#it's just not proper no way he'd admit that!

[drowninginblox]

Low Battery

Pt: 1, 2, 3, 4

"This needs to be perfect," Kurt mutters under his breath. He's been pacing for hours. "Uh-huh..." the one person he knew would help him is not all enthused. "Something they'd never expect!" Kurt declares in a hushed tone. "Yeah..."

It is 3am, and Scott is not happy.

He was woken up by Kurt holding his nose. The worst way to wake up. Thank god Kurt had the foresight to slap his glasses on. But before Scott could yell at him, Kurt already teleported himself and Scott to Kurt's room. Where a chalkboard was filled with various ideas and notes scattered across the floor. Scott didn't know what was happening, but he'd never seen Kurt like this.

"Kurt, what even is this?" he grumbles after waiting ten minutes for a proper explanation. Kurt looks at him and sees Scott holding the bridge of his nose. "Oh, right." Kurt teleports to the chalkboard and spins it round to show 'Ways to confess without fucking it up; by Kurt' Scott stares at the board before dropping his head and sighing. "Kurt we have work in the morning..."

"Coming from the guy that was making noises I never even imagined. You kept me up last night, this is payback." Kurt teleports over to Scott. "And don't worry, we're not alone." He points to the bed at a still-asleep Gambit. Scott holds his face in his hands "Kurt it is 3am-" Scott tries while Kurt slaps Remi awake with his tail. "The fuck-!" Remi yells before looking around, realizing where he is. "Oh god... mon ami...." The cajin groaned. "Really?"

Kurt looks between them "Look- I wouldn't have done this if I didn't think it was important. And I know it's early- but this has been keeping me awake. I need help with this, I can't..." He sighs. "Herr, vergib mir, but I can't fuck it up!" Scott raises a brow and glances at the Gambit. Although Gambit couldn't see it, he felt the shared glance. "Listen, Kurt," Scott says while standing up. "There is no right answer to this." He admits. Remi leans over, putting his elbows on his knees.

"Kurt, I had no idea what to do with Jean. I thought of every outcome, everything I could and couldn't say, every grand gesture I could think of- I could damn near fill a book!" He admits while walking towards Kurt. "But you know what I did?" Scott clasps a hand on Kurt's shoulder, making Kurt look into Scott's visor with nothing but hope.

"I didn't wake up my friends at 3am!"

Remi barked a laugh as Scott tightened his grip on Kurt's shoulder, making the German fear for his life while Scott seethed. But Scott took a deep breath and relaxed his grip with every moment of exhale. Eventually, he calms himself and evenly states the facts. "What I did Kurt, was take a leap of faith." Kurt glanced between Scott's hand and his visor. "That's all it is," Scott affirms before letting go and heading to the door. Kurt doesn't bother to go after him. This stunt was not going to be met with grace in the morning.

When the door closes, Kurt looks at Remi, who is lying on the bed and fiddling with a deck of cards. "How did you get that?" Kurt mumbles. "Pockets mon ami." Kurt glances over Remi's ensemble of boxers and a crop top. "What?" he asks, genuinely confused. Remi rolls his eyes. "Just come over here and play with Gambit." Kurt sighs "Shouldn't you leave too? I woke you up..." Remi only narrows his eyes and flicks an uncharged card- hitting Kurt square in the forehead. "I-ow!" Gambit's eyes widened a little "Damn mon ami, you should've dodged that," He tuts with a smirk. "You have it bad..." Kurt huffs "Schnauze!" Remi chuckles and waves him over, to which Kurt hesitantly obliges, sitting across from Gambit on the bed.

"Gambit got a game for you," He mumbles as he shuffles his cards "Simple one." He assures. "Go fish?" Kurt offers while he props his head with a hand. Remi stares blankly at him. Kurt only smirks back.

Remi starts dealing cards, mumbling intermittently "Go fish? The fuck are we?" Kurt only chuckles. "Well then mon ami, what are we playing?" Remi looks at him. "Because of your remark, war." Kurt perks a little with a playful smile "Really?" Gambit just nods. "Good game to play when you need to ramble." He hands Kurt half of the newly shuffled deck, to which Kurt takes. "Ya know how to play yeah?" Kurt rolls his eyes and starts setting down cards. Remi responds in kind.

They play quietly for a few moments until Kurt finally speaks up "So what did you want to talk about mein fruend?" "Be honest with me Kurt, why do you love them?" Kurts taken aback by the question but slowly answers "Well," Remi continues. "Would you feel this way if this shit didn't happen?" His eyes never leave the cards. Kurt stops "What do you-"

"What is she worth to you?" Kurt throws down his cards. "For the love of- Remi hold on! Lassen Sie mich darüber nachdenken! Es ist schwer zu beschreiben, was sie sein soll, wenn du mich ständig bedrängst! Give me a moment to answer!" Remi looks him dead in the eyes and slowly sits up. He remains quiet, inviting Kurt to speak. Kurt can only sigh. "Siehe- listen, Y/n is my best friend. I would be lost without them, truly." He looks down at his cards. Remi's stack was thicker than his now. He must not have paid attention to how shitty his luck was. "I... I rely on them."

"Reliance isn't love, mon ami." He surmises before taking four more of Kurt's cards as his seven lost to Gambit's ten. "I relied on 'few people back in the Bayu but I loved none of them 'n the way I love y'all. An all tha' nothin' compared to my Cher," He smiles fondly before returning back to Kurt. "But that' all to say, that's far different to jus relyin on someone. You know that." Gambit says with a quick tap to Kurt's shoulder. "Mon ami, I've seen you smitten. And this ain't it." Kurt sighs, putting down his small stack of cards to hold his hands together. "Tell me, ya know Gambit won't tell no one, but ya love them? Truly?"

Kurt closes his eyes and hangs his head "I... I don't know." Gambit smiles at him sadly. "You have one hell of a poker face mon ami," He says while shuffling close to Kurt. "But ya get tells. Everyone does." Kurt only sighs "Gambit, what do I do, Bruder?" Gambit claps an arm around Kurt's shoulder and pulls him into a side hug. Kurt softens a little at the much-needed contact. "Ya figure it out before ya commit." He mumbles, his voice seeping with genuineness. "And if I hurt them?" the smaller mumbles. Gambit shakes his head. "It would hurt them more if ya lied, mon ami. Trust me, I know." He says with a smirk. Kurt smiles a little at that. "Player." He mumbled. Gambit chuckled and held Kurt tighter for a moment "Gotta try ya luck." Kurt scoffs playfully.

Gambit starts collecting his cards. Kurt helps him out. It's a silent task, but when they finish they only look at each other knowingly. "Ya gotta be true to yaself, Kurt." Gambit eventually says, a deep understanding coursing through his words. "If ya don't trust yaself in that, then trust Gambit." Kurt can only look away. Gambit sighs. "Ya trust me right?" Kurt nods. "Ja... with mein life." Gambit clasps his shoulder and squeezes it lightly. "Then follow ya heart, not what they may want." Kurt takes a moment before nodding to the sentiment. Gambit smiles slightly before heading out of the room and closing the door behind him. Once he's gone, Kurt looks to the chalkboard and the scattered papers of fantasmal plans. But now he can only see them as what they are- fantasy.

That night was restless, but he tackled the following day with a spirit he didn't know he had. Scott rightfully scolded him for last night and suspended him from missions unless told otherwise; whatever that means. Meanwhile, Gambit only requested that Kurt would wait until about 6am to drag his ass into early morning ramblings, and that said practice would be mutual if continued. Kurt took both of these helpings in grace.

But after these moments, Kurt otherwise found the day unnoteworthy. In fact, he found the following days the same way until the fifth. He’s known about the constant the whole time, but considering the circumstances he didn’t want to pry immensely.

Eventually, the intrusive thought got out. "Hey, Ororo?" Kurt asked during the lunch period, "Do you know where Y/n is?" Ororo looks over to Kurt. "Their classroom. They've been rather occupied for the last few days." She notes as she closes the fridge. Kurt nods at this and heads to Y/n's classroom immediately after this confirmation.

Something in his soul tugged at his being, encouraging him to check up on them. For what reason, he didn't know. Call it intuition, call it dumb luck, but Kurt was walking to Y/n and neither of them could stop this interaction. Yet it was only when he was a little over a yard from their door did he realized he had no good reason to do so.

He stopped in his tracks, midstep away from the inevitable. A rushing thought offered an out; 'You told her you needed time...' his eyes lingered on the door before looking away. The room seemed to chill with the harsh truth of Kurt not really knowing what he was doing. 'What was this even supposed to do?' The casoums of his mind offered. 'Is this something for you or Y/n?'

The lump in his throat grew at the implications of that question. Even though his fur allowed him to be semi-resistant to the cold, he could feel goosebumps rise from his skin. His body worked on autopilot, directing him to the wall next to their door and leaning against it only to slink down to a curl of a sit. The tail he always claimed to have a mind of its own, wrapped itself around his calve. A gentle squeeze was the only consultation he deserved while he leaned his head against his knees.

A deep inhale, and a deeper exhale quelled his nerves for a few moments only to have them flood. "Mein gott..." He mumbled into his jeans. "What would Y/n do?" He couldn't help but mumble against the warring thoughts. The carnage of what ifs and absolutes desolated anything in their path while Kurt could only sit and watch as he tore himself apart. He didn't know how long he sat there, but something broke him away from the battle. "The last thing I want is you attempting to force feelings that aren't there." Y/n's voice echoed, making him perk. He closed his eyes, forcing the memory back.

They didn't realize how close they were to him. At least, he doesn't think so. Just a few inches apart, that was the only thing separating them. And yet they didn't risk it. "Kurt," They mumbled. If it wasn't for the faint candlelight, he wouldn't have seen the bright but conflicting emotions in their eyes. There was a bittersweetness in that intimacy. One that Kurt couldn't help but wonder if they understood the possibility that came with such a risk as that one.

Their hand served as the only ground at that moment. But the cool touch of your hand was giving way to the warmth of Kurt's cheeks. "You deserve only the best that the world has to offer." Their assurance was warmer than the candlelight. Its glow crowned them in a halo of surreality. It was unlike anything he'd seen before. "Do not put your happiness aside for me." And their words. The reverence was something of a prayer... devoted and kind. And yet, all the while pleading for something they could only hope for.

"Please, be happy in any way you want, just don't hurt yourself in the process." All he could do was attempt to recover from his speechlessness as the friend he'd had for years on end morphed into someone else before his very eyes. The quick-witted sarcasm and the air of confidence were gone. For once in a long time, Y/n was vulnerable in a way Kurt had only seen once, maybe even twice before.

The bell marking the end of the period was over broke Kurt away from his recollections immediately. As the sounds of footsteps grew nearer and nearer, he stood and dusted himself off. He spared your door one last look before a BAMF took him back to his classroom, where he could only sigh against his desk. The stale air of his room was no Eden, but it was better than getting questioned by the students.

"Reiß dich zusammen, Wagner, wir müssen eine lösung finden..." he mumbled before combing a hand though his hair. His tail swished to and fro. The hallways filled with noise. "Time to be normal..."

[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

[experimentalfma]

"The proper...space?" Though he kept up a slightly confused smile, Havoc didn't find that statement particularly comforting, even if she had confirmed she wouldn't aim at him. Was she implying the two of them getting into a fight? Despite his military training and sharpshooting skills, Havoc wasn't much of a fighter if he didn't have to be and wasn't keen on fighting Peach in any space.

He jumped back a bit with a start when she did indeed aim the parasol toward him, and it burst open not far from where he sat. "Heh! Yeah, it's certainly a hell of a surprise!" he admitted with a self-conscious laugh as he straightened back up and ran a hand back through his hair. "Remind me not to get on your bad side." Well, there was no doubt in his mind that she would be able to defend herself from any of the troublemakers she mentioned if she needed to. She was impressive with her makeshift weapons; he'd give her that.

Watching her parasol return to its intended use over her shoulder with such an innocent-looking smile on her lovely face, Havoc almost could have believed that he'd imagined it with how sweet she looked now. Just a beautiful woman spinning a lacy parasol over her shoulder as if she didn't have a care in the world...who apparently could outmatch almost anyone he knew with a weapon. If nothing else, it was a fascinating dichotomy that piqued his interest in a slightly outmatched sort of way.

But he relaxed again when she settled herself beside him again, despite finding Central Command to be a bit of a disappointment. "Yeah, there isn't much that you'd find all that exciting," he confirmed with a shrug. "I'm really just there for work, though I live in the military dorms, so that's where I spend most of my day. That's why I like coming out to places like this to catch a little bit of break and liven things up a little."

He blinked blankly at her for a moment at her assumption that the girl he'd been trying to pick up had just been busy and didn't have a way to tell him, but he quickly recovered with a light chuckle. "Yeah, that must've been what it was. She just had something come up." She definitely didn't have something come up, but Havoc wasn't about to put a crack in Peach's innocent view of people's intentions. 'Well, I try to meet new people when I can," mostly attractive women, "but I have to admit results have been mixed. I'd say today has been a success, though. I've been enjoying talking to you."

"Of course I wouldn't aim it at you, this isn't the proper event space for any sort of fight." Implying she sometimes fights recreationally? Peach rises to her feet, taking a few steps forward so as to give some space and be mindful of her surroundings. It's a smooth motion as the parasol handle that was loosely in her grasp was spun into a fencing grasp, pointed at him, and the press of a button opened it in a way that could make the unsuspecting back up. "Of course, this was more uses then the classic baseball swing. the tip is pointed enough, and opening it can really confuse someone in the moment or push them back."

It's with a similar fluidity that Peach closes the parasol, and is able to go from the fencers grip to what looks to be a solid swing, aiming at nothing as her hips even twist a bit with the motion. If that was just using the much lighter parasol in an improvised manner, no wonder a golfclub in her hands could crack a few things. "One thing about this rather then a bat or club is the weight difference- especially the weight distribution. it has more drag so more poised motions are better, but some... regular trouble makers know the swing to be something to be wary of, even if diminished by lace, so it depends on the situation."

And just like that, another twirl of the parasol and it's open over her shoulder, making the princess look as sweet as can be, needing shade wherever she may go, even spinning the pink lace mindlessly as if in thought. with that warm smile, one could wonder if the moments displays of ferocity in demonstration could have been imagined, for she looked as sweet as... well, a peach!

And she closes it again to rejoin him on the bench, Listening intently to him describe Central command. "Ah, I can picture it well enough from that alone. Looks much more exciting from the outside then it's reality then." Shooting range likely referred to guns: Peach had seen a few during the smash tournaments, having been invited to give a few competitors weapons a try between matches. Definitely wasn't her preference, but the skill for it became quickly evident as... her aim hadn't really been much either.

Though, that smile dipped a bit hearing him talk of the no show. "It's a shame she couldn't make it," While the potential of it having been an intentional ghosting is there, that's not the first thought she has. The idea of intentionally forfeiting plans made with someone is foriegn to to the princess, as made evident as she adds, "It's always so frustrating when something comes up and plans fall through like that: especially when you can't let everyone know beforehand. At least you seem like the type to be able to make friends or fun even when things go awry." Perhaps the thought Havoc had been intentionally no-showed didn't cross her mind at all.

[thefanciestborrower]

Okay so I love thinking of Gatsby as a pred because look it suits him, but I also firmly believe that man would rather eat his own shoe than admit he's ever thought about eating someone even ONCE

[bcneheaded]

⊙

Send me ⊙ and my muse will bold all that applies to yours (with @manneatcr !)

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[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ i like my men older - simon riley♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

you knew that your friends from school raised an eyebrow when you told them that you were dating a man almost double your age. you were in your twenties, while this 'simon' guy was close to fifty. you told them that he was an army man who had a gooey center for you.

your friends could see the upgrade in your laptop and the new knapsack with a logo that proclaimed it was expensive. the small chain around your neck with a 's' on it that you toyed with when they asked questions about him.

you looked happy, healthier even! you weren't eating minute meals and surviving off of black coffee. there was a little roundness to your cheeks now and you looked more alive. a glow to you that wasn't that while you trudged through your graduate program. so honestly, how could they complain?

if you had a glow to you, it was because you were often fucked out. most women your age through that dating an older man would mean having to go slow. be patient about technical difficulties regarding their cocks. that was what you expected from a man that old. especially one with aches and pains like simon. your poor si, he had been in the military his entire life. barely had the touch of a woman during that time! poor guy! of course you'll teach him all the ways a woman should please a man. the first time you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock he cam all over your head, and while you whined. it made you crazy hot. fucking simon was like fucking a live wire. he hadn't slowed down with age. he fucked like a stallion in breeding season. and he loved when he pulled his heavy cock into you. you once told him that he could be a cervix breaker. and he simply said, "well, if i break it... i can't breed it." which made you go slack jaw for a moment before he continued to rut up against you. you didn't expect a man of his age to have a breeding kink.

you practically begged your doctor to give you birth control, because he was not buying condoms. "don't fit in 'em, lovie." he said as he patted his clothed cock when you started dating. you knew that was impossible, condoms could fit a lot of things and while simon was fairly big. he could fit in a condom. but, no. when you tried to put them on yourself, he simply took it off, tossed it to the side and pinned you under his heavy weight. legs in the air as he rutted against you like a hungry animal.

he was so much bigger than you. wide shoulders, strong thighs and a bit of a gut to keep you folded under him. there was a masculine heft to him. he was strong, picking you up was easy to him even when you tried to tell him your weight. one time he gripped you by the waist with one arm and moved you out of the way. you kicked and squeaked as you were moved. but to simon it was easy as lifting heavy equipment. but that softness to some of his muscles really got you hot all over. it didn't help that part of your role as his girlfriend was to make sure that your man was fed. you cooked him meals and he over devoured in your sweet dessert. he loved you in an apron. all domestic and sweet for him. you were real wifey material. could easily be cooking meals for him and the kids in a few years. you can have a graduate degree and a few riley babies. "look good cookin' for me, darlin'. know how to make a proper meal for your man." you wouldn't admit but his words excited you.

simon can be a little... chauvinistic. it was just his age. while he respected female colleagues in the military and was beyond happy that you were getting your degree. he'd do things for you that you could clearly do on your own. like when you tried to fix the leaky tap in your flat. or when you try to carry all the groceries inside. yes, darling, you're a strong woman. but let him take over. take care of you. that was what a man did right? he'll cut the onions for you and try to fix your buggy wi-fi connection. he's pay for dinner every time and even get you dessert after. he'd wipe your face clear of the sweet treat you'd have. "don't ask her anything too difficult, johnny. she doesn't need to be thinkin' too hard." he once said with his hands over your ears and glared at his teammate. which only made the scotsman laugh. simon didn't mind if he had to take over. he'd never pull the rug out from under you, even when you were under him. you looked prettier under him, letting him take charge of your fucking. he took care of his girl, even when you whined and told him you were capable. there was no need to whine. simon needed to take care of his much smaller, much weaker baby girl. no need to break a nail trying to do stuff that simon could easily do for you.

even with the grey in his blond hair, he still kept up to you. there were times that you were too exhausted from day-to-day that you let simon rut between your thighs until he covered your round ass with his hot cum. you'd whimper which would turn into a yelp when he easily slipped his heavy cock into your sweet pussy. where it belonged. he fucked you heavily as his cum coated your behind, even trailing down your sloped back as you had your head in the covers.

"don't spill a drop off that pretty ass, baby girl. or else i'd might have to mark you again." thank god you liked your men older. <3

[chocogoldie]

Love Slip

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contains: established relationship, a bit suggestive at one point

short continuation of Nip Slip 18+

It's been a while since the two of you started dating. Approximately three months, two days and forty-three minutes. But who's keeping count?

During your time together, you've come to learn many things about the blond ticking time bomb:

One, he's a very organized and clean guy. He has to-do lists separated into categories in his phones' notepad app, a strict schedule he follows everyday to stay in shape — not that he needs it, but getting to brag about being able to lift you up certainly strokes his ego — and an extremely neat room that stays neat no matter what. He brushes his teeth three times a day, eats healthy meals, has a proper skincare routine and smells of sweet caramel even when he's dripping with sweat coming back from the gym or from an intense training session with your classmates. ln short, his hygiene is top notch.

Two, he's a little bit of a gym freak. Not that you'd ever mind, you even find it hot most of the time, but sometimes he gets provoked by his other gym buddies, mainly Kirishima and Kaminari, to try out all sorts of exercises with you on his back. Push-ups, squats, even yoga poses, literally anything they can think of just to see if it'd work. You've fallen on your ass more than he'd like, or care, to admit. Not because he wasn't strong, no, but because you cannot concentrate on holding onto him for the life of you, always getting distracted by the way his muscles flex and how he grunts from exertion. It's a sight for sore eyes, strands of hair sticking to his forehead while his usually spiky hair dampens and falls down beautifully, framing his face. It reminds you of your first night together, so of course you wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything else. You don't mention how incredibly good he looks in his compression shirts. Yes, he bought multiple after you oggled him up and hinted at loving the way they fit muscly men.

And last but not least, he's clingier than anyone you've ever met which is a stark, and quite frankly adorable, contrast to his sharp appearance. You're working on some assignments? He's bringing you food and making himself comfortable on your bed while putting on a weird dating show on the TV, occasionally checking up on you to remind you to take breaks. You're going for a quick grocery run? He doesn't waste a second to throw on whatever clothes he can find and join you, walking around the store with the shopping cart and imagining you two as a married couple well into your marriage shopping for your little family. You're taking a bath? Scooch over, he's helping you wash your hair and back. You're feeling sad? He's bringing your favorite ice cream and listening to you vent while gently running his hands over your face, back, thighs, arms, anywhere to soothe you. He cradles your face when your sobbing gets louder, pressing his forehead against yours to help ground you into reality, to snap yourself out of your worries by murmuring “I'm here, baby,” or “I got you”. All in all, he's a big softie for you.

He often shows his affection through his actions, but sometimes when the two of you are alone and in the silence of your bedrooms, he pushes his embarrassment aside and spills his heart out. He vents about hero work, about how he doesn't think he's good enough, or rather, nice enough to be a hero, always ending up berating people to hide his true intentions and words. It's something he's always struggled with, but he's been working on it constantly with you, his friends, and in therapy. He tells you everything about what happened during his time in highschool, how the man literally died for a minute, and how much that impacted his life onwards. You listen intently and comfort him through it, crushing him into a tight embrace to remind him you're there for him as well and that you'd do anything to make him happy. He tells you that your presence is enough.

He whispers soft “I love you”'s each night before you two drift off to sleep, letting his hand rest on the small of your back underneath your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his to be able to sleep. The warmth your body provides gets rid of his reoccurring nightmares and allows him to sleep soundly throughout the night with you by his side. And he very quickly realizes he never wants to lose you. Ever.

Because he might've slipped into having a little crush on you, but he willingly chose to fall in love with you.

© chocogoldie 2024. do not translate, copy, or repost.

a/n: a little smth i came up with while waiting for the poll to finish :3 hope u enjoyed it! not proofread

[lizzy019]

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

Simon Riley who definitely swoons every time he sees you angry or upset. He likes seeing that furrow of your brow, your comebacks and the fury in your tone. It's somehow extremely hot to him, despite him not knowing why. He doesn't admit this to you, ever.

Simon Riley who was super hesitant to take off his mask around you. Sure, he knew he could trust you, but he was nervous. Would you even like it? The scarring, the cuts, the busted lip of his and the eye bags hidden under his warpaint? But when he took it off, he was assured he looked handsome by you showering him in kisses and loving words. (He probably got shy after.)

Simon Riley who can't cook for shit, but would definitely like to learn for you. If you can cook or if you can't, he will do his best to learn a few simple dishes so he could say that he's a decent cook.

Simon Riley who hates when you mock his accent sometimes. But he never does anything to retort or defend himself, he takes your teasing because he knows you enjoy it. Though, it does end in some fun and playful wrestling, often ending in laughing fits and some good cuddles after.

Simon Riley who can't stand your shower routine. He absolutely hates the way you clean yourself, and he often convinces you that he should clean you himself. While you don't know how to feel about this, you smile as he gently lathers soap on your body. Just don't expect this to be a one-way thing, he wants to be pampered a little too.

Simon Riley who loves cats so much that he adopted 4 strays. He got them all checked at the vet, paid whatever amount of money to get them their shots, prescriptions, proper food, etc. He'd definitely pamper the little furballs like they were his children.

Simon Riley who probably owns a really nice suit, but never got it tailored after his military work. Every time he puts it on, he winces because the sleeves of the jacket are too tight. You have to convince him that it looks better, that there's more muscle definition while he wears it. It was his favourite outfit after that.

Simon Riley who would wholeheartedly give you the most random massage. Like- full on massage. His warm hands were definitely the most heavenly thing you've ever felt, and the little callouses and cuts on his fingers just made everything more perfect.

Simon Riley who doesn't know how to handle you when you're on your period. He gets you snacks, drinks, blankets, your heating pad, some extra sanitary things, but he doesn't know how to handle your mood swings. One minute, you're all cuddly and sad, and the next it seems he's done something wrong and you're mad at him. But then you're laughing?

Simon Riley who adores when you need his help with opening jars, reaching things on higher shelves, doing a load of laundry while you do something else, it makes him feel useful. But just don't tell him to do the dishes, he probably dropped one or two and they broke.

Simon Riley who literally sleeps with a rock hard pillow. He can't sleep on a fluffy pillow, they hurt his neck. But he LOVES a springy bed and a thick duvet blanket. You don't understand why, neither does he.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; male!reader

sukuna dry humping toji while he mouths at your cock through your pants.....

kuna is just rubbing his clothed dick right up against toji's ass as he's bent over, down on his hands and knees in front of you. kuna's hips rock into the other man's with every breath he takes and the hold he has on him is bruising, his lidded eyes glued to where toji's asshole is hidden under the material of his sweats, the lewd thoughs flooding his head.

you all feel way too fucking dizzy to remove your clothes, too in the moment to spare even a second to take your hands off each other. toji's drooling all over your bulge, his saliva making a proper mess of you. it mixes with the pre-cum that's starting to leak through and the subtle salty taste makes the man let out a content hum.

with every harsh thrust sukuna makes, his nose brushes against your waistband as he tries to take your whole tip into his mouth through your pants. your hips buck into his face and his head tilts up; his mossy green eyes are blown wide, dark with lust and his cheeks are completely flushed – he looks so fucked out already. his hand digs into the flesh of your upper thigh.

it's a moment between you two, just staring into each others eyes while happily drowning in the needy, thick air that swims around you.

that is until kuna's hips slam into his again, pressing toji's face against your hard cock with a breathy laugh. "how cute... got a pair of lovebirds here, hm?"

but toji refuses to argue with him, all the fight in him dying as the pleasure takes over. so he just decides to just nuzzle his face into your crotch again; he slips a little lower, just where your balls are and it makes you shift your hips and spread your thighs a bit wider. your head falls back onto against the couch and kuna's eyes travel over toji's arched back to your now exposed neck. he watches your adam's apple bob as you blindly card a hand through toji's hair and he cracks a grin.

"yeaah... tug harder." kuna's raspy voice reverberates through the whole room, his dick twitching at the sight of toji's burning ears. "he loves that shit."

toji's grip on you tightens, his insides flare at the comment. but his body betrays him, his own hips stuttering back against kuna's, making the latter laugh. "of course, you do."

he can't take it; having you splayed out so beautifully before him and sukuna's rough thrusts have toji's head spinning. the degrading quips and the burn on his scalp from you now actually pulling at his roots aren't helping either, his own cock painfully bobbing in the confines of his sweats.

leaning over toji's body, sukuna lowers himself so his lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down the man's back. kuna's red eyes find yours as he whispers to toji. "ya love it because you're a good fucking boy, right?"

the mocking tone in kuna's voice makes toji press his eyes shut and the man laughs again, his hips grinding into toji's hips even harder. feeling sukuna's body press against his, the weight of him, and the fact that he keeps forcing toji's face more and more against your bulge is getting toji way closer to his orgasm than he'd like to admit.

placing a hand on the couch right next to your leg, sukuna pushes him just enough to cock his head at you. the movement is enough to tell you what he wants, so you obey without a word – leaning forward while keeping a hand on the back of toji's head. now completely stuck between you and sukuna, toji can't move forward nor can he move backward and the pressure makes another glob of pre-cum spill from his tip. the mess he's making in his sweats is ridiculous; he's probably never been harder than he is now.

sukuna's hips halt as he raises his hand from toji's waist just to squeeze your cheeks together and smash his lips to your in a starved kiss. toji can hear the wet sounds of your tongues dancing together and he tries to wriggle his hips, desperate for sukuna to hump him again. kuna's dick rests right between his ass cheeks and toji is just a breath away from literally begging the man to put it inside. he needs more, he needs to cum so fucking bad.

when you start pushing his head into your crotch even more with a firm hold on the black strands of his hair, basically face-fucking him through your pants, toji moans. sukuna grins against your slightly puckered lips, his hand still on your face as he controls the situation. he's so fucking hard; the sight of the two of you being so fucking needy from just some heavy petting is definitely doing something to him. his ego grows, pride blooming in his chest when you mewl into his mouth.

pulling away an inch, sukuna keeps you there as he nips at your jawline. "he jerks off to the thought of you, did ya know that? he's fucking ridiculous."

your breath hitches just a little, toji's dick jumping at the shameful accusation made against him. but he can't even defend himself, his mouth busy drooling all over your bulge. eyes rolling back into your head, you sigh – it's hard to focus with the men being all over you like this. sukuna's word swim in your head, the filthy images of toji's fisting his cock to the thought of you making the knot in your stomach tighten.

luckily for the both of you, sukuna's feeling extra generous today. acting as if he's not about to bust all over toji's ass, he let's go of your pretty face with his lip tucked under his sharp teeth. he grabs onto toji's waist again; barely pulling away, he's just grinding into toji's backside with a ruthless pace. he thinks about fucking his cum into toji's tight ass. how good he'd look with it dripping out of him.

knowing that you won't last much longer, your lips itching to taste him too, you tug at toji's roots again but this time upward and away from your clothed dick, making the man hiss. his lips are all glossy, spit covering the sides of his mouth and his chin and he's even more red in the face now than he was before - he looks fucking exceptional. so you don't waste any more time by closing the distance between you, grabbing onto his cheeks and smashing your lips to his.

cum seeps through toji's sweats the second he feels your tongue swiveling against his. you taste sweet and a bit like kuna; you taste like want and need and toji can't help but moan into you. taking his hand from your bruised thigh, he cups your bulge, massaging your balls with his skilled fingers and it's enough to push you over the edge aswell.

sukuna wishes he could film the scene that's playing out before him. he watches toji melt into your touch, he watches you twitch from the overwhelming feeling of his heavy tongue in your mouth, he watches you both try and eat each others faces with such delight that it makes the corners of his mouth twitch up once more. but he completely loses his own sanity when your eyes crack open, staring at him while still making out with toji. oh, you're really something, huh?

with a last harsh thrust, you have sukuna's cumming in his pants, too. fucking himself through his orgasm, he keeps rubbing against toji's ass while keeping his eyes on you. your fingers are now playing with the longer hairs on toji's nape, the big man almost purring at the loving touch.

after a minute of just pure sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath, sukuna pushes himself up from the ground and you smile lazily at the mess he's made of himself. the tough guy gives you a little 'tch', not even trying to surpress the smug smirk on his lips. toji crawls a little closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck with a sigh, wrapping his big arms around your middle as sukuna takes a place next to you on the couch.

using your free hand, you caress sukuna's jaw, silently begging for him to look at you. and he does just that because no matter how much he loves mocking and teasing, he's weak for the both of you. his dark eyes meet your hazy ones and as if having a magnet inside him, he's inching forward to feel your lips on his again. his eyelids flutter shut and his nose brushes against yours but just before he gets to taste the glorious mix of you and toji on his tongue, you whisper.

"but you're a good boy too, right?"

sukuna's world stops. his breath fans your warm skin, his fingers squeezing your thigh as he gulps like a fish, thinking of a snarky reply. the sound of toji's breathy chuckle breaks him from his thoughts though. his eyes crack open only to see the other man smirking into your neck, and then he sees your own smile. hair disheveled, eyes lidded and lips streched as wide as they can, clearly proud of your comment; you stare back at sukuna before pushing further. "what? y'gonna argue back to me?"

knowing that toji is about to laugh again, sukuna's fist connects with his shoulder as he gives him a strong shove before falling back against the couch with the smallest pout on his lips. "fuck off."

you snake an arm around his shoulders, pulling his head onto yours as you press your lips against his cheek while tracing your fingers over the side of toji's sensitive neck. "my good boys."

+ @lxnarphase kissing youuu:333

[katsukikitten]

Laios who just wants to study your pussy because he's never seen one in person before. Just anatomy books he didn't mean to come across in the castle library and you agree to show him yours.

It's Laios' turn on night watch, the light from the candle low but not low enough he is unable to see the book he swiped from the castle library. It wasn't that he intentionally picked up this particular book, he will admit he grabbed for something blindly as he needed some sort of stimulation to keep his mind alert during his watch. Although he was expecting something on livestock or proper table etiquette, maybe even the off chance of a very bland romance, either way he'd read it.

Laios was the type to read a book cover to cover no matter the content, he needed to know what story or knowledge the book held he just wasn't expecting a karma sutra that detailed erogenous zones and sensitive areas.

Restless you stretch, curious on what Laios could be reading as you drape your arms around his shoulders. He is used to your touch and unreceptive to your flirty sultry nature. Chilchuck says it's because Laios doesn't actually know you're making advances on him.

You think the half foot right, the tall man, warm under your touch, makes no effort to hide the content of his book, no shame as he looks over a detailed drawing of female genitals b

"You can look at mine if you'd like." Your hands dipping under the collar of his shirt and tracing his collar bones. He looks to you for a moment, expression blank before excitement starts to bubble up in his stomach.

"You mean it? You won't mind?" He glances at Marcille who is normally the first one to try to shoo Laios away from you.

"I won't. Isn't it better to learn from the real thing?" You smile, grabbing at his bed roll that he sat beside and encouraging him to follow you to the next room.

You were either too cunning or too naive when you agreed to show him yours. Watching his eyes light up only when you finally spread your legs and let him study your bare pussy.

"May I?" His hands twitch before you nod, sultry eyes look over him but that feeling of confidence will die soon under his intense observation. Big calloused palms pressing at your inner thighs to further part your legs, running them up to your apex before his thumbs spread your cunt further open revealing your puffy clit to him.

"Your clit is so swollen. Is it because you feel good?" His golden gaze glued to your sex as his thumb teasingly slides closer making your cunt clench in anticipation, "Cute."

"You get more excited when I get closer, is it sensitive? If I touch here, like this?" Rubbing slow firm circles on your clit making your eyes roll into the back of your head, arousal leaking from your neglected pussy.

The way he speaks, the comments he makes, he sounds as if he is just playing with your cunt for the sake of curiosity and his seemingly lack of arousal is starting to embarrass you. But you do not stop him, you let him keep up with his ministrations. Edging you, just like that until your arousal dribbles down your ass and soaks into his bed roll he's laid out on the dungeon floor.

"So wet." He states, moving one of his hands so his fingers can gently tease your entrance as the sound of clicking slick echoes around you two.

Nothing more has come from you other than wanton moans stifled by the back of your hand as you look down at him with glassy eyes. Watching him explore, so to speak, as he methodically commits this to memory. You watch his curious mind give birth to an idea, watch his eyebrows furrow and his lips twitch.

"I wonder..." He murmurs, unable to stop himself as he leans over you, licking a slow broad stripe from tiny taint all the way up to your clit, "So sweet."

His deep voice vibrates against the sensitive nub making you arch your back and buck your hips only encouraging him to encircle the bundle of nerves in his pouty lips. Tongue swipes slowly as he gives a good suck making you desperately clench around nothing. Laios dips down lower, replacing his tongue with his nose on your clit. Swiping roughly to prolong your high as his wet muscle breaches your tight cunt making you gush on to his tongue.

Bucking your hips weakly into his face, grinding on his strong nose as you clamp your hand over your mouth to keep from waking the rest of the party while a shiver goes up your spine.

"Wow you shuddered. It feels that good-" He finally looks away from your swollen cunt and holds your gaze with his glistening face, "when I eat you?"

"Laios." You whine, tears slipping down from the corners of your eyes and for a moment he startles, pulling you up right, to wipe away the tears with his 'clean' thumb.

"Did I hurt you?" His ashen brows furrow with worry, light golden eyes searching yours as his other hand goes to close your legs as he brings you on to his lap.

You're about to respond, to tell him you're overwhelmed in a good way and maybe just a little embarrassed that he doesn't seem all that into it when you feel something long and thick poking at your ass.

Swallowing thickly, you look at him as he still studies you, waits with his ever worried gaze for you to tell him that you're alright, that he didn't push too far because he cannot read social cues to save his life. Only for you to move quickly in his lap, straddling him and he thinks it will bring you more comfort as he supports you. Strong hands at your hips, looking down at you, mouth parted to ask again until you drag your hips across his lap.

He lets out a low hissing groan, climbing up his chest and you feel his fat long cock twitch against your cunt through his pants.

"So you do like me?" You say softly, grinding into him harder and faster, watching his cheeks flush all the way down his throat and up to his ears. Puffs of hot hair shared between the two of you as you hump him harder, faster. The strings at the crotch of his pants only aid your pleasure as you chase your third high of the night and if you're lucky you'll steal one from him as well.

"Wh-wai- wait." He pants, yet his hands help to rock you, "I'm gonna-"

"Cum? Yes cum! Cum!" You encourage desperately, licking the bead of sweat that rolls down his cheek to his jaw. The stubble from his five o'clock shadow is harsh against your tongue but you do not care. Tasting his salty skin and imagining how much better his cock and white hot ropes would taste half way down your throat winds the coil that much tighter in your stomach.

"Laios!" You whine again, the way he loves to hear you sound as your grinding turns sloppy. His hands dragging you across his lap now as he groans loudly, sac tightening as he paints his pants in sticky hot white, ruining them for the evening. The two of you try to catch your breath, his hand sliding up your spine and grabbing at the nape of your neck forcing you to look at him. To share the moment and his unintentional intimacy has you feeling flush all over, his lids heavy and at half mast as he looks deeply into your eyes.

Far too deeply for just another party member.

"Again." He says firmly, hand squeezing tighter at your nape, "Let's try this again."

[manikas-whims]

Skincare with the LADS Men

inspired by THIS recent text with Xavier where he said we left our pack of face masks in his fridge 🥺

SYLUS

🐦‍⬛ He maintains good skincare and overall hygiene. He's the type who's like “if i’m going out to commit some illegal deeds or kill an enemy, might as well look good doing it. His healing ability helps maintain a better skin as well.

🐦‍⬛ When you find out, you're kind of surprised that he's so well-maintained. And he takes offense that you'd have such low opinion of him just because of his profession. He scoffs. “Your assumptions wound me, kitten. Even the leader of Onichynus cares a little for his appearances.”

🐦‍⬛ Luke and Keiran later on giggle and reveal to you how their boss makes an extra effort to look better whenever you are coming to see him.

ZAYNE

❄️ There's a difference between hygiene and skincare. So just because he's a doctor, doesn't necessarily mean he's good at taking care of himself. Yeah he might take a bath and always put on clean suits but he doesn't really bother much with skincare itself.

❄️ It's not that he cannot do it but he simply doesn't have the time for it due to his packed schedule at the hospital. Almost twice or thrice when you surprise-visit him during his late night shifts, you've found him shaving his stubble at his office’s washroom lol. There are some faint cuts on his jaw and you fuss over them much to his delight.

❄️ His skin and body suffer mostly due to his eating habits. More often than not you've caught him sneaking way more macarons than good for his teeth. Not to mention, he doesn't eat proper meals due to his work.

❄️ “It’s not what it looks like. I'm a doctor. Obviously I know how to manage my health.” He laughs sheepishly because it's not often that he's on the receiving end of scolding, especially from you. You end up having to pay regular visits and watch over him for a while, bringing in full meals as is needed for him.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Thanks to him working at odd hours, eating at odd times, passing out on the couch every now and then that it's expected he'd be careless but he does in fact take proper care of his skin. And it's better than yours. (well ofc his Lemurian genes are partly to thank but he's a fish out of water so he does need to take care).

🌊 He knows his skin is amazing and he'll make a show of it in front of you. Not to make you jealous but because he wants you to praise him for it, call him pretty and handsome. “Come onnn!!” He drawls out. “Admit that I’m way prettier than those idols you're a fan of.”

🌊 Definitely enjoys doing skincare routines with you. Will indulge in manicures and pedicures if you ask, chatting with you all the while. Even recommends certain products that would benefit your skin. And offers to do your facial and massage.

XAVIER

⭐ Canonically isn't concerned with skincare. Even MC is shocked at the fact that his skin is doing so good despite any proper care. Probably the type who uses those “5 in 1” products 😭. Or grabs just any product without much care for the actual ingredients involved. How his skin and hair are doing alright? You have no idea..

⭐ You offer to do his skincare and he agrees because that just means he gets to spend more time with you. Enjoys the sensation of your hands on his face. Melts into a puddle if you wash his hair. You also try fixing some of his eating habits because alternating between cup noodles and meat ain't it. And though it takes a while, you figure out his skin type and help him get his own products.

⭐ You both develop a habit of putting on sheet masks while watching late night movies or playing video games. Sometimes you two just end up lazying around and talking about mundane stuff.

⭐ But even if you set up a whole routine for him, if he stays over at your place, then he's definitely using your shampoo. And if you ask him why, then he smiles innocently and answers, “Oh..it’s not that I am particularly biased to the product. It’s just that I like it when I smell like you.”

» MASTERLIST ��

[moondirti]

kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

[rainyyynightssss]

Twisted Wonderland

Reacting to you trying to go back home

Characters: Overblotters

Notes: Yandere/Toxic themes involved

"Crowley thinks he might've found a way for me to get back home!"

Riddle Rosehearts

He looks at your smiling face and something in him breaks. He should be happy for you, he really should. This is what you had wanted from the beginning. To see your family and friends. To be free of magic and almost getting killed by overblots.

But you should've been happy here. He'd order his card soldiers to keep the rose garden in prim condition for you to gaze upon whenever you visited. The birthday parties always included a dish you liked. You got along well with Trey and Cater. Sure, Riddle was strict with his rules, but he grew more lenient with you. Surely, you could see that.

"That's wonderful news. And you're...happy to leave?" He tries not to let his voice crack as he grips one of the legs of the table they had just used to share dinner together. Apparently for the last time.

"Of course, I'll be happy to see everyone back home. It is a bittersweet feeling though. I'll miss you all." He chooses to ignore the 'all' part of your phrasing for a moment. You'd miss him and isn't that enough reason not to go?

"We'd all miss you as well....I, especially,-"

"But I think it'll be good for me to go and be back with my family, you know?" You add and he tenses again. He knows well how important family could be, and he also knows how burdensome they are. His mother forced him to adhere to strict guidelines, and while it shaped him into the respected house warden he is today, it also made him afraid. Terrified, even, that everything would go wrong if the rules were not followed.

Perhaps that's what you needed. A healthy dosage of fear and some rules to keep you in line. You were his perfect rose, blooming and unblemished. You had always managed to drag him away when he got too deep in his studies and talked him down when his face became as red as the flowers in his garden. But now your edges have grown frayed. You're trying to go back to your roots but he'd rip you out of the ground, thorns and all, to keep that from happening.

"Right. Well, it's gotten quite late and it wouldn't be proper for you to walk back to Ramshackle this late at night." He sensed your confusion even before you could voice it. You've taken plenty of late-night walks before and this would hardly be on the top list of most dangerous things you've done at the school.

"I can walk back-"

"I insist. I couldn't let you go...to your dorm! This late." Riddle shakes his head and covers his blushing face with a hand as he stands up from the table. "I have a room for you. If you'll take it?" He offers his hand to you, hoping you will miss the small trembles.

You smile at him again and take his hand, sending warmth even through his gloves.

"Just for tonight." You nod. Riddle gives you a small, though tight at the ends. His rose didn't need to know about the details of their stay, only that it was going to last longer than they thought.

"Of course. Although I must make sure you have an adequate stay. Rules indicate that guests should have the most hospitable experience, no matter how long that takes to fulfill." Riddle answers with ease and you see nothing wrong with it. His rose would blossom even more under his careful watch.

Leona Kingscholar

"And?"

The notion of you leaving was laughable to him. You had already managed to barge your way into his life, ruining his plans at the Spelldrive competition, ruining his nap routines, and ruining his pride as a prince. And he wouldn't have it any other way. Though the latter is still mostly kept intact.

You look at him, seemingly flabbergasted by his dismissal.

"And...that means I'll likely be leaving soon." You tell him. He sees your small frown. You must think he doesn't care that you're leaving. But it was quite the opposite. As much as he would never admit it to himself, he cares so much that he denies any possibility of it happening. He knows you don't actually want to leave.

Leona watches you sit up from his bed that both of you had been lying in for the past few hours. He grasps your wrist before it can leave the sheets. His grip is tighter than usual. Leona had always been like that. He demanded respect and expected you to follow. You, of course, were not so willingly submissive to him but that made it all the more fun for him to make you.

"Ruggie isn't going to be back 'till later tonight. I've got more sleep to catch up on. Especially after you bothered me last night." Leona tugs your wrist to bring you back closer to him while he rests his other arm under his head.  Last night you had came to him, clearly anxious about something and didn't want to be alone. Anyone else he would have turned away with a scoff, but he's found over time that he has a hard time refusing you. As long as it didn't involve you trying to run away from him.

"Are you even listening to me?" You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks.

"I have and it sounds like a buncha nonsense. Go back to sleep and maybe you'll forget your dumb ideas in the morning." Leona grumbles and pulls you to his chest. He hears you huff but you don't resist, lying back down beside him. He doesn't know exactly why you're having these kinds of thoughts but it doesn't really matter to him. If you want to run, he is glad to give his precious prey a chase.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul's hands freeze in the air, his fork and knife about to cut into the juicy salmon that had been plated beautifully in front of him. He glances up at you, his smile also frozen on his face, as you were just talking about how much you enjoyed Night Raven College and the Mostro Lounge. All until you abruptly switched to this topic he thought he was doing a good job at evading.

"Ah, isn't that...delightful?" His words would have come off as calm to anyone else, but you notice the slight strain in his voice. You always seem to see right through him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Upset me? No, quite the contrary. I think it's wonderful the headmaster has finally secured your passage back home." Azul muses and goes back to cutting his salmon, though it's obvious that his cuts are a bit more jagged.

"Yes... he said it could be any day now." You respond carefully. You try to offer him a smile as you take another sip of the drink he gave you on the house. He could see the small ounce of hope in your eyes of going back to your world. That wouldn't do.

"Is that so?" Azul takes a bite of his food, swallowing before adding, "It's really too bad you won't be able to go then." He continues eating, ignoring your confused eyes as if he didn't just say the strangest thing.

"Why wouldn't I be able to go?" You ask slowly. "I mean, the transportation might be difficult but-"

"It has been a while so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you forgot." Azul sighs and dabs his face free of any smudges with his napkin. "You may not step out of the bounds of Night Raven College by any means, including the Dark Mirror."

"According to who?" You let out a disbelieving laugh.

"According to Article 3 Section 5 of the contract you signed." Azul takes another bite of the salmon, not letting himself react when you slam a hand on the table.

"What contract?! I never signed anything!" You snapped. He remains as calm as ever. This time, you couldn't read him, couldn't even see his eyes through the glint in his glasses.

"You must remember when you agreed to work in the Mostro Lounge for a couple months. I had you sign an employment contract. I warned you about reading it through to the end. A suggestion I don't give to most poor, unfortunate souls in this school." Azul answers.

He did indeed give you the small packet to look through and recommended reading it all. It wasn't his fault that Floyd made a commotion in the kitchen just as you started reading the end portion. Azul urged you to sign it while he dealt with the mess that Floyd undoubtedly caused and you did, just missing the statement that required you to be on-call even after your employment ended, and being on-call meant you always had to be within a certain range of the lounge.

"You can't be serious." You utter quietly with wide eyes, realizing exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm afraid I am. But don't fret too much. I think you'll come to like it here." Azul smiles again. A smile that's hardly recognizable.

He watches you jump up from the table and storm out of the lounge, passing confused customers who glance back at him. He takes a drink from his glass. Azul isn't worried about you walking out. You couldn't leave here, leave him, anyway. And if you tried to hide from him, he would just send Jade and Floyd to hunt you down. You have become one of his prized possessions, and he isn't going to let you go that easily.

Jamil Viper

"Really? It's about time." Jamil comments as he starts chopping the vegetables you prepared in a bowl.

He had invited you to try some new recipes with him that he'd then distribute to the Scarabia students. For the past few months, you had been inviting yourself into their kitchen, much to Jamil's annoyance. You always offered to help him and he always declined, especially when it came to Kalim's meals. He was not going to lose his job over a pretty face. You respected his refusals but you still liked to watch him for some odd reason. Today, he finally decided to let you help him.

He appears to be half paying attention to your words while you're stirring the stew. "Haven't you been waiting a while?"

"I have. Crowley's been pushing off researching but I finally made him go through with it!" You look quite proud of yourself and if Jamil wasn't so irritated, he might have thought it was cute.

He simply hums in response and continues swiping his blade through the onion, each cut sharper than the next. He should be fine with you leaving. People come and go, after all. It would make things easier for him as well. He would stop getting distracted so easily, riddling his fingers with knicks from the blade when his thoughts drifted off to you.

"Kalim also promised to help me pack my stuff. He's eager for me to see my family." He sees you smile absentmindedly as you stir. Jamil's hand clenches tighter on the knife.

"Of course he did." He mutters to himself. Kalim got everything we wanted, didn't he? He got the wins, the praise, the Housewarden title. And now he was going to send you off. Jamil bet he was even encouraging you to go and like always, Jamil would just have to accept it. Only this time, he wouldn't. Jamil never got anything he could have to himself, always having to share with Kalim. You would be the one thing he could keep just for him.

"That reminds me, I needed to ask you something," Jamil says and you look back at him. He takes a step closer to you and leans forward, whispering the name of his unique magic. His lips widen into a smirk as he watches your irises fade to red.

"You'll be staying here, won't you?"

Vil Schoenheit

He raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as he works to pluck yours with tweezers.

"Hm? That's not the line, darling," Vil says. In your hands is the large packet of paper that contains Vil's script for his upcoming film. He had asked you to practice lines with him. You agreed and in exchange, you asked him to put some makeup on you. It was something he's been wanting to do anyway so he obliged. All was going well until you dropped this bombshell on him.

"I know, I was trying to figure out how to tell you and I accidentally just blurted it out," You sigh.

"Mhm. And Crowley has- Close your eyes, now - provided a way for you to get back home safely?" Vil asks as he moves on to your eyes, brushing an eye shadow across your lids that matches your skin.

"I don't know if anything about that man is safe, per say, but he did seem pretty confident about this." You respond as you keep your eyes closed for him. Vil shakes his head with a small 'tut'. The headmaster didn't exactly have a track record for reliability. He voiced exactly this to you.

"Crowley may just end up sending you on a one-way ride to nowhere. There's no telling where he could send you, why not wait for a few trial runs?" He places a hand under your chin. "And besides, why do you need to go home so badly?" Vil puts the palette back down and takes a tube of lipstick in his hand.

"Well, I want to see my fam-" You're forced to stop talking until he finishes applying the lipstick, "I want to see my family and finish everything I had going on there."

"If that's the case, I don't see what you could do back home that you're unable to here. And if you want to see your family, shouldn't you make sure your travel is safe so you can get back to them in the first place?" Vil questions as he wipes the small smudge of lipstick from the bottom of your lip with his thumb.

"That's...true." You nod reluctantly. Vil smirks a bit as he moves his hand towards the back of your neck, his thumb tilting your head up so you can look at him properly.

"Correct. And if I'm not mistaken, you've built quite the life here, haven't you?" He watches you slowly nod and he soothes the back of your neck with gentle fingers.

"You really want to throw that all away?" Vil looks down at you with questioning eyes even though he already knows the answer. You shake your head.

"No...but I also know that's something I'll have to do if I want to go home." You tell him firmly. Vil lets out a sigh and turns away from you for a moment.

"If you say so, but at least let me leave you with a parting gift." He turns back towards you and presents a small perfume bottle with a fancy font across the lid that you can hardly. It would no doubt cost hundreds in the market.

"My own creation that I've been working on. You're the first to have it." Vil says as he hands it over. You take it with a bright smile.

"Thank you! I'll try it on as soon as I get back to Ramshackle." You respond excitedly as you move to stand up from his makeup chair but he places a gentle hand on your wrist.

"I'd like to hear your critique as soon as possible. You are my perfect model, after all." He says with a glint in his eyes. You didn't seem to have any problem with that and sprayed a few spritz of the perfume on yourself, promptly passing out in the chair. You would get it through your head eventually that you belong here. You just need a little more convincing.

Idia Shroud

"Hold up, what?"

Your sudden words caused him to press the wrong button and his character gets brutally killed by one of the forest monsters in the game. You wince and put down your controller, turning towards him on his remarkably soft couch.

"Yeah...sorry to tell you so late but it looks like it could be soon." You say and Idia tosses his controller to the side, facing you as well.

"So you're gonna go? Just like that?" He asks in shock. You only recently just started playing video games with him in his room. Before, you had to practically beg him just to play a game with you when you were both in different dorms. It took a lot of convincing but he soon gave in after some persuasion from his brother. Once, you showed up to his room to see if you could play in person and he stared at you with wide eyes for about five seconds before slamming the door in your face, apologizing later over text.

He was unbearably anxious around you at first but he got used to the idea that you wouldn't judge him so easily. So he showed you another side, his more competitive and ill-mannered side to see if that would make you go away. And you still didn't. You instead embraced him for it. So why now were you just going to forget about all that?

"I-I mean I have to," You were clearly caught off guard by the intense look in his eyes, "I have a home and a family and friends-"

"Yeah, yeah, sure but what about everything you have here?" Idia insists.

"Everything I have here?" You ask.

"Y-Yeah, those first years, Grim, your dorm, me- many other things!" He stammers out. It would be way too cringe to mention himself deep down he hopes he's one of the things that could keep you here.

"Of course I'll miss everyone, but I miss everyone back home too," You say. Idia sighs deeply as he throws his head back on the couch.

"You're reallly set on this, huh?" Idia asks. You bite your lip and nod.

"But I still-" You try to add but he cuts you off.

"No, I get it. I wouldn't wanna be around me either." Idia sighs again. You look at him with wide eyes and fervently shake your head.

"No, it's not like-"

"You must have better friends back home if you're so desperate to see them again." He adds as he looks away with a frown. You don't notice him peeking back at you. You sigh and tilt your head so you can fully meet his gaze.

"Look, I'll talk to Crowley, see if he can push it back a bit." You tell him. He looks at you curiously.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna pressure you if-"

"No, it's okay. I want to spend more time with you and everyone anyway." You give him a small smile and he smiles back. He could play the pity card all day if it meant you'd stay.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus pauses in his steps, looking at you with a wide, curious gaze.

"You're leaving?" He utters. The two of you had been enjoying your nightly walks together back to Ramshackle. After one too many fights and attacks happening after hours on campus, he thought it best to escort you back home. He could easily teleport you both back to your dorm, but it gave him a good excuse to be around you more.

"Yes, hopefully it'll be soon. I'm excited to go back!" You smile enthusiastically and Malleus can only offer a grimace back.

"I suppose you could say I'm a little surprised. I thought you were happy here. Did I assume wrong?" He asks as he continues walking you to your dorm. Normally you would have never been able to keep up with his pace but he always kept a slower one for you.

"Oh no, I am happy here. My friends have been wonderful and I'm glad I'm friends with you. There's just some things I could do without." You mention offhandedly as you gaze up at the moon. He looks down to see it reflected in your eyes. The moon is wondrous but all he can see are the eyes that pinned a man who could never yield so deeply. You managed to befriend a dragon who is intimidating in every manner. That kind of connection isn't so flimsy that it could be dismissed by thoughts of departure.

"Things such as what?" Malleus perks up at the idea of solving one of your problems. As powerful as he is, there are a number of things he can't help you with. He couldn't do anything about your assignment getting deleted after your internet 'crashed' or about the friendship problems you once had with the Heartslabyul boys, but he's always eager to listen, just as you always do with him.

"It's just some rowdy guys from Savanaclaw who are still mad about the Spelldrive competition. They've been bothering me a bit but it's not a big deal." You tell him and he stops the both of you this time with a hand on your shoulder.

"Bothering you? For how long?" Malleus didn't mean to turn his hard glare on you but he couldn't help the fury building up inside of him. Many of the students already noticed your looming shadow that often followed you around like a lost puppy, which was usually enough to keep them from trying anything. Malleus isn't naive enough to believe that students at this school are always on their best behavior when he has his own business to deal with in the Diasomnia dorm. However, he swiftly and discretely took care of any nuisances that he happened to notice. He didn't think you were keeping anything from him.

"Like I said, it's not-" You try to soothe him but his glare only hardens.

"For how long?" Malleus repeats and he doesn't plan to a third time.

"For about a month now...but I can handle it myself!" You insist but he ignores the latter half of your sentence as his face morphs back into a gentler one.

"So that's what's been burdening you? I wish you'd have told me sooner but it's no matter. I'll take care of it." Malleus assures you.

"I mean that's one thing, but I have other reasons-" He cuts you off with a pat on your head as the two of you stop in front of Ramshackle's doors.

"You don't have to ruminate on it any longer. Do try to tell me about any other troublesome students in the future. I'll handle them and anyone else who tries to ruin your happiness here at Night Raven College." He vanishes in a flurry of lights before you can say a word. Any serious notion of you leaving is unthinkable to him, and if you do come up with more reasons, he'll make sure to take care of those as well.

[itachiiwrites]

Part of the Lover!jjk series.

A/N: So Sukuna won the poll, this is my first time writing for him. I hope I did him justice lol

Part 1.

Ryomen Sukuna was a firm advocate that love was a dangerous fantasy for mortals, and such fantasies were cathartic when there is a lot to be afraid of, however, the king of curses didn't have anything to be afraid of.

Loverboy!Sukuna who thought at first that love was nothing but a myth for someone like him, since the core of his existence stemmed from bane, from malevolence.

Loverboy!Sukuna who thought you were a measly, mortal fool when you tried to convince him love did indeed exist. But wait..why was he thinking of how gentle you sounded while you were spewing bullshit about something that doesn't exist?

Loverboy!Sukuna who started looking forward to your exchange of anecdotes with him, he felt comfort in the fact that someone was willing to listen to his story, not out of fear as other people in his life, but out of genuine curiosity besides Uraume.

Loverboy!Sukuna who starts directing his attention to delicate varieties of flowers that he'd usually take pleasure in crushing and turning into ashes. His thoughts wander upon how those same flowers would look tucked behind your ear or in your hair.

Loverboy!Sukuna who asks Uraume to bring him any small, dainty kind of flowers with a subtle, thoughtful smile on his lips and an uncharacteristic, benign look in his eyes. Uraume’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets at how soft their lord is acting. Was it really him?

Loverboy!Sukuna who takes you by surprise when he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears and tucks the flower behind your ear. “What was that for, king?” You asked with a slightly bewildered smile on your face to which he could only muster up a nonchalant reply “Do you need to ask questions for everything I do, mortal? (how would the king of curses admit he's feeling his heart race, that's weak.)

Loverboy!Sukuna who obviously doesn't do things conventionally and takes you on a proper date at a restaurant by scaring everyone else away so it's just the two of you and the (very terrified) staff—privacy is important between lovers after all, he lived by that virtue.

Loverboy!Sukuna who has a scowl on his face and he spits out a “what.” When you ask him if you could tie pink ribbons onto his enormous 4 arms—but then gives into your ridiculous request anyway.

Loverboy!Sukuna who thinks of all the ways he'll punish you in bed after you teased him for having witnessed the helix of his ears turn pink, seeing someone like him adorned in pink ribbons.

Loverboy!Sukuna who miserably fails at punishing you, or fuck you rough when he notices how glassy your eyes are when one of his two cocks is not even halfway inside your poor, battered cunt.

Loverboy!Sukuna who talks you through it, having you in missionary when heian era he was used to fucking his concubines from the back. Even your face was cupped in his palms, so tenderly. “You can take it woman, easy..breathe for me.”

Loverboy!Sukuna who for the first time makes note of what feels good to his partner and what doesn't, taking it very seriously.

Loverboy!Sukuna promises himself that in this lifetime, where he took on the kinder path, he'd make you his wife, the only one and not a concubine.

Loverboy!Sukuna who feels the monster in him fall silent the moment he rests his head onto your lap.

[flwrkisses]

boyfriend! ni-ki.

HAPPY (late) RIKI DAAAAY!! wishing the happiest and sweetest birthday to our lovely riki. celebrating by writing all my lovely ni-ki stans a little headcannon. enjoy!

genre: fluff. established relationship. idol! x reader. headcannon.

warning: some mentions of arguments and skin ship like kissing and cuddling.

❀˖° heeseung jay jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki ..

- you and riki had been introduced to eachother by mutual friends. he for some reason found himself always wanting to impress you each time he saw you. thats how he found out he liked you.

- the weird feeling he would get in his chest when he saw you was actually just the butterflies. even if he didn't want to admit it. so, one day after talking to jake for a really long time about his feelings he finally got the confidence to tell you how he felt.

- he honestly was ready for rejection so when you told him you were also interested in him, took him off guard. he probably would need a moment to register what exactly to do next. but from that day on you guys just assumed you were dating without any proper question. you both admitted feelings for each other.. so you guys just assumed thats how relationships start.

- the first date would probably be to a movie in the park or maybe a shopping run that turned into a cafe and boba date on accident.

- riki is usually very private about his relationships.. however, if someone gets on his nerves he plays the "at least im actually dating someone!" card to rub in their face that he managed to find someone who loves and cares about him.

- he's a mean boyfriend, meaning that he will tease you, poke fun at you and play pranks on you because thats how he shows his love. however, you must retaliate in return if not its not fun.

- sometimes when you're walking down the street while holding hands he purposefully trips you and chuckles when you stumble only for you to try and trip him back. this usually leads to you guys almost tackling eachother in the middle of the sidewalk.

- he also finds it funny when he holds his hand out against your head to stop you from getting closer to him. he's tall and has long arms so he thinks its funny but after a while he gives in and pulls you close.

- you know he loves to mess around and tease you however, no matter how much he playfully bullies you he's actually very protective of you. lots of his jokes come from a place of love. however, if someone else were to make fun of you the way he did he couldn't find it funny at all.

- despite how playful he is. he would die for your touch. he loves melting into your arms and holding you. believe it or not he's a lot clinger than you'd imagine.

- in private he's putty in your hands but around his hyungs or anyone else he tries to play it cool.

- he draws you things on any serface if you give him enough time and a writing utensil. they're usually cute drawings of a couple that he says are the two of you. he leaves these little doodles on your shopping lists, notebooks, sticky notes, white boards.

- when you visit him while he's at practice he gets so excited because he loves seeing you when he's in his element. he shows off just for you and asks you if you thought he looked cool while dancing.

- riki finds your height difference to be extremely cute. he loves pointing out how short you are compared to him. he loves feeling tall around you. please ask him to get things off the top shelf.

- he's going to ask to borrow your hair tie, and never give it back so he can wear it around his wrist or keep it on his nightstand as evidence he's with someone.

- something you noticed is that he'd "accidentally" leave his shirts or hoodies at your place in hopes that you'd wear it. and when you do he melts a little inside.

- when shopping he usually likes to take you with him so you can tell him what you think about clothes. he wont buy something you don't like. if you're not with him expect pictures of clothes on him or facetime calls for your opinion.

- riki loves hearing your voice so even when he's sleepy from a long day working, he'll call you just to hear you talk about your day. his deep raspy voice usually just humming along to your words to let you know he's listening.

- most times he ends up falling asleep with you on call, regardless of if it's a video chat or regular phone call. he feels comfortable enough to do that with you so it's sweet. plus he works so hard you can't possibly be upset.

- he gets a lot if his dating and relationship advice from jake because in his eyes he thinks he's the most romantic. so most big romantic gestures from riki is usually something jake told him to do for you.

- pda is a big no for him, maybe simple hand holding or a quick hug would be okay. but he gets way too shy to actually kiss you or be overly touchy with you in public.

-but, he does like to see you wearing his clothes or matching shoes with him. its a little cheesy but he can't get enough of it. it's a little nod that you belong to each other.

- on his phone your contact would be something like "my loser." or "nerd." something not too romantic incase someone takes his phone and makes fun of him for having such a lovey dovey name for you.

- his home screen is a picture of you though. you're not looking at the camera and it's kinda blurry but he knows it's you and he loves looking at the candid pictures he's taken of you. loves it so much that it makes one of them his hime screen.

- riki loves thrill especially thrill rides so even if you don't like them he would drag you to ride rollercoasters or fast rides with him.

- he does love to kiss you though. after the first kiss he was addicted and is always looking forward the next kiss. however he would die inside if anyone every caught you both kissing.

- arguments are something unavoidable. especially when riki can be a little bit of a hot-head about things and prideful. he kinda sucks at apologizing or talking things out so space from each other usually helps you both cool down.

- after a couple days you both realize how much you miss each other and end up forgetting why you were upset with each other in the first place.

- a fault in him is saying yes to anything you want to do or ask for. sometimes he doesn't realize what exactly he's agreeing to. this has gotten him into a lot of very interesting situations with you. like ending up in the salon next to you getting his nails and toes done, or taste testing weird herbal teas, or even getting his hair dyed to slightly match yours.

- after a long day, you both just melt into the sofa and scroll on your phones for hours. just watching tiktoks or something similar. occasionally reaching over to show each other something funny.

- if you're not doing your weekly tiktok scroll with him on the sofa, you're probably cuddling and watching an anime. you guys take turns picking which one to watch. its also a nice way to spend time together since he loves to order food and make a date night out of it.

- when going out with you to a place where theres music and dancing involved. regardless on if you can or can't dance he would pull you to dance floor to dance with him. a big smile on his face as he watches you move and enjoy yourself.

- he is so supportive of you no matter what. he would promote your projects you choose to do regardless of what it is. he always has your back, and encourages you to do what you love.

- just expect impromptu dance parties while listening to music. you guys could be chilling and having music in the background when he pulls you up and just playfully dances with you.

- when watching a romance movie and they do something cool, like kiss under stars, or set up a romantic camp site, or something of that nature he can't help but look at you and say "lets do that."

- he would never tell you, but praise goes such a long way with him. he wants to hear that he's doing well and that you're proud of him. so when you vocalize it he loves it.

- in the beginning of the relationship he says things like. "saying 'i love you' is so cheesy." only to be the one who says it over and over later in your relationship. when you wake up, when you part ways for the day, when you go to bed. all the time.

- riki would also have a polaroid of you on the back of his clear phone case because he thinks it's cute. and regardless of how old the photo is he wont change it.

- overall, riki's a sweet but, mischievous type boyfriend. he lives and breathes for you and wont let you forget it with how much he playfully annoys you. there is nothing he wont do to make you happy or to hear your laugh that he loves so much.

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission. (2023)

masterlist. — requests are open!

[alloftheimaginesblog]

holding on {alex karev}

plot: you and alex aren't friends but he's the person that sits by your hospital bed day and night until you wake up.

character: alex karev (early seasons) x reader

The steady beeping of the various machines was something that Alex had grown tired of two days ago, the machine's volumes had been turned to 0 but his anxious eyes kept flickering to them every few seconds just to be sure. The background noise of the hospital was something he was used to and it was an oddly comforting sound. Now, the silence of being in the room with you had been nice at first but now that he was here, with you, waiting... just waiting... the silence was unnerving him.

He tapped his foot, checking the clock on the wall. Bailey should've been here by now, she promised him that she'd check on you every two hours. She was late. Anger surged through his body causing his heart to pound and his fists to clench.

"You're such an idiot," he could hear you scolding him in his mind, "if you just stopped dealing with your problems with sheer anger then maybe, maybe people would actually start to like you."

He scoffed.

You and him had hardly been friends. You and the rest of Bailey's interns were the best of friends, all living together in Mer's mom's house so why wasn't George or Izzie or Cristina or Mer here? Why was it Alex? That's all the four of them had been whispering about. Cristina asked Alex, Izzie asked Alex... hell, Bailey even asked Alex. Alex had ignored each of their questions and instead gave some snarky asshole comment with an eye roll. Alex didn't even know why he was here - why he'd purposefully demanded the week off to be by your bedside day and night sleeping on a camping bed with the scratchiest sheets in the world. He didn't know and yet, here he was.

You were annoying. You annoyed him. But since the news of the accident and since you'd been in a coma, Alex couldn't stop thinking about the way you laughed as you teased him. He couldn't get one specific moment out of his head.

You and Alex had been working on a case together - much to your dismay - and Alex had opened up slightly, letting you see that he was much more than what you previously thought.

"So... you're not just an asshole with the emotional range of a teaspoon, who knew?" You helped yourself to the bar stool next to Karev. Joe glanced at you, asking if you wanted your usual to which you nodded.

Alex rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

There was silence for a few seconds before you tried again, "I know you have this hard 'I don't care' exterior," you started, "and I know it's probably because of some past trauma in your life, Karev - believe me we've all got some shit - but..."

"Are you gonna keep giving me a stupid high school girl pep talk or are you gonna shut up and drink?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, "Joe, another round please."

As Joe poured the two of you more drinks, Alex sighed and looked at you, "Thanks," he murmured quietly, "I'm not- I don't..." he cleared his throat, "I don't mean to be an asshole all the time... I don't really know... Social shit isn't really my thing."

"Now who's acting like an emotional high school girl?" You teased. Alex laughed, a genuine smile stretched onto his face. Yeah... maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

So after the accident, Alex stayed.

It was then Bailey strode in, chart in hand, "Karev," she said glancing up for a second, "you look like hell. Don't you think you should go home get a proper sleep? Take a damn shower?" She could see the worry in him, she could see how stressed out he was; the dark circles under his eyes, his nails chewed down. Alex might not even know it yet but he cared about you.

"I'm staying," he said with a nod standing to look over her shoulder at your chart, "Any updates?"

"You tell me, you're the one who's been here since she got admitted." Bailey moved to you, turning the volume up on the machines, checking your levels.

"Oxygen levels were a little low at 3am, managed to level them out... No issues since." He nodded, arms crossed with a hand rubbing at his jawline, "Why hasn't she woken up yet, Bailey? She should be-"

"Karev," Bailey said, voice strong, "Go get yourself a cup of coffee, now."

"I don't-"

"Now, Karev. Let me do my damn job and stop hanging over me. Coffee."

With a few harsh words which made Bailey surprisingly laugh, Alex stormed out of your hospital room, storming past O'Malley and Stevens who had come to check in with Bailey on how you were doing.

Bailey leaned down closed to you, "If you die, god help us all... that boy..." she looked to the door where Alex had left from, "he'll be lost forever. So don't you dare, you hear me?"

The coffee machine was a minute's walk away from your room so Alex would know if anything were to happen to you, he would know but he kept checking over his shoulder anyway just in case. He was exhausted, he couldn't remember the last time he'd drank or even the last time he'd eaten. You had consumed him for the last two days; making sure that you were okay was his first priority.

He stopped at the coffee machine punching the button for a crappy black coffee that he wasn't going to drink anyway, "Come on," he grumbled as the cup dropped and the coffee began to pour in slowly, "Damn piece of crap machine, hurry the hell up!" He yelled suddenly, slamming his fist into the plastic front. Around him, people stared but he didn't care. When the coffee finally stopped, he pulled the cup out when he heard it.

"Code blue! I need a crash cart! Room 2203!" It was Bailey. It was you.

Boiling hot coffee splashed over the floor, the cup dropped and on the ground as Alex Karev took off running.

His heart pounded, usually the thrill was the thing he loved the most but this wasn't a thrill, no, this was dread. When he burst into your room, the first thing he heard was, "Clear!" and heard the noise of the defibrillator.

"What's going on?!" He yelled over the chaos.

"Get him outta here!" Bailey yelled, "Charge to 200! Get him outta here, O'Malley!"

George tried but a determined Alex was a strong Alex. He resisted George's grip, shoving him back every chance he tried to take him out. It got to the point that George gave up, "Dr Bailey!" He exclaimed, hopelessly as Alex barged to your bedside. Bailey couldn't do anything, she was busy trying to save your life, she couldn't deal with Karev as well so she let him be.

"Don't you dare die on me," Alex hissed, eyes flooding with tears, "don't you dare. Can't do that to me, (y/n). Can't have me sitting here waiting for two days to just die on me-" he looked to Bailey, "Save her... please."

Bailey's eyes met Alex's and she found a lump in her throat, "You hear him?" She asked you as the paddles charged, "don't you dare die on us, (y/n)." With one final shock, the monitor started to beep again, "Heart rate is coming back up," she said with a relieved sigh, "Thank the Lord. Levels are stabilising."

Alex collapsed into the chair at your bedside, hand clamped around yours, as his eyes closed, letting the relief wash over him. You were alive; you were stable.

"What- what caused it?"

Bailey shook her head, "Don't know, levels were fine but as soon as you left the room they started to drop so do me a favour, Karev," she looked pointedly at him, "don't leave this room again." Normally he would've bit back, said a comment about her forcing him out but instead, he just nodded falling back into his chair, hand still in yours, "I'll check every hour, okay? You page me immediately, got it?" Again, he nodded and then the room cleared out.

Alex didn't turn the monitors down, he needed to hear the steady beep to know that you were okay, you were alive and you were breathing. For the last three hours that he'd sat here, he had prayed to every god he could remember the name of - he didn't know if it counted but even started praying to some Greek Gods as well. Why have God in the title if it doesn't count? His hand was still firmly in yours.

Bailey had checked five times in the three hours, checking on you but also on him. She brought him a soda, a sandwich and a muffin and didn't leave until he'd drained half the can and eaten one of the sandwiches. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until he'd started eating, he devoured the rest of meal once she'd left. You were still stable but you weren't awake yet. Bailey was optimistic but Alex wasn't. He was dreading the worst, expecting your levels to become unstable again but as he was dosing off, he felt your hand twitch in his.

He shot up, "(y/n)?" He asked staring at your hand and then at you and much to his relief, your eyes began to flutter open. He let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. Utter relief crashed over him, "You're awake," he grinned, "you're actually awake."

"A-Alex?" You croaked.

"Here," he said gently as he grabbed a plastic cup and straw and filled it with water from the jug on your bedside unit, "Drink up. How you feeling?"

"Sore."

"Multiple ruptured organs and a few broken bones'll do that to you," Alex teased with a smile. You noticed his hand was still in yours, warm and strong. He saw your eyes narrow at your joined hands and he was quick to pull his back despite everything inside him not wanting to, "I- I'm gonna page Bailey, you drink up." He helped you take the water and left. He was just outside, close enough to make sure that you were still safe - still alive.

It was as he left you looked around the room and you noticed the camping cot which was set up on the floor next to your bed. You frowned. Someone had been staying here. Was it... no, it couldn't have been Alex; Alex hated you.

Your thoughts were cut off by Bailey bursting into your room, "Oh thank the Lord," she grinned, "it's good to see you awake. You scared us." As Bailey checked you over, Alex returned to the seat next to you. Bailey saw your confused expression seeing him sat there, normal clothes not working, "Karev," she said, "go and get (y/n) a sandwich, will you? She's hungry." Alex went to argue, to tell Bailey she told him not to leave your room but Bailey's pointed look made him stop and nod. He left a second later giving you one last worried look, "She's fine now go."

You looked up at Bailey who sighed and looked down at you, "You had that boy scared to death, you know."

"Who? Alex?!"

Bailey nodded, "You're not the only one who's surprised. As soon as you were admitted he was here. It was his day off and he was here. Soon as you got outta surgery he was set up in your room. He hasn't left since Tuesday."

You looked down to the cot next to you, "He's been here the whole time?"

Bailey nodded, "I don't know what's going on between the two of you - if anything - but I'd say that there's something." Your frown deepened and Bailey smiled, "Just... be patient with him."

When Alex came back, Bailey gave you a secret nod with a knowing smile before she left promising to come check on you every hour and to not dare think about going back into a coma otherwise she would kill you. "I'm a doctor, I know how to save people but I know how to kill them too."

"Hey," Alex said as he placed a sandwich and soda on the unit beside your bed, "You okay?"

You nodded, finding yourself rather overwhelmed and touched by his actions. He - Alex Karev - had stayed by your side since the accident. What did that mean? What did Dr Bailey mean? You nodded quickly, "Yeah," you said softly, "just tired."

Alex puffed out a long breath as he sat in the seat next to your bed, "Yeah, you must be. Gave me- gave us all a fright."

Silence fell and the two of you fell into the comfort of the sounds of the hospital. You sipped at the soda Alex had brought before curiosity got the better of you, "Alex... why did you stay with me?"

You could've sworn his cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink but he rubbed his hands over his tired looking face so you couldn't have been sure, "Hell if I know," he muttered, "it's not like we're friends but... I didn't want you to be alone. You're the only one that's almost like a friend and... I dunno." He shrugged, "I don't really understand it myself." Maybe there was something deeper lurking under the surface but he didn't know. That was something you'd have to navigate together, "I know you'd have probably preferred Cristina or Mer-"

You took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Thank you, Alex," you whispered, "for everything. Thank you." Now, this time you could see the tips of his ears go pink. You smiled, "Now when are you going to shower cause boy you are looking rough-"

"Shut up!" Alex rolled his eyes but he laughed with you and for once, it felt nice to joke around with him. It felt normal. You didn't know what was going to happen but you somehow knew that he would be beside you, figuring out this crazy journey together and somehow, that made it a little less scary.