ‘take it off!’ and he smirked, unbuttoning his top. His other hand, meanwhile, moved up to his mouth, hooking a finger in and swiftly pulled the glove off. It’s amazing how a small gesture can make everyone completely lose their minds. He then moves his hands to the opening of his shirt and, without missing a beat, rips it wide open with such force it was surprising none of the buttons went flying. You were too busy drooling over his glossy sculpted body for you to notice nor care. 

Your mind was already going wild imagining running your hands over his chest and abs, tracing every crevice of muscle with your fingertips. You could feel his gaze on you, but didn’t dare to look up because of the filthy grin he had on his face. There was also the obvious bulge in his pants struggling to get free, but again, you chose to ignore it despite your body literally craving for his manhood. Lord knows what unholy thoughts he had as he watched you touch him and what he personally wanted to do to you. His hands did most of the talking anyway when they slithered between your shaking thighs to spread them.

A loud squeal abruptly pulled you back to the real world. In your still dazed mind, you look up and see the same guy you were fantasizing about just seconds ago giving some lady a lapdance. You wish that it was you up there, but you doubt the guy would have seen you from this distance. You spun the ice in your glass, huffing a disappointed sigh. Sudden shivers of delight traveled down your back when the next guy came on stage; you refused to acknowledge him and instead took another swig of your drink. Just seeing them made you hot and bothered. 

It was no surprise, but for a while now, you’ve had constant dreams of your favorite male characters from certain books and anime doing lewd things to you…

He has you on your hands and knees, massaging your breasts with one hand while his other hand plays with your sensitive clit, and leaves love bites all over your shoulders. His hot breath clings to your skin as he whispers in your ear, calling you a good girl between wet kisses. A moan escapes your lips when you feel his cock twitching inside your moist walls. He pulls away, suddenly gripping your hips with his strong hands and begins to thru- STOP!!!

You shook your head furiously to rid those indecent thoughts, chugging down your drink to quench your thirst. It didn’t help much when your lower region began to throb and a wetness pooling between your thighs. Your cheeks got instantly hot. God dammit why now of all places? You swore heaven was punishing you right now for being out this late. You clamp your legs tightly shut, trying (and failing) to hide the embarrassment now seeping in your panties.

‘Pardon me miss,’ a tall man stood next to you. ‘One of our most prized dancers has taken a liking to you and he wishes to give you a private show.’ 

Your heart began to race. What did he say? A private show? You politely ask him to repeat what he said and sure enough, it was the same answer. He then points to where the stairs were and which room the dancer would be in, ensuring you no money was needed — saying it was ‘on the house.’ 

It was a miracle that you kept your composure walking up the stairs; it felt like you were going to faint at any moment. You could’ve said no and gone home, but curiosity had gotten the better of you and your body was already trembling with desire. Reaching the top, you're greeted by a hallway illuminated in a warm red, with a large oval mirror at the end where you could see your reflection. You walk down the tile floor until you come up to a door with a sign that reads ‘Shoyo Hinata’ on it. Taking a deep breath, you open the door. 

The first thing you see entering the room is a man with orange hair and brown eyes sitting at the foot of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers. He had a lean, muscular build with broad shoulders; his sun-kissed body oozing with sex appeal. He looks about your age, maybe a few years younger. He was also really cute, flashing a smile that made you blush. 

Your heart jumped out of your chest when he got up and walked towards you. Before you could say something, he pulled you close by the waist. He was almost the same height as you so you could feel his crotch now dangerously near yours. You immediately look away from his gaze, not wanting to get more flustered than you already were. ‘Got a name beautiful?’ he whispers huskily in your ear, making you inhale sharply. You swallow the big lump in your throat and tell him your name. ‘I like it.’ Hinata chuckles, squeezing your waist softly. ‘It suits you.’ 

‘I could say the same about yours.’

Hinata could see the smile on your face while you kept your head down to stare at his chest. You were obviously shy, so he made sure to take things nice and easy. 

‘You know,’ his voice had a slightly playful tone. ‘I was watching the show earlier and I saw you fidgeting in your seat.’ A wave of embarrassment floods your face as the memory is still fresh in your mind. You just wanted to bury your face in his chest, but his hand held your chin, tilting your head upward. The second you saw his face, a shiver went down your spine .

‘Wanted to be up on stage with him, yeah?’ you nod slowly, not breaking eye contact. Hinata smirks as he rubs his thumb across your soft lower lip. ‘Well, I was wondering if you want to have some fun with me instead?’ You felt his grin against your ear as your whole body quivered under his touch and hot breath brushing your cheek. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction; it was your night too, so you decided to up your game a bit. 

After quickly composing yourself, you slide a hand up his forearm until you grasp his wrist. Hinata was confused until what you said next made the blood travel to his groin.

‘What fun do you have in mind?’ you curiously ask. 

Without saying a word, he leads you to the bed where you sit at the edge. He leans down slightly and captures your mouth. It wasn’t a full kiss, he wanted to test the waters first. He murmurs asking if you were okay with this. You nod and cup his neck. His lips had a citrus flavor that made you deepen the kiss. He roams his hands over your thighs, the delightful noises escaping your mouth went straight to his twitching cock. He then unbuttons your shorts and glides the zipper down, helping you shimmy out of your shorts — and shoes off as well.

The second you sit back on the bed, Hinata lays you down on the soft pillows and positions himself between your legs. Your eyes drift down to see the outline of his erection on his boxers. Your pussy flares up already imagining being stretched from the size of his girth. Hinata raises an eyebrow as you stare at his crotch with your mouth slightly agape. 

‘Like what you see?’ he teases with a carnal grin as he palms himself through his boxers.

You nod eagerly, wishing that it was you touching him instead. Recalling the events from earlier tonight, an idea pops into your mind. You begin to run your hands along his sculpted torso, tracing every crevice on his abs with your fingertips. You slide upward and gently knead the soft flesh on his pectorals. A gasp escaped his lips when you twist one of his nipples. 

Hinata couldn’t get enough of your divine touch. It was like ecstasy coursing through his body. Every squeeze to one of his tits made him come undone with ease. Playing with his nipples was as if electricity traveled down his spine. Dragging your nails down his abs made his boxers get tighter. He was a stripper sure, but you were the one who stole his heart first. It was only fair that he’d reciprocate those feelings. 

He wastes no time sliding his hands under your warm thighs as he lays between your legs. He looks down at you as if you had bewitched him with your beauty. You, on the other hand, wrap your legs around his hips, feeling his manhood press against your intimate area. Fighting back a moan, you move your hands to his head and pull him close until your faces almost touch.

‘Hinata…take me.’

Without any hesitation, he captures your lips in one fell swoop. Your lips mash together in a perfect mix of lust and longing that could never be said with just words alone. His hands slither to your plump buttocks, giving them a nice squeeze until he starts to roll his hips against yours, you moan in his mouth. Even with panties on, you felt his cock pulsate against your soaked entrance, desperate to be inside you and fill you with his love. His hair was soft as silk so it was no surprise you weaved your fingers into his orange curls. A hint of a smirk crosses your face when you slightly tug Hinata’s hair, eliciting a grunt from him. He retaliates by giving your butt a firm smack, making you yelp just for him to instantly dive his tongue into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine as he intertwines with yours. It was hot yet so enticing. This was the first time you ever made out with a man, but the way both your bodies pressed together and both your tongues fought for dominance was different. It felt natural. Like this was supposed to happen. Like fate had planned it all out for you. 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulls back from the heated kiss, a string of saliva still connecting from both your mouths. He then carefully lifts you up to sit in his lap.

His warm hands slide under your shirt; slight, calloused fingers fidget with the bottom hem. You lean back a bit, raising your arms for him to remove it with no struggle. You shiver when the cool air touches your skin. He looks at you in awe — eyes now a dark brown — mesmerized by the matching bra and underwear that snug perfectly around your flush skin. ‘So beautiful,’ was all Hinata said, not realizing he had just said it out loud. You giggle like a schoolgirl and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him close to your chest that squishes up against his.

‘You taste nice.’ you reply, blushing at the glint in his eyes. The look on his face nearly made you swoon. 

‘Thanks. I was thinking about you.’ he responds, giving you a wink.

You pull him back into another kiss, wishing to resume making out. His hands slid up your bare back, making quick work of unhooking your bra, tossing it aside. Hinata’s face lit up seeing your naked heaving chest. Your breath hitches as he fondles your soft breasts while twisting, pinching, and rolling your erect nipples playfully. You felt vulnerable and loved every second of it. You furrow your brows when he attaches his mouth on your sensitive neck, tilting your head sideways as he leaves hickies all the way down to your chest. Before he could reach your breast, however, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

‘Is everything okay?’ 

‘I wanna ride you.’ 

Hinata swallows heavily when another rush of blood travels to his groin from the vulgar request. He was thinking the same thing when he hooks his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers, sliding them off to finally free his cock. Your eyes widen at the size, clenching your thighs together. It was completely red, leaking precum from the slit. Like your imagination, you felt Hinata's gaze on you, seeing the grin on his face before even looking up. And you were right. ‘Don’t worry Y/N. I’ll be gentle.’ he promises, laying on his back while slipping a condom on.

You slip off your panties and straddle his waist. You arch your back and begin to rub your wet pussy against his cock teasingly. Hinata grunts, gripping your hips when he slightly lifts his own to thrust between your folds. Moaning at the new sensation, you press your hands on his chest, giving him a nice view of your face. Your half-lidded eyes were clouded with lust; low, shaky, gasps escaped your pretty, swollen lips; and a crimson blush bloomed on your face. His free hand moves up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek.

‘Hinata…please.’ you begged.

His other hand reaches between you to grab his cock. ‘You ready?’ he asks, lining up at your entrance. You nod desperately, biting your lip when you feel the tip enter. Both of you moan simultaneously, although his came out more like a growl. ‘Mrrgggh.’ His chest vibrates against your palms as you sink lower, digging his nails into your hips. Hinata screws his eyes shut, breathing through his nose when you squeeze around him. The veins on his cock — through the condom — pulsate against your moist walls. You relax your muscles, welcoming more of his delicious cock as he blissfully stretches you out, filling you to the brim. 

When you’re fully seated in his lap, you lean down to give him another kiss. His hands roam up and down your sides, silently encouraging you to synchronize your hips with his. You coil your tongues together, tasting the tangy nectar in his mouth. Pleasure continues to course through your body while a bubble forms in your stomach. Your thrusts become increasingly sluggish, getting closer to release. You pull away and sit yourself back up in Hinata’s lap. 

‘You okay Y/N? Getting tired?’ he asks, stroking your waist gently. 

You shake your head, answering no in a breathy voice before you raise your hips, leaving only the tip inside, and slam back down on his cock. The sexy moan that escaped Hinata was music to your ears, one that literally drowned out your own. ‘Aaaaaahh~’ He wastes no time bucking inside you while you get a feel of his balls slapping your ass. Every kiss to your cervix makes beads of tears form in the crevice of your eyes as you tighten around him, milking his throbbing manhood. ‘Good…s-so good.’ 

Oh the nights you’ve dreamt of this scenario so many times only to now experience it for real. 

From Hinata’s view, you look like the embodiment of lust itself. Your tongue dangles out as you pant like a dog in heat; your sweaty, bruised skin glistens radiantly from the light above; your breasts bounce frantically with every thrust; he sees hearts in your glossy e/c eyes as you look at him admiringly.

‘Cumming~’ you moan, breaking him out of his trance. ‘I-i-i’m c-c-cumming.’

He plunges his hand between your pussy, brushing against your labia. ‘Cum for me Y/N.’ Hinata groans, rubbing your clit with his thumb vigorously. ‘I wanna see you cum so bad.’ 

It only took a few pumps for the bubble in your stomach to completely burst. Your body stiffens as your pussy convulses viciously, sending Hinata over the edge. He arches his back, holding an iron grip on your waist as his orgasm floods his senses, moaning your name under his breath. You stay like this for a few seconds until he slowly pulls you off his now softening cock. He shifts a bit to remove the condom and lays you on his side. You snuggle up against Hinata, wrapping an arm around his neck as he strokes your back affectionately. He leans down and kisses your forehead; you return the intimate gesture with a kiss on his cheek. 

‘So uh Y/N.’ he speaks, ruffling his hair.

‘Hm?’ you raise an eyebrow, wondering what he’d say next. His cheeks turn a faint pink as he looks at you. 

‘Do you…wanna exchange phone numbers?’

a/n: This is my first smutfic so I hope you enjoyed it. 2nd a/n: A long time ago someone wrote me an 18+ persona 4 x reader fic, but they've since closed their AO3 account. Take this as a spiritual successor, but with HQ!! instead.

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 18

Summary: You show Malleus your form, in exchange for being able to explore his. An equal exchange. You are a danger and a tempter in turn. Malleus could never hate you, no matter how much his body wished for him to run from you.

(I had a lot of fun with this. Please enjoy, my audience!!)

Whenever Malleus looks at you, he always feels as though he's looking at the empty part of the night sky.

You occupy space, and in his vision, you color the world as anyone else does. But when he recalls those moments, when he's just about to go to sleep and dream of older days, Malleus would always remember you, your presence, and the way your very being just seemed to sap the color away.

Perhaps there was something wrong with him, because, as he so heard from wayward whispers and Lilia himself, there wasn't a spark of magic in you. There was nothing in you that would affect his memory. Maybe it was simple boredom or some illness affecting him?

…the feeling didn't fade. He finally met you in the middle of the night, outside a dorm he thought long abandoned.

He felt you more than he saw you. When he went to that dorm, he felt that comforting silence, then it was… well, not ripped away but unveiled? As though one is gently taking off a table cloth to put away. It took some time for Malleus to figure it out to be your eyes. Your attention.

Did you know that people have this odd habit of being quieter at night? They whisper in the dark, lower their voices as though not wanting to disturb anyone, even though there is no one near. People, regardless of their origins, are the slight touch different at night, and Malleus is no exception. At night, he looks not towards people, but towards the wind, to the night sky above, and to the ruins to give him that solitary comfort that's simply deeper at night than during the day.

When he met you, your voice was clear. You were still in your uniform, and there wasn't a hint of grogginess that comes with staying up this late. You didn't look to ground to keep track of your steps despite all lack of light. You walked to him, not with confidence but with a casual gait. Almost lackadaisical, as though there was nothing in the world that can bring you harm, other than death by sheer boredom.

But when he talked to you, exchanged greetings with you with all the manners befitting of him, you had felt human. Before your first words, the strangeness of you almost made Malleus forget himself, he very nearly thought you to be another fae. All his instincts point to you being something other than human, but fae you were certainly not.

And so he had said, What are you? Because, by all means, you appear to me as nothing more than a human being. But, that's not quite correct, is it?

You are, and you aren't. But, if you need a definitive answer, then the answer is ultimately yes, I'm human. At least, for now.

Then, as though some missing piece finally slotted itself into place, Malleus felt small. The moon cast you a normal shadow, but something in Malleus told him that this was wrong. That there should be more, but there wasn't. You wouldn't elaborate further, and he wouldn't give out his name.

As such, he parted.

When he walked away, he couldn't find that lonely comfort again. Sleep did not come to him that night. No matter how he adjusted his curtains, the weight of your gaze simply didn't fade.

There was fear and there was reverence when people would whisper your name. It was a strange feeling for Malleus, certainly. To think that he would find you at the center of it all, when it would normally be him. Strange caution in his gut aside, Malleus never thought your reputation would elevate itself to something infamous within this college.

Oh course, what choice did he have other than to bring it up? A wondrous topic to discuss, no? And besides, while there was this itch settling in the back of his head, it was easy enough to ignore. After all, you are a new… companion. Not quite friend, but companion.

It seems you have many of these students on edge. Mind telling me your tales? If you have any to share, that is.

There wasn't a twitch to your face, your smile ever serene, ever stable. A rarely changing thing.

Should I tell you, or should I show you?

Oh my.

Perhaps it was simply the secret veil of night, or the weight of which you place in your tone, but there was a slight thrill that went up the back of his neck. It made his scalp tingle, even.

But, at the time, he said no. A part of him wasn't quite ready yet. And, quite frankly, he didn't wish to set himself up for disappointment. But, he will admit…

There was an overblot that I took care of. It seemed I scared quite the number of people. I save them, and I damned them in turn.

Your vagueness left him wanting more. But there is this unspoken deal you both have. So long as he refuses to give out his identity, you, in turn, will only give the barest of details. He cannot make demands of you, so long as this stands.

And so all he can do is dream and wait for the next night to come.

I find comfort in you, you know?

Another night, another series of topics, with mostly Malleus recounting a particular set of ruins with the most exquisite set of gargoyles he's ever seen. Highly likely enchanted by someone to weather the natural forces of nature. How could he not talk about the clear love put into them?

Words clogged his throat. Comfort. How… warm, that tone of yours was. How fond that smile of yours was. The constant weight of your gaze turned just the slightest bit lighter.

There was only a glimpse.

A cold had broke past the natural protections of his clothing and poisonous magic, and settled deep inside his marrow. His blood rushed through his body too loudly, and the colors surrounded his view dimmed, warped, and ripped.

There was the sound of broken glass, a hiss that shot through his head and left behind a horrid headache.

Malleus pushed on, because if nothing else, his magic is more than enough to take care of anything. It was his crown, his birthright.

There was only a glimpse, and that was enough for his vision to be cut in half. Night, from a pinprick, cut out part of your back. It followed a jagged path, expanding fast past the limits of your human body, consuming the space around you as though fungus upon wet wood.

It didn't matter that it was air, all it wanted to do was consume. Consume the air, consume your body, consume the sky, and consume the mirrors.

The sounds around him rushed to you, as though unable to resist your pull, leaving behind only the mess of static in his ears.

There was only you, pulsing in the vague shape of a human being, all in swirling colors, near nauseating colors.

Malleus blinked, and all was well. Everything had settled. The students slowly got up from the floor, nursing injuries and headaches alike, but happy to be alive. And you… were untouched. Clothes not so much as wrinkled.

And when it was over, when the conversations upon the stage of VDC had settled down, Malleus turned to you and said.

Show me. When night comes for us once more, show me.

You smiled and laughed.

Of course, Malleus Draconia.

"Come on," you chuckled against his skin, breathe brushing against the little hairs on his neck, standing them on end, "aren't you supposed to be royalty? Isn't patience something you ought to have?"

"Even you--" Malleus cut off with a hiss when you wrapped your tendrils tighter around the base of his tail, lovingly stroking the side scales with your palms. Firm, your tendrils are firm as they slide and take in every little crevice in his scales. Firm, and like fluid at the same time without leaving behind residue. "Even you have to understand that I have limits. Must I keep my eyes closed?"

Your touch practically sparks his skin, and his every instinct is warning him to open his eyes and spot the danger. The stiffness in his spine tells him he's about to fall and land on the ground. All while swimming in the vast muteness of his suppressed magic.

We can't have any accidents, now can we?

"You hear that fuzziness in your ears?" you traced his neck as white noise buzzed, both far away, yet blanketing him as though a bubble, "The way I sound as though I exist in all spaces, and the way I speak as though I'm coming from your heart? Don't open your eyes, Malleus. Otherwise, you might dissolve into me."

Dissolve, in the same way your back drew in all those colors, and mixed it into yourself, became a part of yourself for a small moment. Malleus wishes to see it, even though his body broke out in a sweat at what might happen.

"Is that," he swallowed, "such a horrible thing? Didn't you say you would show me?"

"Does showing mean you have to witness with your eyes?" A tendril wrapped over his ankle and slipped through the leg opening. You caressed the back of his knee, and Malleus's fingers broke through the wood of the wall behind him. "Careful there. I'm showing you, through all your other senses other than sight."

"Other senses?" Malleus managed to breathe out, "then… what of taste?"

You overwhelm his touch with electric touches, fill his smell with the scent of you, and play his hearing. What of taste? Will he regret this? Well, it doesn't matter. Malleus is curious and he has no intention of curbing it.

"Oh, aren't you a sweetheart?" Your voice was concentrated to a single point, right over his left ear. "Well then, lift your head up, dear prince."

There was an ever-shifting noise beneath the static, like flesh constantly adjusting itself, like blood flowing and popping it's large bubbles.

"How bold of you, making demands of me like this, knowing full well who I am." There was no hatred in his tone, only heated amusement. Malleus lifted his chin, and he almost curled into himself when you pressed your lips against his. You were gentle, almost painfully so as though you were guiding him. You had almost your entire being tied up around him, and you're kissing him as though he's nothing more than faint-hearted fae.

And that makes his fingers curl deeper into the wall of your dorm.

"How," that was close, Malleus's voice almost pitched. How unbecoming of someone such as him, "How cruel of you, to kiss me as though I'm fragile glass."

"Because I know that would affect you most. You know how I am." You chuckled against his lips, stroking his neck in such a way he had no choice but to relax back into them. "Again?" you asked.

He licked his dry lips and answered, "Again. This small taste isn't enough."

"Alright, be careful not to destroy my wall, alright?" you swiped a thumb over his lips, practically hearing the widening smile on your face.

"I'll be more care--" You silence him with the blissful magic of a kiss, tenderly moving against him, coaxing him to relax into a shivering pile of scales. You pulled back and Malleus was ashamed in how desperate he was when he chased after you. "Wait--"

You tilted his chin and stole his breathe once again, fingers slipping past his collar, tendrils wrapping up higher and higher until they're poking at the scales on his thighs. You trailed a hand over his shoulder, down his arm, and guided his fingers to lock with your own.

"Is this better?" You asked, pulling away from his surely reddened lips.

"Y-yes." Malleus tightly clung to your fingers.